ducks118

Your shift was almost over.

You messaged Dana, who was about to start the day shift, asking her to grab you a caramel latte on her way in.

You: good morniiiiing queen of nurses, u coming today? Grab me a caramel latte on your way, please? Need some sugar :(

Dana: sure honey

Dana: be there in 10 minutes

So, doing the math, you had already proactively administered a dose of insulin. The insulin was actively circulating in your body, perfectly calculated to counteract the sugar spike from the coffee you were about to drink. You knew that a coffee like that would raise your blood sugar significantly, so you injected the exact dose to keep your glucose within range.

The only problem? Dana was late.

30 minutes late.

You were sitting at the main desk, trying to quickly update the latest data before you could leave. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but your mind was elsewhere.

Without the caramel latte to balance the insulin, your blood sugar was actively plummeting. Fast.

Dr. Jack Abbot, your attending, your boss and, for the last year, your boyfriend, was waiting for you.

He was already signed out, leaning against the counter with his jacket over his arm, ready to walk out to the parking lot together.

But as he watched you, his medical instincts kicked in. You had typed the same single sentence three times, deleted it, and were now just staring blankly at the monitor.

"Hey," Jack said. "You've been on that same line for ten minutes. Let's go, doll. Shift’s over."

You didn't answer. The world was rapidly losing its edges. The lights of the ER seemed to stretch into blurry halos, and the chatter of the nurses sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. You were dissociating hard, fading into an unresponsive silence.

Jack’s posture shifted instantly with intensity, one of a man who knew your medical history by heart.

He moved around the desk, dropping into the empty chair right next to you. He reached out, grabbing your hand.

"Hey, Dr, look at me," Jack commanded gently. He used his other hand to turn your chin toward him. Your eyes were glassy, your pupils wide and slow to react. "What's going on? How is your blood sugar?"

"I- I think.. Dana..." you mumbled, your tongue feeling heavy, as you looked at your watch. "Oh, she's late."

"What does Dana have to do with this?" Jack's eyes narrowed as he scanned your pale face.

"I took insulin," you whispered, the realization finally breaking through your own fog, bringing panic. "For a caramel latte. From Dana. But she isn't here. My glucose was dropping a little."

"Jesus Christ, you prebolused for a coffee that isn't even in the building? I told you to do not take insulin until food is in front of you during shifts."

He didn't waste another second.

He checked your app.

40 mg/dl

Jack stood up, grabbed your arms, and guided you up from the desk chair. You stumbled, your knees buckling, but his strong arm caught you around the waist, hauling you into the break room.

"Sit. Do not move," he ordered, his authority absolute.

Jack went over to the break room fridge, pulling out a carton of juice. He grabbed three sugar packets from the coffee station, tearing them open and dumping them straight into the juice to supercharge the fast acting carbs.

He sat in front of you, placing one hand behind your neck to support your head while holding the straw to your lips.

"Drink. All of it," he murmured.

You took a sip, the overwhelming sweetness hitting your tongue.

Your brain, starved of glucose, screamed for it; so you drank half the carton before Jack gently pulled it back so you wouldn't choke.

"Slow down, doll. You're gonna choke."

He watched you, keeping his hand wrapped tightly around yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

"Good girl. Let it hit your system."

For a few minutes, the break room was quiet except for your heavy breathing.

Gradually, the fog began to lift. The edges of the room sharpened. The distant underwater feeling receded, and the warmth returned to your cheeks.

"There you are," Jack breathed, a visible wave of relief washing over him. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, leaning into his touch as the last of the haze cleared. "I thought I had the timing right."

Jack sighed, his hand moving from your forehead to cup your cheek.

"You are a terrible patient," Jack said, his voice was entirely serious. "You're a brilliant R4, but you know as well as I do that if you want to be a doctor here, you have to take care of yourself first. You can't save anyone out there if you're collapsing at the charting desk."

You swallowed hard, nodding against his palm, feeling thoroughly cared for. "I know. You're right."

Whether it be cinnamon scrolls.

Cookies of all sorts. 

Brownies with a twist. 

Treats baked with a delicate buttery puff pastry. Strawberry danishes with a hint of pistachio, or simply pear with a little crumble on top. 

Tarts, cakes, and everything else in between. 

You simply made sure that whatever you brought in, could be eaten with ease, could be eaten in a hurry.

Being the daughter of a charge nurse meant knowing that time was of the essence when it came to working in the ER. 

Nothing was ever stale.

Bringing only the best of the best for these hard workers. 

Even treating them with new creations, offering these all up for free and all you’d ever ask, is for a bit of advice on whether the recipes needed a little tweaking. 

Not that anyone had a single complaint. 

Merely that there was never enough, Trinity would teasingly complain. 

