aeia

Jack’s neck careened in question as if he didn’t catch your words. You tried not to bring attention to the table, muffling your coughs with a napkin, and Jack took the glass from your hand carefully.

“He didn’t say anything at rounds this morning.”

“I’m not kidding.” You put the napkin back down. “He’s literally right there. Did you tell him we were coming here?”

“No.” Jack shook his head. He spared a fraction of a second to glimpse over his shoulder and clock Robby and his date near the host stand at the front of the restaurant.

Goddamn. Perlah was right. The rumors, which he had always taken with a grain of salt, were true.

“I thought he wasn’t dating anymore.”

Jack shrugged. “Every time he dumps someone he swears it off. But he’s a shit liar and gossip spreads fast whenever he makes eyes at someone.”

Your face curled in aversion of Robby’s romantic life. Just the thought of him… yeah, it made you want to seek out therapy too.

Michael Robinavitch was a serial dater—or, a serial wine, dine, and “leave someone behind” type of guy. Nothing ever worked out for him and you were always glad to give him a list of things to work on when he and Jack watched a Steeler’s game in the garage.

You’d seen it hundreds of times. Well, maybe not hundreds of times but enough for you and Jack to both come to the conclusion that Robby was never going to be one to marry. It wasn’t in his cards because he made stupid decisions and you, more than Jack, felt terrible for the women who fell into Robby’s little trap.

But you were a woman. There were some things that even if Jack tried his absolute best to understand, he wouldn’t be able to.

“So the woman is…?” You asked curiously.

As they stood behind rows of tables and decor, Robby and his date conversed differently than you and Jack did. It was new, a little nervous, and complete with a layer of discomfort anyone with a soul could feel 20 feet away. The uneasiness of their stature didn’t surprise you in the slightest. After a certain age, what people expected out of dating wasn’t the same as if they were young and without commitments. Robby had a million of them, you’re sure the woman did too, and that’s a tricky path to navigate.

“Noelle Hastings,” Jack said flatly before grabbing a piece of bread from the basket at the center. He ripped it in half and handed you one.

You took it without thought. “Who is…? Jack, you gotta be more specific here.”

“She’s a nurse—more often a case manager of insurance cases that fall through. She’s a rain cloud in a suit but works a lot of days so I don’t see her much.”

“High praise,” you droned and he sighed, chewing hard on the bread.

“One of the day shift nurses said it’s been goin’ on for a while.”

“And he didn’t tell you?”

Jack shook his head. The glass of water in front of him was suddenly more interesting than the conversation and you quirked a brow. His morose imitation of disappointment was cute.

Maybe they weren’t really good friends, he thought disappointedly. Was he really going to be stuck with his friends at the VA, some first responders, and the six elderly women who harassed him, sweetly, at the YMCA?

He didn’t even want to think about the women of your once-a-month book club.

He didn’t need to read about hockey players who fucked and World War II nurses who fell in love with soldiers.

You had a soldier right in front of you. You could just live out those fantasies with him instead.

“Are you upset that he didn’t tell you he was dating again?” You asked him and Jack pursed his lips in annoyance.

“No.”

“Yes,” you corrected with a chuckle.

“I think it’s a dick move not to tell your best friend that you’re dating someone.”

“Just like it was a dick move to not tell him about your little blue pill incident?” You pried with a smile and he met your eyes in a flash. Jack’s finger pointed at you accusingly.

“Hey now,” he warned. “I’m drinking water on purpose this time for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to, honey. I’m only joking.”

“That’s unconvincing.”

“Okay, soothsayer.” You grinned, elbows on the table and chin resting against your locked fingers. “You think you know everything? Let’s play a game then.”

“Baby, this was supposed to be a nice dinner.”

“A game won’t ruin it.”

Jack breathed in hard. He loved the dramatics; acting like the world was going to fall to pieces if he wasn’t one hundred percent present in the moment. It was a game, not a blindfolded eating contest where he’d accidentally eat a bug instead of his steak.

“What kind of game?” He settled instead.

“Better strangers.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a why.”

“I don’t really want to imagine whatever the fuck Robby is talking about just to get into that woman’s pants,” Jack explained but it was choppy and his eyes bounced around the tables behind you rather than look directly at you.

“You’re so jealous, Mr. Abbot,” you gave a playful accusation. “They’re being sat—should I call them over? Let them join date night instead?”

Jack’s fingers dug into his eyes. “Why are you such a menace today? After all I do for you?” His tone lifted. “And what happened to Doctor? I’ll also option Staff Sergeant or Professor—for your choosing, of course.”

“Jack,” you lamented. “You worked two doubles and two SWAT shifts this week. I’m allowed to be a pest.”

Touché.

He was the one who made the reservation to make up for his absence in the first place. Jack knew, he always did, when he wasn’t being the A+ worthy husband he should be. It was a casualty of his species, or, perhaps just his sanity, but he knew what to do to make you feel wanted when his career shifted things around.

“Fine. We can play.”

“Kinky, Dr. Abbot,” you winked. “Just beware. They’re sat in a booth—” you counted the tables with your eyes “—seven tables away.”

“Well it’s not like I’m gonna scream Robby’s fictional conversation across the room.”

You picked up another piece of bread and repeated what Jack had done before.

“Save the screaming for later. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“Now who just said that in a public place?” Jack tipped his head to the side, accepting the air kiss you sent hurling in his direction as a result.

“You know it’s true.”

“Yeah,” he murmured lowly. Jack’s eyes crinkled at their sides, appreciating the light he’s caught you in at the moment.

