Baby Doll

Kind- Rabbit is kind to her. He always smiles when he sees her running towards him. He lets her hold his hand when she’s getting her shots or a check up and squeezes her eyes tight and his hand as hard as she can. He sneaks her popsicles when she’s waiting for you to get off your shift. He sits with her in the break room- perched on his lap while she colors on old ER charts as he reads case studies aloud for her and stops when she asks what a certain word he said was. He listens to her yap away about her day at school- knelt down even if his leg is killing while she goes into detail about the pb&j she had for lunch. He answers her millions of questions- always in a way she’d understand and smiles when she follows up with “why?” Her dad would get annoyed- her dad says “because” and doesn’t answer her. Her dad says she talks too much.

Funny- Rabbit is so funny in a way that makes her giggle so much that her little stomach and sides hurt. When they argue over the last pudding cup- “I’m older so I should get it.” “I’m cuter,” she’ll retort and when he rolls his eyes and say that’s not fair she’ll laugh. His dry wit and deadpan expressions make her giggle- when he says “this is not a serious medical issue,” as she holds her stuffed rabbit up by the ears because “Mr. Bun is sick.” Or when he tells Shen he needs two cc’s of apple juice for them both stat. Her dad isn’t funny. He’s always serious. He’s always angry around her- his face grumpy but not the way Jack’s is. He tells her to stop laughing when things weren’t funny to him.

Brave- because her Rabbit isn’t scared when she is. When he stayed by her bedside on the peds floor because she was sick- sleeping cramped in that uncomfortable chair so she didn’t wake up alone and scared. When she said she was afraid that she'd have bad dreams while she tried to sleep- “that’s why I’m here kiddo- to fight the bad dreams while you sleep okay?” When she asked about his leg- he told her how he lost it protecting his friend years ago. That means he’s brave right? Because her dad didn’t answer her when she’d cry at night over her bad dreams- when she’d knock on his door late at night and ask him to tuck her back in he’d tell her to leave him alone or would ignore her altogether.

Strong- Rabbit was clearly the strongest. He easily carries her when she throws herself at him. Swings her over his shoulders and holds her upside down while she kicks her legs and giggles. When she’s sleepy after waiting for you to get off your shift and her head is heavy on his big shoulders- he walks to your car with her snoring in his ear like she weighs nothing. She’s seen him hold up a grown man that passed out on the ER floor- and she’s seen him hold you while you cried. After her dad told you he didn’t want to see her this weekend- trying to be quiet but she could see how Jack rubbed your back to calm you down. He’s calm when the entire ER is in chaos. Her dad isn’t strong- he doesn’t try to hold her or pick her up. He can’t even open her water bottle after a long day or even stop her tears.

Patient- this one was hard to understand but her Rabbit sounded patient. When she cried because her drawing didn’t come out the way she wanted or when she couldn’t do her math homework right he didn’t yell or even raise his voice. “That’s okay- let’s try again together alright?” He sounded out the words for her- his big hand holding her finger across the pages of the book to help her read and understand the book. When she needed help tying her shoes he bent down and smiled- narrating what he was doing so she could learn too “you make two bunny ears first.” He never got angry with her. He waited for her to take her time. Her dad sighed- groaned- rolled his eyes and told her to hurry up. Her dad hardly wanted to even see her.

Because Jack Rabbit, she’ll correct you when you say Jack is all of that. For Father’s Day her teacher had the class draw their dad who fits all these categories and clearly that’s all her Rabbit. You should’ve seen her- tongue poking out the side of her mouth and brows knitted up in concentration while she dug through the crayons for what she needed. It was a masterpiece. Her magnum opus. She even signed her name in the glittery sparkle pen that Jack let her have from the nurses station pen cup. She was so excited- digging through her backpack the second the babysitter brought her to the ER after she was picked up from school. You were worried- Father’s Day was this weekend and your baby’s sperm donor wanted nothing to do with the beautiful bright eyed little girl that you gave him.

“Look mama!” Proudly waving the construction paper at you- big letters that say ‘My Father Is:’ that makes your chest ache a little. Because her dad will never care about the love and time she put into it- the detailed drawings and stickers and figure that looks nothing like her dad. And not in the way that’s difficult because she’s four years old but-

“Who’s this baby?” Bending down- pointing at the figure at the bottom of the paper that has grey swirls on its head and angry eyebrows that are scribbled dark- black scrubs on and- only one stick leg and-

“That’s Rabbit!” Like it was obvious- rolling her eyes even because clearly it’s her favorite person in the entire world- how could you mistake it for anyone else? The grey swirls were drawn to depict his hair- curls that have lost their color due to age and probably stress. Angry scribbles of his brows because he’s always so serious when he works sometimes. And then the obvious single leg. That’s her Rabbit. And your heart aches- blinking back a stray tear because she’s right. Everything good about a dad is everything you love about Jack. He’s everything you would’ve picked for your daughter and when you take her hands to explain to her that while the drawing is beautiful- Jack wasn’t her father and- “Rabbit!” She cuts you off- little shriek of excitement and always so quick to escape your grasp. Her favorite person coming into work for his night shift- uneven steps and backpack slung over one of his shoulders and that scowl that immediately softens into a grin when he hears her. “Look! Look! Look!”

“What? What? What?” He lightheartedly mocks her with a smile- kneeling down to her level and carefully taking the colorful paper that she all but shoved into his face while she babbles- going on about how its Father’s Day this Sunday and how her teacher had them draw someone who’s kind and smart and funny and- “this is amazing bunny!” Face lighting up- soft awe because he can see how much better her drawings have gotten. He remembers her scribbles over the old charts and how he’d reply “of course it is” when she’d say it was a shark or a fire truck or-

“It’s you! I made it for you,” looking down at her single unlaced shoe- a little nervous habit she picked up when she realized she was being perceived by someone. For him? Something in Jack cracks- because this little girl that he’s watched grow up understands him as someone she can trust and love and- it’s everything he wanted. He looks up from above her head- making eye contact with you while you smile softly with an apologetic look.

The last thing you wanted was to guilt him into being appreciative- to make him feel forced to accept your child but there’s no one he’d rather accept into his life. No two people he’d rather have. But this isn’t about his feelings- this isn’t about how the hole in his heart has been filled with you and your bright, happy daughter who he’d do anything for. He loves his nights where your daughter sleeps in one of the empty bed in the ER- where he can watch over her while he charts because he needs some peace and quiet and he likes how her little snores silence his mind. He loves the way you laugh at his sarcastic comments- even more so when you throw one back his way because- “$20 says that patient did not slip and fall on the cucumber,” “well it had a condom on so I’ll take that bet.” He loves sitting next to you on the roof when it’s been the shift from hell- leaning back and sitting against the railing and watching the sunrise while you split a pizza “okay your half is the nasty pineapple one,” “just say you have no taste- it’s okay I won’t judge you,” and clink the bottles of your beers together. He misses when you’d doze off in the silence of the city before it starts to wake- your head resting on his shoulder where he can smell your shampoo and feel your warmth against him and the grounding weight of you reminding him that there’s so much more than this hospital.

He misses her because she started school and left the hospital’s child care- because for so long she was a constant in his life. You remember when you’d find him in the hospital’s daycare- laying on the floor while she crawled around him and smacked at his face while he droned on about a patient that was presenting with stroke like symptoms and yet his CT was clear. He would talk his problems out with her and when she’d babble back- “look I get your point but you don’t have to be so rude,” deadpan because she’d giggle and clap and her laugh relaxed him the same way your soft hand on his arm would. He’s so happy she’s making friends at school- but she still says- “Rabbit, you’re my best friend,” softly when he’s in the break room helping her with her math homework.

God- the rage he felt when he found your daughter alone in the break room with her backpack on a few weekends ago- “he promised me,” forcing the tears back because she didn’t want you to see her cry. Because you were arguing on the phone with her dad again- after he spent a week hyping her up about taking her to the park today but he called you last minute because his girlfriend’s son had a baseball game and- “why doesn’t he love me?” lower lip wobbling- voice so broken before she throws herself into Jack’s arms. He hates seeing her cry, wondering how anyone could abandon her when she’s the greatest kid he’s ever met- she’s so funny, smart and energetic and sure she talks a lot but so does he and- “shh, it’s okay- I’m here okay?” Meeting your eyes when you walk back into the break room- a sad little smile on your face because it makes your chest ache when she hurts for a man who didn’t care for her but here Jack was who doesn’t have an ounce of blood shared with her yet he would die for her.

Sure he’s a little obvious about his feelings for you but you’re not too subtle with yours either. Lingering touches when he passes behind you- a warm hand on your lower back or at your hips. Your fingers curling around his when you pass him a patient's lab results. His solid chest at your back when he’s reading a chart off the computer right behind you- cheek pressing into your temple or chin hooked over your shoulder. When he says “you’d be surprised,” when you say that no one wants to date a divorced single mom. “No one wants to date a one legged veteran widower,” with a shrug but- “you’d be surprised,” as you meet his eyes while you sip on the coffee he bought you- soft smile playing on your lips before you walk away and he swears he saw you wink at him.

