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jeewrites · 20 hours

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Hold Fast | Ch. 5 - Five Courses

Series Master List

Rating: M, but this blog is 18+ MDNI

A/N: Frankie and Sweets finally go on their date! I do not recommend reading this when you are hungry. Ty to @bloviating-vy for beta-ing and providing all the emotional support one needs for writing fanfic lol.

Word Count: ~5.6K

Tags: no y/n, alcohol, gymbff!Benny, OC!Chloé, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short and has hair long enough to put into a ponytail, reader's nickname is Sweets, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, Frankie POV, kissing, making out, gratuitous descriptions of food, Sweets eats like a powerlifter, angst that resolves by the end of the chapter, discussion of previous relationships, implied past abusive relationship (not described), cliffhanger-ish?

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After you leave on Sunday, Frankie spends the rest of the weekend scouring the internet for the latest, fanciest restaurants in the greater metropolitan area. He's determined to make up for canceling on you at the last minute and go all out for you after everything you've done to care for Gabi and him. Tucking into another bowl of your magical chicken noodle soup, Frankie sighs at his laptop after clicking through tasting menu after 7 course menu after kaiseki menu after some weird pop-up dinner theater. Yeah, no. This isn't it.

And a small part, ok large part of him, wants to impress you, but he's at a loss as to how since he doesn't know you well enough. Surely as a doctor you are used to living the good life, dining at fancy places, right? What would not just be good enough for you, but impress you? His phone buzzes with a text from Benny in the group chat about a new PR lift and that's when an idea pops into Frankie's head. After a brief exchange with Benny he shuts his laptop and readies for bed. He has a plan.

Just as you are sitting down to scarf down your lunch later that week, your phone vibrates with a text from your favorite brown-eyed pilot.

[text conversation]

😻🐟: Hey, so what kind of food do you like? 🏋🏻‍♀️: Yes 😻🐟: ???

🏋🏻‍♀️: I have to eat so much to fuel for 🏋️‍♀️, so yeah, I like food. 🏋🏻‍♀️: 🍜🍳🥩🍔🌮🥟🍣🎂🍩🍪🍮🧁🥐🫔🍧 🏋🏻‍♀️: I don't do sandwiches though 😻🐟: Roger that 🫡

😻🐟: Be ready to eat okay? Might want to wear something stretchy. Prepare yourself. 😉 🏋🏻‍♀️: 🫡 say no more. I have the perfect outfit. 😈 😻🐟: Pick you up Saturday at 4:30? I know it's early, but trust me ok? 🏋🏻‍♀️: 💃🏻💃🏻

You spend the rest of your break smiling into your lunch wondering what Frankie has planned for Saturday. The weekend couldn't come soon enough.

On Saturday, at 4:25 PM you hear a soft knock at your front door. Swinging the door open you're greeted by an enormous arrangement of dahlias, a stunning ombre of purple, pink, and fuchsia hues, a grinning Frankie peeking from over the top.

"For you," he says with a winning smile as he hands you the arrangement.

You're speechless. You didn't think he'd remember you whispering to him, nearly three weeks ago, what your favorite flowers are. And how did he know these are your favorite colors? Chase never remembered your favorite flowers despite the years you were together. He probably gave you flowers less than five times in the entirety of your relationship.

"You remembered," you breathe, looking up at him. "Frankie, they're beautiful."

"I do my best to remember the important things," Frankie huffs, cheeks pinking at your compliment. You catch him flick his eyes over your form, biting his lower lip. "And you're prettier than the flowers. You look — wow."

It's your turn for your cheeks to heat before you invite him in for a moment while you find the best spot to place the arrangement (you decide on your dining table so you can look at it every morning while you drink your coffee). The dahlias are arranged like a piece of art, exploding with color against the drab colors of your apartment. You could look at them all day.

"Sooo, where are we going this early?" you venture, finally taking your eyes off of the flowers and running your eyes over Frankie, admiring the way the navy button down shirt stretches deliciously across his broad chest and the khakis he's wearing hugs his hips and thighs. Curls accentuated with product. And surprisingly no hat.