Robby’s presence couldn’t ruin date night. It was an intrusion into your bubble, sure, but Jack would swim through a million Robby’s to reach your shore and he would play a thousand silly games with you to hear you laugh. If you wanted to make shit up about Robby and Noelle? Fuck it. He did too.

“So…” you tapped your fingers on the table. “What do you think they did before they got here?”

Jack sipped on his water in consideration. “I think Robby worked until 7 but she got off a little earlier or didn’t work today. He showered at work, brought his stupid sweater with him, and picked her up on the way here.”

“Solid choice.”

“How do you think they met?” He asked you.

“Work, obviously,” you said, matter-of-fact.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Jack snickered. “I meant… romantically.”

“I think someone set them up on a blind date. Maybe someone from her side of the hospital—not someone from the ED.”

Jack nodded and caught the server returning to your table with your dinners in hand. Over Jack’s shoulder, you watched the back of Robby’s head turn to their own server and order drinks.

You didn’t think for a second that your constant glancing in their direction would be an issue.

With thanks, the server left you both to eat but the questions kept going.

“Alright.” You halved the portion of hericots verts on your plate and scooped them onto Jack’s one-note plate. “Why do you think they’re at this same restaurant, right here, right now?”

Jack ate one of the beans first. “Destiny.”

“That’s a lame answer.”

“I thought it was transcendent and that’s your opinion.”

“You really think it’s destiny? To be at the same place as his very annoying, very married, friends?”

“He might have a problem with himself getting married but I don’t think he hates hanging out with us. It’s like a little family of sorts.”

“Ah yes,” you awed. “The child I never wanted to have: Michael Robinavitch.”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied truthfully this time. “It’s a pretty popular place and not far from our work so I think it was probably out of convenience. Do you think he’s in love with her?”

You laughed, audibly, and not quietly. Eyes flicking back to the booth and accidentally catching Noelle’s gaze at the same time.

It didn’t change your answer.

“Fuck no.”

“I agree,” Jack smiled. “Fuck no.”

“But I’ll give him a chance,” you admitted, sipping on your drink. “He deserves to be happy with someone… even if it’s hard to imagine.”

Jack cut a piece of his steak and held his fork out to you. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Work.” You eyed the piece of meat to see if it was cooked enough but you should have known Jack would have cut up his entire dish to find the one piece you’d eat.

“Boring,” Jack heckled.

“Were you not talking about a piece of wood up someone’s—” you motioned with your fist “—you know?”

“That’s different.”

Your eyes narrowed in a challenge. “Not really, honey. It’s basically the exact same thing.”

“Well it’s different because we’re married. And when you’re married, you can talk about boring stuff.”

Now your eyes rolled. Jack smirked, cutting up another piece for himself.

“I wish I knew that when you talked about MREs.”

“You wound me,” Jack quipped. He popped the steak into his mouth and chewed when you came back with:

“No—an IED did that for me.”

He just about choked.

“Careful,” you warned him casually. The light glint in your eye didn’t disappear. “You can’t die on me yet. We have plans later.”

“What the fuck happened to the game?” He asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Why am I catching these strays, baby?”

“Catching strays? Did you learn that from the kids at your work?”

“They’re like twenty-two,” Jack corrected. “And yeah, I did. I think I used it correctly.”

“Mhm,” you hummed and finished off your wine. “What do I think they’re talking about? My answer hasn’t changed: work.”

“Still boring.”

“Agreed.” You nodded.

A quiet lull met the table as the food became more important. For all the nights you had to eat alone, having Jack present was a gift enough. He silently invaded your space. Filling every nook until shapes of him left indents in places he hadn’t existed before—at the kitchen table, on the couch, a second toothbrush in the holder, and a dip on his side of the bed.

As you ate, your gazes would meet across the table for brief moments in time.

No one ever looked at you like Jack did. Whatever he was feeling, you saw it in the curve of his eyes. The lines, as they stretched in pleasure and listened to you animatedly talk about anything, grew in adoration the longer you were together.

You imagined by the time you are old and the wrinkles have overtaken what you looked like in the present, Jack would still see you in the same light.

And not everyone is that lucky.

Jack cleared his throat and reached out his left hand onto the table top. You grabbed it as his thumb ran back and forth over your knuckles.

“Sorry about picking up the extra shifts.”

Two doubles. Two SWAT shifts in one week.

“Sometimes I don’t realize that I’m even doing it,” he admitted.

“I just want my husband home, Jack,” you squeezed his hand. “I think you need to start putting your schedule on the fridge.”

“Maybe… do you think Robby ever apologizes for not being a great… partner?”

“Oh hell no,” you amused. “He’s never apologized for anything in his life.”

“No he has not.” Jack agreed with a grin. “But really, sweetheart. I’m sorry about that.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you, you know that?”

“I think you’ve told me once or twice.”

“Possibly a few times more.”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “I love you too.”

Seven tables away, Noelle Hastings was trying not to overthink on her fourth date with Robby.

Her hands folded over her napkin thrice in two minutes and as they waited for their beverages, she couldn’t help but feel the nerves of dating begin to catch up to her. Robby had been nothing but a gem—different from what she had heard and seen around PTMC and unexpected, based on the looks she’d been getting the last few weeks whenever she stepped foot into the ED.

Noelle took in the restaurant. She observed the people in the room to calm herself down—people watching, it was easy. She could imagine their lives and not focus so heavily on her own before she spiraled completely.

There was a gaggle of friends in a booth on the opposite side of the room chatting animatedly; an elderly pair of sisters catching up at a table in the center of the room, and then, a pair she couldn’t stop looking at.

