Damn

still, guilt wells in your chest when you remember her wife - an ugly feeling that turns your saliva sour in your mouth. when you see her collecting the mail or going for a jog or leaving for work in the morning, she waves at you and smiles, and pinpricks of shame dapple every inch of your body.

vi had made her decision, though. that much is clear. you searched for her in the days after that night, glanced at the porch every time you left the house. waited for her to appear like an apparition, pull you into her arms again and kiss away the guilt that turned your insides to tar. 

but days had turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. soon, the blistering summer heat peters out, and fall is upon you. vi has become nothing but a sore spot; a bruise you poke at every now and then to remind yourself it’s real. 

you’re torn away from your thoughts when you hear your name, and you realize once again where you are and what you’re doing. post expensive-dinner, your date’s hand lingering on your thigh beneath the hem of your dress, her mildly irritating voice grating in your ears.

“did you hear what i said? i asked if you wanted to invite me inside.”

you blink at her. “uh… for what?”

the girl, whose name you can’t remember (it starts with a B, you know that for sure), laughs like she’s surprised. “i thought we had a nice time tonight. didn’t we?”

“it was nice,” you agree. your lips press together in a firm line as you cast another spare glance out the window, eyes searching for vi.

“i know something that could make the night even better… if you know what i mean.” blair arches one perfectly-shaped brow at you. she flashes you a kind of self-satisfied smirk that lets you know she thinks she’s got you wrapped around her finger.

brianna’s hand inches further up your thigh. you decide to play along. “and what’s that?” 

“take me inside and i’ll show you.”

quite frankly, you’d rather not. blake’s breath smells like the strong espresso she’d insisted on ordering after dessert, and it makes you nauseous every time she gets too close. but there’s a dull, sweet ache forming between your legs, making your stomach warm with arousal. and the last thing you want to do right now is go inside alone.

bella gets real smug when you finally let her kiss you over the center console. she’s not a great kisser, and she loses extra points for the espresso breath, but it’s decent enough. when you walk up the driveway to your front door, rummaging through your bag to keep from looking at vi as you pass, bianca presses herself against you from behind. you fumble with your keys but manage to get the door unlocked before she can push you into it with the force of her too-desperate hips, her wandering hands warm on your waist.

you let her in first. she stumbles into the dark and searches for the light switch while you close the door - but not before you cast one last look at vi, smoke billowing from her lips. there’s a wrinkle between her brows, a fire in her eyes. you stare at each other, wordless, for what feels like an eternity before there’s a hand on your hip again, urging you backwards through the doorway. you shut the door and lock it.

it turns out that kissing isn’t the only thing bridgette is subpar at. she yanks your panties down your thighs when you reach the bedroom, unceremonious about it when her fingers find your cunt, and she misses your clit like she’s trying to. but it’s clear that she isn’t - she smirks at you, smug, while you spread your legs over the mattress and let her play with you. 

“you’re so quiet,” brooklyn comments, her index finger circling around a spot just beneath your clit. “you shy?”

“yeah,” you lie. she says something else but you’re not listening. you close your eyes tight, breathing through your nose and willing away every voice in your head that chants vi, vi, vi.

“i think you’re wet enough.” brittany pulls her hand back from your cunt, wiping your slick off her hands with the edge of your fitted sheet. you open your eyes and stare at her, stunned that she thinks this is wet enough, when there’s a loud knock at the door.

knock is probably a generous word. it’s more like pounding. 

as if she hadn’t heard it, brenda pulls you in for another kiss, her tongue smashing up against your lips to try to part them. you wince and pull back, nose wrinkled. “i should get the door.”

“it’s probably not important,” she says. 

“sounds important,” you snap, pushing her away and climbing off the bed. you pull your dress down to obscure your lack of underwear and saunter out to the living room as the knocking continues, heavy and persistent against the door. 

you know what to expect on the other side, but when you push the door open and find vi standing there, tight fist raised, knuckles white, she still steals the breath from your lungs. 

“there you are,” vi grumbles. she shoves her hand into one of her pockets, looking over your shoulder into the darkness of your house. “where’s that fucking meathead?”

“meathead? who says that?” your heart is pounding in your chest, but you can’t tell if it’s from excitement or anger. or both. “it’s none of your business.”

vi lets out a humorless laugh. “sure. she’s in your room, isn’t she? what, did i interrupt your moment, princess?”

every syllable leaves her lips covered in venom, her lip curling meanly. it only makes you angrier. and, regrettably, more aroused.

“why the fuck do you care?” you cross your arms over your chest, glowering at her as if you could take her down with a look alone. she opens her mouth to reply, but the words die on her lips when something behind you catches her gaze. you turn your head and find bailey sidling up to you, puffing out her chest unnaturally. she’s not great at the tough-guy act, despite having the build to pull it off. you’re almost embarrassed for her.

“can i help you, dude?” becca asks, chin lifting.

“nah,” vi replies, unsmiling, “i just wanted to make sure this one’s okay. she’s been bringing a lotta girls home lately, you know?”

your blood runs cold. or hot. you can’t tell, just that it simultaneously burns and freezes in your veins,  and you want to speak up, but all you can do is blink at vi as she smiles, all sharp teeth and thinly veiled threats, right at your date.

“oh,” buffy says. she turns to look at you; you can see her from the corner of your eye, like she’s waiting for you to say vi’s lying. and she is lying. but you don’t breathe a word, still as stone, anger broiling in your bones.

“yeah, she’s something else, isn’t she?” vi’s looking at you as she speaks, something dark and unreadable in her eyes. “takes ‘em home then finds someone else to buy her dinner the next night.”

she’s still smiling, and you want to punch that stupid, infuriating grin right off her face. make her feel at least half of the anger afflicting you, its flames licking at every inch of your skin from the inside out. silence settles heavy between the three of you; a cricket chirps somewhere in the grass, and a far-off motor revs up and slowly fades into the white noise. you hear bree clear her throat beside you.

“it’s getting late,” she says, checking her expensive-looking gold watch for good measure, “think i’m gonna head out.” 

she steps forward and vi moves out of the way, letting her pass; her head turns while she watches your date amble out to her car, climb inside, and drive down the street, out of sight.

you’re watching a moth dance around the porch light. its wings flutter almost too quickly for you to see the motion; its tiny body smacks into the light over and over, like it’s expecting something different to happen with each point of contact. determined for an outcome that will never be.

“you’re welcome, by the way,” vi says, sounding much too casual about it.

“seriously?” you fume. “you think you just did me a fucking favor?”

“matter of fact, yeah. i do.” you recognize the same anger in her vitriolic tone that you feel in yourself - the same reckless, explosive rage threatening to boil over.

“fuck you, vi. fuck. you.”

“that’s what you need, isn’t it?” she’s smiling again, but this time, there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip. “just needed someone to fuck you right, huh? can’t believe you thought that fucking moron could do it for you.”

heat simmers in your belly at her words - a reaction you wish you weren’t so helpless to. but while your mind tells you this isn’t what you want, your body knows that it is. 

“why are you here, vi?” you lift your chin and square your shoulders, arms still crossed over the low cut of your neckline. 

she sizes you up, noticing the straightening of your posture. bright blue eyes rake over your frame like she’s committing you to memory.

“already told you, sweetheart,” she says as she steps forward, closing the gap between you. her hand reaches out to smooth over your hair, and she cups the base of your skull with her palm. “just had to stop you from doing something you’d regret.”

there’s a softness in her voice that makes you want to believe her. 

“that’s… insane, coming from you,” you breathe. “i’ve already done something i regret.”

vi’s watching you while you speak, focused on you like you’re the only person in the world. a chilly breeze blows past, and you tighten your arms over your chest, goosebumps raising on your exposed flesh. 

“hm,” vi hums. her hand moves to your cheek; her thumb strokes over the supple skin, delicate. “i don’t regret it.”

you bristle. tilt your head to the side to get her hand off you, though you feel colder when it’s gone. 

“you’re such a fucking liar,” you hiss, “i haven’t seen you in months. you could’ve been dead, for all i knew. why don’t you go back to leaving me the fuck alone? why don’t you go back to your wife?” 

“for fuck’s sake,” vi sighs; she rubs at her jawline like she’s trying to dispel her annoyance. “can you just, i don’t know, shut up?”

your mouth hangs open, your brain short-circuiting at her bluntness. your blood boils again, but all you can do is stare at her, silent.

“there we go,” vi purrs, “finally.”

she slips past you and through the doorway, her arm wrapping around your waist to urge you along with her. as if it’s moving on its own, your body submits to her; the door shuts and you can hardly process the feeling of the cold metal when your back smashes up against it. 

vi’s closing in on you, her hands on your shoulders as she presses you to the door. long strands of pinkish-red hair brush over your cheeks and now she’s kissing you, those wandering hands moving to touch every inch of you in her reach. her tongue traces the seam of your lips and you part them for her, let her lick into your mouth, let her slide a knee between your legs and press her hips against yours. your body is a live wire, and every touch is a new spark, brighter than the last. 

vi kisses you like a woman possessed, all tongue and teeth and mouthfuls of saliva. and you’re starting to slip again - starting to fall into her trap, expertly set.  

“gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy again?” vi asks, voice gruff, her hand rubbing circles on your inner thigh. distantly, you remember that you’re not wearing panties - they’re on the floor in your room somewhere. 

“mm,” you moan, because now vi’s kissing down the column of your throat, teeth scraping against your skin. “i sh-shouldn’t.” 

“but you want to,” she’s murmuring against your neck, breath hot, and you hate her.

“vi,” you whine, “don’t make me say it.”

“oh, but you have to say it,” she coos, the warm expanse of her hand creeping up towards your cunt. she goes to touch you, and when her hand meets the sparse hair between your legs, she pulls back to look at you, eyes heavy. “such a slut, baby - so wet. you really want this, huh?”

her finger traces the crease beside your cunt, so close to where you want her, and your legs shake. 

