Work Text:
Frank Beardsley smiled softly as he gazed down at his new wife from where he stood at the wheel of his boat. It was just the two of them, out where he longed to live the most: the beautiful, expansive ocean. He closed his eyes, and turned his face towards the warming sun; relishing the white rays of heat that caressed his face. The salty sea gently rocked them back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Frank frowned, and paused in his sun basking. The rocking was beginning to become a little violent, and Helen had turned in her seat and was worriedly looking up towards him. He offered her a hesitant smile, but the rocking increased until a sharp scream pierced his ears and Frank Beardsley snapped awake in his bed.
He slowly blinked, and ran a hand through his mussed hair. A quick glance at the clock showed a red and blurry 3:04 in the morning. Frank groaned into the palms of his hands, before closing his eyes and straining his ears for any sound of one of his many children afoot. Aside from the wind battering their massive lighthouse turned home, there was no other noises that Frank could detect.
He looked down at his sleeping wife. A small smile graced his face as he watched her peacefully sleep. The thick comforter couldn't conceal her rounded stomach, heavy with their newest (and unexpected) addition. It also couldn't hide the small outline of one of the younger boys, having crawled into bed earlier that night, curled in between their two bodies. Frank couldn't be annoyed, especially considering they've had many more kids sneak in with them than just the one. So, he considered himself lucky instead.
A powerful gust of wind rattled the windows, but it was another scream that jolted Frank into action and out of bed. He threw open the bedroom door and raced down the hall, heart pounding in his chest as he hunted down the source. An abandoned toy tanker, hidden in the shadows, hindered his stride and caused him to nearly stumbled headlong down a flight of stairs.
The scream! It was closer, feminine, but this time it sounded muffled. Frank went to call out, but as soon as he made it down the stairs and into the kitchen, he started to piece together some of the clues. The kitchen, normally pristine for the fews hours at night where nobody was in it, was covered in all junk food imaginable. There were multicolored gummy worms seemingly stuck to the wall, squished marshmallows peppering the floor, and crushed popcorn strewn across the kitchen counters.
As Frank, mouth agape and eyes wide, slowly crept further into the kitchen, he noticed the screams were coming more frequently, and were being underscored by a haunting violin. The level of fear that rose in his gut settled, but his ire was only just beginning to rise. His cautious walk slowly melted away into a square-shouldered, military march as he pushed pass the wreckage of the gallery and into the entertainment room.
However, before he could fully enter, he paused in the doorway and felt his anger slip away as easily as his fear did. His eldest children were slouched about the room, cradling bowls of empty bowls of popcorn and packages of half-eaten sweets, fast asleep. He wanted to storm in, turn off the television set that was playing William's favorite horror film, and fume until his kids could feel the steam...but he couldn't. He understood what they had been doing. And it saddened him greatly.
His oldest son, William, was leaving the following day to report to his Naval command. His company was to be shipped out overseas, and assist the fellow military men already fighting this country's war. Although Frank knew his son was going to be aboard a Naval ship, it did not mean he would not or could not be engaged on the water.
It was apparent to Frank, who selfishly believed no one else could understand how much he would miss his son, that the others would of course miss him dearly as well. The sweets, popcorn, soda, and movie were all of William's favorites. Whenever he permitted himself to have any, that was.
Frank sagged against the wooden door jamb, and crossed his arms over his chest. He allowed himself another smile, a fond one, and decided that when he saw his son off tomorrow, he would allow him more than just that. Maybe he would hug his son for once instead.