The first thing she noticed was the smile on the woman’s face. Noelle was never the most confident in her abilities to read exactly what people wanted, but she knew what it was like to be in love and to feel it in every ounce of your body. She knew the ways in which a smile could stretch across a face, blurring your vision during fits of laughter. Noelle knew when a woman leaned across a table to take the hand of her lover’s in hers—only to press a kiss into his palm and bring it back down—was something only those truly at peace with their adoration did.

And she couldn’t stop staring.

The ring on the woman’s finger glinted every time she talked. Occasionally, also with a knife waving around unknowingly—to which the partner (the assumed husband) would try very hard to make her put down. Noelle glanced down at her own barren finger and wondered if that would ever be her fate if she kept chasing men like Robby.

“You alright?” Robby asked her after fifteen minutes of spotty conversation.

Noelle nodded, straining a wry smile. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”

Robby accepted the excuse. “Shifts have been long lately?”

“Very. It doesn’t make for great conversation though. I’d rather not go over the mountains of Medicare paperwork sitting on my desk right now.”

“I don’t blame you.” Robby shook his head, picking up his glass and holding it out to her to toast.

“To a week done and a… weekend free of distractions.”

Their glasses clinked softly in the space around them. As Noelle drank, her eyes strayed from Robby again and landed back to the table of the married pair but as she looked, the woman caught her eye and lost it in an instant.

“You know,” Robby started. “I’m not really believing you when you said everything was fine.”

“It is. I just—nothing. It’s fine. Truly, it is.”

“Then why do you keep looking everywhere else but at me?”

Noelle looked at the table again, catching the woman’s sight another time before Robby followed the trail. Like a hound on a scent, he turned around, arm perched on the back of his booth seat, and fell on the table of Noelle’s attention.

“Oh, fuck.”

Noelle’s face dropped. “Do you know her?”

Robby turned back around and ran a hand over his beard. His head wobbled from side to side before deciding on the easiest way to answer.

“Yes, I know her,” he said slowly.

“Okay,” she nodded just as deliberately. “And is this like an… ex-girlfriend situation or…”

“Oh no,” Robby blurted. “Hell no. I would never—she’s,” he laughed “I would be six feet under if I even had an inkling of a thought about her.”

“Well she keeps looking over here, so.”

Robby glanced back over at you and Jack.

“See the man she’s with?” Noelle acknowledged it. “That’s her husband—Dr. Abbot, from the night shift.”

“Oh,” Noelle said. “The Abbots, then.”

“Mhm. And from where they’re sitting, they’re probably just as confused.”

“Confused about what?”

“You see, Jack there, he’s a friend. A good friend. Maybe my best friend but I don’t know… you know I don’t have a ton of those. I told him that I wasn’t looking for anyone right now because I didn’t want him to—”

“Know about us?” She finished for him.

Robby agreed with a bob. “Yep.” He popped the ‘P’ and drew his finger around the lip of his scotch glass.

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t told anyone about us either.” It did make him feel better.

“Do you mind if I?” Robby gestured with his thumb to your direction.

“Are you going to ask them to join our dinner?” Noelle asked jokingly. Robby’s mouth quirked but he ignored it because of course not. The last fucking thing he wanted was for you and Jack to start interrogating him about his love life.

He had married friends. He had married co-workers. But you and Jack? Together? It was like he was handling a live grenade and if it went off, half of it was for the amusement of you both and the other was out of spite for his… lackluster history.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Shit, Jack,” you sputtered. “I think Robby saw me.”

Jack put his fork down and rose his eyebrows. “You weren’t being very subtle, baby. Every five seconds you’re looking over there.”

“I was trying to be,” you explained.

“Let me just—”

From your peripheral, Robby slid out of the booth and straightened out his sweater before pivoting on his feet and walking toward your direction.

“—he’s coming over here.” You gave Jack a giant smile. “Do I have anything in my teeth? Jack.” He wasn’t looking fast enough. “Teeth?”

Jack squinted, barely able to see a speck of anything because of the lighting—he had to pull out his readers to even read the menu. “No you’re fine.”

“Robby?” You feigned innocence, dazzlingly him with a toothy grin. “What a small world.”

“Hey!” Jack played it off too. Fairly well, you thought. He could have been an actor. “What are you doin’ here?”

Robby’s eyes bounced between you and Jack. He thought it was slightly hilarious how, even though he’d caught you staring, that the niceties and horror-like smiles the two of you were giving were cute.

“Oh you know,” he started, “just on a date.”

“Really?” You gasped, suddenly interested and Jack kicked you under the table with his bionic foot. “You’re dating again?”

Robby shrugged. “Here and there.”

“Well good for you. Really.”

“I came over here because—” he cleared his throat and dipped his head as he stepped closer to the table, “—you’re being really fucking weird to my date.”

You scoffed, seeking out Jack who sat back against his chair casually. Your eyes shrunk in distrust that he was going to make you fend for yourself.

“Please. I was just shocked to see you, that’s all.”

“And you, Jack?” Robby asked.

“I didn’t even know you were here,” Jack said and you kissed your teeth.

“Really?” Robby laughed. “That’s funny.”

“A small world after all.”

“Alright, alright.” Robby didn’t believe either of you. You two were also shitty liars. “Actually, Jack, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something anyway. I heard it a few months ago and I just never got around to it.”

Jack glimpsed at you in caution.

“Yeah, brother, what’s up?”

Robby glanced at you, quirking his head to decide whether or not it was worth it. “You know what… nevermind.”

“You sure?” Jack asked with a critical stare.

Robby thought on the rumors he’s heard and the uncontrollable embarrassment that would follow Jack. The man would be mortified to have those words, the idea of him exposed for the sake of Robby’s pettiness.

“It’s nothin’ that can’t wait until next shift.”

“That’s in a few days.”

