a loud knock at your front door jolted you awake as you turned to look at your alarm clock—6:35am. you groaned and grabbed the jacket laying on your bed, before slipping it on, forgetting that it wasn’t actually yours. you grumbled as you made your way to the front door, swinging it open ready to complain about whoever decided to wake you at this ungodly hour of the morning. but then you were met with robby, the very man who’s jacket you were currently wearing.

“morning.. i was about to ask if i had left my jacket here last night, but.. i can see that i did..”

“what? oh.. oh.. sorry… shit, here you go..” you mumbled out your words, frantically taking off his jacket and handing it to him—suddenly feeling slightly cold. you looked down and realised you were dressed in barely any clothing. robby’s mouth fell slightly agape, before he coughed and swallowed thickly.

“i.. uhm.. thanks.. i.. yeah, thanks..”

“your uhm.. your welcome..”

robby nodded at you, turning to step away before you stepped out your front door, grabbing his arm. he turned back to you, cheeks slightly flushed red as he stared into your eyes.

“do you.. uhm.. do you wanna come over again tonight? after work? your choice of movie this time?”

robby hesitates for a second, knowing he’ll have to leave early again since he has work early in the morning tomorrow—but when he got home last night, it’s been the first night in a while that he felt lighter, happier, calmer. you would laugh at funny parts of the movie and he could feel his heart lurch every time he heard that sweet noise coming out your mouth—and now he’s sure he wants nothing more than to hear you laugh all the time, his face buried in your neck as his beard tickles your skin, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles. he knows you’re like half his age but he’s never been more sure that you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with—he doesn’t really believe in soulmates, but he’s starting to believe you might be his. so, he smiles at you, pulls his arm slightly back until his hand is now in yours, squeezing slightly when he speaks.

“popcorn and two bottles of cola?”

you smile back at him, before leaning up on your tiptoes and pressing a small kiss to his cheek, watching his cheeks flush red again.

“popcorn and two bottles of cola.”

taglist !

Jack loves your skin. He'll often find himself admiring it from across the floor of the ED, your freckles reflected in the fluorescent lights. Sometimes he trails off from his sentences when he feels your hand in his because it's just so soft. He's made it his sole mission to kiss every single inch of it.

He thinks you haven't noticed. You absolutely have.

It's a rare day off for the both of you - a morning spent pressing soft, loving kisses to each other's lips on the kitchen counter. Freshly baked bread sits on the side, filling the room with its aroma. Jack's head is buried in the crook of your neck as you both slow dance to whatever song is playing from the radio. You distantly acknowledge it's from the first album Jack ever shared with you on his record player, but you don't seem to be able to focus on anything besides him right now.

It doesn't help that he's kissing along your clavicle and his thumb is pressing circles into the back of the hand he's holding.

You scratch at his scalp gently with your free hand and press a kiss into his hair and he lets out a small sound of contentment.

"Jack," you murmur, voice still weak from slumber.

He hums back in response, his mouth now preoccupied with kissing up your neck.

He brings his kisses up to your jaw, along to your chin and, finally, onto your lips.

"Jack," you laugh softly.

"Someone's feeling touchy today," you smile, still faltering a little under his loving gaze, even after all these years.

"What, I can't love on my wife now?" he grins back, leaning in for another kiss.

You grant him one, then two, then maybe four more.

"Never said that," you murmur between pecks.

Jack's hands come up your shoulders, the callouses on them catching on your skin. He slowly moves them up to your face to cup your cheeks.

"Beautiful," he whispers, before letting you bury your head in his chest as he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on the top of your head.

"You okay?" you ask quietly.

He nods against your hair. "Just missed you. Feels like I've not seen you in forever."

You look up at him. "We work together every day," you smile.

He kisses your forehead. "Not the same as this, though," he whispers.

You shake your head.

"I'm a lucky man," he says softly, holding your gaze, "to get this twice in my life. I never thought I'd get this feeling again."

"Don't make me cry at this time in the morning," you murmur, leaning up to kiss his lips again.

"You're my world," he whispers, his thumb running along your cheekbone.

You place a hand over his on your face and bring it to your own lips.

"Pretty thing like you," he says softly, "can't believe you still want to be mine, baby."

You feel every ounce of the self-deprecation in his tone, and it breaks your heart a little.

"I'll keep wanting to be yours until the end of time, baby," you promise him.

"You swear?"

"With my whole heart."

You squeeze the hand you're holding.

"I can't get over how soft your skin is," he murmurs under his breath. You're not even sure if he meant to say those words aloud.

You feel heat running to your cheeks at his compliments.

"You really are the prettiest girl in the whole world," he whispers.

"Stop it," you giggle, embarrassed.

You know why he's so obsessed with your skin. It's a constant reminder to him that you never had to face some of the terrible things he has. That you're safe from it all in your office a couple floors above the ED. He knows your life has been far from easy, but he's glad to keep you well away from the chaos of his line of work.

You try not to think too hard about horrors your Jack has seen. It makes your stomach churn to even pass thought to it.

"I'd pick you in every lifetime, you know," you say quietly.

He smiles against the top of your head.

"I'm glad, sweetheart. I'd pick you, too."

"Even if we were both worms in another timeline?" you ask, a smile creeping onto your face.

"Even if I was human and you were a worm, I'd find you."

"That almost feels like a threat," you giggle.

"Be prepared," he teases back, placing his hands on your ass and lifting you onto the kitchen counter.

You squeal at the movement, wrapping your arms around his neck while laughing.

"I love you, baby," he whispers, tickling you with his stubble as he kisses all over your face.

"I love you more, silly," you laugh back.

Jack thinks his life has never been more beautiful.

Jack Abbot was normal. He was fine. He was definitely not seething watching you dance with friends. The problem with dating the hottest woman in existence was that he couldn’t exclusively monopolize your time. He barely knew anyone at this wedding, it was your friend’s wedding.

She had too many sisters to have you as a bridesmaid and in the comfort and secrecy of your bedroom you had whispered to him that you just didn’t have it in you to be in so many weddings—most of your twenties had been spent traveling around the country to be in friends’ weddings.

Now, he was watching you in a gorgeous plum dress dancing around barefoot with girls you’ve known for over a decade. Some of their husbands were tolerable. Your best friend and her husband were here. Most of the time Ted was fine. Drunk Ted cared a lot about golf and Jack, drunk or sober, couldn’t give a shit.

When P!nk’s “So What” ended you meandered back over to Jack and to his surprise (and delight), collapsed in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m a little tipsy.”

“So I see,” he replied, lightly pushing your hair back away from your face. Your nice hairdo had long since come unraveled and kept falling in your face.

“I like you so much,” you said leaning into him.

“You don’t love me?” He asked with a smile on his face. You snorted.

“Of course I love you. But I also like you.”

“Thanks?”

“I don’t think all my friends like their husbands,” you whispered a little too wet in his ear. He had to resist the urge to push you away to wipe it off.

“What makes you say that?”

“Take me back to the hotel and I’ll tell you,” you said laying your head on his shoulder. It definitely didn’t look comfortable, largely speaking to your exhaustion. You had been dancing and jumping with your friends for multiple hours.

“C’mon, babe,” he said shifting your legs off his lap.

“Ugh,” you groaned standing again. “I need to tell Claire goodnight.”

“I’ll get our stuff,” he said.

The send off had been a few hours ago, before the elderly relatives had left. Now, it was just a fun party with friends. He loved watching you light up and enjoy being around your people. He loved his people, but they were far more subdued than yours.

Across the dance floor you approached your friend who threw her arms around you with heartfelt but drunken balance and coordination. It made his heart swell, watching how happy you were. Fuck, he loved making you happy. All he wanted in life was to make each day just a little easier; he wanted to do his best to make you happy.

By the time you’d extricated yourself from your friend’s embrace and made your way back to him, Jack had a hold of your purse and coat. He also had already dug your ugly Birkenstocks out of your purse so you didn’t have to put your heels back on.

“Fuck you’re so good to me,” you said, holding onto him while you slipped the shoes on.

“Well if that’s all it takes,” he replied, helping you into your coat.

He kept a hold of your bag when walking out to the parking lot. Just like his mother taught him, he held the door open on the rental car and shut it gently behind you. When he got into the drivers seat, you had dug your water bottle out of your purse.

