“I have quite the surprise for you, Andrew,” Smurf smirked, standing in the kitchen as she was preparing dinner. 

Pope looked at her with a slightly furrowed brow before he looked around the counter at Baz, Deran, Craig, and J. “A surprise?” 

“Well, it could very well be a surprise to all of you, actually.”

Craig and Deran looked at each other. 

Baz leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and J had poured himself a glass of water. He felt like he was finally holding his own in this family, especially after losing his mother. 

Just as Baz was going to speak, there was movement on the camera and all five men looked up at the small television that was mounted in the kitchen. It was dark out, so it was a bit difficult to make out who it was, until your face came into view. 

Baz’s eyes widened slightly.

Craig and Deran cleared their throats. 

J furrowed a brow.

And Pope—well, his expression remained neutral, but his posture went rigid. 

“Is that—”

“It is,” Smurf interrupted. 

“Who’s that?” J asked.

“Your mother’s best friend,” Baz answered. 

“I bumped into her at the grocery store today and invited her over for dinner,” Smurf explained. “She said she moved back to Oceanside just a few months ago. Has her own practice nearby.”

“Practice?” 

“She’s a child therapist,” Smurf smiled. “She’s always been the smart one, hasn’t she?” 

“She—She was my mom’s best friend?” J asked. 

“She used to live a few houses down,” Baz answered. “She was—she was good for us, for your mom, for Pope,” he whispered.

Andrew cleared his throat. 

The doorbell rang. 

Craig and Deran were the first ones to walk eagerly to the door. They didn’t have a great childhood, but they did remember you—the girl with a pretty smile and a contagious laugh, who had a family that would welcome them as if they were their own. 

When the door flung open, you looked up with slightly wide eyes. You were holding a bottle of wine, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a cropped cardigan over a fitted white tank top with your hair flowing naturally past your shoulders

“Craig? Deran?” You smiled. “Jesus, look at how tall you guys got!” 

Craig and Deran chuckled before pulling you into a hug. You still had the same pretty smile and when you laughed, both men couldn’t help but laugh too. It was like they were suddenly transported to a time where you’d invite all of them over to your house while your parents made dinner. 

“Smurf said you’re some hotshot therapist now,” Craig teased, helping you inside of the familiar home. 

You nodded, looking up at him and glancing at Deran. “Yeah,” you answered. “Always wanted to help people get through really difficult shit, but as I went to school, I focused a lot more on wanting to help kids.” 

“You helped us,” Deran whispered. “Even if you didn’t know it.”

You smiled. “I know, Deran,” you reached over to rest a hand on his arm. “But look at you two—so handsome and tall,” you teased. “Smurf said you own your own bar too.”

“Yeah,” Deran grinned proudly. “It’s still new, but I’m pretty proud of it.”

“Well, I hope I can stop by one of these days,” you said.

“That—That’d be great,” Deran said. “I’d love to have you come by.” 

As they led you through the house, you could feel your heart beating out of your chest. You knew that you’d see Andrew tonight and it was one of the reasons why you agreed to dinner anyway—for the chance to see him again. 

Once you rounded the corner to the kitchen, you saw him immediately. The same curls and the same intense gaze that you had fallen in love with all those years ago. You didn’t stare at him for too long before you swept your gaze to Baz, to Smurf, and then to the younger man at the counter. 

Instantly, you noticed the resemblances that he shared with Julia and you bit your lower lip, setting the bottle of wine you had brought with you on the kitchen counter. 

“This is J,” Smurf said. “Julia’s son.”

“Hi,” you said softly. “I—I’m sorry about your mom, J. I thought she’d have gotten the help to get better,” you sighed. 

J just shrugged, kept his hands in his pockets and looked at you. “Were you really her best friend?” 

“When we were in high school, yeah,” you answered. “But my family—we ended up moving and we lost touch.”

Smurf chimed in with a smile. “You used to get in all sorts of trouble, didn’t you?” 

You looked at Smurf and tightened your jaw. You hadn’t ever felt comfortable around her, especially not after you noticed how Julia and Andrew would act whenever she was around. There was a complete difference between how any of the Cody kids were when they were at your place versus when you were over at theirs. 

But you knew what Smurf was referring to. 

Because she had glanced over at Pope with a knowing grin.

“Smurf,” Baz warned.

“What?” She chuckled. “It’s nice to think back on memories, don’t you think?” 

You held her gaze. You were no longer a teenager trying to protect your best friend and the boy you loved from a woman who manipulated them every chance she could. 

The rest of the Cody boys looked between the two of you, but Pope couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling—the tossing and turning in the pit of his stomach, the thrumming beat of his heart pounding against his chest. He never thought he’d ever see you again; saying goodbye to you had broken his heart… something he didn’t think he’d ever fully recover from. 

Because you had always been a safe place for him and for Julia. 

And when you left, everything came crashing down. 

“I can think of worse things that adults have done,” you finally answered. “Adults that should know better.” 

Smurf kept her smile, but anyone who knew her knew that she didn’t like being talked back to, didn’t like being challenged. 

J looked between the both of you. 

No one else was saying anything. 

But the sound of the oven going off managed to break the tension. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Smurf smiled, grabbing her oven mitts and turning around to the oven to grab the lasagna she had baked. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” You asked, eyes glancing over at Andrew briefly. 

Baz looked over at you. “Pope can show you.” 

“Oh, I think I remember where it is… unless you guys did some renovations—”

“We did,” Craig lied. 

Pope let out a quiet sigh and then nodded, walking past you without waiting for you to follow him. You cleared your throat and excused yourself, following Andrew through the halls. He kept his hands at his sides as he led you through the home and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him from behind. You thought he was handsome when he was young, but now—well now, he was even better than you ever remembered. 

“They lied,” Pope said. “We didn’t do any renovations.” 

“Oh,” you whispered, approaching the bathroom at the end of the hall.

He opened the door for you and then stepped out with his gaze downwards. It wasn’t until you reached for his arm that he finally looked at you. Pope’s eyes stared deeply into your own and he hesitantly took a step forward, the both of you now standing gin the bathroom.

“You look—” you whispered, feeling the muscles on his forearms flexing underneath your touch. “You look good, Andrew.”

He nodded, looking down at your hand briefly. “And you too.” 

“I missed you,” you admitted.

Then, you slowly moved your hands to his shoulders and wrapped your arms around him to pull him into a hug. He was taller now—taller than you remembered, but his arms immediately snaked around your waist loosely and rested his cheek on your shoulders. Pope shut his eyes for a moment and reveled in the comfort of your embrace. He hadn’t felt this safe in someone’s arms in so long. 

You held him like this for another minute or two until you both heard the sound of laughter echoing down the hallways. You pulled back only enough to look up at him, but made no move to let go of him entirely. Pope rested his forehead against yours as his hands moved to rest on your hips. Even after decades of being apart, it was like your bodies knew what the other needed. 

“Can you take me home tonight?” You asked. “Maybe we can catch up? Just us?” 

He nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “You didn’t drive here?” 

“Took an Uber.”

The corner of his lips lifted upwards. “That your plan all along? Get me to drive you home?” 

“Maybe,” you smiled. 

His smile grew. “Okay,” he repeated, moving one of his hands to your cheek, brushing his thumb lightly along your skin. It was as if he was trying to see if this was real, if you being here was real. 

Then, you turned your head and pressed a light kiss on his thumb. “I’m here,” you whispered. “For good now.”

Pope let out a shaky sigh and nodded. 

“Dinner’s ready you two!” Craig yelled.

Then, Pope chimed in. “Don’t—Don’t try to stir the pot, okay?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’ll try not to.”

He sighed.

That got your attention. “Okay, Andrew.” 

“Thank you.”

“Your eyes—” you whispered. “I don’t remember them ever being this sad.”

He looked away and dropped his hand back to your hip. 

“But we can talk more about it when we get back to my place.” 

“I’m not your patient,” he whispered.

“I know you’re not. Last I checked, you’re not a kid anymore… and I’m a child therapist,” you corrected. 

Suddenly, Pope pulled away when he heard Deran’s footsteps approach the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to the bathroom,” he whispered and feeling a surge of confidence, Pope leaned in and kissed your cheek. “I’m glad you’re back.”

After dinner, you all migrated to the backyard and sat around the pool. You had folded the ends of your jeans to your calves so that you could dip your feet in the water. Pope was sitting on one of the beach chairs across from you, eyes locked on you as he watched you talk and laugh with Deran and Craig. Smurf was in the kitchen, talking to Baz—possibly about another job—and J hesitantly approached you. 

“You want a bump?” Craig asked, walking to a small table nearby. You furrowed a brow and watched him snort the white powder.

“Craig…” you whispered. 

“What?” 

“Guess you’re not a kid anymore,” you said, glancing back over at Pope. “Do you do that often?”

“Only when needed,” Craig grinned.

“So often?” 

“Helps me function.”

“Don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” you said, shrugging a shoulder and turning to look over at J. “Do you do that too?” 

The younger man shook his head. “No,” he answered.

“He drinks, but doesn’t really touch any of the drugs,” Craig said. “I guess seeing your mother overdose in front of you will put things into perspective.”

You cleared your throat and softened your eyes at the younger man. “Y—You were there?” 

J nodded.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “That must have been real hard. Your mom—she was—” you looked down at your wine glass. “She had a kind heart. She just got lost in… in everything, I guess.” 

“Smurf said you were always the smart one… what does she mean by that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you answered. “They were smart too,” you said pointing to the collective Cody family. “Julia, too. They’d come by my house on most days after school and after we finished all our homework, my parents would make us dinner—”

“You also had this sick ass trampoline in your backyard,” Craig interrupted. “Me and Deran would be on that thing for hours!” 

“Yeah and you almost broke your arm when you two were playing too rough,” you commented. Deran and Craig laughed amongst themselves and J let the corner of his lips lift slightly. 

“And you and my mom?” 

“She—she always wanted to make sure that Andrew was okay,” you answered honestly. 

“And Baz?” 

“Oh,” you smiled. “She and Baz were inseparable for a while.” 

“And you and Uncle Pope?”

Your gaze turned to Andrew who was still staring at you. “We’re friends. We all were best friends,” you answered.

Deran snorted.

Craig chuckled.

“Friends, sure.” 

J laughed quietly. 

“Does she have a plot nearby?” You asked. “I’d love to visit and get her some flowers.” 

“Yeah, she’s got one,” J answered. “I can take you there tomorrow, if you like.” 

“I think that’d be great,” you smiled. “I can tell you more stories about what we got up to,” you laughed quietly. 

Baz abruptly stepped out and shook his head to himself, walking over to Pope. You watched them carefully before you looked at Smurf, her eyes already locked on you. 

“Hey, J?” You asked, seeing Deran and Craig get up to grab another bottle of beer from inside the home. “Is Smurf—is she good to you?” 

J glanced over at Smurf and then looked down at you. “Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly. “It’s been a more stable home than what I’m used to,” he admitted. 

“That’s good,” you said. “Stability is important.” 

“Can I ask why you moved away?” 

You shrugged. You had your suspicions that Smurf had something to do with it, but you couldn’t prove it. “Dad got a new job in New York.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Tried to convince them to let me finish my last two years of high school here, but…” 

“They didn’t let you,” J finished for you. 

“It was weird too,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “How abrupt it was, how fast we moved away.”

Smurf approached you and rested a hand on J’s shoulder. To anyone else, it could have been seen as a kind gesture, but to you, it was territorial. She was trying to prove a point without actually saying it. 

“What are you two talking about?” Smurf asked. 

“About Julia,” you answered, holding her gaze. 

Baz looked across the way and then back at Pope. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered. 

“How’s it like seeing her?” 

“It’s okay,” Pope replied. 

“Just okay? You’ve been staring at her all night, man,” Baz teased, letting out a quiet chuckle. 

“Just want to make sure she doesn’t get into it with Smurf,” he reasoned. 

“She always did get into it with her, didn’t she?” Baz sighed. “Even when we were all younger.” 

Pope shrugged. 

“You know, she always loved you, man,” he said. “She went toe to toe with Smurf every chance she could get to protect Julia, to protect you.” 

Pope glanced over at Baz and then back at over at you and Smurf. You had stood from the pool now. 

“Do you think Smurf had anything to do with her leaving?” 

Baz nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “I think Smurf was the reason why they left.” 

Pope sighed. 

Then, he stood from the beach chair when he saw you step up to Smurf now. 

“You were her mother,” you spat. “You should have protected her.” 

“We tried,” Smurf said. 

“Not hard enough, it seems like,” you replied. 

“You think you know what it’s like? Having a child who doesn’t want the help?” Smurf reasoned. 

“Oh please,” you said, jaw ticking at the sight of her. “Julia told me so many things about you and—”

“Enough,” J said, shaking his head. 

“Your mom could’ve gotten clean, J,” you said, looking over at him. “… or she could’ve also never had the opportunity to get on drugs in the first place.” 

Smurf laughed. 

“I shouldn’t have come back here,” you said. “We never did get along, did we, Smurf?” 

“You were a teenager,” Smurf said. “… who was in love with one of my sons. Of course we weren’t ever going to get along.” 

You turned to J and grabbed one of your business cards to hand to him. “If you ever want to know more about your mom or if you want any pictures—which I’ve noticed is lacking here—then, feel free to give me a call.” 

Smurf took the business card from J and ripped it up into two. “Don’t think he will be needing that.” 

“Why did you even invite me, Smurf?” You asked, shaking your head. 

“To show you that my boys are doing just fine,” she answered. 

“Craig’s doing cocaine,” you said. “That’s fine to you?” 

Baz walked over now. He looked between you and Smurf for a moment before motioning for Pope to walk towards you too. 

“I think we’ve all had enough to drink,” Baz said, trying to lighten the mood and cut the tension. “And so, I think it’s time we call it a night.” 

“Pope, you taking her home, right?” Baz called out. 

Pope nodded. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “I can get my own ride home.” 

“I am taking you home,” Pope mumbled. “That’s final. Now, let’s go.” 

The entire ride back home you were quiet. Pope kept both hands on the steering wheel, but he kept glancing in your direction. You had given him your address for directions, but kept your gaze out towards the window. 

It only took about fifteen minutes until he pulled up to the curb in front of your apartment complex. Once he put his truck in park, you looked over at him and noticed his gaze focused straight ahead. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered. “I shouldn’t have let her get to me like that. It’s not my place to—”

“I loved you,” Pope blurted out. “I think I’ve always loved you.” 

“Andrew…” 

“You always felt safe to me, to Julia too,” he whispered. “And my eyes are sad because I’m just tired… of everything.” 

You reached out for him and rested a hand on his own. He flinched under your touch and then relaxed, eyes dropping to your hand. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he continued. “But you can’t—you can’t go toe to toe like that with Smurf again.”

“I can handle her—”

“She can hurt you,” Pope interjected. 

You sighed. “Okay,” you whispered. 

Then, he finally looked at you. 

“Do you want to come in?” You asked. 

Pope nodded. “Okay.” 

You pulled your hand over his and climbed out of his truck to lead him towards your apartment on the second floor. You glanced over your shoulder at him as he glanced around the empty street and quiet neighborhood. You unlocked your front door and slowly opened it for him, watching him step inside after you. You kicked off your shoes and he did the same, neatly putting them aside before you closed and locked the door behind him. 

“I loved you too,” you finally said. “…I think a part of me still does because even after all these years, I look at you and feel all these butterflies.” 

Pope lowered his gaze and watched you step closer to him. Even as his heart raced faster, all he could think about was how safe he was, how untouchable he felt. 

“Moving away from you and Julia… it broke my heart,” you confessed. “I was mad at my parents for a very long time.” 

When he felt your hand move to his chest, Pope inhaled sharply. He kept his hands at his side and his back straight as he looked at you, eyes scanning your face. He tried so hard to chase the feeling that he had with you anywhere he could. When he met Catherine, it felt like it was his second chance, but even then, she never did really feel the same way. 

Because she had chosen Baz… like everyone else in his life did. 

“Will you stay the night, Andrew?”

He looked into your eyes. You moved your hand from his chest to the side of his neck lightly. 

“Only if you’re comfortable,” you added. “I just—I don’t want this night to end.” 

He nodded once and then stepped forward. Pope’s hands reached out to rest on your sides, inadvertently pressing your back against the door. “I’m a different person now.” 

“Me too,” you whispered. 

“I still feel safe,” Pope said quietly, lowering his head to lightly brush his lips across your cheek. “With you, I still feel safe.” 

He wouldn’t admit it either, but you and Catherine had only been the two women that he’d ever thought about inappropriately. He wasn’t like Craig or Baz or J. He didn’t seek out other women to satisfy his needs. Even with Catherine, it had taken him a while before allowing himself to open up in a way that he did with you. 

“Andrew,” you whispered. 

He pulled back to look down at you. Your eyes softened at the sight of him. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly. “And I don’t know what this looks like between me and you, but I—I’d like it if you were part of my life again.” 

He nodded. Pope’s eyes briefly glanced down at your lips as he let out a shaky breath when your hands moved up his chest and around his shoulders. He knew that he couldn’t tell you the things he had done since you left, or the fact that he really wasn’t a good man, but if for one night he could forget about all of that and just be with you, he’d take it. 

“Okay,” he whispered. Suddenly, Pope felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and it caused him to pull away from you to look down at it. He saw Smurf’s contact name appear on the screen and without hesitation, he declined the call and then shut his phone off. His relationship with his mother had always been very rocky to begin with, but ever since she asked him to do something about Cath, it just never was the same. 

“Don’t need to take that?” You asked. 

Pope shook his head. “Nothing’s important right now. I just want to be here with you.” 

You smiled and then took his hand, slowly leading him down the hallway and to your bedroom. He caught a brief glance of some the photographs hung on the wall and stopped halfway to see a familiar picture. 

You kept  hold on his hand though and looked over at him, knowing the photograph that he was already looking at. 

“You kept it,” he whispered. 

“Of course I did,” you said. “They remind me of all the good times we shared.” 

It was a photo strip of you and him when you were both younger. He didn’t recognize himself—he looked carefree with his arms around you in one photo and your arms around him in the other. When his eyes caught the last picture on the strip, he let his lips curl into a smile. 

“I remember that,” he said. 

“Yeah?” 

Pope nodded and then glanced at you. “I remember being so scared to kiss you.” 

“My first kiss… in a photo booth with the boy I loved,” you smiled. “I think I made the first move.” 

He chuckled. 

You felt yourself relax. 

Glimpses of his old self—before losing Julia—showed. 

“You did,” Pope agreed. “I don’t think I would’ve kissed you if you hadn’t done it first.” 

Then, his eyes moved to another picture next to it. He let out a breath—he remembered that one too. It was everyone (except Smurf), sitting in your backyard. Deran and Craig were there, just two young boys, surrounded with four teenagers—Baz, Pope, you, and Julia. His eyes lingered on twin sister for a minute longer before he turned his gaze on you. 

“You kept this too.” 

“I loved all of you,” you said. “I was the only child who struggled to make friends when we moved here, but then I met all of you. My parents still ask about all of you to this day,” you admitted. 

Pope felt tears sting his eyes. He squeezed your hand and then turned to face you. 

“I can’t remember the last time I saw a picture of my sister,” he whispered. 

“Smurf doesn’t keep any around?” 

Pope shook his head. 

