di.

here’s the ultrasound he carries around

the sting in your side wasn’t the worst you’d ever felt. a clean graze from a bullet, nothing more.

you’d been lucky. lucky the shooter had a shaky aim, lucky joel had dropped him with a single shot before anything worse could happen.

but joel wasn’t acting like you were lucky. he was acting like the world had just ended. again.

“sit,” he barked the second you both made it inside an abandoned warehouse.

his voice was low but sharp, one hand steering you toward the sagging couch in the corner while the other yanked his backpack off with a jerk.

“i’m fine—”

“didn’t ask,” he cut you off, rummaging through his pack for the med kit, hands moving too fast, too frantic.

you sighed, wincing when the motion shifted your weight and pulled at your side. that made him pause. just for a second. but it was enough to see the flash of something raw behind his eyes. fear.

he knelt in front of you and reached for your shirt. “lemme see it.”

you held still while he cut away the fabric around the wound with his pocketknife. his hands were shaking. subtle, but noticeable. joel miller’s hands never shook. not even in a firefight.

“i told you i’m okay,” you tried again, softer this time.

he didn’t answer right away. just stared at the blood, excessive. enough to redden your shirt and smear across his fingertips. his jaw worked like he was biting something back.

“you ain’t okay,” he muttered. “you’re bleedin’. that ain’t okay with me.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the look on his face made you stop. not angry. just haunted.

joel poured alcohol over the wound without warning. you jumped, cursing, and he flinched like he’d felt it too.

“shit. sorry,” he breathed. “i just—fuck, i should’ve seen the bastard comin’. should’ve had you behind me.”

“it wasn’t your fault,” you said gently. “he was hidden in the trees. could’ve happened to either of us.”

you hissed sharply when the sting flared up, and joel froze, eyes flicking up to catch your reaction.

his jaw clenched again as he started wrapping the bandage, each movement careful now, too careful, like he thought he’d hurt you worse if he didn’t go slow.

when he spoke again, his voice was quiet.

“next time,” he said, eyes locked on the gauze, “you let me go first. that way if someone gets hurt, it’s me. that’s the deal.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the tremor in his voice. “joel—”

“i ain’t losin’ you.” his eyes met yours finally, and there it was. all of it. the panic. the guilt. the storm he was trying to hold back behind that rugged, stoic shell.

“you get that? you go down, i don’t—i can’t…”

you bit your lip, trying to keep still, but the pain was sharp and sudden.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” joel said softly, his hand resting warm and steady on your side.

“i’m right here. you’re okay, okay? you’re tough as hell—tougher than anyone i know. ain’t nothing gonna break you, not while i’m around.”

you swallowed, the sting still sharp, but his words wrapped around you like a shield.

“just lean on me, baby girl. i got you.” he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, thumb trailing gently over your cheek. “you’re safe now. i'm here.”

he trailed off, chest rising and falling like he’d just finished running. his hands were still on your side, gently holding your wrist as if feeling your pulse would convince him you were still here.

you leaned forward and gently cupped the side of his face. “i’m okay. you stopped it before it got worse. you saved me. like you always do.”

his eyes slipped closed at your touch. he turned into it slightly, like he didn’t want to let go.

“i shouldn’t’ve let you get in front of me,” he whispered. “i’m supposed to protect you.”

“you do. every day.”

he pulled in a shaky breath. “not well enough.”

you kissed his forehead. just a light press, just enough to ground him.

“joel. look at me.”

he did.

“you’re allowed to be scared,” you told him. “but i’m not made of glass. i’ve got your back out there too, you know.”

“don’t want you to have to,” he admitted. “i’d take every hit if i could.”

you smiled gently, your thumb brushing over his stubbled cheek.

“i know. but we’re a team, remember? and i need you to keep it together when i get a scratch. because if our roles were reversed, i know you’d be telling me not to panic.”

joel huffed a breath. almost a laugh, but it cracked too hard to be lighthearted.

“yeah, well. turns out i ain’t so good at takin’ my own advice.”

“you’re doing fine. a little overdramatic, but fine.”

“overdramatic,” he echoed with a scoff, wrapping the last bit of gauze around your side. “damn got a hole shot in you and i’m overdramatic.”

“joel.”

his eyes flicked up. you held his gaze.

“i’m here. i’m safe. and i’m not going anywhere.”

something in him melted then. his shoulders dropped, the tension draining slowly, like your words had finally pushed through the wall.

he pressed a kiss to your bandaged side, then rested his forehead against it. “you ever scare me like that again, i’m tyin’ you to the goddamn porch.”

you grinned. “you’d miss me after five minutes.”

he was smiling now, just a little, his hand curling gently around your uninjured one.

and even though you were the one bleeding, he looked like he was the one who’d just barely survived.

you didn’t say anything more. you just held onto him, letting the silence stretch until his breathing slowed and his hands stopped shaking.

letting him know without words this time that you were his. and you weren’t going anywhere.

it’s the kind of night that settles too quietly.

you lie awake in the dark, eyes tracing the vague outlines of the ceiling above you. the blanket is tangled around your legs. your body is tired, but your brain refuses to shut up and an ever-growing craving for something sweet.

you shift onto your side, instinctively reaching out.

your hand lands on cool sheets.

you frown. joel’s side of the bed is empty, the blanket tossed back like he left in a hurry. you sit up slowly, listening.

nothing.

you wait a moment. maybe he’s just in the bathroom. wouldn’t be the first time he got up and stumbled back to bed without saying anything.

but the silence stretches.

no creaking floorboards. no flush. no returning footsteps.

you sigh, toss the covers back, and throw on the oversized flannel shirt joel left slung over a chair. you pad down the hallway. just in case.

the house is old and drafty, and the floor groans under your steps. you pass the bathroom door.

open and empty. huh.

you keep walking, already pretty sure where you’ll find him.

and then you smell it. faint, but unmistakable: sweet, sticky peach pie.

you ease the kitchen door open and peek inside.

there he is.

joel miller. full-grown man, gruff survivor, supposed adult, standing in the glow of the fridge light with a fork halfway to his mouth, cheeks slightly puffed out, eyes wide like a little kid caught stealing candy.

you both freeze.

you blink.

he swallows hard.

you cross your arms. “seriously? you left me for pie?”

he shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “didn’t know you’d miss me so fast.”

you scoff, stepping closer. “bed got cold. thought maybe you fell asleep on the toilet.”

joel smirks, pulling a second fork from the drawer without breaking eye contact.

