EMM

You didn't understand how you'd been able to score Jack Abbot.

Somehow, the universe decided that you'd be his match, the one he chose to go home to at the end of a bad shift, the one who'd been able to give him the most comfort during his darkest days. You knew what you'd be getting into: the PTSD, the depression, shifts where he felt more like your boss than your partner. But you believed you could get through it; Jack was older, and you liked to think you were mature enough to handle anything thrown your way.

For almost a year, your relationship bloomed in stolen glances across the Pitt, hidden moments in supply closets, and late-night baths spent at his house trying to bury yourself next to his heart. Jack was it for you, and you let yourself dream about a future, ring on your finger, possible children running around the house you shared. The two of you rarely fought, often choosing to apologize for anything under the sun before arguments grew too large for your feelings.

Never once did Jack make you feel inadequate, even if you had voiced early on that you truly didn't understand why he picked you. Compared to his gorgeous salt-and-pepper curls and freckled skin and large stature, you felt plain. Your hair was always pulled into a slick ponytail, makeup caused acne breakouts after 12-hour shifts, and what little time you had to yourself, you spent it at home, reading a book, instead of going out with friends and colleagues. People looked at you without so much as a second glance. Jack, on the other hand, made heads turn and nurses blush if they somehow caught his attention long enough for him to send a look their way. You couldn't remember the last time you went through a shift where a female (or sometimes male) patient failed to make a comment about the sexy, silver fox doctor.

You never made it more than it was: harmless flirting from people Jack would never think about again once they got discharged.

After, you and he had gone through the HR meetings, the contract signings, and the swearing that your relationship wouldn't get in the way of saving lives or have Jack start playing favorites. To further this, around the 9-month mark of being Jack's, they plucked you from the safety of the nightshift and dropped you right into Robby's hands. But this was how it was going to be from now on; there was no point in arguing as long as you got to keep Jack.

For three months, you persevered. Finding a groove with an already well-oiled shift proved to be harder than it looked. People talked. Nurses gossiped. Doctors speculated. You, through it all, kept your chin high. Their words didn't get to dictate your relationship. During handoffs, Jack still swept you into his arms and kissed you like a man coming back from war. He still told you that dinner was in the fridge once you got home and napped. He still continued to send updates during his shift, text messages from the separate night-shift group chat made after your departure chiming loudly while you ate. And most important of all, he still loved you.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the three times you felt the most unloved. I care, I care, I care, like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin', hidden in plain sight, ooh, I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life, I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear "Hey, Dana," you called out while swimming through the chaos only brought on by a 4th of July shift.

At her name, Dana looked up over the thin frames of her glasses, pausing momentarily to look your way before going back to her board. "Please don't tell me that the 36 hot dog guy is back."

You shook your head, hands coming to rest on top of the vinyl counter. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Thank heavens. What can I do for ya, hun?"

Leaning in, you did a quick glance around the department. "I heard Jack was here early?"

Her eyebrows almost rose to her hairline. "Yeah; he came in with one of his SWAT buddies. GSW to the man's neck, but it looks like he's going to be okay." She reached over and grabbed a tablet. "Actually, can you find Jack for me? He wanted an update ASAP."

Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously before you took the tablet from her. "I was just about to ask if you'd seen him."

Dana glanced over your shoulder and stuck out her chin in the same direction. "Saw him duck into Room 15. Might be taking a breather; Lord knows he needs one after that raid." She gave you a knowing look, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe you're exactly what he needs."

A rush of heat flooded your face, eyes darting away from hers. "I'll see if I can find him."

You turned away before she could say anything more, hands desperately holding the tablet to your chest. Your shoes squeaked against the tile floor, steps bringing you closer to the room Jack was supposedly in. Once at the door, you raised a hand to draw the curtain away, but the sound of voices—plural—had you stopping. Saliva pooled between your teeth as you listened closely.

"—is the hospital going to pay for it?"

There was a pause before Jack clearly grumbled, "I'll pay for it."

You slowly moved to the side next to the wall where the curtain didn't completely cut the room off. Through the slot, your eyes widened at the sight of a Jack, shirt off, pale chest, wound-care swab twirling in his fingers with Samira sitting in one of the chairs. In the next beat, she stood and walked right past the curtain slot, completely oblivious that you were right behind it. She stopped near the wall and grabbed a pair of gloves before snapping them on.

His brows furrowed. "What are you doing?"

She smiled before rounding to stand behind him. "What you clearly can't."

Begrudgingly, he handed over the swab.

"Did you make a chart?" she asked while dipping the cotton end into a wound cream.

Jack crossed his arms, and his shoulders rolled and dipped. "No. This can stay off the books. Don't need the paperwork from the hospital or police department."

Samira paused. "Would you rather me go get Dr. [Name]? I'm sure she could do this much better than I could."

"No," Jack responded, shaking his head. "She'd just panic about this. There's no need to throw her off her game."

Your stomach flipped. He thought you'd panic? Sure, you'd be worried, but it wasn't like you hadn't seem him hurt before. Whatever wound he had on his back wouldn't be the worst thing he'd come home with after a SWAT shift.

"Isn't she your girlfriend?" She began dabbing at his back, the swab coming back bloodied.

"Yeah, but it's different with you. I don't have to worry about you taking your time or being indifferent about this." He winced at a deeper brush into the graze. "She's not like you, Dr. Mohan. She wears everything on her sleeve. Really, she could learn how to be more level headed like you, Dr. Mohan. I've seen the way you handle traumas. We wouldn't be so in the low if we had about 10 more of you."

He ended with a chuckle like what he just said didn't feel like a knives to your stomach.

Is that what he really thought about you? That you should be more like Samira and her ability to stay cool through anything thrown at her? With a blink, your eyes glossed over.

Jack turned his head, neck twisting to he could meet Samira's eyes. "You won't tell her about this, right? Our little secret?"

You didn't stay to hear what she said, choosing to turn around before you could watch any longer. It was incredible that you were able to stay for so long, submitting yourself to a new kind of torture. Walking back to the nurses station, your steps slowed as if molasses coated the floor, its stickiness clinging to your shoes.

At your oncoming presence, Dana looked over. "Did you find him, hun?"

You forced yourself to not look back at the closed curtain. "Yeah, but he's in the middle of something right now. I'll just catch up with him later."

The tablet gave a small thud as you placed it back into the holder, and you desperately tried to find another patient to busy yourself with, specifically one furthest from Room 15. However, before you could grab one, a hand wrapped around your elbow and tugged.

"Hey, I need you for the incoming trauma," Langdon said as he dragged you with him. "Twenty-year-old female, unconscious for an unknown matter of time."

You nodded silently, allowing him to keep walking you like a dog on a leash until he stopped in front of the ambulance bay sliding doors. Your lungs expanded in a deep, wavering breath.

Now was not the time to panic. You could do this. You could be like Samira. You could show Jack that you could handle a trauma.

During your internal pep talk, the doors slid open, giving way for the gurney and two paramedics.

"BP is 140-over-92 and climbing. No relevant medical history. She woke up once on the way over and vomited before passing out again."

You quickly followed Langdon into the first trauma room and helped transfer her over onto the bed. Immediately, numbers started being shouted while you started your initial exam.

When nothing seemed to blare any red flags, Langdon started impatient as the woman kept deteriorating. Through it all, you willed your hands to stay steady, your mind calm while you mentally went through what could be the matter. You took a step forward, body positioning near her head so you could look at her pupils one more time, and that's when you smelled it: the acrid, fruity smell puffing out of her mouth as she struggled to breath.

You jerked back quickly. "Dr. Langdon, is there a history of diabetes or hyperglycemia? Her breath smells like rotting fruit."

Langdon looked over at you before leaning toward her face. He hissed a curse before barking for a blood sugar test. Your eyes widened when the screen flashed a 450 mg/dL.

"She's experiencing diabetic ketoacidosis," you breathed.

"Let's get her on an insulin drip, now," Langdon hissed, face pinched until he looked over at you with a softer expression. "Great job catching that and staying calm." He chuckled slightly. "Never seen you like this but keep it up."

You knew his words were meant to be encouraging, but all they did was send bile up your throat. Without saying anything more, you tore off the gloves and shoved them deep into a biohazard bin. You wanted to cry, wanted to find the nearest restroom and tug at your hair.

But that's not what Samira would do your mind provided; the thought ugly and green. She'd shrug it all off and keep working like nothing was the matter.

Your teeth ground together, shoulders squaring in tandem. If everyone would rather have you calm, you'd be calm. You'd tuck your heart away rather than show it to the patients who needed someone that wore it on their sleeve. You picked up another tablet at the nurses station and got back to work.

The rest of the fourth went by in a tornado. Systems went down after a cyberattack; fireworks boomed off in the distance; you stayed busy. Each of your patients were in and out at a lightning speed, and by the start of the night shift, you were ready to go home and cry your heart out into a pillow.

You'd seen Samira every so often in between patients and a small lunch break. Like always, she smiled at you and waved and chatted when she could, but her actions made you want to wither up like a dead flower. You couldn't help but stare at her, thinking that you should be more like the woman in front of you, mind comparing your features to hers at a rapid speed you couldn't stop. She somehow looked like an angel in the middle of a place jokingly nicknamed one of the seven layers of hell, skin clear and hair somehow perfectly put in a bun. You tried your best to match her enthusiasm, but the poison had already been drank.

On the contrary, the only time you really saw Jack was at the start of handoffs. He had helped with one trauma before going to the on-call room for a needed nap, and you hadn't wanted to talk to him then, scared of how he'd act around you.

"There you are, sweetheart," you heard him say as you finished up converting with Lena about the man in Room 5. "I've been looking for you. Thought you might have left without saying goodbye."

You winced slightly. "No; I've just been busy."

Jack hummed and smiled warmly at you, but the expression was tainted by his words earlier. "I heard. Langdon's been nothing but praising you for earlier. I'm proud of you."

"Sure you are," you muttered too lowly for him to catch. Your lips thinly stretched into a smile that didn't meet your tired eyes. "Thank you, Jack," you settled on instead.

His hazel eyes scanned over your face, and his smile slightly dropped. "Are you okay, though? You look a little down."

"I'm fine," you shot out. "Today's just been long, and I'm ready to get home."

Jack nodded. "I left food in the fridge for you, so make sure you eat it after you sleep for a bit."

"Got it."

He looked at you expectantly before rolling his eyes. "Come here."

Like it had been etched into your DNA, you listened and fell into his open arms, face tucking into his chest. He squeezed you tightly before placing a kiss to your temple.

"Proud of you," he said. "You do such a good job. We need so many doctors like you, my perfect girl."

Perfect felt like a twist of the knife, because if you were so perfect, why had he told Samira that he wished you were more like her? I feel your compliments like bullets on skin. Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate, well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? As the weeks went on, Jack's words never left your soul, the damage irreparable in everything that you did.

Second guessing yourself had been a struggle you'd dealt with since an earlier age. Normally, Jack would be able to quiet all those thoughts; he had chosen you; he loved you. But now, as you second guessed everything you did, you also second guessed everything Jack said. You picked apart every encouragement, every compliment, every sweet promise he whispered in your ear.

What he said now couldn't be taken at face value, and you wondered if that feeling would ever go away. You'd asked him about the bullet graze a few days after the 4th, acting completely oblivious to what you knew. Like you thought, Jack assured you that he got it handled and for you to not worry about it, like that did anything to settle the rolling feelings in your stomach.

You tried your best to move on, knowing you'd only bring yourself down more if you dwelled too long about really how much Jack's words had affected you while he never said anything directly to your face. The idea that he wanted you to be like someone else made your heart clench tightly to the point you often wanted to call off work, hoping that you could just wallow in self pity for hours and hours.

But the Pitt did not care for you like that; it demanded twelve hour shifts and grueling doubles. So every day, you rolled out of bed before Jack got home and pulled up your big girl pants.

You worked through it. You'd learned how to stay calm, how to not panic under duress, and it killed you to admit that you'd become a better doctor because of it. You hardly ever hiccuped during a trauma, gaining compliments from the surgeons and Robby for your techniques that were close to flawless. For the smallest second, you would preen under their words before the ugly, repulsive reminder that they might not be real swallowed you down in a nasty gulp.

"Dr. [Name] follow me please," Robby called as he brushed past the nurses station where you were currently typing away at a chart, hands clutching a chart out in front of him to read. "Quickly."

You pushed up from the desk, chair rolling far behind you from the force of your legs. Not wanting to lose him, you rounded the counter and jumped into his long stride.

"Yes, Dr. Robby?" you asked.

As far as you knew, there weren't any incoming traumas and it was too late in the day for him to have questions about your patients that were currently waiting for a room.

Robby paused in front of an empty trauma room. "Jack just let me know that he found a man in need of medical attention and is bringing him in before handoffs, and I thought you could help him out." He handed you the tablet, already ready to go with updated information.

You took a quick glance over this. "Um, Dr. Robby, it looks like he'll need a pericardiocentesis."

"It's good that you know exactly what he'll need. What's the issue?"

Your eyes looked from the screen to his brown eyes. "I've never done one before."

He simply smiled at you and patted your shoulder. "That's why Jack's going to lead you through it. I would stay, but since he's coming in early, I'm going to head out."

You tried to quirk a smile. "Got a hot date waiting for you?"

A low chuckle shook his shoulders. "You got jokes. My bike needs some repairs, and today's the only day I can get it into the shop. But I know you'll be just fine. Your improvement in traumas will only grow if you step out of your comfort zone."

The automatic sliding doors slid open, and Jack plus a nurse wheeled a man through on a gurney. Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of you, but his brows pinched when he noticed Robby's bag slung over the taller man's shoulder.

"You leaving early, brother?" Jack questioned as he stepped past the two of you.

Robby's hand gently rested on your shoulder. "Yeah, but you two will have this handled."

You inhaled deeply, the weight of his hand and words pushing down on your chest.

Robby was counting on you. Don't fuck this up. Don't panic.

With the tablet tucked under your arm, you walked into the trauma room before pulling on a pair of gloves. Jack had already cut through the man's shirt.

"I need two 18-gage needles, one 9cm and one 15cm, a guidewire, dilator, and 8Fr pigtail catheter." He looked up toward Jesse. "Let's give him 10ml lignocaine 1%."

You quickly gather what he needed and placed him on the dressing that covered the side tray.

"Okay, Dr. [Name]," Jack said, lips twitching upwards at using your official name, "I need you to place an ECG electrode on the pericardiocentesis needle with a crocodile clip and insert. Once the tip touches the myocardium, the trace should show immediate ST elevation. Once that comes up, insert the wire to aspirate the fluid."

His words tumbled through your mind much too fast to the point that you wondered if he didn't know you'd never done this before. You pursed your lips as you tried to remember everything. In the grand scheme of things, your training provided everything that needed to be done.

Yet, there was a big difference between studying and actually doing the procedure.

You kept your breath steady as you readied the needle, clamping on a clip before turning the pointed end toward the man's chest. The first part went smoothly, and the needle went right through. However, instead of the consistent beeping that should have followed if the needle was in properly, an onslaught of alarms sounded through your ears.

You had missed something.

Jack whipped his head toward you and sneered. "You went too deep. I told you that the needle needed to touch the myocardium not go all the way through. Give it here."

He didn't even wait for you to transfer the needle over, hands already grabbing at it. His head bent down so he could see what was happening. With a practiced ease, he maneuvered the needle exactly where it should have been.

"Fuck," he whispered, "Robby wouldn't have done that. I don't know why he handed this off to you if he knew the patient would need a pericardiocentesis for tamponade."

You thickly swallowed pooling saliva to clear your throat. "Sorry."

"Just—" He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. "I'll finish up here. You go home."

You jolted just a bit. Go home?

"Jack, I can still assist. You're going to need—"

"We have it covered. Catheter is in place, and you'd just be standing around. You're good."

Suddenly, a wave of anguish flowed through your body. It was happening again. Jack had just added fuel to the ever growing fire of jealousy and self-loathing. The feeling sized your chest, and you stepped back from the bed, shaky hands ripping off the nitrile gloves.

You couldn't help the stressed wheeze that pushed from your lungs.

Don't panic. Don't panic. He didn't mean it. He was just stressed. He didn't know that you'd never done that before.

Numbly, you walked back to the nurses station and sat back down in front of the computer, but your hands didn't raise to the keyboard. Your mind had already taken over, spewing rotten things about yourself that you could fix.

Be like Samira. Be like Robby. Jack won't keep wanting you if you aren't like them.

Your tongue ran across your dry lips in an attempt to wet them, but even your mouth had gone parched.

"Is charting really that bad?" you heard Dennis ask you as she sat down at a computer to your left. "You look like someone just told you they flushed your fish down the drain."

In a jerky motion, you turned towards him and did your best to compose yourself. "Oh no. I, uh, I didn't do well on a procedure with Dr. Abbot, and he asked me to leave."

Dennis at least had the decency to look sorry for you. "I bet you didn't do too bad. What was the procedure?"

"A pericardiocentesis," you said shyly.

He nodded slowly. " Shit, that's like one of the first things Robby let us do." He turned towards his own chart. "I could probably do them in my sleep by now."

Because he wasn't looking at you, Dennis missed the way your shoulders dropped and tears welled in your lash line. Jack's comment had been bad, but he just completely shattered any confidence you had left for the day.

"Right," you muttered. "Of course it'd be that easy if Robby taught you."

And you'd be right. On the night shift, patients like that rarely if not ever needed such a complex procedure. You could only think to one time that a woman came through almost needing one before they were able to use a different method to get her stable enough to be transferred to the OR.

With keys clacking loudly, you quickly finished up the chart before turning the whole thing off. You didn't even try to find Jack before you left, choosing to slip out before he even noticed you'd left without saying goodbye.

Once you were home, you stormed past the fridge and went straight to yours and Jack's shared room. Your scrubs hit the floor, and you didn't even bother to put on pajamas. The bed dipped under your weight as you pulled the duvet up over your body in a sad attempt at being comforted by its weight.

Sleep came quickly, only being interrupted by the door opening, a signal that Jack had gotten home. Blearily, you listened to him walk around the room before his edge of the bed sunk after he sat. The familiar hiss and pop of his prosthesis preceded him turning to lie down. You kept still as he scooted closer before wrapping an arm around your middle and molding your back to his chest.

"Sorry if I woke you up," he muttered sleepily. "Tried to find you before you left, but I guess I missed you. Wanted to say good job for that trauma. You helped so much."

You clamped your eyes shut, squeezing a fresh round of tears that dripped down your cheeks to puddle on your pillowcase.

After Samira, you had done your best to convince yourself it had been a slip of his tongue. But now after Robby, you weren't too sure that Jack would keep you around for much longer before finding someone better. Because there was no way you could ever amount to someone like Robby.

It was impossible. I care, I care, I care, like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots, you got the one thing that I want. Ooh, I try, I try, I try, try to rationalize people are people, but it's like you're made of angel dust. You were trying but failing to pretend Jack's words and comparisons hadn't left a giant, bleeding gap in your heart. Before everything happened, you never ever wondered if Jack loved you. Except now, you waited with bated breath for him to just drop the bucket and break up with you. You walked on eggshells around him.

Don't panic. Be put together. Keep your heart to yourself. Be calm like Samira. Don't fuck up. Know how to do your job. Be confident like Robby.

Those thought became your mantra and lifeline. No one seemed to think twice about your recent personality change. They loved the way they could count on you, the way you had an answer ready for everything. To the day and night shift, you were the epitome of composure. But behind closed doors, you were falling apart and into a pit you didn't think you'd be able to climb out of.

Jack didn't help with that either. You guessed he didn't even know what he had done to you, going on with his life like he hadn't given yours so many potholes that you couldn't continue on without falling behind. Everything you did was carefully thought out, every patient you talked to met a version of you that didn't reflect what you felt inside or outside.

You avoided mirrors the most, their reflections showing you exactly what you weren't. You weren't Samira with her lovely thick hair and clear skin. And you weren't Robby who carried years of trauma like it was apart of his body.

You were you, and you loathed it entirely.

You hated the glances you caught between Jack and Samira across the department. You hated the way they looked like they knew what the other was thinking before they spoke. You hated how you felt like on onlooker to a relationship that wasn't even happening.

You also hated the way Robby changed from a mentor to an idol. He had soon morphed into someone you wanted to so desperately be to the point you lost yourself in ambition.

And the worst part? You held nothing against them personally.

They didn't know what Jack had said. They didn't know that you were dying on the inside every time they raised you up during shifts. Bits of you crumbled away while they continued to glow.

Every morning you woke up, you wondered if the day would provide the straw that broke the camel's back with the way you felt like a stretched out rubber band waiting to fly.

A soft, savory aroma wafted through your kitchen. You absentmindedly stirred the spatula through the sauce, eyes glancing back and forth from the pan to the recipe. The instructions were written in beautiful, slanted cursive with curled letters that danced together. You'd found the card mixed in with a bunch of recipes Jack kept in his drawer. With a quick read told you that the owner of this one was his late wife, and the heart next to the title had you guessing if this was a favorite for the two of them.

Without thinking, you plucked it from the drawer and started working. After a week of back to back cases that ended in more loss than wins, a homemade meal was exactly what you and Jack needed after a day off. He was currently out getting his truck washed, and you wanted to be finished by the time he came home.

Quickly, the separate parts of the recipe—the chicken and veggies basting in the oven, the sauce on the stove top, and the wine chilling in the fridge—all came together right as Jack walked through the door.

"Hi, baby!" you called out as you pulled the pan from the oven. "Dinner's almost ready!"

You picked up on Jack's slightly clompy gate as he got farther into the house.

"Smells good," he said, walking over to stand behind you. "What did you make?"

Suddenly, you got nervous. What if it didn't taste correct? What if Jack didn't want you to make something so special between him and his wife. What if you ruined everything.

You didn't meet his eyes and poured the sauce over the top of the chicken. "Uh, a recipe from the drawer. It looked good, and we already had the ingredients."

He grabbed the card and held it up to his face, and you held your breath. When he didn't seem to get angry or sad, you counted it at a win.

"There's a bottle of white in the fridge if you want to get it out," you offered.

Jack stayed quiet. You didn't dare look even as the sound of a cork popping echoed in the room. While his immediate lack of response didn't cause concern to rise, your stomach still churned. To mirror him, you also didn't speak while you set the table.

He sat down, and so did you, your chairs facing the other like you'd done so many times in the past. Your heart pounded against your sternum as he took the first bite.

Loudly, he smacked his lips, setting his fork down at he chewed. The noise felt like nails on a chalkboard in the silence.

After a minute, he finally spoke. "Did you change anything in this?"

Your racing heart plummeted to your feet. "No. I kept it just like the card had it."

His brows furrowed. "Really? It tastes different than how I remembered it last."

You dug your nails into the fabric of the table running. "Does it not taste good?"

Jack looked up from his plate with wide, hazel eyes. "No, no, it's just different."

"But not good," you scoffed.

"I'm just trying to say that maybe you missed something. I know Alice's handwriting isn't the easiest to read."

"I know how to read cursive, Jack," you spat lowly. "I followed every single instruction on the card. It's the exact same recipe."

"It's not that big of a deal, sweetheart," he tried. "Maybe if you had a bit more practice like her, it might have come out the same. You're a good cook, don't get me wrong, but—"

Your hands slammed on the table in frustration, causing Jack's eyebrows to pinch as his words died in his mouth. He went to keep talking but stopped when he noticed the frustrated tears fall from your eyes.

"I'm done," you breathed, eyes darting around the room.

"Done?" Jack echoed. "What are you done with?"

"Everything," you hissed. "I'm done with this—" You gestured to the food with a wave of your hand. "I'm done with-with you. I'm done with it all."

You pushed up from the table and walked away, leaving Jack to scramble out of his chair and follow you.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?" he loudly asked, but you ignored him.

By the time he made it into the bedroom, you had already ripped out a suitcase from the closet and were pushing clothes into it without making them neat.

"Hey," Jack said gently. "Look, I'm sorry for saying that. I didn't think it'd upset you this much, but you don't have to leave."

You paused in a mid-throw of your shirts and spun to face him. A disbelieving laugh bubbled wetly through your throat. "That's the problem," you muttered, "you don't think."

He crossed his arms, biceps resting against his chest. A need to defend himself bloomed in his stomach. "What's that supposed to fucking mean."

You threw your arms up with an exasperated scoff. "Oh, so now you're concerned for what I'm saying. Maybe you should be concerned more with your words." You sucked in a deep breath. "Just go on and say it."

Jack took a step forward. "Say what?"

"That you'd rather me be someone else!" you screamed. "That-that I'm not enough by myself for you anymore." Pants heaved in your chest. "I'm sick and tired of standing here stuck listening to you compare me and wish that I'd be like or act like someone else."

Your words stole the breath from Jack's lungs as confusion and dread washed over him. "What?"

You closed your eyes and dropped your shoulders. "I heard you; I keep hearing you."

In another step forward, Jack was within two feet of you. He swallowed thickly, but you beat him to more words.

"On the fourth," you began to explain through tears, "I saw Samira patch you up, and I heard the way you told her that I could learn how to be more level headed like her."

A chill crept up Jack's spine. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't," you ordered. "Don't do that where you try to make it all better. I heard you loud and clear, Jack. And that's fine. I knew I could be more calm during traumas, so that's exactly what I did, but apparently—" You chocked out a laugh. "That wasn't enough for you."

He shook his head, hazel eyes swimming with guilt already.

"And I really thought that if I could be anything like Samira, your words wouldn't hurt as much. But then you had to go and tell me that you wished Robby had been there instead of me to do a pericardiocentesis." Your breath shuddered in the next exhale. "Did you even know that was the first time I'd ever been asked to do one? And instead of teaching at a teaching hospital, you threw me to the side saying Robby—the fucking chief attending—could have done the job. No fucking duh, Jack."

You threw a hand in the direction of the kitchen. "And now this? I thought that maybe I could be like Samira or study enough to be like Robby, but h-how am I supposed to compare to the woman who had your love first." You turned back toward the bed and haphazardly packed suitcase. "That's unfair to me. So, like I said, I'm done."

A pleading sound ripped from Jack's throat at the sound of your suitcase zipper closing.

"No, sweetheart, please. Let me fix this; tell me how to fix this," he begged.

"That's just it, Jack. I don't think this can be fixed. I've spent weeks with your words in my head wondering how I can be the perfect person for you. And I don't know if I can keep going on pretending."

Jack's body shook under a small sob as everything came crashing down. He absolutely had no clue what he had done to you, but thinking back, he understood that his careless words wracked irreparable damage to you and your personality.

"I'm sorry," he managed, voice breaking in a whisper.

"I know you are,' you responded, "and somehow that makes it hurt worse. Because while you were trying to compliment everyone else, you made me feel inadequate in every aspect of my life." Your fingers wrapped around the suitcase handle and tugged it off the bed. "I can't stay with someone who keeps hoping I'll be a conglomeration of all the best parts of others; that's not me. And I'll be honest, I don't even really know who me is anymore."

He inhaled sharply, eyes tearing from your face to look down at the floor. "So this is it? You're leaving?"

Another round of tears spilled down your cheeks as you choked on a sob of your own. "I don't want to, but I need to."

"But I love you," he croaked, eyes coming back up to meet yours.

"You love the best parts of me, Jack," you said, already moving to walk past him. "And that's never going to be enough to make me stay."

Your shoulder lightly brushed by his as you walked out of the room and all the way out the front door, leaving Jack behind in a house he realized he didn't want empty. You poison every little thing that I do, Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately, and I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you, yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you Jack didn't truly realize what he'd done until almost six months after you left him crying in his bedroom.

Your absence in his life gave him a lot to think about, and the only conclusion he could come up with was that you were absolutely right. It didn't matter if he'd compared you to others unconsciously; he made you feel like that: worthless, in need of self change, inadequate; the list went on.

He'd seen the small changes too late.

The next shift he worked with you, Jack tracked every minuscule thing you did, and it felt like one big punch to the gut. He saw the way you constantly checked your hair, ponytail pulled tight enough to give you a headache, skin, and scrubs and the way you straightened your stethoscope so it rested perfectly across your collarbones.

His stomach dropped when he watched you pause before a trauma and gulp down air before heading inside like someone who needed to take control before it could get out of hand. Before him, you weren't like that. Yes, you could be nervous to mess up, but you didn't act like you had to be the smartest person in the room.

He did that to you. He made you feel the need to change. And it killed him. It killed him once he learned you transferred over to a specialty in orthopedics, and his mind made him think you did it just to get away from him.

He was slightly correct, but not entirely.

You needed a fresh start, somewhere where you knew no on had any high expectation of you. And somehow, orthopedics gave you just that. And you thrived in the environment, only coming down to the Pitt when they needed a transfer or second opinion. Sure, you had to accompany Park the Shark more than you'd liked to, but through your time there, the old you was coming back, the one who worked through her panic instead of shutting it down, the one who only got frazzled when she cared about patients and their needs.

It was never weakness you showed, and you had to learn that all over again.

Someone helped you see that along the way as well.

"What do got here?" Park asked while snapping on a pair of gloves, eyes predatory as he walked into Trauma Room 1.

Jack looked up with pinched brows when he realized that you didn't walk in behind the larger man. "Where's Dr. [Name]?"

Park didn't even acknowledge his question. "For fucks sake man, you didn't even pack this right."

"You should know how to put a detached leg together even if I missed the pressure of the wrapping by an inch," Jack shot back.

"Abbot, you should know that I can't fucking put your patient back together after you decided to play Barbies. It's not as easy as popping a joint back in place."

"Dr. [Name] could do it."

Except for the monitors, everyone went quiet. Jack tore his eyes away from Park and looked back down at his blood soaked gloves. Reality crashed down on him as he realized he just did to Park what he'd done to you. Even if he knew he probably didn't hurt Park's feelings at all, it sucked to know that he was still so quit to throw out words like that.

Park's shoulders rose in a shrug. "She could, but she isn't here right now. She switched shifts and won't be in until 7." He smirked. "Think she said she had plans with someone."

An ugly roar of jealousy clawed at Jack's insides, nails sinking deep in his gut.

You were with someone?

He went through the motions of his shift, mind still on the fact that you weren't on call because someone had taken your time and attention away from the hospital. His knuckles turned white around the tablet he held while going through handoffs. He didn't know if his body was still trained to look for you, forever waiting for your soft lips against his, but Jack couldn't help but keep his head on a swivel and ears open to catch the sound of your voice.

Like a laugh in his face from the universe, your laugh fluttered through the ER, and his head whipped hard enough that his neck hurt in order to find you. When he finally saw you walking in, his heart dropped to his feet, because there you were, smiling brighter than he'd seen in a long while, hand enclasped with a man's.

Jack swallowed thickly. He instantly hated the way his blood boiled at the sight. He looked back down at the tablet after your voice seemed to draw closer to where he was standing.

"Andy," you sighed wistfully, "you didn't have to walk me all the way in here. I know you're weary of the germs."

"I know," the man—Andy (you gave him a fucking nickname?)—muttered back, wide, hazel eyes looking down at you like you hung the moon. "But I wanted to."

You pouted playfully. "You're so sweet. Am I going to see you tomorrow morning, or are you working again?"

He hummed. "My morning's yours if you want it."

"You know I always do."

Jack watched the corner of the man's mouth twitch into an almost-there smile, and he had to look away when his head started leaning in toward yours.

The small smack of your lips on his made bile gurgle in Jack's stomach.

"Okay, you gotta go save lives."

You giggled again. "I just put people back together, and technically, Park's the one doing all the procedures. You know my hands start shaking."

From the corner of his eye, Jack watched him lift your hands to his lips and kiss the tops of your knuckles.

"Just breathe and know that you alone can do this. You were the one to get into the program, so they want you, shaky hands and all."

Jack's heart clenched to the point of a physical reaction to the pain. He should have been the one saying that to you, standing in your corner and building you up one compliment at a time.

But now, he had to stand on the sideline and watch a man (someone who scarily looked a bit like him) give you all the praise and love you deserved. And while Jack could do everything in his power to let people know how good of a doctor you were, it wouldn't ever be the same, forever stuck loathing the moment he lost you without knowing.

Jack looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head as his hands went to rest on his hips. When he looked back down, he found you walking toward the nurse and it suddenly made complete sense. 

He let out a sigh. “This has to be a joke.”

His eyes, as they did more often than was appropriate, caught on you, hair coming down loose from where you’d pinned it, the scrubs lopsided at one hip, riding lower than where they’d started at the beginning of the night. You turned to say something to the guy quickly, and the movement caught the slip, your scrub top moving up half an inch, and Jack’s eyes went there before his brain could tell him that was wrong, some groove in him that noticed you before it noticed anything useful. He had a second of pure, unhelpful distraction before his brain reminded him that he was an attending and had things to do. 

“I actually think it’s funny,” Lena said, shrugging.

Of course it had something to do with you. He should’ve figured it out the second he saw the guy standing there with his hands in the pouch of his scrubs, rocking heel to toe like the floor was just too exciting to be standing on. Nobody loitered around the ambulance bay at midnight for good reason. People came through those doors bleeding or they didn’t come through them at all, and this guy had shown up with nothing wrong with him, except maybe a case for some lovesickness. 

“I’m gonna make this stop,” Jack said, already pushing himself away from the nurse’s station.

Lena’s eyes widened slightly. “Don’t say anything that gets you sat down with HR.”

“She can goddamn try me,” he said, and went. Also because Jack was fairly sure you would never report him to HR. 

He crossed the floor and caught the tail-end of your conversation as he closed in.

“ — just tell me when you’re free, that’s all I’m asking,” the guy was saying.

You were already half-turned, already gone as you waved a hand loosely beside you. “I don’t know, I just don’t think we should try again.” 

Jack blew out a breath, standing a few feet short of you, your back facing him. Why was he not surprised? He’d been keeping tally without meaning to, and he knew that was embarrassing. There was the radiology fellow who’d started hand-delivering films that very well could’ve gone through the system; the travel nurse who’d washed through in six weeks and left the floor faintly weird in his wake; the anaesthesia resident who now took the long way around the department if he saw you at the end of it, as though he were a dog who’d learned the fence was electric. And now this one, apparently, Peds with his whole hopeful heart hanging out in Jack’s department. 

“You’re so sweet for coming down here,” you practically crooned at him, shifting on your heels, eyes flicking down to the form in your hand. “But I really do have a whole long night ahead of me, and I know my answer’s not gonna change, so I won’t make you wait around for it, okay?” 

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes when you said the words with the upward lilt of a woman sending a toddler back to his mother. He wanted to laugh a little when he saw that the guy had taken it standing up like it was a gift. 

The hell of it was that Jack understood the man. He understood every last one of them because he stood next to you fifty hours a week, had been doing so for three years, and whatever the department thought of him after his consistent therapy, he was not carved out of stone. 

Jack was afraid that if he hadn’t been your attending these last four years and a little younger, wearing his heart on his sleeve, he’d have been eating out of the palm of your hand. 

You gave the guy a there-there pat, and it was only then did his eyes land on Jack, who he probably knew was your fucking attending. You turned then, and immediately said, “Oh, Dr. Abbot, I’ve got the guy in six’s labs back, the potassium —”

“Mhm.” Jack’s hands came up and landed on your shoulders before you’d finished the sentence, squaring you off the spot where you stood and turning you bodily back toward the floor like you were a gurney. 

“It is four-point-nine, but the EKG’s good, so I was gonna recheck in —” 

“Let’s recheck it now,” he said. He kept you moving, his palms broad through the cotton of your scrubs, steering you a few feet till your own feet caught onto the idea. 

You grumbled something under your breath, and once he’d stopped you right in front of six, you turned to face him with your brows raised.

“Say something?” he asked, tipping his chin down.

“You seem like you’re mad at me,” you said. 

“Huh. I do?” He let go of your shoulders — noticing, distantly, the exact second his hands came off and suddenly felt too empty — and reached past you to pluck six’s chart off the tray, more to have something to do with them than needing it. “You’re right. You should recheck in ten minutes.”

“You’re mad at me,” you said again, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He blew out a breath, and suddenly felt just a little silly at getting worked up over a nurse by the doors when there was a large, glowing board behind him full of names that needed his complete, undivided attention. 

You were a senior resident, after all, four years deep, one of his sharpest — you’d treated the guy in six, hadn’t you, you’d flagged it and called for the EKG and made the right call on the recheck before he’d even asked, all while dismantling some man’s hopes. Somehow, your mess and competence ran on the same current. You never let the first touch the second. He’d have loved, some nights, to have an excuse to be mad — a missed lab, a blown line, anything he could write up and point at — and you kept declining to hand him one. All of this meant he was left with this vague swampy irritation, and Jack wasn’t the sort of mentor who liked to hound upon that. 

“No, sweetheart, I just love it when you get random men hanging around the department,” he settled on saying, feeling his shoulders visibly loosen a fraction.

You winced, eyes darting over to the emptiness in front of the doors now. “Sorry.” 

“You’d say it won’t happen again, but we both know better.” He shrugged. Then, he reached out his hand — he wasn’t sure why, except that it just happened naturally — and patted you once on the shoulder, then on the second turned you to face the curtains leading to your patient. “Doctor up.”

And you did, the loose, embarrassed shape of you being replaced in the space of a single breath, being replaced by something Jack had watched grow into you over the years and still hadn’t quite gotten used to. 

Trauma called it in nine minutes later, an MVC, unrestrained driver, GCS dropping in the field. Jack was working on a laceration in four when he heard the crackled warning, and by the time he’d looked up out the curtains, you were already moving, gowned and at the head of the bay calling out assignments like you’d been doing this for a decade.

“I need two units O-neg before he rolls in,” you said, voice pitched high enough to carry without yelling, cutting clean through the perpetual noise of the department. “Somebody get me a second eighteen-gauge ready, and I want an ultrasound in here.”

Donnie and Mateo were already moving, and so were the people around you, falling into your orbit like the room had easily reorganized itself around your voice the second it went up. Jack stood by the curtain, gloves from the lac still on, and found he couldn’t make himself move just yet.

The doors banged open. EMS wheeled the stretcher through fast, calling out vitals over each other, and you were already on the patient’s side before the gurney had fully stopped moving, hands moving on his neck, chest, eyes scanning his pupils in a matter of ten seconds. He began walking over, catching your voice as you called out your reads as someone hung the blood and someone else prepped the ultrasound wand. “Page neuro now.”

“On it,” Mateo said, already moving.

You had both hands on the patient, running the primary survey quickly, confirming, checking, discarding possibilities out in short, clipped sentences Jack recognized as the sound of your brain running six steps ahead of your mouth. Sweat had started on your hairline. You called out for OR to be on standby, eyes flickering around the room and landing on Jack. “OR, please,” you said, aimed at him, brows going up. 

“On it,” Jack said, because there was no way he was going to let you be wrong about needing something and didn’t make sure you got it.

The next six minutes went by fast and loud, in bursts and then suddenly quiet, the room narrowing down on functionality. You stood at the center of it; you called it and ran it. You got the man upstairs stable enough that Walsh didn’t sound worried for one second, and that was a compliment from her. 

Jack watched the whole thing from four feet back, arms crossed, and chipping in when your brain had snagged. He was feeling a heat in his chest helplessly and entirely unprofessional, it was always present when he was able to see, in real-time, how far you’d come from your first day of residency when your hands were a second too slow on the central line and how your voice would pitch up at the end of every read, asking for permission every time instead of stating it like a fact, eyes finding him across the room each time, checking.

There was none of that left in you now, he realized, had done so a long time ago. He thought, watching you now, that this was the closest thing he’d let himself do to falling in years, standing uselessly riveted as he watched a woman he’d taught outgrow the need for him in real time, and finding that instead of the loss he’d expected to feel when the day finally came, all he felt was warm and terrifying and too much like pride. 

When the room had started clearing out, he watched your mouth drop open as you let out a heavy breath, eyes going over to him. The second he watched you realize he was still there, your face shifted, the relief turning into something sharper. 