“Well, I have a lot,” you said. “I can make you a copy.” 

He stepped closer to you. “Can you also make me a copy of that photo strip?” 

You felt the warmth in your cheeks and nodded. “Going to carry it around in your wallet, Andrew?” You teased. 

He smiled and stepped closer. This time, you could feel the heat of his body radiating against your own. 

“Maybe.” 

“Andrew?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Will I have to make the first move now too?” You asked. 

Pope let out a quiet chuckle. He released your hand only to lift you off your feet, hands coming up underneath you as your legs wrapped around his waist loosely. He leaned in and began lining up soft kisses along your neck, feeling your hands run through his dark curls as he led you into your bedroom. 

Once inside, he gently set you down on the end of your mattress as he stood above you. Pope pulled his eyes away from you to look around your room, biting back a smile at how neat and organized you were; you always had been. 

But, he finally looked back down at you when he felt your hands tug on the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer to you as you spread your legs for him to stand between them. 

“Smurf said we got into trouble that one time,” you whispered. “I don’t think it was trouble.” 

Pope shook his head. “It wasn’t trouble.” 

“Besides, I think she should have knocked,” you smiled, undoing the button on his jeans and slowly lowering the zipper. 

He let out a relieved sigh, his length already pressing against his jeans uncomfortably. Pope moved a hand to your hair, gently stroking it back and away from your face. 

“Can we not talk about Smurf… ever?” He asked. 

You looked up at him and nodded. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Pope whispered, moving down to rest his hands on either side of you. “I just don’t want her anywhere near this, anywhere near you,” he confessed. 

“Okay,” you replied, scooting back up on the middle of your bed and gently pulling him down on top of you. “Just me and you.” 

“Just me and you,” he repeated, one of his hands moving to the button on your cardigan to undo. 

The next few minutes felt like a blur to him. He still hadn’t kissed you, but the both of you were now completely bare for the other to see. You gasped at the sight of him—chiseled muscle, thick, strong arms and thighs, and not to mention the manhood already erect at the sight of you. 

Pope also couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He let his eyes take in every inch of your frame from top to bottom and back up. He wanted this seared into his memory for the rest of his life. 

He was taken off guard when you slowly rolled him onto his back, straddling his waist with ease. Pope felt your warmth brush against his throbbing length and he sat up to wrap his arms around you, keeping his eyes focused on you. 

Always on you. 

“Andrew,” you whispered. 

“Yes?” 

“Can you please just kiss me now?” 

He chuckled. 

Pope moved a hand to your cheek and slowly leaned up to finally press his lips against yours. His eyes fell shut instantly, hand moving from your cheek to curl itself in your hair. It felt like coming home—being with you like this, kissing you like this—it was like the missing piece he’d been searching for ever since you left. 

His other hand hesitantly moved to the side of your neck, parting his lips for you when he felt the lightest touch of your tongue. Pope’s hand around your hair tightened just a bit as the other moved from the side of your neck down to your collarbone, inching closer and closer to your exposed breasts. 

He suddenly rolled you over onto your back, settling himself between your legs as he pulled back to look down at you. Your hair was splayed against your pillow, lips parted with quiet pants escaping you. 

Then, your lips curled upwards. 

That same pretty smile that always brought him comfort. 

“I forgot how good of a kisser you are,” you said, moving both hands to his cheeks and pulling him back down. 

Pope smiled against your lips but pulled away reluctantly. He was suddenly aware of just how close he was to where he wanted you. The warmth and wetness between your legs sliding along his throbbing, bare manhood. 

“Condom?” He asked. 

You nodded and suddenly turned on your abdomen to reach into your nightstand. Pope looked down at you for a moment, biting his lower lip at the sight of your bare ass and back. He reached down and grabbed your ass roughly, squeezing it tightly before he let one hand lightly smack it. He watched it jiggle before him and felt his manhood twitch at the sight. 

“Andrew,” you whimpered, grabbing a condom from your drawer and looking over your shoulder at him. 

“I always did love your ass,” he said, lowering himself until he was face to face with it. He used his large hands to spread your cheeks apart, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening sex. Then, Pope leaned and licked a stripe along the length of you, eyes still staring up at you as your eyes fluttered. 

“Andrew,” you moaned, shaking your head as you reached down to tug him back up to you. 

He kept your cheeks parted as he continued to lick another stripe along you. He kept his eyes focused on before moving a hand to slide one of his fingers inside of you—warmth and wetness surrounding his digit tightly. 

You gasped loudly, hand dropping to his shoulder as you squeezed it. You bent a leg upward, opening yourself up to him as he slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you slowly. 

Pope stared between your legs with a fixation, watching his own finger move into your depths and back out. He noticed his finger glistening with your wetness and slowly introduced another finger, feeling your nails dig into his shoulder at the second intrusion. 

He pushed his hips into your mattress, the throbbing between his legs now becoming more noticeable. 

“Andrew,” you repeated, suddenly scrambling away from him as his fingers slid out of you. You turned to face him, chest heaving as your eyes took him in. 

“I wasn’t finished,” he said. 

“And I couldn’t handle it anymore—”

“I think you can,” he grinned, crawling towards you with that same intense gaze. Andrew sat up on his knees and tugged on your ankles to bring you back closer to him. His hands slid from your ankles and up your legs carefully, slowly. 

Your eyes narrowed and you sat up, hands resting on his shoulders as you flipped him onto his back once more. You moved your lips to his jawline and neck, teeth grazing his soft skin as you shifted to the column of his throat. His hands immediately moved to your hips, tightening his grip around it at the feel of your tongue swirling along him. 

You slowly began to kiss your way down his body, lips pressed against his hardened muscles at his chest and down to his abdomen until you were kneeling between his legs. His manhood rested against him, twitching upwards in excitement as you wrapped a hand around his girth. He was heavy in your grip, warm and throbbing too. 

Then, you slowly leaned forward to wrap your lips around his leaking tip, the salty taste of his precome on your tongue. You looked up at him and watched his cheek tick slightly as his lips parted and his gaze still just as dark and intense. 

You lowered yourself to take more him into your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underside of him to lubricate his manhood with your saliva. One of his hands moved to your hair again, holding it back and away from your face as he watched you take more and more of him. 

He couldn’t help his toes curl inwards at the feel of your mouth around him. Pope also couldn’t take his eyes off of you, watching you eagerly take him until he hit the back of your throat. He heard you gag against him, causing a quiet groan to escape his own lips at the feel of you around him. 

You pulled back, swirled your tongue eagerly around his tip as your hand began stroking the base of him. His breathing picked up immediately as his free hand gripped your sheets tightly. 

“Come here,” he whispered breathlessly. 

“I’m not finished,” you teased. 

Pope’s eyes narrowed and he tugged on your free arm to pull you back up on top of him. He reached for the condom nearby and tore the wrapper open with his teeth, sliding the latex down onto himself. 

“Been thinking about this,” you confessed, raising yourself just enough to feel him run his tip along you slowly. “About you… what I’d do differently if I saw you again.” 

Pope stared at you and notched himself at your entrance. His heart racing faster again, pounding against his chest in anticipation. He never broke his gaze, especially not now when he slowly pushed you down onto him and feeling your tight walls surround immediately. 

Your hands instantly moved to his chest, bracing yourself as you felt him breach your entrance. He was big, not anything like you’ve felt before, and there was a slight discomfort at the way he stretched you open as you continued to lower yourself down onto him. 

Pope’s hands moved to your breasts, grunting quietly to himself as he began massaging them together in his palms. He felt your nails dig just slightly into the skin at his chest as he filled you to the hilt, watching your hips roll against him slowly. 

He hadn’t ever done this with you before. Sure, the both of you did have intense makeout sessions when you were still young, lingering touches and going so far as fingering and oral, but never quite going the full distance. 

Until now. 

He ran his thumbs over your peaked nipples, eyes lingering for a brief moment to watch your hips move expertly against his own. Pope never felt this way before—not with Cath and certainly not with any other woman that his brothers (and even his mother) tried to hook him up with. 

Because you not only were nice to him when you were younger, but you were the only person (aside from his sister) that showed him unconditional love. 

You didn’t love him or want him because he could do things for you. 

No, you loved him and wanted him because of the person he was—how neat and clean everything had to be, how his gaze could be so intense yet filled with so many things left unsaid, or how he would do anything for his family, even if it meant costing him everything. 

He thought he knew what love was when he met Cath, had always blamed Baz for taking her away from him, but Pope wasn’t stupid. He knew Cath always liked Baz more. 

But you—he tried not to think about you as he grew older because it only brought him pain. You were the one that had gotten away, the one that could have changed the entire trajectory of the Cody family. 

And he didn’t want think to about what life could have been like if you and your family stayed. 

“Andrew,” you whispered breathlessly, lowering body until your chest pressed against his and his hand moved your hips. “You’re thinking,” you said, lips brushing against your own. “I’m right here, my love,” you pecked his lips and then stared into his eyes. “I’m never leaving.”  

My love. 

His heart pounded. 

A wave of emotions hit Pope unexpectedly. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you against him as he began to thrust upwards into you. You buried your face against the crook of his neck, moaning into him loudly, as the sounds of skin slapping against one another filtered your entire home. 

Pope whimpered into your ear, eyes falling shut as his arms snaked around your waist to hold you firmly against him. He didn’t know what this meant or what this would look like after tonight, but Pope already decided what he wanted. 

He wanted out. 

No more jobs. 

No more putting his life at risk. 

And no more doing things for Smurf or Baz or anyone else. 

He wanted to put himself first from now on. 

And he wanted to be by your side through it all. 

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear, gasping quietly at the feel of your tight walls sliding along every inch of him. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Pope repeated, eyes falling shut to only focus on the way you felt around him and the way you’re clutching onto him. 

Suddenly, you felt your walls tightened abruptly around him. You hadn’t expected to reach your peak so fast, but the way he was thrusting into you and the way he was holding you paired with him muttering into your ear had pushed you over the edge. 

Your body trembled above him and he slowly rolled you onto your back. He hovered above you and moved one hand to your cheek while the other gripped your headboard. Pope delivered deep and slow strokes into you, eyes staring into your own as the grip on your headboard tightened while the hand on your cheek lightly and gently brushed across your soft skin. 

You moved your hands from his midsection and up to his chest until you locked your hands together at the nape of his neck. You gently pulled him down to press your lips against his own, his hips beginning to snap against yours. It was quicker now, a bit more rough too. 

The kiss was messy, but still so intimate. You gasped against his lips when you felt him hit that spongy spot inside of you again, wrapping your legs around his waist loosely. He pulled back to rest his forehead against your own, the hand on your cheek moving to your hip now  

“Andrew,” you moaned, causing him to slam into you at the way his name escaped your lips. Your body jerked upwards at the sudden thrust, one hand moving to run through his curls. “I love you,” you finally said. “And I’m never leaving,” you repeated. “Want you, want this, for as long as you’ll have me, Andrew.” 

Pope’s hips stuttered. He came abruptly into the condom as he moved to bury his face against your neck. He was panting heavily and quietly into you. You ran your hands along his back lightly, both of you breathing against one another until he pulled back enough to look down at you. 

His eyes softened. 

You reached up and cupped his cheek. 

“Did you mean it?” Pope asked, remaining still inside of you. 

You nodded. “Every word, Andrew.” 

“Do you promise?” 

“Yes,” you said. “I love you. There has never been anyone else. It’s only ever been you.” 

“My family—”

“We can figure it out together,” you interjected. “You won’t have to do it alone.” 

Then, he slowly pulled out of you with a quiet groan. He reached down to pull the condom off of himself and tying it at the ends before he tossed it into the trash near your bed. 

“It won’t be easy,” he said. 

“Life never really is,” you replied. “But I left once… and I’m not doing that again.” 

“And Smurf?”

“I can handle her,” you said confidently. “Don’t you worry, Andrew.” 

His brows furrowed. “You don’t know what she’s capable of.” 

“And she doesn’t know what I’m capable of either,” you added. “I’m not the same person, Andrew,” you whispered. “I’m not stupid either. I know what you guys do… and I know the kinds of people she knows. Trust me,” you said, leaning up to lightly peck his lips. “I can handle myself.” 

Pope nodded. 

Then, you asked the same question he did, “did you mean it?” 

He reached up to cup your cheek. His touch had always been so gentle—the same hands that caused so many people to hurt—were gentle and careful with you. 

“Yes,” he answered. “I don’t know how this will work,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to let you go.” 

“Then, don’t,” you said. “Stay,” you whispered. “Will you stay?” 

Pope searched your eyes for any uncertainty. His head tilted and then he leaned down and brushed his nose with yours. “I’ll stay.” 

You let out a relieved breath and then felt him lie back down atop of you. His arms snaked around your waist as his cheek rested against your chest, your hands running through his hair and down his back and up. 

Neither of you knew what this would mean moving forward, but the both of you were sure about one thing. 

Life would be a little less lonely and a little less difficult when you two were by each other’s sides. 

Just as how it should have been.

“I’ll stay,” he repeated again, eyes fluttering shut. And for once, Pope felt hope for a better life for himself. 

Because he had you. 

Pope wasn't sure if he hated the summer or loved it.

He hung out awkwardly in a chair by the pool, cold beer sweating in his hand under the glare of the early summer sun. San Diego had a habit of being hot nearly all year round, but there was something about the end of spring that had everyone and their mother calling the Codys for a party. Bikinis, drugs, old friends of his brothers he barely talked to. All in the name of summer. By noon the backyard already smelled like chlorine, sunscreen, cigarette smoke, and grilled meat from the burgers Deran was flipping on the grill. Music blared from the speakers mounted under the patio awning so loud it vibrated the large floor to ceiling windows of the house.

With J taking college classes too, there had been more people around. Pope always figured his nephew was more the loner type, same as him, even if girls seemed to flock to the kid anyway. But college had done something to J—it seemed to draw him out of his shell a little. He had more friends around the house, more nights out, more people filling Smurf’s backyard until Pope barely recognized half of them anymore.

That's how they'd met you, too.

You—just a friend of J's, you'd clarified more than once to Pope—who looked so fucking cute in that little red bikini you had on. He could just see the red ties of the bottoms poking from cutoff shorts with the frays brushing your thighs every time you moved. A can of Diet Pepsi sat in your hand with one of those little pink straws poking out the top so you wouldn’t ruin your lipstick. Pope always made sure they stayed stocked in the garage fridge, even if he didn’t spend as much time at Smurf’s house anymore. But when he knew the guys were throwing something, when he knew J would be here, he somehow always found his way back over. Because if J was here, there was a good chance you’d be trailing in behind him sooner or later.

But he often wondered what you and J truly were, no matter how many times you said he was a friend. Why were the two of you tied at the hip so god damn much? It made Pope's knuckles blanch when he thought of all the time his nephew got to spend with you.

Now you were standing across the yard with your head tipped back laughing at something J said while Nicky stood beside you smoking a shared joint, the end burning bright orange each time she inhaled. Smoke curled through the air around all of you, mixing with the sharp chemical smell of pool chlorine baking under the heat. Pope watched J lean down closer to hear whatever you were saying over the music and felt his jaw tighten hard enough to ache.

"Hey—"

He looked over to see Craig handing him a fresh beer. Pope hadn’t even realized the one in his hand was empty already, his knuckles white around the neck of the bottle.

He merely grunted, taking it from his brother.

"You look like you need something harder than a beer, but I know you better."

Pope's lip twitched, hardly stealing a glance at him.

Craig let out a low whistle. “What’s got your panties in a twist today, huh?”

Pope finally looked over at him then. Craig had his sunglasses shoved up into his hair, dark locks tucked behind his ears, blue eyes narrowed with curiosity and amusement.

"Go away." Pope said simply.

"Oh, now I really wanna know." Craig grinned as he sat down beside him.

Pope clicked his tongue against his teeth and twisted the cap off the beer, taking a long drink of the cold amber liquid while his eyes drifted back toward you again. By then the back gate was opening, and he watched your entire demeanor change.

First, it was your smile that slipped. Then your eyes flicked toward the guys coming through the gate, then over to Nicky beside you, and you murmured something to her, but Pope was too far away and it was so fucking loud out here to hear anything. His attention sharpened immediately anyway, ears pricking up like a mutt waiting for a command.

The guys spilling into the backyard were long and lean in only that college-kid kind of way. Floppy hair, muscle tees loose over wiry arms, sunburnt shoulders, a thirty pack of Bud Light swinging between them. Pope knew the type without ever stepping foot on a campus himself.

"Oh, shit." Craig muttered when he followed Pope's hardened gaze.

One of the guys had walked right up behind you, tossing an arm over your shoulders familiarly, and yet Pope saw your whole body go still under it. He couldn’t see your expression from here, only the way your head turned slightly toward Nicky. Across from you, J stood with his beer hanging loose in his hand, watching quietly, his face flattening out into that cold look he’d gotten better at lately. The Cody look.

"Easy, man. She's fine." he heard his little brother say beside him.

Pope felt like he was vibrating as he watched, ready to jump at any sign of this asshole giving you a hard time. He knew you could handle yourself too, but there was something about this guys confidence, how he thought he could come into his house and prey on his girl.

Pope stopped himself there. Not his girl. Not his house, really, either. He bit down on the inside of his cheek until his mouth filled with the taste of iron.

Then you slipped neatly out from under the guy’s arm, moving away from the group while lifting your drink toward the questioning looks they threw after you. Gotta get a refill. you called over your shoulder, as you walked away quickly.

But the second your back turned to them, your expression dropped. Plain annoyance sat across your face clear as day. Your shoulders folded inward a little while you crossed through the yard, weaving between people with your drink clutched against your stomach, making yourself smaller.

A little bit later, when you came back out into the yard with a new cold drink in hand, Craig was talking about some job he'd found—some mattress warehouse with a safe stacked with cash. Pope was only half listening. His attention snagged the second you stepped through the sliding glass door barefoot, little beads of condensation sliding down the side of your soda can onto your fingers.

You paused halfway across the patio, clearly intending to head back toward J, but the view of all those guys still talking around him seemed to make you pause. Your fingers tapped the side of the aluminum can in your hand, and then—to his surprise and horror—your head swiveled, and you were looking at him.

At Pope.

And now you were walking towards him. His heart lept in his chest.

Craig noticed immediately, straightening up in his lounge chair with that easy grin he wore around pretty girls.

"Hey—" Craig started, but you weren't even looking at him.

“Do me a favor?” you asked Pope quietly. He didn't even register the question—the answer would always be yes for you. He was nodding before he knew what you needed.

Your gaze flicked over your shoulder at the sound of footsteps coming across the concrete.

It all happened very quickly, and yet—he remembered it as if it was slow motion.

You bent toward him, fingers slipping around his wrist first, then into his hand—cold and wet to the touch from your soda—and his callouses scraped against your soft skin. You lifted his hand carefully, guiding his arm out of the way so you could turn yourself between and sit down onto his lap. The soft wash of your shorts brushed against the black denim of his jeans, your weight settling over his left thigh, and Pope stopped breathing for a second.

You—you were touching him. Sitting in his lap. In front of everyone.

His hand stayed where you’d moved it, hovering awkwardly over your hip, fingers flexing in midair, his brain choking on what to do next. He could smell your green apple shampoo when you leaned back into him, could feel the heat of your legs through his jeans.

