asteria:3

People tend to wonder what an FBI agent’s life is like when they’re not kicking down doors and tracking down unsubs. Do they live normal lives like everyone else? Or does their work take every ounce of their life. The answer? A little bit of both. To be a good FBI agent in general means you have to be okay with dropping everything at any moment, no matter what. And because you didn’t have anyone or anything super important, so you were okay with that. But also, to be a good FBI agent is to be able to go back and leave work at work. Unfortunately, not many have mastered the art, not when you worked with, and seen the things you have seen. You’ve seen a lot of things in your short time at the Bureau: rapes, kidnappings, torture, and a lot of blood and gore. The federal government only worked with the worst of the worst, people normal police departments couldn’t handle themselves. Like this last case you guys had just closed.

It ended up with you shooting the guy in the chest, because unfortunately, he didn’t listen when you told him to drop the gun, and decided he heard “pull out the gun and shoot me.” You didn’t want to shoot him, but when put in that situation, the choice speaks for itself. You had been breathing hard, and you felt the familiar feeling you had after you’d shot someone. It was a good kill, he would’ve tried to hurt someone if you didn’t, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have that ache in your chest. You began to take off your bulletproof vest, tucking your gun back into its holster.

“You did good.” Morgan patted your shoulders, and you nodded. You watched as the EMTs took the victim, who by some miracle was still alive, and the coroner took the unsub. You sighed, turning back into the car with Doctor Reid, who was talking with Hotch to the officers. You leaned on the hood of the car, waiting and looking into the distance.

“Ready to go?” A voice said from behind you, you turned your head to face the person, who was undoubtedly Spencer Reid. You nodded, pushing yourself off and into the passenger seat. He unlocked the car, and you slid in. You were usually chatty, and you weren’t. Spencer noticed these things about you, the way you spoke about case details and ideas with such conviction and passion, the way you could go on and on about things once you were in them, and the way you always knew what to say when he responded…but that wasn’t the woman he was seeing next to him.

“You did the right thing, y'know." He spoke, turning onto the freeway.

“So I've been told.” You responded flatly.

“But you don’t believe it.” He asked, well, more told you.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” You asked, your voice taking on an irritated tone.

“W-what? No, no I’m just noticing that you lack conviction, so it just shows that you don’t believe you did the right thing, which at least logically is true.” He began.

“I know but-”

“Just think about it, at least from a mathematical standpoint, you made the better choice. If you didn’t shoot him, he could’ve shot you, Morgan and Officer Valdez, as well as finishing off his victim. But since you shot him, that was the only loss. 4 to 1, obviously 1 is less. Also, you could’ve lost your life, as well as others if you didn’t react as you did, and that would impact the rest of us in multiple-”

“Spencer, I get it.” You stopped him before he could continue.

“So why are you still reminiscing? You’re working yourself up for doing the right thing.” Before he could think, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You blushed, and he immediately apologized and let go.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

“It’s fine…” You waved it off.

“That didn’t sound convincing.” He noted.

“No, seriously Spencer, it’s okay.” You reassured him, and he sighed.

“If you say so.” He turned into the town’s police station, parking the car before getting out and opening the door for you. Always a gentleman.

“Ah, the pretty boy and pretty girl duo! Took you two long enough.” Morgan leaned on the wall with his bags next to him. “Go grab your bags, they’re driving us to the airport.”

You and Spencer nodded, grabbing your things (that they so kindly brought from your hotel) and carried them into the car trunk. You got in the back, and the driver took the BAU group to the airport. Once the car arrived, you and the crew were escorted to the jet, where you all took your seats. You took the row behind Spencer, but sat next to him for a briefing.

“Good work today everyone, we finally caught the bastard and won’t be hurting women anymore. You will have reports to do, and I expect them typed up and ready by the end of the week.” Hotch spoke, reminding you of the hell that is reports. You whined internally about how much you hated them, but Spencer caught your spacing out.

“Hey, are you alright?” Spencer tapped your shoulder, and you jumped a little. “Sorry.”

“No you’re good, Spence.” You chuckled. “I was just spaced out.”

“I see.” He grabbed his notebook from the table, and started writing in it.

“Ooh, yeah I should start taking notes of things I need to put in the report.” You nodded, taking out your notepad, but realized you didn’t have a pen.

“Ah, crap.” You sighed.

“Do you need a pen?” He asked.

“Yeah, do you have a spare?”

“Yes, always. Here.” He handed you a ballpoint pen, and you thanked him. You began scratching down notes.

Profile of Christopher Allen

Coordinated

Intelligent

Targeted women that reminded him of his sister, whom he had killed first prior to other victims

And so on.

At some point you got bored and started to doze off, your head rested against the seat, You fell asleep pretty quickly, it seemed that the constant chasing around and sleep deprivation was taking a hit.

Spencer was on the chair taking notes on today, tuning out the conversations the rest of the group were having. While he was writing, he felt something heavy on his shoulder—your head. You had fallen asleep, and now you were on him. It wasn’t intentional, the body conducts itself while the brain is asleep. He put his pen and notebook down, and let you rest.

“Look at you, pretty boy!” Morgan teased.

“I am aware, and I don’t mind.” He responded. “She’s asleep, it’s not on purpose that she slumped onto my shoulder.” He responded.

“Alright kid.”

The rest of the trip was relaxed, the group played poker while you were asleep, and by the time the plane hit the ground, Spencer was there to wake you up. He nudged your arm gently- “Hey, wake up. We’re here.”

