I don’t need you to tell me who I am.

You also had a stationary bike that you rode relatively frequently when you had the time. It mostly started as something to keep yourself busy when you came home at night to find that you were alone and would be for at least a couple of hours. You usually listened to music and had your dog nearby if he was interested in being by your side. 

When the new doctor started at your clinic, you’d immediately bonded over your shared interest in outdoor activities. You’d discussed favorite places to hike, and eventually that turned into discussions about biking. You’d mentioned your desire to bike outside, but not liking the danger associated with biking on the road with cars. You also knew that there was no way that Wanda wouldn’t put up a fight about this if you brought it up. Luckily you didn’t really want to get side-swiped by a BMW, so this was an argument you could easily avoid. 

It wasn’t until the other doctor mentioned having a mountain bike that your interest was truly piqued. You considered what you could do if you bought a mountain bike, and it only took about 30 seconds for you to start looking for one. 

Of course, the first ones you saw were ridiculously expensive and for athletes that competed in races, and that was definitely not you. They looked so pretty though, and you did like the idea of having front and rear suspension to allow for your silly little bike tricks. 

Despite this, you quickly veered away from the $10k bike and looked at more practical price points. First you had to research the difference between a hybrid, electric, and mountain bike. You decided to go to a local outlet to try a few options. You didn’t really want an E-bike. You felt like it defeated the point of going out to exercise and they were heavy. You thought a bit more about where you’d ride, and you settled on a mountain bike. You test rode one and you loved how well it handled and how it could go on both paved and dirt trails.

You knew how impulsive you could be, so you noted which bike you liked and decided to take a couple of days to think about it. 

This one was significantly less expensive than the first mountain bike you’d seen, but still almost $1000. You probably should talk to your wife about it first. Would she ever want to ride with you? You considered how often Wanda tried to avoid being seen with you, and realized quickly that she likely wouldn’t go for it. 

Still, when you got home that night, you’d planned to talk to her about your day and your interest. However, you’d arrived home to a note that said not to wait up, and you ended up spending the couple of hours before bed on your phone looking at different bikes. 

Now it was Friday and you’d taken two days to think about your options. You really wanted your bike. You figure that you can go ahead and buy it since you have a decent amount of time to return it if you don’t like it. That said, you hadn’t decided if you were going to buy a bike rack as well. A nice one that you saw was almost twice the price of your bike, so you eventually decide to hold off for now. If you end up taking your bike to enough places you could invest in one, for now, the bike fit relatively comfortably in your trunk. 

When you left the store with your brand-new mountain bike that had been fitted with a bell and a more comfortable seat, you were happy. Your happiness hadn’t even been dimmed by the idea of helmet hair, and you were excited to go home and take it for a spin. 

You hadn’t expected Wanda to be home when you arrived. 

Wanda had been so busy that she’d barely seen you this week. She hated it more than she usually did because she had no idea what you’d been up to. The two of you were far overdue for some quality time, and she was excited to hear the garage door open only an hour after she arrived home. 

Rogue stood up to follow her as she walked toward the mudroom to greet you. She let him go first as she spotted you near the trunk of your car. 

“Hi, detka. Long time no…” 

Wanda trailed off as she watched you set a bike on the floor of the garage. She missed you grab a helmet and your bag as she studied the bike she’d never seen before. Both Boone and Rogue ignored it in favor of greeting each other, but Wanda barely noticed. You watched as your wife frowned in confusion before she started to walk toward you. 

“Did you get a new bike?”

You were grateful that Wanda mostly sounded confused rather than annoyed, but you still shot her a sheepish look as you nodded and offered an explanation.

“Yes! I was talking to another doctor at work about mountain biking, and well I thought I’d try it out since I already like biking.” 

Wanda didn’t respond immediately as she closed the distance between you and reached out for the bike. She had to admit that it looked nice and right up your alley. She didn’t know much about bikes, but the one you chose appeared the be one of quality. She nearly made all three of you jump when she rang the small bell that had been secured to the left handlebar. 

“It’s nice. Where did you plan on talking it?” 

Your smile widens as you think about all of the possibilities. You go on and on about the trails you could go on and the places you want to try. Eventually you roll your bike to the nearest wall and prop it up against there. You figure you’ll need to buy a rack for your car and a place to keep it in the garage. You’ll worry about that later though because you realize it’s been far too long since you’ve been able to see your wife, let alone have her full attention. 

“How have you been, Wands?” 

I’ve missed you. 

You didn’t say it, but as you reached out and pulled your wife into a hug the way that you held her tightly spoke volumes. Wanda sighs as she sinks into your embrace and holds you for the first time in far too long. You smile widely before reluctantly releasing your wife so the two of you can go inside. 

Wanda holds your hand as you lead her and the dogs inside. You nearly sigh as you walk inside and are immediately hit by a wave of cool air. You watch out of the corner of your eye as the dogs head to their bowls without hesitation. A sudden tug at your hand alerts you to the fact your hip was about to meet the corner of the counter. You smile gratefully as you glance to your lovingly exasperated wife. 

“Work’s been a lot recently, but I’m happy to report that things will be relatively calm for the next couple of days.” 

You smile at the great news and have to force yourself to focus on your wife now and not the growing list of activities you’d like to do with her. 

Wanda leads you to the fridge which she opens and reaches into with a tired smile. She’s glad that you seem as excited by the time together as she is. She really has missed you. 

“That’s great news, my love. We’ll have to make the best of the time we have.” 

Wanda nods in agreement before setting out the food she’d prepared when she first got home. Despite being dead tired, she’d wanted to cook, and luckily, she’d finished up before you got home. It was just a simple salad with added protein for the both of you, but when she saw your eyes widen, she knew it was enough. You always were fairly easy to please when it came to food.

“We can always try out your new bike.”

Wanda sees you hesitate when she says this, and she wonders if you didn’t like the idea. As excited as you seemed when you brought the bike home and told her all about it, it’s possible you just had a different idea of what you wanted for your new hobby. Maybe you didn’t really want to do anything other than explore alone. If that was the case, although it saddened her, she wouldn’t say anything about it. 

It’s not until you speak up that she realizes where your hesitation is coming from. 

You’re surprised by Wanda’s offer, and you don’t think that you hide it from her well. Instead of trying to work out your confusion right now, you decide to be upfront and figure out if you and Wanda will enjoy another hobby together. 

“Would you ride with me?” 

Wanda considers this for a moment before shrugging with an expression she hopes hid her trepidation. 

“I think it could be fun. If you’re open to it.” 

Wanda briefly imagines the two of you biking together on some of the trails you mentioned, and her first thought is that she should definitely get a helmet. Also, she’s likely in for some bruises, but the look on your face when she suggests biking with you is enough for her to completely disregard this for now. 

She’ll worry about the bodily harm later. 

Your smile is so wide that it lights up your entire face, and then you’re speaking a mile a minute as you word vomit in excitement. 

“That would be so cool! We could get you a bike like mine, not exactly like mine, but one that’s similar. We’d have to talk about how to find the balance of trail riding and paved riding you’d want. I know not everyone wants to do the jumps and steep hills. Wow, this is awesome-!” 

You trail off when Wanda is unable to suppress her laugh any longer. She loves seeing you so excited and the fact that it is about spending time with her as well as including her in your new hobby is endearing to say the least. 

“That all sounds great, detka. I haven’t ridden a bike in years though, I’m not sure I remember how.” 

And that is how you and Wanda ended up in the driveway instead of eating dinner. Wanda, with your new helmet on, stands beside your bike with a slightly anxious look. She glances over to where you and the dogs were sitting near the garage before breathing out a silent breath. 

“Don’t laugh if I fall off.” 

You shake your head before offering a reassuring smile and a thumbs up. Rogue whines and Boone barks as Wanda takes off and heads down the driveway carefully. 

“Never! I’ll wait right here.” 

Wanda figures out how to handle your bike quickly and she realizes that it is very nice. The brakes are super responsive, and the large tires allow for seamless transition from the pavement to the gravel path near the end of the driveway. It takes her a moment to figure out the gears, and the loud clicking makes her tense a bit, but she acclimates to it fairly quickly. She can see the appeal of mountain biking, and she has to restrain herself from saying that she should go get a bike right now. 

When she returns to you, she can’t help but smile widely at how poorly you’re hiding your excitement. She dismounts and only staggers for a moment as she realizes that it doesn’t have a kickstand. She’ll have to ask why you held off on getting one at some point. She’s probably going to need one. 

She turns to you before ringing the bell once more with a sigh. 

“This is really nice. Was it expensive?” 

Wanda watches as you flush slightly before you scratch the back of your neck with a sheepish grin. 

“It was under one thousand which I thought was good since the first one I found and liked was ten-thousand.” 

Wanda’s eyes widen in surprise at the thought of a bike costing that much. She imagines that it is designed for performance athletes rather than the casual riders that you and Wanda will be. She hands you back your bike while she removes her helmet with a low whistle. 

“I would have been afraid to dirty a bike that expensive.” 

You laugh at this because that had been your first thought as well. There’s no way that you would have actually gotten that expensive bike, but you would have treated it with kid gloves for sure. Given the bike its own room in the house and everything. 

“For sure. I think this is a good middle ground.” 

Wanda only smiles at this as she follows you back into the garage. You both are getting hungry, so it’s probably time to sit down and eat. Your adrenaline is still running high, but you manage to calm down a bit after you and Wanda make a plan to figure out her bike tomorrow. 

‘This is going to be so fun.” 

You say this again right after taking a bite of your salad, and Wanda can’t stop herself from laughing at your garbled statement. Still, she nods in agreement before shooting you a smile that nearly makes you melt. 

"I can't wait."

It was your eighth birthday when you’d first realised. You’d woken up to the sounds of your Moms’ singing Happy Birthday, and their voices had floated into your twin brother’s room. You’d clambered out of bed to join them, and they’d included your name in the song but they’d both sat on your brother’s bed, either side of him whilst you’d sat cross-legged on the floor.

Your eyes were bright with excitement and anticipation. You’d been begging your Moms’ for a tamagotchi and a games console for the past month – you weren’t even fussy about which kind of console. Something handheld like a Nintendo DS, or maybe a PlayStation or an XBOX. You had a handful of games on the family computer that you and your twin brother would often play, but you wanted the opportunity to expand your gaming library. One of your friends at school had a PlayStation which you thought was the coolest thing ever but you’d have been happy with any of them.

Brandon always got to open his presents first and he’d been bellyaching for a skateboard which was the first thing he opened, shrieking with excitement. Your Moms’ eyes had lit up, and Wanda had taken photo after photo of him. Your hands had ran over your brightly wrapped presents, tired of waiting for your turn, but Brandon still had other gifts to open. He’d opened new sneakers, a football, action figures, books, and finally, a PlayStation. Your mouth had fallen open and your excitement had risen – if Brandon had got a games console, you must have one too!

Finally it was your turn and you’d beamed, ripping the paper from your presents, your face falling slightly as you stared at them all. Two new books, a Barbie, a wristwatch and a delicate necklace with your initial. No gaming console, no tamagotchi. You’d looked towards the PlayStation on Brandon’s bed, asking quietly, “Is… Is that for both of us?”

“No, it’s Brandon’s,” Natasha had said, surprised. “He’s the one with a TV in his room. Maybe he’ll let you play too if you ask nicely though.”

You’d looked between your presents and your brothers. He was too excited with his own gifts to look your way, to acknowledge your own lacklustre pile. It wasn’t like you minded reading but these books were bright with unicorns on the cover – your favourite series was about a kid detective, you liked mysteries and adventures. These were generic ‘girl books’, picked at random, nothing to do with your actual interests. You didn’t have much of a sense of monetary value but it was clear even to you that your Moms’ had spent double, maybe even triple on your brother than they had on you.

Wanda took another photo of Brandon and that was when you realised she hadn’t taken a photo of you, not once. Natasha’s attention had already turned from you back to Brandon, beaming at him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Wanda wished him a Happy Birthday again and you watched, your bottom lip trembling and your eyes watering. Nobody noticed how upset you were.

“Why don’t we go for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory after school?” Wanda suggested.

Your brother had cheered; The Cheesecake Factory was his favourite whilst yours was Panda Express. There was no discussion of what to do or where to go, as if it wasn’t even your birthday too. For breakfast your Moms’ asked Brandon what he wanted for breakfast, but nobody asked you. It occurred to you then, that your Moms’ never asked you. Not just on your birthday but all year round. Your opinion was never considered, never even asked for. Brandon’s was, and you were expected to go with the flow.

That was the first time you’d truly realised that your Mom’s had a preference for your twin brother. But once you’d noticed, it was hard to stop seeing it every single day.

Over the years you realised that your brother’s achievements were celebrated, whilst yours were brushed over. If Brandon got an A, his test was displayed on the fridge, and Wanda would make her famous cookies, letting him have the first pick. If you got an A, Natasha would ruffle your hair and Wanda would say ‘well done’. When Brandon made the football team, your Moms’ had taken the two of you out for dinner at Texas Roadhouse, his new favourite place as his tastes changed. When a story you’d written had won a prize, you’d got the same ruffle of your hair and Wanda’s quiet ‘well done’.

It wasn’t just their reactions – they drove Brandon to football practice every Saturday, swimming on a Thursday, and guitar lessons on a Tuesday. You’d asked if you could learn the piano and had been told they’d ‘look into it’ only for lessons to never materialise. Sometimes you’d go downstairs and you’d find them all in the living room, having a ‘family movie night’ that you hadn’t been invited to. One time you’d even been left behind on a trip to Yellowstone and it had taken them an hour to return to collect you.

As you grew older your brother generally had more achievements than you. Brandon was the quarterback of the football team, achieved straight A’s, had a sensible girlfriend that your Moms’ loved. There was always something to celebrate.  You just about scraped passing grades, generally cruised for life laying low, flying under the radar.