“yes,” you pant out, too needy to feel defeated, “i want you, vi. want you to touch me.” 

“good girl, baby,” vi sighs against your neck, having leaned forward to suck at the delicate skin. her fingers split through your folds, spread the wetness pooled at your entrance until your entire cunt is soaked, slippery, messy. her thumb nudges against your clit and you gasp, shocks of pleasure exploding behind your eyelids.

vi nearly growls at the feeling of your pussy, needy and drooling for her. she pulls back from your neck, blotches of bruised skin left behind as she hums, “god, i need to taste you.”

bleary-eyed, you watch her sink to her knees before you. denim on hardwood. eyes blown black with lust. rough hands sliding up your thighs, folding your dress up until your cunt is exposed, soaked and needy for her. she encourages one of your legs over her shoulder, holding you up against the cold metal of the front door; you feel just secure enough that, when her tongue swipes through your wetness, you go limp. 

the first time you’d let her touch you like this, you’d both been tipsy. it had felt incredible - clearly, since you’ve been unable to stop thinking about it for months. but now? you’re stone-cold sober, and vi had only smoked that joint a while ago, and her tongue is slipping through your folds, and her arms are holding you steady while her fingers knead at the doughy flesh of your ass. lewd slurps ring out in your quiet home, vi’s moans muffled by your puffy cunt, and you’re overwhelmed with pleasure - it courses through your veins like a drug. you’re hooked, now, and you know it.

“fuck, sweetheart,” vi rasps, slurring against your pussy, “so fucking wet. all this for me?”

you moan in response, wanton and strangled. you will yourself to reply, to make some sultry comment in response, but her mouth between your legs feels so good, you can’t speak. and besides, you can feel yourself inching closer to an orgasm with every brush of her tongue against your clit - every careful circle she draws over the bundle of nerves. you clench around nothing, hands finding vi’s hair and forming fists through them. 

“vi, please, feels so good - oh fuck, just like that - faster, faster—”

you cut yourself off with another pornographic moan, high and whiny in your throat as your back forms a pretty arch over the door. you’re not sure how you’re still upright, but you’re too fucked-out to worry about it. vi laps at you like she’s enjoying every minute of this; she grunts and sighs against the mess she’s made of your cunt, and her hands grip your ass so hard you’re sure she’ll leave bruises. it only makes you want her more.

“gonna come for me, sweet thing?” vi asks, tongue flicking against your clit. one hand moves away from your ass, warm and sore where she’d been squeezing you, and she brings her fingers to your sodden cunt once again. she slips one inside, then two, and the moment she curls them just right, you find yourself on the edge. 

“hah—fuck, fuck, yes, gonna come for you, gonna come,” you stutter, hips rolling to grind yourself down on vi’s face. your cunt squelches with every thrust of her fingers, so wet you can feel the warm combination of your slick and vi’s saliva leaking down onto your thighs. you look down at her before your vision whites out, and she’s beautiful, scar-pierced lips curled into a smirk as she watches you fall apart. your orgasm rips through you suddenly and all at once, leaving you trembling, gasping, screaming. if it weren’t for vi’s arms holding you up, you’d be on the floor by now, crumpled in a pile of cum and sweat and breathy moans. 

you don’t realize that you’re sweating until vi pushes your hair out of your face, having stood up and wiped her mouth clean. tendrils of hair cling to your damp forehead and temples, and vi brushes them all aside, that smirk still pulling at her lips as you come down from your orgasm.

“felt good, princess?” she asks, and you nod, head still spinning. you’re standing on your own now, despite your legs feeling like they’ll fold over any second. 

“think you can make it to the bedroom?” vi kisses along your jawline, open-mouthed. you tilt your head in the opposite direction and let your eyes fall shut. your head is still floaty, but you find it in you to nod, humming in pleasure as vi’s lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear. 

“doesn’t seem like it,” vi murmurs, and before you can process what she means, she’s scooping you up into her arms bridal-style. you hook an arm around her neck and let her carry you to the bedroom, cunt clenching when you think of what’s to come. 

and it’s just as good as you remember.

vi’s clothes—and your dress—litter your bedroom floor, abandoned in the interest of fucking as quickly as possible. she’s got you pinned to the mattress in a matter of minutes, kissing you like she’s starving for the warm glide of your saliva in her mouth. 

“such a pretty little thing,” vi coos at you when she breaks the kiss, watching with half-lidded eyes as you glide your fingers through her wet, pink cunt. a well of her slick juices drools from her entrance and you spread it around with nimble fingers, afterwards bringing the digits up to your mouth to suck off the excess, and vi fucking loses it, watching your perfect mouth purse around your finger as your eyes roll back at the taste of her. 

she’s not sure why it took her so long to do this again. 

your hand returns to her cunt to give it a few more languid touches before she’s grabbing your wrist and squeezing. “get on your stomach.”

and you obey without a word, rolling onto your front and spreading your legs for her, ass propped up beautifully. you hear her curse, all guttural and breathy, before her palm collides with your backside with a sharp smack!

“told you this pussy’s mine,” she grunts, two of her fingertips pressing against your soaked entrance. “thought you knew that.”

she drags her length through your folds, ruddy fingertips like heaven when they nudge against your clit. 

“guess i just needed to remind you.” 

the words have hardly left her lips before her fingers are splitting you open, your clenching hole fluttering as it accommodates her; you bury your face into your pillows and let out one long, tortured moan. but she’s not interested in letting you adjust—no, she wants to ruin you. she stuffs you full of her fingers and uses her other hand to swat your ass again, admiring the way your skin warms beneath her palm as she pulls her fingers out and shoves them right back inside of you.

“say it, baby,” she rasps. “tell me whose pussy this is.”

she fucks her fingers into you again, and again, and your mouth is watering, drool trickling from one corner of your mouth and soaking into the pillow. your brain is practically melting out of your ears with every thrust of her fingers, and she loves how stupid you get like this. she curls a fist into your hair and yanks hard. “say it.”

 you gasp and whine, back arching. another moan tears from your throat. “it’s, mmm, it’s yours, vi,” you mewl. “it’s all yours.”

she rewards you with another harsh slap against your ass, her other hand busy between your legs as she finger-fucks you, carving out a place in your cunt just for her. it’s heaven, and you’re already lust-drunk by now, surprised that you’d been able to get out a coherent thought when she’s fucking you like this. 

“all mine,” vi pants into your ear, every thrust of her fingers accompanied by the wet sounds of your cunt opening up around her. 

“yours,” you echo. “yours—ah, vi, please…”

“whatcha begging for, angel?” vi asks, digs her fingertips into the plush flesh of your ass. “need to come again? need me to get you there?”

you nod, frantic with need. “yes, fuck, please.”

“come for me, hm?” her voice wavers a little, husky with lust, and as if you’d been waiting for her permission, you’re suddenly gasping, back arching further as your body catches fire. she talks you through it, telling you how pretty you are taking her fingers, how good you feel gripping her like this, how perfect your body is. 

“that’s it, baby,” she rasps, mouth close enough to your ear for you to feel the warm puffs of her panting breaths. your body feels like it’s floating off into the stratosphere. you lie like that for a while, her body a welcome weight atop your own, your cheek pressed into the pillow still damp with your own drool. unbidden, the memory of the last time you’d had sex with vi creeps into the foreground of your mind. the way she’d made you come so hard you’d seen stars, then slipped out the room and back to her own home - back to her wife - before you could even process what had happened.

“vi,” you murmur, adjusting to roll onto your back. vi climbs off you, settles into the mattress by your side. you realize that she’s still in her boxers, the delicious trail of hair beneath her bellybutton disappearing under the hem.

she catches you looking and smirks. “need something?” 

“mhm,” you hum, “i… don’t want you to leave this time.”

you try to ignore the stab of disappointment in your gut when the smirk disappears from vi’s lips, her expression neutralizing. the air conditioning kicks on, and the cold draft makes you shiver. feeling suddenly exposed, you grab a throw blanket from the edge of your bed and pull it over you. 

vi bites her lower lip, thinks for a moment. then, she says, “okay. i’ll stay.”

she settles down further into the mattress beside you, a hand reaching for the blanket to pull it over herself, too. her arm curls around your waist and urges you closer. you bury your face into the crook of her neck and inhale her scent.

it’s not long before you fall asleep, the white noise of the AC lulling you into a peaceful darkness, vi drawing patterns into your skin with her fingertips. the last thing you process before you’re asleep is the press of vi’s lips against your cheek, her nose nudging your brow bone.

Fuck, she knew you were trouble ever since Issac brought you into the base. What the hell was he even thinking, treating a Scar like one of their own— like a Wolf? Even with the saccharine story of you, an "apostate" that oh so kindly helped Issac and Owen when they were in an ambush, she didn't buy that shit.

Issac brought you in there, seeming all wounded and terrified. Your display of weakness had to be a fucking act. You didn't get those scars on your face from being scared, you got them by proving your bravery and worth to the Seraphites. That's why you had them.

Maybe that same bravery brought the two of you like this.

Abigail was the same as you, in one way or another; a stubborn fucker. You didn't like each other, didn't want to like each other, and that caused trouble. Manny had once joked that, maybe if you'd train enough, you'd be on Abby's level. That riled her up, absurdly so.

She hadn't trained for years for someone like you to get compared to her!

Well, all this back and forth of shooting dirty looks across rooms, switching the position of certain training equipment just to give the other trouble finding it and cutting the lunch line, caused you to break. You've had enough.

Sure, you hated Anderson's guts, maybe even more than she hated yours, but this childish behaviour was starting to get on your nervers. You confronted her on a rather uneventful evening, right in the gym where you knew she'd be.

The argument spurred and bubbled to a boil quickly. She called you a disgusting Scar that manipulated her way into the WLF to get information, you called her sick in the head for taking that man's life— you didn't even know his name, just some old guy that you heard one of Abby's friend run their mouth about. That was Abigail's breaking point.

