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It started on her very first day at the Pitt, a day in which she'd uncovered two pivotal pieces of information that no one had been made privy to up until that point.

Dennis Whitaker was living in the hospital.

Frank Langdon had a substance abuse issue.

Both these pieces of information could've served as gossip, but trinity had always considered herself a trooper, and so she kept her mouth shut about both of them.

Throughout her time at the Pitt, more and more news revealed themselves to her. And every single time, Trinity kept them all to herself.

Whether it was something as small as Ogilvie eating the sandwich Samira had been saving in the fridge, or as big as Dana asking McKay for another secret script of sedative to carry around in case of an emergency, Trinity always turned a blind eye and acted surprised whenever someone else happened to stumble upon the same piece of gossip and spilled the beans to everyone else at the Pitt.

But even with her angelic ability to keep her mouth shut, Trinity was, after all, just a person. And sooner or later, something would eventually be too juicy for it to not slip past her lips when probed just at the right moment.

It was only too bad that you happened to be on the receiving end of it.

-

Trinity liked you.

You were a useful addition to the many doubles she had a tendency to pull, always a good partner to have in the long hours under the bleed of the fluorescent white lights of the ED.

She liked to think (and was pretty sure) that the feeling was mutual.

The two of you shared a similar humor, usually placing either Whitaker or Langdon at the butt of every joke, bugging at Robby for more complicated procedures or gaslighting Shen into sharing his Dunkin's coupons with you.

You'd been aware of her thing with Yoyo back when it was no more than a situationship kept on the down low. Just like she was well aware of your moon-eyed crush on the greying night shift attending — information that she always kept to herself despite how obvious she thought you were.

And so she felt pretty confident in saying that she knew you pretty well.

But was she colored impressed when she came to find out that that was not true at all.

Because standing across from her, she found a scantily-clad you, body packed with glitter and hair with the most volume she'd ever seen, dancing to your heart's content up on the stage of the strip club Yoyo had insisted they check out for their weekly date night.

Yoyo had already been here multiple times, or so she had told Trinity right before parking up front about twenty minutes prior to that moment. Yet her eyes widened just as big as soon as she spotted you, fellow resident of Trinity's, practically naked on stage.

As her eyes widened, they turned to Santos', finding them just as wide and peeked at a tiny amused smile forming. Within moments they were both giggling to themselves, betting on a margarita as to how long it'd take you to turn your head slightly north in order to find two of your coworkers in the audience.

All in all, Santos had to admit that, damn, you knew what you were doing.

This was no side hustle or hobby. This was clearly something you'd studied the art of to a T.

But your performance only got better the moment you actually spotted Trinity and Yoyo, eyes wide and a stutter in your step as you walked your way to the pole found at the closest end of the stage.

Your coworkers made a show of cheering for you, wooing at you, throwing bills in your direction, sending one or two pointed whistles your way. Within moments your shock turned into annoyance, and the rest was pretty much history.

Weeks passed until this Trinity brought up the events of that night again.

(Other than the immediate aftermath in which Trinity chastised you for not sharing such an interesting bit of your life with your work bestie and you pleading that she keep her mouth shut about it at work).

And when it was finally brought up again, it was all accidental. Trinity swore by that! She was not the type to blabber about things that didn't concern her.

But it had been a very long shift, and drinks were being passed around at the park, and you had a little bit of leftover glitter on your cheekbone she somehow hadn't noticed in the past 18 hours and she couldn't help but to-

"Hah, what's with the glitter? This isn't your night job."

She'd said it with what sounded like a malicious snicker and happened to word it in a way that made you sound like a lady of the night, but, truly, she had not meant it that way! Had not even realized what she'd said until she realized all voices had quietened down and that the only sound to be heard was the odd cricket hiding around the bushes of the park.

You froze, eyes wide like bambi and a lips slightly agape in pure shock. All color seemed to drain from your face immediately as a strange sense of shame took over your features.

Rather than to immediately look to santos in shock, your eyes looked to the bench across from you where your two attendings sat, mortified at the sudden reveal and at the way in which all conversation seemed to half at Santos' words.

Across from where you stood were Abbot and Robby, pausing their side conversation to look over in your direction, with the former in slight shock and the latter with some amusement at Santos' sudden reveal.

Realization that she'd fucked up and embarrassed you in front of your crush made Santos feel even worse at her sudden blunder. She was hitting herself internally at every extended second of awkward silence.

In the pseudo socratic circle you'd always form when sharing a beer after a long shift at the park, multiple of your other coworkers also reacted to Santos' comment, including Whitaker choking on his beer and Javadi gasping out loud.

Langdon had been a little more reserved, simply lifting his brows in curiosity and Samira furrowing hers in confusion.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, your eyes swam over all the people around you, mortified, before landing back on Santos next to you. Your embarrassment morphed into irritation, now scowling at the girl before grunting out a response.