“Ugh, I’m already sobering up,” you complained.

“So you don’t want drunk fast food?”

You gasped dramatically. “Do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?”

Jack laughed and grabbed your hand as he turned out of the parking lot heading back to the hotel.

“What did you mean earlier about your girlfriends not liking their husbands?” He asked pulling into a greasy fast food joint. It rarely mattered which one as the point was disgusting food.

Once the French fries and chicken and burgers had been acquired, Jack pulled into a parking spot towards the back of the lot. One of the first things you both discovered you’d had in common was growing up in small towns. It meant that you both had fond memories of idling car conversations and the occasional makeout. Even now, a long away from your teen years, you both adored your post party ritual.

“So,” you began, curling your legs up. “Abigail, not technically my friend, but she’s a good time. Was talking to me about how glad she was that her husband couldn’t come and that was fucking bonkers to me. Why would you marry someone you don’t like?”

“You would be sad if I couldn’t come?”

“Sure, I like spending time with you. It’s not like it would ruin it for me, I basically barely hung out with you tonight, but it’s fun coming back and kissing you before dancing to Pitbull songs with everyone.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” he laughed.

“But seriously!” You said nudging him. “I like being around you. It’s fun. You’re just as fun as my friends.”

“Even though I can’t dance with the energy of a drunk college girl?”

“Even then,” you laughed. “Hear anything good with the spouses?”

“Ted likes golf,” Jack sighed.

“God he’s so boring,” you laughed. “But she needs boring after the shit head she used to be married to.”

“Do your friends think I’m boring?”

You scoffed. “No, they think you’re a crazy adrenaline junky, not boring. Did you notice the groom’s sister had a fucking weird speech?”

For the next hour you both sat in the car, eating food that would clog your arteries and gossiping about the wedding. It was life giving and comforting in ways you never wanted to lose. You’d had this with friends but Jack was the first man you’d ever dated who wanted to do stupid shit with you. He wanted to go to weddings of people he didn’t know. He wanted to sit in a slightly too heated car talking shit about speeches. He wanted to do nothing and everything with you.

“What’s that look?” Jack asked.

“I dunno,” you sighed. “I just really fucking like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I really fucking like you, too,” he said. “Even if you dance like a baby giraffe.”

“Fuck off!”

When you both got back to the hotel, Jack helped you search for the various pins hidden somewhere in your hair.

“You’re so pretty,” he said mouth at your bare shoulder.

“Are you trying to get in my pants, Dr. Abbot?”

“You’re not wearing pants,” he said, bracketing your body against the counter of the bathroom. “You are, however, wearing a gorgeous dress I’ve wanted to peel off with my teeth all night.”

“Your teeth, huh?” You asked making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“God I’ve wanted to touch you so bad all night,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a soft kiss right near your hairline.

“You look so good in that suit,” you grumbled, pushing your ass back against his groin. “Kept coming back to kiss you so everyone knew you were mine.”

Jack’s eyes fluttered closed as he buried his face in your neck. Being wanted by you was intoxicating. Knowing that you coveted him as much as he coveted you was more than enough to turn him on. He could feel the ghost of your cunt clenching around him. It had been two weeks since he last fucked you. Both of your jobs had been hectic.

But now, in the privacy of the too expensive hotel room, he had you at his mercy.

“Look at me baby,” he said softly against your ear, relishing in how you shivered against him. “All mine, right?”

“Only yours,” you breathed. “I’ve missed your hands.”

He ran his hands from your thighs up your dress to cup your tits. The strapless dress was held up by tape and some intricate ties in the back. He pulled the tape off your chest gently and then yanked the fabric down under your tits, bra and all. You looked so good. In the dim light of the bathroom, he drank in your heedy gaze.

“Beautiful,” he said attacking your neck again.

Having you in his bed for so long, meant Jack knew just how to kiss you and play with your chest to make you soaked. It’s like he had a cheat code to turning you on. It helped that most of the night had been subtle foreplay between you both. During dinner his hand was definitely too high on your thigh but he couldn’t bear to move it.

“Fuck, baby, take me to bed. It’s cold as shit in here,” you groaned.

“Anything for you,” he said. “How hard do you want tonight?”

“Rough,” you replied.

He wove his fingers through your hair, close to the roots and pulled. He drug you back into the main room and tossed you on the bed face first. Holding you down with one hand on your upper back, he slowly pulled the zipper of your dress down.

“Look at this sexy body,” he said. “All for me.”

You wiggled a little as he unhooked the strapless bra with one hand. It had taken him nearly a year to master, but it was one of his most used bedroom skills. Letting you go, he pulled off the dress harshly, taking your underwear with it. Then you were face down on the bed, naked and already dripping for him.

You had arched your back, preening under his gaze. With a sharp smack to the meaty part of your glute, he watched you jump and settle back into your skin. A few more spanks and he quickly shoved his fingers inside you making you gasp.

He loved all the noises and movements you made during sex. For the duration of your relationship, he had been making a running catalog of how to get you to do a sound or movement. While he harshly fingered you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, he began unbuckling his belt and pants.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Fuck me, please,” you panted against the comforter.

Shoving his pants down just low enough let out his dick, he pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your wetness along his cock. Just the smell of you was sending him over the edge. He made sure to clamp down on your hips tightly, hoping to leave a bruise for you to enjoy, before careening his hips into yours aggressively.

There was a grunt as the air was knocked out of you. For a moment he paused, enjoying how you felt. Your cunt always felt so fucking good against his dick. You were so warm and wet and you clenched so beautifully when he spanked you. As much as he loved to be the one furiously fucking you, he also loved having you in charge.

He always enjoyed feeling your nails rake down his back. He was desperate to feel you closer against his skin, so while he had your hips pinned to the bed, he quickly ripped off his button up and undershirt so he could wrap his arm around your neck and pull you up against his body.

Once he felt you against his chest, he began to thrust ferociously against your cunt. He loved how it fluttered and the grunts and groans you released as he harshly pounded into you.

“Fuck, baby,” Jack growled harshly. “You feel so good. Made for me. Carved for my fucking dick, isn’t that right?”

“Just for you,” you said breathlessly.

You were clutching onto the bicep his had wrapped around your neck (more so your chest than neck, but it had the same effect). He felt you meeting his thrusts sending shockwaves through both of you.

“I love it when you’re rough with me,” you heaved against his assault. “Harder, please.”

Your tone was always so breathy and almost whiny when you got worked up like this.

“Anything for my naughty girl. Do you like this dick pounding into you. Does it feel good to have someone treat you so meanly?”

“Fuuuck,” you groaned arching against his grasp more. “You feel so good inside of me.”

“You make me so fucking crazy, pretty girl,” he hissed against your ear. “Watching you tonight was like my own personal dream. The prettiest girl in the world dancing and jumping but always coming back to me. Can’t be without me can you?”

“No, I can’t,” you whined as one of Jack’s hands roughly kneaded your tits. “Your hands are so good.”

“Rub your clit for me, baby. I want to feel you cum on my dick. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Yes please,” you mumbled. He felt one of your hands leave its iron grasp on his arm. “You fill me up so good.”

Jack felt himself getting close so he pulled out and finished taking off his pants. Getting his prosthetic off quickly was a hard fought for skill, but he managed to push you flat on the bed covering your body with his own before slipping back inside of your warmth.

He wrapped his arm around your throat again and grinned at how you moaned wantonly.

“So pretty when you’re being used by me.”

“Please,” you managed.

“Prop your hips up, baby,” he said getting on his knees to allow you room.

The harsh sounds of him slamming into you filled the room while he kept whispering debauched things in your ear:

“You’re made for me and only me.”

“Using you feels so sweet.”

“Are you going to cum on my dick?”

“I’m so fucking deep, baby.”

“I’m going to make you cum so hard.”

He was so focused on making sure you came, he didn’t noticed how you turned your face.

“Please, daddy, harder,” you moaned.

His hips stuttered and to control himself, he bit into the muscle of your shoulder. He almost felt guilty for how hot he found your cry of pain to be.

“Rub your clit and say it again,” he mumbled against your skin.

Your hand snaked underneath your body, and gasping under his assault you said,

“Harder, daddy. I want to feel you cum inside me.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned.

