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wardenparker · 1 year

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Small Towns and Second Chances

Steve Murphy x female reader Steel Magnolias AU Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16.9k Warnings: Mentions of divorce and incarceration, small town gossip dynamics, ‘exotic’ eats, generalized trash talking of Connecticut, reference to reader borrowing clothes from another character, alcohol consumption, references to drug use/addiction, references to previous unhappy/abusive marriage. Steve Murphy is packing I will not accept criticism, public nudity, skinny dipping, oral sex (f receiving), hair pulling, outdoor sex, water sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, public sex. Summary: Newly retired DEA Agent Steve Murphy returns to his hometown after being served with divorce papers upon his return from Colombia. Unfortunately, his first day back is also the day of his next door neighbor’s wedding. But fortunately - you are there, too. (Loosely follows the plot of the beginning of the film Steel Magnolias. But if you’ve never seen it, don’t worry!) Notes: Utter and total self-indulgence. I watched Steel Magnolias for the first time a while ago and Keri is a criminal enabler when it comes to all things fantasy related - so here we are! 😁❤

Nothing seems to have changed in Evangeline Parish. At least not that Steve can tell. Same storefronts as there had always been in Ville Platte when he had driven through, the windows rolled down and the sweet, slightly sickly scent of blooming flowers flowing through the cab along with the humidity. Same heavy sun beating down on the few that hadn't retreated to the shade while they tried to cool themselves down with whatever could be turned into a fan. Maybe it was insane to want to come back to Louisiana in spring, but after the past six years that he had – all he wanted to do was go home.

Home wasn't in Miami anymore. Maybe it would have been if there hadn't been a manilla envelope of divorce papers sitting on the coffee table when he had shown up at the apartment of his wife and daughter when he had been allowed to come back to the States. Maybe it would have been if the past two years in Colombia hadn't left an indelible mark on his very soul. But there had been, and it had, so he had taken the papers and the keys to the truck that Connie had been good enough to crank up once a week for him and shoved his bags into the passenger seat before he set out for home. Back to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

The screams, chaos, and gunshots coming out of the Eatenton house next door were the kind of cacophony that only a backyard Southern wedding could produce, and the army of different company trucks and employees racing around the property proved it. But the only scream he was looking out for – the best one of the whole batch – came from the twentysomething girl hanging out of the top floor bedroom right in the corner of the big, familiar, clean white house on the corner.

“Steve!” His little sister was hanging out so far that she was practically on the roof, waving frantically at the truck as she watched it pull into the driveway. By the time he parked, he wagered she would be downstairs ready to hug the life out of him. “Mama! Daddy! Steve’s home!”

"Tater!" He grins out the window of his truck as the exuberant expression on her face falls into a scowl that promises an elbow to the gut, and she throws him a rude gesture that would have Mama scolding her. Chuckling when she disappears out the window and he can hear the thundering of her feet down the steps. Another thing that hasn't changed.

“Three brothers and you’re the only one I like except for that dumb ass nickname.” His sister grumps, throwing herself off the stairs to ring her arms around his neck and hug him anyway.

“Tabitha Leigh Murphy, we do not swear in this house.” Their mother frowns in the mud room doorway, but only for effect. She’s overjoyed to have her sweetest tempered child home again, even if the circumstances are a little less than ideal. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” she murmurs, extending open arms to her son. “We missed you.”

"Thanks Ma." Steve wraps his mother up in his arms and sighs. She's shorter than he is, he has to bend down to press his face into her neck like he used to when he was little, but the scent of Revlon Charlie was a staple memory of his childhood. As much as he hates why he is here, he's happy to be home. He's missed the craziness. Flinching when another gunshot blast rings out. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He hisses, pulling away from his mama.

"What did I just say to your sister?" His mother scowls dramatically, smacking his arm before shaking her head. "You barely made it before Shelby Eatenton's wedding, Steven. Go shower and pull out one of those nice suits I know you have packed away. Your sister's got to get over to Miss Truvy's before Shelby and M'Lynn have their appointments. The way Drum Eatenton had been shooting away at the birds all morning it was a wonder that there were even any trees left.”

The way Tater is grinning at him makes him roll his eyes, reaching out and tugging on his sister's hair. "You can go get my bags out of the truck since I have to shower, Tater." He teases, turning and taking the stairs four at a time to get away from her swat.

"Hank!" No amount of scowls from their mother ever keeps the youngest Murphy sibling from hollering through the house, and it wouldn't right now, either. "Tyler! Mama says to come help unload Steve's shit from the truck!" There's work to be done and it can get done a hell of a lot faster if her brothers get involved. No way would she try to get Hank Murphy's precious, dainty wife to do anything helpful, but at least their sister-in-law was behaving herself today. There hadn't been any mean comments about Steve's divorce all morning.

Steve hears a shout from Hank but he doesn't pay much attention, walking down the hall and into the bedroom that hadn't changed since he had gone off to college. Through the door on the side to the Jack-and-Jill he had shared with his oldest brother until he had left for school three years before Steve had.

Piles of boxes are what are left for Steve around his room, and the unmistakable whiff of one of Tyler Murphy's stink bombs left behind as a welcome for his older brother. All four of the Murphy kids had grown up as close as they could, but that meant being as much each other's friendly adversaries as they were confidantes. It was a good way to grow up, even if the brothers had grown apart a little as they got older.

Sighing softly, Steve starts to strip down, knowing that his brothers will bring his bags in by the time he gets out of the shower. They might go through them to make fun of his clothes, but he doesn't give a shit about that.

******

Truvy's Beauty Spot has been a town institution for Tabitha Leigh's entire life, and Miss Truvy Jones herself was probably privy to every single up and down of the Murphy family's life the same way she was privy to everybody else's in town. She'd even dated Miss Truvy's son Louie in high school, for all the good in the world that that did her. Today she's excited, though. Shelby Eatenton was a sort of loose friend all through school just based on the fact that they were next door neighbors, and news of Steve’s arrival would surely be good gossip for Miss Truvy and the other ladies.

"Miss Truvy?" Tabitha Leigh sticks her head in the open door of the Jones house/salon. "I know I'm a little early, but I had to get away from all the chaos. Mr. Eatenton is trying to poke holes in every cloud over Louisiana."

Truvy turns and gives the younger woman a bright smile, her large blonde hair not swaying a bit under her eager nod of agreement. “Come on in honey, I’ll be happy to have the company.” She says.

"Steve's home!" She reports gleefully, galloping in the front door and dropping comfortably into the first styling chair she sees. "Mama's gonna make him come to Shelby's wedding whether he likes it or not and I finally have my favourite brother back again."

"Really?" Truvy’s brow arches and she pauses from tearing some foils for coloring to turn and look at the youngest Murphy child and only girl. "Just last week you were saying Tyler was your favorite because he brought you home a pint of rocky road ice cream."

"No, I said he saved himself from being my least favourite," Tabitha Leigh corrects matter-of-factly. "Now that's Hank, because his wife is a hateful little princess and I—" The only thing that could possibly cut off her diatribe about how much she dislikes her sister-in-law is the appearance of an unknown woman in the doorway, and Tabitha Leigh sits up in the chair with curiosity. "Well, hello. You're new."

"I...yeah. I'm new." Carrying the armful of towels that Miss Truvy asked you to fetch and fold from the dryer, you inch into the doorway and look to your new boss with what you're sure is the same expression that lost puppy dogs have. It is literally your first day of work at Truvy's Beauty Spot and you stumbled into the biggest wedding the town has seen all year. "Miss Truvy, where should I put these?"

"Right over here, honey." Truvy had known you were a timid thing, but she had hoped you would be comfortable around a bunch of women. "Open up that cabinet and just set them right inside. Show her, Tabitha Leigh."

"In here." Tabitha Leigh doesn't even look, just reaches behind her to open the cabinet above her head. "You Judy's replacement?" She asks, wondering how Miss Truvy could have gotten anyone in so fast. "Hell of a day for you to start."

"I'm starting to get that," you laugh quietly, more of a nervous titter that anything else. The other ladies who had started to materialize this morning were older than this young woman, but all of them seemed to be on the same level as far as gossip is concerned. That should make it pretty easy to learn about your new home, thank goodness.

"She'll get the hang of it." Truvy declares with confidence before she turns back to Tabitha Leigh. "So, tell me how Steve's doing?" She demands, turning to check that the curlers are plugged in for when Shelby gets here. "I saw his picture in the paper when the story broke."

"Mama and Daddy are just about as pleased as anything." Tabitha Leigh kicks her feet up on the nearest bit of empty table and leans back comfortably. "He went to Washington and got all kinds of congratulations and even met the president. But..." she glances around, conspiracy written all over her face as the other ladies lean in like moths being beckoned to a flame. "Connie served him with divorce papers as soon as he got back to Miami. So now he's home again, and good riddance to her." Tabitha Leigh may not have exactly disliked Steve's wife, but she and Connie were both strong minded women who didn't quite get along. Now it seemed like the woman had never appreciated her fantastic brother for everything he was worth in the first place, so why bother?

Truvy tuts and shakes her head. "Don't know why she would want to do a fool thing like that." She huffs. "That boy is as handsome as homemade sin."

"Which is much better than store bought sin," Clairee chimes in, shaking a little as she laughs. "I guess we'll all have to dote on Agent Steven Murphy a little at the wedding so he doesn't get glum about things."

"Agent Steven Murphy...like the man in the papers and on tv?" Your head tilts as it pops up from where you were starting to set Miss Clairee's hair in curlers. "The man that caught Pablo Escobar is your brother?"