“Why didn’t you jump in?” You crossed the floor toward him in four hard strides, gloves already peeled off and balled tight in one fist, snapping the second one free with a motion that looked terrifyingly like it wanted to be aimed at him. “His pressure tanked for thirty seconds and you just watched.”

“You had it.”

“You didn’t know that,” you said, voice going up an octave, adrenaline still thrumming through you, hands coming up the gesture at the blood-streaked floor. “I could’ve missed something. You’re the attending, Jack, you’re supposed to catch if I missed something —”

“I would’ve,” he interrupted, stepping in close enough that you had to tilt your head back to keep glaring at him properly. “The second you needed me, I would’ve stepped in. I wasn’t gonna take it from you before you did.” 

“You can’t gamble like that with a patient —” Your chest was rising and falling fast, gloves now crushed in your fist, and he could see the fear catching up now that everything around you had gone quiet enough to let it, something that looked more like fear of yourself than for the patient. “What if I’d frozen —?”

“I knew you wouldn’t.” He reached his hand out, thumb catching a smear of the blood at your jaw you’d accidentally smeared on yourself, wiping it off carefully with the pad of his thumb, and felt you go still under it. “You don’t trust my judgement?”

“You know I do. You just could’ve said something.”

“I could’ve. He dropped his hand from your jaw only to catch your wrist instead. “Didn’t wanna interrupt you being brilliant. Kinda liked watching it happen.”

Your mouth opened, surely to let out some unnecessary retort, and died there when he pressed one slow stroke of his thumb against your wrist, raising a brow. 

“Relax,” he said, voice going rough as he leaned in a little, forcing you to meet his eyes properly. “Just take the win. That’s an order.”

“Now you wanna give orders,” you mumbled.

He barked out a short laugh, letting go of your wrist. “Only when you’re being stubborn for no reason.”   

It was sometime during the second year of your residency when he’d started catching your drift. It had started with a random Friday shift. He’d seen you at the station, elbows on the counter, telling Lena something conspiratorially. Jack was meant to be reading a chart but couldn’t help how his ears had perked up. Anything to get through the shift, he supposed.

“ — no, but he was perfect on paper,” you were saying, “kept his house clean and everything. He told me he kept his plant alive for six years —”

“So, what happened?” Lena said flatly, like she already knew what you were going to say but wanted to hear anyway. 

“He wanted to take me bowling on the second date,” you said through a sigh. “I know how it sounds, but you’ve gotta hear me out —”

“I’m genuinely not going anywhere.”

“ — for the first date, bowling’s fun. But he took me to a nice dinner the first time, he set a standard, and then the second date he goes bowling, which means the effort’s already —” You created a little downward slope with your hand. “And if it’s already sliding on date two, where’s it at on date two hundred? I can already see my marriage with him and it’s bad.”

It seemed you had a criteria, Jack learned then. It was proven even more when he’d heard you talk about your other failed dates, seen them, and learned — without ever wanting to — what they were, to an extent. 

He knew you couldn’t stand a man who ordered for you without asking. He knew you’d written off a fellow for the way he talked about his mother, and another one — an accountant, a rare specimen who had no clue what an EKG was — over a text message you’d read aloud to Ellis in a voice of complete horror, though Jack had never caught what it actually said, only your face while you read it. He knew you gave people precisely three dates, that this was a rule you held if the first and second date went well, three apparently being the magic number at which a person could no longer hide the demon they were going to turn out to be (your words).

He knew, too, that you only allowed one kiss after the first date, if even that. It was never up for negotiation, no matter how beautifully the night had gone, for you never wanted to end up “emotionally overdrawn on an account you hadn’t even opened yet.”

He knew you a man lost real points if, over the three dates, if it involved drinks, he ordered the same one. He knew a man gained them, silently and instantly, for being able to sit in a lull without narrating his way out of it, and that you considered this the single rarest trait in modern dating.

He knew you were looking for something you had no name for and would recognize on sight, which struck him as a hell of a way to run a search.

He’d have told you, if you asked, that he tuned most of the station chatter out as a matter of survival, for while he enjoyed the occasional gossip, he couldn’t very well absorb everyone’s business. And that was true about everyone’s business but yours, apparently, because yours came in clear.

Your business he retained against his own better judgement, and he realized — once, during a slow shift — that he could’ve drawn you a better map of your taste than you seemed to carry yourself. He could’ve told you, if you asked, exactly the kind of man who’d finally clear your bar, and exactly why he had yet to show up. 

It was almost nice, some nights, watching you try anyway. The ER was a place where everyone was kept tethered to the world by a thread, and everyone who worked in it long enough to develop some version of the same calluses. Jack had grown his years ago, and he wore them invisible, occasionally aching, and had come to terms with it being permanent.

Love, for Jack, had stopped being a real noun before you’d shown up, somewhere between things he used to want and things he’d decided weren’t for him anymore.

You still believed in it. You’d watched this place take everything soft out of grown men twice your seniority and somehow walked through the same fire hopeful, still convinced, against every scrap of evidence, that somewhere there was a person worth all that hoping.

For that reason, he had decided to not interrupt your endeavors, not until now, when he noticed you during hand-off before your night shift with him started, in front of Robby, of all people. 

While Jack loved Robby like a brother, he had a documented, department-wide, actuarially reliable seven-week expiration date on every woman he charmed out of this building. He’d heard intra-departmental gossip about him. There was, Jack was fairly sure, a running joke about it that predated your residency by years. 

He knew you definitely were not finding love in his best friend. But Jack felt the buzzing in his mind go quiet and mean watching how you with him.

You laughed at something and Jack lost, for one humiliating second, the thread of what he’d walked over to say. It happened sometimes, more than he’d admit to anyone. Ordinary noises out of you hit him somewhere in his chest before the better part of him flagged it as a problem, and he had to physically clear his throat before finding his footing again. 

“ — Italian’s always good after pulling a double,” Robby was saying. “But I do love some microwave ramen, too, when I’m missing my med student days.” 

“Oh, so your standards have been raised being chief?” you said, and Jack could hear the smile and wariness in it. 

“For sure —”

Jack let out a huff, something resembling a laugh, as his feet planted him between the two of you. He was close enough that his shoulder nudged yours and you had to step back to keep your balance. He felt your weight land for a second against him with a satisfaction he had no, absolutely no business feeling for something so small. So childish.

He turned to Robby, spreading his hands wide, mock outrage. “My resident.”

Robby looked mildly amused, unbothered, so Jack added, before he could respond, “Go home before I report you to HR.”

“You’d do that to me?” 

“In a heartbeat. Have some shame.” Jack kept his shoulder where it was still angled half in front of you, an old, unexamined instinct keeping the line drawn even though Robby had already backed off.

He tipped his head toward the doors, toward the gold light coming up in them, the day shift draining out around you both. “There’s a whole rich life waitin’ for you out there.”

Robby just smiled and pushed off the counter, giving you a small wave before he left.

Jack turned to you then, brows furrowed. “Seriously?”

You let out a short laugh. “Work hard, play hard?” 

“Soundin’ a lot like a frat brother right now. Never have those words been said in an ER,” Jack said. 

“I wasn’t actually going to do it,” you said, rushing the words out with something more honest in them. “For the record. I know what — he’s got a reputation.” You picked at the counter. “I was just talking to him. He’s funny.”

Jack had to recalibrate for a second. “You were talkin’ sweet to him.” 

“I talk sweet to everyone.” You lifted a shoulder, completely unbothered. “You should try it sometime.”

He rolled his eyes at that. He reached over for your cup of coffee sitting between you — closer to his elbow than yours — and drank a sip, eyes going up to the ceiling at the sheer volume of syrup you’d decided you needed in your bloodstream today. “The hell?” he muttered, turning the cup slightly as if that would help. “Are you trying to embalm yourself?”

“Give it back.”

“In a minute.” He took a second sip, slower this time, and watched you over the rim of the cup. Then, he set it back a few degrees off how you’d had it, just to see your jaw tick.

You pulled the cup back in, thumbed it around until the lid faced you again, and drank from it without breaking your explanation. “I’m offended you think I’ll get wine and dined by the chief attending.” You tilted your head. “Give me some credit here. I won’t be his seven weeks.”

“Huh.” He rubbed the back of his neck, which was warm. “Well, good. Don’t think he’ll clear your bar anyway.”

“See, you get it,” you said, pointing a finger at him. “At least someone around here does.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, tipping his head slightly forward that even he hadn’t realized that he had shifted the distance just slightly. “Better than most.”

Your eyes widened slightly at that, and Jack took that as his cue to step back, clear his throat, as he jerked his chin toward the board.

“Alright, time to work. Stop the play,” he said, trying to get his voice the right level. “Go look at chest pain on three.”

“So bossy,” you said, but you were already turning around to go to three.

Well, that’s what he was, wasn’t he? For some reason, he had to remind himself that. 

It was what he had to remind himself as his hands hovered your trembling ones as you tried to pump air into Mrs. Foley’s lungs, knowing she was already gone — had been for a while now, if he was honest — longer than it took you to admit. He knew it, he’d grown the grim ability to recognize when a body stopped being a patient and being someone you were performing compressions on for the family’s sake, for your own need to have done everything. 

He’d let it run anyway, because you hadn’t accepted it yet, and he’d wanted to give you that extra minute to arrive at it on your own. 

Mateo had come up to Jack’s side, snapping his gloves off, the sound of it overshadowed by your own heaving. 

“She has to call it,” he murmured. “You want me to —”

“No.” Jack’s eyes, he felt, could not move away from your distress. “I’ve got her.” 

Mateo looked at him for a moment longer than the moment warranted, and then he stepped back and let Jack be. You were still going, your compressions had gone harder, faster, less like genuine medicine and more like you were pleading with Mrs. Foley herself now. Sweat had gone to the hair at your temple. Your jaw was set in a clench Jack recognized all too well, and for a moment, Jack wished that he didn’t have to be so acutely tuned into watching what the job did to others, the same way it did to him. 

He stepped in behind your shoulder, close, and brought his hand down over yours where they were locked on the old woman’s chest.

“Look at the clock,” he said quietly into your ear.

“One more round —” 

“You’ve done plenty.” He pressed, gently, until your hands stilled under his, and felt your entire body resist it. “You know she was gone before we could’ve even done anything —”

“She’s been my patient for years —” 

Jack knew then that while you may have been an excellent doctor, his senior resident that had bloomed under his mentorship but still could’ve gone without him and done just the same, it wasn’t a good feeling to wonder if the job would dim you the way it had him. 

“I know.” He kept his hands over yours with enough pressure so as to not let you drive them down again. “That’s why it’s yours to call. But you’ve gotta call it, Doctor.”

Your breath hitched as you turned your neck to face him, and there was a pool brimming on your lashline that you kept at bay, nodding. Your hands under his stopped straining upward, and he felt the exact second you accepted it, for it moved through your shoulders and down your spine and left you a little smaller standing there, the fight trickling into the moment after, which Jack always thought was worse. 

“Time of death,” you said, forcing your voice back into the procedural tone, “oh-three-forty-one.” You peeled your gloves off finger-by-finger.

His hand found the small of your back after taking the minute, leading you to the little family consult room with the boxed tissues and fake ficus with a couch that had absorbed more bad news since longer than you or he had worked there. He shut the door with the flat of his hand and let the floor’s noise cut to a hum through the drywall. 

You stood in the middle of the room with your arms crossed, holding yourself, and stayed silent. 

Jack propped himself against the table, arms folded, as he breathed out a small sigh through his nose. He knew you weren’t a talker after the bad ones. Some residents came out of a loss with their mouths running, narrating it into something survivable, and some went quiet and small and had to be waited out, and you were the second kind. So he waited.

You broke it eventually, like he always knew you would have. “I’ve got a butterscotch she gave me seven months ago in my locker still,” you murmured, craning your neck so you were looking at the ceiling. You wiped under your eyes with the heel of your hand roughly. 

“Think I’ve got one, too,” he murmured, wincing as he tried to shift his weight. 

It had been building up for the past few hours, a hot ring of wrong down below the knee where the socket had gone slick and furnace-warm because it was past hour fourteen, when he’d sweated the fit and never changed the liner because there’d been no window that wasn’t already accounted for. He shifted his weight off it, trying again, and reached down to thumb the release, breaking the seal. 

He let out a short, punched out sigh as he pulled himself down onto the chair behind him, one hand balancing himself on the table. “Sorry,” he gruffed out, jaw clenching. 

Your eyes flickered down to the prosthetic limb he was balancing against the pole of the table and you were already moving before he could finish apologizing. You never asked if he needed a hand. You’d learned sometime during your second year that asking him gave him a chance to say no, and you’d quit handing him that chance sometime during your second year, so now you just came. You went down on one knee at the pole of the table.

“Don’t say sorry,” you mumbled, eyes not meeting him.

His jaw stayed tight and he didn’t fight it, fight you. That was a formality and you both knew it, a thing he did with his shoulders and not his hands, but he watched the top of your head and thought — like he always did, each time, and never said out loud — there was no one else on god’s green earth he’d let do this in the way you did. Not the prosthetist, who did it clinically. Not the VA, who did it tired. You did it each time like it was nothing and everything at once, as though this something not worth remarking on. 

He very badly wanted to thank you, despite how small he always felt when you did this. He wanted to tell you that you were, without question, better at this than anyone who was paid to do it.

Your fingers found the socket and went for the liner because you knew the fit went bad and the sweat before it went bad anywhere a person could see, knew he’d have to run it slick and furnace-hot than spend the fourteen minutes off the floor. You rolled it back with the flat of your thumb, easing the trapped heat out of it, and he felt the pressure of the ring of raw below his knee and had to clench his jaw to not let the relief show on his face. You spared him anyway by keeping your eyes down where they’d been.

“You’ll strip your skin doing this,” you said conversationally, the roughness still present in your voice from the code. “You know that. You keep running it past twelve and one of these nights it’s cellulitis and I’m admitting you.” 

“If only I could be so lucky.”

He ducked his head slightly, a part of him wanting to catch the reaction, and he saw how one corner of your lip was barely turned up. 

You thumbed a line of red where the socket’s edge had bitten in, checking it, and your touch went careful around there. “This is new. The edge is catching higher than it was.”

“Went to a new liner last month,” he said, voice low. “Not broke in yet.” 

“Then you break it on your days off. Not on a fourteen hour.” You finally looked up at him, shaking your head with this flat, fond expression he’d come to realize was your favorite way to look at him. “You’d write me up for less.” 

“I’d write you up for a lot less,” he agreed, thinking back on the time you’d fought him tooth-and-nail over staying through a migraine, refusing, point-blank, to hand off a soft rule-out chest pain at eleven when the migraine had started very visibly began creeping up on you. 

He’d caught you before you’d said a word about it because you’d begun squinting at the numbers and pressed the heel of your hand against one eye for a moment too long between patients, thinking nobody was watching. He was, he realized, always watching you in some way.

“Go home,” he’d said quietly, catching you by the elbow outside the curtain. “That’s not a request.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve got a migraine.”

“I’ve got a job.” Your jaw had clenched, stubbornly, and Jack had thought that even if he’d put all his strength into it, he wouldn’t have been able to unclench it for you. “I’m not handing off a chest pain because my head hurts. This guy has waited long enough for a bed. I’m not the priority here.”

He’d wanted to tell you that you were, actually, that you were exactly the priority, and watching you white-knuckle forms with your pupils blown different sizes from pain scared him more than any board full of critical pains ever had. But he’d just pulled down the light two notches, told the nurses to shadow eleven’s discharge, and put a bottle of water and two Tylenol on your desk without a word. And thank god, you’d taken the Tylenol and finished the shift standing up because sitting made the room tilt worse, and only taken on non-critical cases. You’d refused until the end that you should’ve gone home three hours earlier.  

Now, you huffed something that was nearly a laugh, your first real once since the code, and went back to setting. And Jack sat there with his arms crossed in the dark with your hands on the worst-guarded part of him and the door shut against the whole floor, and thought about how he believed nobody deserved you. People were vile and sucked and cut in line and let doors swing shut behind them, and you handed out three dates to men who wrote sonnets in your voicemail and couldn’t clear a bar you’d never once lowered for anyone. He’d thought, more nights than he liked to admit, that these people had no idea what they were auditioning for. 

His eyes snagged on you because there was nothing else in this small room worth looking at. There was still salt dried in your lashline from the code. You were a wreck and you were fixing his leg anyway, still half-shaking from a woman you couldn’t save, and it hadn’t occurred to you to stop and put yourself back together first. It never did. Jack had seen the care run out of you before you ever decided to spend it. 

“I’m sorry about Mrs. Foley,” he said.

You shook your head, face still angled down, thumb pausing mid-motion. “I’ll be okay,” you murmured, lifting up one shoulder. “I just hate that she couldn’t get here sooner.”

“You did nothing wrong,” he said plainly. “Family said she’s been feeling off for two days now.”

“I know.” Your voice cracked, betraying the flatness you were trying to present. “Doesn’t make it easier.”

You lifted your head for a moment, then, looking at him with a sad smile he knew you were painting on to get him to stop talking.

He nodded stiffly, tipping his chin down. “Alright. Finish my leg and we’ll run this floor together.”

Up in radiology a few nights later, Jack had gone himself to sort out a reading that had been sitting long and he’d cornered a tech and got what he needed and was already halfway out the door, jacket sleeves still rolled from the last set of compressions, when he saw the guy standing off by the light boxes. 

Younger. A resident, he supposed, in scrubs a size too crisp for someone who’d actually been on the shift long enough to earn wrinkles in them. He’d been watching Jack the whole time — Jack could feel it, the itch of being observed — shifting his weight heel to toe against the linoleum floor. 

“Somethin’ on my face?” Jack said flatly because he really did have to get back to the floor.

“You’re — sorry, you’re Dr. Abbot, right?”

“Last I checked.” 

The guy’s hand came out of his jacket’s pocket, and there was a piece of folded paper in it. Jack looked at it like it was a spider, hoping — no, praying — it had something to do with work.

“Could you give this to her?” the guy asked, and Jack’s hope died, as he stepped closer. “The senior resident on your shift. She’ll — she’ll know who it’s from.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jack murmured, brows pulling in together. “You ever heard of texting, kid?” 

“I did,” he said, and Jack could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. “She stopped answering, so I figured, maybe on paper, she’d actually —”

“Take the hint,” Jack grumbled, snatching the paper out of his hand. Then, as he turned to the door, he said, “You know I work in the ER?” When the guy only nodded quickly, he added, “You know she works in the ER?” 

“I — yeah. Obviously.”

“Then you know she doesn’t need this.” He held up the paper between him and the guy. “She’s got enough on her plate without some guy too chicken to call her handing me a note like I’m her mailman.”

The guy opened his mouth, nose scrunching at Jack’s words, but nothing came out. 

“Yeah.” Jack was already walking, note tucked in his pocket, done with the conversation. “Try calling next time. Or don’t.” 

The guy looked at least a little sheepish, a little ashamed, and Jack thought good, he should feel ashamed. He wasn’t sure what the protocol in dating was now — he’d been just a little rusty and out of the stretch for a stretch of years he preferred not to count in single digits — but he was fairly certain that whatever the rules had curdled up to, this could not possibly be inside them.

He rode the elevator down with the note in his pockets, and he could feel the small stiff square of another man’s hope pressing over the outside of his thigh. 

He found you at your desk, hands running restlessly through your hair as you spoke into the microphone, charting. The words were coming out of you bluntly, mechanic and after saying the same variation a thousand times over. There was a pen behind your ear you’d forgotten about and the residue of a lab value gone blue across the back of your hand where you’d scrawled it hours ago and never washed off.

He stood there for a second before you noticed him, and thought — not for the first time and with the same low irritation he always felt about it — that he had no earthly business being the man this got routed to.

Jack leaned down so his head hovered beside yours, scanning your work on the screen, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours, head tilted to read your screen at an angle that had nothing to do with actually needing to see it. 

“The man wants an espresso martini?” he asked, furrowing his brows as he read over your notes, right by your ear. 

You jumped just slightly and swivelled on your stool to face him, then back at the screen. “Shit — Jack. Announce yourself.” You scanned the words on your notes, shaking your head and already backspacing. “No, that was me talking to myself. Stupid mic picked it up.”

“Long as it’s just the one,” he drawled, staying there in your space a little longer, watching the side of your face instead of the screen now. “Those things sneak up on you.”

“Speaking from experience?” You turned on your stool to face him fully, chin tilting up to meet his eyes, something playful and a little challenging in it. 

“I’ve got a couple decades on you. Everything’s snuck up on me.” 

You held his gaze a little longer, then looked away first, tongue coming out over your lips for a second. He took a small satisfaction in not being the one who blinked first. 

He blew out a breath through his nose, remembering, with reluctance now, what he’d actually come here to do. “Speaking of sneaking up.” He pulled out the note from his pocket. “I got something to deliver to you —”

You furrowed your brows when he handed it to you. “Secret admirer?” you asked jokingly. 

He barked out a short laugh. “Nothin’ secret about it. You ignoring some radiology fellow?”

You grimaced, opening the note and scanning over the words quickly. He could’ve left, but stayed instead and watched you read it. The frown only pulled deeper, and he saw your eye twitch once as you scanned the words.

Against his better judgement, he murmured, “That bad?” 

“Uh — no, it’s okay.” You shrugged stiffly. 

“Huh,” he breathed out, studying you outright now. “Wonder what you’re doin’ to these guys to get them so wound up.”

You chuckled, mostly to yourself. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”  

His chest tightened at that. It was unfair how you could make anything to him sound like something he’d been waiting to hear. He swallowed. “Suppose I would.”

“That an offer, Dr. Abbot?” 

“Might be,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. 

You laughed — surprised, the tension in your shoulders breaking slightly — and shook your head, folding the note back up. “You’re ridiculous. Well, thank you for getting it to me. I’m sorry he bothered you with this —” You swivelled, placing the note on your desk before picking up your phone. “That’s really weird.” 

“That’s one word for it,” Jack said, and left it there, because you’d already turned and had your phone in one hand and the microphone in the other. The small furrow was back between your brows, and he’d learned there was a point past which pushing you got him a brighter, smaller version of whatever you were covering. 

He drifted toward the far end of the station where Mateo was crouched at the crash cart running his palm along the drawers, checking seals, restocking and checking the fact of it on slower nights like this. 

“She okay?” Mateo asked, snapping the drawer, seemingly having caught the interaction. 

“Oh, you know.” Jack leaned a shoulder into the wall, arms crossing. “The belle of our ball. Can’t clock in without collecting a proposal.”

Mateo huffed. “She loves love.”

“That she does.” Jack watched you across the station, the phone lit against your ear now. “Don’t know why she keeps doing that to herself, though.”

“She’s an optimist.” Mateo clicked a seal into place, then moved down the cart. “Thinks someone’s gonna turn out different.”

Jack hummed, then, because the question had been sitting low and unlovely for a couple hours, he asked, “You two give it a run ever?” 

Mateo turned his neck to look up at Jack. “Me and —” He jutted his thumb behind him to vaguely gesture at you. “Her?”

“Mhm.” Jack kept his eyes on you. “You’re close.”

“Nah.” Mateo went back to the cart, shaking his head as he chuckled softly. “I don’t think I’d pass a single one of her tests. Besides, I got my eye on someone.”

“Apparently I don’t make the list either, I guess,” Jack murmured.

Mateo laughed through his nose, eyeing Jack with something new now. “You want to?” 

Jack caught it, reaching his palm and smacking it against Mateo’s curls with no force. “No. Now, do your job.”

“I am —” He laughed through the words, eyes scanning over Jack’s stiffened posture now. “It’s good you don’t, then. Couldn’t handle her anyway.” 

“Sure, I could,” Jack said immediately. 

Mateo’s head turned again, lips curving upwards at Jack’s words, and he felt momentarily blindsided by his own mouth, entirely too honest for something that had started as a joke. 

“Sure, you could,” Mateo teased, drawing out the words.

“Shut it.” Jack grabbed a box of gloves off the cart and set it down two shelves lower than it needed to go, purely to do something with his hands that didn’t involve reaching for Mateo’s collar. “Wasn’t a real question.”

Couldn’t handle you? As if he didn’t know, without having to think about it, that you took the stairs two at a time instead of the elevator when you were annoyed and needed somewhere to put your extra energy, or that you’d started drinking your coffee black on nights a patient reminded you of someone, syrup and cream abandoned, like sweetness felt wrong to have that shift. As if he hadn’t noticed, months ago, that you hummed the same four off-key notes from a jingle neither you nor Jack could place when a chart was boring you to death, or that you double-checked every single IV line now, ever since one bad mistake in your first year. He could very well handle you, he simply hadn’t been given the chance to do so.

Most of the time, Jack was fine with watching your love life play out in 3D. More often than not, he knew they’d never work out. You were just too good for anyone who came sniffing, and there was a grim comfort in that, in knowing the fellows and the nurses would wash through and out and leave you exactly where he found you, three feet down the counter from him, close enough to keep.

Tonight the comfort wasn’t coming. Mateo’s accidental interrogation had rubbed Jack wrongly, somewhere he had yet to fully locate yet, and was sitting in his chest like a splinter he kept forgetting was there until he turned the corner over the night, saw you, and noticed it was there. He should’ve let it stay as nothing, but his brain had apparently decided three hours later was the correct time to relitigate the whole exchange, turning it over at odd intervals between patients like a tongue worrying a chipped tooth.

It was the bad sort of slow in the ER, the sort that let his brain fill up with things he’d have no time for on a real night. Ellis had wandered over to your desk with two energy drinks and placed her arms loosely beside your computer.

Jack was distantly aware he had misplaced labs to hand back to you because they’d gotten lost in the system, and he told himself that was the whole reason his body had started moving in your direction. 

“I got a rundown from Marge,” Ellis said, dropping into an empty stool beside you. “Apparently he wrote it out of the OR.”

“You’re joking,” you muttered. “I don’t understand it.” 

Jack stood there with the labs in his hand, close enough to hear it. 

“I’m still wondering if I should respond,” you were saying, half into your hands. “Is this romantic? This one’s never happened before.”

Ellis laughed slightly with you, and the two of you had built one of those small pockets that slow nights sometimes allowed, thirty seconds of being people instead of clinicians.

Jack set the labs down at the edge of your keyboard harder than he meant to, the papers slapping flat against the desk, and both of you looked up at him like he’d grown two heads. Fuck — had he? It sure felt like he was operating off of whatever chemical cocktail his brain had whipped up for nights like this, some ugly little compound of jealousy and exhaustion. He was fairly sure if you pulled his labs right now they’d look like a man in the middle of a bad reaction to something not yet figured out in the scientific world. 

“Labs on eight got lost.” His palm stayed on the sheet for a few seconds too long, some instinct telling him to keep his hand on something solid before the rest of him did something stupid. “You’ll want to recheck the trop.” 

His eyes cut, against every ounce of better judgement he had left, to the note still folded in your hand, the same one he’d carried down like it was radioactive, the same note that had clearly done something for you that four years of Jack standing next to you clearly hadn’t. An unreasonable, low feeling creeped up behind his ribs at the sight of it, hot and out of proportion to a piece of folded-fucking-paper. 

Ellis’s smile went uncertain as he felt her gaze snag on him. 

You blinked up at him, and whatever had been sitting easy in your face a second ago curdled itself away, the corners of your mouth retreating. He knew this same retreat, had watched you recalibrate your muscles, swiftly, built to be unreadable against anyone who hadn’t spent four years learning your face. 

His stomach dropped and heat climbed up the back of his neck, jaw tightening on its own. He hated that his body had learned to answer you the way it answered a motor alarm. He hated more that some raw, cornered part in him — still smarting about Mateo’s offhand comment and sore from that folded note — felt it wasn’t soothed.

You blinked up at him, and the laugh faded off your face, and you said, easily, warm, “Yeah — course. I’ll get right on that.”

He shrugged up one shoulder, lips pressing into a thin line. He turned, already walking away. “Whenever there’s a gap on your social calendar, I guess.”

He heard the small silence that opened behind him, and he could practically imagine you and Ellis looking at each other. Then, he heard you push back from the desk, the stool wheels catching, and your footsteps coming after him like he’d known they would, because you were the last person to let something like that go. 

“Hey.” You fell into step beside him, voice pitched low, still giving him more benefit than the doubt had earned in the last ten seconds. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” He tilted his neck up slightly to do a quick scan of the board, some stubborn muscle in his neck refusing to let him meet your eyes. “Got a department to run.”

“And you’ve been running it great. You just became weird right now.” He could feel you working it over beside him, shifting on your feet as you toed the line between resident and the hard-won territory neither of you had ever named. “Jack.” 

“You want to laugh about your shitty dates, that’s your business,” he said instead of letting it go, sounding too far from the man who’d had his hands hovering over yours an hour ago, watching you put in a chest tube, telling you that you’d done well. “Do it a little quieter. This is an ER, not a lunch table.”

His words stopped you for half a step. Jack kept walking, an ugly, cowardly momentum carrying him three more steps before you caught back up.

He heard you recalibrate your voice in real time when you said, “I was charting on a slow shift,” carefully. “You’ve made worse jokes when it’s even more busy. What’s this about?”

“It’s about you treating this place like it’s your dating pool and not your place of work.” The words came out much uglier than he meant, and he didn’t have it in him to call them back. “It’s not professional. It reflects on the department. Reflects on me. Somebody’s gotta say it, and apparently that’s me, since you clearly enjoy it too much to stop.” 

You stopped walking altogether this time. He turned to face your stillness whole, then, and found your eyes narrowed at him, looking like you’d been hit from a direction you hadn’t been completely guarding against. 

He let out a breath, fingers going up to his forehead to wipe at sweat that wasn’t there. “I’m just saying what —”

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice going level and courteous, as you nodded quickly. “You’re right. You’re my attending, it reflects on you. I’ll keep my personal life out of work.” 

“That’s not —” he tried, but you were already turning away, shoulders squared and chin level, professional armor snapping into place just like he’d told you to. It should have made him feel better to watch you take it so cleanly, to not make a big deal out of it. All it made him feel was like something had been surgically removed from him. 

“Stop —” he tried again, to your back now, and the sentence died somewhere between his teeth and the air. That was okay. There was no end to the sentence that didn’t sound worse than the beginning anyway. 

He blew out a sharp breath through his nose, standing in the middle of the floor with his hand still half-raised toward you, fingers curling back into his palm when he realized you weren’t there to reach. Jack felt, distantly, uselessly, like the only thing standing still in the entire building. 

“Great going,” he heard Lena say, trailing past him, a tray tucked against her hip, not even breaking stride. “You got rid of the one entertainment we’ve got around here.”

His shoulders stiffened, and he caught up with her in three steps, jaw working around words that wanted to spill out defensively and came out simply tired. “It’s not entertainment if she keeps getting hurt,” he grumbled. “She’s not a show. Stop treating her like one.” 

“Didn’t look like she was the one getting hurt tonight,” she said, rounding a corner and leaving him standing there.

Jack let out a low groan, running a palm down the lower half of his face, and dropped his hand only when he’d scrubbed enough friction into his jaw to feel it sting a little, which was at least a sensation he’d chosen, at least tonight. He stood there a second longer, staring at nothing in particular. His hands found his hips on reflex. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, and dragged both hands back through his hair, gripping once at the roots before letting go. 

He rolled his neck, felt it pop unsatisfyingly, and pushed off the wall he hadn’t even realized he was leaning against. His leg fucking ached, the burn starting behind his knee. He ignored it like he always did and started walking anyway, jaw still held tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets like he could physically hold himself together with the seams of his own black scrubs.

It was by the lockers after hand-off that Jack saw you next. Both of you had conveniently managed to work over-time; he because there was nothing to get home to, and you — he’d heard through the grapevine — because one of your patient’s little sister was coming in toward close, and you simply wanted to talk with her instead of handing the situation off to one of the day residents.

Usually, nobody had asked you to stay when you did. Most times, there was no version of staying that showed up in your favor; he and Shen were gone, so there was no attending grading you on it; no hours that counted. It was just for a kid who was going to get bad news from a face she’d seen before, so you cost yourself hours of sleep you most definitely needed to be the soft spot for a stranger’s little sister, and hadn’t mentioned it to a soul, and he knew you would’ve been embarrassed if he brought it up. 

He found you using the little mirror inside your locker to apply some kind of pink-tubed gloss with one hand while the other ran its fingers through your hair. Jack pursed his lips, eyeing you from the doorway, because he was pretty sure you’d done something different to it in the last ten minutes. 

“Look nice,” he tried, biting the bullet and walking toward his own locker. “Goin’ somewhere?” 

You caught his eyes in the mirror instead of turning around. “Just breakfast,” you said, and there was none of the earlier lilt in it, the warmth that you’d always aimed at him gone functional. You capped the gloss with more force than it needed and dropped it into your bag. 

Jack stood there a second too long with his hand over his own locker without opening it. He’d expected — and he knew he was more optimistic than usual for doing so — your easy back-and-forth, his slip-up from earlier forgotten. He wasn’t sure what to do with the quiet or you not looking at him properly, hairbrush working through your hair in short strokes. 

He’d saved around thirty lives tonight, and that was what he was good at. He was not good, and had never claimed to be good, at the aftermath of hurting a person he’d have put his own body between a stretcher and wall for, without meaning to, over something that had never been about the radiology fellow at all. 

He opted out of opening his locker and chose instead to lean his bicep against the locker, eyeing you in front of him. “Mad at me?” he murmured. 

You let out a short breath, shaking your head, and he tracked all your micro-expressions through the mirror. “On the clock?” 

“Well, we’ve both been off it for a while now,” he said, watching the shape of your mouth in the mirror, waiting for it to give something away. It didn’t. “But no. Asking as your —” He stopped himself, because ‘friend’ seemed not to be the honest word though it was the first one that popped up. “Off the clock. Whatever I am to you right now.”

You set the hairbrush down on the little shelf with more care than the moment needed. “It’s okay, Jack,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t think it is. Try again.”

You watched him for a second in the mirror, then you turned. 

“It’s just embarrassing,” you said, and the words came out smaller than anything he’d heard out of you in years. You crossed your arms over your chest. “I respect you and I hate that you’d think for one second I don’t take this place seriously.” Your voice cracked on the last word, just barely, and you pressed your lips together. “So, yeah. It’s embarrassing to have my attending confirming I’m exactly what people think I am.”

He was shaking his head before you could even finish the sentence. “Nobody thinks —”

“You do,” you said, voice rising slightly. “So, off the clock, I’m embarrassed, and tonight, I’m going to be your resident. Because I agree with you. It’s been unprofessional of me to keep dating within the hospital —” You threw your arms up halfway by your side, and you let out a short laugh that came out dry and wrong. “And I hate that you’ve probably been thinking it for four years.”

“I haven’t,” he said too fast. God, he’d come here to make tonight better for you, not to make you re-evaluate all your years working with him. “Sure, I thought it was none of my business how you spend your good nights off. Didn’t stop me from thinking they didn’t deserve ‘em.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that now ‘cause you feel bad.”

“Wish it were that simple,” he said, and chose to leave it unelaborated because it wasn’t that simple and he had no intention of explaining exactly why. “Half the time, you know it’s not gonna work out. You’re breaking my heart by making me watch you break yours.” 

You blinked, and he watched the fight loosen out of you by inches. “It’s just a free breakfast, Jack. Nothing to get your heart broken over.” 

Jack let out a huff through his nose, mouth opening to say what, he didn’t know. “Is that all? ‘Cause I can get you free breakfast for the rest of your life.” 

You laughed, disbelieving, through your nose, some of the night’s weight finally cracking off of you. “You’ve got a weird way of apologizing.” 

“Just to my favorite resident.” He pointed his index finger at you, lazy, and pushed himself off the lockers. His shoulder blades left a faint dust-print on the metal where he’d been leaning. He thumbed in the combination without looking at the dial — muscle memory, years of the same locker — and the door swung open with a rusted squeak. He pulled out his bag. “So?” 

“So what?” 

“You ditch the fellow.” He slung the bag up over his shoulder, close enough now that he caught the tail-end of the perfume you’d lightly spritzed over yourself. “I buy.”

You looked at him for a second too long, lips pushing to one side, as though you were gauging whether this was a bit or not, another line he’d tossed and wanted to let die on its own. He stood there, jaw set and features relaxing to show you he did mean it, more than he wanted to admit, if he was being honest with himself. 

“You’re serious.” 

“Do I look like I’m not?” He nodded once at your locker, your bag sitting on the shelf. “Grab your stuff. We’re going.” 

“Fine,” you said finally, reaching over and zipping your backpack all the way before throwing it over one shoulder. “Can you drive? I’ve been taking the subway.”

“Why?” he asked drily. “You’ve got a car.”

Jack realized, as he watched you slide in across from him and folding both hands around the coffee before it was all the way poured, that he’d never once been on a date where the woman had no idea it was one. 

It wasn’t lost on him what that made him, a man old enough to know better, letting a thing be one thing on his side of the table and another thing entirely on yours, saying nothing to square the difference. But he’d meant what he’d said, and he was going to feed you. 

You ordered a short stack, eggs, hash brown, decaf on loop. She wrote it down, definitely having heard worse from better.

“Thanks for the treat, Jack,” you said when Dina left, bringing the rim of your cup to your lips. “Don’t think I could’ve done another breakfast to let him down gently.”

“We have to make some changes to your lifestyle,” Jack replied, voice rough, as he eyed you. 

“Oh, yeah?” you murmured. “We?” 

“Well, I did have to deliver a note to you today. In all my life working here, that’s never happened.” 

You laughed around the rim of your cup. “In my defense, I don’t think anyone’s wrote me a note out of an OR either. That’s a first for both of us.”

“Glad we share the experience.”

Dina came by with a pot and topped you off without being asked, and placed the food in front of you. Jack watched you reach for the salt before your fork had even touched the eggs, shaking it twice over the plate.

“You’re gonna give yourself a stroke by forty.”

“You’re gonna give me a stroke right now if you comment on my food.” But you set the shaker down after the third shake, which he noticed and had to bite back a smile.

Dina dropped his plate in front of him — bacon, eggs, no pancakes — and you were reaching for it with a piece of your fork before she’d even finished setting his fork down. He gave you a faux-frown, picking up his fork and, without looking, spreading a piece of your hashbrown off the opposite plate in trade. He wasn’t sure when the two of you had started stealing bites and sips off of each other’s stuff, only that it’d started somewhere and calcified into something neither of you mentioned. 

“Rude,” you said, mouth already full.

“Learned it from you,” he muttered, nudging his plate an inch closer to your side of the table, which you took full advantage of. 

Dina’s radio crackled through something twangy and close-to-familiar behind the counter, competing with the clatter of a skillet somewhere in the back, the whole place smelling like batter and grease soaked into decades of countertop, syrup that had dried a hundred small amber rings nobody had ever fully scrubbed off. 

“I’ve never been here before.” You absentmindedly cut the hashbrown in half as your eyes raked over the place. “This a regular spot for you?”

“Since before you joined,” he said easily, but his brows furrowed as he realized he’d been coming here alone for years. He was in the same booth when he could get it, ordered the same order, and it struck to him only now, watching you eat your hashbrowns, how much smaller and less lonely a booth felt with you taking up the other half of it. “Used to be the only quiet I got on some weeks.” 

You hummed. “And now?”

“Guess the quiet’s pretty negotiable.” He shrugged. “I can go without it.”

You smiled down at your plate, something easy working at the corner of your mouth. A thread of syrup had gathered at the seam of your lips — you hadn’t noticed, too busy considering his answer — and before he’d cleared the impulse with the rest of himself, his thumb was already moving, catching it at the corner quickly, no different than when he swiped under your lashline for salt after a bad night.

You stayed still, having gotten used to his hands somewhere during your residency.

“You’re a mess,” he said, wiping his thumb off on the paper napkin folded under his elbow. 