Was this a joke? Had you planned to make fun of him? To show all your little friends how much of a freak he was?

"Just go with it," you whispered into his ear, your hand coming up behind his neck, manicured fingers delicately cupping his skin. Despite the heat, his flesh rose up in goosebumps. You were balancing your soda awkwardly in the other hand while reaching back for his still-hovering arm, guiding it around your waist yourself. Your fingers pressed gently against the back of his hand until he held you properly, as if soothing him.

Most of his palm landed against the rough denim of your shorts, but his fingertips brushed frayed fabric and warm skin underneath. The bare top of your thigh. He wouldn't let himself look at you properly— the skimpy red bikini top showing more skin than he could handle so close to him, bare shoulders shining with the glow of sunscreen and your chest dabbled with sweat. He swallowed thickly.

Your head turned towards the guys who were walking over, and the one in the middle—Asshole who put his arm around you—had stopped completely. His shoulders were tight, his glare ice cold.

But Pope was meaner. He knew how to do this, at least—how to play the guard dog, the meanest, eldest Cody brother. It was a role he slipped into easily, like second nature. The two of them stared at each other for a long minute.

Then J appeared beside the kid, clapping a hand onto his shoulder and saying something about putting their beer in the fridge. The group drifted away slowly after that, disappearing through the sliding door.

You let out a long sigh, your shoulders lightening as your fingers unlatched from Pope's neck. He missed the touch almost immediately.

"Thanks," you said.

Pope looked up at you. You were smiling gently down at him, casual as anything, but he soon realized that you weren't making any moves to get up. Your arm was still around his back, his still on the top of your thigh, but neither of you seemed eager to move away.

He just nodded stiffly. "Sure."

Your smile widened as the two of you studied each other. He watched you lift your soda, bringing the pink straw to your mouth. Pope did his god damn best not to let his eyes flit over your lips as you took a long sip.

He heard a huff of breath beside him suddenly.

"Well, that guy seemed like a dick."

You startled a little, turning your head like you’d forgotten Craig was still sitting there at all.

"Oh, hey Craig, I'm sorry—" you said, and you moved to finally get up, but Pope held on fast. He wouldn't let his baby brother take this from him.

When you looked back at Pope, your brows pulled together faintly in question. Something curious flickered there for a moment, but then your expression softened, like you understood anyway. You leaned down, lips to his ear, "Let me just switch sides, that okay?"

Pope's lips tightened. He suddenly became painfully aware of every awkward thing about himself. The way his hand probably sat too stiff against your waist. The fact that your breath sent a tingle down his spine, making his jeans suddenly feel too tight. And the fact he hadn’t said anything smooth this entire time. Anybody else would've known how to play this—smile, flirt a little, maybe make you laugh. But no, you were the charming one. The one who knew how to flirt, how to handle him.

So, he let go.

You kept your promise, only switching to his other thigh, letting his brother get an eye full of you now. You did the same thing again—bringing your hand around so you could take his, pulling it against yourself without even a moment of hesitation while you looked at the tallest Cody.

“Sick party,” you told Craig, lifting your drink in distant cheers. “How are you?”

Craig smiled back, all shiny teeth and charm as he held his beer up in salute, "I'm doin' good. What's up with your little friend?"

You rolled your eyes, "The guy has been trying to get me to go out with him for weeks." you sipped your drink again, eyes flickering over into the glass windows of the house, watching Asshole and his cronies from afar, "Except his version of taking me out is fucking me in the back his mom's BMW."

Pope was in the middle of taking a sip of beer when you said it, nearly choking.

"What the fuck did you just say?" he demanded. It was probably the most words he’d strung together to you all day. Hell, maybe all month.

But suddenly his head was making up different scenarios, none of them involving you in the back of Asshole's car, instead, he was wondering what the kid's head would sound like bouncing off the concrete when Pope's fist met it.

Your brows jumped a little at his reaction, but you only shrugged, unbothered. “He’s a dickhead. I’ve been trying to tell him I have a boyfriend, but he doesn’t believe me.”

"Do you?" Craig asked.

Pope thought maybe his little brother wasn’t completely useless after all.

He saw you shake your head in his periphery, and his heart, the traitorous thing, began to pound in his chest a little.

“No,” you admitted softly. “And I don’t think our little performance convinced him much either.”

Your gaze drifted back toward the sliding doors just as the group started filing outside again. Pope felt your body tense slightly on his thigh before you muttered a quiet, Oh, fuck my life under your breath. The asshole slowed when he passed, taking another long look at where you sat in Pope’s lap.

And Pope stared right back at him, lip curling.

Once they had gone towards the other side of the pool, he heard his brother say lightly: “I bet if you made out in front of him, they'd buy it.”

"Shut your mouth." Pope snapped, his hard glare turning on his brother.

But you barely seemed to hear either of them. You kept looking over your shoulder toward the yard, eyes skimming from Asshole to J and Nicky talking nearby, chewing lightly at your lip while you thought about something.

When you turned back to Pope and his brother, you had a funny look on your face.

Pope frowned slightly. “What's wrong?”

You hesitated, studying his face. You had lost that easy confidence from a moment before, fingers playing with your straw as you looked at him.

"Would that… ? No, no nevermind." you said, shaking your head. You cut yourself off by lifting your drink to your mouth again, shifting a little on his thigh in the process. The movement dragged your hip against him, making him painfully aware of just how much he was affected by your closeness.

Beside him, Craig made a strangled noise trying not to laugh. When Pope looked over, his brother was practically vibrating in his chair, eyebrows climbing halfway up his forehead while he grinned like a complete asshole.

"Get outta here, go—" Pope barked.

Craig finally lost the fight against his grin. He held both hands up in mock surrender while getting up from the lounge chair and walked away, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Sorry,” Pope murmured once his brother was out of earshot.

He took another swallow of beer and leaned down to set the bottle carefully beside the chair, his movements slower now, more aware of you sitting there against him than anything else.

You shrugged, "It was…a good idea."

Pope's brows pulled together when he looked at you. God, you were so fucking close. The feel of your warm, soft skin against him, the smell of your apple shampoo mixing with sunscreen and the syrupy fake-sweet scent of the Diet Pepsi in your hand. He still couldn't believe you were sitting on his lap. Touching him. Pulling his arm around you as if it natural, like there wasn’t anything strange or dangerous about him to hesitate over.

And now you were looking at him with that look, something behind your eyes he couldn’t immediately sort out, and the fact he couldn’t sort it out made his stomach knot. As uncomfortable as he made people feel sometimes, Pope could still catch onto things. Patterns. He was always used to the way people acted, knew if they were lying because they started acting differently around him. But you never did that with him, and you never looked nervous around him like this before.

A thought occurred to him, one that made his stomach hurt even worse. Maybe you saw him for what he was—scary, mean; Smurf's dog made to heel and bark and bite when she commanded it. He became horribly aware of himself under your searching gaze—how tightly his hand was holding your thigh, how he could still just feel the top edge of your skin, your shoulder bumping into his chest when you'd shift.

And maybe you'd just realized whose lap you were in.

"Andrew…" you murmured, "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

You set your drink down in a hurry, cold aluminum knocking lightly against the concrete beside the chair before both your hands came up to his neck, fingers spreading against his skin as you tipped his face upward toward yours. Your touch was cold, wet from the soda.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry."

You were touching him again. Both hands on his neck. Your face was so close to his. Noses nearly bumping. He could make out every clump of mascara around your eyes, your smudged lipstick. It made him nearly nauseous with want. Your eyes—they were worried. Why were you so worried to be around him now?

"I shouldn't have asked—or even—I don't know, Craig said it and for some reason I thought maybe—"

The gears in his brain finally started catching up after spinning uselessly for the last few minutes, thoughts grinding slowly into place one after another while he stared at your mouth moving so close to his.

What Craig had said… What had his brother said?

I bet if you made out in front of him, they’d buy it.

“You…” he managed finally, his mouth dry as cotton, heart thudding so hard it hurt. “Want to…?”

You licked your lips nervously, and the movement nearly derailed his thoughts again immediately.

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable. I just…” You sighed and glanced over your shoulder toward the yard. Your hair brushed lightly across his nose before you looked back at him again.

“I’m gonna lie to you and tell you it’s only to make this guy get off my back, okay?”

“What’s the truth?” he asked quietly, somehow finding enough nerve to force the words out.

Your teeth caught your bottom lip. “I just need you to tell me if it’s okay to do this—”

You leaned closer.

Pope’s hand moved before he could think better of it, wrapping carefully around your wrist to stop you there. So soft—the delicate bones of your joint in his rough hand.

"Y-yes but—what's the truth?" he echoed. He had to know. He had to.

You were hardly listening now, your attention splitting somewhere between him and the movement in the yard behind him, and Pope’s brain kept trying to grab onto something solid, some version of this that made sense, because he had to be out of his fucking mind to think maybe you meant what he desperately wanted you to mean. Maybe you actually—

But then your eyes flicked over his shoulder again, and Pope’s gaze followed yours automatically, catching the group of guys heading back across the patio towards you with J in tow, and suddenly your fingers tightened against Pope's face.

And then you turned into him, and kissed him.

You tasted like aspartame.

That syrupy sweet taste from the soda, like the waxy, cherry lipstick that you kept in your pocket. The smell of apple shampoo and sunscreen filled his nose while your lips pressed hard against his with a little gasp that went straight down his belly and into his dick. You didn’t kiss him shyly either. Pope could tell immediately you were trying to make a point, trying to push this far enough that anybody watching would understand exactly what they were seeing.

When he felt your tongue trace the seam of his lips, he didn't care anymore. He didn't care if this was some ruse to get Asshole off your back, he didn't care if you didn't actually like him, because fuck your tongue felt so good against his mouth. He was opening for you, tasting you back, and he could've sworn—under the noise of the music blaring, of the pool water splashing and people talking over one another—he heard a small, little helpless moan from your throat when he finally kissed you back properly.

His hands tightened around you immediately, both arms circling your waist to drag you closer against him until there was hardly any room left between you—your shoulder pressed tightly into his chest, a little awkward with the way you sat sideways across his thigh, but he didn't give a shit.

It felt endless and too short all at once, your tongues sliding together smoothly while you held his face so tenderly it made his throat tighten, and then little by little that tenderness started disappearing into want and hunger. Your fingers pushed into his hair harder now, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, making his breath stutter against your mouth.

“Holy shit.”

The voice cut through the air beside you like a gunshot beside him. The party seemed to rush back in all around at once—the sounds of people shouting scores for dives off the pool house, music blasting, the sliding door opening and closing.

And then you were pulling back, lips unlatching from his. To Pope’s immediate disappointment it was Deran standing there frozen beside the cooler with a beer halfway out of the ice.

He licked his lips automatically even as he glared at his brother, catching the lingering taste of you on his mouth, and when he looked up at you again your lips were swollen and shiny.

You glanced toward the group of guys across the yard, then Deran with a quick, oh-- hi, Deran, before looking back at Pope. Your hands were still around his neck, and you were leaning in again. But this time, your lips went to his ear.

“The truth is, Andy...” you murmured softly.

Pope felt another shiver move through him at the feel of your breath against his neck, and his grip tightened on your little denim shorts as you said, “…I've wanted to do that for a long time.”

And then, as if you'd merely said thanks, pope, bye! you were pulling away from him, brushing your thumb across his top lip, wiping away whatever lipstick you'd left him with, and you were standing from his lap and walking off through the yard like you hadn’t just detonated his entire fucking nervous system in front of half the party.

Deran let out a low laugh beside him before grabbing a pool towel from the chair nearby and tossing it at Pope’s chest.

“You’re gonna wanna sit there for a minute,” he said. “Wait out that, uh… problem.”

Pope glared at his brother over the towel clutched in his lap.

you were sitting by the poolside while lena was testing to see how far she could make it across the pool in one breath. you applauded as she made it at least halfway across, her little legs kicking her through the water with all their might. her smile is triumphant as she beams up at you.

"i got so far!"

she exclaims as she swims over to the edge of the pool by you, her arms resting on the warm pavement.

"you sure did! keep on practicing and you'll make it all the way across in no time at all."

you speak encouragingly, watching her eyes light up with hope. a throat is cleared behind you, causing both you and lena to look over in the direction of the gate. you both spot a stern-looking pope, but his face seems to soften as soon as his eyes land on lena in the pool. it wasn't easy for him, taking lena under his wing after what happened to her parents. he sees the smile on the little girl's face, then glances at you, then back at her, and he feels something shift within him.

"she'll be out in the ocean learning how to surf like you guys soon."

you smile softly as you talk to him, which causes an unfamiliar sense of warmth to settle in his chest. he nods at you before walking over to lena, he crouches down as he meets her gaze.

"ten more minutes, then shower before dinner's ready."

his voice was rough, but it had an uncharacteristic softness to it as he spoke to lena. she nodded, her big eyes staring at him like he hung the stars in the sky. it made your heart swell, seeing how the two of them bonded so well, especially given all the shit they'd been through. pope cody wasn't comforting to anyone except for lena, at least that's what you'd thought at first. as lena swims away and busies herself, pope stands to his full height and turns around to look at you.

"what are you doing here?"

he hadn't meant for the question to sound so harsh and bothered. he saw the way your face scrunched a bit at his tone and immediately regretted his choice of words.

"i'm watching over lena while you take care of your personal things."

"i didn't ask you to do that."

"deran said you could use the extra help."

he stands there for a moment, blinking at you. he hadn't realized that it wasn't realistic for deran and craig to watch lena when pope couldn't, especially since they were often away from home more than he was. he nods slowly, now that everything was starting to make sense once again. he glances over his shoulder at lena, who's now wearing a particularly suspicious grin as she watches the two of you interact. he turns back to you, eyes briefly drifting toward your light green tank top. he could just barely see inside your shirt, the shadow almost highlighting your cleavage. he snaps himself out of the trance and meets your gaze again.

"how much do you want for it?"

you shrug at his question, glancing over at lena who has started cleaning up her pool toys. you clearly hadn't thought about it yet, not really worried about the money as much as you were about lena.

"i don't need to be paid, i have a job. i'm just here to watch lena when you aren't able to."

he looks slightly taken aback by your answer. why were you so willing to help them out without being paid? he searches your expression for any sort of hint otherwise, but he finds nothing.

"i mean- being fed would be nice."

a slight scoff escapes his lips at your words. he just nods and makes his way back inside. a couple minutes later, lena goes inside to wash up before dinner. you make your way inside, your nostrils immediately filled with the smell of something delicious. you watch as pope busies himself in the kitchen, making what looked to be lasagna.

"looks good..."

you try to talk casually, but are met with a deadpan look.

"haven't cooked any of it yet."

his tone was flat, almost questioning as he looked at you. you let out a heavy sigh and made your way toward the living room to rest on the couch. pope mentally slaps himself for being so cut and dry with you. he'd never admit it out loud, but he wanted you to be around. he wanted to know more about you. he'd seen you here and there whenever you were helping deran with something or attending one of his pool parties. he'd always thought you were pretty, probably too young for him, but that never stopped his mind from wandering.

he continues to work on making dinner, his mind lost in a sea of thoughts that all revolved around you. especially how happy lena had looked while being with you. it almost mirrored the way she looked when she was with pope. he wondered what it would be like, if maybe you and him could be her new and improved parents. no... you were basically a stranger to him he can't be thinking of starting a family like this. lena's soft voice jars him out of his mind.

"can i have a soda with dinner?"

"yeah, but that's your only one for the day."

she nods, a giddy smile on her face as she bounces off toward the living room, presumably to join you. she plops down next to you on the couch, resting her head on your arm as she watches the cartoon you're playing on the TV. she glances up at you, a toothy grin spreading across her face. you look down at her, a bit wary at what this could mean.

"what's that look for?"

you watch as she tries to hold back the giggles.

"uncle pope thinks you're really pretty."

you can't help but roll your eyes and laugh at the little girl. part of you wondered if she was telling the truth. kids were always more perceptive than anyone liked to give them credit for.

"yeah? did he tell you that?"

you chuckle at her while her eyes are fixated on the cartoon.

"yeah... he told me one day on the way to school."

you pause at that. because now this was all starting to sound real. did he really think you were pretty? hell, you'd always been attracted to him too, but never in a million years did you think it would be a mutual feeling. before you have any more time to think about it, pope is calling you guys into the kitchen for dinner. you and lena set the dining room table while pope brings out the lasagna dish. lena sits between you and pope at the table, unable to help herself as she steals glances at both of you while eating.

"uncle pope, we talked about starting a garden today."

pope looks curiously at his niece, then up at you.

"what kind of garden?"

his eyebrows are furrowed like he's almost a bit hesitant to know the answer.

"i thought that maybe we could try a vegetable or fruit garden, make some of our own stuff. it's fun and could mean less money spent on groceries."

you chime in, watching as lena's eyes light up. she looks over at you with a bright smile.

"does that mean we can grow lemons?"

you blink, raising an eyebrow at her.

"that's what you want to grow first?"

"to make lemonade! if we have lemons we'll never run out of lemonade!"

this time, you and pope both chuckle at her exclamation.

"we'll have to buy the tree, otherwise it'll take forever to grow from the seed. that just means lemons will come first."

you smile at the little girl who happily bounces in her seat while finishing her dinner. you glance up at pope, who can't decide if he wants to see lena's excited expression, or your soft one as you think about how to start the garden.

"i mean- as long as it's okay with you."

you nod at him, forgetting that you guys likely needed his approval before creating a garden.

"just don't make me water it. and i'm not being blamed if anything in there dies or gets eaten by rabbits."

you smirk at him, knowing damn well that if lena asked he would help you out with the garden. or maybe, she'd use it as an attempt to get you and pope alone so everything can go according to her little master plan.

after about a week of planting and rearranging soil, lena's garden was finally starting to come together. you'd been around every day to help her with, teaching her the best watering techniques. you let her pick out what she wanted to grow, and then helped her organize based on what plants needed more sunlight. the whole time, pope busies himself with watching over the two of you. his rationalization is that gardening can be very dangerous, and he doesn't want either of you getting hurt. the real reason was because watching you with lena, the way you brought out the brightest in the little girl, it felt right to him. like you were meant to be here with the two of them, nowhere else.

lena notices him and waves him over to show him the final product. he steps out of the sliding glass door and makes his way over to the new garden.

"we did it, uncle pope! we have our own garden!"

lena jumps up and down excitedly, pointing at the freshly laid soil and some of the pre-grown trees you had helped her plant.

"you guys did great."

he nods slowly, looking over at you. your face was glistening with sweat after working in the heat for the past couple hours. he couldn't take his eyes off of you, you were glowing. then he saw your genuine smile as you watched lena get excited about the garden. he wanted to be another reason that you could smile like that. he watches from nearby as you help lena water for the first time. you were patient with her, letting her do most of it on her own and only helping when she asked. lena looks over at pope with the brightest smile he's seen from her in a long time. looks like they both really needed to keep you around.

once you were finished watering, pope ushered the two of you inside. he was getting worried that you were out in the sun for too long. earlier, he had definitely hounded the two of you about wearing enough sunscreen. he gives you both a glass of water, watching shamelessly as you lift the glass to your lips and take a few swallows of the cold liquid. it was like he was in a trance every time he watched you, unable to peel his eyes away, even if you were doing the most mundane things. lena's giggles bring him back to center, he glances over at her and sees the knowing look in her eyes.