Tabitha Leigh beams proudly. "Sure is." She hasn't had anyone new in town to tell about her fantastic big brother in ages. "He has some stories to tell and honestly? I couldn't be more proud of him."

"Shit." The mild curse is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, but a second later your eyes are wide and you're grimacing in your new boss's direction. "I mean shoot. Sorry, Miss Truvy. I just...that's so cool!" You would much rather hear other people's stories than tell your own – having nothing but rough or boring tales to tell of your own life until now. And no one likes to be sad on a wedding day. Any wedding day.

Tabitha Leigh nods in agreement and opens her mouth to talk about her darling big brother some more but Shelby walks in and the women start to crowd around her, asking her questions for a few minutes before Truvy shoos them away and settles the bride into her own chair. "Now, you aren't getting cold feet now, are you honey?" She asks Shelby teasingly, the woman being a few minutes late for her appointment.

"My brothers hid my shoes." Shelby groans, shooting a grin at Tabitha Leigh. No one knows the trials and tribulations of too many brothers the way they do. "So Mama walloped them, which was the highlight of my morning besides the bubble bath."

Truvy laughs and shakes her head. "Boys will be boys." She hums. "And mama's will whoop them." She thinks about her own son. "I walloped mine plenty of times for pulling pranks."

"And who is this?" M'Lynn Eatenton asks in between laughing with the rest of them, gesturing much more gently to you than the other women had.

"The new Judy." Clairee offers you a smile as you set the last curler in her hair. "Although our new friend has a much gentler touch, thank goodness. We've just been acquainting her with all our town news while we get ready for Shelby's big day."

Tabitha Leigh grins and gives you a small shrug. "We aren't always this crazy." She promises with a chuckle.

"Oh, don't lie to the girl," Truvy jokes, picking up a brush and setting to work on Shelby's fantastical updo. "We most certainly are always like this. It's part of our charm to be gossips and secret sharers."

"Well, I'm a veritable vault," you promise, offering the ladies a smile. "All the people I've met so far are the people in this room, so there's no one for me to hear gossip from but you all."

"You should come." Shelby says suddenly, turning to her mama to make sure that she approves. She's not the one who has dealt with the caterer, M'Lynn has. "To my wedding. It'll be a perfect time to meet people."

"Oh, I don't want to impose." The suggestion makes you recoil slightly, looking down at the bride's mother as if she might flinch or roll her eyes or something equally disapproving. "I—I mean that's very kind of you, of course. But I'm not sure I would have anything to wear." It's the best excuse you can come up with at such short notice, not wanting to tell the kind ladies the actual reason that you have no desire to go anywhere near a wedding right now. That would make you the object of plenty of gossip yourself, and the reason you picked up and moved somewhere entirely different was to stop being gossiped about.

"No, you should!" Truvy eyes you up and down and shakes her head. "I'm sure I have a dress that you can borrow."

Shit. Holding in the fact that you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of these ladies' massive car, you plaster a sweet smile on your face and nod. "Well...alright then. If you're sure." You'll go for just a little while, say hello, and then disappear. That will be the best way, you decide. "I'm sure it will be beautiful."

"Of course it will be." Shelby giggles happily as only a blushing bride can. "I'm marrying the perfect man." Her happy grin is soft and every woman sighs slightly, remembering their own weddings.

"It'll be beautiful, darlin," Truvy coos as she works on Shelby's hair. "You're gonna be just the most beautiful bride in the whole world, and you'll never, ever forget your day." She grins salaciously. "Or tonight, if Jackson does his job right."

The hoots and catcalls ring out in the room and Tabitha Leigh grins at the slightly uncomfortable look on M'Lynn's face at the idea of her baby doing that. "Who says he's not already done that job?" She asks, winking at Shelby.

"Did a little bit of it down at the lake after the rehearsal supper last night," Shelby grins, cheeks pink with the admission as the other ladies hoot and holler. For your part, you keep your head down and focus on your task, leaving them to their chatter. Weddings aren't exactly your favourite thing in the world, but Shelby Eatenton seems sweet, and she seems genuinely happy. For her sake, you just hope things stay that way.

“Shelby!” M’Lynn shakes her head at her daughter and gives a small laugh. She can’t blame her; she was the same way the night before her own wedding. “You just wait until you get to the hotel in New Orleans tonight, ya hear?” She warns her playfully. “No coat closets.”

"Alright, mama." Shelby grins, making dubious eye contact with Truvy in the mirror that makes both women snicker playfully. "Cross my heart."

******

Steve was used to being in a suit, he spent plenty of time in them at the Embassy. Stiff, he shuffles slightly in place and looks around, trying to ignore the looks of pity he’s receiving.

You've stayed on the outskirts of things, not getting in the way and simply waving hello to Shelby after you and Miss Truvy arrived to the Eatenton house from the church for the reception. Your boss had found something deep in her closet that you could actually manage to wear and kept you at her side in the church, but now that it's time for a party Miss Truvy seems to be in her element. Since you are much less at ease today, you've tucked yourself under a tree in the backyard to observe from afar, wondering how long you need to stay to be considered polite. There hasn't been a single wedding day that you've enjoyed including your own, so this one was no exception.

Out of everyone here, there seems to be two people who aren’t enjoying the festivities. Steve and the woman that he spots over at another table across the back yard. He doesn’t recognize her and wonders if she’s from Jackson’s side of the family. There’s some of them that he doesn’t recognize. His bottle of beer is nearly warm, sweating, and he could use a conversation that doesn’t involve explaining his divorce, so he decides to abandon his table and start making his way across the grass towards her.

If you had claimed not to notice him, it would have been a dirty lie. Not only did the tall blond man stand head and shoulders above the other guests with his natural height, but he was easily the best looking out of every man here as well. Then there was the fact that you’d seen his face all over the news – but hell, the tv didn’t do him justice. You don’t get to see just how blue those eyes are on a tiny little TV set. It makes it doubly shocking, for you at least, that you didn’t see him approach you. Maybe you were just too caught up in your own memories. Maybe you were too caught up in a daydream. You’re not sure, but either way, you didn’t notice DEA Agent Steve Murphy walking across the yard at you until he was nearly by your side.

The new beers that he had grabbed were in his hand and he sets one on the tall table covered with a snow-white cloth and decorated with some little flower thing in the middle. "You look like me." He observes with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Like you'd rather be at the dentist than this wedding."

“Oh, I—um—” The protest is on the top of your tongue. How weddings are such lovely things. How you feel lucky to be able to celebrate with new acquaintances. But just like the tv didn’t do his looks any justice, it also never got across how warm and magnetic his presence is. He’s got a voice like butter with only the barest trace of an accent left, speaking of years and years away from this place. “I don’t know anyone,” you admit, glancing up at him.

Eager to have a friend in misery, Steve perks up slightly and transfers the beer to his left hand. Wiping the wetness away on his suit trousers, he offers his hand for you to take. "Steve Murphy." He flashes you a grin. "Now you know someone."

Your hand is small in his when you take it, and you give him your name after only a second of flustering. “I know who you are,” you admit, sheepish expression painted over your face even though you won’t tell him that it’s from the news. “I met your sister this morning. Over at Truvy’s.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever Tater told you, it's a lie, okay?" He promises, sure that his baby sister is already causing him trouble. "I did not do half the things she says I did, including cutting off all the heads of her dolls. That was Tyler." He grins and takes a sip of his beer because he had technically kidnapped them for his brother to decapitate but his excuse was that he had been twelve at the time.

The pure and unadulterated sibling-hood is strong, and it makes you grin as you pick up the beer that he set down in front of you. “She did nothing but sing your praises, actually. Favourite brother and so happy you’re home and all that.” You throw him a slightly shady look and smirk. “But Tater is an awful nickname so maybe she was wrong after all.”

"Short for Tater Tot." He gives a small shrug and grins, knowing it's horrible but it does have some bit of reasoning behind it. "When she was a little thing, she loved tater tots and would beg me for mine." He tells you, looking across the yard and spotting his younger sister laughing with Shelby and cooing over her wedding dress. "She would climb up in my lap and eat them off my plate, just singing 'tater tots' over and over."

“And my guess is that she’ll kill you for telling a complete stranger that story.” The first sip of cold beer goes down like cool rain, making you hum happily. “It’s very sweet, though.”

“Probably, but you aren’t a complete stranger now, are you?” He asks, with a grin. It’s nice to commiserate with someone who wasn’t overjoyed at young love. Fuck, he needs to call Peña again.

“I guess not.” He has an easy charm that you’re sure he wielded like a weapon when he was younger, and you could swear that the warmth in your cheeks isn’t from the oppressive heat this time. “Everybody’s been real nice. I’m grateful.”

“Oh, they’re friendly.” He watches as everyone socializes. “Crazy as hell, but friendly. So it’s good to be home.”

“Crazy can be good. Crazy makes life interesting.” You sip your beer again, glancing at his face out of the corner of your eye. God he’s so much more handsome in person…

“So where are you from?” He asks, looking over at you. “Few people choose to move to Chinquapin, Louisiana.

“Last place before this was Alabama.” There had been plenty of places before that, but the last three years wasted in Mobile, Alabama really were wasted, as far as you’re concerned. “Originally? Connecticut.”

Steve nods and wonders what else you’re hiding. You twitched and your response was paused, as if you were making sure you had your story straight. He didn’t think you were some criminal, but the agent in him took notice. “A Yankee huh?” He flashes you a grin. “So how you like it here?”

“It’s a good thing I like summer so much,” you joke, wondering how he can possibly survive the Louisiana humidity in a suit. “And the grub is good. So I figure I’ll stay a while longer.”