You were kind, with a humorous wit that matched your mother’s. 

So no one thought too deeply over the fact that you dropped by. 

Not realising that on days you’d stop by during the change over, whilst you’d leave side by side with your Mama. 

Just outside, just out of sight, you’d be met with a gentle kiss and sweet hello. 

By the very fearsome, intimidatingly brooding orthopaedic surgeon, the Shark. 

Otherwise known as Brendon Park. 

Your husband.

You couldn’t say for sure that you meant to keep it a secret. 

You couldn’t say that you intended to hide your relationship. Not even your Mama worked very hard to conceal this link.

In fact whenever Park would be summoned down to the ER, he’d always make an effort to stop by and check in with Dana. 

He knew how much you worried cared for your Mama. So whenever he could, he would say hi. 

And she’d be just as happy to see him. 

Perhaps with a little teasing remark. That always kept him on his toes.

For however brief the interaction was. It meant a lot to Dana to see Brendon make such an effort. 

Because she knew that deep down, behind his cold facade and abrupt nature. He was as soft and gooey as the brownies you would bake. 

It just happened that no one had noticed. 

Simply believing Park to have the decency to be nice towards the ER’s charge nurse. It wasn’t uncommon, seeing as he could be civil with Robby, the nurses and a few others in the ER.

Only ever truly being curt and clipped towards the juniors. He could be most impatient when it came to improper handling of cases. 

His method of teaching being more akin to throwing them in the deep end rather than holding their hand in a wading pool.

…Truly, besides knowing that you were Dana’s daughter and an owner of a bakery, with a knack for making the very best treats. 

Not much was known about you. 

Well.

With only a handful of people knowing more of your personal life. Including Robby and Jack, Lena and Lupe, as well as most of the nursing staff, especially those closest to your Mama, such as Princess and Perlah. 

All of whom knew better than to divulge your personal life. 

Leaving many of the medical students and newcomers to wonder about your life. 

Whenever time was on your side, you’d do your best getting to know them. 

Listening intently when Dennis would speak about his youth growing up on the farm–giving him a little advice here and there. You had of course picked up a few things being Dana’s daughter.  

Gently teasing Victoria when you saw her stumble over her words as she spoke with Mateo, feeling a burst of pride while you watched her confidence grow. 

Samira would gravitate towards you and rant about her day, whilst you let her frustrations roll off. With a sympathetic smile, and always a little treat to quell her stress. 

Frank would greet you with a wide grin, endearingly calling you “Baby Evans” in honour of your mother often calling you Baby.

Unfortunately, that nickname had caught on…

“Hey Baby Evans–what’s new with you? It’s been a while since you stopped by,” Trinity grinned, leaning upon the desk as she looked at you. 

From where she was standing all she could see was your top half as you sat at the station.  

“Well–uh. Funny you should ask,” you smiled gently, a small coy glint to your eye, “Maybe you’d like to guess?” 

She rests her head in her hand as she looks at you. 

A slight glow to your complexion, but that wasn’t overly unusual. 

A slight glossy sheen to your hair. 

And a wide smile upon your face. 

But–

Trinity tugged Mel as she passed to stop her, while pointing a finger towards you, “Does something seem different with Baby Evans today?” 

Mel’s brows knitted together, “Uh–”

"Something's different and I can’t quite put my finger on it” 

Mel looked at you, as you gave her a little wave, before she glanced back at Trinity. 

“She seems a little more glowy today? But that could be because of the pregnancy,” Mel replied a little quizzically. 

Trinity blinks rapidly before her eyes snap back to you, “What?-”

Your laughter cuts through the room as you nod. 

Trinity’s lips curl into a smile, rounding the corner, “Congratulations–Why didn’t you tell us?” her arms wrapped around you from behind, while you reached up to hold her arms. 

And now as she stands beside you, she can see your growing stomach, rounded and full. 

Smiling with such delight you answer, “We were just waiting a few weeks, just to make sure–wouldn’t want to jump the gun, a few weeks just happened to turn into a few months” 

Trinity nods before glancing up, interrupting Dana and Robby mid conversation, “Dana! Why’d you hold out on us!” 

Dana looks up, eyes peering over her glasses, before plucking them off, “Like N/N said, just wanted to make sure everything was tracking along ok,” her gaze drifts down to you, “Did you tell them the other news?” 

You shook your head, “You can” 

Dana nods with a smile, walking over taking Trinity’s place by your side, looking down at you fondly, “My Babygirl is going to be having twins,” she beams with pride. 

A round of congratulations pour out from everyone, all of them taking the time to say hi and congrats to both you and Dana. 

And so with this news. 

The murmurs of gossip began. 

All revolving around, who was the lucky guy to call you his partner in life? 

With only a few tidbits of information to go on. 

