Campfire Chronicles SFW

He gives you that completely unimpressed look and bites into his toast. You dig into your ‘Black and Gold Rogie Bowl’ sparing yourself further discussion. The Cheddar pierogies are amazing and the pulled pork is delicious. When you’ve demolished half, you offer Jack a trade, “Wanna switch meals and share dessert?”

“No dessert for you. Two desserts in 12 hours is a recipe for diabetes.”

 You protest instantly, “But I’m paying!”

“Because you lost the race.”

“That was rigged from the start – you tackle those stairs multiple times a week.”

 “Too late to protest now.”

“Jack, please?”

“No. You can try my toast. And I’ll take three pierogies with half the dippy egg. Consider that dessert.”

Huffing you admit defeat and Jack actually insists on only taking precisely three pierogies. After you pay the check, you both step back out into the cold night air. Now, you can actually see your breath forming small clouds.

1:00 am

On Virginia Avenue you head left, only to realise Jack has turned right.

“I thought we’re going home?” you call over.

Jack keeps walking. “You’re warm and fed. Next stop on Abbot’s special Mount Washington in the dark tour: ‘Olympia Park’.”

After catching up to him, you question, “Another deserted park?”

“It’s quiet.”

Well, that poses two questions, “Another deserted, quiet park? Do you wanna propose? Or murder me?”

Jack looks utterly bewildered, “Are we playing kiss, marry, kill now?”

You consider it and decide to take the bait, “Sure. Kiss you, murder Detective Fowler, marry Micki – that workaholic I’d never see at home anyways.”

Jack’s reply comes instantly, “Hm, marry Lena, murder Underwood and kiss... Robby. He’s my oldest friend.”

While you stare at him slightly offended – he grins and draws you in for a warm, lasting kiss. A cool gust of wind finally pulls you apart. Jack takes your hand this time and leads the way down Olympia Street. The view of the city and the Ohio River is getting slightly closer with every step.

You reach Grandview Avenue the second time this night and Jack tugs you uphill rather than heading downhill towards his home.

“What’s next?”

He just trots on. And after five minutes you see the monorail cutting through the hill.

“That has to be Duquesne Incline.”

“Yep. And on the way back you can pick the restaurant for our next date.”

“Pick a restaurant at Grandview Avenue? You pay double the price just for the view.”

He points to his left, “Le Mont, OTARU, Altius – those are the best restaurants in the city. View or not.”

“No.”

“You want me to pick? Any food allergies?”

“Hell NO. I don’t need a meal that equals the price of a bullet-proof vest.”

“Just try it. You’re not paying. Besides the view is great.”

“Jack!”

“What? For amazing food, great service and that view all three choices are good deals.”

“I hate dressing up!“

“You just need to wear something clean, nice and decent. No suit and tie required.”

“You’re insisting?”

The man smirks – wordlessly.

You throw your hands in the air, “Fine. OTARU. I always wanted to try authentic Japanese food.”

On the way downhill you soak in the view. It’s a clear night and the city’s lights are illuminating the sky. You pass the dark F.N.B. Stadium and its empty parking lots. Then Sheraton Pittsburgh Hotel at Station Square.

“Last chance to ditch me.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re just passing adequate accommodations,” you joke.

“If you’d rather sleep there than at my place – I’ll check you in,” he shrugs.

“That was a joke.”

“I thought so. But if you’d rather-“

You interrupt him, “Jack! It was a joke. Unless you’re banning me from your bedroom?”

“Why would I?”

“See. No need for a shabby hotel.”

“The Sheraton is old – but not shabby.”

You’ve reached Maple Terrace and head up yet another hill towards Jack’s Apartment building.

2 am

After leaving your jacket and shoes in the hallway, you store your weapon and holster in the nightstand of the guest bedroom. As you walk into the kitchen Jack is setting up another pot of coffee.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of tonight?”

“Watch a series?” Jack suggests.

“You mean actually watch a series or use the series as a background?” you try to clarify.

“We’ve had sex twice in the last 80 hours.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m going to make you watch at least two episodes of The Rookie: Feds if you keep goading me.”

“Hey! Torture is illegal in the US. You could’ve just said you wanted the couch to yourself.”

“Couch’s big enough for both of us. Any non-torturous series suggestions?”

“ER?”

“You mean Emergency Room – no thanks I see enough of that at work. Secrets of the Zoo: Down Under?”

“I always fall asleep to that. The Lincoln Lawyer is supposed to be decent.”

“Let’s try it.”

You leave Jack to handle the coffee and make yourself comfortable on the long side of the sectional facing the TV. The tap of crutches announces Jack. He is using one crutch while holding the two pots in the other hand. He sets the coffee mugs on the table and looks at you.

“Would you like a blanket?”

You shake your head, “I’d fall asleep. You’re staring.”

“You’re in my spot.”

“Are you Sheldon?”

“No. But why don’t you let me slip in behind you. That way we can both face the TV.”

“Sure. Because you actually wanna watch The Lincoln Lawyer. You just wanna do it while cuddling me.”

Jack huffs, “I don’t want to crane my neck – that’s all.”

You consider pushing it but scoot forward instead. Leaning his crutch on the sofa beside you Jack settles behind you. When you lean back into him his arms close around you. During the next two episodes you both cuddle, stroking each other gently, occasionally exchanging a kiss. But to your disappointment no hands slip under clothing. And after Jack’s earlier comment you don’t wanna push it. So, you start a discussion about how TV shows like that always feature the cops that either do their jobs sloppily or are too stupid to do them justice. Jack lets you rant and hums his agreement every now and then.

3 am

Jack turns the TV off after the second episode.

“Tired?” you wonder.

“I’m not going to bed for another hour. But screentime is over,” he states.

Nodding you get up, “I’ll go unpack.”

“Would you hand me my laptop from the desk?”

“I thought screentime was over?” But you head behind the room divider and grab the laptop anyways.

“I’m just putting in an order for a second set of crutches.”

You nod and hand it over, “That reminds me, I still have to order the replacement shirt and jacket.”

“You can use the laptop later.”

“Thanks.”