“disappointed to find me in the kitchen instead?”

you snatch the fork, dropping down beside him with a dramatic sigh.

“honestly? bit of both.”

you settle shoulder to shoulder on the cool kitchen tile, backs against the cabinets. the pie tin glows like forbidden treasure in the fridge light. he takes a bite. you take one after.

the pie is cold. the crust a little soggy. but somehow, it’s still perfect.

it’s quiet. the kind of quiet that hums in your bones.

you don’t need a bed to know you’re home.

just then, a floorboard creaks behind you.

you both jump, turning toward the sound.

ellie stands in the doorway, hair a mess, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. she squints at you, then the fridge, then the tin between you.

her voice is flat. “are you fucking kidding me?”

joel clears his throat. “it’s not what it looks like.”

“it’s exactly what it looks like,” ellie says, trudging in.

“you traitors. i literally dreamed about that damn pie.”

you glance at joel, who’s already sighing as he scoots over to make room.

ellie plops down beside you, stealing your fork without asking.

“uh-huh,” you say dryly. “was it a peaceful dream? or did joel eat it in the dream too?”

“worse,” ellie mutters, dropping onto the floor beside you. “you fed it to him.”

joel grunts as he shifts, scooting to make room. “least you remembered it existed.”

then, just to really drive it home, you stand up with exaggerated flair, walk to the fridge, and retrieve a fresh fork from the drawer. with your best fake-serious face, you dig into the pie, scoop out a hefty bite, and hold it out to joel like it’s an offering.

joel blinks up at you, clearly amused. “this feels like a trap.”

“shut up and accept my generosity,” you say, wiggling the fork dramatically.

he leans in, still smirking, and lets you feed him the bite.

ellie groans loudly. “oh my god, you actually did it.”

she chews with exaggerated slowness, savoring every bite. then she points at both of you with the fork.

“wow. real role models. guess it’s a family tradition now—and honestly?” she grins mid-chew. “kinda love that for us.”

joel laughs. “you weren’t invited.”

“you’re the one who left the fridge open,” she fires back. “that’s basically a bat signal.”

joel mock-groans. “this was supposed to be a secret crime.”

you lean your head against joel’s shoulder. “next time, maybe don’t clatter around like a raccoon.”

“i was quiet.”

“you were not.”

ellie snorts. “i heard him two rooms away. thought someone was building a nest.”

joel just grumbles and takes another bite.

“fine. but next time? you’re on cleanup duty.”

she narrows her eyes. “at least i didn’t sneak off like some pie bandit in the night.”

"hey—show some respect. you’re in the presence of a professional.”

joel, without missing a beat, lifts his fork like a scepter.

“you two are so weirdly inlove.”

the three of you sit there, side by side on the kitchen floor, passing the tin back and forth. the fridge hums softly behind you.

"I haven't had anything to do other than charts for the past two hours, how on earth could I be too busy?" you asked, standing up and draping your stethoscope around your neck. Then you froze, realizing Lily never tries to take a patient off your hands. "Wait... why are you offering?"

She grinned and flopped down in the swivel chair next to you, crossing her legs. "The guy is smokin' hot," she whispered with a wink. "I just got a glimpse when I brought Fisher the computer cart, but..." she exhaled loudly and fanned her face. "Even with all the blood, you can tell he's a fox."

"Blood?!" you exclaimed, jogging around the nurse's desk, "why didn't you tell me?"

"He's stable, it's not-" Lily began, but you were already hustling down the hall. When you skidded to a stop outside room 504, you were relieved there wasn't a flurry of staff running in and out of the room, indicating whatever was waiting for you wasn't life threatening.

As you entered through the open door, you rapped two knuckles on the wood to announce your presence. Dr. Fisher, standing at the patient's bedside and blocking your view, glanced over his shoulder and nodded while you washed your hands. You heard him talking to a man with a deeper southern drawl than you were used to, and by the sound of it, he was in pain. You plucked two gloves from the box on the wall and snapped the latex on, turning around with a practiced smile right as Dr. Fisher introduced you by name.

Lily was right. Your eyes landed on a painfully good looking, dark haired man sitting up in the bed with one leg draped over the side, as if he was getting ready to bolt. You tried to not let your gaze linger, but the way his thighs stretched out his worn, bloody jeans and his shoulders filled out his ripped flannel held your attention longer than you expected. He first glanced over at you right when you noticed the laceration on his forearm and you went into autopilot.

You began to pull various instruments from a cabinet without instruction, already anticipating what the doctor would need before he began to rattle off requests, which you mentally jotted down and nodded in acknowledgement when he was finished.

"I'm gonna give you a local anesthetic and then clean and stitch this up. Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Miller?" Dr. Fisher asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still stuck on you as you worked. "Call me Joel," he added, his eyes flicking up to the doctor once he realized he was staring. Tommy smirked from the corner of the room and tucked his chin to his chest.