What was the point in getting angry though? It wouldn’t change anything.

You’d tried to get your Moms’ attention after that disastrous eighth birthday. That night at the Cheesecake Factory you’d asked Natasha if you could have dinner at Panda Express the following evening, and she’d given you a look. “We’re out for dinner tonight for your birthday treat, we don’t need to go out again tomorrow. Don’t be so ungrateful.”

Once you’d gotten home, you’d picked up one of your new books and had shown Wanda. “Mom, will you read to me before I go to sleep?”

“You’re eight now Sweetheart,” Wanda had laughed, ruffling your hair. “I think you’re plenty old enough to read quietly by yourself before bed.”

You’d been so tired. After the Cheesecake Factory the four of you had gone to the local park so Brandon could try out his new skateboard. Your Moms’ had beamed and laughed while they watched him, taking even more photos. You’d found another girl to play with but it had been boring – you wanted to be at home, playing with the games console you’d been hoping to receive. If you’d been given a tamagotchi, you could’ve at least played with that while Brandon had messed around on his stupid skateboard.

What made your Moms’ lack of interest in you even harder was that you weren’t close to Brandon. Over the years Wanda had told you stories of how close she’d been to her own twin brother, the uncle that neither of you had gotten to meet. How they’d protected each other after their parents had died. In all media you’d seen with twins, they were the same – inseparable, making up their own secret languages, looking after each other.

It had been okay when you were really little. Brandon had been your playmate and the two of you had gotten up to adventures, played games at the family computer together, he’d let you sneak into his room for midnight feasts. But Brandon was outgoing and sociable whilst you were more reserved, and when he’d started school he’d gained a whole heap of friends whilst you hadn’t. He’d pulled away from you without a backwards glance.

Whenever your Moms’ had to go away for missions, Brandon would go and stay at a friend’s house, not contacting you at all, even when you messaged him to say you were worried about them, that you were terrified something was going to happen to them. When you’d been bullied at school, Brandon had looked the other way, pretending he didn’t even know you. At thirteen, you’d tried to tentatively bring up the difference in how the two of you were treated and he’d snapped at you. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Moms’ love us exactly the same. You’re always doing this, trying to be the centre of attention; it’s getting old Y/N.”

Your best friend, Cassie, often fumed about it, “Why wouldn’t you give him hell? Everything has always been about him and he has the nerve to say shit like that? Why wouldn’t you give him a piece of your mind?”

You’d shrugged your shoulders, “Why waste my energy? He’ll never agree and neither will my Moms’.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that your Moms’ loved you. You supposed they must, even if they liked Brandon more, but the hardest part was realising that they didn’t know you at all. Your eighth birthday had been one example but at every turn, they proved that they didn’t know you very well. When you told them both that you were thinking of applying to do creative writing at college, Wanda had glanced at you. “I didn’t know you liked writing.”

“Well, yeah,” You’d said quietly. “I won that prize for that short story I wrote, remember?”

“You did?” Natasha asked. “That’s… Well done.”

You’d clenched and unclenched your fists, swallowing hard. “Anyway, I was gonna apply to California College of the Arts.”

Part of you had hoped there would be a discussion about how far that would be from home. How you could go if you wanted to but that they’d miss you, that you should call at least once a week, and that they’d make provisions for you to come back for the holidays. Natasha had carried on as if you hadn’t said anything whilst Wanda had simply asked, “Did you look into scholarships?”

“Yeah, I submitted some of my work to them. I’m just waiting to hear back.” Neither of your Moms’ replied and you swallowed hard again. “It’ll be weird. Being so far from home.”

“You’ve always been pretty independent,” Natasha said. “You’ll be absolutely fine.”

‘I had no choice but to be independent!’ You’d wanted to snap. But what would be the point? Life isn’t a movie, you’d realised a long time ago. There would never be a moment where they realised how badly they treated you compared to Brandon, would never be a moment where they gathered you into their arms and reassured you that they loved you just as much as him, that things would change from now. It just simply wasn’t going to happen.

“Besides, you can come whenever you want.” Wanda had said. That had lifted your spirits somewhat until she’d added, “If you can afford the airfare. You thinking of getting a part-time job while you study?”

“Yeah…” You mumbled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

When you’d received the confirmation of your scholarship, Natasha had ruffled her hair and Wanda had said that usual ‘well done’. Brandon got a party at the compound when the confirmation of his own placement at Columbia University came through.

You’d watched from the sidelines, feeling lonelier than ever when Tony had suddenly sidled up, handing you an envelope. “What’s this?”

“Congratulations on California. Consider this a going away gift.”

Your eyes had widened when you’d spotted the cheque inside the envelope. “Tony… I can’t accept this…”

“Of course you can. I’m your rich Uncle, I won’t miss it. You’ll need money at college for books and food and rent and well… I think golden boy over there will be getting far more financial help from home than you.”

You’d glanced over at Brandon and then at Tony, wondering how much he’d noticed over the years. For a moment you’d felt angry, annoyed that someone had noticed the difference between your treatment and hadn’t intervened, had never said anything to your mothers. Why was he telling you? Of course you’d noticed. None of the Avengers had ever really bothered with you; a lot of them often seemed surprised to find that Natasha and Wanda had a daughter, that your brother had a twin sister, even though all of them had met you multiple times. But then you’d seen the small smile on his face and the sad look in his eyes, and you’d realised that he felt bad. That this cheque was the peace offering – and you weren’t exactly in a position to turn it down.

“Thanks Tony,” You’d said quietly. “I appreciate it. Really.”

Your moving date finally arrives and you carry your boxes down to the front door. Brandon had moved out three nights ago and your Moms’ had made a big deal of making his favourite dinner, giving him a going away gift and spending time with him the night before. You hadn’t received any similar fanfare last night and you hadn’t expected to. You see Natasha in her Black Widow outfit in the kitchen and you pause, shifting the box in your arms. “Are you not coming with us?”

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, clearly distracted.

“With me and Mom to move me in.”

“Wait, you seriously thought we were gonna drive you? Jesus Y/N, it’s two days just one way.”

You hesitate, the box feeling even heavier in your arms as you shift from one foot to the other. “Yeah but… I’m going to college.” There’s significance to that statement but Natasha just blinks at you. “I thought we’d make a road trip out of it, I could spend some time with you and Mom before I- I mean, you helped Brandon move in-”

“Y/N, come on, Brandon went local, it took less than a day to move him in.”

You feel your bottom lip begin to tremble and you bite it, willing yourself not to cry. “It’s just… You never asked me how I was getting there, so I guess I just assumed that-”

“You’re an adult now,” Natasha says, giving you a tired look. “You can’t rely on your Mommy’s to do everything for you forever. We thought you’d figured something out, maybe caught a ride with someone else who was moving from New York to California.”

You shake your head and mumble dejectedly, “No… No, I didn’t do that.”

“Well you’ll have to figure it out. I’ve got work to do and your Mom doesn’t have the time to drive you that far.”

Natasha presses a half-hearted kiss to your cheek as she leaves and you realise that you don’t even feel angry or disappointed. Not really. You’re not actually surprised that they’re not driving you to college. That Natasha might not see you now until Thanksgiving or maybe even Christmas, and that had been her goodbye. Wanda is upstairs but you know there’s no point in going up to ask her for a ride. Instead you take your phone out and text Tony, asking if you could have one more favour.

An hour later Happy appears outside, and it’s him who takes your boxes back and forth to the car. You wait in the hallway, glancing towards the staircase, not sure if you’re hoping that Wanda will come downstairs to wish you goodbye. Maybe you are hoping but you’re not expecting it, not really. There’s movement upstairs but she doesn’t make an appearance.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Happy says to you as he grabs your final box.

You hesitate, glancing towards the stairs one last time before shaking your head, “No need. We should probably get moving, it’s going to be a long drive.”

“I understand if you want to say goodbye, I’ll wait as long as you need-”

“I already did,” You lie. “I’m ready to go, seriously.”

As you climb into the car, you find that you don’t feel sad about not saying goodbye. The thought of not returning for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any other holiday doesn’t fill you with dread. All you feel as Happy begins driving is a strange sense of calm and acceptance.

University will be different. You won’t be Brandon’s twin sister, the one stuck in his shadow, never getting to step into the spotlight. No one will ever even know you’re a twin. Finally, you’ll get to be yourself. As for your Moms- It’s hard not to stop the tears welling in your eyes as you remember the proud way they’d hugged Brandon when they’d left him at college. How they’d never looked at you with the bright, proud eyes that Brandon had grown to take for granted. How Wanda had stopped tucking you into bed not long after your tenth birthday but had continued to tuck Brandon in until he was twelve and had asked for to stop, and how you knew you wouldn’t have asked her to stop, not until the day you moved out. How you felt on your eighth birthday when you realised for the first time that your Moms’ might love you in their own way but they had never understood you, and had never cared about you the way they had Brandon.

It had taken all of your energy to tell yourself multiple times as a teenager that it wasn’t anything you’d done, or even anything that Brandon had done. He wasn’t any more special than you, not even if he had more achievements. Maybe you could’ve achieved higher results if your Moms’ had put a fraction of the effort they put into Brandon into you. If they’d let you learn piano, go to karate, join that young writers class, maybe you’d have more things to be proud of.

You turn slightly in your seat, spying the PlayStation 3 you’d managed to buy second-hand from your local flea market when you were fifteen, bought with money you’d saved from your paper route. If there was anything that you wanted in this life, you’d learnt ten years ago that you needed to get it yourself.

As you turn to face forward again, you think about your Moms’ again and wonder if they’ll even notice that you never intend to come home. That you’ll stay at college over every holiday and the moment you graduate, you’ll settle down anywhere, as long as it’s far away from New York and far away from the family who had never appreciated you. Would they even care? You’re not sure. But that’s not your problem anymore.

“Get you hands off me, oh my god why are your fingers so cold? Your hands are usually warm! Stop it!” You bat at Cassie’s hands as she tries to get your temp. You had been practically lifted off your feet to get into the room in the first place. You had a shift in five minutes, and your friendly doctor McKay wasn’t letting you out until you had a clean bill of health. Her hands had already reached out to do the forehead and gentle hand temp check, and you were burning up. 

“Behave, don’t make me use the rectal thermometer, doctor.” The older, gorgeous doctor threatened, and she meant it. You were behaving worse than her son when he was ill. Harrison had texted his mother, warning her of your sick status. While Cassie had been worried, seeing you like that had her full blown over protective crazy mama vibes.

“It’s just a case of the spring flu,” you reason but your pushed back onto the bed. You don’t have the strength to fight her, had she been working out? 

The hospital lights offend you, making you squint up at the doctors form. Cassie takes your glasses off your nose and pockets them. You try to get them back but she’s faster, mad mom skills and all.

“Maybe, but I gave you your flu shot, though so I’m going to be thorough,” McKay tells you moving her stethoscope as Dana comes in with her little lamb. Emma's smile falters when she sees how pale you look.

“No, I don’t want to be a teaching hospital today.” You say rudely, and Dana narrows her eyes at you.

“Don’t listen to her, Doctors make the absolute worst patients. But as grumpy as she appears, she’s my favorite. So that’s why I came in to torture her.” Dana says, and Cassie squirms a little. And the charge nurse notices immediately.

“Dr. McKay?” Her eyebrows go up expecting.

You have such a high fever that you don’t understand or care about their silent argument. 

“I’ve got this, I think Robbie’s got a trauma comin' in.” She eyes the new nurse like that will be better for her. A nice bloody case for Emma. Not you, not while Cassie had you. No extra hands required. 

“Dr. McKay, is there a chart made up for our patient?” Dana makes her point clear, but Cassie still isn’t happy. The gentle threat doesn’t reach your tired frame. But to the other three women, it’s clear; If a chart is made, it’s not a personal call anymore. 

If anything, Dana could get Cassie off the case for her ‘personal feelings,’ but the nurse is more poking the soft butch to see how much of an ass she’s going to be.

“No,” you say just as the older doctor cringes and nods.

“Yes,” Cassie says on top of you. Her braid falling over her shoulder as her dark scrubs can’t hide the way her body tenses.

“Okay, let’s do some labs and see what color mucus you got kiddo,” Dana tells you and grabs the blanket, pulling it across your lap.

Your eyes drift, you can help it.

“I have rounds.” You say with your eyes already closed.

“You may present your own case if you would like,” Al-Hashimi states coming in and pressing her ID down on the scanner to see your chart.  Ignoring the rest of the room to find out what ails you.

Cassie hates this even more than Dana, way more. 

“I’ve got this covered, really, just some routine tests.” Doctor McKay is being possessive, and Al-Hashimi doesn’t back down.

They’d been doing this for the past five months, and it was getting to be a game of whose strap was bigger. 

Dana was over it, but you were ignorant to the butch brawl. 

Emma makes a scared face as her attention goes back and forth to the two women fighting about your chart. Even Dana waits on this one.

The children would get tired eventually, or she’d need to get a kiddie pool with mud for the two to work it out. 

Dana had her bets on Cassie, not because of the ankle monitor or the rough history. But not, not because of the ankle monitor, McKay just had this love for you. That the charge nurse was sure wouldn’t blow over anytime soon. 

Baran is the queen of passive-aggressive in these situations, though, and she easily calls ranks. 

“Then we’ll make sure to put a rush on them and find out, Dr. McKay, may I speak to you in the hall?” The senior attending requests even though it’s not a question. 

Cassie makes sure to leave with your glasses in her pocket; you wouldn’t be driving without them. 

“Of course Dcotor Al-Hashimi,” she says through her teeth. 

The two leave, and you miss how Cassie’s eyes linger in your shivering frame.

Dana ignores the fight in the hall and instead squeezes your knee comfortingly.

Voices raising and falling outside don’t matter; you did. 