You groaned softly, rubbing your eyes to adjust to the lighting of the plane, before you realized where you were—not your seat, but on Spencer Reid’s shoulder. Once it clicked, you got up immediately.

“Spencer I’m so sorry-” You began, but he stopped you.

“It’s okay, seriously. I didn’t mind.” He looked up at you as you grabbed your bags. He did the same, and the two of you disembarked the plane together. Once you arrived back at the FBI building, it was straight to work. No socializing, no messing around—just work. You had to get that report typed up by the end of the week, meaning you had 3 and a half days. It was enough, but that didn’t mean you were happy about it. You sat at your desk, and pulled out the notes you had written during the plane ride and began typing up.

“Hey, the team is going out for drinks after work, you in?” Morgan asked, his arms folded.

“Uhh, yeah sure. I don’t have anything better to do.” You nodded.

“Sweet, how about you, Reid?”

“I suppose I could join you all.” He looked up from his computer, his glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose. He looked annoyingly adorable with his glasses on, you loved them on him. Alas, you couldn’t watch him the whole time, and you actually had to work on your report.

———

Time passed slowly—it always did when you were doing the more boring parts of your job: reports, research, looking for materials etc. The second the clock hit 9, everyone got their things together and got together.

“Okay, let’s hit up the bar!” Morgan suggested.

“Wouldn’t it be a better idea for us to drop off our things at home first? Considering we’re federal agents, we shouldn’t be carrying around our bags and guns.” JJ responded.

“Right, that would be smart.” He chuckled at his own stupidity. “Go home and meet at O’Malley’s at 11?”

“Sounds good.” You agreed. Everyone else had scattered words of agreement, so the plan was set. You drove home from the Bureau building—a 45 minute drive because you lived in DC. After the drive, you unlocked your door, dropped your coat onto the rack, and entered your room. You looked a bit disheveled, your hair was messy, you looked tired and your clothes were a bit wrinkled from the bulletproof vest.

You shed your work clothes, carelessly tossing them in the laundry basket. You got a fresh bra and underwear, then picked out an event appropriate outfit. It was work related at a bar, meaning a pair of looser jeans and a nicer top would do you just fine. So you did exactly that; you slipped on a pair of dark wash jeans, a black blouse and your other (nicer) pair of black boots. You fixed up your hair, did some makeup and headed out to be there by eleven.

You pulled into the bar, found a good place to park and entered the bar. It was a normal bar in downtown DC, but it was more frequented by government officials and cops who worked in the area. Including your team, who were all at a big area in the back by the pool tables. Garcia saw you, and waved you over. You waved back, and excused yourself through the crowd to get there.

“Hey, there she is! Glad you could make it.” Morgan commented.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” You responded, giving Garcia a hug.

“Okay, so we have a pool table to ourselves.” She pointed to the closest pool table. “And we have appetizers ordered, I think we got wings, fries and a caesar salad?” She recalled, and you nodded.

“Thanks Penelope.” You grabbed a seat at the bar next to Spencer, who was nursing a beer.

“Hey Spence.” You sat, flagging the bartender.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t-uh-see you walk in?” He commented.

“Well, here I am.” You gave a smile to try to wash over how awkward you felt.

“I’m glad. It’s nice to see you outside of work.” He responded, and you felt a blush creep onto your face.

“Oh, uh…yeah it’s nice to see you too, Spencer.” You chuckled. The bartender came by, and took your order.

“Do you want something, or gonna stick to the beer?” You offered to Spencer.

“No I’m alright, thank you.”

“Okay, then just my drink please.” You responded to the bartender, who nodded his head before going to make the drink.

“So, you seem to not be socializing much…drained?”

“Yeah, that and I’m not the most social person.”

“You and me both, I’m here for free drinks.” You chuckled.

“I’m just here because I didn’t feel like going home quite yet.” He responded.

“Fair enough.” You shrugged, thanking the bartender as he slid you your drink. The two of you sat in silence for a bit, sipping on your drinks.

“How much do you plan on drinking?” You asked.

“Probably not much.” He responded. “I don’t usually go out and drink, so I don’t know my tolerance. But statistically speaking, most alcohol tolerance is calculated by weight, genetics and food content in the stomach. I’ve eaten—which helps, but my weight is on the lower side, so I might get drunk easier. That’s my hypothesis.”

“Okay. Just know your limits if you plan on drinking, please don’t black out on me.” You chuckled.

“Of course not. I’ll be responsible, I promise.” He looked at you, resting his hand on top of yours as he looked at you with that look you couldn’t resist. Spencer Reid and his damn puppy eyes will be the death of you.

———

Spencer Reid was four drinks in between the time you left him to talk with Garcia and Prentiss and your return to the bar. When you looked at the man, he looked drunk as hell. You saw the empty glasses and bottles of beer, and immediately decided it was enough. His face was bright red, his eyes glossy and his speech slurred a bit.

“Hey Spencer…you doing okay?”

“Mhmmm…jus’ amazing now that you’re here.” He spoke, his words sticking together.

“Yeah? Let’s get you some water, okay?” You sat down, pushing away the half full bottle from his reach. You flagged the bartender, muttering to cut him off and to get a glass of water.

“So I guess you’re not super lightweight.” You thanked the bartender as he gave you a glass of water. “Slow sips, okay?”

“Mm yes ma’am.” He grabbed the glass, taking the slow sips. “You’re so pretty, y'know that?” He looked up at you, a dazed smile on his face.