"c'mon, stinker... let's go get washed up. i'll help you pick out your clothes."

she nods, hopping out of the stool and walking off toward her room with you. once you help her find her clothes, you walk back out to the kitchen, now alone with the man you found yourself growing increasingly fond of.

"you can use mine."

he spoke gruffly, watching as you rested against the countertop.

"use your what?"

you look up at him curiously.

"my shower... i'll get you a towel and stuff."

he walks off toward the bathroom and grabs you a towel and washcloth. you also see a pair of old gym shorts and a t-shirt folded neatly next to them. you smile and thank him as you step into the bathroom. he stands there for a moment, looking at you. you are also just standing there, and you're unsure if the room was filled with tension or awkwardness at this point.

"thank you..."

you tell him again, and he seems to get the hint. but right before he can step out of the bathroom, he turns to you.

"lena... really likes having you around."

"i like being around... with both of you."

you nod slowly, and you can see the small hint of surprise on his face at your words. it was true, you'd gotten used to being around both of them all the time. it felt like more of a routine than you'd ever had before, but best of all, it felt like home. he could see the way your expressioned softened completely, feeling his cheeks heat because of how much he enjoyed the sight. you finally look up at him, breath hitching slightly when you see the dazed, wanting look in his eyes. you step closer to him and he doesn't back away. but before he allows himself to give in, pope clears his throat.

"i'll make lunch while you get cleaned up."

he doesn't miss the flicker of disappointment in your eyes, but he ultimately leaves the room anyway. you sigh, stripping out of your clothes and stepping into a nice, cool shower. once you're finished you step out of the shower and slip into his clothes he left for you. they smelled like him, which made you feel a little hotter than you cared to admit. you look at yourself in the mirror, chuckling at the way his old clothes looked on you. it didn't really matter, you weren't sweaty and gross anymore. you walk back out toward the kitchen, smiling when you see lena eating on the couch.

"come back and sit with me, please!"

she calls out to you, you nod, and continue until you're in the kitchen. pope's back was to you, but when he heard your footsteps, he turned around. he froze, not expecting you to look so... domestic... in his clothes like that. he started to imagine how you'd look in his clothes, post-shower after you two just had the most mind-blowing sex of all time. a soft smile appears on his lips as he slides your plate across the counter to you.

"you should come hang out with me and lena."

you lean against the counter as you take the plate. he just nods and follows you to the living room where lena was. you both sit on either side of her, causing her to smile while she's mid-bite into her sandwich. you glance over at pope, who's already looking at you. you feel your skin heat at the eye contact, quickly looking back at the TV. he also faces forward, leaving everyone to eat their lunch in comfortable silence. after a while, lena yawns and snuggles into pope's side. he wraps an arm around her and holds her close, watching as her breath starts to even out. you smile at the sight, quietly taking out your phone and snapping a picture when he wasn't looking.

eventually, he carries lena to her room and lays her in her bed. he shuts the door quietly before returning to the living room with you. you look over at him, eyes tracing along his strong jawline and the slope of his nose. fuck, he'd be trouble if he ever realized how beautiful he was. his dark auburn curls looked soft, and you found yourself wanting to run your hands through them. he finally looks at you, catching you right in the act of staring. his hardened hazel eyes almost seemed to soften when they landed on you, but you were sure that was just your imagination. you stand up from the couch, grabbing your plate and lena's. pope follows suit, following you out to the kitchen.

"i'll wash these."

his gruff voice sends a shiver down your spine, but you nod. you set the dishes in the sink and move out of his way.

"so i was thinking..."

you speak up, resting against the counter next to the sink. he glances up at you for a moment, freezing when he realized how close you were standing to him.

"what if we took lena out to dinner tonight? maybe somewhere on the shore or something so we can watch the sunset?"

he ponders for a moment, thinking about how beautiful you would look in the warm and bright colors of the setting sun. he's nodding almost enthusiastically now, going back to washing the dishes. you smile and watch as he goes back to work. damn those stupid yellow gloves for hiding the way his fingers were probably gripping and flexing over the dishes. you were beginning to feel like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time. you stand there, enjoying this somewhat intimate moment between the two of you. once he's finished, he looks over at you while sliding off the gloves. you can hardly focus as you watch the yellow rubber fall from his hands, revealing the tantalizing digits that you dreamed about quite often.

he holds one of his hands out to you, palm facing upward. you blink, unsure of what to do. he lets out an unsteady breath, reaching further until his hand wraps around your wrist ever so gently. you let him pull you toward his bedroom, your heart rate picking up the closer you get. he walks you inside, letting go of your wrists as he walks over to the closet. you stand still, afraid to move. you watch as he opens his closet, then he looks back to you.

"i wanna wear something nice. i need help finding it."

you let out a breath of relief you didn't know you were holding, walking over to the closet. you gently sift through his closet, most of his clothes being the same style and color shirt, same with the pants. however, you did manage to find a black polo that seemed to stand out. you take it out, finding the lightest pair of blue jeans he owned (which were still pretty dark) and pairing them together. you hand him the clothes and he assesses them skeptically. finally, he gives a nod of approval and lays them down on his bed. he turns back to face you, noticing the small smile on your face.

"what's funny?"

he glares at you, waiting for you to tease him about his wardrobe, or lack thereof.

"nothing's funny, i just think it's cool that you came to me for fashion advice."

he rolls his eyes at you, but he's not truly annoyed. he'd wanted to ask you for more than just fashion advice, but he wasn't feeling brave enough. a soft sigh escapes his lips as he walks toward the door.

"gonna clean the pool and work on the car some before we go."

you nod and watch him walk out without another word. you go off to the living room and find some way to pass the next couple hours.

you all were on the way to dinner, pope was driving his truck while you were in the passenger seat and lena was in the back. she was glancing out the window, watching the building on the street go by with a smile on her face.

"come on... can you please tell me where we're going?"

lena whines at you, causing you to chuckle. pope glances in the rearview, his eyes crinkling just a bit.

"we're almost there, lee. i told you it's a surprise!"

she groans in protest, flopping her head back against the car seat. but, as you promised, you shortly afterwards pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. pope got out, helping lena from her carseat. he frowns at you when he sees that you got out of the car by yourself, which makes you laugh. he grunts, watching lena take your hand as you walk toward the front door. he holds the door for you two, his hand ghosting the small of your back before he walks in behind you. you're all seated outside on the patio of the restaurant, admiring the view of the ocean from there. lena's eyes are wide with excitement as she takes in the view of the setting sun.

"best surprise ever!"

she wraps her little arms around you with a big grin. you return the embrace, running a hand over her hair. she sits back in her seat when it's time to order food. pope sits across from you and lena, meaning he could just watch you two interact for the next couple hours. you looked even more beautiful than he could imagine, the way the colors of the sunset made your skin glow. the way it all reflected in your eyes, he couldn't get enough of the view. he'd hardly even thought about the sunset when he had you right in front of him. as suspected, dinner went swimmingly and lena was already getting sleepy again.

"wanna walk on the beach for a couple minutes?"

you look over at lena, whose head is resting on your arm. she nods sleepily, little hands wrapped around your arm. you chuckle, looking over at pope who looked the most calm he ever had since you met him. he nods as well, getting up from his chair. he walks around the table to lena, gently lifting her into his arms, holding out his free hand to you. you smile and take his hand, walking down the wooden steps and into the sand. you walk closer to the shore, the view stealing the breath from your lungs. you look over at pope and lena, watching the way their expressions almost matched in awe. pope was still holding onto your hand tightly, the other firmly holding lena. these were the moments that pope thought he'd only be able to dream of, but yet here the three of you were.

lena's eventually fast asleep in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. he gently squeezed your hand, causing you to look over at him. he's closer than you remember, and before you can second guess yourself, you lean in and plant a soft kiss on his lips. he returns it almost immediately, although it was a bit haphazard. you pull away, rubbing your free hand along his bicep and resting your chin on his shoulder.

"should probably head back before sleeping beauty gets cranky."

he nods at your words, leading you all back toward the truck. he gets lena into the carseat without her waking up. this time, he doesn't let go of you, meaning he could open the passenger side door for you. you laugh at him again, climbing into the seat and buckling your seatbelt. he shuts the door gently and rounds the car to get into the driver's side. you make it back to the house and get out of the car while pope grabs lena again. you hold the door for him this time as he carries her off to her bed. you wait in the kitchen for him, sitting at one of the stools. he returns a couple minutes later, standing next to your stool. he's the one to lean in this time, kissing you with more intention than the previous time. his arms slip around your waist while your hands rest on his chest.

you sigh into the kiss, pulling him in closer by his shoulders. he leans into you, clearly not willing to pull away any time soon. you stand from the stool pressing him back against the counter as your tongue slips into his mouth. a soft groan escapes from him, but his tongue begins to tangle with yours soon after. his hands slip lower, over the curve of your ass, causing you to smirk against his lips. one of your hands slides through his soft curls, and they felt even better than you'd imagined. he sighs against you, continuing to kiss you with all of his effort. he whimpers when you pull away from him, the sound sending a tingly feeling all over your body. you walk toward his bedroom and he immediately follows behind you like a puppy.

once you're in his room, he pulls you back against him, kissing you again with a renewed sense of hunger. you moan into his mouth, reaching down and sliding his shirt over his head. your hands slide all over his muscular chest, earning yourself soft groans from his lips. he pushes you backwards until you fall back onto the bed with a small yelp. he removes your shoes for you, then climbs on top of you. he gently rests his weight onto you, pressing soft kisses along the corners of your mouth and your jawline. you gently trace your nails along the skin of his back, the sensation making his hard cock strain even more through his jeans. you feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it only adds to the heat pooling low in your belly. you weren't sure how you and pope had even gotten to this point, but you surely weren't going to complain either.

he removes your clothes for you, followed by taking off his jeans. he starts trailing kisses lower, down your neck and over the swell of your breasts. you feel your back arch off the bed when he takes one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth and sucks lightly before rubbing it with his tongue. he moves over to the other side, groaning against you as he feels how worked up you're getting. then, he moves lower, kissing over your soft tummy. he pauses right at the hem of your panties, glancing up at you as if for approval. you sit up on your elbows, looking down at him with a lustful haze in your eyes. you nod slowly and shiver as he slides your panties down your legs. he feels his brain go fuzzy at the mere sight and smell of your arousal. not wasting a second, he leans in and licks a long stripe up your aching cunt. your fingers grip the sheets with a soft whine. your noises encourage him to do more, he starts sucking at your clit. you thought it couldn't get any better until he slipped his middle finger inside of you. you moan softly, falling back against the bed as he adds another finger. how the fuck was he so good at this? wasn't he supposed to be super inexperienced?

well- he was relatively inexperienced. but once he was for sure about wanting to be with you, he'd definitely started doing his research. his (now deleted) search history would be very incriminating, but you didn't have to know about it just yet. he continues to work at you, now whining lowly against your slick folds while his fingers worked into you gently. he could feel the way you squirmed beneath him and it filled him with pride. he would do whatever it took to make sure you were fully satisfied.

"a-andrew... i'm gonna-"

he moans loudly against you at the sound of his real name on your lips. he speeds up and changes the angle just right to have you coming hard on his tongue and fingers. he withdraws his fingers, leaning back over you to kiss you again. you feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as you taste your essence on his tongue. he pulls back just enough to suck your juices off of his fingers, a sight you'd be thinking about before bed for a *long* time. while kissing you, he nudges his boxers down just enough for his leaking cock to spring out. you gasp at the sight of it when he pulls back to grab a condom from his nightstand. you were quite sure he was packing heat, but you weren't expecting the absolute girth of his cock. he rolls the condom on before lining up with you entrance.

"you okay...?"

he asks quietly as he looks down at you. you nod and watch where your bodies are about to meet. he slides the tip in, groaning at how tight you were. his hands rest on your hips, thumbs trying to rub soothingly over the soft skin in hopes that you can relax for him a little bit. he leans over, kissing you gently enough that he finally feels you loosen up so he can push all the way in. you both moan as he bottoms out inside you. you'd never felt this full of anything in your entire life, but it was a welcomed feeling. one hand slips beneath your head while the other rests on your waist as he starts to slowly move in and out of you. the drag of his thick cock against your walls made you whine with need. he rests his forehead against yours, thrusts speeding up just enough to set a steady pace.

"feels good..."

he rasps against your skin, his fingers gently rubbing against your scalp as he held you. this intimate moment made you wonder how you ever able to stay away from him in the first place. this time, you lean up and kiss him, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. his hips stutter slightly as he already feels himself getting close. to make sure you were getting close as well, his hand slips between your bodies and rubs circles into your sensitive clit. your thighs begin to tremble around him, so he grabs onto them tightly and thrusts into you harder than before. the feeling of him so deep in you has your eyes rolling back into your head. his name echoes against the wall as you moan it continuously. he doesn't stop until you're clenching him so tightly he might be forced to slip out. you come with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders. he spills inside the condom at the same time, thrusting a couple more times to help you ride out your high.

he leans down again, kissing you softly before collapsing beside you and pulling you against him. he grabs one of your thighs and drapes it over his waist, keeping you close. your breath starts to calm as you rest against him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. he stares at you, seeing the way your eyes were becoming heavy. he really wasn't interested in letting you go, so he tosses the covers over your bodies. he watches as you fall asleep in his arms, and suddenly everything felt as if it was all falling into place. at some point, even he falls asleep against you.

when you wake up the next morning, he's still next to you, but his eyes are open. he was clearly admiring you while you slept, but that didn't bother you in the slightest. you groan softly, feeling the soft ache between your legs as you move to stretch out your limbs. he runs a gentle hand over your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting up and getting out of the bed.

"i'll start breakfast..."

he spoke quietly and you nodded, getting out of the bed as well. you desperately wanted a shower, so you walk into the bathroom and do so. when you emerge from the bathroom, you walk into the kitchen and see a freshly woken lena sitting at one of the stools. she gets up and hugs you tightly, asking if you'd eat outside with her. you nodded with a soft smile and helped pope carry the food out to the picnic table in the backyard. you all enjoyed your meal in a comfortable silence. lena sat between the two of you, but pope still managed to rub your back every now and again. you smiled, feeling warm inside, like you could definitely get used to this family life with pope and lena.

a/n: IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!!!! sorry if this plot was buns guys i tried my best, but it felt off. maybe i'll write something similar to this in the future when i'm feeling more inspired. but anyway, THANK YOU FOR READING, LOVE YOU LOTS, AND STAY SEXAAAYYY!!!!!! <333

this was requested by these two lovely people: @mimiviolette and @nightpitt !!! thank you so much cuties <3

taglist: @nyxmoretti @popecodysgirl @romantic-insomniac @sunbonesss @in-ky @thedivinegirlyp0p @uncassettodiricordi

you sigh loudly, dramatically. this is the third time this week that sammy has tried to go down on you at work. you've managed to keep him satiated with just dry humping in an elevator ride up until now in fear of getting caught. but when he clasps his shaky hands to actually plead, you finally give in.

you grab the collar of his button up that’s tight around his pudgy neck, pulling him until your back is pressed against the door. sammy panics slightly, his round, freckled face blotching red as he thinks you're moving to leave. he drops to his knees and whines, "please? i’ll be quick! promise!"

you giggle at his utter desperation to taste you. your thighs clench, your panties dampen at his pathetic tone. you reach down and cup his chubby cheek. he immediately nuzzles into the touch with a breathy sound. his meaty hands snake out to grip your knees that are exposed below your pencil skirt.

"i guess you have been a good boy today sammy…" you drawl, slowly draping one leg over his plushy shoulder. his pupils blow wide and his auburn curls shake with his rapid nods of agreement. "just a little taste and then we have to go back to work... okay?"

“fuck- thank you. thank you baby.” moving before you can blink, sammy hikes your leg higher up on his body and dives in between your parted thighs. you throw your head back in a gasp at the first long lick he takes of your clothed pussy. he groans loudly when he finds how wet you are, your whole body vibrates with the sound. your hips instinctively buck towards him and he repeats the noise.

he grips your panties, tugging them up and to the side to make sure the fabric catches on your clit. his bulky forearm that keeps them held there presses you against the door. you moan at the jolt of pleasure from the friction on your sensitive bud. sammy starts to lap you up. switching between tracing his tongue around your dripping entrance and sticking the warm muscle inside you and swirling it. “you taste so good- mmfhf- needed you all- all day sweetheart.”

you’re bitting your fist to hold back your noises, already squeezing your eyes shut at the white hot feeling sparking in your stomach. he paws at your opposite thigh with his free hand without even faltering his tongue’s movements. you’re then fully lifted of the ground and pinned to the wall, your thighs hugging his ears and your fingers gripping his now sweaty curls. it’s only then that you realize that sammy’s whimpering loudly from his place on his knees.

“s-sammy baby… you have to- ohmygod- have to be quiet.” he shakes his head rapidly. his nose rubs against your clit that’s already sensitive from the lace digging there. you squeal at the dual stimulation the firm stroking adds on top of his tongue slurping inside you. he presses his vein corded forearm harder into your abdomen to add even more pressure. your vision blurs at the edges.

“oh god! sammy im gonna- oh fuck!” your thighs start to shake around him as the tingling in your body grows tangible. bright and hot. you hear him release a whine in repsonse. pathetic and high pitched. you steal a glance down to see sammy bryant on his knees. eyes squeezed shut in pleasure of his own from licking your most intimate area. his meaty hips are humping into air. into nothing.

the sight is so desperate and wanting that you come with a muffled cry into your palm. legs shaking, walls fluttering and toes curling. he makes out with your achey core during your rise, peak and come down. when he's licked up every last drop of your orgasm, you sag against the door. sammy fixes your panties, then gently places you down.

rising to his full height, he gathers you in his strong arms and hugs you sweetly. his pudge you love so much warms you instantly. he kisses your cheeks and nose as you snuggle into him, before moving to place a soft one to your forehead.

Dr. Jack Abbot. Night shift attending in the ED. He had interrupted one of your evening meals, and seemed put out when he found his spot already taken. His annoyance seemed to fade when you offered him a home made cookie. After that, you found yourself cooking for two. 

***

“You know, you can just tell me what you want to eat and I’ll make it” you said, handing him the Tupperware container full of pasta salad. 

“You’re not my personal chef, green beans. Besides, I like the surprise” Jack said, taking the plastic tub, his fingers brushing yours. 

“Suit yourself” you murmured, but couldn’t help the tiny smile that bloomed when you heard your newest nickname. Every night you saw him, you got a new one to add to your list. 

“Thanks, peanut”

“What you got tonight, tiramisu?”

“Not bad, apple pie”

You munched on your food quietly, looking out at the darkening Pittsburgh skyline. You and Jack worked different shifts; you were ending your day while he was starting his, but you never minded staying an extra hour or two if it meant you got to watch the sunset with him. 

“You never thought of culinary school?” Jack asked after a moment.

“At one point, I guess. But it’s so stressful. Like, ‘The Bear’ or something” you said, shrugging slightly. 

Jack looked over at you, the red glow of the evening dusting his salt and pepper hair with copper. His silence told you everything; he had no clue what you were talking about. 

“The Bear. You’ve never seen it? It’s a show about a restaurant and the main guy is like- super stressed and… just watch it, Jack. First season is good” you said, trying to keep your amusement off your face. 