Dana nods at Emma towards the computer, knowing she’d have better chance at bullying you into submission then the sweet young nurse. 

You yawn, and try to get warmer in the blankets. Sweat drips down your forehead and you really wish you had stayed home; the light was too much for your headache. 

Dana wipes at your forehead with her palm; it’s less medical and far closer to an intimate gesture. 

“So tired, Dana…” you whisper, and she smiles comfortingly at you. You were too cute to even the charge nurse like this, all docile and needy. 

“I know, kid, so no more bad patient, okay? Emma here is gonna get you a second warm blanket and I’m gonna get some fluids in you. Starting of course, with your temp, now are you gonna behave or do I need to put you over my knee like my kids?” She says, and you don’t have the energy to fight her. Though you can see how she would totally spank you.

“Apple juice? you squeak in question and even Emma can’t help but smile at how cute you are. The normally smart doctor that she was intimidated by was getting tucked in by the charge nurse and asking for juice.

“As much as you want, you just gotta let me take your temp.” Dana agrees, trying not to smile too openly at how adorable you were. No wonder the two gay ladies in the hall were arguing over your chart.

Your eyes lull closed and Dana takes it as a warning, grabbing the thermometer for under your tongue.

“How long you been feelin this way, kiddo?” She says low in her ‘mama bear’ sorta way. It works on you every time. You fold like a melted string cheese under just a little maternal push. 

“I took Harrison to this new exhibit.” You shiver, and the thermometer beeps and is pulled from your lips.

Emma types in your chart once she sees the high number. 

“Who’s Harrison?” Emma asks, being a little nosey. Thinking that it’s your boyfriend. Kids these days, she’s probably thinking he’s 5’9 in finance. Nothing could be further from the truth. Dana chuckles at her very wrong idea.

“Harrison is Dr. McKay's little boy, he’s smarter than many of the doctors on this floor and cuter than a button,” Dana informs Emma, and now you smile big.

Yeah that was a good way to describe him. 

“He’s adorable and knows he’s got me wrapped around his finger. How else would I start playing the Nintendo Switch on my weekends?” You say and your teeth chatter from your temp. 

“You saw the exhibit, you worked 3 shifts and you’ve been having a headache, haven’t you?” Dana asks but starts an IV. You don’t even twitch as the needle goes into your vein. 

“Who squealed?” You open one eye to glare.

Dana hid her laugh at the absurdity of the question. 

“You got family here, family talks.” Dana dismissed you but you still gave her a dirty gaze. It’s not scary in the least. 

“You have spies.” Your throat is raw, and you sound like Johnny Cash after smoking a pack. 

But the two nurses don’t tease you, too low-hanging fruit. Besides, Dana has worked hard to be someone you trusted, and it wasn’t her style to tease you while you're half unconscious.

“Everywhere.” Dana agrees just as the two doctors re-enter.

Both are looking equally unhappy.

“Temp?” Al-Hashimi asks and Dana lets Emma answer. She’s squeezing the IV bag, and watching you try and pull the covers up incredibly higher. Your scrubs sticking to your skin like wet newspaper. It’s rough and unkind and you want to sleep. 

“103.4,” her gentle voice is kind but you groan and yank the blanket over your head all the way. 

“Does Harrison have it too?” Emma asks and misreads the room. This wasn’t a discussion. Everyone looks at her and then Cassie.

“Excuse me?” The doctor doesn’t like that one bit.

“Why would her son have it?” Al-Hashimi asks, but her tone is off.

“He didn’t put on the astronaut helmet with the zillion children coughing in it, so no.” You say, and your voice gives out halfway. 

“Rest your voice,” Cassie instructs harshly and then eyes Emma with a new fire. 

“Either way, let’s just rule everything else out.”

“Baran!” You try to shout and her lips curl at you using her first name. Just as Cassie’s grinding her jaw.

“Healthy Doctors on my floor. Only healthy Doctors. Get some rest, Khvaab-e-shirin.” Baran reminds you and squeezes your blanket covered foot. 

The anger in Cassie’s features are hot enough they could light her fingers on fire.

But then the senior attending is out of the room again. 

“Stop it,” the head nurse snaps at Cassie. “Get that look off your face.”

She says, waiving her pointer in a tiny circle. 

“What?” Cassie pushes back rudely, only to get a threatening stare in return. 

“I warned our patient I’d take her over my knee, you want to go first?” The motherly threatening is enough that Cassie tries to bounce back.

“Blood draw, and a Covid test. Do strep too.” Cassie lists and Dana actually pulls back, looking offended. Like what was this her first day or something?

“Oh, and then what?” The nurse delivers sarcastically but Emma is typing rapidly on your chart. 

“Not you too, please.” Cassie winces after getting the riot act with Doctor Al Hashimi. A very uncomfortable back and forth where the two argued but also danced around the real issue. Baran wanted you and so did Cassie and neither wanted to work in the same shift while yearning over you. 

The blonde can’t believe this clear rudeness. 

“Hey, I’m bisexual too. You gonna fight every gay on rotation or just the ones in your weight class?” Dana arches an eyebrow, and Cassie’s eyes zone in on you to see if you're paying attention. Luckily you were out. 

You look like Harrison when he sleeps. Mouth open, little snores, body curled like a bug in a rug. Cuddling nothing but fabric, how Cassie wanted to crawl into that bed and hold you tight. 

Hold a cold cloth on your forehead and rub your lower back over and over. Hypnotic and consistent, watching over your sleeping form to keep you safe. 

Kiss your nose and soothe any bad dreams. 

Cassie McKay wanted the honor of being the person you snuggled against. 

Today and every night, never letting you get cold again. Feet pressed against her own under comforter and silent nights.

“Please Dana, I just…” Cassie is trying really she is, but she’s already raw. Already holding back from fighting with Baran. 

So the nurse's shoulders drop a little, no longer wanting to make her point.

She raises her hands up to stop McKay from trying to say another word. 

“You started the chart, you finish the chart. Emma and I will keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty. Go do rotations, by the time you're done with our first few happy customers, the labs will be back. You can’t do anything for her now anyway.” Dana says, gently reaching out to squeeze Cassie’s bicep and it helps.

Lord she needed a raise. 

“Why did I fall for the cute one everyone wants?” Cassie asks, and Emma tries not to grin at how adorably in love Dr. McKay is.

Dana shakes her head, but makes her way for the door. Pushing the doctor as well. 

“Listen, your girl didn’t get sick while on a date with Al Hashimi. Let’s remember who she spends every weekend with. Now stop marking your territory and scram.” Dana says, opening the door and walking the worried Butch out.

It’s hours later when you wake up. Sorta disoriented, you get anxious and jerk from the bed.

Strange fever dreams causing a cold sweat, you gasp in despair. 

“Hey, hey, hey, easy, it’s me,” Cassie shushes and in the dim light you blink wearily at her.

“Cass? Cassie that you?” You croak, voice something in between. 

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s okay sweetie, I turned off the lights so you could sleep better. Here,” she puts your glasses on your face and now you can make her form out better.

It soothes you and you fall back flat on the bed. Knowing she’s around always makes you feel better. 

“Am I dead?” You ask, with the IV in your arm and Cassie working on your chart.

“Not funny.” She says dryly.

“Sorta funny,” you challenge, only to see Cassie looking down, right concerned.

“You should have told me you were feeling sick.” She sighs, disappointed that somehow she missed this. You're burning out right in front of her. 

Cassie was always on you to drink water, to sleep, feeding you when you forgot. Packing extra lunches and extra coffee.

So how had the doctor so missed this? 

The answer was clear, because you hid it from her. That’s what really made Cassie sick to her stomach. 

“I could have worked my shift.” You insist. Anxious that you’d caused a fuss, a call out, you dropped the ball. Made work harder for the team. 

“Your temp spiked, you were delirious and dehydrated.” Cassie’s tone is getting more clipped, more tense, it’s building. 

In the dark you can see her worry is all consuming.

“Cassie, I just-”

“You just weren’t taking care of yourself!” She shouts and you flinch from her words and then you see her eyes shut as she tries to breathe and calm down. Not wanting to shout at you. Her temper flaring because she’s scared.

“Hey, I’m alright. I just needed some fluids and and-” You start but Cassie wipes at her face and you wonder if you’ve broken something in her. 

“You, make everyone else a priority. You can’t burn out like this, your important. Not just a doctor but…Damn it.” Cassie chews on her bottom lip trying so hard to figure out how to do this. 

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Your voice cracks and your head is pounding. 

“That’s what’s got me worried.” Cassie lets out a self deprecating sound and whispers at her feet. 

“Cassie, it’s just the flu.” You say gently but Doctor McKay isn’t able to let it go. 

“I need you to take care of yourself, do you understand? You matter. I need you….” Cassie is opening her mouth and she can’t say the rest because that sentence really sums it all up. 

Cassie McKay needs you. 

“Your mad I didn’t tell you.” You say now, thinking of how you’d evaded her. 

Her head falls before she lifts it and tries to calmly discuss this. 

“I can’t take care of you if you won’t let me.” Her voice cracks and you reach out, it doesn’t take your fellow doctor more than a second to grab your hand back.

“You have enough to worry-” You try but it makes the older woman huff and cut you off. 

“No, no, you don’t get to decide. That’s not how this works.” Cassie insists and you sniffle and she can’t stay mad at you when your sick and out of it. 

So you two just hold hands and stare at one another. 

“I don’t wanna get you sick.” You whisper, voice straining and Cassie leans forward and pulls wet strand of your hair back off your face. 

“I’ll take my chances.” She says gently with love in her eyes. 

“Harrison told me it probably had more germs then chucky cheese ball pit and I still put it on. I wanted to be an astronaut.” You say in hushed tones and Cassie can’t help but snort at that. 

“What am I gonna do with you,” Cassie keeps playing with your hair and holding your hand. 

“Let me win mario cart once in a while?” You try with big pleading eyes. It wasn’t fair that she could beat you and Harrison. 

“Not a chance, that’s my street cred.” The older woman says and you giggle then wince in pain. 

“I brought you apple juice and applesauce, and I even snagged a donut. But you have to take the tylenol. Or I’m withholding the sprinkles.” She’s got a bunch of goodies on the tray.

“You are cruel.” You say back and Cassie nods like she’s tough shit. 

“You know it,” The doctor helps you sit up, propping the bed and pillows until your up. 

“I feel like death.” You say in pain.

“Now she tells me,” Cassie lays it on thick and you try to be grumpy about it. But you want that pink sprinkled donut dang it. 

“If this is the end, I just want you to know-”

Now Cassie’s not having any of it. She shakes the pill cup. 

“Don’t even, jokes about your death will not get me to share sugar.” The older doctor warns. 

“I see the light,” you push but take the pills and Cassie opens the apple juice and you take a swig. 

“Last warning,” Cassie informs lifting the donut and taking a bite herself. 

Your eyes widen, in despair - how could she be so mean. 

“I thought you swore to do no harm.” You stick out your bottom lip. 

“Dana said she’d spank you if you were bad, what do you think I’d do?” Cassie actually flirts and you lose your ability to speak at the idea. 

Dirty dirty thoughts, fuck what a sight.

“That’s what I thought, be good. I’m taking you home after my shift,” she checks her wrist watch. “So in exactly four more hours, so if you can not develop any new illnesses between then and now I’ll even let you pick dinner.”

You don’t get to say anything else, but Cassie sets the rest of the donut onto a napkin and moves the tray over your hospital bed. 

“I’m still trying to decide if I want to be good or not,” you flirt but you aren’t joking. You don’t know if you can blame it on the temperature. 

Cassie gives you a long look before leaning over your body and kissing your forehead. 

You can’t help but close your eyes and feel more loved from such a tiny peck than you had your whole life. 

Cassie lingers too long to be considered friendly, before leaning back and eyeing you. Your flushed from the temperature, that’s what she tells herself. 

“You’re already in the dog house. Now no more death jokes, close your eyes. Good dreams only, and drink your juice.”

“I want Chinese.” You say, but your heart is doing summersalts in your chest. You don’t want her to go.

“Behave.” Cassie says one last time before moving towards the door. 

“Can I have another kiss if I promise to?” You for sure can’t blame it on the temperature now. 

But Cassie also couldn’t resist such a request. She moves back to your bed and goes for your forehead but just as you close your eyes to enjoy it again. 

She moves down and pecks your lips. 

You must look like a cartoon because when you open your eyes she’s smiling at your lovestruck look. 

Your grin is so big it actually hurts your cheeks. 

“Four whole hours?” You ask needy and revel in how much Cassie seems to like you like this. 

“Two hundred and fourty minutes,” Cassie agrees but in the dark now you think you can see her own blush. 

“Do you have to go?” It’s desperate but real.

“Dana already is grumbling because I came in here every twenty minutes while you were sleeping. I think if I stay any longer she’ll send Al-Hashimi in and put me on AI charts all night.” 

“Baran’s nice!” You argue and your voice cracks. Cassie grabs your juice and makes you take a sip but she’s already disagreeing. 

“Hey, don’t forget who’s got your chart.” Cassie threatens and you wonder why the two doctors don’t get along. 

You frown and give a little pout. 

“You sure you want to take me home? I’m overly needy when I don’t feel good, I know this, and it’s gross.” You say but Cassie shakes her head. 

“I like you like this.” She admits afraid of how you’ll react.

“Bedridden, waiting for the end.” You tease again and Cassie grabs your donut and holds it up. 

“I warned you.” Cassie’s got this look that you can’t place. 

“Not the donut! Anything but the donut.” You shout playfully and move your hand to try to take it. 

“Can you be a good girl?” The older doctor asks and you can’t explain the full body reaction you have. 

Except that you were sick and maybe subspace was easier to reach like this….or maybe it was all Cassie McKay. 

But you sink and the butch see’s it immediately. Tilting her head to the side she sets the donut back down and cups your cheek. Swallowing the sugar and wondering what you taste like.