“Okay, you’ve had enough to drink. Time to go home.” You chuckled, helping him out of the chair. You supported him from underneath walking out, and when everyone looked at you, you told them. “Reid is shitfaced, I’m taking him home before he blacks out.”

“Oh my god, Spencer Reid is drunk?!” Garcia giggled, nudging Morgan.

“Never thought that would happen, what did you do to him?”

“He did this to himself, I had no part in this.” You defended yourself, and Spencer waved at them.

“Hi Derek, hi Garciaaaa.”

“Oh lord, get the man home.” Morgan shooed you, and you rolled your eyes as you walked Spencer out of the bar and into your back seat.

“Right here, watch your head.” You gently helped him in, and you took his wallet.

“Heyy, don’t rob me.” He whined, and you chuckled.

“I’m not robbing you, Spence. I need your address.” You read it off of his ID, and began driving. He lived around the area, about 10 minutes from the bar. He sat in the back seat quietly, his eyes stuck on you. You felt his gaze, but said nothing.Once you pulled into the street, you found a parking space and turned off your car. Spencer was still watching your every move, as you exited the car and opened the passenger door to help him out.

“Watch your head.” You warned him, and he looked. “Do you have your keys?” You asked, and he nodded, fumbling for them. He handed you a set, which had his gate key and apartment key labeled—ever so organized. You unlocked the gate to the building, and guided him to the elevator. He pushed the button, and held onto the railing on the wall as the elevator brought you up the floors. The silence was maddening, it was awkward yet tense. Once the door opened, he followed you to the apartment, where he unlocked his door. He fumbled a few times before you stepped in, placing your hand on his to turn the key in the correct direction.

“I could’ve done it…” He muttered.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” You responded, taking off your shoes. He did the same.

“Sit on the couch please, I don’t want you to fall.” You asked him, and he did as told.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He smiled at you, his eyes seeming so wide and enamored it made your heart ache. He was drunk, he would never be like this if he were sober. He was just attached because you were caring for him, the same thing you see every day with victims.

But it hurt, because you actually liked him.

You poured him a glass of water, and handed it to him. “Slow sips, and you can change if you want, maybe get a bit more comfortable than slacks.” You walked towards him, and before you could sit, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked up at you.

“You’re so beautiful…god.” He smiled, looking at you with those eyes again. Your stomach ached.

“Spencer…” You took his hands off and sat next to him. “You don’t actually like me…you’re drunk.”

“Yes I do. I don’t like you…I love you. I have for…a while now. You’re so amazing and funny, you’re great at your job…seeing you work is like watching an angel.” He rambled, and you genuinely felt your heart flutter and your stomach cramp. Before you could think of a response, his lips were on yours.

He kissed you softly, his hand on your cheek as he held your face. You wanted to pull away, to tell him he was drunk and he didn’t mean it, but you couldn’t. You melted into it, your lips slitting together perfectly as you kissed tenderly, carefully. Like he didn’t want to scare you away, like he wanted you to be with him forever.

It hurt.

You pulled away. He whined slightly, and you gave a weak smile. “Spencer, I don’t want your first kiss with me to be when you’re drunk. If you truly meant all of this, kiss me in the morning once you sobered up.” You requested, and he was sad, you could tell.

“I get it. And I promise you I will. I love you.” He repeated, and it made your heart soar.

“Okay.” You stood, helping him to his bed. He followed, and then climbed into it. You went to his bathroom to grab some Advil, and placed it next to his glass of water. You also gave him some now as a preventative measure.

“Take that tomorrow morning, and have these now.” You handed him the pills, and he took them as requested.

“Okay, i’ll see you tomorrow. Be safe, and don’t do anything risky.” You smiled weakly, and he nodded.

“Thank you for being so amazing.” He responded, and you just chuckled.

“Anytime.”

———

Spencer Reid woke up the next morning with a headache—which he knew was to be expected with a night full of drinking, but most typically said it was worse than what it currently felt like. His headache felt tolerable, and since he was about to take more advil, it could likely get even better. He had to remember to thank you.

And kiss you.

He doesn’t remember a lot of things about the past night, but he remembers that. He remembers kissing you, and you telling him to kiss her sober if he really felt the way he did. Which he did, he was still very much in love with you. So Spencer got ready for work, rode the train to Quantico and waited for you to arrive. He got started back up on his report, glancing at the elevator door every few minutes, his heart jumping as the elevator beeped—only for it to not be you.

So when it was, his heart soared. You walked past him to get to your desk, waving at him when you saw him. He had to find you when you were alone, so when he saw you going to get coffee in the staff lounge, he went to follow. He walked into the room, the tinted windows oddly convenient for the situation. He closed the door, which caught your attention.

“Hey, good morning Spencer.” You greeted, pouring sugar into your coffee.

“Good morning.” He responded casually.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him.

“Decent, thanks to you.”

“I’m glad.” You responded, and then Spencer walked towards you as you finished pouring. He tilted your chin, and kissed you again. This time, it felt more natural, more gentle than desperate like Spencer initially felt. You didn’t want to pull away, and neither did he, but unfortunately you were at work.

“Spencer, we're at work.”

I see Dr Abbot smelling very clean. He wears a cologne his wife used to love on him, and it is the only thing he will ever wear. His typical scent when you first walk in is the cologne with a light smell of aftershave. He almost smells sterile, like he’s trying to match the hospital vibe. The top notes are the Bergamot and Pine, but as the day passes you get the musky, woody scents.

