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“I’m worried about you, man,” says FDR, slapping a hand down on Tuck’s shoulder. “It’s been a long time since you’ve dated. You should put yourself out there.”
“I don’t particularly want to know what you mean by putting myself out there,” Tuck sighs, giving his friend a look that shows he knew exactly what he meant. “Where would I even find myself a girlfriend?”
“You just gotta keep your options open,” FDR makes a show with his arms outstretched and face up at the sky as if it were going to rain romantic options. “You never know, she could come from anywhere.”
Tuck shakes his head, sipping from the beer bottle in his hand. He’s never really been one to go to FDR for dating advice, let alone advice on women, seeing as they have two very different views on them. He wants to settle down, to have someone to hold at the end of the night when he’s tired out from a mission—something long-term. He wants to devote himself to someone who will stay by his side, instead of running off with his son’s hand in tow.
She could come from anywhere. Sure. Where exactly was he going to find someone, especially at FDR’s nanna’s house?
“Tuck!” Comes the shout of a woman’s voice, where the woman in question springs into view from barreling down the back porch, jumping over a rose bush and padding along the grass. “You’re my boyfriend,”
“What?”
“You’re my boyfriend!”
She doesn’t wait for his response or confirmation. Her arm loops around his, knocking her hip into his side before she settles beside him, breathing out something rushed. Instantly a smile spreads to her face when a couple walks across the grass, making their way over to the three of them.
They stand there in an almost comedic trio: her smiling, with Tuck and FDR looking confused.
“There you are,” says the woman of the couple, waving over at the girl who’s attached to Tuck’s side like glue. “I’ve been looking all over for you,”
“Oh, what a surprise!” Her voice tells Tuck that she’s far from surprised, but he knows it well enough to pick up on her tone.
Standing there is Tuck’s best friend, aside from FDR—who says she’s ‘me with boobs’, which neither Tuck nor her ever liked to hear. She’s the closest thing to having a woman stick by him, even after knowing what he does for a living, but she’s only ever been a friend. Now suddenly he’s her boyfriend?
“I wanted to introduce you to Andy,” the woman says, placing a hand on the man’s chest who stands next to her.
He stretches out a hand to shake, which Tuck’s friend does so a little too eagerly. He thinks she might yank the guy’s arm off.
“Nice to meet you finally,” she says with an awkward smile, before slapping a hand on Tuck’s chest that has him making an oof sound. “Fantastic timing. This is my boyfriend, Tuck.”
“Oh wow, this is the perfect boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?”
There’s a pause where Tuck registers the new information before he passes his beer bottle to his other hand to shake the woman’s hand in front of him, brandishing a bright smile on his face.
“That I am, but I’m not sure if I’d say I’m perfect,”
“Oh, don’t be modest,” FDR suddenly pipes up, a smirk pressing into his cheeks. “Tuck here truly is the perfect gentleman,”
And then, ever the socialite, he says: “I’m his best friend, Frank. Actually, I was the one who got these two lovebirds together in the first place.”
“Oh, really?” The woman asks, seemingly happier to meet more of Tuck’s friends.
FDR smiles. “Yes.”
“Really?” Asks the girl next to Tuck, giving FDR a subtle glare.
He smiles more upon the glare, nodding his head proudly like he was the author of a best-selling book.
“Oh, yes. Should I tell the story?”
“No, that’s alright, lad,” Tuck chuckles, pressing a hand into FDR’s shoulder. “Let’s not go there.”
Trust FDR to throw a wrench into the plan. Not that Tuck knows much about the plan to begin with but he knows you and he’ll try his best to help out.
So, what would you know, in a way FDR was right; a girlfriend really can come from anywhere. And Tuck will admit, he doesn’t mind being your boyfriend.