Long Story Short, It Was A Bad Time

When you'd first agreed to carry Jack and Robby's baby, you definitely hadn't expected it to end up happening the, ahem, old fashioned way. You'd pictured more of a turkey baster moment with your two best friends. But them asking you, trying to remain friendly and warm despite the thick tension, had turned into them admitting they've always thought about a threesome with you, which turned into you admitting you were in love with them both, which led to them asking if you wanted a family of your own someday.

And, well, now you've all been together for two years and you finally told them that you were ready to have a baby with them instead of just carrying a baby for them. When you texted the your group chat this morning that you were now in your first fertile window after stopping birth control, they'd dropped everything to be with you. Robby wolfed down his breakfast, called off work, and stormed back up the stairs to jump in bed with you. Jack left his shift two hours early because the three of you had agreed that, until you were pregnant, they'd both have to cum inside of you every time you had sex.

You had to admit you didn't mind the rule.

It didn't mean Robby couldn't warm you up before Jack got home, though. He shoves through the bedroom door with hunger in his dark eyes, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, having already thrown his shirt off in the kitchen.

Spreading your legs to give him a better view, you lilt, "You didn't have to rush, Mikey."

"Says the woman laying in bed naked with a basal thermometer on her bedside table," he teases, crawling toward you and tugging you into a bruising kiss by the back of your head. He drops his hand between your legs and groans, "So fucking wet for us already."

As pleasure zaps up your spine from the rough pads of his fingers on your begging clit, you whisper, "Want this with you both more than anything."

"Me too, hon," he breathes into the kiss. His fingers stay slow, just getting you good and wet, as you make out with him. "I'll get you good and ready so you can take Jack as soon as he gets home. How's that sound?"

"Perfect."

The two of you lay there, just lazily kissing as he plays with your pussy, for a long time. His fingers go between circling your clit and fucking in and out of you, always slow and purposeful, not chasing anything but being together. One of the unexpected perks of being in a threesome instead of a couple is the sweet moments like these: Waiting for the other, slowing down, grinding the pleasure out until it's too much because you know you aren't going to cum until they're both with you.

Neither of you even notice Jack's home until he opens up the bedroom door and scoffs, "You started without me?"

"We started for you," Robby corrects, withdrawing his fingers and pressing another kiss to your lips. He pulls Jack into bed and kisses him warmly, greeting him, "Welcome home, baby, how was your shift?"

Jack looks at you spread and swollen for him and laughs, "Who fucking cares? I've got a more important job to do here."

"That's the spirit, Jackie," you giggle as he eye-fucks you.

Robby chuckles, too, and then murmurs against Jack's lips as he reaches down to fist his cock, "Got her ready for your perfect cock. Wanna watch you fuck a baby into our girl."

Your cunt clenches when he says that. Jack's hungry as he kisses Robby, thrusting into his big hand and biting his lower lip. Watching them together always makes your heart hammer against your chest with a whirlwind mixture of love and lust. There's something so beautiful and special about falling into shared love, love that's been brewing for a decade before you entered the picture. At the beginning it made you insecure, feeling like they'd never love you as much as each other, but you soon realized it just meant they knew how to create a vast, deep capacity for love that doubled when you came into their lives.

Jack bends down to give you a kiss before he tugs you to the end of the bed and flips you over onto your knees. "That's it. Show off that gorgeous ass."

Biting your lower lip, you laugh again and wiggle it for him. Even if it's silly, he groans at the sight of all your curves on display. Your full ass, your wide hips, the slope of your waist into your rib cage. With the knowledge that Robby's got foreplay handled, Jack doesn't stop himself from giving in and thrusting into your wet cunt in one sharp push. Your throaty moan is all the affirmation he needs to keep going.

As you whimper into the pillow, Robby stands behind Jack, kissing over his shoulders and letting his hands roam over Jack's taut muscles as they tense and flex. He reaches forward and grabs your hips, holding you tight to Jack, freeing up Jack's hands because he knows that he wants to spank you. Robby murmurs, breath hot against his ear, "You're so beautiful when you're fucking her. Your back looks so strong. Sexy as fuck."

"Flatterer," Jack grunts in response, secretly smiling to himself as he rears his arm back to hit your ass hard. The sting shoots through your whole body and you tighten deliciously around him.

You let out a sharp cry and gasp, "Again."

"There's my good little whore," Jack praises. "Always ready to get a spanking because you know how much it turns me on. Touch yourself. Wanna feel you cum around my cock when I fuck my baby into you."

You nod and reach between your legs as he smacks you over and over. After Robby teased you for so long, you're pussy's a live wire without much attention at all. Jack's free hand digs into the soft flesh of your ass when he feels your walls starting to tighten up.

Robby reaches one hand up to grip Jack's neck, thumb toying with his carotid as he praises, "Look how good you're making our girl feel, Jack. See how her thighs are tightening up? You're gonna make her cum soon, sweet boy. That's what you're good for, isn't it? Perfect fucktoy for us both."

Jack lets out a long, whiny moan at Robby's condescending but sweet words. He knows just how to get in Jack's head. The next second, it's not just your thighs that are tightening. Both of you push towards the finish line together.

Robby's voice is low and possessive and greedy as he orders, "There you go, Jack, give it to her."

With a few more mean, pointed pumps of his cock, Jack buries his load inside of you while Robby holds your writhing body tight against him to keep him deep. You're unconsciously trying to scramble away as your orgasm slams through you, sending you into crazy overstimulation.

Jack pulls out only when he realizes it's too much for you. When Robby looks at Jack's cum dripping from you, Robby shivers. Jack feels his fat erection pressing into the small of his back as you collapse onto your stomach and catch your breath.

"Get behind her and help her flip over, baby," Robby tells Jack, who follows orders like a good little soldier, climbing into bed.

Jack leans back against the headboard and tugs your limp body so you can lean back against his chest. He maneuvers a pillow under your ass to elevate your hips and you shimmy to accomodate it. When you rest your arms down on his meaty thighs, breaths beginning to even out, you gaze up at him and ask, "You wanna take your leg off, sweetheart?"

Jack shakes his head but smiles at your thoughtfulness. "Just wanna get your knocked up."

You smile and peck his jaw. "Maybe you already have."

"Mmm. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Then Robby shoves his thick cock into your cunt in one punch to get your attention. You gasp out a weepy moan as he commands, "Eyes up here, lovebirds." Both of you snap to attention like it's second nature and Robby grins. "That's right. Love when you're both obedient for me. Aren't you cute all wrapped up together?"

"You like that, don't you, Mikey?" You reach up and play with Jack's curles, tugging his head so that you can kiss him. Robby's hips snap harder when he watches you two, so you deepen the kiss. Jack's tongue parts your lips and you moan into his mouth.

Robby drops his hand down to your still-sensitive clit, knowing that Jack's got too tight a hold on you for your to squirm from the overstimulation. Your sounds go high-pitched and stupid. Robby grunts as he fucks you faster and rubs your clit, "Play with her tits for me. You know how she likes it."

Jack nods, still kissing your neck and shoulder and mouth as much as he wants, and slides his hands up to your breasts. He really does know exactly how you like it. His thumbs and forefingers meet around your nipples, pinching hard and then rolling with harsh, even pressure that makes your toes curl.

Robby feels your cunt starting to tighten up at the added contact and coos, "There we go. That's it, honey, isn't it? That's what my pretty pussy needs." With his free hand, he he reaches forward and grips your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact. "I wanna hear you beg for my cum. Beg for my kids."

Head spinning with a rush of pleasure, you whimper out, "Please, Mikey. Need it."

Jack pouts and grips your tits hard. Bruising. "Aww, you can do better than that, can't you, sweetheart? I've heard you beg for a lot less than a whole damn family."

You whine, trying desperately to roll your hips despite Jack's totally firm grip on you, and wail, "Jesus, Michael! Fill me up, please, I fucking need it. Wanna make you a daddy so bad, wanna give you everything you've ever dreamed of."

That's what does it. Robby grunts and fucks his cum into you, holding Jack's hand above your head and kissing you deeply. Jack's hand goes into Robby's hair as Robby kisses your lips, your neck, the shell of your ear. "You're perfect. So perfect for us."

You can't speak, just smiling and nodding and kissing whoever goes for your mouth.

Jack brushes your hair back from your sweaty brow and coos, "So fucked out already? That's not gonna work for us; you need to take at least a couple more of our loads to be sure it takes. Right, Michael?"

Michael trails kisses down your stomach until he's between your legs, breathing on your hyper-sensitive thighs. "That's right, honey. You've gotta take as much as we can give you. And you have to cum at least two more times. Can you be good and do that?"

WIth hazy eyes, you look down at him and promise, "Everything you'll give me."

It's hours later when Robby and Jack both finally tap out, all three of you spent and exhausted. Jack collapses into bed, way overdue to sleep after his shift, and you snuggle in next to him, head on his chest, because a nap's starting to sound pretty good right about now. Robby settles in behind you, his soft cock against your ass, just to be close to you both a while before he starts in on chores.

"You're gonna be the most beautiful mama," Robby praises as he kisses gently over your shoulder. "I love you so much."

Jack presses his lips to your temple and nods as he affectionately rubs the curve of your waist. "Love you like crazy, sweetheart. Can't believe I get to love two people this much. I'm so goddamn lucky."

You lay your hand over his and guide it lower, right over your womb. "Three people soon, I hope."

"And then four," he rumbles as he kisses the top of your head, catching Robby's eye. "Maybe five or six, even."

You roll your eyes and smile. "Don't push your luck, Abbot."

Robby kisses Jack over your shoulder. "I think it's a great idea, honey. I mean, we should both get a couple kids, right? That's only fair."

"Not how it works. And I am not an incubator," you laugh, shoving them apart and moving to get out of bed. Jack's arms tighten around you, though, and Robby shifts to curl up between Jack's legs, head on his stomach. Looking at each of their features that soften only for you and each other, you sigh, "Okay, maybe I am. I could do four kids, considering I have two husbands to be super dads."

"Oh, that's cool." You clasp your hands together after you push his daughter's report card towards him.

"Okay, so let's start....."

The whole time you talk about his daughter his face doesn't move. He listens closely, nodding every once in a while, but it's like his expression is set in stone. Almost brooding type of thing.

You are so happy when it's finally over. Because his intense, never wavering gaze almost made it hard to breath.

And don't even get me started on how attractive you find him. Like even though his face was bordering on annoyed, you could tell he was genuinely interested to see how his daughter was doing. Not like many of the other dads that were forced to come there by their wives.

You scold yourself for thinking about him when you think about the fact that the man has a wife and a child. You have no business thinking about a married man.

You are walking towards the bus stop, exhausted from the long day and annoyed that it's in fact already dark outside, when a black porsche stops next to you.

"Need a ride?" His deep voice almost startles you.

"Oh, that's really nice of you, but my bus stop is just there." You point towards the end of the street. God, is it possible that the guy could get any hotter?

"Where to after?" He asks, still not moving.

Stupidly enough, you tell this random dad where you live. "Oh, that's on my way. I don't mind taking you. It's the least I can do for making you wait so long."

And It's the most you've heard him speak during the whole time so gingerly you nod. You don't expect him to get out of the car and open your door for you.

That is very much evident as you sit in the passenger seat, blushing the whole way home. You don't attempt a small talk because a guy like him definitely doesn't do that. Guy like him looks like he could break your heart and smile about it after.

So you just sit there in awkward silence, getting a ride home from one of the hottest dads you've ever seen.

Finally, he parks in front of your apartment and you get out of the car eagerly. Squeaking a quiet, little thank you before you run off home.

You hear him drive away only when the lights in your apartment turn on.

And you see him turn the car around, definitely not heading in the direction of the house he mentioned.

-

The next time you see Park is when you are softly weeping in the ER waiting room. You were trying to do a little DIY (trying to build your new bed alone) when you like absolutely missed with the nail gun and the nail went flying straight into your thigh.

You somehow managed to get yourself to the hospital (yeah that uber drive was interesting), but like many other people you are still waiting. The kitchen towel is slowly soaking through with the blood as you sniffle. It hurts so fucking much and no painkillers are working.

But even though you are in so much pain, you still brought work with you. You promised the kids you'd have their tests graded by tomorrow so you try to correct the papers and not get the tears on them while you wait.

Somebody clears their throat in front of you, and you feel like dying from the embarrassment when you see him standing and frowning in front of you.

"Hello, Mr- Dr. Park." You hastily wipe away your wet cheeks even though it's not use as another tears fall down.

"What are you doing here?" He frowns even more at you and at the papers in your hands.

"Ughh, I just had a little accident." You whisper, averting your eyes from his.

He crouches down in front of you and carefully removes the clothing from the wound. You hiss in pain as he shakes his head at the sight.

"They have you waiting with a wound like this? Jesus, what a bunch of idiots." And then he's moving before you can stop him. You hear him speak to the nurse at the window before he stalks back.

"They'll take you now. Can you walk?" He asks, invading your space once more. His expensive cologne overwhelms your senses in a good way, making you forget the pain just for a few seconds.

You nod and then you try to get up. You wince even as you try not to put weight on the injured leg. And it doesn't take long before Dr. Park scoops you up bridal style and carries you inside without breaking a sweat.

He barks orders as he goes and everyone just listens to the man. They scurry away to do what they are told while you try not to die of embarrassment.

And don't even get me started on the way your naked thighs burn as he holds you in his big hands. You have just pyjamas shorts on and an old t-shirt.

Getting carried in the arms of the dad you think is hot while looking like s hot mess was not on your to-do list, but neither was getting shot by the nail gun.

"You didn't have to do that." You whisper as he gently puts you down on an empty bed.

"More quick this way." He shrugs. He takes one look at you and then leaves without another word, leaving you a flustered mess.

Jesus, you really should pull yourself together. You can't let him have this kind of an affect on you.

A soft-spoken doctor King replaces him and somebody even brings your bag to you.

They asses the wound and somehow the nail missed anything important. No bone, no veins, just went through the meat of your thigh.

So it's a quick route from there. They numb the wound, pull the nail out, clean it and stitch it up. And even though everyone is just so nice, your mind keeps wandering to that stony faced doctor.

"So how do you know, dr. Shark -I mean Park?" One of the nurses finally asks as Dr. King stitches up your thigh.  Shark? Yeah, that definitely suits him.

"Umm, his daughter, she's in my class. I mean, I'm her teacher." You ramble nervously.

"Oh. That's very cool. Tell me, is he a helicopter parent?" The nurse asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Whst you don't know is that the gossip in this hospital is hotter the the centre of the Earth. And everyone will be eager to hear a lil something about Park's private life.

"Uh, no, I don't know. I've only met him and his wife a couple of times." You whisper, cheeks burning. You are afraid that he'd suddenly appear from around the corner and hear you talk. Even if you aren't saying anything bad.

"Ex-wife." The nurse giggles like a schoolgirl, exchanging cheeky glances with the other nurse. "I heard that he was a real gentleman during the divorce. Let her keep the house and all."

You can't believe that these ER nurses are so chatty and gossipy. You would giggle with them but your attention gets snagged by the fact that Dr. Park isn't married. It makes you feel a little bit better about your stupid crush.

"All done. "Dr. King says, clearly just as flustered by the conversation as you.

"Thank you so much. I'm really sorry for this." You say apologetically. You hate that you created more work for these exhausted medical workers by being an idiot.

"Oh, please. Nothing to be sorry about. Just next time, please don't try to put the bed frame together alone."

"No more stuff like that. I promise." You sign the discharge papers and thank them profusely for the great work, you didn't feel any pain or discomfort.

Just as you are about to leave the nurse, Princess, whispers into your ear. "You should go for it, girl. I hear he likes to bite."

You chuckle because she's being ridiculous and because you're obviously doing a poor job of hiding how flustered the man makes you.

"It's not like that." You deny it but she just wiggles her eyebrows at you. You shake your head at her, giving her one last smile before you start to walk away.

Or more like limp away because your thigh really fucking hurts. You pass by the nurses station and that's when you notice that Dr. Park is still there.

He's still there, towering over everybody and still frowning.

You try to get away without him noticing, but that doesn't happen.

He pops up at your side immediately. "Hey, everything okay now?" When you look in confusion at him, you realise he in fact is asking you about your wellbeing.

"Yes, yes. All good, got couple of stitches but I'm okay now." You say sheepishly averting your gaze from him.

You don't know how you will be able to look at him next time he comes to the teacher-parent meeting. This is truly one of the most embarrassing things that's ever happened to you.

"Good." He nods and you expect him to leave again, but he doesn't. He walks next to you slowly, and you catch him a few times looking at you like he's itching to scoop you up again just so you don't have to limp so slowly next to him.

"Did you drive here?" He suddenly asks as you finally get out of the hospital.

"No, I don't have a car, saving money, the planet and all of that you know. I took an uber." You chuckle nervously, it's like your only responce when you are embarrassed. "I'm taking the bus home."

"I'll take you home." He offers with no hesitation.

"I couldn't possibly ask you to do that again."

"You didn't ask me, I offered. Now c'mon, I'm not letting you limp and wince all the way home. Doctor's orders." There's a hint of smirk on his face as he says it and somehow it's the thing that convinces you to say yes.

"Thank you, Dr. Park."

"Brendon." He tells you in return, eyes almost glinting as he takes you in.

"Thank you, Brendon." And that's all it takes for him to scoop you up again. You squeal in surprise and chuckle because what the fuck is happening.

He carries you towards his car and puts you down only so you can sit down. And you try so so hard to get the heat to dissappear from your face the whole ride.

But it's useless because he keeps smirking at you, finally letting the stony expression fall.

Just as you are about to get out of the car, he hands you a card with his personal number written on the back.

"Next time something like this happens, just give me a call, yeah?" And you both know that the way he's looking at you isn't saying that you should call him only then. He wants you to text, call him whenever. Preferably soon.

-

The third time you meet Brendon is just as embarrassing as those 2 times before.

You don't call him. You save his number in your phone, but you are too nervous to actually call or text him. You don't know what you would even text.

So you just try to ignore it for a week. That is until you bump into him. It's a sunny Saturday so you decide to go for a walk. You put on a pretty summer dress and head to your favourite café.

And just as you wait in line for the coffee, you hear one of your kids greet you. You turn around dramatically slow, but put on your smile as soon as you see her.

She's not alone. Her handsome, brooding father stands behind her.

"Hi, Lyla. " You greet her sweetly and then your eyes flick towards him. "Hello, Dr. Park."

"Hey." He says smoothly. His eyes sweep over your figure, and you see him clench his jaw. Suddenly, it's not the weather making you all hot and bothered.

His daughter runs towards the cakes and cookies selection, completely dismissing you, which makes you smile. There's not much that beats sweets for the kids.

"You didn't call, doll." He is suddenly leaning down to whisper next to your ear. You didn't even notice him move towards you.

"I-I..." You don't know how to explain that you wanted to but didn't know how to actually take that leap.

"It's okay, you don't need to explain." He hums, once again his face doesn't let you see any hint of emotion, well besides the pure love he has in his eyes for his daughter.

"I-I wanted to." You quickly reassure him. 

"Oh, yeah?" He averts his gaze from his daughter to you for a few seconds. Soaking in the sight of you in that dress some more.

You nod, giving him a shy smile. God, why is it so hard to talk to him like a normal functioning human. "I just didn't know what to say."

Brendon gives you a small smile and says. "It's okay."

Lyla calls him over to her and he goes immediately. Leaving you to stare after him like a fool. The barista calls your name with the coffee order and maybe it's the one sip of the drink or maybe it's the way your tummy is full of butterflies as you see him, but you text him.

Just a simple 'Hi'. His phone vibrates in his pocket and when he notices the new text, he just smirks your way before he buys every single cake his daughter sets her eyes on.

-

The fourth, the fifth and the n-th time you meet Brendon is on your dates.

You get pleasantly surprised of how easy-going and talkative he really is when you get to know him.

You saw a few glimpses of that even before, but once you start dating, it's a complete 360. No more brooding, stony face around you.

There's a relaxed, easy smile on his face most of the time. Or the stupid smirk whenever he leaves you all flustered. He's like a brand new person when you get to know him.

And right now, he's snoring softly in your bed. (The bed he helped you build after your first date). In your light purple sheets in all of his glory.

Your bed is smaller so it's not as easy to fit you and broad-shouldered, heavily muscled Brendon on it. But you make it work.

He's still sleeping as you decide that you could make breakfast for the two of you. You start softly peeling yourself away from him but it's like he has a sixth sense of something. He always knows whenever you try to leave the bed without him.

His arms tighten around you. "Where you going, doll?" He mumbles sleepily, voice all groggy.

"Want breakfast?" You reply, giggling quietly as his hands practically trap you. God, Brendon could stay forever like this. Just with you in his arms.

"Later." He murmurs before he buries his face into you, breathing you in.

“Is that the newest Pittling?” You hear Ellis ask. She and Abbot are joining you at the charge desk before you can turn to greet them—Ellis rounding to Lena, and Abbot sidling up beside you.

“How’re we doing, mom?” Jack asks, shoulder lightly nudging yours. You offer him a grateful smile and a small shrug. 

“I’m doing okay, I think. I don’t wanna brag, but I was able to wash my hair this morning.” 

“Gettin’ fancy at the Shen household?” 

“Oh yeah. That being said, I haven’t been able to get back into the swing of baking things, so I cleared out the Dunkin around the corner. All of the food is in the break room.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Eh,” You tip your head from side to side, “I felt weird showing up without treats. You’ve all Pavlov’d me.” 

“But you did bring a treaaaat,” Lena insists, carefully passing the baby to Ellis, “I just wanna eat this little one up!” 

“Why didn't someone tell me my wife and daughter are here?” 

You’ve only a second before you feel John’s hands settle on your hips. 

“Because we’re not done visiting—hi Roe-Roe,” Parker smiles, cradling the baby and lightly wiggling her finger over her face. “You remember your Aunt Parker?” 

“I’m gonna go grab some munchkins while you all have fun with this munchkin—Hey,” Jack pats your shoulder. “It’s good to see you—both of you.” 

“Good to see you, too, Jack.” 

“What are these munchkins of which he speaks?” John asks.

“I may’ve raided the Dunkin. There’s an extra iced medium in the fridge for you, by the way.” 

“You’re too good to me.” He sighs, pressing his face into your neck. “It feels like so long since I’ve seen the two of you. Hours, even.” 

“Mm. I think it’s been one. Maybe one and a half.”

“Interminable.” 

“You poor thing.” 

You glance over as you hear Rose gurgle, smiling as her little fingers wiggle toward John. 

“Alright,” He straightens, letting go of you and pumping hand sanitizer into his palms. “Gimme my daughter.” 

“Fine,” Ellis sighs, “I’ve got charting to do, anyway. But—” She rounds the counter, carefully passing the baby over, “Next time I see her, I’m taking twice as long.” 

“I consider myself warned—hey, little one,” John murmurs, taking hold of Rose. He glances down, brow wrinkling. “This isn’t the onesie she was wearing when I left.” 

“She decided she didn’t like that one.” 

“Ah.” 

“Yeah.”

“Do I wanna know how she made that known?” 

“No you don’t, and I don’t want to think about it anymore, thank you.” 

“Okay,” John chuckles, bouncing Rosie slightly as she fusses. 

“We should probably be getting going soon,” You add, glancing at your phone for the time.  “It’s coming up on her nap window. With any luck, she’ll knock out in the car and it’ll be a smooth transfer to the house.” 

“I’ll come with you, get her buckled in. Say bye to Lena,” John tilts the baby toward her, using his hand to lift Rose’s for a little wave. 

-- 

“I know, I know, Roe-Roe,” John murmurs. You lean against the car, watching him strap Rose into her car seat. You can’t help but smile, taking in the little pout he makes as he mimics her whining. Your chuckle swells as he dips his head to nudge her nose with his, but it quickly morphs into a wide yawn that you can’t smother. By the time you’ve opened your eyes again, John is straightening up, a little purse to his lips. 

“What is it?” You frown. 

“You gonna be okay to drive back?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off. “I chugged a red eye when I got all the snacks from Dunkin. I had some reservations about not being able to breastfeed anymore, but goddamn, I missed caffeine.” 

He snorts, glancing toward Rose. “Caffeine missed you, too.” 

“I know. It’s been whispering sweet, sweet nothings to me. I see it in my dreams.” 

“Hey, whoa,” John rests his hand over his heart, “Watch it with that. You’re gonna make me jealous.” 

“Oh, please. If either of us is going to leave the other for coffee, it’s gonna be you.” 

“That’s true.” He reaches out, tugging you closer. “Text me if you need me to bring anything home tomorrow morning?” 

“You’ll get a screenful.” You lean in, pecking his lips, and giggling as his arms curl around you, drawing you into his chest. 

“Baby,” You warn between kisses, “You need to get back to work.” 

“Mm. I’d rather be going home with you.” 

You lean back, cupping John’s face and gently sweeping your thumbs across the apples of his cheeks. 

“You’ll be home in a few hours.” 

“Not soon enough.” 

“But you’ll be home, and we’ll be waiting for you.” 

You step back as John leans into the car, peppering Rose’s face with kisses before nudging the car door closed.

“Mm…One more,” John leans in, grasping your chin and pecking your lips. “I love you.” 

“Love you, too, baby.”

“Text me when you’re home?”

“I will. Have a good shift.” 

-- 

You’ve gotten so used to waking up to the sound of Rose crying that waking to shushing catches you off-guard. You bolt halfway up before you come to fully, heart thudding in your chest. Rose isn’t in the cosleeper—but John is sitting on the edge of your bed, and you can see the puff of the baby’s hair just peeking out over the edge of his bicep. You sigh softly, sagging back toward the mattress. 

“Time is it?” You mumble. 

“...Little after six.” 

It takes a moment, your mind still foggy from sleep, but—six? That can’t be right.  

“Six?” You frown, pushing yourself back up. “What’re you doing home so soon?” 

When John doesn’t answer, your stomach fills with nerves. And it’s a moment before he draws in a deep, shuddering breath, shoulders pulling up. 

“We had um…” His voice is wavering. You nudge the covers aside, climbing out from under them and leaning back against the headboard as he goes on: “We had a new mother come in a couple hours ago with her baby, ‘bout Rose’s age, and, um—” He stops, and your heart twists as you hear his breath hitch. Shit. You reach out, sliding your hand across his quivering shoulders, gently guiding him back toward you. He braces a hand on the bed, scooting back until he’s slouched against you, head resting on your shoulder. 

His sniffles mingle with Rose’s coos, his fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleep sack. You don’t push him to say anything else, just run your nails gently over his scalp as he peers down at the baby. You don’t know what he saw, what he heard, what he had to do. You can guess how he’s feeling, but you don’t dare give a voice to it where he won’t, or can’t. 

John settles Rose safely on his chest, his hand resting on her back as he reaches out, taking hold of yours and raising it to his lips. You smile as he presses kisses to your hand, then lowers them to rest both on Rose’s back. John draws in a deep breath, and you watch Rose’s little body rise and fall with it. 

“...I’m sorry.” John mumbles. 

“For what?” 

“I’m breaking the rules. No scrubs on the bed.” 

“Don’t worry about that, baby. We have a washing machine for a reason…Don’t make it a habit, though,” You tease in the hopes of getting a smile out of him, but—nothing. You hesitate before pushing on: “Whenever she needs to eat, I can take her. Let you shower, get some sleep.” 

“Can we just hang out here for a bit?” 

“We can hang out here as long as you want…Or until she has another blowout.” 

Relief floods you as John laughs, his head tipping back against your shoulder to get a better look at you. 

“You get to handle that if she does, by the way,” You add. “I got the last one, so you get this one.” 

“Happily.” John cranes his neck, leaning up for a peck before settling back down, a sigh pushing through his nose.  

“I really love our little family,” He mumbles. 

“We love you, too, John.”

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

In the air with Phoe, love you, miss you, mean it. x

The phrase that had started as an inside joke had slowly become a term of love that she looked forward to every day. It gave her something to look forward to, a sign that he was okay, that at least for a brief moment in time, he was okay.

After a week or so into his new training, Y/N began to notice some differences in her husband. He was still mostly himself-quiet but talkative in her presence, talking about his day with an upbeat attitude, but any mention of their present mission would send the corners of his smile downward a bit. Y/N didn't fully understand why, but with the amount of talented pilots and WSO's on this mission, she knew it was a dangerous one.

Several days later, Y/N woke up feeling...out of place. She had woken earlier than normal, considering how late she had stayed up waiting for Bob to get home. She felt uneasy, but blamed it on her lack of sleep. She continued her routine like normal-coffee, breakfast, walking the dog, starting the laundry-but every time she started a new task her mind began to wander. She knew she was likely overreacting, her mind playing tricks on her. When she came in from her walk, she immediately checked her phone, her thoughts taking over. She breathed a sigh of relief, there were no terrible messages or missed calls, only random notifications from her installed apps. Y/N still feels shaky for reasons she can't explain, so she reaches for the one person she always calls when she feels this way. It rings for a few seconds before the call picks up and her father's voice fills her ears.

"Hey, pumpkin! What's going on?"

Y/N sighs, biting her lip.

"Hey, Dad, sorry to bother you at work, I just, I've got a bad feeling I can't shake...I-I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Hey, hey, none of that. Nothing's wrong with you," her father's voice was calm and comforting. "Remember what we do when you have thoughts like this?"

Y/N was about to respond when her phone beeped with another incoming phone call from an unidentified number. Y/N's eyebrows furrowed, she recognized the local area code.

"Dad, let me call you back, I'm getting a call."

Her father signed off quickly, and Y/N's heart hammered as she answered the other number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Y/N Floyd?"

"Um, yes, this is she. May I ask who's calling?"

"Mrs. Floyd, this is the Naval Medical Center of San Diego. You've been listed as the emergency contact of Lt. Robert Floyd-"

Y/N's ears seemed to flood with water, unable to hear anything the nurse on the other line was saying as she sank onto the nearby chair, forcing her brain to tune into the words coming through the speaker.

"He is in stable condition, he is alert with no serious injuries. We would just like to keep him overnight for further observation."

"O-Okay, um, thank you. Am I allowed to see him?"

"Of course, he's in room 431, just visit the desk before to get a visitor's pass."

"Thank you."

Y/N hung up the phone and collapsed against the back of the sofa, her chest heavy and eyes overwhelming with tears. Her phone beeps, reminding her that her father was still on hold. She takes a deep breath, wiping away her flurry of tears before pressing the button and rising form the couch, in search of her keys.

"Hey, everything alright?" Her dad's soft voice entered her ears.

"Uh, no, no," She couldn't keep her resolve, her tough facade faltering quickly. She knew that Bob was fine, that he hadn't been hurt, but the phone call had terrified her. "Bobby and his partner had to emergency eject, he's at the hospital. I-the nurse said he was fine, but it scared the shit out of me, Dad."

She pulled her keys from the bowl by the door, all but racing towards her car as her father tried to calm her, reassuring her everything was fine.