I don’t see him wearing any cologne if i’m honest. I think he doesn’t really care enough to wear cologne to work, but maybe he’ll wear some to a dinner or event. Generally, he rawdogs the male scent. I lowk meant to put natural must instead of black musk so ignore that. I don’t think he smells bad, I just think he smells naturally masculine.

He’s a clean guy for sure. His hair smells clean, his body smells clean, he’s very clean. I think he smells very citrusy, but not in an overwhelming way. Hospitals don’t allow people who interact with patients to wear overwhelming scents for countless reasons, so he sticks to something subtle. But if you walk by him, you’ll get a nice wave of lemony smell. Top and base notes are lemon, along with the minty smell. Other base notes include the musk and sage, which you will smell more as the shift progresses.

He’s a farm boy, so he will smell faintly like he’s been at work, but not in a bad way. He smells faintly of hay and wood, but he covers it with a cologne Amy gave him while she was pregnant. He wears it to work because he figured if she could handle it while pregnant, patients would be able to handle it. He generally smells a mix of woody and citrusy, the woody smell comes from the hay and wood of the farm, which are his base notes. The Bergamot and Lemon Zest is something you smell from the start of the day to a few hours, and as the day goes you smell the rest.

You were the young and spunky R3 of the night shift. You were also interchangeable to day shift if someone called out, but more times than not you worked nights. You had that energy in you that not a lot of people in your position had. Maybe Shen was the only one that had the spunk you did, which is what made you two such good friends. You and him had always gotten along, but it all started with your shared love for dunkin iced coffee. On your first day at PTMC, all those years ago, you came in with an Iced Mocha latte in a Dunkin Donuts cup, and Shen commented on your taste. The two of you had been as thick as thieves since.

A lot of people saw your energy as unusual, considering most third year residents were stressed about their fellowships or next steps. You wanted to stick around Emergency Medicine for the most part, but you weren’t opposed to snagging a trauma fellowship with Garcia and her squad. You thought that you worked well in traumas, and that getting surgical experience would be a good next step. But you had it pretty laid out for you, so you weren’t too stressed.

You woke up that afternoon at 3pm, your typical time for a day of work. You checked your phone, seeing a bunch of missed texts from the night shift group chat that you had to catch up on. But first, you decided to get ready for work. Being an ER doctor wasn’t a pretty job, which was great because that meant you didn’t have to look pretty for it. You just had to look presentable enough that patients won’t give you a hard time for looking too messy. The ER doctor aesthetic was simple: scrubs, underscrubs, hair away from your face, and maybe a little concealer under your eyes to look slightly more alive, but that was on a good day. On a day like today, you did the bare minimum. You showered, put your hair up, and checked your texts.

———————

abbot: Rise and Shine, night walkers!

dunkin diva: shut up i just woke up 😞

sleepy head: What could you possibly want at this hour, Abbot?

abbot: I have an announcement, Dr Ellis. Forwarded: Attention all R3s and up, we have a hospital charity dinner this weekend! On saturday, at 7pm, we will be meeting at ********** for a formal dinner. There will be speakers, free food and drinks.

you: oh hell no

sleepy head: oh hell no x2

you: i hate formal events 😭

abbot: Too bad, you’re an R3, you have to go.

you: i don’t like you.

abbot: Sure you don’t 😂

——————-

You sighed deeply as you pulled your shirt over your head. You did hate formal events, because you weren’t the most formal person. You hated dresses, you hated socializing with people, especially rich donors who think they know so much about medicine. Most nights you didn’t have the patience and ended up leaving once you’ve had enough food and drinks for your liking (because who could resist free food and drinks).

you got a text from Shen as you were putting up your hair

————

dunkin diva: feeling nice, i’ll pay for your dunkin today.

you: okay?? I won't say no to free dunkin. thank youuuu 😛

—————

You grabbed your bag from your room, made a quick dinner of chicken and rice before heading off to work. It wasn’t anything fancy, but you needed the fuel for the long night. You grabbed your car keys from your coffee table, and started to drive to work. The traffic was always busy at this time, rush hour and such. It always took longer than it should’ve to get to work, considering you lived a 10 minute car ride away. You arrived at work half an hour early, not even listening to anyone until you were in your scrubs. You had the machine give you a fresh pair, and you changed into them. You clipped your hair back, tucking the front strands away from your face, and put you belongings in type locker.

“Good evening! you’re the first one in of your crew.” Dana greeted you, and you went to give her a hug.

“Hi Dana.”

“Hi Honey.” She patted your back.

“So, what do we have upon us tonight?”

“For you, my dear, I have…25 year old male right lower quadrant pain, CT scan negative for appendicitis, history of kidney stones, could be passing one. 60 year old male, COPD exacerbation, we have a patient in behavioral, 19 year old female, suicide attempt with opioids, waiting for tox screen and a psych bed, brought back with Naloxone. And a 3 year old awaiting a respiratory panel for SOB and hypoxia. He’s on a cannula, sats at mid to high 90s, and had to give him a neb.”

“Sounds good to me.” You nodded, checking the cases and logging them on your ipad. You then heard the rest of your crew start to pile in.

“Delivery for a dunkin addict?” Shen said behind you, holding out your drink.

“You’re one to talk, John.”

“Guilty as charged, take it.” He shook it, and you grabbed it. “What do you say?”

“Thank you John!” You thanked him.

“And?” He walked to his locker

“You’re the best!” You yelled from afar.