“Still,” Robby said. “It can wait.”

“So a co-worker?” You asked Robby not meaning to be overly judgmental. “Again.”

“And you’d rather see me with one of your reading friends, huh?” Robby observed dryly.

“Not sure.” You placed your napkin onto the table beside your finished meal. “I just think that someone outside of the field might give you peace of mind.”

“Well, maybe if you met her, your perspective might change.”

Robby looked back over his shoulder at Noelle and gave her a tight smile. Jack shook his head, disbelief washing over him at Robby’s assumption that this one will stick.

“You gonna let her eat by herself or do you wanna pull up a chair?” Jack wondered aloud.

“I just want to make sure that our… business won’t be intruded upon.”

“Business?” You couldn’t help the laugh that came out. “Shit, Robby. Do not call her ‘business’ ever. You’ll never get her to come out with you again.”

“And how did Jack get you to go out with him more than once, let alone marry him?”

Now he was just being petty.

“Have you seen him?” You feigned trivial spite. “He could be mute and still have more charisma than you.”

“I think we see Jack in two different lights.”

“Jack is right here,” Jack spoke up. “Please include said man in your conversations. And I bagged her, she didn’t bag me, brother. A good man knows that.”

Jack sent a wink tumbling into your direction and you felt your cheeks warm.

“You two are… something.”

“We’ll leave you alone,” you told Robby. “We’re almost done here anyway.”

“Thank you,” Robby said half-heartedly.

“Now go back to her. She’s probably more bored than she was before,” Jack waved him off.

Robby retreated back to his table and Noelle gave him a coy face as they settled back into their date and you and Jack made amends with the end of half of yours.

“And that’s why we don’t play games at dinner,” Jack followed Robby’s absence with.

“Oh, please,” you mourned with a flair. “Don’t act like you didn’t like getting to knock him down a peg.”

“I’d much rather—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Dr. Abbot.” You warned.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Maybe it’s time to leave, huh?” You pushed your plate further away from the edge. “Move on to something…new.”

“Yeah?” Jack said wisely. “Got any ideas?”

“A few.”

He dug into the pocket of his dinner jacket and flipped open his wallet before the check had been printed. Jack’s mind began to wander to a million different places, impatient to make it to the car and speed home for the sake of his own wants.

“What if we just dine and dashed?” He asked seriously.

“And be banned here forever? I can already see the headline: local veteran flees establishment for sex.”

“They don’t know it’s ‘for sex,’ though.”

Your eyebrows lifted in incredulity. “Sure, Jack. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I think we will both sleep very well.”

“Is that a challenge?” You asked him, leaning forward on your elbows.

Absentmindedly, Jack rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt and your eyes locked onto his arms immediately. Anyone else there, Robby and his date, be dammed. What the fuck were you thinking? A game to guess whatever Robby was talking about when you had a fucking feast of a husband right in front of you?

Dipshit. You scolded yourself the more time he took rolling the fabric over each crease.

Jack nodded lightly. His head barely moved.

“I’ll have you out like a light by ten.”

You short circuited for a second. A glitch in your matrix running scattered, barely coherent thoughts by your brain.

“Where the hell is our server?”

It had taken Jack a long time to love his body after he came home. Though it had been many years and he’d come to accept that his memory of self would never be the same, when he was naked beside you, there was nothing to protect him from his thoughts.

And after the many attempts at trying the little blue pill? He performed sporadically and each time was a shot in his armor already scuffed with damage.

Yet you held his face in your hands so gingerly that it paved over the cracks in his facade. It helped build him up, strengthening his conviction that he was still worthy to be the man who pleased you and was able to satisfy you in the end.

A softness in your countenance made the muscles in his back contract. You felt him tense beneath your fingertips, the sides of his torso drawing rigid. You loved so deeply. It poured from every ounce of you but most in the way you looked at Jack. He witnessed you in vulnerability; the sheen of sweat on your forehead a testament to it. Your eyes flicked down between your bodies and he grunted as your reflex made your walls constrict around him.

Your breath hitched. Hands sliding from the sides of Jack’s face to his neck, pulling him in closer until one inch more would contort your view. His gaze turned hooded. The side of his mouth pulled, lines forming as he thought about you and nothing but you.

Jack’s pace picked up, challenging himself and his position. Leg be dammed—he’d deal with the soreness later. He pressed his thumb in the spot behind your ear; the joint of your jaw moving it as your mouth fell open softly, a whine he hadn’t heard in awhile meeting the audible thwop of his cock thrusting into you. It was an obscenity he’d welcome time and again so long as it meant he could feel you like this, have you between his hands, and loving him all at once.

“Shit,” you let out a quiet, warm laugh that tickled his face. “Holy shit, Jack.”

He kissed the side of your mouth and let his lips linger there.

Your chest blossomed with tenderness that nearly hurt. You loved him. You loved the curls on his head and the way his heart burned with empathy; his drive to keep moving forward amidst nights where his memories consumed every bone in his body. Jack was unyielding in his support of you and God, you could feel it in the way he moved.

“Keep breathing, love,” he whispered.

A hand fell down to grasp his forearm hovering above your chest. Small indents of crescent shaped moons met his graying hairs and defined veins before smoothing out. Your hand was damp with toil, seeking to mark him with remnants of you he’d never want to wash away.

His voice was honeyed around words of soft reassurances. Jack’s eyes rarely left yours when so vulnerable. Even when your body was arching into his, chasing after a high only he could help you reach, he watched you and your lips and your sighs.

His teeth pulled back on his bottom lip as he drank you in. And before he even realized he had let go, your hand was splayed against his jaw, thumb gliding over the same lip.