“You’ve got coffee on your scrub top,” you said, eyes flicking down to his chest. His brows furrowed and he looked down, and you were right. “Pot, kettle.”

He’d been about to say something else, he could’ve sworn it, but had lost every word of it watching you smile so unguarded, free enough to let him look at you. He had to reach for his coffee just to have something to do with his hands. 

When the check came, folded in its little plastic tray, you both reached for it at once. Your hand landed flat over his knuckles. Neither of you moved it for a second, for his hand stayed exactly where it was, broad and unmoving under yours, and something unspoken passed through the two inches of fornica between your faces as he raised a brow at you. He slid the tray out from under you slowly.

“Said I’m buying,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

The drive back had been quieter than the one there had been. It was nearing ten in the morning, and he knew both of you had stayed up longer than intended, especially for two people who had to clock back in in a shorter amount of time than he deemed plausible to reset completely.

He’d cracked the window down an inch, and the air coming through carried the smell of wet pavement and the sound of a garbage truck grinding its gears three streets over. Your neighborhood, he was learning, woke up slow; there was a paperboy on a bike, a guy in scrubs different from yours locking up his own car after a shift that wasn’t at the PTMC, and Jack drove through it with two fingers loose over the wheel. Neither of you had bothered with the radio.

You’d gone somewhere billowy around your third cup of decaf, all the sharp edges of the night replaced with something looser and sleepier, and you gave him directions in a voice gone thick from exhaustion as you were likely starting to feel it behind your eyes. 

He pulled his car along the curb and let it idle, one shoe braced against the floorboard, watching the numbers of your building.

“Gonna sleep?” he asked.

“Gonna try.” You were already working the bag strap over your shoulder, hair falling loose out of the knot you’d put it up in at some point at the diner, strands of it catching the early light. “I’ve got no idea how you do this then take SWAT calls.”

“You’d be able to do it, too, if I put you on the field.” 

You mumbled something, letting your head drop against the window for a second, before picking itself back up. “Stop threatening me, Jack.” 

He watched you fight your eyelids, his mouth pulling up at the corners at the sight. “C’mon. Get inside before I gotta carry you up.”

You snorted, half-hearted. “You can’t. You’d throw your hip out.”

“Try me.” He was already rounding the hood before you’d gathered your bearings, boots loud on the quiet street, and you let out another laugh and let him get there first, too tired to argue about who gets to open what.

He walked you up the cracked path, palm settling at the small of your back, and you leaned back into it, half your weight given over without you noticing it. 

At the door, you fumbled with your keys out from under a granola wrapper and a capless pen, missed the lock twice, and gave up trying on the third. You turned to face him instead with your back against the frame and your bag slowly sliding off one shoulder.

“Thank you,” you said, words coming out loose and filtered by the exhaustion even as you tried to meet his eyes head-on. “For the — everything. The explanation. And the breakfast.” 

Jack felt his lips curve up, fingers flexing at his sides. “Anytime.” 

“And for driving me there — thank you. And for the drive back.” 

“Uh-huh. You gonna go inside?” he said, voice going quieter as he looked down at the ground, at how the toes of your shoes were almost touching. “Or keep thanking me until you fall asleep standing up?” 

You cocked your head to the side, your lips moving upwards into a fuller smile. His own mouth curved as he shifted on his feet slightly, closing the barely-there inch between his shoes and yours. 

“Jack?” 

He hummed, and you went up slightly onto your toes before he’d finished deciding what to do with you. Or maybe he’d moved in first, or maybe there was no real order to it at all. His mouth found yours somewhere in that uncertainty, slowly despite it, because he’d already worked out every version of this moment and this one had simply appeared in front of him.

His hand came up to cradle the side of your jaw, thumb settling into the soft hollow just beneath your ears. Your skin was warm despite the cold snap in the air, much softer than he’d let himself imagine, and he felt the exact second your breath caught against his mouth, a small stutter that made his fingers curve around your jaw, index resting against your cheekbone. 

He kept it slow, it was the only thing he had any real control over right now, the pace of it instead of the fact of it. He used what little he had left, dragging his mouth against yours, like he could somehow make up for four years of nothing by refusing to rush the first thirty seconds of something. His other hand found your waist, and his palm felt how your back curved into him, the hitch of your ribs on an inhale, and he pressed you back the last inch against the doorframe more to ground himself. 

Your fist found the front of his canvas jacket, dragging him in the last stubborn space he’d been too careful to close himself, and a sound came out of his chest that embarrassed him a little. He felt you smile against his mouth, and his entire body felt warm at having been caught enjoying this entirely as much as he was. 

He tilted his head so his forehead pressed against yours and pulled his mouth away. His lips jutted out slightly, feeling suddenly empty and unwilling to put the full distance back between the two of you.

Your eyes were still shut, and you were breathing unevenly. “Thank you,” you murmured. 

He huffed a short laugh, and in it, realized how breathless he, too, was. 

You tipped your chin back up, already chasing him.

Jack felt the want knot up inside him, greedy and unreasonably leaning back in to meet you halfway before the rest of him had caught up and made him stop. He made a small sound in his throat and pinched his eyes shut, letting you get right up to the edge of it, breath already tangling with his, wanting so badly to just let it happen, before his finger came up between you, pressed light against your bottom lip to stop you a hair short. It was more for his own sake than the words he remembered you telling someone years ago ringing in his head.

“Ah-ah.” His voice came out rough with want, entirely at odds with his actions. “Your rule. Only one kiss after the first date. I’m trying —” he exhaled hard, almost dramatically, “— trying real hard here to make it to the second.”

“Huh?” Your eyes peeled open. “This was a date?” 

“Best one you’ve had I’m guessing, with the way you’re breaking your rules.” His finger stayed right where it was, and he watched your eyes struggle to focus, still glassy from the kiss. He could feel the warm huff of breath breaking unsteady against his fingertip, could feel your mouth soft and parted underneath it, waiting on him. 

You pressed a peck against his finger instead, your mouth barely dragging against his skin as a shy smile formed behind it that he felt more than saw. “Maybe.”

“Well, good.” He smiled, despite himself, and pushed himself off your forehead, opting instead to press his lips there. “Get some sleep,” he murmured against your hairline, lips lingering a little longer there. “Might be able to get a full seven hours.” 

“Will you?” 

“Doubt it.” He pulled back enough to look at you properly, thumb tracing a line along your cheekbone — his touch feather-light, tracking the exact curve of it, memorizing the route — before he made himself drop his hand entirely, fingers curling loosely at his sides because suddenly he had no idea what to do with them without you under them. “Kinda got a lot on my mind now.”

“Yeah?” You bit back a smile, still not quite steady on your feet. “Anything you wanna share with the class?”

“Not a chance.” He bent a fraction and hooked two fingers under the strap of your bag where it’d slid down to your elbow, dragging it slowly back up to your shoulders, knuckles grazing your arms the whole way. “You’ll find out. Eventually.”

He forced himself to step off the mat — one step back, then the second, putting real distance between you now — forcing ease into his expression that he definitely wasn’t feeling. He stopped a few feet away from you anyway, unable to fully commit to walking away, watching you stunned and still in your doorway, mouth a little kiss-soft. He felt so completely helpless and pleased at the sight. “Text me when you’re up and I’ll get to planning date two.” 

You raised a hand into a wave, fingers curling in the air.

“Bye, Jack,” you said, and his name came out of your mouth softer than you probably meant it to, smooth and cushy the way it never sounded on shift.

Rising at 15°

You are giving magnetism, and it is because your energy is compelling like a siren. Upon first impressions, people feel like you're very charismatic and confident. People find your energy to be memorable, the conversations with you are enthralling, and people truly don't want them to end! As a child, your personality was probably noticeable very early on. You were expressive, you enjoyed standing out, and you were actually really comfortable with the spotlight on you. Usually, you had a very strong sense of self, but if not, strengthening yourself esteem as a child was quite easy for you. Others often recognize your talents and your confidence very quickly. In life, you're somebody who is known for being themselves honestly. You're not somebody who will sugarcoat or mow themselves into being somebody else for approval, but instead you just naturally attract attention from people because you're interested in their eyes. People will remember you very easily, remember situations with you, fun memories, etc. Sometimes you can live in people's minds rent-free! Because you are very comfortable taking this center stage and taking initiative, people will typically look at you as a leader, and you might become the face of certain projects or groups because of this. You could feel like you are getting to know yourself better when you are in a position of leadership, and this is because you really thrive when you are working hard, working with others, and setting an example for others. You have a very authentic expression, and even though you might go through some vulnerable situations in life, you come out with strength and confidence. A good career path for you to take would involve public speaking, entertainment, leadership, and entrepreneurship. You are somebody that people want to follow as a guide, so having a strong public influence will bring in lots of financial wealth for you.

Rising at 16°

You are definitely very disciplined and serious in demeanor. You are responsible, patient, and self-controlled, and this is because you have learned to experience! Upon first impressions, people would say that you are rather reserved and dependable. Other people might find you to be very mature for your age and very composed. You might have felt like life wasn't very fair for you in your early years, which is why you feel like you have to work so hard as an adult. But as a child, you were seen as very serious and responsible before most of your peers were. You had to learn patience the hard way, and this could have been through delays or losing something important to you. You definitely don't like to waste your time because to you, time actually has significance. Nonetheless, you have a quiet determination that helps you work towards your long-term goals, but as a kid, you felt very isolated or separated from childlike experiences, which could have affected your childhood very deeply. It has made you feel like relating to other people was too difficult or out of reach. Because of this, you could have been very hard on yourself as a child and might have even struggled with that into your adulthood. Success is something that comes to you gradually, which could be very frustrating for you, but as you are gradually succeeding, you are achieving things that most people either can't or would have a very hard time doing. You are somebody who might not see yourself the way that other people see you. You might be too hard on yourself and too unfair on yourself. A Life lesson that you definitely need to learn involves accepting that progress can be slow but is long-lasting and that rest is productive too. You don't have to define yourself only through the work that you do or how far you push yourself. A good career path for you would involve counseling, psychology, human services, mentoring, trauma therapy, working in prisons as counselors or mentors, and working in any rehabilitation service would be fruitful.

Rising at 17°

You definitely like to achieve and even exceed your own standards! You're somebody who goes above and beyond to accomplish the very important goals in your life, and you're somebody who needs to set goals to feel like they are serving their purpose. When people first meet you, they find you to be very capable, driven, motivated, and successful! People are drawn to your power and your ability to bring in whatever it is you're trying to manifest or work towards. As a child, you could have been someone who liked to win! You could have been very competitive and enjoyed accomplishing things that you know others wouldn't be able to. Competition came from within and from others, but you were mostly competitive with yourself above anyone else. As a kid, you definitely enjoyed recognition, and you might do things to get that recognition. You could have pushed your limits for attention, which could have resulted in an accident. An important life lesson for you to learn is that achievement is your only value, and that you don't have to always be one-upping others or even yourself just to feel worthy. It's okay to celebrate the journey and not just the outcome, just like it's okay to romanticize your day-to-day reaching mini goals while working on your long-term goals. It is essential to show yourself more grace because everybody knows you're a winner; you don't have to keep proving it! You have a natural gift to attract opportunities that will be prosperous for you, and you definitely have the motivation to accomplish your dreams; you just have to be a bit easier on yourself. A good career path for you would involve academia, law, ethics, publishing, higher education, being an author, creating educational texts, sharing your work with others, and social media.

Rising at 18°

You are somebody who often comes across as incredibly wise, thoughtful, or mature, even if you don't necessarily feel that way on the inside. People will assume that you have probably been through something because of your “tough” or deep exterior, and this is hard to ignore. Growing up, you may have been expected to grow up a little faster than other people, or you naturally became the person others leaned on for advice, stability, or emotional support. Because of this, you can become very hard on yourself whenever you make mistakes because you feel like you're supposed to know better. You were very sensitive, but private. You have a gift of noticing what others do not. You naturally think long-term, and you're usually willing to sacrifice immediate gratification for something that will benefit you later. Some of your biggest life lessons revolve around realizing that you don't always have to carry everything by yourself, allowing yourself to be vulnerable, and understanding that your worth isn't measured by how responsible or dependable you are. People often see you as somebody they can trust almost immediately, and you can leave a lasting impression simply because of how composed you seem. You will be seen as intense, but so respected, even if you can be hard to read. As you get older, you'll probably notice that your confidence grows tremendously because this degree tends to reward patience, consistency, and perseverance. Ideal career paths would involve medicine, crisis management, finance, investigation, becoming a private investigator, joining the police force, etc.

Rising at 19°

There is something about you that feels adventurous, optimistic, and larger than life. Even if you're shy, people often assume you're very open-minded or that you've lived an interesting life. When people first meet you, they find you to be a very warm person, very friendly, and very bright. You can light up a room just by being you. You tend to attract experiences that broaden your perspective, and your life may involve frequent travel, moving, education, different cultures, or constantly expanding your worldview. Growing up, you might have been encouraged to think big, or maybe you had no choice but to dream bigger than your circumstances. You were very energetic as a child, and you had no problem with being independent or expressing yourself without the validation of others. You're somebody who usually believes that things will eventually work out, even after setbacks. Because of that, people are naturally inspired by your resilience. One of your biggest lessons is learning that optimism doesn't mean avoiding reality. Sometimes you'll have to slow down and deal with uncomfortable truths instead of constantly looking toward the next opportunity. You can also overestimate what you're capable of taking on, which means pacing yourself becomes very important. People often remember you as somebody who makes them feel hopeful, encourages them to dream bigger, or changes the way they think about something. A good career path for you would involve media, sales, marketing, communication, and social media. You could do very well making sales online, creating ads or stories that will bring in financial traffic, being a social media manager, or running the social media for your business, etc.

Rising at 20°

You are someone who strives to be diplomatic and fair in most situations. Relationships can definitely shape your identity, especially as you are younger. Upon first impressions, people are quite smitten by you. People find you to be well-balanced, well-adjusted, and beautiful lol. You naturally come across as ambitious, capable, and somebody who has their life together, whether that's actually true or not. People tend to notice your work ethic very quickly, and they often assume you're much more disciplined than the average person. Growing up, achievement, reputation, or responsibility may have been emphasized within your environment, making you feel like success had to be earned rather than freely enjoyed. You might have spent a lot of your younger years trying to prove yourself or feeling like your accomplishments determined your value. Because of this, failure can feel incredibly personal for you. One of your biggest life lessons is realizing that rest isn't laziness and that your identity is much bigger than your career or your achievements. You're somebody who naturally commands respect, and over time, people will likely come to see you as an authority in whatever field you pursue. The older you become, the more effortless your confidence tends to feel because this degree often improves tremendously with age. Ideal career paths for you would involve management, administration, wellness management, organizational leadership, organizational psychology, PR, HR, business psychology, etc.

Rising at 21°

You have a very unique presence that people don't forget. There is something about the way you carry yourself that feels different, unconventional, or even slightly unpredictable. When it comes to first impressions, you leave an impression with others that lasts a lifetime because people associate positive memories with you. People might struggle to put you into a box because every time they think they've figured you out, you surprise them. Growing up, you may have always felt a little different from your peers, or maybe you were encouraged to think independently instead of following the crowd. You're somebody who values authenticity more than popularity, even if it takes you a while to fully embrace that. Sometimes you can accidentally distance yourself from people because you become so focused on protecting your individuality. One of your greatest life lessons is learning that being understood isn't the same thing as losing your uniqueness. You naturally attract unusual friendships, unexpected opportunities, and people from all different walks of life. Others often leave interactions with you feeling inspired to think differently or challenge what they've always believed. You could have a core belief that you are meant for so much more in this life. Ideal career paths for you would involve technology, humanitarian work, innovative work, charity work, work overseas, etc.

Rising at 22°

There is something incredibly compassionate and emotionally intuitive about your presence, and it usually did not come from a place of peace. You could have had a “rough go” at life in the beginning, due to factors out of your control. When people first meet you, they see you as someone very serious, a little intimidating, and quite mysterious. However, nothing about you makes people want to stay away, but rather come closer. Even before people know you, they often feel comfortable opening up around you because you naturally create a sense of emotional safety. Growing up, you may have been highly sensitive to the moods and emotions of everyone around you, which could have made you absorb far more than you realized. Because of that, you might sometimes struggle with emotional boundaries or carrying responsibilities that were never yours to begin with. You also had to be the “strong one” when you were just a kid, and you faced a lot of trivial adult-like situations as a child that could have put you in a permanent survival mode that you carried throughout your life. You're somebody who often leads with empathy, but your biggest lesson is realizing that compassion shouldn't come at the expense of yourself. You also have to learn that taking on too much responsibility for other people does not make them love, respect, and appreciate you the way you do them. You can sometimes feel guilty for saying no or putting yourself first, and you definitely struggle with trusting others. People perceive you as very mature for your age, dependable, trustworthy, competent, intelligent, and stable. Your intuition is usually very strong, and throughout your life, you'll continue learning how to trust it instead of constantly seeking outside validation. Once you learn healthy boundaries, your ability to help and inspire others becomes one of your greatest strengths. A good career path for you would involve spirituality, psychics, healers, death workers, imagination, film, music, creative fields, writing novels, graphic design, writing movie scripts, specifically in the horror/suspense genre.

Rising at 23°

You have a presence that naturally grabs people's attention without you necessarily trying to. Communication and adaptability are high values for you. When people first meet you, they find you to be very friendly, intelligent, curious, and super easy to talk to. You're witty, expressive, and you have a natural gift of making everyone feel heard. Your social awareness is a hidden gift of yours because you really do know how to easily read a room. There is something expressive, confident, or magnetic about the way you carry yourself that makes people curious about you. Growing up, you may have been encouraged to stand out, and you were always curious about everything. You loved to perform, entertain, or develop your creative talents, but you could have been very bored with repetitive routines. You were definitely the kid with many interests all at once, so you were super quick to pick up new skills very easily. Even if you weren't necessarily extroverted, life probably kept putting you into situations where you had to be seen. You're somebody who enjoys expressing yourself, and you usually have a very memorable personality. At times, you might struggle with feeling like you're only appreciated when you're achieving something or entertaining others. One of your biggest life lessons is realizing that not every opportunity needs to be pursued, and that depth and energy put into one thing can be just as valuable as breadth. You really struggle with monotony, so you must find a consistent, but not completely unchangeable routine. You naturally inspire confidence in other people simply by being unapologetically yourself. As you grow older, you'll likely become even more comfortable taking up space because this degree teaches you that you were never meant to shrink yourself for the comfort of others. A good career path for you would involve entrepreneurship, competition, sports, initiative-driven careers, sales, and customer service as well.

Rising at 24°

You are naturally considered to be a caregiver type as you genuinely love nurturing others. Being protective and nursing people back to Good health could be a major life lesson for you or a major theme in your life. You are very loyal and emotionally secure, and other people can feel that. You have a very practical way of approaching life, and people often trust your judgment because you seem incredibly thoughtful before making decisions. Upon first impressions, people can definitely view you as compassionate, giving, and patient. You're seen as somebody easy to open up to. Growing up, you were definitely seen as gentle and observant, sensitive as well. You could have been overly protective of your siblings, cousins, friends, or even your pets. You or somebody who enjoyed helping adults with small tasks, so you probably regularly volunteered for things, lol. You were the kid who did not like to see somebody excluded from events or treated unfairly, so you tried to include everybody, even if they were different from you. You can sometimes become your own biggest critic, constantly feeling like you could have done something better. Building something important is everything to you, especially building meaningful relationships and creating stability from that. You want to take care of your loved ones, but you would also like it if they considered you, and sometimes you might not always feel like you are considered. Your inner strength definitely involves your high level of emotional intelligence and how you can read the room without anyone saying a word. You're somebody who genuinely wants to improve yourself and your surroundings, but one of your greatest lessons is learning when "good enough" truly is enough. You naturally enjoy helping people solve problems, offering advice, or making situations more efficient. Others often see you as dependable, intelligent, and quietly competent. You have to be mindful of overgiving, self-neglect, and difficulty with boundaries, as these things seem to be a major shadow trait of this degree in your rising. The more you let go of impossible standards, the more confident and relaxed you'll become. A good career path for you to take would involve diplomacy, aesthetics, design, relationship-based careers like becoming a marriage counselor, a divorce attorney, a family therapist, an art therapist, a graphic or home interior designer, etc.

Rising at 25°

I'd say that you are considered somewhat of a free spirit! You value your freedom and time to explore the world, and you definitely could have been in situations where you had to adapt and reinvent yourself, which is why you like to live life with a free mindset! Nonetheless, you're very curious about the odds and ends of the universe, and you live to have new experiences even if that means taking risks that you might not be able to come back from. Your identity can certainly be intertwined with trying new things, leaving your comfort zone, and discovering who you are through uncertain experiences. There is something incredibly charming and approachable about your energy. People usually find you easy to talk to, and you often make a wonderful first impression because you naturally know how to make others feel comfortable. Growing up, you were certainly looking to learn about everything, and you were always asking to try out something new. You were certainly a very independent kid who questioned the status quo rather than just blindly accepting authority, so you could have been seen as the “problem child” simply because you had your own curious mind. However, you enjoyed being free, creative, and chaotic! You grew up to hate being restricted or micromanaged, and you might have found yourself in situations where you had to combat that resistance from others. An important life lesson is to really distinguish the difference between freedom and escapism. Freedom means making choices and not avoiding responsibility, while escape is just a means of leaving without finding a solution. You really struggle with commitment and not commitment to other people, but commitment to yourself and your path so you might revisit the lesson of patience, and strengthening the natural gifts that you were born with, rather than wanting to regularly reinvent yourself. Long-term growth will definitely require long-term consistency. In other types of relationships, you are very committed but you definitely do need your freedom to be who you are. You could be very blunt and flexible, and you definitely value laughter and being goofy with your person. You should certainly use your gift of movement and adaptability to explore different career paths like journalism, sales/entrepreneurship, film and media, or freelancing! I think with this degree on your rising, you could be your own worst critic because how you do yourself is not how others view you at all. Usually, you think you're not doing enough while others are wondering how you are keeping your head on your shoulders by taking on so much. A good career path for you to take for involve strategy, research, finance, and psychology. You would be a great private investigator, a great detective, and you'd even be excellent working for the FBI, as well as offering your own private investigative resources. You could also work as a bank teller or financial consultant as well.

Rising at 26°

People often feel like there's much more to you than what meets the eye. This is because you are somebody who would be perceived as mysterious, intense, or private because of what you've been through, and you are collective wisdom through experience. Usually, this is a misunderstanding, so when people really get to know you, they do see the kind and friendly side of you, but you could come off as somebody who is a little unapproachable, and it's only because you are extremely discerning of others. Others may instinctively feel like you understand things that aren't spoken out loud. Growing up, you had a very calm demeanor in comparison to other children. You certainly valued being observant rather than speaking out of habit or impulse. You could have definitely been one of those kids with a very mature vocabulary or way of thinking, and you were responsible without much force or reminder! People would have described you as well-behaved, and that's because you stay out of trouble, and you were surprisingly patient for your age. This gives big sister energy lol. Others view you as dependable, respectable, and hard-working, and you are fiercely protective of your privacy and your close friends. You might even be considered to be the therapist friend out of your social group. In your family dynamics, you could have felt like you had to be the glue of your family, and your parents could have made you feel like you guys were on an equal playing field, so you had to bear a lot of the responsibilities that they should have been responsible for. Even if it could have felt like you've had a rough path in the past, these trials and tribulations made you somebody who is very reliable, patient, and emotionally resilient, especially during times of chaos. Later in life, you can totally become a mentor just based on all that you've been through. You will definitely build career success when you are persistent and when you take risks or lean into what you do best. Be careful when carrying too much alone. Emotional burdens can be hard for this Rising placement because it could feel like you can't really confide in anybody, because you are that person for everybody else. Your biggest life lesson is to try to enjoy the present, let people help you, share your emotions, and just trust the timing of your life. A good career path for you would involve teaching, travel, writing, and cultural work. You could do work overseas, you could be a travel nurse, you could be a multilingual educator, and a different country, etc.

Rising at 27°

You are the definition of an old soul. You are wise, compassionate, and have a very healing quality to your energy. This definitely did not come easy because everything that you have been through wasn't always a walk in the park. A life motto of yours could certainly be that everything you experience definitely taught you something, and this is a spiritual gift that a lot of people do not have. The gift of accepting what was. Upon first impressions of you, people definitely see you as very gentle, thoughtful, compassionate, soft spoken, and emotionally safe. You could have an inviting quality about you, and this could be anything from the way you carry yourself to the gentleness in your tone of voice. People will look up to you very quickly and ask you for advice because I feel understood in your presence, and they just assume that you have been through everything, so you can handle what they have to tell you. Be careful, though, because people will definitely project the need to use you as a counselor even if that's not your profession. Nonetheless, you were certainly a sensitive kid who could have been described as an old soul by other people. You enjoyed having deeper, more serious conversations, and you noticed things that adults assume that children wouldn't notice. You could also be a natural storyteller from childhood as well, and you could have really enjoyed reading, history, psychology, philosophy, or art. As you grow, you'll realize that your identity is tied to understanding your emotions and the emotions of others, helping others, and accepting change out of your control. Try not to take on other people's pain or to idealize people, because you can paint a pretty picture of what you want somebody to be, and they could just not be that. Do not ignore the red flags when they are gleaming in your face! A big life lesson here is to embrace boundaries with compassion. Except that not everything can be fixed, and that it is not your job to do so, and to stay grounded. You would make an excellent psychologist, therapist, counselor, social worker, coach, teacher, author, art therapist, or spiritual advisor.

Rising at 28°

You have been there and done that in this lifetime. Your ability to transform, transition, and evolve after some crazy crap happening to you is something that should go down in the history books. You had to adapt because life did not let you get comfortable, nor was it your personal destiny to be comfortable. In this lifetime, you really are meant to become who you're meant to be, and you might have a core belief that you are not meant to stay the same person forever. You develop your identity through endings and beginnings, so over time, detachment becomes second nature to you. Your growth requires shedding old versions of yourself, even if that means leaving behind the things that you got so comfortable with. Upon first impressions, people definitely be careful see you as thoughtful, reflective, very interesting, why is beyond your years, hard to define, proper, and like you are going to be something someday. People put you on a pedestal because they know that you are capable of much more. In any relationship, you definitely value authenticity and honesty, but you also value Mutual support and this idea of mutual evolution. Much like your personal life, you need to be around people who are open to changing themselves for the better. As a child, you could have felt like you didn't fit in, and that is because you had changing interests frequently. It was really hard for you to stick to one thing because again, you're really here to take in as much as you can and to grow. You could have had difficulty explaining who you are or what you're interested in to other people, so others could have sort of shunned you because they thought you were weird. However, the friendships that you do have will always change. Your friends will consider you to be different all the time, or like you are constantly figuring yourself out. Your ability to change so quickly comes from your family dynamics and the fact that you could have moved homes a lot, could have been a part of a military family, so travel was constant, or could have had a one-parent household that required you to step up. Keep in mind, this is not a universal experience; any situation that would propel you to have this inherent belief that you cannot settle down would cause this. However, you are very self-aware of yourself and what you need, so when you do detach, it's because it is in your best interest. You have a great perspective it can see the bigger picture of things, and you don't only change selfishly.. You hold space for others while you change, and you help others change with you. Be mindful of restlessness because you are constantly trying to look forward and not appreciate the present. It's important to trust the timing in your life and to focus on building groups rather than looking for the next thing that you feel will evolve your life in some way. For careers, you would do excellent in psychology, coaching, counseling, organizational change, education, writing, research, entrepreneurship, humanitarian work, and crisis management. You also have an extraordinary ability to bring in lots of money into your life.

Rising at 29°

𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Aries ruling this house, your approach to these themes is bold, energetic, and pioneering. Ruled by Mars, Aries in the eleventh house brings a dynamic and action-oriented energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of taking initiative, leading in group settings, and pursuing your dreams with courage and determination. Your glow-up involves stepping into leadership roles within your community, cultivating friendships that inspire action, and fearlessly chasing your long-term goals.

Community: Leading with Enthusiasm and Confidence

Aries in the eleventh house makes you a natural leader in group settings. You bring enthusiasm, drive, and a go-getter attitude to your communities, often inspiring others to take action and embrace bold initiatives.

To glow up in your community life, focus on stepping into leadership roles where you can guide others toward shared goals. Organize events, lead projects, or start movements that align with your values and ignite your passion.

Embrace Aries’ dynamic energy by bringing fresh ideas and a can-do spirit to your groups. Your ability to take charge and energize others ensures that your community thrives under your influence.

Friendships: Dynamic and Motivating Connections

Aries in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are active, exciting, and full of momentum. You’re drawn to people who share your drive and aren’t afraid to push boundaries or take risks.

To glow up your social circle, focus on cultivating connections with individuals who motivate you to take bold steps toward your dreams. Surround yourself with friends who encourage your independence and celebrate your victories.

Embrace Aries’ fearless nature by initiating new friendships and creating opportunities for group adventures. Whether it’s starting a fitness group or joining a cause you’re passionate about, your proactive approach ensures you attract vibrant and inspiring relationships.

Social Causes: Taking Action for Change

Aries in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that demand action and leadership. You’re drawn to movements that align with your values and allow you to channel your energy into making a tangible difference.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on taking initiative within organizations or starting your own projects. Your natural assertiveness and courage make you a powerful advocate for change.

Embrace Aries’ pioneering spirit by championing causes that ignite your passion. Your ability to lead and inspire others ensures that your efforts leave a lasting impact.

Long-Term Dreams: Bold and Fearless Pursuit

Aries in the eleventh house drives you to dream big and pursue your goals with relentless determination. Your aspirations are fueled by a desire to take bold risks and carve your own path to success.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on setting clear, actionable goals and taking decisive steps toward them. Aries energy thrives on momentum, so prioritize consistent effort and celebrate your progress along the way.

Embrace Aries’ competitive edge by staying fearless in the face of challenges. Your ability to persevere and lead with confidence ensures that your dreams become a reality.

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Taurus ruling this house, your approach to these themes is grounded, nurturing, and focused on creating stability and enduring connections. Ruled by Venus, Taurus in the eleventh house brings a steady and practical energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of building long-lasting relationships, supporting causes with tangible impact, and pursuing dreams that provide comfort and security. Your glow-up involves cultivating a strong and reliable network, aligning with causes that resonate deeply with your values, and steadily working toward your long-term goals.

Community: Steadfast and Supportive Connections

Taurus in the eleventh house makes you a dependable and calming presence within your communities. You bring stability, patience, and a sense of reliability that helps others feel grounded and secure.

To glow up in your community life, focus on building relationships that stand the test of time. Join groups where trust and mutual respect are the foundation, and take on roles that allow you to offer practical support and guidance.

Embrace Taurus’ nurturing energy by fostering harmony and creating environments that feel safe and welcoming. Your steady influence ensures your community thrives and grows sustainably.

Friendships: Loyal and Trustworthy Bonds

Taurus in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are reliable, meaningful, and enduring. You’re drawn to people who value consistency, loyalty, and mutual support, and you naturally gravitate toward friendships that feel stable and secure.

To glow up your social circle, focus on deepening your bonds with those who align with your values and bring peace into your life. Prioritize quality over quantity, choosing friends who appreciate your reliability and reciprocate your care.

Embrace Taurus’ love for comfort by creating shared traditions or routines with your friends. Whether it’s regular dinner parties or creative collaborations, these consistent moments strengthen your connections.

Social Causes: Grounded and Practical Advocacy

Taurus in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that bring tangible, long-term benefits to the world. You’re drawn to movements that focus on environmental sustainability, financial security, or preserving beauty and harmony in the community.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing in practical and lasting ways. Whether through fundraising, volunteering, or creating programs that deliver real results, your efforts are most impactful when they align with your values and offer stability.

Embrace Taurus’ commitment to the Earth by supporting causes related to nature, agriculture, or conservation. Your dedication ensures meaningful and sustainable progress.

Long-Term Dreams: Patient and Steadfast Pursuit

Taurus in the eleventh house drives you to dream of a secure and abundant future. Your aspirations are rooted in creating stability, beauty, and comfort, and you pursue them with patience and persistence.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on developing a clear vision and working steadily toward it. Taurus energy thrives on consistent effort, so prioritize small, incremental steps that build momentum over time.

Embrace Taurus’ love for quality by setting goals that align with your values and bring lasting rewards. Your ability to stay patient and committed ensures your dreams come to fruition.

𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Gemini ruling this house, your approach to these themes is dynamic, communicative, and intellectually engaging. Ruled by Mercury, Gemini in the eleventh house brings a curious and adaptable energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of exchanging ideas, forming diverse connections, and pursuing dreams that stimulate your mind. Your glow-up involves building a vibrant and stimulating network, championing social causes through communication, and pursuing your long-term goals with creativity and flexibility.

Community: Engaging and Intellectual Connections

Gemini in the eleventh house makes you a natural conversationalist and connector within your communities. You bring energy, curiosity, and a love for exchanging ideas, often thriving in environments where dialogue and innovation are encouraged.

To glow up in your community life, focus on joining groups that foster intellectual engagement and shared learning. Participate in forums, networking events, or community initiatives where you can share ideas and gain fresh perspectives.

Embrace Gemini’s dynamic energy by initiating conversations and facilitating discussions. Your ability to connect people and ideas ensures your community thrives with collaboration and creativity.

Friendships: Versatile and Stimulating Relationships

Gemini in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are lively, intellectually stimulating, and full of variety. You’re drawn to people who are curious, adaptable, and open to exploring new ideas and experiences.

To glow up your social circle, focus on cultivating diverse friendships that challenge your thinking and broaden your perspective. Surround yourself with people who inspire creativity, share interesting ideas, and encourage your growth.

Embrace Gemini’s love for variety by exploring new activities or joining different social groups. Your natural charm and quick wit make it easy for you to form connections wherever you go.

Social Causes: Communicative and Collaborative Advocacy

Gemini in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that involve communication, education, or spreading awareness. You’re drawn to movements that use dialogue and innovation to create meaningful change.

To glow up your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing your communication skills. Whether it’s organizing campaigns, writing content, or facilitating discussions, your ability to share ideas effectively makes you a powerful advocate.

Embrace Gemini’s collaborative energy by supporting causes that promote learning, literacy, or technology. Your knack for connecting people and spreading information ensures your efforts have a lasting impact.

Long-Term Dreams: Creative and Adaptable Aspirations

Gemini in the eleventh house drives you to dream big and stay open to evolving goals. Your aspirations often involve creative endeavors, intellectual pursuits, or projects that allow for constant learning and exploration.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on setting flexible goals that allow room for experimentation and growth. Gemini energy thrives on adaptability, so embrace opportunities that keep you inspired and engaged.

Embrace Gemini’s inventive nature by pursuing dreams that align with your curiosity and creativity. Your ability to adapt and innovate ensures your success in achieving your goals.

𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Cancer ruling this house, your approach to these themes is nurturing, emotionally intuitive, and deeply personal. Ruled by the Moon, Cancer in the eleventh house brings a caring and empathetic energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of creating emotionally supportive connections, aligning with causes that resonate with your heart, and pursuing dreams that nurture both yourself and others. Your glow-up involves building a compassionate and close-knit network, championing social causes that provide care and healing, and pursuing long-term goals with emotional fulfillment and purpose.

Community: Nurturing and Supportive Bonds

Cancer in the eleventh house makes you a comforting and reliable presence in your communities. You bring warmth, emotional depth, and a desire to create safe and nurturing spaces where everyone feels valued and connected.

To glow up in your community life, focus on cultivating meaningful relationships within groups that align with your values. Join organizations or initiatives that emphasize care, family, or emotional support, as these settings allow you to shine.

Embrace Cancer’s nurturing energy by fostering a sense of belonging in your community. Your ability to connect emotionally and provide comfort ensures you become a cherished member of any group.

Friendships: Deep and Meaningful Connections

Cancer in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are emotionally rich, loyal, and supportive. You’re drawn to people who value trust, authenticity, and emotional closeness, and you naturally form bonds that feel like family.

To glow up your social circle, focus on deepening your existing friendships and cultivating new ones with people who genuinely care about your well-being. Seek out friends who appreciate your sensitivity and reciprocate your loyalty.

Embrace Cancer’s intuitive nature by creating traditions or rituals that strengthen your friendships. Whether it’s a monthly dinner or shared creative projects, these moments deepen your connections.

Social Causes: Compassionate and Healing Advocacy

Cancer in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that focus on caregiving, emotional healing, or providing support to vulnerable communities. You’re drawn to movements that align with your nurturing spirit and desire to make others feel safe and valued.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing in ways that allow you to provide care and comfort. Volunteering at shelters, advocating for family-oriented initiatives, or supporting mental health programs are excellent outlets for your compassionate energy.

Embrace Cancer’s protective instincts by championing causes that bring people together and create supportive environments. Your heartfelt contributions have a lasting impact on those you serve.

Long-Term Dreams: Emotionally Fulfilled Aspirations

Cancer in the eleventh house drives you to dream of a future where emotional well-being and security are prioritized. Your aspirations often involve creating spaces or systems that nurture others, whether it’s a family-oriented project, a healing initiative, or a creative endeavor that touches hearts.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on aligning your goals with what fulfills you emotionally. Pursue projects that resonate deeply with your values and allow you to express your caring nature.

Embrace Cancer’s focus on nurturing by pursuing dreams that contribute to the well-being of others. Your ability to connect emotionally ensures your goals are not only successful but also meaningful.

𝐋𝐄𝐎 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Leo ruling this house, your approach to these themes is charismatic, creative, and driven by a desire to inspire and shine. Ruled by the Sun, Leo in the eleventh house brings a radiant and confident energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing leadership, self-expression, and the ability to unite and uplift others. Your glow-up involves taking center stage in your community, building friendships that celebrate individuality, championing social causes that spark joy and creativity, and pursuing dreams that allow you to leave a bold and positive mark on the world.

Community: Leading with Charisma and Creativity

Leo in the eleventh house makes you a natural leader in group settings, often taking charge to bring energy and direction to your communities. You bring enthusiasm, a creative spirit, and a flair for making people feel inspired and included.

To glow up in your community life, focus on stepping into leadership roles that align with your passion and vision. Organize events, spearhead projects, or join initiatives where your natural confidence and creativity can shine.

Embrace Leo’s radiant energy by bringing positivity and excitement to your groups. Your ability to light up a room and motivate others ensures your community flourishes under your influence.

Friendships: Vibrant and Celebratory Connections

Leo in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are dynamic, uplifting, and full of celebration. You’re drawn to people who share your zest for life and appreciate your warmth and individuality.

To glow up your social circle, focus on cultivating friendships that inspire confidence and creativity. Surround yourself with people who celebrate your achievements and encourage you to express yourself authentically.

Embrace Leo’s love for fun and festivity by organizing get-togethers, creative collaborations, or adventures with your friends. Your ability to create joyful and memorable experiences strengthens your bonds and builds a loyal network.

Social Causes: Inspiring and Joyful Advocacy

Leo in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that promote joy, creativity, and empowerment. You’re drawn to movements that align with your desire to uplift others and bring positivity to the world.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on using your leadership skills and creativity to inspire action. Whether it’s advocating for the arts, mentoring young talent, or supporting causes that bring happiness to communities, your enthusiasm motivates others to join your mission.

Embrace Leo’s flair for the dramatic by hosting fundraising events, creating awareness campaigns, or spotlighting important issues in unique and engaging ways. Your passion and creativity leave a lasting impact.

Long-Term Dreams: Bold and Inspiring Aspirations

Leo in the eleventh house drives you to dream big and aim for goals that allow you to express your unique brilliance. Your aspirations often involve making a meaningful impact through leadership, creativity, or projects that bring joy and unity to others.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on aligning your goals with your personal strengths and passions. Leo energy thrives on recognition and self-expression, so pursue dreams that let your light shine while inspiring those around you.