“I know!” You rolled your eyes. You walked around the ER, saying goodbyes to your day shift friends.

“Trin, are you going to the charity dinner?” You stopped by where Dr Santos was.

“No, remember it’s only for R3s and up?” She reminded you and you sighed at yourself.

“Right.”

“Personally, I don’t envy you.” She turned to face you.

“Of course you don’t. But, do you think you could help me get ready, and maybe lend me a dress?”

“That I can do.” She leaned back in her rolling chair, studying you. “Swing by my place before the event and I'll get you looking so sexy for all of those donors.”

“Yes because it is the donors I want to look good for.”

“Hey, anything for money.” She turned to face her computer screen. “Seriously though, I’ll help you out.”

“I appreciate you, Trin.”

“Love you too.” She waved you off as you went to go see your first patient. You scrolled through the chart, looking for the COPD patient. You saw his placement, and walked there.

“Hi, Mr…Miller?”

“James, yes.”

“Hi, I’m one of the night doctors, I'll be taking care of you tonight.” You put on some sanitizer and cleaned your hands. “Why don’t you tell me about what had you brought in?”

“Yes, I was helping my son fix something and got very short of breath. I tried my meds, but they didn’t help very much, so my son called 911.”

“Okay, and you have COPD, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, well how are you feeling now?” You asked, standing up to examine him.

“Much better, the medication the other doctors gave me helped.” He explained, and you took out your stethoscope. You listened to his lungs, hearing the typical crackles for COPD, but they didn’t sound awful.

“You sound better from what I saw in the notes. You seem to be doing pretty good in terms of oxygen, so let’s try to remove that mask and see how you do, and if your airway keeps up, we can get you home.” You explained, and he nodded.

“Sounds good, thank you doctor.”

“Anytime.” You slipped off your gloves, and threw them out. You then went to your next patient, the little kid. Before you went in, you checked his labs. Nothing was back, but you figured you’d introduce yourself. You walked to central 10, and knocked gently on the door.

“Hi, is this…Jacob?” You peeked in, and the woman next to the kid nodded.

“Yes, I’m his mom, Cynthia.”

“Hi Cynthia, I’m the doctor trading off for Dr King tonight. I read his chart, but I always like a fresh perspective, so why don’t you tell me what brings him in today?”

“Yeah, so uh, the nurse called me at daycare. She said he was having a hard time breathing, and that his lungs sounded not great, and so I went and picked him up and took him here.”

“Okay, had he shown any symptoms prior to that?” You sat down next to herZ

“Just a runny nose and a slight cough, nothing serious. I took him to his GP the other day and he said it was a cold.”

“Okay, but whatever it is now, it’s causing him real lung distress, and I want to figure out what it is. So, did Dr King mention anything called RSV?”

“No…” She shook her head.

“Okay, so RSV is a virus that’s unfortunately very prevalent in his age group, and can cause severe symptoms. RSV would show on a swab, so when that comes back, i’ll see. But for now, I want to give him a quick exam, and I’ll return when I get bloodwork and swabs back.” You went to go examine, still hearing some slight wheezing, but not too much. You heard some rales along the bottom of his lungs, which all added up with RSV.

“So, his lungs still don’t sound ideal, especially since he’s on oxygen. His levels are fine, but we’d prefer to see them above 95. I think he’d benefit from another breathing treatment besides the albuterol to help open up his lungs more. Would you be open to that?” You asked her.

“Yeah, sure. If it’ll make him feel better.”

“Okay, I’ll be back. Hang in there.” You removed your gloves, and off to the next. Next your pain patient.

“Hi, is this Mr Parker?” You asked the man in the room, who was curled up in pain.

“Yes…I'm Jason.” The man grimaced.

“Hi Jason, I'm sorry you’re in so much pain.” You walked over to him, sitting next to him. You checked the meds they were giving him. Tylenol only?

“What’s bringing you in today? I read in your chart.”

“I think I’m passing a kidney stone.” He groaned, clutching his side.

“It says here you have a history of kidney stones, do they happen a lot?” You asked.

“This is probably my fourth, why?”

“It’s just not typical in someone so young. But first, let’s manage your pain.” You went to examine him, he was definitely tender around where his kidneys were. You did the test to check it, and he was positive.

“Yeah, I saw your ultrasound, I saw a 3 millimeter stone and a 0.7 millimeter. So, they’re not big enough that we need to break them up, but it’s definitely why you’re in pain. Unfortunately the best thing for you is to pass it.”

“Yeah, I gathered. Fuck, it hurts!”

“Yeah, i’m sorry. I’m gonna get you some more pain meds for now, and let’s see if we can reduce your pain to where it’s tolerable. Where would you say it is now?”

“Like-ah-an eight?”

“The tylenol didn’t help?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, with that type of pain it usually won’t touch.” You nodded, already putting an order for morphine in your tablet. “I’m gonna get you some morphine, and we can see how it goes.”

“Okay…thank you.”

“I’m sorry, feel better. I’ll be back.” You then slid into a chair, putting the sign off order for the morphine, which required an attending’s approval.

“Hey Dr Abbot!” You called from across, and he walked over.

“What’s up?”

“I got a 26 year old with a history of kidney stones, he has two right now.” You explained.

“Yikes. I don’t envy him at all.” He chuckled, still listening intently.

“Yeah, a 3 millimeter and a 0.7. I need you to sign off for my morphine order.” You asked.

“You got it.” He got on the computer, logged in and approved it. “Alright, go forth.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, and he patted your shoulder.