“Can you be my good girl?” Cassie asks now, and she needs you to say it. Needs it to be true. 

Your lip trembles just a bit, but the hold on your face has you feeling so cherished that you get choked up. 

You nod once.

And Cassie likes that, she likes that more than anything. 

“Good, eat, drink, sleep. Fourteen thousand four hundred seconds, then your butt is being released. And you can get as much sweet and sour soup as you want. Okay?” McKay says more to herself than to you, she’s never been more excited to get off shift. 

You nod again and grin, and Cassie doesn’t want to leave you but she’s got to. 

“You okay here?” She asks, but she’s stalling.

You nod again, then Cassie’s taking off your glasses and putting them back in her pocket.

You two stare at each other with more feelings than you can take, it’s bursting out of your chest. But she’s walking backwards to the door. 

Hesitating, not touching the doorknob. 

Almost like she’s afraid if she leaves maybe you’ll change your mind, or maybe this was all too good to be true. 

“1.44e+7” You whisper and she looks confused for a second before realizing you are doing the math for the milliseconds. 

She points to the applejuice and you grab it again and drink.

“My good girl.” 

Take care of yourself

“Could I, by any chance, ask not to be seen by a certain doctor?” You request, realizing too late how much of an asshole you sound. 

“Do you have a problem with someone in the ER, Ma’am?”Perez is already on the offense for the team, working to save lives behind her desk. 

You are sounding like an asshole. 

“No, sorry, never mind. I just-I know someone, and I was hoping-” You try as the pain shoots up and down your arms and makes you wince. Grinding your teeth, but all it looks like is you got anxious and quiet. 

“You’ll be called back as quickly as we can. Please have a seat and wait for your number.” Perez insists, probably considering you to be a tweaker. 

You nod and give a forced, friendly look, and make your way to a chair in the corner. 

You plop down and try to sink into yourself in the crowd of people in pain, you never felt in more mutual company. 

It’s the afternoon by the time you get brought back, after getting your blood drawn, and some basic questions. Your pushed back to the waiting room. There’s no longer seats available so you stand against a wall and try to dissasociate from the way your body feels on fire. 

The sunsets and your called back once again. You wobble a little but make it to an angry junior doctor who’s about to break from the stress. 

You eye her badge but don’t give her any attitude, you understand better than anyone in that waiting room what her day means. 

“So the pain, can you put it on a scale on one to ten?” Mohan asks, you feel bad for her. 

“It’s a five,” you sorta lie. 

Pain tolerance skewed at this point in life. 

Dana is walking by your room, and she makes a comical twist of her neck snap, giving a double take to see your face. 

The charge nurse barges in with her maternal smile.

It used to be comforting but now it just fills you with dread. The pain shoots through the back of your skull, you want to throw up again. 

But now you have to be pleasant. 

“Hello, cutie, haven’t seen your face in some time. I’m guessing it’s a bad one?” Dana questions, she’s not looking at Mohan's annoyed face or your chart. 

“It’s fine, I just need a little sleep.” You admit, not having not slept in six days. 

“You tell Mohan you're at a four or five?” Dana asks, not believing how well you conceal the intensity of your pain. 

You shrug, good-natured, a gentle disposition, another kind face going through the ER rounds. 

You're just a number to Moahn, and that’s fine with you, you just needed a little a refill of Zofran and a strong sleeping pill. 

Then you’d be out into the evening, having started waiting for a bed at seven am this morning. 

“Any chance you can keep my name to a minimum?” You squint at the nurse, who falters a little. 

“Why don’t you want a reunion?” She questions not used to your cagey attitude, and Mohan seems curious now. She may need to grab Santos and see if anyone could identify you. 

“Just the Zofran and a friendly Ambien, and I’ll be out of your hair.” You insist a little anxiously, and Dana narrows her eyes, disbelieving at you. 

Dana steps forward, she doesn’t touch you like she would have not long ago. But her love still oozes out of her like a kind mother figure who just wants what’s best for you. Her closer proximity has your mind reeling from memories. 

“Ya know there’s a lot of people here who love you?” The nurse reminds you and you hate how that makes your insides twist with guilt. 

“I know that’s why I used my maiden name and not my legal one.” You give back sass, and Dana snorts at that. 

“I hear you kiddo, alright. I’ll get the scripts filled. You still going to-”

“Yes, yes, and I even do acupuncture. My range of motion is still shit, and I’m doing fine. I promise.” You push back, and the blonde doesn’t like how hard you are trying to avoid this. 

“I’ll get your script, but I’m going to demand your current phone number. You ain’t no jane doe here babydoll.” Dana says and twists to Mohan, who is typing rapidly into the computer. 

It’s three hours later, and you are in horrible pain. 

You should have asked them to draw the curtain in front of the window. 

Because you see her, and your heart aches. 

As cheesy as it sounds, some people were just magnets to one another, and your ex…well, your separated wife and you - you were those assholes that could find one another in any lifetime. 

In any space, no matter how much time had passed. 

So when her eyes lifted, you knew you were in deep shit. 

In her scrubs, with that long hair falling out of her ponytail. She’s trying to figure it out. 

You can see her sixth sense turn up, she furrowed her brows and scanned the ER. 

Like when you know something is off in an area but can’t figure out just what it is. 

That’s when her eyes found you through the glass door - bingo. 

So many emotions pass through her features that you can’t even begin to unpack it. 

Cassie walks to your room so fast that you see the confusion on Robby. He’s taking off his glasses and watching what was more important than whatever medical marvel he was about to impart on his resident. 

But your wife was already zoned in on you.

Doctor McKay opened the door to find you sitting up. 

“Hi.” You say lamely. 

And Cassie's face shatters into rage once more.

“Hi? That’s it?” She questions, and you really wish you had driven the extra time to another ER. 

There’s a reason you said 5 on your painscale. 

It’s because leaving Cassie, your wife, your best friend and soulmate. 

That was the real 10. 

The pain, the nerves exploding like fireworks and then burning like acid. Making it impossible for you to do basic tasks, to hold objects, to sleep. 

Well everyday of that was nothing over a 5.

The upset you see reflected in the woman who refused to give you a divorce, not that was real pain. 

“Cassie, please let's not do this.” You say weakly, you're so tired. 

But she’s grabbing her badge and scanning it into the computer to pull up your chart. Her jaw grinding, just like you remembered, keeping all that tension in her neck and jaw. God, you wondered if you were the reason she would need PT. 

Her eyes scan your chart as if you’d cheated on her. 

“I’d love to do this later, but you changed your phone number and moved, so I’ve been trying to track you down for three months like an idiot. You- you used your maiden name to check in? God! I can’t believe you!” Cassie shouts and people outside are curious now. 

Robby seems to be debating going in and breaking this up, but it seems the part of him that really believed you two were perfect for each other was holding him at bay. 

“Cassie, please, I just need some Zofran and some sleeping meds. I’ll be out of your hair.” The dark rings around your eyes and shaky frame don’t make Cassie back down. 

If anything, it amps her up. 

“I don’t want you out of my hair, I never did! You're the one who moved out! Harrison sets a god damn placemat for you for dinner every night. I can’t bring myself to wash the sheets. I’m still in our marriage, holding my breath until you come home!” She insists, wearing the gold chain you bought her on your first anniversary like they were dog tag, a way to identify the wreckage of your love. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the two rings hanging loosely at the bottom. 

“Cassie, please.” You close your eyes and try to keep yourself steady through the constriction in your hands. 

“I’m your wife - I’m supposed to take care of you! What are you doing here without-”

“I don’t want your medical insurance, I don’t want you to watch me like this-I just want-”

“That’s not how love works!” Cassie shouts so loud that you feel queasy. 

Dana and Robby walked in with fear, and you wondered which one was assigned to Cassie. 

Dana’s hand fell onto her shoulder, and she twisted out of it. 

It seemed Cassie hadn’t allowed anyone outside of Harrison to touch her, hug her - go near her since you. 

Cassie McKay, who had witnessed carnage and despair every shift, hadn’t been able to cry since you’d left. 

Harrison had taken to making his mother food in bed, but she didn’t eat, and couldn’t sleep. 

You look away from the dramatic show of your failed marriage.

“Robby, I just need my meds refilled. It’s a weekend, I can’t get my provider to do it. I’ve been throwing up all last night, I can’t keep liquids down, and I can’t sleep. Please,” You insist, and your former mentor is looking at you more like you a father. He’d been so proud of you when you’d become a doctor. 

Now look at you. 

“Where’ve you been?” He whispers, like things could go backwards, and they can’t. 

Mohan walks in with a white baggie with your scripts. 

You reach out to grab them, but Cassie is faster, and not in the physical pain you are. 

“Mrs. McKay, it seems we are having some issues with your paperwork.” She snarls, and your head is pounding, but you still drop it down regretfully. 

“Cassie, you can’t keep me here.” You whine back. 

“I think this is a place I can actually, since I can’t keep you in our home or marriage.”

“McKay,” Robby warns, but your wife would rather lose her medical license than let you slip out of her grip again. 

But you bring your chin up indignantly. 

“What’s the plan, Cass?” You fight back. 

“I can think of a few things.” She warns, a fire in her eyes, and you actually laugh maliciously and the whole room is afraid. 

“Cassie, why can’t you just let me go? You take care of people all day long, and you see the whole world in pain. Is it not a kindness to save you one more patient?” Your face contorts, and your wife is shaking her head. 

A hollow shell of her former self, you’d carved out all of her insides, and now all she had left was this wilted part of a person. 

“You weren’t my patient, you never were.” She whispers, and whatever was left of your heart sinks into your empty, sour stomach. 

“It’s not fair to Harrison or you to do this. To watch me struggle to open a can of soda or write my name. I was a surgeon and now I can’t even write my name! Do you get that? Why can’t you two live a big, beautiful life? And let me shrivel up and die in mine? I’m giving you an out. I release you! I’m not holding you to your vows! Don’t you see that? You can’t save me now! There’s nothing for you here! So go!  Go fix cars, tell Harrison he can’t watch scary movies, and-and take him to baseball games! You still have a life worth living! Books and bath nights and bad Chinese food in bed! You are the easiest person in the world to love. And it’s the best thing in the world to love you! So let me do this for you! Let me go!” You shout back, spit flying and tears rolling.

A need for her to understand now, begging like you negotiating a terrorist exchange. One soul for another. 

And all of that is somehow so much worse to Cassie.

Who’s staring at you like she’s never been more terrified in her whole life. 

If you told her you’d hated the way she made pancakes, or that she was inconsiderate to the way you sorted books by color not author - well all of that she could work on.

As Cassie trembled in front of you.

At a complete loss for what to do next. 

 If you told her you’d fallen out of love with her - that would be fine. 

Cassie could love you enough for you both.

“Mohan, let’s give them a moment please.” Robby says, unable to aid in this fight. But able to do what he does best, and give his patients a little dignity.

He uses the door open, and Moahn scurries out with a new lease on what love looks like.

Dana, however, stands there, tears she can’t hide fall. No matter how much she gives a stiff upper lip.

And none of them are in your peripheral.

Because Cassie is unblinking, gaping at you. 

You stare at each other in this moment that can’t be undone. 

“Sign the papers, let me go. I never would hold this against you. You didn’t do this to me, none of this is your fault.” You reason, you are repeating the things you say late at night when you scream into the pillow.

When all you want to do is grab your phone and dial the love of your life’s number.

Beg her to come to you.

To hold you until you can’t tell where her body begins and yours ends. Somehow in that hole - your pain won’t feel so colossal. 

But instead just a thing that Cassie can help hold with you, because pain shared by two isn’t so heavy. 

Cassie’s face twitches, and you see something charge.

“Nurse Dana, I believe we might need a psyche hold. Can you get a social worker in here for a 5150?” The way her tone turns icy has you laughing.

“Cassie, come on, don’t do this.” Dana tries to ease into the conversation. 

But Cassie’s not afraid of the repercussions. No, she’s seen what scares her most, and it’s not gonna happen again. 

“You don’t get to quit! You have a life still! A little boy who asks me every day where you are! You have a full life! I’m not being selfish, stop it!” Cassie screams at you as you shake your head.

“You are!” You shout

“No you are!” Cassie talks ontop of you.

“Why because I want you to-“

“To live without you! YES!”

Robby comes back in and claps his hands to stop you both.

“Doctor McKay, you cannot treat this patient. Because you are still legally married, it’s a conflict of interest.” He says, and Cassie looks ready to hit him so Dana comes closer.

Then Robby turns to you, ready to lose his shit.

“I’m not afraid to-” He stops himself and seems to reconsider. Going to grab the privacy curtain to the entire ER unit staring at the show instead of working it seemed. 

Yanking it closed so that there was the illusion of privacy. 

Then he collected himself and turned to you once more. 

“Let’s pretend for a moment that you are in the room with the woman who ordained your wedding, the old man you made go into therapy - who gave you away I might add. And your wife who loves you and who’s falling apart at the seems without you. Now let’s all take a god damn breath. No more threatening,” He points his finger at Cassie who’s not afraid of him. 

Then spins it to you in that pale hospital bed with just as much strength. 

“And no more running away. You guys gotta work this out, and you are the asshole who told me to open up and sort my shit. I’m your mentor, with or without a scalpel in your hand. You might not be a doctor at this hospital anymore, but I’m still the boss of you.” He says in that Dad way that actually warms you if it wasn’t so damn annoying right now. 

“If you put me in a psych ward, Robby, I will come for you.” You mean it too.

“Don’t make me do it, and we’ll all be fine. I’m gonna pull the oldest trick in the book.” He puts his hands up like he’s done with this, and Dana immediately understands the plan. She pushes the curtain back and twists the knob. 

The two of them walk out of the room, and just as you thought it couldn’t get more juvenile. 