Jack leaned forward, pushing his mouth against yours. You opened up for him without him needing to ask. His tongue slipped against yours, pulling a sound from you that the heavens created just for his ears. Jack took the your hand resting against his face and guided it back to the pillow above your head. His fingers slotted between yours as he slowed down his hips, rocking his cock into you as deeply as it could go.

“Oh fuck,” you careened. Eyes fluttering and rolling with your head tipped back against the pillow.

Jack’s free hand slinked from your head to between your breasts to your clit where it settled with pressure. He bobbed his head at you, urging you to continue down that path.

“Baby,” he said lilted. “I got you. I got you.”

“Ja—” you started but he nodded as though he knew what you were going to say. His fingers moved fast and rough with the help of the lube that left its residue around you.

“You’ve got me too, yeah?” Jack said lowly and it vibrated within your bones.

“Of course,” you exhaled.

Jack’s muscles trembled in an effort to hold himself back because he knew you weren’t there yet. He felt your toes curl in as they brushed the back of his legs. Your left leg dug into the mattress behind the clean line of what existed before and the other into his thick calf.

His voice continued barely above a whisper. “God, I fucking love you. So much. I love you so fucking much.”

Maybe it was the tone, or combination of his hands and his unrelenting pace but you groaned, a cry of appreciation, straight into Jack’s heart.

“You almost there, baby?” He begged. “I’m there. I’m there. I wanna feel you. I’m gonna wait for you.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you finished together. Usually it was half and half. Jack would get you off, then you’d fuck and he’d come later. Swap it a million different ways but it still didn’t happen together frequently. Except it had been days. Long, tiring days of wishing to be beside one another and finally you were as close as you possibly could be.

And Jack pleaded for you.

He coaxed an orgasm from your body that had been dormant for days. Your shoulders trembled, quivering when you felt the delicate pulsing of his own fill you as his hand in yours nearly crushed the feeling left in it. His fingers removed themselves from your clit and grasped your hip tightly.

Jack’s mouth captured yours immediately.

You both chased the electricity that sparked on all nerves. There was no time to allow breaths to catch up. Every second that surpassed as the high faded into a tired relief lingered in a gentle preserve of desire.

You bit down gently on his lip and tugged. Jack’s hand loosened its grip on yours but didn’t let go completely.

His eyes stayed closed.

He listened to you recover and felt himself soften against the spasms you had no power over. There was no rush to clean up, to change the sheets, or lay down completely. Jack held you close and reminded himself that his time outside of your union could be reduced for the sake of these moments.

Your hands ran up his back and around his shoulders, pulling him closer. They burrowed into the back of his head and into his hair damp with sweat.

“I’m so proud of you,” you sighed.

For all that he’s done, all that he’s given, and whatever might come next. A small piece of him rewarded himself on not needing his support in the back of the medicine cabinet for the first time in months—a strange, selfish reason to be proud of himself. But you were proud.

And he prided himself in that.

“Come on.” He rubbed his thumb into your hip. You shook your head, placing your lips to his again.

“I don’t wanna,” you murmured against his mouth. “Five more minutes.”

“If we shower, you can wash my hair,” Jack suggested as though it would move you—it didn’t. Nevertheless, he still kissed you back.

“Lay with me, Jack.”

Five minutes turned into ten… then you got to wash his hair.

And you were asleep by 10:05, just like he promised.

Four days later, Robby arrived in the ED with a newfound pep in his step. Everyday was unpredictable for him lately and the good days were far and few between, so, he took an inch and made it last a mile when the satisfaction rattled through his soul.

Jack was already talking to Dana at a computer about a patient in South 17 when Robby joined them, setting his bag down on the floor where Jack’s was already packed and ready to go.

“Did I miss hand offs already?” Robby asked both of them.

“Jack asked me to come in early so he could get a jump start home,” Dana detailed and Jack logged out.

“I’ve got places to be, people to see,” Jack said causally. Robby scoffed, eyes looking around the hub at his staff.

“You mean your wife.”

Jack nodded once. “And if I get out of here in—” he glanced down at his watch “—five minutes I can catch her before she gets out of bed.”

“Isn’t that sweet,” Dana cooed. “Take notes, Robinavitch. You might need it someday.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Robby put his glasses on, dipping them low on his nose. “Abbot might not have the best advice.”

Jack saddled his bag onto his shoulder. “Did the date not go well?” His brows lifted in no apology. “It was quite a fun thing to experience, if I do say so myself.”

Robby laughed an “uh oh” as though he were being challenged.

“Well, I’d hate to be on the other side of what dates look like.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, gazing at his friend with speculation before walking out of the hub. Dana backed off as Princess came snooping with an air of gossip waiting to be unleashed.

Robby gave Jack a few steps head start before jogging up to catch him.

“It actually went very well, if you care,” Robby said quietly. “We’re getting drinks after work tonight.”

Jack stopped. He looked at Robby’s face and knew in an instant that he was being honest. He did like Noelle—even if he had a strange way of showing it.

“Good for you, brother.” Jack slapped a hand on his back. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks…” Robby tilted his head. “Is she?”

“Is she what?” Jack asked. “Who?”

“Is your wife happy?”

Jack’s enjoyment broke. “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Robby chuckled. He shook off an imaginary thought. “I was gonna talk to you about this, remember? I heard from someone a few months back that there was a little… problem? An age related one?”

“An—“ Jack paused, lightly offended. “What the fuck are you on about?”

“I don’t know… just this like… little blue pill problem?”

God. Jack’s face lit on fire. Who the fuck blabbed?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Who the hell talked? Who told the only person that Jack specifically wished never knew about his Viagra problem?”

“No?” Robby’s mouth quirked into an amused frown. “Okay, so nothing’s wrong in that department?”

