⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚

Only a select few at the hospital know the true Brendon Park. Of course Walsh and Garcia, who have spent many an emergency trauma surgery with him when he needed to do an ORIF or an ex-fix, know the true Park. They cut through his bullshit and didn’t let his intimidating shark-like stare scare them off- they can take his smart remarks and the roll of his eyes and give it all right back at him.

They know that Brendon Park’s other nickname is daddy and not in the way that you’re thinking- but because he’s called that by three little people at home who have his eyes and your smile.

They know that when you got pregnant with your first child- something changed in Brendon. A switch flipped because suddenly the man who had expensive taste and seemed to live his lavish lifestyle turned into a family man. He started to- well he started to nest. His sleek sports car was traded in for an SUV that he spent hours comparing crash tests and ratings because you and his daughter would be riding inside. He studied and obsessed over which car seat was the safest- scared the poor sales boy who couldn’t answer his questions fast enough. The diaper bag he picked has near tactical level organization that rivaled Abbot’s backpack and was already ready to go whenever you needed.

They know that during your second pregnancy- your daughter was a toddler and learned to walk on cold penthouse tiles and that he complained about her room bringing in little light for her. They saw Brendon immediately spring into action- knew how he spent days looking at neighborhoods with good schools nearby and he settled on the perfect house for you to raise your kids in. Two stories, 6 bedrooms, giant backyard with space for a swing set and a garden. He spent one of his rare weekends off painting the rooms for his kids, setting up the crib for his son that you’re due to have soon and- building that swing set that your kids will play on and grow up with.

They were called aunt Yoli and aunt Emy by your kids- they knew Brendon cried on your daughters first day of school because she let go of his hand and ran into her classroom with excitement and awe. That you had to console him and spent the entire day telling him to not pick her up early- and then spent the rest of the day sitting outside the school way too early to pick her up because he was antsy. They knew that Park made waffles on Sunday mornings for you and his kids. He would wake up early- kiss your cheek before leaving you in bed to go check on his babies down the hall. Your daughter at the age where she can attend one of those good school that Brendon pays for- your son still in preschool but it makes his heart feel sad that in another year he’ll join your daughter.

And with your third pregnancy? They knew that Brendon now realized what was the most important factor in raising a family- time. God there wasn’t enough and not even all the money in his accounts could give him more time- because he remembers the panic when your oldest was born and now she has her first ballet recital and he made sure to block out the day to not be on call. Birthdays are a special event and he takes the day off to make sure he can join you in blowing up balloons and making pancakes with sprinkles and candles for breakfast. Brendon’s life was changed because he’s present for every event- soccer games even if he son is the most uncoordinated child ever, piano and ballets recitals, softball games, and school plays. They know that Park refuses to let time slip from his hands when it comes to you and his kids because the second they become known he’s there for every appointment, anatomy scan, blood draw, and ultrasound.

But everyone knows how frustrated Brendon Park “the Shark” gets when he’s gets called in the middle of the night for an ortho trauma-

“Mmph, Brendon~” huffing out his name with a shaky breath when a heavy hand slides up your nightgown to cup at your chest- his lips busy with the skin of your neck to nip and bite at before using his tongue to soothe the pain. You were both woken up by your middle child- monsters and scary men in his dreams that required his big mean daddy to take care of for him but after slaying the demons, your husband had some other plans for the night. “H-happy Father’s D-day,” muffled by his needy lips and desperate touches- little grinds of himself between your thighs to quell the ache that was growing between you both.

