The three of them sat on the couch where Peter had set up shop the past few days. (Y/n) had, of course, called in to work and told her boss of Peter's accident... getting mugged and shot.

It was a pretty good cover story if (y/n) said so herself.

"It's a shame Spider-Man is in the hospital," her boss had sighed. "Maybe he could've stopped it. Take all the time you need."

Frank shoved a forkful of takeout into his mouth. "How ya feeling, kid?"

"Sore. I know how the other Peters felt now. (Y/n) hasn't let me lift a finger."

"Good," he chuckled, nudging his daughter. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Peter's days consisted of nothing but the couch, ignoring the buzzing alerts of his phone. (Y/n) muted them after a while. They were driving her crazy. If Peter was being honest, it was driving him insane knowing the city needed him and he couldn't do anything. Each time, he'd get up and look out the window longingly at the street below. And each time, (y/n) reminded him that he wasn't alone. DeWolff had called a few times to check up on him, ensuring the NYPD had everything under control.

It didn't make it any easier.

The longer he stayed in his apartment, on that couch, the more he thought he'd lose his mind. As much as he loved it, he could only watch the original Star Wars trilogy---and the cinematic masterpiece, Revenge of the Sith---so many times.

So one day when (y/n) was out at the store, Peter decided to take a walk. After leaving her a note, he hobbled down the hallway, rode the elevator down, and pushed through the lobby doors. He breathed deeply as the sun hit his face.

Playing children ran past him, and a smile graced his lips. He thought of the kid from the hospital, the one who'd smiled at him from atop his father's shoulders. It was crazy how fast life could change. A few years before, the world hated him. But now?

Spider-Man was everywhere. He was on T-shirts, billboards, sweatpants, sunglasses... he was everywhere you looked. "I <3 Spider-Man" shirts were sold out at every little NYC gift shop.

A twinge of pain shot through him with every limping step Peter took, but he couldn't focus on it. He was just glad to be back in his city. On his streets.

"Hey, Peter."

He turned to see an olive-skinned woman in business casual walking beside him. "Do I know you?"

"Glad to see you're up and about... You know, I never got to thank you."

Peter froze, turning toward her with furrowed brows. "Jean?"

"Hi." The woman smiled.

"You don't have to thank me."

"You saved me and then took a bullet for me," the woman reminded him, her voice softening. "Of course I need to thank you."

His eyes dropped to his shoes before meeting her gaze. "I should be thanking you, too. I know you kept me alive."

"That was nothing."

"Jean-"

She ignored him and started forward again. "I'm outside the city, far away from here. It's nice to visit."

"Did you find somewhere safe?"

"Yeah," Jean grinned through the woman. "I think I have."

"They're lucky to have you. But don't forget that you'll always have someone in New York looking out for you."

She nodded. "I know."

Something passed over the woman's face, and she blinked a few times. Was Jean's signal getting weaker? Before he could ask, she pulled him into a careful hug.

"Take care, Peter. I'll, uh, I'll see you around."

She pulled back, and then Jean was gone, replaced by the woman's confused face. Peter continued toward the flower shop a few blocks away. The apartment could use some brightening up. They hadn't been able to take any of the balloons with them, but it brought a smile to his face when he saw one in a shopkeeper's window.

Peter ordered a coffee and sat down, watching the strangers passing by---a mom and son, a teenage couple hand in hand, businessmen with briefcases. Each one unique, worthy of love, of being protected.

May’s voice echoed in his mind. “With great power comes great responsibility.”

For the first time in years, the weight on Peter’s shoulders lifted. Maybe it was alright to share some of that responsibility.

Humanity wasn’t meant to be alone. Life isn’t meant to be bleak and isolating.

Then, like a burst of color, she pushed through the doors with a chime. Her eyes landed on him at the corner table. She only shook her head with a smile as she sat across from him.

“Thought you’d be here.”

“A walk sounded nice."

(Y/n) followed his gaze out the window. "How's it today?"

"Better."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You know, my dad mentioned something about bringing over his chili tonight, but," (y/n) shot him a million-dollar grin, "I was thinking we should go out tonight. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds like a plan."

(Y/n) leaned over the table and kissed him. "Perfect."

"Where do you want to go?"