And it keeps him up at night when he remembers the almost kiss. After you lost a patient who was too close in age to your daughter and he found you hyperventilating in the supply room- panicking because the babysitter wouldn’t answer her phone and you needed to know your daughter was okay and Jack was the one who brought you back down to earth. Strong hands on your face- making you look into those hazel eyes that you dream about- telling you to breathe with him, letting your hands wrap around his wrists but you nod and inhale. Exhale while your faces get closer. Inhale when your eyes drop down to his lips. Exhale when you feel his nose brushing against yours. Inhale when you feel the shaky breath of his lips on yours- exhale when you pull away because the babysitter was calling you back.

He puts the drawing in his locker- carefully taped to the metal where he can see it everyday and smile because this little girl loves him and he doesn’t know how to accept the love you both have for him. Or the love that he has for you both. And neither of you say anything. Not about the bright red holographic heart stickers or the crooked hearts she drew with every crayon in the box. Not about the way she wrote “I love you” on the side- shaky and uncoordinated but he could make those words out and he traces them after a bad day. Not about how he wishes he could come home to you both at the end of a long shift. How he wishes he could crawl into bed with you and have her sneak into the bed and wedge herself between you both with that stuffed rabbit that she can never leave behind. Or how you wish you could kiss him at the end of your shift and say “we’ll see you at home.”

Not about the way he wishes it were that easy.

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Pope is driving down Oceanside Boulevard from a potential job site back to Smurfs when a green truck catches his eye pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Well, not so much the truck, but the young woman yanking the flat tire off the truck all by herself. Pope slows as he passes her, noticing the huge buckets of flowers in the back of the truck. He pulls off the road parking in front of her before stepping out of his own truck and walking back towards her. 

As he gets closer he notices the flush of your cheeks, his step stutters briefly the closer he gets to you. You’re beautiful. Then it dawns on him, he recognizes you, maybe that subconsciously made him pull over. He bought flowers from you for Smurf, for mothers day, after she had thrown a fit about not being appreciated enough by her boys. He tries to slow his heart as he clears his throat, trying to get your attention.

“Need some help?” He says, and your head snaps over to him.

“Oh,” you sigh, “that’s so nice of you. I mean… if you have a minute…”

“Yeah, no, I do,” Pope wipes his palms on his jeans, god you’re hot… no, he thinks it’s hot, that’s what he means, it’s hot out and he’s just helping someone who needs it. He’s looking at your car and something about the angle that it’s sitting on the jack just doesn’t seem right. 

“I don’t know if the tire is your only problem,” he says, crouching down.

“What? What do you mean?” You crouch down next to him. 

“It’s just…” he rests his palms on the ground, looking underneath your truck. 

“Yeah,” he says, pushing back up, resting on his knees, “your axle is cracked,”

“Fuck,” you huff, rubbing your hand over your face. “God, this cannot be happening.”

“Do you have AAA?” Pope offers, trying not to be distracted by your flustered state.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “they can’t get here for two hours but I need to get these flowers inside like ten minutes ago.”

You stand with your hands on your hips looking back at the bed of your truck.

“That’s, uh, not your problem though,” you say, sounding resigned, “thank you for stopping, that was really generous,”

You turn to acknowledge him for the first time really, so focused on your truck that you hadn’t even properly looked at him yet. 

“No worries,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wait, I recognize you,” you say, pointing at him, “you bought flowers for mothers day… oranges lilies, right?”

“Yeah,” Pope’s head recoils back the tiniest bit, surprised that you remember him at all, nevermind so specifically, “they were orange… I don’t remember what kind,”

“I do… yeah… you’re orange lilies,” you smile, “I remember,”

“That’s… impressive,” Pope bites back a smile.

 “Sorry, I know it’s weird,” you scrunch your nose, Pope tries to ignore how cute that is, “I have this memory thing…”

“It’s ok,” He says, kneading the toe of his book into the ground.

“Bad flower for mothers day…” you roll your eyes at yourself, “orange lilies symbolize hatred and pride…”

Jesus, Pope thinks, you nailed it.

“They’re beautiful though,” you try and correct yourself, “that’s- that’s not what I had in mind when I made the bouquet,”

“No, they were nice,” Pope bites back a smile, “she loved them,”

“Oh, I’m glad,” you smile at him, before glancing towards your truck and then back at him, “well, I won’t keep you, um, thank you for stopping, but I gotta figure out how to get all these back to my house before the heat kills them.”

“I can take you,” Pope says without thinking.

“Sorry?” You look at in disbelief and he feels a twinge of guilt, did he just freak you out?

“I just,” Pope scratches the back of his neck trying not to blush, “I have nowhere to be for a while, if you need to move them…” 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to get in a car with a stranger?” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“No- I didn’t mean,” he starts, fumbling over his words. 

“Are you being serious?” You ask. Pope takes a beat to look over your face. Your cheeks flushed, the glimmer of sweat on your forehead, and the looks in your eye like he’s about to save you… how could he say anything but-

“Yes,” he says.

“Oh my god,” you clap your hands together, “oh my god, you’re a life saver, I- I can pay you, or you can have free flowers- for life, I- thank you-”

Pope only smiles at you, trying not to feel too giddy at your reaction.

“I’ll, uh, back my truck up a little closer,” he points over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Ok, amazing,” you say, “I can move all the buckets myself, I don’t- you’re already doing me a huge solid.”

“Nah,” he says, backing towards his truck, “give me a minute,”

Despite his little protest you start moving the buckets of flowers around to the front of your truck as he backs up towards you. When he gets out again you pause to introduce yourself, feeling a little silly for not having done so before.

“I’m Andrew,” he says, grabbing the bucket you just set down and placing it in the bed of his truck. Your eyes wander down his arms, tracing the vein that runs down his bicep before you blink hard, trying to snap yourself out of it. The two of you move the nine buckets and two large crates quickly before climbing into his truck.

“I really- I don’t even know what to say-” you look at him from the passenger seat. 

“I think my mom would be horrified if I left a pretty girl stranded on the side of the road like that-” he says before his grip tightens on the steering wheel. You see a pink blush spread across his cheeks. You let out a small laugh.

“That is… really sweet,” you say, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

The rest of the drive is relatively quiet, the silence interspersed with your directions to your house. You’re guessing Andrew is feeling shy after his little confession but you try and play it off as no big deal, just a slip of the tongue. In about ten minutes he’s pulling into your short driveway. The two of you step out of the car and start unloading the flowers on your front stoop. After he sets the last crate down you speak.

“I- I’d really like to repay you,” you say, “I have cash inside,”

“No,” Andrew shrugs, “really, I- I don’t need anything,”

“Are you sure? That’s really- that’s too nice,” you say, twisting your fingers together.  

“I’m sure,” he says, trying not to smile.

“Well, if you ever change your mind… you know where the shop is,” you smile. “Come by any time, really, no expiration on- uh- a reward for your heroism,”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

“Ok,” you say, slowly backing towards your door, almost kicking over one of the buckets of flowers, “shit, I- uh- thank you again, Andrew. I’ll see you around maybe?” 

“Yeah, I- uh- yeah,” he says, opening the door to his truck, sliding inside, and pulling away. 

That evening as you sit on your floor making bouquets and center pieces you can’t stop thinking about Andrew. You’re kicking yourself for not getting his phone number. You could have taken him to get a coffee or a drink as a thank you… Ok, so you thought he was gorgeous, that was definitely impacting your thought process but he had done something incredibly generous and got you out of a really tough spot. As you arrange the flowers in the vase you can’t help but hope you’ll see him again.

The next day Andrew is driving downtown heading towards the flower shop. He circles the block maybe five times, passing your storefront, wondering if you’ll think it’s weird that he’s showing up out of the blue. You had said he could come by anytime, and isn’t now anytime? He parks across the street and crosses, pushing open the door to your store. A small bell chimes, announcing his arrival but he doesn't see you.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” He hears you call from somewhere in the back. He turns to examine the buckets of flowers lined up on the small risers, the smell is delightful. He’d never really been one to appreciate flowers before but here, standing in your store, he couldn’t help but enjoy being surrounded by them, it was almost as if he was being surrounded by you…

“Andrew!” He hears from behind him. He turns to see you in a dark green florist apron, a pair of sheers in one hand, a bouquet in the other.

“Hi,” you smile at him, walking behind the counter, setting the sheers down. 

“Hi,” he smiles at you, you look at him expectantly as if you’re waiting for him to explain why he’s there, “I, uh, just wanted to see if your truck is… ok,”

“Oh my truck is fucked,” you roll your eyes but keep a small smile on your face, “gonna cost a small fortune to get it fixed but it’s fine. Are you here to cash in your reward?”

“No, I- I really just wanted to see if everything was ok,” He says, looking down at his feet.

“That is… incredibly sweet,” you say.

“How did it go with the flowers yesterday?” He says, eyes flicking up to you.