———————-

The rest of your shift was mundane, mostly because the night shift was never that fun past ten pm unless it involved drinking or drunk stupidity. You had dealt with the drunks, the drunks who fell, the drunks who also enjoyed drugs, so on.

However, the Saturday afternoon prior to the charity event? Much more eventful. The event started at 7, which really meant it started at 6:30. So you arrived at Trinity Santos’ apartment at 5, ensuring you had all the time you needed to get ready. You showered at home, did your hair routine, packed your purse, grabbed a pair of heels, and a pair of flats, as well as a change of clothes to leave in your car. You arrived at 5 on the dot, and Dennis answered the door.

“Oh hey, come on in.” He opened the door, and Trinity called from afar.

“Is that my bestie? Come to my room!”

“Coming!” You walked over, passing Whitaker and entering Trinity’s room. She had dresses laid out, looking stuck between a few.

“Hmmm. Come here.” She gestured for you to come to her, and you did. You put your bag down, and walked next to her.

“Put these up to you, I’m stuck between the burgundy and the emerald.” She handed you two dresses, and you put them up to your body. She thought for a moment, then turned the mirror to face you.

“What do you like more?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Part of me feels like the red is too sexy of a color for a charity dinner.”

“Hm, y'know what we need? A male perspective. Whitaker!” She yelled into the hall, and the man came walking.

“Yeah?” He asked, munching on some chips.

“Dude, are you eating my tortillas?!” She side yelled at him.

“Maybe, what do you want?” He grazed over the chips, switching the topic.

“What dress is better for a charity event for the hospital?”

“Red gives doctor vibes, blood and that shit. But the green is nice too.”

“Not helpful, which one looks hotter?”

“So like-I’m not a good judge of that.” He hesitated

“Just pick one.” She scowled

“Red.”

“Thank you. Red it is.” She grabbed the green dress and put it away. “What shoes did you pick?”

“I brought black heels, and black flats in case my feet get tired.” You showed her the shoes, and she nodded. “Those work. Okay, let’s get you all glammed up!” She sat you on her carpet, digging in your bag for your makeup. She finds it and puts it in front of you.

“Okay, we’re looking for sexy, but like, business appropriate sexy.” She gravitated to your primer, putting some around your face. She also grabbed your concealer, eyeliner, eyeshadow palette. You closed your eyes, letting her do her work.

“So, are you excited at all? Is Doctor Daddy gonna be there?”

“Oh my god shut up. Never call him that again.” You cracked up.

“Hey, your words, not mine.” You felt the bristles of the brush on your eyes. “I’m gonna put some concealer on specific spots on your face, I don’t think you need a full base, just the eyebags and such. I also wanna do a sorta brownish glittery smokey eye? I don’t know how to describe it but it’ll look hot.”

“Well, you have yet to fail me.” You responded, giving her your fullest confidence. “But yeah, Abbot will be there.”

“Ooh, you gonna stick by him, let the guests gossip like an episode of some snobby movie?” She teased.

“As fun as that sounds, it’ll probably just be me talking to some guests.” A twinge of disappointment in your voice.

“Boo, see why can’t our lives be like Grey’s Anatomy sometimes?”

“It does sometimes feel like it.” You chuckled. “Both of us and our slightly problematic age gap situationships.”

“True.” She took the brush away from your eyebags after blending, and picked up another one. “Just gonna do the eyeshadow. You don’t really need that many skin products, honestly.” She explained, dusting the eyeshadow onto your eyelids.

“I trust you.”

“I know, some might call that your first mistake.” She chuckled.

“Maybe. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t get all gushy with me, ew.” She teased. “But seriously, what is the Abbot situation?”

“Why?” You asked

“No reason.” She lied.

“You’re an awful liar.”

“Too bad, you’ll never find out. Just tell me.”

“I mean, not much. It’s just small touches that are enough to not be entirely platonic, or so I think. I don’t know, his hands linger.”

“Yeah? Interesting, I wonder if he’ll make a move tonight. Under the influence of a little alcohol and dim lights.” She chuckled.

“Have you been watching shitty romcoms again?”

“I might be.” She shrugged, dusting some blush on your cheeks.

“Well, that would explain where your delusions are coming from.”

“Hey! I am not delusional. Get up, let’s get started on your hair. Do you want it curled or straightened?

“Curl it.” You responded.

She got out her iron, preheating it. “Just for a little more definition in the curls.” She explained. Once it was heated, she began curling at the strands.

“My only advice for tonight, don’t do anything stupid. Don’t get into strangers' cars, don’t drink too much, and don’t go into any sketchy areas.” She spun the wand.

“I’m a doctor, Trin. I have common sense.”

“You never know.”

“I guess.”

“Go, you’re done. Put on the dress, and let’s look at the final result.” She gestured for you to shoo. You grabbed the dress and slipped it on, then the heels, before Trinity helped you zip up.

“Oh my god you look so sexy.” She gasped, her hands over her mouth. “Whitaker!”

“What? Oh wow, you look nice.” He commented.

“Right??? I did such a good job.” She took out her phone, snapping a picture and sending it to the girls group chat.

“Thank you Trin.” You went to hug her, and she hugged you back.

“I gotchu girl, now go. Represent the hospital, show that you can be sexy and a doctor.”

___________

WOMEN OF DA PITT 😍😍

trin: [image attached] doesn’t she look so sexy

mel king: oh wow! you look gorgeous @you

samira mohan: she does!

