Pedro Pascal Imagines

Frankie Morales - Just This Once

"Baby," Frankie gently nudged your side, waking you up. You murmered a yes so he'd stop jogging you, all you wanted to do is sleep. It had been a long day.

Frankie and the rest of the boys had been back two months. Two long months since Tom had passed away and your sweet, lovely Frankie had come home shellshocked and faded. The night he came home he had opened the door and just stared into the house, bags still in his hands as he gazed with empty eyes into the hallway. Even when you ran towards him you stopped short. The first thought you had was if he was having a stroke. But then something seemed to register in his head as the bags thudded to the floor and in seconds he was grabbing hold of you and lifting you into his arms.

But something hadn't been right. He had been going to bars a lot more often, going out with Santi, Will and Benny till the early hours of the morning. Only to get home with his arms slung over the brothers shoulders, intoxicated and, seemingly more often, cuts and bruises across his hands and arms.

Last night had been the worst of the lot. It was just about to turn midnight when you got a call from Will,

"I'm so so sorry. He's done it again, but he's not stopping you need to get down here to pick him up."

When you had arrived at the bar there was a huge crowd outside the front doors, the noise was overwhelming. But as you pressed your way closer to the centre you could hear familiar voices overlapping each other.

"Jesus fucking Christ," You heard Santi exclaim, "You've done enough, leave it, he's had enough, man!"

"For fucks sake that fucking hurts, I'm trying to help you Fish, " Benny swore in frustration.

"I swear to god I will rip your tongue out if you say something like that again. You disgusting motherfucking-" Frankie roared. Your heart dropped even lower as you shoved in desperation to get in front of everyone

"Frankie! Fucking back off of him! Will's called your Mrs, you don't want her to see this do you?"

But it was too late, you stumbled into the centre of the circle and stood in front of Frankie straddling a stocky bloke with a blood covered face and swollen eyes. One of his fists was buried into the front of his shirt holding the man up, the other bruised and bloodied was raised in the air ready to land another blow. His face was pulled into an ugly snarl, blood splattered across his face. This hadn't been the first night Frankie had sent someone to hospital, but it had been the first time you'd seen him in action and the malicious way his face seemed so different from the man you fell in love with.

When he lifted his gaze, you saw his eyes glance over at you emptily. He was like a shark with his black eyes and blood dripping down his chin where the guy on the floor must've fought back and busted his mouth.

You saw as recognition passed across his face which soon turned to a look of horror. Frankie didn't say a word as he looked back down at the damage he had done and slowly lowered his fist. He collapsed backwards and stared down at the man, slowly coming back to his senses in confusion as the anger and energy seeps from him.

The other three boys had quickly raised him off the floor and led him back through the crowds into your car. You took one last look at the man on the floor to find him unconscious, god knows how long for. You couldn't even tell how old he was his face was that disfigured.

The image didn't leave your head the whole evening as you silently cleaned up Frankie, who didn't even even try to touch you or talk to you until you both went to bed that night. This was the first time he had spoken to you since.

"Do you ever get scared that I'll hurt you when I get angry?" Frankie whimpered horsely into the darkness of the room.

"No." You replied instantly, suddenly feeling wide awake.

It was silent apart from the flutter of the blinds against the gentle breeze. So all you could hear was the ragged sounds of his breath and the deep rise and fall of his chest against your back.

You twisted around so you were face to face and could see the twinkle of his eyes from the dim moonlight seeping in. They were wide open and staring at you earnestly, it didn't look like he'd even fallen asleep.

"I've never felt like that. I've never been afraid of you."

"Why not? I'm a murderer, and I don't know who I am anymore." His lower lip had begun to tremble as his breathing got more shallow and desperation filled his eyes.

Your heart broke as you took in the bandages and plasters that covered his face and hands. In these past two months there hasn't been a day where you haven't seen him without them.

You found it hard to find your words.

"I'm not afraid of what you've done, but I'm afraid of what it's doing to you." You explain slowly, reaching to take hold of his hand above the covers. "I don't think you mean to do it. That's why I can't blame you, but it's been so hard Frankie. You can't keep doing this shit to me anymore." You pause and roll over to your back so you don't have to look at his broken eyes while you try to think.

"You lied to me about where you were going. You lied to me about how long you'd be gone. And when you finally come home you're a shell of the man I used to love." A lump was pushing its way up from your heart and lodging in your throat, but you pushed through.

"You have no idea how hard it is to see the face of someone you love every single day. But you know what's harder? Seeing you become a stranger to me in front of my eyes." You turn you head over to look at him, his finger tips had reached across and seemed to be yearning to touch you but wasn't sure if he was able.

Frankie had always been a little distant when he came back from missions. You secretly thought he always took it hardest, and found it hard slipping back into the headspace of being at home. But this has been different. He never used to pick fights, he never used to get this angry. You understand he's mourning his friend, but he always came to you for release and advice. Not the depths of a whisky glass or at the end of a white bag.

"So this shit has to stop today, I mean it." You say finally, staring him down. "You are Francisco Morales, I am your wife and I will never stop loving you." You thought this would be enough but he still seemed hesitant.

"I don't want to hurt you." His voice sounded like a child, one who was scared to fall asleep after having a terrifying nightmare. One who's ashamed to admit how much he needs help but wants to be brave.

"I don't care, mi amor." You tell him honestly, because you don't. He could leave you in a blink of an eye, like he's done in the past, and you wouldn't have regretted a second of being loved by him or being given the opportunity to love him.

"I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I left you. I am so fucking sorry." His face started to crumble as his lip began to wobble and fat tears starting dripping down his cheeks, forcing their way out whether he wanted to cry or not. "It will never happen again, I swear."

"Francito." You croaked, grabbing hold of back and pulling him against you. With this simple gesture he broke down, burying his face into the crook of your neck. As you caressed your hands up and down his shuddering back, you tried not to think about the smooth marks that your fingers slid across. Years worth of stab wounds, bullet holes and operations scars.

"I lost Tom, I lost myself and I don't want to lose you too." He sobbed against the skin of you neck, the scruff of his beard prickling against your collarbones while your shirt becomes damp from his warm tears. His curly hair tickled your nose as you breathed in his familiar smell. The warm, musky tinge that bought so many memories flooding to your mind. So much love that swelled in your heart just from a simple brush of his hair against your skin.

He raised his head, your noses brushing. His warm breath making your heart race as his eyes search yours. You can see the richness of his mind in the depths of his eyes, as he leans in and ever so softly brushes his lips against your own. A promise sealed with a touch.

In that moment you make a contract with yourself. With you, in this space where your hearts have intertwined, he will be loved by you unconditionally with no consequences. Just this once - he can have everything.