She took his hand. "I have something in mind."

~~~

The setting sun cast its golden rays across the city, silhouetting the surrounding skyscrapers. (Y/n)'s hair blew in the wind as she readjusted on her lawn chair and took a bite of cake.

"Happy Six Months" had been written on the tiny cake before they'd dug into it, devouring three-fourths of it. Peter had repeatedly apologized for forgetting, but (y/n) insisted that getting shot was a worthy excuse. A couple of kisses also helped him believe her.

And now they sat, hand in hand, as they watched the sun set over the city. Their city.

"Never gets old," she murmured, squeezing his hand.

Peter's gaze drifted from the skyline to the woman beside him. The fading light illuminated her features, setting her beautiful eyes alight. His heart clenched in his chest.

How was he so lucky to find someone like her?

She'd stayed by his side as Peter Parker and as Spider-Man, never pushing or prying for details or explanations. She'd simply been there. She never left his hospital bed and had been taking care of him ever since---replacing his bandages and making sure he took it easy.

Oh, how he loved her.

"No, it doesn't."

(Y/n) turned to find him staring at her. A slow smile tugged at her lips, and she leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Have I told you I love you?" she mumbled against his lips.

Peter shook his head. "I think you'll have to tell me again."

"I love you, Peter Parker," she whispered, kissing him once. "I love you, Spider-Man." She kissed him again.

He leaned in for another, but she pulled back with a giggle. Something serious flashed over his face before she could speak. His suddenly glossy gaze flicked between her lips and eyes.

"Thank you... for everything. For being here. Taking care of me... all of it."

(Y/n)'s eyes burned. "You don't have to thank-"

"Yes, I do," he croaked, shaking his head. "I was so alone before you. I-I had no one. You changed my life, (y/n). Thank you doesn't seem like enough."

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. "You're enough," whispered (y/n). "You're more than enough. And I'll always look after you, my Spider-Man."

________________________________________________________________

Day 1: Silver and Blue Hand painted Dreidel

            Everyone knows that you like Michael Robinavitch. It’s not a secret and, in fact, it’s fairly obvious, the way you smile, the way you go out of your way to talk to him when you never do it for anyone else. The way you sometimes in bring in a drink for him, something for him to try. 

            You remember when Trinity noticed. She asked you who the extra drink was for, her tone leading, hinting for herself. You’d explained that it was for Robby. 

            “Robby? Like Dr. Robby?” she’d asked and you’d nodded, lips pressing into a smile, the thin-lipped one that happens when you try to suppress a real one. “Jesus. Are you in love with him or something?” It was when she’d seen your face, the pinched, shocked expression like a grimacing deer in headlights that she’d gone wide-eyed and laughed. “Oh, Sunshine!” she’d laughed. “He doesn’t deserve you, but okay.”

            Dennis had been the next and he’d been kinder. He’d just asked you one day, the two of you in the break room, a breather, ten minutes to come back to yourselves after the case you’d worked on, the five year old child who died, drowning in their own fluid build-up. 

            “Do you like Dr. Robby?” he’d asked and you’d turned from where you stood at the coffee maker, a mug in your hands smelling of that burnt, tar coffee that couldn’t really be coffee but had enough caffeine to get you through the day. 

            “Why do you ask?” you’d replied, fingers curling around the mug and its handle, attention fixed on him, unwavering. 

            “Because of the way you look at him. I just wondered.” It was the kind of question that was really just a formality. He was just telling you that he knew. 

            “Yeah, I do.”

            The rest of the shift had picked up on it, silently but surely, tiptoeing around it and ignoring it for the most part, doing their best to act like they didn’t know even if they did. The night shift figured it out one day and Parker and John were never ones to let teasing you go, but they made sure they never did so around Robby. Even they had their limits, teasing as friends, yes, outing your crush to the crushee, no. 

            The only problem is that everyone but Robby knows. And sometimes that seems a blessing, sometimes that seems a curse.

            It seems a curse because you like him, a lot yet you have had to watch him date women after women after women who are nothing like you. You have had to suffer through heartbreak over and over and over without ever saying anything to anyone, only brushing off the questions, putting on a smile and acting like nothing hurts, like everything is fine, everything is normal. What do you mean my heart is breaking? I’m the same me as always. 

            The only person who you have to talk to is Jack Abbot, your best friend. Jack is the one who is there to catch you as your heart breaks, swearing about Robby and how fucking blind he is and telling you to move on or just fucking tell him. It was Jack’s idea to do something to show Robby, but you don’t think he meant this. 

            “Fucking Hanukkah gifts,” he says, looking down at the papers with your notes, ideas and the plan. You researched quite a bit into Hanukkah, the tradition, the dos and don’ts of gift giving for it and the evidence is on the paper, in your own hand. 

            “Yep,” you reply, looking up from your tablet where the last gift to be ordered waits, sitting in the digital cart. “See I’ll leave them as anonymous gifts until the eighth day when surprise I’ll reveal it’s me.”

            “I hope…” he pauses, lips pressing together as he looks from you to the papers, the concerned big brother look in full force, “I hope this goes the way you want, Sunshine. I really do.”

            “It will,” you tell him, voice light, enthusiastic as you press order on the cart, now all eight gifts having been ordered or shipped, soon to be in your possession. 

            “I hope so,” is all Jack says again, sitting down on the couch and reaching for the remote, for your choice of movie for the monthly movie night. “What is it again?”

            “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” you answer and he groans, shaking his head as he clicks through the streaming services. 

            “So, what?” he says. “Are you trying to be your own rom-com now? The Eight Days of Hanukkah or something?”

            “Obviously.”

            But the truth is, it doesn’t matter about the teasing or the groaning, you know Jack has your back. Your best friend, partner-in-crime, and the one who’s stuck on this rodeo with you. 

            You can just see the edge of the silver and blue ribbons that you strung on Robby’s locker, tied from his lock, gift number one dangling from the ends. It’s a small, blue and silver dreidel that you painted yourself, taking special care to paint the nun, gimel, hay and shin right. The symbols on the blue sides are painted silver and the ones on the silver sides are painted blue. 

            You hope that what you’re doing is enough, that it won’t blow up in your face, that Robby won’t snap at the whole of the ER like he’s done a few times since coming back from sabbatical. You hope and hope and hope because really, hope is the thing that keeps people going. It always has. 

            “Hon,” Dana says, her voice soft, her hand gentle as it lands on your forearm, “you’re gonna make it obvious if you keep doin’ that.”

            “But Dana,” you whisper, one hand drifting to your stethoscope, the one you bought yourself when you got the appointment of attending at PTMC a year ago, “I need to see his reaction.”

            “There’s not gonna be a reaction if you keep lookin’ at it like that,” she says, her tone wry, voice a steady, sweet drawl. “You gotta do somethin’ else before he gets here. Migrate back once he arrives, okay, sugar?”

            “Fine,” you say, pushing up and off the nurse’s station, reaching over and pulling an iPad out of the slots. “But if I miss it, I’m blaming you.” You point two fingers at your eyes at then at hers, the universal, ever-dramatic sign for I’m watching you. 

            “Uh-huh, sugar,” she says, waving you off with one hand and turning to the computer, to whatever message has come across it, “go be a doctor now.”

            It’s at that moment that you hear a familiar whistle behind you, one whistling the tune of “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne, one you’ve heard laughing, crying, yelling and simply talking. One that sets your heart aflutter even when you wish it didn’t, even when that crush had meant that you got hurt more often than not. 

            “You’re in a good mood,” you call out, brows knitting together as you look at Robby, at the way he seems happier, a little brighter as he lifts his fingers from his backpack strap to wave at you, continuing on to his locker, never once stopping his humming. 

            “I think someone got laid last night,” you hear Trin call out and your muscles tense, go rigid of their own accord, your tongue pressing hard against the roof of your mouth, eyes hot, kind of burning as your chest constricts for a moment. 

            God, you hate crushing on people. Why does it have to happen? Why can’t you just, not like anybody? Because that would make life a whole lot simpler. 

            “Trin’s just being…well, Trin,” you hear Dennis say behind you, his hand coming to rest on your back, in the place between your shoulder blades. “She doesn’t…mean anything by it.”

            “I’m well aware, Huckleberry,” you whisper, turning your head to look at him, lips pressed thin, nostrils flared and brows quirked as he rolls his eyes, a faint blush of pink upon his cheeks. 

            “I’m rooting for you,” he says and then he steps away, turning back into the bustle of the ED while you glance forwards again, watching as Robby reaches his locker, hands removing the dreidel from the ribbon. 

            You feel as your breath catches, as you wait like the tired expression with bated breath to see his reaction. He looks at it, holding it up and twisting it in his fingers, his humming finally stopped as he slips it into his pale blue zip hoodie pocket, the very same hoodie you got him for his birthday last year, begging him to retire his green one. 

            He slipped it into his hoodie pocket, you realize then, blinking once, twice and fighting back the smile that wants to grow as you turn on your heel, your shoes for once not squeaking on the polished linoleum roll floor as you head to Patient Bay 13, the image of him twirling it between his fingers before slipping it into his pocket remaining with you. 

            Because maybe this wasn’t such a fucked up idea after all. 

            Take that, Jack Abbot. 

            As you’re climbing into your car that day, at the end of shift, body heavy, bones aching and heart just…tired, you can’t help but smile, a small kind of smile because all day, Robby looked at the dreidel when he could, taking it out and spinning it, smiling at it, maybe remembering good times, happy times. 

            When he was stressed in traumas, his hand always drifted to his right pocket, the one where he’d placed the dreidel.

            So, maybe you did something right. 

Day 2: Silver Gelt

            You step into the ED, your bag on your shoulder, hand hooked through the strap, the bag of silver gelt in the water bottle pocket of your backpack. The ED is your favourite place because of how alive it is; it’s a soul-sucking, soul-crushing, murdering machine and you love it. Because it’s never quiet, because it’s always going, because it will always exist. 

            “Look at who’s in to help us this fine, fine morning!” a voice calls out and you stop in your tracks, sighing once, the kind of sigh that is less a sigh and more just a sound of annoyance. 

            “What do you want, John?” you call out, glancing over your shoulder to see Thing 1 standing there, arms crossed and the ever-present accessory of a Dunkin’s iced coffee in his hand. 

            “I’m just so glad that a day shift doc came in super early before their shift, just to help us out,” he says and you glare at him, eyes narrowing even more as Parker walks over, their face lit up, lips pulled back in their smirk. That’s the only word for that smile. 

            “Could it be that Doc Sunshine is actually here to help us, night crawlers?” they ask and John uncrosses his arms, lifting one hand to his chin, rubbing it as if he has a beard on that smooth, baby-face. 

            “Or could it be that she’s satisfying her own selfish love interests?” he counters and Parker gasps, the sound fake and overdramatic, their dark eyes wide as they look at you. In response, you lift your hand, flipping them off. 

            “Fuck off, Things 1 and 2,” you reply, turning back to the locker room. “Don’t forget!” you call out. “You promised not to tell!”

            “Wow!” you hear John yell, his voice once again returned to its normal deadpan. “How quickly you doubt your friends.”

            “We’d never tell,” you hear Parker say, “we’re just bugging you, man! Go win your old man over!” You can’t help but roll your eyes at their words, slipping into the locker room and dropping your bag at your feet, pulling the blue and silver embroidered bag from your water bottle pocket, punching in Robby’s locker code, the light turning green and you pull the door open. 

            You and Robby exchanged codes in that just in case event. That just in case being one of you is mortally injured or dying or needs something and can’t get away to get it. And, it really helps you out right now as you set the bag with the silver gelt inside, shutting the locker door, lock clicking as it closes. 

            “All good?” Jack calls out and you turn to him, giving him a thumbs-up as you toss your bag back over your shoulder. 

            “All good.”

            “I need those labs on the kid in Central 3 back now, Whitaker,” you say as the two of you step out of the room, the iPad held to your chest. “Do whatever you can, just get them!”

            “Yes, of course,” he says, cheeks flushing the way they always do when he gets even slightly nervous. “I’ll…I’ll do that right now.”

            “Okay,” you reply, turning away from him, towards the nurse’s station, your heart stopping for just a moment at the sight there. At Robby laughing with Dana and Jack, holding the bag of the silver gelt you got him, unwrapping a piece of the chocolate and popping it into his mouth. 

            He looks…happy. Light. You hope it’s the gifts, but something inside of you worries that it’s not. That it’s someone else. 

            “Give me one,” Jack says, his voice carrying across the ED as he nods at the bag of the chocolate, but Robby shakes his head, pulling the bag to his chest. 

            “My secret…Hanukkah gift-giver got these for me,” he replies, his voice as light as he seems, the sound making you happy, a small smile blooming on your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet, walking over to the nurse’s station, a renewed spring in your step. “Get your own secret gift giver.”

            “Dana?” you call out, eyebrows raised as you exchange one iPad for another, another patient, another bay, another problem that you get to solve. “Any labs back for me?”

            “Let me check, sugar,” she says, reaching over and squeezing your forearm in the touch she has that is maternal and safe and precious all the same time. You can feel Robby’s body not far from yours, seeming to radiate heat over to you as you lean on the counter, your torso and arms digging into the edge, no doubt lines will be on your forearms after. 

            “Hey, Sunny,” you hear him say, his voice raspy in that way that sets your soul aflame and you turn to him, a small smile on your face, one that stutters, shutters for a moment like a malfunctioning camera lens when you see the smile on his face, the way he’s tipped the bag towards you. “Want one? I have a secret admirer, apparently and, you know, spoils are no fun when it’s just for yourself.”

            “What?!” Jack cries, his face twisting in mock hurt and irritation. Well, knowing Jack it’s real irritation, but it might not be; everything both does and doesn’t irritate him. He’s not an open book. “She gets one and I don’t?!” You roll your eyes at him, sticking your tongue out as you reach forwards, pulling one of the silver coins from the bag. 

            “I’m special, Jack,” you counter, your eyes flicking back to Robby, your heart skipping beats when you see that he’s still looking at you with that precious half-smile he has. The one that means he’s really happy. He looks good, really good, unfairly good, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, revealing broad forearms covered with dark coarse hair, a watch on his left wrist, fingers long, thick…you blink, swallowing hard, looking away from him and back to your best friend who stands with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as he shakes his head. 

            “You’re really not,” he says. “You’re just nice.”

            “No,” Robby says, turning to Jack, expression darkening. “She is special, Jack.”

Day 3: Sufganiyah

            Your kitchen is a warzone, the counters covered with flour, bits of drying dough stuck on the granite countertops, jelly here and there, glaring red and congealed like blood. It’s more of a murder scene than a warzone, actually, you realize as you stand there, wiping your hands off on the dish towel you’ve tucked into the ties of your apron. A murder of the special donuts currently being deep-fried outside, watched over by one Jack Abbot. 

            “How are they coming?” you call out, stepping out of the kitchen, feeling the flour as it sticks to the lines of the soles of your feet. “Almost done?”

            “Remind me again,” he calls out, “why we’re doing this?”

            “So, that I can work up the nerve to tell Robby that I like him,” you answer, pausing at the doorway, your back porch doors wide open, the smell of oil frying dough acrid and disgusting, but a necessary evil.

            “Don’t lie to me,” he says, looking up at you before back down to the fryer as he scoops a golden brown ball of dough out of the fryer, laying it on the paper-towel laden tray. “You love Robby. There’s a difference between like and love and you crossed it long ago.”

            “No,” you say, but inside you can feel that sinking of your stomach, the pit that tells you that he’s right, that you crossed that line into love. Maybe when you reached out to his grandparents, spoke to his grandmother about her recipe, got her excited that her grandson would be celebrating the holiday with someone again. Maybe when she offered to send you the bag that you’d placed the gelt in, the one from his childhood and the locket that had been in his family for generations. 

            Or maybe just when you spent your days off with him or anything with him. 

            Because you don’t think a crush would hurt this much when they fall for someone else. 

            “Maybe,” you pause, looking up at the still dark morning sky, “maybe I do love him. And maybe that’s what this is all about.”

            “What? Telling him you love him?”

            “No,” you whisper, meeting Jack’s worried, unsure gaze with yours. “Making sure he knows he’s worth it to me.”

            The coffee is brewing and the worst part is, is that it always smells like coffee, yet it never tastes like coffee. But caffeine is caffeine and you forgot to pack both your espresso beans and Kopiko so you have no other option but…breakroom coffee to get your caffeine fix. Energy drinks are out of the question, you can’t stand the fizz in your mouth, the texture of it as it snaps, crackles and pops in your throat as it goes down. 

            You reach up and pull down your mug, the one you keep in the breakroom, emblazoned with your name on it so if anyone uses it, they’re admitting to trying to steal your stuff. And once when you caught Donnie with it, you said that he was stealing your identity, just to be a bit dramatic. 

            “Hey, Sunny,” you hear Robby call out, your body jumping just a bit at his presence that wasn’t there but now is.

            “Hi, Robby,” you reply without turning around, focusing on the nearly full coffee pot, on the so close escape. You didn’t see his reaction to the day three gift and you worry that you’ll give something away if you speak with him, act normal. You’d rather act strange and not have to worry about it than act normal and reveal too early that you’re the admirer. 

            It’s then that the coffeepot beeps and you pull the carafe from its base, pouring the tarlike coffee into your bright blue mug, turning around and waving once at Robby. Robby who is sitting at the breakroom table with the container of three Sufganiyah you packed this morning and tied with silver and blue ribbon. 

            “You know,” he says before you can exit the room, escape your own nerves, “my admirer gave me three of these donuts and that’s one too many.”

            “Shouldn’t that be two too many since there’s only one of you?” you ask, glancing over at him, your heart aching at the way he smiles at you, waving you back and over. Back towards him.

            “I said what I said, Sunshine,” he replies. “You want to share them with me?”

            “Unfortunately,” you answer, nodding your head to the breakroom door, to the ED that lives outside, its own living, breathing entity, “I only had five minutes for my break and I spent them all brewing coffee.”

            “Uh-huh,” he says, “I’m the boss and I am hereby extending your break so you can help me finish these.”

            “Fine,” you sigh, walking back over to the table and sitting down, feeling your joints crack and pop and creak as you do so, reaching into the Tupperware container and withdrawing a single Sufganiyah, the smell of frying dough still clinging to the walls of your kitchen at home. “But only because you made me.”

            “I’ll have it be known,” he says, his voice light and bright to match the smile on his face, the one that appeared as soon as you sat down, as soon as you bit into the pastry, jelly oozing out on your hand, your squeal echoing through the breakroom. 

            His laughter joining it. 

Day 4: Motorcycle Helmet

            You feel dead on your feet and you haven’t even started your shift yet, haven’t even put your stuff in your locker, but honestly, that’s what you get for being convinced by Trinity to go out with her, Dennis and Mel to the karaoke bar, Victoria busy with Cassie. 

            “Looking great, Sunshine,” Jack says as you step into the ED, your bag feeling way too heavy on your back, your only response to flip him off as you walk towards the locker room, your feet already aching. “By the way! It’s all good!”

            That’s when you realize that he dealt with the fourth gift, the one you got both for practicality, point making and sentimentality. The one that Jack had arranged because he had an old army buddy that did graphic design. A buddy that had done the detail work on the motorcycle helmet you bought. 

            Jack had promised yesterday when you went out that he’d deal with the helmet, get it in the locker and everything for you and yay, it all went well. But really, you’re too sore to really care today. 

            “Rough night?” Robby asks and you can feel your heartrate speed up, body tensing, preparing for flight or fight over the jump scare, your one hand pressing against your chest as you turn to look at him, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head at him. 

            “You have no idea,” you reply, voice dry and rough, tired in its own right, tone low, slightly irritated as you turn to your locker, jabbing your button far too hard into the keypad, violent as it beeps and unlocks, the light turning green. You pull on the door and throw your bag in, grabbing your water bottle and box of chocolate covered espresso beans before slamming the door and turning to leave. 

            But seeing Robby holding the helmet and rolling his eyes, lips twisted in a wry smile has you stopped in your tracks, the detail work facing you, his attention focused on the front. 

            “Think my secret Hanukkah giver is making a point?” he asks. 

            “Look at the back,” you tell him, voice still tired, still dry and wry but lightening as you see Stevie Nicks’ logo, the heart with wings and the lyrics thunder only happens when it’s raining. He flips it in his hands, sucking in a deep breath at the blue and silver detailing before lifting his gaze to you, lips quirking in that boyish smile he has. 

            “Guess I have to wear a helmet now.”

Day 5: Leather Bound Collectible of Gray’s Anatomy

            You’re waiting for Robby, leaning against the bank of lockers, listening to his voice as he gives last minute, going off shift advice to the team that isn’t his team, but he just can’t let go of the ED. Even coming back from sabbatical hasn’t changed that, in fact it’s almost worse, like he feels he has to make up for his time away. Like he’s abandoned this place. This place that is alive in its own right, this place that will last long after all of you have gone. 

            “Go home, brother,” you hear Jack say, can imagine him pulling Robby aside and pushing him towards the locker room, pushing him away, to leave. To rest. But Robby’s never been good at that, resting. 

            “I’ll stay for that incoming trauma,” Robby replies and you sigh, rolling your eyes as you push yourself off the lockers, striding to the archway and peering around, taking note of Jack, arms crossed and Robby, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck. 

            “No, you won’t, Robinavitch!” you call out and you can see as his back goes rigid, muscles tensing as he turns, glancing back to see you, face melting into that happy, regretful expression. 

            “How long have you been waiting?” he asks and you step out from the archway, your arms crossing like a mimic of your best friend, the two of you the wall, preventing Robby’s entrance back to the ED. 

            “Long enough,” you answer, tone arch and dry, “especially considering I was promised disco fries.”

            “But t—”

            “No, Robby,” you interrupt, holding up a hand to stop him in his tracks, his explanation not needed, excuses not important. “Let’s go!” He sighs and holds up both hands in that gesture for I give up, I give up, walking over to you, his lips curving up in that boyish smile he has the closer he gets to you, one hand coming to land on your shoulder, steering you back into the locker room. 

            “Is it just disco fries or have you added to the order considering I’ve made you wait way past shift end?”

            “Oh-ho, I am glad you asked,” you say as he steps around you to open his locker, the square blue and silver wrapped package still sitting on the bottom of his locker, unopened. “It’s now disco fries, a giant chocolate milkshake and…let me think…yeah, coffee.”

            “Milk shake and coffee?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at you, motions paused, bag half on his shoulder, half off. 

            “Yeah,” you tell him, eyebrows arching. “Do you have a problem with that, Michael?”

            “No,” he says, lips seeming set permanently in his smile, other hand grabbing the package, slipping it under his arm, backpack on his shoulder as he slams his locker closed, the lock clicking with its high-pitched electric beep. “No problem.”

            “You haven’t opened the gift yet?” you ask as he turns, the package still wrapped, the special edition of the classic book still inside, unseen. 

            “I’ll do it at the diner,” he says. “Come on.” And he reaches forwards, taking your hand in his, his palm warm against yours and you can feel that hitch in your breath and that ache in your heart because you wish, god you wish that this was a date and he was your partner and not just your friend. You wish that gesture wasn’t a friend just tugging you along after him, but your boyfriend leading you to a date, to romance and love and everything you want and hope the gifts will give you even when you have that feeling that they won’t. 

            The sad fact is, is that even if they don’t work, you’ll still love him and still follow him wherever he leads. Whatever force guides the actions of the universe, it’s a real bitch. 

            “Open it!” you whisper, tone excited as you reach across the diner table and poke him in the arm. He rolls his eyes at you, the gesture sweet and affectionate and layered with knowing and he picks the wrapped book up off the Formica table, fingers sliding into the line of the wrapping paper, sliding along it, the tape tearing off and paper falling open to reveal the gold-leaf lettered copy of Gray’s Anatomy. 