“You say it like this isn’t super stressful” Jack said, motioning down to the hospital below them. 

“Well, I mean… it is. But, I know what I’m doing” you said, shrugging again.

“You’re one confident doctor” he smirked, enjoying your nonchalance. 

“Oh, like you’re not? I know what they call you down there, cowboy” you laughed quietly. 

“So you’d be a confident chef too” he said, nodding quickly. 

“The second someone sent back a plate, I’d lock myself in the freezer. At least if you don’t like something, you’ve never said it” you snorted, glancing down at his mostly finished container. 

“You’ve never made anything I don’t like. Your cooking is the best” Jack said quietly, his voice low and gruff as usual. 

“You’re sweet” you murmured, and looked back at the skyline, hoping that the slowly growing orange dusk disguised the flush rising to your face.. 

A silence fell over you both as you both finished up your meals. Jack always tucked everything back into your little reusable grocery bag neatly, and that night was no exception. Again, your fingers brushed as he took your container from you. 

“You gonna watch that with me then?” Jack asked after a long moment. 

You look over, a bit surprised. But he’s looking right back at you, his gaze steady. 

“You want to watch The Bear with me?” You asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, green beans. And then we can go out for a dinner you don’t have to cook” he continued, still looking at you seriously. 

You paused, blinking quickly. Was Jack asking you out? For real? 

“Now, don’t think I’m being a creepy old man-” he began, huffing quietly, his eyebrows quirking up. 

“No, no I don’t think that at all- that sounds good. Sorry, I was just surprised-” you said quickly, feeling your heart rate spiking in your chest. 

Jack scoffed quietly and looked back at the skyline for a moment before looking back at you. 

“I’m not that old, I know what a Netflix and chill is, and this isn’t it-”

“What?” You laughed suddenly, taken aback.

“Yeah, I know. You put on a show and invite a girl over- but I’m a grown man, we can go out for dinner because I like you, green beans, and I’d like to do this properly-” he said. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a buoyancy fill you as you took in his words.

“I like you, green beans” 

Jack frowned at you, as if offended by your laughter. 

“I’d love to watch The Bear and go to dinner with you” you said, unable to keep the smile from your face. You turned back to the view, still feeling the warmth of your blush on your face. 

“Alright then, we’ll go. Figure out our schedules” Jack said, looking out at the view as well. 

“God, lookin’ at me like I spit out your food” he mumbles after a moment, shrugging slightly.

“I was just surprised, I told you” you said, a quiet chuckle leaving you.

“I don’t know how. I wasn’t climbing these stairs every night just for dinner, I like hanging out with you too, you know-” Jack continued, his eyebrows raising again.

“I know, I know, I like hanging out with you too” you said reassuringly. 

A brief silence fell over you again. Comfortable, like usual between the two of you. 

“You know, it’s not even on Netflix. It’s on Disney” you quipped. 

You were more than aware that part of the problem came from the fact you’d barely seen your boyfriend all week. You were used to working with him, spending your time outside of the hospital with him. For the last five days you’d only gotten to see him for a few minutes at work during shift change. You were never agreeing to cover days again no matter how much Dana and Robby both begged.

You headed to the hub to check on some lab results Langdon had asked you to keep an eye out for. You’d checked half an hour ago then got pulled into taking care of patients.

“Hey!” someone called out as you walked past a room. You stopped and stepped backward. “Finally,” the man in the bed said when you met his eye. “Get me some water.”

“I’ll have someone get right back to you, sir,” you said. He wasn’t your patient and you didn’t have time to look up if he was NPO or not.

“No, you get it, you fucking bitch!” he practically screamed.

Your brows rose as you just stared at him. “Okay.” You walked off, leaving him shouting behind you.

Dana stood a short distance away looking between you and the room you’d never entered. She stepped into the doorway. “Sir, you need to stop right now or I will have you escorted out of the hospital. Do you understand?”

“You can’t just fucking—”

“Hey,” she snapped, cutting him off. “Shut it. You’re NPO anyway. No water, no food.”

With that she left the room, her eyes searching for you. She knew you’d been having a horrible day and that you were missing Jack on top of it. She found you talking to Emma and smiled softly. The young nurse had taken a liking to you. Emma smiled at whatever you’d said and nodded before hurrying off. Dana headed toward you but before she could reach you, Langdon suddenly appeared, a scowl on his face. “I thought I told you to keep an eye out for the labs on Reynolds. This says they’ve been back for twenty minutes.”

You sighed and turned to face the resident. “I was just going to check. I do have other tasks to see to, Dr. Langdon.”

Frank stepped closer, trying to make himself look taller. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

Dana was ready to intervene but realized she didn’t need to. Not with you.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Who do you think you are? I’m a nurse and a damn good one. I am not your lackey or your slave. You want something done? You ask. Nicely. If that’s all, I’ve got shit to do.”

Her gaze trailed you as you walked over to the hub. Jesse walked by and Dana reached out and grasped his wrist to halt his steps. “Langdon’s on the list.”

Jesse’s brows shot up in surprise. “How long?”

Dana shrugged. “Rest of the day at least. We’ll see if he learns his lesson.”

He turned to eye the doctor in question then followed Dana’s gaze to you. “What’d he do?”

“When I tell you to do something, you do it,” she said mimicking Frank.

Jesse blew out a breath. “God, he’s an idiot. I’ll spread the word. You gonna tell Robby?”

She hummed in agreement and nodded. “Abbot, too. Kid will be on triage for a week.”

Knowing things would be taken care of, Dana finally got the chance to make her way to you. She rubbed your shoulder. “How you doing, sweetheart?”

You glanced at her and leaned back in your chair. “This has been the absolute worst day, Dana.”

She smiled. “Yeah. It has. Why don’t you take a break and call Jack?”

You shook your head. “No. He hasn’t been sleeping well with us on opposite shifts.” You shrugged. “He manages just fine when we sleep at our own places so I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Uh huh. And before this week when was the last time you did that?”

The longer it took you to answer, the bigger Dana’s smile got.

“Oh, shut up,” you finally said before heading to check on a patient.

Robby appeared at the hub, grabbing a tablet. “I’m gonna be sorry to see her go back to nights, but I will be thrilled to not have to listen to Jack bitch about it anymore.”

Dana chuckled as she slipped on her glasses to look at something on the computer. “Oh, by the way,” she said casually. “Langdon’s on the list.”

Robby blinked several times. “Who did he piss off?”

She looked pointedly in the direction where you had just disappeared.

“He didn’t.”

Dana nodded.

Robby ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t think he was that stupid.”

Hours passed and with them came more bitchy patients and cranky coworkers. Frank was half losing his mind as none of the nurses would do anything for him that he was fully capable of doing himself. Patient care was never compromised, but if he wanted labs checked on or a sandwich fetched, all the nurses were suddenly otherwise occupied. It made you chuckle every time you saw it. Idiot.

When he’d tried to complain to Robby, he found himself redirected to triage to ‘consider his life choices’. He kept walking through the department to see if there were any cases he could jump on, which turned out to be fortunate for you.

“When am I going to get something else for my pain?” Leonard Smith grumbled from the bed. He was in for abdominal pain and waiting on test results.

You checked his chart then the time. “You’re not due for another dose quite yet. I’ll check with the doctor and see if there’s something else we can give you.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. You frowned as his blood pressure displayed then you realized the cuff was out of place. You moved over to fix it so you could get an accurate reading. As soon as you’d finished, a hand wrapped around your wrist. His hold wasn’t tight. Not yet.

“Let go of me.”

“Get me some more pain meds. This fucking hurts.”

You tried to pull your hand from his grip but he only tightened it.

“Hul—” was all you managed to get out before he jerked you forward with all of his considerable strength and your side collided with the bed rail, forcing all the air from your lungs with a grunt.

Pain flared through you and before you could suck in a good breath, Frank ran into the room shouting, “Hula hoop in five” over his shoulder.

“Release her. Right now,” he demanded as he grabbed both of the man’s wrists, but the patient only seemed to hold onto you more tightly. People poured into the room as your eyes flooded with tears. You jerked your arm just as Langdon got Smith to let go and your elbow flew back and hit the asshole in the nose. His howl of pain cut through the air but you ignored it.

Hands found your arms and steered you from the room. It took a moment for you to realize Dana and Robby were talking to you as they led you into a different room. You sucked in a breath and willed yourself to focus, to calm down.

“You’re okay,” Robby said as he helped you sit on the edge of the bed. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.”

You followed the breathing pattern he was doing, shaky but better than you had been. Seeing you’d calmed somewhat, Robby looked at Dana. “Call Jack.”

“No,” you said instantly.

Both of them looked at you with lifted brows and wide eyes.

You shook your head. “He’s slept like shit all week, Robby. I’m not bleeding. No head injury. It can wait.”

Robby huffed as he pressed his lips together. “He would want to know about this.”

“And I’ll tell him. Later.”

Robby shook his head and you could tell he wanted to argue but thankfully he didn’t. “What exactly happened?”

You went through the story as quickly and precisely as you could. When you finished he looked first at your already bruising wrist then at your ribs. He pressed gently and you hissed as pain flared. “Get the portable x-ray in here for these ribs. Might as well do the wrist just to be sure,” he instructed.

“That’s not necessary, Robby. My wrist is fine and even if the ribs are broken, it’s minor. The treatment will be the same.”

He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “If they’re broken, you’re going to need more than the three days I’m already making you take.”

“Robby—”

“You can get the scans or I can call Jack. Your choice.”

You said nothing, just gave him a disgruntled expression which you supposed was answer enough. He left after telling Dana to let him know when the x-rays were done. Dana shook her head as she typed on the computer. “You’re as stubborn as that man of yours. You know he’s gonna be pissed you didn’t call.”

“I’ll handle it. I’m just ready for this day to be over.”

“Well, you’re in luck because once your workup is finished you’re going home,” Dana said turning to you.

“No, Dana,” you pleaded. “If Robby’s making me take three days off, I need the money. I’ll work on admin stuff or something. Please.”

She sighed. “Let’s see what the scans say first.”

Jack was in a mood when he arrived three hours early for his shift. He knew it, but there didn’t seem much he could do about it. He hadn’t seen you for more than a few minutes at a time all week and it was driving him insane. On top of that, he was only catching a couple hours of sleep at a time. He’d come in early just to get a chance to spend some time with you, even if you were working.

He didn’t even have the opportunity to find you before he was pulled into a trauma, passing his bag off to a nurse. His gaze kept finding the door as he worked to save a middle schooler that had been hit by a car. He was used to working with you, to the rhythm the two of you had when you worked together. As everything he tried failed, he couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, things would have been different if you were there with him.

They spent forty-five minutes working on the boy before they called it. Jack stripped his PPE and tossed it in the bin before walking out of the room. His ear immediately picked up the sound of your quiet laughter as you sat at a computer at the hub, Perlah leaning on the counter in front of you telling you something.

He’d been trying to save the life of a child and you’d been here just…what? Gossiping? Irritation slithered up Jack’s spine and as soon as Perlah stepped away, he strode straight to you. He ignored the way your eyes lit up when you saw him as he took in the granola bar in your hand and the juice box at your elbow. Were you fucking serious?

“Jack—”

He cut you off with a scowl. “I’m glad you have time to sit on your fucking ass and have a snack while patients are fucking dying. We could have used your help in there. I could have used your help in there, but don’t let me fucking interrupt.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back. When he saw the tears in your eyes and the tremble in your bottom lip, he wanted to fall at your feet and beg forgiveness. “Honey—”

“Don’t you honey her, you asshole. Fuck off, Abbot,” Dana snapped, resting a hand on your shoulder. When he hesitated, she pointed down the hallway. “You heard me. Go.”

He did as ordered, shoulders slumped and head bowed. God, he was a fucking idiot.

He waited for an hour before circling back to the hub, hoping he could find you or Dana would at least not bite his head off for looking for you. Robby arrived at the same time, glancing around before looking at Dana and asking where you were. Jack grabbed a tablet and pretended he wasn’t listening. “Did you finally get her to go home?”

At that, Jack’s head snapped up. “Why would she need to go home?”

Robby’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Well, he didn’t exactly give her the chance, did you, Jack?” Dana said, turning to face him.

Robby looked between the two of them. “What did I miss?”

“Abbot here decided to yell at her for taking a break as soon as he saw her.” Dana’s voice was flat and distinctly unimpressed.

Robby ran a hand down his face. “Of all the days…”

“Okay, I fucked up. I get it. Now can someone please tell me what the hell is going on with my girlfriend?”

So, Dana filled him in on your day, starting with the asshole groping you in chairs, to the bitchy patients, to Frank, Robby adding in his two cents occasionally.

And Jack hated that you’d had such an awful day, more that he’d added to it, but it still didn’t answer his question. “That doesn’t explain why she went home.”

Robby and Dana exchanged a look before Robby sighed. “There was an incident with a patient. He grabbed her, pulled her into the bedrail.” Jack froze. “She sprained her wrist and bruised three, maybe four, ribs on her right side.”

“Why the fuck didn’t someone call me?” he asked, feeling nauseous as he pulled out his phone to text Shen.

Dana stared at him with an arched brow. “Because she begged us not to. Said you needed your sleep.”

Jesus, he was an asshole.

You laid on your side on your couch, stretched out due to your ribs when normally you’d curl into a ball. One of your softest blankets was wrapped around your shoulders as you cried. You wiped at your cheeks and sniffed into your tissue. You’d cry for a while then think you were finished, only to start up all over again. And the sobbing hurt your sore ribs. Which only made you cry more.

You didn’t hear your front door opening though it must have because the next thing you knew, Jack was kneeling on the floor in front of you. “Oh, baby.” His hand rested on your cheek and you jerked backward, biting back a wince.

Your hands hastily wiped at your cheeks as you pushed yourself upright. You cleared your throat but didn’t look at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“Shen’s covering for me.” He moved closer, only for you to press yourself into the corner of the couch. He stopped and sighed. “Baby, I am so sorry. I came to work early so I could see you. Instead, I got pulled into a trauma and the whole time I just kept thinking if you were there maybe we could save him. Then we lost him and I heard you laughing with Perlah and…I’m a dick”

“Why are you here, Jack?” You were so done with this day and didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to reassure your boyfriend that you didn’t hate him.

“Because I love you and I’m sorry. I went to find you to apologize and found out you’d gone home. Dana and Robby filled me in on everything that happened today.”

“Are you actually sorry or do you just feel guilty?”

He pushed himself up to sit on the couch beside you, leaving just enough space between you that he wasn’t touching you. “I am so fucking sorry. I was in a foul mood and took it out on you, the absolute last person I should be doing that to. Please forgive me?”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his tone. And frankly, you just wanted to cuddle with your boyfriend and forget this day ever happened. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

Tension visibly flowed from him as he scooted closer taking your hands in his. He kissed the back of each one before kissing the bruises ringing your wrist. “First, we’re going to get changed into more comfortable clothing and while we do that, I’m going to look at those ribs.”

“They’re fine, Jack. Robby cleared me,” you insisted.

“Yeah, well, Robby’s not me.” He leaned forward to kiss first one cheek, then the other before kissing your forehead and taking a deep breath. He pulled back to look at you again. “I’m going to check your ribs, then we’ll order food and curl up on the couch together while we watch whatever you want. Sound good?”

“That sounds kind of perfect actually.”

“I really am sorry, baby. It kills me that I made you cry.”

You cupped the side of his face with your hand, tracing your thumb across his skin. “It wasn’t just you. It was the whole day. All I wanted was you and then…” You sucked in a breath as a sob threatened. You did not want to cry anymore than you already had.

Jack shushed you and shifted the two of you so he could wrap an arm around you. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I won’t be an asshole anymore.”

You huffed a laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”

“If you weren’t hurt, I would pinch your side for that one. I won’t be an asshole anymore today. How’s that?”

“That I’ll believe.” You nuzzled into his side. “I love you, Jack.”

“Hi Rochelle, we’re gonna get you some pain meds as soon as we can. Can you tell me if you’re experiencing any dizziness or nausea?” McKay starts as they enter trauma two. from a distance Victoria and Joy watch in disbelief,

“Is that Rochelle King?” Victoria says walking over to trauma two to get a quick peek. Joy follows quickly behind,

“Whoever it is, they’re a patient. One of you find out who her agent is or whatever she needs,” Dana calls out to the two med students. Joy walks to the desk begrudgingly. “Who the hell even is she?” Dana asks Joy as she takes her phone out to find the correct phone number,

“Seriously? She just won an Oscar for that Audrey Hepburn biopic? She’s in Pittsburgh filming for the new X-Files reboot,” Joy looks at her unimpressed as Dana blinks, still confused. Joy passes her phone over and Dana’s eyes widen in surprise as she stares at the headshot of you. she hasn’t seen you in years and you were almost unrecognizable. there’s a new look in your eyes, a less naïve and more ambitious look that only those who knew you previously would notice. Dana hands the phone back to Joy,

“Call her, let her know we have her actress here.” Dana leaves and sees Robby leaving trauma two. She speeds over to him, just as he’s taking his plastic gloves off,

“How’s our Hollywood star?” Dana starts.

“Her?” Robby turns around looking back at Rochelle as they pull her gurney out. 

“What, you didn’t see that movie she was in? She won an Oscar for it.”

“Nope, I’m too busy saving lives here to watch anything.” Robby looks up at the patient board to see who’s next,

“Yeah, well the agent she was screaming about? Her agent is your ex-girlfriend,” Robby looks at Dana with panic before shaking his head, concealing his initial fright with a straight face. “You’ve got about four hours left, Robinavitch, I’m sure you can handle her until Abbot is in.” 

Robby’s palms run up his face in agitation. of course, right as his shift was on its last few hours, he’s forced to face you. it felt like an impending doom that the universe sent him for all his mistakes he made while with you.

“I refuse to sit here any fucking longer and wait for you! I can’t believe I gave up my life for this… I be should in school, making a name for myself but instead I’m in fucking Pittsburgh playing housewife to you!” you yell with hot tears rushing down your face, voice cracking as you struggle to finish your sentence. Robby stands in the middle of your shared living room, hands on his hips, quietly taking all of it. he looks as if he’s disassociated from the conversation, waiting for it to be over so he can move on with his night,

“You done?” Robby says with a mildly condescending tone. 

“Yeah, actually, I’m fucking done.” you walk to your shared bedroom, throwing clothes into a bag, rushing to get out. Robby doesn’t put up a fight, he simply sits on the couch, throwing his legs up on the coffee table. he’s been through this before with you. he doesn’t think you’ll get far and thinks it’s only a matter of time before you come running back. you needed him to survive, or so he thought. you took everything you could and bought a plane ticket heading west, never looking back. since then, you’ve been untraceable (though it’s not like he went looking for you anyways).

the sound of heels clicking against the linoleum floors snaps him out of the memory. you enter the ER dressed in a clean, well tailored designer outfit, carrying a matching bag with all sorts of papers poking out. your heavy eye makeup matches your blown out hair and minimalistic jewellery. you had your phone to your ear, quickly shutting it off as you approach the workstations,

“Dana!” you say with your arms open, embracing her. Dana squeezes you tightly in response. you look wildly different from the last time Robby saw you. if you passed him in the street, he wouldn’t be able to recognize you but there was something about your new look though that Robby wasn’t entirely buying. he felt as if he could see right through your alleged act, how could you mature so quickly from being someone who used to be so dependant on him? 