_____________

Once you arrived, you checked your phone. You see one missed notification from Jack Abbot himself.

———————

abbot: Hey, did you make it alright? Don’t see you here yet.

you: just made it!

abbot: Good. See you inside?

you: you bet :)

———————

You got mini butterflies at the text, it was good to know he still cared. You grabbed your purse from your passenger seat, leaving the change of clothes and shoes in the back in case. The first thing you smelt when you entered was champagne and expensive air freshener. It smelled like a rich person event.

You looked around, taking in the grandness of it all. Everyone was in suits or nice dresses, everything was neatly organized, including the tables. The chandelier was grand, the bar and food was fancy, it all was too nice for your comfort. Maybe it’s because you were used to simplicity. You looked for your table amongst what felt like millions, feeling lost in the endless maze of black tablecloths. You tried to look for any of your friends, Shen, Ellis, Robby, McKay, anyone. Yet in the army of thousands, you couldn’t find them.

You tried looking for them at the bar, but ended up just ordering a drink.

“Put it on my tab.” A voice spoke from behind you. You didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

“Dr Abbot, you don’t need to do that.”

“I insist.” He reassured, nodding at the bartender. “One whiskey, neat.”

“Classy.” You commented.

“You look nice.” He whispered, right at your ear. It made you shiver in the slightest.

“You don’t look bad yourself.” You commented.

“High praise from the beautiful lady herself.” His voice was still low, like he wanted to keep what you were saying to each other a secret.

“You flatter me.”

“Good, someone as beautiful as yourself deserves a little flattery every so often.”

“Keep flirting with me and I might get the wrong idea, Dr Abbot.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” He chuckled, but his voice was still low. Was he trying to seduce you? It was hard to tell. “Come, I'll show you our table.” He led you out, his hand resting on your lower hip, a touch too intimate being nothing.

“Sounds good, i’ll just follow you.” You responded, holding your martini glass. The two of you swayed through the people, and arrived to a large round table where the rest of the night shift was.

“Hey, there she is. I thought you were gonna skip.” Shen commented. “You look good, girl.”

“Thanks, it’s the work of Dr Trinity Santos.”

“She’s good.” Ellis agreed, sipping from a wine glass. “Hasn’t she done most of your looks?”

“Shhhh, don’t expose my secret.” You shushed her, and Abbot chuckled.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He pulled your chair out for you. You sat down, putting your drink down as well.

“We’ve gone ahead and ordered some mains, and a few apps.” Shen told you, and you nodded. Abbot had saved his seat next to yours, which was not very subtle. But really? When was he ever?

“Some chair people want to meet you, i’ll introduce you in a bit if that sounds okay?” He muttered.

“Uh yeah, sounds good to me.” You agreed.

“Good. Then we can socialize for a little, keep people entertained, then maybe step out once we’ve eaten and things cooled down?”

“You’re trying to leave with me, Doctor?”

“I’m not trying anything, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to?”

“Are you feeling bold tonight, or have you had a few too many whiskeys?”

“This is only my second.” He responded.

“Interesting.” You noted, but just as you were about to take another sip, his hand slipped to your knee. You kept your reaction subtle, but you knew he could tell.

“So, have any of you guys had any interesting interactions yet?” He asked the table.

“I’ve had a guy ask me if I’m supposed to be here because it’s a doctors and sponsors only event.” Ellis spoke.

“Yikes. Sorry, I’m gonna go get another drink.” You stood up, walking off to the bar. You approached, and as you were ordering, someone cut you off.

“Excuse me miss, pardon me, but you are so gorgeous. Are you a doctor here, or maybe just a sponsor?”

“Oh, you’re so kind. I’m a doctor at PTMC, yes.” You humbled him, you didn’t really know what else to say.

“You must be a very smart woman then.” The man slid a bill over to the bartender. “I’ll take care of that for you.”

“Oh, thank you. You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to. So, tell me about yourself, sweetheart.”

“Uh…well…”

“Hey, babe. Is everything alright here?” A man spoke from behind you, Jack.

“Oh, yeah. This nice man was buying me a drink.” You explained, going along with it.

“Oh, that’s nice.” He kissed your temple, his hand around your waist. “You gonna buy me a drink too?”

“Nah, nah I'm sorry man, I’ll go.” He quickly walked away, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Thanks for the save.” You looked at him, and he nodded.

“I saw a guy was chatting you up, figured I’d make sure he wasn’t being weird.”

“Well, he was so, nice spot.”

“Anytime. I was going to tell you the food is here, if you want to eat something.”

“Oh, yeah sure, I'll be right over. I’m just waiting for my drink.”

“I’ll wait with you, in case any creepy guys come back.” He stood, his arm resting on the small of your back. The action made you blush slightly.

“That sounds good to me.”

—————————

The two of you sat next to each other while you ate, engaging in conversation with the people around you. Jack introduced you to a few sponsors, who had requested to meet you. You socialized, kept an appearance for a while, and let the drinks flow enough to keep you afloat. Jack Abbot stayed by your side, so when your social battery began to give out, and your heels started to bother you, he noticed.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“My feet hurt.” You responded, wobbling slightly on your feet.

“Yeah, you’ve been walking on them for a good…three and a half hours.” He checked his watch.

“It’s been that short?” You whined softly, not trying to let people know you were done with everything.

“I know, it feels like forever.” He muttered.

“God, I need a break.” You sighed.

