coffee makes life better

The bedroom was silent. Usually that would have been incredibly soothing, the perfect environment to fall asleep without a second thought. But tonight… well.

You rolled onto your back for what had to be the tenth time that night and stared at the ceiling. Sleep simply refused to come.

It wasn’t unusual for you to have the occasional restless night. Especially since Lizzie was born. And lately… work stress, wedding planning - there had been plenty of reasons. But tonight felt different. Your body was tired. Your mind was exhausted. Yet every time you closed your eyes they sprang open again moments later.

You glanced at the clock. 1:47 a.m

A tired sigh escaped you.

Jack hadn’t stirred once. One arm was thrown over his stomach, his mouth slightly open, snoring just loudly enough to remind you how unfair life could be.

“You suck” you whispered fondly.

He answered with another snore.

With another sigh you reached for the glass of water on your nightstand and took a sip before settling back down with a wince. Your back had been aching on and off all day. Nothing terrible - just enough to be annoying.

You frowned.

If you were honest… lately there had been a lot of odd little things. Sleeping badly. Feeling exhausted despite sleeping enough. Walking into rooms and forgetting why - or losing your train of thought halfway through a sentence. And your periods had become oddly unpredictable.

And once you started thinking about it you couldn’t let go. You carefully slipped out of bed. The floorboards creaked beneath your feet but your husband only shifted onto his side before settling again.

“Lucky bastard” you mumbled.

You made yourself a cup of chamomile tea and curled up on the couch. You didn’t switch the lights on - only your phone illuminated your face. You hesitated for a moment then opened Google.

can’t sleep brain fog weird periods tired all the time back pain

You swallowed hard then pressed Enter. The search results loaded - and you scrolled through them with a tight stomach.

Stress. Iron deficiency. Thyroid disorders. Endometriosis. Polycystic ovary syndrome Perimenopause.

You stopped scrolling and stared at it, your heart sinking. You hesitated then clicked on it. The article loaded and presented you a full list of symptoms:

Changes to your periods

You frowned. Your last period had been really light and had barely lasted a full day.

Sleep problems

You glanced toward the bedroom then down at the cup of tea in your hand. That one was obvious.

Mood changes, poor memory, brain fog

Yesterday you had been standing in the pantry unable to remember why you’d opened the door. The day before you had cried because of that stupid video on your Instagram feed, where a lion was reunited with his caregiver.

Weight gain

You looked down at yourself and shrugged. Yeah - maybe a little? You had blamed stress at work and the wedding cake tastings.

Feeling the need to pee more

You scrunched up your nose. You had developed the habit of needing to go to the toilet once or twice during the night, yeah. But you thought it was because you usually forgot to drink enough during the day and made up for it right before you go to sleep.

Muscle aches

You shifted on the couch - and your lower back answered for you. You let out a deep breath and stared at the screen. “... oh.”

But no.

No.

No, no, no, no. That couldn’t be right.

You were only forty. And forty wasn’t old.

… was it?

Menopause was something older women had - women in their fifties. Not… you.

You looked back down at your screen and typed again:

Average age of perimenopause

You closed your eyes for a second while the results loaded.

Perimenopause typically begins between ages 45 and 47, though hormonal shifts and early symptoms can start in a person’s mid-to-late 30s or early 40s.

Your chest tightened all of a sudden and your heart started racing. A wave of nausea rolled through you, big enough to make you gag. You locked your phone and set it face down on the couch next to you.

Menopause.

Menopause.

Menopause.

The word echoed around your mind. You weren’t afraid of wrinkles or grey hair or special birthdays - you had been never scared of growing older. But this… somehow… felt different. More real. More… final. Like your body betrayed you by closing a chapter you hadn’t realized was almost over - with no further warning.

Tears stung your eyes before you could stop them. You set the mug down and curled up on the sofa, your face pressed against your knees. 

A couple of days later.

You sat in your car outside the emergency department, one hand wrapped around a lukewarm takeaway coffee which you only drank because you had spent money on it. It tasted bad - but you tried to push through.

You glanced toward the ambulance bay. Staff drifted in and out of the automatic doors, some ending their shifts, others just starting theirs. A paramedic laughed at something one of the nurses had said. Someone walked past carrying a tray of coffees.

You glanced at your phone - no message from Jack. You decided to give him ten more minutes before you would go in and start looking for him.

The Google search was still very much on your mind. You hadn’t searched for anything else - too afraid of what else you might find. And you had almost told Jack twice.

Once two days ago when you were brushing your teeth together. And once yesterday evening, when he had woken up from his post-nightshift sleep, just before he had to head back for another one.