"Only thing he's allergic to is askin' for help," Tommy joked. You startled and glanced over your shoulder. Somehow you had missed the second man in the room when you first walked in. Joel scowled in his direction.

"Ignore my brother," Joel muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you prep him and give him 20MLs of the local? I'll be right back, I have another patient waiting to get discharged," Dr. Fisher said to Joel, who nodded and lifted his leg onto the bed, resigning himself to a long night.

Your gaze drifted over his clothes, ruined by all the blood that had gushed from his arm. "This looks pretty nasty. What happened tonight, Joel?" you asked, using your typical distraction technique while you worked unwrapping instruments and lying them out on a tray. When he didn't answer right away, you met his gaze and smiled, assuming he was squeamish and doing to do your best to reassure him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Um, got hurt at work."

You frowned, your eyes roaming over his face now that you were closer and hoping he didn't notice the way you stared a moment too long at his soft looking lips. "What do you do that you're working so late?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, mesmerized by the way you effortlessly moved around, probably just going through the motions but to him, it looked so impressive. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster and he glared up at it, angry at the heart monitor for betraying him.

"Lots of things need to be built at midnight?" you teased, making him chuckle.

"I'm behind on a project and my daughter had a sleepover tonight so I figured I'd do a little extra work," he explained, wincing when he moved his injured arm.

You nodded, latching on to the new piece of information. You loved it when patients had kids. It was a great way to keep them talking and calm. But right as you were about to ask her name, the second man chimed in.

"Yeah, 'cause otherwise he'd be home alone," he said, making the both of you stop and stare at him. His eyes bounced back and forth between you both. "'Cause he's single," he added after a beat, making both you and Joel blush.

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel muttered under his breath, and you forced out a polite laugh before switching gears.

"Alright, let's see," you said, gently lifting his arm and peeling back the sleeve of his flannel. You made a face and Joel tensed.

"What is it?"

"I wish I had better news," you sighed, locking eyes with him. "I'm gonna have to cut the sleeve off this shirt," you said solemnly.

His face broke out into a huge smile, one that reached his beautiful brown eyes and creased his tanned skin, and you giggled before reaching for the scissors.

"It's alright, darlin'," he said, still smiling as you began to cut through the fabric, "ain't got no fashion sense, anyway."

"'Cause he's single," Tommy said again from across the room. Joel swiveled his head and mouthed something angrily in his direction but you just grinned and stayed focused, pulling the sleeve away and making sure not to brush up against his wound.

"Okay, Joel, how are you around needles?" you asked, turning your back to him and blocking his view while you prepped a syringe with local anesthetic. "Do I need to call someone in here to catch you if you faint?"

He scoffed. "Hell no, I'll be -" you turned around with the needle in your hand and he gulped, "-fine."

You eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, so you decided to just make it as fast as possible. Cleaning the skin with some alcohol, you slid the needle into his arm near the laceration and injected the medicine. After, you pressed a piece of cotton against the injection site and hid the needle behind you on the tray.

"All done, you did great," you said, and he looked at you in surprise.

"That's it? Hardly felt a thing."

You smiled and shrugged. "I've been doing this a while," you said. You always loved when patients commented on how gentle you were. It made you feel proud and good at your rather thankless job.

"Yeah? How long?" he asked, watching as you pulled out another vial of medicine.

"Almost five years," you told him, filling another syringe and wiping an alcohol pad on his inner elbow.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the pain," you said, "it's mild but you might feel a little out of it for a couple hours. It will help you relax so the doctor can stitch you up."

He nodded and you quickly slipped the needle in and out, just like before.

"Okay, all done with needles, I promise," you told him, disposing of them both in a red sharps container bolted to the wall by the sink.

"Whoa," Joel said softly after a minute, and you looked up at him then smiled when you saw that familiar, spaced out look in his eyes.

"Feeling it?" you asked, and he slowly nodded.

"Reckon I am."

"That's good. Just try to relax, the doctor will be back soon," you said, turning your attention to the computer cart. You were typing in your notes and scanning the vials of medicine to log into Joel's chart when Tommy's phone rang.

"It's Maria, probably wonderin' what the hell's goin' on," Tommy told Joel as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said right before you heard him answer the phone and walk out into the hallway for some privacy.

Joel's head rolled to the side and he gazed over at you, smiling like a fool at the way your eyebrows pinched together as you focused on whatever you were typing.

"You're real good at this," he mumbled. You glanced at him, taking a break from the computer, and smiled.

"Thank you."

"How long you been doin' this?"

You stifled your laughter and answered the question again. "Almost five years."

He nodded, completely unaware. His eyes looked glazed over and he gave you a lazy smile. "You're real pretty."

Even though you knew it was the drugs talking, your heart still skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You must be feeling better, huh?" you joked, wrapping a blood pressure sleeve around his arm. He lightly took your wrist in his hand, making you pause and catch his eye. He looked so earnest and sincere that you almost believed him when he said, "it ain't the drugs. I mean it. Can't keep my eyes off you, darlin'."

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the two of you silently assessed the other. You searched his face but all you could find was a raw vulnerability while he waited for you to say something. And you really wanted to be honest, but you knew it was unprofessional and you had no idea what was even allowed but you had to assume your job would be at risk if you said what you really wanted to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to say anything at all because Dr. Fisher chose that moment to return, breezing into the room with his white coat fluttering behind him.

"How're you feeling, Joel?" he asked from the sink as he washed his hands. You stepped back and focused on the computer screen, still feeling the heat of Joel's gaze on your face as you typed.

"Much better," he said, slowly dragging his eyes away from you. Tommy reentered the room, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and dodging Dr. Fisher as he turned around to face Joel.

"That's good. Let's get you patched up and back home, how's that sound?" he said, and you abandoned the computer to stand at his side, your eyes cast down as you awaited the doctor's instructions.

