Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Dinner •|| MARJOREECE + WINTUMN ||•

[TW: !! MENTIONS OF R*GER !!]

Prompt: The two couples have dinner with a sorry excuse for a human being.

The heavy, oppressive silence of the dining room made Autumn’s skin crawl. It was a suffocating kind of tension she hadn’t felt in years, not since she was a teenager forced to sit through meals like this every day. She glanced across the table at Reece, whose jaw was locked as he stared at his plate. Marjorie, sitting beside him, was doing her best to keep the mood light, but her bright smile faltered every time R*ger opened his mouth.

Winter sat next to Autumn, his hand resting on hers under the table, squeezing gently whenever her temper began to boil over. He was her anchor tonight, but even his calming presence couldn’t completely shield her from the storm brewing in her chest.

R*ger, seated at the head of the table like a king, surveyed his children and their partners with the same air of judgment he always carried. His graying hair was combed back neatly, and his sharp eyes were narrowed in quiet disapproval as he picked at his food.

"So, Reece," R*ger began, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Still clinging to that nursery job I handed you?"

Reece’s fork paused halfway to his mouth, his knuckles whitening as he gripped it tightly. "I wouldn’t call it ‘clinging,’" he replied evenly. "I’ve been working hard to improve the programs and make the nursery a better place for the kids."

R*ger let out a low chuckle, the sound dripping with condescension. "Hard work? Please. You wouldn’t even have that job if it weren’t for me. Let’s not pretend otherwise."

Marjorie’s smile froze, and she quickly stepped in. "Actually, Reece has done a fantastic job. He’s been organizing new activities, mentoring the staff, and even setting up partnerships with local charities. The parents love him."

R*ger’s expression barely flickered. "Is that so? Well, I suppose even a mediocre effort can be enough to impress some people."

The comment hung in the air like a slap. Autumn’s grip tightened on her knife, her knuckles aching as she fought to keep her composure. Winter gave her a warning squeeze, but it wasn’t enough.

"Mediocre?" Autumn snapped, her voice cutting through the room. "Reece works harder in one day than you have in your entire life."

R*ger’s gaze snapped to her, cold and calculating. "Careful, Mutton Chops. Don’t forget who gave you your job as well. Without me, you’d still be out there wrestling in some grimy ring or pouring drinks in a bar."

Autumn’s blood boiled. She opened her mouth to fire back, but Winter’s hand clamped down on hers, his grip firm. "Not here," he murmured softly. Reluctantly, Autumn swallowed her anger and leaned back in her chair, glaring at her father.

R*ger smirked, clearly satisfied that he’d silenced her. He turned his attention back to Reece. "You should be grateful, boy. I’ve given you everything you have. Don’t mistake that for something you’ve earned."

Reece didn’t respond. He just sat there, staring at his plate, his shoulders tense. It was like watching a dam about to break, but instead of exploding, Reece simply shut down, retreating into himself the way he used to when they were kids.

The rest of the meal passed in strained silence. Marjorie tried to salvage the evening with small talk, but her efforts were met with short, disinterested responses from R*ger. When dessert was served, Reece quietly excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen.

Autumn followed him a few minutes later, finding him sitting at the kitchen table, his plate of food untouched. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on the table, his hands clasped tightly together.

"Reece," Autumn said softly, pulling out a chair beside him. "You can’t let him get to you."

He didn’t look at her. "It’s not just tonight. It’s every time I see him. Every time I sit in one of those nurseries, I feel like I’m only there because of him. Like I’ll never be good enough on my own."

Autumn placed a hand on his arm. "That’s not true. You’ve made that nursery better in ways he never could. The staff respects you, the parents trust you, and the kids adore you. None of that is because of him. It’s because of you."

Reece finally looked at her, his eyes heavy with doubt. "But it’s his name on the door. His money that built it. I can’t escape that."

"You don’t have to," Autumn said firmly. "What matters is what you do with it. You’ve turned something he sees as a business into a place where kids feel safe and happy. That’s what’s important."

Reece sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I don’t know how you do it. How do you face him and not feel like a kid again?"

Autumn’s expression hardened. "Because I refuse to let him win. He’s taken enough from us, Reece. He doesn’t get to take our happiness too."

The kitchen door creaked open, and Marjorie walked in, carrying a slice of cake. "You two hiding out in here?" she teased, setting the plate down in front of Reece. "Come on, we can’t let him ruin dessert too."

Reece managed a small smile, picking up his fork. "Thanks, Marj."

Winter appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed. "Ready to go?" he asked, glancing between them.

Autumn nodded, standing up. "Let’s get out of here."

As they left, Autumn glanced back at the dining room, where R*ger sat alone, sipping his wine. She felt no guilt, no obligation to mend the relationship. Her father might have given them their jobs, but he hadn’t given them their strength, their determination, or their love for what they did. That was all their own. And as long as they had each other, they didn’t need anything from him.