In the guestroom you pull flannel sheets from the dresser and make the bed. Then you store your uniform shirts, the pants and utility belt in the top drawer, where your underwear and workout clothes join it. Everyday clothing takes up one half of the second drawer, your gym bag the rest. The hanger with the uniform for tomorrow stays on the back of the door. Checking your phone, you remember that your charging cables are at home, in your car and in your locker at work. You’ll have to borrow one from Jack for now and help yourself to one from Micki tomorrow at work. Heading back into the living room Jack is still on the couch reading a journal. He looks up as you reach the couch.

“Can I borrow a charging cable for my Android from you?”

“Sure. Take the USB-C cable from the desk.”

You do that and sit down on the couch next to him putting the laptop on your lap and put your replacement order in.

“That’s that. By the way – Micki would totally mess up your laptop settings for not having a BIOS password on it.”

“It never leaves the house. Who’s Micki?”

“It could get stolen. Micki is your department techie and a close friend.”

“No one checks password settings before stealing a laptop.”

“No, but the people they sell them to often run a side hustle selling personal information they scrape off people's tech.”

“And a password is gonna stop them?”

“A decent BIOS password makes it less likely they’ll invest the time.”

“I have attentive neighbours. So, I’ll spare myself the time to enter a password every time I wanna use my PC.”

“It’s four now. Time for bed?”

“Yeah.”

4 am

Making a quick detour to the guestroom you put on sleepwear and enter Jack’s bedroom. The blackout curtains are already drawn. Jack has settled on his side of the bed closest to the door. You plug the charging cable in and slip under the covers.

“So, you’ve decided to sleep here.”

“If you push me out of bed again – I’ll sleep in the guestroom. Even if the bed is a lot smaller.”

Jack scoots to the middle of the King bed and puts his arm out.

“Come here, my raccoon.”

“Your RACCOON?” Of all the nicknames imaginable he chooses the primary carrier of rabies in the US and the animal responsible for a significant amount of 911 calls?

“You’re always up to mischief, eat heaps of calories and get yourself in trouble.”

You blink, “I’ll come back to you about your nickname tomorrow.”

“Sleep tight.”

“Good night.”

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming July 26th)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

Turns out Jack really meant a tour. To the right of the guestroom is the utility room, to the left the guest bath. Next is Jack’s home gym, the contents of which make you a tiny bit envious. But it’s the living room that floors you. Two wide, floor-to-ceiling, double windows looking down on Pittsburgh – glittering in the dark. A huge, comfy-looking black leather sectional couch accompanied by a recliner in front of walnut wall unit. This one had bookshelves spanning six rows and about five foot wide on both sides. You barely resisted the urge to browse Jack’s little library. Behind a wall divider sat Jack’s office with bookshelves taking up an entire wall.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“How many of these have you read?”

“Nearly all. Professional hazard.”

“That you read entire libraries?”

“Yeah, have to stay up to date.”

“Mhm. And when do you find time to read that much?”

He shrugs, “When I can’t sleep. So, regular coffee okay, or do you want French press?”

“Regular, please.”

10 pm

In the kitchen you find that Jack has the coffee ready. He pulls two travel mugs from a cabinet and fills both. Both are bare stainless steel. One of them looks brand new the other quite a bit battered. The new one gets a fair helping of milk added to its contents. Handing it to you Jack heads for the door. You both put your shoes and jackets and Jack locks the door behind you.

On Maple Terrace you follow the street down to Grandview Ave. With every step Pittsburgh’s luminous skyline is expanding before you. “Showing off the view, Jack?”

“Might as well. And given the time – it’s not crowded by selfie-taking-tourists for once.”

When you reach the Overlook at 200 Grandview you can’t blame the tourists. It feels like the entire Monongahela River is stretching out in front of your eyes. The dark waters reflecting the lights from bridges and skyscrapers. As you turn to continue the tour Jack puts a hand on your arm. “How about a pic?”

Your eyebrows reach for your hairline. “I could swear not even an hour ago you objected the notion of being a romantic.”

“I just want a pic of us for my phone. And the backdrop is nice.”

You laugh and let him pull you closer, then insist on getting a pic with your phone as well.

“So ready for the next tourist trap?”

“I thought you wanted to show me your neighborhood?”

“The Mon Incline is one of the fastest ways to get downtown.”

“I’ve never used it.”

“Got a ConnectCard?”

“Sure.”

“Then you’re set. It runs every fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. You’re aware we’ll have to walk back up every foot we’re strolling down now?”

Jack gives you a look, “I live here.” And starts walking downhill toward the Monongahela Incline.

You expected him to drag you into a car and show off the incline. But instead, he takes you into the woods after you’ve reached the station. Literal woods. Like fully grown maple, ash, oak, walnut and cherry trees. And a healthy undergrowth. The brown leaves rustle under your feet. Only when you notice all the Sycamore trees does it click. He took you on the Emerald View Trail. Sneaky bastard. This time of year, the branches are bare and give you even more opportunities to admire the illuminated city.

“I didn’t take you for the hiking type.”

“Because of my leg.”

“Because hiking isn’t very practical.”

“It’s good to get fresh air and occasionally sunlight. Also hiking trains your balance. Plus, the trail is right on my doorstep.”

“Health nut.”

“Or very practical.”

You scoff and trot alongside Jack through the dense woodland for close to half an hour.

11 pm

After trotting alongside Jack through the dense woodland for close to half an hour you pass by Bigbee Field. Which is of course closed at this time of night.

“Jack?”

“Hm?”

“If I wasn’t a police officer, I’d get worried about the places you’re taking me,” you manage to keep the laughter from your voice. And Jack stops abruptly.

“Why?”

“Dark, dense, winter woods at night. A closed sports field. Those sound like shooting locations for a horror movie,” you tease.

“Do you like watching them?”

“The good ones.”

“Any favourites?”

That’s an easy one, “Tucker and Dale vs Evil”

“How about Happy Death Day?”

Now, you’re taken by surprise, “Isn’t that a college movie?”

“It sounds like a mix of Groundhog Day and slasher horror,” Jack elaborates.

“Could be fun. But you’re changing the subject,” you’re not letting the joke go yet.

”Of me taking you to deserted places? Fine. From Grandview Park on we’ll stay in populated areas. Wouldn’t want to make you suspicious just yet.”

“You’re not a vampire. I’ve seen you in daylight,” you state.

“Maybe I’m a werewolf,” Jack counters.

“They’re actually fairly nice people, Monroe says.”

“If we’re talking about Grimm – Monroe is a Blutbad – not a werewolf.” Of course, Jack would point that one out.