Both times the word had reached the back of your throat… and stayed there. Because suddenly the whole thing had felt silly. Crying over something that might not even be happening yet. Over getting older. Over something every woman would go through eventually.

The sliding doors opened and Jack walked out. You spotted him immediately. His dark scrubs slightly wrinkled, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his - hopefully - empty travel mug in one hand. He walked with that familiar, tired limp that always seemed a little more pronounced after a twelve-hour shift.

He looked exhausted - but he was also smiling the moment he spotted your car. He walked over, opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. “Good morning, beautiful wife.”

He leaned over and kissed you. 

“Good morning husband.”

“Thanks for picking me up.” He buckled his seatbelt. “Where’s Bean?”

“Sleepover at Mara’s.” You switched on the motor and pulled up from the curb. “So it’s just us.”

He smiled. “I love her to pieces but that sounds really, really nice.”

Twenty minutes later the two of you were sitting in your favorite diner. Jack had already demolished half his breakfast when you had barely touched yours. It looked delicious but your stomach was a tight knot.

Jack watched you. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

You shrugged half-heartedly. “My feet hurt.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. “Um, what now?”

“My shoes” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know - they suddenly feel tight.”

Jack pulled back slightly and peeked under the diner table. “Are these new?”

“No.” When he was still staring at you like you’d lost your mind, you frowned. “I feel like my feet got bigger.”

“That sounds…” His voice trailed off.

“Ridiculous?” you offered.

He chuckled. “I wasn’t going to say it, but yeah… a little. But it can happen.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded once and looked back at your plate. You took a careful bite of your eggs benedict and chewed slowly. Jack was still watching you.

“Okay, sweetheart, what’s going on?”

You stared at your breakfast for another few seconds, swallowed hard and sat up straighter. “I was just thinking, you know?”

He waited, his eyes locked on you.

“I’m not sure and it’s probably nothing but… do you think I’m approaching menopause?”

Jack’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “What makes you think that?” You could tell he chose his words very carefully.

You shrugged, suddenly very interested in your napkin. A faint blush crept up your neck.

He let out a sigh. “You googled it.” It wasn’t even a question.

“... maybe?”

A tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Okay.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honey.” He reached across the table and gently took your hand. “You know how I feel about Dr. Google.”

“Mhm.”

“It has an unfortunate habit of convincing people they’ve already figured out what’s going on before they’ve even seen a real doctor.”

“Mhm.”

He squeezed your hand. “But you’re also my beautiful wife.”

That made you look up.

“And I understand why you did it.”

Your shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Even when I feel a little insulted you didn’t ask me for my opinion. I do have a real degree, you know that, right?”

You blushed more but let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I figured. But it’s just… I’ve been so tired lately and my periods have been weird and my head feels fuzzy all the time… and now my feet suddenly hurt.”

“Sweetheart.” He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. “I honestly can’t tell you whether this is perimenopause or menopause. It could be. It could also be stress. Or your thyroid. Or something completely different.” He paused. “That’s why I think this is a conversation you should have with Anya.”

You were quiet for a while. “Yeah… I guess you’re right. I’ll make an appointment.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” He squeezed your hand. “It’s such a good idea I’m not even mad that you took way too long to come to that conclusion when I’m quite certain you believed Google’s diagnosis without thinking twice.”

You snorted, covering your eyes with your free hand. “Yeah, okay, you’ve got me there.”

“You should know better. You’re the wife of a doctor” he added with a grin.

“I know, I know.” You shook your head, amused before your face got serious again. “But what… if it is?” Your voice was suddenly quiet.

He stood from his side of the booth, slid in beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You immediately leaned into him and smelled the familiar scent of him. 

He kissed your temple. “Then it is. It doesn’t make you old. It doesn’t change who you are. You’ll still be you.”

You swallowed hard.

“And we’ll deal with it.” His hand rested against your cheek. “It’s not an illness, honey. It’s just… another season of life.”

You closed your eyes. “I give you a hundred bucks if you never describe it like that.”

Jack chuckled. “But it is.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I know.” He kissed your forehead again. “You won’t be facing it by yourself, okay?”

You nodded.

You stayed pressed against him for a while, then lifted your head slowly. “If it is menopause you can go and have your vasectomy reversed.”

He stared at you. “Honey.” His voice turned gravelly. “I never ever let any doctor near my balls. Ever.”

You picked up your fork. “Devastating news for Robby, honestly.”

--- --- ---

You wanna keep reading? - Next chapter is coming soon, I promise!