He was so close when he felt the tell tale flutters of your cunt against him. He nearly wept with relief you finally were close enough for him to say,

“Cum on my dick, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel. Milk me. Milk daddy.”

You cried out as you tensed and gasped underneath him. He made sure to keep moving as you clenched against him until your shaking thighs collapsed. He continued his furious pace until he felt himself orgasm. It felt like he came forever. When he finally collapsed and rolled over next to you, he chest was heaving.

“Daddy, huh?” He asked.

“I don’t know where it came from,” you laughed. “But you clearly liked it.”

“Surprise for me, too,” he huffed. He pulled you against him, reveling in how your naked skin felt against his.

“You’re sweaty and hot,” you grumbled, nuzzling your face against his chest. It was said like a complaint but you weren’t moving away.

“So are you,” he laughed. You tweaked his nipple.

“I’m fresh as a daisy.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Want to shower first?”

“Yes please,” you said. “Will you keep me company?”

He snorted and nodded.

The accessible bathroom had a removable shower chair that he used while he waited for you. Unlike the shower at home, it wasn’t big enough for Jack, his shower chair, and you. So he watched as you tied your hair up and quickly rinsed off. He noticed your wince when you gently cleaned your vagina.

“Do you want me to check it?” He asked a little concerned.

“Nah, just sensitive. You did a good job.”

“Wow, did I get an A-plus in sex?”

“Fuck off,” you laughed.

While Jack showered, you began working through your nighttime routine. You took off whatever make up hadn’t been sweated off during the wedding or the following sex and washed your face. By the time Jack got out, you were brushing your teeth.

Before leaving the bathroom you kissed him and said, “I love you.”

“Wuv yew,” he said with his toothbrush in his mouth.

Using his crutches, he made his way back to the bed, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before sliding into bed with you. Like you always did, you slept on the side farthest from the door. It was one of the many things that lingered from the war. Jack wanted to be between you and anything unexpected.

He pulled you against him, in the dark, enjoying how warm and soft you were.

“A good night,” he mumbled.

“And good sex,” you said.

He laughed and closed his eyes, feeling so much love and affection for you leaking out of his chest.

“Hey,” you said after a while. “You awake?”

“Hmm?” Jack asked sleepy.

“I just really like you.”

Jack laughed softly. “I really like you, too.”

After Mel moved to her bedroom last night, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the problem between you and Dr. Santos. She barely felt alive when she left your room, yet the second she laid back down, she was wide awake. She’d been struggling to sleep alone lately, but some part of her must’ve assumed she was so exhausted it wouldn’t matter. Instead, she was just as lonely as the last time she tried to sleep by herself. On top of that, her mind gave every possible scenario or reasoning for tonight’s issues except for anything where she wasn’t innately wrong for existing.

When she woke up to her alarm, she was laden with guilt and fatigue, all while wishing she hadn’t been so quick to give up sleeping beside you last night. The entire time she spent getting ready for her shift, she was stuck between not wanting to disturb you and craving your company. If it weren’t for work, she might’ve found the self-control to leave you alone, especially when you and Santos were sleeping so peacefully.

Mel knew you two were up late last night, so when she had quietly poked her head into your room, she wasn’t surprised you were both still asleep. For a moment, she had an overpowering nervous, miserable feeling just standing there. It felt like homesickness seeing you there and knowing she didn’t get to sleep in your bed nor would she get to spend the day with you. It was like missing you when you were right there. She wasn’t particularly fond of this feeling.

Mel glanced at both of you as she stepped into the room, as carefully as possible to not accidentally hit or bump anything on her way in. She watched her feet walk carefully around to your side, hoping not to disturb Trinity while she woke you.

You had been lying faced away from the door, half-hugging the pillow you had your head on, and Mel felt a flutter of something just looking at you. She’s concluded at this point that people were wrong about the whole butterflies in the stomach thing. If she really stopped and thought hard about what was going on in her body, what she felt in her gut was entirely different, and the fluttering was more in her chest. In the medical part of her mind, there were palpitations and fibrillations and literal, diagnosable flutters. And then there was whatever arrhythmia you induced when she felt like this. She took a breath before unfolding her hands to whisper your name and nudge your arm.

“Mm,” you grunted sleepily, hiding your face more into the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Mel said, keeping her voice quiet, still lightly shaking your arm. “I need you to drive me... I have work today.”

Your brow furrowed at her attempts to wake you, and you sighed through your nose. Still, you pushed aside the urge to indulge in the sleep-greedy version of yourself once her words caught up to you.

“Fuck… that’s right,” you sighed again, rolling over to lay on your back. You rubbed your eyes, and even when you sat up, you were still blinking the tiredness from them before you checked the time. Guilt lined Mel’s expression, watching you flop back down with a tired grumble.

“I’m sorry…” she murmured. “I really didn’t want to wake you…”

“No, it’s okay…” You shook your head and reached over to gently touch her arm with a reassuring, sleepy smile. She returned the expression the best she could, but it quickly disintegrated back to her looking down.

“When do you want to leave?” You asked, going from rubbing her arm to lightly tugging her closer. That had her eyelashes flittering as she made herself look elsewhere, taking in a deep breath. She could practically feel herself scrambling in her own mind just to keep her thoughts from scattering too far. Your hand moved to smooth over her side after, and that didn’t exactly help her predicament.

“Maybe in ten minutes?” she replied on an exhale. She tilted her head and then nodded after what you took as her glancing away in thought. “I wanted to give you time to—”

You had casually wrapped her waist in a hug and then suddenly pulled her onto the bed, cutting her sentence off with a yelp that left her. One second she was upright and then she wasn’t. Maybe she should’ve been watching you because you liked to scheme when she wasn't looking, apparently, and now she was wide-eyed, having just landed on her back between you and Trin.

“Oh, sorry…” you whispered sincerely when the brunette rolled over to look at Mel, then you, all while visibly unimpressed.

“You were mean to her yesterday…” you frowned playfully, responding to her grouchiness with your usual first defense (dumb humor). Mel found herself caught in your tactical joke when you were squishing the sides of her face.

“It’s—it’s okay, really." She tried to shake her head at Santos despite your hands pressing against her cheeks.

Trinity only raised a brow up at you, rolling her eyes after you bat your eyelashes like an obnoxious Disney character. Still, she relented with that eye roll. She moved closer, and you hugged Mel to you with your hands outstretched for her.

“You’re gross.”

You only grinned and made grabby hands. She rolled her eyes again, hard enough to try and compensate, but you still saw the smallest curve tug at her lips. Trinity turned onto her side so she could wrap her arms around Mel too, hugging you at the same time. You squeezed a bit more now that it was the two of you both sandwiching the poor girl. Trin was ready to immediately pull away with a “There, happy? Now fuck off,” but then Mel spoke up, and it felt like an opportunity.

“Why…?” was all she asked even if she wasn't upset. It actually felt really nice having the pressure from both sides, and if she could alter the moment, she’d only have Trinity squeeze like you did so it was balanced. That said, she still didn’t understand why this was happening and so close to her needing to leave.

“Well… d’you know about the sleeping beauties pos-ition—?” Trinity replied, as if engaging in a very serious and educational conversation, her tone going up with a giggle when she barely dodged you flicking her arm.

“The what?” Mel asked, distracted by her body being pushed and pulled when you two were taking turns trying to slap the other’s arm.

“Nothing, she just woke up. She’s being weird,” you laughed, separating from the hug.

Mel escaped the bed before she was trapped again, leaving the room right as you gasped from Trinity smacking your arm the second she got the chance.

“She’s gonna look that up later, and it’ll be your fault,” you whispered to Trin, rubbing your arm. She only showed devilish enjoyment in that possibility, so you rolled your eyes with a playful huff and got out of bed. Rather than bothering to get changed, you walked right out to the living room.

“Can you turn on the AC?” Mel asked as she put her crossbody bag on and swept her braid out from where it had gotten caught.

“Can’t. It’s broken,” you answered in the middle of a yawn.

“What…?” Mel frowned, walking past you to look. She knew as much as you did about fixing air conditioners, but she still thought of the one thing you hadn’t last night.