"I'll tell you when we get in the truck," Frankie grins at you.

"Okay, Mr. Mysterious," you huff with a small smile as you grab your bag.

When you get to his truck he insists on opening the door for you and offering a hand as you climb in. As he settles into the driver's seat and starts the truck, he hands you a beige piece of folded card stock, printed to look like a menu. The cover reads, "Frankie's Food Truck Tour" in elegant script across the front.

You gape at him, excitement bubbling up your entire body. "You're taking me on a food truck tour?!?"

"Yup," Frankie responds, popping the 'p.' "Someone might’ve mentioned you love food trucks and hole in the wall restaurants. So I'm taking you to all the best ones I know about."

You're practically vibrating with anticipation as you open the card and gasp at the listed courses on the food tour.

Frankie's Food Truck Tour

First Course - Taco de Carnitas 🌮 Heirloom blue corn tortilla from house made masa, slow braised pork shoulder, pickled shallots, chicharrons

Second Course - Empanada Colombiana Braised beef, potato in fried corn flour crust

Third Course - Sunday Sauce with Fresh Tagliatelle 12 hour simmered ragu with fresh made tagliatelle

Fourth Course - Soup Dumplings ground pork, blue crab

Fifth Course - Gua Bao braised pork belly, pickled mustard greens, toasted crushed peanuts in steamed bun

Dessert - Italian Water Ice

You are so very glad you wore your fancy stretchy clothes because this is a veritable feast of all of your favorite things. You weren't joking when you told Frankie you liked to eat. Plus today's SBD day was max effort sets, so you are ready to inhale some food. But you are also so moved by his thoughtfulness, planning such a creative first date. Who told him about your love of food trucks and hole in the wall spots?

As Frankie eases onto the main road, he swallows before asking, "Does it look okay?"

"Okay? This is amazing Frankie! It's so thoughtful." You look at him with watery eyes. "No one's done something like this for me in a long time." You might have let out a little sniffle because he's glancing at you with concern etched across his handsome face.

"Hey," he soothes, sliding a hand into yours. "It's my pleasure."

He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. The gesture makes you melt inside at the sweetness. You intertwine your fingers in his, wanting to stay connected to him and you catch him smile when you do.

"Wait, so who told you I like food trucks?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Oh uh, I — I asked Chloé," Frankie's ears reddened at his admission. "I checked with Benny to see when she usually works out at Pope's and, uh, talked to her earlier this week."

You hum in response, impressed that Frankie would voluntarily approach Chloé considering most regulars at Pope's Gym wouldn't dare. She intimidated everyone too much.

"It was weird though. Benny acted like he didn't want me to talk to her until I told him it was to plan my date with you." Frankie continues, tapping the steering wheel.

"Huh," you wonder, filing that bit of information away. "Wonder why."

Frankie shrugs as he pulls the truck into a gravel parking lot. A half circle of food trucks sit just in front of a copse of trees, surrounded by picnic tables. Several other cars pull up shortly after you arrive and a queue starts to form at one of the food trucks on the far end.

"Ready for the first course?" Frankie grins at you as he opens the passenger door.

"Born ready, Frankie," you grin at him with barely contained glee.

By the third course, you and Frankie are both completely relaxed and enjoying each other's company, allowing the conversation to ebb and flow between food truck courses.

The carnitas tacos whet your appetite, a perfect balance of succulent pork shoulder topped with crispy chicharrones. Pickled shallots cut the tender, savory bites with crisp acid that dance along your tongue. Charred tomatillo salsa rounds out the bite. All perfectly wrapped in a freshly griddled blue corn tortilla. You can't help but close your eyes and let out a small moan as you experience the first bite. A cacophony of well-balanced flavors and complementary textures. When you open them again you catch Frankie with a pleased look on his face as he takes a bite out of his own taco.

At the second stop, Frankie asks why you don't do sandwiches as you chomp into a piping hot empanada. The corn flour crust crunches with satisfaction giving way to the tender braised beef and fluffy potato filling. Steam curls from the opening of the empanada, a testament to how freshly made it is.