“Hey kid!” Dana says as she pulls away, her hands still gripping your forearms. “Look at you! All grown up!” you smile big at her, relishing in her kindness, 

“Thank you! Listen, I’m here for my client, Rochelle King?” in the corner of your eye, Robby approaches,

“She’s resting.” 

“Robby, long time no see,” you say, adjusting your posture so you’re standing a bit taller now. Dana slowly backs away as she watches you try to keep your composure. Victoria and Joy’s heads poke up in interest, observing from not too far away. “You know, I asked them to take her to Westbridge, but apparently PTMC was much closer.” you say, trying to take the opportunity to get a quick jab at him,

“We put her on some pain medication and are waiting on her CT results back in case she has any symptoms of a brain bleed. She’s got a concussion, an ankle fracture and some pretty bad road rash, but she’s lucky to be alive.” you nod at his diagnosis, 

“So where is she?” Robby stretches his arm out, guiding you down the ER,

“Robby’s ex is Rochelle King's agent?” Victoria asks Dana, 

“And if she is, he fumbled. Hard.” Joy continues. 

“Don’t you two have patients to check on? Chop chop, let’s go!” Dana claps her hands, breaking up the scene.

the curtains inside the ER room are closed and security stands in front of the room. before Robby opens the door he turns to you, 

“Did I get a chance to say that you look amazing?” Robby says quietly, making sure only you could hear. 

“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?” your eyes squinting slightly in suspicion. 

“But between us, I’m not buying it,” you scoff at his caveat. 

“You can convince Dana and the rest of this ER that you’re a big Hollywood agent, but deep down you’re still a little girl, scared to live without someone taking care of her twenty-four seven.” 

“Unbelievable. You’re still so self-centered as always, Robinavitch. You really can’t believe that I actually made a life for myself after you.” you shake your head in shock and disappointment before entering the room. Robby follows close behind. 

“Hi!” you say softly to Rochelle, something about the tone of your voice makes Robby’s heart ache, it’s reminiscent of the way you used to speak to him when he’d come home from a rough shift,

“Miss King, we’d like to keep you overnight for observation while you wait on your results back. We don’t suspect any brain bleeding at this time but we’d like to just monitor you in case anything comes up.” your client stays quiet, nodding at the new information, 

“That’s all, thank you Doctor Robby.” you dismiss him, keeping your eyes on Rochelle. you give her a soft smile as you grab her hand. you don’t care to look at him, or give him any attention besides what’s necessary. you’re technically still working, and you weren’t going to let your ex get in the way of that. Robby watches as you pull out papers from your bag before exiting the room. 

maybe Robby will be okay with you here. an hour has passed since he dropped you off in the ER room and there’s three more to go before he can clock out and hopefully never see you again. through the ambulance bay, Jack arrives early than usual, camo backpack slung over his shoulder,

“What’re you doing here? You don’t come in till six usually.” Robby says as he double checks his watch for the time,

“Yeah, I’ve got a SWAT friend coming in for a wound check up, figured I might as well just come in and do it myself.” 

as if the universe's timing couldn’t be worse, you come out of your clients room and walk over to Dana,

“Hey Dana, are there any issues with ordering food to the hospital? My client refuses to eat anything right now unless it’s a protein smoothie.” from a distance, Jack sees you chatting with Dana, 

“Is that who I think it is?” Jack chuckles in amusement, “Didn’t think this place couldn’t get worse for you, brother.” Robby sighs as Jack gives him a sympathetic pat on the back. 

“She’s an agent for some big actress who got into an accident today. I’ll give you the rundown in a bit.” Jack stares, scanning you from head to toe. with your clothes fitting in all the right places, accentuating your waistline and hips, he can’t help but stare. 

“She looks good.” Jack says, testing the waters. 

“Yeah? She’s all yours if you can handle that.” Robby jokes. it’s the first genuine laugh Robby has had all day but Jack keeps a straight face, taking his statement seriously. you feel the burning gaze of the two men as Dana passes you a sticky note with the hospital's info. your eyes meet Jack’s first, cracking a big smile on your face. he looks a bit older than the last time you saw him, and damn has time done him well. his salt and pepper hair, deep wrinkles around his eyes, if you were put in a room with him, you aren’t sure how you’d act. 

“Hi Jack!” you say throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his. Jack wraps his arms around your waist, leaving his hands there as you pull back. 

“Hi sweetheart, long time no see. You look beautiful.” sweetheart? beautiful? Robby thinks.

“It’s what happens when you leave Pittsburgh, what can I say?” you say using your fingers to flaunt your face, letting out a giggle.

“Heard you’re here with some big actress? You live in Hollywood now?” Robby’s head tilts as he looks at Jack in confusion. 

“Yeah actually, it’s been great. I’m a talent agent to a few actors and I’m in town for a bit while we film a reboot for a series.” you beam, proud of how you’ve established yourself.

“Yeah? Well you gotta tell me about it over drinks sometime while you’re here.” Robby couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. did Jack not remember all the times Robby had complained to him about another fight you two had? or that time Robby had to sleep on Jack’s couch?

“If you’ll excuse us, we have jobs to do.” Robby says as he interrupts the moment. Dana raises her eyebrows from a distance, catching Robby’s attention. you finally look at Robby,

“Good, so do I.” you say quickly looking back at Jack, giving him a wink. Jack shakes his head as he watches you walk away. he knows you’re trouble, and he’s willing to bet everything on you. as Jack heads to his locker, Dana quickly pulls Robby aside,

“What the hell was that? That poor girl has already been through enough of your bullshit.” Robby puts on an innocent face as Dana interrogates him,

“This is an ER, not a speed dating event and we have work to do,”

“Real professional of you, Robby. I almost believe you.” Robby walks away as Dana finishes her sentence. three more hours, just three more he repeats to himself. 

𝜗ৎ 

the room is quiet in comparison to the ongoing chaos outside in the ER. you type away at new emails before a soft knock at the door that awakens your client,

“Come in.” she mumbles, shuffling around in the bed. Jack and Robby enter the room together as you push your laptop aside. 

“How’re you doing Miss King?” Robby starts as he examines her vitals. his eyes quickly glancing at you before bringing his full attention back to the patient. she groans in response, “Hurts.” she mumbles. while Robby slowly begins unraveling her bandages, Jack puts his hand on your shoulder softly,

“You doin’ okay?” you nod in response. the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Robby or Rochelle,

“Wounds look like they’re healing okay, no signs of infection so far. Your CT scans came back good as well so no risk of internal bleeding,” Robby turns to Jack who is standing beside you, “Let’s up her pain meds and keep an eye on the wound tonight. Should be okay to discharge by the morning.” as Robby makes his way out of the room, Jack quickly turns back to you again,

“You let me know if you need anything, got it?” you nod in silence again as he follows the other attending. as the door shuts, your client turns to you, 

“What was that?” she says, eyebrows raised and with a smirk similar to a cheshire cat,

“It’s nothing, he’s a friend– an acquaintance even. I’ve known him for a long time,” you say as you pull your laptop back out. she doesn’t break her disbelieving stare, waiting for you to confess, “You’re high on pain meds, go back to sleep.” 

“I might be high, but I know when a guy is really into you like that,” you shake your head as she turns over, “Plus he’s hot! My god, should I go for older guys? Honestly, and I mean it respectfully, if you don’t jump on him, I will!” you laugh at her drug induced ramble, trying your best to keep things professional. 

just as you’re about to respond to another email, your phone begins buzzing. you’re quick to step out of the room and rush towards the ambulance bay exit. like a puppy, Jack’s eyes trail after you as you dash out answering the call,

“You know I was kinda joking when I said she was all yours?” Robby says sliding beside him,

“Were you? What happened to never wanting to see her again?” Jack challenges,

“All I’m saying is that I don’t believe she’s changed and I don’t think you should either.” Robby says with his hands up in surrender,

“Well I’m willing to be the one to find out.”

Robby shouldn’t feel threatened by Jack’s determination. he deemed that he was over you long before your relationship ended and yet he hated every time Jack made a pass at you (and even more that you were eating it up). 

outside, the red light of the ‘Emergency’ sign above illuminates you,

“I promise you, if you don’t change that stunt team and you don’t do another pass at cast and crew safety, you’ll need to find another actress and we both know you’re in too deep to do that at this stage,” Jack walks outside to see you pacing back and forth. the click of your heels fill the silence while you listen to whoever you have on the phone, “Great, I’ll have that contract sent to you shortly, thank you.” you shut your phone off letting out a deep breath. Jack waits until you’ve had a second to decompress before approaching,

“Everything okay? Saw you running out the ER, just thought I’d check on you.” you spin around to see Jack with his hands behind his back slowly walking towards you. he stops at a safe distance standing beside, looking out at the nearby road with you.

“Yeah, producers just wanna know when they can start filming her scenes again, it’s nothing really.” your tense shoulders drop as it becomes quiet again, cars passing by filling the silent void, 

“Y’know, I missed seeing you around.”

“Really? I thought I was a mess back then. I feel like my terrible decisions showed that.” 

“Like being with Robby?” you huff in amusement as Jack’s question. 

“Yeah, kinda. But it led me to meeting you…” there’s a brief pause, “And Dana,” you add. seeing Jack after years of being away has made you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time. when you left for LA, you refused to wear your heart on your sleeve again and being around him has brought something out in you. 

the way he’s checked on specifically you multiple times since arriving, the interest he has in the life and career you’ve built, and let’s not forget how much more handsome he’s become. you don’t feel like he’s making you smaller being around him, he embraces your change. he treats you like an adult and like someone who is capable, 

“The last time I was in Pittsburgh, I didn’t really know what I wanted. I just blindly followed a man who was essentially leading me nowhere.” you turn to face Jack. he mirrors your movement standing closer to you now,

“Have you figured out what you want now?”

“Yeah, I have.” 

𝜗ৎ 

thirty minutes left, Robby kept repeating to himself. thirty more minutes and he could finally go home, escape the sight of you, escape Jack’s attempts at flirting and repress any resurfacing feelings or memories he had of your time together. 

though, he couldn’t help but remember the way you used to laugh when you rode on the back on his Bonneville, or the little scream you let out when he would pick you up and spin you around after coming home. he tries to keep busy to avoid any old feelings resurfacing but he can’t help it when the last four hours have been spent watching you openly flirt with his best friend,

“Princess, have you seen Jack?” Robby asks, 

“You could try triage? I think he mentioned something about a wound check for a friend?” Robby flashes a thankful smile and heads over. he just needs to brief Jack on one more patient then he’s out of there.

in the nearby supply closet, Jack pushes you against the wall kissing you desperately as if he’s waited years for this exact moment. you moan as Jack takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. his knee pushes your legs apart and settles in between, allowing you to gently grind yourself against him. he slowly begins kissing down your neck, 

“Fuck.” you moan lowly as he marks the sweet spot on your neck. Jack quietly shushes you and puts his hand on your mouth,

“You’ll be my good girl and stay quiet, right?” you nod vigorously, his hand staying on your mouth, following your nodding movements. “Yeah, you’re my good girl.” he kissed and marked your neck, desperately wanting to show everyone he’s yours. 

Robby’s head pops in triage, doing a quick pass and even going towards the lobby to see if Jack is around. still nowhere to be found, Robby runs up the stairs towards the rooftop next. 

Jack slowly undoes the buttons of your top as he kisses up your neck again, making his way back to your lips. he hovers over them for a second whispering,

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you.” he kisses you again, struggling with the buttons of your top. your fingers run through his grey curls, stopping at the roots to gently pull and tilt his head away from yours. A quiet groan slips from him at the loss of contact with your lips,

“Tell me how long,” you whisper with a seductive smile. Jack smiles back as he looks down at you, hands still in his hair,

“Since the second I met you, I didn’t care that you were Robby’s, I always knew you’d end up here with me,” he confesses. “And I’m not letting you go, I’m not making the same fucking mistake.” you pull him back in again for an even deeper kiss than before. 

“Robby!” Doctor McKay calls out from a room. Robby dreadfully turns around. fifteen minutes he reminds himself as he walks over, 

“I can’t find Abbot and I need an attending’s opinion on this.” as Cassie goes to unravel a bandaged wound, Robby turns to grab some disposable gloves before seeing the box is empty,

“Hold that thought, let me grab a new box of gloves.” Robby says turning around to head towards the supply closet. Robby turns his head left and right, looking around as he heads towards the closet, still unable to find the night shift attending. he couldn’t have gone far, not when he should be doing his usual nightcrawler huddle with the night shift now. 

the supply closet door swings open. forcing Jack to stumble away from you. your eyes meet first with Robby’s whose eyes quickly dart to Jack’s. his lips are sticky with your lip gloss, and his short grey hair is somehow sticking in every direction possible. something about the thrill of being caught by Robby makes you lick your lips and beam a vicious smile at him. he looks back at you mortified, unable to determine if he should start yelling in anger or just close the door and pretend nothing happened. maybe this is your cue to leave and check back up on your emails and missed calls and texts. Jack and Robby turn to watch you pull a small rectangular paper out of your pocket, pressing it to Jack’s chest,

“I’ll be in town for a little longer.” you say, walking out of the closet back to the assigned room of your client. Princess watches you from a distance as you smooth your hair out and redo the buttons on your shirt. she quickly turns to Perlah to relay what she just witnessed. 

Robby stands in the closet doorway still, hands on his hips as Jack looks at the small business card. one side is simply your first and last name on a sleek blank background. on the other side is your phone number and a small description at bottom:

“Talent Agent, Based in Los Angeles”

the exact opposite, of the tasmanian devil you brought home to him. a long haired golden mini dachshund. what good is a mini dachshund? not even big enough to fight off any intruders.

you tell him you've named her waffle. he should've said no. in fact, he did say no. then you started, with the kisses, and the sweet talk. he can't deny his baby. he tries and always fails.

waffle, is nothing but trouble. he's got a wife and a dog for trouble. trouble. trouble. trouble. it seems to follow him wherever he goes. the dog is more spoiled than you are. he's pretty sure you bought her a leash with swarovski crystals in it. he can't prove it yet, but he's waiting for the credit statement to come in. he just knows it.

it started off small. little things. but little things pile up overtime.

first, there's toys all over the stairs. he falls halfway down the stairs, grabbing onto the railing for some stability. it's one of his first weekends off in forever. "honey!" he yells on his ass. a pink chew bone is in his peripheral, the object of his current demise. "your dog is leaving shit on the stairs!"

you slip out of bed, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, waffle padding behind you. "what's wrong baby?" you push down the stairs groggy.

sammy is seething. his teeth are gritted. "waffle," he starts with vitriol, "left one of her chew bones on the damn stairs."

you help him up from his ass, not that he needed your assistance. though clearly, he could take a chill pill. you kiss his cheek. "morning baby."

he exhales heavily from his nose, "honey did you hear me? almost fell down the stairs and died. you would've had a vegetable for a husband."

"mm," you grunt. "glad you're still with us." you press a chaste kiss to his lips. "what do you want for breakfast?" you don't give him a chance to answer, before you walk down to the kitchen.

then, she started getting up on the couch. she'd tried it before. little jumps here and there. she'd landed on her back a few times. sammy, always rushes to her rescue. scooping her up in his arms rubbing her back. he heard somewhere minis have sensitive backs.

"you really gotta stop doing that." he talks to her, in full fledged conversation.

he never thinks, she'll actually find her way up to the couch. that's ridiculous. the little thing doesn't weigh more than ten pounds. but then, you got her a ramp. sammy thinks it's one of your little gadgets or something. he barely pays it attention till he sees it in action.

he's watching the game. you're cooking up some dinner. not a bad way to end the night. waffle comes waltzing into the living room, strutting her way up the ramp and onto the couch. she finds her way onto sammy's lap. he's not paying attention. at first he thinks it's a stray throw pillow. you're always decorating the house. that is until he hears a whining in his lap. he looks down and he can't believe it.

"honey," he calls over. "your dog's on the couch." he nurses his beer.

you don't even peer over from the kitchen. "yeah baby," you say casually. "she does that from time to time. just rub under her chin." sammy rolls his eyes. his finger runs under the golden girl's chin, tickled by her baby whiskers.

"she shouldn't be on the couch, honey." he calls over, though still stroking the baby.

"babe," you say ignoring the subject all together. "you want quinoa or rice tonight? the chicken should be done soon."

sammy squeezes his nose bridge. "quinoa's good baby." he calls back to you.

then, you pushed him to the edge. he was fine with her sleeping in your room. though, that defeats the purpose of a dog. since, they're supposed to guard the home, she should be downstairs. in a crate. but, you begged and begged to keep her upstairs. sammy just can't deny you. he never tells you no, even if he ends up shooting himself in the foot.

you'd set up a portion of the room for her. a little bed with her name monogrammed into it. she's got some blankets. even a few toys, in her area. the squeaking in the middle of the night drives him crazy. but he can ignore it, when you cuddle up into him in the middle of the night. your soft skin ontop of his.

it's fine. it's fine. that's all he keeps telling himself.

he comes home late one night. it's been a long shift. he missed you. he can't wait to just lay down and snuggle. he's slipped off his work shoes, tie's already loosened, buttons half undone. you'll be mad in the morning he didn't take a shower before he got in bed, but none of that matters now, as the sleep deprivation is slowly taking over his body.

sammy lifts up the covers and slips into bed. he goes to wrap an arm around you, and his arm is met with a stripe wetness. his face is filled with confusion. "what the fuck?" he's then met with a warm nuzzle. "i swear to god."

can't a man lay in bed with his wife in peace? clearly not.

"sammy?" you ask, the fog still in your voice from a good rest. "how was work?" you lean over for a kiss. he presses one to you.

"fine," he says. "dog's in the bed baby." he sighs. "she's in between the two of us. we're not gonna be able to cuddle."

"waffle keeps me safe," your hand goes to lay atop of his round stomach. "someone's got my back when you're not here. she missed you almost as much as i did."

"what about her bed?" sammy's trying to find an out. he wants to hold his wife tonight. that's all he wants.

"sammy," you whine. "i'm tired. got a pilates class in the morning." sammy sighs. he closes his eyes, trying his best to sleep off his agitation.

it doesn't help once you start dressing her. sammy's never seen such a thing. waffle's jumping up his leg and she's got some pink sweater on. sammy's scratching her head, while telling her down. girl doesn't listen anyway. he doesn't know why he bothers. you're getting ready to go out in the bathroom, putting some makeup on.

"baby," he's calling you over. "waffle's got some clothes on. i've never seen a dog with clothes baby."

you walk on out, with a matching sweater. your husband, cannot, believe you. "yeah hon, we're going to the dog park. we're matching!" you scoop your pretty girl up in your arms. "do we look cute?" you hold the puppy up to your face. "we're practically twins."

sammy shakes his head with a smile on his face. "very cute baby. the cutest girls," he grabs his phone to take a picture. "smile for the camera, hon." you pose for him and he snaps the photo.

on fridays, you bring sammy lunch. every friday without fail, he knows you'll be at the station with something for him.

he'd been working a case, hyper focused. you step to his desk, paper lunch bag in hand. you've got your purse on your shoulder. "made you a hoagie today baby," you place the bag on his desk. his back is still turned to you in his desk chair. he's typing something up for a case file. "had a little help from a friend."

sammy swivels around. he gets up from the leather stuffed memory foam to give you a kiss. to his surprise, he hears a bark. a bark.