            The book that made him want to be a doctor. 

            He read it when he was a kid, one of the older, long since revised version, one that his local library had put on the free cart, the one for books too old and not used to be taken and he did. He read it in two days at ten years old and told his grandparents the next day that he was going to be a doctor. That he would do what was in the book, that he would know everything that he needed to know. 

            And you found a special edition of the version he spoke about. 

            “Jesus,” he whispers, lifting it from the paper, twisting it in his hands and looking at every facet of the paper. “I…” You can see the tears in his eyes, one slipping down his cheek, tangling in the dark and greying beard, just a bit of shine, a little bit of glitter made of sadness. 

            “Good gift, I take it,” you say and he looks up at you, eyes narrowed just slightly, his nostrils flared as he nods, carefully unzipping his backpack that rests beside him on the red, cracking vinyl booth, sliding the book inside with a tenderness reserved for treasures of the utmost importance. 

            Good gift for sure. 

Day 6: Iron Maiden Hall of Fame Induction Shirt

            “What did you do on your sabbatical?” you ask Robby, the two of you walking into the ED together, matching cups of Starbucks in your hands, thin plastic cups sweating onto your palms. 

            “Not telling, Sunshine,” he says, glancing over at you, sunglasses hiding his eyes from you, the ones you’ve seen in a million different ways, angry and sad and happy and at their lowest. 

            “But why not?” you press as he lifts one hand, pushing the sunglasses up and onto his head, those perfect chestnut eyes warm and familiar as his lips curl up in an affectionate smile. He adjusts his backpack on his shoulder, something jangling inside it, something light and bright and tender. 

            “Because,” he says as the two of you cross the floor towards the locker room, steps in sync, in tandem. You roll your eyes at him, dramatic to make a point, one he pointedly ignores in favour of crossing into the locker room ahead of you. 

            “Did you go to Starbucks?!” you hear John cry and you pause, turning around, lips pressing thin as you see him standing there, arms crossed, Dunkins’s cup in hand. 

            “Yes,” you answer, your tone wavering in the face of his steady, steely gaze. He doesn’t play around with coffee and Dunkins is his place. The one he favours and supports and Starbucks is his enemy. Says they pollute the propriety of the coffee. 

            “Betrayer!” he cries and that’s when you break, your laugh cracking out of you, loud and bright and filling the air, a locker beep sounding behind you. 

            “Sunshine!” you hear Robby and you glance back to see him, holding up the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame shirt you special ordered from their site. “The Hanukkah gift-giver apparently knows I love heavy metal.”

            “Maybe they actually think you’re a lover of Phil Collins,” you counter and he laughs, his face seeming to open up rather than draw together. 

            “Fair enough,” he says and then he’s ducking past you, waving people off to head to the bathroom, the t-shirt balled up in his hand. 

            “I’m still waiting for an explanation you traitor,” John says and you sigh, gritting your teeth and turning back to him, lips pressing into a line. 

            “And I don’t have one except: I felt like it.” 

            “Betrayer.”

            Robby wore the Iron Maiden shirt all day. You could see it poking it out from under his scrub top during traumas, could hear him talking about it and how he’d been a fan for years. 

            It gave that feeling of happiness that is unique to making Robby happy. Even if he doesn’t know that it’s youmaking him happy. 

            But he will, if things go according to plan.

            So, why do you feel like they won’t. 

Day 7: Burned CD

            You’re waiting to see Robby, to see his reaction to the gift today because it’s the one you worked hardest on. It wasn’t easy to figure out how to adapt the new systems of technology for burning a CD like you did as a kid, but you did it, selecting songs you know he loves, ones that remind you of him and one that captures how you feel for him. 

            You even redid the lyric book, taking the album cover of Rumours by Fleetwood Mac and the lyrics of “Songbird” the one that seems to be how you feel for him. You took the sheets of all the other songs on the CD, reattaching all the papers together and tucking it into the grooves of the empty CD case. It was work, but it didn’t feel like work because you love him and you want him to know at the end of all of this, that he’s worth it. 

            He’s slightly late getting in, his eyes tired, but happy as he walks into the locker room, but he freezes at his locker, the CD taped to the outside of it, album cover facing him. He’s frozen for just a moment before he moves, tearing it off his locker with a violent force, tossing it into the garbage can like it’s nothing but a waste. 

            Like it’s disgusting. 

            You swallow hard, pushing up and away from the computer, from charting, feeling like, for all the world, you’ve been gut-punched. You feel light-headed, woozy, off-balance. This, his throwing out of your work, hurts more than seeing him fall in love a thousand times over. Because his falling in love has nothing to do with you, it’s not a rejection rather just a not noticing. 

            That…that was a rejection. 

            “Sugar?” Dana calls out as you stumble, blinking past the tears lining your eyes. Her voice is worried, concerned, but you wave her off, ducking into the bathroom, shoving into a stall and letting the tears fall down your cheeks, slip down your face, searing lines into your skin in their wake as you press your forehead against the cool metal wall of the stall. 

            Best laid plans are always the ones laid to waste. 

            You should have listened to Jack when he said just fucking tell him, Sunshine. Because it would have been a rejection, but it wouldn’t have hurt like this. It wouldn’t have been your hard work rejected like that. Thrown away like it’s nothing. 

            Nothing but an annoyance. 

            The tears slow and you draw in a deep, shaky breath, stepping back from the wall, pressing your palms against your cheeks and wiping away your tears, unlocking the door and stepping out, going to one of the sinks and splashing cold water on your face, patting it dry with paper towels from the dispenser. 

            You look at yourself in the mirror, realizing that the look in your eyes is not sadness but numbness as much as feeling numb seems better than feeling sad, you wonder if it really is. 

            Or if you’re only numb because there’s still a long way to fall.

            You’re tired as you step out into the ambulance, drawing in a deep breath of the winter air, delighting in the way it feels against your fevered skin. Robby was in a foul mood all day, yelling and losing it at everyone and you felt it was your fault. You pushed too much, wanted too much, hoped for a true romantic moment, but it faltered. 

            It failed. 

            You had told Dana you were sick and could she tell Robby you wouldn’t be in tomorrow at the end of shift and she asked if you were okay and you put on the same face you used to when Robby was dating around. The one that says yeah. The one that says fine. The one that says I love myself and definitely don’t think I’m a fuck-up.

            But you’d gone to Jack. Because he was the one who was stuck with you on this crazy, scary, stupid, heartbreaking journey.

            “You were right,” you’d whispered. “It was stupid to do this.” He’d placed his hands on your shoulder, looking at you one way and then another and looked up, seeing Robby behind you. You could tell because his jaw hardened and his nostrils flared. 

            “You don’t need him,” he’d told you. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay? I’ll bring your favourite ice cream and we’ll watch whatever movie you want.”

            “Promise?” you’d asked and he’d looked back at you and nodded, lifting one hand from your shoulder to offer you his pinky. You’d wrapped yours around his and he’d whispered, “promise.”

            And Jack always keeps his promises. 

            You shake your head now, coming back to yourself and turning, body going rigid as you see Robby standing there with the director of the daycare, Noelle Patrick. 

            “It’s all set,” she says and you watch as she places her hand on Robby’s arm, the gesture comforting and familiar and all too much like a girlfriend, assuring her boyfriend and oh my god, how dumb could you be?

            Of course Michael Robinavitch has a girlfriend. He always has a girlfriend. How could you be so stupid to think that he was single and you had a chance? You’re his friend. That’s it. And, honestly, you’re done with it all. 

            You’re done with him. You’re tired of feeling this was, so you resolve that when you get home, you’re going to run a bath and play Ethel Cain and drink a glass, maybe two of your expensive red wine and cry until you have no tears left, banishing him from your mind and moving on. 

            You deserve that. 

            He has love and you deserve that too. It’s time to purge him from your mind. 

            “…this Hanukkah thing, Noelle, really?” you hear Robby say, his voice cutting through your resolve, his words causing all your just built walls to crumble because of fucking course he thought the gifts were from his girlfriend. 

            Christ, how could you be so blind?

            You run your tongue along your teeth as you draw in a deep breath, muscles tense as you hook your fingers through the straps of your bag and walk past them, head down, attention locked on your shoes, on the cracked and greying asphalt that scuffs underneath your feet. 

            “One sec,” you hear Robby say to Noelle and then, “Sunshine! Hey, Sunshine, wait up!” But you don’t. You don’t stop or pause or turn around, you just keep going and even though you hear him following, you keep going. You keep going faster until you’ve reached your car and you throw your bag in, climbing in and starting it, driving off before you could hear his voice and decide that you’d rather be his friend than lose him completely. 

            You need a break from him. 

Day 8: His Family Locket Plan Cancelled

            It’s a good day, for the most part, if you can ignore that perpetual ache in your heart. But, for the most part, it’s good—you got up late, put on comfy pajamas and didn’t worry about your hair too much, didn’t worry too much about makeup, rather just remaining comfortable and makeup free. 

            You watched a classic, one guaranteed to make you feel both better and worse, The Princess Bride, the movie you watched as a kid, wishing for a Wesley of your own, but never getting one. 

            You realized this time, watching it, that you’re Wesley, doing everything for Robby with love, determined that he’ll know love, even when all he does is hurt you again and again and again. Except that unlike Wesley who ends up with the one he loves, you’re destined to be alone. Because Robby is no Buttercup. 

            Now, you’re reading, a book you’ve waited on for a year, waited to conclude a book series that you love and you’re curled under a blanket, music spilling from your speakers, surrounding you, the soft, lilting voice of Conan Grey and “Vodka Cranberry.”

            “SUNSHINE!” you hear, accompanied by open-handed slaps on the wood of your front door. You know it’s Robby, know his pitch and timbre and volume like no one else. You know him period, like no one else. “OPEN THE DOOR!”

            You huff out a breath, one of aggravation, irritation and sadness all in one as you push your blanket off and set your book aside, tucking in the bookmark for your page. You were hoping to finish it today, but Michael Robinvatich has other plans and you’re still, sadly, his Wesley. The one who comes when he calls. 

            “Go away,” you say, voice flat as you pull your door open a crack, enough that you can look out and see Robby, his face distressed as he looks at you, tears staining his cheeks. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

            “No,” he says and his voice is quieter, a pitch you haven’t heard before. “I love you, Y/N.” And you know when he says your name, a name he rarely ever says that he loves you. That he means it. But you have watched him date people over and over and over and that was heartbreak enough. Loving him and losing him…that would destroy you. 

            “Go away, Robby,” you say again, your voice still flat. Still strong and steady even as everything inside of you is cracking. “I need a break from everything. That’s why I didn’t come in. So, please, respect me enough to leave me alone.” You move to close the door, but he shoves his foot into the crack, wedging it in place. 

            “I know it was you,” he whispers and your eyes close for a moment, the image of your meddling best friend popping up in your mind as you do so. Fucking Jack Abbot, you think because you know that he told Robby. You know he probably yelled and swore but he didn’t have the right to do that. 

            You wanted this to be done and now it never will be. 

            “Robby,” you whisper, your voice cracking on his name, cracking on that second syllable as he reaches into his back pocket, withdrawing the CD case, the album cover staring up at you, haunting and precious. 

            “I listened to it,” he whispers. “And I owe you an explanation about why I threw it away.” You sigh, the kind of sigh that reverberates through your whole body as you wrench your door open all the way and gesture him inside, conscious of the cold bite of the wind and the fact that you’re not wearing a bra underneath you pj shirt. 

            “Won’t Noelle care where you are?” you ask, closing the door behind him, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to face him, noticing the way his face has knitted together, confusion shining back at you. 

            “Noelle? What does she have to do with this?” he asks and you look at him, feeling that dumb-founded expression you have take over, the one of absolute shock. 

            “You mean your girlfriend won’t care that you’re here at my house to let me down easy?”

            “Noelle’s not my girlfriend,” he whispers and he reaches into his front pocket, pulling out his phone and opening it up. “She’s my babysitter.”

            “Babysit—” you cut yourself off when you see Robby’s phone screen, see the picture of the infant that was abandoned before he went on sabbatical. Baby Jane Doe. 

            “I adopted her,” he whispers. “That was my sabbatical. She’s my daughter…I named her Abigail.” The baby on his screen is smiling, happy, clapping, eyes wide and innocent. 

            “You’re a dad,” you whisper and he nods, shutting his phone off and slipping it back into his pocket, tapping the CD case with his now free hand. 

            “I threw it out because ‘Songbird’ is the only song I remember my mom playing when I was a kid. The one that was playing when she left and…and never came back. It was all I could hear when the social workers finally came and found me and placed me with my grandparents so I saw this and…I reacted badly.”

            “But you listen to ‘Dreams’ all the time,” you counter and he nods his head, lips twisting into an expression you aren’t entirely sure what it means. 

            “But that’s Stevie Nicks,” he says. “And I listen to her re-recording. ‘Songbird’ is Christine McVie.” 

            “I chose it because…” you pause, swallowing hard, your eyes feeling hot, tears stinging them and the back of your throat, your pulse thudding in the base of your throat, a metronome of your emotions. “Because it’s how I feel about you. But…but you thought Noelle did all of that for you. I heard you Robby so…I don’t think she’s just a babysitter.” He steps towards you, setting the CD on the table you have beside the door, hands resting on your arms as he looks into your eyes, his gaze steady and unwavering. True. 

            “I thought it was her because she’s been pushing me to find my mother,” he whispers. “I thought it was her way of pushing me again.”

            “I—” you pause, unsure what you want to say, caught in a situation you had never imagined. You had imagined giving him the last gift and that was all. Maybe a relationship beginning to unfurl, but mostly you hadn’t wanted to go down in flames of embarrassment at the nurse’s station. 

            “Jack told me,” he whispers now and you could kill Jack, you really could. “See when Noelle had no idea what I was talking about, it clicked that the only person who knew the story of Gray’s Anatomy was you. And I tried to catch you, but you left, so when I went back in to get my bag and follow after you…Jack found me and shoved the CD at my chest and told me to fix my fucking mess. To make it up to you because you deserve so much. Probably more than me, but I’m here, Sunshine. I’m right here now and I want to fix it.”

            “Do you know how hard it is to burn CDs now?” you whisper, your voice thick and teary, the burn of tears echoing through your body as he lifts one hand and wipes away a falling tear with his thumb. 

            “No,” he says, “but I can figure it out if you want one.” Those words are enough to draw a laugh out of you, one that bubbles through you, watery and weak yet strong and light in its own right. “I love you; I just never thought you’d love me back.”

            “Well, I do,” you whisper and his face cracks into a smile that is new, one that is still boyish, but more hopeful and light and happy, so very happy. 

            “I didn’t think I deserved you, to be honest,” he says and you close the distance between the two of you, wrapping him in a hug, one that is tight and needed and necessary to continue to feel. “What was day eight going to be?” he asks, his words ruffling your hair, his arms warm and safe and strong around you. A circle you don’t want to escape from but you startle and pull back, stumbling away from him. 

            “Come on!” you call out and you can hear him following you as you climb the steps of your split level house up to your bedroom, where the box rests on your dresser. “Here,” you tell him, grabbing it and handing it to him as he sinks down on the edge of your (thankfully) made bed. 

            You watch as he pulls open the top of the blue gift box, his breath hitching as he reaches in, fingers looping underneath the aging chain and pulling the old locket out, the Star of David on the front. 

            “Is this…” he pauses, watching the necklace as it dangles, twirling around and around in lazy circles in the air. 

            “Yeah,” you whisper and he looks up at you, his warm chestnut eyes lined with tears. “I called your grandparents when all this started and I was researching Hanukkah and your grandma mentioned this locket. And I asked if I could give it to you and she said of course and she sent it. She told me the whole story too and how much you’ve always loved it.”

            “I can’t—” he breaks off, his body heaving with sobs and you cross the room to him, kneeling before him, your one hand resting on his leg, the other wiping away a tear with the edge of your finger. 

            “Open it,” you whisper and he does, with shaky hands, his breath hitching again and you know what he sees, the old grainy, sepia coloured photo of his grandparents on their wedding day and the other side has a picture of him and you, taken the day you became an attending, his arm around you. He looks at you in the picture while you look at the camera and it occurs to you now that maybe he did love you all along but you just didn’t see it. 

            “I love you,” he whispers, his voice watery and yet steady as he slips the locket on over his neck. The rest becomes a bit of a blur as he pulls you up and presses his lips against yours in a kiss that tastes like chocolate and coffee and hope and love. 

            His lips are warm and soft as they move against yours, his beard scratching your skin in a way that feels precious and delicious and right and like it was always meant to be. The way his tongue slides along yours makes you think it was meant to happen because it feels right. Maybe…maybe this was always going to happen. 

            And that’s what you think all along as he undresses you and you undress him and he slides in and seems to fit, justfit to you. Maybe it’s not the best sex of your life, maybe it’s not proper or earth-shattering or something that makes you not capable of walking, but that’s what makes it all the better. 

            Because it’s real and the way his body feels pressing down on yours as he moves against you is something you wouldn’t trade for anything. 

            Because the sex itself doesn’t need to be earth-shattering, the very fact that it’s with Robby and that he loves you as you love him is earth-shattering. 

            And maybe, the locket he wears moves with his thrusts, hitting you in the face a couple of times, but it doesn’t matter. 

            Because it’s Robby and you love him and he loves you. 

            And that’s enough. 

            “You know,” Robby whispers after, your body drawn against his, the two of you laying underneath the sheets, looking up at the ceiling, your head on his chest, his arms around you and yours around him, “I’ve always wanted my own miracle.”

            “Oh, yeah?” you ask. “Did you get one?”

            “Yeah,” he whispers. “I did. I have you and I have Abigail and what’s more of a miracle than that?”

            “Well then, Michael,” you whisper, shifting on his body to see him, to see his face and that boyish smile and the love in his eyes. “What now?”

It was a small island populated by a little town. Originating from nomads of the Grand Line who decided to settle on the bountiful land, the people now live to help along the sailors and even pirates that stopped by. It was a welcoming place, peacefully coexisting with those who stopped by; not wanting any trouble and yet housing strong enough people that could stand their ground against the more dangerous.

The Straw Hats first docked in order to reset the log pose as well as to restock their inventory, the usual deal. They were surprised with the lively and welcoming town, so much so that they were on guard from the last time they were in an overly welcoming town. This one was more calm however, not throwing them any big welcoming parties and instead just showing them where to buy what, and where they could stay for the meantime.

They got settled, everyone dispersing to find what they needed on their first day there. The cook, obviously, went to go stock up on food and try the local cuisine.

He strolled the markets, taking free samples from every stall and buying the usual ingredients. In his stroll of the market, he comes across an unmanned stall, product just laying there which could've been surprisingly easy to just steal. He would never do that though, more concerned than anything.

He examines the product for a bit, the display still full. Whoever it was they were selling strange pastries. Breads that were infused with herbs, muffins that were laced with colorful ribbons of syrup, anything of the like. He recognized some herbs, ones that were unique to this island, ones that were medicinal but also ones that were known for being avoided. Plants that made people itch and ones that stung the eyes were IN the food! It intrigued him enough to keep waiting for a stall owner.

He looks around once more and finally noticed a woman racing back. Your hair was a mess from the wind and your clothes were all ruffled as you tried to tame your appearance when you arrived, "Oh! A customer! Woah, sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone today" You said sheepishly.

Suave as ever, he leans in with a smile, "All good, I'd wait a hundred years for such a beautiful woman to show up"

That makes you blush and giggle, fiddling with the flap of your blouse before you snap out of it and get back to the task at hand. "Oh, right! So these are my creations, I bake with herbs and fruits no one really uses. I find techniques to make it work and it gives very interesting flavors. I know it seems a little strange but it's really good if you gave it a chance!"

You cringe internally, your pitch sounding a little more desperate than intended. No one has bought anything yet and you were starting to get discouraged but you really did believe in what you were selling.

You notice how he looks at it curiously and you pipe up once again, "Wanna try a sample? Here, try the Yellowfruit Roll." You cut a piece of it as you explain, "They are usually incredibly sour and bitter but I found if you crush it, carefully extract the juices, and mix it with sugar, and surprisingly, the juice of bitter greens, something happens that makes it sweet and a little savoury"

You ramble on as he takes the bite, too nervous to see his reaction. You eventually quiet down, nervously watching him figure out what he's tasting.

"That is such an interesting flavor." He says, brows furrowed like he's trying to figure it out

You smile when he says that because now you know he's giving it a chance and not rejecting a complex flavor. "Isn't it?"

You present the other pastries, now more confident, "I have Stinging Pine Bread too. It's made with stinging pine that was washed in saltwater and lemon which gives it a much bearable flavor. It's salty but there's something else that hits the back of your throat"

You hand him the sample and watch when he realize just what hidden flavor you're talking about. "This is amazing," he says, stunned.

You beam, rambling as you list down the other products and their prices. He takes a few of each and it already sells most of your stock. You put it all in a basket and hand it to him, trying not to react at the way his fingers brush against yours.

He adds it to his wagon of food and pulls money from his pocket. Your giddiness from finally earning something gets interrupted when he hands you the money and shaking his hand just for him to turn your hand over and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"You are a lovely baker, my dear. Such a way with food, you have to take me into that mind of yours sometime"

Your face burns and you're taken aback but you giggle all the same as an instinctive response. You can feel the other people's eyes on you, watching as you fall for another flirt's advances. You couldn't help yourself from giving in to the sweet words every time.

"Maybe we can arrange something" You respond, noticing the smile on his face grow a little more and the newfound sparkle in his eyes at your acceptance.

He lets go of your hand and you already miss the warmth. You wave him goodbye and he winks at you before he leaves.

-

You gush about it to your family, well the people you considered family. The whole village raised you, they were all like your big brothers and sisters. You went back to the bed and breakfast inn you lived in with what's left of your inventory, looking for your 'older sister.'

"Mimika!" You call, interrupting her from organizing papers. You present her the wagon, low on product, "I sold so much today!"

She walks over and ruffles your hair, hugging you, "That's great! I wonder what kind of people are in town today that actually like your stuff" She snickers

You pout and hit her playfully, "You're so mean! Plus, it wasn't a weird group of people, it was this handsome pirate chef." You cross your arms, a giddy grin growing on your face

She looks at you unamused, "Not again,"

You stop her right there, "Hey! I'm not falling as easily this time. That last guy was just a bum. This guy is way nicer though, but don't worry, I'm gonna see what his deal is before crushing again"

She scoffs, going back to her papers, "Crushing? More like falling in love with another fling who's gonna leave after their log pose resets"

Ouch, that kinda hurt. She could tell, her face softening, "I'm sorry but you really have to stop thinking every guy in the one. I love you sis but you believe in love way too much"

You sigh, "I know. Don't worry, I won't take this one too seriously"

She nods with a smile, "Attagirl"

You go on your way, leaving the room to bring your leftover pastries back to your kitchen. Kitchen was a strong word for it, there was a stove and an oven, but it was mostly a mess of random appliances, some not even ones that belong in a kitchen, to experiment on the plants for your baking. With renewed energy, you spend the rest of the day making more and different pastries.

-