Embrace Leo’s courage and determination by staying confident in your vision, even when challenges arise. Your ability to dream boldly and lead with heart ensures your success and fulfillment.

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Virgo ruling this house, your approach to these themes is practical, service-oriented, and detail-focused. Ruled by Mercury, Virgo in the eleventh house brings a meticulous and helpful energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of supporting others, organizing meaningful initiatives, and pursuing dreams that make a tangible difference. Your glow-up involves building a purposeful and well-organized network, championing social causes through service and efficiency, and pursuing long-term goals with thoughtful planning and precision.

Community: Supportive and Organized Presence

Virgo in the eleventh house makes you the backbone of your communities, often taking on roles that require structure, organization, and thoughtful problem-solving. You bring a practical and service-driven approach that helps groups function smoothly and achieve meaningful results.

To glow up in your community life, focus on finding ways to contribute your skills to group initiatives. Take on roles that allow you to implement systems, improve processes, or offer guidance to others. Your eye for detail ensures success in collaborative efforts.

Embrace Virgo’s helpful energy by becoming a go-to person in your circles. Whether it’s offering advice, coordinating events, or volunteering your expertise, your reliability strengthens your position in the community.

Friendships: Thoughtful and Reliable Connections

Virgo in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are grounded, loyal, and mutually supportive. You’re drawn to people who value practicality and thoughtfulness, and you naturally create bonds with those who appreciate your attention to detail and reliability.

To glow up your social circle, focus on building friendships that prioritize quality over quantity. Seek out connections with individuals who share your values and can offer encouragement and constructive feedback.

Embrace Virgo’s nurturing side by being attentive to the needs of your friends. Small acts of service, such as helping with a project or offering thoughtful advice, deepen your bonds and showcase your caring nature.

Social Causes: Service-Oriented Advocacy

Virgo in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that promote health, education, or environmental sustainability. You’re drawn to movements where your skills in analysis and organization can make a significant impact.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing in ways that emphasize your strengths. Whether it’s organizing charity events, creating efficient workflows for nonprofits, or educating others on important issues, your efforts bring clarity and structure to any initiative.

Embrace Virgo’s practical energy by championing causes that focus on tangible improvements. Your dedication and attention to detail ensure lasting and meaningful progress in the communities you serve.

Long-Term Dreams: Purposeful and Well-Planned Aspirations

Virgo in the eleventh house drives you to dream of a future where your efforts create lasting value and contribute to the greater good. Your aspirations often involve making systems more efficient, improving health and well-being, or addressing overlooked needs in society.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on creating detailed plans and taking consistent steps toward your goals. Virgo energy thrives on precision, so breaking down big dreams into manageable actions ensures steady progress.

Embrace Virgo’s focus on refinement by continuously evaluating and improving your approach to achieving your dreams. Your commitment to excellence ensures your aspirations become a reality.

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Libra ruling this house, your approach to these themes is harmonious, diplomatic, and relationship-oriented. Ruled by Venus, Libra in the eleventh house brings a refined and balanced energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of fostering inclusive communities, building friendships based on mutual respect, and pursuing dreams that align with beauty, justice, and collaboration. Your glow-up involves creating a harmonious social network, championing causes that promote fairness, and pursuing long-term goals that inspire unity and creativity.

Community: Building Harmony and Inclusion

Libra in the eleventh house makes you a unifying presence in your communities. You excel at fostering collaboration, mediating conflicts, and bringing people together for a shared purpose.

To glow up in your community life, focus on joining or creating groups that value equality, aesthetics, and collective progress. Take on roles that allow you to serve as a bridge between diverse perspectives, helping your community find balance and cohesion.

Embrace Libra’s diplomatic energy by promoting inclusivity and fairness in your groups. Your ability to harmonize differing opinions ensures that everyone feels valued and heard, strengthening the bonds within your community.

Friendships: Harmonious and Uplifting Connections

Libra in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are balanced, supportive, and centered on mutual respect. You’re drawn to people who value beauty, kindness, and fairness, and your charm naturally attracts those who appreciate your thoughtful and considerate nature.

To glow up your social circle, focus on cultivating relationships that feel reciprocal and uplifting. Surround yourself with friends who encourage collaboration, celebrate your successes, and inspire you to pursue your dreams.

Embrace Libra’s sociable side by hosting gatherings or organizing events that bring your friends together in beautiful and meaningful ways. These shared experiences deepen your bonds and showcase your natural talent for connection.

Social Causes: Advocating for Justice and Beauty

Libra in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that promote fairness, equality, and aesthetic improvement. You’re drawn to movements that focus on justice, human rights, or enhancing the quality of life through art and design.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing your skills in diplomacy and creativity. Whether it’s mediating disputes, designing campaigns, or advocating for fairness in your community, your balanced approach makes you an effective force for change.

Embrace Libra’s love for beauty and harmony by supporting causes that bring both justice and aesthetic enrichment to the world. Your efforts inspire progress that is both meaningful and visually impactful.

Long-Term Dreams: Balanced and Collaborative Aspirations

Libra in the eleventh house drives you to dream of a future that emphasizes harmony, collaboration, and shared success. Your aspirations often involve creating systems or projects that bring people together, promote equality, or elevate beauty and artistry.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on aligning your goals with your desire to create balance and unity. Libra energy thrives on partnerships, so collaborate with others who share your vision to amplify your impact.

Embrace Libra’s love for refinement by pursuing dreams that resonate with your artistic and relational strengths. Your ability to balance practicality with creativity ensures your success and fulfillment.

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Scorpio ruling this house, your approach to these themes is intense, transformative, and deeply passionate. Ruled by Mars and Pluto, Scorpio in the eleventh house brings a profound and magnetic energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of building powerful alliances, championing transformative causes, and pursuing long-term dreams with determination and depth. Your glow-up involves fostering meaningful and transformative relationships, championing causes that create lasting change, and pursuing your long-term goals with focus and resilience.

Community: Transformative and Empowering Connections

Scorpio in the eleventh house makes you a dynamic and impactful presence in your communities. You have the ability to lead through transformation, helping groups navigate challenges and emerge stronger and more united.

To glow up in your community life, focus on joining or creating groups that value deep connection and meaningful impact. Take on roles where you can guide others through change, build trust, and inspire resilience.

Embrace Scorpio’s transformative energy by fostering loyalty and creating spaces for honesty and vulnerability. Your intensity and commitment can galvanize your community, empowering it to achieve remarkable outcomes.

Friendships: Deep and Loyal Bonds

Scorpio in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are intense, loyal, and transformative. You’re drawn to people who share your depth, passion, and drive for personal and collective growth, forming bonds that go far beyond the surface.

To glow up your social circle, focus on cultivating relationships that offer mutual trust and emotional depth. Surround yourself with friends who challenge you to grow, stand by you in tough times, and share your vision for transformation.

Embrace Scorpio’s protective nature by prioritizing quality over quantity in your friendships. Your loyalty and willingness to support others through their challenges create unbreakable bonds.

Social Causes: Transformative and Impactful Advocacy

Scorpio in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that focus on profound change, healing, or uncovering hidden truths. You’re drawn to movements that address deep-seated issues, such as environmental regeneration, mental health advocacy, or social justice reform.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing in ways that tap into your resilience and determination. Lead initiatives that require courage, resourcefulness, and the ability to navigate complex situations.

Embrace Scorpio’s fearless energy by tackling causes that others might shy away from. Your ability to dig deep and create lasting change makes you a powerful advocate for transformation.

Long-Term Dreams: Passionate and Resilient Aspirations

Scorpio in the eleventh house drives you to dream of a future that is transformative and empowering. Your aspirations often involve creating profound change in your own life and the world, whether through healing, innovation, or building a legacy of resilience.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on aligning your goals with your inner passion and determination. Scorpio energy thrives on intensity, so choose dreams that challenge you and offer the opportunity for deep growth.

Embrace Scorpio’s resourcefulness by pursuing your goals with a strategic and focused approach. Your ability to overcome obstacles and adapt to challenges ensures your success.

𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Sagittarius ruling this house, your approach to these themes is adventurous, optimistic, and deeply visionary. Ruled by Jupiter, Sagittarius in the eleventh house brings an expansive and enthusiastic energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of connecting with diverse groups, championing global causes, and pursuing dreams that broaden horizons. Your glow-up involves building a wide and inspiring network, championing causes that align with your love for freedom and exploration, and chasing your long-term goals with optimism and boundless ambition.

Community: Expansive and Inspiring Connections

Sagittarius in the eleventh house makes you a vibrant and dynamic presence in your communities. You bring enthusiasm, positivity, and a love for exploration that inspires others to think big and embrace new possibilities.

To glow up in your community life, focus on joining groups or organizations that value growth, learning, and diverse perspectives. Seek out opportunities to connect with people from different cultures, philosophies, and walks of life.

Embrace Sagittarius’ adventurous energy by encouraging open-mindedness and exploration within your community. Your ability to inspire others to step outside their comfort zones creates a dynamic and uplifting atmosphere.

Friendships: Adventurous and Uplifting Bonds

Sagittarius in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are exciting, adventurous, and full of shared exploration. You’re drawn to people who inspire you to grow, challenge your thinking, and share your love for freedom and discovery.

To glow up your social circle, focus on building friendships with individuals who share your passion for adventure and intellectual curiosity. Plan trips, attend workshops, or join study groups with friends who encourage you to dream bigger and explore further.

Embrace Sagittarius’ love for fun and spontaneity by organizing adventures or participating in cultural exchanges. Your friendships thrive on shared experiences that expand your perspectives and create lasting memories.

Social Causes: Global and Visionary Advocacy

Sagittarius in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that promote freedom, education, and global unity. You’re drawn to movements that encourage exploration, cultural understanding, or the pursuit of truth and wisdom.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on championing initiatives that align with your love for learning and expanding horizons. Whether it’s advocating for global education, supporting travel opportunities for underprivileged communities, or promoting cross-cultural understanding, your enthusiasm inspires others to join your mission.

Embrace Sagittarius’ expansive energy by taking on leadership roles in causes that resonate with your values. Your ability to think big and connect diverse groups ensures meaningful and far-reaching impact.

Long-Term Dreams: Ambitious and Boundless Aspirations

Sagittarius in the eleventh house drives you to dream of a future filled with exploration, growth, and limitless possibilities. Your aspirations often involve travel, higher learning, or creating opportunities for others to expand their horizons.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on aligning your goals with your desire to make a global impact. Sagittarius energy thrives on bold and visionary goals, so aim high and trust in your ability to achieve what others might consider impossible.

Embrace Sagittarius’ optimism and determination by staying adaptable and open to opportunities that lead you closer to your dreams. Your enthusiasm and adventurous spirit ensure your success.

𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Capricorn ruling this house, your approach to these themes is disciplined, purposeful, and goal-oriented. Ruled by Saturn, Capricorn in the eleventh house brings a structured and ambitious energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of building stable networks, supporting meaningful causes with long-term impact, and pursuing dreams with patience and determination. Your glow-up involves cultivating reliable connections, championing social causes that require strategy and foresight, and achieving your long-term goals through persistence and dedication.

Community: Stable and Goal-Oriented Bonds

Capricorn in the eleventh house makes you a dependable and respected figure in your communities. You bring a sense of structure, practicality, and responsibility that helps groups achieve their goals and maintain stability.

To glow up in your community life, focus on joining or creating networks that value hard work, ambition, and mutual respect. Take on leadership or organizational roles that allow you to use your strategic thinking to guide your group toward success.

Embrace Capricorn’s disciplined energy by helping your community establish long-term plans and achieve measurable outcomes. Your steady influence makes you an invaluable asset to any group.

Friendships: Reliable and Supportive Relationships

Capricorn in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are dependable, goal-oriented, and built on mutual respect. You’re drawn to people who share your values and can support your ambitions while challenging you to grow.

To glow up your social circle, focus on deepening your relationships with friends who are trustworthy and share your vision for success. Prioritize quality over quantity, choosing friendships that offer genuine support and shared aspirations.

Embrace Capricorn’s practical nature by creating meaningful traditions or partnerships with your friends. These bonds, based on shared goals and reliability, become a cornerstone of your network.

Social Causes: Strategic and Long-Term Advocacy

Capricorn in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that promote structure, sustainability, and meaningful change. You’re drawn to movements that address systemic issues, build infrastructure, or create long-lasting solutions.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing your organizational and strategic skills. Whether it’s by developing plans, managing resources, or creating policies, your ability to think long-term ensures success for the causes you support.

Embrace Capricorn’s commitment to legacy by championing initiatives that leave a lasting impact. Your dedication to planning and execution makes you a leader in movements that require resilience and foresight.

Long-Term Dreams: Ambitious and Well-Planned Goals

Capricorn in the eleventh house drives you to dream big, but with a strong sense of practicality and a focus on results. Your aspirations often involve creating systems or structures that provide stability, growth, and long-term benefits for yourself and others.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on setting clear, actionable goals and working steadily toward them. Capricorn energy thrives on persistence, so approach your aspirations with patience and confidence.

Embrace Capricorn’s ambition by remaining focused on your vision, even when faced with obstacles. Your ability to stay disciplined and strategic ensures your dreams will come to fruition.

𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house is Aquarius’ natural domain, governing community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Aquarius ruling this house, your approach to these themes is innovative, inclusive, and future-focused. Ruled by Saturn and Uranus, Aquarius in the eleventh house brings a visionary and collaborative energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of connecting with diverse groups, championing progressive causes, and pursuing dreams that push boundaries and benefit humanity. Your glow-up involves creating a network of forward-thinking individuals, championing causes that embrace innovation and inclusivity, and pursuing long-term goals that challenge the status quo and inspire change.

Community: Visionary and Inclusive Networks

Aquarius in the eleventh house makes you a dynamic and inspiring figure within your communities. You thrive on connecting with diverse individuals and fostering environments where everyone’s voice is valued and ideas flow freely.

To glow up in your community life, focus on joining or creating groups that celebrate innovation, inclusivity, and shared goals. Participate in think tanks, humanitarian efforts, or organizations that champion progressive ideals.

Embrace Aquarius’ collaborative energy by encouraging open dialogue and brainstorming within your networks. Your ability to unify and inspire others to work toward a common vision elevates your community and builds lasting connections.

Friendships: Unique and Inspiring Bonds

Aquarius in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are unconventional, intellectually stimulating, and rooted in shared ideals. You’re drawn to people who challenge norms, inspire innovation, and align with your vision for the future.

To glow up your social circle, focus on cultivating relationships with individuals who encourage your originality and share your commitment to progress. Surround yourself with friends who value freedom, diversity, and collective growth.

Embrace Aquarius’ love for individuality by celebrating your friends’ unique qualities and supporting their personal and professional endeavors. Your ability to foster empowering and non-judgmental friendships strengthens your network and creates lasting bonds.

Social Causes: Innovative and Transformative Advocacy

Aquarius in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that aim to revolutionize systems, promote equality, and embrace technological or social advancements. You’re drawn to movements that challenge the status quo and focus on building a better future for all.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on contributing your innovative ideas and collaborative skills. Whether it’s organizing campaigns, creating cutting-edge solutions, or leveraging technology to drive change, your efforts inspire and motivate others.

Embrace Aquarius’ progressive energy by championing causes that push boundaries and address global challenges. Your ability to think outside the box and rally support ensures impactful and lasting change.

Long-Term Dreams: Bold and Visionary Aspirations

Aquarius in the eleventh house drives you to dream big and pursue goals that challenge traditional limits. Your aspirations often involve making groundbreaking advancements, fostering global unity, or creating systems that empower and uplift humanity.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on aligning your goals with your passion for innovation and progress. Aquarius energy thrives on unconventional ideas, so don’t shy away from exploring unique approaches to achieving your vision.

Embrace Aquarius’ love for the future by staying adaptable and open to new opportunities. Your forward-thinking mindset and determination ensure that your dreams are not only achievable but also transformative.

𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The eleventh house governs community, friendships, social causes, and long-term dreams. With Pisces ruling this house, your approach to these themes is compassionate, intuitive, and deeply imaginative. Ruled by Jupiter and Neptune, Pisces in the eleventh house brings a mystical and empathetic energy to your social life and aspirations, emphasizing the importance of emotional connection, spiritual unity, and pursuing dreams that inspire and heal. Your glow-up involves building a soulful and supportive network, championing causes that uplift and unite, and pursuing long-term goals with creativity and a sense of higher purpose.

Community: Compassionate and Dreamy Connections

Pisces in the eleventh house makes you a nurturing and spiritually attuned presence in your communities. You have a natural ability to sense the needs of those around you, creating a sense of emotional safety and connection.

To glow up in your community life, focus on joining groups that emphasize compassion, creativity, and spiritual growth. Whether it’s an artistic collective, a meditation group, or a humanitarian organization, your contributions shine in spaces where empathy and imagination are valued.

Embrace Pisces’ intuitive energy by bringing gentleness and understanding to your interactions. Your ability to connect on a deep emotional level strengthens your community and creates bonds that transcend the ordinary.

Friendships: Soulful and Supportive Bonds

Pisces in the eleventh house attracts friendships that are empathetic, inspiring, and deeply meaningful. You’re drawn to people who share your sensitivity, creativity, and love for exploring the mysteries of life.

To glow up your social circle, focus on building relationships with friends who understand your emotional depth and encourage your dreams. Seek out kindred spirits who appreciate your unique perspective and share your vision for a more connected and compassionate world.

Embrace Pisces’ nurturing side by offering support and encouragement to your friends. Simple gestures like listening deeply or sharing heartfelt moments strengthen your bonds and create lasting connections.

Social Causes: Healing and Uplifting Advocacy

Pisces in the eleventh house thrives on social causes that promote healing, spirituality, and emotional well-being. You’re drawn to movements that focus on helping vulnerable populations, preserving the arts, or fostering global compassion and understanding.

To glow up in your involvement with social causes, focus on using your creativity and intuition to inspire change. Whether it’s through artistic expression, emotional advocacy, or creating safe spaces for healing, your contributions bring a sense of hope and connection.

Embrace Pisces’ dreamy energy by supporting initiatives that align with your vision for a kinder, more unified world. Your ability to tap into the collective emotional pulse makes you a powerful and inspiring advocate.

Long-Term Dreams: Visionary and Heartfelt Aspirations

Pisces in the eleventh house drives you to dream of a future where creativity, compassion, and spiritual growth take center stage. Your aspirations often involve creating beauty, healing wounds, or connecting people in profound and meaningful ways.

To glow up in your pursuit of long-term dreams, focus on aligning your goals with your intuition and higher purpose. Pisces energy thrives on imagination, so embrace your visionary side and let your heart guide you.

Embrace Pisces’ artistic and spiritual nature by pursuing dreams that resonate with your deepest values. Your ability to inspire and uplift others ensures your goals have a lasting and meaningful impact.

𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Aries ruling this house, your approach to these themes is bold, energetic, and pioneering. Ruled by Mars, Aries in the tenth house brings a dynamic and fearless energy to your journey, emphasizing a take-charge attitude, the courage to blaze your own trail, and a natural talent for inspiring others. Your glow-up involves embracing your leadership potential, cultivating your ambitious spirit, and achieving success through boldness, initiative, and relentless drive.

Ambition: Fearless Pursuit of Goals

Aries in the tenth house thrives on setting ambitious goals and fearlessly pursuing them. You’re drawn to challenges that allow you to prove your capabilities and excel in competitive environments. Your ambition is driven by a deep desire to lead, innovate, and make a significant impact.

To glow up your ambition, focus on setting clear, actionable goals that ignite your passion. Break them down into manageable steps and take swift, decisive action. Aries energy thrives on momentum, so maintaining enthusiasm and a forward-thinking mindset is essential.

Embrace Aries’ pioneering spirit by taking risks that align with your vision. Your willingness to step into uncharted territory will set you apart and position you as a trailblazer in your chosen field.

Reputation: Dynamic and Bold Presence

Aries in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone who is courageous, assertive, and full of vitality. You’re seen as a leader who takes charge, motivates others, and isn’t afraid to take a stand for what you believe in.

To glow up your reputation, focus on cultivating confidence and authenticity in how you present yourself. Share your accomplishments proudly and showcase your unique strengths, whether it’s through social media, networking, or public speaking.

Embrace Aries’ dynamic energy by demonstrating your ability to take initiative and lead with purpose. People are inspired by your boldness, so allow your natural charisma to shine in all professional and public settings.

Leadership: Taking Charge and Inspiring Others

Aries in the tenth house makes you a natural leader who thrives on taking charge and setting the pace. You excel in roles where your assertiveness, quick decision-making, and ability to rally others create momentum and drive results.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on balancing your assertiveness with empathy and collaboration. While your decisive nature is a strength, involving others in your vision and valuing their contributions will elevate your leadership style.

Embrace Aries’ boldness by stepping into leadership opportunities that challenge you to grow. Whether it’s leading a team, starting your own business, or taking on a high-profile project, your ability to inspire action is your superpower.

Achieving Success: Bold Action and Relentless Drive

Aries in the tenth house ensures that your path to success is fueled by determination, resilience, and a fearless attitude. You’re drawn to careers and projects that allow you to break new ground, take calculated risks, and achieve results quickly.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on maintaining a balance between speed and strategy. While your instinct to act swiftly is an asset, combining it with thoughtful planning ensures long-term achievement.

Embrace Aries’ competitive edge by channeling your energy into ventures that ignite your passion and challenge your limits. Your relentless drive and pioneering spirit are key to reaching the heights you aspire to.

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Taurus ruling this house, your approach to these themes is steady, practical, and focused on building lasting value. Ruled by Venus, Taurus in the tenth house brings a grounded and determined energy to your journey, emphasizing persistence, financial security, and a reputation for reliability and grace. Your glow-up involves cultivating patience and consistency, achieving success through steady effort, and creating a legacy that reflects beauty, stability, and long-term value.

Ambition: Steady and Practical Goals

Taurus in the tenth house thrives on setting realistic, achievable goals that lead to lasting success. You’re driven by a desire for security, comfort, and creating tangible results that stand the test of time.

To glow up your ambition, focus on identifying long-term goals that align with your values. Develop a clear plan for achieving them, and remain consistent in your efforts. Taurus energy excels in environments that reward patience and persistence, so trust in the process and stay committed.

Embrace Taurus’ practical nature by pursuing careers or projects that allow you to create something enduring, whether it’s building a business, crafting luxury goods, or working in finance or real estate.

Reputation: Reliable and Graceful Presence

Taurus in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone dependable, trustworthy, and composed. You’re seen as a professional who exudes calm and grace, earning respect for your ability to remain steady under pressure.

To glow up your reputation, focus on presenting yourself with poise and professionalism. Pay attention to your personal style and demeanor, as Taurus’ connection to Venus highlights the importance of aesthetics and harmony.

Embrace Taurus’ grounded energy by delivering consistent results and maintaining a reputation for reliability. People admire your ability to bring a sense of calm and stability to any situation.

Leadership: Grounded and Supportive Leadership

Taurus in the tenth house makes you a steady and supportive leader who values consistency and practical solutions. You lead by example, inspiring others through your work ethic and commitment to quality.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on fostering trust and loyalty within your team. Be patient with others’ growth and provide constructive guidance that empowers them to succeed.

Embrace Taurus’ nurturing nature by creating a supportive environment that values sustainability and balance. Your ability to lead with care and steadiness makes you a respected figure in any professional setting.

Leadership: Grounded and Supportive Leadership

Taurus in the tenth house makes you a steady and supportive leader who values consistency and practical solutions. You lead by example, inspiring others through your work ethic and commitment to quality.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on fostering trust and loyalty within your team. Be patient with others’ growth and provide constructive guidance that empowers them to succeed.

Embrace Taurus’ nurturing nature by creating a supportive environment that values sustainability and balance. Your ability to lead with care and steadiness makes you a respected figure in any professional setting.

𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Gemini ruling this house, your approach to these themes is dynamic, versatile, and communication-driven. Ruled by Mercury, Gemini in the tenth house brings an adaptable and intellectually curious energy to your journey, emphasizing the importance of flexibility, networking, and continual learning. Your glow-up involves thriving in fast-paced environments, cultivating a reputation for wit and expertise, and achieving success through communication, innovation, and the ability to manage multiple pursuits with ease.

Ambition: Versatile and Intellectually Driven Goals

Gemini in the tenth house thrives on goals that stimulate your mind and allow you to explore diverse interests. You’re drawn to careers and projects that challenge your intellect, involve communication, or require quick adaptability.

To glow up your ambition, focus on pursuing multiple avenues of growth while maintaining clear priorities. Your natural curiosity and ability to multitask make you adept at thriving in dynamic environments, so seek opportunities that keep you engaged and inspired.

Embrace Gemini’s versatility by pursuing goals that allow for creative thinking, networking, and exploring new ideas. Your ambitious spirit shines brightest when you’re free to innovate and communicate.

Reputation: Witty and Multifaceted Presence

Gemini in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone intelligent, approachable, and versatile. You’re seen as a thought leader who thrives on sharing ideas, engaging with others, and staying ahead of the curve.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your communication skills and intellectual agility. Build a professional presence through writing, speaking engagements, or social media platforms where your voice and ideas can shine.

Embrace Gemini’s lively energy by staying informed and sharing your expertise with others. Your ability to connect with a wide range of people and ideas makes you a respected and influential figure in your field.

Leadership: Collaborative and Agile Leadership

Gemini in the tenth house makes you a collaborative and adaptable leader who thrives on fostering connections and facilitating teamwork. You excel at motivating others through clear communication and creating an environment of curiosity and innovation.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on honing your ability to listen and respond thoughtfully. Encourage dialogue, share knowledge, and create opportunities for team members to contribute their ideas.

Embrace Gemini’s agile energy by staying open to new strategies and adapting to changes quickly. Your ability to think on your feet and keep the energy flowing makes you an inspiring and effective leader.

Achieving Success: Innovation and Adaptability

Gemini in the tenth house ensures your path to success is driven by your adaptability, quick thinking, and ability to seize opportunities. You’re drawn to roles that involve problem-solving, networking, or staying on the cutting edge of your industry.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on leveraging your communication and networking skills. Seek roles where your ability to connect, share, and innovate will set you apart.

Embrace Gemini’s dual nature by staying open to juggling multiple projects or interests. Your ability to adapt and thrive in dynamic environments ensures your success in fields that value versatility and innovation.

𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Cancer ruling this house, your approach to these themes is nurturing, empathetic, and emotionally intuitive. Ruled by the Moon, Cancer in the tenth house brings a caring and protective energy to your journey, emphasizing the importance of creating a legacy that reflects your values, balancing professional success with emotional fulfillment, and cultivating leadership through compassion and connection. Your glow-up involves achieving success by embracing your intuitive leadership style, building a reputation for care and dedication, and aligning your ambitions with a meaningful purpose.

Ambition: Purposeful and Emotionally Driven Goals

Cancer in the tenth house thrives on pursuing goals that feel deeply meaningful and emotionally rewarding. You’re drawn to careers and projects that allow you to care for others, foster connection, or create a sense of security and belonging.

To glow up your ambition, focus on identifying goals that align with your values and provide emotional satisfaction. Whether it’s building a business, leading a team, or supporting a community initiative, your success lies in balancing professional achievements with heartfelt purpose.

Embrace Cancer’s nurturing energy by creating a supportive work environment that reflects your vision. Your ambition flourishes when your goals are rooted in care and connection.

Reputation: Compassionate and Dedicated Presence

Cancer in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone kind, trustworthy, and dedicated. You’re seen as a professional who brings empathy and emotional intelligence to every endeavor, earning respect for your ability to support and uplift others.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your nurturing qualities and commitment to excellence. Demonstrate your dedication through consistent actions, and let your natural warmth shine in your interactions.

Embrace Cancer’s intuitive energy by responding thoughtfully to others’ needs and creating a reputation for reliability and care. People admire your ability to lead with heart and authenticity.

Leadership: Empathetic and Supportive Leadership

Cancer in the tenth house makes you a compassionate and empathetic leader who excels at understanding and supporting your team. You lead by creating a sense of safety and belonging, inspiring loyalty and trust.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on fostering emotional intelligence and open communication. Listen actively to your team, provide encouragement, and prioritize their well-being as you work toward shared goals.

Embrace Cancer’s protective energy by creating a workplace culture that values care and collaboration. Your ability to lead with empathy and understanding makes you a beloved and effective leader.

Achieving Success: Balancing Care with Ambition

Cancer in the tenth house ensures your path to success is deeply connected to your emotional intelligence and ability to nurture growth. You’re drawn to roles that involve caregiving, emotional support, or fostering meaningful connections, such as counseling, education, or community leadership.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on balancing your drive for achievement with self-care and emotional fulfillment. While your dedication to others is a strength, nurturing your own needs is essential for sustained success.

Embrace Cancer’s intuitive nature by trusting your instincts and aligning your career choices with what feels authentic and purposeful. Your ability to combine ambition with empathy ensures long-term achievement and impact.

𝐋𝐄𝐎 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Leo ruling this house, your approach to these themes is bold, creative, and driven by a desire to shine. Ruled by the Sun, Leo in the tenth house brings a radiant and charismatic energy to your journey, emphasizing the importance of standing out, inspiring others, and creating a legacy that reflects your unique brilliance. Your glow-up involves embracing your leadership potential, building a reputation for creativity and confidence, and achieving success through passion, vision, and a flair for the dramatic.

Ambition: Bold and Visionary Goals

Leo in the tenth house thrives on ambitious goals that allow you to express your creativity and showcase your talents. You’re drawn to careers and projects that put you in the spotlight, whether as a performer, leader, or innovator.

To glow up your ambition, focus on defining a vision that excites and motivates you. Set bold, inspiring goals that reflect your passion and desire to make a lasting impact. Leo energy thrives when you’re working toward something that aligns with your heart and soul.

Embrace Leo’s visionary spirit by taking ownership of your dreams and pursuing opportunities that let your light shine. Your ambition flourishes when you’re fully committed to your unique path.

Reputation: Charismatic and Magnetic Presence

Leo in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone confident, dynamic, and inspiring. You’re seen as a leader who brings positivity, creativity, and a touch of glamour to everything you do, earning admiration for your ability to captivate and uplift others.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your talents and sharing your accomplishments with pride. Develop a professional presence through personal branding, public speaking, or creative projects that reflect your unique style.

Embrace Leo’s magnetic energy by allowing your authenticity and enthusiasm to shine in your interactions. People are drawn to your charisma and inspired by your boldness and creativity.

Leadership: Inspiring and Confident Leadership

Leo in the tenth house makes you a natural leader who inspires others with your confidence and passion. You excel at motivating teams, rallying support for your vision, and creating an environment where creativity and individuality are celebrated.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on balancing your desire to shine with a commitment to empowering others. Recognize and celebrate the contributions of your team, fostering loyalty and collaboration.

Embrace Leo’s warmth and generosity by leading with a sense of purpose and heart. Your ability to uplift and inspire those around you makes you a respected and admired leader.

Achieving Success: Passion and Creativity in Action

Leo in the tenth house ensures your path to success is fueled by your passion, creativity, and desire to leave a legacy. You’re drawn to roles that allow you to express your individuality, such as in the arts, entertainment, entrepreneurship, or any field where your vision and confidence can shine.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on combining your creative talents with strategic action. While your charisma is a strength, pairing it with discipline and planning ensures lasting achievement.

Embrace Leo’s flair for the dramatic by stepping boldly into opportunities that showcase your abilities. Your ability to lead with confidence and inspire others is key to achieving your ambitions.

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Virgo ruling this house, your approach to these themes is practical, detail-oriented, and service-driven. Ruled by Mercury, Virgo in the tenth house brings a disciplined and analytical energy to your journey, emphasizing precision, organization, and a commitment to making a meaningful contribution. Your glow-up involves achieving success through meticulous planning, building a reputation for reliability and excellence, and leading with humility and purpose.

Ambition: Purposeful and Detail-Oriented Goals

Virgo in the tenth house thrives on ambitious goals that are well-structured and focused on tangible outcomes. You’re drawn to careers and projects where your analytical mind and attention to detail can shine, such as healthcare, education, research, or project management.

To glow up your ambition, focus on setting clear, measurable objectives that align with your desire to create lasting impact. Develop a step-by-step plan to achieve your goals, and stay committed to refining your skills and knowledge along the way.

Embrace Virgo’s dedication to improvement by pursuing certifications, learning new systems, or mastering tools that enhance your efficiency. Your ability to adapt and evolve ensures steady progress toward your ambitions.

Reputation: Reliable and Excellent Presence

Virgo in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone dependable, hardworking, and highly skilled. You’re seen as a professional who takes pride in your craft and delivers results with precision and care.

To glow up your reputation, focus on consistently demonstrating your expertise and attention to detail. Build trust by being reliable and transparent in your work, and showcase your achievements through a portfolio or case studies that highlight your capabilities.

Embrace Virgo’s polished energy by paying attention to how you present yourself, from your communication style to your personal branding. Your meticulous approach inspires confidence and respect in others.

Leadership: Organized and Supportive Leadership

Virgo in the tenth house makes you a thoughtful and organized leader who excels at creating efficient systems and supporting your team’s growth. You lead by example, inspiring others through your dedication and commitment to excellence.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on cultivating patience and empathy. While your standards are high, encouraging and mentoring your team can foster a collaborative and productive environment.

Embrace Virgo’s problem-solving nature by offering practical solutions and providing clear guidance. Your ability to lead with precision and care makes you a valued and respected leader.

Achieving Success: Precision and Dedication in Action

Virgo in the tenth house ensures your path to success is built on a foundation of hard work, attention to detail, and a commitment to continuous improvement. You’re drawn to roles that allow you to contribute meaningfully, often excelling in positions that require analytical thinking or service-oriented skills.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on refining your methods and staying adaptable to changes in your field. Virgo energy thrives on perfectionism, but balancing it with flexibility ensures sustained growth and achievement.

Embrace Virgo’s love for order and efficiency by organizing your professional life with tools and systems that keep you on track. Your ability to deliver excellence consistently is key to your success.

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Libra ruling this house, your approach to these themes is diplomatic, relationship-oriented, and focused on balance and beauty. Ruled by Venus, Libra in the tenth house brings a refined and harmonious energy to your journey, emphasizing collaboration, aesthetic sensibility, and a natural ability to mediate and inspire. Your glow-up involves achieving success through relationships, building a reputation for grace and fairness, and leading with charm, cooperation, and an eye for elegance.

Ambition: Balanced and Relational Goals

Libra in the tenth house thrives on pursuing goals that align with fairness, harmony, and connection. You’re drawn to careers and projects where collaboration, creativity, or social justice are central, such as law, design, diplomacy, or event planning.

To glow up your ambition, focus on setting goals that allow you to connect with others and make a positive impact. Libra energy flourishes in environments where teamwork and shared success are valued, so seek opportunities that encourage collaboration and mutual benefit.

Embrace Libra’s love for beauty and balance by pursuing goals that harmonize practicality with creativity. Your ability to find equilibrium ensures that your ambitions are both achievable and inspiring.

Reputation: Graceful and Charismatic Presence

Libra in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone charming, diplomatic, and fair-minded. You’re seen as a professional who brings elegance and balance to every endeavor, earning respect for your ability to mediate conflicts and create harmonious solutions.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your interpersonal skills and aesthetic sensibilities. Present yourself with confidence and refinement, whether through public speaking, personal branding, or creating visually appealing work.

Embrace Libra’s social energy by cultivating connections and networking strategically. Your reputation for grace and charisma will naturally draw opportunities and allies to your cause.

Leadership: Diplomatic and Inclusive Leadership

Libra in the tenth house makes you a diplomatic and inclusive leader who excels at bringing people together and fostering cooperation. You lead by creating a sense of balance and ensuring that everyone feels heard and valued.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on strengthening your decision-making while maintaining your ability to mediate and harmonize. Balance your natural inclination to consider all perspectives with the confidence to take decisive action.

Embrace Libra’s relational energy by encouraging teamwork and creating an environment where collaboration thrives. Your ability to inspire unity and fairness makes you an admired and effective leader.

Achieving Success: Harmony and Elegance in Action

Libra in the tenth house ensures your path to success is built on relationships, creativity, and a commitment to fairness. You’re drawn to roles that allow you to work with others, create beauty, or bring justice and balance to the world.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on refining your negotiation and networking skills. Libra energy thrives on connection, so building strong professional relationships will be key to achieving your goals.

Embrace Libra’s aesthetic sensibility by incorporating beauty and harmony into your work. Whether it’s designing elegant presentations, creating inspiring solutions, or simply ensuring your workspace is pleasant and organized, these touches enhance your sense of purpose and success.

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Scorpio ruling this house, your approach to these themes is intense, transformative, and deeply strategic. Ruled by Mars and Pluto, Scorpio in the tenth house brings a powerful and magnetic energy to your journey, emphasizing resilience, resourcefulness, and the ability to lead through profound change. Your glow-up involves embracing your transformational leadership skills, building a reputation for depth and determination, and achieving success through passion, focus, and the fearless pursuit of your goals.

Ambition: Passionate and Strategic Goals

Scorpio in the tenth house thrives on ambitious goals that challenge you to grow and push boundaries. You’re drawn to careers and projects where you can delve deeply, create meaningful change, or wield influence, such as psychology, research, finance, or leadership in transformative industries.

To glow up your ambition, focus on identifying goals that ignite your passion and align with your inner drive for transformation. Develop a clear strategy for achieving them, leveraging your ability to navigate complex situations with precision and determination.

Embrace Scorpio’s fearless energy by pursuing bold and transformative ambitions. Your ability to stay focused and committed ensures that you can achieve what others might see as impossible.

Reputation: Powerful and Resilient Presence

Scorpio in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone intense, resourceful, and unshakably determined. You’re seen as a professional who can handle challenges with grace and navigate crises with skill, earning respect for your depth and strength.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your ability to solve problems and lead through transformation. Let your resilience and ability to overcome adversity shine in your professional story.

Embrace Scorpio’s magnetic energy by owning your authority and confidence. People admire your ability to stay composed under pressure and are inspired by your willingness to tackle difficult issues head-on.

Leadership: Transformative and Empowering Leadership

Scorpio in the tenth house makes you a transformative leader who excels at guiding others through change and uncovering hidden potential. You lead with a mix of intensity and empowerment, inspiring trust and loyalty in those who follow you.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on building emotional intelligence and fostering trust within your team. Use your ability to read between the lines and understand unspoken dynamics to create a supportive and empowering environment.

Embrace Scorpio’s transformative nature by encouraging innovation and growth within your organization. Your ability to see the bigger picture and navigate complex challenges makes you a visionary leader.

Achieving Success: Resilience and Focus in Action

Scorpio in the tenth house ensures your path to success is built on resilience, focus, and an unwavering commitment to your goals. You’re drawn to roles that allow you to transform systems, uncover hidden truths, or create profound impact.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on staying adaptable and strategic in the face of challenges. Use your ability to dig deep and uncover solutions that others might miss.

Embrace Scorpio’s passion for growth by continuously refining your skills and knowledge. Your determination and resourcefulness are key to achieving long-term success and leaving a powerful legacy.

𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Sagittarius ruling this house, your approach to these themes is expansive, optimistic, and visionary. Ruled by Jupiter, Sagittarius in the tenth house brings a boundless and adventurous energy to your journey, emphasizing the importance of exploration, teaching, and inspiring others. Your glow-up involves achieving success through visionary leadership, building a reputation for wisdom and enthusiasm, and pursuing goals that reflect your passion for growth, freedom, and making a meaningful impact.

Ambition: Expansive and Visionary Goals

Sagittarius in the tenth house thrives on ambitious goals that allow you to expand your horizons and inspire others. You’re drawn to careers and projects that involve teaching, travel, publishing, or global initiatives—anything that helps you explore the world and share knowledge.

