Imagine That.

Thanks 😊

It was burned into her brain. Medically speaking, she knew that was impossible. She knew memories were less medical and more mental. Maybe she should schedule an appointment with Dr. Charles. Maybe he could get the memory of her husband having sex with April in an exam room on the 4th floor while she was doing life-saving surgery down the hall out of her head.

She understood the location choice. It was rarely used, the only time they made it up there was when no other bay was available. She had left the room feeling incredible. It was a difficult situation, one that required far too much attention and far too little preparation was given but it had come out with the best possible outcome. She wanted to find Ethan immediately, tell him what she’d accomplished and about the patient she’d grown close to in this process. She didn’t expect to find him in the exam room she heard a crash come from.

She had figured it was just a patient having wondered from their room but no. It was such a nightmare that she had no reaction to it at all. The scramble of them untangling, the sound of scrubs being pulled on and apologies falling on empty ears.

She filed the divorce papers the next day. She put in her transfer request that afternoon. He refused to sign them. Imagine that. He was unfaithful for months, treated her like a stranger for months, literally had sex with her best friend and now he won’t sign the damn paperwork. And here she was, almost a year later of talking only through an attorney from her very expensive law firm in New York because she didn’t even want to hear his voice.

But she was tired of wasting money and her efforts on getting someone as stubborn as him to do anything without getting what he wanted first. She pulled on her big girl pants this morning and decided that today was a good day for a whole lot of baggage. She boarded her plane, she landed, she came straight to the hospital and she was Pissed. The week long vacation she had been planning to Bermuda had been interrupted for this.

“No way.” Will Halstead greeted her at the door, eyes bright and smile shiny. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Do I look that bad?” She smiled, knowing damn well she looked like a four course meal. She’d used this year to become someone she was proud to recognize, to grow the pain and assert herself in ways she never dreamed she would. She was a chairwoman on more boards than she could count. Lead cardiologist in the most sought after position in the most sought after hospital in the world. She knew who she was, she was sure of it.

“Honestly, you’re smoking hot.” He knew how to make a girl feel special. “Do I wanna know why you’re here? You looked like you were about to walk through the walls.”

She held up the file folder, a grimace on her face and he didn’t need any more context clues. They’d all heard the stories, how the papers got served to him in the middle of a surgery and the refusal to sign or send them back on his part. It was annoying honestly.

“Help a girl out, where might I find him?”

“Surgery Room 1.” Oh, good. He wouldn’t be able to run away.

The gallery was almost full, apparently a good surgery in their books. Thankfully, she’d timed it just right that they were beginning to close. She greeted her old coworkers, offering quick hellos and we’ll catch ups because she was always a business first kind of lady.

Ethan stepped more into view and that flutter she remembered from the first time they met flew into her chest. Had he managed to get more attractive? Her finger pressed the intercom. She cleared her throat.

“Ethan, if you don’t sign these papers you’re going to be the one who needs to be sewn up.” His head snapped at the speed of light to her in the gallery. She could tell it took him a minute to recognize her, or to make sure she was actually there. Could have been a mixture of both.

“Darling?” She rolled her eyes, waving the papers at him.

“Meet me at my car when you’re done. Bring a pen.”

He did not, in fact, bring a pen. He barely found her because he wasn’t expecting the Lamborghini rental car. He climbed into the passenger seat, eyes  never leaving her face. It was kind of creepy.

“How have you been?” She snorted.

“A year of putting me through the political ringer and that’s what you start with?” She tossed the papers in his lap, trying not to let him see the hurt she still had lingering in her eyes. “Sign these. Please.”

“Talk to me.” He was quick to rebuttal. “Please. Let’s just have one conversation. I’ve spoken to no one but your lawyer for months.”

“Exactly Ethan,” He cringed at the lack of nickname, “I didn’t think I had to spell it out how much I didn’t want to talk with you.”

“Please.” He knew he had no right to ask her for anything but she was here on a mission. She wasn’t leaving without a resolution. “How have you been?”

“I’m head of Cardiology in New York, I have a dog, I bought a new car and recently found out I am allergic to fish. How’s April?” That was a low blow. She knew it, he knew it but she traveled far too many miles to not get her little jabs in.