“Good!” you smile, seeming delighted that he asked you about it, “the bride and groom were really happy with how it all turned out, do you want to see?”

“Yeah,” Andrew says, trying not to get too excited that you want to show him. You’re probably this nice with everyone who walks into your store. You lean forward, resting your elbows on the counter, and pull up pictures on your phone, swiping through them, making little commentary about the wedding and the venue. 

“It looks really good,” he says, staring down at the photos, “you’re really talented,”

You look up at him with a smile.

“Thank you,” you stand, and slip your phone back in your pocket, “but you can’t just come here and complement me, I’m still at a huge favor deficit,” 

“I really don’t need anything,” Andrew blushes.

“Mmm,” you hum, squinting your eyes, “I’ll figure out how to get you back somehow,”

He could think of a few ways he’d like to be repaid, his eyes trail over your lips which look so soft… he tries not to let his mind wander too far.

“Are those for a wedding too?” He asks, looking down at the bouquet you just set down on the counter, trying to regulate his thoughts.

“No, these are for a favorite customer of mine,” you smile, starting to wrap the flowers in thick, brown paper. Favorite customer? Andrew thinks. He’ll have to start coming here more, he’ll have to become your favorite… just as he starts to internally spiral, your words pull him back, “he’s this really sweet old man, he buys a bouquet for his wife at the beginning of every week, it’s so precious.”

“Yeah,” Andrew agrees, feeling relieved that your favorite customer is an old married man, “that’s nice,”

“He’s gotta be at least eighty but he does it every week,” you sigh, wrapping twin around the middle of the bouquet, “I wanna be in love like that when I’m old,”

God, wouldn’t Andrew be a lucky man if he could be the one bringing you flowers when you’re eighty. As if on cue, an old gentleman wearing a houndstooth flat cap walks into the store.

“Harrold!” You smile as he walks towards the counter slowly. Harrold says your name with just as much enthusiasm. Andrew steps to the side.

“How is Sybil doing?” You say, ringing him up.

“Oh, she’s a getting better everyday,” Harrold smiles, “getting old isn’t for the weak,”

“Well I’m sure she’ll be up and at ‘em in no time,” you tilt your head to the side, handing him the bouquet, and resting your hands on the counter.

“What do we have this week?” Harrold looks down into the bouquet, taking a deep breath. 

“This week we have some daffodils for rebirth, renewal, orange poppies for vitality and health, chamomile for gentle healing, and wax flowers for enduring love,” you point to each of the flowers in the bouquet as you say the name and meaning. Andrew’s heart flutters. “I wrote it down for you just in case,” 

You slide a small card across the counter with your slanting handwriting on it, each flower and meaning listed.

“You are just the loveliest thing,” Harrold takes your hand in his, squeezing it. Slowly he looks at Andrew then back to you, “is this gentleman with you?” 

“This is Andrew,” you say taking a slight pause, “he’s a friend,”

“Andrew,” Harrold turns to him with his hand outstretched to shake, “you’re not going to meet another young lady like this one,”

“Harrold,” you blush and bring your hands up, dropping your head into them.

“Let an old man speak,” Harrold says to you before turning back to Andrew, “when I met my wife, I knew, I just knew it in my bones that I was supposed to be with her. So you have to keep a sharp eye, look out for that feeling,”

“Harrold,” you whine, crouching down behind the counter, leaving only your fingers gripping the edge visible. Andrew can’t help but blush at this advice and smile at your reaction. 

“She’s very beautiful,” Harrold points to where you’re hiding, “but she’s beautiful on the inside too,”

“Get out of my store!” You say from behind the counter. 

“Alright, alright, lecture over,” Harrold says, picking up the bouquet and walking towards the door, “I’ll see you next week, darling,”

“You’re not allowed to come here anymore,” you say teasingly.

“She’s single!” Harrold calls as the door swings shut behind him.

“Harrold!” You stand, hands on your hips. You bury your face in your hands again, “oh my god,”

“He’s great,” Andrew grins at you.

“Oh you enjoyed that?” You cross your arms with a smile on your face.

“Very much,” Andrew says. You shake your head at him. The pair of you just stand looking at each other for a moment.

“Do those flowers really mean all those things you said?” Andrew rests his hands on the counter. Your eyebrows raise a little.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not set in stone or anything, you can kind of interpret them,” you shrug, “you know like, daffodils can mean new beginnings but they can also mean good fortune,”

“Which one is a daffodil?” Andrew asks. 

“Uh, this one,” you grab a stem out of one of the buckets behind you, twirling the yellow flower in your fingers. 

“Alright I’ll take one of those,” he says.

“You want just one?” Your eyebrows knit together. 

“Just one,” he nods, pulling out his wallet.

“Oh, come on I’m not gonna make you pay for one flower,” you say, resting a hand on your hip, “not after what you did for me,”

He puts a five dollar bill on the counter sliding it towards you. You slide it back.

“If you leave this five dollar bill here I will use it as compost,” you say. He sighs and slides the bill back in his wallet. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something?” You tilt your head to the side, holding out the flower.

“Nah,” he says, taking it from your hand, fingertips brushing against each other for just a moment, “this is perfect,” 

“Well if you change your mind you know where to find me,” you smile at him, biting your bottom lips.

“Yeah,” he smiles back at you, backing towards the door.

“Bye,” you say, but it comes out much quieter than you expected.

“Bye,” he nods, and the door closes behind him.

That evening you’re taking the bus home. Your car is still in the shop but you’re happy to be able to just sit and daydream for a while. Andrew hadn’t left your head since he left the store. Everything about him intrigued you. The fact that he went so out of his way to help you, a stranger, when it would have been one hundred percent easier to just drive by you. The fact that he came by to check on you after the fact. The fact that he was extremely handsome… his dark curls, the curve of his cupid’s bow, his intense eyes, his freckles, his arms… You almost miss your stop letting your mind wander to him for so long. You hop off the bus and walk the rest of the way to your house. Maybe Harrold had been pushing the two of you in the right direction. Andrew is handsome and caring and engaged… but you don’t even know if he thinks of you in that way. You turn up your driveway, pulling your keys out of your bag, and your heart nearly stops when you get to your front door. A single daffodil is resting across the top of your mailbox with a small white card tucked underneath. You pick the card up turning it over, it simply reads:

New beginnings 

The music blared, the crowd cheered - this was where you belonged. Sure it wasn’t ‘classy’ but you made BANK and it was fun - a win in your books. All the girls had a bit, a character to play - some more than the others. Alex had a bitchy cool girl thing, Sophie had the bimbo role locked. You had this cowgirl bit, bad accent, hat and boots - the complete look. It was fun - really good for tips.

Coyote Ugly was a common spot for bachelor parties, much to your chagrin - the bachelors were loud; always wanting to get on the bar, requesting stupid songs; unlike your regular customers who were for the most part respectful, considering your job was to be sexy but never obtainable. Never dip your pen in company ink - that’s what they said in ‘serious’ business, right?

Jack walked into the bar, immediately feeling old. Some country rock song was blaring as he glanced around - girls dancing on the bar, Steve's fiance would love that. He sighed, it was his one night off this week and he was spending it here? On a bachelor party for a guy who's been on the SWAT team for like 3 months? Instead of doing that laundry he desperately needed to do as of last week? Mistake… probably.

He glanced at the bar again, there were two girls - one in a brown leather bikini style top with fringe and black leather low waisted pants. The other girl had short denim shorts with some kind of wording on the back pocket - what it said he couldn't read, not without his glasses - her top was a gingham cropped halter top that tied in the front. He assumed, basing his theory entirely on her cowboy boots and hat - there was a theme to the girls. 

You spotted a group of men walking in while performing on the bar with Alex; rolling hips and flipping your hair - the usual. You sniped the bachelor energy right away, internally rolling your eyes. 

“Soph - bachlors” you shouted to her over the music.

She liked bachelor parties, she lived for this bar and would take any attention offered to her. She fixed her hair and you giggled affectionately. 

The song ended and me and Alex hopped off the bar, getting back to serving drinks. Almost like clockwork, a man came up to the bar - “it’s my buddy’s bachelor - can you give him a little dance, beautiful?” he said, a sleazy smirk on his lips.

“Sorry, Honey, all I can offer is a shoutout or drinks” you said, a fake southern accent playing on your lips.

“Both - both sounds great, sweetheart" he said, calling over his friends

“Alrighy, Sugar - what can I get ya? Fair warning we do shots or beer” you said; sweetly southern.

“Shots for us and a beer for the old man” he said, gesturing to the boys he was with. They were all fit, mostly 20-30’s except the ‘old man’. He was greying but still extremely fit like the others.

“$52 honey - not including tip” you said with a wink, pouring the shots.

He handed you a $50 and a $10 - which immediately went into your pocket, it was easier to deal with the technicalities later, it's not like this was a ‘change given’ establishment.

You pushed forward the shots and gave the older man his beer with a wink.

You snatched the megaphone, hoping onto the bar again.

“Alright ladies and gents - we’ve got a bachelor in the house tonight!” you said, immediately riling up the crowd. “Let’s get him up here!”