“Food is good.” He had missed some homemade Cajun food while he had been in Colombia. “Well, we like to be welcoming, so you stay as long as you like. We’ll end up calling you family.”

That tightens your smile slightly – not having the best associations with family in general can make the idea of even brand-new ties very intimidating. “Thanks,” you murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice.

Steve turns and takes another sip of his beer, wondering again what makes that smile tighten like that. Instead of asking he nods towards the table. “Mrs. Maisy’s catering has the best gator tail and shrimp this side of New Orleans,” he offers.

You laugh before you can stop yourself, obviously thinking he’s joking, but he the expression on his face reads amusement-laced-seriousness. “I’ve never had gator,” you admit, finding his eyes are completely set on you. “Guess I’m gonna have to try it.”

He sends you a wink, happy to have someone not giving him the ‘poor Steve’ speech. Nodding towards the table, he chuckles. “How about now? She’ll run out if we aren’t careful.”

“Sure. Let’s give it a go.” Though you don’t have the faintest idea why he chose to talk to you or why he’s being so nice, you have to admit that you enjoy being around him. It’s probably relieving to have someone who isn’t hounding him for gossip about his divorce or trying to set him up like you’re sure the older ladies are doing, and that makes you the perfect person to be around. You’re brand new – no need for gossip and definitely no desire to talk about marriages. And besides which…something as silly as a wink should not be that sexy. So you’re not about to turn down his company.

Having you with him keeps people from come up and giving him sympathetic speeches about keeping his chin up or he will find someone new, so he keeps you close. Selfish? Maybe. But he likes the way you laugh and he honestly thinks you could use a friend too. “But I have to warn you, watch out for the punch, the menfolk always spike it.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Menfolk, huh?” His breath on your neck makes you shiver a little, as ridiculous as it is, and you find that the way he grins at you when you tease him makes you giddy the way you haven’t felt in years. It’s unnerving and exciting and you don’t know whether to run or beg for more. “Yankee girls don’t grow up on moonshine so maybe I should stay away.”

“All depends on how good of a time you wanna have.” He jokes and his hand rests on your back as he guides you to the tables laden with food.

You really did promise yourself you weren’t going to get involved with another man. Not so soon after everything. This new beginning was supposed to be about you and you alone. Now here you are swooning at the slightest touch like a schoolgirl. “Don’t tempt me.” Is the teasing reply you decide on, half-hoping he’ll leave it at that and half-wondering if he might not.

Steve chuckles and for a moment, he wishes he had a fraction of the charm his old partner had. Javi would have had no problem flirting, but it’s been a long time since he’s done this, he feels a bit wooden. He’s not exactly looking for a relationship, but flirting with a pretty woman always makes a man feel good. “Don’t you know the devil’s in the bayou?” He asks with another wink.

“I’ve heard.” Why does he have to be so fuckin cute? It’s not what you asked for, or what you were looking for, and it’s definitely not what you said you wanted, but here you are practically melting into his side as he stands a touch closer to you waiting for two bowls to be filled with food than he had been standing just a second before. “Guess I must secretly like it, or I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“There’s a magic here.” Steve admits as he looks around at the overgrown oaks that hang heavy with moss. “My mama always said that Chinquapin soothed the soul.”

“Your mama might be right.” You both thank the girl handing out plates and bowls, taking your food away from the chaos just as soon as you get it. There’s a different white-cloth covered table under a different tree open, and this time there are even chairs to sit in. “Connecticut doesn’t really have magic. I think that’s why I left.” Though why you’re talking about it is beyond you. He’s lived a fuller life in the last two years than you have in all of your own, there’s no way you could be interesting enough to keep his attention.

“Maybe it’s just different.” He counters, titling his head as he watches you get set up to eat. He wants to see your reaction to that first bite.

“Maybe.” Very, very different. So different that it stopped affecting you right around the time you hit double digits. When the shiny lens of wonder started to rub off of how you saw the world. Realizing that he’s watching you makes you more than a tiny bit self-conscious, but you know why. The food. So you give him as genuine a smile as you can and fill up a fork full of heavily spiced stewed alligator and shrimp smothered in equally spicy gravy. Cajun food in a nutshell, and actually you’ve found that you love it. “Cheers,” You grin, holding up your fork before taking that big bite all at once – spice and vinegar and something deeply smoky mixed with garlic and onion and…tomato, maybe? Whatever it is, your eyes have practically rolled back in your head as you hum your approval. The alligator tastes more like pork that you would have expected and it’s surprisingly tasty. “Holy shit,” you groan when you’re done with that first bite. “That’s fucking amazing, you weren’t kidding.”

Steve feels his stomach twist at your groan, it’s innocently sexy and that is something he hasn’t thought in a long time. The truth was that Connie left him long before those divorce papers. It was his fault, he changed in Colombia, and now he was trying to find the man he was. He chuckles and takes his own bite. “Isn’t it?” He shakes his head. “When I was eating the best fucking arepas you could ever imagine, I was dreaming of this.”

"Growing up the closest we got to gourmet was a really good hot dog," you joke, leaning to the side a little in your seat instinctively to be closer to him. The chair shifts under you as a matter of course, closing some of the polite distance without you really realizing it. It's just – it's comfortable and giving you a feeling of being warm all the way through that the bayou weather never could. "I mean, Connecticut is a place where they give you pizza with clams on it or a steamed hamburger and call it comfort food. Give me barbecue and real soul food over that any day of the week."

“Steamed hamburgers?” Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “That’s a fuckin’ crime. Has to be.” He’s offended by the mere thought of something like that existing, much less being something people eat.

"It should be, but they exist. And people are even proud of 'em." And right now, eating something as flavorful as you are in the middle of a gorgeous afternoon, that just seems silly. Mystic may have been pretty, but the only thing your little hometown had that Louisiana doesn't is autumn leaves – while Louisiana has so very much more. It's like a whole new world for you to explore, which was part of the reason that you came here in the first place. "This is so much better," you hum, motioning to your almost empty bowl.

“Ate more than you thought you would, didntcha?” He teases, his own spoon eagerly scrapping the bowl for the last mouthful. “Now we gotta talk about the beignets.”

"You're gonna have to roll me back to Mrs. Robeline's Boarding House if you keep feeding me." The soft groan you aim at him is half-hearted though, because you already know you love beignets. They were the very first thing you sought out to eat when you got to New Orleans and they're a happy memory because of it.

“You’re livin’ there?” He lifts a brow in surprise. “She still make everyone be in by eight o’clock and no male visitors beyond the parlor?”

"It was what I could find on short notice." You shrug a little, sitting back in your chair now that your bowl is all but licked clean. "It's not so bad. At least the place is clean, and I have my own bathroom. That's more than some of the other places could offer."

“I’ll keep an eye out for places that you can have to yourself.” Steve promises and looks around the yard again. The dance floor that’s been set up and there are couples starting to drift onto it. He doesn’t want to watch cutting the cake or try to catch that damn garter. “You wanna get out of here?” He asks suddenly. “Get away from all this?”

If you knew what reason he had for being so nice to you - what possible motivation he could have or what he wants from you - you might be wary of the question. As it stands, it’s seems like you’re just the two loneliest people at the wedding and neither of you wants to be here. The idea of escape rolls through you like freedom and relief, and you set your now empty beer bottle back on the table and nod. “I—yeah. Everybody’s really nice, but weddings aren’t my thing.”

“Good.” Steve immediately sets his bottle down and stands. “My truck shouldn’t be blocked in. We can sneak over there and get out of here. Did you drive?”

“I don’t have a car,” you admit quietly, knowing that walking the length of the town every day to get from the boarding house to Miss Truvy’s salon was going to get old very fast. You didn’t exactly have a choice, though.

He doesn’t comment on it, knowing that you wouldn’t appreciate it. He can tell you are here ‘starting over’. The only difference between the two of you is that his family is here to help and you are apparently alone. Instead of making you feel bad, he shoots you a grin. “How about I show you all the best spots in Chinquapin?”

“Do you think Miss Truvy will be upset if I sneak off with saying goodbye?” The last thing you want to do is upset your boss - especially when she drove the two of you here and you’re wearing her borrowed dress. But good god you are dying to be anywhere but here. Especially with him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with certainty. “Miss Truvy won’t mind at all. But I’ll leave a note on her car if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Today was my first day,” you explain, shrugging apologetically. “She’s so nice, and I don’t want to upset her at all.”

“Note it is.” Steve agrees easily. He would agree to near about anything right now to get away from that wedding party. All he can think about is his own now botched marriage and he’s tired of it all.

It’s like a stealth escape out of a caper movie, and you’re not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating any of it to amuse you or if he’s just gone into impressive government agent mode. Either way he’s sweeping up across two yards within seconds of setting the note under Miss Truvy’s husband’s truck windshield wiper, leading to the two of you snickering wildly when you can hear his mother start to look for him right before you reach his truck.

"Shit." Steve's eyes widen and he hurriedly opens your door to let you hop up into the passenger seat. "We need to leave now or I'll be roped into talking about God knows what with Great Aunt Sally."

"Go, go, go!" The whispered hiss comes with giggles, and you're throwing on your seatbelt as he hustles around the hood of the truck to hop behind the wheel as quickly as possible.

The engine roars to life with a quick turn of the key and Steve quickly throws it into reverse, acting like he's about to start chasing sicarios as he screeches out of the driveway. Your laughter is worth the bit of silly and his own heart is lighter for it.