“She moved away, I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since that day.” At least he was honest. She used to pride herself on being able to tell when he was lying but after all that, she didn’t know what she knew.

“Awesome, glad to know it was all for nothing. Now that we’re all caught up, sign them.”

“No.”

“Ethan, the next option is to have it annulled by the court in which they give me half of everything you have.”

“You were the only thing I had that ever mattered.” She felt her mouth drop open, felt like he had slapped her in the face.

“You’re kidding right? That’s how you treat the most important thing in your life then? I’d hate to be the things you hate. Honestly, fuck that.”

“I fucked up, I take full responsibility. I won’t gaslight, I won’t say you did anything wrong because you didn’t. I was weak, I was the one who sought out something new because I was afraid of my own insecurities as a man, as a husband. I thought I would never be good enough for you and I set out to prove it. It’s not that you made me feel that way or made me feel like I should be more, I just convinced myself I wasn’t.”

It was silent for a long moment, the damage between them beginning to sew itself back up because, for once, he was opening up to her.

“I fought tooth and nail for us, from dating to engagement to marriage. I fought for you when your brain fought against you. I fought for you when you couldn’t fight for yourself. And at the first sign of me healing myself, of me choosing myself for once, you ran off with my best friend because you both felt insecure about things out of anyone’s control.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That’s the worst part. It’s the worst part because I took all the respect, all the trust, love, compassion you gave me and stomped on it. I treated you with such disregard and disrespect that it makes me sick and darling,” She looked at him for the first time since they decided to open up, “I am truly sorry.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the anger from earlier finding a lighter lull in her chest as she searched for any sign of a lie. She’d reinvented herself, made herself stronger through becoming who she had always wanted to be. He had reinvented himself by realizing where his mistakes were and how to better himself to be who he wanted, needed to be. She wondered for a moment if he was coming to the same realization as her. They weren’t the same people they had been. They had grown, sprouted leaves and vines and built themselves up from the roots.

“I forgive you.” Out of all the things to come out of her mouth, neither of them expected that.

“What does that mean?” His voice was almost a whisper, his fingers that had saved many lives toying with the edges of the file folder.

“It means we talk,” She took the folder from him, tossing it into the backseat without care. “And we figure out what this means, we don’t lie to each other and we try. Both of us this time. I can’t float this relationship, whatever it is or is not, we have to be on the same page.”

He looked at her like she’d put the stars in the sky, sewn him up with the tidal waves and took them to the moon. She wondered if he’d keep looking at her like that. It didn’t scare her to think that he would. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t jump into each others arms and scream at the top of their lungs about love and happiness. They let their pinkies brush over the console, their hearts and minds race at the thought of whats to be built and allowed themselves to begin to grow, with each other.

--

TW: EARTHQUAKE, MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL TRAUMA

Requested by @nocturnalherb16

Part 1.

It had happened before. Smoke had filled her lungs, dirt choking her as her vision danced in front of her eyes. She’d experienced this before, but it didn’t make it any easier. Blood clouded her vision, a ringing in her ears gave vertigo a whole new meaning as everything in her body began to ache something fierce. This was a concussion, maybe some broken bones and no amount of adrenaline was going to keep her from feeling the pain. Splinters stung her hands and knees, buzzing like bees under her skin and the only thought she had was that she needed to get up. She needed to check on Steve, she needed to get them out of this house.

He found her first, familiar hands lifting under her arms like she was once again his toddler sister. Her legs clung to his waist out of instinct, preservation. He was speaking, she could feel the rumbling of his chest but the blasted ringing in her ears was too loud so she clung on and hoped he understood.

The leather of his truck was soothing, cool against flamed skin and panic began to set in. They needed to be in shelter, aftershocks were sure to race through and she did not want to be on a collapsing road.

“Ste- Steve,” She couldn’t hear herself but she knew it was nothing above a whisper. Familiar blue eyes came into sight, a soothing hand touched her burning skin and it was enough reprieve to give her some energy. “Not safe,” Her own voice startled her, not sure when in the few moments the ringing had stopped. Or maybe it had been minutes, hours, she had no way of knowing. It was exhausting.