“So, you do watch TV.”

“It makes for good background noise. And we’re at Grandview Park.”

As promised you stay on well-lit, neighborhood streets for a while, passing the Kingdom Restoration Christian Center and ending up at the Halpin Street Steps.

“Jack, this was supposed to be a neighborhood walk not a workout.”

“Oh, come on. It’s the fastest way to get up that hill.”

“Fine. But we’re not making this a race.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m hungry.”

Jack looks at you sideways, “You wolfed down a meat-on-meat sandwich four hours ago.”

“It’s cold and we worked out before lunch,” you complain.

“Pft. The last one up buys dinner,” the words leave Jack’s mouth and he starts climbing the mountain of stairs. You can’t even see the end of the steps from here. To no one’s surprise Jack makes it to the top first. You had passed him half way up but he got you on the last couple of steps as your calves were burning. Thankfully he has mercy on you and gives you both time to stretch before continuing. He points out the Ream Swimming Pool on the way. At this point the amount of workout the man apparently does no longer shocks you.

12 am

“Ready for your midnight dinner?”

You look around and catch sight of a sign announcing ‘Bigham Tavern’ with a red pig on it. Well, that sounds promising.

“My stomach was ready half an hour ago.” You hold the door for Jack impatiently.

“Sorry. I’ll remember to feed you every four hours next time,” he grins as he passes you and heads straight for a corner table across from the door. The interior puts your worries about the prices to rest. Solid wooden tables on steel feet. Booths and chairs made of solid wood with leather upholstery. And a TV playing a sports program at the wall. No décor on the tables just a holder with salt, pepper and sauces. This looks like a place that serves actual food to reasonable prices.

“Only when we work out on an empty stomach and you spend two hours dragging me through hiking trails and up a mountain of stairs in the middle of winter,” you grumble and follow.

“You’ve got complaints about your tour guide?” he smirks – taking a seat in the booth facing the entrance.

“Depends on the quality of my dinner,” you shoot back – sitting down beside him, where you can see the hallway leading to the restrooms and the kitchen door as well as the front door.

“Then I’m in luck. They have the ‘Best Burgh Inspired Dish’.” Jack leans back.

“Tell me it’s not Avocado Toast,” you huff.

“No, it’s called ‘Black and Gold Rogie Bowl’.”

“Contents?”

“Cheddar pierogies topped with pulled pork, black and gold sauce and a dippy egg. So, basically two entire meals.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take that,” you inform the waiter who had approached your table.

“The Avocado Toast for me please. And two ginger teas please,” Jack adds.

You burst out laughing. When you’ve recovered you tell him, “You can call him back and give him your actual order, you know.”

Jack gives you one of his rare smiles, “That was my actual order.”

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming July 19th)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

“Alex! It’s 8:30 that gives me half an hour to get there!”

“Well, get going. Have a nice day.”

She hangs up and you stare at the phone. Last time it took you close to 40 min to get to PTMC not to mention set up. So, you’ll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

You are 16 minutes late as you meet Ms. Mason the Director of Clinical Risk Management.

“My apologies for the delay. We had some personal issues concerning this seminar. May I ask if there is a specific reason for it?”

She nods, “Our emergency department seems to experience some overstepping of professional boundaries by one of your attendings. Overstepping, as in manhandling med students and residents. We’ve no official reports or complaints – yet. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood. Where can I find the meeting room?”

“I booked meeting room 3 on the... ground floor.” She turns to the receptionist. “Mark, has the water damage from 4 weeks ago already been dealt with?”

“No. The ground floor meeting area is still one giant construction site.”

“And why were the room bookings not revised?”

“Shit! Sorry, so sorry, Ms. Mason. I thought everybody knew! Let me check what we have available.” He types furiously on his keyboard and grimaces. “The old meeting room 6 on the third floor is open. Mainly because its AC is... broken.”

“And we have no other rooms available?”

He ducks his head, answering, “Not right now for about two hours and 30 people.”

Mason huffs, “Get me at least 4 standing fans, four boxes of water still and sparkling and two cans of coffee.” Addressing you she adds, “Well, it seems that seminar is not off to an encouraging start. I’ll inform everyone about the room and time change. Here is the list of the people that have been notified to attend. Unfortunately, some of them are coming straight off their night shift.”

You swallow, “Understood.” And follow her to a meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift.

Mason opens the meeting room door and you both get hit by a wave of hot, stale air. Each of you hurries to a different window – to find out they don’t open at all. Finally, you spot a lever, which you pull and above the big window a small portion creaks open. Next to you hear a second creak.

“I’m afraid that’s it regarding fresh air. You may want to leave the door open.” And that’s the last piece of wisdom director Mason leaves you with. You strip your jacket and fold up your sleeves. Then you connect your laptop to the beamer and pull up the presentation Alex has helpfully sent you.

A few minutes later poor Mark appears, accompanied by Jesse and Jack, dragging in four standing fans and the promised water boxes. Damn, please let them not stay for the seminar?

One fan ends up in the doorway, two in back corners of the room and one you position so it blows past you in the direction of the door. The atmosphere compares to that of an attic in the middle of summer. You just hope everyone’s deodorant is up to the challenge of spending 90 minutes in this Monday morning hell.

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

 Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date, because of Alex – one of these days...

You turn to the Pitt’s other silver fox, “And you’re Jesse, right? Got doomed this beautiful morning as well?”

He shrugs and smiles at you, “The company could be worse. But I wouldn’t mind donuts and coffee.”

Of course, the other handsome silver fox has to attend as well. Kill me now, please? And the first part of his answer got him an unimpressed look from Jack. Things you can’t change... About the things you can still change...

“Mark was supposed to bring coffee. And would’ve brought donuts. If I’d known about this... seminar before 8 this morning. Sorry.” Then you offer, “But I could track Mark down about the coffee.”

“Please, don’t!” Both men answer simultaneously.

You sigh.

As the rest of the doomed trickle in, you check their names off the list. You dutifully compare their ID-cards with the names on it. More than one shakes their heads before grabbing a water bottle and quietly making a remark to a colleague. You have ten out of twelve Doctors in the right column: Dr. Jack Abbot, Dr. Dennis Whitaker, Victoria Javadi, Dr. Melissa King, Dr. Cassie McKay, Dr. Samira Mohan, Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Trinity Santos. Missing are Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. John Shen.