She shoved you. Hard, rough hands straight into your shoulders. Your nails shot out and gripped her braid tight, slightly tilting her head to the side with the pressure of the tug.

"Fuck you!" Abby had grunted.

You huffed in response, dry and humourless. "Yeah? Fuck me? Fuck you, Abby!"

Then... everything became a blur of teeth against teeth, lips overbearing one another. She kissed you first? You kissed her? Who pushed who into the bathroom? It didn't fucking matter. The tension had been suffocating, building over months of silent anger, and it just all poured over the edge. You two took the fucking too seriously.

"Shit!" Abigail moaned, long and deep in the back of her throat. Her fingers were mirroring your earlier pull, nails digging in the top of your scalp to try and keep you there, buried between her legs.

Anyone could walk in, really, but she couldn't bother herself enough to care. Her eyes were focused on your face, on how your eyebrows were stuck in a furrow even now, how the start of your scars, going from your mouth to your cheekbones, were glistening with spit and her arousal.

"You cumming?" You muttered against her clit, each word sending a spark down her legs, making her thighs spasm.

"No–" She panted, all flushed and dazed. She didn't want it to end. Didn't want you to stop being so... annoyed. "Not yet."

She pressed your head deeper into her legs, muffling any further words you might've been wanting to say. Tongue pressed flat against her clit, your fingers found their way towards her entrance, teasing her with just the tip of your index.

"Just fucking put it in already." She whispered, raising the hem of her shirt and watching your eyes trail over her hardened abdomen.

With a grunt, you pulled away to press a kiss to one of her defined abs. "I thought I was a disgusting Scar. Are my hands not disgusting enough for you now?" Your voice was smug as you slapped her thigh, making her open her legs.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Touché. "Please."

With a sigh, half irritated and half amused, you complied. Not a lot of people managed to get Anderson to say 'please'— yet you did it. How could you not fulfil her request now?

Abby's knuckles flew to her mouth, teeth digging into her skin and leaving marks as she tried to keep herself silent. Your fingers were good. Better than her own even, and Abby had to admit that she thought she was pretty good at pleasing herself. "Oh, God,"

"Don't talk about Gods now." You scowled, plunging them deeper inside of her. "Nobody's gonna hear your prayers in this bathroom." Her eyes rolled back, and that scowl of yours turned into a smirk when you went back to suck her clit.

The poor thing was red and swollen, throbbing with Abby's nearing orgasm, and your tongue did little in soothing it. Hell, Abby swore she was lightheaded from... everything she was feeling. The tightness coiled in her stomach, the heat of your mouth on her, the tiles of the bathroom shower pressed against her back.

Fingers curling inside of her, your eyes locked onto Abigail's face in hopes to gauge her reaction. Her mouth fell open in a silent moan, and only then you noticed how her bottom lip was raw; probably from muffling herself. Shit, for how long have you been eating her?

"You taste so fucking good," Your voice was quiet now.

"So I've been told." She panted. "Don't think you're special for this. I've slept with people before, and they made me cum better–"

You bit the inside of her thigh, the tender skin there trembling.

Abigail gasped. "What the fuck was that for?!" Her words were followed by a whimper.

"To shut you up. Either you let me finish this, or you can go and let those people you're talking about make you orgasm."

Her eyes trailed from up the ceiling down to your narrowed eyes, seeing the heat beneath your glare. She could almost laugh; if it weren't for the moan escaping her lips, she would've giggled. "You're jealous."

"I'm not." You hissed, pulling your fingers completely out of her before slamming them back inside. "Can you take a third?"

She nodded. Slowly, you worked up a third finger and used your thumb to rub her, wanting to be able to see her face fully. Anderson was breaking, and fuck, it was the most arousing thing you'd ever witnessed— the most feared Wolf, at the mercy of your thrusts. You licked her slickness off of your own mouth.

Abigail's legs were shaking, barely able to hold herself upright anymore— the burn of your fingers stretching her was even more satisfying than when she'd push herself in the gym, leaving her muscles sore.

"You're fluttering,"

"I'm so close." She let out an airy groan, breaking half-way through and turning into a squeak. Of course her voice had to crack in a moment like this.

Abby's hand clutched your wrist, the one that was slightly cramping with the awkward position it was in to finger her, and began grinding. Gentle, deep moves of her hips.

This time, you couldn't hold back a moan of your own. "Fuck, Anderson..." You watched her puffy pussy glide across your hand, wet squelches obscenely louder than your words. "Move faster."

She obliged. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, eyes fluttering close. "Shit– cumming, I'm cummin',"

The sweetest little noise tore from her, and with that, your hand got drenched. Wetness coated her thighs, dripping down her skin and soaking into her jeans. "God, you're fucking gorgeous." You whispered breathlessly, wrapping your arms around her legs and bringing her to sit down.

"Don't talk about God." She repeated your earlier words, voice barely audible over her panting. With only one glance at her state; Abby saw that she looked like she pissed her pants. Well, thankfully you two were in the bathroom... she could just say that the shower sprayed her.

You gently pulled out of her, licking her off of your fingers before standing up. "You'll be good on your own?"

"Yeah... yeah." She muttered.

"Don't tell anyone about this." You glanced at her over your shoulder before heading for the door.

"Wait–" Abby sighed, patting herself dry with the towel she had brought on the way. "Aren't you gonna... I don't know, stay with me for a little?"

"Sorry, I can't," You answered, a bitter smile on your face. It stretched those ugly scars that Abigail hated. "Wolves don't need Seraphites." That was all you said before leaving.

Abby grit her teeth so hard she felt her jaw tense up, throwing her used towel at the towel. You were such a fucking bitch. She knew she was wrong to have acted on an impulse, that it would only cause her trouble later on, yet she did it anyway; now who was the loser who couldn't even enjoy the post-euphoria of her orgasm? Her. Of course it had to be her.

"No, it's not okay," she snaps, and you feel your throat tighten up. In the months you'd been working with Emery, you'd never been on the receiving end of her temper. Yet, ever since that night a couple weeks ago, you'd been avoiding her, and you could sense her fuse with you was shortening. Here it is.

"It's not okay," Emery repeats, her eyes briefly falling to the six stitches in your hand. "Not when I feel like I'm going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you've hurt yourself."

If life was a cartoon, she would've had smoke coming from her ears, but you could see that behind all that anger, there was fear. Softening, you turn to Trinity, who's tying up your sutures and pretending not to eavesdrop. Luckily for you, she is a lot better at the former than the latter.

"Santos, can you give us a sec?"

Trinity nods. "You know the drill," she says as she stands up and slides past the trauma surgeon. Mouthing a quick 'good luck' to you over Emery's shoulder, Trinity pulls the curtain close, leaving you alone with the woman you'd been avoiding for the past week.

For a moment, neither of you speak. You can see a whirl of conflicting emotions in Emery's eyes, and you're just waiting for her move.

"I send you down here for one consult, and you end up becoming a patient yourself." She takes two steps closer and gently grabs your injured hand, so she can inspect the damage herself.

"I'm fine," you repeat, and really, you are. Your hand is throbbing a little, but you are more concerned about the thumping of your heart, which feels like it might burst right out of your chest. "I thought you were in the middle of an exlap?"

"I was," she replies curtly. "So imagine how I felt when I hear my one competent resident got stabbed in the hand of all places?"

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you feel the annoyance building. "I don't know, Emery." Her first name escapes your lips instinctually before you can stop it. "How did you feel? I wouldn't know because you won't fucking tell me."

It's your turn to be angry, the feelings you'd been avoiding these past few days all coming out now.

"And why are you even here? Since when did you ever care about m—"

"Since fucking forever, you idiot," Emery exclaims, causing your eyes to widen.

As her mind catches up with her mouth and she realizes there is no going back now, she takes another step closer.

"I care about you, more than I should" she whispers, quietly but fiercely, and you do your best to ignore the stinging behind your eyes. These are the words you have been waiting to hear, and now that she's finally said what you both knew to be true, you can't help the relief that washes over you.

"You mean everything to me—everything I need, everything I want." Emery looks deep into your eyes, and while you can see the fear and concern still swimming in her gaze, you can also see the sincerity and vulnerability. "Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

You nod, your words stuck in the knot of your throat. Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Emery nods before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your hairline. You close your eyes at the feeling of her skin against yours as you lean into the contact like a moth to a flame.

"I have to get back to the OR," she says as she stands up, and you already miss her lips on you, "but find me later?"

Abby was never late. 

Not to meetings, not to patrols, not even to dinner. Yet now, as you watched the last golden rays of sunlight begin to dip low beyond the stadium walls, she still had yet to return. Your anxious pacing inside the doors hadn't done anything to help the worry that had taken hold of you. Neither had watching every other squad but hers return safely. It wasn’t lost on you the dangers of patrols. Stepping outside of the stadium walls always posed a risk, and right now you were intimately familiar with every single one as they raced through your swirling thoughts. The lower the sun fell, the lower your heart sank. 

Talking to the patrol coordinator hadn’t helped at all either. He radioed as was procedure, but after not hearing anything back, he said there wasn’t anything more he could do. Even if the team was missing, they wouldn’t be able to send out a rescue group until the morning. Navigating the city in the dark was a beyond dangerous task, even for the best of the soldiers. This was what worried you. Abby was among the best of the soldiers, and without a rescue in sight, she was going to have to try and survive the night, if she was even still alive. 

The thought of her being gone, it took hold in your chest, agonizing and all-consuming. You did all you could to push it out of your head. Of course she’s still alive, she has to be. You’d long since said a world without her isn’t a world you’d want to live in. A sunrise without her arms tenderly wrapped around you, holding you firmly to her, trailing delicate kisses along your hair to your cheek and finally your lips as her hand tilts your head up to meet them. A night spent curled into her side, head on her chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of her heart as she read out loud to you, or shared some music, or simply talked until neither of you could stand to keep your eyes open anymore. A patrol without her on your team, her steady voice guiding you along the tough terrain, the overwhelming feeling of safety in the face of danger because you knew she was there and she would never let anything happen to you. The more the ugly reality of her absence forced you to face the possibility of a life without her in it, the more your determination grew to prevent that from happening. 