“Give me another one,” groaning- drunk off your taste and the pretty way you sound underneath him while he struggles and paws at the neckline of your nightgown so he can get better access for his mouth to occupy your chest. “One more baby, honey- you give me such pretty babies,” he was lost in it now- mouthing dark marks on your skin while nearly slurring his words against your body. “We have one more room to fill- just one more baby- please,” it was hard to deny him now- sounding so needy and desperate and pulling at his boxers before the sound of his phone interrupted you both. You’d think he got fired with the way he whimpered and whined a loud ‘no!’ against your lips- but duty calls and he was the one who had to answer for this shift. Which left him annoyed. Grumpy. Pouting against your lips for a final kiss before tucking you back into bed and mumbling “this isn’t over,” before finding his way to PTMC for a trauma. He’s not sure what makes him more irritated- the denial of soft, half-asleep 3 am sex with his wife or the fact that he’ll miss breakfast with his family on Father’s Day.

“Dr. Park,” his favorite scrub nurse old woman, has been in the practice for years and also doesn’t take shit from Brendon called out over the music- “it’s yours.” He almost didn’t hear her- today felt like a good day for Knocked Loose. But he nods- telling them to turn the volume down when she answered his phone. She also knew of his family- because she was the only one who could see that his background lock screen was a trio of babies who had a familiar blues and sweet smiles that let them get away with anything. Ice cream for breakfast, cookies in bed, a treat just because-

“This is Park,” answering almost on autopilot- stiff voice while he finished the last touches of the ex-fix before asking for a 4-0 Dacron.

“Daddy?” The entire OR paused- a soft, tiny voice broke through the speaker and immediately the tension from Park’s body melted- his eyes softened and they could see the way he smiled from behind the mask. Immediately after Brendon answered his oldest child, another other tiny voice- that of your oldest son spoke up and he could hear the distinct babble of your youngest son trying to keep up with his two siblings. The Shark personality was gone- there was no biting off heads or the voice he saves for chewing out interns. The OR listens while a trio of voices wish him a happy Father’s Day- his oldest giving him her best rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star while his son started yelling his ABC’s to show Park he’s been practicing. And in the background? A very loud chanting of ‘dadadadadadadada’ from your youngest who needs to make it known that his favorite person was also his first word.

Park is engaged- intently listening to your kids while you try to calm them and listen for him in case he needs you to step in if his surgery gets dicey and he has to hang up. You know your husband can multitask- focusing on the delicate tendon reattachment while the kids go on in detail about the breakfast they had. He doesn’t use fillers or just nod along while they speak- no he’s engaged and asking questions and- “did you have any fruit or just syrup?” Because your son would eat it with a spoon if you let him.

“Daddy what are you doing?” Your oldest has become interested in his job lately- tells everyone she meets that her daddy fixes bones. She’ll stay up and crawl into his lap while he reads case studies softly to her until she falls asleep- safe and warm in his arms until he decides to carry her back to her room and tuck her in.

“I’m fixing someone’s leg,” some poor bastard who ended up on the wrong side of a car accident. No casualties but the years of physical therapy will be hell for this kid. Your daughter knows that bone! Excitedly exclaiming that clearly that’s the femur- ‘that’s in your thigh’ she’ll do an aside to you as if her and her dad that’s their own little language now that she can understand. After another few minutes of your kids asking if Brendon will kiss their owie like he does their own- you finally manage to get a second to speak before leaving him to work. Giving the entire OR a view into your life- a view of the Brendon that’s yours. That he’s loved- has a family and a wife and does ingest more that protein he actually has a major sweet tooth believe it or not- having found him and your kids in the kitchen late at night sneaking spoonfuls of ice cream and loud shhhh’s because ‘mommy is sleeping!’

“I love you Brendon, happy Father’s Day,” you know he hurts- how he can’t always be there for you and your kids but it’s not like he’s willfully abandoning you. He always comes back. They know he leaves but what’s even more important is that he comes back to them- tired and drained but he never lets them know. Body exhausted and mind busy but the second he comes home and hears their excitement of ‘daddy’s home!’ You remind him that you and the kids will be waiting- you’ll always wait up for him. And that he has a few gifts to open when he comes home. A nice new scrub cap that you had made of your kid’s drawings of sharks for him- ‘dada!’ your youngest shrieked- already having made a connection between sharks and his dad.

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