Of the 16 Nurses in the left column, you check off 12: Matteo Diaz, Donnie Donahue, Dana Evans, Lena Handzo, Jesse Van Horn, Vivi Mandel, Eusebio Mendes, Emma Nolan, Jordan Prescott, Olive Rivera, Jamie Watkins, and Bridget Young.

Of those you’re missing: Perlah Alawi, Princess Dela Cruz, Tim Salinger and Kim Tate.

You look at Jack, “It seems we’re still missing six people.” Not that you’re particularly eager to fill the room with more bodies.

“Someone needs to run the ED. Can’t stack the department with only temps for two hours.” It is Dr. Robinavitch who answers to you.

“Noted. Let’s get started.” You square your shoulders and start the presentation.

Over the next 40 minutes you stumble your way through the seminar. Your audience is fanning themselves and within the first 15 minutes most have stripped their scrub tops. Which leaves Jack and Jesse both in their undershirts. And you with the challenge of concentrating on the sexual harassment presentation rather than their sweat-soaked upper bodies. How fitting.

You notice several people almost lying in their chairs with their eyes closed. But really you can’t blame them. The room has reached tropical humidity and temperatures, if you weren’t busy talking, you’d probably be asleep yourself. The only good thing is at this rate it is highly unlikely you’ll get quizzed in the last 15 minutes. You’d surely murder any colleague, who’d voice a question in a room that steam cooks its unlucky inhabitants during a mandatory seminar.

You turn off the beamer and announce, “We’ll take a 10-minute break before we... get to the... hospital-specific policies.” God, for a moment you had forgotten where you are – in front of a room full of people in scrubs...

During the break you check your mail for the hospital policies. Unsuccessfully. You call Alex – who’s not picking up. You call the assistant of the legal department and request the documents – to learn that no one has acquired them and get director Mason’s number. So, you call Mason and end up with her assistant promising you Mark will bring the print-outs up. Because, naturally everybody in attendance will have to sign, that they received a paper copy of PTMC’s policies. Well, now your unfortunate audience gets something to fan themselves with – other than their scrub tops.

The 10-minute break is over for 7 minutes as Mark finally makes an appearance with two boxes of printer paper. You swallow. Even if there are 28 copies in there that’s a lot of paper. Jesse gets up immodestly – ugh, immediately – to take one of the boxes and deposit it on the table in front of you.

“Mark, please tell me that these are not 30 policy copies.”

“No, these are 29 policy copies and the handout list.”

“Mark, no half way sane organisation has sexual harassment policies that are the size of a small book.”

“This is PTMC. We are a hospital.” He winks, “But, about two thirds of those small books is about general policy – not sexual harassment.” After that reassurance Mark leaves.

“Thank the heavens for small mercies.”

Jesse smirks. “You’ve got something against books?”

“No, I love books. Just not company policies that resemble them.”

Jack clears his throat, “So, now we all get to go over these,” he indicates the boxes, “with you?”

Thinking about it you decide, you have had enough of Monday torturing you and everyone else. So, you’ll take a few short cuts. You put on a winning smile, shake your head and put a hand on the boxes with the policies and propose, “These are apparently PTMC’s whole policies. You all get a copy; you’ll have to sign for. Given the circumstances I suggest you may want to read your copy at home.”

Your audience sighs in relief and so do you. It may not be entirely correct, but at this point going over pages and pages of policiesyou’ve never seen before, in front of a half-asleep audience is about as useless as it gets. You get to your final mandatory question, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young doctor in the front row lifts her hand. You force a professional smile on your face. “Yes?”

And then she opens her mouth and asks, "Dr. Robby once asked the women in the ED whether they'd prefer partial nudity and the ECG done correctly, or privacy and a potentially missed cardiac emergency. Is that considered an appropriate teaching method?"

You shake your head and try to understand what she’s talking about. You hear the female doctor with the sour expression, hiss, “Javadi!” and actually, pull on the other doctor’s long ponytail.

Your sluggish brain doesn’t currently recall what an ECG is or what cardiac means. You shoot Jack a pleading look. He’s got to bail you out, please! “I’m not sure I have the... necessary medical... background to answer that. Maybe one of your senior... staff is more... capable of answering that?”

Jack sighs, “Dr. Javadi. That was... supposed to underscore the need for correct lead placement to the EMTs. From what I heard. However, Robby could have certainly found a more appropriate way to deliver that message.” He gives the man beside him a look. “But in the heat of the moment, people don’t make the best decisions.”

“And I wanna get out of the heat in here. So, can your questions and look it up.” The female doctor who pulled Javadi’s ponytail growls.

“Dr. Santos, we’re all frustrated. But unless you wanna read that policy document today and hand me a summary at the beginning of your next shift – I suggest you remember who you are.”

You hold your breath hoping the situation won’t escalate any further. Your smile is a little shaky as you address the room, “Does anyone have additional questions?”

You flinch at a loud bang as the lights go out and the fans stop.

Instead of an answer people start clapping for a moment and then extract themselves from their seats. One after another takes a copy and signs the handout sheet in the dim light coming through the blinds. When Jesse takes one, his smirk is back and he proposes, “You could get us donuts now. For having been such an attentive audience.”

“You certainly deserve them. I’ll see what I can do.” Honestly, after this disaster director Mason owes the ED apology donuts. Poor Mark.

You notice Jack hanging back. He’s the last to take a copy and sign. He smiles at you and says, “I’ll wait for downstairs.”

You nod, now all you have to do is check if your laptop survived and hand the lists off to Mark at the reception. It’s Monday and not even 11 a.m. –surely this day can’t get any worse?

So you people voted. I worte. I hope you enjoded it. This should count as theraphy...

Turns out Jack really meant a tour. To the right of the guestroom is the utility room, to the left the guest bath. Next is Jack’s home gym, the contents of which make you a tiny bit envious. But it’s the living room that floors you. Two wide, floor-to-ceiling, double windows looking down on Pittsburgh – glittering in the dark. A huge, comfy-looking black leather sectional couch accompanied by a recliner in front of walnut wall unit. This one had bookshelves spanning six rows and about five foot wide on both sides. You barely resisted the urge to browse Jack’s little library. Behind a wall divider sat Jack’s office with bookshelves taking up an entire wall.

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“How many of these have you read?”

“Nearly all. Professional hazard.”

“That you read entire libraries?”