--- --- ---

Set After:

Good Boy - Tom shows you how much of a good boy he can be after you challenge him about his reputation.

Worth Waiting For (NSFW) - Your first time with Tom was certainly worth the wait.

Set Before:

Black Magic Woman - Tom is forced to confront a strange truth after Wyck reveals a town secret.

Blood, Sex, Magic (NSFW) - Tom’s determined to prove exactly who you belong to after Wyck’s revelation.

Before The Dawn (NSFW) - Tom wakes up in the very best way before his big day.

Ice.

It’s something that Tom has always wanted to experiment with. Especially since you left that smutty little novel on his bedside table last month when you were rushing to open the shop because the two of you had ‘slept in’. He’d thumbed through a couple of the pages when Evan was out ‘studying’ that evening and ended up devouring the entire thing in one sitting.

And it had given him ideas…

Lots of ideas.

Which is why you’re now tied to the bed with the silk belt from your robe, wrists bound to the headboard above your head. The purple sleep mask you were given in a pamper kit from a hen party has been placed over your eyes, stripping away that sense and heightening the others.

Your breath hitches as his thumb trails along the black scalloped lace of your bra cup, mapping out the path all the way down to the valley of your breasts. He kneads the left one in his palm, his thumb sweeping over the nipple, already raised underneath the fabric. He coaxes it to it’s peak, watching as the nub strains against the pretty lace.

You whine as he pulls away, his reassuring weight leaving your body. He leans in close, his mouth capturing yours in the sweetest kiss.

“Don’t worry.” He whispers against your lips. “I’m not going far.”

The mattress shifts as he removes himself from the bed, his footsteps padding away to the kitchen before returning. You hear the clink of something against glass as he sets it down on the nightstand, climbing back onto the bed with you. His warm naked form presses against you, his hard cock leaking against your thigh.

You gasp as something cool chases over your nipple, causing it to tighten underneath the lace. The sensation sends an undercurrent of ecstasy pulsing through your entire form, a low thrum of electricity that amps up your sensitivity.

“Do you like that?” Tom’s voice is a lazy drawl as he navigates the ice cube over your nipple. Your stomach dips, your thighs rubbing together and he thinks about all the other things he can do with his glass full of ice cubes.

“Yes. It makes me feel…” You struggle to focus on the words as his mouth replaces the ice cube, hot, wet, demanding.

You pull against your restraints, the headboard rattling as you arch into him. His tongue swirls around your nipple, his cool fingers delving between your legs, brushing over the light cotton of your panties. He traces circles over your clit, a light delicate pattern that has you writhing underneath him as the rapture builds like a storm in the distance, each stroke bringing it closer to the coast.

Just as the cold starts fade his palm slides down the front of your underwear, fingers skirting around your entrance. The residual chill has your head tipping back into the pillow, his name rolling off your lips as he slowly eases one finger inside you, then two.

He starts to pump them languidly and that storm explodes over the shore, thunder roiling in your ears, lightning crackling underneath your skin. Your fingers sink into the silk binding you to the bed, your hips bucking up against his hand as Tom’s mouth seals over yours, drinking down your pleasure as he wrings every single drop from your body.

When you collapse into the mattress he withdraws his fingers gently, his smooth palms roaming over your form, grounding you as he nestles in even closer, the warmth of his body a soothing balm against the sudden come down. His fingers tug the sleep mask away from your flushed features, revealing those beautiful, stark eyes staring up at him.

“I think….” He begins as he reaches up to untie your wrists. “…that I may benefit from reading a few more of those books you’ve been into lately.”

“You learned that from one of my books?” You whisper as the silk falls away and he captures your wrists in his hands bringing them to his lips.

“I did.” He admits as he kisses the indentations left by the silk, his mouth feather light as it ghosts over your skin. “And I’m open to learning a lot more.”

Like My Work? - Tip your friendly fan fic writer here! Or be a sweetheart and drop me comment or reblog.

-

Something felt wrong the second you woke up. It took you another second to figure out what. This wasn’t your bed. This wasn’t your bedroom. And there most definitely should not be an arm slung around your waist. And there also most definitely should not be a solid chest against your back. You woke up in your own bed in your own bedroom alone pretty much every morning. So what the fuck was going on here?

The arm belonged to a buff white man. That’s all you knew. A lot to go on, surely. You shifted slightly to reach for your phone and the man behind you woke up.

“What’s the time?”

Shit. Fuck. Holy fucking shit. You knew that voice. You’d never heard it so low and gruff from sleep before but it was undeniably…

“Dr. Abbot?” You asked cautiously.