"baby don't tell me," he raises a brow at you.

nate is watching from his desk, soda cup raised to his lip. "lovers quarrel," he utters to the desk next to him.

"ok," you smile. " so i won't tell you." waffle peaks her head out of your purse, tongue flopping out of her mouth.

"we've got a future k9 applicant up in the station bryant," nate teases. he pulls the burger to his mouth, chuckling through the beef.

sammy whips his head to him, face visibly scolding him. it bears no weight over his partner. "she missed you," you tell him. you bat your eyes. it's your eyes. always your eyes, makes him weak everytime.

sammy attempts to frown. he can't. you make his heart go a million miles a minute. "yeah, i missed my girls too." he reaches over to scratch her head. waffles body relaxes under his touch.

"sammy boy's whipped," nate chuckles.

"yeah yeah," sammy sighs to the unrelenting jeers of his partner.

Coming across the DA’s desk, and yours, were complaints against one Officer Sammy Bryant. He got too handsy with one guy recently—borderline assault—and yelled a few unsavory insults and comments resulting in complaints. Nothing technically worth charging Bryant for, but enough to make you think less of him.

Oftentimes, you only handled his paperwork and didn’t actually get to see or meet him. This time around, the DA insisted you join in the interview since you told him about pursuing becoming a lawyer. As much as you knew plenty of ins and outs, he wanted to be sure you were confident and succinct about your new career path. 

When Sammy waltzed in, he lacked the bravado you would have originally expected as everyone stood to shake hands. You wish you felt less about the tight cuffs of his uniform bracing his vascular biceps, his muscles forearms a sight to see. You smoothed a hand down the front of your polyester blouse, brushing over the dangling piece of fabric that was knotted into a bow at your throat. Dark eyes glanced over you and your bare arms.

Either you were ovulating or badly needed to get laid. It had clearly been far too long since you went on a date or had a man touch you. Work was your priority. You were lucky you had time for a meal or catching up on your favorite dramedy TV show when you could. 

When he shook your hand, he was gentle and hazel eyes met yours with a warmth that didn’t match the stories or paper trail. You had to believe there was some truth to it instead of taking his side just because he had a nice crooked smile and kind eyes. 

Everyone was sitting down soon enough and you focused on getting your notes together along with your notepad though you felt a heavy gaze on the opposite side boring into you. You focused on Mr. Rosales' complaint toward Bryant, raising your eyes to stare the man down. Not that you wanted to intimidate him per se, but plenty of men tended to think they could sweet talk or belittle you into submission. 

“Your reputation is weighing heavily against you, on paper,” you began. 

“I try to be a good cop, but it’s hard sometimes. On the street,” Sammy shifted, rolling his shoulders back. “People try you. Try to punk you.”

“Is that so? I wasn’t finished,” you tilted your head and flipped a page. “Mr. Rosales stated that you ‘yanked the shit out of’ his arm behind his back without properly detaining or arresting him. He says he was ‘pressed into a wall’ and ‘left with scratches…along his face from the brick’. Mm, Officer Bryant, what do you make of this?”

“You’ve never seen one of your best friends die on the street.” He said gruffly. Sammy drummed his fingertips against the metal table, openly perturbed. 

“Please answer my question, Officer Bryant.” 

“He ran away,” Sammy dismissed. 

“Was he running away or was he walking and not listening to you?”

“Running,” Sammy’s voice was laden in acid.

“Let’s move on to the order of events.” Said the DA. 

You squared your jaw as Sammy sat back, his arms crossing over his chest—all broad shoulders and wide gait. His boot bumped into your foot, forcing you to draw your legs back.

“Will do,” you agreed. 

You were gathering your things, wishing you had the sense to bring a bag for the assortment, and breaking for lunch. You tucked your things under your arm and stepped into the hall with purposeful steps. A deli turkey sandwich was on your mind and a painfully empty stomach after two cups of coffee. The squeaking of boots moved behind you, quick in their steps, trying to catch up. 

Sammy’s hand was at your elbow, loose as he tried to get you to stop in your tracks. 

“Hey, wait a minute,” Sammy barked. 

The last thing you wanted or enjoyed was being touched unprompted by a man. You squinted at Sammy, your expected assailant, and stopped midway in the hall. You stepped back toward the nearby wall to move out of the walkway. He stepped forward, not to crowd you, but because he kept his voice low. 

“Maybe don’t,” you snapped. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re just…” his brows came together. “You’re busting my balls. A lot. I thought the DA’s office was meant to be on our side or something close to that. Did I do or say something to you to hate me?” 

He peered down his nose at you. The obvious frustration melded into something else entirely; an open vulnerability played on his features that you believed most cops were incapable of. You wrinkled your nose at him as you took in his audaciousness. Why did it matter what you truly thought or felt? 

“I have a job to do. The problem is when cops like you think it’s okay to treat people however, depending on your mood for the day.”

“It’s not like that—look, it’s a high stress shit job that the average person wouldn’t be able to stand doing if they tried. I don’t think you understand what we deal with. Besides that, I try to be good. I do.” Sammy hung his hands loosely on his utility belt. Naturally bowed legs caused his stance to widen, unintentionally pinning you to the wall. 

“It doesn’t actually matter what I think. It’s about the facts. Besides, I’m only a paralegal. You don’t have to kiss my ass,” you rolled your eyes, beginning to brush past Sammy. 

“It’s not total ass-kissing. I recognize you, you know,” he said matter-of-factly. “You were at the annual cop ball with some schmuck I didn’t recognize. Your face is a lot more memorable.”

“That’s great,” you muttered.

You didn’t recall seeing Sammy. It was possible while the flow of free drinks and dancing overtook you that night. Dating a cop was something you never planned on chancing ever again. Another sour notch in your belt. Something bubbled in a nook of your mind, intrigued that Sammy would have been looking at all. He likely would have been alongside his then-wife. As much as you could assume.

He took heed not to grab you again, but he barely provided much space between you as you walked down the hall to the elevators. You were reminded of a gnat that just wouldn’t go away. Sammy pressed the down button for the pair of you, his eyes lingering on the side of your face. 

“I’m not trying to kiss your ass,” he shrugged. “I’m trying to help remove the stick from it, at the very least.”

“Typical.” You laughed dryly. 

“What kind of paralegal gets to ask a bunch of questions like that?” Sammy continued on. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, angling his body toward you while you faced the scratched metallic doors. 

“Is any of it really your business?” You ground your teeth. A spot just behind your eye was beginning to ache the less food you found in your stomach and the more his voice grated your nerves. 

“Guess not,” his brow quirked in quiet dismissal. 

There was silence at last. 

Then, you weren’t sure that you liked it at all. Sammy was a talker when he didn’t feel he was entirely under attack. You learned that quickly. But now, when he was quiet and contemplating, you didn’t know what he was thinking. The bell to the elevator dinged at last, heavy doors cranking open. You hated the thing. It was rickety and you were sure the slip of paper inside of it suggesting an inspection had been done was likely falsified. 

You grimaced as the elevator dipped with your weight, a slight gasp leaving you. Sammy spared you a look, but you didn’t want to have to address him until absolutely necessary—meaning the rest of the interview post-lunch. 

Sammy kept up his position as self-appointed elevator operator by pressing the button to the ground floor. You stood near the doors as always, reasoning that you could be in and out the fastest. Sammy stood back in the corner, lax though he was watching you. 

You were starting to think you were in fact too hard on him. Everything else about Sammy seemed okay. You knew he was newly divorced, and oddly enough, not another statistic of an asshole that was normally associated with his career field. More or less. He clearly had weak moments, causing him to be susceptible to corruption. 

The elevator cranked, at first sliding smoothly down one floor, then two until it slowed to an uneven and grinding stop. You looked up toward the ceiling of the enclosed space. You stepped forward to jam your fingers into the button, visibly panicking as the seconds ticked by and deemed you stuck in the elevator during lunch with Sammy Bryant.

“This cannot be happening,” you scrubbed a hand across your forehead, your skin beginning to prickle with sweat. 

You were just claustrophobic enough that it felt like your heart would burst from worry. 

“It is. Of-fucking-course it is,” Sammy sighed.

He quickly became aware of your increasing agitation, what training he had to calm the other person and general humanity bringing him closer to you. Sammy started to take your things from you and you let him, watching with blurred tunnel vision. 

Your throat felt full of cotton, having a hard time hearing what Sammy was saying. Warm palms came to your cheeks, drawing your eyes up as he took in a breath and exhaled gradually. Sammy was guiding you to breathe in and out while the fog took time to clear from you. 

Your eyes began to sting with brimming tears as embarrassment filled your chest and belly. Sammy remained unjudgmental, waiting for you to come down and for your heart rate to slow. He said something about how he imagined phobias and panic attacks didn’t magically erase the irrational fear, but he needed you to reel it in and suck it up while help was called. 

“Better?” Sammy finally asked. 

However many minutes passed, he could see how the cloudiness left your eyes. You forced yourself to climb out of the hole that was your anxiety, Sammy’s warm palms leaving your skin to the chill of what bit of cool air would be left. Nodding, you gave him a tight look as the paneling of the elevator grabbed your attention again. 

“I don’t think it’ll work,” Sammy offered. “My radio surely doesn’t.”

You tried the buttons, jamming your thumb into the call button that gave no sign of a response. Sammy shrugged at you and stood back to lean into the railing.

“Told you,” he said lightly. “We’re gonna have to wait it out in order to escape this shitbox.”

You ground your teeth together for the sake of not snapping at Sammy again as you had, but you owed him some grace after he brought you back down to reality. You stood back in defeat, backing into the opposite corner and lowering to the dirty floor. 

“So much for lunch.” You said weakly, rubbing at your irritated eyes. 

Sammy was shuffling around, digging into his pocket and held out one of those nutty health bars that could temporarily do the trick. Despite everything, he appeared sympathetic about the whole thing. You looked down at the snack and quietly thanked him, fingertips brushing over his hand. Sammy nodded stiffly and lowered himself to the floor in finality as well.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” You fiddled with the wrapper, crossing your legs at the ankle. 

“The way this city functions and by the lack of maintenance on this thing, I couldn’t tell you. But… Look, before… It’s not a big deal, alright? Shit happens. Things like this can be scary.” Sammy humored you. 

You didn’t know if his words actually made you feel any better. The effort alone to make you feel less like a weak and terrified little thing was the reassuring part. 

“Bright side?” You snorted, taking a bite of the bar. Peering up at fluorescent and flickering lights, you counted eight dead bugs within the fixtures.

“Bright side: it’s already getting hot as shit. You sure you want me to keep talking now?” Sammy gave a sideways smirk. He started to undo the buttons of his uniform shirt, eventually revealing a vest which he also removed. Both were tossed toward the unopened doors. He had a point. You could feel it—the mugginess was seeping into the metal container, a dampness coating any surface of skin it could reach.

Sammy leaned back against the wall and let his head rest on the temporarily cool metal. His rolling shoulders drew your eyes down to his impeccably broad chest clothed by white cotton, and again, you wondered when was the last time you checked your calendar to date when you last had a man catering to your needs.

Men like Sammy always caught your eye at first. Sweet, gentle, trying at first, and soon enough nothing more than an intense crash and burn to follow. When your eyes came back up, Sammy met your gaze with the slightest rise of his lips as he caught you leering.

“I would rather you remind me I’m not in this literal death trap,” your eyes dropped to your strewn paperwork and folders. “I’ve always sorta had this fear, you know? It’s my cousin’s fault. I was the littlest of them and they thought it would be funny to lock me in this shed… Shitty things kids do not knowing they’ll scar you for the rest of your life.”

“That’s pretty messed up. Kids are little assholes,” Sammy clasped his hands together in his lap. “I meant it when I said I recognized you.”

“I figured that much,” you said around a mouthful, staring at the useless panel across from you.

“I spoke to you, but I think you were having too good of a time. Drinking, I mean.” Sammy alluded.

You wanted to laugh because Sammy Bryant was admitting to hitting on you once upon a time that felt so long ago. 

“I think I was trying to drink away my problems with that guy,” you admitted slowly, crumpling up the now-empty wrapper. “We were on and off for nine months. Nine long months of time wasted. I got so wasted I didn’t see you were hitting on me.”

“You might have. Something along the lines of how pretty my curly hair was and how the stubble I had that night suited me.”

“God,” you groaned, wincing and easily looking away for anything else to possibly hold your attention. “No wonder you couldn’t take me seriously in there.”

“No, it wasn’t that, of all things. I’ve just had enough of letting perps get by thinking they can skirt the law,” Sammy said indifferently.

You should have warned him to be mindful of what he was saying, but you weren’t sure you cared enough to give him the legal spiel about incriminating himself.

“I get where you’re coming from, but someday, you could hurt the wrong person. The wrong guy or kid…” You pursed your lips.

“Yeah. Doubt it though,” Sammy brought his hands behind his head and gave you a smile. 

You hated him for flirting because there was something charming about the underlying cockiness and general weaselly attitude he held. You narrowed your eyes at him and decided you needed to stand up in spite of your fear of the entire human crate falling a couple floors. 

Pacing helped clear your mind and that was much needed as the seconds turned to half an hour and even closer to an hour. After the first five minutes, Sammy checked his phone to find there was no signal. No bother in checking your own phone after he proved to be right about the panel in the first place. 

“You’re making me anxious,” Sammy said after another five minutes of you pacing. He bounded up onto his feet, swinging his arms as if he needed to stretch his limbs. 

“I didn’t think I could make things any worse than when I had a full blown panic attack,” you rubbed the back of your neck. To oblige him, you leaned into the wall for some reprieve after sweeping up a thick folder to fan yourself.

“I didn’t mind it. Being that close to you,” he elaborated gently. “It’s the only time today you looked at me without me feeling like you were imagining making me explode with your eyes.”

“I’m not a fan of cops and especially not the LAPD. The history alone makes me cringe.”

“What about me? Do I specifically bother you?” Sammy was testing again. 

He began to inch toward you, metered and careful steps across the extremely short distance. His boots were mere inches from your pointed shoes that were beginning to make your feet ache. Your fanning slowed as he came closer and you know you should have told him to back off. The heat must have been getting to you both or else you would knock some sense into him with a thwap from the folder. 

Yet, you withheld.

“Most divorced men and professions start with cops, firefighters, military…” You explained with an air of professionalism that drifted off. 

Sammy was done hiding his interest—not that he was doing very well in the first place. His eyes drooped, staring too long and adoringly at your lips while you were speaking. There was a second of self-consciousness and you quickly stepped around Sammy, returning to your pacing. This time he had to put up with you making circles instead of the straight back and forth you had created on what you deemed your side of the elevator.

“I didn’t plan on adding you to that statistic any time soon,” Sammy scoffed out a laugh, turning to follow you around the cramped space by spinning on his heel.

“It’s the fact you already are one. Right? I think for such a statistic to exist that women are the primary for filing says something. So, what did you do, huh?”

“Oh, please,” Sammy wrinkled his nose at you, reaching for you again a second time that day. “You’re making me dizzy—look. I didn’t do shit. My ex cheated on me and I was left trying to figure out what life looked like without the woman I had been with since high school. My only failure was not divorcing her sooner. She was mean before she and the new guy had a kid.”

The confession made you pause before you could register Sammy’s affliction for wanting to touch you by grabbing ahold. Your eyes drifted down to where his fingers dented into your flesh, but there was nothing painful about it. He started to look apologetic again, assuming you were gearing up to give him another earful.

You didn’t.

You wanted to say something sweet and reassuring to the effect of appreciation. You could have popped in your earbuds some time ago and completely shut him out. Sammy could have done the same, but here you both were trying to find level footing that would make your lives easier for however much longer you were stuck. 

“Then, I guess I was wrong about you. In some respect,” was all you could muster. 

Sammy held an unsure expression as he released your arm. You wanted to touch him back, to feel and have a reason to do it. The more rational part of your brain knew there was business to be taken care of outside of the elevator once help came. Sammy’s interview would conclude and you would go back to separate lives that felt like separate worlds entirely. 

After another hour passed, you gave on checking your phone and concluded every single employee in the building was fucking useless. You and Sammy resulted to lying on the floor, side by side. What else was there to do? A game of tic-tac-toe had already been played, two truths and a lie, and even playing a game of guessing what number or color the person was thinking of.

The less you spoke about your careers, the more human he felt. 

His genuine personality crept through more than the tough guy cop act he put on since his partner died. Sammy personally admitted aloud to you it was a defense mechanism he was working on, but slow to truly deal with. By working on, he meant he knew his ever-growing God Complex was becoming a problem.

“There’s nothing you can say to me about the job that shocks me. I know the type,” you had said.

You were kicking off your heels at last, groaning as your feet were able to fully stretch against skin-colored pantyhose. 

“My feet are killing me. Modern day torture devices exist in all sorts of women’s clothing and accessories.”

“I believe you. How can you let your toes be scrunched up like that?” Sammy lifted his head to spy your feet. 

He gave himself a double chin doing so, a soft snorted scoff sound leaving you. He was the sort of face that managed to look handsome from any angle while you regularly felt trollop-y. 

“I should start a petition,” you smiled, playing with the idea.

“I’ll be the first to sign it.”

There was a beat of silence not unlike the spells that had played on and off since then, but this one was heavier. Sammy’s eyes were on you just after you stopped watching him. You felt it because there weren’t many other places to look in actuality. You stopped fantasizing about food for your own sanity and disregarded Sammy’s idea to climb through the hatch above, so staring at the walls and each other had to do.

He was warm at your side, heat radiating off of him somehow more than you. That heat drew closer, your body knowing before you as his knuckles brushed yours. Was he wearing you down or were your walls inching lower? You didn’t know if your rejection of him was really because of him. You could lay down the law (no pun intended) that you truly weren’t interested, wanted something casual, or you weren’t interested because he wanted something casual.

Sammy was a man enjoying his newfound freedom after a long-term relationship, and that usually meant getting feelings for someone who was in no position to requite them.

“Do you still like my curly hair?” Sammy’s voice dropped lower with his query.

“Yes,” you answered softly. 

His touch grew bolder, rubbing in gentle circles, and pausing to interlock fingers. You felt, refusing to look still, as Sammy dragged your hands to his taut torso to rest against him.

“Am I ugly without the stubble?” 

You almost laughed and that won Sammy the attention he craved. 

“No, not at all,” you rolled your eyes.

Sammy’s crow’s feet deepened, impressed with himself, but ultimately knowing he was getting somewhere with you. 

“What’re you doing tonight then?” Sammy asked delicately.

“Probably catching up on what I couldn’t get done today,” you knew it sounded like a cop out (another pun not intended). “I think you’re nice. This is nice. How you’ve kept my mind from wandering to thinking about being stuck in here is…great. But, I told myself no more police officers. Aren’t there women who have things specifically for cops?”

“I would be bored with a badge bunny,” Sammy groaned.

“So, you’re saying you’ve tried it?” You pressed your tongue into your cheek. 

You sat up, though not out of upset. Hard metal and your back were disagreeing loudly with a twinge on top of the ache in your feet. Sammy was noticeably disappointed to not be holding your hand any longer, his eyes following you. You moved to lean into the wall again, your feet pointed toward Sammy now.