When the last of the streaks of light finally disappeared below the horizon line, and darkness settled across the base, the patrol coordinator and remaining soldiers left, with a promise to send out a rescue team in the morning as they had reassured. However, you knew that wasn’t good enough, and even more, some part of you knew she couldn’t wait that long. So you forced yourself into action. Stepping away from the circle you’d paced into the grass, you retreated into the base to collect the supplies you needed. Only bothering to make a quick stop to leave a note for Manny before going off to gather your pack and prepare. 

The days were warmer now, but the nights were still cold. You pulled a black sweater out, one Abby had lent to you weeks ago, pulling it on. Your senses were filled with a rush of woodsy cedar, mint, and something distinctly her. A feeling of comfort washed over you, steadying you to your mission. Your handgun holstered to your leg and your rifle slung across your back, you were prepared to leave. 

Sneaking out of the base wasn’t an easy task. Even at night, the area was heavily patrolled and the entrances guarded. However, that wasn’t the only way in or out. You and Abby had developed a penchant for urban exploring, using your seldom time off to slip beyond the boundaries of the stadium and into the outskirts of what remained of Seattle. It wasn’t long before your silent sneaking footsteps led you to a small gap in the fortifications, just enough for you to pull back the fencing and slip out. You knew technically, without authorization, this could be considered desertion, which is part of the reason you had left a note for Manny in the first place, so he could make an excuse. It also made sure someone was going to come looking for you if you didn’t make it back. 

You were familiar with a majority of the patrol routes at this point, including the one Abby and her partner Jules had set out on all those hours ago, and on the other side now you were free to follow it. The city wasn’t lit up outside of the gates, and the darkness that settled around you was eerie. Only silver strips of moonlight lit up the path ahead before you found your flashlight. Beyond its reach, however, was total darkness. You tried to push out of your mind what lurked in that darkness, and how exposed the simple act of lighting your way had made you. The fear for your own well-being had dissolved the moment you realized Abby was in danger, even more so when you decided to go after her. 

The start of the patrol path was well trodden and not out of place, the street broke off at points, forcing you to divert around and closer to the buildings. Out in the open, there was space to run, but you shuddered at the thought of being cornered inside with a Scar, or worse yet, a shambler. You stayed true to your path as best you could, keeping an ear out for any sound, but you were only met with the heavy silence of the night, broken up by the occasional cricket or critter. Each noise that broke through filled you with a new sense of hope, only to tear it away again when you realized it wasn't her. The further you walked, the more discouraged you became, and the more panicked, what if Abby wasn’t here anymore? You couldn’t fathom to think of what might have happened if she’d been taken or forced to hide somewhere unfamiliar. 

The time that passed felt heavy and carried with it more and more uncertainty, until you saw it: blood splattered across the pavement. Something bad had happened here, it was the first thing you were certain of. You braced yourself as you followed the trails. Amongst the run-down cars and overgrown grass lay a myriad of bodies, twisted and contorted, riddled with injuries. Your hands trembled as you looked closer at each, praying to God or whatever may be listening for the first time that night that you wouldn’t find Abby, not here, not like this. Some of the bodies had been taken by the virus, that much was obvious. Another scattered few you recognized immediately as Scars. As you approached the last body, face down and still in the grass, a rush of relief rushed through you as you noted it was far too small to be Abby. Getting closer, however, you realized it was just the right size to be her partner. You hesitate, you hadn’t known Jules well, but god, that didn’t mean you wanted to see her lying dead here amongst the carnage. Leaning down slowly, your hand inches from her, you decide you have to check. Her family deserved to know. You gently brush the blood-soaked hair back to find Jules looking back at you. Eyes vacant and staring, dead. Standing up, you mark on the map your location so her body can be brought back to her loved ones. 

A heavy swirl of emotions surged through you at this: relief and the guilt that comes with it, the grief. You lifted your head, trying to imagine where Abby would’ve gone from here, your heart pounding in your chest so loud it was hard to think. You couldn’t start to panic now, but as your mind raced, you couldn’t stop it. The thudding pounded louder and louder. Digging your nails into your palms and forcing yourself to breathe, the cold night air filling your lungs felt insufficient, but still you repeated. Repeated until you could hear the sound of your own thoughts again, until your motivation came back to you: Abby wasn’t dead. She had gotten out; now she just needed you to find her. 

You focused your gaze on the ground, looking for any sign of a trail, when you noticed the tall grass leading away from Jules' body was trodden. You headed in the same direction, noting splatters of crimson blood coating the blades of grass, a violent contrast that you prayed didn’t come from Abby herself. The trail inevitably led to a small storefront. You pushed the door open quietly, surveying your flashlight around the shop and taking a few cautious steps inside.

The feeling of a broad arm wrapping around you and pulling you hard into their chest was the first thing you felt. The second was the heavy pressure as her bicep snaked its way around your throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. 

“What the fuck were you doing out there looking at the bodies, huh? You’ve come here to finish the job or just to fucking gloat?” Her voice comes out harsh and strained, but you recognize it immediately. 

“Abby, it’s me,” You squeak out, the strain on your airway immense. You’re just barely able to push the words past your lips. 

She loosens her grip on you immediately and rapidly turns you to look at her. Her eyes scan your face in a mix of pain and relief before pulling you back in and holding you tightly. You wrap your arms around her in return, gripping her shirt, the force holding her to you like a refusal to ever again part. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asks, trying to sound stern, but the relief and affection coming through are undisguisable. 

“You didn’t come back, I had to find you. I wanted to make sure you were okay” “I’ve been better,” She answers, pulling back from the embrace just enough that you can get a look at her. The motion of it causes her to make a small sound of pain. 

Gingerly, you trace your fingers across her face. Around her eye is washed in dark shades of blue and purple. Blood has dried under her nose and lips, intermingled with the crimson splatters across her you’re pretty sure didn’t come from her. She flinches a little away from the touch before settling, allowing your hands to trail down her heaving chest, and you realize she’s clutching her side, the blood below her hand undeniable. 

“What happened?” You ask, fingers tracing over hers as you move to pull her hand away, trying to get a better look. You could see the fabric was torn, reaching to pull the zipper of her sweater down, she doesn’t object. Underneath, the blood had soaked most of her shirt, gently pulling it up to expose the skin, she winced, but you could finally see the jagged wound. 

“The Scars ambushed us, they left spikes on the road and popped the truck tires. They attacked the second we stepped out of the car. Assholes managed to stab me in the side, and the chaos attracted the fucking infected. One of ‘em got Jules. I tried to get to her, but it was too late, she was bit. I put her out of her misery before she could turn. I wanted to go back, but it was getting dark. It’s dangerous out here, and it only gets worse at night, you know. So I holed up.” She answered as you evaluated her injury, her breathing laboured and heavy, a quiet pause filling the room for a moment before she continued, “It wasn’t safe for you to come. You could’ve gotten hurt”. 

You pulled the small first-aid kit from your pack and began disinfecting her wound to the best of your ability. 

“I wasn’t going to leave you out here. I couldn’t live with not knowing. Not even for a minute.” Your answer was firm, fiercely determined.  “Not knowing?” She questioned. “If you were alive.” 

A silence falls between the two of you once more as you focus on stitching her wound. Taking your time in the dim glow of the flashlight, Abby gritted her teeth, inhaling sharply through her nose. You admired her strength, even as you watched her face scrunch up in a mask of pain.  When you’re finally done, and she’s bandaged, you stand, your hand coming to gently cradle Abby’s face. She leans into it, her own coming up to hold yours while your free hand tenderly dabs the blood off of her face. Finishing, you brush her hair back, now letting your other hand hold her face as well. 

“You did the right thing, you know, with Jules.” You peek up at her, her lips are pressed tight, and her eyes linger on the grass through the window. 

“I know,” she murmurs “It doesn’t make it any easier” 

She grimaces, her eyes glassy as she looks back to meet your gaze. The softness in them, the tenderness, is rimmed with something wild and desperate. “I’m glad you came. It was dangerous and stupid, and if anything happened to you I’d kill you myself, but I’m glad you came,” She says. You laugh, a soft sound that feels out of place where you are. 

“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth Anderson, you can’t get rid of me that easily” 

She smiles fondly, the hand holding yours lifts to cup your cheek as she pulls your face down, her lips crashing against your own. The kiss is hard, passionate, and she hopes it conveys the feelings she’s afraid she’ll never have the words for, that fill her so completely it could drive her insane. Pulling back to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against hers, a delicate smile coming across your features. 

“I love you, thank you for coming for me,” She says. Her voice comes out gentle and warm. “I'll always come after you, no matter how far, I love you too,” You promise.

older!caitlyn who takes you to expensive boutiques just to guide you to the rather spacious changing room. You’re adorned in glittery dresses she lets you pick out and sits by as she watches you slowly twirl to show off how pretty you look. “That’s my girl,” she says, extending an arm for you to come sit on her lap. You obey, wrapping your arms around her neck, “thank you for taking me shopping today, Caity.” The nickname warms her heart as she brings you closer, placing a careful kiss on the column of your throat. “Of course, my gorgeous girl.”

older!caitlyn who definitely keeps sex toys in the limo.

older!caitlyn who enjoys buying you expensive lingerie and then ripping it off your body as she nips at your soft skin, leaving marks all along the smooth surface, kissing you like she’s worshipping you with her mouth.

A sniper's gaze never leaves its target.

