AN: I got a request from shehatedyou on tumblr to write a fic of Nick and Amanda arguing over parenting styles, especially re: a teenage daughter. I hope you like it, and I hope it pleases all the Rollaro shippers.

If you want to send a fic request, you can do so by leaving something in my ask box over at .com.

As for Tres Amores, I'm almost done with chapter 9. I just have to finish writing one last scene and editing, then I'll most likely have it up by tomorrow. Yep, that's right... 2 rollaro chapters in 2 days. At least, that's what I'm aiming for.

Read, enjoy, and review!

July 3, 2020

Summer sweeps the city in a heat wave. Outside, the neighbourhood kids are playing a game of stickball, and fighting over who gets to be skins and who has to suffer being shirts. Behind one of the houses that line the street, the coals are burning and smoke is rising up into the thick, muggy air.

Nick Amaro wipes the sweat off his brow as he turns the piece of meat to the other side. The steak takes on a dark crust that encases a perfect and juicy medium rare centre. He senses cool condensation on the back of his neck; he savours the feeling before a pair of soft lips replace it. Unsurprisingly, he actually prefers the latter. Nick tilts his head back to see the bright smile of his girlfriend.

Six years ago, they were each other's ports in a storm that swept over their squad and left a deluge of trauma in its wake. Today, they are happily living together with old Frannie and, in the summers, with his two kids.

"I brought you a beer," she pushes the bottle into his hand as her other arm wraps around his waist. He can't help but be distracted by the vast, blue depths of her eyes and her rose-coloured cheeks. The smoke billows up and his attention shifts back to their dinner. He sets the beer down and presses a kiss to her warm cheek, "Thanks, Amanda."

Once the steak and the corn on the cob are grilled to his satisfaction, he sets the plates down on the patio table. There are already four place settings done. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he tries to take a mental picture of this moment. It isn't often that both his kids are with him. With Amanda sharing his roof, too, he feels lucky to have the three most important people in his life with him. They're about to share a meal together – like any normal family.

Amanda pushes the screen door with her back as her hands are full with a bowl of Caesar salad and a dish of peach cobbler. He remembers coming home from the butcher earlier that afternoon, smelling the cobbler in the oven. Nick had never seen her do anything more than make coffee or ramen noodles in the kitchen, so he stood in awe when he saw that Amanda had been baking. "Secret family recipe," she explained when she saw him with mouth open and eyes wide. "Sorry about the mess, by the way."

Flour and sugar covered the countertops of their cramped New York kitchen. Her cheekbones had a warpaint of flour and the tip of her nose had sticky peach syrup, that he did not hesitate to lick.

"Gil's just finishing up a level in his game," Amanda explains, "and Zara should be heading in any second now."

Nick nods and helps her set the rest of the food on the table. It's not even the fourth of July yet, but they figure with two extra mouths to feed, they could get away with prolonging the celebrations. He rests his hands on her hips and leans into kiss her. The sweet, gentle kiss takes a life of its own as their bodies press up against each other. Her hands push into his hair as his fingertips press down on the sliver of skin exposed by her rising tank top.

The screen door slams and they hear someone clear their throat. The couple is forced apart, and they turn to see Gil, standing by the door, with his arms crossed. He pretends to be grossed out by the sight of his dad making out with Amanda, but there's mirth in his eyes and a smile, not so unlike Nick's, that makes them think otherwise. Gil slides his long legs over the bench, sits down, and reaches for one of the steaming cobs of corn. Nick smacks his hand away, "where's your sister?"

He shrugs, "I dunno."

Nick exchanges a look with Amanda. "I'll go get her," he says before he walks down the side of the house to their street. As he's walking, he hears the sound of a bat making contact with a ball, followed by a collective gasp, and then broken glass and a car alarm. He sighs to himself as he walks out to the street, hoping that his car isn't the casualty. Thankfully, his windshield is still intact once he gets a full view of the scene.

He scans the street to see the game of shirts and skins. There's a group of girls on the stoop across the street. Jenna, Claudia, and Nicole; but where was his Zara? His ears catch on to a familiar giggle (often only reserved for his lame dad jokes), and his head rears sideways to his own stoop. There, standing against the railing, is his thirteen-year-old daughter being cornered by a shirtless boy. A dirty, sweaty, shirtless boy with a baseball cap with a sticker on it, and one faux diamond earring.

"Zara Amaro, get inside. Now." His voice is firm and unwavering. Her warm, brown eyes peek over the boys shoulders before they turn cold and roll so far back into her head, he was afraid she was going to turn inside out. He snorts as he watches her touch the boy's bicep and says something indiscernible. Nick reads her mouth and it looks like she's saying 'tonight'. He marches up the stoop and takes his daughter's hand to lead her up the steps and through the front door. He turns around and glares at the boy, who looks like he's about to pee his pants.

"Daaad!" Zara wails as soon as he closes the door behind him, and locks it for full effect. "You are so embarrassing!"

Nick wastes no time, and he takes her hand and practically drags her to the back of the house, where the food is getting cold and her family is waiting for her. "Who was that?"

She huffs outside and shoots daggers back at her dad. "It's none of your business."