To glow up your ambition, focus on setting goals that challenge you to grow and embrace new opportunities. Seek roles that align with your love for learning and your desire to make a broad impact, such as leadership positions in education, media, or international organizations.

Embrace Sagittarius’ expansive energy by keeping your sights on the bigger picture. Your ambition is fueled by your ability to dream big and take inspired action toward those dreams.

Reputation: Inspiring and Visionary Presence

Sagittarius in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone optimistic, wise, and forward-thinking. You’re seen as a professional who brings enthusiasm, positivity, and a sense of adventure to everything you do, earning respect for your ability to inspire and lead.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your knowledge and passion for growth. Share your insights through speaking engagements, publishing your ideas, or mentoring others. Sagittarius thrives on sharing wisdom, and your reputation will grow as you connect with those who admire your visionary outlook.

Embrace Sagittarius’ charisma by engaging with diverse audiences and expanding your professional network. Your enthusiasm and openness draw others to you and elevate your standing.

Leadership: Visionary and Motivational Leadership

Sagittarius in the tenth house makes you a motivational leader who excels at inspiring others to pursue their potential and embrace new possibilities. You lead by sharing your vision and encouraging exploration and innovation.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on balancing your optimism with grounded decision-making. While your visionary ideas are inspiring, combining them with practical strategies ensures that your leadership is both aspirational and effective.

Embrace Sagittarius’ global perspective by fostering inclusivity and encouraging diverse viewpoints. Your ability to motivate and unify others makes you a respected and impactful leader.

Achieving Success: Growth and Exploration in Action

Sagittarius in the tenth house ensures your path to success is filled with growth, adventure, and opportunities to explore new frontiers. You’re drawn to roles that allow you to expand your knowledge and share it with the world, whether as a teacher, traveler, or entrepreneur.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on staying adaptable and open to new experiences. Sagittarius energy thrives on freedom, so seek opportunities that allow you to innovate and explore.

Embrace Sagittarius’ love for adventure by pursuing projects that excite your spirit and push you beyond your comfort zone. Your ability to combine passion with purpose ensures long-term achievement and fulfillment.

𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Capricorn ruling this house, your approach to these themes is disciplined, strategic, and focused on long-term achievements. Ruled by Saturn, Capricorn in the tenth house brings a structured and determined energy to your journey, emphasizing hard work, perseverance, and the creation of a lasting legacy. Your glow-up involves achieving success through steady effort, building a reputation for reliability and excellence, and leading with authority, integrity, and a vision for the future.

Ambition: Disciplined and Long-Term Goals

Capricorn in the tenth house thrives on setting ambitious, long-term goals that lead to enduring success. You’re drawn to careers and projects that require persistence, strategic thinking, and the ability to build something meaningful over time, such as leadership roles, business, or fields like law, finance, or engineering.

To glow up your ambition, focus on breaking your goals into actionable steps and creating a clear timeline for achieving them. Your disciplined approach ensures consistent progress, even when faced with challenges.

Embrace Capricorn’s determination by committing to your vision and staying patient. Your ability to see the bigger picture and work steadily toward it is your greatest strength.

Reputation: Respected and Reliable Presence

Capricorn in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone responsible, trustworthy, and highly competent. You’re seen as a professional who delivers results and upholds high standards, earning respect and admiration from colleagues and peers.

To glow up your reputation, focus on consistently demonstrating your expertise and dedication. Take on leadership roles or high-profile projects that showcase your ability to handle responsibility and deliver excellence.

Embrace Capricorn’s grounded energy by maintaining professionalism in all your interactions. Your reputation for reliability and integrity will naturally attract opportunities and recognition.

Leadership: Structured and Authoritative Leadership

Capricorn in the tenth house makes you a natural leader who excels at creating order, implementing systems, and guiding others toward long-term success. You lead with authority and a clear sense of purpose, inspiring confidence in those who follow you.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on balancing your high standards with empathy. While Capricorn’s energy values discipline and results, fostering a supportive and collaborative environment strengthens your leadership impact.

Embrace Capricorn’s strategic mindset by setting clear goals for your team and providing the tools and guidance they need to succeed. Your ability to lead with structure and vision makes you a respected and effective leader.

Achieving Success: Persistence and Excellence in Action

Capricorn in the tenth house ensures your path to success is built on a foundation of hard work, resilience, and an unwavering commitment to excellence. You’re drawn to roles that allow you to climb steadily toward your goals, often excelling in fields where expertise and leadership are highly valued.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on honing your skills and staying adaptable to changes in your industry. Capricorn energy thrives on continuous improvement, so prioritize learning and growth throughout your career.

Embrace Capricorn’s love for tradition and legacy by pursuing projects that leave a lasting impact. Your ability to combine ambition with integrity ensures your success will stand the test of time.

𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Aquarius ruling this house, your approach to these themes is innovative, forward-thinking, and driven by a desire to create positive change. Ruled by Saturn and Uranus, Aquarius in the tenth house brings a visionary and unconventional energy to your journey, emphasizing originality, collaboration, and a commitment to collective progress. Your glow-up involves achieving success through groundbreaking ideas, building a reputation for innovation and inclusivity, and leading with a futuristic vision that inspires others.

Ambition: Visionary and Change-Oriented Goals

Aquarius in the tenth house thrives on pursuing ambitious goals that challenge the status quo and have the potential to transform industries or communities. You’re drawn to careers and projects that emphasize innovation, technology, humanitarianism, or progressive ideals.

To glow up your ambition, focus on setting goals that allow you to think outside the box and embrace your creative potential. Seek opportunities that align with your passion for advancing society, whether through scientific research, community building, or entrepreneurial ventures.

Embrace Aquarius’ visionary energy by daring to dream big and pursue unconventional paths. Your ability to see possibilities where others see limitations is a hallmark of your ambition.

Reputation: Innovative and Inclusive Presence

Aquarius in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone ahead of your time, inclusive, and deeply committed to progress. You’re seen as a trailblazer who brings originality and a collaborative spirit to every endeavor, earning respect for your ability to think differently and lead with compassion.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your unique perspective and your dedication to inclusivity. Share your ideas through public speaking, online platforms, or innovative projects that demonstrate your forward-thinking approach.

Embrace Aquarius’ collaborative nature by building strong networks and connecting with diverse groups. Your ability to unify and inspire others will naturally elevate your public image and reputation.

Leadership: Visionary and Collaborative Leadership

Aquarius in the tenth house makes you a visionary leader who excels at inspiring teams to work toward common goals. You lead by fostering innovation, empowering others, and creating an inclusive environment where everyone’s voice is valued.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on building strong communication and actively encouraging creative input from your team. Aquarius energy thrives on collective progress, so involving others in your vision strengthens your leadership impact.

Embrace Aquarius’ future-focused energy by staying open to new technologies, methodologies, and perspectives. Your ability to lead with clarity and foresight makes you a trailblazing figure in any professional setting.

Achieving Success: Innovation and Inclusivity in Action

Aquarius in the tenth house ensures your path to success is built on originality, collaboration, and a commitment to creating meaningful change. You’re drawn to roles that involve breaking boundaries, advancing technology, or championing social causes.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on honing your skills in areas like technology, communication, or advocacy. Aquarius energy thrives in cutting-edge fields, so prioritize staying informed and adaptable to emerging trends.

Embrace Aquarius’ humanitarian spirit by pursuing projects that align with your values and have the potential to benefit society. Your ability to combine personal ambition with collective progress ensures a legacy of meaningful impact.

𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

The tenth house governs ambition, reputation, leadership, and career success. With Pisces ruling this house, your approach to these themes is intuitive, compassionate, and deeply creative. Ruled by Jupiter and Neptune, Pisces in the tenth house brings a dreamy and idealistic energy to your journey, emphasizing the importance of pursuing meaningful work, leading with empathy, and building a reputation for inspiration and artistry. Your glow-up involves achieving success by following your intuition, building a reputation for emotional intelligence and creativity, and leading with a vision that uplifts and unites others.

Ambition: Compassionate and Visionary Goals

Pisces in the tenth house thrives on pursuing goals that are emotionally meaningful and spiritually aligned. You’re drawn to careers and projects that allow you to express your creativity, inspire others, or contribute to the greater good, such as the arts, healing professions, or spiritual guidance.

To glow up your ambition, focus on identifying goals that resonate with your deepest values and passions. Set intentions that allow you to channel your intuition and imagination into impactful work, whether it’s creating art, writing, or leading initiatives that bring healing and connection.

Embrace Pisces’ visionary energy by remaining open to possibilities and trusting your instincts to guide you. Your ability to dream big and connect emotionally with your work fuels your success.

Reputation: Inspirational and Creative Presence

Pisces in the tenth house shapes your public image as someone compassionate, artistic, and inspiring. You’re seen as a professional who leads with empathy and vision, earning admiration for your ability to bring beauty, meaning, and understanding to your field.

To glow up your reputation, focus on showcasing your creative and emotional strengths. Share your work and ideas through storytelling, performances, or visual presentations that reflect your unique perspective and touch hearts.

Embrace Pisces’ ethereal energy by cultivating a public image that exudes authenticity and warmth. Your ability to connect emotionally with others makes you unforgettable and deeply respected in your community.

Leadership: Intuitive and Empathetic Leadership

Pisces in the tenth house makes you an intuitive and empathetic leader who excels at guiding others through inspiration and emotional connection. You lead by creating an environment of trust, compassion, and shared vision, inspiring those around you to bring their best selves to the table.

To glow up your leadership skills, focus on developing emotional intelligence and practicing active listening. Your ability to understand and support your team’s needs creates a collaborative and harmonious workplace.

Embrace Pisces’ creative and visionary energy by fostering innovation and encouraging imaginative problem-solving. Your ability to lead with heart and intuition makes you a beloved and effective leader.

Achieving Success: Creativity and Compassion in Action

Pisces in the tenth house ensures your path to success is built on your ability to inspire, connect, and create. You’re drawn to roles that allow you to merge your dreams with tangible impact, often excelling in fields like the arts, therapy, or spirituality.

To glow up your journey toward success, focus on balancing your visionary ideas with practical action. Pisces energy thrives when creativity is grounded in purpose, so develop strategies to bring your dreams to life.

Embrace Pisces’ love for unity and healing by pursuing projects that foster empathy, connection, and beauty. Your ability to combine compassion with artistic vision ensures a legacy of meaningful contributions.

You were only taking a moment to sip on a coffee that wasn’t ice cold from sitting out too long. 

Just a little something. A little pick me up to stop your eyes from fluttering shut. 

You should’ve known better than to open your phone. 

Should've known better than to open instagram. 

But it was instinctual. 

A bad habit you had yet to crack. 

And–

There you see it. 

The photo. 

Smiling faces. 

Beaming grins. 

Laughter and joy encapsulated in a frozen moment. 

–It felt like the photo was mocking you. 

A lump formed in your throat. Chest tightened. A frown crawls to settle upon your features. Stomach twisting uncomfortably. 

There in that picture. In that photo. And all the other stories from your friends unable to stop yourself from clicking through, tapping on each and every one of their names tagged in the picture. 

You are flooded by videos and photos. 

All filled with the faces of your friends. Happy. Smiling. Surrounded by the apple orchard you had suggested going to just a few weeks ago…

You were so excited by the idea. 

So excited when you had brought it up the last time you had all met, but it had fallen upon deaf ears…None of your friends had seemed interested whatsoever. 

Brushed aside. 

Even questioned why you’d think it would be fun to spend a day walking through trees and picking apples that definitely would have bugs in or on them…

So you had let it slide at the time. 

Swept it under the rug. 

You understood that not everyone had to enjoy what you did.

Relationships were all about compromise.

That was how you had rationalised it at the time. 

Even if you thought going apple picking would’ve been fun. To spend some day in the sunshine, plucking apples straight from the branches and then to spend the afternoon enjoying a hard earned lunch surrounded by the sprawling orchards. 

But they had dismissed the idea completely when you had brought it up. 

It had seemed fun in your mind. 

And judging by their photos–it was. 

Sculling your coffee, letting its bitter notes coat the back of your throat. Welcoming the burn whilst it temporarily takes your mind off of the discomfort settled in your chest. 

Hastily shoving your phone back into the depths of your pocket…if only you could do the same as the memory of your friends blatantly excluding you…

Taking in a sharp breath. 

You wipe the frown from your face, plastering across a wide smile. Trying your best to conceal the swirling thoughts that cloud your mind that weigh you down. 

But the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. 

There’s a distractedness to your movements. 

Not enough to impede your work…

But enough to submerge you into a fugue state. 

Unable to understand why?

Why your friends excluded you…

Why your friends ignored you…

Why your friends went off without you…

Sure–

You understood that your shift work could sometimes get in the way. 

Could sometimes stop you from being free most of the time. But…That didn’t mean you didn’t have time, that you couldn’t make time. 

Each time you were around them. They were always just nice enough to you…Never outwardly rude…But never explicitly kind.

Around them you never quite felt there. 

Not yet lonely–but not quite fulfilled…An emptiness would settle inside, as though you were watching your friends around you have the time of their life. 

While you–

You felt stuck. 

It made you question yourself. 

Made you question why they didn’t want you around. 

Why was it that you…were not wanted…

With each question that popped into your mind. It felt like a pin prick, a sharp needle pricking at your heart. 

Seemingly each prick alone was not fatal. 

But overtime. 

These little pricks make your heart begin to bleed. Begin to ache…

You thought you were doing so well.

Doing your very best to hide the way it weighed you down. 

However–it seemed you couldn’t hide it completely. 

“What’s up with you?” Santos asked, sliding herself beside you whilst you typed away at a computer. 

Barely lifting your eyes at her you continued your work, even as she ducks down to try enter your vision. 

Letting out a soft mumbled, “Nothing–just tired”

She hums, in vague acceptance. 

For a moment you thought she’d let it go. 

Thought she’d leave you to yourself and to stew in your thoughts…

Unlucky for you. 

Santos was more intrigued than you’d hoped. 

Folding her arms over her chest, she raises a brow in question, “No, don’t give me that–this morning you seemed fine, your usual happy self, and now–now you seem a little off?” 

Lifting your eyes for a moment, you lean back in your chair, “I don’t know what to tell you Santos–aren’t I allowed to be a little tired? Is that a crime?” 

She shakes her head, “The tiredness isn’t the problem. You’re just you know–missing that spark in your eye. So I’m wondering who pissed in your cocopops?” She continues to probe. 

Swivelling back to face the computer, you shrug, “I’m fine–I just,” you sigh, brows furrowing in annoyance. 

“Nothing’s wrong–well, maybe, no–I just. I saw something I really wish I didn’t”

Leaning down, “Now we’re getting somewhere”

“Santos–I really don’t want to talk about it,” Avoiding her eyeline, “Don’t you have some IV to insert or whatever else”

She leans back, drumming her fingers on the desk, “Fine–be closed off”

You scoff muttering under your breath, “Says you”

Her eyes narrow at you. 

Now this. This was unlike you. Sure you both had bantered before…but you had never been so explicitly rude. 

It just wasn’t like you. 

Eyes softening just a bit, before she nods, pushing away from the desk. 

Turning quickly, regret flooding your features, “Santos, wait–” 

But she was gone. 

Turning back you mutter angrily, scolding yourself beneath your breath, “Way to go–no wonder your friends left you out…” 

A bitterness seeping into your mind. 

Unaware that across the ER. 

Santos had cornered Whitaker. 

Tugging him aside, “What–” just out of sight from you. 

She presses a hand to his lips, “Shhh,” her eyes scanning behind her, checking to see if you had noticed. 

All clear. 

She turns her gaze back at him. Letting her hand drop from his mouth. His eyes furrow in question. Wondering why she was being so weird. 

“Now you–I don’t know what’s up with Y/N but you need to figure it out before she makes a kid cry from the way she’s frowning, have you seen her! She’s so distracted. I’ve never seen her like that,” Santos exclaimed. 

A worry seeps onto Dennis’ features, his eyes flicking over to you. 

You did seem off. 

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

Santos lifted a brow, crossing her arms over her chest, an ‘are you serious’ look sent his way. 

“Don’t even try–I know you two are a thing,” she huffs, before pushing him into your direction, “Now go find out why your girlfriend is in a funk”

“Uh–” the panic in his voice comes out as a squeak. Before clearing his throat, “How’d you know?”

“Seriously?” she offers a deadpanned expression, “Huckleberry,  you’re literally the shitiest liar I’ve ever met. Now stop stalling”

He nods, feet carrying him over to you. 

Ready to ask you what was going on. 

Ask you how you were. 

To check in with you…

But just as he comes up to you, you’re pulled away. 

And each time throughout the rest of the shift, every time he tries to approach you–you slip away. You’d duck and avoid him. 

For whatever reason. Unbeknownst to Dennis. 

…You were avoiding him.

Every time he'd tried finding you–

Someone else needed you.

Or...

You'd suddenly remembered something.

Or...

You'd gone the opposite direction.

He'd noticed.

Of course he had.

Sighing, he watches while you grab your things, once more averting your gaze. Rushing to grab your things and simply bolt from ER. 

He’s shaken from his thoughts while Santos shoves his shoulder, pushing him towards your direction. 

“Go on–” she juts her head, forcing him into your direction. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” Dennis claims. 

She clicks her tongue, “Don’t you want to find out why?” 

He bites his lip, before he nods his head, stumbling over his feet while he rushes out to follow after you. 

“Y/N!” he calls out, stopping you short whilst you’re about to cross the road. Your feet stuck in place. Unsure of what to do. 

Outside, the evening air felt cool against skin that had spent twelve hours beneath fluorescent lights.

Neither of you spoke immediately.

The quiet wasn't uncomfortable.

Just...

Careful.

Eventually Dennis reached over.

Not grabbing.

Not insisting.

Just...

Brushing the back of his fingers against yours.

Waiting.

Brushing his hand against yours, standing by your side. Just letting you know he was here for you. His brows dip in concern. Before softening slightly when your fingers curled around his–

Only then did he intertwine them.

Gentle.

Like he was asking permission every second, he said quietly, "I was worried about you today…"

Your lips pulled thin. Words stuck in your throat. 

"I've never seen you like that,” he said, before breathing in deeply, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Another silence. While you contemplate his words. Contemplate the meaning behind them. 

Contemplate what would happen if he knew…

Then–

"I think–" Your voice cracked. Your facade fracturing ever so slightly, "I think my friends don't actually like me."

His head turned immediately, "What?" Stunned by your admission. 

You swallowed, "It sounds stupid."

"It doesn't,” he shakes his head, hand gently intertwined with yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. 

You laughed bitterly, "It kind of does."

"No,” he said clearly, “If it made you this upset, then it can’t be stupid–what happened?–Only if you want to share it–you don’t have to”

You inhaled shakily, "I was having coffee."

He nodded, coaxing you to continue. 

"I opened Instagram."

He already hated where this was going.

"And they all went apple picking."

His brow furrowed, "...Without you?"

You nodded, before adding, "I was the one who suggested it,” You stared down at the pavement, "I thought it'd be nice. I thought we'd pack lunch. I thought we'd walk around. I thought..."

Another shaky breath, "And they all acted like it was the dumbest idea they'd ever heard."

His hand squeezed yours. 

"They laughed. They said apples probably had bugs. They asked why anyone would want to spend all day outside. So…” You gave another tiny shrug, "I let it go–I figured not everyone likes the same things."

Your voice grew quieter, "But...when I opened instagram I saw that they–that they all went”

You couldn't look at him now, "They all went together, and–” vision blurring as you let out a shaky breath, "I wasn't invited."

Your throat tightened. Shame swelling up inside you that you were so upset by this. 

By such a seemingly small thing. 

But it had overtaken your mind. 

Had shaken you entirely.  

"And the stupid thing is–It isn't even about the apples."

Dennis stayed silent. Simply listening. Simply letting you speak. Air out your thoughts and how it has made you feel. 

"It just–made me realize I'm always..." You searched for the word "...there but not–included."

"They're nice enough,” you defend them, despite how harmful their actions were to you, how inconsiderate they really were, instead twisting their actions to somehow be your fault, "I don't think they actually want me around."

"And today..." A laugh escaped.

Broken.

Cracked. 

Vulnerable. 

It made Dennis’ heart ache to see you so torn up. 

"I started wondering if maybe there's just something wrong with me,” those words fill the air, and before Dennis can interject you ramble on, those thoughts that had built up inside finally spilled out, "What if I'm just...too much, or boring, or annoying?"

Your breathing unsteadies, “What if–"

"Hey,” His voice was so soft it almost disappeared into the evening air, his hand squeezes yours, stepping before you, his other hand grabbing yours to ground you into this moment and pull you out of your thoughts, "No."

You blinked, "No?"

"So they ignored your idea."

You nodded.

"They dismissed something you were excited about."

Another nod.

"Then they went ahead and did  it without inviting you."

"...Yeah."

He frowned, "That hurts."

You blinked.

He hadn't questioned whether you were overreacting.

Hadn't suggested they probably meant well.

Hadn't said maybe they forgot.

Just–

That it hurt.

Your eyes filled properly now, you try to claim, despite the tears starting to fall down your face, the physical proof of your pain, “I’m probably just being dramatic–"

"I don't think you are,” he said, so full of conviction. You can’t help but begin to believe his words…

A bittered laugh slips past your mouth,  "I spent the whole afternoon wondering what I'd done wrong."

Dennis reached up slowly.

Brushed the tear away with his thumb.

"I don't know your friends,” He chose every word carefully, "So I can't tell you why they did what they did. But, I do know you...You’re an incredible person"

He smiled sadly, "...And if someone consistently makes you feel unwanted...that's a horrible feeling."

Your shoulders sagged.

Like you'd finally been given permission to admit how much it hurt, "I hated that it upset me this much."

"You care about them,” he says understandably. 

"...Yeah,” you agree. 

“Then of course it upset you,” He rubbed slow circles across the back of your hand, "I would've been devastated."

"You would?" You look up to meet his eyes. 

He looked almost offended, "You are not alone when it comes to feeling like this"

Your heart swelled from his sincerity. From the pureness of his sentiment. Letting a small smile lift at the corner of your lip. 

"There she is."

"What?"

"Your smile,” His smile softened, "I missed it today."

The way he said it wasn’t condescending, it didn’t make your skin crawl. It was purely a fact. 

Heat bloomed in your cheeks.

You looked away, "I hated snapping at Santos."

“Don’ worry–I’m sure she didn’t take it to heart,” Dennis tried to soothe you once more. 

But you shook your head, “I’m better than that–I know better than to take out my feelings on others–”

“We all have our bad days” 

You swallowed, "It just made me think that, ‘No wonder they left me out.'"

His expression broke, "Oh..."

"So then I thought–If even I don't like me… Maybe..."

He shook his head immediately, "No."

"Dennis–” you tried to argue. 

"No," he said a little more forcibly, trying to break through, he stepped closer. A hand lifting to cradle your face, so gentle, whilst making your eyes meet his, "You don't get to use one bad day as evidence against yourself."

"Because I really really like you,” He smiled sheepishly. 

That earned a watery laugh, to slip from your lips, "I’m pretty sure you said you loved me” quirking a teasing brow towards him, letting your head lean into his hand. 

Unfiltered adoration flooding into your eyes. 

Whilst his filled with such pure love. 

“I love you,” he nods, smile beaming widely. The words still giving him a thrill each time he said it, “And it’s very hard hiding that from our colleagues–today all I wanted to do was give you a hug and tell you everything was going to be ok” 

You nod, smiling shyly from his admission. 

"I'm pretty sure half the ER knows,” you add. 

"...Probably,” He sighed dramatically, "I really thought we were being subtle.” 

Not that he’d mind. Not that he wanted to keep you and him a secret…you just wanted to keep this to yourselves for just a little longer. 

“I’m pretty sure Trinity definitely knows,” you say quietly. 

“And you’d be right–she literally pushed me towards you to make sure you were ok,” he confirmed. 

You both laughed.

Really laughed.

The ache inside your chest eased.

Just enough.

Dennis looked at you, "So..."

"What?" You tilted your head in question. 

"Can I take you somewhere?"

You frowned, raising a brow, "...Tonight?"

"Yeah,” he nodded eagerly. 

"I don't know..." You felt exhausted, "I kind of just wanted to go home…"

“I won’t make you go, but I really don’t think you should be alone right now. I’d be a terrible boyfriend if I let you go home alone without making sure you ate,” He smiled, "Please?"

"...Where?"

He grinned, "It's a surprise."

Whatever you had in mind. Whatever you thought Dennis was planning. Completely flew out of the window. 

When, twenty minutes later you were sitting in a tiny family-owned restaurant tucked into a quiet side street. 

Nothing fancy.

Red-and-white checked tablecloths.

Warm lighting.

The smell of cinnamon and pastry filling the room.

You looked around, "It's cute."

He smiled, eyes never leaving yours, just glad to finally see the glimmer return back to your eyes, "I've wanted to bring you here for months."

"You have?"

"They have the best homemade apple pie I've ever eaten,” he explained. 

You stared at him.

Realization slowly dawned, "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered," he nodded as though it were obvious. As though it were only natural he remembered the things you said. Paid attention to the things you liked. 

Your eyes watered again. Biting your lip, offering a grateful smile. Moved by his consideration and thought. 

This time...

For a completely different reason.

Dinner came.

Conversation followed.

Easy conversation.

About patients.

About the recent book you were reading. 

About Santos and her completely clocking onto you both.

About a little old lady who'd flirted shamelessly with Dennis that morning. 

By the time dessert arrived–

Your shoulders had finally relaxed.

The waitress set down two steaming slices of apple pie.

Golden pastry.

Soft apples.

Vanilla ice cream melting slowly over the top. With little flecks of vanilla bean 

Dennis slid one toward you, "There."

You looked down at it.

Then back at him.

"You know..." He said quietly, looking down at his slice of pie, beginning to break it up, "I don't know why your friends made you feel invisible."

He sighed, saddened on your behalf before lifting his eyes to meet yours, reaching across the table "But–I never want you to wonder if you're wanted."

Your throat tightened, "Because you are, so, so much. And every minute I spend with you, I am so grateful for it all. Because you’re amazing in my eyes and I never want you to think that you don’t matter–because you do. You matter a lot to me, to Trinity, to the people in the ER. To a lot of people–maybe not your friends. But–are they really your friends if they leave you out?”

Your chest tightens, so moved by his words. Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “Thank you,” you murmur softly, “I love you so much”

He smiled, "Love you too, now eat the pie before it goes cold"

You laughed so suddenly you nearly cried again, "That's your big romantic speech?"

"I panicked," he joked. 

"It was adorable," you cooed, starting to dig into your pie. The ice cream gently melting upon the warm pastry. 

He grins, "I was going for profound."

"You landed somewhere between profound and grandma,” you teased. 

He nods satisfied, "I'll take it."

You took your first bite.

Warm.

Sweet.

Filled with cinnamon.

You closed your eyes. Humming in delight. 

He leaned forward eagerly.

"...This is incredible."

A wide smile spreads across his lips, pleased to be able to bring you a little slice of joy after such a shit day. 

The apple orchard.

The photographs.

The ache.

It hadn't vanished completely.

Healing rarely happened that quickly.

But sitting across from Dennis–

Watching him grin because you'd liked the pie–

Those memories began losing their sharp edges.

Not because he'd erased them.

Because he'd reminded you. 

Someone could make you feel chosen.

Wanted.

Noticed. 

Seen.

And much later. 

Long after your late night dinner.

Long after he'd walked you home. Insisting on carrying your bag. A true modern day gentleman, soft and considerate of you. 

Long after the city had settled into silence–

Dennis is nowhere to be found in his shared apartment with Trinity…Instead, he lays beside you. 

Curled beneath your blankets. Settled cosily into your bed. 

One arm draped loosely around your waist. Not holding tightly. Just enough for you to know he was there.

His chin rested lightly against your hair, "You okay?" he whispered.

You nodded, "Better."

"You sure?" He asked once more. 

You turned slightly. Nestling back against him. Turning to face him, you smiled into the darkness, "I think I just needed someone to remind me I wasn't hard to love."

Dennis's arm tightened almost imperceptibly.

He pressed a slow kiss against your cheek. Slowly pepper them across the softness of your cheek, before reaching your lips. 

"So..." he murmured sleepily against your lips, between each kiss he placed upon yours, "...next weekend."

"Mhm?" you sigh in content. 

"We're going apple picking."

A tiny laugh escaped you, arching a brow, "Just us?"

"Just us,” he nods, voice dipping low as it reverberates from his chest. 

"And we'll eat too many apples. And probably get lost."

"Almost definitely," you agree. 

"And if there are bugs..." He sighed dramatically, "I'll protect you."

You laughed quietly, “My absolute hero,” The sound muffled against your pillow.

For the first time all day–

The heaviness inside your chest finally loosened.

Not because the people who had hurt you suddenly mattered less.

But because, wrapped safely in Dennis's arms, you no longer felt invisible.

The memory of your friends fade…

Replaced by the way Dennis made you feel.

He never made you feel unseen. 

Unheard. 

Unnoticed. 

He made you feel desired.

Wanted.

Noticed

And unquestionably loved.

You were undoubtedly, the apple of his eye.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story! Honestly it sucks being left out, especially by people you consider friends (even extended family) So I'm sorry to anyone whose ever experienced this (cause trust me, I get it) it literally sucks, and it's even worse when it makes you wonder if it was something you did...sometimes people are just assholes and are better off being let go from your life. I took a little creative liberty to make the activity be apple picking (thought it was a sweet idea) Anyway, hope you enjoyed the comfort of Dennis simply being there to understand your feelings about this, not fully pushing you to forget how you feel or dismiss you but simply there to understand. (Just know that Santos when she finds this out is on a quest to take down each and every one of your so called friends) Let me know what you thought ✨ Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 If you enjoyed, consider checking out my Dennis Whitaker x Former Army Medic!Reader Tread Lightly Series Or check out my overall Pitt Masterlist here

I really like you. I have the best time with you. You make my days and nights seem brighter. You’re all I think about in my quiet moments. You’re the one I want to reach out to when everything feels awful, but you’re also my person when something wonderful happens. I am not seeing anyone else, so I really hope you aren’t either. I know we’ve not discussed labels, but I really would like to. We’ve been out on several dates and have toothbrushes at each other’s places. You’ve seen sides of me that I rarely show another soul. You make me cum harder than anyone has managed to and you make me laugh so hard my ribs hurt. So, I’d like to make things official.

The words should be so easy to say, but life keeps getting in the way.

She’d laid in bed by his side soaking up the afterglow of making love and felt the words form on her lips before dying on her tongue. She’d sat by his side sharing coffee and bagels wanting so dearly to say the words but chickening out worried that breakfast time isn’t entirely a romantic atmosphere. She’d sat across from him at romantic dinners parting her lips to say the words until a waiter interrupted them.

Working in different departments and lately on entirely different shifts makes it all the more difficult to find the time to say what she has been dying to say. They pass by one another in between opposing shifts with zero moment to exchange more than a rushed kiss and a ‘have a good shift. Be safe’

She’s fallen in love with Dr. Jack Samuel Abbot and every single time she attempts to tell him that she wants whatever has built between them to be serious, life rams its head in and stops her.

She doesn’t think anyone could blame her for falling for Jack Abbot.

When she accepted the offer of an attending physician position in the pediatric ward at PTMC she felt so blessed. She was finally done with her residency, finally done putting in a few years at a tiny little town in Minnesota at a little hospital that hired her and paid her enough to get her student loans down to a reasonable livable amount.

The offer to move to a highly regarded teaching hospital and take an attendant position in her thirties had felt like a dream come true. Even if she’d been shoved on alternating shifts , working both day and night shifts, it still felt like an incredible opportunity.

She’d never anticipated that a trip down to do a consult in the emergency department for a boy with a severe asthma attack would lead her to meeting the man of her dreams.

Abbot had been a flirt right off the bat and though it had felt flattering she’d not paid too much mind to it. She had seen the type before a doctor with an ego and a flirty attitude.

Sure, she’d found him cute and a charmer, but she told herself she was well past the age of schoolgirl crushes on older guys.

A night out with friends from work had changed her initial opinion about Abbot. Some of the staff from the ED had been at the same bar she’d gone to and Abbot and she had chatted over beers and rum and cokes. He’d taught her to play darts. They’d flirted over crappy alcohol, bar nuts, and darts.

He’d taken her to get a greasy breakfast at a 24 hr dinner when the bar had got too hectic and bar nuts and fried pub food seemed less than filling.

He’d asked to see her again and she’d accepted. 

A kiss had been shared…more than one kiss and their relationship had led to the bedroom. They each had a drawer and a toothbrush at one another’s places. Their lives felt intertwined.

It felt real.

Jack Abbot was a prince among men; intelligent, funny, compassionate, strong willed, and incredibly patient.

Y/N knew he was a complicated man though…he was resilient.

The resilience had been born out of trauma and loss.

The trauma of war from his time in the army. The loss of his leg from the knee down from an IED. The trauma of that loss and the end of his military career. The trauma of all the horrific things he’d seen during his time as an Army medic. The traumas he’d seen working in the medical field as a civilian. The sudden loss of his wife and the grief he’d endured from her death.

Jack Abbot was a multifaceted man. His kindness joined hands with a sense of loss and pain no human should endure. His compassion was born from suffering. His intelligence bred from sacrifice. His humor learned from coping with grief.

Perhaps due to his complexity Y/N had also been inspired to keep her lips sealed when it came to spilling her heart to him?

He was a sensitive soul who had lived through a lot. She almost feared he’d turn her love away, too afraid to risk exposing her to his traumas.

She was growing sick of holding back though. She’d decided that once she got herself back on her usual schedule and their schedules became more aligned she’d grow a pair and say the words.

Well…she’d been so brave until now.

She’d not anticipated seeing Jack Abbot in full SWAT gear when she came down to the ED for a consult.

He’d of course reassured her he was fine just coming in with a guy from his SWAT crew who’d been shot. The guy would be fine and everything was okay.

Despite the worry she’d felt knowing he’d literally been shot at, she felt a warm sense of adoration wash over her at how reassuring he’d been when he spotted her worry.

He’d taken her aside and so sweetly spoken to her promising her that he was a-okay. He’d reassured her he was planning on cutting back on the SWAT shifts as he knew they worried her. He’d sworn to her that he was just fine.

Even when he’d admitted a bullet had lightly grazed him, prompting her to react accordingly, he’d insisted that she had nothing to worry about.

It was something she adored about him…the man had literally been shot at and he was more worried about her concern over him than his own injury.

That warm sense of adoration felt bitter and sour in her chest as she stood by the nurses station going over some lab orders she’d requested from the ten year old girl she’d been called down to do a consult on.

She listened to Jack Abbot chat with the attending physician who’d be replacing Robby while he took a sabbatical.

Dr. Baran Al Hashimi had seemed kind enough; clearly enthusiastic about the work she’d be doing filling in for Robby.

Y/N had been introduced to the doctor as they might cross paths during Robby’s planned time away.

Al Hashimi seemed polite and perfectly lovely if not a bit too enthusiastic about the promise of AI in the medical field when it came to charting.

Y/N could actually see herself enjoying working alongside the woman if Y/N were to find herself called down to the ED, despite Y/N’s less than favorable feelings about artificial intelligence.

Any sense that Al Hashimi seemed like someone Y/N would enjoy working with faded so quickly as she stood aside clearly able to hear Jack Abbot chatting with Al Hashimi.

Y/N felt bile rise in the back of her throat as she heard Abbot speak his voice far too flirtatious. “We should grab a drink sometime. Swap war stories.”

Although Y/N could not see Baran Al Hashimi’s face a nasty voice in the back of her head snarled that the doctor was probably sending Abbot a flirty smile awestruck by his charm.

How could she not? Abbot was practically the Prince Charming of the Pitt.

Y/N felt her heart sink as Al Hashimi replied with a friendly “Sure sounds great.”

The words taunted Y/N ‘grab a drink, swap war stories.’

Of course…

Her heart felt like it was cracking as it sunk all the further.

Y/N stared down at the iPad in her hand swallowing down her heartache.

She had been so hopeful that all those dates, all those kisses, all the lovemaking, the toothbrushes at one another’s places had meant something. 

It had meant something to her…but the flirty tone and drink offer that had spilled from Abbot’s lips directed to a woman who was not Y/N was a clear sign as any that all of those little things that she’d cherished and allowed herself to believe meant something meant nothing to Jack Abbot.

The horrible thing was that Y/N wasn’t even sure she could truly blame him.

Dr. Baran Al Hashimi was in her forties and a bit closer in age to Jack Abbot’s near fifty than Y/N’s thirties.

She was a stunning woman. Intelligent and excited to work in the emergency department.

Her experience in the ED probably meant she would have more in common to discuss career wise with Abbot than Y/N with her pediatric experience.

Al Hashimi had worked in active war zones meaning she could relate to Abbot in that regard given his past as an Army medic.

The horror of war was something Y/N would never fully understand no matter how much she attempted to empathize and relate to Abbot with his trauma.

Al Hashimi more than likely had a deep enough understanding of the hell of war and could truly fully understand what Abbot had lived through.

Y/N felt her heart twist and ache telling herself that of course Abbot would pounce at the opportunity to woo someone like Al Hashimi.

A cruel voice in the back of her head told Y/N that it was only a matter of time until Abbot found a better option than her.

She had simply just been something to entertain him until something better had come along.

Y/N had been too anxious to broach the ‘what are we’ dilemma, but Abbot had not taken the initiative either.

Perhaps he’d not broached the subject because he was just waiting for the chance to let her down gently? Perhaps he’d not asked her for something real because this was nothing to him but some casual fun.

She placed the iPad on the nurses station, turning on her heel wanting to get far from the man who had just destroyed her heart and the woman who was so obviously the better option.

She felt the tears flood her vision as she entered the elevator frantically pushing the close door button so relieved she was all alone.

She rested her head back against the cool metal wall of the elevator, her tears falling rapidly.

She reached up wiping at her face roughly the words spilling out to empty air saying what she so desperately wanted to say to Jack Abbot. “I hate you Jack…I love you and I hate you so much right now.”

She felt her throat grow tight as her cell rang the name flashing across the screen. She picked it up trying to even out her breathing and sound anything less than miserable. 

“Robby, sorry. I didn’t get a chance to catch you before I got called back up to peds…but your patient should be good. Her blood sugar is back in range. We can monitor her for a few more hours to make sure it doesn’t plummet again, but I don't think she’ll need to be admitted to my floor.”

She was not shocked by the response she received. “Are you okay? I know Abbot’s an idiot.”

She felt her throat grow tight wondering if he too had witnessed Abbot practically tripping over himself to charm Al Hashimi.

Has everyone noticed? Was this all some kind of big joke on her? Poor Y/N in love with a man and unable to see he doesn’t feel the same, so pathetic.

Her paranoia tampered down as Robby spoke again. “I told him he needs to back off the SWAT hobby, but he’s an adrenaline junkie to his core. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine though. The man survived too much for a grazed gunshot wound to take him out.”

She felt her throat grow tight, almost wishing the source of her pain was that simple…just simple concern over the man she adored…not her heart getting stomped on by realizing that the man she loved clearly did not feel the same.

She spoke knowing her voice was sharp anger easier to grasp on to than sorrow. “I need to let you go. I have to get back to peds”

She ignored Robby’s well meaning reassurances and goodbyes, hanging up her cell and shoving it in her pocket, her stomach turning as she tried to ready herself to return to her own department.

She would make it though the rest of her day and then she’d go home and cry it out with a bottle of wine and some ice cream. She was a grown woman and she could survive this.

She put on a brave face as the elevator doors opening she returning to her own department ready to push back her heartbreak and endure.

She sighed as her cell phone chimed indicating a fresh text message.

She yanked it from her scrub pocket glaring down at the name on the screen, the sight offending her.

Jackie ❤️: You hitting my place after your shift? I’ve got that leftover pizza in the fridge. You’re welcome to it.”