For one. 

He was considerate. Caring. 

It was no secret you were very much in love, with never a bad thing to say about your husband besides the fact that he worried too much over you. 

Two. 

He was a doctor. 

It had come up in passing. So brief. Barely even a moment spent on the topic. 

Merely a fleeting comment, whilst one of them fussed over you, insisting they help you with the boxes of baked goods claiming the stress wasn’t good for the babies. 

You had simply swatted them away with a small chide, “Oh please don’t fuss over me, I get that enough from my Mama and my husband cause he’s a doctor” 

And then three. 

Dana never had a bad word to say about him. So he must’ve been a great guy to have gained her approval.

Oh. 

And that he was handsome. But as that information came from you, that could’ve easily been a subjective opinion. 

That was it. 

That was all they had to go on. 

And instead of asking either you or Dana outright. 

They had resorted to trying to work it out themselves. Sifting through whatever snippets of information they could gather. Trying to piece together this little mystery, 

Unaware that the answer was right beneath their noses. 

Unaware that your husband worked alongside them. 

“So who do you think it is?” Trinity asked Victoria, her eyes glancing at you from across the room. 

“Who?” Victoria asks, without looking up from what she was doing. 

Trinity clicks her tongue, “Who?–Pay attention Crash–I’m obviously talking about Y/N’s husband”

Victoria nods in understanding, before shrugging, “I don’t know, is it really any of our business”

“I’d still like to know,” Trinity says, biting the tip of her pen in thought. Before adding, “Do you think it’s someone from the night shift? I mean she always arrives at changeover–What do you think, Huckleberry?” She drags him into the conversation. 

He shakes his head, “Uh–uh, I am not getting involved in this. I still want Dana to like me” 

She rolls her eyes at him, before directing her gaze once more to Victoria. 

Who hums in thought, “But her showing up at changeover doesn’t really prove anything, I mean she could easily be with someone from the dayshift” 

Trinity sighs in agreement. 

Her eyes narrow, observing you whilst you happily chatter with those around you. All of them trying to guess the sex of your babies, listing off plenty of names as suggestions. 

Olive and Sage. Poppy and Colby. Or even Hazel and Brie.

Seemingly everyone found it very amusing to suggest names relating to you being a baker…

But you held your cards close to your chest. Not once showing whether you favoured one name more than the other. 

Though you did scrunch your nose in distaste when Jesse offered the name Graham…after you had brought in graham cracker crusted tarts.  

And you definitely broke down into a laugh when Princess had whispered the name Hunter with a knowing look in her eyes. 

And yet. 

The med students were no closer to figuring out who your husband was…the only other clue they had was that he had to be quite well off, considering the very sparkly ring they saw upon your hand. 

Whilst your due date grew closer and closer. Your Mama loved to fuss more over you. Trying her best to dissuade you from coming to the ER. 

With worries such as, “It’s not safe, patients can be erratic” 

“The stress of the ER isn’t good for you”

And everything like that…

Unfortunately for her, you were as strong headed as she was. Waving off her concerns always with the same response. 

Whilst you’d gently squeeze her hand, “Mama,”  looking her in the eyes, “I like coming in here, I like coming to see you, and besides–I’ve got plenty of baked goods and you all deserve a little sweetness too” 

However both your Mama and Brendon had managed to convince you to take it easy at work. To reduce your hours and hand over more responsibilities to your employees. 

Telling you to take it easy. 

To rest and stay off your feet a little more. 

And whilst at the start you had complained…you were starting to see their point once you began to get winded more easily, feet growing sore, back aching. 

Especially noticing that your bladder was growing weaker as your babies pressed upon it with each little shift. 

Leading to times like these. 

Dropping the box of cookies at the hub with a quick hello, before rushing past your Mama to the bathroom. 

And then. 

The elevator doors open. 

Brendon Park steps out, with his bag slung over his shoulder. Icy blue eyes scanning the room, noting the familiar box of cookies at the hub. 

He strides over to Dana, with a small raised brow. As interns and students alike duck their heads to avoid eye contact. 

Question on the tip of his tongue. 

“The babies decided the bathroom was where they wanted to go,” she explained. 

He nods his head in understanding, “And how are you today?” 

Dana nods with a smile, “Not bad”

Their conversation cuts short as Trinity waltzes up to the hub alongside Dennis, as she plucks a cookie, sending Dana a look before glancing at Brendon. 

“Didn’t know we needed an ortho consult?”

Dennis’ eyes widen in panic trying to avert himself from Brendon’s eyeline. 

Whilst those around hold their breaths. 

Waiting for the bite back. 

For the sharp retort. 

But it never comes. 

Brendon simply arches a brow. His eyes flicker down to meet Dana’s who meets his, before she looks back at Trinity. 