The next time you two meet is when you were visiting the local herb and spice vendor. Your specialty was unique ingredients but even sometimes you had to use the usual to make it work. Yes you had your own garden but you didn't have ALL the ones you needed; and to be honest, you also forgot to water some of them sometimes.

You spy him examining the table and even haggling for more bags of them for a certain price. You snicker behind him as you approach, amused at their back and forth. Finally, you made your presence known, standing next to him and smiling at your dear friend, the vendor.

"Aww c'mon, Riu, just give him a few more bags. It wouldn't hurt, I've seen your basil farm" You say cheekily

He jumps slightly at your presence before smiling, "Hello, again"

You glance at him with a "Hi" before smiling expectantly at Riu.

Riu rolls his eyes with a scoff before tossing some extra bags across the table. You smile at him contagiously until an endearing smirk grew on his face as well. "You're the best, Riu!"

You add the pouches to Sanji's wagon, today filled with another set of ingredients as he paid. He pulled the wagon with him as you both walked side by side.

"So, what's on the list today?" You start, making conversation

He shrugs, "I just need a few more boxes of spice, I already have meat and vegetables yesterday and bought sacks of rice and grain today." He answers politely, giving you a charming smile

You return it, along with an offer. "If you'd like some things unique to the island, I could let you raid some plants from my garden"

That made his eyes light up, "How could I say no to such an offer" he says, offering his elbow for you to hold. You take it and with the wagon in tow he playfully bows with his head, "Lead the way m'lady"

You do so, bringing him to the back of the inn you lived at and to a secret fenced area. You open it with a mechanic only you knew how to work and let him walk in.

You point out the sections and different groups of potted plants.

"This is the yellowfruit, and that's the stinging pine. These are my other fruits the alphines, redfruit, purbury, and all those other ones, they're labeled."

You show him the herbs, "This is the stinging pine I just showed you, some nettleleaf- ooh, this one I discovered! When you steep it and use the tea to cook rice, it starts to taste like coriander!" You say excitedly

He matches your energy with curiosity, looking closely at them and even reaching out to examine some before you softly grab his hand to keep him from touching it without gloves.

He looks at the rows of plants before curiously looking at an unlabeled one in facination, "What's this"

You look over and realize what he was pointing at, giggling at him, "That's thyme"

"Oh" he flushes in embarrassment as your laughter grows behind him.

You apologize for laughing and he returns to you in the middle of the garden, chuckling himself. "Well, anyhow, this garden is amazing. These plants are so different but all so alive"

You face heats up but you smile, "Thanks, I enjoy it. No one's really payed attention to these before. I love the people of Starry Reefs but everyone's too busy to care about plants. And those who I thought did were just..." You trail off, thinking of your past flings

You wave your hands, "Well it doesn't matter. You're nicer than the past tourists and pirates anyway"

He looks at you as if trying to figure out your past but ultimately drops it. "I don't believe that people are not interested in this" he consoles with a warm smile

This did you in. Instead of a blushy giggling fit, your shoulders dropped as you melted from his words. The sincerity in his voice took any response from you and you were stood there, taking in his sentiment

"You're way too nice. Here, I'll give you a few pouches of my harvest"

You collected some bags of fruits and herbs you already had preserved in a box and tossed it into his wagon.

"I have notes on how to prepare them but they're inside. I'll organize them and give them to you before you leave"

"I appreciate it. Maybe we could go out for lunch as a thanks? My treat." He offers, a twinge of a flirtatious tone coming through his voice.

Your eyes light up, mirroring in his as well, "I'd love to."

He takes your hand in the same playfully grandiose way he offered an elbow earlier and you took it all the same.

You both had a fun time walking to your local cafe, chatting and growing closer in the time you spent together. It felt so easy with him, not in a forced trying to get close way, but something that came naturally. You never figured the people you'd been with before had any ulterior motive but something in the way he was with you felt way more comfortable and natural than any person before.

He learned about your experiments in the kitchen, learning about the how you were raised, and how the whole town was like family to you. You explained that the place you lived in, the local inn, was run by the people closest to your biological mother. She died giving birth, your father a random sailor who knows where, and the townspeople all came together to raise you, the phrase 'it takes a village' rang true.

You learned about how he ended up as a pirate chef, about the Baratie, and even about his own father figure, Zeff. He told you stories of the kitchen in the Baratie, one anecdote blending into the next until you basically learned his journey to learning how to be a great cook.

Before you knew it, the clock struck 3 in the afternoon, and you had to part ways and do your chores at the inn. He kissed the back of your hand graciously once again before you headed back home.

-

The next day you got unexpectedly busy. The other island that often did trades with your town had some sailors come in today and the inn needed more help. They arrived early in the morning and even in the hours of the day before the sun came up, you had to welcome them in and set rooms up.

By the time the sun rose, you were still tired and did not have the energy to prepare breakfast yourself. You felt so guilty but you did ring up the Straw Hats' transponder snail because you believed in a standard of food for guests that you couldn't deliver in your state. it also may or may not have been an excuse to spend time with him in the kitchen.

Your guilt melted away easily though with his constant reassurance. He said he was even happy that you called him, "Now I can be your knight in shining armor" he proclaimed.

You were quite skilled in the kitchen, even if you did primarily bake, but he was a huge help. The speed and mastery in which he worked was unmatched and he quickly and perfectly prepared buffet amounts faster than you ever could. You were making fresh (normal) muffins and bread, working in tandem with him. The way you both moved around the inn's kitchen was like a dance, one that you both somehow knew the choreography to.

By the time the sailors were up and awake, a huge feast was ready for them. You apologized to Sanji for needing to call him before sending him on his way with a kiss on the cheek.

"Once again, never apologize for needing me, my dear. In fact, I prefer it" He said flirtatiously, however his charismatic tone was overshadowed by his dopey grin which made you giddy as well.

-

That night, the Straw Hats had accidentally synced their schedules. By the time dinner rolled around, everyone was done with their shopping and other activities when they all found each other in the town square. Hungry and with no time for Sanji to cook for them, they agreed to have dinner in a restaurant instead. They didn't need to browse long until they found an all you can eat which of course Luffy wanted to go to which Nami agreed because of the good deal.

They entered and as usual caused a ruckus because of Luffy's excitement to eat. Before the crew could even get settled, he comedically had a full plate stacked high, causing the group to scold him for getting food before paying.

With an exasperated sigh, Sanji waved a waiter who cheerily asked if they were going to partake in the buffet of order from the menu. The waiter laughed, already knowing the answer when they sheepishly admit to choosing the buffet, hitting their captain on the backside of the head when he started eating already.

"And you guys are the Straw Hat Pirates, right?" The waiter asked

"Yes, why" Nami asked cautiously

"We're happy to give you guys a 30% discount if you'd like. Special discount for friends and family "cause any friend of our dear Y/N is a friend of ours" He said, winking at Sanji

The group looked at each other confused but accepted anyway, waiting for the waiter to leave before questioning it.

"Who's Y/N?" Usopp asked first, nervous that they got a discount by mistake

"She's that nice girl I've been talking to these past few days. The one who gave me all that bread" Sanji explains, putting a name to the girl he's been bringing up on the ship

Zoro scoffs, "I told you, last time you thought a girl was into you, she tried killing you and Usopp. I had to save your asses"

"She's different, okay? She's sweet and welcoming- and not in a sneaky way!" He holds his finger up, stopping Zoro from bringing up how the redhead on the assassin's island was also 'welcoming.'

Zoro shrugs and Nami cuts in, "Well whatever, at least we saved some money on this meal, knowing Luffy they could've ended up charging us extra for cleaning out their food trays. Just be careful" She says, pointedly looking at Sanji

This made him suddenly conscious. He knew there was no way you were tricking him, but now the seed of doubt was planted in his mind. You seemed too good to be true, and Sanji was used to charming women but has never had that reciprocated in such a true way. Plainly saying, he's never actually dated a girl before.

The crew enjoyed their meal, dropping the topic and forgetting it, all the while Sanji was in thought. He enjoyed the cuisine but every unique flavor of the island reminded him of you. He was a little quieter in the table, luckily to no one's notice.

At some point, someone came in with a delivery of tissues and takeout boxes, the usual stock needed in a restaurant. The guy seems to ask an employee as he looks around, eyes locking to their table when the guy points at them. He approaches them and the group looks up.

"Ah Mr. Sanji, the Straw Hats' cook. Y/N said if I saw you on the way to apologize for being busy today but she wanted to invite you tonight. She said to meet at the inn's entrance and she'll take you somewhere. Who knows where that girl goes at night" He relays the message like he was forced to but if Sanji picked anything up from staying here, it was that everyone in this town would do anything for her.

He thanks him for the message and everyone looks at him expectantly, as if to say 'are you really gonna go'

He throws his hands up in defense, "She's really nice, now I know it seems shady but you guys haven't met her. She's interesting and this is probably another strange interest of hers"

The rest groan, a group agreement of 'if you say so's and 'don't expect us to save you's.

"Yeah, yeah," he went. dismissively, letting the group say whatever knowing, hoping, he'll prove them wrong.

-

By the time dinner was finished he helped a food coma Luffy back onto the ship and even offered to help clean the mess he made at the restaurant, much to the staffs delight. They kept praising him, saying 'she finally found a good one' and complimenting his manners like he was a little boy visiting a nursing home.

When all that was done he made his way to the inn, hoping he wasn't too late given that there was no specified time. He found her waiting, waving at her with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry I'm late"

"It's alright. It's my fault I didn't say what time"

He chuckles, testing the waters by bringing up a doubt his crew gave him, "I almost didn't know if I should come. My crew thought the meetup sounded ominous but in the end I couldn't say no to you"

You smile, undeterred by the comment, "I tend to have that effect on people"

He nods, fully agreeing.

"Anyway, it's nothing sketchy, don't worry. I just wanted to show you something"

You gesture to start walking, leading him to a secret place you kept from others. It was a fenced out area, a 'DANGER' sign hung up. You opened the side of it, squeezing through the small door.

He looks hesitant to follow but you assured him it was safe.

"Actually, I put up this fence. I wanted to keep this for myself" You admitted, sitting with him near the edge of a not-so-steep cliff.

It was a beautiful view, just a lake but it was a sunken one. The shore curved above it in an almost spherical way. It was lower tonight, even with the full moon. He was stunned in silence, taking in the surroundings. The foliage was untouched, flowers and bushes were rampant at the edge of the trees.

"Sometimes when the tide's high, the water reaches your toes if you sit at the edge" You explain as he looks down at the lake. You walk over to a nearby lamp that stood by the fence, turning it off to reveal the star filled night sky

You invite him to sit next to you on the edge of the cliff, visibly relaxed by the place.

"This is my own little haven. I love everyone and they love me, but sometimes I like to feel free from everyone, even just a little. This place is where I go when I wanna be alone. Just me, the stars and the nature. You probably experience places like this all the time as a pirate."

He shakes his head, leaning back on his hands. "Maybe the night sky, but we never get this kind of peace and quiet. Not yet in our adventure anyway"

You sigh dreamily, "I would love to go on adventures"

"Why don't you? I'm sure everyone would be in support" he leans closer, his voice more intimate

"All I know is my home. I could never just leave for an indefinite amount of time" You say with a tight lipped smile, leaning into him too, eyes looking deep into his. Your voice drops to a whisper from the closeness, "But it's nice to dream"

You both settle into a comfortable silence. Realizing how close your faces were to one another, you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips and you knew what that meant. Though, you were not pulling away.

"May I?" He asked softly, you felt his breath on your lips, tempting you even more.

Suddenly the pull he had on you was stronger. You weren't imagining a life with him, but the feeling of being with him here, in his presence, felt like something you could stay in forever.

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut when he moved in to kiss you. Despite knowing him for a few days, it felt natural. Yes, you fell for people easily but this one felt like finding a new place you knew you could easily call home.

You felt him cup your face, pulling you closer. God he was a good kisser. You tilted your head to slot your faces more perfectly together and it allowed him to card his hand through the hair of the back of your head.

You both pull away, both flushed and panting afterward. You felt a wave of shyness but didn't pull away for the love of the feeling of being in his arms.

You sigh, "I can't do this" you whisper

His eyes looked lost, wondering if he did something wrong but a little afraid to ask why.

You smile at him sheepishly "You're leaving the day after tomorrow and I can't keep falling for people who leave right after I do"

Your hands tighten on the lapels of his suit, "And how I would love to fall for you but you're ten times more amazing than anyone... it would kill me." Your voice shakes at the end

Your head falls to his chest, his hands cupping your head and back, holding you close.

You stay like that for a few moments, before he speaks with a certainty in his voice, "Come with me"

Your head shoots up, looking at him befuddled. "What."

"Come with me, with us. You said you wanted to adventure, be independent. My captain would probably love to have another member who prepares food, heh, he loves food," He chuckles, his mood lightening while yours dropped

"Sanji..." You try to stop his rambling

"And-! And you don't have to worry about sea kings or other pirates. I can protect you if you're worried about that." He cups your face, looking at you excitedly

"Sanji," You try more sternly, cupping his face too

"My crew would love to have you on board! With the way you prepare food to make it edible, foraging would be easier if we're ever short on food-"

You press your lips to him, soft and swift, just to make him stop talking. He looks at you longingly when you pull away, finally listening to you

"Sanji, I'm not ready for that" you say sadly

You see the disappointment in his eyes. You know it's not directed at you, but at the situation. You didn't even have to explain that it was too fast, too soon to decide to leave your home with a man you felt you could have a happily ever after with. You knew under any other circumstances, you would dive in head-first into this thing with him. The thing is... he made you feel secure, that's why it felt so safe, but this was a risk too big.

And he knew that.

He sighs, cupping your hand that holds his face, nodding. He takes your hand off his face and holds it in his larger hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"We still have tomorrow, right?" He offers, warming your heart even more that he didn't want to just split up to end the pain quickly. He still wanted to cherish the time with you, like you did with him.

You nodded, hopeful that he was going to ask to spend time with you. Of course, he did.

"One more day, teach me everything you learned about your plants. Tell me everything you do in your day to day, so when I leave I can think back and won't have to wonder much about what you're doing at any given time" He all but begged and if you weren't sitting, you would've buckled at the knees the way he was looking at you right now.

-

8 months later...

-

You still think about him sometimes, now more than ever. You tried exchanging letters with him, the political state of the world making it harder to track him down, especially as he gets farther and farther from your island.

Starry Reefs was just a stop in his journey, but it was the start of yours. Meeting him changed your life forever. You always got tastes of the life of the sea, outside your hometown from the flings and flirtations you share with the many sailors and pirates, but Sanji made it seem so real and reachable.

The last day you spent with him was one you treasured forever since then. The stories he told about himself were less predictable than yours, so it was harder to guess what he was doing at any time of the day. You couldn't say you were different. Since bidding goodbye to him, you also changed up your routine. You started learning more life skills, you spent more time at the docks. You spent less time baking and more time learning to fix and sail ships.

You didn't abandon making food. You even treasured the sacred time you spent practicing making your harvest edible. Every spray of lemon water, every syrup you made, every reduction you mixed into a snack bar always made you think of him.

Eventually, with the help of your family, the town of Starry Reefs, you had your own small but strong ship. It was one you could man on your own and even had a room in the hull with your personal belongings. The deck had enough space for quite a few pots where you could still keep plants from your home island. You even had many more gardening supplies hidden in a storage room.

The day you set sail was a tearful one, your family wishing you all the best and even gifting you a transponder snail that could always call back to the inn, granted you had clear skies and enough of a sky signal. You thought about him a lot that day, wondering if you would see him again on your journey. You thanked his presence in your life, owing him the initiative that made you even consider sailing into adventure in the first place.

Today, you were in another island, a bustling city housed on it. You walked around, hearing there was a tall tower you could get a signal on and was currently trying to find it to call home. You're reading every sign and flyer to get an idea of where you were, seeing the wall of wanted posters. You searched for his again and again, every time, watching the bounty go up with pride.

You smile at it once more before continuing on trying to find the tower. You wonder why so many marines are running around before you heard one of them yell it, "Straw Hats!"

Your heart leaped. It couldn't be. They weren't here were they. You felt your heart thump and palms begin to sweat. You didn't know why you were nervous, they would probably escape the island before you ever saw any of them. Nevertheless, you ran.

You ran the opposite direction of the marines, not knowing whether to try finding him by following them or hiding away, too nervous to even look for him. You ended up in a saloon, finding it great timing to calm your nerves.

You took a seat in the bar, trying to expel your nerves as you exhale, calling for a drink. While waiting, you tap your fingers on the counter, listening to the ambient sound of the bar. Amidst the chatter, you heard footsteps behind you, a little clacky, probably in fancy shoes. You wonder if it's a guy about to buy you a drink, turning around with confidence and the intention to charm a free drink.

You were met with those eyes. Those eyes, that golden hair covering one, that charming smile and that relaxed posture.

"I'm glad it hasn't been a hundred years since I saw you again, my love" ˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Meatball! Where are you, my little baby?" You called for your cat as soon as you got home.

He had the audacity to rebel against your wishes to be an indoor cat, always finding the way to scape.

"Spoiled cat” you murmured while you kept turning your place upside down to find him.

Your cat is a beautifully colored Siamese cat, adopted and spoiled. He's your whole world and you love him deeply but he gets in your nerves too easily.

First time cat mom and your fur baby kept refusing to listen and stay in the safeness and comfort of your home.

You looked everywhere he liked to hide on before panicking. You don't have a clue how he escaped, you made sure to close every door and window before going to work.

While checking windows and doors you realized you had left the door to your balcony with only the screen door closed. Same one that now had a big hole made by the little paws of your demon cat.

“Shit" you murmured while you stepped into the balcony, looking for any trace of your cat.

You caught sight of his tail as he entered your neighbor's apartment. You were going to strangle that cat.

Unfortunately, you knew nothing of your next door neighbor except that he was a doctor and apparently worked nights. Or that's what another neighbor had told you.

Oh, right. He works nights so he probably will be sleeping…. shit.

With a resigned sigh, you knew you had to wake up your neighbor to get your cat. That was if the little shit hadn't woken him up already, he had the habit to wanting cuddles when everyone was sleeping and he wasn't known for his patience.

Before leaving your house you grabbed your keys and a handful of buttercream cookies you had baked last night, hoping they were enough apology to your neighbor.

Once in front of the door of your neighbor's apartment you took a few breaths— you were not good at talking with people you didn't knew beforehand— before ringing the bell and waiting patiently for him to open the door.

A few minutes went by before hearing the door open and being greeted with the sight of your very handsome very shirtless neighbor. His hair was in all directions and his face showed he was asleep before you interrupted him.

Oh, and he was carrying your very big very fat cat like he was a baby. And the fucker was purring.

“Hello, may I help you?" He asked seeing your dumbfounded expression, yet his voice was somewhat kind.

You blinked a few times before forcing yourself to look away from him "Uh, yes. Dr. Abbot, right?” you pointed towards your door "I think that's my cat”

He hummed, observing your flustered expression while leaning against the threshold, still carrying your cat. "Call me Jack” He offered, his voice friendly “And yes, I had the suspicion that it was from one of my neighbors"

You raised your eyes to met his, a frown set on your forehead "Meatball looks like he's too comfortable”

I would he too if I was carried in those arms

Your neighbor smiled at you with humor. "Meatball, huh? I have been calling him Greg”

"Greg? Huh, I guess he does resemble a Greg” You murmured softly before glancing down at the cookies you were holding "Oh, these are for you”

He blinked at you, then followed your like of sight. "Oh, you didn't have to.”

You waved him off "I wanted to, it's kind of an apology for finding my cat"

“I think that Meatball was the one who found me” Jack replied with amusement “Come on in so I can put him down" He offered.

You nodded, entering and closing the door after you. Once he put your cat down, you handed him the cookies.

"These look delicious" the corner of Jack's mouth started to water at the sight of the cookies.

Staring down, you observed how your cat was meowing and practically asking for Jack to pick him up once again.

"He didn't wake you, did he?” You asked mortified when you remembered how spoiled by you he was and seeing that he had taken a liking to your neighbor…

Your neighbor merely shrugged with a small smile “He wanted cuddles, apparently"

A groan left your lips "I'm sorry, he's a bit spoiled and likes his cuddles”

A smile curled in his lips “No worries, he's a cute little fella"

“You could say that" you murmured under your breath.

A laugh cut through the silence in the room, soft and breathy "And Meatball owner's name?”

Eyes snapping up to him, you muttered your name shyly.

“Jack Abbott" He introduced himself “About time we know each other, we're next door neighbors"

“I agree" you smiled at him “Though I must admit I'm not the most friendly person, contrary to that little shit" you pointed at your cat who was trying to get Jack's attention.

Your very handsome neighbor only laughed at your description of Meatball. He could tell it all was rough love, hearing the tenderness in your voice.

“You work nights, right?" You asked him, earning a nod from him “That's why we haven't met, I usually get to my place after work and crash until next day”

“Makes sense" He hummed softly, staring at you with interest. "But now we know each other, thanks to Meatball”

You chuckled softly, he was right. “Well, apparently he likes you because he is ignoring me right now and asking for you to pick him up"

He leaned down with a smile, scratching between Meatball's ears earning a satisfied purr. “He's cute and… big”

“You can say it, he's fat" You shrugged softly “I don't have a clue why, I have him on a strict regime"

Jack looked at you with a teasing smile "Are you fat shaming your cat?”

Squirting at him, you repressed a laugh “I'm saying a fact. He's big and fat and mean"

“He's adorable" Jack defended your cat.

“That too" you agreed with a smile. You were glad that your neighbor was nice and wasn't mad at you for not controlling your cat.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, a smile on both of your faces, before breaking out of the haze.

“Shit, I'm keeping you while you probably should be sleeping or getting ready for your shift" You blurted out, realizing you might be imposing.

He waved you off "I have a few hours until I have to be on my way to my shift. Sit, let's eat these delicious looking cookies you brought”

You chuckled softly “I don't want to impose, I should leave—"

He raised a hand, stopping your excuses “If you have nothing to do, stay and have a cookie."

Jack was giving you an out, yet you didn't want to go, he intrigued you.

With a sigh, you relented “Alright, alright"

That's how you ended up staying most of your afternoon in his place, talking and eating your cookies. It was cut short because he had to work, but before you left he made you promise to bake him more cookies.

You accepted, of course. Also, you had the feeling that Meatball was going to find his way to his apartment again.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

The next time you saw him was in your day off, it was early in the morning, way too early for someone like you who didn't like mornings.

You were deep cleaning and throwing a bunch of stuff you didn't need into trash bags. And you had a lot of it.

Once you had everything you needed to get to the containers, you made an escape plan. Yes, escape plan because your cat would bolt out the door as soon as you opened it. Unfortunately, you were not quick enough and the little shit beat you to it, sprinting out the door.

“Meatball!" You groaned and followed him, trying to catch him but he was fast for such an oversized cat.

He was fast and slippery, quickly tiring you out before sprinting on the opposite direction. Rounding a corner on the hall and towards the flights of stairs, and then you saw Meatball jump into someone's arms. Jack's.

"Oh. Hey, Meatball” Jack was quick to adjust the cat in his arms, watching as you breathlessly stopped in front of him. “Jail break?"