-

Bob leans back against the pillow on the hospital bed, his few scratches and cuts already bandaged. Phoenix had been the same, the dark haired pilot now sitting in a chair next to her backseater's bedside.

"My wife is gonna kill me," Bob's quiet voice finally broke the silence, his eyes toward the ceiling.

Phoenix wasn't an idiot-she knew that her partner had a wife. Bob was quiet, private, especially with the other members of the squad, but Phoenix was incredibly observant. She noted the gold band on the chain around his neck under his flight suit, and the Polaroid picture of him and a girl tucked into his chest he glanced at from time to time. She'd never press him to talk about it, but she noticed.

"Doubt it," came her reply. "She's probably freaking out though. Not a common occurrence that your loved ones have to eject a fighter jet."

Bob's eyebrows raised, "When your father is the Commander of the US Pacific Fleet, you get used to it."

Phoenix's eyes widened, her jaw dropping. "Holy shit, Floyd! You married an Admiral's daughter?! Iceman's daughter, no less! I never would have thought that. Innocent little Bob, with an Admiral's daughter."

Bob chuckles lightly, sitting up with a slight groan. Footsteps sounded behind them, Y/N appearing before both of them. She had been crying, Bob noted quickly, her clothes disheveled as if she had simply ran out of the house.

"Baby," Bob's voice came, Y/N saying nothing as she approached him, doing nothing but wrapping her arms around his torso, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. She nearly cried at his familiar touch, his familiar smell-jet fuel, sweat, the lingering scent of his cologne. Any other time, she would've pushed him off lightly, telling him he needed a shower, but now, she wouldn't have cared if he smelled like rotting food. Bob's muscular arms held her tight, kissing the top of her head.

"Robert Floyd, you scared the living shit out of me. Never do that again."

He knew his wife's words were in jest, she had been shaken by the news of his ejection, but was thankful he was okay. The couple broke apart, Y/N's hands pushing Bob's hair that had fallen in his face, his hands on either side of her hips. Y/N turned to the girl in the chair, her face clouding over with embarrassment.

"I am so sorry, I completely barged in without even speaking. You must be Phoenix. I've heard so much about you, it's so great to meet you. I'm Y/N."

Phoenix smiles, "Natasha, it’s great to meet you too. Although I can’t say the same, Bob here keeps all intel about you on pretty tight lock. Don’t blame him though, the others would probably give him hell for snagging an Admiral’s daughter.”

Y/N blushes but laughs heartedly at Phoenix’s jab, the two quickly falling into a conversation with one another. Bob sits back and watches, his thumb rubbing his wife’s diamond ring and wedding band where their hands intertwined. As he watched the two women bond, he began to think of the rest of his found family. He wanted to introduce Y/N to the other Daggers, for his favorite people to finally all know one another.

-

The perfect opportunity presented itself in the form of the Daggers’ recognition ceremony after their successful mission. All of the Daggers and their respective families would be present, and of course, Ice would be there as well, as long as numerous other Navy personnel.

Under the summer sun of North Island, each of the Daggers sported their dress whites, their families in chairs in the crowd. Bob sat next to Phoenix, the pair exchanging knowing glances when people they knew arrived, or when certain family members arrived in a sort of over-the-top fashion. Phoenix had nudged him harshly with her elbow when Y/N arrived, dazzling in her sundress, sunglasses over her eyes as her arm was interlaced with her father’s.

“Since when was Ice Spice married?” Rooster’s voice sounded amongst the small crowd the Daggers had formed. “I swear I saw rings on her left hand. I mean I haven’t actually seen her since we were like sixteen, but I didn’t know she got married.”

“Ice Spice? The hell are you talking about, Bradshaw?” Hangman’s southern accent responded, eyes squinting as he looked into the crowd. “You mean Admiral Kazansky’s daughter? ‘Ice Spice’ where’d that come from?”

“It was her nickname, we grew up around the same people, most of the kids nicknames were extensions of their Dad’s call signs. Baby Goose,” he gestured to himself. “Ice Spice.” He gestured to Y/N. “I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend though, God I’m out of the loop.”

Bob couldn’t help but grin to himself, almost glad he’d not told anyone other than Phoenix, whose brown eyes were piercing the side of his head, as if to say ‘are you gonna say something?!’

“She’s gotta be married to someone here, though, right?” Coyote’s voice sounded. “Not like she’s coming to all her Dad’s events for shits and giggles. My money’s on someone higher up, some other Admiral or something.”

Fanboy scoffs, “Who? Cyclone?” His voice is laced with sarcasm.

“No fucking way,” came Payback’s reply. “She’s way too good looking for someone like him. Way too young too, he’s ancient next to her.”

All Dagger eyes were locked on Y/N from across the pavilion, her smile wide as she spoke with another Admiral’s wife Bob couldn’t quite remember the name of.

“I’m gonna go with Javy’s theory. Nobody under Ice would be man enough to try to date his daughter. I’m a cocky son of a bitch, but one look from Iceman makes sweat roll down my back.” Hangman’s response was honest.

“He’s not so bad,” Bradley spoke. “But you’re not wrong, he’s one hell of an intimidating man. You’d have to have balls of steel to approach him about dating his daughter, especially if you’re under him.”

Bob smirked, remembering just how nervous he had been on Tom Kazansky’s front door at seventeen years old.

“What about you two? Where are you placing your bets?” Mickey looked over at Bob and Natasha.

Phoenix’s smile widens into a sly grin, the one she gets when she proves Rooster wrong, or gets one over on Hangman in the air.

“Girl like her-gorgeous, high-ranking father, everyone seems to love her. My guess is on someone you’d never expect, someone out of left field.”

Hangman nods, contemplating. “What about you Baby on Board?”

Bob’s eyes widen beneath his glasses as he scrambles for a thought. He looks over at his wingman, Phoenix giving him a look that undoubtably means to play along with it.

“Uh, I gotta go with Nat’s theory.”

“Course you do,” Coyote jokes. “So $100 on the bets, winning team take all?”

The Daggers agree unanimously, Phoenix’s grin almost slimy with satisfaction.

“Floyd,” a slap on Bob’s shoulder jolts him into sitting straight before turning to look at where the voice came from. “Good to see you, man. Haven’t seen you and the missus around much lately.”

“Admiral Jones, good to see you,” Bob shakes the older man’s hand with a firm grip. “They’ve been keeping me busy. I think we’re coming to the barbecue Sunday, you and Mrs. Jones enjoy Boston? How were the grandkids?”

The Daggers watch intently as the most reserved member of their group chats animatedly with an Admiral that they’d only seen in passing, Phoenix stifling a chuckle at the secret only she seems to know. The Admiral walks away after a moment, and Bob turns back to the group, who all look at him as if waiting for an explanation.

“Neighbor,” came Bob’s short reply.

“Missus?” Rooster’s voice speaks, his whiskey colored eyes shooting down to Bob’s hands, his wedding band glimmering in the sun. “I’ve never seen you with that.”

“Oh, no, probably not,” Bob starts. “Wear it on my dog tags when we’re in the air.”

“Bob’s married, and we’re all bachelors? Never saw that coming.” Hangman’s voice pipes up.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Payback’s retort is the last chuckle as the ceremony begins.

Admiral Kazansky opens the ceremony, introducing Maverick and the other members respectively, honoring them and finishing out the ceremony as quickly as professional. As the service ends, the Daggers distribute but keep close quarters, looking to see who the Kazansky girl ends up running to. Meanwhile, Phoenix watches as Bob interacts with nearly every member of high-ranking in attendance. He goes from bumbling, awkward Bob, to some other version of himself that makes dad jokes and has a firm handshake.

“Well Phoe,” Rooster speaks as he sits down in the chair next to her. “The only person I’ve seen her hug is Mav, and I know it’s not him. Should I just ask her myself?”

Phoenix face breaks out into a full blown smile as she watches Y/N make a quick sprint through the crowd of Navy uniforms to get to her husband, her arms thrown around his neck as her smile could blind.

“Won’t be necessary, Roo. I think the mystery has been solved, and I’m about to be $300 richer.”

Rooster’s eyes cut to his childhood friend embracing his teammate, Bob’s hands resting respectively on her waist, his blue eyes locked on his wife.

“Holy shit. Bob? And Ice Spice? Jesus-you-“ he turns to face Natasha. “You knew!”

“They’re high school sweethearts. Got married right after he finished the Academy, been together ever since. Live in one of those cute cottage houses by Penny’s, got a Corgi named Solo. Frequent guests at most Navy personnel barbecues, birthdays, weddings-it was Bob’s story, didn’t seem right for me to tell.”

Rooster sighs, standing to tell Coyote who stood talking with his sister. Javy’s eyes widen, looking over at the couple who is now talking to another Admiral and his wife, Y/N’s laugh fading into the crowd of voices. Javy nudges Jake talking beside him, Jake’s cocky grin fading as Mickey and Rueben have both already noticed. Their looks of shock fade momentarily as Bob pulls Y/N towards their direction, a smile plastered onto his face. Y/N’s smile is bright, her arm intertwined with her husbands, her pastel purple dress blowing in the sea breeze.

“Floyd! Got somethin’ you’d like to tell us?” Hangman’s shit-eating grin faced Bob.

Bob let’s out a chuckle. “Y/N, meet the one and only Hangman.”

Y/N smiles, nodding, “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Seresin.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Hangman gives Bob a wink as Bob flips him off in response.

“Ignore him, baby.” Bob’s voice is full of good-natured humor, used to the teasing. “The tall one is Coyote, next to him is Payback, Fanboy, of course you know Phoe, and R-“

“Bradley Bradshaw,” his wife’s voice speaks. “How long has it been?”

She approaches Rooster with her arms wide open, Bradley reciprocating her hug.

“Too long, Ice Spice. How’d a nice girl like you end up with our Bob here?”

Y/N’s eyes furrow, her smile never faltering. “Um, when Dad and I moved, Bobby and I went to the same high school, been together ever since, high school sweethearts.” Her eyes sparkled as they met Bob’s sapphire ones, her arm going back around his arm. “What can I say? He’s a charmer.”

The Daggers hovered for nearly an hour, all taking turns swapping stories with Bob and his wife, getting to know one another. They mostly told stories to embarrass Bob, jabbing at him and his ‘balls of steel’ for not only dating, but marrying an Admiral’s daughter. Commending him on his royal stupidity for hiding his wife from them, all commenting that she was infinitely cooler than Bob himself. Bob took them all in stride, giving Y/N a kiss to her head before Phoenix began chatting with his wife. Standing in the center of the big group of people he considered family, his wife on his arm, charming them all, his heart swelled in his chest, warmness blooming, the same warmth he had felt when he spent time in the Kazansky house-true familial love, understanding someone without having to say a word.

As the Daggers split off one by one, leaving only Bob and Y/N, he pulled her close, hand on her waist, the setting sun and light breeze a picturesque backdrop for their night.

“Hey, Floyd?” His wife’s sweet voice reached his ears.

“Yeah, Floyd?” He chuckled back, pulling her in closer, leaving a kiss on her temple.

“We should have a celebration of your successful mission. A real one, not a formal one like this. We could invite everyone, all the Daggers, and their families. We haven't had Nat around at the house yet, and Dad would love it, would give him and Uncle Mav more time to conjure up how to terrorize the Navy even further.”

Bob nods, “I like that idea. Sounds good, I’ll text the group, see what weekend works best." His voice turns serious. "Thank you, baby, you’ve always been my biggest supporter, feel like I don’t tell you that enough.”

His wife is quiet for a moment, her focus on her shoes walking on the ground. She looks up at him, her expression serious.

“I’m proud to call you my husband. Always have been, but just thought I should remind you. And as much as I’ve missed you through this special training, it’s nice to see you have other people who take care of you, appreciate you like I do.” She’s quiet before she starts again. “All that to say, love you, missed you, mean it.”

Bob laughs loudly into the air, stopping to pull his wife into a proper kiss, one a tad more inappropriate than the chaste ones he’d given her after the ceremony. The two finally break after a need for air arises, their pupils blown wide as they stare at one another.

“How long do you think we have until your Dad notices we’re not at his place for dinner?” Bob’s voice is deeper, sultry.

“Long enough,” his wife replies. Bob smiles and picks her up into his arms bridal style, her laughter boisterous as he races her back to his trusty pick-up truck parked close by, his chest so full of love for her he simply can’t contain his wide grin filling his face.

As he starts the truck and peels out of the parking lot, he looks over at his wife, her curled hair blowing in the wind from the rolled down window, her pastel purple dress highlighting her best features. He’s hit with a wave of nostalgia, a younger version of his wife in this same truck-her hair a bit longer, her eyes still wide with new love, a purple corsage on the same hand where a wedding band now sits.

“What?” She giggles, noticing his stare on her as they’re stopped at a red light.

“You’re beautiful.” She blushes pink, just like she had at the bottom of her childhood home’s staircase, the night Bobby had uttered those words through a shaking voice.

He thinks of seventeen-year-old Bobby, the version of himself who had said those words for the first time, more in love with Y/N now than he was then. If only seventeen-year-old Bobby could see him now, maybe he wouldn’t have been shaking with nerves, sweating through his rented tux. Bob smiles to himself as Y/N leans to turn the radio up, a folk song they both love.

He shakes his head, maybe it’s best his younger version didn’t know the outcome. The nerves were good, healthy. Even shaking, stammering teenage Bobby had more nerve than he thought. After all, he was there to pick up an Admiral’s daughter.

conveniently, you hit every red light within the vicinity on the way to the hospital. the drivers on the road seemed to be completely impervious to the panic that was setting into your bones.

if only you could project into the world that if you didn’t get to the hospital as soon as possible, maybe, you wouldn’t see your sweet robby again. maybe he wouldn’t be alive when you saw him.

you slammed your car door shut after parking very askew and got into the hospital as fast as your feet could carry you. taking in your surroundings, you tried to calm yourself down. the cold, sterile lighting was not helping you. you found what seemed to be the front desk and approached it. the attendant was already helping someone.

the clock on the wall pounded in your ears as you tried your hardest to look as casual as possible, but it was hard when you had no idea about the state of your husband. when maverick had called you, he did not know much about the situation. the longer you waited, the more bile seemed to rise in your throat. dear god, please let robby be okay. 

if there was any god in this world, you prayed to them in hopes that he would be alright. you’d take him in any form, as long as he was okay. your heart pounded in your throat.

finally, you were at the front of the line. “robert floyd? i’m here for robert floyd,” you nervously spat out. the receptionist seemingly took years to sift through whatever she was looking through on her computer.

the more you waited, the more time slowed to a halt. you couldn’t stand to wait. you knew that you were maybe being irrational, but you couldn’t stand to continue to wait to see if he was okay, if he was alive.

alas, pete had not given you much of a description on what had actually happened other than the bird strike.

“ah, yes. mr. floyd will just be down the hallway on the left. i take it you are the spouse?” when you frantically nodded, she continued. “pete mitchell informed us that you’d be here.“

you gave her his biggest smile you could muster with the adrenaline flooding your system, and moved as quickly as you when to the room that bob was situated in. when you arrived in the room, a woman with dark hair stood by bob as he was getting looked over by what looked to be a nurse, perhaps a nursing assistant.

the woman looked at you quizzically, perhaps unaware of who you were or why you were there. bob followed her gaze and met your eyes. bob attempted to stand, but was obstructed by the person looking him over for injuries.

relief swam over you in hurdles. thank god he was okay. at least, it looked like he was.

“bobby?” you whispered. “pete called me. are you okay?” you walked over to the bed that he was sitting on, and squeezed past the woman standing next to him. while she moved, looking confused, she was not apprehensive at all. suddenly, a look of realization grew on her face.

“yeah. i’m fine,” he stated. his glasses were off, placed beside him. his big eyes looked more tired than usual, but you caught on to how they softened when you entered the room and he saw you.

trying not to get in the way of the person doing their job, you stood as close as possible as you could to bob without being a nuisance. “what happened?” you questioned again.

“there was a bird strike,” he began. “our engines went out. had to eject.” your eyebrows shot into your hairline.

“you had to eject? did you get out fast enough? did the-“ bob cut off your nervous line of questioning.

bob looked briefly to phoenix. he gave her a small nod, in a silent urge that he needed to be alone with you right now. both for his sake, and for the likelihood that this might possibly embarrass you in the future if she stayed.

his hand reached out to yours, and laced your fingers together. his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand. “everything went perfectly smoothly, aside from the initial problem. the eject functions performed perfectly normally, and they’re checking up on phoenix and i mostly as protocol. we’ll likely have to stay overnight for observation though.”

you closed your eyes and sighed deeply. everything worked just as planned; emergency protocol worked, and bobby, your bobby, was just fine.

the nurse had left now, leaving bob free to turn completely to face you.

“hey,” he muttered quietly. his other hand ran up and down your arm in an effort to calm you. he then stood so he could look at you properly. he let go of your hand in lieu of holding your face. his thumbs softly ran back and forth along your cheekbones. you brought your hands up to hold his, and you stepped closer to him.

your eyes continued to stay closed as you inhaled him. you focused on what was real, and that he was, in fact, very real. the rough callouses on his hands, his familiar scent (although tainted with something metallic), and the soft rumble of his voice.

when you were finally grounded back on earth, you snorted a little. “what?” he asked.

“i just think,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “i just think it’s funny that you’re comforting me right now. you could have died, and you’re comforting me.” your selfishness in the present was not lost to you.

his brow pinched together. “hey, don’t say that.” he leaned closer to try and catch your eyeline that had strayed from him. “this is scary, for both of us. you being here is what is stopping me from spiraling.”

bobby leaned in and kissed the spot between your eyebrows, followed by the corner of your mouth. even though neither of you were particularly fond of public displays of affection, neither of you cared in this present moment. he was here, you were here, that was all that was important.

you nodded, trying to reassure yourself. “yeah, yeah. okay.” you looked back up at him and smiled. “i think i just need to hold you right now.”

robby nodded enthusiastically. on days that were particularly tough, either of you looked for any possible excuse to hold each other for an unprecedented amount of time. it was something that never got old. and today it was definitely a day that called for that.

“you don’t have to stay overnight with me,” bob said. your eyes widened and your jaw became slack.

“are you kidding me? there’s no way i’m leaving.” you said it as if it was common sense. “i don’t care if i sleep at all tonight. i just want to know that you’re here, with me.”

robby shook his head in semi-comical disbelief. “if you say so, honey.”

his gentle smile returned again. bob placed his hand on the small of your back and pulled you close to him. he proceeded to hold you in an embrace for many many moments. you took this opportunity to squeeze him as hard as you could possibly manage.

slightly, just barely, you could feel him squeeze you back. his hands trailed up your back, but proceeded to still have the consistent pressure that comforted you very much.

-

back in the lobby, phoenix pulled aside the rest of the pilots to share the news that she had learned.

“guys. bob has a partner. well, i think at least.” bradley’s face was soft with an affectionate expression, and hangman scoffed. bradley promptly elbowed him in the ribs.

“ow!” hangman exclaimed. “how was i supposed to know?”

several members of the team turned to look at him as if he was dense. rooster replied, “well, it was kind of obvious. have you not noticed the ring that he wears on a chain every single day?”

“for your information, rooster, i do not pay attention to material things. i’m a man of substance,” he declared.

You shift uncomfortably in the booth you’re sitting in, Jamie’s hand rubbing the side of your arm comfortingly. It’s ten minutes before your supposed double date, and Natasha affirms that it’s about five minutes before he shows up. “Bob’s always early,” she stated, “so we can be even earlier to give you some prep time.”

You’re quiet. Shy, even, and you don’t have the best track record with social events. You’ve never really had a date that understood why you don’t want to get roaringly drunk and have sex in a bathroom and whatnot. The two girls, one in front of you and one by your side, have assured you that Bob will be different. He’s quiet too, but he stands up for himself. He’s strong and capable, with a humble attitude and the slight southern charm that you can bring home to your parents. If he’s really so great, though, what the hell is he doing going out with you?

Bob can see your booth through the door of the diner, and he steels his nerves quietly. He’s got this. He’ll make it a nice dinner, a nice experience, and he will not, under any circumstances, fuck it up. He owes you that much. He knows he’s probably not what you want in a guy. Natasha described you as hardworking, kind, and a good listener. He can’t help but think that you deserve much better than him.

He takes a breath and pushes open the door, the flowers in his other hand a little damp from his sweaty palms.

When he finally rounds the server stand, he can see you. And you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the pleasure of setting sights on.

He’s royally fucked, he thinks.

Oh my god, he’s so hot. You smile at him and curse a bit under your breath, careful to not let anyone hear. He’s everything you imagined and more, with sandy colored hair, bright blue eyes, and glasses that look like they’re just a little crooked. If you were bold, you’d reach across the table and fix them as he sat down. You’re not, though, so you just fidget with your hands under the hard wood.

He clears his throat and hands you a small bouquet of daises, sliding into the spot across from you. Nat gives a little self-satisfied smile from next to him. “Hi. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope that’s okay. I’m- I’m Robert by the way, or Bob, whatever you prefer.”

You think your cheeks will split open from how hard you’re smiling. It’s such a small gesture, but the blush on his cheeks tells you that it’s earnest. “They’re perfect. Thank you, Bob.” You introduce yourself with the next breath, and he shakes your hand like it’s a business meeting. His palms are warm and just a little bit damp, but when his fingers curl around your own like they were meant to fit together, you couldn’t care less. “So,” you begin, somewhat shyly, “you’re Natasha’s WSO?”

When Bob hears your quiet voice, he knows he’s in deep. “Yeah. She’s a great pilot.” His praise earns him an elbow from Natasha, a silent ‘talk about yourself, dipshit’ evident in the action. He smiles nervously. “We do a lot of the weapons bits so the pilots can fly safely. How about you, what do you do?”

“It’s not as important and exciting as your job, that’s for sure.” You laugh before explaining exactly what you do.

“Honestly, that is important and exciting. I’m sure you excel at it, too,” Bob offers, somewhat bashfully. What makes your head spin is that he seems like he means it. He’s sincere, wonderfully so.

As that statement quirks the corners of your mouth up, Bob’s heart explodes. You’re charming and beautifully sweet, with a pretty smile and dashing eyes to boot.

Jamie enters your conversation carefully, like she wants to help but isn’t forcing anything. Natasha pipes in a few times, but overwhelmingly, it’s you and Bob. Neither of you have ever spoken so much in this type of setting before, and it’s great. You bounce ideas and jokes and quips off of each other like you were meant to. You feel like you were meant to, because everything just comes so easily with Robert Floyd. You’re finally talking to someone who understands every bit of you, polishing the hidden parts of yourself until they shine. You never thought you could feel this way with another person.

“Wait, have you read this book called For One More Day?” You ask, finding every opportunity to drag out a subject you enjoy so deeply. “It’s really sad, like a fictional memoir, but I think you’d enjoy it. The whole story is basically an ode to loving your parents while they’re still around.”

“I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to check it out the next time I go go the library.” Bob says, giving a slightly lopsided grin that makes your heart scream. “It seems right up my alley though. I like non fiction books, mostly, but I could go for a change every once and a while.”

Your food is almost forgotten in the midst of the conversation, and his is too. “When you do read fiction, what genres do you go for? I have a million recommendations, so help me narrow them down a bit.”

Bob will never admit this to his friends, but he’s an avid reader. He’s a sucker for a true story or anything about dogs, however, he’d read anything you could ever think to tell him about. He has already made a mental note to check out For One More Day and is currently making more notes as you list off more dog-central books. You, as you’ve told him, go for more of the fancy prose-d, heavy drama-d, and emotion-filled stories. It’s nice to see you like this, talking about something you’re honestly passionate about. The light in your eyes makes you look like a ray of sunshine.

Jamie grins at Natasha from across the table, utterly and unashamedly content that her plot has worked. Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, you two,” Nat says, “can we move on to something more exciting? Like planning a second date, maybe. One where Jamie and I can be happy at home while you two nerd out.”

Bob’s face reddens and you give a small, sheepish smile. “I’d like that.” You say.

“Me too.” Bob adds. Natasha can firmly say that she’s never seen him so happy, not even after a successful flight. It’s like he’s finally found the thing that made him tick, like you reached into his chest and wound up the gear box in his heart. “I’m free this Friday, if you’re up for it.”

You tap your fingers on the tabletop, thinking. “This Friday… this Friday is when I’m doing a book reading for the kids at our local library at lunchtime. We could have dinner after that, though.” You want to spend the entire day with him, but if a few hours is all you’re given, you’ll take it. You’d take anything.

Bob’s hands move to touch yours, just barely. His warmth radiates out, perfectly soothing your nerves. “If you want, I can make lunch and help you out at the book reading. I like those kinds of things, but I don’t want to impose.”

“You absolutely should.” You breathe. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. In fact, I think the kids would really like it if Mr. Naval Aviator read a few books to them. You’d be like a superhero in their eyes.”

You’re a bit astounded by how much Bob’s face flushes. If you thought he was a bit pink before, he’s got a drunk man’s glow now. And you were being completely, one hundred percent honest when you said that the kids would like him. They’d love him. Micah’s father was in the Navy when he was younger, so there’s one connection, and April loves airplanes with a passion. It would be amazing.

“Then I’ll be there. Here’s my number, so you can text me when and where.” Bob slides a little piece of paper over to you, one that he must have written a bit ago, because his pen is securely clipped to his pocket. He likes you so much he wrote down his number while you were (probably) explaining your love for reading, or crafts, or small animals? You’re going to swoon if he keeps this up.

Natasha eyes where your hand is touching Bob’s. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Now eat your food.” She gestures to your half-touched plates. You and Bob both stutter a little, completely having forgotten what you’re going to have to pay for.

The rest of the evening goes amazingly. You talk about so many subjects that by the end of the day, when the sun is slipping below the horizon, you feel like you’re floating on air— light and unburdened by the way you’ve been able to express yourself. Bob insisted on paying for your meal, and though you protested, a little part of you feels giddy that you’re worth spending money on. Bob walks you to your car, tucking your flowers into the cup holder between your seat and the passenger side.

“I really enjoyed that.” He muses. “I really enjoyed you. I thought Nat and Jamie were kinda full of it when they told me about this whole double date, but I’m glad they weren’t.”

“Me too, oh my gosh. I was totally expecting some stuck-up Navy nerd, but I’m glad it was you. I enjoy you too, Bob, probably way too much.” You’re standing by your door, but you feel like you can’t leave just yet.

He looks at you with something you hope to think is affection in his eyes before glancing down towards your lips. “I’ll let you get going. Text me anytime.”

You hesitate, staring up into his ocean blue eyes. Before you can stop yourself or tell yourself it’s a bad idea, you take the collar of his shirt in your hand and kiss him.

It feels right. His hand coming up to rest on your waist, his body pressed against yours as he stabilizes himself on your car, it’s everything you’ve always dreamed of. His lips work in tandem with your own, like they’re collaborating on some sort of secret mission, and he kisses you like he loves you.

His pupils are blown up and he’s panting just slightly when you pull away. He misses the feeling of your lips on his as soon as it ends, the tingling sensation working its way down his face. “T-Thank you…?” He whispers. You laugh, the sound music to his ears. He can hardly believe that that just happened.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Definitely.“

You give him a small peck on the cheek and step into your car, so happy you think you could explode. As you pull out, and as he waves at you from the parking lot, you make an effort to remember to thank Jamie and Natasha.

Who would’ve thought that you really would be birds of a feather?

Twenty years ago, when you were both eight, this wouldn't have been a problem. But then puberty, high school, and base camp occurred, which brought to light the crush you had been harboring on your best friend.

"We'll make it work. And if it's that bad, I can take the floor," he offered, always the considerate one. It was one of the many traits you adored about Bob.

"Robert James Floyd, absolutely not!" You scolded, eliciting a chuckle out of him. It was deep and low, just like his voice and you didn't want to admit how it made your knees nearly shake.

"I've slept in barracks before, it's the same thing."

The comment would have gotten a laugh out of you. In fact, you would have even made a remark back, probably about how you've also slept in truck beds and underneath a wide open sky.

But then Bob Floyd took his shirt off.

It wasn't even your first time seeing him shirtless, far from it. But now he had filled out, with muscle and a dusting of hair that trailed down from his chest, past his stomach.

God, was he always this hot? Had to be and somehow you just didn't notice it until later. Perhaps that was the worst part; you fell for him because of who he was. It wasn't as if he had some type of glowup over summer break, like you'd see so often in those stupid teen movies you'd watch to feel better about yourself. No, Bob Floyd was always a beautiful soul, inside and out.

And he wasn't yours. Couldn't be. The risk of him not reciprocating was too high. Plus, your family was friends with his'. That meant Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, hell, even fucking Memorial Day gatherings would be tainted. All thanks to you.

The pressure was too high, the risk was too great.

But you could look, right?

"Sunshine?"

Bob's childhood now turned adult nickname for you broke the spell. Your wide eyes met his oceanic's. His hair, which had gotten darker over the years and now had threads of early greys, was mussed from taking off his shirt, some curls over the front of his forehead, others to the side. White shirt in hand, highlighting how massive they were when clutching the alabaster fabric. Brow's knitted together, combined with his narrow eyes and titled head created a downright adorable look of confusion.

"You,,,," he briefly turned around, to see if there was something on the wall behind him and that's why you wouldn't look at him, "You okay?"

You nodded eagerly, probably too eagerly, "Yeah sorry....I uh spaced out. Probably thinking of ways to get back at Javy."

Bob smiled, despite it never reaching his eyes when he nodded. You had turned around so quickly, unable to make such an observation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," grabbing the top and bottom you could find the quickest in your suitcase. You avoided eye contact with him, too busy feeling shame for getting caught doing something so lewd.

Rushing, you turned the water on in the showers. Focusing on ensuring you grabbed the correct products. Get the water to the perfect temperature and pressure, it exists, it has to exist because if it doesn't then you'll think about the dark body hair that went past the waistband of his jeans.

For about twenty minutes, it worked. You did your skincare routine, brushed your teeth for nearly two minutes, even blow dried your hair. Applied a lip mask, that stupid lash and brow serum the worker at Sephora conned you into buying. Moisturize every inch of your body, even though it was the dead of summer and you would sweat it all off before sunrise. That stupid reusable eye mask that you got because it was on clearance. Have you done the Wordle today, you should do the Wordle. You should do anything other than thinking about sharing a bed with your shirtless best friend.

It worked. Even put on some music, not too loud, just enough to hear and hum along.

It worked. For a while. But then you had used nearly every product in your cosmetics bag and it was time to get dressed.

Fuck.

You could never match a pair of socks, not even if your life depended on it. But tonight, fucking tonight of all nights, you had to grab a whole matching set.

The pale pink lace trimmed cami, paired with joggers. An oversized T-shirt that went further down than the pair of matching satin shorts.

You had brought the set when you were talking to a guy and thought you would be able to move on from the wonder that is Bob Floyd. What a fucking joke.