And then. 

Dana huffs out a laugh. 

Stunning those around them – well those of them who didn’t know the relation between the two. 

“If you’re not here for a consult, then why are you here?” Trinity probes further. The cookie in her hand, now half eaten. 

Grinning widely, Dana wraps an arm around Brendon with a small pat on his back, whilst his arm slings across her shoulders. 

She answers, with a slight sense of pride, “He happens to be my son-in-law” 

Shock enveloping everyone around them. Whilst those who knew stifled a laugh at the sheer surprise flooding everyone’s features. Robby and Jack bite back a grin as he sees his colleagues freeze from the information. 

Princess lets out a giggle whispering with Perlah, who hands her a $10 note with a small sigh. 

Trinity almost chokes on the cookie in her mouth. 

Victoria’s mouth agape. 

Samira’s mind racing. 

Dennis blinked in shock. 

Cassie lets a smile stretch across her face with a small nod as she takes in the news. 

Mel and Frank share a look of disbelief. 

Until all they can simply do is watch as you walk over from the bathroom. 

Seeing how your eyes light up at the sight of Brendon, shuffling over to him, with a soft smile – your gaze only focused on him. Not noticing the stunned expressions of those around you. 

Simply delighted to see your husband’s handsome face. 

Dana lets her arm fall from Brendon who walks to meet you halfway. You’re arms wrapping around him, “Hey love.”

He leans down to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, a soft smile creeping onto his face. 

An expression so unfamiliar to those around him. 

They had to pinch themselves to believe it was even happening. 

“Hey Angel,” he murmured with such tenderness. 

Sighing you relish in his company, so comforting and soothing, “How’s your day?” 

“Better, now that you’re here – what about you?” he replies, sincerity drenching his words, his hands drifting to caress your cheek, before settling onto your stomach, “Hope you both have been good to your mom.”

You shrug, lightly with a small laugh, hands shifting to settle on his as they’re warm against your stomach. 

“I’ve been good and they’ve been good, making sure I keep my steps up though, constantly making me need the bathroom today,” you reply cheekily, before you notice everyone coming to a stand still around you. 

The silence broke as Ellis nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, “I knew it,” she remarked to Trinity. 

The crowd of med students and interns all share their own thoughts, whilst Ahmad divides out the money from the bets placed pertaining to who your husband could have been. 

Both you and Brendon sigh as you watch it all unfold. 

You grin up at him, patting him on the arm, “I better go talk with them about this”

“You didn’t mention I was your husband?”

You shoot him a look, retorting with a teasing lilt to your voice, “It’s not like you said I was your wife” 

He tuts at your words, folding his arms over his chest, “Everyone in my OR knows I’m happily married to you”

You lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back. With a wink, “Good luck, living this one down” 

He sends you the slightest of smiles, the expression reserved only for you, while you leave his grasp. 

Brendon is pulled into talking with Robby, and Dana, while Jack pats him on the back. All of them watching the others flock to you.  

And in a moment you are swarmed by all those who were surprised by this revelation as they ask you any and all questions that come to mind. 

How?

Why?

When?

All wanting to know, just how you managed to make Shark become as soft and sweet as a shortbread cookie. And even more so, how Park had managed to gain Dana’s approval.  

In the midst of talking with Samira and Trinity, your breath hitches slightly, “Oof–”

Samira’s eyes furrow in concern, sharing a look with Trinity, “Are you okay?” 

“Hm? – Oh, yeah. I’ve just been having these pains for a little bit – but I had them before and they weren’t anyth–oof” you hunch over just a little, hands settling to rest on your lower back, breathing deeply. 

“Hey can you get Dana or Park here?” Samira asks Trinity, who nods. 

You wave them off, “I’m fine”

Samira ducks slightly, hands resting on the sides of your arms to support you, “I’d rather not take the risk – especially considering you’re related to Dana and Park”

She observes you, slipping into habit as she asks, “How long did you say you were feeling like this?” 

“Over the last hour or so, but I’m sure they’re just braxton hicks or whatever–” You explain. Not overly concerned. 

“You really don’t think you’re going into labour?” 

You think over her words. Over how you’ve been feeling, the discomfort and pain. How you had simply chalked it up to just being pregnant. 

“I mean–now that you mention it–”

“Hey Baby, what’s going on?” Dana steps beside you, joined by Trinity. While Brendon joins your other side. 

“Oh–hey Mama, Brendon, uh–everyone seems to think I’m going into labour,” you say with an airy laugh. 

Both of their eyes look at you in concern. 

Dana glances up, a questioning look entering her eyes as she looks to Samira and Trinity. Who both nod in agreement. 

“Ok, well lets get you up to the labour ward and we can get you sorted,” Dana’s hand soothingly rubs across your back. 