She resisted the urge to toss her phone across the hallway in rage. He was seriously texting her like everything was peachy and as though he hadn’t just asked someone else out on a date?

She gritted her jaw keeping her response short and to the point: Have a headache. Going back to my place. Sleeping it off.

She gritted her jaw all the more at the reply she received.

Jackie ❤️: I could swing by your place.

She typed out her reply angrily: Probably not a good idea. Might be sick.

She felt her heart twist and her anger bloom at the flirty reply she received.

Jackie ❤️: Alright, Sweetheart. Just do me a favor and get plenty of rest. Need my girl to feel better, doctors orders.

She resisted the urge to text by her ideal response ‘Enjoy your drinks with Baran you two timing piece of shit. I hope you get alcohol poisoning.’

She instead shoved her phone back in her scrub pocket practically stomping her way towards the pediatric department.

She took a deep breath reminding herself; survive this shift. Go home, get drunk, eat ice cream, google how to place hexes on shitty almost-boyfriends.

She would survive this hurt. She just had to cry first.

——————

Y/N was avoiding him, that much was clear. The problem was Jack Abbot had zero clue what he’d done to be subjected to the coldness?

He had spent three miserable days and nights rolling through every single interaction he’s had with Y/N over the past week searching for clues on what he could have done to get such chilly indifference from her.

He struggled to place what he may have done to upset her…because clearly she seemed upset. 

She was not transparent about her annoyance but instead she seemed dismissive of his attempts to reach out and connect.

He’d assumed that she was in fact just getting sick so he’d done the loving act of ubering soup, juice, Gatorade, and some Tylenol to her apartment.

He’d not received the response he had anticipated. He had almost feared the little care package he’d put together for her had failed to arrive.

So, he’d of course reached out to her, sending a text to check in and see if she got the package.

The only response he’d gotten was a short clipped ‘Yep, thanks.’

Any attempts to prolong the interaction had been met with a simple. ‘I’m exhausted. Going to turn in.’

His adoring ‘Sweet dreams, Hon’ had not received a reply.

Any further attempts to reach out were given the same reaction; short emotionless responses and claims of being tired.

He’d tried to ask if he could drop in on her but was met with insistence it would be a bad idea, she didn’t feel well.

Jack Abbot would be lying if he claimed he did not consider dropping in on her without warning, but had resisted too sure that showing up unannounced would be pushing at her boundaries.

He felt despondent over it all. It was frustrating being so uncertain of what he’d done to be iced out by the girl he’d worked so hard to charm.

He’d not anticipated finding love again, not after losing his wife.

When Anna Abbot had died in a car accident on the way to visit her family out west, it had felt like a cruel joke on Jack Abbot.

He’d lived through so much already, and Anna had been there through it all to hold his hand and offer gentle reassurance.

The world had ripped her away from Jack Abbot without warning. She’d been halfway across the country dying alone on a dark desolate highway because some damn semi driver had fallen asleep at the wheel so determined to meet his destination that he’d driven longer than he was supposed to.

Jack Abbot had wanted to die right there with Anna. He’d watched his beloved wife be lowered into the ground in a closed casket in the family plot her mother had insisted on, the one with no spot for Jack Abbot to rest at his wife’s side.His mother in law had never liked him and had seemed to choose her daughter’s final resting spot to spite him. Anna was catholic and had been buried in a catholic cemetery where her husband who had never converted could be buried.

Looking back Abbot wished he had insisted on choosing his wife’s final resting place, picking somewhere he could be laid to rest at her side. He’d not had it in him to fight her mother on it though. He’d known he’d lost a wife but her mother had lost a child.

The funeral had been awful; he felt numb barely able to even comprehend people’s expressions of sympathy.

He’d stood at her gravesite feeling as though his heart was being lowered into that grave.

 Jack Abbot had wanted to throw himself in the ground with his wife. He’d wanted to be buried alive there on top of her casket. Life without her was not worth living.

He’d spent restless nights wishing he’d not gotten rid of his guns after the worst of his PTSD when his therapist and he’d agreed that he should not have access to weapons in his home. 

He’d envisioned going out and buying a gun and blowing his brains out. He’d thought of throwing himself off the roof of PTMC. 

His sister had been the one who had dragged him out of his thoughts of ending his life. She’d practically moved in with him, she’d taken care of him and slowly but surely he’d been able to see through the fog of depression and grief long enough to reach out to his therapist and seek help.

Jack Abbot had assumed that what he’d shared with his late wife was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He could never replicate the sense of love he’d felt for her. Anna had been an amazing woman. No one could compare to her.

Then Dr. Y/L/N had been hired up in pediatrics and he’d eaten every word he’d ever uttered about thinking loving again was not in the cards for him.

Y/N had walked into his life like a ray of sunshine and he’d wanted to soak up the warmth he felt around her.

Somehow he’d managed to charm her into a date which had turned into several dates and a sense of intimacy Jack Abbot had thought he’d never experience with another soul ever again. 

He’d felt more at peace these past months of romancing her than he’d felt in years.

He’d clearly done something to ruin that sense of peace though.

He’d once again found himself locked in an attempt to figure out just what he’d done to wreck everything as he stood at the nurses station in the Pitt.

He did not even notice Robby as he approached him chattering about shift change.

Abbot was finally pulled out of his own thoughts as Robby spoke, giving his shoulder a nudge. “Hey, Space Cadet, you listening to me?”

Abbot raised a brow staring up from the spot he’d been glaring at on the nurse’s station finally meeting his old friend’s eyes. “Sorry, just thinking.”

Robby raised a brow in return, Jack letting out a heavy sigh reluctant to spill his guts right here in the middle of the Pitt so close to the nurses station. He knew Pearla and Princess were notorious gossips and would yap if they overheard his personal business.

He threw caution to the wind deciding his misery was too heavy to carry on his own. “I think I screwed up.”

Robby continued to stare at him one brow raised not replying with any smart responses he was tempted to blurt out. 

Abbot spoke again shifting in place the sock he’d put over his residual limb a bit too stretched out that it kept sliding downwards. He knew it would be a pain in the ass later especially if it slid far down enough to allow his prosthetic to rub against the limb and make the sensitive skin and scarring raw.

“I did something to piss Y/N off, the only problem is I have zero clue what I did.”

Robby scoffed at the comment thinking back to the abrupt way Y/N had ended the call. It was a bit out of character for the woman. She was almost as chatty as Abbot. Robby didn’t mind it. He’d grown a little fond of her in her time in Abbot’s life, and not just because she seemed to make the night attendant clearly happy. 

Robby dared to say the words knowing it would earn him a glare from Abbot. “It might be that you keep throwing yourself into the SWAT shit. Your hobby involves getting shot at, can’t leave much room for comfort for your girlfriend.”

Abbot shot him the glare Robby was predicting the man quick to defend himself. “I talked to her about it. I’m gonna cut down on the SWAT shifts.”

Robby rolled his eyes ever so slightly fast to point it out. “Pretty sure she’d prefer you to stop it all together instead of just cutting back. You need to pick up a boring hobby, golf or tennis or something that doesn’t involve a bullet grazing you. Shit, pick up paint ball if you like getting shot at so much.”

“I don’t like getting shot at. It was just a graze, just took some patching up. It was nothing serious. Y/N knows that. I talked her down.” Abbot defended himself once again.

Robby shook his head fast to say it. “Just saying, brother. If I was Y/N I’d be pissed that the guy I’m dating thinks a good activity involves picking up SWAT medic shifts. She clearly wasn’t talked down too much if she’s pissed at you. She thought it was serious.” 

Abbot let out a deep sigh running his hand along his face, exhaustion painting his features. He’d not slept well by himself. He’d gotten accustomed to Reader being there, or at least knowing she’d be there in his bed even if it happened to be a day where they worked opposite shifts. “Shit, I’ve got to fix it.”

“Buy her some flowers, grovel…I know I’m not the best at giving advice on making a relationship last given my track record, but flowers and apologies are a good place to start.” Robby offered Jack nodding his head his jaw tightening.

He spoke, shaking his head. “I sent her a care package…Ubered it to her place. Thought it would show her I care since she told me she felt ill. She barely replied to me. Pretty sure if I send her flowers I’m gonna get the same response.”

Robby let out a sigh shaking his own head. “Flowers are just a starting point, man. You grovel too. You don’t have to do it right this second. Listen, you got the night off tomorrow, hit the bar with me and a few of the ED crew. We figured we’d take Al Hashimi out and have a get to know me session with a few of the day shift. Take a breath and we’ll brainstorm a way for you to grovel appropriately. You can pick Dana and Al Hashimi’s brains. They can give a woman’s insight, tell you where you might have messed up if it wasn’t the SWAT thing. They might see something you didn’t. The bar is a bit more of an upscale joint, no rowdy drunks. It’s one of those tapa and wine places, Dana suggested it.”

Jack rolled the offer through his head wanting to decline it. He didn’t want to turn his personal romantic life into a team building activity among his coworkers.

He let Robby’s suggestion roll through his head; get a woman’s insight. It wasn’t the worst idea Robby ever had.

Abbot was tempted to say no and storm his way over to Y/N’s place, grovel at her feet and beg for her to tell him what idiotic thing he’d done so he could fix it.

He pushed back the desire though certain with how cold she’d been lately that it would only make things worse.

Besides, wouldn’t admitting he had zero clue what exactly he’d done to upset her just make things ten times worse? 

He should probably try to figure out what wrong move he’d made before he tried to grovel. 

So, he pushed back his desire to figure this out himself and decided to swallow his pride and accept the offer of someone else giving his relationship woes a shot at figuring it out.

It was not the worst idea Robby ever had.

—----------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N did not want to be out right now. In fact she wanted to hide away in her apartment like she’d done every single moment she was not at work, ignoring Jack Abbot’s texts and drowning her sorrow in wine and take out.

She was out of wine though. 

She decided to forgo her car knowing that there was a decent liquor store in walking distance from her brownstone.

She told herself some fresh air would do her a world of good. She just wished she’d considered the rainy weather before deciding a brisk walk in fresh air would ease her sour mood.

The rain was pouring just enough to make her feel a chill and like the rocket scientist she was, she forgot her umbrella.

She sighed barely managing to dodge a passing car as it splashed dirty water up on the sidewalk almost soaking her.

She moved a little closer to the buildings she was walking alongside the busy area filled with bars and a few small bistros.

The area she’d moved to had plenty of dining options and a few nightlife options, not that she was a big barhopper, not since college. She appreciated the availability though in case she did decide to grab a drink and let off some steam.

She stopped in front of a bar, the rain heavy enough that she decided to seek shelter under an awning near a large window gazing into a more upscale little bar.

She didn’t mean to gawk through the window at the patrons and almost considered stepping into the bar to get a bit dry, but she was sure her sweat pants, a hoodie she’d had since undergrad, and uggs weren’t entirely fit for such a nice little wine bar.

She felt her stomach drop bile rise in her throat as she spotted them.

It was like life was kicking her while she was down and out.

Right there in the center of the bar sitting facing one another each with a glass of wine sat Dr. Baran Al Hashimi and the very man who had put Y/N into such a state of sorrow, Dr. Jack Abbot.

She felt the bile rise so far she almost vomited at the sight. The drink offer, her mind taunted her, Al Hashimi had taken it.

Of course he’d brought her to a romantic little wine bar. The place was so the kind of joint you’d take a woman you wanted to impress.

Jack Abbot had taken Y/N to a 24 hour diner with greasy hashbrowns and a waitress that sounded like she smoked a pack a day, on their first date.

It was clear where on the scale of attempts to impress Al Hashimi and herself sat.

This was just another sign that Jack Abbot was only biding his time with her, Y/N realized.

Why else would he take Dr. Al Hashimi to such a fancy first date? 

Y/N had gotten the little diner with sticky tables and runny eggs and Al Hashimi got the fancy bar with expensive wine and pricy tapas.

It was a clear sign as any that Jack Abbot could not take anything he had going on with Y/N seriously, but Al Hashimi was someone he wanted to put effort into.

A more reasonable voice in the back of her head insisted that Jack had taken her to nice places too. 

He’d taken her to eat sushi and to have dinner at a nice steakhouse…but a cruel voice told her that of course he’d done that…he had to throw her a bone to string her along.

He was getting his dick wet with her…so he’d probably been trying to keep a good thing going while he could until something better came along.

She clenched her fists tempted to storm into the bar and give him a piece of her mind.

How could he do this to her? He’d laid in bed with Y/N holding her in his arms talking until they were both delirious with sleep, sharing their deepest secrets. He’d told her he felt connected to her, a feeling he’d not had since his late wife.

Was that all bullshit? Was he just feeding her lines she wanted to hear to keep stringing her along and hanging on until she lost her novelty?

If that was the case why was he acting so needy and concerned about her lately? Was this some kind of sick game? Was he just keeping her on the backburner in case Al Hashimi didn’t pan out?

She stepped away from the window despite her desire to march into the bar and scream and yell and demand answers.

She refused to behave like the pissed off crazy girlfriend. 

She was certain if she pulled that stunt he’d turn it against her. Wasn’t that what guys who cheated did? They made their partners into the bad guys to justify why they had to seek out affection someplace else?

Was this cheating a voice questioned in the back of her head?

They hadn’t placed a label on it after all.

She bit back the thought telling herself that though they’d not said the words his actions had hinted at it. 

She felt her eyes begin to water angry tears clouding her vision.

She spoke, spitting the words towards him though she knew he could not hear her. He had zero clue she’d caught him right in the act. “Fuck you, Dr. Abbot.”

She turned wiping her eyes ignoring the cold chill of the rain, the anger coursing through her too intense for her to focus on any minor discomfort.

If Jack Abbot was going to treat her like this then she was done with him.

He could seek out a better option and so could Y/N. 

She was worth more than this. 

She would show him that he’d lost the best thing that he could have had, she told herself.

No attention paid to the tulip stamp tattooed on his arm. 

Never once considering it to be out of place…

Just simply an attribute of Jesse. 

None of the newer staff had ever questioned the flower…

Had never once questioned what it meant…

Had never once realised it was linked to the little ring that dangled beneath the collar of his scrubs…

Had never once realised that Jesse’s tulip tattoo was a representation of his bond, of his partnership, of his love of you.

It simply never came up. 

And well. 

Jesse wasn’t about to announce it to everyone. A private person by nature. Prioritising on his work, rather than contributing to the ER gossip. 

Truly. The only people who knew of this little fact was Dana and that was only because she knew everything that went on in her ER, alongside Princess and Perlah. 

Oh.

And Robby. 

Who had seen you a few too many times in the ER, it was a fact he had caught on early about this tidbit of information. 

To the veterans of the Pitt. 

You were in a sense…a frequent flyer. 

Nicknamed Flowerchild…for the simple reason that you typically came through with bouquets of flowers…or with baked treats that somehow managed to include floral notes such as those lavender lemon bars that were undeniably addicting…

You came in every few weeks, for one reason or another. 

And while it wasn’t often you came in with an injury…it also wasn’t completely out of the ordinary. 

So when you said you weren’t panicked about heading into the ER, driven by the paramedics. That was an understatement. 

You could easily be considered one of the calmest patients they had had for a long time. 

So truly, in your mind the ambulance ride had felt a little excessive…

"I promise," You'd told the paramedic for perhaps the fourth time, "It's really not that dramatic."

"You passed out,” they countered. Recalling what your employee had told them. 

You huffed, "I briefly passed out."

"...After a shelving unit full of ceramic pots fell on you,” they stated plainly. 

"It was one shelf."

"It was four"

"It felt like one,” you insisted. 

The paramedic had simply looked unconvinced, “We just need to make sure nothing really bad happened, because you passed out from a head injury we don’t want to take the risk”

…You knew better than to argue with that logic…keeping your mouth clamped shut for the rest of the ride. 

What had greeted you whilst you were wheeled in was the familiar face of one Dr Robby. 

An arched brow, and a knowing look in his eye, “What was it this time?” 

“I knocked one of the shelves…Which meant they decided to become Jenga…and I lost,” You muttered a little disgruntled by the fact your clumsiness had landed you in the ER once more. 

He shook his head with a small chuckle, waving over one of the residents, “Mohan, could you please look after Y/N, order a head CT, check for possible concussion–and please don’t let her leave before the results come through,” he sends you a pointed glance. 

“Missed you too, Robinabitch,” you remarked sarcastically. 

Whilst he only waved you off, already moving onto the next patient, trying his best to conceal his grin. 

Mohan’s brows furrowed, she had seen you around before, in brief fleeting moments…Though normally you were walking through the ER, stopping for a chat with Dana and Robby, laughing with Princess and Perlah. 

Most times you’d come in with bouquets of flowers in your arms, before wandering upstairs to the wards. 

And on the rare occasion you’d come through with baked treats for the staff in the ER.

You never stuck around long enough for her to figure out why you came through. And the other med students and interns were no wiser to this reason either. 

Simply assuming you were a friend of one of Dana’s or even a friend of Robby’s. It simply never felt like their place to ask. 

While Mohan helps you settle into a bay, Princess has popped her head into the room, a sympathetic look crossing her features. 

"Oh, honey," She sighed, immediately recognizing you, "What happened this time?"

You offered a sheepish smile, feigning ignorance, "...This time?"

She pursed her lips, before sending you a knowing look, "The cactus incident."

"That wasn't my fault."

"The rose thorn that got infected,” she continued to list. 

You only shrugged, "Occupational hazard."

"The allergic groom," she added. 

"I wasn't the one allergic!" You exclaimed, while Mohan is in the midst of running her exam. 

Princess laughed as she assisted Mohan, "I know,” She squeezed your shoulder with a softened look, "You gave us cookies after that one."

"I felt guilty," you muttered

"You shouldn't have. The groom was the idiot who didn't tell anyone he was allergic to lilies,” Princess snorted. 

You sighed with a small smile in remembrance, “He was an idiot” 

“Hey, Robby said to come assist you with a possible concussion,” a new voice appeared, a wide eyed young man, offering you a kind smile.

While he entered, Princess had left.

You were still trying to get a grasp on the new faces of the ER, still trying to get used to them, doing your best to place a name to the new faces around you. 

His eyes widen just slightly in recognition, while you nod in greeting. 

“Sorry, remind me of your name?” you say. 

“Whitaker,” he smiles before shuffling over to assist Mohan. 

Mohan pulled a stool over beside you, "Mind if we ask a few questions?"

"Shoot,” you nod. 

Answering her list of questions relating to your accident. What happened, how long were you out for, where were you impacted, and questions of that nature. Thorough, not missing a single thing. 

Answering to the best of your ability. 

“I was restocking the shelves, when I must’ve knocked one of them, the next thing I know they knocked me on my ass and knocked me out,” you answered, gesturing to where they hit you, and places of tenderness. 

“You’re a florist?” Whitaker asked. 

Nodding with a bright smile, pride shining through, “I’ve owned my store for a few years now

Whitaker let out an appreciative whistle, "That's impressive."

"It started out tiny,” You smiled fondly, "One refrigerator. One workbench. And enough anxiety to fuel an entire suburb. It was seriously just me running around like a headless chicken in the beginning."

Mohan laughed, "And now?"

"Now I’ve got six employees. A wedding division. Corporate clients. Funeral arrangements. My own little greenhouse,” you explained before adding with a small laugh, “And somehow I'm still covered in dirt by lunchtime." 

They laughed lightly at your joke. Before slipping back into a professional state. 

“Do you mind if we check the bruising, to assess for any possible fractures or breaks? just until they’re ready to bring you through to CT,” Mohan asks politely. 

Whitaker nodded, slipping beside you to check your wrist and gently examined the bruise blooming along your shoulder, his eyes drifting toward the interesting artwork winding down your arm. 

One in particular being vaguely familiar…

Though why, that was something he couldn’t quite piece together.

Noticing his gaze upon the tattoos, and the look of fascination in Mohan’s eyes. You smile, twisting slightly to look down at your arm. 

“These always bring me so much joy to look at,” you said fondly, hand gently tracing the flowers dotted along your arms. 

"What are they?" Whitaker asked, while continuing his exam. 

"Different flowers from different points in my life,” You traced one absentmindedly, "This one was after opening my shop. This one was after my grandmother passed. This one after my first successful wedding season." Each reason was said with tenderness. A softness. 

"They all mean something."

"They're beautiful," Mohan said with a soft smile.

"Thank you,” Your fingers drifted toward the inside of your forearm, "And this one's probably my favorite."

A small tulip. Tattooed in the style of a stamp. 

Simple.

Elegant.

Beneath it, was a set of delicate numbers…numbers that represented something dear to you, the year you married your husband…the very same year you had these tulips inked upon your bodies. 

Mohan tilted his head, "A tulip?"

You positively lit up, "My husband and I have matching ones."

Whitaker smiled, "Really?"

"Mhm,” you hummed in acknowledgement, before being lost in explanation, the meaning behind flowers simply made you morph into nerdy rambles, “Tulips are said to represent passionate love and devotion. But I also loved that tulips symbolise resilience. And being present…” 

Your eyes held like spark in them, this twinkle whilst you continued, “The idea that life's short. You've got to enjoy it while you've got it."

There was something wonderfully soft in your expression, before you grinned, "I convinced him to get matching tattoos."

Whitaker laughed, with an arch of his brow, "You convinced him?"

Both he and Mohan were enthralled by your sweet story. 

"Oh absolutely,” you nodded before laughing softly, "He needed very little convincing though."

You being in the ER wasn’t completely out of the ordinary…but that didn’t mean it ever lessened Jesse’s worry over you. 

Normally you were able to talk to him beforehand. 

Normally able to call him on the way over. 

Normally able to quell his panic. 

Assure him that he didn’t need to drop everything to see you…

But unfortunately. 

Today, that had slipped your mind…

It might’ve had something to do with the possible mild concussion you had sustained. 

So before anyone could continue–

The curtain whipped open. 

"Where is she–” Jesse appears, hair slightly disheveled. Breathing a little harder than normal.

Eyes immediately finding yours.

Every ounce of panic melted from his face, "Oh..."

His shoulders finally relaxed, "There you are."

He crossed the room in seconds, "Hey, love."

His voice had softened into something only you ever got to hear.

Gently taking your hand between both of his.

Careful of the IV.

Careful of the bruising.

"Hey, baby,” You smiled up at him. A look of utter adoration and love filtering into your eyes, you squeeze his hand, "I'm okay."

"You sure?" His brows furrow. 

"I am now,” you nodded reassuringly. 

His thumb stroked across your knuckles, biting his lip, "I nearly had a heart attack."

You looked up at him with an apologetic expression, “ I know, I'm sorry."

He shook his head, “You never have to say sorry for something like this–we’ve talked about that. I just,” he sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, “I was just worried…”

You smiled at him softly, closing your eyes with a small sigh. While he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

Silence.

Complete silence.

Whitaker blinked.

Mohan blinked.

And in that moment, Princess stood just beside the now open curtain, while trying–failing–not to grin.

Until finally–

"Can you two stop being adorable for two seconds so we can make sure you're actually okay?" Princess deadpanned.

You both laughed.

Only then did Jesse seem to notice everyone staring, "...What?"

Whitaker then pointed between the two of you, "...Jesse?"

"Hm?"

"...What?" Jesse frowned. Sharing a look of confusion with you. You’re own brows furrowing in response. 

"You..." Mohan gestured wildly, "...Know her?"

Jesse looked completely confused, "...Yes?" 

Another beat.

And then–

"...She's my wife."

Silence.

Longer this time.

It felt as though the air was sucked out the room. The sound of beeping machines, squeaking wheels and footsteps muffled and drowned out by the surprising revelation. 

"...Your what?" Mohan asked.

"My wife,” Jesse said once more. His hand still delicately intertwined with yours. 

Just outside the curtain, a crowd had begun to form. Santos had stopped dead in her tracks. Javadi stood right beside her. Mel blinked in surprise. And well…everyone else who had had no idea that you…

The Pitt’s frequent flyer nicknamed Flowerchild…was in fact married to their very own Nurse Jesse…

Whitaker looked between you.

Then Jesse.

Then you again.

Before Santos asked what everyone was thinking, staring at Jesse, "...You're married?"

He lifted a brow in question, confused by everyone’s reaction…"Yeah, I thought I'd mentioned that."

Princess snorted, knowing full well Jesse was terrible when it came to talking about himself and his personal life. 

Santos pointed dramatically towards you, "...We didn't know your wife was Flowerchild over here."

Within thirty seconds it somehow felt like half the department had wandered past the bay.

All clinging to the new information. 

And then Mohan’s thoughts click, “...The tulips…” she gasped. Eyes flicking between your tattoo, and then landing on the very identical one inked upon Jesse’s skin.

“Oh my–”

It was safe to say that everyone was stunned by this revelation. 

You couldn’t help but be amused by their expressions, letting out a laugh while Jesse does the same, a small shake of his head at the way his colleagues were reacting. 

Robby poked his head inside, sending you both a confused glance, a silent question on the tip of his tongue, before he thinks better than to ask, “You’re good to go get your CT scan” 

“Thanks Robby,” Jesse nodded. 

“Anytime,” he waved off, before looking at you, “Don’t make this a habit”

“You say that everytime,” you said with a shrug. 

“And each time I mean it,” Robby huffs, before walking away. 

Whilst you’re wheeled away, taken to get scanned. Accompanied by your husband, fully knowing that when you’d return to the Pitt. 

A barrage of questions would await you.

But you didn’t mind…

Fondly reminiscing over the life you had shared with Jesse so far.

And to think. 

It had all begun with a simple conversation with a stranger in a tattoo parlor…

A stranger who would eventually become your husband. 

Your partner in life. 

Your home. 

Your love. 

…

It had happened years ago. 

One of those sliding doors moments. A fleeting moment, that if you had missed it, your lives could’ve been completely different. 

If he hadn’t spoken up. 

Your lives might’ve never intertwined at all…and that was a reality you were glad was not yours. 

The tattoo studio smelled faintly of green soap, disinfectant, and fresh coffee. With the lingering notes of an incense, soothing to the senses. 

A strange combination.

Not unpleasant.

Just...memorable.

The steady buzz of tattoo machines filled the room, occasionally interrupted by quiet conversation or laughter from one of the artists.

Jesse had been scrolling absentmindedly through reference photos on his phone while waiting for his artist to finish setting up, "Won't be long," she'd called.

"No rush,” He leaned back in the chair, glancing around the studio.

His gaze drifted naturally toward the station beside his. Where someone else was already midway through a session.

Your arm rested comfortably on a padded support while the tattoo artist carefully wiped away excess ink.

"...Looks amazing," you murmured in admiration, "I can't wait to see it finished."

Your artist smiled in appreciation of your praise, “Glad to hear it, doing this sort of flower is definitely a first for me.”

Catching word of your conversation. 

Curiosity got the better of Jesse, "What flower is it?"

You turned your head toward him, "Oh."

Your smile was immediate, "A climbing jasmine."

He shifted to lean up, to catch sight of the flower design, just moving a little closer–not intrusively, just enough to admire the artwork.

Fine vines curled around your forearm.

Tiny blossoms climbing elegantly toward your elbow.

"Damn,” It looks incredible."

You laughed, "Thank you,” before you add eyes tracing along the other designs along your skin, “I've got a bit of a thing for flower tattoos."

"...I noticed,” He couldn't help smiling. 

Between the peonies winding around your shoulder, lavender tucked behind your wrist, delicate forget-me-nots near your collarbone and several others disappearing beneath your sleeve…

"How many?"

You looked genuinely thoughtful, before answering with a slight waver in your tone "...twenty-two?"

"You don't know?"

"I stopped counting after fifteen."

He laughed, a sound that for some reason made your stomach flip. Made your chest warm.

"So…”He nodded toward the artwork, "You just really like flowers?"

"I own a flower shop,” you stated with pride. 

“Cool,”He nodded in acknowledgement, the words sounding genuinely impressed, "That explains everything."

"It usually does,” you remarked. 

He grinned, "So every tattoo means something?"

"Most of them,” You glanced down at the flowers dotting along your arms, smiling fondly, “I got this daffodil once I opened my store, they mean new beginnings, and hope.” 

“Oh–and the lavender is meant to symbolise inner peace, between the stress of life and opening a business, it’s a nice little reminder…”

You explain, a clear passion filtering into your words. 

“The forget-me-nots were one of my grandmother’s favourites, so I got them in memory of her, a little burst of courage when things feel rocky.”

He found himself smiling far more than he'd expected, "You really love what you do."

"I really do,” you say, feeling a little bashful from the way you had rambled on, especially to a guy who you would consider very cute…handsome. Feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. 

But he isn’t deterred by your quite frankly nerdy explanations. 

He’s not deterred by the way you rambled. 

No infact he is enthralled by your passion. Ensnared by the twinkling in your eye. The absolute joy resonating from you as you explain the flowers and their meaning. 

It was clear you had found your passion in life. 

And Jesse couldn’t help but want to learn more about you. 

“I’m Jesse,” he offered with a kind smile. 

“Y/N” 

Your name made something in his mind whir, made his heart race. 

Conversation came surprisingly easily. Like talking to someone you'd somehow already known.

Jesse tilted his head, "What’s the weirdest flower order you've ever had?"

Your face lit up instantly, "Oh my God–There are so many."

"I had a feeling,” he chuckled, jokingly adding, “Surely not all of them are for valentines day”

You nod with a glint in your eye, a wide grin spread across your face, "There was one woman who came in asking for flowers that basically translated to 'go fuck yourself.'"

He blinked, snorting whilst asking, "Excuse me?"

"I'm serious. Every flower she picked had a meaning,” before you listed off, “Resentment, bitterness, revenge,” you couldn’t help but laugh from the memory, "I politely asked if she knew what she'd chosen."

Jesse leaned in, fascinated by your story, completely on the edge of his seat, "And?"

"Oh, she absolutely knew."

"What were they for?"

"Her mother-in-law,” you stated seriously. 

Jesse barked out a laugh, "No."

"I swear. Apparently she'd been unbearable for twenty-five years. And the woman had just divorced her son, so she decided to send these flowers to her mother-in-law,” you explained, "I've never seen someone so passionately choose carnations."

He laughed harder, "No way."

"I wrapped them beautifully,” you stated proudly. 

"You enabled this?”

"I absolutely enabled this,” you said. 

Jesse grinned, "You menace."

"I like to think I was supporting women's rights."

"And women's wrongs,” he retorted, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. 

"Exactly."

He couldn't stop laughing.

It wasn't just the story.

It was the way you told it.

Animated hands. Even as your tattoo artist insisted you stay still. 

Bright eyes.

Every punchline perfectly timed.

Your shared laughter echoing out into the room. 

"And don't even get me started on the cards,” before you added, simply craving to hear the sound of his laughter for a little more. 

"The cards?" Jesse arched a brow, snickering slightly. 

"The little messages people attach to bouquets,” You leaned conspiratorially toward him, "I genuinely think people forget florists actually read those."

He nods, insisting you go on. 

“The kinds of things people write to be attached to bouquets are insane,” you said, trying to catch your breath after laughing so hard, trying to stifle the snorts from escaping, "I've read proposals, apologies, breakups, passive-aggressive revenge. You name it."

He folded his arms, "What’s the craziest thing someone’s said"

"What haven’t I read!,” you say before listing, “‘Sorry I accidentally got your car towed.’ Or this one time I read one that said, 'The lawyer says this counts as an apology.'"

He laughed, "You are making these up."

The sound of his laughter, simply enthralling to you. You couldn’t help it.  

The feeling was infectious. 

Addicting. 

"I wish,” you smiled, "'Please don't tell Mum where I was last weekend.'"

He was laughing so hard he had to wipe at the corner of one eye, "People actually send these?"

"Oh, constantly,” you reply, adding another one, "'The rash wasn't contagious after all.'"

"Oh my God,” He covered his face, "No."

"I wish I was joking," You laughed along with him, "So many times I have looked at a card and gone..."

You mimed staring at a note, "...'Wow... I really didn't need to know that.'"

"You poor thing,” Jesse offered with a laugh. 

"I know far too much about strangers."

Your tattoo artist trying their best to suppress the laughs threatening to escape them. Sending a knowing look towards Jesse…It seemed the connection between you both was obvious to them…and to most of those around the room. 

Simply waiting to see what would happen next. 

Once the laughter settled, once you were both able to catch your breath. 

Jesse asked, "But honestly...Surely not all of them are that bizarre?” 

You shook your head, “Only a few of them, a lot of them are sweet,” a look of fondness slipping onto your features, "There was this elderly gentleman. He came in every Friday, for a few years, he’d buy the exact same bouquet. Tulips."

The word settles in the room. 

Holding a sense of importance behind the flower, "Always yellow. Always the same handwritten card."

Jesse found himself listening more intently.

"And it would always read, 'Thank you for another beautiful week.' He’d insist on it being handwritten. Saying that it felt more meaningful than being printed," you explained. 

He smiled, "That's sweet."

"He told me his wife had Alzheimer's,” The room suddenly felt quieter, "Some weeks she remembered him. And some weeks she didn't. But every Friday...He brought flowers. Because even if she forgot who he was..." your words held a depth to them, a clearly revered memory "He wanted her to know she was loved."

Silence settled between you. Jesse’s eyes softened. 

"He kept coming after she passed, I still see him now” Your voice became gentle, "He takes the flowers to the cemetery. And he still writes...'Thank you for another beautiful week.'"

Jesse swallowed, "...Wow."

"I cried in the cool room after he left,” you added, a slight mist in your eyes, a little choked up from the story. 

"I would've too,” the words hold no joke. Just understanding…something you appreciated. 

“It’s interesting, the choice of yellow tulips, while now they mean cheerfulness and joy, there was once a time it was known to represent hopeless love…and for some reason, that feels simply bittersweet to me,” you explain. 

His artist eventually called him over, "You ready?"

He looked toward the chair.

Somehow he had managed to shift to stand beside you. Had unintentionally drifted closer to you, enthralled by the conversation you shared. 

Then his eyes flicker back at you, "Actually…” He rubbed the back of his neck, "This might be completely weird."

You raised an eyebrow. Prompting him to go on. 

"But...I've really enjoyed talking to you."

"I've enjoyed talking to you too,” you said sincerely. 

"So..." He took a quiet breath, "Would you maybe want to get dinner sometime? I’d love to hear more of your stories–Only if that’s cool with you."

Your smile was almost immediate, "I was wondering when you were going to ask."

His eyebrows lifted, "You knew?"

"You've been looking for excuses to keep talking to me for past twenty minutes."

"...Have I?" He laughed a little sheepishly. 

You hummed in response, before adding, “Not many guys are interested in hearing about what I have to say about the meaning of flowers. It was a little bit of a giveaway."

He laughed, "Fair."

You reached into your handbag, pulling out a business card. Instead of handing it straight over.

You flipped it over and wrote your personal number.

Before tucking it into his shirt pocket yourself, "There. So you don't lose it."

His heart did something strange in his chest, "I'll call."

"I hope you do."

…And with that meeting. That crossing of paths. 

Jesse did call. Barely a few hours later, unable to wait. 

One dinner became another.

Then coffee.

Then weekend markets.

Lazy mornings wandering botanical gardens.

Movie nights.

Jesse came to help you unload flower deliveries before dawn, enjoying the chance to spend time with you. 

You leaving little posies around his house.

He started finding dried lavender tucked into books.

Fresh eucalyptus hanging in the shower.

Wildflowers in old coffee mugs.

Before long...

Your overnight bag simply...Stopped going home.

One drawer became two.

Two became half the wardrobe.

Then somehow...

The house wasn't his anymore.

It was yours.

Together.

Home.

And then one evening, months later, he stood beside you in the greenhouse after closing. Golden hour spilled through the glass. 

Everything glowed.

You were trimming the last of the tulips.

He watched you for a long moment.

The woman who spoke to flowers.

Who knew every customer's favourite bloom.

Who remembered anniversaries.

Who secretly tucked an extra stem into bouquets for people having a difficult week.

Who laughed with her whole body. To the point where you had to catch your breath, tried your hardest to stifle the snorts that escaped. 

Who somehow made every room feel lighter simply by walking into it.

He reached into his pocket, "Love?"

Now felt like the perfect time…

"Hm?" You turned.

He was already lowering himself onto one knee.

Your hands flew to your mouth.

"I..." He laughed nervously, "I had this whole speech."

"You've forgotten it."

"I absolutely have."

You laughed through sudden tears. Becoming choked up from the words that fall from his 

"I love you,” he says, openly, proudly, filled with so much devotion, “I love your stories. I love your flowers. I love the way you somehow know exactly what everyone needs before they do. I love every tattoo. I love every version of you. So…” 

He opened the ring box, "Will you marry m–"

You didn't even let him finish, "Yes."

Dropping to your own knees, arms wrapping around him, bringing your lips down to his, smiling through the kiss. 

"Yes?” he murmurs against your lips. 

"Absolutely yes,” you nod, unable to contain your joy, while he slips the ring onto your finger. 

The beginnings of a promise to share this life together. To go through all the highs and lows, through the serious and funny, through the easy and hard times. Side by side. 

Together. 

The wedding wasn't extravagant.

It didn't need to be.

It was warm.

Full of laughter.

Wildflowers.

Family.

Friends.

Happy tears.

And afterwards...

There was one final stop before the honeymoon.

The tattoo studio.

The very same one you had met in. 

The artists remembered you immediately, "No way–You two actually got married?"

You laughed, smiling widely, beaming with joy, "We did."

Matching tulips.

Simple.

Elegant.

The year beneath them.

A promise written in ink.

A promise that had withstood the test of time. Had sustained after years together. 

…

Leading to today. Where all of Jesse’s colleagues were finally in the know about his wonderful partner. 

Seeing him standing beside your hospital bed in the ER. 

Your hand comfortably intertwined with Jesse's as his colleagues stared in complete disbelief, you couldn't help smiling.

He answered every question proudly, "Yes, that's my wife."

"She owns a flower shop."

"She's incredible."

"I'm the lucky one."

Each reply sincere, and filled with utter devotion and love. Endless admiration of you. 

Every single time he said my wife, a smile tugged at his lips. 

A sparkle in his eyes. 

Like he still couldn't quite believe he'd been lucky enough to marry you.

You looked at the man beside you.

At the tattoos peeking from beneath his scrub sleeves.

At the little bump beneath his scrubs where his wedding band hangs safely beneath the collar of his scrubs.

At the quiet confidence with which he moved through the world.

The gentleness that never disappeared, even after the hardest shifts.

The way he'd dropped everything the moment he heard you were in the emergency department.

The way he'd reached for your hand before asking a single question.

When you were younger...

Maybe you'd imagined yourself falling for someone reckless.

Someone in a leather jacket.

A motorcycle.

Too much charm.

Not enough sense.

Back then, you probably would've thought that was the sexiest kind of man alive.

Now?

Now you knew different.

Because the sexiest man in the world wasn't the one who made your heart race with uncertainty.

He was the one who made it feel safe.

A tattooed gentleman with his life together.

A man who never made you wonder where you stood.

Who celebrated your successes as though they were his own.

Who listened to every ridiculous florist story as though it were the greatest tale ever told.

Who still laughed at the same jokes years later.

Who loved you loudly.

Patiently.

Completely.

The man proudly introducing you as his beautiful wife with that impossibly soft smile.

That man...

Was Jesse van Horn.

And every single day since meeting him in that little tattoo studio, you'd quietly thanked fate for making his artist run twenty minutes behind schedule.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story ♥️ I thought it was a cute idea to have their meet cute in a tattoo parlour, so I hope you liked that bit too!! I imagine this was only a few weeks/months after the new pittlings started, so they weren't around in previous hospital injury visits, but they'd seen you stop by. Never once noticing how as you'd leave, Jesse would wander after you to sneak a brief kiss and hello. Just so cute!! and I thought tulips were a perfect fit for him. Let me know what you thought or if you'd like to be tagged in this collection of stories / or for the next part ✨

Read the next instalment of the Bouquet of Love Stories 💐

-> Read Next...Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader: WIP / Paging Dr Daisy (Part 3)

Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!