Robby waves at the security guard and pushes a rolly-chair to the door. 

“Zidan, these two are officially on lockdown. You are to stand guard until they play nice.” He says and the security guard actually has the nerve to smirk in. 

“Sorry, McKays,” he says but looks nonapologetic. As he plops down to keep watch. 

Dana knocks on the glass and then eyes Cassie. 

“Fix this, nobody's leavin’ this room until you do. Ya know how badly we need beds and Docs. But Robby and I are out here savin' lives while you two gotcha head up your asses! Fix it!” She says, and the two practically look ready to high-five one another while they walk off. 

The clock on the wall is loud. 

You sign and start to problem solve. 

“Tell me Baran is on shift?” You ask, and Cassie twists with so much venom to you that you think she might actually implode. 

“You on first name with Al-Hashimi now?” It’s like she’s a dog with all her hackles up. 

You roll your eyes, but lie back in the seat and try to ground as the nerve pain makes it feel like pins and needles all down your side. 

“You were always so jealous; you never had to worry.” You say taking a deep breath in and out for ten. 

Cassie eyes the white Chucks you wore here, the ones she bought for you last summer. They’re worn and beat up, and a little too gruny now. 

You reached into your pocket for you phone and started to scroll through your texts. You admittedly don’t have to go far.  

“You are not about to call me overly jealous and ring Al-Hashimi in the same moment.” Her hands went up in an absolute possessive posture. 

“Relax, she helped get me consults with different Occupational Therapists.” You reason and start to type. Your thumb is shaking and it’s hard to hold the phone, but you don’t ask for help; you can’t. Not now. 

“I know plenty of occupational therapists, just so you know,” Cassie says, resentful as hell but grabs the physician chair in the room and sits on it, her sneakers rocking just enough that she inches towards your bed. 

You put your hand on your stomach and feel the nausea move again. Locking your phone halfway through the text. Unable to finish it. 

You shut your eyes tight and will yourself not to dry heave; you have nothing left to puke. 

Cassie is rustling around until she finds the bag she’d ripped from poor Mohan’s hand. Opening the orange bottle and peeling back the silver foil is not meant for anyone with a physical limitation like yours. 

Still, her fingers move skillfully until she grabs two Zofran tabs, and stands up over you. 

You crack open one eye to see her closer than she’d been in months to your face. 

“This isn’t a snow white thing, you're in the wrong fairytale.” You joke and normally, she would have laughed at something so dumb, but her humor left when she found your note on the kitchen table. So not even a small grin came from your older wife. 

“Zofran, open up.” She tells you and you stall for a moment but you are desperate. So you open your mouth and she drops it under your tongue. 

You make a grossed out face at the taste, never one for it, and Cassie already has your water cup in her non-dominant hand. 

“Small sips,” The Dr says, like you don’t already know the drill. But still she helps you sit up and take a little bit of water in. 

You swallow and shiver; it’s just an instant reaction, you can’t hide it from her.

So when Cassie grabs the bunched-up blankets at the end of the bed and lifts it over your closed body, you don’t fight her. 

Fuck you want to, if you were stronger, you would. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You mumble, hating how much you miss this. 

“It’s literally the only thing I’ve wanted to do in the past three months, so can you just let me?” Cassie's tone is tired; she doesn’t want to fight you anymore. But she also won’t back down an inch. 

Your phone vibrates under the covers, and you lift it up just enough to see Baran text you.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Cassie’s not joking; she’s actually turning green real time. 

You open it and see ‘I’m not letting you out, so don’t even try.’

“Yeah, looks like we broke up.” You say back and close the phone. 

Cassie doesn’t find that funny; her hands linger on the edge of your bed, she doesn’t sit. It’s too far from you now. 

“Are you….” She stops herself, and you open one eye again. 

“Please tell me you weren’t about to ask if I was-”

“It’s not an unfair question,” Cassie interjects, seeming a bit rushed in her defense. 

“You think I leave you because I’m too much to take care of, and then what? Start on Christian Mingle the next day? Farmers Only? Plenty of Fish?” You fight back, and Cassie is grinding her jaw again. 

You don’t hit the nerve, you tongue fuck it. 

You two have never fought like this, not this long, and not this hard. The biggest fight you ever had was over Harrison watching Chucky. Because you were sure it wasn’t that scary, and Cassie had been very right. So very right. 

 And the three of you had all slept out on the sofa that night because you and the middle schooler were not about to go it alone. 

“I’m your wife I get to ask.” Cassie insisted, but seemed to be hating the question more and more the longer it was discussed. 

You put your arm over your eyes, hiding in the crook of your elbow to block out the massive headache. 

“No, Cass, I’m not shagging a senior attending of the hospital, nor am I looking for hot singles in my area. I just want some sleep and not to feel like I’m the star of the film Vertigo. That’s it.” You say back a little too harshly. 

You had never spoken this way to her, and it wasn’t easy to keep the sweet woman at arm's length. 

Cassie had this butch mommy vibe that made her both strong and able to fix anything from the sink to your bruised knee. While being a completely warm place to land and always knowing what to say. 

It was the perfect combo.

It made it impossible in the past to keep secrets from her, because the second you learned something in the Pitt’s gossip ring, you had to tell her. 

Cassie was your best friend, your home, the person you would hide the call to hide the body. 

And trying not to crawl into her arms and weep after three months of working so hard not to break was taking Herculean strength that you didn’t have. 

The clock on the wall ticked on. 

“They can’t keep you in here for the rest of your shift.”

“I was off in twenty minutes; it’s actually very easy for them to do this.”

“They’ll need the bed.”

“You do remember who we’re discussing right, Mr. Break the Rules and Mrs. Hula Hoop over there would pick up this hospital on their backs and move it ten feet if you needed them to.”

You didn’t mean to smile into your elbow but you could so see them doing it. 

“Anyone here would for you…” Cassie said so softly you swore you hadn’t heard her right. 

Cassie’s footsteps make you panic, and you jerk your face out of your elbow, only to see her walk to the door and flick off the lights. 

But she saw you too quickly for you to hide; her hands lifted a bit. 

“Hey, easy, it’s just you and me. I know the lights are a lot.” Cassie reasoned and then pulled the privacy curtain again. Eyeing you, she questioned, “Better?”

You sighed and lay back down. 

“How long have you been without liquids?” Cassie tried to be a doctor now, and you almost wanted her to. At least that had questions and answers, easier than what you two were being asked to do. 

“I tried to drink a Pedialyte this morning, but I couldn’t keep it down.”

Cassie waited a second, but she wasn’t strong enough not to keep going. 

“What about those vanilla shakes?” She pressed more gently this time

“The Ensure ones are gross.” You remember but Cassie is shaking her head, sitting back down on the small stool. 

“No, the ones I got with the cow on them? Fairlife or whatever, those and the chocolate sea salt aloha ones? You drank those.” Cassie insists, and you think for a second. 

“Those were good, I couldn’t remember their names.” You admit, a bit shy now. Cassie thinks for another moment. 

“Any food in the last twenty-four hours.”

“I, I didn’t have the energy to make anything.”

Cassie tries not to comment or make it worse, but her face is so easy for you to read. 

“Where are you staying?” It’s the question she’s been dying to ask, but only knew you might actually answer. 

You look at the door and then back at her. 

“You promise to not go all ankle monitor on me?”

“No.” Cassie says back so quick you actually want to laugh. 

“It’s not anything for you to flip about.”

“I’ll decide that when you answer; until then consider me flipable.” Cassie’s answer is so fast you hate how witty she can be. But you see the fear still there. 

“Garcia has a furnished in-law unit in her basement and-”

Cassie stood up so fast the chair scooted across the room with it’s wheels. 

She pushed past the curtain, went to the door, and pounded on the glass. 

“YOLANDA! SOMEONE GET ME YOLANDA!”

You wince and try and sit up. 

“Cassie oh my god stop!” You really don’t want the cops to come in. Cassie and cops didn’t ever mix. 

Her hair flips as she turns to you again. 

“They are going to need a god damn straight jacket for me when i’m done with her, the ankle monitor is going to look like child's play!”

You rolled your eyes but Cassie turned back to pounding on the glass and making a fuss. Even the security guard seemed sorta scared, he waived the nurse over but she was already taking her glasses off and walking towards the angry Doctor. 

“YOLANDA GARCIA, COME AND FIGHT ME YOU HOMEWRECKER!” Cassie said, showing she had been raised to fight for what she loved with more than her intelligence. 

Dana walked up to the glass like you two were in some sort of aquarium for lesbians gone wild. 

She pounded on the glass and it scared the butch lesbian fish enough for her to make a face. 

“Do not make me come in there! I got all night, McKay!” Dana said and you felt for the woman, someone probably called out. And she didn’t need two insane lesbians in her unit. 

“Down girl.” The security guard said sitting back down. Loving the drama he was overhearing. 

“Cassie, come over here, please?” You asked, and it stopped Cassie from mean-mugging Dana in their little stare. 

She pushed the curtain closed again and walked back to you. 

“So you and-”

“No, oh my god - if anything, you should feel sorry for me. I’ve been hearing her hook up and then do her like primal scream workout stuff.” You cringe at the memory of it all, and Cassie’s shoulders lower just an inch. 

“Sleep,” she says through gritted teeth, trying to get the basic questions done. All while planning a murder in her mind. 

“I can’t…I can’t sleep without you.” You admit, and it’s too honest. But your so tired, and you can’t keep this up right now. 

Cassie does her little head tilt, her bangs falling just a bit in the same way Harrison did when he told you he loved you. 

You missed your home, you missed your family. 

You don’t know you are crying until Cassie boldly reaches out and wipes the tears away. 

Like it’s her job to do so, and you’d tried to fire her, but it came so easily. 

Cassie loved to take care of you, and you’d put up such a stink even before your health declined. 

“I won’t be a burden to you.” You retaliate, but Cassie’s leaning over your bed with hope for the first time, and you can’t figure out why. 

She must see how you're running out of steam, running out of fight. 

“You never were. You can fight me as much as you’d like. I’m not signing those papers, I’m not giving up. And I will never take an out. I meant my vows-” Cassie says, and you twist to try and get away from her but she’s just as stubborn as you. 

“I promise to be your best friend.” Cassie’s voice is strong and you hate that she is really going to recite your vows while your laying in a hospital bed. 

Cassie is practically crawling on top of you, trapping you under her strong body. 

“Stop.” You whisper, but the tears aren’t listening and neither is your wife. 

“To always help you when you can’t see the way-”

“Stop.” You say again, but her hands fall to your hips, and god you hate how good it feels to be touched so gently. 

“-To cherish you for all of my days-”

“Cassie, stop it.” You insist, but your face turns to see how much she means it. That her own tears well with the undying love she is trying to tell you she has. 

“-To be your rock in a storm, to always keep you warm.”

You're both unable to hold back tears, and it’s so god damn good to have her holding your sides now. You can’t lie anymore, or be selfless - Cassie’s trying to say the words. But she’s struggling not to lose her damn mind with how hard she aches for you. 

“I promise to love you-”

You can’t take it, one of her tears falls onto your face and it’s got the weight of the ocean behind it. 

“-in every way……” 

You close your eyes, and you can see her so pure. Standing at the alter, in her white button-down suit. Beaming at you like you hung the moon just for her. 

You open your eyes and it’s the same Cassie. 

She’s struggling to speak, but she powers through her promise.

“In-n-in every day.”

You break. 

You sit up through the pain and wrap your arms around her neck. 

Cassie doesn’t wait a millisecond before her arms wrap around you like she can carry you out of this hospital and walk right home. 

“I-I’m so scared.” You whimper into her neck. 

“I’ve got you, baby, be scared with me. Be scared and let me help.” She insists, and her hold is just right. Just like the doctor is, she’s cradling your body, and it’s not too tight that it hurts you. And not so soft that you feel made of glass. 

You're trying to breathe in her scent and it’s mixed with hospital, but you can still inhale her. 

“I-I don’t want to lean on you too much, I don’t want to make it harder for you-you worked so hard to be a doctor, to be a mom-I don’t want to take too much.” You say honestly, but Cassie’s right hand comes to hold the back of your head in that way that makes your whole body relax. 

It does the trick, damn her. 

“You don’t see how much you help me. How I feel invincible when I stand next to you. How much you help me be a better Mom. How much Harrison soaks up your love. How much he finds confidence in your praise. I know you can’t do surgery right now. But there’s so much more to this life, I know you loved it. But fuck baby we’ll find you a new dream.” Cassie promises you with such conviction that it feels attainable. 

You need her to never stop holding you. 

“I wanted to be good for you..”You whisper, and she makes an angry tisk.

“Don’t be good for me, be with me. Be sad or mad, be fucking in pain. Tell me, I spent three months imagining all the worst-case scenarios. Let me schedule the occupational therapists, let me fight with you. Don’t ever hide from me.” Cassie’s so fierce in her desire to walk this path with you that you don’t know how to say no. 

“I’m so tired, I-I don’t want to work so hard anymore.” You hate how defeated you sound, but it’s true. 

Cassie makes an odd movement and you pull back just enough to see her climbing on the tiny bed. 

But she maneuvers you easily, all muscle and love for you. 

That somehow you're being lifted until you lie on top of her chest. She grabs at the blanket again and you're being covered. 

Your eyes feel heavy, no longer nauseous from the Zofran and physically exhausted from the heartbreak. 

“Close your eyes.”

“We’re in timeout.” You remind her, but your eyes shut on command. Cassie always had that power over your body. 

“I’ll wake you in a bit, once the Zofran is in you enough for me to drive you home.” Your wife reasons, so you don’t feel too guilty for keeping the bed. 

“Why are you so comfy?” You grumble. 

“I was made to be your big spoon,” Cassie says in your hair and then kisses your head. Her hands work under the blankets towards your lower back, where you try to compensate for the pain. She’s able to work at the knots just enough to get you to melt further. 