“N-no.” Jack could have slapped himself for the stutter. “But it’s not fucking age related, Robinavitch. And you’re older than me, fucker. So, don’t even go there.”

“I’ve never had a problem.” Robby shrugged and Jack began walking away before anymore questions could be asked.

“At least I’m married!”

“See ya, Abbot!” Robby bid easily as Jack threw up his middle finger. “Mind your own business next time!”

“Fuck off, Robby!”

And the ambulance bay doors closed behind him with a swish.

a/n: jack has such vibes that i simply can’t resist him. he’s an itch we can’t (don’t want to) scratch.

reblogs, comments, and likes keep writers writing. thank you for reading! plus reblogging is like… super cool tbh

You’d ignored them, clinging to your glass and any semblance of control with an iron grip as you stood in the corner of the room by yourself, no one having the nerve to side up to you and start a conversation, lest you decided to rip their head off.

An ugly scar on the relationships you’d torn apart when you shredded all contact with your past life.

The longer you stood in that stuffy room, the closer the walls drew in, until finally the laughter and music became too loud, too forced, too much, and you slammed the glass down on the nearest surface and fled.

Just like you always did.

Now, the breeze was colder than you remembered, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Not as it worked to cool your heated cheeks and the sweat on the back of your neck.

Each footstep on the sidewalk took you further away from the mess of your life and closer to the café at the end of the main street.

It was a mistake to come back, you told yourself, head ducked low to avoid the eyes of passers-by. It was a mistake to think that anyone would welcome you back with open arms. It was a mistake to come back and see the life here flourish while you were withering away to nothing.

The thoughts grew more ferocious the closer you got to the café, a whirlwind storm inside your mind so loud that you didn’t even hear the bells chime until you came face to face with the open door.

And face to face with him.

You blinked.

Once. Then twice. And on the third time, every thought you’d had a moment ago descended into an ear-piercing silence.

Your breath hitched, and he seemed just as dumbfounded to see you standing on the precipice of your old life as you were.

He whispered your name, and everything around you came back in screaming colour.

‘Steve,’ you choked out, barely able to think anything else, because he was here. He was in front of you.

He swallowed down his shock into something more approachable, but his eyebrows were still pulled together as he took you in.

You wanted to turn your head and shield him from seeing you like this. He had no doubt noticed the bags under your eyes that seemed like a permanent fixture in your life now. Your frown lines that were etched into your face from the sheer amount of time you spent like that. And worst of all, your glassy eyes that had misted the second you laid eyes on him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he managed after a second.

You fumbled for the reason, the words tumbling around like rocks in your mouth. ‘I—uh—there’s a party. For my aunt. Now.’

‘Oh,’ he said suddenly, and as if realising that he was still in the middle of the doorway, stepped aside and moved to open the door wider for you. ‘Are you wanting to come in?’

‘No. No. I’m just…’ The sentence wavered out into nothing. What were you doing? What had been your plan aside from coming here to seek refuge?

You could feel Steve’s eyes still on you, and you pulled your jacket tighter. It was out of comfort more than anything, but he took it as a defence against the chill.

He cleared his throat and glanced back inside. You could see him vaulting a thought around behind his eyes, trying to work up the courage to ask the question that you desperately hoped he would. ‘Did you want to get a coffee?’ Together, he didn’t say.

Your answer was instant.

+

The light streaming through the partially closed curtains roused you from sleep. From the way it poured into the room, it had to be mid-morning, the overhead fan already working overtime to fight against the unusually hot spring heat.

You groaned as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, but quietened immediately when the arm slung over you pulled tighter. He was warm, the thin t-shirt barely doing anything to stop the natural warmth he radiated at all times.

It became particularly useful for you in winter, but on hot days like this, it was almost too much.

‘Steve,’ you whispered, trying to pull away from him. His grip didn’t let up. ‘Steve,’ you tried again, this time rolling over to face him.

His hair was a mess, the majority of it falling in a wayward pattern all over his face. It was longer than it ever had been while he’d been at high school, and you had to admit that you liked being able to brush your hands through it, just like you did now.

‘Steve,’ you murmured, twirling your fingers through the strands around his temple. He hummed, an acknowledgement without actually opening his eyes. ‘It’s your birthday, baby.’

While the information wasn’t new to him, he still furrowed his eyebrows and heaved in a long breath through his nose before cracking his eyes open. ‘What?’

You smiled at him. ‘It’s your birthday.’

‘My birthday?’ he questioned, and if it weren’t for the fact that you knew he struggled to process anything for the first ten minutes he was awake, you’d have thought he suffered short-term memory loss while he was asleep.

‘Yeah,’ you affirmed. ‘Happy birthday.’

There was a long moment of silence as he finally understood what you said and his eyes opened fully, revealing the deep chocolate that you’d fallen for, and would continue to chase for the rest of your life.

‘It’s my birthday,’ he said, and after a second added, ‘I’m so old.’

You scoffed, shuffling as he rolled onto his back. ‘You’re not old. You’re barely 19.’

‘And that’s practically 20, which is almost 21. I’ll be 30 before I know it.’ He caught your eyeroll, and you barely had time to prepare yourself before he jabbed his fingers into your side causing you to squeal. ‘Don’t make fun of me. This is serious.’

‘I never said it wasn’t!’

‘Then why are you laughing at me?’

‘Because you’re freaking out over nothing. Aging is a part of life, babe. It happens to everyone.’ Despite the thankful smile he threw your way, there was still a subtle sadness behind it.

You knew it was because he felt like his childhood was ending, and that sooner or later he would have to get a proper job working for his dad, and this bubble of weightlessness would burst.