“Yeah?” He replied.

“I uh I should probably go…” you began to sit up a bit more properly.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” But his grip on your waist loosened instead of tightening up anyway.

You half glanced back at him. “You… don’t want me to go?”

“I’m not kicking you out.” He elaborated.

“What, are you gonna cook me breakfast?” You joked.

“If you wanted, I could, yeah. What would you want?” It wasn’t a joke to him.

You turned to face him fully now. “You’re serious.”

He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“You’re my attending and I’m your resident.” You pointed out the obvious.

“You’re also a woman.” He reminded you.

Oh. Right. With needs and wants and desires, right? The need for food. The desire to stay in his arms forever. Wanting what you knew you couldn’t have.

“You’re in a position of authority over me.” You reminded him, again stating the obvious.

A half smile adorned his face. “Not last night, I wasn’t.”

“Jack, I’m serious…” the use of his first name wasn’t helping matters - you knew this, but it had felt so natural leaving your lips.

“Okay… we can let HR know, get ahead of this thing if you like. Or…” he trailed off.

You cocked an eyebrow. “Or?”

The smile on his face widened slightly. “We don’t tell anyone.”

“You think that’s wise?”

“I can be professional about this if you can.”

“It can’t affect our professional relationship.”

“I can compartmentalize.” He just had all the answers, didn’t he? “Trust me, no one at the hospital is gonna know about this.”

“Princess and Perlah can never know.”

“They’ll never know.” He agreed.

“You have to promise.” You insisted.

“I promise.”

“I mean it, Jack. You know how those two are.”

He nodded. “I know you mean it. And I do know how they are. Relax, alright? It’ll be fine.” He tried to assure you.

“No one can know.” You reiterated.

“No one’s gonna know if we don’t tell them. But I gotta know… do you regret last night, sweetheart?”

“What? No. I never meant to imply that I did.”

“You just wanna hide this.”

“You’re the one who suggested not going to HR.”

“Because that’s a headache neither of us needs. I just wanna make sure neither of us is hiding due to shame. This is just… practical, strategic.” Of course the ex-Army medic thinks of paperwork as a headache and is thinking of a strategy. It’s a wonder he wasn’t a tactician.

“So you don’t regret last night?” You asked him.

He physically recoiled at the notion that he ever could. “God, no.”

“You’re not… hiding me?”

“Our business is our business. It’s no one else’s. We can be professional, keep our personal feelings out of the workplace.”

“I just… I don’t know what this is.” You gesture between you two with your finger.

He shrugged. “It can be whatever you want it to be.”

“What if I don’t know what I want this to be?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Really?” You asked skeptically.

He met your gaze and held it. “Until you give me an answer, yeah, really. I’ll wait for you.”

“You’re serious.”

“Very. You’re worth the wait.”

“That’s… wow. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for wanting to stick around you. You should be cursing me actually.”

A soft chuckle made its way out of you. “Cursing you?”

“A surly ex-Army combat medic caught feelings for you.” He sheepishly admitted. For a man who seemed intent on making you uncomfortable at work with his frequent and often prolonged eye contact, he was sure having difficulties making it with you now.

“You’re not so bad.” You assured him shyly.

A small smile quirked at the edge of his mouth. “That’s awfully nice of you to say.”

You scooted slightly closer to him on the bed. “Do you think that of yourself?”

“You’re young. I’m… not so young anymore. What use am I to you?”

“You make me feel seen and appreciated everyday at work, last night you made me feel desired and you have the absolute audacity to ask me what use you are to me?”

He scoffed. “You say that like you don’t deserve the appreciation and admiration.”

“Do you see literally any other man stepping up the way you have in my life?”

“Well… I guess not. Believe me, I’d notice if there were.”

“Luckily for you, I’m not so much of a catch.” You joked… It was a self-deprecating joke and he didn’t care much for it.

“I made love to you last night and you have the audacity to tell me you’re not a catch?” He threw your words back at you.

“What’s anyone else gonna want with me, hmm?”

“What’s anyone else gonna want with me?” He threw that back at you too.

You sighed heavily. “God, we’re weirdly perfect for each other, aren't we?”

“Precisely why I’d make you breakfast and why I think I’d be devastated if you wanted to leave.”

“That breakfast still an offer?”

“Always.” Easy answer. Always would be.

“I like eggs.”

“I can make eggs. You can go grab some clothes of mine if you want. I’m gonna go… take care of my leg.”

“Those’ll fit?”