"I mean, why would I want something slapped between two slices of bread when I can have this?" you respond as you gesture to your half eaten empanada. "It's just as portable and tastes a billion times better."

You scoop some of the red salsa onto your empanada before continuing, "Besides, I had way more than my fair share of sandwiches and cold, sad meals during med school and residency. I want my meals to be hot as much as possible."

"But what about hot sandwiches?" Frankie presses, even though he nods in agreement.

"I'll make an exception for them if they are really tasty," you acquiesce. "And bánh mì, especially if the baguette is baked fresh in house."

"Duly noted," Frankie smiles, taking mental note of your preferences.

"Oh my god, you have to try this salsa," you moan after you finish your salsa covered bite of empanada. The acid from the tomato cuts through the richness of the filling, followed by sharp bites from the minced white onion, finished by a hint of sweetness — maybe from pineapple?

"Wait, don't tell me you're a fan of sandwiches."

Frankie looks slightly embarrassed when he admits he eats most of his meals standing over the kitchen sink, especially when he has Gabi, but the food is usually at least hot. "I do love cooking meals for Gabi and introducing her to all of our family's foods," he adds. "She's a really adventurous eater."

You perk up at his information. "Yeah? That's so awesome Frankie. Maybe I can make her some of my family's favorites sometime?"

He gives you the sweetest look of adoration and gratitude. "She'd love that. I — I would too."

You continue to chat with Frankie about how Gabi is doing since you last saw her as he tidies up the picnic table, and you both head to his truck for the next course.

When Frankie pulls up at the third food truck, you giggle and remark at the kitschy decor, multi-color string lights, barrels painted the colors of the Italian flag, red umbrellas shading long wooden picnic tables and smaller red metal patio tables for two. The food truck itself is a long white truck reminiscent of an old milk delivery truck. Short velvet red curtains frame the ordering window with a mismatched gallery wall of photos and paintings hanging along the side.

As you and Frankie sit at a cute red patio table sharing a sangria, waiting for the buzzer to go off to retrieve your food, you hear a woman's voice call out, "Morales?! That you?"

"Hey— " Frankie stands to greet the person behind the voice before a blur of brown hair wraps him in a tight bear hug he returns awkwardly with one arm.

"Finally made it out to check out this place huh??" the brunette says as she pulls back and releases Frankie.

"Yeah, uh, thanks for the rec. This is Sweets," Frankie gestures towards you as you stand to meet her. "This is Becs. She's one of the flight nurses I work with."

"Ooh, date night?" Becs winks at Frankie as she pumps your hand up and down one too many times. "Didn't realize you were seeing anyone Morales. Gonna break all those hearts at the hospital when people find out." You offer her a wan smile, a bit overwhelmed by her chaotic energy.

"Wait! I know you," Becs cocks her head as she assesses you intently. You stiffen even if you don't recognize her. Before you know it she's dropping the name of your former employer, adding, "Yeah, I used to work as an OR nurse there, but jumped at the chance to become a flight nurse. Less surgeon egos, more excitement, ya know?" She gesticulates with fervor as she speaks.

"Yeah, uh, I worked there," you admit, realizing you've been holding your breath. "Been over a year since I left though."

She looks you over once more. Just when you think you're in the clear she snaps her fingers and exclaims, "I do know you! You were engaged to that new trauma surgeon, what's his name!"

Your heart is in your throat and you can't move. Can't breathe. Is this really happening right now? What are the chances you'd run into someone who'd recognize you from your old job right the fuck now?

"I'll never forget how you made a surgeon get on his knees so fast," she smirks. "It's not every day you see someone throw a $50k diamond ring across the cafeteria."

Really, what are the chances you'd run into someone who witnessed the moment your engagement exploded spectacularly in front of what felt like everyone at work? Over a year ago? You can't look at Frankie. This isn't how you want him to find out. Not that you were exactly hiding it from him, but wasn't this like a third date kind of conversation? What did you know, you're so out of the loop on dating things these days. Because you're old. Broken? No one's going to want you, your mother's voice hisses up from the abyss of your mind.

"Well, it's not every day you catch your fiancé cheating on you, at work," you grit out as you find your spine.