Dr. Fisher worked quickly and had Joel's laceration closed up in under thirty minutes, the whole time checking in with him to make sure he didn't feel anything. You caught Joel staring at you more than once during the procedure and you had to bite back a grin, but each time he noticed and he smiled that same dazzling smile that reached his eyes.

Once the stitches were done, Joel - but mostly Tommy - listened to Dr. Fisher's instructions on how to keep it dry and clean and to follow up with his own practitioner the next business day to schedule an appointment. Then he left, bidding the brothers a good night after he explained you would wrap up the wound and process his discharge papers.

You were very gentle as you wrapped his arm, quietly asking if it was too tight or if anything hurt. He would shake his head and continue to just gaze adoringly at you while you worked, completely unbothered by his brother just a few feet away witnessing his utter captivation.

"Okay, Joel. Let's get you out of here," you sighed, turning back to the computer cart.

"Already?" he asked, and you had to hold back your laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"It's a slow night, we were able to get you in and out much quicker than normal," you explained, hitting the print button on the computer screen.

"Well, but..." he trailed off, looking back and forth between you and Tommy as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm single!" he practically shouted when you gave him a pen to sign his papers. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Tommy laughed from his chair in the corner of the room.

"I know, your brother mentioned it a couple times," you replied as your face grew hot once again. "Um, can you just sign here, and-"

"Are you single?" he asked, cutting you off. You looked up from the papers to find his beautiful brown eyes all wide and hopeful, completely ignoring the clipboard in front of him.

"Yes," you finally answered, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Great!" he exclaimed, throwing his good arm up in the air with a huge grin. Tommy cleared his throat and stood up.

"I think what he's tryin' to do is ask for your number," he said. Joel nodded, not even sparing a glance in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, sorry," Joel said sheepishly, then he rubbed his face like he could make the brain fog dissipate. "Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now from excitement. You bit your lip and glanced over your shoulder at the open door before turning back to Joel.

"I don't know, I might get in trouble..." you began, and he quickly sat up in bed.

"I won't tell anyone," Joel said, and his voice was so serious that you couldn't help but laugh. Tommy grinned and pulled out his wallet.

"How 'bout this. What if I left Joel's business card, in case you ever needed a contractor?" Tommy offered, holding out the card between two fingers. You gingerly accepted and briefly glanced down at it. "That's his work number but this one is his cell," Tommy continued, pointing to each number respectively, "you're better off gettin' ahold of him on that one. Y'know, for any projects you might need done."

Joel gave Tommy the most grateful look. "I love you, Tommy."

"Alright, that's enough. I oughta get you back home," Tommy said with a crooked grin. You laughed and pocketed Joel's card, standing by in case he needed any assistance getting up. But before Joel and Tommy exited the room, Joel turned to you and reached out for your hand. You hesitated for a moment before stretching out your arm and allowing his thick fingers to wrap themselves around your hand.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told you, his tone deathly serious. You fought back a smile and instead gave him a firm nod.

"You're very welcome, Joel."

His business card stayed folded up in your scrubs pocket for a week, your fingers occasionally brushing up against it like a talisman as you worked.

You never told Lily about that night but you did try to sneakily look into the legality of potentially dating a former patient, but you got too nervous someone would see over your shoulder and didn't get very far.

One day, a fellow nurse who had been working at the hospital for nearly fifteen years made a comment about a patient saying something suggestive to a male doctor and she thought the doctor in question didn't handle it properly.

"What do you mean?"

"He laughed and said something along the lines of I'm too old for you," she had scoffed. "He should have shut it down right away. If the wrong person heard it, he could get into serious trouble."

That was all you needed to hear to put you off from the idea.

That evening, you took Joel's business card out of your pocket and threw it in the trash, then went to take a shower. But afterwards, when you had poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate the start of three days in a row off from work, you found yourself hovering over the garbage and staring at the folded up piece of paper, sitting right on top of a napkin.

With a sigh, you plucked it out of the garbage and stuck it to your fridge, then forced yourself to leave the room.

There was nothing wrong with keeping the card if you weren't going to call. Right?

It pained you to go so close to the hospital on one of your well deserved days off, but you couldn't resist the chocolate croissants sold at a café around the corner. They were baked fresh daily and always served warm and after a grueling four days in a row at work, you felt you deserved a treat. So that was how you found yourself waiting at the counter for your usual order, surrounded by various professionals hurrying to grab their coffees before chaining themselves to a desk for the remainder of the day. It was busy, but the barista who usually took care of you made sure to prioritize your order, shooting you a quick wink before she slid your croissant and coffee across the counter. You mouthed thank you and turned to leave, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

When you stepped outside, out of habit you glanced towards the hospital, then froze. You blinked a few times, your coffee halfway to your lips as you stared at the familiar looking man pacing back and forth on the sidewalk with his head angled toward the ground. You began to walk in his direction, squinting against the sun and wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you, but it really was him.

"Joel?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, your eyes drifting around to see if he was with anybody.

"Huh?" he asked, then immediately shook his head, "yes, I mean... no, everythin's fine." He nervously jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "I, uh, came to see you, actually," he said, glancing down at your clothes, noticing you weren't in your scrubs. "Are you workin'?"

You looked down at your jeans before meeting his gaze again. "No, I have the day off, I was just getting coffee," you jutted your thumb over your shoulder, back towards the café, and you realized how bizarre the conversation was so far. "Why are you here to see me?"

He gave you a nervous smile and looked away, watching as an ambulance veered noisily into the parking lot. "I came to apologize. 'Bout the other week. Tommy told me what I said and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Wasn't my intention, I guess it was all the meds." He finally dragged his eyes back to you and watched as something flickered across your face.