You stood in front of him, trying to regulate your breathing "Yeah”

“I have the feeling that Meatball doesn't like being in your apartment" He pointed out teasingly.

You sighed heavily “Too bad, he's an interior cat"

Jack merely hummed, amusement lacing his face.

Looking at him— really looking— you realized he was wearing scrubs, shifting the weight from one leg to another. "Coming home from work?”

“Yes, shift rang long" He was now distracted petting your cat.

You responded with a hum, staring to walk towards your apartments and away from the stairs and possible freedom of your cat.

Stopping by your door, Jack could see that you had something going on. “Cleaning day?" He asked you, his eyebrows raised.

"Deep cleaning day” You corrected him "That's how this Tasmanian devil escaped, he ran out the door when I was trying to get these to the container” you pointed towards the big trash bags.

He blinked at you, still holding your cat who was very happy to be held by him "Seems like you take cleaning very seriously”

“Something like that" You murmured, now realizing what a mess you had made with your idea of deep cleaning. "Anyway, let me take this one off your hands so you can go rest”

Meatball hissed angrily when you tried to take him from Jack.

With a frown, you pointed at your cat with your index finger "Meatball, don't hiss”

He responded by slapping your finger with his paw before melting onto Jack, who was grinning while trying to suppress a laugh.

“Do you want a cat?" You asked your neighbor with a dead ass expression "It's free, I'll throw in 20 dollars if you accept”

Jack was now full on laughing, shaking his head "Nah, he's all yours”

"50 dollars, then”

“Tempting" Jack answered with a smile “Still no"

You huffed, glaring at your cat "Seems like the fucker adopted you”

Jack frowned at your words “Adopted me?”

“Yes” you answered with a firm nod "It happens, they pick their favorite human”

“Wouldn't that be you?" Jack tilted his head in confusion.

"No, I am only the human that feeds him and keeps him alive” You rolled your eyes at your cat "You're his favorite human now.”

“I guess that is… good?” He asked softly, not fully understanding what you meant.

You gave him an amused glance "You're not much of a cat person, are you?”

He shook his head bashfully “Not really, no. I've always been more a dog person"

With a chuckle, you nodded "You have that vibe about you, yeah. Doesn't matter now cause you officially been adopted by my cat"

Jack gave you a doubtful glance "Didn't he adopt you too?”

“Nope, I adopted him, he adopted you" You shrugged “Weirdly enough"

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

That's how you started making friends with your next door neighbor, through your cat.

Meatball seemed to love Jack, always scratching the door when he would hear him arrive or pass by your door while you tried to explain to him that it was way too early for him to he planning mischief.

Though your cat did not care for any of your chiding, looking for a way to get to Jack. It was official, Meatball had adopted Jack.

The doorbell rang a little too early for your taste on day. Opening one eye, you glanced at your clock, seeing it was a little past 7:30 in the morning. Yes, you had to be starting to get ready for work in about 20 minutes if you wanted to leave on time but those were minutes you liked to get of sleep.

With a groan you threw your blankets off you, grabbing a robe and putting it on before moving to answer the door.

There, you found Jack with Meatball lounging comfortably in his arms. You didn't even know when had Meatball escaped from the comfort of your home but seemed like the little demon wanted to always be with Jack.

You sighed heavily “Hi, Jack"

He smiled at your disheveled appearance "Hi. Meatball was sleeping on my couch and I thought you might want him back”

You opened the door for him to step in. “Offer still stands, get the cat and 50 dollars"

He chuckled, putting Meatball down "I think it is a hard pass still. He would grow lonely”

You smiled at him, going into the kitchen to serve Meatball his breakfast. “I don't know how you work nights" You commented.

Jack shrugged, following you to keep the conversation through the kitchen threshold "My therapist says I find comfort in the darkness”

Huh, that sounded about right.

"Overrated”

You scoffed softly "There is nothing in the world I love most than sleeping. I think I was a mite in a past life"

“And what about sleep?"

That got him to chuckle “Very unlikely but I know what you mean"

You saw Jack grab a cookie from the plate on your kitchen counter. After the first bite, he let out a sound of agreement. "These are delicious. New recipe?”

It was endearing how much Jack loved your baked goods and how he always complimented you. It was not helping you to avoid having a crush with your neighbor.

You hummed with a smile “They have a tiny bit of lavender"

He pointed at you "Delicious. I'm going to get big only by eating what you bake”

With a chuckle, you grabbed the plate, putting a few on a container "You are not. You exercise and do yoga and a lot of shit, you’re safe”

He took the container once you handed it to him “Maybe, but still."

"If you don't want it…" you started, reaching for the container.

Playfully, he pushed your hand away “No, no. I want cookies"

“That's what I thought" you smiled at him before glancing at your clock. "Oh, shit. It's late, I have to get ready for work”

He smiled at you, grabbing the container so he could leave "I'll see you around. Have a good day at work”

“Thank you for bringing Meatball" You returned his smile “I owe you"

Jack showed you the cookies “Payment enough. I'll let myself out, you do what you have to"

“Bye, Jack. Thank you so much" You said, already making your way to your room to get ready.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

A few weeks passed by before you saw Jack again, yet this time it was you seeking for him.

You knocked on his door, a big plate full with a variety of sweets in your hands while you waited for him to open the door.

Once he opened the door, he smiled when he saw you. "Well, hello”

You gave him a sheepish smile "Hi, Jack"

He rested his weight on the doorframe, staring at you with suspicion “I'm guessing those sweets are to convince me of something"

"I always give you baked goods!” You defended yourself before sighing "But this time I do need something”

With a chuckle, Jack invited you in. Once the two of you were comfortably sitting, he asked “Shoot. What do you need, Sweetheart?"

Sweetheart? He's calling me sweetheart? Oh, I'm going to swoon. Dramatically.

You blinked at him "Sweetheart?”

He nodded “Sweetheart"

You shook your head, letting it go for the moment "Alright, so I need a big favor to ask you”

“Didn't know we were on the stage of asking big favors" Jack smirk showed when he said that.

“Didn't know we were on the sweetheart stage” You threw back.

“Touché. What's the big favor?"

At that, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself "I need to know if you could be my cat-sitter for a couple of days?”

He raised his eyebrows at that "Cat-sitter?”

“Yes, I need to get out of the city for a few days and as much as I'd like to take him with me, I can't" You explained, your tone desperate.

"Everything okay?” came Jack's question.

Wait, he looked… worried? He's not helping my dumb heart.

You sighed heavily “Yeah, it's just kind of a family thing and I don't have a place adapted for Meatball at my parent's house, besides he always get too nervous when traveling"

“Your parents live far?”

“Three hours by car" you answered “and I'm driving all the way there. Meatball definitely won't last that long in his carrier. I usually leave him with a friend but she has a newborn now and you're my last budget friendly option"

It was obvious you almost blurted out that information, seemingly talking fast when you were nervous or anxious.

He was staring at you with a tinkle in his eyes "You really know how to talk a lot without breathing, don't you?"

You left out a groan “Jack! Focus, please"

Jack raised his hands in innocence “Alright, alright. I think I can manage with Meatball"

"Really?” You asked him, relieved "Oh, I will he in debt with you forever”

"When are you leaving?”

"In three days” You answered softly "I will write down everything you need to know and I'll bring you everything you need” Giving a look around his place, you dared to ask "Would you mind if he stays in your apartment? It's just that he gets clingy"

He nodded "Yeah, no problem. Besides, I think it'll be better that way”

"You're my savior” Relief laced your words.

Jack pointed at you "You owe me a lot of baked goods”

"Of course” the sigh that left your lips was one of pure relief and you could tell Jack was finding it amusing “Thank you so, so much"

Your stress was quickly replaced with relief, you could not let your baby be alone and Jack seemed like the logic options since Meatball loved him a lot. You were doubtful of asking him to cats sit, but he was your last resort and you didn't have the money to spend on a hotel for pets, they were too expensive and you were a tiny bit distrustful about how complete strangers would treat Meatball. So that was a no.

…

"… and you call me if something seems slightly off with him, so I can call the vet and—”

Jack put his hands on your shoulders, leveling his gaze to yours “I have it under control, Sweetheart."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves “Sorry, I tend to get anxious"

Rubbing your shoulders, he shot you a smile "I assure you, Meatball is in great hands”

Looking at said cat, he was comfortably laying on Jack's couch, without a care in the world.

Jack Abbot is very aware of the fact that you are overly protective of Meatball, he can see it in the constant worry etched into your face anytime he doesn't eat his full plate of food or meows the wrong way. Jack has spent enough time around you and your cat to know when something is off in your eyes regarding Meatball.

"You're right, I'm being a lot right now”

He chuckled softly "You're just worried, it's normal. He's your baby” Jack pointed towards Meatball, who was sleeping belly up, a very good signal that he was comfortable with Jack around.

Looking down at your clock, you let out a sigh “I think it's time for me to go"

"Everything will be fine” He said slowly, reassuring you once again. He was being too patient with you. "Text me when you get there, okay?”

"Of course” you nodded, making your way to say goodbye to Meatball.

Feeling you near, Meatball opened his eyes, looking at you with curiosity before letting out a little meow, asking for you to pet him.

You peppered kisses on his little head "I love you so much, little shit. Be good for Jack” with wack kiss to your cat you murmured your words, asking him to behave.

Once you were a bit satisfied you stood upright, moving towards the door, opening it but not quite leaving yet.

"Last thing, he likes his food served far from his water—”

“… and at certain hour, I know” Jack was confirming everything you had told him, patiently.

“— he has to have a little play time or he gets angsty—"

"…Yes, 20 minutes everyday is the minimum”

“— he will wake you up for cuddles almost always, he's clingy like that—" you kept on rambling.

"… but if I'm tired I should keep his mouse toy close so he could focus on it instead, yes”

"— he can have two treats each day, if he behaves—”

“…not more than two, I am aware”

“—also, he doesn't like to eat alone so you must—"

"…put his bowl next to where I eat and eat with him. I know"

You squinted at him, realizing he had indeed listened to you. “Okay, you have everything under control. I'll leave"

He smiled at you, getting closer to bid you goodbye “Drive safe, we will see you in a week"

With a reluctant sigh, and without really thinking about it, you moved to kiss his cheek "You're the best, see you”

Jack saw how you left after that, standing frozen in place while his heart was beating so fast because of a little kiss on the cheek. God, you were going to be the end of him.

The days passed and there was not a single day when you wouldn't be texting him or calling him to know if Meatball was okay.

…

Neither of you would admit it, but the calls and texts were the best part of both of your days.

It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the crush you had on your neighbor yet you couldn't bring yourself to be forward with your feelings. Besides, what if Jack didn't feel the same? You only knew each other recently and most of your conversations happened because of your cat or the sweet treats you gave him.

Jack Abbot was not fairing better than you, he could not stop thinking about the owner of the cat he was sitting. You had come into his life full of chaos and comfort and now he could not dare to think about a life without your cat, sweet treats and you in it.

Shit, thinking about it, maybe you do look like a schoolgirl with a crush.

On the last day before going back to Pittsburgh, you called Jack two hours before he was to start his shift, knowing his schedule almost by memory.

The phone rang two times before Jack picked up. “Hello, Sweetheart”

Shit. Fuck. You could not let his voice affect you the way it does.

“Hi, Jack" You answered into the phone while packing your bags. “How's my baby?"

You could hear movement on the other side along with the chuckle that left his lips “He's okay, asking very loudly for treats”

A laugh left your lips at that. Even in the distance, you knew your cat and how spoiled he was “Yep, that's my baby. Means he's okay, though"

Jack hummed and you could hear the smile in his lips "I must admit, Meatball is a tiny bit spoiled”

“Try very spoiled" You rolled your eyes “I thought he was going to take harder the fact that I was not around but I think he's doing pretty good" A pause “I don't know if I should feel relieved or offended"

“If it's any consolation, he was trying to scape earlier"

“Sadly, it's not. Meatball keep refusing to a life of luxury, full meals and a warm bed." You didn't know what else to do for that cat to understand he had it nice and he doesn't appreciate it.

"He wants to experiment, be a bad boy and find love” Jack's voice was full of amusement. He loved those little chats were both you and him left your minds fly free, grateful that you understood his humor.

"Don't we all” You murmured, trying to remember if you were forgotten to pack anything.

"What? Find love?” Jack asked you while laying on his bed, your cat by his side.

"Yeah” You answered, your mind still preoccupied "I mean, I love love but I can't seem to find it”

His heart ached at the thought of you not finding the love you deserved “You’ll find it, I'm sure of it"

“How can you be so sure?" You asked him, now flopping into your bed. “I've been single almost my entire life"

"Good things comes to those who wait”

“Then I'm getting the fucking best of what love has to offer" Humor was lacing your words.

Yes, you were a little skeptical of the ways life worked.

“Be patient, I'm sure it's in the way" He tried to comfort you, hearing your voice change a bit.

A groan left your lips, sounding more tired and sleepy than awake. The bed was too comfortable and a nap sounded good.

You could hear the chuckle that left his lips through the cellphone “Sleepy, are we?" he teased you.

He could hear the ruffling of the bed as you turned into your side in the bed “Yeah, a little."

“You should probably have a good night sleep, you're coming back tomorrow, right?"

You hummed and nodded, even when he couldn't see you. “Are you on your way to work already?" your question was interrupted by a yawn. You were indeed tired.

A chuckle left his lips at your yawn, he could only imagine how adorable you looked all sleepy, yet you were still asking about him. He checked his clock before answering you “Probably should head out any minute now. I'm cuddling with Meatball at the moment”

You could not help but let out an ‘aww’ at the mental image of it "That sounds comfy”

“Meatball is such a good cuddler"

Your smile turned into a frown once you thought about how much hair Meatball shed "Wait, your scrubs are black”

“And?"

"You will be full of Meatball's hair!” your tone was one of worry, you usually did not care for cat hair but Jack's a doctor, you're pretty sure that's a health violation.

"Oh” he said in realization of what you meant "I have one of those sticky rollers thingy”

You chuckled softly at that "You mean a lint roller?”

“Yes, that thingy"

Without helping it, you rolled your eyes with fondness "I don't know how you're able to memorize all that doctor language but not the name of a lint roller"

"Doctor language is easy stuff”

“I beg to differ, I’ve never been able to correctly pronounce the name of complicated medicine"

“That’s cause you're not a doctor, Sweetheart” Jack's voice was laced with teasing.

A yawn left your lips, sleepiness taking over you almost completely now. “Yeah, you're right"

“Go to sleep, Sweetheart" His voice was firm “I shall see you tomorrow"

You hummed in response, your eyes already closed "Bye-bye, Jack”

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

The drive back to Pittsburgh was uneventful and peaceful, giving you a lot of time to think and reflex about the dumb crush you were developing for your very handsome neighbor.

It took you a total of one hour driving alone with your thoughts to get to the conclusion that you were, indeed, fucked. Of course you were, you had a bigger and softer heart that you would like, always falling hard for people that didn't feel that way about you.

Oh, you stupid lover girl.

The rest of the drive, your thoughts were swarming with plans of how to fall out of love with him.

Love? Who said love? Stupid heart.

Yes, maybe love was a strong word but, as said before, you were kind of a lover girl, so the months you had known him got you dreaming of being with him.

As said before; Fucked.

It was around noon when you arrived to your apartment complex, unloading your bags and things you brought from your parent's place. You were almost sure that Jack would be sleep, given the hour, so you decided not to bother him until later, only shooting him a text.

You

Hey! I'm home, let me know when you're awake so I can pick up Meatball.

:)

While you waited for Jack's reply, you took on the task to dust off and prepare a little snack, wanting to be as productive as you could be before going back to work the next day. Good luck your mom sent you home with a week's worth of meals.

It was a couple of hours before your doorbell rang, signaling someone was there and it probably was Jack.

From your place on the couch, you asked “Who is it?"

"It's me” came Jack's voice from the other side of the door.

“Come on in, it's open" You shouted, not caring for moving from your very comfortable place on the couch.

It was a few seconds before you heard the door opening, and there he was; Jack Abbot holding your chubby cat in his arm. Meatball was quick to jump from his arms and run to you, snuggling against your chest making you chuckle.

"Hi, baby” you kissed his little head "Looks like someone missed me”

Jack moved to sit across from you after closing the door, staring at the image in front of him with a soft expression. "Yes, we missed you” He confessed.

You tilted your head, looking at him with an inevitable smile “We?"

You were basking on both the purring coming from the cat in your chest and the warmth you felt when Jack uttered those words.

"We” Jack confirmed with a nod of his head "It wasn't the same without you around”

“I was only gone for a week"

"It was more than enough to miss you” Jack said almost instantly, his words sounding too honest for your liking.

Your only answer to his words were a smile, you did not know what to reply to it.

Shaking your head, you tried to stir the topic away from things that would make your heart act irrationally.

"How this little fur ball behaved?” You asked Jack.

“He was delightful, though he didn't like one mug I had"

You groaned loudly, of course Meatball had to break havoc on another house “He did not"

"He did” Jack confirmed "Let's say he looked quite pleased when it landed on the floor and broke to a million pieces”

You nodded solemnly "I know what you mean” with a sigh, you reached for your cellphone "I'll transfer you the money”

Jack immediately held one hand up "You will not”

“I need to atone for any mischief Meatball did, that includes paying you for what he broke"

He shook his head "I don't want your money, it was an ugly mug anyway"

You gave him a deadpan look, not liking the idea of not paying for something your cat broke intentionally “I must insist to pay for the mug"

"I don't want your money”

“Jack" you said in all seriousness.

"Sweetheart” He matched your tone.

“I'm paying for the mug" You were not willing to let it go.

“I will accept cookies as a payment, that's it"

You pursed your lips, not liking how he didn't want to let you pay for your cats misdeeds. "Money”

“Nope. Cookies"

You shot a glare in his direction. "I give you cookies because I want to, I don't like to see it as a bargaining chip or I would lose any interest however to bake them. There has to be payed with money"

He pursed his lips, his eyes showing that he was thinking about what to do next. “I will not accept your money. It was just a dumb mug"

"I don't care, I pay my dues” the stubborn monster in you was taking reign.

Silence involved your loving room for a few moments before his face lightened with an idea.

“Alright, I'll tell you what" he was trying to make his smile seem innocent but he was failing “I know how you can pay me back"

You squinted at him, carefully nodding "I'm listening…”

“You can let me buy you dinner" He all but blurted out.

Shit. He wants to take you on a date? You go, girl.

A frown etched itself into your face despite of your heart screaming for you to agree “Wouldn't I have to buy you dinner?"

"I know what I said. I will buy you dinner” His voice was absolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

“I haven't said yes"

"You haven't said no” His smile was growing bigger by the minute.

“You work nights, you can't buy me dinner"

“Breakfast, then" He was quick to solve any problems you were throwing his way. “or lunch"

Holding his gaze for a few seconds, you finally let out a sigh, making Jack's face to light up even more.

“Alright, you win. I will let you buy me lunch" your resigned tone could not be far from the real party that was going inside your head.

Jack was now full on smiling, making his way to you, stretching his pinky your way.

You looked at him up and down, a fake disgusted face on “What?"

"We have to seal it” He pointed out "It's the only way”

With a roll of your eyes, you sealed the deal pinky swearing.

He let out a satisfied sound before leaning down, his eyes finding yours “Stop looking pissed, I shall see you tomorrow for our date. I'll text you"

Before leaving he made sure of saying his good-byes to Meatballs, who poured happily from the attention.

Jack stooped by the door, shooting you a different smile from the ones before. This one was lacking any kind of teasing, leaving in its way a soft smile, full of expectation and… longing. “Bye, Sweetheart."

You matched his smile, no doubt looking foolish "Bye, Jack. See you tomorrow”

"I can't wait”

And with that, he left you alone with your cat.

Alone. Now it was the time for you to panic and crash out.

You just agreed to have a date with Jack Abbot.

You were fucked.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

Sadly enough for both of you, you could not make it to the lunch. The chaos around you in your work was a bit too much, impending you to grab lunch with him.

You took a few minutes away from the chaos to call him, this was two hours before you were supposed to met.

It rang a few times before you heard the call connect.

"Hey, Sweetheart”

" Don't hate me” was the first words you uttered when you head his voice “I won't be able to get away for lunch"

You heard the disappointed sigh that left his lips and it made you feel worse with yourself.

" That's okay, we will reschedule” His voice was kind, trying to mask the disappointment. He was a little too excited about the date.

“I will make it up to you, I promise" You quickly reassured him, picking on your nails nervously.

" I know you will, Sweetheart. Don't worry”

You didn't answer, merely staying silent while your mind was screaming at you for this. It was mortifying, you really did want to go out with him.

His voice snapped you out of your head, taking you back to reality.

“Hey, you still with me?"

“I- yeah. I'm here" your voice was small, apologetic even. " I'm real sorry, Jack”

"I understand, okay. Don't feel guilty.” His voice was warm, caring. “I have a night off on Friday, maybe we could go to dinner after all?"

A chuckle left your lips “Yeah, okay. I'd like that"

"I'd like that too, Sweetheart. I'll see you later, okay?”

"Okay, Jack”

You said your respective goodbyes before hanging up, yet you still couldn't stop feeling guilty. You were expecting to grab lunch with him too much, but stupid work things that didn't allowed you were your first enemy now.

You spent all day at work thinking about Jack. Yes, stupidly enough. You didn't understand how destiny didn't allow you the simple favor of letting you go on a date with Jack. It was unfair.

…

Your luck was getting worse and worse with each passing moment. You had gotten home way later that you were used to because you had to solve some problems back at work.

It was a given that your mood was pretty bad by the time it was dark. You had wanted to see Jack before he went to work, but again, that was not possible thanks to your own job.

All you had now was the shining opportunity of a shower, food delivery and couch rooting next to your fat cat.

You were naive to believe it would be that easy. Yes, you took a long shower, dressed in your comfortable pj's and moved to the couch to put on your show while you waited for the food you had ordered to arrive.

Everything was going good, even Meatball was cooperative by sharing the couch with you, asking for cuddles.

Pity your luck had not gotten better since the start of the day.

When the food arrived, you got up from the couch, going to get your purse to pay for it. Little did you noticed that Meatball was already planning his escape as soon as you would open the door.

Once with your purse, you made your way to open the door, engaging in small talk with the delivery guy while he handed you the food.

It was an instant that you got distracted. It was enough.

Meatball ran out of the door with all his energy. The delivery guy— God bless his soul— tried to catch him only to end up bitten by your demon cat.

“Shit! Sorry, he's vaccinated!" You all but shouted while sprinting behind your very fast cat.

Meatball was on a mission, live a life of freedom away from your cozy home.

It wasn't the first time he tried to run away, though this time he was set on doing it right. He kept dodging you, making his way towards the stairs, you could not let that happen, if he got there, it would be a pain to catch him.

So you put your all into trying to catch the fucking cat, running after him with only socks in your feet. Bad idea. Very bad. And you knew it the moment your cat took a turn right instead of going straight in direction of the stairs, making you try to break sharply. It didn't work, your socked feet sent you flying forward, the floor too slippery thanks to the fabric on your feet.

You don't really know what happened after that, only feeling a sharp pain in your arm, that was twisted in a strange position that was not definitely normal, and a stinginess in the side of your face.

You were laying on the floor, disoriented while looking around. You fell down a few steps of the stairs, now laying on the stairs landing.

Well, shit.

It was a while until the ambulance arrived— that was called by the delivery guy— and the paramedics quickly put you on a gurney, letting you know that you had dislocated your shoulder and had a minor laceration to your face.

You were about to ask if anyone had seen your cat, you could not leave him alone, when the little shit jumped into the gurney, settling his little body on your chest.

“Ma'am, he can't ride with us—" A paramedic tried to tell you.

"I'm not going anywhere without him” You said firmly, not leaving any room for negotiation.

Apparently, your paramedics were a little too tired that didn't even refute, merely nodding before they kept going.

“Wait" You suddenly said, startling everyone around. “Could someone go to my apartment" you pointed out to the wide open door when they were wheeling you down the hall “And grab his harness? It's hanging from behind the door”

With a long, tired sigh, one of the paramedics quickly went to get it so they could get you to the hospital and hopefully, clock out.

The ride to the hospital was quite uneventful, it took three minutes before Meatball worked his charm— he was a little too friendly for a cat sometimes— and had the paramedics wrapped around his little paw.