"Yeah, bummer about that." Becs waves you off. "It was hilarious watching him crawl around on his knees trying to find that ring though."

She slaps Frankie on the shoulder and says something about seeing him at work before tossing you a nice to meet you and jets off as abruptly as she appeared.

You brave a glance at Frankie, but not really seeing him with the adrenaline flooding your system. "I —"

"Sweets —"

Of course the food buzzer decides this is the most opportune moment to go off, shocking you back into yourself as it dances erratically on the metal table top flashing red like a siren. Frankie slides a hand over the buzzer and picks it up as he walks around the table to stand in front of you. With his other hand he gently cups the side of your face.

"Sweets, you don't have to explain. It's ok. Breathe."

You swallow and let out a stuttery breath as you clasp a hand over his. His hand is warm and comforting against your skin, steady unlike your heart pounding through your chest. The buzzer continues to flash red and vibrate, muted now in his other hand. When you look up, his warm brown eyes only convey care and concern at your thinly veiled panic. Full blown panic, really. You're practically shaking.

"Hey," his voice is soft like when he speaks to Gabi. "It's okay. I'm going to go grab our food and when I get back you can tell me as much or as little as you want. Whenever you're ready. Or we can just go back to talking about how much we hate sandwiches, okay?"

"I— you— okay," is all you can manage, followed by a small nod, eyes still wide with panic, even with his attempt at humor. Coherent sentences are back to being a struggle apparently.

"We all have baggage, Sweets. I mean, I have a whole ex-wife and toddler, remember?" He gives you one more understanding smile before telling you not to go anywhere as he heads to the food truck to collect your food.

How are you supposed to eat anything right now? Your heart is in your throat and your stomach is in knots. You plop down in your chair as the adrenaline recedes, replaced by a wave of dread at what to possibly say to Frankie when he returns. At some point you did plan to tell him, but what happened spans several conversations, none appropriate for a first date. You try to ground yourself in what he said before he went to retrieve the food. It's okay. He has baggage too. He's okay with you telling him what you’re ready to tell him. What the fuck are you ready to tell him?

When Frankie arrives at Pope's Gym to catch Chloé and ask for her help in dinner ideas for his date with you, he isn't prepared for Benny acting so cagey and weird.

"Hey, Benny," Frankie greets Benny at the front desk with a familiar dap of the fist.

"Fish," a rare one word response from Benny, the more loquacious of the two Miller brothers.

"She here?"

"Sweets or Chloé?" Benny asks, feigning ignorance even though Frankie literally just texted him the day before asking when Chloé usually worked out at Pope's.

"For God's sake Ben, I'm looking for Chloé." Frankie glares at Benny before rolling his eyes. "To help me plan my date with Sweets. What's gotten into you?"

"Oh. Right, yeah she's here," Benny mumbles nodding in Chloé's general direction before sulking away.

As Frankie treks over, he notes the message on her cut off shirt declaring, "I'M A RAY OF FUCKING SUNSHINE." Chloé's covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing hard as she finishes a set of medicine ball slams.

"I'm pretending this is your head," she mutters at Frankie as he approaches. "For canceling on Sweets the day of without telling her why."

Frankie decides to stop a generous distance away from Chloé. He lifts his cap and runs his fingers through his curls, a nervous tic, before replacing the cap on his head. "Yeah, um, that really was my bad. Uh, that's — that's actually why I'm here."

He swears the glare Chloé gives him could kill.

"And why should I help you." It's not a question, but a challenge.

"I want to really impress her and go all out for her this Saturday to make-up for canceling," he continues before pausing. "Especially since she took such good care of my daughter and me when Gabi got sick last week. Which is — which is why I canceled at the last minute."

Chloé gives him a non-committal grunt, brows still furrowed, but her eyes motion for him to continue.

"I thought about taking her to some of those fancy tasting menu places, but I realize I don't know what she really likes… If she'd be into that."