“My AirPods!” she practically cheered after she had followed the cord to see the plug on the floor rather than in the wall. She had forgotten yesterday morning the AC had been off in the living room overnight, so she figured it wouldn’t hurt to unplug it, charge her AirPods while she got ready, and then right everything again. Surely, both things would’ve been important enough for her to remember...

She grinned over at you with the little case held up in her hands, only to see the unimpressed look on your face, even if it was lighthearted.

“The um… it hadn’t been on, so I… but I found my AirPods!” she struggled through an explanation with gradually fading joy, pointing to the AC a few times.

“I forgo—I’ll… I’ll plug it back in,” she scrambled when you didn’t stop looking at her like that.

“That would be good,” you laughed, and she unplugged her charger to plug the AC back in, simpering sheepishly at you after.

When she was walking by with her head dipped slightly, you wrapped your arms around her to reassure her you weren’t upset with her.

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to forget about it…”

“I know,” you murmured, only loosening the hug enough for her to face you, and then you were squeezing her again.

Feeling playful, you tilted your body to see if you could lift her while hugging her like that, and Mel let out a yelping, panicked-giggling sound you’d never heard from her before.

“I don’t—I don’t know if—”

Whether she was going to voice her doubt that this was a good idea or that she didn’t like having her feet off the ground, you weren’t sure. That sound she made was enough to have you properly attempting to pick her up.

ʚɞ

At the sound of giggling, Trinity let her nosiness pull her from bed earlier than she intended on her day off. And oh, it had been worth it.

“Heading out soon?” She smirked.

Standing in the hallway, Trin watched you carrying a nervously laughing Mel a few steps to the door. Your arms had been wrapped low around her hips and then more under her butt for some leverage, with her letting out a giggly yelp when you bounced her to readjust your hold on her. The poor girl was grasping at you like she was going to fall to her death if you dropped her.

“And are you still going to work, or is there some honeymoon I should know about?” She asked next, and Mel’s already blushing cheeks deepened.

Shooting a playful glare in her direction, you saw Trin crossing her arms with that teasing smile curling her lips. You placed Mel back down, taking a moment to fix the way her shirt had bunched up before she shyly twisted away.

Mel busied herself with getting her sneakers on, hoping her face would cool down soon. While she did that, you took the very important role of flipping off Trinity, who was in the middle of a vulgar gesture of her own to silently mock you until Mel was looking again. She quickly flipped her hand to face you palm-first while she kept the “V” she was making with her fingers.

“Peace,” she said, baring her teeth like an awkward kid trying to smile for picture day, as if she hadn’t been pointing to Mel and then you and back before doing a far different gesture with her spread index and middle finger.

“Have a good shift,” she added on her way into the bathroom, already breaking with a few laughs before the door had even closed.

ʚɞ

When you returned to the apartment, you were met with Trinity raising a brow at you, a half-empty yogurt cup in one hand and the other still loosely holding the spoon she had stuck in her mouth. You were carrying a few bags for some reason, letting out a breath when you finally dropped them onto the kitchen table.

“Um…?”

“We needed sleepover stuff,” you shrugged, and she kept sucking on her spoon while she looked through the bags.

Junk food, baking mixes, ready-to-bake cookie dough in case you two got extra lazy, and some takeout menus you’d plucked off a community board.

“And I figured we could order food and watch tacky movies.”

“Your apologies are more romantic than Yolanda’s. Should I be worried?” She joked in a flat tone, offering a lazy smile when you glanced at her.

“Only snacks in there that are off-limits are the Goldfish,” you clarified first before you forgot. “Those are Mel’s.”

“Is there anything she should be apologizing for…?” you asked now, leaning on the top of the fridge door you just opened.

Trinity rolled her eyes and her head, tilting it back to groan at the ceiling.

“Yes,” she stressed, then admitted a bit more quietly when she looked at you again, watching you put things away. “And no… I guess…”

“Still pretending you want something casual?” You smirked, closing the door with a dull thump and bottles clinking inside.

“I dunno, still thinking about rubbing nubs with your roommate?” she countered sharply, begrudgingly softening again when she saw how gentle your amusement really was.

“I do want something casual,” she sighed, angrily eating more yogurt, which wasn’t exactly a food that lended itself to aggression, so she got some on the shirt you had let her borrow. You reassured her you didn’t care before that building frustration peaked over something as ridiculous as an old concert t-shirt.

“It’s my stupid fucking brain that won’t let me have it,” she admitted with a sigh. It sounded silly, but you understood. The desire for something else entirely versus what your mind and body truly craved… it sucked.

“I’m still pissed at her, though,” she huffed, stomping on the pedal of the trash can to toss the empty cup inside, with that spoon hanging from her mouth again.

“Even if you’re the one not telling her what you want…?” you treaded as carefully as possible, but she still gave you a look.

“I’m sorry, but if you make plans with the person who lets you fist them, you keep the damn plans.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” you said after that got laughter out of you like she had punched it from your gut.

“Damn, though, what a way to bring work home with you. Elbow deep in people all day… just to want it after hours…” You shook your head with a sigh.

“I actually hate you,” Trinity replied as if making a thoughtful revelation, tossing the spoon into the sink with a loud metal-metal clatter before she walked off.

“Most doctors wash their hands before a surgery,” you continued while following her out of the kitchen and down the hall. She shot you a glare before shutting the bathroom door in your face.

“But she has to wash her arms!”

“Still hate you!” she called back.

“Still love you,” you crooned, practically feeling her eye roll through the door. “I’d never fist and flee.”

That actually earned an involuntary cackle from her before she could stop it, and you walked off to the living room TV with your success and a mental catalog of movies to go through.

“All surgeons should wash their forearms before surgery, by the way!”

ʚɞ

Sat on the floor in front of the couch, you plucked some of the toppings off of a pizza the restaurant had accidentally delivered to you. At least the rest of the order was right, but someone expecting a supreme was about to get the exact opposite.

You wiped the grease off your fingers onto a napkin and watched Kate Hudson on your TV, leaving her apartment in a silken yellow dress.

“I can’t believe I don’t have a nickname for you…” Trinity shook her head, squinting as she tried to think, still stuck on a topic that had suddenly occurred to her at random about ten minutes ago.

“I remember the first one, but obviously that’s not…” She gestured, and you both silently shook your heads in understanding. That would've been from when you first met. The joke involved wasn’t relevant anymore, and it was a far sadder reminder than something as unserious as calling someone Crash because they passed out at work.

“Fuck, I really can’t think of the other one, though… how is that possible?”

“We lived too far from each other for a few years,” you pointed out with a shrug, finally taking a bite of pizza and only risking one temporary side-eye.

“I guess…” she trailed off, then pouted her lips the way she did whenever she was teetering on boredom until her attention went to the takeout container next to your pizza box. She snagged one of your remaining garlic knots.

“I told you I’d get you your own, and you didn’t want any,” you groaned, lax against the couch.

“I’m not eating all of them, damn,” she replied around the food in her mouth. You rolled your eyes. No, she hadn’t eaten all of them, but she was getting pretty close.

“What else should we do? We have junk food… cheesy movies…” you gestured to the TV screen, then brought your hand back to continue counting. “I got the baking stuff. Maybe we should save that for when Mel gets back?”

“Mm-mm,” Trinity shook her head, explaining behind her hand rather than finishing chewing first. “If we’re saving any of it for her, we should save makeov—”

“Makeovers!” you gasped when she started to say it, and she just barely rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. “I can’t believe I almost forgot that. It’s a vital sleepover factor.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sassed you, since she was the one who brought it up. For that bit of attitude, you snagged one of her pizza crusts and got up to find the cookie mix.

"Ooh, we could get day drunk!” Trinity gasped.

"Day drinking? Mel's obviously observing my smoking habits. If I add any more bad habits, she's gonna put cameras in the apartment or something."

"Hot," Trinity said around another mouthful of food, suddenly much closer after she had gotten up to hang around the kitchen.

"You need to get laid." You shook your head at her with a giggle, considering that was probably the fifth random thing she’d called “hot” since you got back.

"I do," she sighed, and you shooed her away after you'd finished washing your hands, not wanting her to get pizza grease on any of the baking items you'd be gathering.

"Think we could get Mel to join us in Margaritaville?"

"After the drinking binge you put her on? Unlikely," you snickered, glancing over your shoulder at her.