"So where to?" You ask, as he peels off down the road in the opposite direction of the wedding. The area doesn't exactly have a lot of tourist attractions, but he grew up here. He'll know the hidden gems for what they're really worth.

"How 'bout I show you exactly where to go to get good food, good liquor and the best damn swimming hole in all of Evangaline Parish?" Steve asks, lifting a brow in your direction. He hadn't really thought this through beyond leaving the wedding, but you are new to the area, so he figures giving you the tour is the proper thing to do.

"Sounds good to me." The streets pass by easily, and with your windows rolled down the mid-afternoon hubbub of downtown is a dim soundtrack for the occasional joke or tease in the cab of his truck. You get along easily - effortlessly - and something about it makes you both annoyed with yourself for the obvious way your guard is starting to come down and infinitely more relaxed than you have felt in years because of it.

"So, besides your normal desserts, Ida's makes the best damn milkshake you've ever tasted in your life. And her pecan pie is to die for." He nods as he sees the shop in the distance. "Wanna get some for the tour?"

"If we were just wandering, I'd say we should pick up a flask of bourbon and have grown up milkshakes." Alcoholic milkshakes were a treat that an old landlady has introduced you to years and years ago, and you absolutely loved the combination of creamy sweetness with the cut of smoky liquor running through it.

"That sounds like a plan." He quickly agrees and slows the truck down so he pull into an empty parking spot in front of the small shop. "The bourbon will be better coming from 'ol Jackson's near the river."

“Ol Jackson’s it is.” You agree easily. Downtown is exactly the kind of quaint you have come to expect from the Deep South, with old store fronts and almost-as-old men sitting out front of some of them smoking and cavorting. Ida’s is a neat little building painted white and decorated with a pretty blue-and-yellow painted sign above the entrance. Everything about it is tidy, even the trade of laughing old me with a pair of ladies still in their Sunday best sipping sweet tea and happily chattering over slices of Cajun cake.

Steve waits until you join him on the sidewalk for you before he guides you into the store. "Now are you a chocolate kind of girl or vanilla?" He asks, as if its the most important question in the world.

"Depends on what it is." The pastry cases are full of every goodie you can possibly think of, and the big machines behind the counters that spin milkshakes are happily buzzing. With only a small ice cream case in one corner, you figure this is definitely a quality over quantity situation and that sounds like heaven. "Usually vanilla. Nothing is quite as good as vanilla and cinnamon together, though."

"So you should choose number four." He tells you seriously, pointing to the menu hanging above the milkshake station. "It's vanilla with a slice of cinnamon crumb cake mixed in. Everything is homemade, by the way."

"This place is heaven," you grin, breathing in the smell of fresh cakes and pastries. If the fact that you have smiled more this afternoon than you have in the last nine months is a factor, your cheeks will be sore for hours, but you can't bring yourself to care. It's a miracle to feel this free again.

"That what you want?" He asks, waiting for your nod before he walks up to the counter. "See me? I'm gonna go with the chocolate with the devil’s food cake mixed in." He tells with a grin. "It's sinful."

"So much for pecan pie." Amused that you both abandoned the classic in favor of comfort choices, you nudge him a little with your arm. "But I have a feeling I'm gonna be coming here any time I have a few dollars to spare."

"It's addictive." He agrees as Ida comes out of the back, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Steven Murphy!" She grins, giving him a motherly scold. "I'd heard you were coming back. When did you get in?"

"Today." That makes her chuckle, no doubt amused with the fact that he had been in town for less than twenty-four hours and he was already darkening her doorway.

"Well, what can I get for you hun?" She asks, turning to smile at you with a curious gleam to her eyes. You aren't the former Mrs. Steve Murphy, she had recognized her from the few visits they had made to Chinquapin as a couple years ago, but you were obviously with Steve for this visit and she doesn't recall seeing you around town.

Steve orders for both of you and makes a face when you try to offer him a few dollars from your purse, and you roll your eyes good naturedly. You didn't figure he would let you pay, but offering is the least you could do. If you closed your eyes and dreamed, you could pretend this was a date. Casual and comfortable, two people who have found each other and grown fond of each other and kept each other company through the ups and downs of life. Which would be a hell of a lot more romantic than your last relationship. Your marriage.

The sounds of the milkshake being made are comforting, a sound of his childhood. He looks around and tries to see what it would look like through a newcomer’s eyes. "The sandwiches are good here too." He promises you. "Especially the Thanksgiving special."

"You are gonna have to roll me back home." You laugh, looking up at him beside you. "I guess we'll have to come back another time." The we is slightly presumptuous, but you want him to be enjoying this as much as you are.

Steve grins and wonders if it was a slip of the tongue or a soft hint that you would like that. The idea that it was a hint makes him shift to stand a little straighter. "We can do that." He turns when Ida sets the milkshakes on the counter and reaches out for them. "Thank you ma'am." He nods towards the woman who has seen him in her shop since he was in diapers.

"Anything for my new favourite deputy." She grins, nodding at the much taller, much younger man. Gossip moves fast in their little town and everybody who knew Steve Murphy was coming home also knew what he would be up to when he got here. There were whispers about his wife, and it seemed like they were true after all. Shame.

Steve can feel the question in your eyes as the two of you exit the shop. He sighs and gives a small shrug of his shoulders as he hands you the vanilla milkshake. "I was working for the feds for awhile, but that's done so I came home." He explains. "Being a sheriff's deputy will keep me from going insane with boredom."

"I—" You hesitate again, but decide to just shrug it off. You would rather not start this friendship - or whatever it is - out on a lie. "I know who you are," you tell him finally, as you both climb back into his truck. "I've seen you; I mean. On TV and in the papers. I just...didn't know you were from here until I met your sister this morning."

"Oh." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I guess there's no escaping it when it was in the papers, huh?" He asks with a roll of his eyes. "At least it was just my career on display."

"What you did made a lot of people's lives safer again. Better. It's nothing to shrug off, Steve." He turns over the engine and pulls out into the empty street again, going through the automatic motions like he could drive the entire town in his sleep. He probably could. "People all over the world are better off now than they were when that monster was alive. And that is thanks to you."

He could tell you that the number of kilos of cocaine entering the U.S. hasn't slowed down. In fact, more cocaine is coming in than before. He doesn't though. The tone of your voice makes him think that it's something personal for you. "Who was it?" He asks softly, expecting that you lost someone to drugs.

"Um..." You swallow, eyes drifting away from him to stare out the windshield. "My husband. Ex-husband. He's in prison, thank god. Just...please...Miss Truvy doesn't know. I didn't know if she would hire someone with a past."

His brow wings up, both surprised that you have a husband in prison and that you think that he would tell someone else's story. He shakes his head. "Not my place to say a word." He hums. "Besides, your ex-husband isn't you."

“He was a bastard, and I never should have married him.” That, at least, is the dead honest truth. But at least you’re free of him now, which is more than you thought you would ever live to say. Huffing slightly at yourself, you watch the road go by out the front window for a moment. “Anyway. Liquor store and swimming hole, right?”

"Right." He can tell you want to change the subject, so he does just that. Making a left at the only stoplight in town and humming at the sight of the magnolia tree blooming in front of the small city hall.

The drive is now transformed to an awkward silence, and you wish you had never said a fucking thing. It’s too late for that, obviously, but it has been so nice until now. The sight of the liquor store is almost a blessing at this point, as you severely hope that a little relaxation will make things less weird again.

Putting the truck in park, Steve turns to you. "Don't worry about it." He comments softly. "Hell, everyone in town is talking about how my wife divorced me on the heels of catching Escobar, so your issues won't even be a blip on the radar."

“We were just the two worst people to invite to a wedding, weren’t we?” It’s almost comical in a way. Or it would be if you both weren’t so obviously hurt by your former spouses.

Steve barks out a laugh, throwing his head back in relief that you aren't upset and nods quickly. "Yes, we were." He agrees easily and jerks his head towards the liquor store. "Come on, let's go get that bourbon you want."

Hopping out of the car right after him, you snort and shake your head. “You can’t tell me you don’t want a stiff drink after blush and bashful.” You roll your eyes, thinking of the huge deal Shelby had made over her wedding colours being two barely distinguishable shades of pink.

"I don't know what the fuck those colors are." He admits with another laugh and strides to the door to open it for you. "The colors for my wedding were...." He chuckles. "Fuck, I don't even know. Some kind of green and blue."

“Pink and pink, Steve. They were pink and pink.” It’s good to laugh with him, the feeling of comfort rolling back through you. “I barely even had a wedding. Just the courthouse with some flowers from the grocery store and a low country boil for dinner.” Unbelievably, though, that last bit does make you smile. “At least the food was good.”

"Only reason we did a wedding was because my mama would have killed us." Steve admits with a chuckle. "Wouldn't have minded the courthouse."

“I don’t think I would have minded if he had just asked.” Inside the liquor store is cram-jam full from floor to ceiling with every kind of bottle you can imagine and two men playing cards who pay you and Steve no mind. “I should have seen the warning sign from miles away.”

"Easy to ignore." Steve admits, knowing that he had ignored the warning signs that Connie was unhappy.

“It’s done with now.” And good riddance. Cocaine had turned a careless man into a monster, and you survived it. That’s all that matters now. “I just— I’m sorry you had to go through your own. You seem like a very sweet guy.”

"I'm not." He promises, his jaw clenching slightly in self-reflection. "I've got my own demons, but I'm trying." He had witnessed the darkness in him, it almost threatened to ruin his career until Javi went to bat for him. He just needed to make sure that darkness was caged.