“Yeah, have to stay up to date.”

“Mhm. And when do you find time to read that much?”

He shrugs, “When I can’t sleep. So, regular coffee okay, or do you want French press?”

“Regular, please.”

10 pm

In the kitchen you find that Jack has the coffee ready. He pulls two travel mugs from a cabinet and fills both. Both are bare stainless steel. One of them looks brand new the other quite a bit battered. The new one gets a fair helping of milk added to its contents. Handing it to you Jack heads for the door. You both put your shoes and jackets and Jack locks the door behind you.

On Maple Terrace you follow the street down to Grandview Ave. With every step Pittsburgh’s luminous skyline is expanding before you. “Showing off the view, Jack?”

“Might as well. And given the time – it’s not crowded by selfie-taking-tourists for once.”

When you reach the Overlook at 200 Grandview you can’t blame the tourists. It feels like the entire Monongahela River is stretching out in front of your eyes. The dark waters reflecting the lights from bridges and skyscrapers. As you turn to continue the tour Jack puts a hand on your arm. “How about a pic?”

Your eyebrows reach for your hairline. “I could swear not even an hour ago you objected the notion of being a romantic.”

“I just want a pic of us for my phone. And the backdrop is nice.”

You laugh and let him pull you closer, then insist on getting a pic with your phone as well.

“So ready for the next tourist trap?”

“I thought you wanted to show me your neighborhood?”

“The Mon Incline is one of the fastest ways to get downtown.”

“I’ve never used it.”

“Got a ConnectCard?”

“Sure.”

“Then you’re set. It runs every fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. You’re aware we’ll have to walk back up every foot we’re strolling down now?”

Jack gives you a look, “I live here.” And starts walking downhill toward the Monongahela Incline.

You expected him to drag you into a car and show off the incline. But instead, he takes you into the woods after you’ve reached the station. Literal woods. Like fully grown maple, ash, oak, walnut and cherry trees. And a healthy undergrowth. The brown leaves rustle under your feet. Only when you notice all the Sycamore trees does it click. He took you on the Emerald View Trail. Sneaky bastard. This time of year, the branches are bare and give you even more opportunities to admire the illuminated city.

“I didn’t take you for the hiking type.”

“Because of my leg.”

“Because hiking isn’t very practical.”

“It’s good to get fresh air and occasionally sunlight. Also hiking trains your balance. Plus, the trail is right on my doorstep.”

“Health nut.”

“Or very practical.”

You scoff and trot alongside Jack through the dense woodland for close to half an hour.

11 pm

After trotting alongside Jack through the dense woodland for close to half an hour you pass by Bigbee Field. Which is of course closed at this time of night.

“Jack?”

“Hm?”

“If I wasn’t a police officer, I’d get worried about the places you’re taking me,” you manage to keep the laughter from your voice. And Jack stops abruptly.

“Why?”

“Dark, dense, winter woods at night. A closed sports field. Those sound like shooting locations for a horror movie,” you tease.

“Do you like watching them?”

“The good ones.”

“Any favourites?”

That’s an easy one, “Tucker and Dale vs Evil”

“How about Happy Death Day?”

Now, you’re taken by surprise, “Isn’t that a college movie?”

“It sounds like a mix of Groundhog Day and slasher horror,” Jack elaborates.

“Could be fun. But you’re changing the subject,” you’re not letting the joke go yet.

”Of me taking you to deserted places? Fine. From Grandview Park on we’ll stay in populated areas. Wouldn’t want to make you suspicious just yet.”

“You’re not a vampire. I’ve seen you in daylight,” you state.

“Maybe I’m a werewolf,” Jack counters.

“They’re actually fairly nice people, Monroe says.”

“If we’re talking about Grimm – Monroe is a Blutbad – not a werewolf.” Of course, Jack would point that one out.

“So, you do watch TV.”

“It makes for good background noise. And we’re at Grandview Park.”

As promised you stay on well-lit, neighborhood streets for a while, passing the Kingdom Restoration Christian Center and ending up at the Halpin Street Steps.

“Jack, this was supposed to be a neighborhood walk not a workout.”

“Oh, come on. It’s the fastest way to get up that hill.”

“Fine. But we’re not making this a race.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m hungry.”

Jack looks at you sideways, “You wolfed down a meat-on-meat sandwich four hours ago.”

“It’s cold and we worked out before lunch,” you complain.

“Pft. The last one up buys dinner,” the words leave Jack’s mouth and he starts climbing the mountain of stairs. You can’t even see the end of the steps from here. To no one’s surprise Jack makes it to the top first. You had passed him half way up but he got you on the last couple of steps as your calves were burning. Thankfully he has mercy on you and gives you both time to stretch before continuing. He points out the Ream Swimming Pool on the way. At this point the amount of workout the man apparently does no longer shocks you.

12 am

“Ready for your midnight dinner?”

You look around and catch sight of a sign announcing ‘Bigham Tavern’ with a red pig on it. Well, that sounds promising.

“My stomach was ready half an hour ago.” You hold the door for Jack impatiently.

“Sorry. I’ll remember to feed you every four hours next time,” he grins as he passes you and heads straight for a corner table across from the door. The interior puts your worries about the prices to rest. Solid wooden tables on steel feet. Booths and chairs made of solid wood with leather upholstery. And a TV playing a sports program at the wall. No décor on the tables just a holder with salt, pepper and sauces. This looks like a place that serves actual food to reasonable prices.

“Only when we work out on an empty stomach and you spend two hours dragging me through hiking trails and up a mountain of stairs in the middle of winter,” you grumble and follow.

“You’ve got complaints about your tour guide?” he smirks – taking a seat in the booth facing the entrance.

“Depends on the quality of my dinner,” you shoot back – sitting down beside him, where you can see the hallway leading to the restrooms and the kitchen door as well as the front door.

“Then I’m in luck. They have the ‘Best Burgh Inspired Dish’.” Jack leans back.

“Tell me it’s not Avocado Toast,” you huff.

“No, it’s called ‘Black and Gold Rogie Bowl’.”

“Contents?”

“Cheddar pierogies topped with pulled pork, black and gold sauce and a dippy egg. So, basically two entire meals.”

“Sounds good. I’ll take that,” you inform the waiter who had approached your table.

“The Avocado Toast for me please. And two ginger teas please,” Jack adds.