"Oh," you managed to squeak out. Even though you assumed as much, it still stung to hear he didn't mean what he said. "It's fine. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It comes with the territory," you told him with a soft laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. He nodded and looked behind you, trying to think of something else to say but when the silence became too much, you took a step back.

"I should go, but it was nice to see you. I'm glad the arm-"

"Wait - uh," he scratched his beard and took a deep breath. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, why didn't you call?"

You blinked rapidly and thought about it for a moment before frowning.

"I thought you said it was the drugs talking?" you countered, avoiding his question with one of your own.

"I lied."

"You lied?" you repeated, raising your eyebrows. He nodded.

"More like I panicked," he added, then raked his fingers through his hair with a dry laugh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this, ain't I?"

You giggled and his face brightened at the sound.

"A little, but it's okay. It's cute," you told him, feeling your cheeks warm at your own admission. He grinned.

"Alright, then why didn't you call?" he asked again.

"I panicked," you replied, then after a pause, the both of you burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"Goddamn, reckon we don't stand a chance, do we?" Joel said, tilting his head to the side, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that. Why don't we find out?"

He immediately pulled out his phone.

"It's the least we could do. Y'know. For research."

"Research, huh?" but you couldn't keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

"Yeah. Can two panicky individuals who can't seem to properly flirt their way out of a paper bag make it work?"

"Sounds like a tagline for a terrible book," you teased while simultaneously snatching his phone out of his hand and typing your number into a new text. "How could I resist?"

"I promise this is where the cheesiness ends," he chuckled, pocketing his phone.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in that?"

Joel thought about it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful what you wish for, little lady, or else we'll be havin' a picnic in the park and watchin' the sunset for our first date."

You laughed heartily at that. "Pulling out all the cheesy stops?"

"Absolutely," Joel winked, making your heart flutter.

"Alright then. Do your worst," you said, a stupid grin still plastered across your face as you took a step back the way you came.

"I'm plannin' it all out already," he said, tapping the side of his head. You giggled and gave him a little wave goodbye before turning around and heading towards home.

Joel didn't waste any time.

He had texted you within an hour with just a link and nothing else. You clicked it and immediately grinned when a website to a paint and sip place in downtown Austin opened up.

You: starting off strong - Painting with a Twist?

Joel: Get it? A twist? Because they serve alcohol there.

You laughed out loud alone in your living room. You thought the meds made him funny but you were delighted to discover he was still just as funny all on his own.

You: I got it, thanks. Very cheesy :)

Joel: So when can I take you? I want to see you paint the next greatest masterpiece.

You: I'm off the next two days and then I work the following four

Joel: You feel up for it tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?

You: tomorrow is great!

Joel: Looking forward to it, little lady.

To keep up with the cheesy theme, Joel picked you up the next evening with a singular red rose, which he had hidden behind his back so he could reveal it to you with a flourish, immediately making you laugh. He offered his arm as he led you down the driveway to his truck while commenting something about the weather but you weren't entirely certain because you couldn't stop staring at his hair, which was slicked back a bit since the last time you saw him and the longer you stared, you began to think he might have trimmed his beard, as well. You bit back your smile at the endearing effort he was putting into your date while trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that still wondered if this was going to get you in trouble at work.

When you arrived at the painting studio, you quickly realized the two of you were the youngest ones there, and not only that but Joel was the only man there. You stifled your laughter as you grabbed a couple drinks and picked your seats. Once behind the safety of your easels, you cupped your hand over your mouth and giggled into your palm. Joel chuckled and ducked down so nobody would overhear him.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

You began to laugh even harder, drawing the attention from some of the older women. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you shook your head.

"I don't know!" you wheezed when you finally got ahold of yourself. You took a deep breath and wiped your eye. "You couldn't have planned this any better." He laughed and rubbed his palm over his mouth when he began to get looks.

The painting that evening was a bouquet of white hydrangeas in a wide vase. Simple enough, or so you both thought. It became quickly apparent that Joel didn't have a creative bone in his body, and while you thought you weren't much better, when you glanced over at his and noticed his vase and flowers were beginning to take on a decidedly more phallic shape, you completely lost it.

He grinned when you had to drop your paintbrush so you could clutch your stomach while you doubled over, doing your best to keep as quiet as possible, but you were failing miserably. A lady nearby cleared her throat to convey her irritation so you slid down from your stool and told Joel you would be right back, then disappeared into the bathroom to collect yourself. By the time you emerged, the teacher who was leading the class had jumped in to try and help Joel create more distinguishable flowers, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

Once the class was over, the teacher went around to take pictures of everyone holding up their paintings with the people they came with that evening. When she got to you, Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you close. Right before she took the picture, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush and his smile to reach his eyes.

When he dropped you off at home, he walked you to the door.

"So I was thinkin' for our second date we can either do bowling or trivia night," he said with a little smile. You cocked your head to the side as you thought about it.

"Both are excellent options. You can tell a lot about somebody by the way they handle winning and losing," you mused. He grinned and leaned his shoulder against your doorframe as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to decide. "Let's do bowling," you finally said. He gave a firm nod and straightened up.

"Bowling it is."

"After tomorrow, I work four nights in a row," you reminded him.

He shrugged. "So let's do it tomorrow."

"Really?" you asked, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Are you sure? What about your daughter?"

"I'm sure Tommy can watch her. And even if he can't, she's old enough now to stay on her own for a few hours."

You nodded and glanced down at your hands, clutching your painting at your side.

"What does she think about you dating?" you asked nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing back up at him.

"She's all for it. She's fourteen now, practically kicks me outta the house every chance she gets," he said with a chuckle.