“You play dirty.”

“You’ve been gone three months, you should see how dirty I’m gonna play.” She reminds you, and you giggle a little. You're getting too close to sleep now. 

“Clean the sheets.” You mumble into her boob. 

“Promise to sleep naked again in our bed, and I’ll buy a new goddamn mattress if you want.” Cassie's voice is lower; it rumbles in her chest and you are practically purring. Her breathing makes your body rise and fall so soothingly. 

“I want Chinese.” You say, but your lip is already drooling a little, you don’t have long for this conversation. 

“We’ll eat it seven nights a week when you're home.” Cassie’s touching your body, and even though the nerves in your arm are still uncomfortable. And you didn’t even get your Ambien. 

You feel more at ease than you have since you left. 

“I want my ring back.” You say and yawn, and Cassie's smiling in the dark. She’s never heard a better sentence in her whole life. 

“It’s yours.” She promises.

“I think it’s a two now.” You murmur against her scrubs. 

“Yeah, not so bad?” Cassie asks, knowing the pain was probably still a seven, but at least you could sleep. She always knew the real number it seemed. 

“S’not so scary now.” You admitted, and your wife's heart beat faster. 

“Yeah?” She asked, but you were already out. 

The monitors and hospital moved outside, people in pain, and people in their worst moments. 

But as Cassie held onto you with all her strength, it was clear that pain was a matter of perspective. 

As she kissed your head and you dreamt of sweet things, Cassie eyed the pain chart on the wall. Smirking at the green simile face, yeah, pain shared was much easier indeed. 

Lol hi friend, tell me what number you are on the chart 😂😂😂

“I need you to take a breath before I tell you this,” Robby tried, but the look in his eye was enough. 

All the alarm bells went off for Doctor McKay. The instant panic.

Her, Dana, and Baran were drinking coffee in the break room after a small lul before the next wave.  

“What is it?” Cassie snapped, setting down her coffee cup, her body already moving to the door.

The charge nurse and senior attending followed closely behind. 

Robby’s voice shakes; he’s afraid too.

“She’s being cared for, we are going to run a toxscreen-“ Robby starts but Cassie’s heart drops and she sprints to trauma one wherSantos and Whittaker are both anxiously working to the best of their abilities. 

The IV in your arm and the shiner on your eye made everyone in the Pitt instantly furious. 

Princess and Mateo were moving around you with just as much intensity. 

By the time Cassie makes it to the foot of your bed she’s whiter then the bedsheet. 

“No…” She says and Dana glares at Robby. 

“What the hell happened?” She misplaces her anger, not about to point it at you.

Robby opens his mouth but he too is in pain looking at you. 

“Who did this to you?” Cassie whispers, but everyone wants to know. 

“Three men are being assessed, broken bones, the attackers, she got em.” Robby grins like a proud Dad, but his left eye can’t hide the tear. 

“We ain’t treating em!” Dana yells at Robby, who shakes his head. They couldn’t say no to a patient. But it was good there were police officers standing guard of the men’s rooms. Because too many people in this room would go to bat for you. 

This room was made up in those who loved you, and it showed.

You wheeze, having a bruised rib. Santos tells Whittaker to give morphine. 

“I don’t want it.” You say, your head in so much pain. The drugs make the room look melty, but you are here for this. 

“Stop it,” Cassie hisses, but you are stubborn. 

“Present,” Doctor Al-Hashimi orders cold and calculated. 

Santos looks at Whitaker, who is also too afraid to speak. 

“PRESENT ALREADY!” Dana yells and you wince. But this time you answer.

“33 year old female, drugged at a bar, head trauma, cracked wrist, broken cheekbone, and bruised, possibly broken ribs, 125 over 80. Patient is coherent and on blood pressure medications zyprexa and Letuda, Bipolar II.” You list off to your work family, fuck - your only family.

A few of them have no idea of your medications, but all of them wanting to ask, but are unable to.

Cassie’s hand shakes as she takes off her stethoscope, propping it in her ear to hear you, but her hands can’t seem to hold the end up to your chest. 

Your heart breaks watching her. 

“Doctor McKay, let me,” Robby says, moving forward but he doesn’t get the chance. 

“DONT!” Cassie yells too loudly, and everyone freezes. Dana bites her lip. She can’t take this. 

It’s your best friend, and ex-girlfriend Al-Hashimi, who steps forward. 

“Doctor McKay, given the relationship you two have-“

Dana scoffs at the absurd amount of hypocrisy, seeing as Baran wasn’t over you. That somehow she should be on this medical team.

Santos feels awkward, and Whittaker is very interested in the labs he’s sending on the computer. 

“Do you have any family we can call?”  Robby asks because it’s muscle memory, but he knows the answer. Of course, he knows the answer. 

“We’re her family,” Baran interjects, and you try to concentrate on your girlfriend. Or the room not melting, the drugs making it hard for you to stay awake.

Cassie looks ready for a second ankle monitor. 

Her face morphing between absolutely murderous and agony, you wanted to take the pain away from her. 

“They already-“ she starts, but Santos answers: “We did the scraping under her nails, and uh took photos.” 

Dana doesn’t like that: “That’s not your job.” She’s possessive over your safety. Of the chain of custody to get these assholes. 

“It had to be done,” Robby interjected, having been the one to do it.

“McKay, you cannot work this case.” Dr. Al-Hashimi insists, but it’s clear it’s because she needs to. The rule follower wasn’t saying it for the ethical reasons. 

Cassie’s nostrils flare in rage she opens her mouth ready to give Baran the riot act. Her fists clench, she’d happily hit the doctor, all that pent-up jealousy of what you and your ex had. 

When you reach out with all your strength and grab her arm, it stops her.

She eyes you carefully, fight leaving her body at your careful touch. 

“Sit, baby.” You say, calming the room just like you did every shift. “Please, hold my hand.” 

You can barely keep your eyes open, the drugs hurt. Everything hurts, you just want to sleep. 

Princess fluffed your pillow and smiled kindly at you. Mateo moved the rolling chair for Cassie. Whittaker puts in the morphine order in case you change your mind. 

You were too important to these people.

You were Robby’s confidant, bringing him dinners because he forgot to eat. Abbot's late-night text to talk him off the ledge, to go on runs in the mornings after his shift. Dana’s partner in crime, always on the same page. You took care of Santos like a little sister, gave Whittaker confidence every time you pat him on the back. You forgave Lagdon first and defended Dr. King.

You breathed this ER. 

You were the heart of the Pitt. 

As your chest constricted, and it hurt to breathe, looking around the room, you were sure of that now. 

“Sit,” Baran agreed, her eyes telling McKay ‘I wish more than anything she’d asked me to, don’t waste this.’ So Cassie swallows her rage and plops down carefully in a wheely chair that Mateo gave her. The ER doctor who was in love with you scooted it close to your bed, lacing your fingers together tight.

The next hour was a blur, but Cassie didn’t move, didn’t flinch; she was a rock next to you. 

Holding your hand like she could keep you safe in her grasp. 

The Pitts finest worked on you like you were the most important patient. 

It wasn’t until they could no longer take it that Dana and Baran told everyone to get the fuck out. 

“But I need to-“ Whittaker pointed to the IV, but Dana glared at him so hard farmboy almost caught on fire. 

They closed the door behind him and pulled a privacy sheet. 

Doctor Al-Hashimi opened her mouth, then shut it again. You watched as the woman you almost married couldn’t speak for the first time ever. 

You couldn’t help her either, but Dana grabbed her arm and pulled the doc back, stepping in front. 

“I know what you told Robby…” she says, and Cassie glares at the charge nurse. 

“Stop it.” She insists, but Dana ignores the doctor; some fates were worse than losing a friendship for your safety. 

“Baby, we need to know if…if the person who did this sexually assaulted you.” Dana looked at you as though you were her child. 

You knew Dana Evans, the way she was almost losing it, but holding on. She was so strong.

Cassie’s hand tightened harder, her fury sizzling off her skin.

“No,” you said a little too quietly. 

Baran's lip shake, you read them all so well. 

Cassie’s almost vibrating next to you. 

She inhales sharply, then turns and looks at you. Putting away all of her own feelings.

She needs to be your person right now.

“My love, are you sure?” Cassie says, with the strength you’d never seen. She’s loving, she’s trying to meet you where you are. 

“Cassie, three men drugged me, I was at the bookstore that sells alcohol. I forgot it did, I just wanted a book. It happened so fast, I ordered a decaf coffee, they slipped it in my drink, I was pushed into the back. But I fought- I…” you can’t stand how small you sound. How your defending your actions, how even now you hate how you word it.

None of it was your fault, but seeing these people filled with worry made you feel guilty. 

The drugs made your eyes heavy.

Cassie nods, she’s shaking, but she’s smiling at you. 

“I know, baby, of course you did. You did so good, none of this is your fault.” She said lifting your hand with its bruised knuckles to kiss gently. 

Cassie’s not afraid of the blood, of the ugly part of life or loving you. 

It’s something you found endlessly comforting about her, she wasn’t afraid of the hurt.

But the other side of that coin was…Cassie also wasn’t afraid of jail, and the men in this ER were in her mind very, very worth it.

Baran twists out of the room, she can’t do it. 

She can’t see you like this. 

Dana closes and opens her eyes, looking at you one last time. 

She gives you a comforting smile, it takes work.

She’s a angry mama bear ready to claw out the men who did this to you. Dana had done worse for a lot less.

“Sweetheart, if someone sexually assaulted you, we need to take samples, you know the drill.” She says but Cassie snaps at her. 

“She said no!” Cassie shouts and you wince again, your head is pounding. Cassie hurries her head in her hand like it could erase this hurt, she’s trying to remain solid.

Doctor McKay is a loose cannon, first Robby, now Dana; this wouldn’t end well. But you couldn’t do anything about that.

“Okay,” Dana's accent comes out, but she reaches out and squeezes your blanket-covered foot. 

It’s ’I love you,’ it’s ’I’m here for you’ it’s everything that Dana exudes. 

You mouth ‘thank you.’ Then Dana leaves the room, you let Cassie just breathe. 

“Cassie, I’m sorry.” You say sleepily, she lifts her head.

“Oh my sweet girl, this is so not your fault. We shouldn’t live in a world where you get-” She reaches forward and kisses the bandage on your head. McKay can’t say it outloud.

You fall asleep, waking for more tests, the scan of your brain, the x-ray of your arm and ribs. 

It’s late by the time they’re done with the tests. The drugs are being flushed from your system, but you're still groggy. 

That’s when you hear Cassie explode.

At first it’s the sound of a medical tray cart being chucked onto the floor, all of the viles and metal clanking for another minute. Then the most primal scream you’ve heard in a long time. It sounds like it’s ripping through her chest leaving scar tissue in its stead.

You jerk awake but can’t move, too drugged still. Head pouding like someone was slamming into your temples.

“Cassie!” Langdon shouts, and you almost don’t believe she could be the one to wreck a piece of the ER. 

But the sounds of more metal falling and glass breaking is undeniable. 

The scream turns into something even more broken, but you must be hallucinating, because that couldn’t be.

 You think it’s someone else at first, maybe? 

Because…well your girlfriend doesn’t cry. 

She said she couldn’t cry. Hasn’t cried in a very long time.

Had you brought Cassie to tears?

But the sobs rack her body, is undeniable. Then you hear Langdon shushing her, comforting to the best of his abilities. It’s not great, and it’s the wrong way to help her.

It wasn’t Langdons fault, it’s just that he doesn’t know.

 Cassie was like a cornered animal; you heard another piece of equipment get thrown. 

“HEY! HEY! Doctor McKay!” Robby yelled at her, but then it was quiet again. 

You held your breath, not able to see, only listen to the fallout. 

“She’s gonna be okay, it’s all gonna be okay.” Robby says, like it’s a prayer he’s put in. Like it’s something he can believe in right now. 

“I want them to hurt, what kind of doctor am I? But fuck, I want them to hurt! YOU HEAR THAT ASSHOLES!” The fury in her statement is so real. If not the threat that could get her license taken away. 

“Cassie, you have to breathe.” Langdon must now see Cassie’s panic attack face. Your girlfriend didn’t love people telling her what to do. So that instruction did not go over well.  

From the dark room you close your eyes and can picture the face she’s giving him.

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I told her I didn’t want to go to the bookstore! This is all my fault! I told her to go alone! What kind of girlfriend am I? I should be in that bed! Broken bones- I should be there! If I had been there none of this would have happened!” Cassie’s voice breaks, you hate this. The blame, the guilt, the shame of it all.  

Your heart shatters, but what’s worse is that you hear two more voices.

“You can’t do that to yourself,” Dana insists, “she’s alive.”

This fact sits in the air for the doctors. 

You blink sleepily in the empty room, as you listen to a conversation not for your ears. 

Then another voice pipes in. 

“And she kicked the hell out of those men. One of them lost both his testicles,” Baran reminded her. Robby and Langdon both chuckled, the image not lost on them. 

You heard Cassie, sniffle, which must have meant she’d smiled at the idea. 

Then Dana’s voice reminds them all; “her family have her now, we ain’t gonna let nothing happen to her.” 

This comforts you and Cassie, it seems, the silence is long enough you fall back asleep in the dark room. 

Confident that the toughest ER staff in the whole state stood outside your door. 

“Hola preciosa, te ves hermosa como siempre.” Agent Vidal flirts as the sound of your typewriter clicks. The noise is as obnoxious as the agent.

“Detective, bájese de mi escritorio.” You say back without looking up.  But you're still as congested as hell. You rub another tissue against your nose, it’s chapped and pink.

“Why did you give Agent O’Connor a shot but you won’t even wish me a good morning?” Vidal questions, lowering her tone and bending in a little like you two were whispering secrets. 