Maybe you could wear them, run back out to grab something else and run back in to change. No, why would anyone do that? If anything, it'll just make it more obvious that you didn't want to wear it in front of him. But what if you didn't change and Bob thought you had worn essentially casual lingerie on purpose? What if he found that weird? What if-

"You okay in there Sunny?" His voice always calmed you, always able to break you out of whatever self inflicted spiral you were on.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded despite Bob being unable to see you, "Yeah, I'm good. Just developed a more extensive skincare routine."

A short burst of laughter was released on the other side of the door, "You don't need all that. Already pretty."

"Bob Floyd, you are....." Charming. Amazing. Too good to be true. The love of my life,

"....too kind."

"Just telling the truth," his feet audibly stepped away. The butterflies in your chest were still exploding from his words. He made you feel safe, that this was Bob you were talking about. He'd never think you'd do something lewd or negative on purpose. Bob knew your intentions to be good. After all, he was your Bobby.

Just not in the way you want.

Your head cleared long enough to walk out the door, into the well lit bedroom. When he first made eye contact with you, you didn't even falter, simply smiling at him.

But Bob didn't say anything at first. Usually he'd make a teasing but well meaning comment about you taking so long. His thin pink lips parted, yet no words came through.

"Are you okay Bobby?"

The concern in your voice broke the trance. His features soften, his lips quirking into a half smile, "Yeah, I'm good. Just gonna shower and then head to bed."

Tension had left the room. Flopping down onto the bed, you scrolled through social media, watching all the videos and photos the squad had posted today.

"Uh, Sunshine?" You turned and lost your breath. Bob's hair was freshly washed, ends beginning to curl. A white shirt that was barely translucent and grey sweatpants that hung low on his lithe hips.

Bob Floyd had downright slutty hips.

"I don't think the bed is big enough for both of us to lay down."

Your brow crumpled in confusion, "Javy said this was a queen."

"Javy thinks anything that isn't a single is a Queen." Bob explained, not phased at all by this mistake.

Clearly it wasn't the first time. But you were still going to kill Javy Machado tomorrow morning.

"Here, if we both sleep on our sides, it'll be good."

"Like spooning?"

"Uh yeah," a hand came up to rub the back of his neck, "That's one way to think about it."

You supposed it was better than feeling his ass against yours, "Alright, well....come on in, the water's fine."

It took some time to figure out the arrangement. What was one supposed to do with their other hand? The final agreement consisted of your hips flushed against Bob's, his arm slung over your waist.

Zero awkwardness in the air. It felt....natural.

"Night Bobby."

"Night Sunshine."

Things were looking up. There was no way this would change your friendship or threaten to reveal your well kept secret. Sleep was well within your reach.

Then Bob moved. And kept moving. Due to his closeness, you felt every maneuver, no matter how subtle.

"Floyd, do you mind?"

His movements continued, as if he was trying to avoid your body while somehow simultaneously hang onto it.

A loud huff left your lips, "Stop wiggling around, I'm trying to sleep! Wait, what's that...."

Oh.

Your hips were flushed against his, your ass perfectly fitting the space formed by his thigh meeting his hip. Right against his hardened groin.

The sweatpants were thin. He didn't have anything underneath. Thanks to the flimsy fabric of your shorts, you could feel him greatly.

You were in bed with Bob Floyd. Bob Floyd was in bed with you, rocking an erection. You were being held by Bob Floyd, in bed. Bob Floyd had a huge cock, a grower.

Silence filled the room, tension thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Neither one wanting to move, for fear of making it worse.

He let out a shaky breath. He developed a rhythm, almost imitating one sleeping.

You shifted, just enough for your thigh to rise, but subtle enough to play off as nothing.

His breath hitched.

Inch by inch, your hips began to gyrate, rubbing against his clothed cock.

"B-Bobby," you were panting, as if having run a marathon. His fingers sank into your hips, gripping the plush flesh as he flipped you onto your back, towering over you.

You moved to sit on your elbows, to raise yourself up to argue. From years of play fighting, he was fast as lightning, pinning your hands above your head.

Bob slowly lowered himself down until his nose brushed against your, his soft hair brushing your forehead.

"Twelve years." Was all he said, gritting through his teeth, squeezing your hands in hopes it would tethered him to Earth.

All that came out of your mouth was a hum of confusion. In the moonlit light, you searched for his eyes, trying to read them.

"Stuart Hendricks asked you to prom. You had been hoping all month he would ask you. Hell, I even helped him. Told him your favorite musical and which song to sing. I was excited for ya. And then you said yes to him and I wanted to punch him. I never had thought about fighting someone until then. Took me a week to realize why I was so angry."

Oh my God.

"Eight to ten years ago," you confessed. It was Bob's turn to knit his eyebrows together.

"Eight to ten?" He repeated, "Why is there a range?"

"I remember feeling....funny when you came back from boot camp. You had filled out a bit and had on those adorable military issued glasses. But it took me some time to accept what I was feeling," you explained.

How you found those glasses endearing was beyond Bob's understanding. But it didn't agitate him, it was just one of the many things he loved about you.

"That's a lot of time lost," his voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded, "Can we.....can we start making up for it?"

"Yes," he nodded, dropping his head lower, "one hundred percent yes."

His lips were like heaven. He molded his body to yours, chests flushed together, limbs tangled within one another. A hand that spanned the entirety of his neck, his thumb guiding your chin upwards so he could deeper explore your mouth.

"Heard you singing....and it just felt....felt like we were living together," he confessed in between kisses, "felt so right, like that's what it's supposed to be like."

Nodding feverishly, your hands found purchase in his thick hair. Tugging on the sun kissed locks, earning a groan from Bob that made your thighs clench.

"Can....can I touch you?" Always the gentlemen, your Bobby.

"As long as you don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it sunshine," his mouth latched onto your neck, leaving open mouth kisses along the side, teeth gently grazing your sensitive skin. A hand grabbed your leg, hitching it to wrap around his waist.

There were other patrons scattered across the Hard Deck, but nowhere near the regular amount on a typical Friday night.

He hadn't even realised the romantic holiday was coming up. It wasn't until a week prior when Fanboy hollered that he'd scored a date with someone he'd been chatting up on Bumble; his booming voice causing Bob’s pool cue to completely miss the ball.

From then on, it was all he heard from the Daggers. Payback had a dinner planned with his long-term partner, Rooster was going out with a woman he'd been casually seeing, and Coyote nonchalantly declared that he'd have no problem heading into town and picking up a cute chick on the day itself.

Hangman had let it slip that he and Phoenix were going to a drive-in cinema together, but any cheeky remarks from the rest of the team were left unsaid at the heat of Phoenix’s glare.

So there Bob was, sitting at the bar on Valentine's, nursing a drink and musing over everything he could've been doing instead. With the complexities and demands of his job, he'd rarely given much thought to his romantic life. Boy, was he regretting it.

His eyes bore into the random sports match playing on the bar’s TV, his brain only registering the vibrant colours and fast-paced movements.

"Hey, Bob."

A melodious voice broke him out of his daze. Behind the counter stood everyone's favourite, sweet-as-sugar Hard Deck employee. She gave him a small smile as she wiped down glasses and put them aside.

"Fancy seeing you here tonight. Thought you'd have somewhere more important to be."

His head tilted, like a curious puppy, making her giggle.

"Y'know, cause it's Valentine's?"

"Right!" Bob exclaimed. "Yeah, no, no plans. I don't have anywhere else to be, so..." His voice trailed off as her warm smile struck his soul. With sweaty palms, he raised his glass and took a swig of his drink.

"That's a surprise," she said.

"It is?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I thought you'd have a cute date or something."

Bob's eyes widened and he quickly choked out a laugh, "Me? Oh, no, no I'm flattered but I'm not..." A wave of nausea rushed through his body - the words sticking to his throat. "I'm not really the ask-out-women type," he said as he stared into his glass. "Never been good at it."

And maybe it was the alcohol making him feel all fuzzy. Maybe it was the bar's dim lighting setting the mood. Or maybe it was the feeling of being almost alone with the attention of the stunning bartender-slash-waitress he maybe, sort of, definitely, had a crush on.

Something in the situation just made him feel... different. Trusting. Honest.

"I'm not confident like the rest of them," he confessed. "Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, they see someone they like and have no problem approaching them. Even if they didn't, there are plenty of people who come up and offer their numbers all the time. But I can't do that. Can't bring myself to talk to anybody like that. I'm not suave or charming like they are. Not cool or confident. I don't stand out in a crowd or attract any eyes from across the room. I'm just the guy in the background no one gives two cents about. Boring ol' Bob."

A silence hung between them, the static sports commentator voice floating through the air.

A tsunami of emotions whirled through him. On one hand, a weight had been lifted off him- a cathartic thrum in his chest at finally voicing the thoughts that'd tormented him for years. On the other hand, the admission of his feelings only made them more real and ever apparent to him. A dark cloud over his head, doomed to follow him.

"Excuse me?" she spat.

His head snapped up to find her eyes ablaze.

"Do you really think that?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish but no words came out. Thankfully for him, she didn't give him time to reply.

"Bob, you’re an amazing person. You're kind, and sweet, and thoughtful. You're always there for others, helping them even when they don’t ask for it. You carry your friends out when they're too drunk to walk. You listen to them rant about their work and lives. And when you're here during closing you insist on helping us clean up; stacking the chairs and storing crates in the back. You’re this guardian angel looking out for everyone around you.

So what if you're not like Rooster or Hangman? Why would you wanna be anyone else anyways? You're an amazing person all on your own and you show it everyday."

Bob felt an overwhelming heat engulf his body. It was as though he'd stood at the entrance of an active volcano for a decade.

“You really think that?” he squeaked out.

“Yes! And if girls don't see that then screw them. Anyone with a functioning brain cell would be lucky to go out with you.”

Bob smiled shyly, "Well, I'm flattered-"

"I mean, you're literally a dream!" She continued, hands frantically wiping glasses and setting them down with a low thud. "Not only are you kindhearted but you're a dream to look at. It's honestly criminal how fit you are with your glasses making you look so cute, and kissable, and..."

Her voice trailed off as their eyes locked and she registered Bob's tomato-red face. Bob's heart pounded in his ears.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Bob wouldn't really classify himself as brave.

Sure he'd had a rare, unexpected surge of bravery when he joined the military - shocking everyone that knew him - but everything that came after was simply part of the job. Each day of suffering through grueling training to become a WSO had nothing to do with his bravery, but rather his tenacity and determination to show everyone what he could accomplish. What he was made of.

Buf in this moment, a rare moment in his life, Bob chose to be brave.

"What time do you get off from work?" he asked.

"Soon. In about an hour."

"And... do you have any plans after?"

"I was just gonna go home," she blushed, a smile painting across her face. "But you're most welcome to come with me."

"So Bob, how was your Valentine's?"

The Dagger Squad's chatter quieted down at Hangman's sudden question. The sounds of the Hard Deck filling the silence between them.

"It was good," Bob replied, leaning against a pillar and doing his best to act casual.

"Really? Get up to anything fun?"

"Stop it," Phoenix chided.

"What? I'm just asking," Hangman laughed, gliding about the pool table and lining up his shot as if he wasn't interrogating his teammate. "Wanna know if Baby-on-Board spent the night alone like I said he would."

The crack of his cue against the ball came as a comical sound effect to the shock everyone was smacked in the face with. Phoenix shook her head in disbelief and mouthed a 'sorry' to her WSO, which he waved off with an understanding smile.

"Well Hangman, since you're so desperate to know, I came here on Valentine's. And while I did start out alone, I ended up going home with someone."

Everyone's heads whipped towards him.

"No shit. Seriously?" Hangman chuckled. "Who is she? Who had the honour of being our Bobby's companion. Is she even real?"

It was at this time that she walked over to them, empty tray in hand. The woman who'd occupied Bob's head 24/7 ever since the night they shared together a week prior. The woman he'd confided in and poured his heart out to. The woman who held him and kissed his doubts away all night long. Her lips soft against his smooth skin, the heat of her body melded against his.

She moved with grace as she motioned for the team's empty glasses and bottles, everyone giving her polite smiles as she passed. Bob allowed his eyes to trail after her before turning his attention back to Hangman.

"I can assure you she is very real. She's an amazing woman, full of kindness and love. Adorable to boot. Honestly, I'm over the freaking moon that she even wants my company."

Their eyes met as she got closer to Bob, still pretending to be completely unaffected by the conversation at hand. Picking up the last empty bottle, she began to walk pass Bob to get back to the kitchen.

"And I'm most definitely taking her home with me tonight," Bob declared. Just as she passed, Bob raised his hand and let it fall with a swift smack! to her behind.

Jumping back in shock with a loud yelp, she turned to Bob, ready to tell him off, only to be met with his cheeky smirk and smitten eyes.

She huffed and glared at him, though there was no real heat behind her eyes. "We're leaving as soon as my shift is over."

"Yes ma'am," Bob smiled.

She scurried away as she failed to suppress the smile growing on her face.

He stared at her retreating figure unashamedly as the rest of the Daggers began whooping and hollering.

"Dude! No way!"

"How'd you pull her? What did you say?"

"My man! Knew you had that dog in ya!"

Morgan cheers, coming up behind Garcia. "Oh, hell yes! Great idea, mama." He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tight against his chest.

Oh no. Going somewhere loud, crowded, and probably horribly contaminated with germs, just to watch other people drink and have to call them taxis at the end of the night? His brow creases, and he quickly speaks up. "Actually, I have-"

Garcia fixes him with a sharp glare, and he snaps his mouth shut. "No exceptions," she says, and you grin at her adamant tone.

"It's gonna be fun, Spence," you tell him, leaning your head back to give him a big smile. His heart beats a little faster in his chest. "We can all get all dressed up, and go dancing, and get drinks-"

Garcia squeals. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes. See, someone gets my vision," she exclaims, clapping her hands together. "It's settled. And mandatory," she says, shooting Spencer another look. Spencer gives a resigned sigh, grumbling under his breath.

You roll your chair over to his, bumping his shoulder with yours gently. "It'll be fun, Spence," you repeat, tilting your head to give him another one of your blinding smiles, and Spencer is grateful that he's sitting down, or otherwise his knees might have given out. "We'll stick together, yeah?"

Spencer manages a weak smile, and who is he to deny you, when you're sitting there and smiling at him all sweet and hopeful. "Yeah," he agrees, nodding. "It'll be... it'll be fun."

---

Spencer was not having fun.

The bar was grimy, just as he had expected, and he's shoved into a booth with Morgan, JJ, and Will, who are making casual conversation and yelling over the music. Spencer is nursing the same beer that had been shoved into his hand the moment he walked in.

Someone had ordered round after round of shots, but he had dumped his in a nearby potted plant. There was already a headache tugging at the back of his mind from the bass pounding in his ears, and he's not particularly keen on making it worse. Everyone else is fairly tipsy.

You, Emily, and Penelope are especially tipsy, and Spencer can't tear his eyes away from where the three of you are dancing together. You're wearing a dress, a short little thing that swishes around your hips every time you move, and Spencer is pretty sure he's losing his mind. His breath catches when you laugh, your eyes crinkled, your head thrown back, hair cascading over your bare shoulders.

"You're staring, man." A voice interrupts his thoughts, and he looks over to see Morgan looking at him with a shit-eating grin.

Spencer's cheeks heat up, and he takes a small sip of his beer. "Shut up. Was not."

"Were too," Morgan shoots back smugly.

Spencer can't help but roll his eyes, sinking down in his seat. "Whatever."

Morgan laughs, tapping his beer bottle against Spencer's. "It's not a bad thing, you know. That you were staring. Little miss thing over there has some moves."

"I wasn't-" Spencer starts to protest, but Morgan gives him a look.

"Seriously, man? Trying to fool the room full of profilers?" Morgan raises an eyebrow. "You know, I think the whole world knows you have your eye on her."

Spencer's eyes widen a fraction, and he begins to sputter. "But-"

"Relax, man," Morgan grins. "Everyone in the whole world, except for her."

It's that moment when the three of you make your way back to the table, a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, laughing loudly. You flop down next to Spencer, taking a big swig of your drink.

"I can't believe you guys didn't want to dance with us," you pout, giving Spencer your best puppy dog eyes.

"We prefer to watch, pretty girl," Morgan pipes up, giving you a wink, and you giggle. Spencer nudges into Morgan's shoulder, giving him a look that very clearly says knock it off.

"I'm not much for dancing," Spencer mutters, trying not to look directly at you. He feels like he's in the presence of the sun, burning bright and shiny and hot, and looking at you for too long will make him go blind.

You lay your temple against his shoulder, sighing, and Spencer tenses. You're drunk, he reminds himself. You don't know what you're doing. You'd never offer affection this freely if you were sober.

"That's okay," you murmur, your voice far too soft for the chaotic environment of the bar. "The more people that were dancing, the hotter it would be, and then I would get all sweaty and gross. So it's really a good thing, honestly."

Spencer knows you're trying to make him feel better, and his heart clenches. You're speaking right into his ear, your breath tickling his skin, and he doesn't know if he's ever felt so aware of his surroundings.

"You could never be gross," he says back, his voice just as soft as yours. You let out a huff of a laugh, and he feels it on his neck.

"You have to say that cause you're my friend," you tell him, wrinkling your nose. Your face is flushed, from both the dancing and the alcohol, and he wants to reach out and smooth the creases from your eyebrows.

"I'd say it even if I wasn't," he responds, and he has to fight the urge to wrap his arm around you, to pull you closer into his side and keep you there.

Emily arrives back at the table, brandishing a tray with yet another round of shots. You cheer, sitting up, and Spencer immediately misses the feeling of your cheek against his shoulder. She passes them out, grinning, and you toss yours back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Spencer pretends to take his as well, tipping his chin back and grimacing, and pours it into the potted plant. That poor plant, he thinks. If plants could get drunk, this one certainly would be. Luckily, it looks to be some kind of snake plant, he thinks. Hardy, and can withstand the dehydrating effects of the alcohol.

You turn to smile at him, your eyes slightly glassy, your hair mussed and your gaze unsteady. "It's good to see you let your walls down a bit," you tell him, gesturing to the empty shot glass in front of him. Spencer conjures up a smile, forcing it wider than it would normally be while he's sober.

"Yeah," he mutters, shrugging his shoulders. "Seemed like a good night to let loose."

He doesn't like lying to you, but he knows if he didn't at least pretend to drink, the team would be pushing shots into his hand. And besides, you look so happy at the prospect of him relaxing, that he can't quite bring himself to tell you. Spencer takes another tiny sip of his beer, turning his attention to the rest of the team's conversation.

---

About an hour and another round of shots later (sorry, plant), Spencer is all but ready to call it quits and retreat to his apartment for the night. You're ridiculously drunk, your voice a little too loud and right in his ear. You've decided that the best use of your time is hanging onto Spencer's arm, and he can't say that he's complaining.

You're in some kind of animated discussion with Emily, the content of which he hasn't been paying attention to, too focused on the way your lips wrap around the syllables of the words, the way your eyes are lit up. He's hyperaware of the fact that he's staring. You're too drunk to notice.

"No, and then- and then he said-" You break off into a fit of giggles, slumping back into your seat, bringing Spencer's arm with you. He doesn't stop you, just watches as your brow furrows suddenly in concern.

"Jesus, I'm so nauseous," you moan, clutching tighter to Spencer's arm. He can feel his muscles tense.

"Okay, let's get you home," he murmurs, gently extracting his arm from your embrace, and helping you out of your chair. He's met with a round of boos from the team, but silences them with a glare.

"Thank you both for celebrating with me," Garcia says sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

You wrap her into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Like I would ever miss my favorite girl's birthday," you tell her, your voice dripping with fondness. She hugs you back, her movements a bit uncoordinated, but affectionate all the same.

Once you've finished with your goodbyes, you slip your hand carefully into Spencer's, and he can feel his shoulders tense up, his cheeks begin to color. You're drunk, he thinks again, a silent mantra.

"Alright," he says softly, tugging on your hand gently, leading you outside of the bar. The cool night air feels fantastic on your flushed skin. "Let's call you a cab, yeah?"

While Spencer fumbles with his phone, presumably calling a cab, you watch him. You lean against the brick wall of the bar, tilting your head. The street lamps cast a soft, orange glow across Spencer's face, and you find yourself wanting to trace the shadows of his cheekbones with your fingertip. His long, dark eyelashes fan out over his cheeks when he blinks. When he looks back over at you, his lips quirking up in a soft smile, revealing a dimple on the side of his mouth, you forget to breathe.

"Cab's on its way," he tells you, leaning against the wall next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. Does he even know how pretty he is? You wonder. He has to know, right?

You turn your head to look at him, and the glint of the streetlight catches on one of his curls. You reach up, unconsciously, tucking it gently behind his ear, and you leave your hand there.

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and you watch in fascination as the tips of his ears turn pink to match his cheeks. You mistake it for the effects of the alcohol, or perhaps the cold air of the night.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asks, his words barely a breath. Your eyes follow the path of your fingers as you run them down his cheek, coming to land on the side of his neck.

"I don't know," you whisper, and you tilt your chin up, your nose brushing against his, and you press your lips gently to his.

It's soft, chaste, maybe a bit awkward, and Spencer's heart stops in his chest. He freezes, barely daring to breathe, as your lips move against his. His lips are chapped, from chewing on them insistently when he reads, and warm, and you've never felt anything more perfect in your life.

Spencer's hands come up to grip your shoulders, and you think he's finally going to respond, to kiss you back.

He pushes you back, not aggressively, but decidedly removing your lips from his. His lips are pink, glistening with spit, and he looks gorgeous.

The next thing you notice is the stricken look on his face.

"You're drunk," Spencer whispers, his eyes big and shocked and sad. You feel your heart sink in your chest.

Shit. Shit, he doesn't want this, doesn't want you. This was a terrible idea, and now you've ruined the friendship, lost your friend-

"You're drunk," he repeats, his voice firmer now. Spencer takes a step back, putting some space between the two of you. Your eyes water.

"So are you," you say weakly, your voice threatening to be carried away by the wind. Spencer can see the tears pooling in your eyes, the feeling of rejection washing over you, and he hates himself for it.

"I'm not-" he begins, but what he's not, you never get the chance to hear. A cab pulls up to the side of the road, and Spencer takes another step back from you.

"Your cab," he says quietly, gesturing to the car. He takes you by the elbow, and opens the door for you. He helps you into the cab, handing the driver a few bills. When did he get those out?

Your eyes are big and glassy as you look up at him, biting your lip so hard that it threatens to spill blood. You don't care. You want it to hurt, to reflect the state of your heart.

"Text me when you get home safe," Spencer murmurs, closing the door after you. He taps the top of the cab, and the car peels away from the curb.

Spencer sighs, raking both of his hands through his hair and down his face. You're drunk. You're drunk, he thinks. You absolutely never would have done that if you were sober. You thought he was drunk, too. His mind is racing, his heart pounding. It's not like you'll even remember this in the morning.

---

It's Monday morning, and you're ignoring Spencer.

Okay, maybe ignoring is a strong word. You've been cordial, polite, but still terse, greeting Spencer with a tight lipped smile and none of your usual bubbly enthusiasm. You had already had a cup of tea on your desk, and hadn't bothered to drop by his desk with a freshly brewed cup of coffee like you usually do, followed by a snippy comment about the amount of sugar it contained.

Spencer hates it.

Hates it, and can't quite figure it out. Are you embarrassed? Obviously you remember something, otherwise you wouldn't be so cold. Do you regret it? Do you think he took advantage of you? You had definitely initiated the kiss, so that couldn't be it. Right?

It's driving him insane.

As soon as the clock hits five, you've slung your bag over your shoulder, making a beeline out of the bullpen, without saying goodbye. Spencer scrambles to follow, shoving a couple of papers into his messenger bag and walking as fast as he can out of the bullpen without breaking into a dead sprint.

"Hey," he calls after you, but you don't turn. "Hey!"

He catches up to you, grabbing onto your shoulder and turning you to face him. Your face is carefully neutral.

"Oh, hi," you say, flashing him the same, tight lipped smile. It doesn't reach your eyes, doesn't make the corners of your eyes crinkle like he loves. "I didn't hear you behind me."

Spencer knows that's a lie, but he lets it slide. "I needed to talk to you. About last weekend."

You let out a laugh, but it's forced and high pitched and wrong. "Oh, yeah. Crazy night, huh?"

Spencer stares at you, waiting for you to say something else, but you just fidget uncomfortably.

"You kissed me," he says finally, his eyes boring holes into your face.

You wince. You were hoping he was drunk enough that he forgot, that things could go back to normal, like he didn't push you away and shatter your heart.

"I'm so sorry," you rush out. "I was drunk, like, ridiculously drunk, and you were there, and you were drunk too, and-"

"I wasn't," Spencer interrupts. His gaze is intense, and he takes a step forward, almost toe to toe with you. You have to tilt your chin back to look at him.

"You... weren't...?" You ask weakly, suddenly hating yourself even more. Great, so he was fully conscious, when you embarrassed yourself.

"No," he says softly, shaking his head. "But you were. And it wouldn't have been... right. To kiss you like that."

Your heart beats a little faster, your stomach swooping. "Oh."

Spencer huffs out a laugh, the tips of his ears turning the same shade of pink from that night. It's more vibrant in the fluorescent lighting of the BAU's hallway. He reaches up, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "That's not really how I wanted our first kiss to go, if I'm being honest."

"You've... thought about it?" You squeak, your cheeks flushing at how vulnerable you sound. He's holding your heart in his hands, has been for weeks, and he has no idea.

"Yeah," he breathes, nodding. "I usually imagine it at your doorstep, after I've taken you on a really lovely and romantic date, but I guess life works out in funny ways."

You're pretty sure you've stopped breathing, your eyes darting between his gaze and his lips, and you lick your lips unconsciously.

"I wanted to kiss you," Spencer whispers. "I did. I promise. Just... not while you were drunk."

You go up onto your toes, brushing your lips against his hesitantly, with none of the confidence of the first kiss you had shared outside the bar.

But this time, Spencer kisses you back.

His lips move against your own, his hand coming up to curl into the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, and every single thought flies out of your head. All you can think about is him.

There's a tiny bit of tongue, just a brush of his tongue along the seam of your lips, but before you can open your mouth eagerly, he's pulling back, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, and you can see a faint, barely there freckle on the bridge of his nose. You want to kiss it.

You do, taking his face in your hands and tilting it down, pressing a kiss along the bridge of his nose, because you can. Spencer rewards you with a laugh, the sweetest sound you've ever heard.

"How's that for a do over?" Spencer asks, his grin lopsided, his eyes shining. You pull him down for another kiss, smiling against his mouth.

"Yeah, it was alright," you tease, lacing your fingers with his. God, this feels right.

"I do believe that I was promised another kiss, though. After a really lovely and romantic date?" Spencer laughs again, his face bright and happy.

You don’t know him well, barely noticed him until today when he’d ask if you’d be his partner. But before the conversation could continue, a voice cuts through the noise of campus.

“Y/n!”

You turn, scanning the crowd until your eyes land on him. Your father stands in the middle of the quad, his team beside him. The weight of their stares settles over you.

Your brows furrow as you step toward them.

“Why are you here?” The words come out sharper than you intend, but you don’t back down.

Your father’s expression hardens. “You don’t know? Do you not stay informed on what happens around you?”

His tone makes you stiffen. “Mr. Hotchner.” The dean interjects carefully, stepping forward. “We’ve chosen to keep things as contained as possible. We don’t want to incite panic among the students.”

“Not warning them is more dangerous.” Rossi counters, unimpressed.

The dean exhales. “I understand your concerns but unless you’ve run a college campus, you don’t understand the position we’re in.”

You glance past your father at his team. Faces you recognize from home but haven’t seen since you left Virginia. They watch the exchange closely, some with sympathy, others with quiet apprehension.

“What’s going on?” You finally ask.

Your father doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for your arm, his grip firm but not forceful. “Come with us.”

You were led into the campus security building, where case files are scattered across tables. Your eyes flick to a white-board in the next room, crime scene photos pinned in a neat but unsettling arrangement.

“Shut that.” his voice is sharp, and when you glance back at him, his expression his unreadable.

“We were called here because there's been a series of murders on campus. Young woman.” he says, locking eyes with you.

For the first time, you see it, the fear beneath his controlled demeanor.

You don’t know how to respond, but when he lays down three photographs, fear settles in your chest.

“Sarah Johnston, Abigail Smith, Elizabeth Adam’s.” He lists “Do you see a pattern?”

Your stomach twists. Hair color, similar build. Even the way they smiled in their photos. You and these girls resembled each other.

“Could be a coincidence,” you murmur, though you don't believe it.

“It’s not, he has a type.” he firmly says “You can't be alone on this campus. Travel in groups, carry your pepper spray, and you are not to be alone with any male students.”

You exhale, shaking your head. “I have a project to do with a guy from my class-”

“Meet in a public space, surrounded by people.” Rossi interjects.

“The library is packed, and the study rooms are booked.”

“Cancel.” your father orders. “Tell him you're sick, do it now.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

Your father stares. That look, the one that's ended entire arguments without him saying another word. You hesitate, but your fingers move, typing the message before holding up your phone for his approval.

“Good.” he nods, then turns to Reid. “Take her to her dorm, please.”

“I can walk myself.”

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why can't you just listen for once?” his voice rises, frustration creeping in.

Your mouth opens, then snaps shut.

“What about everyone else?” you challenge, voice tight. “The girls who aren't getting warnings? The ones who don't have an agent escorting them to their dorms? This isn't fair. I'm just a student like the rest of them. I don't need your protection.”

“You don't understand, and right now, I don't care if you do.” he says, his tone final. “My only concern is getting you to your room. And you're staying there for the rest of the night. Reid, take her.”

“If it helps.” Emily adds gently, resting a hand on your shoulder. “A statement is going out today. The school is setting up hotlines, resources, and people will be warned.”

You let out a slow breath. It doesn't make you feel better. Not really.

“Fine.” you turn on your heel, heading for the door. Spencer Reid following right behind you.

The walk back to your dorm is quiet, not awkward, just silent.

When you step inside, you toss your bag onto your bed and gesture toward the other one. “You can sit there. My roommate dropped out a while ago, so no one uses it.”

Reid hesitates before sitting. “Does your dad know?”

You glance at home, confused. “Why would he?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought that’s something a father would want to know.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our relationship is… complicated.”

“Yeah.” He says, nodding slightly. “I get that.”

You eye him for a second. “You and your dad close?”

Reid shifts in his seat, before you can take it back, he says. “He left my mom and me when I was a kid.”

You frown. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t affect me anymore.”

There’s a moment of quiet before you decide to change the subject. “I have some games. Do you like Jenga?”

That earns a small chuckle from him. “Yeah.”

You kneel beside your bed, pulling out the game. There were probably better things you could be doing, like assignments or your project, but this seemed like a better way to pass the time.

As you both set up the blocks on the floor, you smirk. “Usually when I play, my friends and I have a rule. Whoever knocks it over takes two shots.”

Reid gives you an amused look. “Are you even legal to drink?” You raise an eyebrow. “What, are you gonna tell my dad?”