Caitlyn always had her eyes on you. Even when you thought she didn't. Ever since she met you at one of the Piltover counselor meetings, she watched you carefully as if to mentally digest every facet of your being. The way you leaned into your cane when you stood for too long, how you secretly took your medications when you thought everyone was too hooked into debate to notice you in the shadows of Jayce, when you would leave the room discreetly when you felt the aura of a syncope coming.

She saw you, she always saw you.

You were quiet enough to hide in shadows without much notice, sometimes the only sound being the clicking of your cane or when your soft breathing up-ticked in speed before you took a puff of your inhaler.

A majority of the counselors paid you no mind, some didn't even bat an eye at your direction as if you were lesser than them. Yet, you didn't mind. Sadly, it had been something you had grown accustomed to.

However, Caitlyn wasn't.

She knew you were fine with the little appreciation you got for working on Hextech; but, she wasn't.

One late night, you were slaving away at your desk long after Jayce and even Viktor went to bed. You were hunched over the blueprints, shaky hands dusting over the intricate white depictions of the Hexcore. The lantern light flickered and made the shadows on your face ebb and flow. You reached for your coffee, the brew long since gone cold as you brought it to your lips and let the fluid slip between them.

You were close, you knew you were.

"Ahem," A voice clearing their throat caught your attention, making you nearly choke on your coffee. Your gaze slipped back to see Kiramman standing there, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway of the lab.

"Kiramman? Shouldn't you be sleeping by now?" You asked, placing your mug back down on the desk. Her footfalls clicked against the tiled flooring as she approached.

"I should be asking you the same question, it's nearly daybreak," She began, looking out the windows of the lab to the overview of Piltover's cityscape. "I just got here; but, I presume that is not the same for you." She remarked, gesturing to the cold coffee and the wide spread of blueprints and scrabbled notes sprawled across the desk.

"Ah, it's already morning?" You questioned, reached into your bag beside your chair, retrieving your container of medications for the day.

"Yes, 4:57 A.M. to be exact, which means you should have gone to bed hours ago." She muttered as she watched you pour the medications into your palm before putting them in your mouth, washing them down with cold coffee.

"Mm, sorry, sometimes I get carried away with work." You muttered into the mug before placing it back down.

As you went to hunch back over the blueprints again, you felt her hand pull you back against your chair. Her grip was tight but not painful, like she was trying to hold back. Her eyes bore into yours, her gaze icy but held some concern in it.

"You are pushing yourself. Again. This is not okay." She declared, her grip on your shoulder tightening just a smidge

"I can handle myself just fine, Kiramman-"

"Don't give me that, you and I both know I'm right here." She snapped, running her free hand's fingers through her sapphirine strands. "How many nights have you done this?"

"It doesn't matter-"

"Yes, it does. With all your conditions, you're going to push yourself to an early grave! Now, tell me, how many nights have you stayed up until dawn and you didn't say a word?" She demanded, her nails boring into your shoulder as her frown deepened.

"... I've lost count-"

"Lost count?! Seriously, you can't keep doing this! What if all that caffeine makes your heart worse?"

"Why do you care so much anyways? My research is none of your business. You get all the numbers and details from Jayce anyways."

"You don't get it, you're my business. I care about you! You can't keep pushing yourself to the brink and end up hospitalized or even worse!" She pleaded, a desperate gleam in her eyes before they darkened into a stormy sky. "Who's making you do all this extra work? Are they extorting you?" She pried, pushing you firmer against the chair.

"What are you on about? No one is making me do this! I choose to do this."

"Why then? Why do you push yourself so hard when you know your body has these limitations? What can I do to stop you from doing this to yourself?"

"You don't have to do anything, I never asked for your help-"

"Well, it's obvious you need it. Look at what you are doing to yourself! Open your eyes!"

"I don't need your pity just because you think I can't carry myself."

"I am not pitying you! I care for you!" She begged as you felt that familiar dryness in your throat as your chest got tight.

You began to cough and scramble for your bag but her hand kept you pinned. She reached into your bag as you began to wheeze and squirm.

"Open your mouth." She demanded as she fished out your inhaler. You instinctively open your mouth as you wheezed and whimpered while she popped off the cap over the mouth piece. She smirked softly down at you like she was enjoying this moment of control and placed the mouthpiece between your lips and pressed down. "Breathe deeply for me, okay?" She prompted, watching you inhale and deflate from the tension.

Slowly, she pulled the mouthpiece from your mouth, looking down at you with intense eyes.

"Good job," She cooed, putting the inhaler back in your bag.

"The... The hell was that for?" You questioned, still catching your breathe from your attack.

"Because you need me, as I need you. You are my business and I intend to keep it that way," She declared, her eye contact eerily unwavering. "You are going to go to your chambers and rest, even if I have to drag you there myself, understand?" She continued before finally letting go of your shoulder.

"But, we have that meeting today, I can not miss that-"

"Yes you can, as Commander, I dismiss you from the meeting today. Now, would you rather walk up there with your cane or should I get your wheelchair?" Caitlyn demanded, standing up straighter to cross her arms.

"I told you, I'll be fine."

"Wheelchair it is."

"Kiramman! Enough!" You declared, rising from your chair after grabbing your desk to stabilize yourself. "I will rest after the meeting and I will not let you boss me around like this!"

Silence stretched between you two for much longer than you were comfortable with, but Kiramman's gaze never wavered.

"You're right. I'm sorry," Caitlyn resigned, taking a step back. "This is not about you being disabled, this is about you needing rest."

"Kiramman-"

"You need rest, come on." She pleaded, gesturing to your wheelchair she pulled over from the side of your desk.

You looked down at the wheelchair, feeling your legs tremble ever so slightly.

"Fine," You relented, walking over and taking a seat onto the lightly-padded seat. In silence, Caitlyn began to wheel you down the halls past Piltover hierarchs and onlookers whispering, a sight you were used to. However, once you two were alone, she pushed the wheelchair right past your room. You went to stop her but she grabbed your shoulder once more and kept walking.

"You will be staying in my chambers for the day, just so I can keep an eye on you." She muttered, walking briskly. "Also, call me Caitlyn."

All Fanfics Taglist: @imhappy1299

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“Jesus,” you jumped in your spot as your phone and smartwatch suddenly started buzzing, both making an awful sound on the metal stool you left them on.

You stretched your body up as much as you could from your spot to catch a glimpse of your screen. Mel. You sighed, secretly hoping it had been spam you could ignore since you were busy. If you had your watch on, you could’ve simply answered the call with the tip of your nose, but of course you had been deep in sterilization processes, so you took it off earlier.

You finished sealing your autoclave packages and placed the “sacrificial” tools and their testing vials properly into the new machine. This admittedly could’ve been done earlier in the morning, but it was a new machine. It didn’t matter how many autoclaves you’ve worked with at this point or how minimal the differences truly are from company to company; you had to read the manual front to back.

By the time you were able to dispose of your gloves and wash your hands again, about ten minutes had passed since the phone stopped buzzing, besides a couple of texts sent after the fact. You double-checked the time, set a timer on your watch, and walked out to your piercing room. Rather than read the texts, you figured you’d just call her back.

“Hey, what’s up, blondie?” you greeted her playfully, tapping the speakerphone symbol.

“I slept in late today. I didn’t wake up until 8:30,” she chirped before immediately admitting: “Well, I woke up at 7:00, but I stayed in bed until 7:30! I really had to pee so I got up for that, but I went back to bed until I was hungry.”

“That’s great, Mel. Not meant to feel like a prison sentence, but I think you’re on the right track,” you laughed, looking over your to-do list for the day.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked in a way that kept the slight smile on your lips.

“Oh, just the most exciting stuff—actually, you might really like this—I’m doing spore tests on the new autoclaves.”

“That is really exciting! Do you do the testing yourself? Do piercers have tiny labs? I guess I never really considered the science side of it, but that’s on me for not asking more questions about it.”

You took a deep breath for yourself, mentally taking it for her as well when she was done rambling.

“No. No tiny lab. I get kits for testing the machines and they get sent out to a lab... Would’ve liked to get this done sooner, but the machines came in kinda late,” you grumbled to yourself over the minor setback from the delivery service, but decided not to get into it.

“That’s fun! Can I see the results? Or is it confidential…” she sounded hesitant at the end, the way she usually does when the possibility of a faux pas hits her.

“No, not confidential. Actually, anyone can come in and ask to see proof that our autoclave is working properly. I can show you the results when I get them.”

“Oh, cool!”

You added something to your list, about to ask what she wanted to talk about, unless it was just to let you know about her sleeping in, but she kept talking.

“Do you use the autoclave on everything?”

“Just about, yeah. We get some stuff in that’s sterile in the packaging, but yeah.”

“That’s really reassuring, actually, I wonder—” Mel continued on, occasionally interrupting her own train of thought with clarifications or comments to herself. You set your notebook aside with a little laugh.

“Mel.”

“Yeah?”

“Was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, sorry, um… darn, what was it…”

There was some shuffling on her end and you shook your head with an amused smile, checking the timer on your watch.

“Oh! I wanted to try something else on the list. I know we’ve been doing a lot of movies and I slept in late today, but I want to check something new off the list.”

“Very cool. You’re getting awfully brave over there, Dr. King.”

There was a faint, awkward laugh on her end right as your attention was briefly pulled aside by Mabel poking their head in to say something about food being delivered. Growling music Mel was still getting used to flooded the room until the door was closed again.

“So what were you thinking? I’m gonna have to let you go in a couple minutes to eat, but I wanna know what’s next on the list.”

“I’m still unsure, but I think I’d like to try going out dancing! I know you said clubs can get pretty crowded, so I think I’d like to try going to one before it’s too hot out. Would you and Dr. Santos be able to take me?”

Oh, great. This is gonna turn into multiple things being crossed off that list if Trin is joining, you think to yourself. You refrained from starting a discussion on the fact that she would still be dealing with a lot of sweaty bodies in May. Even if you went to a club in the middle of winter, honestly.

“Sure, Mel, whatever you want.”