You burst out laughing. When you’ve recovered you tell him, “You can call him back and give him your actual order, you know.”

Jack gives you one of his rare smiles, “That was my actual order.”

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming July 19th)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

The heat spreads all the way down the neckline of your summer dress. In Herrmann’s defence though – he, Cruz and Otis immediately get up to help unload the truck. It looks as if you interrupted them checking gear after a call. You enter the common room and nearly collide with Matt. He grabs your arms and takes a quick step back.

“Hey. So, that’s what you needed my truck for. You’re feeding us – again.”

Before you can summon a protest, he’s taken the cooler and the drink box from you and carried them over to the kitchen counter.

“Well, I figured you’d be busy on the 4th of July.”

“Yeah, we usually are. And with the heat we’ll get even more calls.”

The others bolt through the door, loaded with more supplies. Herrmann looks at you, “You mind setting up a quick lunch? We just came back and still have to put the truck back in order.”

You smile, “That’s what I’m here for.”

“So, would you go out with me?” that’s Kelly’s voice from behind you.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Until now I thought you just kept bringing food to have an excuse to see Casey. But if you’re not – I’d never turn down a pretty lady.”

“Well, tough luck, Kelly. I’m not even remotely interested,” you latch onto the second half of his statement.

Any possible answer is cut off by the next alarm.

For the next seven hours the guys come in, grab something to drink, take a quick bite and the next alarm sounds. They’re even splitting between who checks over the truck and who takes a short break. By the time the sun finally sets, they resemble a group of grouchy, sweat-soaked, exhausted gremlins.

The Gremlins have polished off the food and the drinks you brought for lunch and dinner by six. So, you make a resupply run to the store. When Chief Boden notices the bags and boxes, he comes over to where you’re prepping the next batch of meat filled pastries.

“Hand me the receipt, please.”

“Ugh, that’s really not necessary, Chief.”

He looks at you, “I say it is.”

You hand the receipt over and he hands you twice the amount. Apparently, he’s decided to fully financially cover the holiday catering. Given your mortgage, you say, “Thank you, Chief.”

Waving you off, he takes one of the muffins you brought.

You snuck onto the roof as the fireworks started and enjoyed watching them illuminate the skyline. The guys are still out on a call, probably because of fireworks. Which makes you like the colourful spectacle in front of you a little less. You sincerely hope people finally go to bed or at least stop doing dangerous nonsense.

It’s close to eleven by the time the calls have stopped somewhat. The gremlins get to shower and emerge as very tired, freshly dressed firemen. This time everyone gets to sit around the table and demolish the leftovers as a late-night dinner.

You’re mentally calculating the time it’ll take you to finish cleaning the kitchen and storing the rest. Your eyes are starting to burn and your feet hurt. In the quiet at the table Kelly speaks up, “Casey, get your woman to bed. She’s asleep just sitting there. We’ll take care of the kitchen.”

You blink, “What!?”

Matt looks at you, “Kelly is right, you’re dead on your feet. Do me a favour and lie down in my quarters. You shouldn’t drive home like this.”

You huff and go to lie down. You’re lacking the energy to argue.

Waking up, you nearly fall out of the bed as you try to turn over. Huh. Also, the blanket is only a sheet. But the pillow smells nice. Wait... the pillow smells like Matt?! Right. Alright. You went to bed in Matt’s quarters. Because you were exhausted. But where did your poor man sleep then?

You push off the blanket, get up and remake the bed. You look at your phone to check the time. The screen is black. Yeah, you didn’t charge it at all yesterday. There’s a gentle tap on the door window.

“Come in.”

Matt smiles at you, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Ready to head home? The guys packed the truck so I can drop you off at home.”

“Yes, thank you.” You follow him out into the dormitory.

Matt turns. “For what? You were the one who cooked and catered to the whole house for hours on end on a holiday.”

You shake your head. “You were working – on a holiday.”

You both have reached the bay where everybody is lingering. It’s like they’re waiting for something. Then Herrmann calls out, "For God's sake, get married already."

You stare at him, "We're not even dating."

A chorus of voices answers, “That's the problem.”

Followed by Herrmann adding, “Casey, have mercy on the poor woman and ask her out already.”

While Matt replies, “Herrmann, stay out of it.”

You hurry out the bay in the direction of Matt’s truck. Matt doesn’t unlock it immediately after he catches up. Instead, he leans over the truck bed in the early morning light and looks at you. "Would you like to?"

“Like to what?” you shoot back irritated.

“Go out with me,” Matt clarifies.

You take a breath and grip the door handle tighter, yet your answer comes out as a quiet huff, “Yes, please.”

This is the official companion to No Resolutions for New Year's Eve

Hence these idiots wouldn't leave Herrmann, Kelly, or me alone.

“So, trace back the package. I’m more worried they know where you live, than that they replaced your shirt.” Now he’s frowning at you.

You shrug. “My address isn’t hard to find. One trail, one check in the system or talking to the right people. And the parcel is from USPS – no return address.”

“Uhg. That’s still possible?”

“Yeah, and I bet you she paid cash,” you huff, resigned.

“She?” Jack looks confused.

“Colleen Frenandez. The lovely lady I brought into PTMC yesterday.” Even you can hear the sarcasm in that one.

“It could be whoever she’s working for,” Jack contemplates.

“Could be. Specially if it really is a letter agency and not just the cartel,” you agree.

“She’s cartel? And why would you think she works for an agency on the side?” His voice is rising.

“The raid was at a cartel hideout and the details of the case are confidential,” you disclose and try to shut further questions down.

“Don’t give me that crab – again,” he growls.

“That crab is the difference between Officers who are trusted and those that can’t be.”

Jack huffs, presses his lips into a thin line and lets his head fall back. Man, your kitchen ceiling must be interesting.

You soften your voice, “Jack, I’m sorry but just as you can’t betray a patient’s confidence, I can’t betray the confidentiality of my department. Which means I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

His response, "Let's pack and go to my place," catches you off guard.

“Why?”

“Because she or they know where you live. And they could be the cartel,” he stresses.

“And if they wanted to hurt me, they wouldn’t have sent a shirt,” you wave it off.

“Doesn’t mean they won’t send something else next,” he steps closer, nearly pressing you into the table.

“Fair enough. You’ll also be more comfortable at your own place,” you shrug your shoulders.

“This isn’t about me,” he claims.

