❝ 𝘳.𝘦.𝘮. ❞ [ Pedro Pascal characters x reader ]

family dinner | fluff

prompt: A lovely domestic evening between the family gets interrupted by you all being called on a mission

warning: none

word count: 1231

pronouns: gender-neutral

══════════════════

second-person point of view. . .

══════════════════

Steam danced over the pot that sat on the stove's burner as you slowly stirred its contents with a long-handled spoon. Your mouth salivated at the smell of the meal in progress. Over the years, you had grown much better at cooking, thank heavens. Though you were elbow deep in making dinner, you heard the sound of the front door opening. Then, the comforting noise of two sets of footsteps. A smile made its way onto your face.

"Hey," You greeted them, sparing a fleeting glance to the freshly arrived pair. "Welcome back." You felt him approach until he stood directly beside you, and you felt the smile you wore grow bigger. One of Marcus' hands came to rest on your waist so he could pull you a hair closer.

Instead of reaching a gentle hand to turn your face to look at him, he dipped his head in front of yours, though it was angled down at the pot. His lips pressed against your lips softly, suppressing a giggle that threatened to escape your throat. Marcus smiled against your lips, but the moment passed all too quickly.

He pulled away for a handful of seconds, his kinda brown eyes pouring into yours as they so often did. In those wonderfully deep eyes, you could almost see the feeling that overtook him flash in his irises. Now that your head was upright, Marcus leaned in to kiss you again. This kiss was much less chaste than the first one. His other hand snaked down to your waist, tugging you even closer.

"Ahem," Missy coughed very artificially to get your attention. "You guys are gross." Finally, Marcus let go of you and stepped away so you could finish preparing dinner. You heard the little laugh he let out at his daughter's distaste, unphased at her objection. You, on the other hand, were somewhat either to change the subject.

"How was school?" You asked, continuing to stir the pot's steaming contents. Missy climbed to sit on the barstool located in front of the kitchen countertop. She pulled her backpack to rest on top of that counter. She unzipped it and removed a binder, presumably to try and get done what homework she could before dinner was ready.

"Normal," She told you with a small shrug. "Like usual." You hummed in understanding. That was often the answer she gave when you asked the routine question. Sometimes you wondered if it all bored her, especially now that she was taking on certain... extracurricular activities. She still applied herself, evident by the report cards she brought home.

"And how was work, Mr. Moreno?" That playfulness in your voice was more than obvious as you spoke, making Marcus smile.

"Good, good," He let out a small sigh. "Glad to be home." You shared the same sentiment. His field days were limited, yes, but that fact did not diminish the danger of his occupation. Like any good spouse, you worried every moment he was not in your sights and every moment he was not without your reach.

That fear could drive anyone insane, it surely would have taken you long ago if not for the unparalleled levels of trust you had for your husband. You trusted Marcus with your life but every day it was a battle to trust him with his own. Some battles were easy, others were much more difficult.

"How was your day?" The sweet sound of Marcus' voice pulled you away from your thoughts. He had a habit of doing that; cutting through your anxieties to draw you into the calm safety of wherever he was. Perhaps that was why you fell in love with him. He was a kind strong-hold, as any good leader ought to be. You smiled.

"It was alright," You told him with a little exhale. "Busy work, mostly. Today's been quiet for everyone, I guess." You reached down and turned off the stove burner. You grabbed the three plates that were set on the kitchen counter and brought them closer. From the pot, you scooped three servings, each somewhat larger than the last.

"Missy, can you set the table please?" Your request was met with a prompt scrape of bar stool legs against the floor and a lazy "sure." She pulled open the silverware drawer and grabbed three forks, then three napkins. She laid them out onto the dining table and sat where she always did at meals you shared together: the middle. Marcus sat to her right with a gentle ruffling of her hair wavy chestnut hair.

With steady hands, you placed a plate before each of them. Quickly after you bound back to the counter and fetched your own plate. You came to sit at the young girl's left as a sense of contentment grew within you. This felt right.

Your lives were far from standard, needless to say, so these fleeting moments of normalcy were such treasures. Your eyes fell upon the two joys that sat with you at the table. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew these moments would be tucked away in your heart forever. 

After all, you could lose either of them any day. Instead of dwelling on the solemn reality of your family's fate, you decided to allow those bitter thoughts to encourage you to enjoy the moment. Between the three of you, conversation flowed at a consistent, although slow, pace. There were small beats of laughter, others of silence as you ate dinner. These little times of domestic bliss were priceless.

The phone that was tucked away in your back pocket suddenly began to ring. You took it out, holding it only to silence the disruption. But you read the caller ID, recognizing it as the name of your boss. For a brief second, you hesitated. What if it was an emergency?

"What is it?" Marcus asked once he noticed your uneasy expression. You shook your head.

"It's work," You explained with a sigh. "Probably nothing, but I'm gonna take it. I'll be right back." You pushed yourself away from the table and rose from the chair. You pressed the green answer button as you walked into the hall adjacent to the kitchen.

"I remember clocking out almost an hour ago, this better be important," You told the woman on the other line with a hint of venom. She was less than amused.

"It is," She said gravely. "We're looking at a global threat here. We need your entire family at headquarters as soon as possible."

"Are you serious?" You muttered, running a frustrated hand over your tired face.

"I'll see you all soon, (Y/n)." The woman hung up. You wanted to toss your phone across the room, but with a dose of self-control, you put it back into your pocket. You walked back into the kitchen and the two individuals waiting for you instantly knew something was wrong.

"So it wasn't nothing," Missy remarked, her fork idly picking at her dinner. A deep frown was settled on your face.

"What is it? Do you have to go?" Marcus's concern was evident in his voice. The man was all too familiar with the look you sported, it was the one he had to give Missy far too many times in the past.

"We all do," You informed them reluctantly. "Granada told me herself, apparently, it's urgent." Marcus stood up, a somewhat smug smirk on his face. You saw something in him, if you were not mistaken, it was a flicker of excitement. He put a firm, yet comforting, hand on Missy's shoulder.

"Guess we'll have to rain-check dinner, honey."