The pain wasn't all that bad, yet. You knew it was matter of time before the pain would start killing you, probably thanks to the adrenaline of the whole ordeal.

Deep down, you knew you almost asked the universe for it. Why? Simple. You were bitching about your day and how unlucky you were, blah blah. Last time you were acting like that you sprained your ankle. Once again the universe was reminding you that it always can get worse.

You felt the ambulance come to a stop, most surely arriving at the emergency room where you would be drugged up and fixed. Good, it was starting to hurt.

You were wheeled down the ambulance and into the other side of the sliding doors.

Ugh, hospital lights are always too bright.

As soon as you were spotted, two doctors made their way to you, addressing the paramedics.

“What do we have here?" Asked a tall doctor, a little gruff looking but he seemed nice.

The paramedics were quick to present you, telling your age and a lot of things you were not listening that intently "— old female, BP 139/88, HR 112, RR 19. She took a fall down a couple of steps, shoulder dislocation and face laceration. Patient is responsive”

“And what about the cat?" The question came from the next doctor, who looked a little too carefree while holding a concernedly big cup of iced coffee.

One of your paramedics turned to look at him with a deadpan expression "She wouldn't let us bring her here without Meatball”

Not far away from there, a doctor that you knew well, was reviewing some labs from a patient, not moving to tend to the new arrival since it was Shen's patient, lifted his head in curiosity when he heard the name Meatball.

Jack Abbot scanned the ED until his eyes fell on your laying form on the gurney, Meatball laying comfortably in your side, wearing his harness.

As soon as he spotted you, he was moving, calling your name. "What are you doing here?”

Meatball was quick to demand attention from his favorite human with a meow. Jack patted his little head mindlessly.

"Meatball. Jailbreak. Stairs. Fall. Hurt” You explained simply.

Jack sighed, staring at you with concern but ultimately shaking it off while turning to the other two doctors. "Shen, I got her" He addressed the caffeine holding one “Crus, you're with me" He said to the tall, stern looking doctor.

"North 15 is open!” A redheaded woman called from behind a very big desk, offering you a friendly smile.

You were wheeled to what you suspect is North 15, quickly being moved into a hospital bed before the paramedics said a brief goodbye and left you in the hands of capable doctors and nurses.

Both Jack and Dr. Crus started working on you, checking vitals and making sure that nothing else was broken.

“How's the pain?" Jack asked you, checking you pupils.

"Getting stronger by the minute” You murmured, focusing on petting Meatball with your good hand.

“Push 1 m.g. of Ketamine for the pain" He addressed a nurse who quickly nodded on injected a liquid into an I.V.— same one that you didn't even feel when they pooked it into your arm.

"You're giving me the good drugs?” You asked him with a smile.

“Only the best" Jack winked at you, continuously working on the preliminary exams.

You allowed them to keep assessing your injuries by staying silent, Meatball laying by your side while he followed every one of Jack's movements. Freaking cat was obsessed with him.

They were talking between them in terms you didn't understand. Doctor gibberish. But ultimately Jack turned to look at you. "I'll order and x-ray to discard any broken bone but I don't think it's more than the dislocated shoulder. Head seems fine and you're responsive” He smiled at you with relief "But we'll have to take care of that cut on your cheek”

You couldn't see the cut but you knew it wasn't pretty. “How many stitches?"

"Probably three but hopefully it won't leave a scar” He reassured you softly.

“Good, I cannot look too bad, I have a date on Friday" You teased him slightly, already feeling the effect of the meds.

He hummed, crossing his arms on his chest, his biceps popping out. "Is that so? Must be quite the guy”

"Well, my cat likes him, so…” You shrugged, pointing towards your very comfortable looking cat.

“A good judge of character" Jack nodded in approval “I still don't know how you managed to get them to bring Meatball along"

You shrugged softly, your head resting tiredly on the gurney "I refused treatment and asked them if they could get his harness from my apartment”

Jack shook his head, a chuckle leaving his chest “You are something else"

A knock on the glass door interrupted you, Jack was being called away, he turned to look at you hesitantly.

“Go" You said with a smile “I'll be alright"

He nodded at you, smiling softly before walking out of the room, facing his fellow attending Dr. Shen.

“Your patient in Central 14 is asking for you" Shen slurped his coffee was too loud for Jack's patience.

“Alright, thanks" Jack started to walk away, Shen following him. “Do you need something?"

“Who's the cat lady?" Shen asked, being his nosy self.

"She's my friend and neighbor”

Shen's eyebrows rose, staring at Jack “Oh, she's that friend, isn't she?"

“What are you talking about now?" Jack keep walking, wanting for Shen to go away and stop asking questions.

“Lately you check your cellphone and smile when you're reading texts of someone. I'm betting she is the one texting you and making your face light up every time"

“Shut up, Shen"

Shen raised his hands in innocence, deciding that short conversation was enough to confirm his suspicions, before going to tend to his own patients.

Of course Shen was right, Jack has had a crush on you almost since he met you, always smiling when you were around or when he received a text, though he was not going to let Shen know how right he was.

Once Jack was free and your x-rays were delivered, he made his way back to your room, finding you snoozing off. The cut on your cheek had been already stitched up and Meatball was being a complete angel, not moving from your side.

Jack moved to sit by the side of the bed, when you heard movement you opened your eyes, looking at him.

“Hey, Sweetheart" He said softly.

"Hi” was your response, followed by a yawn.

“Tired, are we?"

A groan left your lips “You have no idea"

“Good news, we can fix you up by popping your shoulder back in place" He informed you “No broken bones"

“That sounds painful, though"

His expression softened even more, if that was possible "We'll give you something for the pain. You will only feel a mild discomfort”

You only hummed, already feeling too tired to speak.

“Who did your stitches?" He asked you, tilting your head to observe the work.

"Dr. Crus” you replied "I didn't feel a thing"

He nodded satisfied with the work of the stitches “Good, that's good"

"So you'll pop back my shoulder and I can leave?” You asked hopefully, really wanting to go home and sleep.

“I don't think so" He replied instantly, watching your displeased frown “I know your family doesn't live close by and you can't go around all by yourself like this, the shoulder will take a few weeks to heal"

You pursed your lips, you were used to be independent and Jack knew it “Then what does that mean? That I have to ask my parents to come watch me as if I'm a child?"

He shook his head "I could help you, take care of you” Jack proposed softly “That is, if you want. But for the rest of the night I was thinking you spend it here and I'll drive you home after my shift"

"I don't want to spend the rest of the night in the hospital” You grimaced.

"Well, you can't go home by yourself. I'm your best option right now”

You let out a huff, acting a bit like a child but you were not happy with the whole way your day was going.

He tapped your forehead playfully, wanting to see that frown turn into a smile. You shot him a glare, not entirely pissed with him but partly.

“You'll get wrinkles" He teased you softly.

“Good"

"Sweetheart” Jack leveled his gaze to find yours, his face warm and kind "I know it's not ideal but it'll only be a few hours that you will spend sleeping”

"I will try to make my escape” You murmured with a frown.

Jack raised his eyebrows skeptically “With the meds that we're going to give you to fix the dislocation? I don't think so. You'll be drowsy"

“Keyword; try”

Despite himself, he chuckled softly “Look, my shift ends in…” he checked the clock on his wrist "Six hours. I'll buy you anything you want for breakfast if you make it that long without trying to escape"

"What about Meatball? His zoomies will kick in any moment now” You pointed at your cat.

“We'll manage" He shrugged softly.

You huffed once again “You're not letting me win this one, are you?"

He shook his head, trying to suppress a smirk, knowing you were about to give in.

“Alright, I'll wait"

"Attagirl”

…

It was a while before they were able to fix your shoulder, and Jack was right, you didn't feel a thing. Soon enough, you were sleeping comfortably with the lights off and clear instructions you were not to be bothered.

Every one of his colleagues were shooting him suggestive looks, amused with the fact that Jack seemed overly protective of you. He paid them no mind.

Jack keep working through his shift, stopping now and then to check on you and Meatball— who was laying protectively on your chest.

When it was nearing the time for hand offs, he asked Shen if he could cover, wanting to get you out of the hospital and into your apartment as soon as possible, knowing you would not be happy if you woke up and his shift had extended longer, as it was usual.

Once he set up everything to go, he woke you up, since he had already taken care of everything for discharge, he guided a sleepy you across the ED—while holding also holding Meatball— to get you seated in his truck comfortably.

You were sleepy and still drowsy thanks to the meds but you seemed in good spirits, enabling in conversation with him while holding Meatball in your lap.

Jack let you choose the food, and you decided you wanted to eat in your own comfortable home, so he decided to pick the food before getting there.

Once settled in your couch, he took it upon himself go feed Meatball before preparing you a plate of food, kind of hovering while you ate.

“I can feed myself, Jack. You don't need to hover” You murmured, taking a bite of your food.

“How's the shoulder? Any pain?"

"I'm good, stop acting like a doctor” You chided him, not being used to be fuzzed over.

“I am a doctor"

You simply rolled your eyes while letting the silence setting in.

"Jack?”

“Yes, Sweetheart?"

"Thank you for taking care of me” You said, looking firmly into his eyes.

Jack's expression melted, becoming one of pure warmth. “You have nothing to thank me for"

"I do, you're taking care of me and my cat”

He shook his head “I am doing it with pleasure, Sweetheart. You need me, I'm here. Simple as that"

You beamed at him, he was not helping your feelings towards him. "I guess we'll have to reschedule that date, huh?”

“You kidding? No more rescheduling" He shook his head “I'll cook you something special and we'll dine here”

“That's not how a first date is supposed to happen" You pointed out.

With a sigh, he moved to sit next to you, on your good side. “Don't you know?" he grabbed your chin, guiding your face towards his “I do not care about the date, I care about you"

Your breathing stuttered, seeing how close he was. “But—"

"No buts, Sweetheart” He tsk, leaning in slightly, his eyes lost in yours before glancing briefly at your lips “We will have that date, and hopefully you'll allow me to kids you"

You gulped softly "Why not kiss me now?” the words left your mouth in a whisper.

He moved to kiss your forehead tenderly "I am a gentleman. I'll wait for our date, make it special”

Jack was looking at you with bright eyes, caressing your cheek, being utterly careful of the cheek with the cut.

That got a laugh out of you, feeling your cheeks warming up. "I can't wait"

“Me neither" He whispered, looking at you with utter awe. “I want cookies once you're healed, though"

"As many as you want, Jack”

do not copy, reupload, translate or feed to artificial intelligence.

©yawnlovescookies.

The doors to the ER slid open once again, but this time you wished you could've stayed home.

You'd barely slept. Four hours at most, and ever since you woke up, you hadn't been able to think about anything except the mistake you made with your attending. You wondered if he'd slept well, probably he was sitting at home right now drinking coffee like nothing happened.

And here you were.

Technically your shift didn't start for another two hours, but the anxiety had dragged you back into the pitt anyway, which was funny because ten minutes ago you were seriously considering giving up and starting a new life somewhere in Alaska.

Your stomach twisted again just thinking about having to see him today.

Everything seemed calmer than usual, which honestly felt suspicious. You didn't even want to think too hard about it before you jinxed it. At this point you were convinced you personally carried bad luck around with you.

You nervously adjusted the sleeves of your oversized pink hoodie while scanning the station looking for the girls, and Whitaker.

It wasn't difficult to find Trinity. She was sitting beside Whitaker, aggressively stabbing at the computer keyboard before dramatically letting her head fall onto it. She quickly lifted her head again when Dennis touched her shoulder and pointed toward you with his head.

The second she saw you, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Why are you here?"

Not even a hello.

"What room is free?" You asked immediately.

"Okay… not even a coffee first?" Whitaker joked.

"This is serious."

Something in your expression must've looked genuinely unstable because Whitaker's smile disappeared almost instantly.

Both of them stood up immediately and started walking through the hallway looking for an empty room. Luckily you nearly ran straight into Victoria on the way there. She gave you a confused look but smiled anyway, though the second she noticed Trinity and Whitaker walking in front of you like bodyguards, she silently followed behind.

The moment they found an empty trauma room, they closed the door behind you. The silence didn't last long, but all you could hear was your own heartbeat while trying to figure out how to even begin explaining what happened.

"Are you dating Abbot?" Whitaker asked slowly, crossing his arms.

You stared at him with a deeply what the fuck expression before dramatically looking between all three of them and pacing once across the room. "This MUST stay here."

"Sure." Trinity answered casually.

"I mean it." You took a deep breath, trying to find the exact words. "I matched with Abbot on Tinder." You said it quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

None of them spoke. Whitaker's jaw dropped slightly, Trinity closed her eyes like she was physically trying to process the information, while Victoria made a noise so high pitched it sounded almost dangerous.

"No you didn't." Santos whispered.

"YES I DID." A nervous laugh escaped you the second you heard yourself say it out loud. "It was an accident tho."

"Oh my GOD." Javadi grabbed your shoulders violently. "OH MY GOD."

Meanwhile Trinity was still staring at you suspiciously. "How is that an accident?"

"My phone slipped." You admitted embarrassed, rubbing your forehead while remembering the exact moment it happened.

"Wait, hold on." Santos started pacing too now. "So you swiped right and the match appeared immediately?"

"...Yes?"

Trinity slowly nodded while Javadi continued looking excited like she was personally watching the greatest romantic comedy of her life unfold in front of her. Meanwhile all you wanted was for somebody to tell you how you were supposed to continue existing after this.

"That wasn't even all of it... He texted me immediately after." You pulled your phone out and handed it to them.

Santos grabbed it instantly, holding it where all three of them could see the screen at once. While she scrolled through the messages, the only thing you could focus on were their reactions.

"No, because this is actually insane." Trinity finally said while handing the phone back.

You buried your face into your hands, already regretting everything that happened this morning.

Because it was insane.

Even though he'd always taken care of you, you'd never let yourself believe it could mean something else. That was exactly why having a crush on him always felt stupid and childish. Sure, he made your shifts better. Sure, your stomach flipped every time he looked at you too long. But it had always stayed harmless inside your own head.

Jack Abbot was supposed to stay safely inside your brain as your painfully attractive work crush. He was not supposed to flirt back, he was definitely not supposed to remember your favorite snacks, ask if you'd slept, or look at you like you personally softened something inside him every single shift.

"Why are we acting like this is a funeral?" Javadi asked, smiling. "He likes you. That's a good thing."

Her smile slowly disappeared when she noticed you still looked seconds away from cardiac arrest.

Honestly, you still couldn't process any of it correctly, and now you knew it was only a matter of hours before you had to see him again.

"Oh my god." You suddenly stopped pacing. "What if I say I feel sick and then pretend to faint, and you say you're coming with me so we can both clock out early?"

"That would be... amazing." Trinity admitted. "But no."

You genuinely considered throwing yourself through the nearest window. Or maybe walking outside and waiting in the ambulance bay long enough for somebody to accidentally hit you. But before you could answer, or even move, you heard Whitaker quietly go "Oh" then Dana saying hello to someone outside.

You could've died right there because the second you turned around, you saw Jack Abbot walking toward the nurses station. Coffee in one hand and backpack hanging from his shoulder, looking unfairly attractive for somebody who hadn't even finished his twelve hours of rest.

Maybe he was feeling the same way you were.

And almost like he sensed it, his eyes lifted immediately toward the trauma room. Toward you.

You were still wearing the bright pink hoodie that was impossible to miss but out of everything happening around him, you still couldn't believe the very first thing he noticed was you.

Abbot's expression shifted slightly with confusion when he noticed all four of you suspiciously crowded inside the trauma room. One eyebrow lifted with visible amusement before the corner of his mouth pulled into a small grin. It was subtle but you knew him well enough to know he wasn't stupid.

Your eyes followed him automatically as he got closer, and suddenly you completely forgot how breathing worked. Once he passed by the room, he lightly tapped two fingers against the trauma room window in greeting without even slowing down. Then he kept walking toward the lockers like absolutely nothing had happened.

The second he disappeared down the hallway, Victoria's mouth dropped open.

"This is the worst day of my life." You whispered weakly, still staring at the hallway where Abbot had disappeared.

"And your shift hasn't even started yet." Trinity replied while walking out of the room.

Not helping at all.

This was it now. There was no avoiding it anymore.

If luck was somehow still slightly on your side (which you seriously doubted) maybe this was just the calm before the storm. Maybe suddenly the ER would completely explode with emergencies and you'd spend the next twelve hours separated on opposite sides of the hospital. Maybe you'd get stuck in triage all shift and never have to leave it. But the second you clocked in, it felt like Jack Abbot was suddenly everywhere.

Every hallway, the bay, even somehow leaving the bathroom exactly when you were walking past it.

Maybe this had always happened and you'd just never noticed before. But now that you knew there was tension between you, real tension and not platonic, everything felt different. Worse.

And to make it even more unbearable, he clearly enjoyed it.

Every chance he got, he somehow ended up beside you. Like he was curious to see how nervous he could make you before you completely short circuited.

The first time happened barely twenty minutes later. You were restocking supplies into the tiny cabinet in triage, trying desperately to think about literally anything except him, when someone suddenly stepped beside you.

"You came in early."

The second you heard his voice, your entire body jumped, making a few gauze packets fall straight onto the floor. God, are you serious?

You crouched immediately to grab them while he casually leaned against the litter beside you, coffee still in hand, looking entirely too relaxed for somebody currently ruining your nervous system.

His eyes never left you. That was the problem with Jack Abbot, he looked at people too confidently, like he already knew exactly what effect he had on them and unfortunately for you, he was right.

You could feel his gaze following every movement while you picked up the gauze, and something about seeing him standing over you like that made heat crawl embarrassingly fast up your neck, making you quickly shook your head, trying to physically force the thoughts away before they got worse.

You didn't exactly have experience with this kind of thing. Honestly, you barely had experience with men at all. Most of your past attempts at flirting usually ended with you avoiding eye contact until the other person gave up and none of those guys had ever looked like that. None of them had been older either, which somehow made this whole thing feel even more dangerous.

"Are you okay?" He asked before taking another slow sip of coffee.

"Mhm."

"You sure, Shortcake?" One of his eyebrows lifted slightly.

Your head snapped toward him instantly at the nickname, and that little grin on his face widened just enough for you to realize that he knew exactly what he was doing. You stood up quickly nearly smashing your head directly into the metal shelf hanging from the wall but before you could hit it, Abbot's hand moved instantly above your head, stopping you from colliding with the sharp edge.

The gesture was small, almost automatic. Which somehow made it worse. He'd always been like that, like protecting you came naturally to him.

"Careful." He said softly.

Your eyes lifted toward him for half a second too long and the moment they met his, something in his expression shifted almost invisibly. Like he was watching every single nervous reaction cross your face in real time.

"Oh my god." You whispered under your breath before immediately escaping the room and leaving him standing there alone.

Within the next two hours, the entire ER somehow realized something was deeply wrong with you.

You dropped your pens constantly. Forgot to give the patients their stickers. Nearly handed someone the wrong chart. At some point you stress ate every single candy left in your pocket without even noticing.

"You dropped the blood pressure cuff three times." Shen whispered while walking beside you. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm just tired."

"Abbot said you came in early."

You stopped walking so abruptly Shen almost bumped into you. "I need to quit."

"You need a psychiatric."

Ellis suddenly appeared beside both of you like she'd materialized out of thin air. "What's wrong with the boss today?" She asked casually.

Shen shrugged, clearly not understanding what she meant, while you immediately kept walking before either of them could continue the conversation.

It was weird. Because it genuinely felt like something had suddenly snapped into place overnight. Like you'd become painfully aware of the invisible string that had apparently always existed between you and Jack Abbot.

And the worst part? Now that you knew it, you couldn't stop noticing it. Especially because he clearly wasn't helping.

If anything, he kept finding excuses to stay close to you. Whenever he handed you the tablet, his fingers brushed yours briefly before pulling away. Whenever he squeezed past you in crowded hallways, his hand would settle lightly against your back for just a second longer than necessary, guiding you forward while acting completely casual about it.

And every single time you looked at him, he was already looking at you first.

The hours dragged by painfully slow, each one bringing you closer to finally going home and sleep for ten consecutive years.

At least you were doing a decent job avoiding him until around five in the morning. That was when Lena sent both of you upstairs to pediatrics to deal with some transfer issue.

The second you heard your name attached to his, a long exhausted sigh escaped your body before you could stop it.

Jack appeared beside you a moment later, adjusting the stethoscope. Of course he looked good doing that too.

The two of you walked toward the elevators together in silence. Oddly enough, it wasn't awkward. Maybe both of you were too exhausted at this point to put actual energy into whatever this thing was becoming. Still, even without looking directly at him, you could feel him behind you constantly.

The elevator dinged open.

Jack stepped aside slightly and gestured for you to enter first with one lazy movement of his hand, just enough to make your stomach flip embarrassingly fast.

You stepped inside while he followed right behind you a second later, and the moment the elevator doors slid shut, your heart immediately started beating harder.

Suddenly you were very aware of the situation you were currently trapped in.

Small elevator. Jack Abbot standing directly beside you.

You focused aggressively on the glowing floor numbers above the doors instead of the man next to you, trying to force your brain to think about literally anything else.

The silence stretched for a few seconds. From the corner of your eye, you saw him open his mouth once like he was about to say something before stopping himself.

"Why are you avoiding me?" He finally asked, turning his head toward you.

"I'm not."

"You are." You could hear the grin in his voice before you even looked at him.

"I'm just tired."

"You can't even look at me." He said with a quiet laugh. Which unfortunately was true. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I did something wrong."

"You did?" He asked confused.

"You're my attending."

"Is that so?" He said, tilting his head. "I swiped right first, so..."

The elevator suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. You stared even harder at the floor numbers, silently begging for the doors to open already.

Jack leaned casually against the elevator wall beside you, arms crossed loosely now. Meanwhile you were one bad heartbeat away from passing out.

"Don't blame yourself." He said softly.

And against your better judgment, you finally looked at him properly. Huge mistake. Because he was already watching you with that same warm, entertained expression from earlier. Like he could practically see how flustered you were becoming and didn't mind it one bit. Maybe even liked it and somehow that made your entire face burn hotter.

You weren't used to this. You weren't used to men who flirted this confidently. While Jack Abbot looked at you like he already knew exactly what would happen if he got any closer.

The elevator suddenly jerked violently, both of you stumbled slightly before everything stopped completely. The lights flickered once and then the elevator went still.

Jack slowly looked up toward the ceiling and your stomach dropped instantly.

For a second, neither of you moved.

The soft hum of the emergency lights filled the elevator while your own heartbeat pounded so loudly you were convinced he could hear it too.

Nope. Absolutely not. You refused to get trapped inside a tiny elevator with Jack looking like that.

"This is actually my personal hell." You whispered, staring at the closed doors.

"You're being dramatic." A quiet laugh left him.

"I'm trapped in a metal box with my attending after accidentally matching with him on Tinder. I think I'm reacting appropriately."

That made him smile properly this time. You hated how much that worked on you.

He pushed himself off the elevator wall and reached toward the emergency panel, pressing the call button.

"Maintenance will reset it in a minute." He said casually.

Of course he sounded relaxed. Meanwhile you felt like your nervous system was slowly shutting down.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to ignore how small the elevator suddenly felt. Or how good he smelled standing this close. Your eyes squeezed shut for a second and, for some reason, your brain immediately thought about that Trisha Paytas picture where she's choking herself.

That was literally you at that moment.

"You okay, Shortcake?" He asked again, quieter this time.

Jack was already looking at you again, like he was trying to read every reaction on your face until he finally got the truth out of you.

"Please stop calling me that."

"Why?" One side of his mouth lifted slightly. "You like it."