‘You know,’ you said, ‘I’ll still love you. No matter how old we are. No matter what happens, that will always be true.’

His eyes softened, the tentative smile widening. ‘I love you,’ he said, and the pebble of truth sent ripples through your soul.

+

When the waitress took your order, you couldn’t help noticing the way her eyes lingered on him just a moment too long.

You couldn’t blame her. Time had done wonders for Steve, fine tuning him into a handsome young man, all broad shoulders and arms that had become toned with the work he’d done for the town to help rebuild.

A weird silence settled over the two of you when he looked up from the menu.

You wanted to ask him about how he’d been, about anything and everything, but your tongue was cemented to the roof of your mouth, and all you could do was stare at him.

After darting his tongue across his lips, he asked, ‘How are you?’

‘I’ve been good,’ you lied, used to the bitter taste the words left in your mouth. ‘How are you?’

He nodded his head. ‘Yeah, good. Just working at the Rehabilitation Centre still.’

Working felt like an understatement. According to the newspapers you read on occasion, Steve Harrington was leading the trauma recovery unit to help people understand and deal with the trauma they’d faced when the town had been ripped apart. Before that, he’d been a part of the clean up crew and assisted with rebuilding the town.

And to him, it was just working.

But you couldn’t say that to him. You couldn’t tell him how amazing he was, and what difference he was making to people’s lives, and just how proud you were of him. Not anymore.

‘That’s…good,’ you finished lamely. ‘How’re the kids?’

The kids that you abandoned, a tiny voice in the back of your head whispered.

Steve gave you a quick once over, as if assessing if he was going to tell you. ‘They’re good. Senior year this year. High school’s been rough for them, you know, with everything, but they’re doing well. They’re nerds, so what can you expect.’

It was just a joke, but for the first time in five years, you smiled.

He returned it, albeit close-lipped. His guard was still up, an invisible wall that was keeping you at a distance.

It hurt, to be on the receiving end of his coldness.

By nature, he was aloof, carefree in a way that had attracted you to him in the first place.

Now, he was burdened with the shadows of doubt that you had created.

The shame threatened to burn you alive.

+

Steve driving was a common sight.

So common, in fact, that he had been dubbed the taxi service by the kids, the Harrington household receiving numerous calls at all times of day or night begging him to drive them wherever they needed to go.

And despite his groaning and moaning and protesting, Steve Harrington could never say no to taking them across town at two in the morning.

‘Henderson, shut up,’ he muttered, turning down the radio that the curly-haired boy had reached through the seats to turn up.

Steve was teetering on the edge of insanity, the lack of sleep combined with the atrociously noisy freshman all squashed up in the back seat of his BMW. His eye twitched, fingers drumming out random patterns on the steering wheel to try and ground himself in the present moment.

You could only watch on with bleary eyes as he tried to keep himself on this side of going to jail for murdering a gaggle of freshman.

‘What?’ Dustin said, leaning forward to turn it up again. ‘It’s just music.’

You snapped forward and smacked his hand away. He had the gall to look offended.

‘What’d you do that for?’ he screeched.

‘Because you’re being annoying.’

‘Hey, if anyone’s being annoying, it’s Max. She won’t move over, and I’m stuck on the floor.’ The resulting punch he received on the arm was loud enough that you heard it from the front seat.

‘I am not,’ she snarked. ‘You’re the one who called us all and said it was an emergency.’

Sleep still clouding his voice, Steve added, ‘Yeah, and if we get to Mike’s and I find out it’s not an emergency, you’re dead, Henderson. Got it?’ He yawned, setting off a chain reaction for everyone except Dustin.

‘He’s just grumpy he’s missing out on his beauty sleep, Dustin,’ you murmured.

Steve’s eyeroll was almost audible as he pulled up out the front of the Wheeler’s place, Mike vibrating with excitement in the driveway. Will was more subdued beside him, but both their smiles grew tenfold when Lucas, Max, Dustin, and El clambered out of the car.

The doors to the car were slammed shut with little more than a ‘thank you’ from Lucas and El, and they were all practically tripping over each other to get inside the house. The two of you watched after them, ensuring they all got inside safely.

Without the constant chatter of the kids, the car was a hell of a lot quieter, but despite it, your previous exhaustion was creeping away from you.

Glancing over at Steve, you could see his eyes threatening to close, so you reached out and placed a hand on his arm. ‘You want me to drive?’

He looked at you. ‘No, I’m fine. I just need to go back to bed,’ he answered as he peeled away from the curb and into the night.

‘Pretty boy need his beauty sleep?’ you teased.

As you watched him laugh from the passenger side, you couldn’t imagine a better life than this one.

+

The bells above the door chimed as more people filed into the café and took a seat at the table across for you.

You recognized them as the family who had lived down the street from you as kid. The five years hadn’t been as kind to them, skin sagging as age brought them further from their youth. They had always been kind to you as a kid, a little overbearing, maybe, but constant and kind.

Seeing them now, your stomach soured in an awful way and your eyes averted before they could catch them.

Steve saw it all. The shift in emotion. The way you fiddled with the sleeves of your jacket that he knew mean that you were nervous.

The jacket he had bought for you seven years ago.

When you finally returned your gaze from the linoleum tabletop to his face, his expression had softened a fraction. Anyone else mightn’t have noticed it.

But you did.

So, you took a leap.

+

Everything was wrong.

The silence from the main street that was torn in two. The busker than normally stood on the curb was gone, another victim to Vecna.

The cleanup was still in full force, and your second week of searching for people lost in the rubble had turned into searching for the bodies of the people who you had grown up beside.

Neighbours. Classmates. Teachers. Coworkers.