The crowd cheered - obviously - you were good at your job.

“Let’s give ‘em a nice sendoff huh?” you giggled with that southern drawl that patrons loved, the crowd cheered again; Alex handed you a shot and you passed it to the man; who took it with shocking speed which again, riled up the crowd.

You put the megaphone down as he climbed off the bar, screaming in his friends faces.

“‘Nother round boys?” You asked, already lining up the shot glasses again, they eagerly responded with cheers.

You gestured for Sophie to throw you the bottle - a trick you pulled off multiple times every night without fail, but tonight, it slipped from your hand and shattered on the floor.

“Damn it” you muttered - fake accent letting up - leaning down to move the glass out of the way, and cut your palm on a piece you didn't see - fuck!

“Sorry boys, one of my other pretty coworkers will have to serve yall” you said, looking for any fabric or napkin to hold against your palm.

“That looks bad, baby - you want some help?” the guy you'd been talking to all night asked, you went to speak when he hit the older man on the shoulder. “Help the pretty lady, Jack” 

The man took one look at your hand and winced, “yeah, that's not good”

“Theres a first aid kit in the back” you said, hoping over the bar and grabbing the man by the arm.

When we got to the back; a dressing room type space - vanities with hollywood lights and clothing racks littered about the room - the music was muffled, but you were 80% sure it was ‘My Humps’ from the Black Eyed Peas. 

“The kit should be over there” you sighed, pointing to the corner as you went to sit on the vanity.

“You feel faint at all?” he asked, collecting the first aid kit, raising a brow as he saw you sitting expectantly.

“Nope” you said, crossing your legs as he walked over.

“That's good, very good - lot of people feel faint with blood” he murmured in a way that made your stomach flutter a little.

“Always was an overachiever, darlin'" you drawled, holding out your hand to be cleaned.

He took your hand gently in his, inspecting the wound.

“Can’t see a need for stitches - but I'm not sure I can advise working the rest of the night” He murmured, as if the words were just for you.

“Come on, cowboy” you drawled, putting your hat on him, “let me ride” you whispered; ever the flirt. 

“Sorry, 'darlin” he said; seemingly holding back a snigger at the use of the word “doctors orders” 

You rolled your eyes, immediately regretting it when he began to clean the wound “Fuck!” you said, the accent dropping.

“Fake accent? What will they come up with next” he joked sarcastically, seemingly tickled by his own humour.

“You always this funny with patients?” you huffed, a little annoyed your flirting hadn’t worked.

“Just for you sweetheart” he murmured, completely focused on cleaning your cut - and you believed it.

“What does it say on shorts?” he asked, looking into your eyes briefly while grabbing a bandage.

“‘Kiss it cowboy’” you giggled, amused at your genius.

He hummed softly, applying the bandage.

“If you wanna swing by the hospital in 2 days so I can make sure it’s healing well” He said, looking into your eyes again, crossing his arms over his very well defined chest.

“Can’t you swing by the bar?” you asked, tilting your head slightly - him never letting up on the eye contact, “or… gimmie your number?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

“You ever hear no? He asked jokingly.

“No” you giggled.

“Thought so” he muttered, grabbing a tissue and an eyeliner pencil - it's a dressing room it's not like you had much to write back there - and scribbled down his number.

“Any concerns about the healing process - text me” he said, holding out the tissue.

“Who am I to deny doctors orders?” you teased, playfully snatching the tissue.

“Good girl” he hummed “go home - you're not working with a hand like that” he said, finally letting go of the eye contact to pack up the first aid kit.

“Yes sir” you murmured flirtily, “go, i’ve got it” you hummed, hoping off the vanity and tidying up “not like I can work”

“You sure, Sweetheart?” he asked, looking at you carefully.

“Uh huh - bachelor party - go, have fun” you teased, the tissue with his number poking out of your back pocket with the stupid stitched phrase he couldn’t seem to stop looking at.

He visibly hesitated a little “Alright sweetheart - behave” he said heading to the door after deciding you were responsible enough to be left alone.

Your lips quipped up and you nodded. You didn't know how you started talking about this- you'd only asked what she was doing and how she fell. Date with an older guy, she said, was walking back from his when I fell. It must have been more of a tumble, roll and fall from the state of her leg that had got her through the waiting room and triage.

The next thing you knew she was highlighting how good sex was with an older man.

“It's like they have the experience and the confidence and they care more about getting you off than they do themselves,” she said.

“How many dates have you been on with the guy?” you asked, only trying to keep conversation while you plucked out the gravel. Trying to distract yourself from thinking about sex and older.

“Oh, this was the first one,” said Lu, laid back on the bed with a dreamy look in her eyes. “We've been talking for a few months on this app for older guys to meet women who are younger and interested. We met tonight and I had the best sex ever.”

The pling of gravel on the metal tray echoed out.

“You got a boyfriend?” she asked you.

You were silent, acting as if you were focused on the gravel. “I don't.”

Lu smirked at your silence. “But you got somebody?”

To that you had nothing to say. Maybe you did have somebody- or at least someone came to mind. Grey hair, stubbled chin and dark eyes in the shape of a doctor.

“Oh you got somebody,” said Lu.

You managed two more pieces of gravel and glass before she opened her mouth to speak again, to probably ask you another question but at the same time the door opened, bringing with it a small snap of the bustling sounds of the Pitt at night and the faint air of woodland and grease.

“How we doing in here?”

Jack walked in like he was un-aware to how you'd thought about him and then he came like you'd conjured him up. His grey hair, short stubble at the chin that he quickly rubbed at and dark eyes evaluating.

You betrayed yourself in looking to Lu.

“Is this him?” she asked, eyes lighting up.

Jack looked between the two of you. “Talking about me again, doc?” Jack asked.

You were focused on the task at hand but you didn't need to look to find him at your side, diligently watching you work.

“All good things,” said Lu.

He huffed out a little smile, hands held behind his back. His eyes bore into your head. “I'm Doctor Jack Abbott, I see you're in good hands here. How're her bloods?”

“Bloods are all clear though blood pressure is a bit high, we wanna keep an eye on that,” you said.

Jack nodded. “Well I'm sorry you're night took an unfortunate turn, Miss Marigold.”

She shrugged, rumpling her black dress. It was sleek and fit her in ways you could never imagine the dress fitting you. “Meh, it was pretty much done anyway.”

You were too caught up in the gossip she had been giving you that you didn't think about Jack not being informed. “He kicked you out?”

“No,” she said. “I left. Didn't want that awkward after sex small talk.”

“That's called aftercare.”

It was such a thrown away comment in Jack's words. He said it like he was prescribing her morphine. But the words rushed to your body, jolted you awake and alert to his presence.

Aftercare to some may have been normal, you didn't know other peoples sexual habits- you only knew yours and aftercare wasn't part of it. Your... sexual partners were few and far between and also loved to use your bathroom and sleep it off. Besides that was months ago before you started night shifts. Now your sex life was nothing but dry dry dry with the only occasional fantasy of your attending keeping you going.

“How old are you, Doctor Abbott?” asked your patient.

You caught Jack's smirk.

“Don't you know you should never ask a gentleman his age?” he said.

“Forties? Fifties?”

“Well I'm glad you ruled out thirties.”

You laughed.

“Are you single?”

“You asking?”

“And what do you think about younger women?” Lu asked with seemingly no shame. You carried it all in the blaze of heat in your cheeks.

“I don't know if this is an appropriate conversation to be having,” you said, trying to deflect. Looking between them, you found Lu waiting with curious eyes, not at all uncomfortable and Jack... surprisingly much of the same.

“You mean how do I feel about dating younger women?” asked Jack, standing at the other side of her bed.

In your eyeline.

“There's this app, called 'Always go older' it's catered for men over forty meeting younger women with similar interests. Go on dates, have long term relationships, or just sex.”

You couldn't believe the conversation you had been having with her before Jack came in, making the small space of the exam room even smaller. Having it with him in the room was your idea of a nightmare.

Jack nodded slowly, considering. “An app for... sugar daddies?”

You looked up at him. “You know what sugar daddies are?”

He pursed his lips at you in disappointment. “I'm old, I'm not clueless.”

“If you're interested I can get you a great discount,” said Lu like this was a business meeting. “Both of you.”

Jack looked at you but you missed whatever his eyes were trying to convey when you realised this app cost.

“You have to pay?”

“To be a member yeah, there can be a lot of creeps out there and they do real good work to make sure they're not in the club. You interested?”

“Not if I have to pay,” you said, thinking first of your bank account and nothing else. You only realised once you'd said it what it sounded like.

That you were interested. That older men and dating for you were hand in hand.

You looked up hoping at least Jack wouldn't have noticed. His eyes were on you, an amused tilt to his lips. “Okay!” you stood up, pulling off your gloves. “All the gravel and glass is out but I'm gonna get another blood test in to check your alcohol levels. I'll call a nurse to dress you up and we'll keep you for observation on that blood pressure.”

