Scömíche One Shots

Things Can Only Get Better

"Dadda?" I sat up slowly and looked towards me and Mitch's bedroom door, where currently Dezereè, our six year old daughter, was standing.

"What's up Dez?"

"I had a nightmare, can I sleep here?" This had become a habit. We adopted her when she was four from a broken home, where sadly, her father was the problem. The staff at the orphanage said she wouldn't trust us, but she's been doing ok. Apart from nightmares.

I nodded, and the small girl was hopping in the bed in no time. Mitch jolted awake when the bed moved.

"What the hel-ey Dez!" I saw his face turn a light shade of pink from his slip up.

"Hi Daddy." The girl giggled while speaking.

"What're you doing here? I thought we made a deal." Dezereè looked up at Mitch with innocent eyes.

"Sorry. I had a bad dream." Mitch looked over at me with concern, and I shrugged in responce.

"Want to tell us what about? It'll make you feel better." She nodded, and sat in between us.

"Well, you were on tour again and left me with a babysitter, like you do. The babysitter wasn't nice though. He yelled, and hit me, and locked me in rooms for hours." I looked over at the brunette next to me. He had a pained expression on his face, and I knew why. He always blamed himself for what happened to Dez, even though he new perfectly well that he couldn't do anything.

"Well, Dezzy. Just know me and Daddy will always protect you." I smiled at both of them. "Let's get some rest, shall we?"

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The next morning

"Scottie, come on. Up." I grunted and buried my face in the pillow. "Scott Richard Grassi-Hoying. Get your ass up now!"

"No... I don't wanna get up. Sleep is better. Sleep." Mitch sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Baby, come on. You have to. We have rehearsal in an hour, and Dez isn't ready. I need some help." He said while rubbing my arm. I rolled over and looked up at him.

"Mitchie... we could always skip rehearsal." I said quietly, he gasped and slapped my arm.

"Scott, I know what you're getting at. And God is it hard to say no. But maybe another time. We have to much to do and-" I cut him off with my lips.

"Mitch, I know. You just need some time to relax. You've been on edge, and you need a break. I'm only trying to take care of you." He rested his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Yea, I guess I am kind of on edge. It's hard to rest now. We have a six year old, Pentatonix, and other things. Gigs, tours, song writing. Things are impossible."

"Things can only get better, right?" He looked up at me with the same brown eyes I fell in love with eight years ago, and smiled softly.

"Yea."

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Heyyy. It has been a while, hasn't it? I know that most things I write now suck, but I'm trying. Love y'all. Stay fcute.