"I do not like it."

"Are you sure?" His voice dropped softer. "Every time I say it, I see something in your eyes."

You looked away immediately before he noticed the effect he was having on you.

Unfortunately for you, he definitely noticed.

His laugh slipped out again, low and tired and way too attractive for five in the morning.

Jack stepped a little closer then. Not enough to make you uncomfortable, but enough for your entire body to immediately become aware of it.

"You know." He said lightly. "Langdon told me you love it when I call you that."

"He told you that?" Your eyes snapped toward him in horror.

That cocky expression appeared again instantly, and the corner of his mouth twitched when he realized he got exactly the reaction he wanted from you.

You genuinely wanted the elevator to crush you alive.

He looked way too pleased with himself now, arms crossed too while watching you completely unravel in front of him. And the worst part was that your nervousness seemed genuinely cute to him. He clearly wasn't used to girls reacting like this around him. Most women probably flirted back confidently, meanwhile you could barely maintain basic eye contact.

"I hate you." You muttered weakly.

"No you don't."

The confidence in his voice should've annoyed you. Instead it made heat spread through places it absolutely shouldn't.

The elevator stayed silent around both of you for another moment. Neither of you looked away this time.

Your brain kept screaming at you to say something normal. Something professional. Anything.

But then his eyes dropped to your mouth. And the second you realized you were looking at his lips too, the tension inside the elevator shifted so hard it almost felt physical.

Jack's expression softened slightly, like he was thinking about it too now. About how close he was standing and the fact that there was nobody else around.

Your stomach twisted nervously when his gaze slowly lifted back to yours again, like he was silently trying to figure out if you wanted this as much as he did.

And for one horrible second, you genuinely thought he was about to kiss you.

Both of you breathing heavier now, like the air inside the elevator had suddenly disappeared. Your pulse was probably completely tachycardic at this point, which honestly felt embarrassing considering all he was doing was looking at you.

Then he took another small step closer.

Your breath caught instantly.

With his head tilted slightly down now, he searched for your eyes again before his gaze dropped back to your lips for half a second. And without even realizing it, you nervously licked your own lips.

The effect that had on him was immediate.

You stopped hearing everything around you for a moment. There was only him. Until the elevator doors suddenly slammed open with a loud mechanical ding.

Both of you pulled apart slowly, almost reluctantly, like it took actual effort to force distance back between you.

Joy and Shen stood outside the elevator staring at both of you in confusion.

"Oh, okay." Joy said slowly.

You immediately walked out so fast it almost counted as fleeing. Meanwhile behind you, Jack cleared his throat once before casually following after you like absolutely nothing had happened at all.

Which honestly only made the tension worse.

“It doesn't matter, I'm walking- running- running in,” you said breathless down your phone, busy stuffing your bag with whatever you'd need, none of which was food for the shift. You'd recently ran out of the energy bars Jack had recommended.

Everyday you said you'd prepare something nice, some risotto or something and take it in. Every morning you collapsed from exhaustion and ran out of time to make anything that resembled a 'meal'.

“ I've got it here, I'll be around in ten, ” Jack said.

Your bag slid down your shoulder as you paused. “Got it? Got what?”

“ Your address. ”

“How do you have my address?”

He chuckled down the line. “ Remember I ubered food to yours, two weeks ago? You've probably still got leftovers in your fridge. ”

Ah. You remembered. One of those times you let slip your terrible routine and he sort to fix it, sending you over prepped meals that- he was right- were still littered around your fridge.

“Right, yes. You should delete that.”

“ Comes in handy, sometimes. In emergencies, ” he said. “ I'll pick you up in ten, bye. ”

There was no time to argue as the call ended promptly after that.

Jack Abbot was a caring man. Something you were learning the hard way. You knew he'd given Ellis his spare room when she was evicted from her apartment, he'd even let her re-decorate, got her fresh blankets and sheets. You knew that Shen's favourites snacks were always stocked up in the lounge. You always knew that he was first to spot Lena getting tired and was always there with a coffee.

It was just like you knew he knew all those little things about you too.

He knew when your bus got in across from PCMT, always there to escort you over the road and back again at the end of the shift. No matter how long or gruelling it had been he would wait with you, rain or sun. He knew you had a bad sleeping habit so he told you herbal remedies in teas and even brought some for you. Annoyingly they worked and every time you had one you were forced to think of Jack.

You knew that if he said he was picking you up- he was.

There was nothing wrong with his affection.

You just didn't know what to do with it.

The night shift was still new to you. You'd only joined since their nights had gotten wilder, even too wild for the 'weirdest and wildest' to handle so you'd made the swap six months ago to help out. You were used to Robby's ways of doing things: of his careful watch over his residents with happy thumbs up or disapproving shakes of his head.

Jack trusted in his residents to take care of patients, but didn't when it came to themselves.

You rushed around, finding your pens and stethoscope and phone that you'd just put down for a second. Soon enough Jack had texted saying he was coming up (he somehow already had the code to your apartment complex).

His knuckles rattled softly and you rushed to grab the last of your things, including a book marked with 'Abbot, J' that you had yet to get round to reading.

“Hi,” you greeted.

You'd expected he'd come up just to be a gentleman, figuring the two of you would just head back down.

Jack squeezed by your attempt at baring him from your place and walked into your small and cramped apartment. “Hey.”

You tried not to be surprised, shutting the door behind him. “I've got everything, we- we can go.”

“I jussss wanna check-” the kitchen was just to the right and he opened your fridge door, grinning. “I was right. Still got the leftovers.”

There were many containers stacked, some full, others emptying. All marked in his handwriting from his meal prep he shared with you.

“Yeah, I haven't got round to sorting it,” you said. “Sorry, I didn't get around to eating everything. It's really good though.”

Jack smiled, reaching into your fridge like it was his own. “Hey, I made you a lot, didn't expect you to eat everything. Just wanted to make sure you had a choice. Did you like the Linguini? I tried a new recipe.”

Jack moved around your kitchen like he'd been living in your space forever. He was confident as he re-arranged your food, throwing what had gone out of date away and washing his hands in your sink, taking a towel hanging up by a cupboard like he knew it was there and drying.

“Er, yeah, it was nice, we can go, you know,” you said.

“You started reading it?” Jack asked, gesturing down to the book in your hands. “What do you think of it?”

“Oh, er, no. I haven't had the chance to start it. I was gonna give it back to you,” you said.

Jack shrugged. “It's yours, keep it.”

It was not yours. It was his. It was one of his favourites if the several dog-eared pages and annotations were anything to go by. It was a title he'd recommended to you and handed you a month ago but you'd only managed to flick through and get a vague understanding of the characters names only.

“But I mean- I don't know when I'll get round to reading it,” you said, loitering outside your kitchen.

“It's okay, I've read it a thousand times, keep it till you do.”

Wasn't he worried you may never get round to reading it and he might not ever get it back?, if your forgetful memory was anything to go by.

Jack finally abandoned your kitchen, passing by you. “Shall we?”

“Thanks for the lift. You really didn't have to,” you said as you left your apartment building, the sky already darkening and where others came in from their long days of work, yours was only just beginning.

“It's on my way,” he shrugged.

“It's out of your way,” you pointed out, knowing Jack was a complete different way to PCMT then you.

You saw his eyes roll as he opened the passenger door for you, nodding for you to get in.

“Just take the lift.”

“Thank you.”

“Word is you and Abbot arrived together,” said Dana.

You groaned.

There was a lot to like about the night shifts. It felt more of a team work than day did sometimes, you loved working with everyone just as much as you did day and you liked how still it got in the night sometimes. But you missed Dana who watched out for you like a mama bear. Still, she made time to always check in with you before she headed out.

Her jean jacket was thrown over her shoulders, her hair pinned back neater and keys in hand but she still greeted you like it was the start of the day.

“He gave me a lift, the buses are on strike.”

She smirked. “Nice of him.”

“I've told him not to do it again.”

“Oh yeah, how'd he take that?”

He'd shook his head and laughed, constantly brushing off every thanks you made and offer of any aid you could give. He seemed wholly un-bothered by the inconvenience you'd caused.

“Jack's a good guy,” said Dana.

“That he is.”

“You deserve someone like him.”

You weren't sure where Dana got that idea. You also didn't know why you couldn't believe her. Why every time Jack turned up when things were going bad, or why every time he showed he cared you felt scared.

And you'd never really had the time to un-pack that.

You looked up to Dana, folding your arms over on the counter. “And what about what he wants?”

“Well for that you'll have to ask him,” she said with the all knowing look in her eyes. Her hand was gentle on your shoulder as she squeezed. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Night.”

You thought you'd have a chance to view the patient charts that were swapped over to night shift but Jack was next, standing in Dana's space.

“What did mamma bear have to say?” he asked.

“Oh you know, the usual,” you said. “Trying to give me life advice that I won't follow.”

He huffed a chuckle. “I could've told her that, saved her the time.”

“I listen to your advice-”

He levelled his gaze onto yours.

“- I try to.”

His brows rose up. “You brought anything in for food tonight?”

You were about to answer, ready to prove him wrong, finally.

Jack interrupted you. “Anything other than that caramel coffee you like?”

He could read you like a book. You don't know how he found the time to know so much about you, to observe such things you wouldn't even notice unless he pointed them out.

Your silence was an answer.

“I brought extra, we'll have it later.”

He said it so confidently, leaving little space for any arguing on your end.

“Will we?”

“Yeah,” he said, stretching out on the counter. “I'm thinking a midnight picnic, trauma two? Might even get lucky with a GSW as company.”

You laughed and when you looked at Jack he was smiling. It was a soft kind, the sort that smoothed his face and made him seem younger and lighter. The kind that you took home with you and re-played as you fell asleep slowly.

You would never admit how long Jack spends in your mind. Somehow it felt like he already knew.

“You, um, you didn't braid your hair today,” said Jack, straightening up and drumming his knuckles on the counter. His gaze only faltered on yours for a second.

This was something you knew you did, carefully creating a routine for washing your hair that meant you didn't have to do it every day after work. Enough baby powder or dry shampoo meant you could get away with two washes at best.

“No, I guess I didn't.”

“It's gonna annoy you, being in your face all day.”

“I'm sure I'll manage.”

Jack didn't listen. He picked up your wrist- the one you kept a hair tie around- and slid it onto his own before going behind you.

“Jack, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Helping you.”

“You don't have to, I'll shove it up.”

Jack grumbled. “Let me work.”

His fingers grazed your neck as he brushed back your hair, the callouses on his hands rough against you, eliciting some sort of warmth in your body. Thankfully he was behind you and couldn't see the blush absolutely coming to your cheeks.

Jack took care of those around him, but he'd never touched anyone else's hair, never stood in the middle of the nurses station where all could see to braid someone's hair.

You felt him work, the weight of his gaze on the back of your head and his fingers moving through your hair like a cool summer evening breeze.

Across the way, Lena peered over her glasses at you with a smile.

“Lena's staring,” you said, unable to focus on any work till Jack's fingers were out of your hair.

Jack hummed. You knew that concentration from the amount of times you've seen him focused. “Lena always stares.”

You noticed Crus and Matteo passing by, both watching and pointing. You were sure Crus made some obscene make-out gesture and only hoped Jack didn't see. You were sure, if anyone else had asked he'd have done the same.

Though you hadn't technically asked.

“I'm sure you have far more important things to do than braid my hair, Abbot.” The lights in the Pitt seemed brighter, burning down on you like spotlights.

“Nothing more important right now.”

Your neck stretched as Jack pulled at your hair lightly to get it all in place. Curiosity ate at you, wondering where he'd done this before but the idea of knowing- like you had any right to- shut you up before you could speak.

Eventually he finished and his hands fell on your shoulders.

“There. Ready to be a hero?” he asked, spinning you around to him.

Your feet scuffed along the floor. “What? Am I the Robin to your batman?”

His lips quirked up and he moved his head side to side like weighing up his options. “More like the Lois to my Super-man.”

You sadly weren't versed enough in comic to know if that was a good or bad thing.

Jack was attending to a young girl when you walked in. Honestly it was starting to get comical how you turned up around him or he you. Some would call it magnets and as you met Jacks gaze as you stepped in you knew the ‘people’ meant Jack.

He looked at you, taking a quick note of the fact you still had your braid in even hours into the night. Jack smiled.

“Miss mermaid this is who I was telling you about,” said Jack.

The young girl- maybe five, maybe six- looked up at you as Jack slowly pulled at the thread bringing the skin of her knee together.

The chart had told you she'd taken a nasty fall on the playground and her teacher had brought her in, still trying to get in contact with the parents while Jack kept her company, cleaning her scraped knees and the gash just below.

“Hello,” the little girl waved. There wasn't even any tear marks on her cheeks but there was a small mark of blood at her little lip and her hair was falling out around her face.

“Hello miss mermaid,” you greeted, realising quickly the name came from her little mermaid top she wore.

“We were just talking about you,” said Jack, glancing quickly at you.

You blushed, wondering what Jack had to say about you to a small child. “Oh?”

“You and Crus played mermaids that time at the beach, remember?”

The girl giggled and Jack smiled over her shoulder at you.

“It wasn't- it wasn't mermades,” you excused.

That day was one of sweltering heat and lingering gazes. The night shift had took a trip to the beach on one of the hottest days of the year, enjoying the day for the day-shifters that couldn't. You'd gotten a lift with Matteo who'd brough Victoria Javadi along as she had the day off anyhow.

There was sand in places you didn't know sand could get, beach balls that somehow were pierced before you could even blow them up and gazes shared with Jack.

Maybe it was the bikini you wore that was so different from the scrubs. Maybe it was the fact Jack was un-characteristically insecure about his prosthetic leg being exposed to all and you'd told him nobody cared, that everybody cared more that he couldn't enjoy himself. Something had changed that day, settling in you like a pebble at the bottom of a lake thrown from a great height.

Since then, you and Jack had never looked at each other the same way.

But you and Crus hadn't been playing mermaids.... exactly. You swam around a lot and sort to collect more sea shells than the other. You just didn't call it mermaids.

“Will I be able to play mermaids again?” asked the little girl brushing hair out of her face with clumsy hands.

“Absolutely,” said Jack with great enthusiasm.

“And run faster than all the boys in my class?”

Jack chuckled, so did you. “Of course, but you'll have to rest up first.”

“Give the boys a chance to catch up, huh?” you suggested, plucking a leaf out of her hair.

“I like running fast,” she said.

Jack worked on the stitching, back to concentrating.

You sat down on the other side of the bed, gently reaching over to pluck bits of leaf and dirt from her hair. “So do I but sometimes we got to take things slow to not get hurt.”

You hadn't realised the meanings of the words until Jack halted his movements, glancing at you.

So you supposed there was a double meaning.

Jack's gaze was heavy.

“Tell you what, miss mermaid, Doctor Abbot here is better at braiding hair than he is stitches,” you said after a clear of your throat.

“Rude,” Jack mumbled.

It took a little convincing but you managed to swap places with Jack, gloving up and taking the tread he'd started at. He took your space on the bed and gently worked the child's hair into something neat while you carried on her stitches, close enough to being finished.

The both of you worked in silence as you each concentrated on your separate endeavours. All the while the young girl sat in between you hummed to herself, some Disney song.

“That's my favourite,” said Jack half way through when he must have realised what song she was humming.

You were still trying to understand it when part way through they changed to 'Under the sea'. You had to all but hold her leg from swinging as she sang loudly, causing you to laugh.

“Why not singing?” asked the girl.

“Yeah, why not singing?” Jack asked

You shook your head. “I don't know the song.”

Jack made a 'pfft' sound like he didn't believe you and 'little miss mermaid' did the same, blowing a raspberry.

Eventually you finished up the stitching, coincidently the same time Jack finished with his braiding.

A nurse- Bridget- walked in with the young girls teacher, eying the two of you between her. “You braiding Matteo's hair next?” she teased with a glint of wicked amusement in her eyes.

Jack moved up from the bed just as you also stood, discarding of the tools you'd used. “Only if he asks nicely.”

“Her parents have been informed they're on their way,” said the girls teacher.

“Perfect,” said Jack, holding either end of his stethoscope slung around his neck. “We are going to leave you in the very capable hands of Bridget who knows many more Disney songs than we do. Don't go without giving me another song.”

The girl laughed, her new braid slung over her shoulder. “I won't.”

Jack smiled and held the door open for you as you left with a small wave and him trailing behind you.

Lena was at the nurses station, answering calls and dishing out work while others walked around the two of you, busy with their own nights that existed by itself in the Pitt.

You hadn't realised you and Jack were heading for the break room till his arm stretched out and he pushed the door open over you.

“Are you really telling me you didn't know the song she was singing?” he asked.

“Of course I knew the song. I wasn't going to sing and embarrass myself,” you said, pulling out the mug you always used and Jack's favourite, finding the coffee pot newly brewed.

“Like I'm any Phil Collins,” scoffed Jack as he pulled out two containers from the fridge.

You frowned, sitting at the table. “Who?”

Jack looked at you, swinging the door shut. His brows rose high, crinkling his forehead. “Phil Collins? Turn it out again.... In the air tonight... The music on Tarzan?”

“Is he the dad of Lily Collins?”

Jack slid into the seat across from you. “Who?” He passed you over a full container of some sort of quinoa. It wasn't just left overs, it was a carefully calculated portion to match his.

You stared down at it like you were trying to decide if it was poisoned while Jack had already had a spoonful of his own.

It felt strange, to be sitting in a secluded room of the chaos and eating with him. Though at work, it felt oddly domestic. It felt- annoyingly- like the right thing to do. You wanted to eat from his container and wash it, hand it back to him. You wanted to know where he kept all his Tupperware, the kind that fell from cupboards at every open of the door.

“You cooking for me now?”

Jack shrugged, not meeting your gaze. “It's quinoa. Hardly cooking.”

You took a careful spoon.

Like he'd been discreetly watching as soon as you swallowed he spoke.

“You like it?”

“It tastes... kind of...”

“Healthy?”

You looked at him, feigned aghast.

Jack smirked, jaw working as he ate his food. “Come on, if it weren't for me you'd still be living on pizza's and take aways. At least this way you save a couple bucks and eat good. For a doctor you should know how important that is.”

“What are you so worried about what I eat for?” you mumbled, more wondering to yourself.

“I like to take care of you.”

He admitted it softly, a slight shrug to his shoulders like it was nothing. Like looking after you, a simple colleague- maybe a friend if you were lucky enough- was a simple feat. As if you didn't struggle to take care of yourself. Jack worked the same shifts, even more as an attending and cooked for himself, did yoga in mornings and even went out as a SWAT team member.

“Why?” You pushed the grains around in the tub.

“Why what?” he asked.

Daring to glance at him, you found Jack looking at you, arms rested on the table, his freckled biceps pulling at his scrub top.

You shook your head, taking another spoon of the food.

Any other time some emergency would be called to save you. Nothing as such when you really needed it. Of course you were glad nobody was being rushed in hurt... but still.

“Why do I like looking after you?” Jack repeated. “Because it's you.”

At that, you smiled. Not through happiness, more sympathy. “Because I can't look after myself?”

You knew you slept a lot, didn't take as good care of yourself as you could have. There were healthy and easy meal ideas sat in a folder in your phone, gathering dust. There was always laundry in a pile, dirty and clean, to go to their respective homes. There were friends waiting to make arrangements you never got around to making. You weren't easy but you didn't think you were so bad someone else had to come in and save you.

Jack paused, his face falling. “That's not what I meant.”

“Sure it is, you can admit it,” you shrugged, the food he's kindly shared turned to ash in your mouth. “I know I might seem like a mess to you, to someone so put together and... older, but I really do have my life managed. You don't have to add me to your to do list.”

“Woah, woah, woah, I never said that. That's not what I meant at all.”

You laughed. It felt better than feeling so embarrassed. “It's okay-”

“- no, no, that's not what's supposed to be going on, I... ”

Jack cared for people, you knew that. It was just apart of himself.

So you were almost distraught inside when you realised he didn't like you anymore than Shen or Ellis. He just looked out for you cause it was something he had to do.

“I'm not actually very hungry right now,” you said, pushing the lid back on and leaving it for him.

Jack was just as quick as you were to his feet. “No, no, wait- wait, hey-”

His pushed the door closed as you only just opened it an inch.

You looked at him. Your stomach was tight, uncomfortably so.

“Let me- let me try again, okay? I didn't think this through.”

“There's nothing to think through, just wait-”

Shen appeared at the door, trying to get in but Jack was surprisingly strong in keeping the door barred. “I need my coffee.”

“Give us a minute, Shen,” said Jack with all his attending commanding voice.

“But-”

“- a minute!”

You caught sight of Shen looking to you for help before walking away, head down and probably with his bottom lip jutted out like a kicked puppy. “Shen won't get far without his coffee.”

“Shen can wait till we're done now listen,” he said and leant against the door, watching you close. “I like taking care of you, I do, I really do. Not because I think you're not capable of looking after yourself, you are, I know you are it's... I just...”

You waited.

There was nothing.

Jack looked at you with all wide eyes and tension held in his arms. It's like he wanted to say something but ... couldn't.

One more minute and Shen would tear the place apart for coffee.

“You're a nice guy, Jack, you just don't have to be that nice.”

Jack let his arm fall from the door and you evacuated.

The sun had started to rise and you were so close to getting out the door, so close to running from the day's problems. Day shift had turned up, somewhat bright eyed and bushy tailed to take the days stresses though you weren't sure they could take Jack's insistence to talk to you away.

You were inches away from leaving when Jack called for you.

There wasn't the desperation to talk to you, it was the sort he used in traumas, only.

“I need you, GSW to the chest!”

The both of you ran in, gowns pulling on and gloves next as you pushed through the doors.

It was all the usual to you: too many doctors in one room, so much talking and orders it fell on your ears like music you knew all the words to.

“Woman in her twenties, multiple GSW's,” Robby called out. “Pulse ox eighty!”

The doors shut behind and the team of you all took your roles like a practised routine.

“Three... two... one- move!”

All together you lifted her over.

There was blood blooming on her shirt, a tear in her jeans. There was a black eye and what looked like a broken nose if the cut over the bridge and the slant of it was anything to go by.

You'd seen enough of these to know when they were accidents and when they weren't.

Her back hit the bed and the sharp beep of life being lost echoed.

“We've lost her pulse!” shouted Robby.

Without being told you climbed up, hands coming together and hammering down on her chest. For a split second you felt the ghost of Jack's hands, helping you up before they were gone like a summers breeze.

Looming over her you could see the injuries better. And worse.

“GSW, right-sided, she needs a central line,” you announced.

Jack moved around you and the patient, already preparing himself for the central line before you'd called for one.

“BP's dropping out! Pulse Ox is eighty-five!” Robby called.

“She's got tension pneumo,” said Jack without shouting and everyone heard. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recognised that authority he demanded with the simple sound of his voice.

“Crash cart,” said Robby. “Charge to one hundred.”

You waited till you heard the buzz of the cart and felt the heat of the panels before moving.

“Clear!”

The sound of her pulse was quiet and the rhythm was odd but it was there, slight bumps in a green line.

You climbed down, landing next to Jack as he readied with a fourteen needle.

“BP's seventy Ox,” said Jesse.

“Day shifters trying to cramp our style,” said Jack as he slid in.

Robby tutted. “Trying to make sure you don't get all the fun.”

Jack straightened next to you. “Ok, I'm setting up the chest tube, you're gonna set me up with a thirty-two French. Get a mig of atropine and a need a unit of O-neg.”

Two units were hooked up.

“We need to get the chest tube in and stop the bleeding.”

It was all a flurry of hands and tools as the chest tube was in, as the chest was packed with gauze at the right flank where the bullet had tore through her chest. It was a close one, but the sort you could save with nimble hands and careful concentration.

“Okay,” Jack uttered as the both of you loomed over her. “I know we're fighting and I don't like that-”

“We're not fighting and now's not the time,” you said.

Robby was on the other side of the bed, giving the two of you a look. “I agree.”

Jack waved him off, focusing on you. “I'll strike you a deal, we save this woman's life. You get breakfast with me.”

You glanced up, wondering if anyone had heard, though you were sure by now Jack's attempts at asking you on a date was one of the worst kept secrets.

Robby was watching from the other side, arms over his chest and his brows raised.

“You strike a hard bargain there, Abbot,” you mumbled.