“I have to get you to the hospital, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“Shut the hell up, you’re not fine!” He argued, strapping her into her seat before she did something stupid like try and get out while the car is moving.

“Gotta check on people, get to shelter.” She argued, missing how his face twisted into one of disbelief. Bleeding, concussed, exhausted and she still wanted to help people, to be a good person in a messed up world. He ignored her plea, shifting gears and hauling ass out of the driveway. He swung the car into drive, about to gun it when the aftershock hit. Not a horrible rumble but enough that a tree collapsed, blocking the only way out of their road.

“Shit!” He slammed his hands against the steering wheel, startling her and making her eyelids flutter open. She didn’t remember closing them. He glanced over at her glazed eyes, concerned when she started fumbling for the door handle before shoving it open and vomiting down the side of his car. He needed to get her to the hospital, now. There could be internal damage.

He jumped from the truck, leaving her long enough to see if the big hunk off wood was possible to move without the strength of ten body builders. The answer was very much a no. It would take a team to even think about lifting it, let alone him by himself. He’d carry her but the hospital was over 10 miles away and they were the only ones who lived on this road so borrowing a car was out of the question. The phone lines were sure to be down with a quake that size and besides they’d all be busy, and his SAT phone was surely crushed under the rubble in their home.

“Steve,” she was out of the car, knees wobbling but she was standing. He came to her aid as he’d done so many times in their life before. “I don’t feel good, Stevie.”

“I know honey, I know. Let me think, I’ll get us out of here.” She knew he was lying, he’d never been very good at it when it came to her and Mary. He was out of options and she was struggling to stay conscious, let alone help him.

He was about to give up, try and perform first aid himself when the hum of an engine shot his eyes to the other side of the tree. It was an SUV, specifically Grover’s black SUV. However, he was not expecting the Think Tank crew to get out of it.

Riley had never driven so fast in her life. Especially not with boy wonder freaking out beside her. His legs bounced with every heartbeat, fingers sweaty as he tapped his knees with calculating thoughts. Being a genius had it’s downfalls, like running every scenario of what might've happened to the love of his life and her brother and how to get them out of it, to what would happen if he couldn’t. He now understood why doctors are not allowed to operate on family members.

“She’ll be alright Mac.” Bozer was right. He had to be right. If he wasn’t, Mac didn't think he could handle it.

The tree was the first thing he saw. 15 feet long, with a trunk the size of an elephant blocked the driveway to the house that couldn’t even be made out for all the debris covering it. He saw the idled truck next, two figures on the ground beside it and he was out of the SUV Grover had, had meet them before it could even roll to a stop.

Steve’s eyes were panicked when they met his, Mac clearing the tree trunk in one leap as he stumbled towards the figure in his lap. Dazed eyes met his, a blood painted smile lifting as her hand lolled out to reach for him.

Mac was a sight for sore eyes, disheveled blond hair and the dustings of a beard starting to grace his features. His hand was strong, sturdy when it grasped hers and his words met her ears like a sweet song.

“Hey, tough girl.” His eyes were soft as he and Steve began moving her without sharing a word. She gasped, buckling at the pain and she knew she was crying when he reached out a hand to wipe away her tears. “You’re okay, we just gotta get you to the hospital okay?”

She didn’t fight this time, just let them maneuver her aching bones over the tree and into the SUV. She watched them, eyes lingering on Mac’s face. It was focused, chiseled into a beautiful scowl as he tried to hide his panic from her. She could see it every time he looked at her blood soaked clothes. He couldn’t figure out where it was all coming from.

He was gentle with her, like he always was. Kind whispers, soft touches but filled with self-assured movements. Everything he did, every motion he made was calculated and sure. He was a man who had seen, been and dealt with too much, wrinkles under his eyes from exhaustion and the constant pressure of just being alive sometimes. He was full of fight, full of life and she wasn’t going to bleed out in the speeding SUV. He wouldn’t let her.