He tilts his head. “Should I?”

You laugh. “I don’t think it’ll surprise him, I’m pretty sure he expects worse.”

Reid’s expression shifts slightly. “You know, your dad talks about you a lot. He’s very proud of you.” You freeze for a second. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Reid nodded.

You swallow, shifting slightly. “Huh. Didn’t know that.”

He doesn’t say anything else, instead gestures to the game. “You go first.”

The game begins, each turn making the tower more unsteady. Eventually, Spencer study’s the blocks carefully, trying to find a safe one to pull.

“This is getting difficult.” He mutters, eyes narrowed.

You laugh, watching as he finally picks one and pushes it, only for the entire tower to collapse.

“Shit.” He murmurs under his breath causing your eyes to widen. “Did you just cuss?” You teased.

Reid shakes his head with a smirk, while you get up and dig through your closet. When you return, you hold up a bottle. “Two shots?”

His eyes practically pop out of their sockets. “I’m working.” You scrunch your face. “Is it really called working when you’re watching an adult?”

“I’m still on duty.” He argues. “Your dad would fire me.”

You roll your eyes. “My dad loves you. But fine Spencer, be lame.” Before he could reply, there’s a knock at the door. You both glance at each other.

“I got it, " you say, heading toward the door forgetting there was a killer on the loose and Spencer Reid wasn’t in your room to play games.

Spencer moves ahead of you. “I’ll get it.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. You step back as he opens the door.

Standing there is Eli, the guy from your class.

“Oh, uh… is y/n here?” Eli asks, looking past Spencer. You step forward going to the door. “Eli? What are you doing here?”

“I saw your message. Just wanted to check on you.” He says, then glances at the bottle in your hand. His lips twitch into a smirk. “Having a party?”

You quickly lower the bottle. “No, I was just-no.” You stutter.

Eli raises an eyebrow. “You don’t look sick.”

You sigh. “Yeah…I’m not. I just can’t do the project tonight. I’m sorry.” Eli glances between you and Reid before nodding slowly. “Yeah, I get it.”

Silence lingers between the three of you. It’s awkward.

“Wait.” You ask suddenly. “How did you find my room?”

“Lisa.” He answers quickly. “I asked her.”

You nod, but something about it feels… off. You glance at Spencer, who’s watching Eli closely, brows drawn together like he’s analyzing something.

Eli clears his throat. “Well, I’ll let you guys be. Let me know when we can start the project.”

“Yeah, I will.” You say, before shutting the door.

You turn to Spencer. “That was awkward.” He nodded. “Is that your friend?”

“No. Barely know him. Just a project partner.” You say.

“Hmm.” Spencer’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression unreadable. You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says, but there’s a trace of suspicion in his voice. “You just can’t be too sure about people.”

You nod. “Do you think the unsub will be caught tonight?” He exhales, his lips pressing together in thought. “I’m not sure. So far, he hasn’t left much evidence behind.”

“How does he do it?” You ask, curiosity outweighing your nerves. Spencer hesitates. “I don’t think your dad would appreciate me telling you.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I don’t think that’s my dad’s choice.”

He sighs, clearly understanding your frustration. After a moment, he finally gives in.

“He stalks them.” Spencer says, his voice lower now. “He waits until they’re alone, takes them somewhere secluded. He hurts them… bad. And then he.” His jaw tightens before finishing. “He assaults them. It’s brutal y/n. That’s why Hotch is so worried.”

Your breath catches. His gaze is firm, searching yours, waiting for a reaction. And for a second, you don’t know what to say. You had meant what you said to your dad about it not being fair, but hearing this… it makes you feel something else.

“If he stalks them, does that make his killings far apart?” You ask, your voice quieter now.

Spencer nods. “He’s projected to strike again in a few days, but we are trying to prevent that. He only keeps his victims for a few hours, but he takes his time choosing them. He studies them.”

Goosebumps rise along your arms, and suddenly, the walls of your dorm feel too close. “I need air.”

Spencer watches you for a moment before offering. “Well can walk around?”

You nod.

The two of you walk with no destination, the sky shifting into soft oranges and purples as the sun starts to set. The air is cooler now, and the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable.

“So.” Spencer finally says, breaking the quiet. “How are you liking college?”

You glance at him, appreciating his efforts. “It’s been good. A lot of people to meet, a lot of things to do.”

He nods. “When I was in college, I didn’t really… do much.” You let out a small laugh. “Weren’t you, like, fourteen?”

He smirks. “Yeah. That might have had something to do with it.” You tilt your head. “What’s it like? Being that smart?”

Spencer thinks for a moment before answering. “Uh- I don’t know. Sometimes it’s good. Other times it feels like… too much. Even for myself.”

“Must be exhausting.” You murmur

“Can be.” He admits.

The wind picks up slightly, and you shiver without meaning to. You mentally curse yourself for not bringing a jacket.

Spencer notices. without a word, he shrugs off his own. “Here. Take mine.”

You shake your head. “What? No, it’s cold. You need it.”

“I was starting to feel hot in it anyway.” He says, holding it out to you. You narrow your eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Spencer.”

He doesn’t argue. Instead, he just steps closer and drapes the jacket over your shoulders himself, his hands brushing against you for just a second longer than necessary.

You blink up at him, caught off guard.

“Now you have to take it.” He says simply.

You huff but pull it tighter around yourself, the fabric warm. “Fine.” Spencer smirks, satisfied.

You glance down, smiling softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He replied, giving you the same soft smile, and with that you both continued walking.

The conversation mostly consisting of Spencer throwing out random facts.

Just as he finished explaining why flamingoes stand on one leg, you glanced down and noticed your shoelace had come undone.

“Damn.” You muttered

Before you could react, Spencer crouched down without hesitation, his long fingers grabbing the laces. He tied them quickly, but his movements were gentle, careful.

You swallowed, feeling a rush of warmth crawl up your neck. It was a simple sweet gesture.

“Thanks.” You murmured.

He looked up at you, his eyes catching yours for just a second too long before he stood back up. You cleared your throat, motioning toward a nearby bench.

The two of you sat down, silence setting over for a brief moment before you turned toward him. “So, Spencer, do you have a girlfriend?”

The question clearly caught him off guard. His capture stiffened slightly, and he glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “Uh-no. Why?”

You shrugged. “Because you do all these nice little things. Feels like there has to be a girl.”

He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”

“Hmm.” You tilted your head, studying him. “That’s surprising.” Spencer gave you a skeptical look. “Why?”

“Because.” You said simply, “You’re sweet. You’re smart.” Then, without much thought, you reached up and lightly brushed your fingers through his hair. “And you’re pretty good-looking.”

The reaction was instant. His whole face turned red, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Even his ears betrayed him, turning an adorable shade of pink.

“I-I just… I don’t know.” He stammered. “I’m busy, I guess.”

“Yeah.” You hummed, leaning back against the bench. Then, he smirked slightly, his confidence suddenly returning. “Why do you care?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Spencer. I’m just nosey, must be genetic.”

“Right.” He said, nodding as if he didn’t believe you for a second. You narrowed your eyes at him, amused by his boldness. Before you could stop yourself, you turned the question back on him.

“Well, do you think I have a boyfriend?”

He tilted his head, considering you for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“Yeah.” You answered casually, watching as his smirk faltered for just a second. His expression was unreadable, but you caught the small shift, the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers curled slightly against his lap.

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” He said

You let the silence hang for a bit too long before grinning. “I’m joking, Spencer. I don’t have one.”

He exhaled, shaking his head as he turned toward you, unimpressed. “Yeah, I think I can see why.”

You gasped, shoving his shoulder slightly. “Wow. Sassy.”

Spencer just laughed, and you found yourself staring at him a little too long, watching the way his smile softened his features.

Then, almost instinctively, the teasing faded. The space between you seemed smaller. His gaze flickering to your lips, so quick you almost thought you imagined it.

Your heart picked up speed.

“You know.” You said, your voice lower now. “For someone who’s never had a girlfriend, you sure don’t suck at flirting.”

Spencer’s eyes darkened with amusement. “Who says I’m flirting?” You arched a brow. “Oh, so you just tie everyone’s shoes for them, and hand out your coat?”

He smirked but didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted just slightly toward you.

Neither of you spoke, but something was different now, he was watching you in a way he hadn’t before, like he was debating something.

And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in first. He met you halfway.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like neither of you wanted to acknowledge it was happening. But then Spencer’s hand found your jaw, his touch delicate, and suddenly, it wasn’t hesitant anymore.

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his button up, pulling him just a little closer, feeling the warmth of him against you.

Spencer’s lips moved against yours with surprising confidence, his fingers firm against your jaw as he deepened the kiss. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, pleading for entrance, and you don’t hesitate to grant it.

A quiet sigh escaped you, your hands instinctively tightening around the fabric of his shirt.

“Spencer.” You breathed between kisses, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His lips left your mouth only to find the curve of your jaw, then lower, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along your neck. The contrast was dizzying.

The Spencer you knew, the one who rattled off statistics and fidgeted when people stood too close felt miles away from the one currently leaving a trail of heat against your skin.

Had you really been gone that long?

Deep down, a part of you had always wondered about him.

You’d always thought he was cute. He was different from you in almost every way. Careful where you are reckless, and logical where you are impulsive.

Maybe that was why you found yourself so drawn to him.

His hands moved from your jaw to your throat, his fingers grazing lower, trailing down your body until they landed on your waist. His touch was warm, grounding.

You weren’t sure if you were pulling him closer or if he was the one doing it, but the space between you two was practically nonexistent.

Then, suddenly, he stiffened.

Spencer pulled back so fast it left you breathless, his wide eyes darting around. “Did you hear that?”

You blinked, still dazed. “What?”

“I think I heard something.” His body tensed, one hand instinctively resting on his gun as he stood, scanning the area.

You quickly straightened, glancing around. The campus was quiet, the only sound being the distant hum of crickets and rustling leaves from the breeze.

“Maybe we should head back.” You suggested, still trying to catch your breath.

Spencer nodded, but not before his gaze flickered back to you, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss you’d just shared.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice quieter now. “It’s late.”

The both of you walk back in silence, both thinking about the actions that took place a moment ago.

As you finally reach your dorm, something on the floor catches your eye. A pink envelope.

Spencer notices it too, his sharp gaze narrowing. Without hesitation, he bends down to grab it. “It just has your name.” He says, his voice low. He hands it over, and you take it.

You open it without thinking much, assuming it’s some harmless note. But the moment you pull out what’s inside, a wave of fear washes over you.

“Oh my god.”

Your voice trembles as your fingers clutch the two Polaroid photos. The first is of you and Spencer kissing. His hand cupping your jaw, the image capturing the undeniable intimacy of the moment.

The second photo was when Spencer was scanning the area after hearing a strange noise, his hand on his gun. Someone had been watching. Someone had been right there.

You shove the photos toward Spencer. His expression hardens as he studies them, brows furrowing deeply. He looked furious.

“We have to give these to the team.” He says firmly.

“No, it’s probably just a prank.” You argue, though your voice is weak. You’re desperate to convince yourself, but even you don’t believe it.

Spencer shakes his head. “We can’t be too sure. I’m sorry.” He apologizes as he slides the photos back into the envelope.

You swallow hard, the weight of it all crashing down. “My dad’s going to be upset.”

Spencer steps toward you, his fingers brushing the strands of your hair behind your ear. “It’s going to be alright.” He assures you.

Your eyes scan him, and you can see guilt flashing across his face. You know he feels responsible, and you can’t help but feel the same.

Without another word, he pulls out his phone. “We have something that might be connected.” He says into the receiver, his voice clipped. “Alright. We’ll be on our way.”

The walk to campus security is silent, the dread growing heavier with every step. When you arrive, your father is already there, his signature stoic expression barely concealing his concern.

“What is it?” He asks, striding toward you both.

You and Spencer exchange a quick, uneasy glance. Spencer hands him the envelope.

Your father opens the envelope, his eyes flickering over the contents. The tension in the room is unbearable. You swear you can hear Spencer’s heartbeat.

“What is this?” Hotch’s voice is low, but the restrained anger is clear. His gaze shifts to you, demanding answers.

“They were taken of us… not too long ago.” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn't respond immediately. The weight of his silence is crushing.

“So, I send an agent to watch over you, and instead, you make him go against orders. You kiss him while a murderer is on the loose, on your campus, targeting girls.” his words cut through you.

“I-I know. I'm sorry.” you stammer, instinctively glancing at Spencer. “It was my fault.”

But Spencer immediately shakes his head. “No it wasn’t. I’m the one that didn’t follow orders, it’s not her fault.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is. You both had orders, and you failed to comply.” He looks directly at Spencer. “Reid, join JJ. Now.”

Spencer hesitates, clearly torn, but nods. He gives you one last glance before walking away.

“Y/n.” Your father’s voice lowers. “We need to talk.”

You follow him into an empty room, the door clicking shut behind you. The air is thick with unspoken words. You brace yourself, expecting the worst. But when your father finally speaks, it isn’t the scolding you anticipated.

“Do you think you might know who took these?” His tone is calm, but his eyes remain sharp.

You’re caught off guard. “No. I don’t.”

“Think y/n. Is there anyone - someone you’ve been seeing? Someone who might have been watching you?”

You rack your brain, the panic making it hard to focus. “There’s… Eli. The guy I’m working on a project with. He came by to check on me, but that’s really the only person I’ve talked to.”

Your father nods, processing. “And your roommate, do you think she seems like the type to give out your whereabouts? Does she seem untrustworthy?”

You shake your head. “I don’t have one.”

His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t think it was important.” You admit, your voice small.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell me you were alone in your dorm? That was the one thing I take comfort in while you are away, knowing there was someone else there.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

His expression softens just a fraction, but the frustration is still evident. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need to question Eli. What class?”

“Psychology.” You say

He gives you a short nod and turns to leave. You follow him out, but the tension lingers.

“Garcia can you look through the schools files for an Eli, a class he takes is psychology with y/n.” He says on the phone.

“I don’t think it’s him.” You say quietly. “I’ve barely seen him around.”

“And that.” Derek interjects, stepping beside you, “Makes him even more suspicious.”

Emily nods in agreement. “If he’s the unsub, he could’ve been targeting you. Sudden appearances aren’t always coincidences.”

You sigh, and take a seat in one of the chairs, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Despite the hum of voices around you, exhaustion wins. Your eyes fluttered close, and before you realize it, sleep over takes you.

“Okay, Garcia gave me the location of Eli’s apartment.” Your dad’s stern voice snaps you awake. “Morgan and JJ, come with me. Prentiss and Rossi, stay here and keep an eye on them.”

Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sit up. “What’s going on?”

Your father doesn’t answer, already halfway through to door. Emily steps closer, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. “They found Eli’s apartment. But, y/n … Eli was never enrolled in your class.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“He’s been sneaking in.” She says softly. “Pretending to be a student. We think he’s been watching you for a while.”

You stare at her, the words sinking in. Your pulse races as the realization hits. “Oh my god.”

“It’s becoming clear that you were most likely one of his next victims.” Rossi joins in, their eyes both full of empathy.

“But he seemed so…” you trail off, struggling to find the right word. Normal doesn’t feel right. Not now.

“I know.” Emily says, nodding. “It’s difficult. But we’re close to figuring this out. You’re safe now.”

You swallow, the reassurance barely easing your nerves. Rossi lays a reassuring hand on your should giving it a gentle squeeze “It’s going to be okay kid.” He says you nodded and watched as he walked away.

You sit back down, gathering the information you’ve just been told.

Just as the heavy silence settles in, Emily tilts her head, smirking slightly. “That’s a nice sweater.”

Confused, you glance down. It’s only then you remember, Spencer’s sweater. The sleeves are a little long, the faint scent of his cologne lingering.

“Oh. Uh it’s not mine.” You mumble, tugging at the hem. Emily’s smirk deepens. “I know.”

Without another word, she stands and walks toward one of the other rooms, leaving you with your thoughts. You let out a long breath, rubbing your hands over your face. The stress is unbearable.

“Here.” Spencer’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. He holds out a cup of coffee, his fingers brushing yours as you take it.

“Thank you.” You murmur, the warmth of the cup grounding you, he gave you a soft warm smile. “I’m sorry Spencer.” You apologize.

His eyes scan your face. “You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

You blink at him. “You’re acting as if I didn’t kiss you back.” He says. Heat creeps up your neck. “I just feel like this is my fault.” You admit, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re stuck here instead of searching Eli’s apartment. Emily having to babysit now. And all because-”

“Because we went for a walk?” Spencer finishes, raising an eyebrow. “And kissed? You do realize that without that walk, and that kiss, we probably wouldn’t have gotten this close to catching him.”

His words sink in. The guilt that’s been gnawing at you lessens, just a little.

“So in some weird, messed-up way.” He continues, his voice softer. “It’s a good thing.”

You manage a small smile. “I guess.”

Spencer’s grin grows, and for a second, the tension in the air lightens. “Well, I should get out of here before Emily comes back.”

“Probably a good idea.”

With one last lingering look, he turns and heads out. The warmth of the moment fades as the waiting continues. Minutes pass, then thirty. You sip the last of your coffee, anxiety prickling beneath your skin.

The sudden sound of the door opening draws your attention. Your father and Morgan stride inside, and between them, handcuffed and smirking, is Eli.

“Prentiss, Reid.” Hotch says, his voice sharp. “Join JJ at Eli’s apartment. She’s going through it now.”

Spencer and Emily don’t waste a second, slipping out of the building. You barely register them leaving, your focus locked on Eli. He walks past you, and despite the restraints, his presence feels suffocating.

“It’s not over.” He evilly smiles as the words left his mouth, your blood runs cold.

“Don’t speak to her!” Your father snaps, his voice booming. In an instant, Hotch has Eli shoved against the wall, his face pressed hard against the surface.

You flinch, heart stammering. Eli only laughs. The sound sends a shiver down your spine.

“y/n.” Morgan’s voice is calm but firm as he steps closer. “If you need anything, we’re here. Don’t go anywhere alone. Got it?”

You nod, barely able to find your voice. “Got it.”

Morgan gives you a reassuring nod before following your father into the makeshift interrogation room. You’re left there, your mind racing. Emily’s words from earlier echo in your head.

“You’re safe now”

You want to believe that, but with Eli’s words burned into your memory, it’s hard to feel safe at all.

After what felt like hours, you made your way to the restroom, you splash cold water on your face, the droplets sliding down your skin as you brace your hands on the sink.

The reflection staring back at you is pale and exhausted, the weight of everything visible in your eyes. You close them for a moment, willing the lingering feeling to disappear.

But then, the sound of a lock clicking behind you jolts you awake.

Your heart leaps as you whip around. A man stands in the front of the door, his expression twisted with excitement. He’s holding a gun, the metallic glint catching the harsh bathroom light.

“We’re going to do this the easy way, okay Claire?” His voice is disturbingly calm, like he’s rehearsed these words a thousand times.

“Claire?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m not Claire.”

But he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, his grip tightening around the gun. You instinctively back away.

“It’s okay.” He soothes, though his eyes are wild. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you with me.”

He’s closing in now, his body looming. You can feel the panic rising, your chest tightening. Every part of you screams to run, but the barrel of the gun hovers dangerously close.

“Let’s go home, Claire.”

The words send a chill down your spine. You open your mouth to scream, but before you can make a sound, the gun is at your temple. The cold steel sends a shock through you.

“We’re going to be quiet, okay?” He growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “Don’t make me shoot you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your pulse pounds. You can feel his erratic breathing, the tension in the air thick and suffocating. Every instinct tells you to fight, to scream, but you don’t.

“Okay.” You force out, your voice trembling.

He grabs your arm, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you towards the door. Each step is slow, calculated. He cracks the door open, peering down the empty hallway. You silently pray that someone will come, your dad, Morgan, Rossi, anyone.

But the hall remains empty.

No one sees.

No one hears.

And then, he’s dragging you through the exit.

——

Back in the interrogation room, Eli sits slouched in the chair, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“You’re making a mistake.” He taunts, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “A mistake?”

Eli nods, chuckling to himself. “I knew you’d come. That’s why I was home. You’re too predictable. And while you’re all in here wasting time on me…” he leans forward, savoring every word. “No one’s watching your daughter.”

The room shifts in an instant. The air turns cold. Hotch’s face darkens, fear flashing through his eyes.

“Morgan, Rossi. Stay here.” Hotch orders, his voice sharp. Without another word, he storms out. His movements are frantic, searching every corner of the building. Empty chairs, empty hallways. The tension grows unbearable.

“Where the hell is she?” He demands, slamming his fists on the table when he returns. The sound echoes through the room.

Eli simply smirks. “I don’t know.”

——

The van jerks violently as the man speeds through the dark streets. Your wrists ache from the rope biting into your skin, and the duct tape over your mouth muffles your desperate pleads.

He’s erratic, mumbling to himself as he drives. You pray for the sight of flashing police lights, for anyone who might notice how reckless he’s being. But the roads remain empty.

After what feels like eternity, the van screeches to a stop.

“We’re here.” He announces, giddy like a child on Christmas morning.

He yanks open the back doors, his rough hands grabbing at you. You scream, the sound muffled and desperate. You kick, pounding your fists against his back as he hauls you over his shoulder. But it doesn’t faze him.

The air shifts as he carries you inside. The stench is unbearable, a rancid mixture of mildew, rot, and something metallic. The walls are stained, rust creeping across the cracked concrete. Water pools around the floor, dark and slick.

He dumps you onto the ground, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Before you can react, he pulls a heavy chain from the corner, the rusted links clinking together.

“This is so you don’t try and leave like the others.” He sneers

The chain clamps around your neck, the padlock snapping shut. The weight is suffocating, restricting your movements to only a few feet. You twist and pull, but it’s useless.

He crouches in front of you, his grin wide with satisfaction. “We’re finally together, Claire. Just like I promised.”

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at him, your heart continues to pound violently. The panic threatens to consume you, but you fight it. You have to stay calm. You have to find a way out.

But as he watches you with twisted delight, the truth sinks in. No one knows where you are.

The tape rips from your mouth, the sting sharp against your skin. You gasp, your chest heaving, but before you can speak, the man crouches in front of you, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Before we continue, Claire.” He says, his voice low and deliberate “I need you to be truthful.”

Your glare sharpens, every nerve in your body screaming to fight. “I’m not Claire, you psycho! Let me go!”

The words barely leave your lips before his hands snap to your face, gripping your chin tightly. The veins in his neck bulge with fury.

“You are Claire!”

His trembling hand digs into his pocket, pulling out a worn photo. He shoves it into your view. “This is us, Claire! Before you decided to leave!”

The woman in the photo has your face, or almost. The same features, the same hair.

“That’s not me.” You whisper, shaking your head.

“You always like to lie!” He growls, his voice cracking. He finally lets go, pushing you back against the cold wall as he paces, running his free hand through his greasy hair.

Then he stops.

“Who was that guy?” His voice drops, seething. “The scrawny agent. Why were you with him?”

You blink, confused. “What?”

His teeth clench. “Why did you let him touch you?” He snarls. “Why did you let him look at you like that?!”

He’s talking about Spencer.

“No, no.” You stammer, your pulse racing. “He’s no one. You don’t have to worry about him.”

But it’s too late. The idea is planted, festering in his mind. He shakes his head, a bitter grin twisting his lips.

“I need him here.” He says, his voice trembling with conviction. “I’m going to bring him here.”

“No!” You cry, panic lacing your voice. “You don’t need him! You have me!”

“You need to help me, Claire!” He pleads, crouching down once more. His eyes are wide, frantic. “You have to get him here.”

Tears burn your eyes as you shake your head. “I can't do that.”

He reaches forward, his rough thumb swiping a tear from your cheek. “Don’t cry, darling. It's going to be okay.”

But it won't be.

“Tell me the number.” his voice cracks, dangerous edge creeping in. “I wont.” you whisper.

His hand snaps to his belt, pulling out a small knife. The light catches the dull blade.

“Why are you making me do this?!” he roars, the knife flashing. Before you can move, the cold steel slices across your arm. The pain is immediate, searing. You scream, clutching at the bleeding wound.

——

“Y/n is missing.”

JJ’s words hit like a bullet. Spencer’s heart drops.

“What?” He breathes, his voice sharp. “How? Someone was supposed to be watching her.”

“We don’t know, but Hotch needs us.”

Without another thought, they leave Eli’s apartment and rush back to campus. Spencer’s mind races, his breath short. This can’t be happening.

Emily and JJ make their way into the building but before Spencer reaches the door behind them, his phone rings.

His hands fumble as he answers.

“Hello?”

“Spencer.” Your voice quivers on the other end. “It’s me.”

His chest tightens. “Y/n! Where are you? Hold on! Let me get Hotch.”

“No!” Your voice cracks. “Spencer, don’t. Please… just come. He wants you here, and he says he’ll hurt me if you bring the team.”

“Y/n.” Spencer runs a trembling hand through his hair, panic gripping him.

“Come unarmed.” You whisper. “The address is 3840 Cherry road.”

The line crackles. And then-

“Don’t come, Spencer! Please!”

A sickening thud enters through the phone, your muffled cries follow.

“y/n!” Spencer shouts, his voice breaking. But there’s no answer.

The line goes dead.

His hands shake as he scribbles the address onto a scrap of paper, dropping it where someone will find it. Without another word, he bolts for the SUV.

——

The building looms ahead, rotting, desolate. Spencer moves quickly, his steps silent. The walls are damp, stained with water and time. The stench of mold lingers.

Then he sees you. Sitting against a wall, your head hanging low.

“Y/n.” He gasps, rushing to your side. Blood stains your lips, your nose, and a fresh cut marks your cheek. You’re barely conscious, your head lolling.

“Spencer?” You murmur, your voice weak. But as your eyes adjust, terror flashes across your face.

“No.” You whisper, your hands weakly pushing him away. “Why did you come? I told you not to.”

Before Spencer can respond, a voice rings out.

“Stop touchin’ her.”

Spencer freezes. You both turn, dread pulling in your stomach. The man stands, his eyes blazing with fury.

He lunges, grabbing Spencer and shoving him to the ground, he then pulls out a gun.

“You don’t want to do this.” Spencer says, his hands raised. “We can talk.”

“Why were you with Claire?” The man’s voice booms, echoing through the building. “She doesn’t want you! She wants me!”

“Claire?” Spencer asks cautiously, trying to keep him talking. “Don’t say her name!”

“You want the truth?” Spencer’s voice is steady now, his eyes never leaving the gun. “She doesn’t want you. She never did.”

You stare at him in shock, wondering if he’s gone crazy.

“She wants me.” Spencer presses, his voice low “She doesn’t want you.”

“Do you want me to explain more of what we did?, what you didn’t get to see?” Spencer asked. “What is he talking about?” The unsub asked as he made his way towards you angrily. “You slut!” He spat in your face, but before he could strike you a gunshot echos.

The man in front of you crumbles, blood stains his chest. His eyes go wide, and the life drains from him.

You gasp, and look to see Spencer standing, his gun drawn, chest heaving.

He rushes to get the keys out of the pockets of the dead man, then to you unlocking the chain from your neck, and untying your wrists. The moment you’re free, you collapse into his arms.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, holding you tightly, his hand going up and down your back. “You’re safe now.”

You cling to him, sobbing. “I was so scared.”

“I know.” Spencer breathes, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

The sound of footsteps echo. “They’re in here!” Morgan’s voice rings out.

Hotch bursts through the doors, his eyes locking onto you and Spencer. You let go of Spencer and make your way towards your dad, stumbling, but he needs you halfway and catches you in his arms, tightly pulling you against him.

He was scared to let you go, scared you’d disappear.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, his voice thick with guilt.

You shook your head not wanting to hear his apologies, you were just thankful to be able to see him again.

“I want to go home.” You whisper, your tears soaking into his shirt.

Hotch’s hand gently cups your face, his fingers tracing the cuts. He nods, his voice trembling.

“We’ll go home, baby.”

——

1 month later…

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and stepped into the familiar hum of the BAU office. Jacks small hand gripped yours tightly while the other held a plate of cookies, still warm from the oven. As you passed through the glass doors, a wave of familiar faces greeted you, their smiles wide with excitement.

“Y/n!” JJ’s voice rang out first, her arms already reaching for you. She pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you slightly before Emily joined in.

“I was wondering when we’d get a visit!” Emily grinned, her dark eyes bright.

“Yeah, I would’ve come sooner but-”

“But I told her to stay home and rest.” Your dad cut in, his voice warm as he appeared beside you. Jack immediately wiggled free to run into his arms.

“Makes sense, recovery is important.” Rossi added, his fatherly tone laced with relief.

“Yeah, but it could’ve been worse.” You said, shrugging. “I’m just glad I healed up so quickly.”

“We all are, kid.” Derek said, squeezing your shoulder. His easy grin was one you’d miss.

“And what do we have here?” Penelope asked, her bright eyes locked on the plate in your hands.

“Cookies.” You answered, holding the plate up. “I wanted to thank you all. For everything. For helping me.”

A chorus of “Aww’s” and “Yay’s” echoed through the bullpen, and you set the plate on the nearest desk as the team eagerly grabbed a treat. Your father’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, his grip, strong and steady.

“Thank you.” He said softly, his voice just for you.

you met his gaze, the tension that had once existed between you now barely a shadow. “Thank you, dad. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m sorry for how things were before. But I’m glad we’re…better now.”

His eyes softened, and he kissed the top of your head, a rare display of affection that made your chest ache in the best possible way.

As the others laughed and chatted, you scanned the room instinctively. And there he was.

Through the glass walls of an office, Spencer Reid stood, his tall frame slightly hunched as he watched you. His eyes met yours, warm and hesitant. Without thinking, you smiled. He moved towards you, his steps quick.

“Y/n.” He said

“Spencer.” The way his name left your lips felt far too easy. “How are you feeling? Are you- are you okay?” His voice was careful, but the concern was evident.

“I’m good. Really good.” You reassured him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Better than ever, actually.”

His smile mirrored yours, though his eyes lingered on you like he was still checking for any sign of pain. “That’s…that’s good. I’m happy to hear that.”

“You should grab a cookie before Morgan eats the whole plate.” You joked, tilting your head toward the group. “yeah, I probably should.” He laughed softly, but he didn’t move.

His gaze held yours, something unspoken passing between you.

“How about you? How’ve you been?” you asked, shifting slightly closer. “Oh, you know. Same old routine,” he said with a small shrug. “Books. Cases. A lot of facts no one asked for.”

You grinned. “Still no girlfriend then?”

His eyes widened, and he stammered. “Uh, no. No girlfriend.”

“Shame.” You teased. “I finally turn twenty-one tomorrow, you know. So if you’re free we can finally have that drink you denied me last time at my dorm.”

He blinked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.” You grinned. “And now you don’t have an excuse.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I’d like that a lot.”

“Good.” You lingered on the word, savoring how his cheeks turned reddened.

“I could pick you up.” He offered quickly. “If you want.”

“Perfect.” You nodded. “I live with my dad now, so just come by.”