Nick sneers, "none of my business? I'm your father! Everything you do up until you're eighteen is my business."

"Nick?" Amanda rises off the bench and walks toward them. The father and daughter were doing so fine earlier that day, hanging out at the couch and cuddling. Gil takes the opportunity of everyone's distracted state, and reaches over the table to grab the corn that he's been eyeing. Amanda places her hand on Nick's shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Some kid with no shirt and with one stupid earring was makin' eyes at my daughter."

"Oh my god, dad!" Zara cried, "he was playing for the skins, that's why he had no shirt. And he was not makin' eyes at me… was he?" Her brows furrow as she tries to replay the entire interaction with the boy who introduced himself as Javier.

She was watching the boys play stickball from Jenna's stoop, when she saw Amanda wave at her from across the street. She said her goodbyes to the girls before she crossed behind the makeshift home plate. Then she heard someone call her name and she came to a grinding halt. She spun on her heels to find this cute boy smiling at her… making eyes at her. Oh god.

"Nick, I don't see the problem," Amanda smiled reassuringly at Zara. "She's a pretty girl and boys will have crushes on her."

"Yeah, you don't think I know that?" He looks from his girlfriend to his daughter. Growing up right before his very eyes; she was looking more and more like his ex, Maria, but with all his passion and bullheadedness. "Still, I don't want you talking to those boys." He stared back at Zara.

"Dad! That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair." He sidesteps her and walks toward the table. He stops and casts a disappointed look at a guilty Gil, who's midway through his corn. But then his eyes soften as he looks from his son to his daughter, "why can't you be more like your brother?"

"What?" Zara shoots back, "sixteen and never even kissed a girl? Uh, no thanks."

Dinner did not pan out how he pictured it. That happy family, Brady-Bunch-esque fantasy did not play out, and instead they had dinner under the sweltering heat, in a swarm of mosquitoes, and a silence so thick it rivalled the humidity.

Now, back inside in the comfort of his bedroom and the quiet hum of the AC, Nick rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes. The stress cascades out of him as he exhales in a deep sigh. The bed shifts to the side and his nostrils flare at the scent of her. He can smell her freshly showered body with that body wash that smells like some sort of tropical cocktail. Apparently, it's her summer scent, which isn't the same as the floral one she used in April, or the vanilla one in December. Just one of the many things women did that baffled him, but he wasn't objecting to.

He turns his body to the side and wraps his hand around her waist. Amanda shifts uncomfortably and sits up against the headboard. "I'm not happy with you."

His eyes shoot open and he stares up at her face. "What I do now?"

She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. "You were being totally unfair to Zara. She was just talking to that boy, and you were being a typical, chauvinistic dad."

He brings his hand up to his chest and looks genuinely offended, "Me? Chauvinistic?"

"Oh c'mon, Nick. I know you think you're trying to protect her; but let's be real, you would have treated the situation completely differently had it been Gil talking to a girl."

Nick opens his mouth to protest but he retracts his jaw once he realizes Amanda is right. Nick always prided himself in being a good dad, but teenage girls – man, they are a different life form.

One second, she's playing with Barbie dolls and watching Saturday morning cartoons, and the next, she's signing up for a Snapchat account so she can send selfies to kids in her grade. He had to sit her down and talk to her about the dangers of posting explicit images online. But Amanda had reminded him that Zara was a good kid and that he could trust his daughter, so he waved the white flag and allowed her to enter the world of social media. But only on the condition that he got to follow her.

Zara wasn't too happy about that, but she was thirteen and he was a paranoid cop. They had to meet somewhere in the middle. All he learned from the last few months of his daughter's first foray into social media was that his kid was obsessed with getting a retweet from Taylor Swift. That, and Myspace angle selfies were still a thing.

"Go apologize to her," Amanda advises, deciding to ease up on him. She feels for him. It's not easy being a parent; not that she has any real, firsthand experience. Sure, when Gil and Zara are around she feels like she could be a mom, but it still isn't the same thing as bringing someone into this world and being the person responsible for their well-being. This often puts her in the position of playing good cop to Nick's bad cop, which makes the kids like her and confide in her when their dad is being a bit of an ass. "She claims you've ruined her summer, and she wants to go back to LA."

Nick grumbles as he rolls off the side of the bed. He buries his face in his hands and rubs his eyes, symbolically shedding the pride and protective impulses. "Fine, I'll apologize. But, go back to LA? Really?" Nick sighs. "She can be so dramatic."

"Gee, I wonder where she gets that from."

He turns his head and narrows his eyes at her, but he smiles when he spots the goofy grin on her pretty face. Her cheeks are blushing and her eyes are bright and full of promise. Amanda is right – again. It's not luck, but an all-encompassing sense of gratitude that fills him when he looks at her dressed in one of his old t-shirts that overwhelms her little frame.

What was it that Zara used in her Instagram photo? The one of the two of them, father and daughter, holding hands at the Urban Light sculpture in LA? Oh, right, #blessed.

That's how he feels looking at Amanda, swimming in his sheets and giggling at him because he's staring at her. She mouths 'creep' at him and he laughs softly. He won't even attempt to explain himself so he pulls her in for a kiss before he lets his forehead rest against hers. "Good cop wins again, mama."