“I’m in love with you.” He heard her, everyone in the quiet car heard her. His head whipped around, eyes as big as the moon as when she used what little strength she had to grab his face. He pressed his hand against hers. “I’ve been in love with you for so long I don’t even remember starting to.” It was quiet for a few moments, nothing but the sound of tires of pavement as he tried to wrap his head around it all.

“I love you more.” He finally whispered, eyes full of unshed tears as she gave him a half crooked grin.

“Impossible.”

They squealed into the ambulance bay, chaos outside of the SUV from all the injuries flooding the ER but it was going to be okay. Even as they whisked her away, eyes on him til the swing doors closed, she knew it was going to be alright. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her, he never had.

Steve turned to face Angus MacGyver, a grin on usually set lips. They’d met before, only a few times, but Steve genuinely admired and respected the young man. A slap on the shoulder stole MacGyver’s attention away from the double doors and to the older man.

“You treat her right, you hear me?” The threat was there.

“I would never hurt her, not when I finally got my girl.”

—

Requested By: @nocturnalherb16; sorry its taken me so long!!

TW: EARTHQUAKE, MENTIONS OF PHYSICAL TRAUMA

Move to the mainland, they said. It’ll be a great opportunity, they said. The pale sun peeked its rays along the beautiful sand of the island she would always be lucky enough to call home, shadows bouncing off serene water and how she wished she had picked up her brothers surfing ability. She looked more like a wadding duck than the silver surfer, but hey, you win some, you lose some.

Water tickled her toes, wind crashing into her like the waves along the shore as she attempted to let the stress of her real life break into this fantasy moment. She knew she had responsibilities; a wonderful job at a ‘think tank’ as the best analyst in four continents, the best groups of friends and a potentially blooming romance but after their last mission she needed to cool down. It was too much all at once and there was something about being home, standing in the backyard of the house that she grew up in, that took all those negative feelings towards her rather perfect life and shoved them far away.

“Coffee?” She inclined her head, her brothers broad shoulders settling into the chair beside her. Steve McGarrett was 6’ of pure muscle and stern expressions. He was a no nonsense leader, fearless and all around good man. To her, he was 200 pounds of pure irritation and over-protection wrapped into one big brother. She would both kill him and kill for him.

“Thank you.” She settled her fingers around the mug, blowing the steam off the top before testing it and burning the tip of her tongue with a hiss.

“It’s hot.”

“Yeah, no shit.” She rolled her eyes at his smirk, his own eyes never leaving the shoreline in front of him. The silence fell over them like a comfortable blanket, the two of them more alike than anyone else in their family. Both full of fire, compassion and snark but equally love and sensitivity. Mary was the perfect mix of their parents, wild and A Lot but so lovable. She liked to call it middle child syndrome.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” There was no push. He never pushed her. He pushed everyone else but there was something about his little sister, who looked at him with unfathomable trust, that made him falter. She was softer than him and Mary, undeniably naive in regards to their family but hardened by their respective worlds.

“You’ll be weird about it.” He knew MacGyver, respected him. How was she supposed to tell her older brother that she thinks they’d be a good match? That they’d gone on a few dates and as soon as it started getting serious, she spooked?

“I know about you and Mac.” She didn’t choke on her coffee from the temperature this time. “Maddie called me.”

“You talk to Maddie?”

“Of course I do.” Why that surprised her, she didn’t know. She picked at her flaking nail polish, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she tried to figure out how to have a conversation she’d definitely never had with her brother before.

“I think I love him.” Her words almost got lost in the waves but his sharp hearing had him snapping his eyes to her face for the first time since he’d walked out of the house. She blinked up at him, fear swimming behind familiar eyes and everything in him wanted her to go back to being five years old with a scrapped knee so he could scoop her up and kiss it to make it better. Pains of the heart were much more serious.

“You do?”

“Yeah. We’ve only had a few dates but I’ve known him for years and I don’t know. He just gets it, gets me.”

They let silence fall again, his mouth opening and closing a few times but he didn’t know how to help her with this. He wasn’t exactly the most successful when it came to relationships and she had never had a boyfriend that he hadn’t scared off after a couple of weeks. These were unfamiliar waters.

“You don’t have to say anything, I just, I don’t really know how to handle this so I came home and I think it’s helping.”