“Would that make you jealous to know women are dying to sleep with me because of what I do?” 

Sammy pushed up off the floor without the use of his hands. Your brows came together in concern for yourself and your far weaker core, then your mind conjured up mock-ups of what you thought his abdomen might look like. However long you had been quiet, you prayed it was deemed contemplation rather than fawning. 

“Mm, can’t say that would be the case,” you dismissed the suggestion. 

The answer was yes, but he didn’t need to know that. 

You were reaching for your discarded phone as Sammy pulled one of your legs into his lap. You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing until he pressed a firm thumb up the length of the bottom of your foot. You welcomed it with a groan that sounded nearly pornographic. When was the last time a man rubbed your feet unprompted? 

The care and touch filled your lower belly and pelvis with a swirling heat that had been kept at bay for some time. You forgot all about your phone and the time while Sammy took pride in making you feel good, watching for reactions or sounds of displeasure. He switched to the other foot for the sake of showing attention to both. 

You knew you were entering murky territory, and when Sammy lifted your foot to press a kiss to your ankle, you shuddered with anticipation. You were tired and bored, and that was somehow enough to warrant whatever connection you built with Sammy to lead to this. You didn’t want him to stop and he watched your every move as he pulled you forward, strong hands gathering you into his lap where a bulge was forming.

You wanted him and you wanted to close your fingers in those curly locks that kept taunting you. Sammy pressed his head back into your touch, his lips parting on a soft moan as you braced your legs on either side of him and bore down. 

“What about tomorrow night? Can we do this?” Sammy asked breathily.

He hadn’t kissed you yet, but he was so sure where you were afraid of letting someone in. You made good and decent money that would be jeopardized by being intimate with Sammy before finishing the interview or informing HR. One of the two was slightly difficult to get away with.

“I’m not that easy, Officer Sammy Bryant,” you tutted as if he should know better by now.

He should have.

“I believe it,” Sammy was staring at your lips now, waiting. “I don’t want easy. The same way you want different. You crave it. I can see it. I’ll give you that… Trust me, I’ll give it to you good.” He smirked.

The cheesiness of him was beginning to work and that’s how you knew you needed to get out of that elevator. You pressed your forehead to his, curiosity killing the cat as you rolled your hips and caused a gasping moan to escape him.

“I think they’ll have to bring in another paralegal to finish your interview,” you finally ceded. 

“Jeez, why didn’t I think of that two hours ago?” Sammy said sarcastically. 

To shut him up and that stupidly attractive curve of his mouth, you caved, and kissed him. He melted into you as if he weren’t just jokingly insulting you and instead waiting all this time—all his life—to kiss you. He was unhurried in his passion, strong palms holding your waist as if he were afraid of you taking off. The tip of his tongue was just daring enough to flick against yours, and you gave him that too.

The elevator jolted, metal pressing on metal as the elevator whirred back to life and began lowering. You broke apart first though Sammy would have been fine to be found that way. 

“Saved by the bell,” Sammy grunted.

You felt your face grow hot as you pulled back to look at him, a small acknowledgement to the conclusion the both of you had come to. Sammy didn’t want to let you go, but he didn’t fight you on it. He had things of his own to toss back on.You gathered what little composure you had, tucking your blouse back into your dress pants and stepping into your heels again.

Once you were put together again, papers stacked neatly, and your cellphone on top, you stood facing the doors. Sammy joined alongside you this time, his head tipping to look down at you with a smirk. He had the worst poker face you had ever seen. 

“How do you feel about homemade tacos?” Sammy’s hands were propped along his utility belt.

You watched the floors pass by with appropriate dings, a countdown of sorts. Sammy watched you a little longer while he could.

“And he cooks?” You bit your bottom lip to hide the growing smile.

“I can always show you better than I can tell you. Just wait,” Sammy flirted, facing forward once more.

The elevator bottomed out and landed with an easy thud. Outside waited the assumed elevator tech and a handful of firefighters. The supposed building manager stood off to the side and was now shuffling forward.

“We’re sorry about that, folks,” the building manager said apologetically in a ‘don’t-sue-me-or-the-city’ kind of way.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry. Sammy surely wasn’t.

“But it is a date,” Trinity perks up, a cheshire like grin forming on her face while she spins the chair you're sitting in and charting to face her. “Tell me everything– who is he, how did you meet, what are you going to wear–”

“Okay, slow down!” A small laugh unfortunately manages to escape you, and you don’t know whether to be touched or offended over the fact that she was this invested in your love life. “There’s nothing to tell, I haven’t even met the man yet,”

“Oh, ew,” she immediately says, grimacing in disgust, “You met him on the apps? That’s low, even for you babe,”

You stare at her blankly, momentarily stunned. 

“Desperate times means desperate measures,” you finally say, officially finishing charting and logging out of the computer. Standing up, you start making your way towards the lockers, Trinity's excited voice following behind you.

“I mean, not that desperate. I know one man that would go out with you in a heartbeat,”

Opening your locker, you take out the little duffel bag you had to bring into work today. In order to make it to the date on time, you’d have to get ready at work, and as much as you hated drawing attention to yourself, you wouldn’t have time to make it back home. 

So you’d done your hair the night before, hoping for the best when you tied it up for work, shoved your makeup kit, as well as your dress and heels into a bag and made your way to work. 

This was also the exact reason you had asked to get out before handoffs. And Robby owed you just enough favors to let it slide, but not before giving you a suspicious look. You knew better than to tell your ex-husbands best friend– and by default spy– why you suddenly needed to cash in on those very handy, very hard earned favors.

“Yeah, and me and that man are broken up for a reason,” you snort, promptly shutting down any insinuations and blaming it on her sleep depravity.

Slipping off your scrubs, you falter when you hear Trinity snort at the action.

“Excuse me? What happened to privacy–”

“Alright, alright– sorry!” She amends, throwing her hands up in defeat and turning around.

But the sound of her laughter is already replaying in your mind and you huff at your own insecurity, crossing your arms.

“What is it, Santos?”

Immediately turning back around, Trinity gives you a sheepish smile, before her eyes dart to you, still standing in your underwear.

“Are we, like,  super committed to the granny panties?”

You gasp, throwing your scrub top at her face when she speaks.

“Rude! They’re not granny panties, they’re just, you know…” you defend yourself, digging through your duffel for your dress. “Comfortable. They’re comfortable, Trinity,”

“That’s kind of the problem, babe. You’re going for sexy and alluring– not comfort! Trust me, I’m the last person to tell someone to change for a man, but those–” she points an accusing finger at your matching set, “Are just one big turnoff, my friend,”

You groan, running a hand through your hair.

“You cannot be telling me this right now. I don’t have any spare underwear with me– are you sure you’re not just biased?”

Trinity gives you a sad look, then walks to the door, peeking her head around the corner.

“Mohan! Get in here–”

You gape, quickly tugging your work pants back on and crossing your arms over your chest.

“What the hell? Hello, I’m like naked in here–”

“Oh calm down, we’re doctors,” Trinity waves you off, and before you can say anything else, Samira Mohan walks into the tiny excuse of a locker room.

Her eyes dart between Trinity and you, before going down to your chest, where a very sturdy looking bra is in place.

“For the date tonight?” she says carefully, noting the agitation on your face and the amusement on Trinity’s.

“Does everyone know?” your answer confirms her words, and Samira gives you a gentle smile, officially dismantling the last irritation in you.

Slumping against the lockers, your head hits the metal with a small thump!

“Okay,” she finally says, adopting the same, comforting tone she uses when explaining treatment plans to patients, “I don't think they're bad,”

“You lie, sweet child of mine,” Trinity sighs dramatically, crossing her arms when she looks back at you.“Literally just go commando at this point,”

Shaking your head, you snap out of your haze, going back to your bag and digging your dress out.

It’s not like you’re going to sleep with the man.

You weren’t ready for that just yet, your mind echoes to you, but you quickly stop the spiral you feel forming. 

If you were still with Jack, you wouldn’t have to worry about first dates and underwear–

Okay, no.

“Zip me up please?” is what you say instead, looking between the two women helplessly.

Noticing your sudden quietness, Trinity obliges and does what you ask. The zipper slides up your back smoothly, and for once, she’s quiet.

“Hey, come on,” she says softly, giving your shoulder a squeeze once she's finished. “You look pretty,”

Samira nods, taking a hold of your other shoulder and leading you to the mirror, a small smile on her face as you watch her reflection watch you.

“You look good,” she says simply, in a way she knows does more of an impact on you than an overflow of compliments would. 

Your eyes linger on your reflection, smoothing down any crinkled pieces of fabric as an attempt to self soothe. But there was something deeply humiliating about standing in a hospital locker room, while two coworkers attempted to convince you that you weren't a complete disaster.

Admittedly, you do agree. You looked pretty wearing something other than scrubs and letting your hair down for once– hell, even applying new lipstick makes you feel reborn. 

Taking one final look, you straighten your shoulders before walking back to your bag and taking your heels out, putting them on and shoving your bag back into the locker and dumping your dirty scrubs into Trinity’s arms.

Payback for the panty comments.

“Wish me luck, ladies,” you say, the small purse you’d brought with now swinging on your shoulder.

“Knock him dead, babe!” Trinity grins, and Samira gives you a supportive thumbs up beside her.

Twenty more meters and you're out of here, on your way before anyone can properly see you.

You take a deep breath, trying not to cringe or look at people as your heels click against the linoleum floors. The doors to the ambulance bay hiss when you step through them, a small sigh of relief escaping you once the evening breeze washes over your face.

 Rounding the corner towards the parking lot, a yelp escapes you when you crash into someone.

“Shit!”

Strong hands grab your arms before you can stumble backwards and crack your skull open on the pavement and die in your granny panties.

“Christ, slow down,” a familiar voice mutters and your stomach instantly drops.

Fuck. 

The last person you wanted to see, the reason you were leaving work thirty minutes early and watching your back like a criminal, instead of a grown woman simply going on a date.

Jack Abbot, in all his fine glory, dressed in one of those tight, white shirts he loves and his usual cargos.

His hands are still wrapped around your arms, your own are still gripping his forearms, far too close for your already scrambled mind to be able to handle right now.

Pulling away, you quickly smooth down your dress once again, clearing your throat.

“Hi! Uh– nice catching up, I should probably–” you laugh awkwardly, motioning vaguely with your hands towards your car.

Jack doesn’t say anything, his eyes unabashedly travelling across your body. First your styled hair, then to your painted lips, then to the dress, gaze lingering on your exposed legs.

“You’re awfully dressed up for work,” He mutters dryly, head tilting once his eyes lock with yours once again. “But I suppose this wasn’t how you came in at seven am,”

“Wow, nothing gets past you, huh?” you can’t help but quip, ignoring the warm feeling in your belly at the sight of him fighting a smile at your words.

The evening breeze catches a loose strand of your hair and blows it across your face. Before you can move it away, you notice Jack's hand twitch, but ultimately stay rooted by his side.

"Clearly not. Are you going to answer or keep being a smartass?”

Against your will, a small smile forms on your face, and you shake your head and cross your arms.

“I should be on my way to a date,” You finally concede, gauging his reaction. 

Yeah, to see if he even cares anymore.

Unfortunately, as Jack glances toward the parking lot before looking back at you, he asks:

“Is he not picking you up?”

For some reason, his words send a wave of embarrassment through you. Like you have to prove to him that you’re not going out with a piece of shit, like you’re not downgrading, or settling, or desperately trying to get over Jack by going on shitty dates.

“It’s the first date, I’m not having him know where I work,” you mutter petulantly, shifting on your feet, the pain growing more intense the longer you stand there. “That’s just common sense,”

Jack hums thoughtfully, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“You’ll have to excuse my ignorance, then. I haven’t been on a proper date in a while,”

Asshole.

You know he’s talking about your relationship, that petty bastard.

“And who’s fault is that?” the words come out sharper than intended, but you’re too deep into this to notice, or even care about it.

“You know, normal people would just let it go,” Jack muses, eyes narrowed in amusement as he takes a step closer to you.

“Normal people also don’t interrogate their ex in the parking lot,” you retort, chin raising defiantly as your irritation spikes at his indifference towards seeing you moving on.

You’d once heard a rumor of another attending on the surgical floor reportedly laying it on pretty thick at some gala.

It had you eating ice cream for dinner for a week, just the thought of him moving on from you that easily.

Your phone buzzing in your purse fills the silence, and you’re suddenly made aware of the entire reason you're standing here in a dress and heels instead of driving home to watch terrible reality television.

“I should go,” you say quieter than intended, clearing your throat afterwards.

The amusement fades from his face, replaced by something harder to read, and for a moment, Jack doesn't say anything, his eyes flickering to your purse and where your phone is buzzing.

A cruel reminder to him of the fact that you indeed are moving on, probably with some guy your age that wouldn’t have to worry about how you’d look walking down the street with him.

“Yeah, don’t let me keep you,” Jack mumbles, shifting on his feet as he follows you with his head when you walk past him slowly.

Your heels sound against the pavement, the loud clicks taunting in his ears, like a clock reminding him of the time he's running out of, both in life and with you.

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, scratching the scruff on his face harshly, before walking after you. “Hey, wait–”

“I really have to go, Jack,” you don’t stop walking, in fact speeding up a bit.

You couldn’t trust yourself around him.

“You don’t even know this guy!” Jack throws out in a desperate attempt to get you to stay, to make you argue with him, anything to make you stay– to choose him again, even if it only were for a moment.

You stop so abruptly your heel almost catches on a crack in the pavement, before you’re whirling back to glare at him.

“Are you serious right now?

Despite your anger, Jack can’t help but notice how pretty you look while glaring at him, and even though he'd be six feet under if looks could kill.

“I’m just looking out for you,” He has the nerve to say, shrugging slightly while he walks up to where you’ve come to a stop.

“I don’t want you to look out for me! You wouldn’t need to if you hadn’t–” you stop yourself from lashing out, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “...Why are you doing this?”

“I’m worried about you, I mean– leaving work early, dressing up, then running straight into me because you aren’t paying attention–” Jack lists, the lies falling from his lips unconvincingly.

You scoff, turning around and walking back towards your car.

“Goodbye, Jack,”

Panic fills his veins, and his hand shoots out and grabs your arm, pulling you towards him.

“Fuck, okay! Alright, just–” Jack sighs, running his free hand through his silver curls, “Just wait, okay? Don’t just…go,”

“Then tell me why you’re being like this,” you press him again, impatiently.

Jack takes it as a small victory when you don’t rip your arm out of his grip.

“I don’t want you to go out with him,”

“You don’t even know him–” you roll your eyes at his shitty explanation.

“I don’t want you to go out with anyone,” Jack interrupts, jaw clenching as he forces the words out. “I don’t want to see you laugh with anyone, or leave work early because you’re seeing someone, or see you get dolled up for another man,”

The words echo in the empty parking lot and land bitterly in your ears.

Your mind couldn’t help but betray you at this moment.

Why wait until now? Is it to make sure his words are devastating enough? To make you lose the progress you thought you had made after he broke your heart?

Was it really all his fault if you could let yourself be this affected by his words?

“You’re such an asshole,” you say shakily, eyes welling up with unshed tears.

Jack nods, a bitter smile forming on his face.

“Yeah, I know,”

He doesn’t argue with you, because he agrees.

He is an asshole. A selfish, greedy asshole who wants nothing more than to get on his knee and grovel at your feet, because the biggest mistake he’s made is thinking that letting you go is an act of love.

Over the fear of what others might think.

Over the fear that there will come a day where instead of him taking care of you, you’ll be taking care of him, while he takes advantage of your youth, all while knowing you’d be too sweet to leave him.

Jack stares at you, your teary eyes and trembling lips, he stands there and he stares at the woman he still loves.

“I’m fucked up, I know. But every morning I wake up and you're still the first thing I think about,” he begins, swallowing thickly when he feels a lump form in his throat. “I look for your car in the parking lot before I walk in. I mean fuck, even at handoffs, I look for the charts that have your signature,” 

The tears are definitely ruining your makeup now. You were late beyond belief for the date, and the buzzing in your purse had ceased ten minutes ago.

And yet you have no urge to go anywhere anymore.

“That’s kind of sad,” you sniffle, muttering weakly. 

Jack chuckles weakly, fingers tightening around your arm before he reluctantly lets go.

“It’s really fucking sad,” he agrees easily, resisting the urge to wipe the tear tracks off your face.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” you meet his gaze at last, and Jack sees the confusion and fear in your eyes that comes with the possibility of forgiving him, or letting him make it up to you.

“I don’t know, I just…” he begins,“I couldn’t let you leave thinking I didn’t care. That I don’t care,”

“Do you think your age is secret or something?”

Jack blinks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“What? No–”

“Do you think I didn’t see the grey hair, and wrinkles, and the glaring at screens before we got together?” You continue, stepping closer to him, gaze landing on the evident smile lines, and signs of his life actually being lived.

“You’re making me sound worse than I am,” he grumbles quietly.

“And what really sucked is that you thought I hadn’t already thought of all that when we started this, that there would come a time when you needed me more than I needed you. You keep acting like you lured me into a relationship with you, and acting like I didn’t consider any of it,”

Your voice is steady when you speak, finally wiping the tears away as your feelings spill, the weight on your chest lightening up with each word you speak.

“I saw it. I saw it and I still chose to be with you, so I really don’t understand what favor you thought you did me when you ended things,”

Jack is silent, for once. No sarcastic quip, no flirty deflection– he just stands there and lets the words sink in, feeling incredibly stupid.

He knew you were bright, incredibly empathetic and intuitive. Of course you hadn’t just thrown yourself into this blindly. You’d chosen him on purpose, and Jack was too blinded by his own fears to let you love him the way you wanted to. In turn, he’d hurt himself, but most importantly, he’d hurt you.

“I may have overestimated my own charm,” he says, sounding almost embarrassed.

Despite the earlier tension, his words make you laugh softly, and Jack perks up like he’s been rewarded with something.

“For what it's worth, breaking up with you was the stupidest thing I've ever done,” Jack adds, lips stretching into a tight lipped smile, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, still stubbornly resisting the urge to just give in to him.

“You’re still not fully forgiven,”

“I know,” He nods solemnly.“I’d love it if you did, but I know you can’t, and that’s okay,”

“And you have a lot to make up for,” you continue, not letting up. You had, after all, been tortured for months.

“I do,” Jack says instantly, the answer coming so quickly it almost throws you off. 

After everything the two of you had been through, it felt like a step in the right direction. A moment of tense silence ensues, and you know it’s because Jack doesn’t want to immediately jump back into things and make it seem like he's brushing things under the rug.

You decide to throw him a bone.

“...You’re way too old to be playing with people's feelings,” You finally joke, and Jack bites his lip until he’s unable to hold the grin back any longer. 

“Hey, that’s still a sensitive topic,” He tuts, a faux hurt expression forming on his face. “And if I’m so old, I guess I won’t be able to drive us to that restaurant you like so much?”

Your eyebrows raise in suspicion.

“That’s real cute, but don't you have work?”

“Robby owes me one,” He shrugs, hand landing on your waist, “Besides, we can’t have this dress go to waste, right?”

You let him lead you towards his car, the smile on your face growing wider at his ridiculousness. 

“I suppose not,”

And for the first time in months, Jack didn’t feel that sharp, stinging in his chest whenever he took a breath.