You look up now, damn her manipulation. 

“Agent O’Connor and I aren’t together-”

“-Anymore, I know, she’s my partner.” Rio cringes, “Temporary babysitting.”  The agent decides on instead, scratching her chin.

“Then why don’t you get the dirt from her? I’m working here.” You snip back, sending yourself into a coughing fit. 

Wincing in pain when you were done, your whole body hurt. 

“Muñeca, you need to go home, you’re sick.” Vidal says now, like a fox on a new hunt. 

“Please go, I really don’t have the energy for whatever this game is today, okay?” You say, sniffling and typing once more. You just want quiet again.

A glass door opens and the chief falls across the room.

His voice is loud, i your teeth hurt.

“Vidal, get your ass in here!” His mustache moves like a catipiller on his lip, and the FBI agent doesn’t flinch, doesn’t twitch even an inch. 

She’s here to liaison, chief isn’t her boss, in fact, she took dumps in the morning bigger than the man. 

You’re almost impressed by her rude display. 

Vidal continues to watch you ignoring her for a few minutes before reaching into her dress suit pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. It was embroidered with all kinds of flowers. 

She lays it over your left hand and sighs. 

“Mi amor, feel better.” She says and you wait until Vidal’s walked away to lift the handkerchief. 

It’s gorgeous. If you had to guess, you’d say her mother made it for her. You don’t want to put your raw nose into such a piece of art. You fold it and set it in your pocket, sure that Agent Vidal didn’t mean to give you such a personal item. 

Hours go by, Harkness comes by and harasses you a little, you aren’t interested in playing with your ex. It was old news. You’d left and you weren’t going back. 

Harkness leaves and licks her wounds (with the alcohol in her desk no doubt).

You’re writing up a report and then you would have to go back down to the morgue. 

All of this was taking too long, and you were so sick. All you wanted to do was pull the blinds closed and sleep on your sofa. 

You had the smallest office in the whole precinct. You didn’t even have a computer yet, still using a typewriter to make your reports. 

It was bullshit, but part of you wondered if it was because you were O’Connor’s ex that you were in police department exile. 

Well to everyone but Agent Vidal. 

By lunch time, you’d drawn the blinds and closed the door. The lights off, still, your headache only grew to monstrous levels. 

You were delirious. The pain was only building. So you were sure you hadn’t missed the social cue from a certain FBI agent. 

If she’d knocked, you didn’t hear it. 

But there she was, walking into your office with a bag and a thermos. 

You winced at the metal noise as the door shut, covering your face in your hands. 

“Buenas traded hermosa,” Vidal whispered as to not hurt you. 

You must have looked as good as you felt. 

“What do you want?” You grumble, not understanding why the FBI agent would kick you while you were already down. 

“I come bearing gifts, Ven a sentarte y a comer, comer.” Vidal speaks Spanish to you as if it were a language only you two speak. It’s somehow sweet when she does it. But you blame it on the sickness that you would ever think that.

You try to sit up at your desk, opening your eyes to see that Vidal is now in her white button-up and slacks. A few flyaway hairs fall from her normally perfect bun. Her button up jacket gone, she appears more human now, not so plastic.

Rio is unpacking a feast on your desk, but you are more intrested by her exhausted expression.

“How’s your case going?” You ask accidentally, forgetting you hate her. 

Vidal takes this as an invitation to pull up a foldable chair and sit across from you.

“O’Connor keeps scaring our witness,” Vidal tells you while she pours two cups of soup and two teas.

The steam rising catches your eye, and your stomach grumbles.

“I’m not hungry.” It’s sort of a lie, you don’t want to do this. Not with Vidal. 

“Come on, you’ll love it. Best Caldo de Res in fifty states. And the tea will help, I swear.” Vidal insists, and you reach forward and take the tea in the thermos first: accepting a tentative taste. The steam warms your face like a kiss, a sweet promise you’ll feel better again one day. 

The first sip hits better than alcohol. It warms your whole body, and you sigh, leaning back. Cradling the cup like it’s your long-lost lover. 

Vidal eyes you but doesn’t verbally celebrate her victory. She’s not that type, to enjoy being right with low blows and coarse conversation. 

No, she’s got a bigger prize in her eyes, and so she speaks low.

“The perp has a strange boot impression. Can’t figure it out yet.” Vidal tells you as if she can distract you from hating her. 

You swallow the tea, and Vidal watches the way your lips bend and curl.

The steam wafts in the low-lit office until you respond. 

“You found the body in the East Wood?” You say, distracted by the puzzle. Unaware that Agent Vidal has pushed the soup closer to you, you pick it up with a metal spoon and gaze off into space.

“Yeah, right by the snow run off that meets the creek.” Vidal says, and you moan again at the first glance of soup. It’s garlic, it’s chicken, it’s nice and hot. You close your eyes in delight.

“Loggers use that trail, boots would be steel-toed. A few of them might even limp, working in logging their whole life. Injuries and a strange gait could change the boot print. They’d know those woods, too.” You supply and cup the side of the mug to swallow more broth. 

Come to think of it, you’d not eaten for at least a day. 

Agent Vidal, hummed at your advice, already thinking of the names of surrounding logging companies. 

While she fills from both thermos in your mugs. Making sure you get it while it’s nice and hot.

You eat in mostly silence, Vidal occasionally tells you about the case. But mostly she just tries to distract you long enough to refill you on soup and tea.

An hour goes by and by the time Vidal packs up you are due down by the morgue.

“Let me walk with you, I gotta go that way anyway,” Vidal fibs, and you don’t fight her, full belly and sleepy. Happy for once. 

The FBI agent didn’t need to go down to the morgue, but you didn’t need to know that.

Every day that week, Vidal brought you different soups and teas. Not asking, simply showing up in your office at lunch time with gentle conversation and kindness. 

O’Connor and a few guys around noticed, not liking it. Making rude comments, grunting, and gossiping.

Agnes even tried to talk to you about it, but you didn’t pay her any mind. As the older, jealous cop raged on about how Vidal was not good for you. How would you need to see that, to see how good Agnes was instead?

“What do I need to do for you to take me back?” Agnes groaned annoyed at how long she’d been in the dog house. 

“Get out.” You repeated, looking over your casenotes at the photos. 

“You think sleeping with Vidal is going to make our relationship better?” Agnes spat, and you didn’t even look up. This was so toxic, so on brand.

“We’re not together, we’re over. Now leave my shitty little office.” You repeated monotone.

“You do this and I’ll hate you forever.” O’Connor growls out, baring her teeth at you.

Finally, your chin lifts to look at her. 

“I can’t be the only thing you love about yourself anymore. Now please, go.”

Oh, how fun your morning coffee’s with ex had gone. 

 It was the same words over and over, and you had work to do. You’d wasted enough time with Agnes. 

You and Vidal continued your dates; she’d stop by with another coffee or tea by 4. Anything to get another few moments with you.

Never asking, but not intruding either, a friendly face who just wanted to sit with you. 

It wasn’t until the second week that you noticed your headache leaving and your cold sweats diminished. 

Vidal brought in lunch again, and you eyed it. 

“What restaurant do you go to for all these good soups?” You ask, and Vidal didn’t react immediately, opening the thermos like it was clockwork. 

“Oh, one close to my house,” she shrugged it off. You smelled the lie instantly. 

“The one near Jimmy's? The one with the red sign?” You ask, and Vidal nods absently, making sure not to spill as she pours.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Vidal answers, looking up, realizing that she’d been lazy on that one. 

You give her a knowing smile.

There was something special about the bad fibs, instead of the liars you were used to. 

“Vidal, where do you get the soup?” You repeat like a detective, and the agent sits across from you.

“Let a woman have her secrets.” The FBI agent teased, winking at you. She’d been doing that a lot recently, and you had to admit the mysterious agent was charming. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly, picking up the teacup first. 

“I um, I owe you-“

Vidal said, waiving a hand and swallowing the tea before stopping you.

“Don’t be.” Vidal brushes it off like it’s absolutely nothing. 

“Oh, I almost forgot I have-“ you reach into your pocket to take out the handkerchief, you’d cleaned it and gone so far as to carefully iron it. Appreciating the beauty in such a piece. 

Vidal shakes her head again.

“Keep it, I have more.” Another lie falls out, and you arch an eyebrow.

“You always lie like that?” You ask,, and it takes the FBI agent a moment to react. 

“Lie?” The gorgeous woman almost squeaks.

“Yeah, you have a tell.” You laugh a little, your throat finally letting up with the delicious teas. 

 Vidal was happy to see the light coming back to your cheeks.

“I do not, Estás loco, cariño.” Vidal rattles off and you narrow your eyes. But the corner of your lips curls up. 

Vidal likes it when you do this. 

The sunlight hits through your tiny window, lighting up the steam from your mugs. It looks dramatic like Studio 50. 

You have a contest of who can blink first. Neither of you budge, until Vial smirks.

“What is it?” She’s gotta know.

“Fat chance, I’m not telling you.” You scoff, laughing, only for Vidal to wiggle her eyebrows at you.

Making you blink first. 

“Got you, you’re fibbing. Not a chance I have a tell, my facial features are stone cold to the bone.” Vidal answers making you giggle again. It turns into a few coughs and your coworker pushes the tea into your hand. 

You are coughing to hard to thing of how her fingers linger against yours as she passes the mug. 

You drink and try to catch you breath. 

“You gone to a doctor yet?”

“It’s almost gone, just lingering cough.” You summarize, sipping the tea again greedily. 

Sensing a tone change in the room, you look over the mug steam to see Vidal’s demeanor shift. 

“You okay, Vidal?” You ask, unsure what’s happened. 

The FBI agent leaned back in the metal folding chair. 

“My mom died a few years back, lung cancer. It took her really fast, one day she was cooking, and then the next, it was a small cough.” She looks you in the eye with the saddest smile ever. You can see all that love stuck in Vidal’s chest as she told you this story.

“So small, just a cough, and then it just got worse. She made those handkerchiefs for me, a thing we could do with our hands while we waited for her to die.” Vidal took a sharp breath in, and you wanted to stop time.

To give this poor woman a minute back of the comfort she so freely gave to you. 

You were mourning a woman you didn’t know, watching her daughter break open in front of you. 

“They’re beautiful.” You whispered, it wasn’t enough. How could you say the right thing in this moment, though? 

“Thanks, cariño,” Vidal didn’t let the tears fall, but you could see them threatening. 

“I’m so sorry, Vidal.” You add, because it’s not enough. 

“Call me Rio, will you?” The FBI agent shared the tenderness a second longer before you frowned. 

“Did you just manipulate me into calling you by your first name?” You mostly joke, sitting back in your creaky office chair to match her body language. 

“No, but I was hoping to ask you to dinner tonight?” Rio pivoted well, you had to admit. You think for a moment. 

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, and Rio leans forward in her chair again, elbows resting on your desk. 

“I make a mean meal, as shown.” Rio nodded towards the empty thermos. 

“I thought these came from a restaurant near you.” You narrow at her, folding your arms over the other against your chest. 

“Eh, small falsehood. Besides, I cook better than anything in this town, my mom taught me every recipe.” The older woman told you, not giving up easily. Her lips move so smooth, you wonder what it would feel like to kiss them.

You couldn’t argue with that. Still, the real question kept bothering you. 

“Is this some kind of bet or something?” You sniffle, hating how weak you sound. Tightening your arms over your chest like this won’t hurt as badly when Rio admits to it. 

“What?” She says, instead, confused, not moving away. 

“You and Agnes are- whatever you two were and you work together. I’m her ex, is this some kind of a bet or a vendetta? What revenge or something?” You cringe at yourself, wincing at the idea of any of that. 

Rio can’t believe this. 

“Do you- what the hell? Is that why you’re in this tiny ask office? Are they, are they treating you different for-” Rio stands, the veins in her forearms flex and you actually fear her wrath for a moment. 

“It’s fine, honestly I-”

“No, no it’s not. You believe that I’m asking you on a date to get back at Officer O’Connor, has that happened to you already?” Rio’s furious, in your defense, it’s the most white knight look you’ve ever discovered. 

“Rio- it’s fine. I’m okay really it’s okay!” You exclaim but as Rio turns to walk out of your office to high tail it to your boss, to have his ass on a platter next you reach out and grab her by the arm. 

Rio’s body relaxes an inch under your touch. 

She’s still sizzling with outrage, but she doesn’t move, not while your touching her. 

“I just need to earn my stripes, it’s alright. If you complain, it’ll only make it worse.” You try not to excuse the shitty treatment you are getting. 

You’d broken up with Agnes, and she’d been trying to get back with you ever since, and this bullying was an all-time low. 

“This isn’t right.” Rio seethed, and you weren’t immune to this display. 

Your hand moved down to the agent's hand, and your fingers laced in hers. 

Rio’s hand tightened in yours, squeezing as if to understand. 

“What is?” You ask honestly. You worked in a police force as a detective for murders and sexual offenses, not a lot of happy endings here. 

“That’s why you were so guarded, you thought I was nasty like them.” Rio’s voice lowered, finally understanding your hesitancy. 

“I was, but that was like five thermos lunches ago. I will try not to punish you for the acts of others.” Your answer is gentle; you can’t believe how warm Rio’s hand is in yours. 

“I’ll be patient,” Rio’s gaze moved down to where your hands were laced. 

“Really?” You had never heard of such an offer. Your fingers are digging into her skin like you’re afraid she’ll change her mind on the spot.

“Yeah, you’re worth the wait.” Rio softly added, and you leaned your head against the back of her shoulder. 

“Does this mean the restaurant with the red sign close down?” You flirt easily, enjoying the safety that Rio’s company engulfed you in. 

The heat of her body as your forehead rested on her crisp white button-down, you could enjoy the outline of her muscles. 

God you knew better than to to fall again. 