She nodded. “Do you think I could do a pregnancy test too? Just, while I'm here.”

Jack approached your side, watching you again. His head was tilted up but his eyes were down on you. He was attending but as always he waited on your say. He never overstepped, never made assumptions, always let you lead with your gut.

You wondered if that was what younger women were looking for...

“Sure, I'll get you a pot for a urine sample and we can get those tests.”

“Were you practising safe sex?” asked Jack.

Lu stretched out on the bed, pulling at the seams of her dress at her cleavage. “It feels better without.”

Jack seemed un-bothered, if anything understanding as his head slowly bobbed in a nod.

You'd never had sex without a condom before. Never wanted to risk it.

Jack held the door open for you, letting you lead the way out.

It was noisier and busier yet it was easier to breath. At least for a second before Jack's body brushed yours as he walked next to you.

“Is she a cop? Feel like we were being interrogated in there.”

“That or she gets paid to promote the app.”

You slid into a chair desperately trying not to look at the clock. You had a bad habit of doing so and the night would drag on. You pulled up her chart and distracted yourself with repeating what you'd already said to avoid the inevitable conversation you were gonna be having with Jack.

His mouth opened and you beat him to it.

“I swear we just started talking about that, I was just asking her how she fell and she told me about the guy and started talking about sex and the date and the app, I... I did not invite that conversation.”

He nodded. “It's okay if you did.”

“I didn't.”

“Okay.”

There was silence between you. Your finger moves quickly over the keyboard and Abbott stayed stood there, watching.

“If you're interested-”

“- I'm not,” you said, quickly, without really knowing what he was asking for.

Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Older men aren't too bad.”

“Oh no, I'm-I'm sure they're great, I have nothing against age, you know, old's great! Like.... like wine! Or-or cheese! I just, I mean, my love life- sex life is kinda, urm-” you stumbled over your words. It was annoying how Jack just stood there, letting you, without stopping or helping. “I just don't really have the time for dating.”

You worked nights and in the day you were catching up on sleeping and eating. The furthest your date life got was phone calls with Jack when he was grocery shopping and wanted your opinion, or sometimes in the morning when you got breakfast together before heading back.

He always walked you home, even if it meant an extra half hour before he got home. He was a gentleman like that.

He was still calm as he held his hands behind his back and watched you. “Are you looking to date?”

You chuckled. “Ha, you know a guy who works as crazy shifts as me?”

Jack's eyes lowered to yours. “Maybe. Might be a bit older though.”

You realised what he meant just as an ETA was called in.

The ETA had turned into five and for the rest of the night you and Abbott were too busy with the rest of the team to brush by each other. Every move was a hard move of shoulders to not bump or ripping of the gowns off and the harsh change of gloves. There was no time to talk about anything through the night, let alone whatever the hell had happened at the start of shift.

Your small reprise came when a man dressed in the makings of a rushed man walked in as the clock was striking past five in the morning.

“Excuse me, I'm looking for Lu Mari-gold?”

His hair was silver and growing at the back of his neck. It was brushed back handsomely and though he clearly must have been in his fifties (at least) he had a head full of hair and stubble growing on his chin.

He was handsome and even more so when you saw the bouquet of flowers he held in hand.

“Are you- are you family?”

“No I'm uh- I'm her partner.”

So you escorted him to her room, letting him in and giving him a small update on her care. He set the flowers next to her and you lingered, diligently checking her chart.

“Why'd you leave, honey?” he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and petting back her hair.

“Oh you know,” she said, casually. “Didn't want to do the whole awkward morning after thing.”

“There'd be nothing awkward about it. I was gonna make you breakfast, had plans to make love two you in the morning.”

Your cheeks flamed up as he said it so casually, like he was laying out a list for morning plans which.... he well was.

You decided to give them some privacy and save yourself form listening. You gently closed the door over and watched them through. He kissed her gently on the forehead, cradling her and Lu soaked it all in in adoring eyes and gentle touches.

It was a sort of tender touch you weren't used to even seeing, let alone feeling.

“Hey,” there was a ghost of a touch on the small of your back and Jack came to stand next to you. “That her boyfriend?”

“Yeah, though I don't know if they're their yet,” you admitted. “They only met tonight- well, last night. But she ran out.”

“And he came to her,” observed Jack. “They'll be just fine.”

“How'd you know?”

“The way he looks at her.”

When you looked at Jack he was already looking at you.

The thousand moments between the two of you played out. The gentle ghosts of a hand, the watchful moments but Jack was like that with a lot of people, attentive.

Your eyes fluttered as you looked away from him to the scene playing out again. “Are you some sort of relationship whisperer?”

He huffed a small amused laugh and followed your eyes to look ahead. “I just know things.”

It wasn't long before Lu and her partner were walking out, the flowers in hand as his arm was around her waist, supporting her.

They stopped off by the nurses counter where both you and Jack lingered working on separate cases.

“We just wanted to say thank you,” said Lu. “And here. There's a ninety percent success rate.”

She handed you a business card with the app name and promo code applied.

“Oh, er, thank you,” you said, un-sure on what to say other than a thanks.

Lu smiled kindly, leaning in to you as subtle as possible. Her eyes lingered somewhere over your shoulder. “Though I don't think you'll need it.”

You turned, catching sight of what she was watching.

Jack stood with Crus who was thrusting a tablet to him but he was looking at you.

“I'll- er- put it to good use. I'll see you in a couple days to check out those stitches.”

Slowly they left and you were stood frozen, staring down at the card. Ten dollars a month wasn't so bad if you didn't count the subscriptions you already had at the student loan and bills and such. You got three months half price, maybe three months to meet the love of your life or at least get some-

The card was plucked from you fingers.

Jack twirled it around. “You thinking about it?” he said, an edge to his voice.

“What? No- I don't know, she just- it was a parting gift?”

He nodded, reading the card. “Always go older,” he read.

“It's the app, younger women with, um, older men.”

“Interested?”

The way he looked at you felt more like an invitation than a general question. His eyes were hooded as he looked at you. It was the way he always looked at you but it felt weighted.

“It's just an app,” you excused.

Jack held the card out between the two of you, letting you chose.

It should've been your choice but it felt like there was a right and wrong answer.

Slowly, you plucked it from his fingers.

Two days later you found Jack Abbott on the app.

You were scrolling in the bathroom on your three minute pee break. You'd got the app that morning, caving in after spending a night tossing and turning and dreaming. You could say the dream was any old man, a faceless sort but even if that were true you felt the hard press of the chest, the tickle of the stubble. You imagined the freckles along the arms and the low rumble of his voice in your ear.

“That's it... that's it... take me in... all the way... god you feel beautiful,”

You woke wet between your legs and hot all over with little to no time to do anything about it.

You were desperate, you told yourself as you hastily built up a profile, picking what small pictures you had of yourself not in scrubs.

You hadn't had time to check it until the bathroom break and you don't make it three profiles before you were faced with Abbott.

The pictures of him were pictures you'd seen before, a selfie with his stupid smirk, the peek of army uniform there. There was another of him that seemed to a couple years ago and the third and final was a picture of him in scrubs.

It was a picture of the night shift but you could tell there were several cropped out, but you who stood next to him were still there.

You stared down at the picture of you two, his arm was thrown over your shoulders casually. He was grinning at the camera and you had a small smile to, your body leant into him. You hadn't even realised you did that.

Didn't Abbott know it wasn't a good sign to have a picture of another woman on the dating app? Unless it was your mother and you were a mamas boy.

There was knocking on the bathroom stool doors.

“Have you coded in there?” Crus called out.

You huffed and got off the toilet, pulling up your pants and pocketing your phone.

“If only.”

The night continued as usual, abdominal pains, charting, lacerations, charting, traumas and charting.

You'd hardly got a look at Jack when it was turning to six in the morning and day shifters started piling in.

You were passing the break room when the door swung open.

Jack popped out, catching you, his arms braced at the door. “Get in here, now.”

You were worried, reading through every patient you'd seen that day. You were sure you dealt with them all attentively, you'd never misdiagnosed someone before and today couldn't have been the day.

Jack closed the door behind him, checking nobody was on their way to find you before speaking. He was calm as he walked over to you, leaning his hand on the table and crowding you. “Why do you think I need to talk to you?”

You tried to think of something you'd done wrong. Anything. “Trauma came in, I er, didn't intubate quick enough?”

He shook his head and you tried to think again.

Before you could hazard a guess, he spoke. “I thought if you were interested, you'd have said something.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Interested?”

Jack's chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “In going older.”

“In going-” your mind short-circuited to his profile. If you'd seen him just a few hours ago, he could have seen you before then.

“I thought I had made my invitation clear,” he uttered.

“Invitation?” you repeated, feeling like a stuck record player.

“To go older,” Jack stepped closer and you could feel the warmth of his breath. “I was inviting you to try it.”

His breath somehow still smelt of mint freshness whereas you were sure yours was coffee stained from the three cups you'd already drunk.

“And not through the app,” he added.

You gulped. “You saw me on the app?”

“I saw you on the app.”