“You moved back to Virginia?”

“Yeah, I transferred. It’s… nice being here. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I came back.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” Spencer said softly. “Maybe we can, uh, hang out more.”

You tilted your head, biting back a grin. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“Cool.” His voice cracked slightly, and the way his eyes flickered down to the floor only made him more endearing.

“Cool.” You echoed playfully, reaching for his hand. “But first, cookies!”

You tugged him gently, his hand gently squeezed yours, neither of you said anything, but the warmth lingered.

You and Jack stayed a bit longer, but the team eventually had to get back to work. With a few more laughs and lingering hugs, it was time to go.

“Well, it was nice seeing you guys,” you said, gripping Jack’s small hand. “Don’t be a stranger!” Penelope called with a wide grin.

“You’re always welcome,” Emily added. “And next time, bring cupcakes,” Rossi teased, flashing his signature smirk.

You laughed, the warmth of their affection lingering. “I will. Promise.”

After waving goodbye, you led Jack through the glass doors and out to the parking lot. Once you reached your car, you carefully buckled him into the backseat, ensuring he was comfortable.

“y/n.”

You froze, the sound of your name stirring something electric inside you. Turning, you saw Spencer walking toward you, his long strides closing the distance quickly. Before you could even process it, his hands cupped your jaw, fingers tracing the delicate lines of your face. And then, his lips were on yours.

It was sudden, desperate. His mouth moved against yours, soft and warm, but the urgency behind it set your skin on fire. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp air, and the world seemed to blur around you.

You pulled back, breathless, your wide eyes meeting his. “What was that?” you asked, though your lips still tingled from the kiss.

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer stammered, just as stunned as you were. His thumb brushed your cheek as if trying to memorize the moment. “I just felt like… I needed to do that.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

And before he could respond, you pulled him back in. This time, it wasn’t rushed. Your hands slipped around his neck, fingertips tangling in his hair as his lips met yours once more. He responded instantly, his body pressing closer, the kiss deepening. Your tongue traced along his, and a soft, quiet groan escaped him, a sound that made warmth coil low in your stomach.

You could’ve stayed like that forever. The way he held you, the way his mouth tasted like coffee and something distinctly Spencer, it all felt intoxicating.

But then you remembered, the kid you’re responsible for in the back of your car.

“Spencer,” you murmured against his lips, reluctantly pulling away. “I have to go.”

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “If you’re free tonight… I’d love to come over. Maybe we can pick up where we left off.”

His eyes darkened just slightly, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I’m free.”

“Good.”

He stepped back, but not without stealing one last lingering glance. Ever the gentleman, he opened the car door for you, waiting as you slipped inside.

“Drive safe,” he said softly, his hand still resting on the doorframe. You gave him a playful wink. “I will.”

As you pulled out of the parking lot, Jack’s voice piped up from the backseat.

“Eww.”

You caught his grin in the rearview mirror and brought a finger to your lips. “Shhh.”

He burst into laughter, and despite the embarrassment, a giddy warmth settled in your chest. . .

hope you guys love this, it took so long to write but I’m glad it’s finally finished! Lmk your thoughts<3

Thank you to everyone who reposts, and leave kind messages, you guys are the reason I continue writing! I appreciate it so much!

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@alastorssimp @sleepysongbirdsings

It wasn’t on purpose.

When he was young, he was so deadset on becoming a surgeon that everything else became an afterthought. He maintained relationships here and there (he wasn’t a saint) but by the time he was an attending none of his girlfriends managed to keep up with his relentless schedule, demanding workload, and emotionally reserved nature.

Truly, he doesn't blame them. He wasn't exactly carving out the time for them either --- too focused on being the best and too single-minded in his career to put any relationship as a priority.

Long story short – good surgeon, bad boyfriend.

And then he woke up and he was 40 years old with a very pissed off mother.

When he reluctantly asked his friends about it, the warnings were immediate and repetitive.

Dating in the modern century is different now. The women are different. Difficult.

Too demanding. Too clingy. Too much.

By the time Yolanda sidelined him quietly with a proposition, he was already dreading the worst and preparing himself to disappoint his mother for the first time in his life.

You were a welcome (gorgeous) surprise.

Yolanda’s friend of a friend of a friend that she set him up with. Something about a ‘sweetie-pie that could just soften you up, big guy’.

What she failed to mention was the noticeable difference in years between the two of you.

He was never one to go for someone young just to compensate for a void in his life or make himself feel better about getting older. Even though he saw the appeal, it was never a requirement. If you had asked him before the date, he would’ve thought dating someone younger was more trouble than it was worth.

But watching you beam as he waits for you by the door of the café he had reserved a table for today’s date, holding a fresh pink bouquet of flowers just because Yolanda mentioned that it was your favorite, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was too confident with that assumption.

“Flowers on the first date? You’re winning me over already.”

He couldn’t help but frown in confusion, remembering a coworker's quip about not coming on too strong. Already feeling an unfamiliar feeling of minuscule panic creeping up his throat. “Is it too much?”

Your eyes widened, head shaking, “No! No, they're beautiful. It’s just – men don’t really – it’s less of a thing now.”

He hums, deciding that that was stupid. Especially when he saw just how beautiful the flowers looked when you held them --- like they belonged in your arms. He opens the door for you. “That’s a shame.”

You laugh, head back and so carefree. It warms something in his belly. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

The two of you continued a casual conversation as you lined up for your orders, an official introduction of sorts. Thankfully, it wasn’t as awkward as he dreaded, your cheerful disposition perfectly counteracted his restrained one.

He couldn’t help but notice you intimately checking out the pastries bar but not ordering any when you got to the counter. Thankfully, he was quick enough to take note of those that caught your eyes for longer than half a second, ordering it along with his drink and swiping his card for both of your orders.

As he pulled back a chair, he noticed the few seconds of shock on your face before you sat. A small touch on his bicep and a bashful ‘thank you’ had him concluding that this was also no longer ‘a thing’ in this generation.

If he were honest, he'd admit he was dreading this. It's been a while since his last proper date. He wasn't sure if he could muster up enough topics to keep the conversation going or accidentally say something rude or stupid that would turn this date into a humiliation ritual.

But you were pleasant company and a surprisingly great conversationalist. Picking up where he was prone to awkward silences. You carried the conversation with an ease that he admired. To his surprise, the conversation shifted from one topic to another, and by the end of the night, you somehow even managed to get him actually interested in the New York sports team you were dedicated to. A sport he had never given a thought to his entire life.

“You live in Pittsburgh.”

“So?” you giggle at his obvious accusation.

“Now, that’s just treason.”

That got an adorably loud laugh out of you that embarrassingly puffs out his chest – he knew he wasn’t exactly the funny type so to have you genuinely throwing your head back at his banter felt good.

Three drinks, 6 pastries, and too much caffeine later, he realized it had already turned dark outside and your friend (probably Yolanda wanting all the details) was already texting you incessantly about dinner.

“So, how much do I owe you?”

He looks down at you in confusion as he helps you put your jacket on.

“For what?”

A respectful palm gently leads you by the curve of your back and into his car, which was parked just a few feet from the café.

“Lunch.”

He shuts the door, still confused even as he pulls out of the curb.

“I asked you out, it’s on me.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask me out. We were set up.”

He rolls his eyes at that, huffing out a laugh. Cheeky brat.

“I’m the man. I pay for dinner.”

“That’s very old-fashioned of you, Brendon.”

“Well, I am 15 years your senior, baby." It doesn’t escape him how you press your legs together at that statement. Interesting. “I get to be old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

You turn your body fully toward him, blessing him with a shy, sweet smile.

“Old-fashioned enough to not to kiss on the first date?”

He takes a deep breath, pressing on the gas.

“Old-fashioned enough to ask first."

‘Busy morning and tied up in surgery this afternoon. I’ve got about 30 minutes for a call at 11:30 if you're free?’

‘Sounds perfect. Can’t wait <3”

“👍”

“What’s this?”

You flip the thick piece of paper back and forth as if the words were written in hieroglyphics.

He watches you register what he had just done.

“Tickets. For the Knicks game this weekend.”

You stare at him as if he just popped out a second head so he sighs and continues. “You said you loved them on our first date.”

“Brendon.”

“It’s the Eastern Conference Finals.”

“Brendon.”

“What?”

“It’s in New York.”

He cocks his head at another pair of tickets sitting on his coffee table.

“Those are our plane tickets.”

“You bought plane tickets?!”

“Can’t exactly walk there, sweetheart.”

“You bought Knicks tickets, plane tickets, and planned an entire trip without telling me?”

“Well, such is the nature of a surprise.”

You actually let out a snort of laughter before jumping into his lap on the couch pressing kisses and ‘thank you’s’ on whatever skin you could reach. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You haven’t even heard of the restaurant reservation yet.”

Or the fact that he somehow tracked down a friend of a friend of a friend who is somehow dating someone working game day operations just to make sure the kiss cam landed on the two of you during half-time.

And they said he wasn’t a romantic.

It took Park 3 months in your relationship to realize … you have never truly slept over his place.

When you mentioned on your second date that you were a virgin and that you planned to wait until marriage, he was – for the sake of honesty – taken aback.

Not that there was anything wrong with it and you had bashfully admitted that you were willing to do some 'other stuff' as long as you didn’t go 'all the way'. Something about a vow with the women in your family that the only man who should be able to touch you is the one who is willing to commit.

It makes sense, in theory. But they never took into consideration that the man who plans to worship the ground you walk on is a stressed-out orthopedic surgeon in a trauma center whose only source of relaxation is in between your thighs.

So, yeah. He was a bit taken aback. And frustrated.

But he respected it.

(He was too far gone for you to let this minor complication stand in his way.)

Sucked it up like a man, met your parents, swore to them that this relationship would end in marriage once you were ready, and now added meditation to his workout routine so he wouldn’t pop a boner every time you lounged around his place in just his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

He asks from the en-suite bathroom’s door, finally ready for bed after a long day of bullshit in the hospital only to find his girlfriend quietly trying to book a taxi from his bed.

“Oh! I figured you’d be too tired to drive me back home so I was just going to book a car.”

He frowns in confusion. Quickly walking to where you were lounging in his bed to grab your phone and cancel it.

“Wha – hey!”

“I think we’re past asking permission to stay over.”

You open your mouth to protest before hesitating, choosing instead to crawl to the edge of the bed so you can sit by where he was standing. The fresh smell of his soap, body wash, and clean skin lights your skin on fire.

“I don’t have my skincare stuff in here,” you weakly protested.

He hummed, hands petting the back of your head.“Let’s go buy it tomorrow after brunch. It’s my day off.”

You beamed, gasping in glee. “Really?”

"Really." He can’t help but chuckle at your delight – so pleased with a couple hundred dollars of products. Seems he wasn’t doing quite a good enough job spoiling you, he plans to change that starting tomorrow. “Anything else I should know before our first official sleepover?”

You rubbed your cheeks into his hands like a cat before shyly nodding.

“I know you’re having a hard time with the … abstinence thing,” you pout your lips up at him, your chin digging firmly on his navel which definitely didn’t help.

He clears his throat, taking a beat to look up at the ceiling and collect himself before letting his hands cup your cheeks, “I’m a grown man, babydoll. I can handle sleeping next to my woman without pouncing on her.”

“I trust you, Bren,” you insist earnestly. “But it doesn’t mean I want to frustrate you any more than I already do.”

“Hey, where is this coming from? I’ll behave,” he pokes the tip of your nose to lighten your mood but you only bit your bottom lip in even more hesitation. “Or is there another reason?”

He wouldn’t want to push you if you were truly uncomfortable.

“The thing is,” you groan, cupping the hands holding your face. “I can only sleep naked.”

If he had to go back to the bathroom for five minutes to listen to the calming meditation exercise his therapist recommended to him, it would be something the two of you agreed to take to the grave.

“Alright, my eyes are closed, babydoll.”

He prepared as best as he could.

Lights are off, sleep mask on.

Now he just needs to not think about his girlfriend sleeping naked beside him for the entire night. His adorable, sweet, angel of a woman who is not wearing a stitch of clothing on her bo –

“Thanks for doing this, baby.”

He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels you press a kiss to his cheeks.

He grips the comforter so tight he swears his nails ripped through it. “Warn a man next time.”

Your giggle disappears under the duvet. He makes it a point to put a pillow between the two of you – for your sake and mostly his.

It’ll be fine. Everything will be –

-- fucked! He is so fucking fucked.

The nudity wasn’t the challenge – difficult, yes but manageable with the proper monk-like focus. What you have failed to disclose was that you slept like a possessed octopus. Something he himself only found out when he felt your entire body weight on top of him at 2:47 in the morning.

Once he felt the swell of your chest on his ribs his entire body instinctively flinched so quickly, he almost developed a cramp.

“S-Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to see if he could jog you out of your sleep gently to save him from the suffering of having to push you back.

To his horror, you just whined, grabbing even more tightly to his biceps as you dragged your body up the length of his so you could push your face in the juncture of his neck.

The contrast of the warmth of your skin on his, the small puffs of air a siren’s call on his ear, and the plump of your lips grazing his neck as you sleepily mumble mindless nothings was torture to his already frazzled sense of self-control.

He grips his bedsheet tightly, knowing his willpower would snap if his hands ever got ahold of you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“’luv yu’, Bren.”

He sucks in a breath. What the – did you just say – “Babydoll?”

“So nice to me,” you whimper the words on his neck. “Love you so much.”

That felt like a jagged knife of guilt to his heart.

The shame and responsibility you felt for what he could only believe other lovers saw as a drawback or a burden. It must’ve been a heavy weight to carry for his sweet girl.

He swears you won’t have to carry it anymore as long as he is here.

He holds his breath for 10 seconds and lets it out for 5. He thinks about surgical risks, antibiotics, anesthesia regulation, and proper post-op instruction. Thinks about Gloria on his neck, the pressure to live up to their expectation as the upcoming Chief of Surgery. He thinks about Robinavitch’s jealousy even though the both of them knew the pressure Brendon was in would eventually fling the ER attending from the roof he so often escaped to.

Anything and everything to keep his mind clear and disciplined as he refuses to be another weak man who resents your boundaries.

With a deep breath he finally gathers you in his arms, curling around you until his body threatens to swallow you whole.

Saying instead the words that always seemed to get stuck between his heart and his tongue whenever you looked at him. Reminding himself to repeat it tomorrow before you could say it first.

He’s an old-fashioned man, after all.

“I love you, babydoll.”

'Going to the gym but i'm gonna be busy all day. Text me '911' if it's an emergency and my assistant will track me down.'

'Go it. I'm planning to cook you steak for dinner tonight, can I use your kitchen?'

'DON'T SEND ME MONEY. It's my treat.'

'I know your fingers are hovering Brendon Park. Don't!'

'Fine'

'Fine <3'

'Check your jewelry box. I slipped a spare key to my place there.'

'Okay <3'

'Wait what.'

“Hi, babyyyy,” you jump into his arms as he drops his work bag unceremoniously on the floor.

Your text that said you were going to spend your day off going to the grocery store and preparing him a steak dinner genuinely was the only thing that pushed him through a long day of surgeries and consultations.

He lets you rope him into a kiss, sitting the two of you down on his couch as you continue to map out his face with your mouth.

“Missed you so much,” you mutter in between kisses. He smiles at your earnest confession. “Say you missed me too.”

You press a finger on his chest, and he glances down at it as if unconvinced. You squawk in offense and try to get off his lap but not before getting caught in his arms and flipped into the couch.

“You’re all I ever thought about all day, sweetheart.”

You hum, running your hand on his hair. “That’s a dangerous habit, doctor.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a professional.”

With one last deep kiss he lets you out of his arms and back into the kitchen. He prepares to stand up and set the table but you pressed a hand into his chest with an explicit instruction to go shower and relax.

“It’ll be ready when you’re out.”

By the time he was done, you were already getting the wine out of the chiller. “Oh, by the way, some important-looking envelope from your bank arrived.”

You point a finger at the side table by the door. He opens it, his eyes moving carefully with each line.

“Babydoll?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me your landlord’s bank details?”

A pause, he turns back to see you staring at him in bewilderment.

“Uh, what for?”

He drops the letter on the coffee table before walking towards you. “I need it to set up an auto-pay in my account.”

You blink up at him as he casually presses a kiss on your lips before sitting at his seat beside yours.

“Are you … moving?” You ask even though you had to admit how incredulous it was. Why would he switch his immaculate penthouse to your subpar building? Is he buying the building then?

“No, for your apartment, honey,” he continues patiently, taking your hand.

Your eyes widened, finally getting what he is implying. “What?! Why – you don’t have to do that! I-I know I complain a lot but I’m fine really!”

He presses a kiss on the back of your hand. “I know, sweetie. But I’m planning on moving you with me by the end of the year, and I want that transition to be as smooth as possible for you.”

Your mouth opens and closes in shock as he drops two bombs on you at once.

“Are … are you asking me to move in with you?”

He slices a piece of his steak before feeding it to you.

“By the end of the year,” he reiterates casually. “At least that’s the deadline I gave my realtor.”

You audibly swallow the barely chewed steak, pushing it down with large gulps of wine.

“I … I don’t want to make it seem like I-I’m a gold digger or something.”

His face hardens at that. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious. People talk.”

“Let them talk,” the reprimand was there but it was gentle. “I know why you’re here.”

That softens you.

“Because I’m funny and a good lay.”

You almost snorted your wine into your nose and he finally smiles hearing you laugh. He raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘see?’.

“Brendon –”

“Hey,” he takes your hand, pulling you closer and letting the chair screech in protest. “You’re allowed to like the things I do for you. I work hard, I make good money. And I’d rather spend it making you happy than letting it sit there in the bank.”

He holds your hesitant eyes, only letting a victorious smile appear on his face when you let out a resigned sigh.

You stand up and he automatically pushes his chair back so you can sit in his lap.

“Okay. Thank you. I love you and I will move in with you by the end of the year even though you technically didn't ask.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispers on your lips. “Also, that was your new credit card in the envelope.”

It was an early morning. They had a long drive ahead of them to their first extended family function of Y/n’s. Jack buttoned up his polo shirt and did that little head tilt he did when he wanted clarification on something. His upper lip curled. 

“Whose baby shower are we going to again? 

She chuckled as she pulled up the straps on her little blue spring dress. Ornate flowers ran up and down the fabric. She had researched what to wear to a baby shower and figured this was nice enough without overshadowing the mother-to-be.

“My cousin Sandra, remember?”

His brows furrowed, “Are we… close to this cousin?”

She blushed at that. ‘We’. ‘We’ as in her family was his, and his was hers. Granted, he didn’t have much family left these days. But she appreciated him including himself. They had been dating for a little over a year now, and while he had met her parents, he hadn’t met any of her extended family. 

“Not really, but I still wanna support her. Can you zip up my dress, dear?” 

He chuckled a little to himself as he strutted over. His fingers hung on the zipper for a moment.

“I much prefer to zip it down.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, smart ass. We don’t have the time for that.”

“You’re underestimating how quick I can be.” He murmured but obediently zipped her up. He patted her hips, looking up at their reflection in the mirror that hung on her closet. “You look beautiful.”

Her face fully reddened, and she shook her head gently, “You’re crazy.” 

His face contorted as if she had just said something so incredibly offensive. His hands glided from her hips to across her stomach, so she was more in a bear hug as he leaned his head against her shoulder.

“I’m not at all. I’m saying the truth.”

She gave him a pity chuckle and looked down at the floor. He turned to look at her now, not in the reflection. And his real-life gaze was much more intense. 

“Hey… what’s got my pretty girl all like this?”

With a little scoff, she waved it off, trying to seem nonchalant.

“I’m fine. It’s just my cousins will all be there, and they’re… literally models. I mean it. Like one of them is as a profession. And they always bring their boyfriends, so this is the first year that I’m…”

“Bringing someone.” He slowly nodded. “Is there anything I should know, baby?”

She shook her head, “Just that they may be a bit judgy because of the… you know…” she put her face in her hands, worried to admit this.

“The age gap.” He chuckled, “Baby, I already expected this. And when it comes to your cousins being models, who cares? You’re so beautiful. Comparing apples to oranges.”

He planted a kiss on the crook of her neck and squeezed her hips reassuringly. 

Walking up to the little blue house, Jack held the big gift bag, which carried a quilted play mat, and he held her shaky hand with his free one. The door was wide open, so they peeked their heads inside. The sound of chattering and laughter drifted from the backyard. Inside was covered in lacy, frilly decor. It looked as though the baby section of the department store had exploded. With blue bears everywhere, it was safe to say that it was going to be a boy.

At the sound of Jack shutting the door, Sandra walked through the kitchen holding her swollen stomach. Her eyes lit up. 

“Y/N! My goodness, it’s been ages. You look fantastic!”

“I can say the same to you! Congratulations.”

Jack held up the present, “Where can I put this?”

Sandra’s attention drifted, and her mouth stayed ajar as she processed for a moment. She suddenly seemed to remember that it was rude to stare at the handsome older man in front of her. 

“Oh- just on the dining table.” She made up for it with a smile. 

Jack nodded with an awkward no-teeth smile and shifted through the entryway to place the gift on the table overflowing with tissue-papered presents. Sandra watched him, then looked over to her with wide eyes. She mouthed a quick ‘wow’ before going,

“Is this your…?” 

She smiled proudly as Jack started making his way back over. “Boyfriend. Yes. This is my boyfriend, Dr. Jack Abbot.”

He chuckled and scratched his neck as he reunited with her side. 

“Quick braggin, sweetheart.” He put his hand out to Sandra, “Hi. Congratulations.”

Her cousin shook it and looked between the two.

“A doctor! Wow, Jesus. Grandma’s gonna love him, huh?”

And in that moment, she realized that this wasn’t going to be bad at all. This was actually going to be so completely and utterly perfect. For the first time in her entire life, she was going to prove that she was just as beautiful and capable of having a perfect boyfriend as her cousins and relatives. 

After some awkward introductions, Jack felt stiffer than usual. He tried his usual charisma, and it worked for the most part. Her grandma certainly was all over him. But there were a few weirded-out glares and stiff conversations from her older cousins and relatives. They all certainly fit her description. They had a ‘better than you’ air around them that would suffocate Y/n’s welcome until he showed up behind her like a guard dog. Then it would completely dissipate when he’d introduce himself and tell them he was a doctor. They were then left with an overall feeling of suspicious approval. 

As he sipped a beer, he sat with some of her uncles who were closer in his age range, though still older than him. He managed to win them over a little more by discussing his military service. Though he refused to reveal his leg. It wasn’t that he felt embarrassed by it. But the attention was already heavily on him, and he’d rather not take any more of it. Though as they sat in the heat, he was starting to regret the choice of khaki pants. 

The other men talked about the football season starting up in September, and Jack didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation. So instead of trying to pretend he cared, he let his eyes drift over to his girl sitting on a patio chair. She had been dragged by her youngest cousins to go play with them across the yard. He watched as she held a one-year-old girl in her lap while talking to a little boy who couldn’t be more than nine. She was a clear favorite, considering the kids didn’t seem to bother any of her other cousins, who were much too busy with their own boyfriends. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled and laughed at the boy describing a scribbled drawing to her, the construction paper crinkled. It was as if she was genuinely interested in whatever nonsense he was probably spouting. 

His heart clenched. It had to be the baby shower theme. It had to be the decorations and the ultrasound pictures and the constant talk from the women in her family. But seeing her with the kids was making him feel something dangerous. He knew he couldn’t have kids. Not at 50. But Jesus, did the sight of her brushing that little girl's hair through her fingers make him want to change his mind. 

Suddenly, she pointed at him, clearly distinguishing him to the kids in front of her. They were talking about him. He broke out of his thoughts and pointed to himself with raised brows. She laughed and waved him over to the other side. Part of him felt guilty for not excusing himself, but he wasn’t about to ignore this for some stupid talk about ESPN hosts. 

He walked over and crossed his arms with a playful arch of his brow. 

“My ears were burning. Now who’s talking about me?”

The little boy grinned and pointed to Y/n. “She was!”

She gasped, “Jax! You asked who he was. You can’t throw me under the bus.”

“Well, who am I then, Jaxon?” Jack asked lightly

He shrugged and knelt down by the patio table. He put his paper down and returned to a set of sprawled-out crayons.  

“An old guy.” He said innocently

Ouch. 

She lightly smacked Jaxon’s shoulder, “Hey. Be nice.”

The kid smirked, and the little girl on her lap gurgled a laugh. Suddenly, another little girl appeared. She had been slowly making her way over, wringing her hands in her dress. It was clear she wanted to be with her cousin, but was also hesitant about the older man there. Y/n waved her over. 

“Hi, Janie.” She said in a much softer voice. A much different voice than she had with Jaxon.

“Hi.” 

“Let me do introductions.” She said, looking between everyone, “This is Jaxon, Janie, and their little sister Judy.” 

Jack smiled, “A lot of J names around her.” 

Janie nodded and looked down at the floor. Jack decided the best course of action was to squat down and sit by the patio table as well. Though his good knee let out a slight crack as he did so. Janie looked at him, suspicious, but didn’t run away.

“Well… It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m Jack.”

Jaxon looked up from his paper with wide eyes, “YOU HAVE A J NAME TOO.”

“That’s right.” He nodded and snuck a look at the Transformer that the boy was drawing, “Look, I’m new here. So how about we make a J name pact?”

Jaxon’s face contorted, “What’s a pact?”

Y/n chuckled as she grabbed a small bowl of Cheerios to let Janie snack on in her lap. 

“A pact is like a promise.” 

Jack nodded, “Like a promise. That us J names have each other’s backs, alright? I need some protection. People watching my six.” He pointed to Janie, “You included. I need all the help I can get.”

Janie giggled at the idea of her protecting him. “I can’t help. I’m too little.”

“Sure, you can. You’re the toughest person here.” 

The kids giggled, and Y/n smiled at the interaction. She didn’t know Jack was so good with kids. She knew he dealt with them at work time to time, but she had never witnessed him in action. And he was somehow charming her little cousins, who usually didn’t trust too easily. 

Judy cooed and reached her hands out, and Jack gave her a little side eye. 

“She’s a close second.”

Soon, the kids were all over him. He hadn’t realized that his girlfriend was basically the glorified babysitter at these events until now. Jaxon was clinging to his good leg (thankfully). And Janie was bossing them around on how to play this game, which Jack was having a hard time telling what the exact rules were. 

Y/n sat busied with doting on little Judy. She watched Jack with a heart so full, knowing Jack was probably being drained a bit by the kids. Though he was doing the exact same to them, and their mothers would be thankful once they were napping on the car ride home. 

Her aunt called the kids to eat some real food, and they begrudgingly started to calm down. Jack ruffled Jax’s head.

“Go eat. You need protein to beat the lava monster.” 

With that totally sound logic, the kids practically booked it to grab a plate from their mom. And Jack limped back to his girl and sat next to her, Judy still in her lap. He winced and rubbed at the back of his prosthetic knee where skin met silicone. 

She reached over and rubbed his shoulder, “Your leg bothering you?”

He shook his head in a ‘so-so’ manner, not wanting to worry her. 

“It’s just sweaty, and when it sweats, it starts to chafe.” He grimaced a bit. “Just need to sit down for a bit.”

She laughed at that, “I’m sorry. My cousins are like that once they’re comfortable with someone… Or once they find a target that’ll play with them.”

Jack shook his head and looked down at Judy, who was biting her fist. He gently reached over and pinched the little rolls of her doughy arms. 

“Don’t apologize. They’re great.” He looked down and made an overly excited face at Judy, making the baby squeal with laughter. Oh, that sound was like the bells of heaven ringing. “You’re great, huh?”

She bounced the baby on her knee, making her laugh more. “You wanna hold her?”

He didn’t drop his face, keeping it happy looking to entertain Judy, “Only if she wants to.” 

Well, in convenient timing, the baby reached out and made grabby hands at Jack. 

“I think she wants to.” She smiled and handed Jack the baby.

He made a little groan as he wrapped his hands around her tummy and quickly positioned the almost toddler onto his lap. Judy clapped her hands and looked around for approval. Y/n quickly started clapping and letting out a little ‘Yay!’

The baby let out a huff, and Jack looked down at her. 

“Yeah. Long day, huh?” 

That made the both of them laugh. Jack casually squeezed her little doughy arms and reached over to grab the small bowl of puff snacks on the table. He handed it to her, and Judy shrieked excitedly. Jack smiled, proud of himself for making his girlfriend’s little cousins happy. 

“This is so so dangerous, sweetheart.” He murmured.

She smirked a little knowingly, “How so?”

“We’re too good at this.” He shook his head with a nervous smile, “Makes me think of things.”

Her eyes widened despite having put two and two together. The idea of kids was something they didn’t talk about much, but the general idea was that he was too old, and she liked her independence. She had always been that way. She liked being able to put herself first, and if she became a mother…she could never be selfish ever again. But the idea of kids with HIM? With Jack Abbot? For some reason, that was a lot more attractive. And more than attractive… it felt doable. 

She shook off the thought and smiled with a blushing face. 

“Yeah… Me too.” She admitted, watching Judy shove little star puffs into her mouth. “How about we revisit this when we’re…” She looked around at all the baby shower decorations. The little clothes and footie pajamas hanging around. The ultrasound pictures. The cutesy stuffed animals. “... more immune to propaganda.”

Jack chuckled, looking around himself. “I completely agree.”

A little later into the evening, it was getting close to leaving time, and all the adults sat at a long picnic table outside. The heat at least seemed to be settling down as the high noon sun set a little more. She and Jack had played a few of the baby shower games. Watched Sandra open presents with her beau. And did their best to get some time away from the little cousins. 

One of her cousins squeezed her boyfriend’s hand, directing her half-lidded eyes to Y/n. “So… how did you meet Jack?” 

She smiled, unfazed, “Our mutual friend, Dana, set us up.”

Jack scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah. Basically, a blind date, and I nearly passed out because Dana had failed to mention how freaking gorgeous you are.”

“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, taking a sip of her drink.

“It’s true!” 

Her aunt piped up and pointed between the two of them, “And you two aren’t bothered by the… well, by the age gap? I feel like I’d have nothing in common with someone like that.”

It was a bit of a sting, but the two of them were used to it. 

She shrugged. 

“We’re not really bothered. And it’s not like I’ve ever been overly trendy or anything. Honestly, I haven’t seen a big difference other than he’s more mature than any man my age.” At that, her older cousins looked at each other. It wasn’t meant to be a dig, but if the shoe fits. 

Her aunt let out a little, “Huh,” and leaned back in her chair. 

Suddenly, her grandma tapped the table, “Well, that just means you gotta get started on the grandbabies right away!”

Both her and Jack choked on their drinks.

“GRANDMA!” She laughed in shock as the rest of the table died in laughter, “Look, we’re not even married yet. Let that wait for just a bit more, okay?”

Under the table, she felt Jack reach down and squeeze her thigh. His grip a mix of fabric and skin. She flushed and bit her lip through her smile, trying to seem totally cool. Jack had been getting on her about getting married for the past month, so she knew she was in for the best kind of trouble when she got home. 