Vecna’s carnage hadn’t spared anyone. Even though El had stopped him, it hadn’t been enough to stop him from tearing apart your home.

You had failed.

You had failed Max.

You had failed Eddie.

Everyone had depended on you, and you failed them.

The least you could do was try and find them, to try and save them. But even now, you weren’t quick enough, and anyone left beneath it all would be gone.

Those dark thoughts had begun to haunt you. They had you second guessing every move you made, leaving you wondering if you’d just tried harder, if you’d run faster, if you’d thought quicker, would everything be different?

Darkness began to seep into your everyday life, shadowing any joy and light in a cloud of distrust and agony. Because it could all be taken away from you.

Everything you loved had already been tainted by the darkness, and now that darkness was in your head.

It was everywhere.

And it was all your fault.

By the end of the second week of search and rescue, the supervisors called it.

There were no more bodies to be found. The thought should have been a good one. It should have been hopeful.

But as you shed your high-vis vest and kicked off your boots outside your door, failure was the only lonely word tumbling around in your skull.

With shaking hands, you turned the key to your front door, intent on letting yourself fall into the oblivion of sleep as soon as you got inside.

But as you stepped into your house, you froze in the doorway. Because Steve was sitting on your couch, with a bouquet of roses in his hands.

He was still dressed for his shift at the Rehabilitation Centre, nametag emblazoned with his name in giant capital letters followed by: Ask me for help!

Your eyes were laser focused on the flowers in his hands. They were ornate, over the top, and something that you would have kissed him silly for two months ago.

Now, they were a bloodstain against the mess of your house.

‘What is that?’ you asked, voice shaky.

Steve glanced between the roses and you. ‘They’re flowers. I heard that it was your last shift at search and rescue today.’

Failure clamped around your heart. ‘And you got me flowers?’

His brow furrowed, and you saw his start to second-guess himself. ‘Well, yeah, I just thought that it would be nice, considering—’

‘—considering what?’ you seethed. ‘Considering that I couldn’t save everyone?’

He started, taking a step back at the ferocity in you voice. ‘What? No. I thought—’

You barked a laugh. A sad, broken sound that reflected just how you felt inside. ‘—You thought wrong. I don’t want flowers, Steve. I don’t want you to pretend that everything is OK just because you don’t have to deal with the reality of looking for people every day.’

It was a low blow. And it wasn’t fair. He did just as much to help Hawkins as you did. But your mind didn’t care about fair.

The flowers in his hands fell to his side. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that I don’t fucking want you to be here sprouting your ‘Everything is going to be OK!’ shit to me right now.’

Steve’s face dropped, and hurt flashed across his face. ‘I’m not—’

‘You are!’ you spat. ‘Nothing is going to be OK. Nothing is going to be all right. It’s never going to go back to normal, because everything is gone. The people. Our town. Our friends. It’s all gone.’

He didn’t move, your words pinning him to his spot in your living room. ‘Baby, things will change. It’s going to take time and effort, but we can do this.’

‘Nothing is going to be OK,’ you said after a pause. ‘It’s not. And we can’t do this.’

He froze. ‘What?’

‘We can’t do this,’ you repeated, not even looking at him.

His voice shook, but, still, you kept your eyes averted. ‘What are you saying?’

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He just looked at you. But then he was angry. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. You don’t get to just tap out when things go wrong. That’s not fair.’ He crossed the room in a few long strides until he was a few feet away. ‘We promised we would do this together—’

‘I don’t want to,’ you cut him off. ‘I don’t want this.’

‘I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you want to just give up on us after three years. No. No.’ You weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

Either way, it didn’t work. ‘I do. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do it.’

‘Where is this coming from? I know that the Upside Down stuff is bad, but we’ve done it before, and we can do it again. We just need—’

‘Steve,’ you cut in. ‘I don’t want you.’

The words sliced through the room, through the world.

They were the final nail in the coffin.

Steve stood opposite you, the heart he had just held out in his hand to you bruised and bloody, all by your own doing.

A tiny voice inside your head—the reasonable one that you had locked away—was screaming. It pounded against the door with all its might, begging you not to let this go, begging you not to let him go.

But you slammed it behind another door, drowning it out with the swirling darkness you had become accustomed to.

When Steve opened his mouth, his voice threatened to break you. ‘You…You don’t want…me?’

If you wanted to go back, if you even wanted to try and scramble back to escape the mess you had just made of both your hearts, this was the only chance.

You finally looked up from the ground and into his teary, heartbroken eyes, and you said, ‘No.’

+

‘Steve,’ you started, aware of your racing heart and shaking hands. The way he looked at you now, you could see his wariness. You could see the way he readied himself for what you were about to say. And seeing him that way, seeing the way that you had made him, it was enough to swallow your pride. ‘I’m sorry.’

Whatever he thought you were going to say, it obviously hadn’t been that, because his eyes widened, and his lips parted. ‘What?’ he managed.

‘I—I’m sorry, for that night. For saying those things to you. For—For throwing you away when we needed each other most. I’m sorry.’ As you said the words, you turned the key to the door of the part of yourself that you had kept locked up for five years.

You allowed it out, and god, did it ache at the freedom.

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes from you, the raging internal battle he was having clear on his face. It was ugly, but you were its creator, and you had to face it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anymore, so you just waited.

You would wait an eternity for it. For him. You would give him whatever he needed from you. Even if it was to never step foot in Hawkins ever again, you would give that to him.

Whatever he wanted, it was his. Because everything you had ever had, everything you had ever been, it had always belonged to him.

Time stretched, mindless chatter droning out until his voice became the only one you could hear.

‘OK,’ he said.

And then he smiled.