"Santos—! God damnit, I- I have to go."

And with that, you walked away despite all the eyes on you, ignoring santos as she spluttered a weak apology in your direction, hand landing on her forehead as she regretted the words that had left her lips.

"Night job?"

"Shut it, Huckleberry, that is not what i meant-"

"Oh my god, is she, like, a sex worker?"

Javadi's choice of language was respectful, but did not aid in santos' case after her fuck-up.

"No! What i meant was-"

"Dude, so not cool exposing her private shit like that."

This time it was Langdon, shaking his head as he aimed, threw, and landed his crumpled beer can into the trashcan to his left.

A few more chastising comments were given by a few other coworkers, leaving Santos no option but to, once again, blurt out something she truly did not mean to say.

"She's not a sex worker, okay? She's a stripper! Now shut up!"

Silence again.

Trinity winced as she took in the repetition of surprised reactions. She just couldn't stop fucking it up even further.

And in that awkward silence, she somehow managed to miss the outlier sitting on the bench across of her displaying all five stages of grief on his face as he took in the new information just given to him.

Abbot sat there, dumbly doing nothing as you walked away in mortification, as Santos continued to unintentionally embarrass you upon your exit, as everyone reacted to the newest and juiciest piece of gossip to hit the Pitt.

He couldn't help himself in the state of shock he'd arrived to. Couldn't even think about moving, much less listening to Mohan scold Santos and Santos promise she'd apologize as soon as she saw you and as she pleaded that no one ever bring up her fuck up ever again.

All he could do was think back to that tiny bit of glitter he'd also happened to spot the moment you'd clocked in and to all the other times in which he'd seen leftover glitter on your lid, on your cheek. He couldn't help but think of all the mumbled excuses you'd give as to why you couldn't join the night shift full time.

Everything suddenly came to light in a whole different way than he'd imagined, and the thought of you like that? Well, it sure had some sort of effect on him.

Unknowingly, Santos had not only ruined your life, but had also completely destroyed jack.

-

"Okay, so don't be mad."

"I already told you I'm not mad at you, Trinity," you sighed as you slipped off your stethoscope, facing your locker while gathering your things.

A few days had passed since the incident.

Santos had turned up at your apartment about half an hour later, groaning to herself as she told you about the aftermath of your sudden exit and very apologetic about it all.

After bribing you with access to her Doordash account for a month and offering to cover for you whenever your second job got in the way, no questions asked, you came around to letting it be water under the bridge.

You'd been lucky that the only people present to hear about your secret had been people you considered somewhat close.

Except that the thought of Jack Abbot, of all people, hearing of such a scandalous secret kind of made you want to die.

It wasn't that you were embarrassed, per se, but who'd want the sexy older guy they can't even maintain eye contact with finding out that you strip every other night? Sooner or later he'd do the math and realize that that was why you'd been rejecting his offers to be under his tutelage (and thus spending more time with him) during the night shift for twelve hours a night — because your side hustle got in the way.

You didn't want him to be... disappointed, for him to see you differently, to view you as cheap or as if you were selling your body. He respected you, and his respect was something you'd never want to lose.

Blatant judgment wasn't something you'd ever expect from Abbot, but the possibility existed within your irrational thoughts any time your brain decided to put those two parts of your life together. Even if your current relationship wasn't anything past mentor and mentee, you would be fine with it staying like that if it meant Abbot at least looked to you with a smidge of fondness in his eyes.

But Abbot hadn't said anything since Trinity blabbed.

There had been no sort of reaction from him, or anyone really.

Upon your return to the Pitt the following day, tail between your legs, no one had made any snarky quip or even looked at you weird after you'd been exposed and had dramatically run away. There were no further comments made other than Santos consistently apologizing over and over again in hushed tones throughout your shared shift.

And so you forgave Santos.

You were friends, and you weren't particularly embarrassed about moonlighting as a stripper for extra cash. It was just not something you openly discussed with your coworkers. You felt that reasoning was valid enough to keep it a secret.

Santos continued, "Well, maybe not now, but tell me that again in two minutes..."

At that, you closed your locker door, trying your hardest not to slam it. Perhaps you'd been a bit jumpy after all. Your guard was always high when it came to this subject.

"What did you do this time?"

Santos grimaced, groaning dramatically to herself and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before seemingly ripping the band-aid off.

"Abunchofpeoplegottogetherandthey'reallgonnagowatchyouthisweekendatyourclub."

"What?"

She sighed, cursing under her breath and attempted it again.

"A bunch of people got together ... and decided they're going to go to your club to watch you perform this weekend."

Your heart dropped at the word 'club' and stopped altogether at the word 'perform'. You were pretty sure you were about to enter cardiac arrest in that very moment.