Sandra rubbed her stomach, “Well, I wish you guys luck with everything. I’m sure whatever you decide will be best. Clearly, you’ve brought home a big catch.”

The table laughed again, and Jack raised his hands, waving them off.

“No, no… If anything, I’m the lucky one. Every day I wake up, and I can’t believe that a woman like your Y/n is with a guy like me.” 

At that, all the girls swooned. The cousins. The aunts. They were all definitely won over by the handsome Dr. Jack Abbot. And she felt so completely satisfied. 

“Thank you. You’re crazy, baby.” She chuckled and leaned over to give him a quick peck. 

The kids watching from the end of the table let out a ‘EWWWWW’ and she shook her head with a laugh. Jack pointed to them.

“Hey, the J Name Pact. Remember?”

Baran hears the ping of two text messages from the end table, but it isn’t your text tone, so she ignores it. It’s a Thursday night, and she’s curled up on the couch with a blanket and a memoir she’s been meaning to read for a while, a mug of tea close by. 

The house is emptier than usual. Baran’s son is with his dad for the weekend, and you’re at a bar with Shen and Ellis. The three of you try to go out semi-regularly. First it was to blow off steam with fellow “night crawlers” — a name Baran found distasteful but liked the way you said it low in her ear. But then Shen and Ellis started dropping by for dinner, and Baran was grabbing lunch with Shen without you, and before any of you realized it you’d all become friends. 

Still, going out is more your thing, and Baran rarely drinks, so she gave you a lingering kiss goodbye and told you to be safe and have fun. 

Your text tone sounds in the quiet living room, and Baran sets down her book, reaching over to grab her phone. You usually send her a selfie or two when she’s not out with you, something Baran always looks forward to. Reading the texts on her lock screen, however, draws a frown. 

9:24 pm

John Shen: I fucked up 

9:25 pm

John Shen: It’s probably fine 

9:28 pm

Azizam: do you still love me? 

Worry and irritation well in Baran in equal measures. She taps the call button, feeling you probably need to hear the answer in your ear and not from a screen. 

9:29 pm

Outgoing call: Azizam

Call declined.

Baran’s worry grows, and her fingers fly. As an emergency medicine doctor, she’s adept at remaining measured and logical in almost any situation, but when it comes to you or her son, something much more urgent and primal fights for dominance. 

9:29 pm

You: You know I love and adore you very much.

You: Is everything OK? 

9:30 pm

Azizam: can’t talk they’re playing party in the usa 

9:30 pm

You: And that’s more important than finding out if I still love you?

9:31 pm

Azizam: needed to hype myself up in case 

This does not ease Baran’s worry. She knows you know, on some level, this is silly. If Baran were ever going to say something so devastating — and she had no plans to — she wouldn’t do it over text while you’re at a bar. But you are in your head enough to type it out and send it, which twists in Baran’s gut. 

9:31 pm

You: Please call me when your song is over, so you can hear me say it. 

Azizam reacted with: ❤️ 

Baran opens her thread with Shen, her irritation now simmering into something resembling a rubber band pulled taut right at his head. 

9:31 pm

You: Are you the reason my girlfriend is asking me whether I still love her?

9:33 pm

John Shen: Shit

9:34 pm

Incoming call: Azizam

“Am I being needy?” are your first words to her, nearly shouted over the club music blasting through the earpiece. 

Baran takes the phone an inch away from her ear, blinking, a weary hum catching in her throat. She’s not a fan. And neither are you — too chaotic and overstimulating. Probably Shen’s choice in venue tonight. 

There have been times that Baran’s had to keep a steady, grounding hand on the nape of your neck and another on your knee to keep it from bouncing. You’re a good sport — always wanting to be supportive of Shen’s favorite spots, a quality she loves about you — but there are nights the two of you just go home. And in the quiet car, you hide your overwhelmed and embarrassed tears in the window as Baran rubs the top of your thigh. 

It’s something you perceive as a contradiction to how cool and collected you are as an emergency medicine doctor. Baran recognizes it as rooted in control because she too needs it in certain ways to feel safe. You’re a skilled physician — you expect all possible scenarios, and you’re prepared for each one. You know how to mentor because you know how residents work, what they need, how they learn. It’s all planned and logical and built from years of experience and practice. Outside of work, things are more unpredictable. And loud crowds are one of your more sensitive spots. You’re ashamed of it, but Baran has never once made you feel that way. 

You sound anxious and unsure on the phone. Baran takes a breath and settles deeper into the couch. She wishes she were there with you. 

“Honey, where is this coming from?” she asks softly, carefully. 

“That’s not a no.” 

Baran presses her lips together. We’re not doing logic tonight, she sees. 

“Asking me one time if I love you does not make you needy. But it does make me worry,” she says with so much love and gentleness. It seems to break through to you. 

“I’m just anxiety spiraling,” you groan, the sounds of the club getting a degree quieter. Baran frowns and circles her fingers soothingly around her forearm, imagining it’s yours. 

“Walk me through it.” 

Talking through your thought process doesn’t always make you see a situation more clearly, but it’s the best Baran can do so far away. 

“It’s stupid. This club is too loud. It’s crowded, and I’m hot, and I’m, like, trying not to make the walls close in by taking shots. And I just…is me being on nights hurting us? Are we okay? I feel like you’ve been distant lately, and —”

“Azizam, pause. Take a breath,” Baran cuts you off, firm but tender. It’s exactly what she suspected was happening, minus taking shots to quell a panic attack, which is something she’ll address in more depth with you later. “If I weren’t happy with any aspect of our relationship, I would tell you. You’ve never had to guess how I’m feeling. That’s still true.” 

Baran pauses, listening, but you’re quiet, and she thinks there may be something hot clawing up your throat. So she just breathes evenly on the phone with you, and when she thinks you’re okay, she speaks. 

“I love you. More than words.” 

“I love you,” you sigh, the tension gone from your voice. There’s her girl. A small smile tugs at Baran, and she’s itching to hug you and kiss your skin where your neck meets your shoulder.  

“Are you satisfied?” she teases lightly. 

“Can you say it again?” 

Baran smiles lazily, chewing her lip. She likes when you ask for what you need. 

“Kheyli dooset daram. I love you very much. With all my heart.” 

“Mmm. Okay, I’m satisfied,” you hum happily, and Baran’s heart swells. 

“Enjoy the rest of your night, drink water, call me if you need me, and come home to me soon.” 

“I love you so much.” 

When you end the call, Baran takes a deep breath and opens her texts with Shen. 

9:41 pm

You: What the fuck did you say to her? 

9:43 pm

John Shen: She was saying how she wants to feel closer to you since you’re on opposite shifts, and I told her not to stress it. Everyone goes through rough patches

9:44 pm

You: Are you kidding me?

You: What would possess you to say that? 

Especially in a place already known to make you anxious, Baran thinks. 

9:45 pm

John Shen: Like I said, I fucked up

John Shen: I wanted her off the trail! 

John Shen: 💍💍💍

Baran laughs humorlessly, shaking her head as she types, a scoff under her breath. 

9:45 pm

You: ???

You: She wasn’t ON the trail.

9:55 pm

John Shen: I thought you were planning something or whatever??

9:56 pm

You: Yes, and I would prefer she not think I’m breaking up with her when it happens. 

Baran told Shen she’s planning to propose specifically so that he could tell her if you started to suspect — not for him to actively make you think Baran is harboring ill will toward you. Most of your shifts were together, so he saw you more than most. He would have a fairly accurate read on your mindset.

You and Baran have talked about your future together several times, and you’re both on the same page. A proposal wouldn’t be unexpected, but Baran wanted it to be a surprise. She didn’t want you coming home one day already knowing. None of this, of course, stops Baran from being terrified you’ll say no. She loves you so much it hurts sometimes, and she cannot imagine doing the rest of this life without you. And asking you to marry her puts that all on the line.

Baran takes a breath and tosses her phone to the other side of the couch. She tries to focus back on her book with little success and wonders if she should get Ellis involved to run interference on Shen. No, that would be an even worse idea. 

Her phone pings, and she grabs it. 

10:02 pm

John Shen: Well, she seems fine now

Baran rolls her eyes and stands up. She needs a long, steamy shower. 

10:35 pm

Azizam: parker is being disgusting

Azizam: she knows i’m yearning and she’s being cruel by making out with someone right in front of me

Baran sees the text when she’s doing her skincare routine and chuckles, the mirror still fogged up. She finishes rubbing lotion into her leg before replying.  

10:42 pm

You: I highly doubt it’s malicious, my love. 

You: You’re yearning?

You get cute when you’re drunk, clingy and sweet. A little too loud, a little chaotic, but you always come back to Baran and give her the softest, most pathetic eyes as your hand slides places it shouldn’t be in public and you kiss her cheek and her ear until Baran shivers and pulls you reluctantly away.

Your next text comes through as Baran settles on top of the covers, resolved to stay up a while longer and wait for you. She doesn’t always, but you’re dipping into a neediness Baran can never resist. 

10:47 pm

Azizam: can you send me a pic of your lips? 

10:47 pm

You: No?

10:47 pm

Azizam: pretty pretty please, sweetie

10:48 pm

You: You have many, many pictures of me on your phone. 

10:49 pm

Azizam: i want your lips

Azizam: i want to kiss you

Baran’s stomach flips, and when it settles, there’s heat swirling low in her core. She licks her lips, sitting up in bed. 

10:49 pm

Outgoing Facetime: Azizam

As soon as the call connects, Baran sees your flushed, grinning cheeks as they come closer to the screen. You give it several exaggerated, smacking kisses before pulling your phone back a respectable distance. Baran hums, a lovesick smile on her face, eyes hooded. 

“You know, you can come home and kiss me yourself,” she says, lolling her head to the side as she watches you. 

“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration. 

“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.

“Am not. Still true, though.” There’s a slight slide to your words that you clearly don’t hear. You frown. “Did you shower without me?” 

Baran’s hair is damp, and her skin is glowing with various oils and creams that you always tell her smell wonderful right before you dip your nose into the skin behind her ear, lips skating. And the only thing Baran can think about is how she wants you in her arms. 

“It’s almost 11 pm, azizam. Yes, I showered without you.” 

“Baby, no!” You look urgently devastated, a dramatic groan leaving your lips, petulant in a way you only are when you’re disinhibited. Like when you match her son’s early morning grumbles over a healthy breakfast instead of pancakes, Baran shouldn’t, but she finds it endearing.

You love showering with Baran — for more than just the obvious reasons. There’s something reverent in the way you often insist on taking a soapy washcloth to Baran’s body, trailing over her curves as you pull her close and leave delicate kisses to her shoulder. Or, you just watch her with the most loving, steady eyes. And when she lets you wash her hair, you dig expert fingers into her scalp, and she always leans back into you, humming contentedly. You don’t even have to touch her, and Baran has never felt more worshipped than when she’s naked with you. 

Before Baran can tell you she’ll shower again if it’ll wipe away that sad puppy dog look, Ellis is sliding up next to you. 

“You are bringing down the energy in this whole fucking club,” she accuses playfully, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing. “B, no offense, but your girlfriend is kind of codependent and sappy when she’s drunk.” 

“I am not drunk!” you insist, looking at Ellis, who raises her brow and glances between you and Baran as if looking for backup. 

“You are, eshgham,” Baran agrees easily. Ellis grabs the phone from your hand. 

“Byeee!” she grins at Baran. The call ends. 

Both Ellis and Shen have an ease to them that she doesn’t see in the day shift. They have their flaws — both a little too unsympathetic in the ED for Baran’s taste — but they have firm boundaries and shed their work personas like snakes each morning, something she respects. And around the dinner table, they’re funny and easy to be around, and Baran knows you’re in good hands. 

11:02 pm

Azizam: [image attached]

It’s a photo of you, Ellis, and Shen in a new, quieter looking bar. Shen is sipping something fruity looking, waving at the camera. You’re grinning, and Ellis is holding up two stiff-looking drinks. Baran knows without a doubt you’re going to be hungover tomorrow, all grumpy and far away and disheveled. Good thing Baran enjoys taking care of you. 

You reacted with: ❤️

11:07 pm

Parker Ellis: [video attached]

Parker Ellis: down bad

It’s a short clip of you talking animatedly with Shen. Ellis zooms in on your face and then pans down to your hand, where your phone is open to a selfie of the two of you curled up on the couch last month. 

Baran feels her heart swell and contract in her chest, and she pulls up the same photo on her camera roll. She’s molded into your side under a blanket, her head tucked under your chin, her hand around the back of your neck. And you’re smiling like you just won the lottery. 

11:21 pm

Azizam: i need you so bad right now

Baran’s scrolling through instagram, missing you next to her, when the notification appears. She smirks, wondering when you’d finally start getting like this. 

11:22 pm

You: Oh?

11:23 pm

Azizam: fuck

Azizam: what are u wearing?

Baran rolls onto her back, sighing, hair splayed out. She can picture you, breathing measured, maybe pressing your thighs together. Feeling hot and desperate thinking about her. And Baran loves making you ache. 

But you’re also out with friends, and Ellis has already ragged on you for being clingy twice tonight. Do you really want to do this right now? 

11:24 pm

You: Shorts and your t-shirt.

11:24 pm

Azizam: looking at a pic of ur neck rn

11:25 pm

Azizam: fuck you. sext me for real

Baran raises her brow and settles deeper into the bed, one hand skating over her belly absently. She knows what photo you’re probably looking at. It’s innocent enough. Baran wasn’t paying attention, smiling and craning her neck to look behind her at a dinner party. If she let you, she knows you’d leave dark marks up the length of her every chance you get. It does something maddening and insatiable to you. Baran, of course, uses this to her advantage. 

11:27 pm

You: You want me to tell you my fingers are on my neck, wishing it was your mouth?

You: Running over my chest.

You: Up my inner thigh.

11:27 pm

Azizam: yes

Azizam: are they?

They are. Dancing and light but enough to start setting Baran’s nerves on fire. She spreads her thighs and slides her fingers down over her underwear. 

11:27 pm

You: Maybe.

11:28 pm

Azizam: show me

Azizam: need your mouth on me

Baran hums. One hand slides under her shirt — your shirt — lazily, teasing a nipple that pebbles too easily. Her breath catches, and clarity descends on her. You’re out with friends. You deserve to enjoy it — while staying in the present moment. 

11:31 pm

You: You should focus on Parker and John. You’ll have me all to yourself when you get home.

11:32 pm

Azizam: [image attached]

It’s a photo of you in a bathroom stall. Your hand is holding up your shirt and bra against your sternum, chest exposed to the air. Your nipples are hard, and Baran’s lips part, her previous text completely wiped from her memory. On instinct or some base need, her fingers slide under the elastic of her underwear. Of course she’s wet. 

11:33 pm

You: Baby… 

You: You are so fucking gorgeous. 

She stares at the photo, jaw slack. What she wouldn’t give to have her hands on your breasts, your nipple in her mouth right now. Baran’s fingers circle her clit, gathering wetness, working herself up as easily and thoughtlessly as breathing. 

11:35 pm

Azizam: thinking about u

Azizam: [image attached]

Baran moans. It’s a photo of your hand in the low bathroom lighting. A stringy slickness connects your middle two fingers. She can practically taste you on her tongue, feel how your hand would grip her hair, feel the way your hips would rock into her mouth. And she can feel that familiar tension coiling in her, her muscles tensing. 

11:36 pm

You: Oh, sweetheart. 

You: That wet and desperate just from thinking about me? 

You: I’d get on my knees for you right there in the stall. 

You don’t reply right away, and Baran has a sinking suspicion you got pulled away from your phone. She groans, closing her eyes and feeling unfairly frustrated and horny. She should stop, wait for you like you have to wait for her. But you’ll be too drunk for her to fuck you when you get home, and you’re going to throw yourself at her anyway. And she’ll feel less pent up and guilty about it if she’s not hot and bothered when you walk through the door. So, Baran stares at the photo of your fingers and slides two inside of herself. 

Her phone pings again when she’s sweaty and twitching and catching her breath, fingers slick as they rest on her stomach, careful not to touch the sheets.

11:44 pm

Parker Ellis: stop engaging with her!!!! you’re intruding on girls night

Parker Ellis: whore 

Baran groans and closes her eyes briefly, embarrassed and just about fed up with Ellis and Shen. She just wants her baby in bed with her. 

11:49 pm

You: Inappropriate. I am an attending. 

12:03 am

Parker Ellis: rolling my eyes rn

Parker Ellis: not My attending

Parker Ellis: don’t be bitter. bar bathrooms are gross. i’m saving her from a yeast infection

Baran decides to ignore that and pointedly not think about what Ellis interrupted you doing. 

12:06 am

You: Isn’t John with you?

12:08 am

Parker Ellis: he’s one of the girls

Baran is drifting between waking and sleep when her phone pings and jolts her out of it, her face smashed into a pillow and her bedside lamp still on. She swallows and drags her phone to her face. 

12:39 am

Azizam: Parker found me texting :( 

Azizam: we’re at a new bar

Azizam: need you to fuck me slow to this song on repeat btw. it was on the radio

Azizam: [Spotify Link] Southland by Lindsay Lou

This wakes Baran up a little, and she’s selfishly happy to know you didn’t get too far in the bathroom. She opens the link and listens as she replies. 

12:44 am

You: Noted, baby.

You: Are you drinking water?

12:45 am

Azizam: i’m not a pussy

12:45 am

You: If you want me to go down on you when you get home, you’d better be drinking water.

It’s a ruse, and Baran thinks you know it, but your response is cute. 

12:45 am

Azizam: on it boss

Baran is woken up from a deeper sleep to another ping. The song you sent is still playing softly on repeat, and you stop it. Baran can see why it turns you on and already has plans on how she’s going to fuck you to it.

1:21 am

Azizam: r u sure ur ok that m on nights?

The spelling and insecurity in your text tells Baran you have not, in fact, been drinking water. She exhales slowly, an unfair sort of annoyance twinging in her sleepy mind. Not at you, with whom she’s never truly annoyed. It took a long time — some unlearning and careful assurances — for you to be so raw and honest with Baran about your more prickly anxieties. And she took that vulnerability very seriously. No, Baran’s just tired, impatient you’re not with her, and feeling a little needy herself. 

1:24 am

You: Yes. But if you want to talk more about it in the morning we can. 

1:25 am

Azizam: what if u stat reesnting me

1:25 am

You: Do you resent me for being on day shift? 

1:25 am

Azizam: no

Baran rubs her eye and yawns. You’re drunk, and she’s half asleep, and she doesn’t see the point in either of you pursuing such a delicate subject any further. 

1:26 am

You: I love you.

1:26 am

Azizam: I LOV Y

Baran smiles, her eyes dry. You’re easily distracted. Giving up on sleep until you’re home, she goes back to scrolling on social media, too tired to pick her book back up. 

1:47 am

Incoming Facetime: Azizam

“Baran!” you smile. 

“Hi, honey,” Baran coos, her voice raspy and low, her head resting on her bent arm over the pillow. If you were more clear-headed, you would have started fawning over it. Despite how tired she is, Baran loves that you want to talk to her so much while you’re drunk and away from her. It sparks something fond and possessive in her. 

“Would you love me if I were a worm?” You’re definitely slurring now. 

“What?” Baran is caught off guard. 

“If I turned into a worm, would you still love me? Shen said I should ask you.” 

She opens and closes her mouth, unsure what that even means, when a familiar voice drifts to her ears, the equally familiar face following quickly into view. 

“Dude, you can’t just leave me at the bar. You’re supposed to be my wingman.” 

“Dr. Santos?” Baran asks incredulously, shocked into formality. She’s wearing smoky makeup and a swooping top and talking to you with the ease of good friends — a connection Baran is sure just happened tonight. 

“Oh, shit,” Trinity hisses, ducking out of view. You blink at Santos, confused, and she slowly, sheepishly returns to the camera. “Hi Dr. Al-Hashimi.” 

More awake now, Baran raises an eyebrow. 

“How’s your 102-degree fever?” she asks humorlessly, sitting halfway up to offer herself some semblance of authority as she reprimands her resident while laying in bed at two in the morning. 

“Better, yeah,” she winces, and you laugh suddenly. 

“You didn’t tell me you called out sick,” you blurt, and Trinity glares at you. 

“I didn’t want you telling my boss I’m here,” she accuses, motioning to your phone. 

“So, you thought I’d go home to my future wife and not tell Baran I saw you and Whittaker at the gay bar?”

Baran’s ears ring, something sharp and hot shooting through her. She remembers the first time she brought up marriage to you, you were watching Bridesmaids together. You’re a few years younger than Baran, and unlike her, you’d never been married before. You didn’t have a kid to think about. Though, you loved Baran’s son dearly, and she loved that you loved him — and that he loved you back. 

Have you ever thought about it? Marriage? She asked carefully as your head lay in her lap, and she played absently with your hair. Your fingers stilled on Baran’s thigh, and in the few seconds of silence, Baran thought she might throw up. 

Are you asking? You murmured, turning to look up at Baran with unreadable, sparkling eyes. 

Yes, she said easily, and then blinked, understanding too late what you meant. I mean, yes, I’m asking if you’ve — 

Yes, you cut her off. With the right person. Yes. 

She can’t believe she ever for one second doubted you might say yes if she got down on one knee. Baran shouldn’t have then, and she certainly doesn’t now that you’d called her your future wife. The shock quickly melts to a steady warmth that seems to blossom throughout her entire body, an easy sureness she knows is there for good. 

“You’re really fucking irritating,” Trinity says to you emphatically, working her jaw, but she knows this situation is her own fault, so there’s no real bite to it. It brings Baran back to the present. 

“Whittaker’s there, too?” she drawls, knowing Dennis is definitely on the schedule tomorrow. 

“Ooooo, Dr. Santos, you are in so much fucking trouble. I gotta go, babe,” you say, pressing your fingers to your lips and then the camera before the call ends. Truth be told, Baran isn’t really irritated, but she can’t let Trinity know that. 

She looks back down at your contact card, a soft, sweet photo of you greeting her. A wave of affection sweeps over her so intensely it knocks the breath from her. Her future wife. Baran swallows down the lump of emotions building in her and focuses on texting you. 

1:52 am

You: Be safe. Make good choices. Come home soon. I love you. 

1:52 am

Azizam: 😍❤️👅🐱

Baran lays back down, setting her phone by her head and staring at your contact photo like a lovesick teenage girl. She doesn’t wake up this time when Shen’s text comes through. 

2:09 am

John Shen: ETA 20 min

John Shen: BTW, I think she’s onto you

Baran is stirred awake by the bed dipping next to her and quiet curses. A groggy noise rumbles in her chest, her limbs too heavy to move, her eyelids like lead. 

“Back to sleep, honey,” you whisper, your words coming out a little slurred still, unsteady as you crawl toward her on the soft mattress. 

Baran forces herself to turn over, another incoherent, almost whiny noise rising in her. She licks her lips and swallows, her eyes blinking open to see you settle next to her in a t-shirt and underwear. 

“Azizam,” Baran mumbles happily, and you grin, leaning over to kiss her. 

Instinctually, Baran fists the front of your shirt and drags you closer, her other arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your lips slide against hers, both of you uncoordinated and sloppy from alcohol and sleep but content in it. The thick, sweet smell of the bar lingers on you, along with the faint familiar tang of your sweat, and your tongue dips between Baran’s lips. She moans faintly, and you scoot closer so you can intertwine your legs, your hips pressing into hers. 

“I drank water,” you breathe against her mouth, sliding your kisses to her jaw and her neck, wet and open. Baran sighs, more awake now, her core muscles twitching. One thing that really gets Baran going is sleepy sex, and you are definitely using this to your advantage. She remembers her faux promise to you and smiles, tangling a hand in your hair. 

“Sleep, eshgham. We have three days together. Just you and me,” she sighs, tilting her chin to limit your access to her neck. You hum softly, dipping your face to her shoulder. 

“Dooset daram,” you mumble into Baran’s skin. You know a few phrases in Farsi now, but according to you, this is the most essential, the one you learned first. And every time you say it, it makes Baran weak in the knees. 

Her hand tightens in your hair, and she kisses your head, holding you firmly against her. She can feel you drifting off to sleep already, muscles relaxing, breathing even. And Baran feels that stubborn tightness in her throat again now that she finally has you in her arms. 

She understood. She could adapt. She was your best friend, your closest confidant, the one you’d attached yourself to within a couple days of being at the PTMC. She was what you missed most about days. And you were what she loved most about nights. 

So when Ellis needed someone to cover for her one night she jumped at the chance. 

It started immediately. 

You’d left yours and Jack’s place early. Kissing him slowly on your way out the door as you shoved your scrubs in a tote bag larger than the one you usually carried, telling him you’d see him at work. He tried not to be offended when you told him Samira was waiting for you outside, you guys had an early dinner reservation before your shift. 

It was fine. That was perfectly normal. The world wasn’t going to crash and burn just because he had to skip his usual routine with you. He wouldn’t spontaneously combust because you weren't there, he wasn’t that addicted to you. 

But then you walk in with Samira and barely look at him. You continue your conversation with her even as you walk up to him and hand him his drink. You flash him a smile and kiss his cheek quickly before walking around the desk to set your drink in your usual corner. 

“Seriously I don’t know how you do it,” Samira waits for you. She lingers on the opposite side of central and takes a sip from a large drink in her hands. “I didn’t even know I could want this. What is it again?” 

Any other time this would be fine. Jack was not addicted or clingy or, god forbid, possessive. He liked to think he wasn’t like that. But you smile at her in that gentle way he craves constantly. And then Jack recognizes the logo on the pastry bag in Samira’s hand. 

It’s from the bakery you’d told him you heard about online. One you’d tried only once before and became obsessed with. You’d been talking about the memory of their donuts since he’d taken you to try it. It was out of your way so you rarely had it, usually saving the experience for special occasions. It’d been a while since the two of you had stopped by.

But now Samira was handing you the bag from that exact bakery. She’d driven you all the way there. And she was holding a drink from your favorite cafe. You’d bought her one too when you bought him his. You were beaming when you looked up at her and started walking towards her. You’d barely even glanced at him.

There’s a feeling that settles deep in his gut. This burning that feels like it’s poisoning him from the inside out that not even the drink you brought him can make go away. He feels the urge to make you look at him. Remind you that he was right there, that you didn’t need anyone else. 

Jack stabs his straw into his drink a little too harshly and takes a sip, swallowing back the jealousy he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t feel. 

“A cherry limeade sweet tea,” You wind your arm through Samira’s and start walking towards the locker room with her. “It’s got some added guarana extract for -”

“Extra natural caffeine. Slower absorption so you don’t feel the crash as badly.” 

“Exactly,” You face her as you walk, excitement taking over your features in response to the fact that she understands your choice exactly. Your head falls on her shoulder. “I missed you, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Samira rests hers on top of yours, she really needed this after… well, everything. “I missed you too.”

And it only gets worse from there. 

“This is torture,” Shen drops his head on the counter at central. “It’s like I’m not even here, Sweets hasn’t noticed me at all.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack mutters from where he’s standing a few feet over. His head is resting on one hand as he slowly clicks buttons on a keyboard one by one. 

“Aren’t you two needy today.” Lena says without looking up at either of them.

“We have a routine, okay?” Shen frowns as he finally looks up. “The two of us are supposed to be out in triage together right now. Who else am I supposed to tell every detail of my day off to?” 

Lena shakes her head, barely glancing up over the rim of her glasses. “You’re allowed to not be attached at the hip 24/7, you know that right?”

“I know that,” Shen rolls his eyes at that and points in the direction of where you and Samira are walking out of South 18. “Do they know that? I mean did they even get anything done on days?” 

Jack is staring at the corner where your drink always sits. His own is turning room temperature right next to it. He’d left it there soon after you had handed it to him, a silent hope that maybe he’d get to steal a moment with you later. He doesn’t realize Shen and Lena are looking at him until he looks up again. He sighs. 

“I actually think days was the most productive when they worked together,” The stolen moment with you he needed for his mental wellbeing was disappearing right before his eyes. “Unfortunately.”  

His attention shoots across the ED at the sound of your laugh. It wasn’t even 10:00 PM yet and he already felt like he was going through withdrawal. 

And to make it worse Mateo had apparently found a way to slot himself right beside the two of you flawlessly. He finds you guys and then suddenly the three of you are in the middle of laughing about something together. He swears he’s never seen any of you look so alive. 

Shen seems to notice the same thing. “Okay, that’s just not fair.”

“You know, either one of you could easily go and make conversation.” Lena shakes her head at them. 

“That’s crazy,” Jack shakes his head as if it was obvious. “I’m not gonna go interrupt their time.” 

Lena rolls her eyes and she’s already mentally preparing for it. It was gonna be a long night for all of them. Most of them anyway.

****

Emery Walsh was having the absolute time of her life. 

“Why so sad?” She leans on the counter next to Jack where he’s entering orders for an echo for one of his patients. She gives him a mock pout as she tips her head to the side. “Girlfriend ignoring you?” 

“She’s not ignoring me,” Jack immediately shoots her a glare. “We’re just busy tonight.”

Walsh looks around the ED. There’s not a single person in the hall and three whole empty beds. She even thinks there might be a couple empty chairs in the waiting room. “Are we in the same ED right now?”

Jack rolls his eyes. It’s an instinct that comes naturally whenever Emery’s around. He respects her, he does. She just has also mastered pushing his buttons like nobody else does. It’s a talent, really. “Is there a reason you’re down here?” 

“To see Samira, obviously.”

“You don’t have a surgery to perform or something?” Jack picks up the tablet with his patient information and turns away from her. Maybe she won’t see the irritation in his eyes.

“No? Your doctors don’t spend time moping around like you do. They’re actually good at their jobs which makes mine easier,” She falls into step next to him as he starts walking away from her without another word. “And I’m taking advantage of it to finally make my move.” 

“I repeat, don’t you have a job to go do?” 

“I’ll do it after I talk to Samira,” Emery sighs when Jack doesn’t even give her some smartass quip back at that. So she grabs his arm and stops him from walking away from her. “Look, I’m in a good mood -”

“Congratulations.”

“I’m gonna choose to ignore your tone,” She also ignores the glare Jack shoots at her. Again. “Why don’t you let me help us both out?” 

Jack’s willing to try anything at this point. “I’m listening.” 

She gives him one of those smiles he hates. One that means she’s clearly plotting something in her head. He’s convinced she could be a criminal mastermind if she wanted to.

“Hey,” Walsh grabs Shen as he walks past them. “Sweets and Lover Boy over here are gonna make a run to the good vending machines at L&D, can you grab Mateo and cover her and Mohan’s patient in North 4?” 

“Deal,” Shen lights up immediately and looks at Jack. “Bring me back some of the good gummy bears.” 

“Ooh, I want some of those too,” Walsh starts walking backwards towards where she’d last seen Samira. “And a pack of those cookies, the really soft ones.”