"I mean, who doesn't like a fancy meal once in a while?" Chloé scoffs and shifts her weight from side to side, as if she's trying to decide whether to divulge more and help Frankie out. "But Sweets isn't into the fancy shit the way she is into food trucks and hole in the wall spots. The woman is always on the hunt for the best tacos or dumplings or whatever in the area."

Frankie nods along intently to what Chloé shares and takes detailed mental notes. You truly are a woman after his own heart.

"You should see her on vacation trying to suss out the best local eats. You always know you're going to eat well with her." Chloé glares back at Frankie before concluding with a threat for good measure. "You hurt her and I'll kill you. She's — she's been through enough. She doesn't need another guy wrecking her life."

Frankie appreciates a direct woman. And the tip about some guy wrecking your life. He stores that one away along with the threat.

"I just want to go all out for her. She deserves the best," he manages. "Gonna try my hardest not to fuck it up."

"Good," Chloé resumes picking up the medicine ball and raising it overhead before slamming it down on the ground. How does someone make everything sound like a threat?

"That still my head?" Frankie ventures looking at the medicine ball.

"Depends," Chloé huffs back at him, but he thinks he catches her smirking at him for a moment. "On how well you take care of my friend."

As Frankie thanks Chloé and turns to leave, he catches Benny hiding behind the cable tower machine watching the entire interaction, pretending to wipe down the gym equipment. Benny never cleans a goddamn thing unless it is a weapon.

"You're gonna take the paint off the metal," Frankie whispers to Benny as he walks by.

"Huh?"

Frankie shoves Benny out from behind the cable tower, "See you later, Benny boy. Good luck with that," as he motions with his eyes towards Chloé.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Benny calls back after catching himself from falling on his face in front of Chloé.

Frankie just shakes his head and beelines it to his truck. He has a food truck tour to plan.

When Frankie returns with a giant pile of fresh tagliatelle smothered in Sunday sauce, your stomach turns even if ragu is one of your favorite things. He sets everything down gently as if he is afraid to spook you with any sudden movements or sounds.

"I — I wasn't trying to hide my ex-fiancé from you," you blurt out without thinking. Smooth start there, tiger. Real smooth. You worry your hands in your lap to hold back the rising waves of anxiety. "I just thought failed engagements are more like a third date kinda conversation."

"Didn't think ya were," Frankie responds as he settles back into his chair. He slides a large hand across the table beckoning for you to place one of your hands in his. After a beat you slide a hand into his. It's warm and grounding. You find your shoulders relaxing away from your ears a smidge, and your stomach settles.

"I meant it when I said you don't have to tell me anymore than you're ready to," he reassures before something you said clicks, and he beams at you. "You'd go on a third date with me?"

You can't help but offer a small grin back, "I'd let you take me on as many dates as you want if they're anything like this, Frankie."

"Minus the co-worker with the big mouth." Frankie is full of jokes. "Too soon?"

You suppress a giggle bubbling up from your throat. "I guess that means you're not going to take me home after this?"

"Not unless you want me to, Sweets," Frankie squeezes your hand. "I'm having the best time."

Your stomach rumbles at this exact moment in response and Frankie laughs, tummy shaking laughter, wondering out loud how you are still hungry after tacos and empanadas.

"I told you I like to eat!" You cross your arms in mock indignation as Frankie wipes away tears of laughter and hands you a fork.

As you both dig into the pile of pasta, marveling at the depth of flavor a 12 hour simmer gives the ragu, you take the opportunity to ask Frankie about his work as an EMS pilot. His entire body is buoyant with excitement when he talks about flying, brown eyes bright with passion. You can tell the two loves of his life are Gabi and flying by the way he speaks about both.

"The hours aren't terrible, 12 hour shifts, 4 days on and 3 days off, with a lot of waiting around. But at least I'm not getting shot at now when I fly," Frankie shares, adding how his parents help watch Gabi when he has custody and has to work. Your breath hitches at the thought of anyone shooting at sweet Frankie.

"Next stop?" he tries to change the subject when he catches your worried expression.

You nod and attempt to help clear the table, but Frankie insists you don't lift a finger.

The next two stops fly by as Frankie tells you about the owners of the soup dumpling take-out window, former cooks at some Taiwanese chain making its way into the U.S.