“That’s all you can do, really.” The back wall is covered in whiskey and bourbon bottles, all different labels and few that you recognize. “We don’t have to…” you hesitate, glancing over at him. “If it’s not going to be good for you, we can skip it.” Whatever his demons are, they’re his and he doesn’t owe you an explanation. But you also don’t want to push him toward them accidentally.

"Nahhhhh." He shoots you a smirk and shrugs. "You aren't snorting coke in front of a DEA agent." He jokes.

“Former DEA agent.” Trying for a cheery smile, you shrug again. “I’ll never touch that shit. It turns people into shadows and monsters. Booze just makes me giggly and a little cuddly. And I can rein that in, ya know? Cocaine just…it’s unstoppable.”

"It's good to steer clear of that shit." He shakes his head. "Never understand why people want to snort shit up their noses that's made with gasoline."

“I guess it just depends on how badly you’re hurting, and how badly you want to stop hurting.” Plucking a small bottle of Statesman Reserve from the shelf, you hold it up for him to inspect. “It’s on me, but it will have to go home with you if we don’t finish it. No male guests past the parlor and no liquor of premises,” you recite the boarding house rules mockingly.

Steve snorts and shoots you a grin. "I'll save it for the next time, how about that? That way we can always have boozy milkshakes."

“You’re teasing me, but you’re going to love it.” That grin is going to make you more flustered than you’ve been in a long time, you can’t help it.

"Oh, I don't doubt it." He takes the bottle from you and turns it around to look at the label. "Statesman, huh? Don't think I've heard of this."

“Bourbon of choice for ‘Bama sorority girls.” You laugh, entirely at your own expense, and nod at the bottle - and maybe the memories, too. “It’s good, I promise.”

"Well hell, gotta try it." He draws and looks around. "Anything else you want a nip of?"

“I’m easy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them and you chuckle. “I mean— you know what I mean.”

"Suuuuuuure." His wink is pure teasing and he loves the way you fluster slightly and look around the shop again. "That's exactly what you meant." He doesn't know why it seems so easy with you, but it does.

Rolling your eyes heavily is purely for dramatic effect, and you pluck the bottle out of his hands with a laugh. “C’mon, Steve, the milkshakes are waiting.”

"Yeah, yeah." He doesn't protest when you pay for the bourbon, even though he wants to. It's just ingrained in him that the man pays but he knows a lot of women don't think that way anymore.

******

The swimming hole, apparently, is barely two more minutes away. Steve steers the truck down to the bottom of a hill and around a vacant lot until the road runs out, and then the two of you get out and walk until a thin wall of trees gives way to a sizeable little pond hidden away from prying eyes. It's stunning - an absolutely gorgeous sight that literally takes your breath away when he steps aside to show you the view. "It's beautiful..."

"Good news is that there're rarely gators in here." He informs you. "It's something about the mineral content in the water or some such thing." He gives a small shrug. "Never really paid attention to the way, just happy I wasn't going to get rolled when I went swimmin'."

"Their loss." It's a gorgeous spot and you feel just a little spoiled that he chose to share it with you. "And more fun for us."

Steve sits down on a pile of rocks near the water and pulls the lid off his milkshake. "Ready to booze it up?" He asks playfully as he tilts it back to drink some to make room for the bourbon.

"Yes, please." Kicking off your heels lets you drop down onto the rocks beside him much more easily, and you're careful not to spill a single drop on your borrowed dress as you take the first sips of your milkshake. The creamy, spicy, floral, sticky sweet drink is as cooling as it is delicious, and you giggle happily at the first taste. "Oh god, Ida's never gonna get me out of that place. This is amazing."

"Swear if I didn't leave for college and the DEA I would have lived in that shop." He agrees as he takes another sip and then sets it down to open the bottle of bourbon to add to it.

"I don't blame you." He pours indiscriminately, filling each drink to the tip top of their cups while you dip your toes in the water. "If I had grown up here, I might never have left."

He snorts, chuckling softly. "Maybe, but I needed to leave." He tells you as he mixes the alcohol into the milkshake.

"Everyone has a different journey." The smoky richness of Statesmen Reserve has flavour tones that compliment your vanilla and cinnamon milkshake perfectly, and once again you're moaning softly over your food. "Sorry," you laugh, shooting him a grin. "I'm not one of those salad-and-water-only girls living on fad diets. I love food."

"I don't mind that a bit." He promises. "I don't think I've ever really paid attention, but my ex would easily out eat me on a good day." He laughs.

Your eyes widen for a second, obviously mishearing him and catching 'eat me out' instead of 'out eat me'. "Oh...uh..." You clear your throat, finally figuring out that you heard him wrong and feeling like a flustered moron with a one-track mind. "Cool. That's...that's good."

He doesn't know why your voice changes for a moment, making him turn to look at you curiously for a second before he shrugs it off. "Do you want to try mine?" He asks, offering you the chocolate extravaganza he had chosen.

"Sure." Yeah...because wrapping your lips around anything of his right now isn't setting your brain off into wildly inappropriate places. You trade him for your drink because sharing is caring, and hum happily at the deeply unctuous chocolatey flavour. "You can't go wrong with ice cream and booze."

"I'm learning." Steve licks his lips are a bit of your milkshake gets into his mustache. "It might change the way I get drunk." He jokes, watching your eyes close in pleasure while you tip back his cup.

"Drinking should be fun." You contend, handing him back his cup a second later. "Doing it on your own and moping when the bottle is empty is not fun."

"Done plenty of that." He lifts the milkshake up in toast. "Especially when...well, there was plenty of reasons to drink alone towards the end."

"To new beginnings, then." Holding your cup up to his, you offer him what you hope is a smile as warm and encouraging as you feel in this moment. "For both of us."

"To new beginnings." Steve grins and touches his paper cup to yours as if it’s the finest china and takes a sip of his milkshake.

As the sun starts to go down, lightning bugs and chirping crickets become the backdrop for your little getaway. It's a Saturday night in a usually quiet town where you have intentionally abandoned the place where all of your neighbors are congregating, and the temperature is slowly dropping along with the sun. It leaves the sky streaked with pinks and oranges and purples in a way that could easily be characterized as romantic if you let yourself think about it that way.

He might have poured too much bourbon in the cups, his entire body warming up pleasantly and he relaxes for the first time since he arrived in the States. His divorce is literally days old, the ink barely dry on the judge's signature and yet, right now, he feels like he's on a date. He looks out at the water and grins, standing up and stripping off his suit jacket. "Wanna go for a swim?" He asks as he kicks off his shoes.

Your eyes flick up to him from where they had been focused on your drink, sucking every last bit of delicious alcoholic creaminess up through the wide straw. He has already tossed his jacket and tie down and is toeing off his shoes, starting to unbutton the sleeves of his shirt at the same time. Pure mischief is painted across his handsome face and the familiar buzzing of Statesman in your system makes you bold. Sure it’s the same kind of boldness that got you into a bit of trouble back in college, but it was always fun trouble. “You wanna skinny dip?” The question makes you giggle a little, and even without an answer you already know you’re going to do it. When was the last time you felt so fucking free? Years, at least.

He had meant to keep his briefs on, allowing you to stay in your bra and panties for modesty, but since you are bringing it up? Hell yeah. He chuckles and unzips his pants. "If you want I'll close my eyes and turn around." He teases.

What he doesn't realize is that the underwear you have on will be so sheer if you jump in wearing it that you might as well be naked, and that skinny dipping was a favourite bit of mischief back when you used to get into mischief more often. "Just gotta be careful with Miss Truvy's dress," you mumble, not finding the clasp or zipper buried deep in the dusty pink coloured velvet.

"Do you need some help?" He wouldn't be a gentleman if he didn't offer, turning towards you while he's in just the white briefs he had worn under his suit. This was the wildest thing he had done in a while that didn't involve guns or criminals and he was actually enjoying it.

"I found the tie." There was a decorative cord at the back of your neck that had confused your tipsy brain because you didn't wear a necklace!, and you had to giggle at yourself. "Can't find the zipper."

Steve approaches gently, knowing that he doesn't want to seem too eager to get you out of your clothes. That wouldn't be very proper. Instead, he studies the dress from the back, an expect from helping Connie with hers. "It's on the side, sweetheart." He hums, reaching for the tiny little zipper for the dress.

"Oh." That earns a more animated giggle and you huff at yourself playfully, even as you raise your arm automatically for him to help. "That explains it."

"Never understood why they would put the zippers in the most inconvenient places." He murmurs, his breath washing over the back of your neck. "Then I realized it was to make taking off the dress more fun."

"You having fun, Steve?" You are. You definitely are. There's something giddy in the air tonight that you can't deny and it's only half to do with the man whose large hands are carefully peeling you out of a borrowed dress.

"Bourbon, a pretty girl and my favorite swimming hole?" He hums, his voice teasing and playful. "I'm having a lot of fun." Especially if you are. He's not a dummy. He knows you are attracted to him. He's not big headed about it, but plenty of women hit on him while he was with Connie, but he hadn't done anything about it. Now, that wedding band was just a suntan mark on his hand.

"I am, too." A shy smile creeps across your face as the dress comes down your shoulders, fairly confident that Steve is getting an eyeful of the lace bra you have on underneath. Now he sees why it wouldn't be worth it to keep anything on in the water. It isn't arrogance to think that he might reciprocate your attraction, but you're also not expecting him to act on it in any way. Not when he's so recently divorced and everything. "Go on and jump in," you encourage, nudging him slightly. "I'll be in, in a second."