Another eye roll. “Anything else? Maybe a steak dinner while we’re at it.”

“Hey, cut the attitude,” Walsh points at him, a silent warning. “I’m getting you your fix, aren’t I?” 

He knows he can’t argue with her there. He watches as she walks into one of the patient rooms. Seconds later she’s sending you out. Alone. For the first time all night. 

Jack is making his way towards you without a second thought, rushing before someone can pull either of you away again. 

Your eyes light up when you see him and he thinks he could melt at the look you give him and the way you say his name. “Hi.” 

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts pulling you in the direction of the elevator. 

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t say anything else until the elevator doors close behind you. That’s when he grabs you by your waist and gently pushes you back into the corner. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You giggle a little bit as you bring him in close. He only shakes his head, silently taking a second to just look at you. To memorize everything, your smile and how you feel against him and the glimmer in your eyes when he finally forces himself to look back at them instead of at how plush and soft your lips look right now. 

“Nothing,” His voice goes low, dropping in the silence of the elevator. You’re the one who leans forward to kiss him and he has to try really hard to bite back the moan he can feel building inside him. He forces himself to pull away, letting his forehead rest against yours. “Just missed you.”

“You’re cute,” The elevator doors slide open and Jack’s never hated a machine more. You push yourself off the wall, pressing yourself closer to him as you do. You squeeze past him and start walking out the elevator, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “You coming?” 

Jack makes it through the rest of the shift just fine. Until he goes to try and find you after rounds. He finds you and Samira together again. Walsh’s solution wasn’t viable long term, as it turns out.

“Hey, I have tomorrow off. Do you wanna go to that place we’ve been wanting to try?”

“Only if you’re up for it. God, you have to be exhausted.”

“I actually think this might be the most alive I’ve felt in months.”

At least he has time to practice his perfectly neutral response by the time you find him to let him know you’ll meet him back at home. 

“Have fun,” He kisses you in the safety of the locker room, sneaking his credit card in your bag as he does. “I’ll wait up for you.” 

You don’t bother arguing with him, knowing he wouldn’t listen to you either way. Jack is left watching you walk away, sighing deeply as he does and screwing his eyes shut to make an attempt to ground himself.

At least this was a one time thing. Everything after this would be perfectly fine.

2 & 3. Cucumber Mint Lemonade & Brown Sugar Shaken Espresso w/ a quad shot, extra hot

So maybe Jack had turned to the dark side. He’d taken a page straight out of Emery Walsh’s playbook. Not that he’d ever admit that to her.

He was scheming. Just a little bit. Not enough to be diabolical but enough for Mateo to definitely catch on and bribe Perlah to stay a bit later to linger so she could watch it play out and update him. 

This would work. It had to. It was going to. If there was one thing he could do right it was plan and he’d thought this through. Briefly. In the few seconds it took him to walk from the locker room to where all the day shift residents were hovering by the computers finishing their charting. It was good enough.

He had to do it now while you were distracted. Emma had pulled you away to get a second opinion on a patient, this was his best chance. 

“Shen needs a few of his shifts covered. I have four of them and need some takers,” He announces himself, making most of them look up. Samira’s about to say something and he puts a hand up. “Someone who isn’t Mohan.”

Jack doesn’t know if Whitaker does it subconsciously or on purpose but he watches it play out in slow motion. For just a moment Whitaker looks at him. Then his eyes find you across the ED and flick to Samira quickly after. Finally they flicker back to him and maybe it’s the guilt but he swears there’s a ghost of a smirk that Whitaker flashes him. He’s perceptive, Jack will give him that.

He looks a little smug when he asks, “Why not?”

“You all need to cover a night shift eventually,” The answer comes out quickly as Jack crosses his arms in front of him.  “You can’t keep sticking them all on her.”

“I don’t mind.” Samira is quick to respond. If she wasn’t in her last couple months of her residency she’d have asked to move to night shift the second you had transferred.

“I know. And we appreciate you,” Jack definitely feels just a little bit guilty. “But it’s also good for their experience as doctors.”

It was technically true. On top of that, he also couldn’t afford to be down an attending. If day shift didn’t have enough coverage half the time then the night shift definitely didn’t. Most of the residents were reserved for the day shift and his new one had only just started. And as much confidence as he had in Ellis and Crus to pick up the extra work, he didn’t want to put it all on them. Maybe he’d even get lucky and one of the newer residents would like it enough to stick around long term.

“I say we go top to bottom,” Santos leans back in her chair, gladly giving her eyes a break from her charting. She stretches in her seat before motioning beside her. “Langdon’s the only one besides Samira who’s got seniority here. Which means he gets to be our sacrifice to the night shift gods.”

“Oh, no,” Langdon’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head quickly. It’s comical watching him make an attempt at disappearing behind the screen he’s charting at considering how much he towers over it. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

That statement paired with the horrified look that flashes on Jack’s face is enough to intrigue every single one of them. They have to know everything immediately. 

“How come?” Santos looks more amused than she’s ever been, suddenly much more awake than she had been.

“I can’t do nights, I've tried,” A visible shudder runs through Langdon at the memory. “It did not go well.”

Jack figures he should disagree. He figures that as an attending, a chief attending, he should use it as a teaching moment. Tell them that they could never underestimate their jobs or whatever. But the memory of the absolute week from hell set off by Langdon’s presence in the ED past 9pm was something he didn’t think would ever stop haunting him. 

They still pretend it didn’t happen and calmly start ushering him out the second it starts getting just a little bit too late. So maybe they were a little bit superstitious. It came naturally when working nights.

“You weren’t,” Jack refuses to look at Langdon when he says it. “You weren’t that bad.” 

Langdon frowns, “You hesitated when you said that.” 

There’s silence for a second while Jack just looks slightly haunted. He can’t relive that week. Not right now. Or maybe ever again. So to change the topic he tells them, “If you guys can’t decide, I'm picking for you.” 

“Sorry, dad,” Javadi gives him a look that perfectly resembles a bratty teenager at the statement and Jack only rolls his eyes at her. He thinks that look alone might’ve aged him a bit. "Where's Shen off to that he needs four days off anyway?” 

“Back home,” Jack looks around for any sign of Shen and relaxes a little when he doesn’t see him, not wanting to set off another passionate ramble just yet. “He leaves on Thursday. His sister got last minute tickets to a concert he wanted to go to. Some pop star he hasn’t stopped talking about.” 

“I can cover a night for him,” Mel barely takes a break from her charting to look up at Jack. “My day off is on Friday and Becca has plans all weekend anyway. I don’t mind staying and pulling a double.” 

“Perfect,” And it really is. Mel had covered a couple nights before and she was good at it. There was definitely no possible way this could go wrong for him. He turns his attention to Whitaker, Santos, and Javadi. “I’ve got three more to cover.”

“I’ll take one,” Santos offers herself up next. “If only to prove that I’m better at nights than Golden Boy.”

“Okay,” Langdon spins in his chair to look at her and Santos copies the motion. “It wasn’t all my fault.” 

“You sure about that?” 

Jack doesn’t quite like the phrasing of that. He could already feel it backfiring on all of them. He stops their bickering before they can really fully start. He’s talking mostly to Santos when he says, “Night’s aren’t easy, you know.” 

“Please,” Santos crosses her arms, already pushing for a challenge. “How much harder than days could it be? Most people are sleeping already, what could possibly be different about it?” 

“Oh my god, wait!” Javadi sits up then, cutting off the comment Jack had been about to make. 

She’d spent the last few moments recalling every single bit of information she knew about both John Shen and also every major pop star. She knows exactly who he’s talking about immediately. 

“I’ll take the last two but tell him he has to bring me back some merch,” She’s typing something on her phone as she says it and Jack swears he hears Shen’s ringtone go off from somewhere. “I want the pink t-shirt, he’ll know which one I’m talking about. I just sent him the money for it so he can’t say no.” 

And that covers it. 

Sure, you’d worked days with all of them before. And okay, maybe Jack hadn’t actually realized how close you were to the residents until they’d started showing up at his place one by one on your nights off. 

But this was different. This was work. And not all of them were Samira Mohan, the one person you trusted as much as him, maybe even a little more. 

It’d be fine. It was only four days. How hard could it possibly be?

****

At first it really isn’t that bad. 

Mel is perfect. She’d done a week on nights a few months back and fit in seamlessly. Every now and then she’d pick up another night shift. And even now, in the middle of a double, she’s doing great. 

You bring her a drink at the start of your shift, a Cucumber Mint Lemonade, and at first nothing is different to how the night usually runs.

And then Jack notices that you are not letting him cling to you the way he tends to. 

It isn’t even on purpose most of the time. You’re just always there. You take whichever cases need you most, sometimes extras on top of them, and it’s the same way Jack picks up his. He’s used to maneuvering around you, a hand on the small of your back as he moves past you or feeling your hand on his bicep as you do the same. It just happens. He never notices how much he needs that until it isn’t happening. 

You spend almost every second of downtime during Mel’s shift at her side. The two of you spend all night talking about one of the shows you both watch, theorizing and debating and admiring. It keeps her mind awake and it keeps you busy, it’s a win win.

For everyone except Jack.

Every time he’s about to get his hands on you, you wriggle away from him and flash him a smile before you step just too far out of reach. You gravitate towards Mel and get really excited when you talk and it’s fine.

Jack just watches you talk and it’s okay. Honestly. 

But then you don’t even risk lingering in empty spaces with him and he finally acknowledges that he might be going crazy, actually. He nearly bites Mateo’s head off when he points it out and has to quickly apologize. And then begrudgingly admits that maybe he does have a problem. 

When the sun starts coming up somewhere off in the distance he overhears it.

“Hey,” Mel stops you before you can go check on a patient the two of you had taken on together. “Thank you.”

You tip your head at her, smiling but a little curious. “For what?”

“For talking to me all night long. I really like working with you. It was fun,” Mel shrugs a little bit and then goes silent as she debates whether or not to finish her thought. Ultimately she does, knowing you’d want to hear it. “And for listening.”

Your smile softens then and you nod your head. You hold your hand out in a silent question and wait until she nods a bit. You set it on her arm, a brief, present hold that tells her you’re there. You see her. It only lasts for a second but your point is made. “Of course. Always.”

Mel’s smiling as she walks away. She’s never minded night shifts but she thinks briefly that they’re significantly better now that you’re a part of them. Although that might just be a you thing, she realizes.

Jack keeps to himself for the rest of the shift. Without any more complaining. But when the clock finally hits 7:00 AM he puts Ellis in charge of hand-offs and drags you out of the ED, not even bothering with the mountain of paperwork he was leaving behind. 

****

The next night Jack finds out very quickly that he was completely right about Santos.

She’s the one that convinces him that there might actually be something out there that can sense when someone walks into the night shift with too much overconfidence and chooses to make their lives miserable as punishment. 

Jack had gone in early to finish his charting from the night before and the very first thing he sees when Trinity Santos walks in is her stumbling right into a gurney. The exact same way Frank Langdon had. She laughs it off. Just like he had. She even cracks the exact same bad joke that he had.

“Since when has that thing been there?”

He and Ellis share a look, wide eyed and absolutely terrified. They already know it’s going to be a very long night.

As hard as they try, they can’t pinpoint what it is that’s throwing Santos off her game. She chugs through the drink you bring her, a Brown Sugar Shaken Espresso with a quad shot, despite the fact that she’d specifically requested it extra hot. She just isn’t able to get a grip on anything. She feels like it’s her first day of med school all over again and it’s killing her. 

Jack tries sending Ellis to talk to her but she refuses to get within ten feet of her. 

“Abbot, I love my girl, I think she’s great on days,” Ellis is standing very safely on the opposite side of the ED as Santos. “But her and Langdon are like our version of the twins from the shining. I can’t go through that again.”

Jack sends Crus to talk to her next, figuring that maybe confiding in her senior resident for the night would help. It does. Briefly anyway. 

Just as she’s starting to get the hang of things in triage a teenager with alcohol poisoning ruins her scrubs and her brand new pair of shoes. She loses all control she’d regained in a fraction of a second. 

When she comes back wearing new scrubs and a pair of shoes she’d borrowed from you she pinches the bridge of her nose, “This is Langdon’s fault. I don’t know how but it is.”

And it somehow only gets worse from there. He sends Lena next but it’s no use. Nothing works. So finally, begrudgingly, Jack pulls you into the breakroom. He tells you to hang tight for a second and moments later he walks back in with Trinity. 

“Sit down,” Jack walks past her and plants himself in the chair next to yours. 

Slowly, Trinity walks closer. She looks between the two of you and then very carefully pulls the chair in front of the two of you out and sinks down. “Is this what it feels like when your parents ground you?” 

“Why do you think we’re gonna ground you?” Jack doesn’t even acknowledge the wording of the question. 

He’d gotten used to those comments almost as soon as the residents, your friends, had started spending time at his place. Mom and dad. Parents. You need to promise to never break up, I’m too old to be a child of divorce. Most of them were from Santos and Javadi and they were jokes almost all the time. But it also meant they were comfortable around him. They trusted him. There was probably some sort of HR rule against this dynamic but none of them really cared. They looked up to him and valued his opinion and the last thing he wanted was to make them feel afraid of having a bad day. He didn’t want them to carry the same guilt he did. 

You watch as the frown twists its way onto Jack’s face. His entire face scrunches in confusion as he tries to decode Trinity Santos. You know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. You know he’s putting a little bit of blame, no matter how unfounded, on himself. You’ve seen the effort he puts in to make everyone feel comfortable and confident here on the night shift, the support he tries to give every one of them. There were already enough unpredictable factors that went into their nights, he didn’t have to be another one of them. 

“Because I messed up,” Trinity says it like it should be obvious. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but I must be doing something wrong for this to keep happening. Once, fine. After that? And I don’t even know how to fix it and it sucks.”

“Hang on,” Jack leans forward on the table and you silently let him take control of the conversation. “You’re not doing anything wrong. It just happens to be a shitty night.”

That doesn’t seem to help her much. “Yeah but this doesn’t happen to me. I know what I’m doing so the fact that it keeps going wrong means it has to be…user error or whatever.”

“Listen to me,” Jack taps the table in front of her to force her to look at him. She huffs but looks at him anyway. “You can’t control everything that happens here, no matter how hard you try. Some nights, or days, are just gonna be bad ones and there’s nothing you can do about it. The only thing you can do is try to make it through the day. With our help. That’s what we’re here for.” 

Trinity, for once, doesn’t know what to say. There's a sharpness behind her eyes and the back of her throat tightens. She looks away, afraid that if either of you look at her a second longer she’ll break completely. 

Finally, after a few seconds, you stand up. You hold a hand out to her and she looks up at you. “Come on.”

She looks at you for a moment, swallows down her emotion, and then finally says, “Sure you wanna do that, Sweets?” 

“Trin, you know better. You can’t get rid of me,” You tell her, flashing her a smile, still holding out your hand. 

“You better hope bad luck isn’t contagious,” She says when she finally takes your hand, letting you drag her up. 

“Well, a captain goes down with the ship right?” You shrug, already starting to pull her out of the room. 

“And who made you captain?” 

“You really think anyone’s gonna argue with me?” 

Even in just the few moments it takes for you to walk out of the breakroom with her, Trinity already feels lighter on her feet. 

And it works. Jack’s words combined with you at her side do wonders. She graduates from an easy patient to a medium one with no problem. Then a slightly more complicated one and it’s okay. But then one of your other patients needs you and the second you leave her side though she reverts back to attracting every bad luck charm on the planet.

After that she rivals Jack in terms of clinginess. Trinity will not leave your side. She even follows you to the bathroom at one point, afraid that the metaphorical baby grand piano will fall on her head the moment you leave. You are single handedly helping her keep her head on straight and her sanity intact, she refuses to let you out of her sight.

Jack does not get a single moment alone with you the entire shift. The only reason he makes it through the night is because he figures it could be worse. He also figures maybe Santos needs this. He’s willing to make the sacrifice. Just this once. 

Ellis is the one that points it out. Santos does not like the observation. You were singlehandedly the one who saved her shift from being almost as bad as one of Langdon’s. So maybe night shift wasn’t for either of them but at least she knew you and Jack had her back. As long as she had that she could push through.

4. Cookie Butter Iced Latte

The third night Shen was gone is maybe the hardest. 

You get a text from Jack at exactly 7:02 PM. How do I fix her? it says. Nothing else. No elaboration. 

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant your phone had dinged with another incoming message. From Ellis this time. A video. It was pointed at the fluorescent lights above her head but you could hear the voices loud and clear. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I-I mean what do I even know right? I, like, barely slept last night cause I was so worried about today. Or this morning technically I guess? I mean if Santos couldn’t do it what hope do I have, you know what I mean? All I keep hearing from the other residents is how different the night shift is and I don’t do good with different. Like seriously, it’s a problem. Langdon is still here and I know you think he’s cursed or something but he can’t possibly be any worse than I would be. I’m not prepared. I think if you let me have like a crash course or something or some training maybe, maybe, I could work my way here for a shift but at this present moment I feel like -” 

“Javadi!” Jack had cut her off in the middle of her rambling. “Hold that thought.”

I think she might’ve actually broken him. was Ellis’ comment. I think I can actually see him buffering.

Thirty minutes later you’re walking into the PTMC, four hours before you were scheduled to be there, happily sipping on your drink despite the change in schedule. 

“Oh, thank god,” Jack might’ve actually developed a sixth sense with how fast he’s able to tell you’ve walked through the ambulance bay doors. An arm around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head, and a moment to finally breathe. It’d been the longest thirty minutes of his life. 

He takes your drink out of your hands and takes a sip. He doesn’t even flinch at the obscene amount of sugar and syrups in it like usual. “I talked to her and she listened but I don’t think she actually heard me. I don’t know what else to say. You’re better at this.”

You smile at him and let him keep it, clearly needing the extra caffeine for once. “I think she just needs a familiar face. Give me five minutes.” 

You find Javadi in an empty room pacing behind a curtain. Her face lights up the moment she lays eyes on you. “I thought you weren’t supposed to come in until later, aren’t you covering part of Donnie’s shift in the morning?” 

“I came to bring you something,” You hold out the fresh coffee in your hand. “Iced Cookie Butter Latte with extra vanilla and cinnamon on top, just like you like it.” 

It’s like a weight is lifted off of her shoulders immediately. “I hope you know I worship the ground you walk on.” 

You let her chug her way through about a quarter of her drink, watching her for a second before you ask, “You wanna tell me what made you doubt yourself?”

“What,” She can’t help herself. She takes another sip before looking away from you, avoiding eye contact. “What are you talking about?” 

You sit on the edge of the hospital bed and let out a soft sigh. “What makes you think you can’t make it through nights? You were excited about it a few days ago.” 

She lets out a small noise of discontent and still refuses to look at you, “Did Abbot tell you I freaked out?” 

You shake your head softly, “He was just worried about you.”

“He wouldn’t have to be if he just let me go home.”

“Vic,” You turn to her and your voice goes soft. Gentle as you try to get your point across. “He made you stay in our guest room that night we stayed up too late finishing our Twilight marathon. You really think he would just let you walk out of this ED knowing how good and capable you are?” 

There’s silence for a second. Then she takes another sip of her drink. 

Until finally she tells you, “My…my mom was telling me about some of Walsh’s nightmare cases that she’s had to deal with. She said nights are - are reckless and hard and only the toughest people can handle them. And I know that was supposed to mean she didn’t think I could. And then Trinity had such a hard time and it basically convinced me I couldn't do it either. And I see how you guys walk out of here some mornings completely exhausted and it’s hard enough to make it through some days and I just don’t want to mess up.” 

It takes you a second to figure out what to say. In that time Victoria moves to your side and collapses on the bed next to you. Her head falls on your shoulder and she takes another drink. 

“I think you’re giving all of us way too much credit,” You finally tell her, trying to make her see she wasn’t much different from the rest of you. She was just as capable. “You’re putting us on a pedestal.” 

She scoffs at that. “Uh, yeah, obviously. Have you met you guys?” 

“Hey, I’m serious,” You tilt your head to look at her for a second. “You better hope Shen doesn’t hear you ever say that because that comment will go to his head.”

You successfully pull a laugh out of her and she feels better enough to lift her head again. “Seriously, though. I promise the only real difference between us and day shift is that we’re sleep deprived enough to know how to have fun. You, Dr. J, are practically built to fit right in.” 

She rolls her eyes at your comment but then looks at you for real. “Promise?” 

You only smile at her and nod towards the door. “Go find out.”

She regains her confidence easily after that. She jumps on cases left and right, slotting in beside Crus perfectly. When he asks her questions mid procedure she answers them without hesitation. He looks up, finds you across the room, and smiles, silently telling you she’s doing incredible. 

Jack pulls her along with him on a few cases before she begs him to let her tag along with Ellis instead, who gets a more interesting case. He gives her a lecture about skipping around and picking patients before he sighs and lets her go anyway. 

It’s only a surprise to her when she finds out she thrives here with all of you.

****

Jack was hiding.

He feels comfortable doing so. He has Ellis, Javadi, and Crus running the floor. He could afford to take advantage of the rare moment of downtime and sneak away for ten minutes. And if he pulled you along with him then that was his business. 

He was doing it for you, that’s what he was telling himself. You had a long shift ahead of you and the least you deserved was to take advantage of the brief moment of respite for some peace and quiet. 

Really he was selfish. He felt like he might genuinely spontaneously combust if he didn’t get a moment alone with you and fast. So maybe he was a little bit clingy. 

In his defense though, you were addicting. The ease with which you moved together, completely in sync with one another. The smile you flashed him across the ED when you were split up. The way you just understood him. 

And how you’d let him be a little bit clingy when he just needed a moment to ground himself. When he needed to come back down to earth and remember he was only human. To remember he lived and breathed for you. You’d become his lifeline and his vice wrapped in one perfect little package. 

And he liked the day shift residents, he really did. They might not have been his officially but he’d always jump at the chance to teach them everything he wished he’d known when he was in their place. 

Everything except this. How one day they’d find someone like you who took all the weight off their shoulders and bear it alongside them so it wouldn’t drown them. 

Unfortunately it seemed like they’d already caught on. 

Mel, Santos, and Javadi all knew. Mohan definitely knew which is how he’d gotten himself here in the first place. They’d flocked to you for a reason, one that was so much like his own. And that was fine. 

He didn’t own you. He didn’t have exclusivity of the way you made everything bearable. 

He was, however, madly and deeply in love with you. Beyond his ability to describe.  And he did have a right to be clingy when he wanted to be. Especially when it felt like he'd barely gotten any time alone with you recently despite the fact that you woke up and fell asleep next to each other every single night. 

Jack was already making a mental note to tell Shen just how much he appreciated him when he came back. 

Currently the two of you are practically on top of each other on the tiny twin bed that sits in the center of the on-call room. Any other day you would’ve argued with Jack. You’d have given him that sly little smile and pulled him into the stairwell instead with a teasing look in your eyes. 

But right now you were tired and Jack knew you better than anyone. He could see the exhaustion settling so deep into your bones that not even your second coffee of the night would be able to fix it. And he knew you’d never let anyone else see it. He knew you’d let them need you until the moment you walked through the door of your home with him and shut the world away. 

So you let him pull you out of the chaos before it can run you ragged. Instead, you eagerly curl into his side, half on his lap, as you listen to him talk.

Attempt to listen, anyway. You don’t quite know what he’s saying. The sound of his voice and the warmth coming from his body against yours is putting you in a trance, the extra long shift you’re currently in the middle of already catching up to you.

You can feel your eyes getting heavy with sleep and the way he’s running one of his hands through your hair is definitely not helping either. 

Then the door bursts open and all remnants of sleep leave you completely. Jack glares on instinct and then relaxes when he sees Javadi. He could excuse it this one time.

She does not hesitate before sinking down into the spinny chair that sits in the corner of the room beside a small coffee table. 

“Dr. Abbot, I have this note for you.” Is all she says to announce herself, leaning forward to pass you the note to pass to him. She isn’t phased by this at all. 

You, her, and Samira had gone to the art museum a few weeks ago. She’d gotten to yours and Jack’s place at around 9 and he’d answered the door in pajama bottoms and an old army shirt. Nothing could phase her after witnessing firsthand the easy domesticity oozing out of the two of you in the time you guys waited for Samira to let you know she was there. 

Although she had entered with one eye screwed shut after Ellis told her she was playing a dangerous game bursting into a room where you and Jack were left together unsupervised. Just in case. 

“A note?” Jack’s eyes narrow at her as he unfolds the paper. His eyes scan the piece of paper quickly and then he scoffs before handing it back to you. “Did you really waste an entire prescription sheet to scribble that down?” 

You look at it and sure enough she had. Patient Name: Victoria Javadi. Instructions: Nap Time. Dosage: 20 Minutes. Repeat as needed until symptoms of sleepiness improve. Signed: @ doc.j on all socials

Complete with a heart at the end

“Yes!” Javadi flops backwards on the chair and she kicks off the ground, doing a full spin until she’s looking at the two again. “I’m exhausted. I’m pretty sure you’re breaking the law.”

“Oh really,” Jack raises a brow at her and pulls you closer to his side. “What law is that?” 

“Don’t I get, like, a union mandated naptime,” She drops her head back and she’s looking at the two of you upside down now. “I’m pretty sure that’s a thing and you’re just not remembering.” 

“Or you’re just being dramatic.”

“That’s rude. I’m the least dramatic person here, actually.” She spins again as she says it. 

You feel Jack sigh against you. You look up at him from where your head is resting on his arm and he waits until Javadi does a third spin in the chair to kiss you. Soft and quick and a promise that he’s going to get you at least a few minutes to just sit down and breathe no matter how much you insist you don’t need it. He gently maneuvers out from under you and stretches as he stands up. 

“Come on, kid,” He moves around the other side of the bed and stops Javadi’s chair mid spin. “Let’s go find you a patient.”

“But that’s the opposite of sleep.”

“Yeah but it’ll keep you awake and alert more than sleep will.” They walk out of the on-call room, Jack flashing you a wink before he closes the door softly. 

You’ve only just laid back on the bed again when a soft knock sounds at the door and you sit up again. 

“Hey, Sweets,” Crus looks apologetic when he opens the door all the way. “Can I get your help with a patient? We got swamped out of nowhere, everyone else is busy.”

“Only cause I like you,” You smile at him and push the exhaustion to the back of your mind. That wasn’t important anymore. “Don’t tell anyone I play favorites though, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He steps back and lets you through the door first before he starts leading you towards the North wing. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

****

It’s exactly 7:43 AM when Eileen Shamsi steps out of the elevator. She’s wearing her perfectly pristine white lab coat and her face is contorted in barely controlled disgust at the sight of the already packed and busy ER. 

Maybe it was your lack of sleep the last few days. Maybe it was the fact that you were nearing hour 13 of a 17 hour shift. Maybe it had just been brewing since Victoria Javadi had first confided in you, telling you all the fears and anxieties that consumed her because of her mother.

You drop the conversation you’re having with Ellis the moment you see her and beeline to Dr. Shamsi herself. Ellis follows, unsure whether she’ll have to hold you back or not.

You step right in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. “Can I help you?” 

Jack hears the tone in your voice from across the room. His head whips around to find you and he knows what’s about to happen. He’d known from the moment you told him what had been wrong with Javadi at the start of her shift. 

When Javadi steps out of the room they’d been in he quickly spins her around so she can’t see the scene. He ushers her to the locker room, telling her she did good and she was good to go whenever she was ready. 

“I’m looking for my daughter.” Dr. Shamsi barely spares you a glance, looking instead towards Ellis. 

You side step to bring her attention back to you. “Is someone dying?” 

She looks taken aback at the question and makes a face when she looks back at you. “Why I am here is none of your concern.”

“I’ll take that as a no then,” You give a small shrug and shake your head. “She’s a little busy right now. She saved a critical patient's life earlier and is running through her proposed treatment plan with Dr. Abbot and Dr. McCay, who will be taking over for her. She’s had a beautifully eventful night.”

“Well I need to see her.”

“And what I need is a nice, cold Raspberry Truffle Iced Macchiato with salted caramel cold foam and a white chocolate drizzle to get me through the rest of my day but we don’t always get what we want do we?” 

You succeed in distracting her long enough for Jack to tell Victoria to get some sleep before she comes back later that night. She’s perfectly unaware of what’s going on as she walks out the door. 

“You are more than welcome to check every single room in the emergency department if you’d like to find her. Although we’re in the middle of finishing rounds so you might have a lot of patients asking a lot of questions.”

Eileen Shamsi actually scoffs at you. Ellis’ eyes go wide and she’s seen you get angry enough times, usually at the more unruly patients, to know your patience has run out. There’s no predicting what you’ll say now. “This is insubordination.” 

You suck a breath in from between your teeth and shrug. You take a step closer to her. She takes a step back. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, doc. I don’t answer to you.” You stand your ground, not an ounce of hesitation in you. 

She crosses her arms in front of her, “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Your head tips to the side and a smile flashes on your face.  “See, I don’t like this little helicopter parent thing you try to play at. It undermines everything Victoria has learned and on top of that, every time you come down here with another pointless lecture it’s distracting to the doctors in my ED. And unlike those of you up in your cozy little offices on the top floor waiting for someone to come to you, we have real jobs to do.” 

You can see the eavesdropping from everyone around you. You feel the tension in the air, thick enough to be sliced through with a dull scalpel. The smile never leaves your face. 

Finally she scoffs again, making an attempt at staring you down. It doesn’t work. “I didn’t realize they gave the nurses free reign to act however they want down here.” 

You don’t flinch at the accusation. 

“They do when they’re capable. And I’m one of the best they’ve got,” You can see Jack now, having moved to your line of sight so he could get a better view. He’s not even making an effort to hide the smirk on his face. “If you excuse me, I’ve got things to do.” 

“You’re insane,” Ellis whispers as she follows you, an amused laugh escaping her. 

You only shrug, smiling back at her. “I said what I needed to.”

Jack reaches for you the moment you’re close enough to. One arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. He doesn’t let you go this time. Instead he just whispers to you as you walk together, “You’re trouble, you know that?”

You happily settle into him, “Was that too much?”

“I actually don’t think you went hard enough,” He stops as you guys near a slightly calmer part of the ED. “But I do think you might need that third coffee.” 

You beam at him when he says those words. “I really love you, you know that?” 

He hums a bit as he stares you down, painfully aware of the people moving around you. “You love my car. And the fact that it drives to that cafe you like.”

He knows you so well, “That too.”

He can’t stay on shift, he knows that. But maybe he can linger long enough to distract you just a little bit. “You want some breakfast?”

There’s a new found light in your eyes at the prospect of something other than vending machine snacks. “I might actually propose to you if you bring me back some of those little quiches. And a croissant.”

“Deal.”

5. Caramel Apple Crisp Iced Macchiato

There were a few things Baran Al-Hashimi had learned for certain in the short time she’d been at the PTMC. 

One, everyone here was severely overworked. It wasn’t anything new, she’d known exactly what she was getting herself into. 