“But you're on the app,” you pointed out, eyes flickering up to his.

“I got it two days ago to make sure you didn't get it,” he said. His eyes weren't focused on yours. They were flickering between your eyes and your lips.

You wondered if you were still dreaming. If you were still in your bed, still dampening your panties and sheets with this crazy dream of him. You pinched yourself slowly but you felt the pain and didn't wake.

You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them and he was still there. Still calm. “You want to have sex with me?”

Jack's jaw clenched. “Honey, I want so much more than that.”

His finger was light as it brushed the back of your hand that rested on the table there.

“I want what you want, and maybe even more,” said Jack, his hand cradled your face. thumb dragging over your cheekbone. “You just got to tell me what you want and I'll make it happen.”

You'd thought that being with an older man meant being told what to do, that you wouldn't get a word in edge ways and yes, it was hot to think about.

You imagined Jack would be that, gently guiding you through your pleasure like he understood it better than you did. “You, I want you.”

Jack's lips were soft on yours, his head tilted at the perfect angle that meant he reached every edge of your lips at once. He didn't push against you, annoyingly so, he just let you feel the press of his lips like a fresh summers breeze.

It was your hands that fell on his chest, it was you that tilted your head back so he could reach deeper. It was your tongue tracing the bottom of his lips to get in deeper.

The door clattered and you jumped from Jack like he'd scorched you.

Jack only opened his eyes slowly, turning.

Robby leant on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips as he sipped from his coffee cup. “Good morning, brother.”

Jack took you home to his and carefully man handled you through the door. Once it was closed his lips sort yours in a hunger even a twelve hour shift couldn't kill.

He breathed against you hard as he kissed you, stirring you through his house with his hands migrating from your cheeks, to your neck, to your waist, to your hips, to anyplace he could get a hold of you.

Your hands made his neatly combed hair a mess as you leant against him, letting yourself be moved around like a rag doll.

“Is this your house?” you asked against his lips. You couldn't look around to study his space, he was hardly letting you go to catch your breath let alone turn your head.

He nodded, kissing you. His tongue entered the warmth of your mouth and he moaned into you. “We didn't break and enter, baby.”

“But you-” you gasped as his hands travelled under your shirt, sending a chill. “You don't rent.”

This wasn't your best dirty talk.

Jack smiled against your lips. “No, I have a mortage.”

You kissed him again, holding him close as your hand slithered to the back of his neck.

He was still navigating you through his house till you felt your back hit a wall. “Does that turn you on?”

Slowly he pulled at the ties of your scrub pants and he slid his hand in enough to get a feel of the warmth of your cunt through your panties. You were wet, impossibly so just by kissing him.

“Yeah,” he said, breathless. “It turns you on.”

Jack's teeth scraped down your neck, his tongue soothing where he nipped.

You tilted your head back, a silent invite for more.

A thigh of his slotted between your legs and you fell onto it.

“You wanna- wanna tell me about tax returns next?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he said, lifting his head back to yours. “I kinda wanna taste you first.”

With strong hands on your hips he turned you and pushed you through the open door into a master of a bedroom. The bed was in the middle, a four postered type thing with clean and made sheets. There was nothing messy about it, nothing to signify the exhaustion of a night shift.

Jack held your body into his, hips rutting against yours.

You acknowledged somewhere in the back of your head that he'd told you years ago he moved into a bungalow. No stairs- easier on his leg.

“Do you know how many times I've touched myself thinking about you, on that bed?” he whispered into your skin, kissing the words there.

“You-You have?”

You felt his hair tickle you as he nodded. “Do you like knowing that?”

“Yes.” You reached over, cupping the back of his head till your tongues were meeting in a sloppy kiss.

Jack's hands slipped down your waist, down your underwear and spread at your cunt till he could easily slip in a finger.

You gasped against him, body curling in pleasure you'd never felt.

He moved with you as if he was chasing you, sucking on your bottom lip.

“You like that?” he uttered, dragging out your bottom lip.

You nodded as he slowly withdrew his finger to slip another in.

“Need to hear you like it, baby.”

“I like it, Jack, like your fingers inside of me.”

The fingers on his free hand moved to wrap around your neck, tilting your head back till it rested on his shoulder. With this advantage he could like on the skin, feel the heat of you and the jump of your pulse as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, curling at the spots that got you shaking.

Your held onto his arm, fingers digging into the skin.

“You're gonna like it,” he whispered. “You're gonna like it so much you'll never go back, never want anyone else.”

His fingers worked quicker as you felt him leave marks at your neck, in places you knew people would be able to see. “Still like my fingers inside of you?”

“Yes, god, yes!”

“How'd they make you feel, baby?”

“Good, so good.”

Jack withdrew his hands and turned you, guiding you up on the bed. He leant back on his knees, slowly undoing the ties of his scrub bants.

You'd never been happier that they were black, showing the outline of his cock, hard and begging for attention.

“Take your top off.” He gestured.

You did and his eyes grew darker though didn't know how that was possible. Your hands trembled with eager excitement to get your hands on him or for him to get his hands on you. You moved to un-clasp your bra but Jack shook his head.

“Keep it on. Take my shirt off.”

His chest was broad and slightly defined. Freckles dotted around and one or two scares you'd never seen before were littered there too.

It was instinct to move in to his neck to kiss him but his hand wrapped around your neck and pushed you down till you bounced off the mattress.

“Eyes on me, keep your eyes on me.”

You followed his order as he slowly dragged down your scrub pants and panties, getting a glimpse of how wet they were before they were chucked aside.

Hopefully that was the time Jack let you see all of him. No.

Like a prized possession Jack laid you out and spread your legs.

It was suddenly all too real. The haste of the drive over, his hand on your thigh, everything he said about being with an older guy and how Lu had told you how experienced they were. Would he expect something you couldn't deliver? Did you expect something?

“Jack,” you said only his name but you didn't know what else you were trying to lead on anyhow.

His eyes were earnest though clouded by desire as he pushed your legs up till you were sprawled out for him. “I'll stop any time you want.”

You watched him get closer to your heat. Felt yourself cry out for his attention.

“You're gonna like it, gonna love it,” he promised, eyes focused on you as he slid his middle finger inside of you. “Relax... relax.”

You tried to but as another one of his fingers slid into you, creating a slow thrusting pattern and his other hand kept playing with your cunt to get your lips spread you could do anything but relax.

Your breathing kicked up, your pulse was high.

As Jack leant down to slowly flick his tongue against your clit you threw your head back and moaned.

“Oh shit, Jack- Jack!”

His gaze flickered up to you, daring you to try to speak.

When you did it came out as another moan, his tongue flattening against your bud of nerves.

He played with you like that, moulding your legs around to where he wanted them. Flat on the bed, over his shoulders, up in the air. Anything to get him deeper inside of you.

All the while you alternated between watching him and falling back on the bed in aches of pleasure.

Jack watched where his fingers disappeared inside of you. “Swallowing me up, can't wait to get my cock inside of you.”

“Want it.... want it....” you mumbled, head back on the softness of his quilt.

“Yeah?” he whimpered.

Your hand fisted the quilt that smelt like him and you smothered your face in it as his fingers curled.

“Oh my god, honey... yeah....” Jack moaned before you felt the wet of his tongue on the heat of you.

You couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Whether it was his spit on your cunt or your want that was pooling into wetness on his sheets.

There was no warning, only your moans, as you came around his fingers and tongue. You had no idea you could come so quick, had no idea it could be pulled from your head to your toes.

Jack let your orgasm play out, pulling back to watch it leak. “Oh yeah... yeah...” his fingers swept up the mess lightly. “You're so sweet, oh yeah... moan like that...”

His tongue went in, licking up all the mess around you.

“Jack please, I can't- I can't!”

Your body was trembling beyond your control and he was still playing around with you and your sensitive bud. Your arms wrapped around yourself as if you could hold yourself together from breaking out in cries.

You hadn't noticed your eyes were screwed shut until you felt him move and heard the demand in his voice.

“Look at me.”

When you did you found Jack standing at the foot of his bed, scrub pants deserted and hand wrapped around his own cock.

You looked at him and then some.

“Touch me, touch me,” he said gently, prying your hands away from your chest with care.

With guidance he helped you sit up and helped you feel his cock.

You'd done this before but your mouth had never watered by the idea, your body never wept with the need to suck another guy off. Nothing about him disgusted you. Not the scars around his knee where he lost his leg, not the hair that dusted the base of his cock in tamed grey.

It moved you on.

You only jerked him off slow, only a little at first but his breath became laboured.

Jack's eyes closed as he grabbed a hold of your legs like they were his anchor.

You wanted to speed up.

“Go easy on me,” he said with a drunk grin. “It's been a while.”

You moaned and inched your body closer to the edge of the bed, your heat wanting to swallow him up.

Jack's eyes watched as you withered. He held onto your wrist that stayed wrapped around the base of his cock. “No, no, no, don't put it in yet.” Slowly he came to lean over you. “I want you to suck on it. You want it? Want to suck this old mans cock?”