“Boo,” she groaned, flopping down into one of the kitchen table chairs.

Trinity left her paper plate on the table, her cheek squished against her fist while she watched you. She was teetering again and needed entertainment. She could always join you as long as she left the pizza on the table, but she just sat down…

“So… what’s Mel into?” she asked with a dangerous amount of interest considering the way her lips curled up and her posture had straightened.

“What do you mean…?” you replied, not following the sudden shift in topic. “Like, for drinks? She’s into filtered spring water and ginger ale.”

“No,” she sighed, her head lazily tilted back, angled closer to one shoulder.

“What do you think she’s into?” She clarified (barely) and bounced her eyebrows at you. “I talked about Garcia. Now it’s your turn.”

“I think you’re missing the massive difference here: I’m not fucking Mel,” you pointed out, dumping the dry mix into a bowl and flinching away from the kickback as a bunch of the powder fluffed up into the air.

“Yet.”

“I don’t think she even thinks like that,” you countered with a shrug. “She doesn’t come off as someone who thinks about sex.”

“Mm, I call bullshit." Trinity scowled, propping her arm on the back of her chair. “No, not like that. If it turns out she’s ace, then, y’know, whatever. Good for her. But I feel like she’s secretly a freak. I have a pretty good radar for it.”

“Yeah, no kidding, Sir Fists-A-Lot.”

She really shouldn’t have shared that with you if she didn’t want to hear every joke you could possibly wrench from it. Still, it wasn’t irritation that made her go quiet. She went silent in another concerning way, which you knew just from knowing her as a person but also because of the look on her face when you glanced at her.

“Was she bullied or anything?” she asked, and you frowned even from the thought of it, but you didn’t know. “I’m just curious… Maybe I’m reading too much into her nerd vibe, but it makes me wonder if she’s into wedgies.”

“Definitely not." You laughed louder than intended, snickering after. Your immature joy was only briefly stifled by some of the egg getting on your fingers when you broke it on the side of the mixing bowl.

“She can’t stand anything uncomfortable like that. She still doesn’t get why anyone would want to wear a thong.”

“Well, I don’t know, girl, I’m not the one who fuckin’ lives with her.”

“I… don’t know…” you trailed off with a sigh, walking over to the sink to rinse off your hands. “Maybe praise? But who doesn’t like that, honestly?"

“I think she has a thing for hands,” Trin offered, watching your reaction.

“Why?” you looked at her, still technically smiling as you humored her, but your eyebrows were frowning slightly. You were still curious, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be concerned by the way Trinity knew certain things.

“Oh, nothing…” she sighed dramatically, leaving her seat to open the fridge and grab a drink. 2 PM was late enough for one beer when it was a sleepover, right? She responded to the look you gave her with faux innocence.

“Oh god, do I even want to know?” you joked, yet you couldn’t stop glancing at her, impatiently waiting for whatever she might reveal.

“It’s whatever… shouldn’t really say it anyway,” she murmured, letting her gaze go down to the floor just to snap back up to observe you. You were hesitant, caught between intrigue and the peace that came with not knowing some things in this world.

“It’s just… I think…” she spoke so carefully, like she was being genuinely thoughtful, taking the bottle opener magnet off the fridge to pull away the cap of her drink. “I think she’d really appreciate it if you made more videos of you working…”

“What?” you laughed, nearly knocking over the bowl of ingredients you’d started mixing.

“Yeah, she’s a big fan of your work,” she replied, smirking at you.

"Oh, shut up, she’s just curious—” you’d started when, in all honesty, you hadn’t even known she watched those.

“Mmhm, she sure is, just not about piercing,” she replied with a chuckle, tracking your reactions with delight as she returned to her seat. You wanted to keep glaring and giving her unhappy glances, but Trinity was sticking to her words. This wasn’t her trying to catch you giggling or blushing just to “Ha!” and point at you.

“She’s watched those reels so many times; she could pierce someone to-day.” She pointed to the table, pressing her fingertip down for emphasis.

“You’re ridiculous."

You didn’t know how to react, so it was easier to go the haha, sure, denial route. It was bad enough having the bouts of feelings you already had for Mel; you didn’t need to add this to your thoughts. It presented too much possibility and, in turn, some more unfortunate possibilities if you read things wrong.

Mel was a naturally curious person. She liked knowledge, and piercing meant a lot to you, so she’d been intrigued. She liked watching you work, but… not like that…?

ʚɞ

Mel got home on time for once, relieved to know she could wear comfortable clothes again and take out her braid that she’d accidentally wound too tightly this morning. She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked to try and fight off how tired she was while she fought with her keys. Struggling to find the right one, she took a brief break just to rest her forehead against the door with her eyes closed. When Mel finally had enough energy to untangle the right key for the door, she found it was already unlocked. She didn’t know why she hadn't considered that first.

Confusion broke through the exhaustion once she’d stepped inside. She bunched up her brow at the sound of conversation and giggling between you and Trinity nearby without seeing either of you. The apartment smelled like warm vanilla, and the kitchen table had some grocery paper bags littering the top of it. Meanwhile, from your spot lying under the coffee table with Trin, for no other reason besides it being childish and fun, you realized Mel was home.

“Oh, hey!”

“What are you guys doing…?” She asked with a puzzled smile.

“Just fuckin’ around,” Trinity explained, wiggling back out from under the table.

She saw a few beers on its surface, but not enough to make either of you tipsy. Still, you’d moved to sit up a little too soon, catching the edge of the coffee table on your way.

“Are you okay?” Mel rushed to your side, immediately checking where you’d hit it as if you’d dived temple-first into a sharp corner of the table rather than just barely caught a smoothed side of it. You got out some reassurances to her through a couple giggles. Trinity was fully cackling.

“Fuck you,” you groaned through your laughter after Trinity mocked the look on your face when you hit your head.

Despite you insisting you were fine, Mel went to get you an ice pack. She was thrown off by the tray of cookies on the stove, but she supposed that explained the sugary smell in the air. Once the pack was in her hand, she slowly spun in her spot to really gauge all the snacks that would make her feel like a hypocrite the next time she had to discuss the importance of healthy eating. Focusing back on her task, she walked out of the kitchen…then turned right back around for the paper towels she’d forgotten.

“Hey, Mel, wanna join us for sleepover time?” Trinity called out.

“Um, sure…” she agreed, although she was still technically unsure. She left the kitchen with a grouchy expression, but only because she was putting all her remaining attention span into one last thing.

“What are we doing, exactly…?” She asked, lightly placing the pack she’d wrapped in paper towels over where you’d hit your head. You murmured to her that you could hold it, but she kept herself in charge of that, forgetting she probably should have responded to your offer either way.

“Girly sleepover things. Go put your PJs on before you ruin the vibe,” Trinity groaned with a playful exasperation that Mel still struggled not to take so seriously.

She’d been looking forward to pajamas all day, but she stayed by you first, gently feeling for any bump forming, before setting the hot-and-cold back down.

“I’m fine,” you insisted with a huffed laugh, but she stood there fussing over you until Trinity shooed her away.

When Mel walked back out of her room, she was wearing that damn science camp shirt again. Her pajama pants landed in a way so no skin was really exposed right now, but you couldn’t see her wearing that shirt without thinking of the perspective you’d had back in early June. Lying on top of her, watching her toy with her braid, while your mouth was brushing against her lower stomach…

You hadn’t realized how far you’d gone into your mind until Mel was sitting cross-legged beside you. You thankfully had the wherewithal to hold off from actually flinching with surprise, but your breath came in suddenly. You offered her a small smile to hopefully cover up your silly reaction, but she was frowning. Realizing you’d stopped holding the ice pack to your head, you sighed and slapped it back into place.

“At least for the next ten minutes,” Mel said when you commented on it being unnecessary. You gave her a look, and she returned one of her own that was all small and sweet and sad. You decided not to argue that she was doctoring you.

“I’m picking the next movie!” Trinity announced the second the credits for Legally Blonde hit the screen.

You shook your head with quiet amusement, watching her unfurl from the couch to snatch the remote off the coffee table as if competing for it when you and Mel were completely still in your spots. Well, you were. Mel had shifted closer to you. You looked at her again, and your body ached from the saccharine experience of that alone.