ʚɞ

Mel’s desire to go dancing was probably the first time you saw Trinity get genuinely excited about this little journey the blonde set herself on.

“Oh, we’re so getting that girl wasted,” Trin said from her spot on your bed, burned out after a long day and ready to drink.

“Real White Girl Wasted—” she mimicked the stupid raise-the-roof motion as she went “Oo-a-Oo!”

“She’s not drinking,” you laughed with a shake of your head, unfolding a shirt to consider it.

“You’re joking,” she immediately deflated, groaning and flopping back when you shake your head.

“That girl will hate every second of that club if she’s sober.”

“Oh, I know, but one at a time. I think she’d prefer trying like a sip of wine or something in the apartment if she’s ever really going to check that one off.”

“Boring,” Trinity drew out the word. “I did not switch my day off this week for this.”

“Let’s just see how she feels when she’s there. She might want to try more,” you shrug, holding up an outfit to ask for her thoughts on it. She scowls and shakes her head.

“You can still drink, just don’t get wasted until we get back to the apartment,” you laughed, playfully whipping her leg with a lazily twisted shirt.

You both glanced at the door when Mel approached with a hopeful smile, holding up a formal work-type dress.

“I could go in this, right?”

“She doesn’t plan on getting laid, so I don’t see why not,” Trin muttered, cursing at you under her breath when you hit her with the shirt again. She tugs it from your hand to give your side a quick snap in return.

“Isn’t that your nice dress for conferences and stuff…?” you asked carefully, and she nods. “Yeah, Mel, hon, if you wear that to the club, it’s gonna get stuff spilled all over it.”

“Oh… I didn’t think about that,” Mel hummed in disappointment, brows furrowed as she looks at the dress.

“Why don’t you borrow something from my closet?” you offered. “I don’t mind.”

She bunches her mouth off to the side in thought, considering your open closet and the piles of clothes that had already wound up on your bed.

“I can get down with dress-up time. C’mon, Mel-ignant,” Trin sighed, getting up to gently hold her upper arm and guide her to the clothes that had already been laid out—most of which Mel was bound to decline, but there had to be something.

You continued to look through as well while Trinity helped her find an outfit. Mel held her hands close to her chest the whole time, shaking her head here, nodding there, sometimes unsure, which was more than evident in her expression.

“Okay, how about this?” the brunette sighed, gesturing her hands to the clothes she had laid out. “Simple, but classic. Very chill approach to the club.”

You let out the lightest breath of amusement over her acting like she was selling something to the girl in the most lackluster tone. On top of that, poor Mel was not expecting how comfortable the two of you were with changing in the same room. She was about to answer when you slid your shirt off, tossing it into your hamper.

“Um…” she trailed off, face a bit warm by the time she pulled her attention back to the clothes. Trinity had laid out low-rise jeans and a simple t-shirt that was cropped just enough to land around the belly button.

“I don’t know… won’t my stomach be out?” Mel asked, unsure.

“Ah, but that’s where the boxers come in,” Trin pointed out, tugging at the band of the boy shorts she had laid under the jeans so Mel could see them better. “If you feel like your stomach is out too much, just tug these up a bit more.”

“But then everyone will see my underwear.”

“That’s the point,” you and Trinity replied in unison, prompting Mel to glance at you again. She wound up briefly watching you step out of your sweatpants.

“Okay… I’ll try it on…” she gave an affirmative nod, even if her tone was still unsure.

“Tight,” Trinity said, balling up the clothes to happily shove them into her arms. Mel blinked as she clumsily accepted them, heading out of your room with her head ducked down to go change in her own space.

“Extra points if you go no-bra!” she called after the blonde, who gave a simple “No thank you” before closing her bedroom door behind her.

“Let them be free, King! You’ll never be free until—ow!” Trin frowned, rubbing the arm you lightly smacked.

ʚɞ

This poor girl. Why must she insist on experiencing these things.

This is all you can think as you watch her constantly tug at the waistline of the jeans back at the apartment, as if she tried hard enough they’d cover her entirely and stop making her feel like her stomach was fully showing or like her butt was going to fall out of them if she had to lean forward. Then she was shifting constantly in the Uber, constantly tugging at the bottom of the shirt to try covering herself more while she was sat down. Meanwhile, Trinity was plotting as much as possible on the drive there.

“I’m telling you, I wish I got it all out of the way in a night. Then it’s over with and you have nothing to worry about,” she whispered to Mel, trying to convince her to at least go for a drink or two and a first kiss tonight. She wanted Mel to have fun, and… she admittedly wanted some entertainment as well.

“Trinity,” you warned, giving her a look after scoffing at the blatant lie as if she hasn’t had entire nights out where she did at least half of the things Mel rejected from her list.

“What? You know it’s true,” she pointed out and you didn’t have anything to say out loud. You simply gave her a look to leave the woman alone.

Meanwhile Mel was thinking it over, considering Santos’ advice as carefully as she would in the workplace.

“I think a first kiss would be nice to get out of the way tonight,” she agreed suddenly with a determined and singular nod. Your mouth fell slightly open in surprise, immediately shutting it again before Trinity could give you a smug look of success.

And oh how the mighty fall. Yes, a very successful convincing on Trin’s end. But now, rather than going straight into the club when you got there, Mel was nervously pacing with the change of plans practically floating over her head like a cartoon rain cloud.

“Just think of it as us celebrating the shop opening, if that takes some pressure off us going out tonight,” Santos offered, groaning to herself and walking off to the side when her phone started buzzing.

“It’s not that, although that’s a good point. Maybe we should be focusing more on celebrating you,” Mel spoke desperately, pausing her frantic walking back and forth to look at you.

“I don’t need tonight to be about me. And we can go home, Mel. We don’t need to go clubbing. You certainly don’t need to force a first kiss tonight,” you huffed out a laugh, shoving your hands into your pockets as you took in the scenery, admiring the blend of warm and cool glows in the distance as the sun was setting. You smiled when you caught Trin’s eye and she mimed blowing her brains out with two fingers pressed to her temple.

Your eyebrows shot up when you looked forward again, finding Mel way too close to you.

“Whoa—uh…”

“Do you think you could kiss me so I can practice? I’m always better with hands-on experiences. I don’t do as well with theoretical learning. I can grasp concepts well, but when it comes to applying them, I really do much better when I’ve actually physically done whatever it is,” she explained in a rush, gulping down a breath once her body forced her to.

“That’s one hell of a pickup line, King, but no way.”

You realized then that Mel had been gently holding your arm because she tugged a little, her expression pleading. You sighed out a quiet curse under your breath and awkwardly scratched at the back of your neck with your free hand, swinging your attention around for absolutely anything else. You landed on Trin, who was still on the phone, explaining her change of plans to her roommate for the thousandth time.

“Ask her. You’ve known her longer than me.”

“Well, I would need to talk to HR first if I kissed Dr. Santos,” Mel replied simply, as if it was obvious. Apparently, Trinity had overheard because she temporarily pulled away from her phone to say, “She couldn’t handle all this,” while gesturing to herself.

You laugh despite the slight betrayal, your attention painfully drawn back to the blonde in front of you.

“Please,” she begged, so nervous you could feel it, or maybe it was your own anxiety. You wished for one second you could plant your experiences into her brain to help her feel just how cruel this was and how, if you were going to have a good time tonight, it would be best to not feel like you were in high school again. But you can’t, so.

Instead, you gently hold her chin between your thumb and curled index finger. You lean in hardly an inch, Mel’s lashes fluttering like she was already about to close her eyes, but you had stopped.

“You shouldn’t use your gay friends like this. It’s just mean,” you whispered playfully, and her eyes widened, cheeks burning a deeper red than you’d ever seen them.

"Alright, let's gooo."

Mel was babbling some apologies, but you didn’t listen all that closely, too busy checking over your shoulder to see if Trinity was aware once you turned the other girl around with your hands on her shoulders, leading her toward the entrance.

“No, no, I don’t care. Just fucking eat it, I don’t care that it’s the last one. You’re going to anyway and you know it—goodbye, Huckleberry,” Trin groaned and hung up, shoving her phone into her pocket while catching up to the two of you.

ʚɞ

“I asked them to make your Sprite fancy too, Mel, so you wouldn’t feel left out,” Trinity explained as she handed her the Sprite in its fun glass with the tiny umbrella, some cherries, and a flat disc-top cocktail stirrer.

“What’s the umbrella for?” Mel smiled before sipping from the two small red straws Santos plopped into the cup as a final touch.

“To protect your drink from the rain,” Trinity explained reverently, dodging your elbow she knew would be seeking out her side.

“It’s just 'cause it’s fun, Mel, c’mon,” you laughed, resting your hands on her arms again to guide her while Trinity and you kept an eye out for a table. You missed the face Mel made at her drink, opening and closing her mouth a few times as she tried to taste if something was really off or if it was just her. She took another sip and decided it must’ve just been in her head, or maybe it was the cherries that were added.

Trin finally spotted an open table among all the occupied ones on an elevated portion of the room surrounding the dance floor.

“Everything’s so sticky,” Mel observed out loud, attempting to pull her lips away from her teeth to offer a grateful smile for the night out, but it was awkward and her discomfort was obvious. She kept her hands locked together by her chest as she leaned forward to sip at her drink again, humming her gratitude when you tugged her drink away to lay out some napkins on the spot in front of her before putting her drink back.

“It was like this at that bar too. Are these places always like this?” she asked over the music.

“Oh, wait until you see the bathroom,” Trinity laughed. “It only feels acceptable when you’re puking your guts up or getting lucky in a stall.”

“Oh.” Mel tilted her head curiously, then glanced at her drink that was half gone already and decided to lay off it a bit. She planned on not needing the bathroom the entire time she was here, if she could help it.

“Speaking of getting lucky,” Trin bounced her eyebrows as she nudged both of you.