“Me too, how about we go get some fresh air?” He offered, and you took him up on it. “Do you have a change of shoes?”

“Yeah, in my car.”

“Let’s go.” He grabbed your purse for you and walked you out, taking his time, mindful of your foot pain. You directed him to your car, and once you arrived, you opened the trunk and changed your heels for your flats.

“I already have blisters, great.” You groaned, grabbing bandaids from your purse and putting them on the sides of your feet. He waited patiently while you tried to be quick.

“Y’know, I could drive you home.”

“Didn’t you drive here?”

“Nah, I had to ride with John because my car is currently being fixed.”

“Ah, okay. I mean, if you don’t mind. How much have you had to drink?”

“Less than enough to make me legally impaired, c’mon, we see enough drunk drivers. I know better.”

“Fair enough.” You threw him your keys, and he caught them. He got into the driver’s seat, and you in the passenger’s. He turned your car on, and put your address in the maps. Once the two of you took off, the car ride was quietly intimate. His hand rested on your thigh possessively, and it turned you on to no extent.

You were a little tipsy, you knew that. Not drunk, but you had a bit to drink. Maybe that was what made you feel super horny about Jack Abbot at this moment. He looked really hot right at that moment, his hands on you like they belonged there, his hair softly waved over his face, his biceps in the suit jacket…it all made you feel things. Things you wouldn’t typically allow yourself to feel.

Once he pulled onto your street, he came to a stop. He walked over, opened your side of the car and walked you back to your apartment, carrying your bag and shoes. Once you arrived at the apartment, you fiddled with your keys and unlocked the door. You turned to take your belongings from his hands, but you got caught in the way he was looking at you.

He looked starved, hungry for you like he hasn’t had a taste of you in years.

“Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He spoke lowly.

“Guess so…” You stood there for a moment, secretly praying he’d make a move. He looked like he was waiting too, because he didn’t look set on moving.

“You waitin’ for me to kiss you or something?” He smirked, leaning on the doorframe.

“Maybe, you gonna kiss me or something?”

“Something.” He responded, his hands going to pull you up against him.

“Yeah? I’m waiting.” And he didn’t wait any longer. He pulled you into a kiss, and you melted instantly. Your hand rested against his chest, and he walked you back into the apartment, kicking the door shut.

You moaned softly into his lips as his hand slipped under your dress and up your thigh. He groaned softly as he realized how wet you were.

“All for me? Little slut, I knew you wanted me since the moment you walked in.” He muttered, kissing down your neck, the stubble on his chin rough against your soft skin.

“Yeah? Why didn’t you say anything?” You let out a sharp exhale.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He then grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. He walked over to your room, and placed you on the bed.

“God, I've wanted to keep my hands on you all night. You don’t know how angry I got when I saw that guy all over you.” He unzipped the dress, mindful that it wasn’t yours.

“You don’t know how much the possessiveness turned me on.” You responded, watching as he pulled his shirt off.

“Yeah? You like when I make it apparent you’re mine? Because I can make sure the whole hospital knows if that’s what you want.” He mumbled against your neck, leaving a kiss right above your left breast that was definitely gonna mark.

“Sounds like a walking HR meeting.” You chuckled, then moaned softly as his fingers hooked under your panties. You felt his thick finger against you, and inhaled sharply as he teased you with the tip of his finger, slipping in just enough to give you a feel.

“Jack-please.” You moaned.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“I need more, anything.” He then sunk down, pulling you to his level and slipping your panties down your legs. He then pressed his lips against your cunt, suckling at your clit as his finger curled inside you. Once he felt you were ready, he slipped in a second, which made you moan. You slipped your fingers in his hair, controlling his pace a bit.

“Please-just like that…” You whimpered, and he ate it up. He took every noise you made straight to his head, proud to know he still had it. He was making you feel things you hadn’t in a while.

Your whole career was a drag of sad and sadder. You didn’t have time to go on dates or have sex, not even to get off yourself. You never could make yourself come, it didn’t feel the same, but right here? This was real, and it was with the sexy silver fox that was your boss.

You were so deep, you didn’t realize that you were about to come until you did. But you came hard, you felt the pleasure radiate through your body, and you let out a soft cry as he fucked you through it with his fingers.

“Shhhh, good girl. You’re doing so well.” He praised you, slowly withdrawing his fingers. You slowed your breathing, looking up at him.

“That was…”

“I’m not done with you, gorgeous.” He muttered, undoing his belt and dropping his pants. He rolled on a condom and stroked himself a few times, before teasing you with the tip.

“Jack-please.” You whined, and he thrusted deeper, burying his cock half in before pulling out. He then thrusted all in, burying his cock inside you with a groan.

“So fuckin perfect…” He mumbled, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He set a deep pace, feeling the tip of his cock kiss your cervix with each thrust. The angle was just as good, brushing just right to make your legs feel tingly.

He muttered sweet nothings in your ear as he fucked you. Things about you being his, how amazing you’re doing…so on.

Nothing about this felt casual. You hoped it wasn’t.

Not when he made you feel like this.

Your next orgasm hit just as hard, the feeling radiating all over like you had been struck by lighting. But the better part was when he came.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, gorgeous…jesus this pussy is fuckin perfect…” He groaned, burying his cock deep inside you as he spilled into the condom. His breathing was rough, and his voice was too. He stayed inside you for a moment, before he pulled out and went to dispose of the condom.

“Okay, let’s clean up, then we can do whatever it is you want, yeah?” He kissed your temple, helping you up and to the bathroom.