“Yeah,” That he could agree on, eyes sweeping back over the coastline wistfully. “This place can-.”

It was as if the world switched to slow motion. She saw it in her mug first, the ripples sloshing the liquid into the air and over her shorts clad legs. She saw it in the waves next, the way they swelled and quivered with the shakes of the ground beneath them. She saw it in the way Steve stood, wobbly on usually strong legs. She felt it as he grabbed her forearm, yanking her from the chair with a muttered yell to get inside as the trees above them shook like brittle bones, cracking from the force. The large palm above their chairs fell right as they made it over the threshold, the power flickering as he shoved her under the old oak desk that took up a quarter of the room.

She had always hated it for being so big but now she was thankful as her brother threw himself into the space beside her, tossing a couch cushion in front of their bent legs, and the world around them trembled violently. Crashes came from every corner, her face pressed into Steve’s chest as she grappled at the leg of the desk for some kind of purchase. Cacophony echoed around their home; plates and glasses shattering in the kitchen sink from last nights dinner, books falling from shelves, windows rattling. It felt as though the whole island had come alive, stretching after a long slumber and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Adrenaline raced through their veins, ready to shoot out of the house to help those effected by the massive tremors but their plans would have to wait. The chandelier Mary had insisted would light up the study space (she was right, Steve hated it) shook violently above them before the chains holding the 150 pound hardware snapped and gravity smashed it into the large desk, successfully cracking the beast of a desk in half.

The old wood above them caved in, Steve barely maneuvering himself to take the brunt of the force with his forearm and shoulders. She wasn’t so lucky as the leg she’d been using to ground her separated in the middle, the left side of the desk falling directly on top of her head and forcing her underneath too many pounds of wood, metal and glass. She barely heard Steve call out to her, fingers still somehow gripping his as her vision swam and blood trailed down her face. Her leg was trapped, ribs aching like someone took a baseball bat to them - she’d know after Bozer just about wiped her out in the family softball game - and she could only assume she was going to have a concussion from this. Her family, blood and adopted, flashed through her mind, consciousness slipping from her grasp as she fell limp against the floor of her childhood home.

.

“Officials in Oahu are calling this the most catastrophic earthquake they’ve seen in years.” Angus MacGyver, Wilt Bozer and Riley Davis couldn’t peel their eyes from the screen, news coverage of the tremors running on a loop as their pilot rerouted them to the island that was only half an hour away from their current location. Buildings shook violently, collapsing in on themselves and the luscious forests around them had trees falling like dominos.

“MacGyver?” Maddie Webber’s voice took over the broadcast, face popping up moments later and none of them liked the look on her face.

“If we have a case, it’s going to have to wait. There’s been a -,”

“I know.” He really didn’t like that she cut him off. “But there’s something you should know.” Logistics could wait, another case could wait.

“I already told the plane to redirect, we should be landing in 30. I’ll let 5-0 know we’re coming in and we can coordinate there.”

“Mac, listen to me.”

That got his attention. She never called him Mac. He could see her internal debate on if she should tell him or not.

“Just tell me Matty.” Her eyes were watering when she looked back at him.

“I was going to tell you when you got here but seeing as, well, everything; Agent McGarrett took some vacation time.” Why was that a big deal other than he asked her to be his girlfriend and she skittered off like a scared squirrel right before he went on a three day mission? She just needed time to think. He could respect that. “She went home to Hawaii.”

It felt like the floor fell out beneath him. How could he could have forgotten that she was the leader of 5-0’s sister? How could he have forgotten she grew up on Hawaii, in Oahu? How could he have been so stupid to not connect the dots sooner? He collapsed into the leather of the seat, as all the air in the plane escaped his lungs.

“I tried to call her but phone lines are down. 5-0 got up with us over SAT phone requesting assistance but Steve wasn’t there, they said he took a day off to spend with her. Last known location was their house.”

It took far longer than he would have liked for his head to catch up with his heart, always having a far too soft spot for the smiley tech analyst that put those with 40+ years of experience to shame. He needed to rally. They didn’t know if she was hurt, for all they know she was out there helping others right now because despite not being field trained, she was a McGarrett and that gave them some kind of ass kicking ability.