“What are we doing…?” she whispered. “Santos said girl sleepover stuff, but I never really had sleepovers before you guys.”

You had known that ever since she left “5. Sleepovers!" blank on her list until you two took her out dancing. Still, it made your heart hurt. Did she not have any friends growing up? You tried not to imagine a smaller version of her all alone at a cafeteria table or on a playground.

"Well, for starters, there’s junk food,” you explained, and she nodded, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

“Cause there are no healthy foods at a sleepover… Besides, you’re a doctor... I wouldn’t think of having even a single apple in the apartment.” “But I just bought apples…? You can have apples here. I only avoid the softer ones because they get grainy and blech.” She shook off the memory of the last time she bit into a soft apple, noticing your expectant expression seconds after. Mel tilted her head, lips pulled back in one of her awkward smiles.

3…2…1… “Oh! ‘Cause, ‘an apple a day,'" she nodded, wagging her finger in approval of your corny joke. “Clever.” “Thank you… I live to please, Dr. King.”

She humored you even though she still got all warm and nervous when you called her that. Even though it made her feel ridiculous. Especially when something so simple—something she was called at work all day—meant she could hardly pay attention to any of the other typical sleepover activities you listed off.

Her hands dropped to her lap, still held together, and she took a breath while she focused on you until she was blinking and turning her attention up to Trinity walking by. The brunette had already pulled a movie up, apparently, and paused it before it had even progressed past a black screen. She landed lazily back onto the couch cushions.

“C’mere, Mel-livorous. I’ll do your hair.”

Mel glanced at her coworker’s outstretched hands and shyly moved back to sit closer to the couch, returning her gaze to you once she settled again.

You were rummaging through one of the makeup bags you’d brought out before Mel got home with your free hand, trying to figure out a set of colors to go with. Considering the early Y2K vibes you and Trin had going today with your choice of movies, you decided to go with saturated colors and glitter. It was a classic for sleepovers anyways, even if the makeup wasn’t half petroleum jelly or talc and sat in a plastic butterfly container. You were going through the nail polishes next when Mel spoke up in a soft voice.

“Uh—no nail polish, please,” Mel said, her eyes briefly widening from the way Trinity brushed her hair. “‘No’ for me, I mean. It’s not good for work...”

“Just do your makeup or something. I’ll be done with her hair in a sec,” Trinity said, finally starting whatever she’d left paused on the television. She tossed the remote aside again and kept brushing Mel’s hair like she was brushing a Barbie doll without a single nerve in its plastic head.

“Try not to scalp her in the meantime?” You replied playfully, and Trinity repeated your words back to you in a childish voice that pulled a lighthearted eye roll from you.

You returned your focus to the bags of cosmetics when you caught the song coming from the TV behind you.

Hang up the chick habit

Hang it up, Daddy

Or you'll be alone in a quick

Hang up the chick habit

Hang it up, Daddy

Or you'll never get another fix…

As the lyrics continued to unfurl into the air, you dragged your eyes back up to that devious, devious woman you’d still trust with your life, but right now she was evil. Pure evil.

She smirked at you from behind Mel while she parted the blonde’s hair, a small bunch of butterfly clips beside her.

The images of cheerleaders bouncing and twirling reflected back to you on Mel’s glasses, who watched curiously until her gaze shyly moved to her hands.

You’ve never hated Trinity. Not even close, even when she was at her worst, fighting you like she did yesterday. But oh, right now…

ʚɞ

Mel hummed in unfortunate amusement as Natasha Lyonne’s character was clearly stuck in a makeout session she had no interest in. She wished she didn’t know what that felt like, but she did. Then the image was switching to bouncing breasts in a red sports bra, and Mel averted her attention elsewhere while she pressed her lips together. Shifting in her spot, she murmured an apology to Santos, saying her legs had fallen asleep when they hadn’t.

She didn’t quite know why she lied. She hated lying, but she felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, which always made her more fidgety than usual. And she would’ve only been more uncomfortable and embarrassed if she was honest right now.

“Um…” Mel swallowed, looking for some conversation. Even with the movie going, it felt too quiet in the living room.

“Oh, how’s your head?” she asked you with wide, truly caring eyes, and you fought the urge to laugh.

Mel blinked at the way your eyebrows rose and your lips formed a half smile. You’d been resting your chin on your knee and painting your toenails when you glanced at her. Trinity hardly restrained a giggle, and she knew she’d missed something.

“Never had any complaints,” you whispered playfully, until you saw the confusion the blonde struggled to hide. “I’m alright, thanks.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Trinity joked, trying and failing to hold back a smile that had her sucking in her cheeks.

“I thought you were better than ‘alright.’”

“Oh god,” you groaned, slapping the side of her leg while she and Mel separated. Neither of you had talked about it in so long, it had nearly left your memory. But, no. It seemed her brain finally felt the need to set off a reminder, and you'd probably be hearing about it all week.

Just don't remember the nickname. I'm so tired of the nicknames. No matter how much I adore you, Trinity.

“What? You saved me from my own internal suffering,” she spoke reverently in a teasing, quiet voice, nudging you as she sat back down on the floor with you two.

“It’s the mark of a true friend,” she said to Mel next, who couldn’t keep up with this conversation even if she tried, especially with all the distracting colors and pure, cutesy xylophone sounds coming from the TV.

Mel jumped slightly from Santos nudging her arm. Her eyes tore away from the screen, and she let out a lackluster heh.

“No, it was the behavior of someone who was painfully single in a new friendship,” you countered, handing Trinity the eyeshadow palette she pointed to.

“A new friendship with someone queer, might I add?” you clarified while Santos remained on the brink of laughter. “Which was rare for me at the time.”

“What…?” Mel asked, and you glanced at her, like you’d almost forgotten she was sitting there without the context for this topic. You shook your head in a shy attempt to reassure her it was nothing important.

You looked at her hair now that it was done and decided to focus on that instead. Trinity had done two separate braids in the back rather than her usual one and pulled at the sections to add some more volume, leaving out a couple strands to frame her face. She must have used just about every butterfly clip in her little pile to decorate Mel’s hair.

"You look beautiful," you wanted to say. Instead, you were once again shaken from a moment trapped in your head, this time from Trinity grabbing your bicep.

“What—?”

“Holy shit!” She gasped, shaking your arm and practically your whole body with the force of it.

“What?”

“I can’t believe I forgot. I knew you had another nickname!”

Your bewilderment morphed into exasperated misery, no matter how playful you were being. You groaned as you pulled away from her grip to lean into the front of the couch, hiding your face.

“Welcome back, Red,” she said proudly, patting at your back with both hands. “Still happy to be the one who gave you your wings.”

“Oh, is that like getting blood on you for the first time at work?” Mel asked, hoping she had actually understood one of the many vague references you two made, toying with her fingers.

“Sure, Mel,” Trinity snorted, then suddenly stopped whatever she’d been hoping to torture you with next to giggle. "Just… don’t tell anyone at work they’ve ‘earned their red wings’ 'cause they caught a gusher.”

It was bad enough that your dumbass joke months ago snuck its way into poor Mel’s vernacular and had her saying a patient was ready to “get cracked” because she was up next for Ortho. Trin didn’t have it in her to explain just exactly what that would’ve meant to anyone else, only that it… was too informal for work.

“O-kay…” Mel nodded with a shy smile, still frustratingly out of the loop. She wasn’t sure if she should ask more questions or if she’d be better off not knowing. She picked at the skin around one of her fingers and took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. Mel tried to focus on the movie again, but it was difficult with you two distracting her.

You pulled away from the couch to give Trinity a feeble look of irritation, but you couldn’t help breaking when the brunette added:

“It was ‘Red’ for earning your red wings, or ‘The Crimson Chin,’ so I did you a favor—”

“Oh my god.”

Trinity nearly bumped into Mel while she laughed, and in a moment of clarity, you saw she was starting to get overwhelmed by all the joking and talking around her, while she understood none of it. It didn’t help to have the movie going on at the same time.

“C’mon, I’ll do your makeup,” you murmured to her, and she nodded with a pained smile, shifting to sit in front of you again, her back against the couch.

“What were you guys talking about?” Mel finally asked in a soft voice in the middle of you reassuring Trin that you could paint her toenails for her after.