Two, the nurses were most definitely the backbone of the emergency department. It’d only taken a couple hours for her to trust every single one of them implicitly. 

And three, no one would ever, ever hear Dr. Abbot ask for help at work. He was very good at helping others, incredible really. There was even a brief moment where she’d wondered why he wasn’t chief of the department. Until she realized he hated unnecessary responsibility as much as he loved spontaneous teaching moments. He didn’t like to think himself above others, hated it actually. And so, he’d never ask for backup. Even when he needed it.

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to give you an extra resident,” She simply gives him a calm smile. Her hands are clasped behind her back and she tips her head to the side, wordlessly daring him to argue with her. “Short term, for now. We’ll see how it goes at the end of this trial period and then reassess." 

Jack’s entire face screws into offense. Mateo and Shen watch eagerly, lingering on the other side of the nurses station for much longer than they have to in an attempt to eavesdrop. 

“No thanks,” Jack picks up a tablet and starts unlocking it. He’s not searching for anything in particular, he just wants an excuse to end this conversation. “We’re good. We’ve got a routine. And I don’t underestimate my doctors.” 

“I’m not underestimating any of you,” Al-Hashimi shakes her head slowly, refusing to let him shut her down. “On the contrary. I think you have a lot to teach them.”

“And I will. When I happen to be here during the day,” He starts walking away from her. “Or when they get the misfortune of being stuck with me on nights every now and then.”

“Dr. Abbot,” She says it in a way that stops him in his tracks, in a way that demands his attention. He slowly turns around to face her again and she lets out a gentle sigh. “I don’t know if you know this but I’ve already seen a remarkable difference in how Doctors Santos and Javadi approach their practices and they didn’t even spend that long with you. They grew in just those few hours.” 

“Of course they did,” Jack’s eyes flicker across the room, spotting both of them still maneuvering their way between patients. Santos has called dibs on you already, pulling you in to help her put a cast on her patient. Shen is with Javadi now, running through possible diagnoses with her. Ellis, Crus, and Nazely are following the rest of the residents, walking themselves through the remaining handoffs. “Wasn’t just cause of me though.”

“My point exactly.” Al-Hashimi smiles again, successfully running him in a mental circle and leading him to the same point she was trying to make all along. “You all bring something very valuable to this department.”

Jack can’t argue there. He finally sighs and leans back against the central counter, knowing that once Al-Hashimi made up her mind there was no changing it. “Who are you giving me?”

-Day Three-

“I don’t think he likes me.”

Shen’s statement pulls you out of the conversation you’re having with Mateo while putting in orders for patients. He slides in between the two of you in an attempt to blend in. As if he isn’t a good several inches taller than you both and wearing different colored scrubs. 

“What are you talking about?” You look away from your lab results that had just come in and turn to look at him.  

“Whitaker,” He nods his head to the side, subtly motioning to where Whitaker was clutching a tablet in his hands tightly while running something past Jack. “I don’t think he likes me. I think he might actually hate me.” 

Mateo’s laugh cuts through the otherwise soft buzz that filled the ED. He laughs more when Shen looks at him offended, “You’re insane.”

“It’s true!” Shen looks between the two of you and crosses his arms. “He’s been here for three days and I think we’ve had maybe a single conversation so far. And you’d think I was torturing it out of him.”

“It’s probably not as bad as you think.” You offer and he shakes his head.

“Sweets, the kid runs away from me every time he asks me a question. He always looks like he wants to say something and then his eyes do that big sad thing and he runs away. He isn’t like that with you guys.”

“Shen. John. Sweetheart,” You’re trying your hardest not to also laugh at the idea of what he’s saying. Instead you offer him a smile and shake your head, “I don’t think Dennis could hate anyone if he tried.”

He doesn’t believe you. You can tell. “Well what’s his deal then, huh?” 

You turn to look at him again and this time the conversation Jack is having with him looks different. You recognize it. You’ve seen him do it plenty of times over the last few weeks. He’s good at it, no matter how much he pretends he isn’t. He’s standing a little closer to Whitaker now and his arms have uncrossed, opting instead to stick his hands in his pockets. 

He leans a little closer and tips his head, fighting to get Whitaker to actually look at him and not fold himself away. When he finally does he takes it as a win and nods. He puts a hand on Whitaker’s shoulder and gives a gentle shake, finally satisfied when he returns the smile and moves to go back to his patient. 

Whitaker looks over before he walks back into the room and meets your eye. He waves at you easily and then notices Mateo and Shen. He gives them both a tense smile and that’s when you crack the code like it’s nothing. 

“He’s just nervous,” You tell them, lowering your voice a little bit. “He’s been on day shift since he started with the same handful of people and never anyone else. We’re gonna take some getting used to, we’re kind of a lot.” 

The logic doesn’t do much to ease Shen. “Well he’s fine with you and Jack.” 

“Okay well, I was halfway through my post grad residency when he started as a med student and we bonded over being new to all of this.” 

You feel it then. An arm wraps around your waist and you’d know Jack anywhere. He does the same thing he always does when he just needs you near for a few seconds. He shifts you over a little bit and lets you go, not technically touching you but practically occupying the same little bubble of space you are. He hovers close by, enough so that he could reach over and hold your hand in his without stretching if he really wanted to. 

“And what about him?” Shen crosses his arms when he nods towards Jack. “I’m more easily approachable than he is, aren’t I?” 

Jack looks between the three of you and then takes a step closer to you, trying to figure out if maybe he could piece together the conversation just from standing near you. “What are you talking about, I’m a ray of sunshine.” 

Mateo laughs again and shakes his head, “That’s almost funnier than Whitaker hating him.” 

“Whitaker? Hate?” That catches Jack off guard. “I don’t think that kid even knows what that word means.” 

“I hate when you guys agree on something.” Shen is about to give up and settle for a lifetime of not knowing why Dennis Whitaker runs away from him. 

But then Jack sidesteps to stop him from walking away and says, “Go invite him to breakfast with us.” 

Shen frowns and looks around the ED, checking to see if he was missing something. Maybe there was a fire he hadn’t seen yet. “We’re not going to breakfast?”

It wasn’t something unusual, necessarily. Breakfast trips were just usually reserved for the mornings after a long shift. Ones where none of you got the chance to breathe, let alone stop and have a real conversation. It helped bring you all back down to earth, to make everything feel real and in control again. This felt equally important in this moment. 

“We are now,” Jack shrugs like it’s nothing. “On me. Now go ask him to go with us and ask him what he likes. And make sure you sit next to him when we get there.” 

Shen thinks about it for a second and seems to decide that this is a plan that’ll definitely work. He walks away and you watch as he strategically hovers outside the door until Whitaker walks out. You, Jack, and Mateo watch the conversation play out until Whitaker smiles, nods, and walks away from Shen. And at a perfectly normal pace. Shen, meanwhile, looks ecstatic when he turns and gives you guys a double thumbs up.

“Well would you look at that,” Mateo reaches for his badge as he steps back towards one of the computers, continuing with what he’d been doing before. “Mom and dad are helping the kids play nice.” 

“Forgive me for wanting my ED to run smoothly.” Jack rolls his eyes at the statement but moves closer to you anyway. There’s one of those comments again. The ones that linger in his brain for a lot longer than necessary. 

So maybe this whole dynamic that you all had going on was a little odd. But it was also functional. It made the long days and longer nights easier. And maybe that was enough to excuse it.

-Day Eight-

“I have done you a great disservice. I betrayed you.” You announce yourself as you march right up to Dennis. He glances at you in between shoving his things in his locker. 

“For sure, yeah,” He nods, shuts the locker door, and looks at you, leaning against the cold metal on one shoulder. “What did you do, again?” 

You don’t say anything. You simply hold out a drink to him. He looks at the cup, large and dripping condensation on your hands. He thinks vaguely of the cup he’d seen already half drunk on the desk out in central. 

Your name had been written in bubble letters with a heart after it. Shen had dutifully informed him that he could ask for anything he wanted from the cafe down the street, the baristas there loved you and Jack. It was the reason the two of you were always the ones sent on coffee runs now, they never minded the obscene amount of items you guys would order. The massive tip Jack always left them definitely helped. 

He can see his own name scrawled on the plastic of the one you’re handing him with a smiley face after it along with ‘enjoy!!’. 

“I see,” Dennis takes the cup from you and eyes it before looking up at you. “I’m being hazed.” 

You roll your eyes and hand him the straw. “You’re being a drama queen, I’d hardly call a fun drink hazing.”

He sticks the straw through the lid and the two of you walk out of the locker room. “It is when you have psychic powers and you’re guessing whether or not I'll like it.” 

“I haven’t been wrong yet,” The buzz of the ED floods the space around you. “Just try it. You’ll like it, I swear.”

“Honey, you’ll scare him if you keep it up,” Jack doesn’t even look up from where he’s typing something on one of the computers. 

You grin as you spot him. As if you hadn’t just left his side minutes ago. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and kiss the top of his head, pausing to brush a slightly too long curl back into its place. 

Your eyes narrow again as you look at Dennis over the top of Jack’s head. “Well it’s not my fault Whitaker is afraid of trying new things.” 

“Now who’s being dramatic,” He swirls the straw in his drink and wonders if you’ll kill him if he were to lie and tell you he doesn’t like coffee all that much. He was never really good at accepting gifts. “What is it?”

“I’ll tell you after you try it.” 

So he finally does. He can feel you staring at him. He can also feel Jack staring, apparently deciding that whatever important thing he’d been doing wasn’t as interesting as this. And suddenly he understands what everyone’s been talking about. 

He’s experiencing first hand the care you put into unraveling all the small little bits of information that make people up. The ability you have to look at someone, see them for who they are, and act accordingly. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the quiet of your home or the emergency department or picking out a drink you think they’ll like. You make them feel seen either way.

You’d joked about it but he’d seen the brief concern in your eyes when you’d walked up to him and held out the drink, afraid you’d hurt him somehow when you’d accidentally forgotten to read him in this way that was uniquely yours. The same way he’d seen right through Jack when he insisted someone new had to cover Shen’s shifts a while back.

Something warm settles inside him at the fact that you’d pin pointed him so accurately it was truly a little insane. Just like you had everyone else. He wasn’t used to being perceived in this way.

“It’s okay.” He takes another sip. A longer one. 

You can see him smile around the straw and you match the look, knowing you’re right again. Jack goes back to actually working, thoroughly amused. “It’s a Caramel Apple Crisp Iced Macchiato.” 

“Why’d you pick it?” He needs to know what you see in him. What you’re perceiving. Why you’re so right about every single one of them.  “A magician never reveals their secrets,” You kiss the top of Jack’s head again and he reaches up to silently squeeze your hand in acknowledgement. Dennis looks away, afraid he’s intruding on the soft moment. Then you let Jack go and instead reach out to grab him, pulling him away from the computers. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day. Let’s go find a job to do.”

-Day Sixteen-

“You know this is weird right?” Trinity spins in her chair to look at Whitaker. She’d taken a brief pause in her last chart to watch him walk through the ambulance bay doors, settled comfortably on the other side of Jack as the three of you walked in together. 

“What are you talking about?” Dennis frowns, not quite following. 

It’d become part of the routine. Him and Trinity lived on your way into the hospital. That was it. It just made sense for him to carpool with you and Jack. Save gas in this economy or whatever. It was the same reason Samira usually drove Trinity home and dropped Javadi off wherever she was due to avoid her mom that day. 

“You’re third wheeling our attending and his girlfriend,” She crosses her arms in front of her and tries not to laugh at the way his whole face scrunches up in distaste at the wording. 

“Well when you put it like that it sounds bad.”

“No it’s not bad,” One corner of Trinity’s mouth quirks up and she shrugs. “They just saw you from across the pitt and liked your vibe.”

“Okay,” He pushes himself off the side of the table he’d been leaning on. “We’re done.” 

“They just like you that’s all,” Trinity sits up in her chair and does laugh a little bit that time. “Don’t let the patients catch on though. I heard someone wondering if they’d take a third. You might have to fight people off.” 

“You are insufferable sometimes,” Dennis knows his face is going red and it only makes Trinity look even more smug. 

“Don’t be mean to her,” Right on cue. Your voice cuts through the laughing and Trinity very quickly puts an innocent pout on her face when you join them. You wrap an arm around her shoulders and rest your head on top of hers. 

Trinity is wearing a shit eating as she reaches up and hugs you back. “Yeah, don’t be mean to me.” 

Dennis has to bite his tongue to actively hold back his defense. There was no way you could find out what they’d been talking about. 

“Hey,” You look at him as you lift your head, still not letting go of Trinity. “Do you wanna go to the farmers market with me after shift? It’s almost Shen’s one year anniversary of being an attending and one of the booths sells this bourbon infused honey he really likes to put in his coffee. He and Jack have a meeting with Al-Hashimi in the morning and if we go fast we can be back before they’re done.” 

“Yeah, absolutely,” Dennis agrees immediately and you smile, finally letting go of Trinity. 

“Perfect, we’ll sneak out right after rounds?”

“I’ll meet you outside.” The second you’ve turned around and walked away he points an accusing finger at Trinity, who looks incredibly amused. “Don’t say a word.” 

She holds back a laugh, “I’m not gonna.” 

“Yes you are, I can feel it.” 

She tries, she really does, but it comes out anyway. “Should I expect you to move out and into their guest room some time soon?” 

“Goodbye, Trin.”

“So is that a yes?”

And then, as if the universe is out to get him, Abbot calls his name from the ambulance bay doors without even really knowing where he is. He just says it instinctively.

“Whitaker,” He looks around until he finds him and then nods, beckoning him over. “Come jump on this trauma with me.”

He doesn’t even dare looking back at Trinity again. He does, however, hear her burst out laughing as he walks away.

-Day Twenty Three-

Nazely hadn’t been at the PTMC for very long but she was starting to think that maybe she was lied too. Part of her was convinced that Sweets might actually be your real name. She’d rarely heard you called otherwise by anyone. 

“You’re the best, Sweets.” When you hand Mateo his drink.

“Sweets, can I steal you for a sec?” When Shen needs help out in triage. 

“Abbot, when are you gonna let me steal Sweets again? You can’t hog her forever.” When Walsh lingers in the ER after bringing a patient back down from surgery.

So, naturally, she uses the name for you too. Just like she uses everyone else’s name.

“Hi, Sweets,” She grins at you when she sees you walk in. On one side of you, “Dennis,” and on the other side, “Jack.”

She really doesn’t think twice about it. 

Jack, however, is jump scared. He wasn’t used to hearing his name come from many people at work. You used it, obviously. Shen also did, he’d weaseled his way into becoming probably one of his closest friends. Every now and then someone else would say it, usually when the line bled from professionalism into exhaustion after long hours.

Hearing it said so casually was…odd. “Was that weird?”

“Was what weird?” You ask, seeing nothing out of the ordinary in the slightest.

“My name.” Jack turns to Whitaker next, brows furrowed in complete confusion.

“I call you that?” Whitaker shrugs as the three of you stop at central, waiting for you to drop off whatever you need to leave behind the desk. “Not here but still.”

“Yeah but that’s different,” Jack shakes his head as if that should be obvious. “I know where you live. I’m supposed to be intimidating. I’m intimidating, right?”

He’s looking at you again and you nod quickly, flashing him a smile, “You’re terrifying.”

Jack knows you’re lying. He turns to Whitaker again. “I’m scary.” 

Whitaker looks at you and you give him a small nod. Play along. “Definitely.” 

Except Whitaker then watches Jack for a second. He’s still holding his matcha, a salted maple one today, and leaning against the desk beside you. He watches as Jack pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and you smile at him. Then, wordlessly, he moves behind you. He puts his drink down and instead gathers your hair back. He pulls a hair tie off his own wrist, one of the extras he always has on him, and ties it back for you.

Whitaker looks down quickly, as if he’s intruding on something he isn’t supposed to be again, and smiles. And thinks he could get used to this. Nights. The pointless conversations and gentle moments and calling each other by first names. As much as he loves the day shift, this is something that makes him feel comfortable. Like he belongs.

Maybe that’s why he does it. 

“I disagree.” 

It’s well into the night now and the trauma room they’re in goes quiet. Whitaker is suddenly much too aware of every single person in there. Nazely’s eyes go wide from beside him. Mateo looks back and forth between him and Jack. Even Crus pauses for a second to see how this is going to play out. 

Jack pauses, halfway through pulling off his gloves already. “I’m sorry?” 

“I think you’re looking at it the wrong way,” Whitaker takes a step forward. He doesn’t back down. 

He runs through everything they know. Their patient, their injuries, medical history, prescriptions, what the EMT’s had found out on scene. And he can see why Jack makes the conclusion he does and why everyone else agrees. It was textbook. 

But he puts the logical assumptions they usually make aside, looks at it from the patients point of view instead. And it leads him somewhere else. 

“I know it might not be necessary but I think we should do it just in case,” Whitaker tries his hardest not to shrink under the way Jack is looking at him. “If I'm wrong then that’s fine. But if I’m right it’s better we catch it earlier.” 

It’s quiet for another second. And then the nitrile gloves snap as Jack finishes pulling them off and he nods. “Alright. Order the labs. Central 9 is open last I heard, let’s get him moved in there,” And then to Whitaker. “He’s yours now. Keep me updated.” 

It's only thirty minutes later when the lab work comes back. 

Whitaker is looking at it on the screen and doesn’t even notice Jack standing right behind him, looking at the results over his shoulder until he says, “You were right.” 

Whitaker jumps and quickly backs up against the standing desk he’s at. “Maybe a little warning next time?” 

Jack smirks and shrugs, “My ED, we’ll see.” He looks back at the lab results and doesn’t look back at him when he says, “You did good, kid. It’s about time you argued with me about something.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” Whitaker quickly adds, realizing all of a sudden that this is his attending and they are at work. There was supposed to be a clear dynamic. “I just -”

“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Jack cuts him off before he can start. “Disagreeing with me is practically a right of passage here, ask anyone. You’re a good doctor, stop pretending you aren’t just because you don’t feel okay pushing back sometimes. You’re one of us now, we can take it.”

Jack doesn’t say anything else. He claps him on the shoulder before walking to wherever he was off to next. 

The words stick with him. You’re one of us now. He thinks of them the entire rest of his shift. Then the entire way home, as you’re recounting a story from triage they’d missed earlier that night from the front seat. Again when you and Jack pick him up again and when he clocks in for the next night's shift he feels lighter on his feet. Like maybe, finally, he’s settled. He likes it here, he decides. Maybe the night shift wasn’t as bad as people assumed it was.

+1. Toasted Coconut Cold Brew, extra sugar

Jack could admit when he was wrong. Maybe Al-Hashimi had been on to something. Honestly, he was sure that he could get used to this. 

His team was good. He knew they were. He had more confidence in them than anyone else in the ED. Still, that didn’t mean they didn’t appreciate the extra coverage when they were given it. And having Whitaker there consistently over the last month had been a godsend. 

Tonight was his last shift on nights and he knows they’re all wondering the same thing. What would they have to do to get him switched permanently. Whitaker doesn’t seem to mind the idea. They don’t know that he and Javadi are in the process of duking it out to get Al-Hashimi to let one of them switch permanently. 

You know it was a rough morning. Not only because Donnie had been keeping you updated on everything you were missing in the nurses group chat but also because Dana is sitting still, something she never does. She’s hovering at central when you walk in with Whitaker and Jack and staring off into space for a moment. A clear sign it’d been a long day. 

You silently hand her a well needed dose of caffeine the moment you see her, a toasted coconut cold brew with extra extra sugar. She looks at you and you can hear what she wants to say without her having to say it. You’re a life saver, kid. 

She settles into her spot for a second with a soft sigh. You don’t notice when she turns to eavesdropping on the conversation you’re having with Whitaker and watches out of the corner of her eye.

Not a single one of them can deny the effect you seem to have on everyone, the residents especially. They can all see it clearly. 

The ease in Mel’s shoulders when she came back in, more willing to assert herself. The way Santos took a second to listen now, looking at things past her first instinct. The confidence Javadi carried with her, not holding herself back anymore. 

And now Whitaker. An easy smile on his face and for the first time in the entire time he’d been at the PTMC he took up space and stopped making himself easy to handle. He argued and stood firm in what he thought and even bickered sometimes. Over what he thought was the right course of action and for fun. Loudly. For all Dana knew you night shift dwellers could’ve replaced her mousy little resident with a clone of himself and she just wasn’t made aware. 

You’ve maneuvered your way behind the counter and Jack stands close at your side, taking advantage of the fact that it’s not 7:00 PM yet. It’s 6:58 and he has no plans to leave your side until he absolutely has to. 

He was not being clingy that time. He was just tired. That was definitely all. The two of you had been up a lot longer than you should’ve been after the night before for various reasons. This wasn’t even that bad compared to how he could be. He’s got one arm on the counter, leaning on it while his body is faced towards you.

Whitaker is leaning towards you over the other side of the counter, practically invading the other half of your personal space and Dana thinks it’s crazy that you don’t feel smothered by them. They’re both stuck to you like glue.  She decides that is none of her business. 

She watches as night shift starts trickling in. Whitaker nods at Shen in greeting as he walks past, flashing a grin at him while still deep in conversation with you. Then he gives both Mateo and Crus a fist bump when they come in. A few minutes later Ellis follows and she pats him on the shoulder and he smiles back at her and they do a handshake only they seem to know. Dana raises a brow at that one and takes a sip of her coffee.

He doesn’t even look like he’s questioning every word he says as he talks to Jack. Jack Abbot. His attending. He even goes as far as to joke with him the way he only ever has with Santos in moments they think no one is watching. 

And Dana is so sure of the choice she’s already made.

“It’s a gift,” You roll your eyes at Whitaker and he shakes his head, looking away so you don’t see the grin he holds back. “It doesn’t count as one if you pay me back for it.”

He shakes his head and stirs the straw in his drink. “There’s literally no reason for you to get me a gift though.” 

“Oh, I can't get my friend something nice for making it through the last four weeks?” 

“Don’t believe her,” Jack sets one hand on your hip as he leans in closer to look over you so he can see Whitaker past you. His voice lowers like he’s telling him a secret, like you aren’t right there between them. “It’s a bribe to try to get you to stay on nights.”

“You weren’t supposed to tell him,” You turn your head and shake your head at him and he only smiles at you, holding back every instinct of his that’s begging to kiss you in the middle of the ED. “Besides, it was his idea.” 

“It was not.” Jack scoffs at your accusation. One that’s absolutely correct.

“Liar.” 

“I refuse to participate in this,” Whitaker shakes his head and lets out a smile that time. There was something about being on nights that made him feel a sense of camaraderie with everyone that he hadn’t felt before. He hadn’t just worked with new people, he’d made friends. And maybe part of why he felt so comfortable was this exact reason. The way you dragged him into these things so easily. It made him feel included. He was gonna miss it on days. “Not part of my job description anymore.”

“Oh come on,” You give him a pout and Jack rolls his eyes at your antics. “You’re gonna miss us, admit it.” 

“Ellis, Crus, and Shen for sure. Abbot a little bit. Definitely Lena and Mateo,” He tips his head to the side and then flashes you a look that borders on a smirk and shrugs. “I think that’s it.” 

“You’re so mean,” You’re actively fighting the smile from appearing. “You’re uninvited to your goodbye breakfast in the morning.” 

“We’ll see where you stand on that an hour from now.” He only nods, finally standing up straight and taking a sip of his drink to prove his point. The one you’d bought for him. 

He moves to walk away but not before holding his hand out for your second coffee. You hand it to him easily and he takes it along with his drink you’d brought him, heading towards the break room to put them both in the fridge. Whitaker, unlike most of you, had a little bit of self control and didn’t usually chug his way through his drink. 

“Seriously,” You turn to face Jack once he’s gone. “Can we keep him? Do you think they’ll let us?” 

Jack indulges you. He always does. 

“I don’t know, he’s pretty valuable,” His eyes scan your face, bouncing back and forth until they land on your lips, still pouting at him. He debates how badly both Dana and Lena will yell at him if he kisses you right here with patients all around. “We might have to fight for him.” 

There’s a ding on your phone before you can answer. When you pull it out to glance at it quickly in case it’s something important you immediately forget anything you’d been about to say. 

Dennis Whitaker paid you $7 - bc i’ll miss u the most (real)

“Dennis Whitaker!” You shout in the middle of the ED and you turn around to go hunt him down. 

Dana stops you. His only saving grace. 

“Not so fast, kid,” Dana reaches out for you and grabs your arm gently before you can walk past her. She looks at you for a second and then notices the way Jack is listening closely, having zeroed in very quickly on this interaction. She looks at him then and puts on a mask of distaste. “Don’t you have patients to go see?” 

He checks his watch. 7:00 PM on the dot. “Not yet, technically. Board hasn’t changed.”

“So help me god I will -” 

“Alright, alright. Message received,” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m going.”

Jack walks away and strategically hovers in Dana’s blindspot, making it a point to eavesdrop out of curiosity. 

Dana just watches you for a second. She looks you up and down. She thinks of you when you first came into the PTMC. Competent and determined to do the most good you could. You’d been eager and loud and asked questions she hadn’t been able to predict, ones other nurses who had come and gone wouldn’t have even thought of. She loved you immediately. And now here you are. On your own and somehow, someway having solidified yourself as an absolutely integral part of the night shift ecosystem that Jack Abbot had crafted carefully over the years. 

And he’d apparently decided that had to carry over in his own home. She certainly had her opinions on how quickly he’d pulled you in but if the constantly present lovey-dovey look on your face was any indication then the feeling was absolutely mutual. 

You look strangely alive with him and that was really all that mattered. It made her smile as much as she pretended it didn’t.

Finally she asks you, “How you likin’ nights so far?” 

Your eyes narrow at her and she laughs. You could see through her as well as she could you. “Is there a reason you’re asking now and not a few months ago?” 

She shrugs, “Just wonderin’.” 

You don’t believe her for a second but you think about it anyway. You think about the last few months and how it had turned completely upside down from how you’d first envisioned it. You think about how it had been on days. And then you answer without hesitation. “I really love it actually. More than I thought I would.” 

“Really,” Dana raises a brow at you and crosses her arms. “How much of it is cause of Romeo over there?” 

She nods towards where she knows Jack is hovering, doing him the kindness of pretending she doesn’t notice. 

“Please, I’d tell you if any of it was and when have I ever lied to you,” You laugh a little at the look she gives you, a mom look if you ever saw one. Your face softens then and she straightens, silently telling you she was there for whatever you were about to confide in her for. “I am serious, though.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nod and you don’t hesitate to tell her the truth. 

“It’s a lot harder than days, definitely. I mean, neither of them are easy, obviously. But there’s more routine with days, you can almost prepare yourself. You don’t get that with nights. All you can do is buckle up and hope for the best and I think I’ve gotten really good at that. Nights are when people are the most vulnerable and scared, when they aren’t afraid of hiding it anymore. They need someone who’s gonna take a little bit of whatever is being thrown at them off their shoulders and I’m good at that. If I can help even a little, then being a bit sleep deprived all the time isn’t really a bad thing.” 

“I think you’re good at it too, kid,” Dana smiles at you, genuinely that time. Then she pauses for another second before asking, “You wanna switch back to days?” 

You freeze, “What?” 

Jack, who’d been about to walk away and mind his business, falters. Suddenly he’s hovering again.

“Temporarily,” Dana adds on quickly. “I have a six week cruise calling my name, gift from my sister-in-law. Gloria already approved you taking over for me while I'm gone.”

You laugh a little bit, filled with nothing but shock. “You’re not serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be, Sweets?”

“Well,” You point behind her at where Princess and Perlah are standing. You’re so caught off guard by the question that you don’t even notice they’re only there because Jack had quickly recruited them to help hide him in the background behind them so he could move closer. “What about them?” 

“Oh absolutely not.”

“Never in a million years.”

“See?” Dana shrugs easily as if that explains everything. “You’re my best bet, kid.” 

“Well,” You struggle to find an argument. “Why me?” 

Because she trusts you. “Cause you’ve done it before. And very well might I add.”

“Yeah, for like five hours,” You cross your arms in front of you and shuffle on your feet. “That hardly counts.”

“Does too, that’s almost half a shift. The place didn’t burn down did it?”

“That’s like the bare minimum.” 

“Sweets,” She finally says as she sets one hand on the counter, the other still holding her drink. She leans forward towards you, lowering herself a bit so she’s eye level with you. “You got this. I know you can run this place the way I do. And so do they.” 

She nods vaguely to her side, in the direction of the rest of the entirety of the ED. Princess gives you a thumbs up from behind her and Perlah nods enthusiastically.

“Please say yes,” Jesse shows up out of nowhere, hands squeezing your shoulders in greeting before he leans on the counter next to you. “She’s gonna make one of us do it if you say no.”

“Oh no,” You turn to him and give a mock frown. “Not more work.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and then looks at Dana. “She takes after you.”

And it's true. She’d taught you everything she knew and you soaked up every bit of it. 

You think for a moment again. You’d gotten used to nights incredibly quickly. It was your home. Where you thrived. But a part of you missed this exact thing sometimes though. The first people you knew here, the ones who’d taught you. The ones you kept close, carrying parts of them with you always. If they trusted you…

“Gloria really said yes already?”

“She took very little convincing.”

“And Lena?”

“I’ve never seen her sign off on something so fast.”

“Okay, that hurts a little bit.”

“She just knows how good you are too. You’re the only one we’re waiting for.”

You bite your bottom lip and drop your head back to look at the fluorescent lit ceiling. Your eyes screw shut for a moment as you weigh the choice to yourself. You sigh as you look at Dana again, “Six weeks?”

“That’s right.” 

There’s another few seconds of suspense and you can feel all of them staring at you. And then finally, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Jack watches the way they cheer and then excitedly crowd around you from afar. And he’s happy for you, he really is. He’s proud of you and he’s absolutely going to tell you so as soon as you tell him later and he pretends to not already know. He’s also devastated. He already doesn’t know what they expect him to do with himself. How could he possibly survive the next six weeks if he didn’t have you by his side. 

Whitaker walks past him in that exact moment, on his way to look at the board that has now officially changed, the names of everyone on the night shift taking place of the day shift. Jack grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back in a single quick move. 

He stumbles back and Jack steadies him before he can fall. 

“You don’t want to switch places do you?” The question escapes Jack on its own and Whitaker looks confused for only a second. “You can stay on nights and I’ll take your place on days.” 

Silence. And then Whitaker notices you still standing with Dana. Perlah, Princess, and Jesse are all hovering now too. Then Donnie and Vivi join you and they know from the ecstatic looks on everyone else’s faces that you said yes. He connects the dots easily enough. He heard about it from Santos who heard from Princess a few days ago. He figured it was none of his business. 

He stands upright again and tries really hard not to laugh a little bit. He returns the gesture and sets a hand on Jack’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes before shaking his head once. 

“Not a chance. Good luck.”

note pt. 2: shen one hundred percent went to see sabrina carpenter i don't make the rules (javadi got the pink camaraderie shirt in case anyone was wondering)