He takes that as a hint that you want a touch of privacy while you strip down and he's going to oblige you. Doesn't mean he has to be shy. Instead, Steve pulls his briefs down right there, stepping around you and striding towards the swimming hole while he gains momentum and does exactly what you tell him to, he jumps in with a loud 'Wahooo' before he hits the water.

"Fuck..." Barely audible under your breath, you shake your head a little in amusement at the way your heartrate spiked at him passing - completely naked - in front of you for just a split second on his way to the water. At least he doesn't have the world's biggest dick or anything. You think to yourself, dropping your bra and panties beside your dress and anchoring them with a small rock so the wind doesn't take them away as you turn to slip into the water. That would just make the ache slowly building between your legs even worse.

Steve sputters slightly as he comes back to the surface, laughing and swiping his hair back as he flicks the water out of his eyes but he doesn't open them. "You in?" He calls out, turning towards the shore and kicking his legs to stay afloat.

"Yeah, I'm in." You had opted to climb down the rocks and jump from a much lower height, not making as much of a ruckus when you did. Now you're only a few feet away. The water is warm and laps at your skin gently, making the whole idea as relaxing as it is fun.

He grins and opens his eyes, looking around before he spots you. "Fun, isn't it?" He chuckles.

"Thanks for showing me." With the sun fully set the water is nearly opaque, but that doesn't keep you from feeling the water churn as he lazily kicks next to you or finding his bright blue eyes in the moonlight.

His grin makes only half his mouth move, nodding slightly as he treads a little closer to you. "My pleasure." He hums. "It’s not every day you get to go skinny dipping with a pretty girl."

"I'll have to try it sometime." Teasing him is too easy, and the warmth of having him come closer in the water is overwhelming in the very best way. "Find myself a pretty girl and bring her out here to see what it feels like.”

Steve chuckles, lifting at brow at the thought. "Can I come too?" He asks, teasing you right back.

"I mean, I guess." You huff dramatically, as though he has made a life-or-death request. He's closer to you without feeling like he's prowling and you swear your skin will light on fire if he ever reaches out and touches you like this. "It's gonna be harder to find a girl who likes both of us, but we could do it."

"Hmmm." He snickers softly and edges slightly closer. The entire conversation has made something decide that it wants to make an appearance. Steve Murphy is a grower. "I could always just watch." He concedes, circling around you slowly to where he is behind you, just in case he bumps into you. Better to have his erection press against your ass or thigh than your belly since he doesn't know how you are feeling right now.

The second he can't see your face, your eyes close and your face screws up in momentary concentration as you try to will your body to calm the fuck down. The man is barely divorced - he doesn't need the new girl in town jumping him hours after meeting. Although, he wouldn't be flirting or skinny dipping with you unless he wanted to be, the voice in the back of your head reasons. "But that's not as much—" Your eyes pop open a second later when you're certain you felt him touch your hip - but his hands are both on the surface of the water and he can't be that close to you and – Oh shit...that was definitely...apparently he does have the world's biggest dick after all. "Not as much fun," you finish, swallowing thickly.

"No, it wouldn't be." He can agree to that, in this hypothetical fantasy of yours. "So guess we better start looking huh?" He is enjoying the way that you seem to be breathing harder, obviously turned on as well.

Looking over your shoulder brings you eye level with him in the water, and you would be clenching your fists at your sides if you weren't using them to stay afloat right now. "I guess so." You murmur, finding him watching you with a pleased smile tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

"Ooooorrrr." Steve draws out, deciding to breach the chasm between the two of you and use one arm to grab your hip and steer you back into his chest. "I can keep the pretty girl I have right here to myself." He huffs into your ear. "I'm liking that option."

"Shit." You practically whimper at the strength of the act, not dominating in any way but somehow still making you feel as light as a feather in his arms. With your back to his chest and his hand spanning more of your hip and belly that you thought one hand ever possibly could, you tip your head back to rest on his shoulder. "I—I didn't, I mean—" Breathe, you idiot. "This wasn't a scheme or anything. Just so you know."

"Hmmmm, I know." He brushes his lips against your ear before he kisses your neck. "I was the one who suggested this." He reminds you with a grin. "Although there was a little scheming on my part. Or maybe hoping's a better word."

"Hoping, huh?" Squirming slightly against him just ends up - unintentionally, you swear - grinding your ass against his hard length. That feeling right there is the last crack in your resolve, and you twist around to wrap both arms around his shoulders as you face him. "Jesus, Steve. You're gonna kill me."

He huffs, even as he grins. "What does that mean?" He asks teasingly. He doesn't think you are talking about him literally killing you, but he wasn’t boastful.

"It means I thought you were hot seeing you on TV, but apparently the real you is even sexier," you admit, right before crushing your lips to his without any further hesitation.

It's been a long time since Steve has kissed anyone else, but in the ranking of kisses - it’s up there. Your lips are soft and yet your kiss is determined. You kiss him like you want him and that is something that turns him on. His tongue slides into your mouth quickly when you open for him, and he loves the way you moan into his mouth.

He tastes like chocolate and whiskey and something you can't put your finger on, and the way he drags you against him with one arm only encourages you to wrap one leg around his waist in an effort to get as close as possible while still staying afloat. There is no way in the world that you could have predicted how good this moment would feel, but now that it's here you would happily live in it forever.

Steve hums into your kiss, enjoying how easily the two of you seem to slide together so naturally. Deepening the kiss and closing his eyes, he feels his body respond to the feeling of your heated core pressed against his cock.

"Fuck." At a certain point you just have to come up for air, as much as you wish you didn't. The way your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest is better than anything you've felt in years and even better is the feeling of his hard length slipping against your folds.

"If we need to stop—" Steve stops to kiss along your jaw. "Let me know." He doesn't want to push; this is the first day you've met after all. You might not be ready or willing to go any farther than this, and he's okay with that.

"Do you want to stop?" The sincerity in his voice is genuine, you can tell that much, but it brings out the concern in your own as you find his eyes in the dark again. You didn't exactly talk about this possibility, or anything near it, and you don't want to push him. But you will be honest. "'Cause I don't, but we both have to want...whatever this is."

He laughs at the ridiculousness of you believing he wants to stop. “Does this feel like I want to stop?” He asks, grinding against you slowly.

It earns him a whimper from your lips and your eyes flutter shut of their own accord. "Just trying to be considerate," you mumble, clinging to him a little tighter. Your hips are already rolling slow circles along with his. "I-I'm safe. On the pill, I mean."

“I— it’s been a long time.” Steven admits breathlessly, thinking about the last time he was with Connie. “I—I’ve been tested. I’m clean.”

“Then…” Nipping at his neck, you grin at the glancing thought that it wouldn’t take much effort at all to leave a mark in his skin. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some fun.”

“Yeah?” He grins as he pulls back to search your eyes, making sure there’s no hesitation on your part.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, nodding and reveling in the way he looks both delighted and maybe a little surprised. Like he can’t believe you want him. “Absolutely.”

He starts to guide you towards the rocks, wanting to have you close to them. It’s hard to fuck in open water and he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself.

With the moon out and the lightning bugs and the soft noises of the valley at night, it almost feels like a fairy tale. A very adult one, obviously, as the two of you return to hungrily kissing the life out of each other as quickly as possible, but there’s no mistaking the element of romance even as your back presses against the edge of the watering hole. Rocks will keep you steady, giving him something to hold on to, and you lift your other leg up around his hip easily now that you have a little leverage, too.

His hands move into less appropriate places and he squeezes your ass. “You gonna let me fuck you?” He asks, pulling away from your mouth to start kissing down your chest.

“Was thinkin’ I might.” You groan softly, chuckling interrupted by a gasp when the tip of his tongue flicks one of your nipples experimentally. “As long as you actually know how to use that cock and don’t just parade it around.”

He chuckles and looks up at you, a hank of his wet hair falling over one eye. “Only one way for you to find out.” He coos before he wraps his lips around the nipple and tugs on it.

Thankfully you manage to remember that there are rocks behind you about half a second before you throw your head back in pleasure, the keening sound that escapes your lips being plenty loud enough to make up for it as you thread your fingers through his wet hair and encourage him to explore. If you could manage it you would have your eager fingers wrapped around his cock to find out exactly what kind of pressure and how fast or slow he likes it stroked, but like this it’s much more fun to grind your hips down and listen to him moan against your tits like he’s trying to suck your wildly beating heart out directly through your chest.

It’s been a long time since he’s made out with anyone in this swimming hole, not that you’re exactly ‘making out’. It’s gone beyond that as he suckles and bites on your breast while he pulls your hips down on his cock. He’s fucking aching already and it’s not like you’ve been teasing him for long, maybe it’s because he knows how reserved you had been just hours ago.

If the thought of doing something so intimate in such a public place ever would have bothered you, it isn’t even crossing your mind now. Messing around - fully naked - on town property is probably something he would be arresting teens for when he puts that deputy’s uniform on, but right now it’s glorious. Right now it’s only the whine of his name from your lips and the rolling insistence of your hips in the moonlight, and you can’t remember the last time anything felt so good.

Steve chuckles and switches over to your other breast. “Impatient.” He chides, grinning at the enthusiasm you are displaying for him. “So you don’t want to wait anymore?” He asks after he flicks his tongue over your nipple. “You want it now?”

The idea that there could be anything besides sex makes you pause, and there’s a flash of confusion on your face that you can’t hide. A three-year marriage to a man who saw you first and foremost as a means to provide pleasure for himself has clearly warped your expectations. “Want to make you feel good,” is what you go with when you get your mind back, hoping desperately that he didn’t notice anything.