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“Hey!” said Samira falling at your side at the counter.

You were still too distracted by the two to even tear your gaze away and look at her. “Hey.”

Samira followed your eyeline. “You're staring, you know that?”

You nodded.

Robby rubbed at the side of his face as his cheeks flushed, Noelle shifted her weight onto her other heeled foot- apparently getting herself comfortable.

“Who is that, again?” asked Doctor Mohan.

“Noelle. She's from insurance.”

Samira nodded. “Noelle from insurance. Annnd do we like Noelle, from insurance?”

At that you realised just how transparent your glares might have been.

“Oh, you know,” you mumbled, finally looking back down to your tablet that had grown dark in the absence of movement. “It's our job to like everyone.”

Santos passed by you then, dropping herself down into your favourite chair in exhaustion. “Not everyone.”

“So we're all having a great day, I see,” you commented, sarcastically. However the sardonic tone of your voice was over-saturated with a loud laugh.

Your head practically snapped up to see Noelle laughing at something Robby had said. Even his face was scrunched up at his joke. You watched as Noelle's hand darted to his bicep, playfully hitting him in a way that could only be recognised as flirting.

You watched as Robby looked down to her hand on him and then he looked up, finding you and finding your watchful gaze. Only then did the pink in his cheeks subside and the wrinkles of amusement die.

“Didn't they have a thing before you and him got together?” asked Santos.

You sighed. “Yes, they did, thank you, Trinity.”

“Hey, just trying to be helpful.”

“Save it for the patients,” you said.

Robby took one step in your direction but you'd already dismissed yourself from Santos and Mohan, walking the ward like it was a battle field.

But you could hear your boyfriends heavy boots close behind you.

“Don't do that,” he said, calling after you.

“Do what? See a patient?”

“It's not what you think,” he said.

“Of course it's not,” you said, trying your best to be indifferent.

You knew about Noelle and Robby's history, just as you knew about his and Heathers, and his and the pathologist from upstairs, and the one from ortho. You knew and you understood, heck you'd even been around to joke about with Landon. Robby's famous seven-week itch.

Rumour had it before he finally got to hold your hand and kiss you whenever he liked he'd been trying to nail you down for years, but you weren't sure how much you believed.

It had been nine months, maybe closer to ten since you and Robby had officially started seeing each other. It was the real boyfriend-girlfriend deal where you could call each other at any moments of the day, could get take out together and discuss the boring things together.

Yet, you did none of that.

Robby and you didn't talk.

You fucked- but only each other. You worked on cases together- strictly professional. On the days where you were desperate there was an on-call room Robby could book out and steal time away with you.

But you didn't remember the last time you'd laughed like that with him.

“It's not,” said Robby again.

“Of course it's not.”

Robby sighed, falling closer behind you. “Well, it doesn't really sound like you believe me.”

“I believe you,” you said. “Do I believe Noelle...”

“Oh, c'mon,” Robby chuckled, like the very idea of them was ridiculous. Like the two of you didn't begin where they ended. “You seriously gonna be hung up on that?”

“Don't,” you warn, shaking your head.

You reached for an exam room door, where a sixteen year old boy was complaining of migraines but Robby grabbed your wrist and stirred you away.

“You wanna argue, not here,” he said.

“I don't want to argue.”

Robby led you out to the ambulance bay. Any nurses stealing a couple minutes of peace quickly diverted back in and even ambulances seemed to divert away. He let go of you, standing away and folding his arms over his chest, defensive. “So come on, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You're mad because I was talking to Noelle- about a case, might I add,” he said. There was nothing soft in his tone, nothing that calmed your nerves on edge. He said it all like it was a joke that he already knew the punchline to.

You rubbed at your temple. “You can talk to Noelle about cases, of course you can-”

“- Oh, thank you, glad I have your permission,” he chuckled.

“Can you just not be a dick about this, for once!” you snapped.

Robby's brows rose to his head, almost shocked at your snap at him. He held out his hands. “Okay, I'm not being a dick.”

“You are, and it's like sometimes you don't even realise.”

His hands were worn with the mornings patients and you could see the stress he tried to hide away as he wiped up and down his face.

You took a deep breath. “Robby, if you don't want this to work out all you have to do is say.” You said it, un-sure if you even meant it. Un-sure that you could ever go back to who you were before meeting Robby, let alone sharing in his life. In the small moments grabbing take out together and eating it on his sofa. In the mornings where you both naturally woke up early enough to just admire each other before you had to get to work.

Robby chuckled dryly, hands on his hips. “Oh my god, all of this because I spoke to another woman?”

“Because you laughed with her like you haven't with me for weeks!” you argued.

For once, Robby was silent.

You told yourself after the seven week mark that it would be any day now, that he'd tell you you were better off friends; colleagues. Every day and week it didn't come, every month he got more comfortable in your bed you figured you'd easily get rid of him in your life as easily as you welcomed him.

Now you stood across from him in the early morning light of the ambulance bay knowing if he left you now you'd never get back on your feet again.

“I see the way Noelle looks at you, how the others from upstairs do to,” you begin.

Robby shook his head, something earnest in his gaze. “They're not- they don't-”

“- I know, I know,” you said, cutting him off with a grimace of a smile. “ ”I know you don't love them, Robby. I'm just not sure you love me either.”

As un-cultured as you were with your own relationships you weren't sure when the right time to say I love you was. You knew Santos had said it to Garcia drunk one night and woke up with regret pinning her to the bed. You knew Dana and Benji had said it to each other a week in. You knew you loved Robby before you even kissed him.

Robby looked down to his boots, shaking his head. “That's not fair.”

Your heart pinched. “I know I love you, Robby. But I can't watch all these woman over you and-and wonder.”

“Your insecurities are not my fault!” Robby snapped.

You knew he didn't mean it, or hoped he didn't. You knew in the very small arguments you'd had that he spoke without thinking and came grovelling back.

Maybe it was worse this time because you knew it was the truth. You knew these women- his ex something's- didn't get to see Robby in the early mornings and be the last thing he spoke to at night. You knew Robby wasn't inviting them into his self, but he wasn't pushing them away either.

They'd all been quick, snaps of bands on wrists. You were supposed to be something more.

Maybe you weren't.

Biting on the inside of your cheek, you felt the familiar burning in your chest, rising up to your neck.

“Okay.” You held yourself tight, heading past him and to the doors that were already welcoming you back.

Robby was hot on your heels, quicker even as he pushed himself ahead of you. “No, no, no- hey- wait, no I-I didn't mean that.” His eyes were wide, hands held out in front of you, not quite clasped together, pointing to the sky but pleading none the less.

“We shouldn't talk about this now, Robby-”

“- I- we... honey, please.”

He stood in between you and the doors. Beyond him you saw the chaos of the room, the charts being passed, the labs being reported. The world still turned.

Robby's hands fell to your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. “Let me- jus' let me-let me-”

“Hey! You two!”

Robby didn't jump apart from you, he squeezed your arms tighter as the two of you looked back to Dana who rushed out, wisps of grey hair falling around her. “What is it?”

“There's been a crash down the docks, all hands on deck!”

You thought you knew chaos, having seen all sorts of terror and oddities in the Pitt but the scenes at the dock were nothing like it. A complication with a boat, an explosion- small enough- rattled ferries and had them crashing into one another like terrible scene of dominoes.

Heck, you weren't even sure if the docks were safe to be standing on.

There were fire trucks and ambulances that didn't just respond to PTMC but Presby too. Police were corning off the area, talking to any witnesses but everyone blurred in one as you weaved in and out of them.

You'd been sent as an emergency respondent thanks to how level-headed and sturdy you were in the Pittfest. You still remembered how Robby nominated you as well as Whitaker to go with some from surgery, his eyes dark on you, a trusting nod passed before you were handed a jacket and pushed into an ambulance.

You'd already pulled a sheet over three bodies, one of them too small for your liking.

“Any for me?” asked a first emergency responder, you think his name was Spencer, catching it in the rig you caught a ride in. “We can take two.”

“Yeah!” you yelled and led him away. “This guy, approximately in his thirties, head lack to the right, needs to go to surgery immediately. This woman, late twenties, lost consciousness, possible pelvic bleed but she's stabilised, need's a ultrasound.”

“Got it!”

You'd gone through almost all the gloves you had in your pockets. There was blood seeping into your scrub uniform at your knees. You'd forgone your coat to a little girl who took an ambulance back with her mother, trembling from the cold.

A steady, firm hand settled between your shoulder blades.

“How you holding on, Slugger?”

Your heart soared in relief when you recognised Jack's voice, felt his steady hand and saw his easy smile in the middle of all the pain.

“Jack, thank god. Are you here with your team?” you asked, eying the uniform he was in.

“Yeah, we came to secure the area, doing everything I can to help,” he said, the two of you nudging your way through the people, stepping over the rubble and pools of water or blood. “How you holding up?”

“Lost three,” you told him.

Jack looked down at you, the weight of his gaze always heavy. “And how many you saved, huh? Focus on that number.”

The wind picked up, sending a chill over your bones.

“Hey, where's your jacket?” asked Jack, a frown taking over his features.

You chuckled. “Probably half way to Presby by now, think we've handed off all the traumas PTMC can take.”

Jack tutted and shook his head aside. “I reckon they've got one more in them.”

You didn't know how you and Jack had got so close, somewhere along the lines of hand-offs and covering night shifts you just always gravitated toward each other, working well and saving lives. Every daring procedure you'd taken was with him over your shoulder only for him to go and boast about you to Robby later.

Jack led you to Robby, for that you always had to be thankful.

“Hey! I've got a guy seizing over here!”

With your case in hand the two of you rushed off.

The man seemed middle-aged with no obvious wound to him as you and Jack took either side. The man was at the edge of the docks, the crashing of the waves fighting against you as you worked to stablilse him.

Jack steadied him. “Check if there's any medication on him! It might be a disorder!”

You checked, coming up empty pocketed. You fumbled in your bag and tried your pockets before finding the vial and clean needle. “Pushing diazepam!”

With five cc's in his seizing slowed to dull twitches.

“We need a back board and neck brace,” said Jack, looking around to try and flag down anyone.

Nobody was catching your eyes. This close to the water you were out of the way of most of the chaos.

“Go!” you told Jack. “I'll stay with him, make sure he doesn't sieze again.”

Jack's brows pinched together for a second. “You sure?”

You nodded. Your hands remained on your patient, feeling his tremors and already timing his pulse with your watch. “I've got it, go!”

In hind sight you should have thought about the implications. You'd been grabbed and yelled at and spat at in the ED by less sever patients but once you'd been attacked by a man who just woke up from a seizure, dazed and confused and naming you his enemy.

Robby had never been so close to murder.

It took weeks for the bruises to go down, for your hand to heal properly from the fall and you were on bed rest for a week.

You knew what it meant to be alone with a patient, but sometimes you supposed it couldn't be helped.

The diazepam should have helped- you've seen it help- but soon enough the man started twitching, slow at first, before it started to fit and his whole body moved.

He was a strong man. You weren't.

“It's okay, sir- sir!” you threw your weight against him to hold him still, wonder what you can do to stop him biting down on his tongue with the little equipment you had.

The man was mumbling to himself, thrashing violently.

“C'mon Jack, c'mon-”

It only took a wide sweep of the mans arm to send you hurtling back and crashing into the icy water.

The sky was darkening by the time Robby counted off his thirtieth patient of the day. Twenty-five of them had been from the incident at the docks. Only one he couldn't save, two sent up to the OR.

He counted the patients, counted the hours that ticked by, counted every ambulance that came by not carrying you. He'd expected you back by now, expected to have a little piece of mind with seeing you back in his eyeline.

Robby's heart was being squeezed progressively as the day went on, ever since he'd snapped and said words he never even meant.

Every second, passing from patient to patient and tearing off gloves to replace them with clean ones he checked his phone for any update from you.

Nothing.

You must have been busy down there.

But just three ambulances ago Whitaker returned saying he lost sight of you practically immediately.

So where the hell were you?

“Hey, Dana-” he called, rounding on the nurses station.

She looked as dishevelled as he felt, wisps of hair, dark circles under her eyes.

“Can you get a hold of transport, ask where the hell is my resident.”

“I just got off the phone with them, Robby-” she reached over and placed a hand on his, the one that had been tapping relentlessly. “She's on her way in now.”

Before Robby could even wonder why Dana had to hold his hand to tell him, why her eyes were glassed over and her voice trembled to tell him the doors bust open.

“Robby!” Jack yelled out.

He turned, catching sight of his old friend, the greying hair damp and sticking to his skin. He was half dressed in SWAT gear, his jacket discarded and bits of tinfoil falling from his shoulders. Jack was set over a gurney, hammering down on a chest and going in for CPR the old fashioned way.

“What happened? You fall in-”

Robby got to the other side of the gurney and breath caught in his chest.

“She's been down thirty- thirty-five minutes, I dunno, man,” said Jack as he continued hammering down on your chest.

It was you. Blue in the face and eyes closed, droplets of water at your lashes. Your hair was turning to ice fanned out underneath you. He'd been running his hand through your hair just that morning, had he not. There was a blanket, maybe two, thrown over you but your body only reacted to the thumping Jack delivered on your chest, pinching your nose to breath down your open mouth.

This morning you'd been warm, so warm, with a leg thrown over his hips in attempts to keep him in your bed. And he'd been close, so close to burying himself in your warmth.

He didn't even have to touch you to know you were cold.

“I found her- in the water- pulled her out-” gasped Jack as he continued compressions.

“What do you mean in the water?” asked Robby, surprising himself by how calm he sounded.

“She- she fell, or-or something, I dunno man-”

“You don't know?” he snapped. “Why isn't she bagged?”

“We ran out,” said the paramedic pushing you in.

“You ran out?!”

“Robby- Robby!” Dana's hands were on his chest, keeping him at bay before Robby even knew what he was going to do.

Robby shook her off. “What's open?”

“Trauma two just got cleaned up-”

He grabbed the gurney and pushed you into the room. The weight of Jack on top of you trying to save your life squeaking the wheels against the floor not long wiped from blood. Robby was aware of other voices, of people wondering if that was Jack and was it... no... it couldn't have been.

The doors closed behind a team of people all teaming in, stuttering when they saw you.

“Hook her up!” ordered Robby, ignoring any protocol of gowns and gloves. If he was going to get you back he was going to feel the beat of your heart under his palms. “Jack, move!”

Jack slowly climbed down and Robby jumped up next, quickly taking over compressions.

He remembered kissing down your chest, hiding himself there on mornings he wanted to steal away five minutes, pulling the covers up past the two of you. How he was breaking ribs to keep you alive. “Somebody get a bag on her, now!”

“She's- she's been down a long time,” said Jack, catching his breath.

Robby thumped down on your chest, kidding himself with the dull flutter of your eyelashes, knowing it was only through the force of his hammering down on you. “She's alive.”

“Jesus, Jack, you're as cold as ice,” said Dana from somewhere behind Robby.

“I'm fine,” he dismissed. “Robby, you shouldn't be working on her, brother.”

Others in the room stopped, hearing that.

It was protocol family waited outside, that if family or friends ever came in demanding help the same DNA did not attend. They were too emotionally clouded. To invested to think straight. The last time Robby found himself in this situation: blood pumping in his ears, chest tight was trying to save Jake's girlfriends life.

He'd failed.

The only person to pull him back from that was you.

There'd be nobody if you didn't pull through. He'd be left in that pedes room, never to leave.

“Robby!” Jack tried again.

“Shut up and get me some warm saline!”

“Oh, no,” said Jack, walking around till he was on the other side of your gurney. “No, I'm not going anywhere.”

Robby was still pressing his hands down on your chest when Jack reached over, past the bag they'd finally clamped over on you, and stroked back your hair.

“We're gonna get you through this,” he uttered in an oddly tender moment.

“We need to get a central line in her,” said Matteo.

Jack looked at Robby. “Brother.”

“No.”

“You have to move, we need to get a line in her.”

Robby knew that. He knew so much as a doctor, as chief attending. But he couldn't stop, he physically couldn't bring himself to.

“Robby, man, you gotta let go.”

“I can't... I can't... I can't...” he said. The only thing keeping him sane was the one, two, three, four count in his head, was the cold feeling of your flesh under his hands. “Push three milligrams of epi.”

Jack huffed in frustration, probably the only thing keeping him warm. He marched around your bed to his side. “Robby, so help me god I will drag you out of here if you don't let her go!”

“I can't!” he yelled.

It was selfish but Robby had some how convinced himself he could be selfish with you. He could hold on tighter in the mornings and let you go for the rest of the day. He could watch patients get close to you because he knew it was him who got to kiss you. He could hold back the worst parts of himself to keep you, no matter how much it tore him apart to push you away on the days he wanted to be closest.

No, Robby could never let you go.

If you ever tried to leave him, he'd hold on tighter.

Robby dropped his voice low. “I can't.”

Jack took in a slow breath, a gentle hand on Robby's bicep. “Okay. Okay. You don't have to let her go... but to save her you have to move aside.”

A monitor somewhere in the room beeped.

Slowly, Robby moved from your chest.

The people swarmed you. Someone cut into you, getting a central line in on your other side.

Robby stayed where he was, a hand holding yours tightly as if he could squeeze his own life into yours. He cried- maybe loudly- at the feel of how cold you were.

“What's her temp?” asked Jack.

“Eighty.”

Robby looked up to the monitor reading your vitals. “That's- that's too low.”

“We're getting her warmed up.”

“Get the warm saline.”

“We are.”

Robby leaned over you once the line was placed, brushing back your hair and trying desperately to ignore how cold you were. “You're not dead, you're not,” he said, low for you. Your vitals may have been saying different. “You're not dead.”

“Doctor Robby-”

“Please,” he begged with trembling lips. “Please, don't do this to me.”

A monitor sung low and dry. The classic song of a flatline.

His head jerked up.

Jack caught his stupor and pushed him from you, sending him into Dana's ready hold. “She's going into V-fib!”

Dana held Robby. Physically she wasn't strong enough to hold him back but Robby wasn't strong enough to fight against her. “Robby... Robby, c'mon, let's wait outside.”

He was shaking his head.

“Panels, charge to three hundred!” called out Jack.

Dana had just managed to push him out the doors as he shouted clear!

Through the glass Robby watched your body jerk but not respond.

“Please, please, please,” he uttered. His back hit the nurses station, his knees giving out as he slowly slid and sank to the floor.

“Okay, okay,” muttered Dana, falling with him and holding him there.

The Pitt seemed to stand still at the sight of their boss, white faced and hands trembling, brushing back his hair. Noise travelled quick, that it was you in the bed, ribs breaking from compressions, chest hurting from the shock.

Robby's hands clasped in front of him, his star of David chain clenched in his hands. “Please.... she can't do this to me, please.”

Dana tugged on his body, bringing him in closer. With her sharp gaze she pushed everyone else that dared try and get closer away. “C'mon, Robby, she's strong, you know that. And stubborn like hell, huh?”

Robby nodded along with her words, un-sure if he could believe it.

“Charge again, three hundred, let's go!” called Jack, rubbing the panels before everyone backed up. “Clear!”

There was a small beep, a pick up in the line.

“There! Resume compressions!”

“Doctor Robby!” Santos ran up, her gown like a cape around her. She slowed to a stop in front of the two slumped. “Dana. Dana, is it- is it true, is it?”

Robby looked up, tear stained cheeks red.

“Yeah, kid,” said Dana, sadly.

Santo's jaw trembled before she shook her head in resolute, saying one simple word. No. Then she stormed into the room.

Robby knew you favoured Santos and somewhere along the way Robby had come to look for her when an interesting case came in. He came to favour the way you smiled at Santos when she did things right and Robby searched for any smile he could get from you.

So, he pushed himself up on shaky legs and followed her in- back into the chaos that was your room. The blankets had slipped from your body in the shocks and he desperately tried to hold himself back from fixing them.

“Doctor Abbot-” said a nurse or a intern or someone in the room. “It's been thirty minutes.”

“Hold compressions.”

Robby knew it was to check your pulse but he winced when they paused, when your body didn't respond.

“Still asystole, resume compressions.” Jack caught Robby's gaze.

He'd seen that look on Jack's face. Had seen the hopelessness and the devastation at losing a patient not only in his face but in his own reflection. “Don't-”

Jack lowered his head. “Robby.”

“No, Jack, her temp is not up! She's cold,” he said, walking back around the room. He rolled his shoulders back, pulling on gloves. If nobody else was going to save you he would. “She is not dead! She's not- She's not dead till she's warm and dead! Push another round of epi!”

Matteo jumped at the chance.

Jack stood by Robby's side. “Just... prepare yourself, okay? She's been down a long time. She might not come back from this.”

Robby glanced back at him. “She will.”

“And even if she did-”

Robby cut him off. “She will.”

They couldn't send you up to the OR- there was nothing surgical to do. They couldn't send you to the ICU- you weren't stable. They could work on you for hours, in the pitts of hell.

Robby didn't stop Jesse from compressions but he leant over you, leaning his lips into your forehead. “You'll come back, you have to come back.”

“What's her temp?”

“We're up to eighty-eight.”

“When was our last epi?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Push again.”

At some point Santos pushed her through the crowd, taking compressions from Jesse who she deemed weak-armed.

“Doctor Santos-” said Jack, the only one seeing this for what it was. A disaster. One more emotional person in the room wasn't going to help. If you woke you might just choke on tears from them all.

“I can do it,” she argued, nodding to the night attending. “I can do it.”

Santos was as stubborn as you. If anyone might have been able to beat her heart into beating, it would be her.

Robby leant over you. Robby could feel your skin cold against his lips and he pet back any bit of you he could reach, trying to warm you. He caught Jack's tired gaze, his lifeless stare like he was already grieving you. “I never told her I love her, Jack.”

“Get an APG,” said Santos.

Jack clasped his shoulder. “Tell her now.”

Robby looked back down to you, past the bag pushing your breath, through Santos keeping your heart beat. He kissed your forehead. “I-” he chocked on the words. He couldn't remember a time where he'd said it and meant it like he does now.

He knew Jack was giving him a way out. He knew Jack was giving him the chance to live with no regrets.

But Robby would regret not dying with you if you didn't make it.

There was a silence throughout the room, not even the beating of a monitor keeping him sane.

Robby's hot tears hit your cheeks.

“Temp?”

“Up to neinty.”

“Halt compressions.”

Santos paused.

Nothing.

Then a shrill beeping.

If Robby thought it was life he was going to be souly mistaken.

“She's in V-fib again!”

Robby backed away, tucking his head down to his chest as he watched Jack get the panels, rub the gel on.

“Charge to three hundred- clear!”

Your body jolted again, blankets slipping down your bare body and Robby suddenly wanted to cover you, wanted to pull every tube keeping you alive out and just hold you. Warm or cold. He just wanted to hold you.

“Again, charge. Clear!”

There was a silence. Maybe you were so angry at him you were proving a point by dying. You were a good swimmer. Why didn't you swim?

Everyone in the room paused, seeming to wait for someone to call it.

Jack looked at Robby.

“No,” he said, pushing past everyone.

“Robby-” interjected Jack.

He snatched the panels from Jack. “Charge again, three hundred-”

“-Robby-”

“I said charge again!”

The room was heavy as Jesse moved to do so, charging them up.

“Clear!”

Your body jerked again, violent. Your face remained peaceful, Santos remained off to the side, waiting for orders, waiting to know. Everyone else was looking to each other, silently deciding who would be the one to drag Robby away from your body.

“Wait- there!”

In the middle of them all there sat a pick up in your heart.

The room jumped into discussion about how to carry on, about how to keep the momentum going while Robby pressed his stethoscope into his ears and the other down on you. He listened, catching the beat of your heart.

“She's warm, she's warm and she's alive,” said Jack with a smile.

You were dreaming. It was a sweet sort of thing.

It was a warm body blanketing you and hands holding you. It was lips you knew pressing along you and drawing out pleasure. There were three tiny words spoken into flesh.

It was Robby, his head laid upon your chest in your bed and mumbling the words, tracing every letter over your ribs. When you reached for his hair, when you tried to say the words again you coughed up water instead. You clawed at your throat. You chocked in panic-

Then there was a beeping bringing you out of sweet dreams.

“Hey, hey. Honey? Honey, can you look at me?” a warm hand was running over your head, pushing back your hair. “Open your eyes.”

You tried to. They felt heavy. Sleep heavy.

But someone was coaxing you through it, holding your hand and brushing back your hair.

“Yeah, there we go... there we go, hey.”

The lights were bright, almost painfully so as they blared in your eyes. It took you a couple blinks to get them right but when you did there was a dark shadow looming over you, blocking out the lights.

There was the ragged pull of a beard and the slope of a well known nose.

You breathed in and smelt burnt coffee and hand sanitiser. “Robby?”

He smiled, crows feet at his eyes. “Hey, honey.”

You pushed up your arm, finding it oddly weak like it had been weighted down. You found an IV down in your arm. The white lights... the white walls and the IV all made slow sense.

“Wh-what?”

“Easy, easy.” Robby grabbed at your arms, holding you. He helped you sit up, reaching over and plumping your pillow and holding you there.

Only when you heard the monitor calming down and felt the pain lessen did Robby let you go, perching close on the bed next to you and grabbing your hand again.

“What happened?” you asked, finding your throat parched.

Robby sighed, pulling your hand into your lap. “There was an accident at the docks. You went with the responders to help. Your patient had a seizure and...”

You remembered the dock, the wind cold and the yells. You remembered Jack was there and the patient, he was seizing. “What happened to him?” you asked.

Robby stared at you, a small shake in his head as his brows pinched together.

“The seizing, the patient.”

There was a small look of disbelief, a soft smile creasing his chapped lips.

“What?”

His smile turned sharp with affection as he looked down. Your hand, engulfed in his, was pressed to his lips. He stayed like that as the scenes played in his head and the smile slowly started to fall. “You were brought in, your body temp was eighty. Jack was- was doing compressions. We- we had to shock you, so much, you don't- ” Robby sighed out a shaky breath. “You don't know what it was like.”

The dock, the bodies, Jack. The bite of cold water like a thousand daggers piercing into your skin. You had gasped for breath, limbs flailing.

It had felt like dying.

“Oh.”

You rubbed at your chest, pain blooming.

“You might be a bit burnt, from the shocks. And we were- we did compressions for a while so you broke a rib,” he said, chocking down a cry.

You squeezed his hand. “We?”

He nodded, chin tucked into his chest. His lips were pursed.

You'd seen Robby cry before, in shades of red face and clenched palms and always trying to hide it away. But you'd never seen him try to hide away as much as he was now. Your hand escaped his hold, caressing down his cheek.

“Robby.... hey....”

His lips puckered to your palm, pressing a kiss there. His palm was large as he held your hand up to his cheek.

“Hey,” you cooed.

Robby glanced up at you. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

“No, no it's not, it's not okay,” Robby took a shaky breath and scooted closer. His arm came over you, bracing himself on the bed. “You almost died.”

You searched his eyes but only found pain and defeat. He looked tired. Really tired. “But I didn't.”

“That's not the point,” he said. He brushed back strands of your hair, kept petting it down in a way you guessed comforted him more. “Jack was doing compressions for almost an hour. Your temp was down the whole time. We shocked you four times. Four.”

Robby's voice broke.

“You almost died and the last thing we did was argue.”

You didn't know what to say to that. The words I'm sorry were already rising and like he sensed it, Robby gave a small shake of his head. “Yeah... probably wasn't the best timing.”

“We're never arguing again, you understand?”

You smirked, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You could feel the race of his pulse. “Give us a week.”

“No,” said Robby. “Never.”

Something sour tasted it your mouth.

“Because we- are we, broken up?”

“No. No. We are not,” he said sternly.

You let out a breath. “Good. Good. I'd have hated to wake up from near death to that.”

“I should have listened to you,” he uttered. “Noelle is nothing, everyone else is nothing, nobody means anything to me, only you. Only ever you. And I am never letting you go again, ever.” He kissed your hand again.

You smiled at him. “What if I need to pee?”

“You can hold my hand.”

“And on mornings where I have really bad morning breath?” you teased.

“That doesn't happen, you know that,” Robby smiled.

Without any arguments left you gave up, sinking into your sheets with a shiver.

Robby frowned. “Are you cold?” he was up at once, pulling at the covers over you and the blankets. He was all but tucking you in as you laid there, taking it.

“Robby.”

“Yeah?” he hummed.

You tugged at his arm, pulling him down.

“What are you- what are you doing?” he chuckled, lightly.

“I'm cold, you're a human furnace, hold me.”

Robby was on the verge of complaining even as you pulled him down on the bed. He grunted at the squeak of the bed, was careful of the monitors assessing you. He squeezed in, pulling the rail back up as you curled up to the side to give him space. “These beds are not made for two.”

“You'll have to get onto the attending about that,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.”

“Meh, I can persuade him, if you like.”

Robby smirked. “He'll do whatever you say.”

His arm slung over your shoulder and rested there, holding your body into him till your head was on his chest and you could feel the beat of his heart. It was just like you dream. Of comfort and warmth.

Robby said your name in a whisper.

You looked up at him to see his eyes screwed shut before releasing them.

“I...”

You watched the move of his lips. “Robby, you don't have to-”

“No, I want to,” he said. Robby's hand was careful as he cupped your face.

“You don't have to say it just because of what happened.”

“I'm not, believe me, I'm not,” he said. “I love you.”

It was the words you wanted to hear, the words you needed to know, the very thing to finish off your dream.

“Robby-” you interjected.

“I love you,” he smiled, grinning wide at you. “I've said it now, I don't think you'll get me to shut up.” There was fake remorse in his voice, a feigned sort of sorry.

“I can think of a few ways.”

Robby's lips were warm and giving as you puckered your up to his, kissing him slow. If you lost your breath kissing him it'd be a hell of a way to go.

Robby smiled against your lips. “That might work.”

His body half rolled onto yours, the bed creaking in protest. Only when your monitor warned of you losing breath did he pull away and check the machine.

“Get some rest, Robby, you look like you need it,” you said, kissing his cheek slow.

There was fight of protest in him that quickly gave up.

Robby looked up at you, wide eyed. “Can I stay?”

You nodded.

“I love you.”

The words he'd given you, the words he'd never forget to say. The words he'd spoken and would never take back.

Dennis who had been sweet, kind, and who had truly listened. 

“Well, I’m just trying to make a nice display for these. Lately they’ve been really popular with a few recent wedding orders, and for parties,” you explained. 

He nods, listening to your explanation. Watching as you adjust them in the window display. 

“I didn’t realise people used them as decoration,” he added whilst you hum in acknowledgement, before he continued, “They sort of make me think of home.”

“Oh, and where’s that?” you asked, glancing over at him, “Do you mind grabbing the cotton from the bench for me?”

“Sure,” He nods, walking back over to the desk, while he answers, “I grew up in Nebraska, a small town, Broken Bow–”

“Can’t say, I’ve heard of it,” you called out whilst leaning over to rearrange and move some things. 

“I’m not surprised. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere. But it was home. Farmers country, the cotton makes me think of back then. Not that we grew cotton but seeing it in this natural state. Makes me think of the simplicity of home, and the beauty that came with it,” he rambled on before stopping by you to hand over the cotton branches. 

You nod, smiling as you listen to Dennis before adding, “I get what you mean, roses and lilies are beautiful but there’s something about cotton blooms and wildflowers that I’ve always loved, because of its simplicity”

You break off one small twig with a cotton bloom, holding it in your hand as you admire it, “While it’s not technically a flower, it’s believed that they represent good fortune, about giving and taking–cherishment. I think whether people know this or not, it might be why they gravitate towards it for weddings,” you smile softly, before handing the small little bloom to Dennis. 

“Woah,” he murmurs out, taking in your words. 

You laugh softly, taking the time to let your eyes linger on him, “I promise not all flowers symbolise hatred”

“No, it’s just that–It’s really amazing how you know all of this,” he compliments sincerely. 

Whilst heat rises up your neck, bashful from his sweetness, “Says you–I can’t imagine the amount of things you need to know as a doctor–now that, is really impressive” 

A warmth blooms in his chest. Flooded by nerves once more. “Thanks,” he scratches the back of his head. 

And then in the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of Oli, whilst he frantically waves at you, just out of sight from Dennis’ purview. 

“Uhh–,” you step down from the window, brows furrowing in question, holding up a hand, “Oli seems to need my help with an order or something–I’ll be right back.” 

He blinks a little questioningly, glancing behind him only to see Oli avert his gaze, a poker face morphed upon his features. 

“Sure, I’ll just be here,” Dennis nods, watching as you hesitate for a moment, before ducking into the back following Oli. 

"So,” Oli leaned back against the bench, rows of flowers waiting to be placed in the store filled the storage space, alongside spare sheets of wrapping paper and new rolls of ribbon. 

There was a glint in his eyes, a knowing look. 

You looked over, "So?"

"He’s adorable,” he commented with a raise of his brow, observing you and your reaction. 

You laughed quietly, tilting your head whilst looking at him, with a small shake of your head, “He is sweet–Is this really why you called me back here?"

Noticing you becoming antsy. 

Oli cut to the chase, "He’s trying to ask you out."

"What?" Your eyes widen, stumped from his words, if Oli had simply slapped you it would’ve had the same effect. 

Shocked. 

Mind racing with questions. 

"I've seen enough awkward men in this shop to know the signs,” Oli said with just a hint of smugness. His lip quirking up at the corner. 

You denied, "He was not."

"He absolutely was,” 

You looked back towards the door, where just behind it Dennis stood…waiting for you…

Dennis who you had only met last night. 

Dennis, who Cassie had talked about to you, saying how nice he was…how friendly he was…

Dennis who had come in today…for what reason you still didn’t know…

You settle beside Oli, leaning against the bench. 

Simply staring at the door.

Wondering what you should do…

"...You think?" You question once more. Still stuck in a cycle of disbelief. 

"I'd bet my next pay cheque,” He grinned, before adding, “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re hoping for the same thing, otherwise why else would you shove me in the back while he was here?”

…You’re silent for a moment, mind racing with endless possibilities. 

The what ifs of it all. 

Stuck in this limbo of the unknown…

“What should I do?” your words are quiet, nervous, unsure. 

Oli turns to you, grasping you by the shoulders, looking you in the eyes, “You are going to go back out there and talk to the cute doctor guy in our store who came to see you–and you are going to make sure you get his number, and if he leaves without the promise of date with you–then, well I’ll–” he thinks for a moment, trying to come up with the perfect threat. . 

“I’ll take my holiday leave right now for the next few weeks and you’ll be left without your favourite staff member to boss around”

“You wouldn’t,” you retorted. 

“Oh, try me,” he remarked, “And I know how many wedding orders we have coming up”

“...You really think he was trying to ask me out?” you question, eyes searching for some clarity. 

Oli sighs, with a pat on your shoulder, “Hun, I know so,” he pushes you back towards the door, “Now we’ve kept the boy waiting, so go back out there and get a date–He’ll be lucky to have you”

“Thanks Oli,” you said softly. 

“Anytime,” he nods. 

You take a deep breath in, hoping for a little courage, before you step back out. 

Eyes landing on Dennis who was admiring a ready made bouquet, vibrant in colour and taking in the beautifully delicate scent. 

His eyes flicker up when you reenter. 

And whether it was your mind playing tricks on you or not…

It felt as though they sparkled once they met yours. 

Smiling softly, a little nervously, you walk towards him. 

His hands twist and fidget for a moment, before he tucks them into his pockets. A sheepish look crosses his features. 

Once stopped beside him, you lean in slightly. Just entering his space just a little…Just a bit more than what could be considered simply friendly…

Just trying to get a grasp on whether Oli’s hypothesis was true or not. 

“This one’s one of my favourites. I love the fullness of the hydrangeas, how it balances the delicateness of the creamy little delphiniums, alongside the blush pink peonies, and the little tulips simply peaking through helps complete it–don’t you think?” You ramble on, trying to fill in the quiet air…

“They’re beautiful,” with your attention planted firmly upon the delicate flowers, you hadn’t noticed how Dennis’ gaze settled on you…the flowers were beautiful, that was true. 

But truly…

Dennis was talking about you…

How your beauty simply amplified whilst you talked about what you loved most. The passion seeping through seemed to make you sparkle. 

Radiant. 

Glowing. 

“Do you know what they all symbolise?” he asked, honestly he simply wanted to hear the passion in your voice.  

“Well this one’s perfect for young love, or anniversaries, or simply wishing someone well, because the peonies represent good luck, romance, while the little tulips add a sense of warmth, as they represent affection and care,” you smile softly, pointing out the flowers. 

“And the hydrangeas?” 

“New beginnings and joy, they’re some of my favorites. The white delphiniums hold a similar meaning,” you explain. Lifting your eyes to meet his, a little startled by how close he was. 

Both stunned to simply gaze at the other. 

Eyes softening. 

He sucks in a deep breath, quiet, trying to steady his thoughts, trying to find some coherent way to ask–

“Would you go out with me?” You asked, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them. 

Eyes widening in shock at your own boldness.

At your own confidence. 

It felt like your heart stopped. 

Fucking hell–stupid Oli for getting your hopes up–for making you think this was something more than it was–for thinking you had a chance–for thinking–

Dennis’ eyes blink in surprise. 

He had to stop himself from clearing his ears, worried he heard you wrong. 

“Like a date?” He questioned.

You nod, biting your lip, “Yeah–like a date…Only if that’s ok–”

“I’d love to,” he cut you off. His smile widens, beaming across his face, before he lets out a soft laugh, “Would you believe that’s why I came today”

Your eyes crinkle at the corner, your smile stretches across your face. 

Dennis swore you were simply gorgeous in this moment. 

While the sun filtered into the room, filling the space with warmth, with comfort. The vibrant blooms all around you. 

It was definitely a sight to see. 

“I was going to ask why you had come by, clearly it wasn’t for the flowers,” you joked lightly. 

And then Dennis’ panic sets back in once more, brows furrowing worry seeping in, scratching the back of his head, “I can’t take you anywhere fancy–even though you deserve to go some place special”

You grasp his hand softly, with a small shake of your head, “I don’t need anywhere special–I just want to get to know you, besides, we’ll go halves,” you offer. 

He nods, your words easing his worry, “Then can I pick you up tonight?” 

“Sounds perfect, I close up at 6,” you answer, before reaching for your phone, handing it over to him. “Might be useful if I had your number”

He takes it gently, nodding, “Yeah, definitely.” 

Dennis simply couldn’t believe it. 

He had a date. 

With you…

Now he just had to make sure he didn’t screw this up…

…

And despite Dennis’ nervousness. 

An accidentally spilled drink. 

And him tripping over his own feet. 

Your first date together went well. So well in fact, that it had led to a few more dates. 

And a few more after that. 

Until you were steadily dating. 

If one were to put labels on it, you were his girlfriend, and Dennis was your boyfriend–and thought that never failed to make him smile. 

Learning more and more about each other. 

About each other’s dreams and aspirations. 

About your pasts and upbringing. 

About your likes and dislikes. 

Picking up on the little habits that each other had. 

How Dennis tended to scratch the back of his neck when he was nervous and bashful. 

The way his face would form into one of a dopey smile whenever he got lost in admiration of you. 

How his brows would furrow, fingers tapping lightly when in thought its rhythmic mimicking that of whatever song had gotten stuck in his mind. In the midst of studying or simply reading over a menu. 

The funny little faces he'd pull without even realising it, making you laugh gently.

And Dennis noticed how after a day's work. 

You’d always manage to have threaded stray flowers or pens in your hair. Simply tucked in without thought. 

He noticed how whenever you had chocolate you simply always had to have water straight afterwards. 

He picked up on your little vocal stims, even with a simple phrase or a single word you’d begin to lowly sing whatever song had popped up into your mind. 