You and Mel looked up to glance in the direction she nodded towards. There was a guy on the dance floor who kept looking at Mel. When he saw he got her attention, he grinned at her and waved. Confused, she looked behind herself, then gave both of you a wide-eyed, questioning look while pointing to herself.

“Just go before I tip you out of your chair myself,” Trinity groaned.

“It’s okay. We’ll keep an eye on you,” you reassured her the best you could, offering Mel an encouraging smile.

“Can you come with me?” she asked you as she barely set her feet back on the floor, not really wanting to leave her seat.

“Ehh… I think I’ll just keep an eye on you from here,” you got out carefully with a little laugh, explaining further when she looked at you all confused and maybe even a bit betrayed.

“He’ll get the wrong idea. Just go have fun, or wait for someone else to catch your eye.”

“Mm, no way, don’t do that to yourself,” Trinity spoke up between taking a drink from her straw and swallowing, pushing Mel’s drink towards her on its coaster-napkin float.

“Okay, first, she means he’ll think you both want to fuck him if she joins you—What? It’s true—If you go alone, it’s a basic ‘sure, whatever, I’ll dance with you,” She explained bluntly.

“‘Sure, whatever, I’ll dance with you,’” Mel repeated nervously under her breath, nodding as if this really gave her the support she needed. She took her drink off the coaster, grateful for the buffer it created by giving her something to hold.

“If you wait, you’ll never leave your seat all night. He’s already interested. He looks clean and decent… I guess,” Trin shrugged, frowning slightly as she looked at the guy. What would she know? Guys don’t do it for her. “Just try and if you don’t like it, then come back here. Oh, and… probably stay where we can see you.”

“Yeah… okay,” Mel nodded, swallowing nervously before heading towards the dance floor, frequently looking back at the two of you to make sure she could still see you.

You both waved at her the last time she glanced back before she was right in front of the guy.

“Oh, she really does not want men,” Santos murmured under her breath behind the partial smile she gave as she waved.

“Then why are we making her suffer through this?” you replied similarly, the two of you dropping the motionless muttering the second Mel looked away.

“Hey, she wanted the different kinda twenties messy than the one she got handed first go round,” Trin declared her innocence in the situation with her hands up. “Not like she’ll listen if we just tell her she’s a dyed-in-the-wool carpet muncher, anyway.”

“In that sense, she is metaphorically colorblind,” Trin concluded then with a distinguished raise of her finger as if giving a very intelligent lecture rather than being two steps away from calling a friend the d-slur.

“Ah,” you replied playfully with a considerate tone before she paused to give a server a languid smile while requesting a few shots.

“She might listen if she looks into it,” you added with a laugh, eyeing the brunette and all her excessive facial expressions while you drank.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like her research,” Trinity cackled around her straw, “hey"-ing you when you kicked at her under the table. She kicked you back and hit your shin perfectly. She curled her lips inward to try holding in her laugh, barely getting out her “apology” while you rubbed your shin.

“I meant reading about it, you lil’ shit,” you retorted as you folded your leg up onto the seat with you to keep rubbing the spot. You both glanced at the dance floor to quickly spot Mel again before continuing.

“Mhm,” she nodded, doing so well hiding her amusement. Her smile was still pulling at her lips while she finished off her first drink.

“But seriously, I don’t… y’know,” you gestured vaguely as she looked at you with a lazy brow raise. “Not her.”

“I’m all set on being another intro course for some straight girl,” you huffed. “Even if she’s not straight, or at least not as straight as she thinks she is.”

“Mm, guess I get that,” Trin hummed out with a full mouth pout, admittedly bummed by the lack of roommate drama.

“But she was really beggin’ earlier, huh...?” she cautiously teased moments later before tugging a cherry off its stem with her teeth.

“Shut up.”

“I just mean I’m proud of you for not breaking,” she mock-praised you while she chewed on the syrup-soaked fruit. “Some psychic part of her totally picked up on a kink.”

“I actually cannot stand you, you know that?” you countered, despite the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You sighed shortly after, rubbing your temple for personal reasons in addition to sympathetic ones as Mel tugged at her jeans yet again on the dance floor. Free hand splayed out, she was very clearly rambling out an apology to the person next to her she had accidentally elbowed.

“You love me and you know it.”

ʚɞ

One and a half drinks and a shot later—well, two drinks and two shots later for Trinity—you both got out of your chairs to lean back against the edge of the table, keeping an eye on Mel, but she seemed to be having fun. Yet still no kiss.

“We should’ve specified to get a kiss and get out. I thought we were all dancing tonight,” Trinity grumbled as she settled her head on your shoulder.

You were finishing off your second drink, reaching over her to put it back on the table.

“She’s been okay. Maybe we could go dance and try to stay near her,” you pointed out, and yet you both stayed leaning against one another, distantly watching over your friend as she did an odd move that made you laugh and Trinity look away with a groan.

“I’m bored,” she complained.

You simply nod, raising a brow when you look at her and she’s staring you down. She looks you over as if considering a business deal before proposing it with a squint.

“Wanna make out?”

You let out a laugh as you look forward, thinking it’s a joke offer. After a second, you both look at each other again. Seeing she’s still staring, the two of you consider it before shaking your heads with a lackluster “nah” at the same time.

“Alright, she has ten minutes before I’m making that dance floor my bitch,” she declared, pointing to her watchless wrist.

ʚɞ

“What?” Mel mouthed with furrowed brows when she caught Dr. Santos in her periphery.

She pointed at her wrist as if pointing to a watch. You tugged at her arm and shook your head in Mel’s direction, but Santos held up her arms again, this time bunching her fingertips together on both hands and pressing them together as if making her hands kiss.

Oh. Oh.

She had been enjoying dancing so much that she forgot about that part. She blinked, looking at that random guy again who was definitely out of it as he got closer and said something about liking her hair. Alarms were going off inside her, yet she felt looser than usual for some reason. She’d read plenty of stories where initial attraction meant getting butterflies. This… must be what it felt like…? She imagined she’d be a little nauseated if there were insects fluttering around in her gut.

“You can kiss me,” she told him over the music.

“What!?”

“You can kiss me! I’d like to check it off my list!” she said louder, and he looked at her with the dumbest expression until his mind caught up.

ʚɞ

“Oh! There she goes,” Trinity pointed out as the guy put his mouth on Mel’s. Mel had no idea what to do with the situation or her hands as she visibly cringed inward. Her hands kind of stayed in limbo in the air before she held them in front of herself like an awkward barrier between the two of them. She twisted her arms slightly and gripped at her own hands.

“Yeah, looks like she’s having the time of her life,” you replied with a cringe, your attention straying out of secondhand revulsion.

ʚɞ

Mel sank back into her own thoughts as she tried to focus on anything but the textural nightmare that was having this man attached to her face. Like a frantic tide, her mind went from words of encouragement to this messy kiss and how grating his facial hair was. Then, “Was Dr. Santos staying over tonight? She must be, she took tomorrow off—” to the kiss and all the spit involved again to, “How long are these things supposed to last?” Then right back to the spit. And on and on.

Actually, the more she thought about it, the amount of saliva was somewhat abnormal. Could that be the alcohol? She wondered how many substances were in his system. Then she thought of how people tend to salivate more before throwing up.

“Are you feeling ok?” she asked after pulling back so suddenly that the guy swayed slightly.

“Yeah, great,” he grinned and leaned in again. She leaned away, brow furrowed in thought.

“No nausea? Really? Hm… and how many drinks have you had?”

ʚɞ

You lifted your hand in a lazy wave to some girl Trinity started talking to, only briefly introducing you to be nice and because she wanted to establish that you were only a friend.

The two of you were still leaning against the table, you checking your watch. Trin kept her body facing forward but had her arms casually propped back on the table, all casual and cool as she busied herself with flirting with the woman beside her.

You glanced up again with a sigh, ready to point out whether or not Mel was still kissing that dude to see if your group could finally all hang out. Whether it was finally dancing together or leaving, you just couldn’t stay stuck in this spot forever.

Your brow immediately furrowed in confusion, a laugh waiting somewhere in the back of your throat.

“Trin?” you tilted your head.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about doing surgery too, it’s whatever y’know? I—what?” she practically hissed out the whisper when you nudged her side.

“What… is she doing…?” you asked slowly, head cocked to the side.

“What? What are you—oh jesus…” she groaned the second she spotted the blonde, and that little laugh finally fell from your lips.

Mel was using the flat drink stirrer from her now-forgotten glass to press the guy’s tongue down while she looked at his throat with the flashlight of her phone.

You both went off into the crowd.

“‘Scuse me—sorry—”

“Hey, fucking move—”

“Say ‘ahh…’” Mel’s lips were slightly parted, nose scrunched up as she put all her focus on looking into this complete stranger’s mouth.

“Hm, well your tonsils do look a little swollen, but I don’t think that’s the problem. Looks like you take good care of your teeth…”

“‘Ank yuh,” his gratitude seemed genuine even with his tongue still pressed down, although he must’ve been wasted if he was being so cool about this. Mel put her phone away while he blinked away the stains in his vision from the light, and she took the stick from his mouth.

“You’re welcome! Are you on any medications? Or any problems with heartburn, acid reflux, anything like that?”

“You got acid?”

“Heyyy, Mel…” Trinity laughed awkwardly and breathlessly as she got to the blonde first, gently hooking a hand around her arm. “Whatcha doin’ there?”

“Oh, I was just—hey,” she blinked in surprised as the two of you herded her elsewhere as gently as possible. “I should at least remind him to check with his PCP.”

“I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

“He has hypersalivation,” Mel stated, briefly turning to you to include you by clarifying what hypersalivation was.

“I—Mel, I know what that is,” you spoke over the music. Mel smiled shyly and nodded, looking forward again with a little “oh,” when she nearly tripped on the step to the part of the room with all the tables. Trin had been too dedicated to blindly steering the girl elsewhere; you quickly wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright and to partially help lift her up onto the platform.