He grunts, picking up on the momentary confusion and he doesn't want to make it a big deal - but he does want to make sure that you know that he operates different from whoever the selfish asshole you were married to was. "You know what I want?" He asks, moving you closer to the rocks. "I want to lick your pussy." He groans. "It's been a long time since I've been able to eat a woman out, will you let me?"

“You want to—?” The way desire has made his eyes nearly black is obvious even in the moonlight, and you can think of a single reason in the world he would lie about wanting it, so you nod and shift back against the rocks, hoping you can lift yourself up on them reasonably easily. “Whatever you want, handsome.”

He wonders when the last time a man had you like this. That he knelt down before you and buried his face in your glistening sex just for the pleasure of knowing that he made you cry out. You seem surprised that he would want to taste you. Connie had loved his penchant for oral, and his eagerness had made it to where her own want for reciprocation hadn't waned until things had gotten beyond salvaging between them. Shaking that thought off, his ex didn't belong in this moment, he hums and watching you lift your pussy above the waterline, and he slides between your legs as they spread wide.

You almost lose your balance as soon as you find it, but his broad shoulders and strong grip keep you steady, holding you up on the edge of the rock that you have perched yourself on just above the water line. There is nothing tentative in the way Steve moves and yet none of it is demanding, and it's an intoxicating combination that all comes down to want. He wants you, and he's going to have you, and you know without a doubt that you're going to enjoy every second of it.

He’s not as quick to just dive right in, there’s something in your surprise that makes him go slower. Not that he isn’t determined, instead he starts at your knees, kissing both and working higher, brushing your sensitive inner flesh with his mustache as he scatters kisses over your skin. Giving you time to anticipate and to cry off if you want.

He's slow and almost reverent, taking his time mapping every inch of your skin in the warmth and moonlight. The impulse to thread your fingers through that mass of wet hair is definitely there but you resist, balancing yourself carefully and letting him do whatever it is he's going to do since you're already sure that it will have you in a whimpering state of pure indulgence in no time. At least, everything else has so far, so why not this too?

He hovers over you when he reaches the juncture of your thighs. Looking up at you as if waiting for some kind of challenge, he flashes you a wink before he lowers his mouth to your cunt.

"Holy shit!" Your head drops back almost instantly, eyes shutting as you grip the rock beneath you even more desperately. There is no question about it, once he's started - Steve Murphy eats pussy with passion. There is no hesitation in his movements, only hunger, and you swear he must have a tongue as long as his cock for the incredible way he's devouring you as you try not to cry out in the warm night.

God, it’s been so long since he’s had this. His hands grip your thighs, urging you to use his shoulders as a prop and allow him more access. Groaning as he licks through your folds and discovers your flavor, the way you like to be eaten.

Even if you could lay back like this - give him all the access to every inch of you that you could - you wouldn't. Maybe it's selfish, but you want to be able to watch. When your eyes flutter open again he is completely absorbed in you and it might be the most intoxicating thing you have ever experienced in your entire life.

Steve's eyes flutter closed in pleasure as he pushes his tongue inside you. Moaning at how your walls seems to curl around his tongue and pulse with your excitement. His fingers dig into your flesh and he tugs you closer as he leans in, eager for more, inhaling your scent as he tries to drown himself in your sex.

The movement is inelegant, as dragging you closer to him makes you jolt and shriek slightly in halted pleasure and one of your hands digs into his hair to keep you steady. When he groans at the sudden, sharp sensation of having his hair pulled you echo the noise almost immediately, giving the strands another light tug of encouragement and angling your hips forward to fully surrender to anything and everything he has to give you.

He feels the moment your entire body sags and he chuckles into your folds. Flicking his tongue over your clit and swirling it around before he pulls it into his mouth to suck on as you start to grind down against him. Wondering if you even realize you are doing it.

It's heaven. Absolute bliss like you haven't experienced in years. Maybe longer, although that thought is so far off in your head that you can barely grasp it. The only thing in your mind right now is pleasure and how he is working you up until your thighs are shaking on either side of his head and you wonder if he has any clue what kind of wanton, desperate noises you're making because your legs must be clamped down so hard on his ears that the world around him is muffled.

There is something exquisite about a woman clenching her legs closed around his head. It makes his cock throb and his mouth even more eager as the pressure against his skull increases as every second ticks by. He is living right here, in this moment and it's most he has felt like himself in years.

The balance of too much, not enough, and just perfect tips when he nips at your soaking wet lips and gently drags his teeth along your throbbing clit making nearly scream his name as you fly apart from every possible seam. This orgasm is having you, not the other way around, and you are just hanging on for dear life and trying not to moan too loudly so you don't get caught.

It's like a damn bursting and he is caught in the onslaught. Groaning as he tries to keep up with the rush of your pleasure that floods his mouth, filling it and making him pull you even closer. Eager to drink you down and have you push at his head in an attempt to get him to stop.

Feeling completely boneless makes it slightly difficult to gain that all-essential control over your own movements again and you swear that it takes you a solid thirty seconds to remember to breathe after your body has stopped shaking above him. Only after that do you giggle softly, deep and throaty, and groan his name into the humid air. “Fuck, Steve…” You smooth his hair back from where your fingers were digging into his scalp. “Oh my god.”

He chuckles as he pulls away and looks up at your face, hazy and soft with pleasure. "Good?" He asks, wanting to hear the praise. He's not above asking for it, especially with a new partner.

“Amazing.” Hell, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he’s easily the best pussy eater you’ve ever been with. It’s not a hard competition against the two other men that came before. The others had refused, saying it was gross or they disliked the taste.

"Mmmmh." Steve smirks and yet he slides his fingers over your hips so he can seek out your wetness. Wanting to feel it another way. "Now you want to see how we fit together?" He asks, biting his lip as he slowly circles your entrance and almost presses into you, stopping just shy of breeching your walls.

“Hell yes.” You can’t help but giggle at your own enthusiasm, all self-consciousness washed away in the sea of cum he eagerly lapped from your cunt. “Help me back in the water, handsome.”

He chuckles and lets your brace your hands on his shoulders while you slide into the water. Not missing the chance to capture your nipple in his mouth again as you wrap your legs around his waist. Sex in water is amazing and he loves how easily he can manipulate and move you as he wants.

“Goddamn.” Even with just the tip of his cock nudging your entrance - like an echo of his fingers a moment ago - you can already feel how much he’s going to stretch you. “Feels like you’re going to split me in half.”

"Bet you say that to everyone." He teases, pulling away from your breast and reaching to capture your chin between his fingers and pressing a kiss to your lips. "You ready?"

“Wouldn’t say it unless it was true,” you promise him, squirming a little as you try to roll your hips down to take him a little deeper. The men before him had been nowhere near as well endowed, so you’re both excited and a little nervous. “Ready, baby.”

The moment the head of his cock slips inside you, he's glad he's got his feet planted on the rocks underneath the water. Groaning against your lips while he slowly starts to pull you down onto his length, impaling you inch by tortuously fabulous inch as you steal his breath.

It was an exaggeration when you said it. A minor one, you thought, but an exaggeration nonetheless. But with every second that ticks by as you sink down on his cock, you're starting to believe that you might feel him in your throat by the time he bottoms out. Wrapping both of your arms around his shoulders lets you hold him as close as possible as he starts to move, whimpering against his lips with every forward stroke. If he does split you in half, it will be the most amazing way to go in the whole world.

The water sloshes around both of you and Steve reaches out to hold onto the rock at your back. Keeping himself steady as he works himself in and out of you. “Fuck.” He pants, ducking his head down to nip at your throat and kiss it after.

"Fuck – oh fuck – you feel so fucking good." The words just tumble from your lips between kisses, desperate to feel as much of him all at once as you possibly can.

Steve has to agree, you feel amazing around him. He grunts and his teeth find your bottom lip and bites down on it while he gives a particularly rough thrust after he feels your walls relax around him.

The rocks biting into your back could leave permanent scars and you would wear them of badges of honour to memorialize tonight. As unbelievable as it is, he seems to fit you perfectly - stretching and filling you but never pushing past pure pleasure or approaching pain. Even the rougher strokes, that energetic and needy rhythm he finds that has you crying out and moaning with every thrust, seems to be the perfect balance for the two of you. You nip him back, lower lip and neck and earlobe all perfect places for your teeth to sink into and he seems to love it.

“Fuck.” He hisses, closing his eyes and his mouth going slack at the way you are biting and nipping him. He loves it. Arm tightening around you, he moans your name quietly, right into your ear, feeling his cock twitch deep inside your snug walls.

It's music. The best song in the world. And right in this moment you know that you'll do whatever you can to hear your name from his lips over and over again. The revelation that he likes to be a little rougher spurs you on entirely, though, and without even thinking about it you find yourself sucking a deep mark at the base of his neck that will be there at least a few days - hidden under his deputy's uniform like a dirty little secret. Which, you suppose, it is.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Steve moans into the air, not giving a flying fuck who might be around and hear. He wouldn’t stop if the sheriff himself rolls up right now. His stomach clenches at the suction of your mouth on his skin and he turns the two of you around, bracing himself against the rock and starts moving you onto top of him, gritting his teeth as he manages to slip a little deeper.

"Oh my god." Clinging to him that much more securely as you move on him, it becomes an unrecognizable rhythm that matters only to your bodies. The whole world has dissolved around you, but you are climbing nearer to your peak with every passing moment.

“You gonna cum?” Steve asks, hissing slightly when your walls start to flutter around him. Nearly stunting his thrusts, but he just pulls you down harder and rucks his hips up more to work through it.