“May as well say yes, either way you're saving lives.”

“Why cause you'll die if I say no?”

Jack looked at you. As usual there was nothing giving away if he was joking or not. “Yeah.”

It would have been a pretty poor time to joke.

Five minutes later she was stable.

Blood bags hung slowly draining, rags and gauze of blood littered the ground and torn off gowns were thrown haphazardly around. The patients pulse was steady and beating with the promise of years of life ahead. There'd be challenges, you don't get shot and not have to face even more hardship.

But there was life.

And that was the most rewarding part of the job.

“Good job,” said Robby, peeling of his gloves. “I'm gonna get some air.”

“Then go home, right?” asked Jack as everyone slowly moved away.

Robby only made a rude gesture as the doors closed and left you and Abbott to peel away the blood stained gowns and gloves.

Jack turned to you, un-fazed at the life he'd saved. “You want to go from here or do you want me to drop you off at yours and let you change first?”

You stared at him.

It was almost unfair, his charisma in spite of it all. You didn't stand a chance. When Jack said he was going to save a life, he was going to do just that. It was an added bonus to take you on a date.

Your head was shaking but your lips were curling up.

Jack backed out of the room, leaving you with a thumbs up.

You didn't know why you lingered with the body. You were a resident who had one patient on the go, you should've picked up another. You should've left the trauma room for the surgical consultation.

Yet you wanted to start a chart, wanted to find a name for the girl.

As you walked over, checking her BP which sat safe at one hundred over sixty, her eyes fluttered open, dry lips parting and murmurs exiting.

“Hey,” you dropped your voice gently. “You're safe now, you're at the hospital. Can you hear me?”

You held her head steady as her eyes fluttered but didn't open wide enough to meet yours.

“Can you tell me your name?”

You listened close but got nothing from the grunts.

The doors to the trauma room pushed open.

A small girl stood there, early twenties or even late into her teens. She wore a hoody, blood soaking up the sleeves. She didn't introduce herself, instead, she stared.

“Is she alive?” she asked.

Beyond the broken nose you could see the resemblance in the unconscious on the bed and the one that stood ahead of you.

“Do you know her?” you asked.

“She's my sister.”

“Well your sister was shot in the chest, she's lost a lot of blood but she should make it-”

You heard the gunshots before you saw the gun.

Jack had stripped off the gown stained with blood and pulled off his gloves next, trashing them in a bin.

“That was some way to ask a girl out,” chuckled Robby as he followed his movements in yanking anything with blood on him off.

Jack shrugged. So far nothing that he'd planned the day had gone to plan, asides from saving lives yet that was his plan every day. When you'd called he was already at the hospital but you'd said about the buses and he put his keys back in at once. He thought finally. He'd been waiting for a sign to try to take you on a date, seeing's as the food and books and recommendations and days out weren't enough.

Now, he'd saved a life and got a date.

“So what's next?” asked Robby. “You perform a resuscitative thoracotomy and ask her to marry you?”

“If you have one let me know and I'll see.”

Robby chuckled, patting him on the back when three gunshots rang out.

Everyone ducked.

People screamed.

Where suddenly dozens of people stood everyone was down in lumps, covering heads and ducking for patients.

Jack hovered, not quite down but ready to move. Gun shots were nothing, enough to lull him to sleep. These shots were like any other but they echoed in his ears and richoeted in his heart.

They came from behind him.

From the room he'd just left.

“Where'd that come from?” he asked. He knew.

Robby's hand pushed at his chest, already moving past him. “Trauma two!”

You.

“No!”

The two of them took off toward the room.

A lady exited. It wasn't you. It wasn't the patient. It was a third un-familiar party.

She turned at the sound of heavy footsteps and rose her gun at the two.

“Gun!” someone screamed.

Robby was still holding onto Jack as the two of them skid to a stop in front of her. Somewhere someone was crashing and Jack couldn't see you or hear you.

There were three shots.

He knew three shots were enough to kill.

Jack raised his hands, showing he was harmless and helpless. “Please,” he begged. “Is she alive?”

The girls eyes were hard and full of hatred. The gun was steady in her hands. She was calm, completely but there was no doubt the gun shots were hers. “Not anymore.”

“Oh god-”

“Woah-Woah-” Robby caught Jack with one strong arm as his knees gave out.

You were dead? Some girl- hardly an adult- shot you? Why? To tear out his own heart?

It was already gone.

“Jack? Jack, brother, listen to me,” Robby was trying to talk to him but nothing was going through to him, like a signal lost.

The girl turned and left quickly, making sure everyone knew she had a gone when they all knew she wasn't afraid to use it. The shots must have rung out through the entire hospital.

Robby helped Jack up and as soon as the doors leaving the Pitt closed they rushed in.

The harsh sound of beeping was bouncing off the trauma walls where blood was splattered and a pool of that same blood dripped down into a puddle under the patient.

“Oh my god.” Jack found you at once, using the walls as a crutch as you stumbled your way through the room. He was at your side at once, arms around your trembling body and holding you- moving with you even as you tried to walk.

There was blood all over you and you'd paled dramatically.

Jack coaxed you into staying still, grabbing your cheeks to get your attention. He ignored the pain in his leg that had come from the run, the giving out and now as he crouched to get a look at you. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me- let me look at you. Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?”

Robby had already rushed to the patients side, what doctors and nurses that had gained control over themselves joining him in trying to save her life again. “Ah shit, looks like PEA! Amp of antropine, amp of Epi!”

Your eyes darted over to where the chaos ensued, even as Jack tried to get you to look at him.

“You won't ... won't get her back!” your voice was shaky and hoarse from a scream he hadn't heard. “Blew her god damn brains out.”

“Come here, okay, let's-let's-” Jack's arm was around your shoulder and he was moving you out, trying to help pulling off your bloody gloves while keeping an arm on you.

There was blood and something else on your gloves. Blew her brains out. And you'd tried to scoop them back in.

When the bright lights of the hospital met you your body grew still in his arm.

Jack was familiar with trembles, with blood and PTSD. He wasn't used to any of it in you. In everything he'd learnt about you, he hadn't learnt the subtle art of comfort. “Let's get you some air, let's get you cleaned up-”

You pushed out of Jack's arms, pulling and tugging at your scrub top soaked in blood and all but ran into the women's bathroom.

He heard retching as the door closed.

Jack shook his head, ready to follow you when Dana appeared in front of him, hand on his chest.

“Take it easy, take it easy, I'll check in on her.”

He could still hear you throwing up when Dana slipped in.

The sun was high in the sky, casting the roof of PCMT in an orange glow. The sky burnt in its colour but all you saw was red.

One moment the girl had been crashing, the monitor still beeped in your head. Her body had jerked up to the sky before you got a rhythm back and then- just as you did with any patient- you got hopeful. It seemed in the clear to do so, you'd helped patients come back from worse and you always had hope.

Nobody that worked in the ED could live without it.

Then- it had took three bangs for you to drop to the ground but not before being smeared in blood. You didn't even know what was happening as the ringing ran out in your ears. You'd met the ground with a hard thump to your head. When your vision cleared you saw the shoes rush out of the room.

Your guiding as a med student was doing no harm, saving lives and you'd dropped and put your life ahead of your patients.

What kind of doctor did that?

The cowardly type- you.

“You're in my spot,” said a voice coming closer.

Jack.

His voice soothed the nerves in your body that had been on edge since the accident. Everything made you jump, but him.

“It's a nice spot,” you said as loud as you could, knowing your voice still wasn't back. Or loud enough.

“Yeah,” he said, getting closer. “But usually I like to be on the other side of the rail. And on my feet.”

You were sat on the edge of the roof, not on the edge close enough for anyone to worry but apparently that didn't stop Jack.

He huffed, behind you now. “Please, I'm an older guy, my heart can't take it. Can you come over?”

If your feet weren't like weights pulling you down maybe you could have but you were struggling to feel any part of you.

You admitted as much, quietly. “I can't move.”

You'd moved quick when faced with the gun, dropping to save your own skin. Since then moving had been difficult, like you'd used every muscle in your body to push yourself and now you were locked.

Jack moved in a blur as he ducked under the rail and slowly set down next to you. He was silent, only his breathing calming you. “Did you get checked over with Robby?”

You nodded. “The ringing'll go away in a day or two.”

“Yeah.... it always does.”

You looked at him and Jack was looking at you. The grey stubble of his beard never looked greyer and his eyes were dull, small half moon bruises of sleep marked there. His hair was ruffled and he smelled dully of hospital.

This was a man that had saved more lives than you could count and severed in tours ... and he was taking time to check on you.

“I'm sorry,” you didn't know you had cried till Jack's arm was around your shoulder, bringing you in.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, his arm tight on you. “What are you sorry for, huh?”

“I didn't save her, I-I should've tried. Should be reasoned with the shooter and I just-I just dropped down and you-” your breathing was ragged, the cries frequenting. “-you've done so much, lost your leg for damn sakes and I just dropped.”

“Hey,” he snapped. It wasn't un-kind. It was stern in ways he had to be in the as a night attending. “You did everthing you could.”

You looked at him. He really meant that though. “I dropped down!”

“You saved your life,” he reminded you. Jack's arm was still tight on your shoulders but his other hand held your cheek, making you focus on him. “You acted on instinct. If you hadn't your patient still would've shot and you-” Jack's breath caught. His eyes were glossed over. You'd missed the redness around his eyes. “- you'd have been shot and I couldn't live with that. I-I couldn't.”

Jack wiped away his tears, wiping yours next. He chuckled dryly at the both of your tears.

“I lost my leg in a tour,” said Jack. “Where guns and shooting is part of the job. It's not in a hospital. You did what you could.”

It still didn't feel right. It still felt like the cowards way of doing things.

“Look at me, look at me-” he nudged your gaze to his. His eyes were wide and implored you to look at him. Really look. “You did what you could and I know a patient died and I know-I know it's hard but...”

He sniffed.

“But what?” you mumbled. How could there be a but in any of this?

He held your cheeks tighter, smudging your cheeks just that little more. Jack let out a shaky exhale. “But I am so happy you're okay. I am so fucking glad.”

His dimples were hardly there as he gave you a sorry smile.

Your head fell into his chest and he brought his arms around you, holding you, shushing you as you cried. Cried for your patient, for the shooter, for the way you dropped. None of which maybe could be forgiven but all of which were valid.

Somewhere in the crying Jack held you tighter and moved the both of you back away from the ledge. You let him, even helped in scuffing your feet and pushing away till the railing hit both your backs.

“You're okay, I got you, I got you.”

I got you. He'd always had you, if he hadn't had you today what would you have done? Nothing crazy but you might have stayed up on the roof all day, be dead on your feet by the night. Jack had always had you and when he did you'd all but told him not to.

“I'm sorry.”

His hand ran over your hair. It had come lose but still remained in the braiding. “You don't have to be sorry, you don't.”

“No about earlier, in the lounge,” you said, holding onto him. “You were being nice, you've always been nice and I... I was horrible-”

“- you weren't horrible, no-”

“- you've been so kind to me and I don't even say thanks-”

“- you have actually, quite a few times- ”

“- I don't know why you put up with me-”

“- well, it helps that I love you-”

If there was one way to shut your rambling up, it was that.

You still had a vice on his scrub top but you looked up to him. For the first time- you think ever- Jack had to look away from you.

“What?” you asked.

Jack's jaw ticked and he clocked his head. “I didn't mean to say that.”

Disappointment chocked you. Of course it would just slip out, heck Jack was comforting you, he'd say anything.

“Oh.”

“I do love you,” he said and you looked at him with something akin to hope as you moved your head away. “That's why I've been looking after you, that's what you do when your- when your in love. My... my wife taught me that. I was just scared you know cause.... I haven't been in love since she died.”

It wasn't often Jack talked about his wife but when he did he talked. He'd talk anyone's ears off about her and once or twice you'd been that person.

“I'm sorry.” This time you weren't sure what you were apologising for, you just were.

Jack looked at you with a mocked frustration.

You cringed. “Sorry, I should- I should stop saying that.”

He hummed and nodded along with you, a tiny smile on his lips, the chapped parts cracking from the salt of his last tears. “I never meant to make you feel incapable, I know you can look after yourself. But I want to.”

You laughed at yourself, wiping at your cheeks and snot. “Why? I'm a mess.”

Jack took your cheek in the palm of his hand. “No, you're not. Not to me.”

Jack kissed you so slow and sweet on the edge of the roof with the sun praising upon the both of you. He didn't push his feelings into you, he let you feel them in the gentle press of his lips and the hold of his hands.

"All the horns are yours to toot, honestly," Grace lifts up both hands in surrender, then gesturing at you with open palms as if to say the stage is yours. "I had heard your name come up multiple times the moment I was cleared to handle confidential information." He mirrors your earlier shrug, like he doesn't want to fully commit to his perception. "Stratt sounded oddly self-assured, like you were the one ace up her sleeve that wouldn't fail her."

That draws a short bark of a laugh out of you. Eva Stratt is many things, but unprepared is not one of them.

Having blind faith in people, also. Not her style at all.

"That's an exaggeration," you push at his shoulder like you push away the ridiculous idea, "I had many back-ups like everyone else, I assure you." Stretching out your legs, you sink back into the impromptu pillow fort with a sigh, "I trust your judgement. If you say so, that is how it must've looked like to an observer. Even if so, it's probably just that she saw high odds of success with my presence or something. Nobody is indispensable to Stratt."

"Oh, I would know."

The bitter chuckle that leaves his lips drip with venom.

... You probably shouldn't ask, but what is humanity without curiosity?

"Could be a different case for you," Nodding, you carefully try breaching the subject. "She was very insistent that you join. I know she's bossy and persuasive, but I still cannot fathom how she managed to convince you. That's Stratt, alright."

It takes you a second that might have come off as you underestimating him.

"Not in a bad way!!" Before he can speak, your hands fly up in defense, "I mean, you just seemed so..." Rolling your hands before clasping them together once you scrambled for the appropriate word for long enough, "... Hesitant. Not to say you were meek or bad at your job or anything, but I was under the impression that you didn't want to be involved any more than the bare minimum needed for the science." Taking a breath through your teeth, you offer a quiet "Sorry."

"You're right on the mark," he says, tone somber, and oh, you're not sure if you can bear to look at him. You have come across him with a mournful expression on his face once or twice, seemingly expressionless but the bleak mood hanging heavily in the air as he watches the stars; and it tugs at your heartstrings in all the wrong ways. "She didn't."

"Hm?"

"She didn't convince me."

Heart dropping to your stomach at the implications, you turn your head to face him at the speed of a medieval gate opening.

"I didn't volunteer," His mouth twitches up, though it's more a grimace than anything else, "I refused — tried to escape when she tried to force me into it. The memories are still a little spotty, but I remember being hunted down."

The sheen of tears in his eyes reflects your own, your lower lip wobbling as he continues; "The grass against my cheek. Uncomfortable pressure on my lower back. A rainbow. The feeling of an intrusive needle in my neck."

They didn't give him a choice. He was hunted down like an animal and forced on a suicide mission with one order, all in the name of greater good. And yet.

And yet he works to help those back home — home, if you can even call it that with the newfound revelation. You cannot imagine being stripped of your autonomy in such a way and still have the resolve to help the very people that betrayed you.

Sure, it is not the entire population. A powerful few, if not just one, but still. You don't dare label him a saint or assume his feelings on the matter, with considerable effort.

The feeling of being betrayed, deceived, far outweighs the sorrow, your resentment manifesting itself as molten anger streaming down your cheeks.

How dare they. How dare they.

"I'm nothing like you, Yao, or Ilyukhina," Grace mumbles, the words haphazardly thrown together as he moves to get up. "Sorry I'm not who you think I am."

Your hand flies to latch on his wrist so hard you hear one of your joints pop.

"We," Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes to pull yourself together, trying to refrain from choking on your words, "We were told you agreed. Yao was against forcing you from the very beginning, as were the rest of us. Stratt said after a long discussion, you wanted to be put in the medically induced coma before launch for nerves or something—!!"

Bile raises in your throat. Your ignorance makes you feel almost complicit in what happened to him, even if you had no say in the matter.

"I'm so sorry," you barely manage to get the words out, lightly tugging at his wrist.

Grace crumples in your arms like a flimsy doll, fingers clumsily digging into your shirt in a poor attempt to hold onto you — or to hold himself together. You can't tell.

"Thank you," you barely hear the words, muffled by your own shoulder, "It's nice to know at least some cared."

Your circumstances could not have been more different. The revelation hangs in the air, present yet not in focus.

It's not like you had someone to die for, you have told Grace that much. No heroism or bravery was involved in your decision, you did simply because you could. No grand aspirations behind it.

It would be nice to be hailed as a hero if you succeed, though it's a double edged sword. You have enough grasp on history to know how quick people are to pin the blame on whoever is the easiest target, in which you and Grace are the very ones.

"I still think that you're extremely brave." Grace croaks, breaking the silence. The glassy sheen in his eyes match yours.

Craning your head to meet his gaze, you can't help but furrow your brows in disbelief. "... I just told you I wasn't thinking much of anything. Might as well have been on autopilot the entire time."

"Doesn't change a thing," Grace shrugs with a surprisingly smug smile that comes with proving himself right, pinky bumping against yours as he adjusts his position gaze at the pixellated beach more comfortably, a small oop— sounding in the room at the contact.

"I think you're extremely brave, too." Before he can pull away, you curl your pinky around his, grip loose in case he wants to pull away, "Brave, and kind."

His pinky curls around yours. The gesture feels like making a small promise, though you don't know what you're swearing to.

The space walks are the fun part of this entire ordeal, rare as they are.

Grace — Ryland, disagrees. He has always been more at home in the lab, which, you get it, him being the lead scientist, and being the only one who can manage to get something done and all.

"Are you sure about this?" Ryland grunts, hooking a foot in the net as he spins around, trying to put his suit on to accompany you, despite it being more strategically aligned to have someone on base at all times, having insisted you don't go exploring alien territory on your own.

Especially in the form of a golden ship at least three times as long as Hail Mary harbouring intelligent life.

"More than," you chuckle, floating over to zip him up, stabilising both him and yourself with practiced ease. "We're not saying anything, though. Can't risk jinxing it. But they did invite us in the form of attaching themselves on our ship, so at least we're not uninvited guests. All implications included."

"Alright, yeah, got it, no problem," Ryland rambles, releasing a shaky breath as he raises his chin as you zip him up, giving you the most unsure thumbs up combined with the soggiest look you have ever seen.

Holding back a giggle, you pull his helmet closer, though you make sure to splay a palm over his head to mess up his hair affectionately before putting it on him, finally baiting an exasperated chuckle out of him.

He still looks like an elastic band stretched too thin, threatening to snap any minute, though. Like, you're sure he's going to get cramps from how tense he is from nerves.

The solution to such a problem comes to you in the form of latching onto one another, which proves surprisingly effective.

Until Ryland gets startled upon first contact.

The scream scared off himself, you, and the creature, until the situation was somehow diffused, and hopefully written off as a misunderstanding on both sides.

The creature is extremely intelligent, and you love it immediately.

Similarities in culture is not impossible by any means even across stars, though it's still astonishing that body language and gestures convey their meaning this well, mimicking aside. You gesture for it to wait, and after a few demonstrations, it understands, and waits. Mimicking the gesture as closely as his physiology will allow, it tells you to wait as well, and you wait.

God, you're communicating. You're actually communicating with an alien creature.

You decide to take shifts to avoid losing time — or brainpower. Ryland tripped four times just trying to bring a clock over, and you walked in circles back and forth between Mary and the Blip-A for seven minutes before it dawned on you that you forgot what you were searching for.

The process of breaking the language barrier is as close to smooth sailing as possible after the arrangement, so much so that after you take off the soundproof earphones when you wake up, a robotic voice greets you.

"Hi friend!"

You take off your eye mask to see Rocky greeting you with a three-clawed wave.

Any semblance of sleep you had in your body evaporates.

"Hi Rocky!!" you coo, voice going up several pitches from excitement as you jog to meet him behind the xenonite, waving at him before turning to Ryland, "You gave him a voice?"

"Makes things a lot easier," he tilts his head, voice laced with sleep. "Welp, guess it's my turn to sleep." He places a hand on your shoulder, lingering before it slips off your bicep, "Knock yourselves out."

"What Grace mean, question?" Accompanied by two taps for emphasis.

"It's an expression, Rock. He means have fun."

There is a void all around you.

No sound, no sight, no feel. No memory of what happened.

Inhale, exhale.

You feel your lungs fill with air before you force it out. That means you can breathe. Good.

There is still no feeling in your fingertips. Nor your face, for that matter, and you worry it's blunt force trauma. Chances of you being treated in some void pool meant for sensory deprivation is quite low. You try shifting your weight somewhere to test where you are. On the floor, probably, until you feel your entire weight pull you down, and suddenly you're like a marionette on a string.

Not the floor, then.

The tension tells you you're strapped in, and—

Blue eyes blown wide with terror flash in your mind. A hand reached out towards you, not your face, but in front of it before your memories cut off.

You yank the safety belt off with pure muscle memory, your entire body protesting as it tries to stand upright, your arm shooting out to find support wherever the panels are.

Your senses come back to you slowly, like static sounding more and more coherent until you stumble upon a channel when searching for one in the radio.

The once muted sound of beeps are now deafening alarms blaring in your ears. The once blurred lights are now blinding as they flash red. The smell of something burning makes you gag.

An inhuman wail makes its way to your ears, and the sight that greets you is of Rocky in the corridor, trying to pull a limp Ryland towards the Lab.

Rocky is out of his space, wisps of black smoke rising out of him. So I no die in Grace and friend atmosphere, you recall. Ryland is unconscious, and probably in worse shape than you are.

You lunge forward before your brain can register what you're seeing.

"Your results are everything I could hope for," Says Stratt, and though her voice remains stoic as ever, you can tell she's impressed as she looks over the report in her tablet, your chest swelling with pride. "To call your body durable would be an understatement. Your performance has not fallen under the optimal metrics in any of the environments we tested you for; not to mention your short recovery time. The textbook definition of sturdy, really."

Your hand hooks into the back of Ryland's collar as you throw your body forward to drag him faster without falling over, barely managing to avoid slamming into Rocky, putting one foot in front of the other with unprecedented determination.

The moment Armando is in sight, you grab the first thing you can reach, which happens to be the insulated blanket Ryland has left lying around, and you flick it in Rocky's direction.

Before you can rasp out the command; ever so smart, Rocky steps onto the blanket, and you waste no time dragging him to his enclosure with all the strength you can muster, even with the world swaying beneath your feet, vision growing dim.

The small wail that comes from the medical bed falls on deaf ears.

"I will make it," you hiss, more for yourself than for Rocky, eyes trained on the clear xenonite, "I've got you, buddy."

Only one out of you three set out on this mission to die. You're not about to let either of them be the ones to die, not when Ryland wants to live. Not when Rocky has a mate, a home to return to.

Your hand slams on something as you lose your footing, though you make sure to curl your arm up, just to save Rocky a few steps.

"Please, God, anyone—" you croak, not having the strength to even lift your head to see if Rocky made it, "Please let them make it. Let them live. Kill me instead. I'll do anything. I'll die, I'll live— anything."

Your world descends into darkness like your plug has been pulled.

"Eye movement detected. Good morning, Doctor Grace."

There is an eery stillness around him.

Blinking to shake off any uncertainties he has, Ryland sluggishly gets up, gaze dropping to a faint trail of black, peppered with red spots, leading out of the lab.

Dread weighs on his shoulders heavier than a boulder as he moves slowly, trying to brace himself for whatever sight that will greet him with each deliberate step.

He sees you first.

Laying face first on the floor, your face is shielded by your arm curling around your head. If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed you had taken a particularly nasty fall but was too embarrassed to get up.

Swallowing thickly, he brings a shaky hand to your neck, resting his fingertips on your pulse—

There is a faint rhythm beating against the pads of his fingers.

He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut, letting his tears fall.

Your other hand reaches out to the xenonite, towards Rocky, and a sob tears itself from his throat when there is a slight move, quiet wheeze of a sound, followed by a thrum.