“Do you think you can walk, or would you like a wheelchair?” Brendon asks. Ready to step into action. 

About to argue, insist that you could walk, you stop yourself short as another wave of pain enters your abdomen with a sharp breath. 

Hand gripping your Mama’s. 

“I think I’ll take that wheelchair”

He nods and moves quickly to grab one, before settling you down. 

Feet moving quickly, steadily as he pushes you towards the lift. 

Everyone calling out their good lucks and words of support as you leave. 

While Dana walks quickly beside you both, grabbing at her bag as she passes by, nodding towards Lena, “Sorry I can’t help more with the hand offs–” 

Lena gives Dana’s hand a gentle squeeze, shaking her head, “Don’t even start. You just make sure your Babygirl’s ok when she has her babies”

Dana nods gratefully, before disappearing into the lift alongside you and Brendon, her hand slipping to hold yours. 

Looking up at them both. 

You smiled, a slight mist entering your eyes. Grateful for their support. For their love. Breathing deeply. 

Calm. 

Assured. 

That your babies were coming into a family so full of love. 

A loving father. Brendon’s hand resting on your shoulder, so soft and tender. Looking at you with complete adoration and affection. 

A doting grandma, Dana, who had quickly called Benji, asking for him to pick up your pre-prepared baby bag back at your home.

While she informed your sisters of the recent development. Who were more than ready to be adoring aunts for your soon to be born twins. 

It made your heart swell at the thought. 

You couldn’t wait for the next chapter of your life. 

After a long night. 

Soon, your struggles came to an end, as you were handed over your beautiful babies wrapped up in cotton blankets. 

Tears welling up in your eyes, forehead sticky from the long labour. 

Smiling widely, while Brendon kissed your head firmly, his own eyes growing misty. Heart melting at the very sight of your babies. 

“I love you so much,” he told you. 

Within his grasp he held his entire world. Your two precious little twins, Finnick and Rosie. With bright wide eyes peering at you both with intense curiosity, fingers curling around yours. 

Whilst you beamed down at them, leaning against Brendon. Whose eyes lifted to meet Dana’s, gesturing for her to come over. 

“Would you like to hold one of them?” he asked. 

A smile stretches across her face, her eyes glittering as she looks upon the scene before her. 

What more could she ask for? She had a son in law who ensured her daughter’s comfort–who ensured that you felt loved every moment of every day. And two little baby grandkids to fill her days with joy…

Nodding, her arms stretched out while Brendon carefully placed Finnick in her arms. She coos softly at the little baby. 

Hours pass, as you all simply relish in the peace. 

The news filters its way down to the ER. 

And from the moment the news broke. 

Every so often, you would have a new guest knock upon the door. 

Friendly faces stopping by. 

To they discover, you with Brendon never far from your side, close and cosy, and the two little bundles of joys. 

Jack and Ellis made an appearance when the ER had succumbed to a rare moment of relative peace. 

Until soon the dayshifters began to filter in. 

Dropping off little snacks and some food for you, brought to you by Samira and Victoria, helped by Lena who told them all of your favourites. 

Trinity and Dennis had stopped by a stack of gifts neatly wrapped in their arms, from blankets, to two little plush stuffed sharks. 

Robby had briefly checked in, sharing his own congrats with you both. 

And of course, most of the nursing staff had taken the time to check in with you all. Princess and Perlah crooning over your two little sweethearts. 

And each time whenever someone would stop by. 

One of the first questions they would ask was. 

What are their names?

And each time you’d be asked that question. You’d share a glance with Brendon, a tender softness. 

Finnick Park.

This one. 

This one took a little arm twisting for Brendon to agree, catching onto your little joke immediately, as you were barely able to conceal your growing grin when suggesting it. 

But with a little effort, with a few sweet kisses you had managed to get him to agree. 

The nail on the head was just after you had given birth to them - there was no way he could say no to you.

But the next name. 

Rosemary ‘Rosie’ Park. 

That name took no effort at all to convince him. 

In fact as soon as the name left your lips he had fallen in love with the idea.

A small way to preserve the memory of the very first time you had met each other…

Years ago. 

Back when Brendon had only started out at PTMC. Had only just started his journey there. Already growing a reputation. A cold demeanour. 

But he had cracked this day. 

A slight fracture in his otherwise pristine facade…

A tough day that still had hours left. 

He had managed to slip out, for a bit of fresh air he had convinced himself that this was all it was – a bit of fresh air…

But as he walked down the street. 

He had come across the quaintest little bakery – a cafe. Friendly and welcoming, with butter yellow awnings. And a bright blue door. 

Sugar & Spice. 

The words neatly printed upon the glass pane. 

