rafe with siblingpack!pogue!reader . . .
he would hear you say “my brother” a lot.
you’d toss it into conversations like it means nothing, like “my brother borrowed my charger again” or “my brother said that movie was mid.”
but it’s always a different brother. rafe starts noticing that.
one night, while driving back from a late-night gas station run, he finally asked, “how many siblings do you actually have?”
you shrugged like it was no big deal. “six. well, technically seven, including me.” and he almost drove off the road.
he didn’t say anything right away. he just filed it away.
six siblings. six people who share your childhood, your last name, your house. six people who have stories he doesn’t know. six chances to screw this up.
later, he joked about it. said stuff like, “you hiding me from your family?”
and you told him straight-faced, “no. i’m hiding them from you.” and he laughed, but deep down he knew you’re not totally kidding.
it wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet them. it’s just, he didn’t want to lose before he even got the chance to prove himself.
the first time he dropped you off at your house, he saw the shadows through the window.
someone was pacing the hallway. someone else was on the porch barefoot, eating cereal out of a mixing bowl. the porch light flickered. music was playing. someone was shouting from upstairs.
you leaned against his truck door, thumb tracing a chip in the paint, and said, “you don’t have to come in.”
and he knew what you mean. not just tonight. but in general.
you don’t have to see all this. you don’t have to see the unfiltered version of me. but he wanted to. it’s just, he wanted to deserve it first.
you thought about bringing him home, yeah. more than once. usually late at night, when he’s driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on the back of your neck like it's instinct. when the roads are empty and he’s looking at you like he’s still trying to figure you out.
he’ll ask little things: what your house is like, why you never bring anyone around, and you always dodge it, joke your way through.
truth is, you didn’t think he’d want to see it.
but then today happens. you were supposed to run to the gas station and grab milk. you were hungry. he was already with you. cole had texted some passive-aggressive version of ‘get here before someone eats the rest of the pasta’ and the sun was already going down.
you don't even need to knock. the door's unlocked, like always. probably wide open all day. you walk in first, and rafe follows, just a step behind, slow, cautious in the way you never really see from him. like he’s entering a space he shouldn’t be allowed in.
the house smells like cheap candles, burnt toast, and whatever jude poured down the sink last night. the tv’s on so loud the floor vibrates. somewhere in the distance, a door slams and someone yells ‘get the hell out of my room’ in a voice you can’t place yet. might be cole, might be a feral animal.
rafe pauses just past the threshold.
“this a bad idea?” he murmurs, voice quiet but right in your ear.
you glance at him, try not to wince. “kind of.”
he huffs a small laugh, but doesn’t press.
you kick your shoes off automatically, sidestepping a pair of muddy cleats that definitely weren’t there this morning. a small blur zips past your legs, barefoot, wearing a black hoodie and something strapped to his head with duct tape. he’s muttering something about ‘operational recon’ as he disappears around the corner.
“rowan’s in mission mode again,” you mutter.
“jesus,” rafe says under his breath, eyebrows raised. “how many are here again?”
you just wave him in further. the living room is barely holding itself together. a pile of laundry sits half-folded on the armchair, and someone’s hoodie is draped over the ceiling fan cord like a noose. jude is sprawled on the floor like a corpse, watching the tv upside down, arms flung wide, one sock on. next to him, kit’s curled into the couch, hoodie zipped all the way up, knees tucked under her chin.
neither of them looks up.
you clear your throat as you step over an open bag of chips someone clearly gave up on.
“kit. jude. maybe try pretending we have manners.”
kit looks up first. her eyes land on rafe and immediately narrow like she’s scanning him for weak points. she’s got that look she always gets when you bring someone new around. mostly bored, mildly suspicious, like this is all taking time away from her personal agenda of doing nothing.
“you brought someone?” she says, raising a brow. “thought you were still in your antisocial era.”
“she is,” jude mutters, not taking his eyes off the screen. “she just wants someone to suffer with her.”
“true love,” kit says flatly. “so romantic.”
rafe glances between the two of them, then back at you. you catch the faint twitch of a smirk, but he doesn’t say anything yet.
“kit, jude,” you start, tilting your head toward him, “this is rafe.”
“cameron?” jude pipes up, finally looking over. “like . . . that cameron?”
“no,” you say. “a different one with the same face, voice, and trust fund.”
rafe gives him a polite nod. “hey.”
kit stares for another beat before her mouth lifts slightly. “ballsy move, bringing tannyhill into this dump.”
“it’s not that bad,” you argue, but even as you say it, a dog barks in the distance and something clatters in the kitchen.
jude shrugs. “i give him ten minutes before he bails.”
“you want a timer?” rafe asks, tone dry.
“ohhh,” jude grins. “he’s got jokes.”
before you can even roll your eyes, another crash comes from the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable voice of cole yelling “i said don’t fucking touch that!” and nadia snapping something right back, sharper, quieter, way more terrifying.
you walk toward the noise and gesture for rafe to follow. he does, weaving past the wreckage of backpacks and tangled shoes by the hall.
in the kitchen, cole’s leaned against the counter in a faded white tee, sipping a beer like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the ground. nadia’s across from him, arms crossed tight, face set like stone. there’s a pot boiling on the stove and something singed on the burner beside it.
cole eyes rafe as soon as you walk in. no hello. no smile. just a squint.
“we picking up strays now?”
“do not,” you warn, pointing a finger. “do not start.”
rafe just lifts a hand. “not a stray. came voluntarily.”
“worse,” cole mutters. “means you’re either stupid or into her.”
“definitely stupid,” nadia adds, dryly, without turning around.
you rub a hand over your face. “rafe, meet cole and nadia. the kitchen trolls.”
“i’m not a troll,” cole says. “i’m the cook.”
nadia turns to rafe with a sigh and a faint smile. “sorry in advance. he’s only here because he ran out of beer at his place.”
“false,” cole says, gesturing with the bottle. “i brought this.”
“that’s expired,” she fires back.
“anyway,” you cut in before they start again. “we’re just here for a second.”
“sure,” nadia says, though her eyes flick back to rafe. not judgmental. just reading him.
then rowan reappears, making a dramatic dive-roll across the linoleum, blanket cape flapping. he skids into the cabinets, hops up, and shouts, “agent deployed!” before vanishing again.
“that’s rowan,” you sigh. “he thinks he’s in a war movie.”
“he’s eight,” cole adds helpfully. “don’t feed him. don’t look him in the eye. he’s fine.”
you glance at rafe again, just to check. he doesn’t look freaked out. he looks . . . kind of amused, actually. like he’s genuinely curious about how this turned into your life.
you lean a little closer.
he shrugs, small smile playing at his lips.
“yeah,” he says. “like, knives flying. yelling. exorcisms. this is just . . . messy.”
you snort. “give it time.”
but when you look back at him, standing in the middle of the chaos, arms relaxed, not checking the door, you think maybe he can handle it after all. maybe he already is.
a/n: me when i rewatch shameless LOL but yea this wont be a series but maybe ill write headcanons or blurbs here n there with rafe & reader who just has a bunch of siblings in the cut. also yes ik i said 6 siblings and only introduced 5, the 6th is away from home rn !! we’ll get to her another time idk, lmk if u want a brief rundown on ur new fictional siblings maybe