“S-so fucking close.” And when was the last time you actually came with a lover at all, let alone twice?

“Good.” Steve grunts, the water slapping in the small space between you and his head falls forward to rest on your collar bone while he barrels you both towards an orgasm. “Need to feel it baby.” Moving together, it doesn't take long for the two of you to find yourselves on the precipice. Your walls bear down on him with so much force that you swear you nearly black out near the end, sobbing his name into the night as the floodgates open once more. “Shit.” Steve hisses, body tensing and he’s powerless to hold out when you are coming apart in his arms. Dragging you closer and crashing his lips to yours while he gives into his own need. Pouring himself into you in molten waves that make him gasp and pray to the heavens that he’s not dreaming this.

"Fuck." Your head falls forward, forehead resting on his shoulder as you giggle softly in his arms and plant a chaste kiss on top of the mark you left in his skin that is already starting to bruise. "That was— fuck."

“Much better than the wedding reception.” He pants in agreement and chuckles. His own eyes close and he sighs softly, relaxing against the rock and just letting the moment linger between the two of you.

"Hell yes." There isn't a moment's doubt about it in your mind, and you let yourself rest against his chest comfortably without untangling your legs from his waist. You have no desire to leave his arms yet.

The sounds of the surrounding land starts to bleed through. The sounds of cicadas and frogs start to make a music that had soothed Steve throughout his childhood. It's like reality intrudes on both of you all at once, and your head pops up with dismay painted across your features. "Aw shit," you groan, not at all in the same way you were just groaning for him a few minutes ago. "It's...it's dark. There's no way I didn't miss curfew at the boarding house."

Steve snorts and chuckles at the fact that you did just miss curfew, for reasons that would make the old lady’s hair go even whiter than it already is. “Sounds like you’re disappointed to have stayed.” He teases, enjoying the fact that you are still on his cock.

"No." You shake your head and nuzzle into his neck a little bit more. "Just worried Mrs. Robeline will have my things out in the yard when I get back tomorrow. I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

“She won’t.” Steve assures you, reaching up and stroking your back above the water line. “I’ll give her call when we get back to the house. Tell her it was my fault for letting the time get away from me.”

"Do you have every lady in town wrapped around your little finger?" It wouldn't surprise you in the least if he did, considering you definitely see yourself there right about now.

“Nah.” He drawls, giving you an only slightly cocky smirk. “But considerin’ she knows I’m gonna be a sheriff’s deputy, I think she’ll let you slide.”

"It will be a lecture over breakfast instead." The thought makes you giggle, that post coital bliss coursing through your veins making it seem silly rather than the serious misstep it might otherwise be. "And I'll be hounded with questions about our intentions that she has no right to demand answers to." A deep, and deeply satisfied, sigh passes your lips as you pull back to look at him again. "Small towns are all the same."

“I’ll tell her that you’re sleepin’ in Tater’s room.” He chuckles and leans in to kiss you again as his softening cock slips out of you. “She’ll be quiet as a church mouse then.”

"Genius." You hum against his lips and groan slightly in protest when the two of you come untangled from each other. "But you're gonna have to button that uniform all the way up...I left you a little souvenir that I hope you'll like."

“I felt it.” He reaches up and rubs his neck with a grin. “It seems like a fair trade to me.”

"I'll climb out the window in the morning so your parents don't catch us," you tease. Separating in the cooling water makes you pout, but you'll have to climb out and dry off to get dressed eventually.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I think my parents have figured out I’m not a virgin anymore.” That ship sailed long ago, but he has never brought a woman home beyond Connie.

“I was thinking of preserving us from prying question,” you tell him honestly as the two of you lift yourselves out of the water. “But if you think they won’t mind?” You shrug. “Well, you know your folks better than me.”

"After tonight?" He tosses you a grin and hands you the panties you were wearing as he scoops up some clothes. "I'm sure everyone is going to be sleeping in come the morning." He predicts, knowing how sometimes the after parties last longer than the real receptions. Especially if they break out the 'shine.

Thanks for making the day more fun.” It’s a silly sentiment, but you fluster slightly trying to dry off before you can put on your borrowed dress again.

“I think I should be thanking you.” Steve chuckles and pulls his briefs on. “Not sure if this was quite the town welcome you were expecting.”

“Not at all.” The very idea of it makes you grin as you finally pull your dress over your head. “But I doubt it’s what you expected for a homecoming, too.”

“So much better.” He huffs, rolling his eyes as he imagines all the questions he dodged.

“We should get out of here.” Nodding toward where his truck is parked, you easily lean into his side when he lifts his arm to offer you a spot. “Somebody’s sure to have heard us.”

“Half the parish.” He teases, feeling lighter and happier than he has in a long time. It’s not just the sex, it’s getting out of his own head, and he appreciates it. Turning his head, he kisses your temple affectionately as if you had received thousands of kisses from him. “We’ll go crawl in a bed and I know I’ll sleep good tonight.”

“I will, too.” With your heels dangling from your fingers, you keep in line with his strides and climb into his truck when he opens the door for you. It’s comforting to know this was more than just a quick fuck for him - even if it doesn’t turn out to be more than one night, he is still kind enough to give you a place to sleep instead of just dropping you off at the boarding house and telling you good luck. Or worse, stranding you at the swimming hole.

******

The ride back from the swimming hole is quiet, but not in an awkward sense. The radio hums, turned down to a low volume, and provides a backdrop for the occasional creak of the truck over pot holes and ruts as Steve drives slowly with the windows down. The summer night cools down, air blowing across his damp skin and through his hair, making him relax even more.

His house is quiet when you arrive but the party is still raging next door. The only sign of life at the Murphy home is his father asleep in the La-Z-Boy in the living room, and you stifle a laugh at the sight. Your own father would be exactly the same way.

Noticing your grin, Steve leans in close. “Don’t knock it until you try it. Those chairs are comfortable.”

“I was just thinking that my dad would be in exactly the same position,” you whisper, letting him lead you through the house. His overlarge hand around yours is warm and comforting and you don’t want to let go for anything.

"I think once you have kids, it becomes a universal right of passage to fall asleep in a chair at any point, any time.” He jokes, remembering how Connie would come home and Olivia would be passed out on his shoulder, and he was right there with her.

That makes you pause, and you look back at him curiously. “D—do you? Have kids? I…never thought to ask.”

"I did – do, I guess." He sighs. "We adopted a little girl in Colombia. Escobar's sicarios had killed her mother." He explains, not willing to talk about Connie's struggle with fertility. "My ex demanded sole custody and I wasn't in a place to fight it."

“I’m so sorry.” Squeezing his hand gently, you end up pulling him into a hug after a moment that he returns easily. “I’m sorry you don’t get to see your daughter. That can’t be easy.”

Steve sighs and tucks his head into your neck for a moment, savoring the feeling of someone caring. Someone who was not obligated to. "It's for the best. I wasn't— it was rough in Colombia." He knows he made mistakes as well; it wasn't just Connie deciding she wanted a divorce. He had changed and some of those changes weren't pretty. "I will wait until she's older and see if Connie will change her mind."

“If you ever want to talk about it…” you let the sentence trail off, softly stroking his back as he holds onto you. “No pressure. But I’m a pretty good listener.”

"Thanks." He pulls back and gives you a small smile. "Let’s get upstairs before Dad wakes himself up snoring."

******

His old double bed looks like it will barely fit the two of you when you gently shut his bedroom door behind you, but you offer him a grin. “I guess we’ll have to cuddle.”

"It'll be a tight fit, but we don't have to worry about falling off." He jokes, one side of the bed shoved up against the wall. "Hopefully you don't roll?"

"I'm pretty much a rock." Taking off the dress once more is much easier, and you hang it carefully on the back of his desk chair to keep it from wrinkling too badly. "Once I'm out, I don't move again until morning."

He chuckles quietly and strips out of his own clothes, more careless with them than you are. Although he does have the luxury of having something else to wear tomorrow. "Do you mind taking the inside of the bed?" He doesn't want to make it a thing, but he would prefer to sleep next to the door.

"Don't want to be stuck between a rock and a hard place?" You can't resist the joke, and grin at him as you climb under the covers to shimmy across the mattress.

He snorts and shakes his head. "Habit." He admits, blushing slightly. "Closest to the door..." Closest to the danger is the unspoken part.

"Doesn't make a bit of difference to me." Settled in with your head on one of his pillows, you pat the space next to you softly. "Just as long as you're joining me."

He snorts and nods. "Of course." He huffs playfully. "It's my bed after all." He lifts the covers and slides in beside you, settling on his side and wondering if he can put his arms around you.

Noting his obvious hesitation, you nestle yourself right into his chest and put one arm around his waist to draw him close. After what happened an hour ago? You're not inclined to be shy about something as innocent as sleeping. "It's gonna be a long night if you don't want to cuddle."

With that invitation, Steve melts into you and presses himself up against you with his leg sliding between yours.

"Hmmm," you sigh in utter contentment and lay your head on his chest, letting him draw you in as closely as he pleases. "G'night, Steve."

"G'night gorgeous." He breathes out softly, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep peacefully. There's no mistaking it, as the two of you snuggle tightly into each others' arms: this really might be the best second chance you ever could have gotten.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

Steve Tags: @pedropascalsx @ithinkwehitametaphor @justafleshwoundbaby @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook

#Boyd Holbrook #Boyd Holbrook fanfic #Steve Murphy #Steve Murphy x reader #Steve Murphy x you #Steve Murphy x female reader #Narcos #Steel Magnolias Au #tw divorce #I just love Steve a lot #And want to give him all the nice things

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