In answer, the two of you moved quickly till he was lying flat on the bed and you were over him, slowly taking the tip in your mouth.

“Oh my god... oh yeah...” he moaned. Jack petted back your hair. “Take the tip.... take the tip... swirl your tongue...”

You took in his tip and swirled the tongue just as he said, watching him as you took him deeper with his careful help.

A string of 'oh yeah, don't stop' fell from him like a mantra as you took him deeper and faster, the need growing in you again.

“It's not- it's not too much?” he checked in, his head falling back.

You only took yourself off him to shake your head before sucking him into your mouth again, holding the base of him and working what you couldn't manage.

Jack groaned, hands flying to his head as his fists clenched. “You're so good... oh you're so good, baby.”

You took him deep and hollowed your cheeks.

Jack lurched. “Fuck! Fuck- shit, don't do that,” he moaned, guiding you off with pink cheeks. He chuckled, guiding you up to him. “I'll finish if you do that.”

He kissed you, never minding the both of your arousal on each other's lips. “They're are so many ways I want to be inside of you.”

You moaned against his lips. “I want you inside me, Jack.”

“I know, I know.” His brows pulled together as he seemed to have a battle in his own mind about just how to have you.

You didn't make it easier. In temptation you lied back on his bed and spread yourself out. All the while he was still caught up in thinking.

You almost started playing with yourself to relieve the build up when Jack grabbed your wrist and guided your fingers into his mouth.

He gently kissed the pads of your finger tips. “Turn around.”

Jack lied next to you, your back flush with his chest. He lined his cock up with your cunt, slowly sliding the length of it between your folds.

“Con-condom?” you mumbled, dreading the feel of anything that wasn't completely him.

Jake kissed your shoulder. “It feels better without. I'm clean.”

You nodded, breathless at the promise of feeling him. All of him. “I'm clean and I have a, an IUD.”

He kissed you again as he nudged the head of his cock into you.

Your moans echoed around the room as he held onto you, inching himself in further and further.

Only once you'd just got the feel of all of him he was slowly retreating to push back in again. For a moment it was only the sound of the both of you breathless and the gentle sounds of skin on skin as he moved at a steady pace, growing needier, getting deeper by every thrust.

“Oh my god... oh my god...” you moaned.

Jack's hands grabbed your hips, helping you meet his thrusts in urgency. The sun was just peeking through the blinds and a thin layer of sweat glowed off both your bodies.

You tried to grind your backside into him, desperate to feel relief as his pace remained steady.

Jack gripped your hip, leaning into your ear. “Don't rush it, don't rush it,” he nipped at your ear. “Don't be greedy, we'll go slow.”

You didn't want slow. You wanted fast. You wanted hard.

The slow drag of his cock through your walls drove you mad. He reached around, fingers circling your clit as his other hand finally un-hooked your bra.

It wasn't long before Jack was slamming into you, harder, your body rocking with his movements and the head of his bed hitting the wall.

“God, it's been so long.... you feel amazing...” said Jack as his fingers circled your clit hard.

“Jack I'm gonna-”

At the warning he stilled himself inside of you.

“Not yet, honey, not yet.”

You whined, hand moving round to grab at his ass and hold him in.

Jack groaned and bit into your neck. “I know, I know. Just gimme a minute.”

You had no choice as he slid out of you and moved you around so you were flat on the bed. You felt his fingers thrust inside of you again harder than before.

His breath was hard, chest rising and falling quickly. “I wanna make you come in so many ways I can't chose how.”

He was a man starved, ravenous as he dedicated time to licking you up again, if only for a minute. But he moaned around you, sucked in your nerves and released it to the mercy of his fingers.

“Jack!” you yelled, screw the neighbours.

There was a growl somewhere in the back of his throat as he loomed over you.

“You wanna fuck me?”

“Yes, Jack, bad so bad!”

“Okay, okay honey, fuck me then, come one baby.... I know you can.”

Jack pushed into you as the both of your eyes clashed watching the pleasure in each others eyes. He set a brutal pace, holding a leg up as he peppered kisses along your chest.

“J-Jack-”

“Tell me how good I feel.”

“So good.”

“So good, yeah baby, so good,” he gasped. “Oh fuck, god baby!” He reached over and gripped the headboard, body tight in pleasure.

You arched off the bed.

“I need you to come,” he announced, eyes screwed up in pleasure as he thrusted into you hard, the slap of his balls on you.

You watched where he met you as your legs shook.

“I need you to come so I can come.... one more time, baby.... one more time, please....” he begged.

The sight of him sweating, his body rigid, eyes shut in pleasure and mouth hanging open only to voice obscene moans was enough to have you coming over the edge.

Your walls tightened.

Jack must have felt it as he steadied himself over you, fingers falling between your bodies to work you through it. “That's it.... that's it.... that's it...” He kissed along your collarbone.

You released over him, gasping, body melting into him as Jack rode out your orgasm.

“Arg... oh god... you feel so good, I-urg-”

Dirty words spilled from your mouth as Jack latched onto your mouth and let go inside of you.

The both of you were a panting, sweating mess as he calmed down, slowly slipping out of you but kissing away every whine and protest.

Your breathes slowed and slowly Jack slipped out of you, watching his release leave you.

His eyes flickered back up to you, brushing away hair that had stuck. “I've never come like that in my life.”

You were still catching your breath, still waiting for the race of your heart to dull. “Your welcome?”

Jack chuckled, falling beside you and throwing an arm over you. “I think you can delete that app now.”

You groaned with a wave of embarrassment, covering your face. Gently, Jack pried away your hands and kissed the palms of them. You turned on your side. “Are you going to delete it too?”

“Honey I only got it cause I couldn't stand the thought of you getting it, and some other gut thinking he can treat you better.”

“I always hoped it would be you.”

Jack most assuredly ripped Ogilvie a new one. He's never been so enraged here at work, since he's a man who prides himself on the trained ability to keep his cool under duress. After all, if he could bark orders while bullets rained down on his unit overseas, then an ED would and has been a cakewalk in comparison.

Until you came along, apple of his eye.

You'd been so shy initially—presumedly because you felt intimidated—but intent on seeking you out, Jack refused to let you slip from his grasp. So he tutored you in field medicine (maybe to show his skills off, even a little), gifted you a beautiful hardback copy of Gray's Anatomy, a fancy carrying case for your stethoscope, and this year for your birthday, a $200 prepaid Visa gift card to spend as you pleased. A present you'd been insistent on giving back, until he threatened to up the amount to $300 if you didn't accept it.

The more you bonded, the more the scales tipped from teacher and student to something else that he didn't really have the words for. What is it the kids call it nowadays? He heard it from one of the residents before... Situationship. Obnoxious, but he supposes appropriate.

What else is he meant to call it when he barely even calls you by your name anymore—instead opting for sweetheart, darlin', honey, baby doll, pumpkin; any and all pet names that he can come up with which earn him a sweet, bashful smile in return?

When the two of you are on a case together, he's always at your back or side to supervise your actions and decision making while showering you in quiet praise all the while. And anytime you have a particularly hard day? Jack gathers you in his arms and holds you suffocatingly close while insisting on taking you to a quiet dinner after... Or breakfast. Whatever you wish is his command.

But it's not all heaviness and burnout. It's also joking around by snapping rubber bands at your ass and tickling you until you're begging for a reprieve—lest you wet yourself—because your smile is his favorite sight, and your musical laugh or joyous cackle his favorite sounds.

He's waiting for the day HR comes down on his head like a hammer, but he's also aware that PTMC can't exactly afford to lose his expertise, so he feels pretty comfortable in toeing the line here and there.

So when your body went stumbling back because of Ogilvie acting first and hardly thinking at all, he hit the roof.

A gurney was unnecessary when he cradled you against his chest and carried you into a private room before lying you back on a hospital bed so he could wait at your side for the medication to wear off.

He continually took your vitals every handful of minutes, afraid the substance would wreak havoc on your system. With him being unaware of any possible allergies you may or may not have, sitting idly by while watching the clock simply wasn't an option. He needed to make himself of use somehow.

While running a soothing hand over your forehead is when you finally stir and blink up at Jack from beneath drooping lids.

Loosing a long, ragged breath of relief, the tightness in Jack's chest dissipates. "Hey, sweetheart," he coos quietly. "How you feelin'?"

Your tautly drawn features quickly morph into that of a scrunched nose and a toothy grin. "You're s'handsome," you slur while lifting a wobbly hand toward his cheek.

Practically slapping it against the stubbled skin, you giggle, which is then followed by your eyes suddenly widening to the size of saucers while your lips form a perfect O. "Are you my husband?" you inquire breathlessly.

Are you taking the piss or is the injection still wearing off?

"Honey—"

You toss your head back. "Jus' kidding," you drawl. "Never be that lucky," you mumble with a pout.

Waving your hand floppily that he should lean in closer, he does so with an amused smirk.

"I think 'm in love with you," you murmur while fisting the neck of his shirt and tugging him toward you.