You nodded again and tried to sound casual when you asked, "are you seeing anybody else, or..." You trailed off as you felt your face warm up, feeling slightly vulnerable, but he quickly put your mind at ease. He stepped forward and pinched your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him through your eyelashes.

"No," he said softly, "are you?"

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to lose his touch just yet. "No."

He smiled. "Good."

He tilted your face up a bit more then swooped down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine even though it was rather innocent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little lady," he murmured before dropping his hand from your chin and taking a step back. You bit your lip and smiled.

"Can't wait."

While Joel wasn't a very good painter, he turned out to be a rather good bowler. Better than you, at least, which wasn't saying much. So after a couple beers, you flirtatiously asked him to help you with your form, to which he eagerly agreed. He walked you up to the lane and stood behind you, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet just so while the bowling ball dangled at your side with a stupid grin on your face.

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna swing this leg back," he said, tucking his chin into your shoulder and reaching down to tap the front of your thigh. You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, which just caused him to do it even more. You laughed harder and tried to squirm away but he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you back against him, nuzzling into your neck enthusiastically. You twisted your head towards him, trying to protect your neck, but it was no use, so instead you pressed your lips against his, finally stopping his assault. Both of you were well aware of the public setting, surrounded by families, so you fought the urge to deepen the kiss but you did linger a little longer than was necessary before breaking away with a sigh. He smiled down at you, his cheeks a little pink, either from the alcohol or the public display of affection.

"I like you," he said earnestly.

"I like you, too," you whispered, watching the way his eyes sparkled. Even if it was only two dates, you could tell the connection you had was strong. You had to make it your mission to figure out the policy at work before things went any further.

"Hey, Lily," you said the next day, getting the other nurse's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever dated anyone from here?" you asked as quietly as you could. She grinned and leaned against the counter.

"Oh, yeah. A few," she said mischievously before glancing around and leaning forward. "I went on a few dates with Dr. Adams last year. When I first started, I was hanging out with Richie, the pharmacist downstairs, but I swear when I found out he was married I broke it off. I felt bad about that one," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh! Then there was that one resident who worked here for a few months... Mike? He was tall with brown hair and had that tattoo-"

"No, I mean like, patients?" you tried again, and she pursed her lips.

"I've had a few ask me out but I never took them up on it. Why?"

"No reason," you said quickly, "but if you were interested, could you? Like, would we get fired or get our license revoked or something?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Once a patient is discharged, it doesn't matter. If we worked in a doctor's office and it was a regular patient, that would probably be a different story, but we see so many people in the ER it's impossible to enforce something like that."

You breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "That's great."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So are you gonna spill or what?"

"Me?" you squeaked, shaking your head innocently but Lily saw right through you.

"Who are you seeing?" she pressed, smacking her gum between her teeth. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the heat from reaching your cheeks.

"Remember that guy last week? The fox with the arm laceration in 504?"

Lily gasped. "Shut the fuck up!"

You smirked and nodded. "We've just been on two dates, nothing serious, but before I continued to see him I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble."

"I'm so jealous!" she groaned, stomping her feet dramatically. You laughed and turned back to your computer. You began to get back to the chart in front of you but she pulled up a chair and got a little closer so nobody would overhear. "How is he in bed?"

You gave her a look. "We haven't slept together. Did you not hear me say we've only been on two dates?"

She scoffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything. If I went on two dates with a man like that, I wouldn't waste any time climbing him like a tree."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles before the phone rang, warning you to get an exam room ready for a broken arm.

Waiting four days to see Joel again was a lot harder than you expected, but lucky for you, on your last day, Joel surprised you at work with a coffee and chocolate croissant from the café you liked.

"You remembered!" you exclaimed when you opened the bag. He shrugged sheepishly but you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

"'Course I remembered," he said, glancing around when Lily walked into the waiting room to call back a patient. Her eyes locked on the two of you and she gave you an exaggerated wink before leading an elderly man to the back. Joel grinned and looked at you.

"Friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately," you said sarcastically, making him smile. You glanced down at your watch and made a face. "I'm so sorry, I gotta get going but this was so sweet of you," you said, motioning towards your coffee and pastry.

"I just really wanted to see you again," he admitted, "it was a completely selfish move."

You giggled. "Well, thank you for the selfish coffee and treat."

"You're welcome. Still on for tomorrow night?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Picnic and stargazing. You're really checking things off that cheesy date list," you said with a laugh.

"You asked for it, don't you forget now," he replied before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss.

After he left, you made your way back to the nurse's station so you could deposit your goodies and pull up the next chart.

"Third date tomorrow?" Lily asked, rounding the desk. You nodded.

"Yep," you answered distractedly, reading the chart of a young boy with a minor head injury from a fall.

"You know what typically happens on the third date?"

You felt your skin heat up at the insinuation. "I'm going to regret telling you about him, aren't I?"

"Sure are. That was so close to being me, I'll never get over it."

You laughed and shook your head, leaving her question unanswered as you made your way back to the waiting room.

As it turned out, a picnic and stargazing was incredibly romantic. Joel packed a simple meal: some cold pasta in olive oil, a light salad and some fruit. He had found a spot off a highway that overlooked downtown Austin, which was by far the cheesiest part of the date.

"Did you used to take girls here back in high school or something?" you teased as you sat on the hood of his truck, leaning against the windshield so you could see the stars.

"Me? Never. I was very respectable in high school. Never got into trouble, never skipped class and definitely never took the captain of the cheerleading squad up here after prom," he said with a grin. You giggled and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"You're trouble."

"Yeah, but you like it," he said, turning his head to the side so he could look at you. You tried to give him a stern look but you weren't selling it in the slightest.

"Okay, maybe I do," you admitted.