But the intimacy in the way Rio cared for you, you’d dated emotionally stunted women for so long, you’d forgotten what it was liked to be wooed. 

“I’ll make you soup every day, just promise me you’ll get that cough looked at?” Rio asked, a hesitancy, a fear that you won’t take care of yourself if she looks away. 

“Promise.” You wrap another arm boldly around Rio’s middle. She leans into you further, letting a backwards hug turn into a longer hug. You could fall asleep upright with the agent like this. Who knew Rio was such a teddy bear? 

“Any requests?” She asked, and you yawned against her. Rio was already listing all the different recipes in her head. Sure that one of the tea’s would finally rid you of your sickness. While she worried, you felt exhaustion gnawing at you.

“How good are you at being big spoon?”

Before you, Natasha Romanoff’s mornings were usually going on by routine. The Russian was already up before dawn, swallowing down a glass of water then going for a ten miles run. At her return, she'd shred a heavy bag in the compound gym, shower, and drink her black coffee in silence. She was a creature of early dawn and quiet efficiency.

Then, she fell in love with you.

And suddenly, the fearsome Black Widow discovered a brand-new, highly formidable weakness: the warmth of your arms.

. . . . . .

The digital clock on the nightstand glowed a soft seven forty-two am. The sun was already filtering through the gaps in the blinds — casting lazy, golden stripes across the duvet.

You shifted, gently trying to untangle your legs from the heavy warmth of the sheets, intending to slip out of bed and put the kettle on. But the moment your hips moved more than two inches away, the iron-clad grip around your waist tightened.

A protesting, sleep-heavy groan rumbled against the bare skin of your shoulder blade.

“Where are you going?” Natasha’s voice was a low, raspy purr thick with sleep and heavily laced with her slight Russian accent that only came out in moments like these—a side of her she only let guard down for you.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you whispered, turning your head to smile at her. “I was going to make coffee. And maybe get a head start on the day.”

Instead of letting you go, she buried her face deeper into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. The redhead's nose was cold against your skin, making you shiver, but her body was like a furnace pressed against your back. She threw a shapely leg over yours, completely pinning you to the mattress.

“No,” she mumbled, her lips brushing your collarbone as she spoke. “Five more minutes.”

You let out a soft laugh, reaching up to run your fingers through her tangled red hair. “Nat, It’s almost eight.”

“Then I need ten more minutes.”

“That's not how bargaining works, Romanoff.”

“I am a master negotiator, I dictate the terms,” she murmured, tightening her arms around you until there was absolutely no space left between you. She was incredibly clingy in the mornings, a sweet, needy contrast to her sharp daytime persona.

She liked to be wrapped around you like ivy, anchoring herself to your warmth.

“What happened to the woman who used to be up and about by dawn?” you teased gently, tracing the line of her jaw. “The one who told me sleeping past six was a waste of valuable training hours?”

Natasha opened one eye, looking up at you through a fan of thick eyelashes. A lazy, incredibly fond smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“She realized that training doesn't hug back,” she replied softly.

“And your morning run?”

“I rescheduled,” she shrugged, kissing the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, making you gasp softly. “I do night runs now. The pavement is cooler, the compound is empty, and...” She paused, trailing her fingers lightly down your arm, interlocking her fingers with yours. “..it means I don't have to miss a single second of this.”

Your heart melted a little.

It was still hard to grasp sometimes—how a woman who had spent her entire life running, fighting, and surviving now fought so hard just to stay still with you. The fact that she had completely restructured her rigid, lifelong routine just to hold you in the quiet hours of the morning was a testament to how deeply she loved you.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” she whispered, leaning in to press a soft, slow, lingering kiss to your lips. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath warm on your skin. “I am a hostage to this bed. You'll have to stay and keep me company.”

“Well, if it's a hostage situation, I suppose I have no choice,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her close.

The Russian let out a contented sigh, burying her face back into your chest, her hand gently tracing soothing circles on your lower back. Within seconds, her breathing evened out into a calm, steady rhythm.

The coffee could wait. The world could wait.

Music filled the house party full of teenagers from several different high schools, red cups full of beer in the hands of most, people scattered throughout the house, some in the pool and others in small groups of their own. You snuck out after hours ago to join your girlfriend, Kate, for a bit of rule breaking fun. 

Kate, wearing black jeans and her archery club dark purple t-shirt, could barely keep her hands off you, especially when you were wearing the leather jacket that she had gotten you for valentine's day, a plain black t-shirt underneath finished with black jeans and a pair of your mom's black combat boots. Kate placed a kiss on your neck while her warms were wrapped around you from behind as you poured another two beers for you both, "wanna go upstairs?" she whispered. 

A soft smirk tugged at your lips, you nodded, placing the beers on the table before following your girlfriend upstairs to an empty bedroom. Kate knew you weren't ready for anything physical, and she respected that, the furthest the two of you had got was a steamy make out session whenever you were home alone, tonight was no different. Kate gently brushed your hair out of the view of your neck, "may I?" she looked up at you, you knew what she was asking, "just small ones" you replied. 

Her lips pressed against the skin on your neck, lightly sucking to leave a faint but noticeable mark, she left a total of four hickeys on your neck before her lips were pressed against yours once more, your tongues exploring each other, too distracted to hear the loud yelling from downstairs over the music. 

"Yeah, yeah! Save it!" The police officer shook her head, "The party is over! Now I suggest you all get out of my sight before I take everybody down to the station and call your parents!" she added, grabbing a plastic red cup out of a party goers' hand, "and I am sure they won't be happy with the fine they'll get for underage drinking!" She went on. The house quickly went form a fun party to teenagers dropping their drinks and rushing to get out of the house. 

"I'll check upstairs" the red head's partner commented before walking up the stairs, "Who's house is this?" the officer looked around at those who didn't move, raising a brow when neither answered. 

"Alright kids, that's enough" A voice interrupted your make out session, Kate's hands all over your arse. "Parties over" the officer added when you pulled yourself away from your girlfriend, rolling your eyes at being caught. The officer followed you and Kate downstairs where you heard a familiar voice. Your heart skipped a beat when you came eye to eye with your mother, Natasha. 

"Y/n" she said your name sternly, full of disappointment, "Kate" she said in the same tone as her eyes shifted to Kates. You knew you were in deep shit, especially when you were supposed to be at home and studying for next week's history exam. Your mother looked back at you, her jaw clenching as she tried to keep from giving you a lecture in front of everybody, "Officer Hill, could you please take these two outside" she added without breaking the strong eye contact with you. 

----

"Mom, can we please just go home?" you asked while sitting on the seat by her desk, your arms crossed while your mother gave you the silent treatment. "The best thing you can do right now is keep quiet!" she replied, shooting a disappointed look your way. You rolled your eyes once more before looking across the room to your girlfriend and giving her a soft 'I'm sorry' type of smile. Just then, Nat rose from her seat and walked over to Kate, you watched from your seat but were unable to hear a word that was said. 

"Does Clint know you were out tonight?" Natasha asked the blue-eyed girl, she shook her head, "No Mrs Romanoff, I told him I was staying at your place tonight with Y/n to study" Kate replied with the honest truth, she knew better to lie to a cop, let alone Natasha Romanoff. 

"Right. I'm going to give him a call, I'll have one of the offices take you home" Natasha spoke sternly seeing how scared Kate was from getting into trouble with the red head. "Another thing" she paused, looking directly into Kate's eyes, "I know you and Y/n have been dating for a while but if I ever catch her with hickeys on her neck again, you won't be seeing her any longer, do you understand?" 

Kate nodded, "I understand, I'm really sorry Mrs Romanoff" she replied. 

"Good, Officer Hill will take you home, I'm going to call Clint now." 

You watched your mother wander back to her desk and pick up the phone, your eyes drifted over to take and mouthed "what did she say?" but Kate just shook her head, making you mad at your mother for whatever was said. 

----

"What did you say to Kate?!" you demanded as your mother opened the door to your home, "Go upstairs to your room!" Nat replied, ignoring your question as you stormed into the living room. Wanda paused her sitcom and looked at the two of you confused. 

"What's going on? Why are you dressed and why are you home so early?" she asked, standing up from the sofa. Natasha was set to knock off work at 2am but here she was at 11pm. 

"Do you want to tell her or should I?" Nat looked at you while her hands worked on taking off her gun holster belt. Full of frustration, you turned to your mom. "I snuck out, okay?! I snuck out and went to a party with Kate! I don't see what the big deal is! I am 17 for god's sake" you snapped. Wanda wasn't impressed with your actions but she was always the calmer parent when it came to conflict. "Now tell her about the marks on your neck" Natasha added. 

"Oh what?!" you moved your hair to the side, showing your mother the hickeys that Kate left behind, "these?! Just some fucking hickeys?!" you added. 

"That is enough! You do not speak to me like that! Do you understand how worried your mother and I would be if something happened to you?! Did you even stop to think about that? You are still a teenager!" Natasha's voice rose with anger, deep down her own fears were beginning to show. 

"Honey" Wanda walked up to her wife, "go take a shower and calm down, let me take this one" she added in her soft tone that always helped Natasha take a moment to breathe. 

"God!" you snapped once more, "you act like I am supposed to be this perfect child and do nothing wrong, all I ever do is do good by you and the one time I want to do something for myself you act like it's the end of the world!" you added, Wanda turned around and now both your parents were looking at you. "Do you know how fucking annoying and embarrassing it is to have the entire school know that my mothers are police officers" you went on just as Wanda opened her mouth to say something, "I never get invited to parties because nobody wants you two to show and up ruin it just like you did tonight! Now everybody is going to think it's my fault!" You finished before storming upstairs to your room, slamming the door shut. 

Of course, your mothers knew their job title would eventually cause an unspoken issue but after seeing your little outburst, they only just now saw how much their jobs were affecting your social life. 

After a while, Wanda came knocking on your door. "Honey, can we talk?" she asked, poking her head in. You tossed your phone to the other side of your bed and sat up as Wanda walked in and sat down on the edge of your bed. "Don't give me that lecture about mom loving me so much and she is only mad because she cares, please" you sighed. 

"But you're right on that sweetheart, she does love and care about you so much, you're our baby" your mother reached for your hand, "do you know what we see every single day on our job?" Wanda asked causing you to roll your eyes, "I know, I get it" you huffed. 

"Honey, please, listen to me" your mother tilted her head ever so slightly, "you're 17, you're young and you're going to do things that mom and I aren't going to agree with but at the end of the day, you're our little girl. No matter how tall you are, you'll be 50 and still our little girl, your safety is so important to us.

Mom told me what she said to Kate, she doesn't mean that. You're just growing up so fast and now you're dating, it worries us, but I know you're safe and Kate is a lovely woman and I hope she isn't to upset with your mom" Wanda couldn't help but brush a lock of hair behind your ear, "I know our jobs take a toll on you and I spoke to mom, she's going to drop the possession charges on the brothers who lived there but I can't let you sneaking out slide. You broke our trust a little tonight, so I am only doing this because I love you and I want you to really understand that" she went on. 

"Mom, please! it was one time" you sighed knowing that your punishment was coming. 

"Hopefully the last. You're grounded, no going to Kate's this weekend"

"Mom! You've gotta be kidding me!?" You snapped, pulling your hands away from your mother.

"I'm sorry love, but it's only fair" 

----

 The weekend went by slowly, not only were you not allowed to stay at your girlfriends for the weekend but Natasha and Wanda both agreed to confiscate your phone for the weekend. You spent the whole of Saturday in your room, ignoring your mothers whenever they came by, they knew you were upset but so were they. Come Monday morning and you were over the whole ideal. 

"Good morning" you smiled as you took a seat at the dinner table, Wanda made a quick eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast, all three of you were at school and work today. "Somebody seems happier today" Natasha replied as she looked up from the newspaper, Wanda pouring herself a mug of coffee while you took a sip of your orange juice. 

"Yeah, I did some thinking and I guess you guys were right to be worried and I am really sorry" you explained. Both your mothers looked at you, Wanda smiled softly, "I'm glad you see the situation from our shoes" she spoke.

"But" you looked to Nat, "mom, you can't talk to Kate like you did. I know you want to protect me from literally everything, but I trust Kate and she's always been so caring and respectful towards me. Thursday night was the first time she'd ever left marks on me, and I liked it and if the time comes and I want to sleep with her, I will" you added before taking a bite out of your toast, leaving Natasha speechless. You rose from your seat, your toast still between your lips.

"You're leaving already?" Wanda asked, slightly assumed. 

"Yeah, I have a test today and I want to get there early to see Kate" you replied, grabbing your backpack before wandering over to Nat and placing a kiss on her cheek, "I love you mom, have a good day" you spoke before doing the same to Wanda, grabbing your phone from her before leaving the house. 

"Love you too honey!" You mothers called out in sync. 

----

You knew you'd have the house to yourself after school, so it wasn't a surprise that you invited Kate over to make up for the lost time from the weekend. Upstairs in your bedroom, laying in Kates arms as she read you her English essay while her fingers ran through your hair, her voice calming you from the build-up of nerves that you had felt all day. 

"Mrs Potts is totally going to fail me on this" Kate chuckled as she threw her essay to the side once she finished reading it. "Don't say that! you'll pass! It covers everything the assessment said to cover" you replied, looking up at her. Kate frowned slightly, "what's going baby?" she asked seeing the uncertain look in your eyes. You sat up slowly and shook your head lightly, "I don't know, something feels off ever since lunch, I'm probably just stressed about today’s test" you replied trying to brush off the uneasy feeling you were having. 

Just then, you heard the front door open, "Mom's home! I'm going to ask if you can stay for dinner" you smiled, leaving Kate in your bedroom as you wandered down the stairs. One look at your mother and that uneasy feeling suddenly made sense. 

"M-mom?" You questioned looking at her, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "Mom, what happened?!" you asked, fearing the worst.