You hesitated, glancing at Trinity, who only offered a lazy shrug.

“Uh, well, when we met I’d lived in a pretty boring area my whole life, so I’d had… some… exposure to other people’s queerness, but…”

“She means she fucked girls, but I was her first friend who was openly gay,” Trin broke in, already impatient with your pacing.

“Not my first openly gay friend—”

“Sorry,” Trinity said in a mocking tone with her hands up.

“But… also, kinda… it’s complicated,” you shrugged.

“That’s why she calls you Red…?” Mel furrowed her brow, still not following, and still constantly distracted by the movie going on behind you as Megan’s family and supposed friends enacted an intervention.

“No, that’s because I went down on her while she was on her period,” you said as bluntly as you could, and even then your voice was softer because you were saying it to Mel. Still, she blinked, glancing at both of you, a question on her lips that she held off on. She was growing more embarrassed over how little she knew by the second.

“Oral sex,” Trinity interrupted again, seeing Mel’s expression. It was like when she didn’t get a joke but felt too shy to admit it.

“Oh.”

The reply left Mel with what felt like the last breath to be scraped from her lungs. She knew that… in theory. It was something she had to warn or remind patients about handling properly, if they were doing it at all. That it could still transmit infections from partner to partner, the importance of protection and being treated, and on and on. It was another purely clinical set of words in the purely clinical part of her mind. And then when Dr. Santos felt the need to keep going, Mel worried she may never be able to discuss safe sex with a patient again without getting flustered.

"Y'know, like,” Trinity paused, jutting her head forward while she gauged if Mel really understood. She couldn't tell because either way, she still looked uncomfortable. “Her mouth. On mah lady parts.”

"Trinity," you said, and she looked at you, baffled as to why it was such an issue for her to clarify.

“Yep… yep, I… gathered that." Mel nodded, trying to be as casual as you two were, but her words had turned weak and quiet at the end. "Thank you…"

And then the hits were never-ending because your hand was touching her jaw, turning her head this way and that while you considered what look to go for.

“Do you want to tell me what you want, or should I just go for it?”

“I’m sorry?” Mel got out breathlessly, and you eyed her for a moment with a faint smile starting to curve your lips.

“The makeup—”

“Oh.”

“Are there any specific colors or…?”

"Nope." She shook her head, pressing her lips tightly together. “No, that’s okay. Just… anything… I guess.”

Mel thanked you in a quiet, miserable sigh and then glanced at the TV again behind you while you finally picked the eyeshadow palette you wanted to work with. The screen went black, displaying:

✮ Step 1 ✮

Admitting You’re a Homosexual

in bright, pinkish-purple letters while a bright, ascending tone chimed through the TV speakers.

She’d never been so happy to take her glasses off.

ʚɞ

“Don’t worry, I won’t do too much,” you murmured to Mel before you gently dragged dark brown eyeshadow close to her lash line with a thin brush.

You were still holding her jaw with one hand, and she could feel the warmth of your breath on her cheek with you this close. Her lips parted only to close them again so she could hum in agreement in place of trusting her voice right now.

She’d already felt you dusting a sage green eyeshadow over her eyelids earlier, having her look up or down or close her eyes completely like right now. Her lashes occasionally twitched in quick, micro-reflexes, and she gripped her hands tightly together in her lap.

“Look up for me?” you murmured, and she barely even nodded because her body was so tense. She blinked her eyes open and did as she was told, remaining silent. You were adding some of the same eyeshadow close to her lower lash line, then smoothing out the edges with another brush and more of that light, sage green color you’d been using.

“I’m a homosexual! I’m a homosexual!” Megan had sobbed on the screen the first time you were carefully applying the color to her eyelids.

It was difficult to not feel a little targeted by this movie while she battled with very new and very disorienting feelings. Somewhere in the back of her mind had always been the vague notion of, yeah, one day she’d find a man and maybe get married because that’s what people did. Boyfriends and husbands. That’s what everyone around her talked about. So, that’s what she assumed for herself, and she wasn’t entirely ignorant to the other options by the time she was in high school, but that’s not what her family talked about. It certainly wasn’t what Becca talked about. The more Mel thought about it, since finding out about Adam, honestly… Becca talked about boys a lot. About wanting a boyfriend and having one to kiss. It never really occurred to Mel just how much her agreements felt like lying until more recently.

“I thought everybody had those thoughts,” Megan had murmured on the screen earlier when it was pointed out to her that what she thought when she looked at other women didn’t mean they thought the same things.

Yeah, well, Mel felt that pain in her own way. She thought everybody felt close to nothing other than maybe mild inclinations or discomforts around the topic of ending up with a man. She’d been assuming she had only grown more uncomfortable the older she got because she continued to lack experience.

Then again, she never really had these thoughts about other genders either. She was so desperate for friendship, she never thought about romance or sex for herself. Never.

Now the blonde on the TV was sharing a moment with Clea DuVall’s character, Graham, outside, while you continued to take your time. You didn’t want to risk this being an unpleasant experience for Mel by accidentally poking her with eyeliner or irritating her sensitive skin. She already had such naturally dark lashes, you didn’t feel it was necessary to bother her with mascara either, so you added some finely milled glitter eyeshadow to the look and then curled her lashes with as minimal pressure as you could.

You had her look at you after, brushing away any excess glitter from her cheeks. Okay, maybe not never.

“So, did you guys…? Were you together?” Mel found herself asking, putting her glasses back on when they were handed to her.

“We… actually avoided any romance drama. Somehow." You breathed out a laugh, while Trinity let out a distracted “uh-huh” in the middle of applying liquid eyeliner, her mouth hanging open. She capped the pen, shook it, then opened it, only stopping to speak again.

“Yeah, that regret hit pretty fast,” she said, adding, “No offense," before officially starting the other eye, as if you hadn’t felt the same.

“What’s a little post-nut clarity among friends?" You joked, then glanced at Mel, who you found was just sort of… watching you.

“We never dated,” you finally gave her a concrete answer.

She nodded with a quiet acknowledgement, barely smiling because she felt she should at least try. Mel sucked in her bottom lip once your attention turned back to one of the cosmetics bags. She took a deep breath and sighed it out.

“You okay?” you asked in that soft tone she liked because you always used it when you were solely focused on her and her state of mind.

“Yeah… I’m,” she nodded, her body bunching up into itself before she let out another sigh. “I’m okay. Just tired, I think.”

“Do you want to stop and go to bed?”

“No, no, I want to spend time with you guys." She shook her head, smiling faintly again.

You eyed her, waiting for some flicker of how she really felt, but her expression stayed the same. She only faltered into a more awkward direction when you didn’t stop staring.

“Okay,” you murmured, lovingly swiping a few of her stray face-framing hairs out of the way, then gently applied cream blush to her cheeks.

And because either the world as a whole, or you alone, were cruel, you were applying some color to her lips right as Megan fell into a fantasy of kissing Graham on the television.

Mel felt a deep sympathy for the character when she was stuck in her boyfriend’s car, his tongue invading her mouth. She didn’t know what her first kiss looked like from an outside perspective, but it certainly felt the way that looked.

But the character’s fantasy about Graham looked… nice. And with you so close to her, dragging your thumb under her bottom lip to catch some of the color there that had smudged out of line…

Mel couldn’t think of the last time she had breathed. She must’ve done so recently because she never could stay underwater very long, and she wasn’t gasping for breath, but it still felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room or even the whole apartment.

“Done,” you said, smiling. Megan’s fantasy in the movie was disrupted by Sinead’s shocking thing.

“Oh, good." Mel exhaled and then immediately shook her head, stammering over her clarification. “I mean, I—I want to see. I’m excited… to see.”

She laughed it off, toying with her fingers. She was about to look back down at them, but you’d found a hand mirror and gave it to her. You smiled to yourself, watching her look.

“Oh, wow,” she hummed, feeling slightly uncomfortable observing herself for too long, but you and Santos had put a lot of effort into giving her the “full girl sleepover experience” or whatever Santos had called it.

“This would be fun for an elf or fairy costume at Ren Faire,” she beamed, and you ignored the knowing glance you felt from Trinity without even looking.

“You look beautiful,” you said in place of any comment on the Ren Faire before you might accidentally spoil some potential future plans.