He smiled and laced his fingers together with yours, dragging his thumb over your knuckles for a minute, staring at your entwined hands while you continued to gaze upwards, the stars twinkling in the nearly clear, black sky.

"Can I tell you somethin' without you thinkin' I'm crazy?"

You rolled your head to look at him, your first instinct to tease him but his soft tone made you stop. "Sure."

"I keep waitin' to wake up or the other shoe to drop or whatever," he said, his gaze studying your face. "You just seem too good to be true," he added with a little grin.

"That's funny, I could say the same about you," you told him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I mean it. How don't you already got a boyfriend?"

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "I don't know. It's always been a little tough with my work schedule. I work so many overnights and it's hard for guys to understand that and work around it. Eventually things just... die off because I never get a chance to spend any real time with anyone."

He frowned and inched a little closer. "Their loss," he said. You turned to smile at him.

"You're not like that, though."

He shrugged. "I get it. I'm no stranger to havin' a busy schedule. I'm always haulin' Sarah 'round town to soccer games or friends' houses or after school activities. Don't bother me none."

You squeezed his hand affectionately before impulsively leaning over and pressing your lips against his. You could feel his surprise but he quickly reacted and brought a hand up to cup your face. He licked at the seam of your lips and you smiled before opening your mouth a fraction, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The whole drive back to your place had you thinking about Lily's comment from the day before, and the closer and closer you got to home, the more nervous you felt.

When he walked you up to your door and kissed you goodnight, you reached up to hold the back of his neck, keeping him close. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you let out a small moan. He grabbed your hip and began kissing you harder, pushing you up against your door and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking your skin there. You tipped your head back, breaking the kiss, both of you panting for air.

"Do you want to come inside?" you asked nervously. His gaze darkened and he licked his lips, but then you saw a tortured look flicker across his face.

"I can't," he said, sounding almost like it pained him to utter the words. "I can't leave Sarah alone overnight," he explained, taking a step back and rubbing his palms over his face. He dropped them to the side and you quickly blinked the disappointment from your eyes.

"It's okay, I understand," you told him, then reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"I promise, I really wanna come inside," he told you.

"I know," you said, "maybe next time."

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Yeah, next time."

But it wouldn't be the next time. Or the time after that. Understandably so, Joel was waiting for a night where Sarah was at a sleepover to coincide with one of your free nights, explaining that he felt uncomfortable letting her know he wouldn't be coming home.

"Does she know about us?" you asked him one night.

"'Course she does. But it's just... awkward. At her age, she can read between the lines, y'know?"

"I get it," you had told him, trying to imagine what it would be like for you if at fourteen, your dad had essentially announced he wouldn't be home that night because he was going to get laid.

It made sense, but it didn't stop both of you from practically swallowing each other whole every chance you got, all your pent up sexual tension bubbling just under the surface with every glance and touch.

And finally, nearly two months into seeing each other, the stars aligned. Sarah was going on a school field trip to The Alamo, which coincidentally was scheduled on one of your rare weekends off.

Joel had every intention of taking you out to dinner and a movie, but when you opened the door and locked eyes, suddenly take out and a shitty movie on TV sounded much better.

You practically dragged him to your bedroom while shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, desperation rolling off both of you in waves as you fell into bed.

"Beautiful girl," Joel mumbled against your throat, sweat coating your skin as your writhed underneath him, his thick length slowly dragging in and out, making sure you felt every inch of him. "Wanted this for so long," he continued, then groaned when you clenched around him. "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," he whispered when your slick began to spread over his thighs.

"Only for you," you managed to say, too focused on how your body thrummed with anticipation as you got closer and closer to your release.

"Yeah, that's right," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "All for me."

When you came, you whimpered his name into his shoulder, clutching onto him as the heat of your orgasm spread through every vein, reaching every inch of you. He followed shortly behind with a guttural moan muffled by his mouth pressing feverishly against yours, then you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips and his body sag. You pulled him down and he nuzzled against your throat as he fought for air, still nestled deep between your legs.

Neither of you felt much like leaving the bed, so you didn't. You ordered Chinese food takeout and watched some action movie you didn't really care for but it didn't matter because it primarily served as background noise while you pretended to fight over shrimp lo mein and shared an egg roll, the cartons spread out over your nightstands and your plates balancing in your hands.

You fell asleep before the movie ended but when you woke the next morning, tucked safely into Joel's side, the cartons of food were gone and the TV was off. You pressed a little kiss against his chest, silently thanking him for taking care of everything while you slept, but the movement made him stir. He sleepily opened his eyes, then a lazy smile spread across his face when he saw you already looking up at him.

"Mornin', little lady," he said, voice all rough and gravelly. You felt a pull in your lower stomach at the sound.

"Morning," you mumbled, pressing another kiss in the same spot.

Joel sighed and wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer and kissing the top of your head.

"I want you to meet Sarah."

He felt your muscles tense under his hands and then you slowly tipped your chin up to look him in the eye.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Only if you wanna," he said quickly, but you shook your head and grinned.

"Y-yeah, I would love to, of course," you told him.

He planted a kiss on your lips, both your mouths curving into smiles.

"Good. Then it's settled. My two best girls are gonna meet," he said, sliding out from under the sheets to stand. You bit your lip, adoring the way he referred to you as one of his girls. "She's gonna love you. How 'bout a baseball game or the fair?" he offered, slipping his boxers on.

you slide the mixing bowl across the counter toward him. he blinks.

“you want me to knead that?”