"Ooo yes, DTF! I've been to one of their locations before!" you exclaim.

His eyebrows curve upward in confusion, "Wait, I thought DTF meant... something else??"

"Ohmygosh, DTF — Din Tai Fung!" you cackle. "Their soup dumplings are to die for."

Frankie admits he hasn't ever eaten a soup dumpling before as you lift the lid and a cloud of savory steam erupts from the bamboo steamer basket. You offer him two options that won't involve near boiling broth burning his mouth off. After all, you have... plans for that mouth.

"Next time we have to try the pork and shrimp ones too," Frankie tells you as he opens the passenger door for you. Seeing his eyes light up after the first bite and slurp of soup dumpling, you know he is a convert for life.

At the last stop he slides an arm around your shoulders as you sit side by side on a park bench splitting one extra-large gua bao, too full to each have your own. It’s the size of your face instead of the standard appetizer size. Frankie insists you take the first bite of the pillowy soft steamed bun, a vehicle for the unctuous braised pork belly, pickled mustard greens, and toasted crushed peanuts. The umami of spiced soy sauce carries forward balanced notes of anise and cinnamon with a not too sweet caramel finish of hoisin and brown sugar. A savory symphony of flavors in your mouth.

"That good huh," Frankie smiles as you let out a groan.

"Mmph," is all you can manage, eyes closed, savoring the bite with a happy food wiggle.

You offer the bao up to him, angled so he can get the perfect bite, the scruff on his chin tickling your fingers as he takes an exaggerated bite.

"Fuch, ish good," he mumbles, mouth full and sauce dripping out the corner of his mouth.

When you brush your thumb to wipe the sauce away, the pink triangle of his tongue peeks out to lick your finger clean. Your eyes flick up and catch a dark, mischievous look across Frankie's face that makes you want to combust on the fucking spot. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the bao before offering the last bite to him.

He sighs in contentment when the food is finished and pulls you closer to him, tucking you to his side. It's warm and safe here snuggled against him with his strong arm draped over your shoulder as you idly watch other diners nearby. Safe enough you weigh the risk of ruining the moment by sharing about your painful past.

"Can I tell you a little bit about... what happened a year ago?" you ask, voice quiet, looking up at him.

Frankie returns your gaze, "Of course."

"Ok," you drop your gaze to your hands and take a deep breath before continuing. "We, um, met in college. Both of us pre-med... and just dorks with the same goals you know?"

You tell Frankie about Chase, how he changed from a sweet college boy to someone you didn't recognize as you went through med school and residency. "I was so afraid of being alone, I ignored the red flags and how we were growing apart until he went out of state for his fellowship and I stayed here. That’s when I realized I was happier on my own than when he would visit."

You peek up at Frankie through your lashes and realize he's been looking at you and listening intently the entire time. "But it took catching him cheating for me to leave."

You shudder at the memory of the night you tried to leave and the weeks that passed before you finally could. That is a story for another day. Frankie tightens his grip around your shoulders as he releases a sharp exhale through his nose when you stop talking.

"I appreciate you sharin' all that with me, Sweets," he says, pausing as if he isn't sure what he wants to say next. His thumb on your shoulder tracing slow circles on your skin.

"I guess I spent the last year working on myself and figuring out what I want now in a relationship," you continue.

"And what's that?"

"Where I can be myself and not have to cut off pieces to fit someone else's idea of who I should be — accepted for being me," the last part you say wistfully.

"As you should be. You're amazing, you know that?"

"Depends who you ask," you respond, quirking a smile up at him. "But I like myself alright now."

Frankie shares a bit about where things went south with Vanessa, his struggles with learning how to single parent. They had been high school sweethearts and stayed together, though he admits he felt like they were growing apart even before he joined Delta Force. How they tried to stick it out when Vanessa got pregnant with Gabi, but eventually realizing it was better for everyone if they separated.

You pull his arm tighter around you when you feel him hesitate and start to pull back after sharing about his own relationship history.

"Thanks for telling me."

"Not too much?" Frankie asks, eyes etched with worry.