“Wait and see, I guess.”

You went over to his dresser to go through his clothes as he went into his bathroom. Surely none of them are gonna fit you. Are you gonna be one of those cute girls wearing a guy’s boxers and his clothes? His shirt perhaps? You got a pair of his boxers (they were huge) and put those on. He had a big ass old olive green t-shirt that you threw on over the shirt (bra be damned). And yeah, you looked cute as hell.

“I have a new spare toothbrush you can…use…” He said as he was coming out of the bathroom but trailed off, stopping upon seeing you in his t-shirt with obviously no bra on. “Comfortable?”

You nodded. “Mhm. And thanks, I'd like to brush my teeth before I go.”

“You can use my toothpaste.”

“...thanks…” This was entirely too domestic but you weren’t about to up and leave now.

He quickly busied himself away in his kitchen. But you were not far behind as you followed him and hoisted yourself up on the stool at his kitchen island. You had the most scrumptious view of his ass in these shorts he’d put on. They were older basketball shorts but god, did his ass look yummy in them.

You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be blessed with the view of his behind while you sat in his house and he made you eggs and drank the coffee that he made you. He was also wearing a “Kiss The Chef” apron. You suddenly realized that it was past sunrise.

“Didn’t Robby mention something one time about you doing nude sunrise yoga?” You blurted out.

His hand holding the spatula stilled. “He what?”

“I uh um… is that… not true?”

“No. It’s not. I do push ups nude at sunrise.”

You almost choked on your coffee. “You what?”

He chuckled slightly. “You okay back there?”

“Fine.” You grabbed a napkin to dab at the wet spots on the table. “Jesus Christ.”

“You need the Heimlich?”

“I’m fine. Focus on your eggs.”

“I don’t do anything nude besides shower and have sex, by the way.”

“Robby lied? Shocking.”

Jack chuckled softly. “He was probably trying to deter you from interacting with me.”

“That was supposed to be a deterrent?”

He shook his head. “Guess it didn’t work.”

“Lucky us.”

He glanced back at you, eyes flitting to your chest in his shirt. “Very lucky. You want cheese or anything with your eggs?”

“Sure.”

“What kind?”

“You have more than one?”

He sighed. “Actually I think I just have cheddar.”

“So… cheddar…”

He plated the eggs, set them on the island in front of you, and went to his fridge. “Uh… guess I’m living up to the widower claims…”

“Meaning what?”

“I don’t have any cheese…”

“That’s okay.” You assured him.

He sighed again and shook his head. “No, it’s not… I need to get my shit together.”

“You’re doing fine.” You soothed him.

“Am I? This fridge is barely used,” he closed the fridge door, “my home barely lived in…”

“So change that.”

He tilted his head, fixing you with a queer look. “Just like that, huh?”

“Well I get that you’re a doctor. Duh. I’m a doctor too. But you can still make the most of what you’ve got. No one’s standing in your way except yourself. You wanna spend as much time as possible at home? Do that, if you want, if that bothers you so much.”

His mouth set in a straight line, he observed his surroundings. After a few moments' consideration, he dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “Nah, I’d probably get bored here.”

“No wonder.” You huffed.

He crossed his arms. “Excuse me?”

“You live like a Spartan, Abbot.”

He fixed his gaze upon his bare walls. “You can take the man out of the military…”

“It just needs some color.” In truth, it probably needed a bit more but that was a start at least.

“Other than black or blue or drab olive green, right?”

“And…” you looked over into his living room at his couch, “brown…”

“Yeah well I would get some red in here if it didn’t remind me so much of blood.”

“Maybe some yellow would be nice.” You remarked, looking around his home. “It’d bring some color and some happiness and some brightness. Like… even just some sunflowers, something simple like that. Or tulips… tulips are nice. You have no pictures or paintings - that’s not helping any either.”

“So what, I should hire you as my interior decorator now?”

“I’ll accept payment only in Belgian chocolate.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he walked so he was standing behind you as you sat, “ma’am but I think I can make that work.”

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed a kiss to your head. “Think I might keep you around for some pretty decor.”

You almost choked on your eggs. Your arm swung back to swat at his ass. “Now you know better than to be calling me that.”

He nuzzled your neck. “You know I was only joking.”

“Lucky for you, yes, I did know.”

“Still wanna keep you around.” He admitted.

You turned slightly to face him. “Did I say I was leaving?”

“You almost left.” He reminded you.

“Almost. But I think “almost” is gonna turn into “never” now.”

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean, sweetheart.” His voice almost cracked on the word “don’t”.