And for whatever reason. He had stepped in. The faint doorbell ringing out. Whilst he was enveloped in the fragrant warming aromas of all the baked goods, rounded off with the notes of coffee in the air.

A few people sat dotted around the space. 

Not quite flooded by people. 

Judging by the space it seemed to be relatively new. Perhaps only having been opened for less than a few months. 

This place was your dream come true…served with a side of stress. A small team of four, including you, worked to maintain the demand. 

Mind racing with a multide of things whilst you worked. 

But your gaze came to a halt. 

Stopping upon the lonely figure of a man sat by the window…

Unable to choose from the array of baked goods, Brendon had simply ordered a black coffee. 

Simple.

Just wanting something simple. 

But you had other plans. 

A small frown twisting at your lips while you watch him. 

How his dark brows furrowed. Lips pulled taut. 

Crystal blue eyes, now clouded over. 

Murky.

With that very same look you had seen a hundred times before on your own Mama’s…

How his shoulders’ slumped as though carrying the weight of the world. The brunt of the day.

Just like your Mama did. 

It was how you had known he worked in the medical field. 

…well that and the fact he still had his scrubs on barely hidden beneath his jacket. 

Now while better judgement might have told you it was a bad idea to give out free food so early on into opening your business.

Your bleeding heart had won out in the end.

The gentle clink of the ceramic plate broke Brendon from his daze.

Icy blue eyes met yours. 

Making your breath catch for just a moment.

Before regaining composure whilst you slide the plate closer to him.

A plate of rosemary shortbreads.

Fresh from the oven. 

A crisp and perfectly buttery crumble texture, with the salted edge from the rosemary, lifted by a citrusy twist from a touch of grapefruit. 

You watch as his eyes knit together in confusion, voice low, as though a gentle hum, “I didn’t order—“

“You’re not allergic to anything are you?” You had asked, tilting your head looking at him expectantly.

Only for him to shake his head. 

There was something about you. That had made his words lodge in the back of his throat. 

Nodding in satisfaction you added, “Good. Try these and tell me what you think of them before you leave.”

“But–“ he goes to argue. To counteract. Unsure what had warranted him this act of kindness.

“On the house,” You had flashed him a smile, before walking away. 

His eyes trailing after you. 

Gently lifting the unique shortbread to his mouth. 

Letting it simply overtake his senses as it melted onto his tongue.

Soothed by just a single bite. 

Catching your eye as he smiles your way in thanks.

Who knew. 

That that was all it would take to make him besotted with you. 

Leading you both to this moment now.

Your twins now fast asleep in their little bassinets. 

Whilst Brendon’s arms wrapped around you. So warm and steady. 

The rise and fall of his chest helping ease any worries.

Even when life would throw you troubles. Even if there would be disagreements or problems.

Those would always fade away. Would always be worked through. 

Embraced by his unwavering love and affection for you. 

Brendon was unconditionally in love with you.

Just as you were with him. 

Now this…

This was sugar and spice, and everything nice.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story ♥️ I can just imagine that when Brendon first met Dana as your boyfriend he was a nervous wreck. This was absolutely so sweet to write and explore!! I had a lot of fun developing these dynamics. (My heart is such a sucker for softy Brendon behind his steely facade) Also check out this recipe for rosemary shortbreads (they are delicious) Let me know what you thought ✨ Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

You don’t jump. Don’t even look surprised. You just glance at him, calm.

“I started the kinship process.”

His jaw tightens. “You didn’t think we should talk about that?”

You straighten slightly, finally turning to face him properly. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, his voice sharper now.

“It means this isn’t a decision I need your permission for,” you reply, steady, unwavering. “I saw a child who doesn’t have anyone and I decided to be that someone.”

“And I’m what?” he shoots back. “Just not part of that equation?”

You shake your head. “That depends on you.”

“You’re making a massive decision,” he says. “One that affects both of us here, sweetheart.”

“I’m making a decision about my life,” you correct. “If you want to be part of that, that’s your choice. But I’m not waiting around to see if you’ll step up.”

His chest tightens. “You think I wouldn’t?”

“I think you don’t like things you can’t control,” you say simply. “And this? This is not something you get to manage or fix or compartmentalise.”

“If you don’t agree with it,” you add, softer now but no less firm, “then maybe we aren’t supposed to be together.”

That does it.

He lets out a short, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t just drop something like this on me.”

“I didn’t drop anything,” you reply. “I made a choice Michael.”

“And didn’t think I should be part of it?”

“I didn’t think you would understand it.”

He looks at you, really looks, then nods once, tight. “Right.” And he walks out.

The rest of the shift feels wrong. You pass each other without stopping. Conversations that should happen don’t. Looks that usually linger, don’t. There is too much space between you.

By the time the shift ends, you are exhausted that has nothing to do with work.