Mel looked at you for a moment until she couldn’t hold the eye contact anymore, her cheeks warming as she handed the mirror back to you.

“Well, you always look…” you trailed off when the blonde looked at you in a way that looked so gut-wrenchingly yearning she might as well have shot you. She almost seemed sad, like maybe no one’s ever said that before, and that thought alone gave you your spine again.

“You always look beautiful, Mel,” you said, a grin forming when she grew all bashful and had to look down at her lap.

“What? It’s true,” you whispered, nudging at her chin, seeking out her gaze with your own. There was such a small amount of space between you two because of how you had already been sitting to do her make-up. Now, you had set a hand forward on the floor, and it angled you even closer, your head dipping to one shoulder as you looked at her in a way she’d never even consider for herself.

Mel pressed her lips together, and she shook her head on instinct before letting herself smile, just a bit.

“Um… thank you,” she finally murmured, swiping some of the stray hairs out of her face.

“You’re welcome,” you said in a soft voice, reaching out a hand to help tuck some of those hairs back. Well, you were pretty sure you’d replied to her, but it was so quiet and you felt so distant from your own body and—

All three of you jumped when the buzzer to the apartment went off. You cleared your throat, setting some space between you and Mel.

“I got—I got it. Sit the fuck down, girl." Trinity pointed at you while she walked past before you could even get up. You splayed your arms in a perplexed gesture and laughed. Now out of Mel’s line of sight, she gave you an aggressively encouraging look and pressed the intercom button.

“It’s probably dinner,” you explained instead of following through. The voice coming from the small speaker was all garbled, so she hit the button to let the person in.

You offered Mel a small smile, then got up to clean the coffee table, ignoring whatever nasty look Trinity was giving you for completely spoiling a perfect opportunity. Whether she was the one encouraging it or not, you didn’t want to get caught up in making any moves, whatever they might be—and however Mel might react—when you had a friend over.

“I thought…” Mel trailed off, pointing to the containers you were throwing out or about to put away in the fridge.

“Oh, well, that was lunch,” you shrugged. “I told you sleepovers are all junk food. Besides, I got some great tippers yesterday.”

“Yeah, you said you could’ve kissed the girl who tipped you some crazy amount. Imagine that. Kissing a girl.” Trinity gave you another pointed look that you barely acknowledged since Mel could see you.

“What…?” Mel didn’t quite perk up as much as she felt physically alert from what Trinity said. She tested an interested air, the way Santos got when she was gossiping, and immediately failed because she struggled to force her feelings out of her eyes.

“Yeah, I did surface piercings on a client’s hips, and she was very grateful, I guess.” You shrugged again with a weak smile, then immediately focused on cleaning again.

“More like she would’ve paid even more if she got a little something extra on that piercing table,” Trin teased you through an all-too-casual sigh.

“Jesus, Trinity,” you rolled your eyes while she opened the door.

You shook your head to yourself, and Trinity broke from her demeanor towards you to hold polite conversation with the fumbling teenager delivering your dinner. Once she had the bag of food, she was bumping the door closed with her side.

“What? I’m just going off of your description of the interaction,” Trin said, and you knew she was toying with you by her tone, even if Mel didn’t catch it. But still.

"Yeah, except for the fact that I have zero interest in sleeping with clients.”

“And if she wasn’t a client?” Trinity asked in a gasp, giving you a stupid, fake, gobsmacked expression. Oh, she was feeling mean over you not taking that chance.

“Still no,” you emphasized, catching the way Mel looked down at her hands.

“Not my type,” you concluded with a huff.

“Well, what is your type?” Trin wondered out loud as she took the food containers from the paper delivery bag.

“Uh…” your gaze fell on Mel again despite yourself. You broke off into a weak, uncomfortable laugh, but thankfully you’d moved your eyes to the TV before she could notice. You’d been rubbing the back of your neck until you finally had something to gesture to.

“Megan. I guess. I always thought Natasha Lyonne was pretty in this movie. Happy?”

“Hm, true,” Trinity said before taking a bite of one of your egg rolls. “You still got the hots for Velma? Wasn’t she your childhood crush or something? Gee, imagine if you could combine the two.”

“Why are you guys fighting again?” Mel asked in such a sad voice that you let out a breath, and Trinity lowered her energy a bit too.

“Not fighting. Sorry, Mel,” Trin muttered, rolling her eyes at you before huffing. “We were bicker-bantering.”

“What?” Mel actually laughed at that ridiculous word combination that sounded like something from a childhood tongue twister. At least she didn’t look so sad.

“We bicker-banter,” you repeated. “It’s exactly what it sounds like, but it’s not fighting. Promise.”

Mel didn’t know how you two could play fight for fun, no matter what you called it. She watched you leave the living room, shaking her head to herself when she realized no one had bothered to pause the movie.

“Will you lay off?” you whispered to Trinity on your way past her to grab drinks from the fridge, while Mel looked for the remote to rewind and pause the movie.

“Will you get lai-i-d?” she whispered back to you, drawing out the syllables of the last word to emphasize it and mimic you all in one go.

ʚɞ

For Mel’s sake, you and Trinity dropped the attitude. Even if you weren’t truly fighting, it sounded too serious to her and stressed her out. Now the three of you sat on the floor to finish the movie in silence, ridiculously dolled up just for pajamas and Chinese food at home. And while your timing may have been occasionally unfortunate for Mel when you did her makeup, none of it had been intentional. Trinity, however, loved to meddle and knew But I’m A Cheerleader like the back of her hand. Naturally, she just so happened to need the bathroom by the time Megan was making eyes at Graham and gesturing to go somewhere private.

“Uh, do you want us to pause?” you tried, and she shook her head. “Trin?”

“Nope, seen it thousands of times. S’all good!”

You sighed, glancing at an unknowing Mel who already had her food set off to the side, and sat with her knees partially drawn up. She was leaning against the front of the couch, her eyes glued to the TV.

You didn't know how it had happened, but somehow this was the first movie you watched together with a sex scene between two women. When it became obvious what the content would be, Mel had those same nervous urges to look down at her hands, but she found herself taking glances until she was fully watching again. The images on the screen reminded her how exciting it was to have a hand sliding over her stomach or to be nuzzled and held. To be mere centimeters apart while holding a hushed conversation. She just hadn’t experienced the part where one or both girls bridged the gap between them.

She still shifted a bit uncomfortably when it showed Megan sucking on Graham’s fingers, though. Mel was unsure of the warmth she felt from the sight of something that seemed objectively mild yet felt… less so while sitting beside you. It wasn’t graphic or intense or anything that made her want to cringe away or even shyly move her gaze again. The whole scene was vulnerable but sweet with those moments captured in shadows and the rare patches of light of whatever room they were in.

Mel was a tense person. As a doctor, she knew she needed to relax more often, but she’d been like this for so long that she had no radar for when she was seizing up her muscles too much. But this was probably the first time she felt the urge to press her legs together like this, even when you’d gotten up with some quiet excuse to put leftovers away because just the way you smelled while that scene was going on at the same time—

“Get outta bed! You hormonal hussy!” broke through the fantasy created by the previous scene.

Mel simultaneously felt disappointed and relieved. She felt like she could finally breathe again.

Unfortunately, her discomfort crept back in tenfold over all these different changes, and she swallowed nervously while her feelings bunched up her expression. Looking up at the ceiling Mel thought this wasn’t exactly ideal, yet she couldn’t help that it was striking a certain chord in her. It was challenging and comforting, all at once.

ʚɞ

“I hope you’re happy,” you said over FaceTime the next day, escaping the damn sounds of xylophones and glockenspiels and whatever the hell else for as long as you could. You were outside the apartment with what remained of your cigarette by the time Trinity had called you back.

“Does your girlfriend know you’re smoking, Red?” Trinity teased.

“Maybe. I don’t know, I don’t think she could care less right now,” you replied with a shrug as you looked off past the street, not even bothering to do the “not my girlfriend” routine right now.

Trinity paused, observing you as much as she could over a video call. She glanced behind her where she was crouched by the bushes in the ambulance bay and then focused on you again.

“Did you guys…?”

“What? No,” you scoffed. You wished.

“Thanks to you, Mel’s found her Elf.”

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

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

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