You chuckle, “If you say so. I’ll go pack my stuff. You’re back on tomorrow too?”

He steps back – gives you some room. “Yeah, and I’ll drive you to the station. No need to drive with two cars.”

“Sure, that’s economical.”

Jack shoots you a look, saying he heard the humour in this one. But he doesn’t stop you when you head upstairs – just follows you up.

You look for your gym bag and realise it’s still in your car. Jack’s early arrival this morning had distracted you.

“I’ll go grab my bag from the car.”

“Okay.”

As you turn half around at the door, you see Jack takingposition by the bedroom window overlooking the street. You shake your head and get going.

When you’re back with your bag, Jack is busy rolling up his workout clothes and the ones he wore yesterday. Taking your concealed holster, you collect your gun from the safe and secure it in the holster. The holster then goes over your shirt – you realise the wide shirt is getting bunched up by the holster. So, you change into a more fitting T drawing a side-glance from Jack. He’s finished packing up and takes his backpack and crutches downstairs.

After transferring your used uniform trousers to the laundry bag, you pull a uniform-jacket, a pair of trousers and three shirts from the wardrobe. The complete set you put on a hanger and the remaining items get folded and placed on top of your utility belt. Considering the space left in the bag you take three Ts, pants, workout clothes and five days worth of underwear and store them on top. Grabbing the laundry, your stuffed bag and the hanger you head back down and put your luggage by the door. Jack’s stuff is nowhere to be seen. He probably already stashed it in his car.

Jack sits in the kitchen in the same chair as yesterday under the beam from the old hanging lamp. Eying the cardboard box on the table like a personal enemy. You retrieve the trash bags from under the sink, rip one off and shake it out. Right-side out you fold the sides of the parcel back in and wrap the whole thing in the foil. Placing the card on top you make eye contact with Jack.

“We have to stop by the station to drop this off.”

“No.” He’s shaking his head. “Call it in and have someone get it. I thought you’d already done that.”

“Jack, you want me to take this seriously. That means this,” you point at the parcel. “Has to go into evidence and I have to give a statement. At the station I can do both in one go.”

“Patrol could have taken your statement too,” he disagrees, irritated.

“Patrol is stretched thin the next three days, due to the overtime from the raid. I won’t bother them with this. But I can take my car and meet you at your place afterwards.”

Jack sighs, “Damn it, you’re good at making your point.”

“Professional hazard. Meaning we’ll make that stop?”

He simply nods and gets up. You follow him to the door, putting on your shoes and the thick but loose-fitting winter coat. Jack picks up your gym and laundry bag, you carry the parcel and hanger. Both of you settle in Jack’s Jeep after setting your Ring camera to record and secured the door.

On the short drive to the precinct Jack has classic rock playing on the radio. You both hum along to the songs, occasionally singing a few lines or choruses. To ‘We Will Rock You’ from Queen you even clap your hands, while Jack taps the steering wheel. After 8 pm the traffic is light and the streets are gradually getting darker as businesses close and shutters are pulled down.

You direct Jack to the employee parking lot and your space there. No one actually had assigned spaces, but by habit and seniority everyone there long enough eventually claimed one. As you get out, so does Jack.

“You gonna come with?” you wonder.

“It’s warm inside.”

Well, technically he could have waited in the car and kept the motor running. But you were not going to argue. Instead, you take one of the shirts from the bag to replace the one you took from your locker yesterday. Handing it over to Jack, you take the package and walk over to the side entrance.

Sergeant Wolf zeros in on you the second you set foot into the deserted entrance hall.

“Officer Morgan. What is this?” She points to the package and regards Jack behind you.

“Evening, Sergeant Wolf. This is a uniform shirt, my size, complete with nametag and the correct patches. Delivered via USPS while we were out. No return address. But a handwritten note: ‘Sorry, about your shirt. Nothing personal.’ And the man beside me is Dr. Jack Abbot – ED attending at PTMC. We were together today.” You move closer to her counter as you speak.

The Sergeant huffs, “That should not be happening. Get the package and the card analysed. Maybe Adler or Dr. Sidle can dig up something. Then, I want your statement.” Now, she turns to Jack and extends a hand, “Nice to meet you Dr. Abbot. I heard good things about your work.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Wolf. Likewise,” he firmly shakes her hand.

When you head to the staircase leading down to the ‘Underbelly’ – Jack follows.

“It’s colder down there. Please, wait here. This is gonna be quick,” you try to stop him.

“I’m wearing a jacket,” is his deadpan answer.

So, you have to draw the line – again, “And evidence and tech are employees only.”

“Fine. Seeing what your Sergeant has to say about this should be interesting,” he grumbles.

You hurry down the steps not paying any attention to the note or the flickering light this time. You just want to get this done. Not bothering to knock, you enter Micki’s cramped office. Since he’s not at his metal desk, you buzz the intercom, “Micki, I have a package for you.”

A moment later he appears, “Ugh. You mean an actual package? What’s up with it.”

“Got delivered to my home address by USPS. No return address. Wolf wants you to try and dig up some info.”

Micki scans the codes on the label with his phone. “And what did they send you?”

“Uniform shirt, my size, complete with nametag and the correct patches. Plus, a handwritten note: ‘Sorry, about your shirt. Nothing personal.’” You repeat what you told the Sergeant.

“Nothing personal? But a home delivery? Fuck! Just when I thought this day was wired enough.” He sits down hard in his chair.

“What happened?” you’re worried, he sounded genuinely upset.

“Captain Mason collected the phones from the raid. In person. First thing at 8 o'clock.”

“Wow. That’s...unusual. I didn’t think Fowler would go so far up.”

“Fowler gave you trouble?”

“Tried to order me to hand over the evidence.” You shake your head. “On that note, I forgot to record the tracker before I handed it you.”

“I noticed, Heron. I locked it in. Still trying to pinpoint that little fucker.”

“And the Captain didn’t take it?”

“The Captain requested all the evidence from the raid. I gave him everything collected on the scene. That doesn’t include the tracker,” Micki sounds smug.

You reel back. “Micki! Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m not done with it. And something seriously fishy is going on here.”

“What’s going on here maybe above both our pay grades,” you caution.

“Maybe. Only one way to find out,” he grins.

“I always knew you hated working here,” you shake your head.

“Sometimes, Heron. Sometimes,” Micki singsongs.

“I’ll get the package and the note to Dr. Sidle.”