“I gave the pilot the coordinates to her house, there’s a vacant lot right next to the house that doesn’t show a lot of damage on radar so he’ll attempt to land there. Mac, are you hearing me?”

When his eyes lifted, they brought an ease to his team with the sheer determination settled on his face.

“I heard you.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Requested.

Summary: the one where no one can admit their feelings and you apparently dont know how to use a butter knife.

TW: i cuss a lot, mentions of blood, knives, also finger wounds.

“Fucking shit,” The skin of your finger flayed open, the knife slipping from your hand with a curse as you clutched your hand haphazardly to your chest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You chanted, shoving the cut under the sink in the SWAT break room, rinsing the blood from the fragile flesh just to see the damage.

“You okay?” Deacon’s voice startled you, a low timber over the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of your cursing. “Woah, what did you do?” He dropped his bottle of water back in the fridge, leaving the door swinging open in his haste to reach you.

Strong fingers didn’t flinch at the blood as he reached into the steady stream to cradle your hands with his. You tensed against the contact, leaning slightly away from him as he invaded your space but welcomed it nonetheless. He was muttering to himself, something about how you could handle a sniper rifle but not a butter knife and you resented the statement but couldn’t disagree with him.

You had joined the team a little over a year ago, only a few months after Deacon’s sudden divorce from the wife everyone thought would be his happily ever after. You hated him.

Perhaps it was his stuck-up manner, his prudish demeanor so opposite to yours that it made your hairs stand on end. You constantly felt his eyes on you, evaluating you with an icy cold gaze that made it impossible to feel comfortable in your own skin. It was four months in that you realized he wasn’t watching you because he thought you couldn’t do your job but rather because he was intrigued by your natural talent, how you’d fallen in with the team so easily.

You guess that was the night you fell in love with him. Your father had always said there was a thin line between love and hate.

It’d been a hard day, probably the hardest you’d had since joining the team and your nerves were shot to shit. When he walked up behind you in the locker room, you weren’t exactly proud of the way you yelped, falling off the bench and cracking your lower back against said seat hard enough to leave a bruise for the next six days.

“Sorry!” He was quick to apologize, wrapping his deft hands under your biceps to lift you into a standing position and you yelped again. It wasn’t everyday a grown ass man lifted you into the air, at least not since you were fourteen. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” You acquiesced, finally turning to face him and you’d recognize that look on his face anywhere. “I’m okay.”

“I didn’t even ask you anything yet.” His lips tilted in a half amused smirk.

“I know pity when I see it.” You huffed, throwing your duffle onto the bench and continued to throw the days items in it. This time he let out a laugh, settling heavy beside your bag and looked up at you with cerulean eyes.

“Concern, never pity.” And when he patted the seat next to him, you took it. “It was a tough case today.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay?” He didn’t respond when you nodded. Actually he stayed fully silent, not even a sigh leaving his lips, until you looked up and made eye contact with him. He just stared at you, long enough to let your thoughts take over and tears well in your eyes.

He moved without hesitation, one hand hooking behind your neck as the other ghosted the curve of your back and pulled you ever closer to him. Your resolve broke the moment your head hit his collarbone. He didn’t shush you, still didn’t speak as he rubbed soothing circles into your spine as you let out the days frustrations. Frustrations for the ones you couldn’t save, for the problems you couldn’t fix.

It wasn’t until you had stopped crying, unbeknownst to how much time had passed in his comfort, that he spoke.

“You okay?” And when you told him no, he stayed there and spoke to you until you were.

And that was it, that was the night you knew there was no one else in the world who would ever understand you like him.

He must have felt the same, both of you being attached at the hip so much that a bet had begun between the other team members on how long it would take for you both to get your heads out of your asses. Completely without your knowledge, of course.

“I’m okay,” you assured your best friend, utterly confused on why he was freaking out like that.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that bullshit before.” He teased, using his own fingers to rinse the cut out despite your continued protest that you were fine and whatever the fuck he was doing hurt a shit ton more than the cut.

“I have to irrigate the wound, you know that.”

“Shut up, it hurts.”