Suddenly pulled out of his seat, Jack stumbles forward and barely manages to catch himself by planting a hand on your hip before you guide his lips down to your own.

Thank God he pulled the curtain around to give you a bit of privacy, because if anybody caught him in such a compromising position?

He jolts when you slip your tongue in his mouth and moan lustfully while exploring the warm, wet lay of it. Not a man to take advantage, though, especially of you, Jack breaks away reluctantly. A gesture which is met with a long, drawn out No from you.

Seating himself again, he tries literally to wipe the smirk from his face by scrubbing a hand from his cheekbones to jawline, but it does him little good.

"You're s'posed to say it baaack," you whine between chattering teeth.

With a sigh, Abbot shakes his head, then reaches over you to grab the remote for the electric blanket he draped over you just incase, until you lift your head and chomp down on his forearm.

Your lips recede into a smile while you nibble on the skin between your teeth.

He barks a laugh, then slips the limb from your mouth while turning the blanket to high heat. "You're somethin' else," he commentates while tucking the edges securely around your shivering form.

"But you love me," you whisper before your eyes flutter closed.

Cupping your cheek in his hand, he smiles softly. "If only you knew how much."

When you come-to, you feel groggy and ran through. Your memory pretty well begins and ends with you passing out just after being injected with something you shouldn't have been.

You've seen the videos—funny little snippets where people divulge hilarious admittances and embarrassing secrets while under the influence—so you of course begin to panic a little when your eyes slowly draw open. What if you said or did something? Maybe you were left alone to recuperate on your own?

When your head lulls to the side, that hope is quickly shot dead at the sight of Robby leaned back in a chair with an iPad held at a bit of a distance.

"Got my test results on there?" you ask quietly.

Lowering the device, the daytime attending studies you from over the rim of his glasses. Robby sets the tablet aside, then leans forward and caresses your cheek with a smile. "How you feeling?"

You blink sleepy eyes. "Tired. Which I shouldn't be if I slept long enough for you to get here."

He snorts quietly. "Being under anesthesia is hardly the same as sleeping. You know that."

You roll your eyes. "It's called sarcasm," you groan while sitting up.

"Easy," Robby mutters while settlings his hands over the crowns of your shoulders to keep you steady.

Hanging your head in exhaustion, you sigh. "Was anybody in here when you clocked in?"

"Abbot."

You wince. "Did I...do or say anything?"

His lips twitch into a smile. "If you did, he didn't tell me as much. Just asked me to sit with you so he could get back to it before his shift ended."

You lift your head. "You don't have to waste your time in here—"

He clicks his tongue while giving your chin a gentle, affectionate tap. "I'd never call it that." Robby slides a hand down the back of your head after standing. "Watching you sleep was the most peace I've gotten in..." he shakes his head while turning and pulling the curtain aside. "Too long," he mutters.

"Could have that all the time if I could only get you to come onto the dayshift with me," Robby states while turning around with hands on his hips. "Might do you some good to see a bit of daylight every once in awhile."

You grin while swinging your feet. "Are you trying to poach me from Abbot's team?"

He meets your smile. "Always." Robby walks over and grabs the iPad again. "It'd give me a reason to look forward to coming in here again every day at least."

Robby offers you a hand, which you take. Once you're standing on two feet again, you take a moment to catch your bearings.

Sliding an arm around your shoulders, Robby slowly leads you toward the door. "You're not just Abbot's favorite, you know?"

You glance up to him. "Oh?"

He presses a kiss to your brow before swinging open the door and holding it for you. "Just something for you to consider. Incase the nights ever get too long."

With your shift at an end, you decide to head in the direction of your locker to gather your things before heading home. A long soak in the tub, followed by plenty of rest sounds pretty nice. Maybe some Chinese takeout while you're at it. Or Thai.

"Robby tells me that you seem to be feeling better."

Clicking your locker shut, you turn and smile at the sight of Jack standing just a few feet away with an easy grin playing on his lips, matched by hands stuck in his pockets.

"Think so," you reply with a quiet, casual shrug.

"You heading home?" he asks while ambling closer.

"Planning on it."

Slipping your bag from your shoulder, he hefts it onto his instead. "How about," Jack begins while leading you in the direction of the elevators with your hand held in his, "You come up on the roof with me now that you're awake and let me watch you for a bit to make sure there's no residual effects."

You huff dramatically. "Jack, I really do feel fine."

Pressing the button that'll lead the two of you up, he cups the crown of your shoulder in his hand and brings you in close. "That is to still be determined."

The elevator dings and steel doors slide apart, inviting the two of you into an empty chamber.

"By me," he concludes while ushering you inside with an encouraging push.

With one arm wrapped around yourself, you settle the other over your mouth to suppress a laugh of disbelief. "Of course you and Robby have folding chairs up here," you remark with a giggle.

Popping one open, Jack nods to it, indicating it as your designated seat. "Could always look into a tent," he states while settling the other beside it. "If it meant getting you snuggled up next to me in a sleeping bag."

Plopping down in the offered chair, you rest an elbow on the fabric arm and your chin in your palm.

Jack tugs off his prosthetic, then leans back with a sigh. "That feels better."

"Maybe we get an extra big one. Or a blow-up mattress," you quip happily.

Jack clasps his hands over his belly. "Why's that, pumpkin?"

You flash a grin. "Maybe Robby can join us."

Hanging his head back, he shakes it from side to side. "Don't tell me he was making moves on my girl while I was busy saving lives this morning."

You shrug while wiggling your brows playfully.

"So..." You begin while picking nervously at your nails. "Did I say anything?"

"To me or Robby?" Jack asks while massaging his leg.

You roll your eyes. "Apart from me asking Robby to take his shirt off," you remark sarcastically.

Jack snickers and his mouth curves into a lopsided grin. "Without me there to see it?"

You remain silent as you wait for him to fess up.

"You, uh..." he trails off, then barks a laugh.

Oh no...

Jack glances at you. "You might've bit me," he says while cringing mischievously in an attempt to downplay things.

"I what?!" you cry while leaning toward him in shock.

Jack throws himself back against the chair and lies his arms palm face up. "Well, after you got done harping on my good looks, you got cold, so I went to switch on the heated blanket that I put you under and you just chomped down," he explains whole gesturing toward his right forearm with his hand drawn into the shape of a claw. "It was more like a nibble, though." He shrugs and bestows a reassuring smile. "You didn't break skin, so don't worry about it."

Burying your face in your hands, you shake your head. "Oh, this is mortifying." Dropping them into your lap, you stare at the skyline. "I'm so sorry."

Studying him from beneath your lashes, you nervously chew your lip. "Anything else?"

Please say no, please say no.

He smiles warmly—almost bashfully, in fact. "Asked if I was your husband. Then you broke character, and let me know you were just kidding."

It can't get any worse, surely.

Doubling over, you rest your elbows on your knees, then press your forehead against the heels of your palms. "Please tell me that's it."

He should let it go—leave things as they are. But Jack can't help it: wanting to hear that it wasn't just because you were high as a kite.

That feelings are mutual, and always have been.

When the sound of silence descends, you raise your head. "Jack?"

He sighs. "I just want you to know that I know it was strictly because you were out of it." Jack turns fully toward you. "That you didn't mean it."

"The more you talk, the more worried I'm getting," you reply with searching eyes.

Clasping his hands together, Jack leans forward slightly. "You..." he sighs. "You told me that you were in love with me."

His eyes flit to yours—attempting to gauge from expression alone whether it was a true utterance, or mere sarcasm. "And then you kissed me."

Your eyes pop wide open. "I—" You clam up.

Is this it? The defining moment that either makes or breaks your and Jack's...situation?

"You know how they say drunk words are sober thoughts?" you ask quietly and with a pattering heart that leaves you short of breath.

Jack's chin wobbles, but only slightly. "Yeah?"

You nod, and a sob breaks last your watery smile.

"C'mere, honey," he commands with a wave of his hand.

Rising from your seat, Jack guides your hips until you're seated on his generous lap. "Can you say it again?" he asks quietly while smoothing a hand across your brow.

You press your forehead to his and hum from the feeling of the rising sun warming your back. "I love you," you whisper while winding soft, gentle hands around his neck. "Jack."

Cupping his own around the curve of your neck, he guides your lips down to his this time. "'Bout damn time we got that outta the way," he murmurs before kissing you the way he's meant to so many times.

Jack teases your tongue with a wet, pointed tip which he slides along the underside of your own.

"How about," he pants. "I take you home just to be safe." A calloused palm scratches its way along the polyester that covers your inner thigh.

"Y-Yours or mine?" you whimper.

Squeezing your hip temptingly, he nips at your chin. "Better take you to mine to keep an eye on you. Help you in the shower," he drawls with a bored shrug. "I have a chair in there. It'll make things more comfortable when I help. Then I can fix you dinner before we go to bed. Together."

Carefully, he prods at the heat which radiates from between your thighs. "Would you like that, sweetpea?"

"Pretty dizzy all of a sudden," you sigh.

"Let me get my leg back on and I'll take you home, baby."