Eventually when he had gone to your apartment, he had noticed that in between most of your books lay pressed flowers, stacks upon stacks. How your home was filled with random little nicknacks, all of which painted a picture of who you are. 

He had steadily begun to fall in love with you. 

And one day, when he had brought you to Amy’s farm. A place you had visited many times before with him. 

A place that brought you both comfort. 

Giving you an insight into the kind person that Dennis was. He had been so excited to bring you here the first time, heavily reassuring you that Amy was simply a friend. 

And when you had arrived, she had pulled you into her arms, into a tight hug, smiling brightly. Sending Dennis a knowing grin, “So this is why you’ve been so happy lately” 

She had quickly wormed her way into your heart, both of you finding new ways to tease and joke around Dennis. 

You’d spend many hours there whenever you could, helping Amy with little Theo, often letting your gaze linger upon Dennis–while he worked around the farm…

Admiring the way his muscles seemed to flex and glow beneath the sunlight. 

It was safe to say you enjoyed those days. 

And today, you had dragged Dennis to the farm. 

Not to work on it, or do chores. 

But instead to go on a date with you. 

Dragging him through the fields, and the woodland on the property, your hand intertwined with his, a basket in your other arm, already bursting with wildflowers you had plucked along your walk. 

Before setting down in a peaceful clearing. You work through the flowers, before starting to weave a little flower crown, Dennis sits opposite you, his own set of flowers in hand as he tries to learn from you. 

Spending time with you was his favourite pastime. 

Something he always looked forward to.  

He sighs, finding his fingers entangled, unable to properly weave his flowers. 

You lift your eyes, letting out a soft laugh at the sight. His lips pulled taut in slight annoyance. 

“You can stitch up a patient, but you can’t manage to make a flower crown,” you note the irony. 

“It’s a lot harder than it looks,” he complains lightly. 

You scooch over to his side, resting your head on his shoulder, your hands settling over his, helping guide them, slowly making the beginnings of a flower crown, “There–see it’s not so hard,” you smile gently. 

Dennis tilts his head down to look upon you, a warmth blooming in his chest, a feeling of home settling inside him. 

A feeling he had grown to crave. 

Whenever he was with you, he felt at peace. 

He felt sure of himself. 

“I love you” 

Those three little words, so small, and yet so profound. Filled with deep sincerity, uttered with such certainty. 

He gazes lovingly down at you. 

Your eyes lift to meet his. 

Breath caught in your throat, shaken by the absolute devotion swirling around in his eyes. 

The clarity of it all coming to the forefront of your mind. 

Your lips curl up into a sweet smile, leaning up swiftly, letting your lips meet his, soft and gentle. His hand reaches up to cradle your face, the gentle swipe of his thumb against your cheek. 

Holding you with such tenderness. 

Parting ever so slightly, noses just brushing each other, you murmur gently, “I love you,” filled with just as much devotion. 

The smile that spreads across his face shines as brightly as the sun above. 

Beaming proudly. 

Sweetly. 

As though it was the greatest gift he had received. 

You could stay forever in this moment. Simply in each other's embrace, tucked amongst where all the wildflowers grow.

A simply beauty.

And yet.

The perfect place to profess your love for the first time.

Your relationship had blossomed, so beautifully. As beautifully as the flowers in your store, as radiant as sunflowers, as sweet as honeysuckle. 

As gentle as the cotton blooms you had been arranging when this had all begun. 

It felt as though this were a love so everlasting. 

A love like the evergreen trees that surrounded you both. 

Always in season.  

…

But all seasons change. 

Even evergreen trees shift ever so slightly with the passing seasons. 

And while you had been living out these sweet developments and changes within your relationship. 

Most of those around you both had been none the wiser to the relationship you had cultivated together.

Oli always had a cheeky grin, always seeming to know whenever you had spent time with Dennis. Sending you little teasing looks whenever he knew you were texting Dennis. 

But to everyone else, it was a secret. 

It may not have been planned to be a secret. But overtime, it was simply something neither of you thought to bring up. 

Being swamped by flower orders and busy running your business, and inundated by patients of all sorts in the ER, certainly made it difficult to find time to chat with coworkers. 

You had been in the midst of working upon some floral arrangements for a birthday order, when Cassie had come into your store. 

In her hand she held steaming cups of coffee, one for her and one for you. 

She leaned against the bench with a gentle smile, “I thought I’d stop by to say hi,” placing the coffee cup on the bench, “And to keep you caffeinated with something other than instant coffee”

You snort, taking the cup gratefully, “I’ll have you know I just got an espresso machine for the store…I just need to figure out how to use it”

Cassie laughs at your words. 

“Busy day?” 

“Surprisingly yes, I don’t know what it is today, but it seems like every guy in town has to apologise for something,” you joked, before going on to ramble about a particular customer who had very very specific demands. And guilt practically drenching him entirely. 

While listening to your story, Cassie can’t help but notice your sweater. 

A sweater she’s sworn to have seen Whitaker wear…and while it might’ve been a coincidence. 

It’s hard to deny the fact that there’s an eerily matching tear in the fabric…

And then Cassie is reminded of how your demeanor had shifted ever so slightly as of late. 

How you no longer rambled on in a lovelorn manner…

Instead. 

You seemed to have been glowing lately…

Perhaps even a little. 

In love.

Cassie’s eyes widen just a fraction, a small smile spreading across her lips. Nodding along to your story. 

Come to think of it, even Whitaker had been acting differently as of late. The way he’d smile fondly at his phone in the few moments he could afford a brief respite. 

While she wouldn’t pry. 

Cassie had a feeling that you and Dennis might be a little something more than friends. 

She knew you two would get along..

And while Cassie had caught onto this juicy bit of news. 

Dennis’ coworker, roommate, friend, had been completely oblivious to this fact. 

Sure she had noticed him spending more time out of the apartment–but she just thought he was spending it at Amy’s farm. Or at the very least thought he was giving her a bit of privacy. 

And sure she had noticed how he seemed to have less and less clothes around the apartment–but she just thought he had done a deep clean out. 

And sure he had been a bit happier–but she truly didn’t think too much of it. 

Trinity had been completely in the dark about his blossoming relationship…Until in the midst of a shift. 

He had scratched the back of his neck, eyes flickering around the room, nervously sanitising his hands. 

Maybe if he did this in a public setting it would go down a bit smoother…was his justification…or at the very least if it turned bad, he was already in the ER…

“So…” He asked awkwardly, “How’s the shift been?” 

She arched a brow, glancing up at him. Both separated by the bench between them, standing at the hub. 

“Spit it out Huckleberry,” she said, looking back down at her notes. 

“I’m not sure how to say this, but–” he sucks in a deep breath, before blurting out, “IthinkImightbemovingoutsoon–well,actuallyIdon’tthinkI’mmovingout–I’mactuallyplanningonmovingoutand–”

“What the fuck?” she asks, eyes darting up to look at him. 

“I’m probably going to be moving out soon…”

“To where exactly?” Santos questioned, brows furrowing, a sharp look directed his way. 

His hands twist and fold together, fidgeting slightly, “Uhh–I’m moving in with my girlfriend”

She almost chokes from his words. She clutches onto Javadi as she passes by, shaking her, pulling her attention towards Dennis, “Listen to this, Huckleberry has a girlfriend”

“Uhh–”

“Why didn’t you mention this?” Javadi asks curiously. Stumped by the newfound information. 

Santos blinks still in shock, “Wait–No. No. You would’ve told me. Wouldn’t you–please tell me you were going to tell me,” she asks. 

And the words get stuck in Dennis’ throat, unable to speak. Feeling all coherent thoughts leave him beneath Santos’ sharpened gaze. 

“Damn you Fuckleberry! I can’t believe this. Can’t believe you tried to pull the wool over my eyes,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t know how they do things in Broken Bow, but here you don’t just spring your roommate with moving out and saying ‘oh uh I actually have a secret girlfriend’–”

He bites his lip, sheepishly interjecting, “I thought you knew” 

“Well I didn’t!” She exclaimed. 

Javadi does her very best to stifle the laugh threatening to escape her whilst she watches this unfold. 

Dana leans in, with a raised brow, “What’s going on?” her gaze flits between a fuming Santos and shrinking Dennis. 

Everyone’s eyes flickering over to watch the scene unfold. Their curiosity getting the better of them.

Santos huffs, “What’s going on is that Fuckleberry over here has been keeping secrets–”

“–If it helps, you’ve met her,” Dennis adds, offering a small smile. 

Santos’ eyes widen, blinking in shock before a look of realisation dons across her features. Her eyes flicker over to share a look with Javadi, before snapping her head back towards Dennis. 

“It’s that florist isn’t it! I told you to ask her out, and now you reward my helpfulness by keeping it a secret!”

“In my defense…she asked me out,” he muttered quietly. 

“How long,” her arms folded over her chest, looking at him determinedly. 

“...A few months…sort of since the day after the class,” he answered, a tinge of guiltiness seeping into his response. 

“That was almost a year ago!” she exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath, “As if this can’t get any worse”

Cassie interrupts while she passes by, “Oh, I’m happy for you both, it’s nice to know that you’re together, I knew you’d get along well,” there was something behind her words. 

A sense of knowing that Santos’ catches onto. 

“Did you know about this?” she raises a brow, her gaze settled upon Cassie. 

She only shrugs, “No. Well, not really–I just had a feeling.” 

Santos looks at him again, “This whole time I thought you were going out to help Amy at the farm. Was it all just lies?” The question is sincere and yet softened by a little humorous touch. 

He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck averting his gaze, “Well. That's some of the time, Y/N normally joins me–looking for wildflowers and helping out around the farm too…But other times I’m out with her…” 

A lovestruck smile forms upon his face whilst he talks about you, the memory of you entering the forefront of his mind. 

His chest warms at the thought. 

So comforting and soothing. 

So undoubtedly in love. 

He couldn’t wait to be able to go home to you. His home was wherever you were.

Santos simply plucks his phone from his pocket, holding it out to him, “Call her–I need to make sure this is all real.” She taps her foot a little impatiently. 

While those around them snicker softly, Princess and Perlah sharing amused looks. 

Dana with a shake of her head, a small laugh escaping her as she mutters quietly to Robby about what had unfolded. 

“Fine,” he says, taking the phone to call you, and before he could stop Santos, she had pressed the speaker button. 

“Hiya Love,” you answered sweetly, “How’re you–”

He interrupts you before you can continue, his face burning not from embarrassment but from the sheer amount of attention settled upon him, “Hey sweetheart, um, you’re on speakerphone”

“Oh…why?”

“Uh–” 

In a swift action, Santos leans across and plucks the phone from his hand, “Hey Y/N”

“Hi Trinity?” you respond, questioningly. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, all good. Was just asking, are you really dating Huckleberry?” she asked, waiting for your response.

“I take it he said he was moving out?” 

“Perhaps”

The sound of your soft laughs echoes over the phone, “Don’t be too hard on him, please. I’ve got a date with him after work,” you say between laughs. 

“So it’s true,” Javadi said, eyes widening. 

Both of them peered up at Dennis, stunned by the news. 

“This is crazy–” Javaid uttered under her breath. 

Santos only asked, “Why?” 

“Why what?” you replied. 

“Why Dennis?”

“Well–He’s very sweet to me, considerate. I really do love him,” You answer honestly. 

Santos sighs, before letting a small smile creep up onto her features, “Good for you.”

“Thanks–Now I have got to go, could you put Dennis back on the phone for me?” you say. 

Santos passes it back to Dennis, who quickly turns the speaker phone off, trying to maintain a little privacy despite it all. 

“Uh huh,” he mumbled. Your words simply muffled, unable to be heard by those around him, “Sounds good–alright. Have a good day–I will, yes–Love you” 

He says softly, a bright smile spreading across his face, a twinkle lighting up his eyes. A calmness draping over him, while he hangs up on you, tucking the phone away. 

Santos nods satisfied, before wagging her finger at him, “Don’t ever try to hide anything from me again” 

He nods, endeared by her care, despite her prickliness, he knew she cared. 

“Y/N says she’d love to have you over once I’m moved in properly,” he says. 

“Good.”

“Ok–As interesting as this might be, we’ve got patients to see and an ER that’s backed up,” Robby interrupts ushering them all away to disperse. 

…

And truly Trinity was happy for Dennis. 

Glad for him. 

She could see how happy you had made him. Changes that were all for the better…

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t peeved by his secretiveness. 

So it had brought her to stand before you on one of her days off. Peering at you, looking you up and down. 

You raised a brow at her, expectantly, “What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to buy a bouquet that says fuck you. Something that’s a bit more subtle than orange lilies…maybe something more for betrayal,” she requests, her expression filled with the utmost seriousness. 

You hold back your laugh, “No problem–I had a feeling you might be coming in. Though I am surprised it’s for a bouquet”

She only shrugs, “You’re the one who said it's sometimes easier to speak through flowers”

You smile, nodding, “Touche,” your eyes scan around the store, before clicking your fingers, “I think I have the perfect flowers.”

A glint in your eyes whilst you work upon the bouquet…Despite Trinity not saying who they were for, you had a very good feeling as to who they were for…

And that very evening. 

When Dennis enters your apartment, taking in the delicious aromas of your cooking. 

He enters your view, in his hand he holds a bouquet of flowers, bursting with vibrance, perfectly arranged. Wrapped with pale cream paper, and a blue ribbon.  

The very bouquet you had arranged for Santos. 

“Can you believe that Trinity gave me flowers, said she was sorry for blowing up at me, aren’t they nice?” He says, showing them off to you, beaming with a smile. 

He moves with ease, plucking one of your many vases, as he fills it with water. 

“Dennis…” You say softly, laced with a small laugh. 

“Yeah?” He looks up at you, after having placed the flowers in the vase, now displayed beautifully upon the little dining room table you had. 

“These ones symbolise betrayal,” you stated with a small grin. 

Laughing at the stunned expression that instantly floods his features. As though he were slapped in the face. 

“Yellow roses and carnations, alongside those snapdragons, are associated with betrayal,” you add. 

“...That explains the grin she was wearing…” He says. 

You lean up to press a kiss to his cheek, before he tilts to catch your lips with his. You sigh, squeezing his hand slightly, “Don’t worry, I have a feeling she’ll come around–the daisies in the bouquet also represent friendship,” you shrug lightly, “I could make an apology bouquet for you to give her if you want? It might help”

“I love you,” he sighs, melting into your hold. Nuzzling his nose into the side of your head. 

Relishing the feeling of you in his arms, so perfect, so sweet. 

“I love you too,” you smile gently. 

It was safe to say. 

That this relationship was blooming as beautifully as the flowers you arranged daily. You couldn’t wait to see what sort of bouquet it would form into…

And Dennis.

Well he was excited to finally share all of life's highs and lows with someone. Especially because that someone, was you.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this fic and all its sweetness (perhaps I'm simply allergic to writing anything not remotely fluffy or sweet-who knows haha) Anyways I loved the idea of the relationship being secret and having such a stunned reveal, along with having Trinity give Dennis a bouquet, inspired by the floral arranging class. And just ugh-the idea of watching Dennis on the farm will haunt me in the best ways. So I hope you enjoyed its gentle sweetness!! Let me know what you thought or if you'd like to be tagged in this collection of stories / or for the next part ✨

Read the next instalment of the Bouquet of Love Stories 💐

-> Read Next...Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader: WIP / Paging Dr Daisy (Part 3)

For a Dennis Whitaker centric series check out Tread Lightly 💗 Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!

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Cycling through the Folsom database, you chose Andrew on a whim, in between puffs of a joint. His mugshot was interesting. He looked angry— who wouldn’t be—, but there was a subtle sadness behind his eyes that you could catch through the black and white grain. You even joked to your friend how cute he was, that he had guard dog face. 

You decided to handwrite it, thinking it would be the least effort you could put in what might be the worst written letter of your life. You wrote the usual “Stay Strong” spiel every example letter you found on the internet started with. 

Throughout the letter, you found yourself trailing off, telling him meaningless information— the weather outside, what songs you listened to sounded like. You tried asking about himself without being too insistent or nosy, though you weren’t even sure if you’d hear back. 

Finishing the letter unsurely, you attempted a friendly goodbye, trying not to seem like you looked down on him or pitied him in any way. 

Respectfully, Yours

You didn’t expect to hear back. 

Two weeks or so passed and an envelope from Folsom found its way into your mailbox. Having forgotten about the letter due to your event-heavy week, the government-style envelope scared you. Sure, you skipped Jury Duty once to go Cabo on Spring Break, but that didn’t warrant a direct summons from jail.

With the furrow of your eyebrows, you tore open the envelope and realized it was from Andrew. His handwriting was neat and meticulous, not messy and boyish like you thought it would be. The weight of the graphite, though, was heavy and strong, like it had been yelling at you.

Thanking you for the letter, he said he was surprised to hear from a stranger. He told you about his family, his mom and brothers, without any explicit details. You mentioned the beach and sunshine in your letter, and Andrew mentioned salt air in his, dropping that he’d grown up in Oceanside.

His letter was quite brief, sentences cut short and proper specificity thrown out the window. He didn’t say much about his conditions but he did end the letter with a

I hope to hear from you again soon. I don’t get many letters.

His slight vulnerability hit your heart with a pang. The honesty from him seemed like he really did need someone to talk to. You could’ve mistaken it as classic sympathy, but something tied you to him.

So, you wrote again, not as an assignment but just for you. Maybe you were lonely too, but a little letter could do no harm.

You told him how the initial letter was for a class, apologizing for formalities. You gave a neutral comment on his family, sharing about yours too. 

Andrew? Isn’t that too formal? Andrew. I feel like I’m scolding you just writing it. Is Andy okay? I hope it is. I won’t use it if it isn’t.

Although he basically had your home address, you shared that you also lived in San Diego, attending the public university. You told him about your classes, your favourite simple things in life. He seemed to enjoy it when you described your scenery to him, so you did. 

Writing back, he said he didn’t mind if you called him Andy. He said that no one really called him that, that his nickname back home was “Pope”— without an explanation. He shared that he didn’t finish high school, again, without an explanation, and said that you must be smart.

The letters flowed, maybe once or twice a month. Check-ins, details about your friends, things Andrew missed about the outside world, postcards, printed photos of the city, doodles of Rottweilers and Pitbulls in the margins (from you). 

You even threw in a photo your friend took of you on Crystal Pier. Wide smile, eyes squinting, skin glowing, and the waves rushing down below. Quickly and dismissively, Andrew had slipped that he thought you were beautiful, which made you blush. (Strangely, this was the most action you were getting lately.) 

Though he didn’t say, he pinned that photo of you up in his cell, and threatened anyone that commented or looked too close. He called you my girl, letting everyone interpret it as they would.

Eventually, it became a weekly thing.

Something about your gel pens scratching across the paper felt romantic to you. You felt like you were waiting for your husband to come back from war. Only, that wasn’t the case. On the off-chance you mentioned it, your friends never failed to remind you that you were writing to a dangerous man in his 30s that was locked up. It only thrilled you more.

Then, you started venting to him, telling him things you had a hard time saying aloud. Letters got deep, talking about your mental state and how you felt isolated. How much you loved San Diego, but was homesick half the time. How you craved proper human connection past fleeting moments at parties or networking around campus.

Andrew answered without judgement. He didn’t have much advice to give, but nonetheless offered his listening ears, or eyes. You never asked, but he told you about the bank robbery, how long they’d keep him in. Again, no details, you figured it was for safety. He told you about jail, the food, the walls, the boring days— nothing that mattered. He said he doesn’t get many visitors and how that made him feel even more lonely.

You shared how you wished you could visit, and you meant it. 

You were acting like one of Andrew’s friends, and not some stranger that wrote to him for a school project. You wished him a happy birthday, as he did you. Although small, you continued sending photocards, ticket stubs to movies you saw, sometimes a lipstick stain if you were feeling cheeky. You grew so attached, yet you didn’t even know him.

One month in particular was rough. Having all your midterms condensed into two weeks drove you insane. You spent most of your time at the library, then holed up in your room if not. All your time went to studying, working, then exhaustion. 

After your last midterm, your friends had mentioned Wine Wednesday and you jumped on the opportunity to go outside, only on principle.

The night was rough. Your friends had met some other people they knew at the party, and you trailed along like a beaten down horse. It was nice meeting new people, but you didn’t get comfortable. You got tipsy, though in a way that was no longer fun. When your adrenaline crashed, you decided it was time to take yourself home.

Missing your bed, you quietly toed into your apartment, locking the door behind. You thanked the gods that your roommates were on their own planets and far from your orbit. You just needed one cigarette, then to collapse and leave everything to the morning.

In your room, you reached for your light switch as you placed your keys on your table. You were mentally drafting how you’d change into your pyjamas, then head to the balcony. 

As you looked up, you saw that the articles of clothing that you had thrown around in search of an outfit hours prior were neatly folded on the bed. In fact, your room was about 50% less messy than you left it. A man had been sitting on the foot of your bed, perfect posture, dark clothes, and watching you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You flinched as soon as you realized. Your eyebrows furrowed, more angrily than scared this time. You figured it must be a guest of your roommates, they were always bringing interesting characters over. You peered back into the common room, like you missed something, then dipped your head back to look at him. “Who the fuck—“

“You didn’t write last week.” His voice was simple yet gruff as he spoke, standing from his position. He didn’t come towards you and his arms remained at his sides, hands empty and unthreatening.

“What?” You decided you were too tired for this bullshit, sometime in between your breaths. It took you a second, but you squinted your eyes at him when you realized, “Andrew? What the hell are you doing here?”

His name on your tongue struck him harder than he thought it would. He’d lie awake some nights, attempting to give a tone and pitch to you. Were you sweet? Did you have a harsher voice? Or maybe you were loud and obnoxious (he didn’t like this one much, but decided he could live with it). He replayed what he thought your voice sounded like a billion times in his head, but it never matched up to the real thing, to this. 

Andrew would read your letters to himself as if you were reading them aloud to him. Your writing led him to believe you didn’t sound dumb or obnoxious, maybe expressive, maybe relaxed at times. He never really settled on one thing, as your syntax changed day-to-day when he imagined you. What mattered wasn’t the persona he placed you in, just that it was you. 

“You didn’t write last week.” He repeated. 

You placed him side-by-side to his mugshot in your head. His hair was now short, untamed, choppy. His puppy dog eyes looked sweeter in person, even though there seemed to be heat behind them. The crease between his eyebrows was his most distinct tell to you, as was the flat line of his mouth that bordered on upset. He had a dimple on his left cheek, which you couldn’t see in your mental image of the photo.

“What, so you broke out of prison?” You furrowed your eyebrows with a sigh, reaching for your cigarettes and lighter on your dresser. 

“I got out on parole.” 

“You can’t just break into people’s houses, Andy.” You said, as if you forgot that he was a criminal.

“I wasn’t going to.” He offered, though even he knew it wasn’t true. “You’re usually home before this time.”

With a gulp, you nudged your head towards the balcony. 

Sitting side-by-side in your patio chairs, Andrew told you about his good behaviour that allowed his parole, that they let him out after only 3 years. He also told you that he had just gotten back that day.

“You came to see me first?” You smiled before taking a puff of your cigarette. You looked at him, a twinkle surfacing your eyes. “I’m flattered… Even though you broke into my home.”

“It’s hardly a break-in if your balcony door is unlocked.” He stated sarcastically as you passed the cigarette to him. His tight lips had gone where yours had, and he coughed up a little since his lungs weren’t accustomed to the taste anymore.

“I’m on the third floor.” You said as he simply shrugged.

In between puffs and fingers gliding against each others’, he told you what he couldn’t say in letters. Not with visceral detail, but he told you about the guards, the isolation, the torture. There was a point in the conversation where his voice cracked and stalled, like he just might shatter in front of you.

“I did a paper on institutional abuse for my criminal justice class,” You told him quietly, “I’m not going to claim to understand, but it’s rough. I’m sorry you experienced that, Andy. You didn’t deserve it.”

He didn’t say anything, just a singular nod. 

You placed a hand on his, which was resting on his thigh, “We don’t have to talk about it right now, if you don’t want to.”

Andrew’s lips quivered and his eyes hardened as he looked at you. He huffed, hand unmoving and body completely still. He wasn’t used to human touch— hell, it had been years since he'd properly seen a woman, but even before that…  Genuine affection wasn’t a familiar concept. Everything, even a hug from his own mother, bore deadweight or pity. 

When you had started being more than just nice in your letters— sharing how you’d thought of him throughout your day, how you anticipated each letter, how you felt connected to him—, he thought you were expecting something in return, money or whatever. Then, your letters carried on without manipulation. 

It was so overwhelming how much you actually seemed to care about him that it made him lightheaded. Your words, your loopy handwriting, hearts above your i’s, was a drug to him. Hitting each syllable after the next, like it was his only escape. If your letters were a puff of a joint, then your touch was heroin.

You had cased his demeanor and observed his stillness. It was like his brain shut down, eyes vacant and looking into yours. His mouth fell from the paper-thin line he pressed it into as he tried to make sense of the situation.

He was unsure what to do, but then he realized you weren’t asking anything of him or forcing anything out of him— you were giving him grace. His wrist turned over and his fingers grasped yours gently.

“Did you mean it?” He looked into your eyes again. 

“Mean what?” You tilted your head at him.

“If I could, I would visit you. I’d sit with you for as long as possible.” He recited from memory. His eyes stayed on you like a spot. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, or I’d talk your ear off if you’d let me.” 

Of course you meant it, but you winced when he said it, “Was that too much?”

He swore he almost smiled.

“I swear I’m not as cheesy as I come off.” You looked away. “I just like to pretend.”

“Pretend?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

It was embarrassing, the way he made you talk. Andrew made you verbalize and illustrate how you felt in ways you ordinarily weren’t able to. The letters were that escape for you, but now, face-to-face, you felt you knew him too much to have a little whimsy without feeling ridiculous. 

“I don’t know,” you looked back at him and gulped, “Just that I know you differently.”

“Differently?” 

With a hesitant sigh, you admitted, “Like you’re my soldier away at war, and I’m waiting for you to come home… so that we can get married and have a family together.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t mocking, just acknowledging. The way his calloused hand went limp in yours, you didn’t know how to feel. His face was a hard read, always completely still and utterly stoic. Although that was basically what he did too, he didn’t know what to say without sounding insane.

“I know… Playing a fantasy? It’s stupid.” You said dismissively, looking away. 

“No.” 

You looked back at him, not ready for more of your stupidly vast imagination to come to light. His thumb ran over your knuckles as you did so, gently over then back then over again, like he wanted to remember this feeling beneath his fingers. He looked down at your hand, then back at you.

Tapping on your ring finger, “Sorry, I would’ve brought a ring if that was the case,” he joked in that deadpan voice of his.

You smiled, nearly giggled like a schoolgirl then stopped yourself out of embarrassment. You couldn’t even care that he broke into your apartment and most likely went through your things while cleaning. 

Usually, you’d think of what your friends would say, the questions your family would have, the looks you would get, but it all went away. The noise of this is insane was blocked out with his real voice and his tangible body. 

“Do you, um…” You cleared your throat. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Andrew remained silent, and you figured that was an answer.

You offered him clothes, some of your old boyfriends’ from years past and a big Snoopy t-shirt you got at a blood donation drive. He raised an eyebrow when you handed them to him.

“‘S all I have.” You pursed your lips with a shrug. 

While he was brushing his teeth in your bathroom, you meekly approached the door, rubbing your hands over each other. 

“I, um… I have class in the morning, but we can get lunch together after.”

Looking at you through the mirror, he nodded, face still emotionless. The t-shirt that hung on his frame casually and the loose fit of the sweatpants made him look like he belonged there. Serious face with your purple towels hung behind him and your flouncy shower curtain in the distance. Even with toothpaste on his lips, you couldn’t help but beam inside. Was it weird to extend your paper fantasy to reality? Was this unethical? 

You stared at his hand grasped around your extra toothbrush, the yellow Minions one you had stowed away for no reason in particular. The flex of his forearm intrigued you, and you wanted to reach out and feel it. You wanted to map places you’d take him on the freckles along his skin.

When you realized he was staring at you staring at him, you snapped out of it, nodding and heading back to bed.

Coming out of the bathroom, he was headed for the living room, presumably for the couch.

You don’t know why you said it but it came out anyway, “Can you stay here with me?”

When he remained still and didn’t say anything, you patted the mattress beside you. What gravitated you to his physical presence was beyond you, and it made him furrow his eyebrows. Maybe you were just as touch starved as him, but having him stay might’ve pushed it.

“I shouldn’t.” He said.

With a pause, you asked in a small voice, “But do you want to?” 

Sharply inhaling, he found the space on the left side of your bed. The mattress dipped as he laid down on his side, facing away from you. You watched him, nearly disappointed but glad he took your offer, and got under the covers yourself. 

“Goodnight, Andy.” You whispered before turning off your lamp. With a sigh, you bunched the comforter closer to your skin.

Andrew didn’t sleep until he knew you were. When your breaths slowed, he allowed his to, shutting his eyes like it was medication. It took a few minutes of forcing himself to relax, but your bed was much more comfortable than his jail cell.

At some point in the night, you had unconsciously rolled over to where Andrew was, an arm resting along his waist and your face nudging into his back. You curled up behind him, desperate to feel the heat of him on you. If you knew better and were awake, you would’ve kept to yourself. Nevertheless, his hand rested on yours.

When the sun floated by your blinds, Andrew woke up, stiff under your touch like no time had passed between last night and the morning. He realized your forehead was pressed between his shoulder blades and your hand was clutching his abdomen. He looked over his shoulder as he patted your hand with his, checking if you were awake.

Your hair was a mess over your face, mouth ajar and body relaxed. As Andrew shifted away, you let out a disappointed hum, pawing at his stomach. Although there was a thin layer of cotton beneath your fingertips, his skin burned at the movement of your fingers. 

“Five minutes,” you mumbled, morning voice hoarse and irritated.

He eased, turning over to face you. His eyes surfaced over your eyes shut tight and shoulders shrugged under your t-shirt. Your puffy cheek under the strands of hair, soft and supple, called him. His fingertips grazed over, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear.

Eyes fluttering open, you realized you had been clutching his middle and were now pressed against his shoulder. You inhaled sharply, sliding your hand away and onto the sheets.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “Morning.”

You rubbed your eyes and Andrew watched how your hands came to your face and slipped down. He admired the spread of the thin fabric over your chest as you stretched your arms. He couldn’t believe this was real, that you were real.

“Did you sleep well?” Wide eyes waited for his approval after you adjusted to look at him.

He kept his lips pressed together as he nodded. 

A smile spread across your face as you pulled the blanket tight to your stomach. He felt bewildered, watching the sunrays across your nose and your crinkled eyes. Andrew remembered dreaming of this moment, not exactly but waking up next to you with everyday comfort. The normalcy of your grin and your morning eyes warmed him, face turning hot as your eyes trailed his body.

“You’re beautiful.” He let slip, like his mouth had been connected to his heart.

You wanted to scoff or make some self-deprecating quip, but his honey-glazed eyes pulled you into the moment. With a soft exhale, your lips fell into a softer and more relaxed position.

Timidly, you reached your hand to his face. His eyes followed your fingers, unsure and intrigued. The pads of your fingers reached his hairline and your fingers ran through the short strands to find the back of his head. 

By sheer force of will and desire, you moved closer to him, hovering and resting your arm on his chest. His eyes darted back to yours and, all of a sudden, you were only centimetres away. He held his breath in anticipation. Your lips fell into a pout as your eyes darted to the fine line of his mouth. 

“Andy,” you began, voice hush yet sure, “Is it okay—”

“Yes.”

So, you leaned down and pressed your lips to his. It was less of a kiss, and more of an adjustment. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shut as he attempted to meet you in the middle. Your lips plush and soft against his, his chin had nudged forward, like he was kissing with his whole head and not his lips. It was like kissing a soldier’s statue, solid, strong, and unbreaking.

When you pulled away, he looked like he was trying, really trying, to please you. He hadn’t kissed anyone in awhile, and when he had, he wasn’t sure if he was doing it correctly. Eyebrows knit, he sought your approval.

“Relax for me, Andy. Please?” Your eyes went wide again, big and twinkling so you could take him in. The stress on his forehead released, as did the crease of his lips. “Open your mouth a little.” You guided, stabilizing yourself over his face.

He followed directions and you dipped your head back in. He followed your lead, allowing the muscle of your lips to guide his. This time, you felt the soft flesh of his lips. Your lips spilled into each others’ as your fingers found his jaw. Soft, testing presses became pleading sucks, then his hand found your neck, urging you towards him by the base of your skull.

Your mouth had fallen open when his grip tightened slightly, causing a noise to spill from your lips. He caught his breath when he pulled back to see you. Eyes shut with need, your mouth chased him with a heavy huff. And in this moment, Andrew discovered his passion for the art of kissing. 

“Good,” You whined, eyes still closed in bliss, “Perfect, Andy.”

He nuzzled himself into you again, placing one kiss after the other, just the way you wanted. 

Your fingers gripped into his hair as your body needily drifted towards him. 

Before you could properly assess what you wanted, your phone buzzed on your nightstand with the voice memo speech your friend recorded while cross-faded. Andrew flinched beneath you and you ripped yourself away from him.

You groaned, “Shit.” 

You rolled away and Andrew felt his skin buzz at the loss of your body. Reaching for your phone, you shut off your alarm and all the ones in 15-minute increments that followed. Placing your phone down, you turned back to him, now sitting up on your knees. He was watching you with those puppy dog eyes, consumed by how you made him feel. 

“Sorry,” you laughed nervously, “I’d skip this lecture, but it’s new content.”

Face soft, he gave you a singular nod, like he’d do anything you said in that moment. He wouldn’t move until you did. He looked too good in your sheets against the morning glow, so you leaned back down, kissing him deeply again before you knew you really had to go.

Andrew ended up walking you to class, or he walked with you and you showed him around. The sun was bright against the white of the buildings and the sky was clear. He largely stayed quiet, observing the throngs of people and the breeze against his freckled skin.

In the middle of the morning foot traffic, he bluntly said he didn’t like the people on your campus, but his eyes said he was fascinated by the skateboards zipping by as you walked. You shrugged and agreed, too enthralled with his face in the sunlight.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him with you. Warm skin, coated in freckles and tough lines on his face, he was more gorgeous than you ever imagined. It was embarrassing to admit, but you’d grown accustomed to daydreaming this situation. You were simply walking with Andrew and your heart felt full at the corporeal image.

Reaching your building, you pressed your hands to his chest and grinned. You hated to know you’d be away, but you loved that he’d be there when you returned.

“I’ll be done in, like, an hour.” You said, reaching your hands to the side of his neck. 

“I’ll be here.” He nodded, lips threatening a smile.

“I’m glad you’re here, Andy.” 

You leaned towards him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He sighed into you, surfacing an arm on your shoulder. Pulling away, you smiled at him before skipping away to class. 

Andrew wandered around campus, while you learned about the Weimar Republic or whatever. He matched locations to places you described in your letters— the trees under which you liked to write letters at if you weren’t home, the benches where you had an overwhelmed meltdown before a Calculus exam, the booths in the library you fell asleep on for ten minutes at a time, the fast food place that you complained had bitchy cashiers. It was all there, the life before him and now the life with him.

When class ended, you were walking out with one of your friends, talking about the last episode of whatever show you were watching. When you caught Andrew in the corner of your eye, you smiled. 

Angela trailed your eyeline and gasped, hitting your abdomen with her arm.

“No fucking way.”

Andrew was exactly where you left him. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes searching for you in the crowd. She recognized him from the mugshot you showed her, when you drunkenly shared that you were sending letters to a stranger. Looking back at your face, she watched a smile grow from ear-to-ear. 

Scolding your name, she groaned, “Are you fucking serious? You cannot date a criminal.”

“We’re not dating… per se…” You mumbled, shoving your hands in your pockets

“He’s dangerous.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.” 

Softly sighing to yourself, you gazed back over to Andrew, who spotted the two of you among the moving passerbys. He kept that serious stare, not exactly threatening or predatory but saying he could pounce at any moment. His eyebrow rose when you turned away.

“It was cute when it was just letters, but—”

Looking back at her, you shrugged, “You don’t know him, Ang. Not like I do.” 

Before she could respond, you shook your head and started walking away. Andrew tilted his head at you when you approached. Your hand slid into his and urged him to walk away with a slight tug.

“Who’s that?” He followed you slowly, fingers loosely clasping your knuckles.

“Just a friend.” You looked over your shoulder, where Angela was still watching from feet away. 

“Is she causing you trouble?” He stopped you in your tracks with a protective squeeze of your hand.

“Uh,” you looked into his eyes, searching for any sense of seriosity, “No, no. Just some gossip.”

He nodded, allowing you to continue leading him. 

“Are you hungry?” You nudged his shoulder with the side of your jaw. 

“Mmmhmm,” He nodded, feeling the soft breeze against him.

Andrew’s eyes softened as he watched you talk about different food places nearby. Your face amongst the cloud-streaked blue sky, green trees that weren’t withering away, and buildings that didn’t look like security walls and barbed wire. He didn’t really care where you’d take him.

When you caught him staring, you looked down at your hands then back to his face. His cheeks tensed when you smiled at him.

Then, he asked quietly, “How do we do this?”

You were at the gurney in an instance, Robby joining the herd in the pushing of the bed. It took you less than a second to see through the bag in the neck and the blood and the uniform to recognise the one on the gurney. “Hiro? What happened?”

“Warehouse robbery gone wrong,” said Jack with almost absent of mind. He said the words and promptly seemed to realise who he was talking to and looked up- at you- again. “You're working today?”

“Oh no, I just hang around in hopes of seeing you in unfiorm.”

Next to you, Robby chuckled and beyond Jack you gave quick greeting to your laughing buddies, clad in SWAT uniform.

You were what could be called, a floater.

By all educational means you were a doctor and a damn good one too. You had every certificate you needed and all the flying colours you could get. You just didn't have a permanent job. You were a sub. You worked mainly at PTMC and on the field but had been known to go to the dark side, a.k.a, Presby.

“Okay, on my count,” you begin. “One, two, three-”

You helped lift him over to the bed.

“Did you intubate him?” you asked,

“Yeah, under active fire,” said Jack.

You looked at Jack. Sweat on his forehead, flecks of grey hair sticking to him and the shirt under his army vest hung lose. He was dishevelled in away romance characters presented on books covers. To lure you in. “You were shot?”

“Shot at.”

“You need to be looked at?”

“No. I'm fine.” His lips were pursed, focus on Hiro.

“Did you see the chords when you intubated?” asked Robby, floating around the two of you as Jack refused to leave Hiro's side and you stayed by Abbot. He'd seen it a dozen times before. A disaster where there was one, there was the other.

There was the occasions he'd hand over to Jack, go home, sleep and come back to find Jack had called in you. You who was always ready to go at the first buzz of your pager. Wherever it was, whatever you had to do. And Robby would look through the patients that night, check the board and understand they hadn't really needed your help all that much.

Jack had.

Now, Robby saw the way you looked at Jack and had seen the gap that existed between the two of you.

“Yeah, I did but it was hard to miss when I cleared them.”

Jack reached and you watched as he stretched, wincing at the pull in his shoulder.

“You should get that looked at,” you told him.

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're not.”

There was a small roll of the eyes as Jack's gaze rose to meet yours through his goggles. There was almost a tiny hint of a smirk- your favourite kind but it disappeared as soon as it appeared.

“Yeah, c'mon Abbot!” said Charlie, calling from the back of his room where he stood with Diaz, two of the SWAT officers you were most frequent with. “Let doc work you up.”

You chuckled low to yourself, trying to catch Jack's eyes to share the joke but he looked away, his jaw clenching.

So, he wasn't in the joking mood.

“Alright, fellas, out!” leaving the wounded's side you ushered them out in spite of their protests and their giddy, hopeful optimism that Officer Hiro would pull through. “We'll let you know any changes, out!”

You pulled on a gown and cleared a way over.