“yup,” you say brightly. “just pretend it owes you money.”

joel snorts, brow lifting. “sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“exactly why you’re perfect for it.”

with a long-suffering sigh, he steps forward and rolls up his sleeves.

you should be watching the timer. or checking the filling. or literally doing anything other than staring at him but the second those sleeves start creeping up his forearms, your brain short-circuits.

he’s not even trying. that’s the worst part.

those hands, broad and rough, the same ones that fix broken furniture like it’s second nature.

the same ones that cradle your face with a kind of reverence you’ve never gotten used to are now sinking into dough. slow, steady, and unhurried.

the tendons in his forearm shifting with each movement. muscles flex and roll and you can’t look away.

the dough sticks slightly to his fingers, and he curls them in.

his biceps twitch under his t-shirt. you can see the vein in his forearm start to stand out as he leans in, pressing down harder, like he’s putting real weight behind it now.

you’re acutely aware of every detail.

the way his shoulders move beneath the soft stretch of cotton. he looks like he belongs in a magazine spread and you're just standing there like an idiot with a spatula in one hand and very bad thoughts in your head.

he glances up, catching your stare, and smirks.

you blink, heat rushing to your cheeks but it’s too late. you’ve been caught.

“something wrong?” he asks, voice low, lazy, like he already knows exactly what kind of spiral you’re in.

you swallow hard. “show-off.”

“you always knead like that?” you ask, watching his arms flex.

joel smirks. “you always stare like you wanna be next?”

he arches a brow but doesn’t press just goes back to kneading, smug and silent, working the dough like it’s something that needs to be tamed.

you turn back to the counter, cheeks burning, trying to focus though joel miller, looking like a walking thirst trap, has thoroughly stolen your attention.

he knows you’re watching, stealing sly glances at you.

you bite back a smile, caught in the quiet battle of wills.

when he finally finishes, he wipes his hands on a dish towel, but not before leaving a fine dusting of flour on his skin.

“easier than i thought,” he says, voice low and rough.

you lean up and press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, meaning it as a thank you. but his hand slides around the back of your neck, fingers warm and steady, holding you just a second longer than necessary.

his voice dips, gravelly. “could get used to this.”

you smile, breath warm against his skin. “the baking, or the domestic forearm porn?”

he pulls back just enough to blink at you, eyes dark and amused. “the what now?”

you grin, teasing. “you know exactly what you’re doing, rollin’ up your sleeves like that.”

joel cocks his head, the corner of his mouth tugging into a slow, wicked grin. “so you’re sayin’ i’ve been bustin’ my ass fixin’ shelves all these years when all i had to do was knead some dough and roll up my damn sleeves?”

“pretty much,” you say, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. “less risk of splinters. more chance of kisses.”

he steps closer, that unmistakable glint lighting his eyes. “yeah? that a promise?”

before you can answer, his floured hand brushes your cheek, leaving a streak of white across your skin.

you gasp, mock-offended. “joel!”

he grins, mischievous as hell. “oops.”

with a quick grab, you scoop a handful of flour from the counter and fling it straight at him.

the powder explodes against his shirt, puffing out like smoke. joel looks down at the mess, then back up at you with exaggerated menace, eyes narrowing playfully.

“oh, it’s on baby.”

you shriek, ducking behind the counter as he lunges for the flour bag, grabbing a fistful and tossing it like snow in a blizzard.

flour bursts in the air between you, a cloud of white that settles on your hair, clothes, and skin. you laugh. loud, breathless, caught in the ridiculous joy of the moment.

joel chases you around the kitchen island, flour flying from his hands, his grin wild and untamed.

you dodge, weaving between counters, throwing handfuls back at him, your laughter mixing with his deep chuckles.

when you finally collapse against the counter, gasping for air, joel leans in close, both of you coated in a fine dusting of white.

he bumps your shoulder gently, eyes sparkling with triumph and something softer.

you wipe a stray puff of flour from your forehead, your breath still coming a little too fast from the chaos of the flour fight.

joel's eyes darken as he leans in closer, heat radiating off him and seeping into your skin like a slow burn.

he cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line through the flour dusted on your skin. you lean into the touch, breath hitching in your throat.

joel’s lips brush yours soft at first, tentative, like he’s savoring the moment before his mouth deepens the kiss, becoming possessive, demanding.

his hands slide from your cheek down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, your bodies molding together effortlessly.

“pie’s gonna taste like war,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low, gravelly.

you smirk, breath mingling with his. “then maybe we should work up an appetite.”

joel turns to face you fully, slow and deliberate, like he’s accepting a challenge meant just for him. his eyes sweep over you.

“you still got energy left after all that kneading?”

he hums deep in his throat, stepping closer until your back meets the counter. one hand lands beside your hip, steady and firm. the other brushes your jaw with the barest touch.

“sweetheart,” he says, voice dropping low enough to make your breath hitch, “you ain’t even seen what these hands are really good at.”

he kisses you again. hungry but slow, like he’s been waiting all day for this. his mouth moves, savoring every second, and his hand slides to your waist, gripping just enough to make your knees go weak.

when he finally pulls back, lips hovering over yours, breath warm and teasing, he murmurs, “still hungry?”

“starving,” you breathe.

he chuckles, low and wicked, then lifts you effortlessly onto the counter. your thighs part instinctively, and he settles between them, hands smoothing over your legs.

one hand hooks behind your knee, pulling you closer, the other pressing to the small of your back, holding you flush against him.

“you know,” he breathes, lips trailing your neck, “we can forget the baking for now… let it wait while i occupy you.”

you laugh softly, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt. “joel.”

“what?” he grins, unrepentant as his hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin. “ain’t like we’re wastin’ time.”

your breath catches, heat pooling low in your belly as his tongue sweeps along the seam of your mouth, kissing deeper, dirtier.

when he finally pulls back, breathless and flushed, his grin is wicked and full of promise.

“gonna ruin you on this counter, sweetheart. then we’ll have dessert.”