“Yeah, you might’ve mentioned that.”

So you let him be a macho man. It was not like you personally wanted to clean out the gaping wound, not when you could lean forward and rest your forehead against his shoulder while he worked away and rest your tired eyes a little. You’d both stayed up late last night, him crashing on your couch once again and definitely didn’t get enough sleep for a shift this lackluster.

“I think you need stitches.” You must have dozed off, his words jolting you. His smirk was evidence that he knew not only that you were sleeping but that you hadn’t heard him. “You need stitches.

“Okay - wait, what?” You demanded, drawing the cut finger into your view and gagging a little at the flayed wound. You groaned throatily, throwing your head against his broad chest as you complained. “I hate stitches.”

His fingers threaded through your hair, tangling and untangling with ease. He’d had enough practice the last few months. You knew you should stop him, that you were nothing more than friends and this would only make it harder when he finally did find someone. It would ruin every other man for you, that no one would ever understand you or care for you or be as kind to you as this man right here. But you couldn’t, not when you could pretend for just a few moments that this was real.

“I know you do, but I’ll be right there with you the whole time, okay?” Your head snapped up, face inches from his but you didn’t pull away, both of you used to being this in each others space.

“You don’t have to take me.” You chuffed, fingers still cradled between your chests as he cocked his eyebrow nearly up into his hairline.

“Well you’re not going to drive yourself, especially after they give you pain meds.”

“No, but I can get an Uber.” His face turned stern, something deep within those baby blues that made you sit up a little more straight, pull back just an inch.

“You absolutely are not getting an Uber while you’re incapacitated.” You opened your mouth to argue but paused mid sentence. That was your greatest fear, being unable to defend yourself in a common situation despite knowing exactly how to. “Exactly, let me take you.”

“No, it’s okay, really. I can ask Hondo.” If one could win awards for amount of expressions in under a minute, he’d take first prize as irritation clouded his handsome features.

“Why won’t you just let me take care of you?” He sucked in a harsh breath the moment the words left his lips, eyes widening like saucers as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s just a cut finger, relax.” Take care of you? You hadn’t so much as had a cold in the last year, you hadn’t needed any care.

He stared at you for a long moment, long enough for you to get uncomfortable and slowly pull your fingers from his grasp. He was making you uneasy now, a feeling you hadn’t had towards him since you’d joined the team. The feeling only grew when he grabbed your face with both hands, your mouth falling open to protest but he didn’t let you get that far.

“I want to take care of you.”

“If it’s that big of a deal to you then you can take me.” You were more than a little offended when he rolled his eyes at you.

“No, you’re not listening to me. I want to take care of you.” Had he hit his head?

“Deac, I’m gonna need a few more adjectives, maybe some nouns. A verb or two might be nice.” Your words fell like lead in the room, no reaction from the man in front of you and it took all you're might not to worm out of his grip. He had something to say, clearly, you just needed to let him find the words.

“I want to be the one to take care of you. I want to be the one to hold you when you cry, the one you call when something good happens, when something bad happens. I want to be the one that you come home to, the one who makes you smile and the one who makes you laugh. I want to be the one you make memories with, the one who talks you out of those stupid ideas you have running through your head. I want to be the one to go to the hospital at 2 pm on a Tuesday with you because you’re so adorably clumsy that it kills me. I want to be the one to kiss you goodnight, the one who wakes up to your messy bedhead and debates laying in bed all day just to keep you in my arms. I want to be the one to take care of you, everyday and always.”

Heartbeats pounded in your ears, you couldn’t even tell if they were yours at the weight of his words. He wanted you? Deacon, the man you’d been in love with for months who you had finally accepted would never love you back, wanted you?

You were unable to speak as your eyes followed his as he traced your features with his gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips before flickering back up to your eyes, holding your gaze in a heart stopping moment. He smiled, small and shy as he admitted what he’d been working up the courage to say since he met you.

“I want to be the one you love.” Your smile could’ve lit the stars in the sky, his own breaking through his nervous mask as you laughed into the quiet room.

“Oh Deac,” You whispered, going onto your toes to press your nose to his. “Don’t you know? You’ve always been the one.”

—