You check on the baby one last time before you leave. She is settled, sleeping. You turn the lights down and close the door quietly.

You’re heading out of the locker room to get to the parking garage when you hear it.

Crying.

You head back down, opening the door and stop short.

Robby is inside.

The lights are dim now, soft. He is standing near the cot, holding her carefully.

He is swaying slightly, instinctively, one hand supporting her head, the other resting gently along her back. He is singing, quiet and low, something soft and a little off-key.

The baby is calming in his arms, her crying easing into small, sleepy sounds.

You don’t interrupt. You just watch. this is the first time you have seen him like this, unfiltered, no walls, no control, just him.

“You’ve got a strong set of lungs,” he murmurs after a second.

You step further into the room. He notices you then.

He looks down at the baby, then back at you. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

Silence settles.

Then he looks back at her. “I was thinking,” he says quietly, his voice different now, “about what you said.”

“My mom left,” he adds, like he hasn’t said it out loud in a long time. “Just walked away. No explanation. No warning.”

Your chest tightens.

“I remember thinking I wasn’t enough,” he continues, his grip on the baby tightening slightly. “That if I had been better, she would have stayed.”

“She doesn’t get that,” he says, glancing down at the baby. “She doesn’t get to sit there and wonder why no one wanted her. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Your eyes sting.

He exhales slowly. “I was pissed,” he admits, finally looking at you. “Not because you were wrong. Because you didn’t need me to do it.”

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “So, do you still feel the same?”

He looks down at the baby again, at how settled she is against him, at how natural it looks, how right it looks.

Then back at you.

“No,” he says simply.

Your breath catches. “No?”

“No,” he repeats, a small smile pulling at his lips for the first time all day. “I don’t.”

“I’m in,” he adds. “If you’ll have me.”

Your chest tightens.

“You don’t get to half-do this,” you say quietly. “This is all or nothing.”

“I know,” he replies.

“And?”

He adjusts the baby slightly, more secure now, “I’m all in.”

You step closer, your hand brushing lightly over the baby’s blanket, then his.

“Okay,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss him softly. “We make a damn cute family.”

You half attributed your cold to the kids you worked with — a sickness was always being passed in the hallways, especially during this time of year when the air began to cool. You had been able to bear the brunt of the week still going into work, convincing yourself it was only allergies and then only a cold. There was a relief in the weekend, knowing you likely only needed to rest — running low on sleep and stress could do crazy things to the body.

You had moved in with your boyfriend, Michael Robinavitch, before the school year had started, and you were thrilled to call the combined space home. You were less than thrilled that not even three months into it and he was already taking care of you. It was sweet, of course, but he spent all day taking care of just about everyone else. He didn’t need to come home and do it again. You appreciated it, and loved how he took care of you on any normal day, you just felt guilty because you were ill. Though, he didn’t even flinch, bringing you tea or meds or soup from your favorite deli.

When he came home to find you still curled up on the couch, something shifted in his eyes, edging closer to worry.

Michael sat at the edge of the couch to feel your forehead, his own creased in concern. “You should be getting better by now.”

You waved him off, eyes flickering from the tv to his face. “Flu’s been going around. Likely just that.”

His frown deepened, “What’re your symptoms?”

You wanted to roll your eyes, “I’m not a patient, I just caught something at school.”

His quirked eyebrow left no room for argument.

You heaved a sigh and winced, “I’m just tired, my head hurts and my muscles ache because of the fever.”

“If you’re not improving by Monday, I’d like for you to—”

“I’m not going to the ER.” You said, eyes heavy with fatigue. “I’ll wait forever and I’d rather just lay here. I’ll schedule something with my PCP on Monday.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t get you seen right away.”

“I’m sure fluids would do wonders, but perhaps just some tea?” You had no energy to go back and forth with him about it.

He relented and moved into the kitchen to do just that. You were asleep by the time he came back with it.

—

You woke up in bed feeling worse. Despite not eating anything, your stomach rolled uneasily, your room feeling like it was spinning. Your head felt like it was in a vice, tension pulling your skull together like it would squish your brain. That wasn’t even getting into the spreading pain you were feeling.

Part of you wanted to roll over and wake up Michael, but you felt guilty for even thinking about it. His first day off in nearly a week and he was likely going to spend it taking care of you. The least you could do was let him sleep soundly.

Through sheer will, you made it into the adjoining master bathroom, moving to sit on the cold tile. Your body was hot, but chills wracked your body, and you winced whenever you moved your head to turn, muscles in your neck pulled taut.

Nothing came up, but you had zero energy now to move, leaned up against the wall. You regretted not waking Michael up. Your stomach gave another lurch — there was nothing in it but bile.