Micki nods and starts typing on his keyboard.

After handing the package and card off to Dr. Sidle you scurry back upstairs. You find Jack in an animated conversation with your Sergeant – you’d hoped he was joking earlier.

“Sergeant Wolf, you wanted to take my statement.”

“Yeah, let’s step into my office. Officer Hondo, cover the counter.”

Wolf lets you sum up the facts, clarifies a few things and within ten minutes you both sign the report.

Stepping back out your eyes search for Jack. To find him leaning on the counter – talking to Hondo.

“Jack? I just have to store the shirt in my locker and we can be on your way.”

He turns to you and hands over the shirt, “Okay.”

You speed through the entrance hall and quickly put the uniform shirt on the top shelf, not wasting any time hanging it up. Jack already had spent too much time with your coworkers for your liking. Hondo specifically was the blabber mouth of the district.

Waving at Hondo, you head straight for the exit and hold the door for Jack. He reaches you chuckling, “That was quick. You worried about what I might hear about you?”

“Just looking forward to get out of here,” you tell him one half of the truth.

Jack shakes his head and unlocks the car, you both get in and you decide to stop by the cleaner tomorrow before shift.

As Jack pulls into traffic he asks, “So, how about I give you a tour of my neighbourhood tonight?”

“That sounds...perfect.”

He nods, “Thought so. Coffee for the way?”

“Yes, please. I know I shouldn’t on off days. But I have to stay awake somehow,” you confess.

Jack scoffs, “You’re preaching to the choir. Mt. Washington has some pretty neat vantage points.”

Placing your hand on your heart, you smile at him. “Oh, now you’re getting all romantic at me? Just because a pretty woman sent me a shirt?”

“I’m not a romantic and that delivery was no joking matter,” he corrects you rather seriously.

“I disagree. And I’ll take my coffee with milk, please.” You try to redirect the conversation.

“I know.”

And he turns the radio on again. Classic Rock, again. And then ‘You Can't Always Get What You Want’ by The Rolling Stones starts playing inside the Jeep under the street and traffic lights.

You groan.

Jack laughs.

Maybe the universe had a sense of humour after all.

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming July 11th)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

The good news is: I now have an outline for the rest of the series.

Finally. 🎉

So I can promise both you and myself that these two idiots will only drag us through about ten more chapters. Give or take. 🚔☕❤️

Complaints may be left in the comments, sent to my inbox, or directed at Kat, who reblogged some of my very first fics long before most of you had ever heard of me.

Thank you, Kat. 💙

I'm also still trying to process the fact that the SFW version of this series made it onto @finco99's May Reads Fic Rec List. 😳

Trust me, the neighbours saw me jumping.

And thank you to everyone who keeps reading along, commenting, reblogging, screaming at fictional police officers, and encouraging what was supposed to be a one-shot. 😊

Heading straight for the uniform dispenser, you collect your scrubs and move to the locker room. Then you deposit your dinner consisting of a banana-chocolate protein shake in the fridge in the locker room.

Changed and still about half an hour early, you approach the hub and the thin blonde nurse behind it. You wait for her to look up, wish her a good evening, state your name and get to the point, “I’m the new trainee nurse for the night shift. Is Charge Nurse Handzo already in by chance?”

“No, kid, not yet. Probably in...,” she checks her watch. “20 minutes. I’m the day shift Charge Nurse Dana. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

“Thank you, Dana.”

 When Lena arrives, Dana introduces you and you get put with Senior Nurse Mateo. The reason? ‘No matter what admin thinks I don’t have the time for a trainee.’  You don’t get pulled into traumas, thankfully. As it is, halfway through your shift, your head is stuffed full with all the big and small details about this place. Supremely grateful for a break from the insanity, you grab your shake from the fridge. You take off the lid, add four ice cubes and put in a straw. After you’ve finished about half, Mateo sticks his head into the break room, “Sorry, we need you in North 15.”

You jump from the chair and follow him out. On the way you realise you’re still holding your half-full Dunkin Donut cup and put it behind the counter of the hub on your way past.

1 a.m. seems to be the time for people to go just a little crazy. You get thrown into two more cases and have almost forgotten about your half-finished dinner shake. When you get back to the hub to update Lena on your last case, you see one of the doctors with a Dunkin cup in his hand. You frown and remember your own is still behind the counter. The doc takes a sip, swallows, holds the cup away from him and shouts across the department, “Ellis! What have you done to my coffee!”

“Not a damn thing, you idiot!” Resident Ellis Parker yells back. You hurry over to the doc with your shake in his hand.

Unfortunately, he is not done accusing his colleague, “Don’t lie to me! I know you hate it!”

And Dr. Parker is still shooting back, “Whatever. It wasn’t me.”

You rush to cut the next exchange off, “I’m sorry, Doctor, I believe you grabbed my shake.”

“What?”

“I brought a banana-chocolate shake for dinner. In a Dunkin cup.”

He looks at the cup. “Why?”

“Sorry?”

“Why bring a shake in a Dunkin cup?”

“So, I don’t forget yet another shaker somewhere.”

“Ugh,” he groans. “I’m sorry. It looked exactly like my iced coffee.” And with that he hands you your shake.

“I’ll put my name on it next time, doctor.”

“You’re new here, right?” Shaking his head, he adds, “A name won’t help unless you write it on a big, fat, white piece of tape.”

“Well, big and fat shouldn’t be a problem for her,” a male patient about twice your age throws in.

“Thank you, Sir. For recognizing I have no intention to resemble a coat rack anytime soon.”

The man blinks, “Well, what’s your excuse for being fat then?”

“Choosing a stressful profession that sometimes includes abusive assholes and not resorting to smoking,” Charge Nurse Lena replies. She must have noticed the pack of cigarettes in his hand too.

“Smoking would keep you both a normal size at least.”

Lena shakes her head at him, “Not smoking gets us healthy, cancer-free lungs.”

The man swallows and the doc turns toward Lena. “I think he got your point.” Adding quietly, “And I just handed him a lung cancer diagnosis.”

You and Lena both fake a cough and you take a long sip from your shake. “Well, I think I can live with that.”

He looks at you, “And I think, you’ll fit right in here. I’m John Shen, by the way.”

Lena hands him a Dunkin cup, “And I believe that’s your coffee, Shen.”

His eyes light up as he takes it, “Thank you, Lena.”