“Maybe you’re just too pretty, Mel, so he couldn’t stop drooling,” you joked, and Trinity finally glanced back with an amused smile.

“Well, it wasn’t full-on sialorrhea, but…” Mel trailed off.

The three of you stopped back at the table to grab the bag you almost forgot (also in hopes of Trin getting that girl’s number, but she had already walked off).

“Cool, love how patient people are,” she nodded, pressing her lips together in a tight line.

Her disappointment was more than obvious, but the moment you two made eye contact, you were both thinking about Mel checking some dude’s throat on the dance floor. You pressed your lips tightly together, fighting that feeling. You and Trin have always been predisposed to the post-drinking giggles, and this definitely wasn’t helping.

“Fuck you,” Trinity pointed at you as a few huffs snuck out.

“What? I didn’t do anything!” you countered between involuntary laughs.

You were both giggling off and on, your stomach aching until you and Trinity gradually broke into full laughter. Mel let out a hesitant “heh” at first because she wasn’t sure what was so funny. Then it was the simple act of you two laughing so hard that started to pull it from her as well.

“Fuck, I needed that,” Trin sighed, not even attempting to be delicate with her eye makeup as she rubbed the tears away. “You’re pretty funny for a goody-goody, King.”

“She’s being serious,” you whispered to Mel with a leftover laugh when you saw her toying with her hands.

“Oh… well, thank you… I think,” she smiled sheepishly as she accepted the compliment. Moments later, when neither of you were looking at her because you were too busy guiding her again to the lobby, her expression was right back to confusion. She still didn’t know how she made you both laugh so hard. She figured it had something to do with the alcohol.

ʚɞ

It was already late, and you were all tired, so there was no fight to find a different corner of the dance floor to dance in. The second you mentioned takeout and pajamas, the two doctors nodded gratefully. You waited outside of the club, a cigarette hanging from your bottom lip, still unlit because you were too focused on getting a ride.

Mel did a bad job keeping her opinions off her face, watching Trinity light the cigarette she got from your bag before lighting yours. You selected an Uber, sucking in before pulling it from your lips to be slotted between your fingers for now.

“I love you,” you sighed dramatically from your spot against the building, and Trinity smirked as if these weren’t literally your cigarettes and your lighter.

“Yeah, I know.”

“What’s it like?” Mel asked, trying to find a way to remain friendly despite her feelings on smoking.

“Wanna try one?” Trin asked, oh so very generous with the pack in your bag.

“No. No thank you,” Mel laughed awkwardly, shaking her head.

“Mm, your loss.”

You felt a fondness warm you as your body enjoyed its mix of alcohol and nicotine. It was the feeling that made Trin snuggly with you—occasionally emotional if she was far gone enough—and the feeling that had you openly declaring your platonic love for her when she lit your smoke for you.

It was that, but a little different as you looked at Mel. Tipsy you had no interest in analyzing it right now, letting any questions that could come from that feeling float away with the smoke curling into the air.

“What?” Mel smiled shyly when she looked up from her sneakers, noticing the way you were looking at her.

You shrugged, smiling as you tucked the cigarette between your lips again and held your arms forward, beckoning her more than offering a hug. She eyed you, or more like eyed the stick of lung disease in your mouth, but hesitantly moved forward.

“Ugh, she’s a sappy-smushy drunk, just ignore her,” Trinity groaned, making you giggle. She turned her body toward the building, resting her head against it.

Mel still got close enough for you to gently run your hands over her hair and tuck it behind her ears as you intended. She blinked, involuntarily swallowing as her throat felt dry, likely from the smoke.

“I’m sorry if I ruined tonight’s plans,” she said in a soft voice.

“Are you kidding me? That was so fun,” you smiled, the filter tip hanging from your lip again. You ran your fingers through her hair, making Mel tense up. She kept staring, unsure of what to really do or think.

“Yeah, you’re wild, Mel,” Trin chuckled against the bricks before turning back around.

Mel had an unsure but pleased expression as she considered something to say, ending up trying to not smile as big as she wanted to. Trinity dropped the cigarette butt to the sidewalk and ground it under her shoe. You had stopped touching her to hold yours between two fingers and breathe in again before doing the same.

“This is perfect, actually. You owe us a second night out, Melatonin,” Trinity grinned. “And next time, we’re getting you drunk.”

Mel jumped slightly when you slung an arm over her shoulders as you watched a car slow to a stop by the sidewalk. She felt grateful it was nighttime considering how warm her face felt.

The three of you piled into the backseat. Trinity relaxed back, legs splayed as she sighed. You leaned forward, also sighing, and settled your forehead on the back of the seat in front of you. Mel clicked her buckle into place and happily settled her folded hands in her lap.

“Oh!” you gasped partway through the drive after being so silent Mel thought you had fallen asleep (it’s entirely possible you did for a few minutes). She blinked, giving you her full attention.

“Oh my god: how was your first kiss?” you asked now, and Trin hummed to show her curiosity as well.

“Yeah, how was it? Everything you ever dreamed of?”

“Uhm, it was very… damp,” she answered you both with that unsure smile, toying with her hands again.

“Oh, honey…” the Uber driver spoke up, glancing at Mel through the rearview mirror. She kept shaking her head sympathetically as she looked forward again.

You and Trinity fought that drunken, bubbling urge to start giggling again. She covered her mouth with her hand as she stuffed it down, and you leaned forward to hide your head between your knees with Mel observing both of you curiously.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ the photos and gif used in this post do not belong to me

-previous- -next-

and when another hour passed she just couldn’t focus anymore. her book long forgotten.

because every time a nurse appeared through the doors, her head lifted hopefully before sinking again.

the fever hadn't broken and if anything… it felt worse.

her body ached. her throat burned from the constant coughing, and the room was too bright and too loud.

twice she'd considered walking up to the desk and asking how much longer it would be.

twice she'd lost her nerve.

everyone else looked like they needed help more than she did anyway.

so she waited… and waited… and waited.

by the time someone finally called her name, she nearly missed it.

"miss?"

her head snapped up.

a nurse smiled.

"we've got a room for you."

relief hit her so hard she almost cried.

the exam room wasn't much quieter than the waiting room. voices carried through the hallway. monitors beeped somewhere nearby, and stretchers rolled past every few minutes.

she sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

was she sitting weird?

what should she say when the doctor arrives?

she sighed, closing her eyes to calm her nerves before the door opened.

a young nurse stepped inside.

"hey, i'm mateo." he offered a friendly smile while pulling up her chart and read her name aloud.

his brows furrowed, recognizing her name but he pushed it to the side as she coughed into her elbow.

“sorry.” she sniffled.

some of her tension started to ease though, because mateo was easy to talk to. he was kind and he was nice to look at.

"so..” he gave her a smile. “what brings you in tonight?"

she explained her symptoms softly.

the fever that just won’t break.

the cough.

the exhaustion.

and the fact that she had barely eaten all day— her stomach would churn and turn whenever she tried to take a bite of anything.

mateo's expression became more serious as he listened.

"how long has the fever been running?"

"um.. about three days, i’d say.”

his head lifted from the notes he took. "hmm, three days?"

she nodded, coughing in the process making her gasp for air.

“sorry.”

"have you seen anyone before tonight?" he wanted to know.

"uh no."

mateo stared. "you waited three days?"

she looked down immediately, clutching her hands tighter together.

“i thought it'd go away." she let out a nervous chuckle.

a cough following suit. she apologized again, mateo smiled, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

but before he could say anything else, movement outside the room caught his eye.

someone was passing by.

dark scrubs.

broad shoulders.

a coffee in one hand and a chart in the other.

jack abbot. his attending.

mateo looked up.

jack looked in and halted.

for a second, neither man moved.

mateo frowned in confusion.

"what?" he said to jack.

jack didn't answer.

his eyes were fixed entirely on the patient sitting on the bed. a knowing and surprised look plastered onto his tired features.

she was deathly pale.

flushed with the fever.

and suddenly mateo understood.

"oh."

the single word carried far more meaning than it should have.

because mateo knew.

he pulled it out of jack one night, after he came in for a shift with one of those schoolboy smiles— and jack never did that.

jack abbot wasn't dating her.

but mateo kept telling jack that he could if he grew some balls.

jack stepped into the room, opening the door slowly.

"what are you doing here?" his question wasn't harsh.

it was concerned.. deeply concerned.

she blinked up at him.

clearly startled to see him.

"oh! uh.. hi."

mateo physically had to stop himself from smiling.

“he’s my neighbor.” she said to explain.

mateo nodded. he already knew but he’d never tell her that.

jack crossed his arms.

"you're sick."

she looked down at her hands.

"yeah?"

"how’s the fever?"

she hesitated and gaped at mateo.

mateo answered for her.

"well, she’s had it for three days."

jack's jaw tightened.

"three days?"

she shrank visibly beneath the attention.

"i thought it would get better!”

neither of the men in front of her looked impressed.

jack rubbed a hand over his face.

for a moment he looked less like a trauma attending and more like a man trying very hard not to be worried about someone.

yet unfortunately for him, he was failing miserably.

like, really badly.

"have you eaten?"

a pause between her and mateo. jack winced.

"n-no.” she finally let out.

jack closed his eyes.

mateo immediately looked away towards the ceiling, fiddling his thumbs awkwardly because now he was witnessing something deeply personal.

when jack opened his eyes again, he looked directly at him.

"did we order labs?"

"already done."

"fluids?"

"i was about to hang them before you came in." he pointed.

jack nodded at that.

then he looked back at her.

his expression softened immediately.

"so you're gonna sit here," he said calmly, walking towards her bed.

he stoped so close that he felt her knees against his thigh and spoke again, “and you're gonna let us take care of you. and your going to stop apologizing for coughing."

her cheeks turned pink despite the fever.

because she had been apologizing.

constantly.

and of course jack had noticed.

his voice lowered.

"you understand?"

she gave him small nod.

"good."