Through your haze of fatigue, you were unsure if hours or minutes had passed while you sat there. Your mind felt completely foggy, too concentrated on the pain in your head or the aches in your bones.

“Hey, hey,” a voice called, the sound making you wince, “How long have you been in here? What’s wrong?”

You blinked your eyes, but found it difficult to focus on the face now level with yours. Michael’s eyes were easy enough to recognize, but your mind kept switching through topics and forgetting he was there.

“I’m okay,” you breathed out, closing your eyes. “I just wanna get back in bed.”

There was a tense silence.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.”

You whined, “In the morning? Please. I just want to sleep.”

His hands met your face, and there was relief in how cool they felt against your clammy skin. He was gentle, but firm, quietly assessing you.

He spoke your name, making you hum, but your attention wavered.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart. Hey.” There was an urgency in his tone that you had not heard before.

You opened your eyes and blinked at him, vision only mildly clearing so you could see the worry etched into his eyes. His brow lines were prominent, as were the crinkles around his eyes — his face pinched together.

“Just…flu…let me sleep.” You said, words heavy and slurred.

—

Michael had never felt fear like that, watching you come in and out of consciousness on the bathroom floor. He knew it had not been the flu, it had been too long without any improvement in symptoms. Instead, they only got worse. Why had he let you convince him to not take you in right away?

He grunted when he scooped you up, hurrying to get you into his car. He knew an ambulance would take too long when he could just take you himself. Your pulse was strong, albeit just a touch fast, and your breathing was steady. He was confident you would be fine until you made it to the ED, but he was wracking his brain over what the hell you had.

The drive to the Pitt felt like it took eternity, catching every light despite the late hour. He barely had even looked at the time after finding you missing from bed. Worry constricted his heart.

He burst through the doors of the ED like a bat out of hell, looking around and hoping to spot Abbot, or someone with a gurney.

“Robby?” The night shift charge nurse asked, bewildered.

That seemed to catch Abbot’s attention, moving from one of the rooms and toward the charge desk. He took in the sight of you in Michael’s arms. He turned and called for nurses, while he quickly went to Michael.

“What’s wrong?”

“High fever, fatigue, joint aches, slurred speech. Uh, fuck, I think she was nauseous before she passed out.” Michael was panting now, more-so from the anxiety crawling through his chest rather than the fact he was still carrying you.

Abbot waved over the gurney and Michael set her down on it, fear bleeding from his heart.

“Pupils reactive. Responds to pain.”

It was a mess of tests after that, each one blurring into the next, but you stayed unconscious. You would come to long enough to respond to pain or Michael’s desperate pleas, but you looked exhausted whenever you did.

Michael stayed diligently by your side, except the moments he would slip away to confer with Abbot about any new information, or tests he thought might be useful.

Fluids did do wonders for making you feel better, hardly having an appetite throughout the week, though when you came to, you still felt sluggish. Michael’s relieved face, however, would stick in your mind for a long time.

“You scared the shit outta me.” He said, hand curling around yours, squeezing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really think it was serious.” You said, blinking your eyes slowly, eyelids still heavy.

“I really should have brought you in when I thought something wasn’t right.”

“Do they know what I have yet?”

He shook his head, “Blood tests should be back shortly.”

You pursed your lips, annoyed, “What’s the consensus?”

“That I should probably listen to my gut more often, and not my stubborn girlfriend.”

“You really need to work on your bedside manner.” You scoffed with a grin. “I’m giving you a three.”

“A three? I think I deserve at least a seven.”

“On what grounds?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I brought you into the hospital? Was your knight in shining armor?”

You giggled, “I can be persuaded to give you a five if you get me something to drink.”

He smiled softly, “Consider it done.”

—

After going over your symptoms with Michael, more in detail this time, he slipped out of the room to talk to Dr. Abbot. When he returned, he had a handful of negative tests and a possible answer.

“Lyme’s Disease? Really?” You questioned, eyebrow raised. “I never got a rash.”

Michael shrugged, “They’re confirming it with a blood test now, but 1 in 3 don’t present with a rash.”

You thought back to the hike you and Michael had taken before the school year started. You had always been safe, long pants tucked into tall socks whenever you went off trail, but you had no memory of being bitten or being itchy. You had done a tick check before you got into Michael’s truck and showered when you got back home.

“Well, that’s irritating.” You frowned, “Will I be okay?”

Michael nodded, his face finally having relaxed, “After a course of antibiotics, you should be fine.”

You heaved a long sigh, but relief flushed through you. “Thank you for bringing me in, I’m sorry I scared you.”

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You smiled, pulling him down for another. “Your score just went up to an eight.”

He laughed.

All Robby Content Taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys

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This became a lot more dramatic than I intended lol sorry if it’s not exactly what you wanted, anon!