"You're never too much for me, Frankie."

He visibly relaxes before asking, "Would getting dessert be too much?"

"Never," you say as you stand and offer your hands to pull him up. "Don't you know I have a whole separate stomach for dessert?"

The dessert course is a small takeaway window for Italian water ice just off the broad walk along the beach. You weigh the flavor options, debating between mango and passion fruit, before finally deciding on mango. Frankie picks passion fruit without hesitation.

He gives you a knowing smile and wink when you raise an eyebrow to his choice, "Figure that way you'll get to try both flavors." Is it possible to simultaneously melt into a puddle and combust from his thoughtfulness?

The velvety smooth ice refreshes as the fruit flavor cleanses your palate from your decadent dinner. You both make your way down the broad walk at a leisurely pace, sharing bites of yours with Frankie as he feeds you bites of his.

“Not too sweet?” he asks with a grin, knowing your bar for the ideal dessert.

“Not too sweet,” you confirm with a pleased smile.

He offers you the last spoon of his dessert, which you accept without hesitation because your sweet tooth is the boss, before he takes both your empty cups and tosses them into the trash. You intertwine your fingers in his as you continue your stroll, turning down one of the piers and walking down part of the way.

“Think this might be the best first date I’ve ever been on,” you smile at him, eye to eye as you lean back and balance on the lowest rung of the railing. His strong arms cage you in on both sides, protective as if you might possibly fall into the water below.

“Yeah?” He breathes back, curls whipped wild by the ocean’s breeze, brown eyes anchored to yours. “What would make it definitely the best first date you’ve ever been on?”

“If you kissed me right now.” The tip of your tongue wets your lower lip as your gaze flicks to his plush lips curving into a small smile at your words.

Frankie smooths your hair back before cupping your cheek with one hand. “Think I can manage that.” He presses the line of his body against you as he slots his mouth against yours, gently at first, until you open for him to lick into your mouth. A soft moan escapes your throat. He kisses you harder, his other large hand snaking up the middle of you back to cup your neck, holding you in place. You reach your hands to run your fingers through his curls, such soft curls, tugging to keep him pressed against you. When he lets out a soft moan you realize he likes it when you do that.

Your foot slips when someone suddenly catcalls the two of you, followed by a "GET A ROOM!" But Frankie catches you with his quick reflexes, holding you tight against him. "I got you, baby," he reassures, voice breathy and soft. Baby. You practically melt at the endearment. And because he's now nuzzling the sensitive spot behind your ear with the delicious curve of his nose, peppering kisses down the column of your neck.

"Frankie," your voice comes out breathy like you've just sprinted down the broad walk. You repeat his name when he continues to pepper you with kisses.

"Hmm," he rumbles against your neck.

"We're in public." A giggle escapes your throat.

His eyes flick up to yours, black pupils edging out the brown you get lost in, expression intense. Hungry, but not for food. He wraps an arm around your waist and places you gently back on solid ground.

"I can fix that, baby," he murmurs. Pressing a kiss to your temple and tucking your hair behind your ear, he steers you by the small of your back and leads you back to his truck.

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Endnote: Sweet's relationship with her ex-fiance is partially inspired by this quote from Robin Williams: "I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It's not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone."

Hi hi, did ya miss me? I missed YOU. Been adjusting to a new job and the absolute fatigue from training has me beat (summer powerlifting competition wee!). But I’m so glad Frankie and Sweets finally went on their date and ate so well. It’s funny, but I’ve mostly written the last chapter and I just need to get them there. I’m learning that all the stuff between is uh, the hard part. Also, I still haven’t wrapped my head around writing smut, but we’ll see. At least they kinda made out? Lol. Thanks for reading if you’ve made it this far. It means the world to this newbie fanfic writer. Taglist is open! You know you wanna! xoxo, Jee

Taglist: @katareyoudrilling @christinamadsen @rebel-held @littlemisspascal

@burntheedges @darkheartgatita @enretrogue @titabel

@copperhalfcent @triplefrontier-anniversary

#hold fast a frankie x powerlifting!reader fanfic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #happy frankie friday #frankie friday

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