Every second of your life flashed before your eyes.

"Oh, my god, santos-"

"I swear I didn't tell anyone about where you work!" she started, a little frantic, "I guess Yoyo told someone upstairs about a cool new club we went to, and then that person told someone else, and then it reached Parker and Shen, — who did the math — and then princess suggested some of the girls go watch you, and then Whitaker decided to join in cause he's sorta one of the girls, and it turned into Langdon joining and I think maybe Robby for some reason? anyway, I think-"

"Oh, my god."

"It's not that bad—!"

You huffed in despair, hands coming up to your face and mutely screaming into them for a few moments. You needed to get it out of your system, and seemingly Santos understood that sentiment as she stood taking in your misery.

"You've completely ruined my life," you said blankly, emotionless.

Dramatic, but it felt that drastic at that moment.

"Well, uh- you should be glad! You know, that, uh, at least Abbot isn't going!"

The mention of his name only made things worse for you.

"Oh, god."

Santos was well aware of your crush on the older man, though she usually used it to tease you. It was bad enough that he was one of the few who had heard the news firsthand, but to even think of him seeing you on the job?

Fuck.

"Do you think he'll... go?"

Santos shook her head a little too quickly, clearly eager to atone and reassure you, not at all actually sure.

"He's an old man! And he works the night shift! You dance nights, right?" you nodded and she continued, "See? He'd have to take the night off, and when was the last time he ever did that? Nothing to worry about."

Her logic was somewhat sound, but her tone of voice assured you that it was mostly just wishful thinking.

And even if abbot skipped this particular outing, knowing that Robby or Princess would probably give him (and the rest of the staff) the 411 of your night job made your skin itch with anxiety.

"From one to ten, how bad would it be if i quit both jobs before then?"

Santos shook her head, lips pursed.

"You can barely afford your apartment on two salaries and tips, you'll be homeless within a week."

"Fuck."

-

After that, you occasionally heard a comment or two about the big night.

You weren't quite sure how or why this had become a thing, much less how it wasn't firing off alarms with HR that not only was one of their doctors openly a stripper — was there some sort of rule for that? — but also that a good dozen of her coworkers were joining in on some scheme to torment her for said stripping.

Okay, maybe 'torment' was a little much.

Mel and Whitaker seemed genuinely interested in watching you out of sheer curiosity. Langdon appeared a little awkward about it, but didn't want to be left out. Javadi was perhaps a little judgmental about it (and would probably vlog it for TikTok), but both her and Samira showed some amused interest at that side of your life.

Robby got a little red in the face when the subject was brought up by Princess in your presence, but he also hadn't shown any judgment.

Plus, you always knew that it was only sooner or later that some patron at the strip club would recognize you or that someone at the hospital would end up on a night out at the club.

You were mostly just glad that Abbot had made no comment thus far, nor had he even been around any time the subject was brought up.

Still, you were a little anxious as Friday night turned up and you bid your goodbyes to Trin and Mel as you headed to the club in order to get undressed and ready to perform.

The girls at the club were pretty much clueless that you'd be bringing in a flock of doctors into the audience that night. It was better that way. Better to keep both jobs as separate as possible (even if they were beginning to seep into one another).

With a few breathing exercises, you did your thing, with a pretty pink set of lingerie, some pumps a bit too high, and a dyson to aid in fixing up something that would allow for some extra volume in your hair.

You couldn't forget the body glitter either, obviously.

Looking in the swanky mirror backstage, you took in your appearance, already an expert in the art of making yourself up for your audience.

Santos sent you a quick text, letting you know everyone was here and that there was no sighting of Abbot, which at least worked in docking down your heart rate a few bpm from its accelerated speed.

The music was already booming outside, and from backstage you could get a sense of the fluorescent lights flashing across the main room.

With one final deep breath, you made your way to the entrance to the stage, a little self conscious at your coworkers seeing you like this, but ultimately sort of glad that the secret was out of the bag and that it was just your friends out there — some lighthearted teasing and a few exaggerated cheers wouldn't kill you, would they?

-

Jack's week had been an absolute rollercoaster.

While externally everything might've remained mostly stagnant in Jack's life, — a difficult statement to make for someone who works night shift in emergency medicine — it was mostly his internal turmoil that had been keeping his mind occupied as of late.

Nothing had happened due to his own doing. But, hell, he could hardly blame anyone else.

But in his messed up mind, he still sorta did.

And that blame fell strictly on second-year resident, Trinity Santos.

(Though Jack was very well aware that this was all his fault. All the fault of the horribly inappropriate way in which he'd been looking to another second-year resident under his care).

Luckily for jack, he had a handle on it — like he did on most things. With a few distractions, he could stop his mind from wandering after your hands graced his mid procedure. He could simply pretend that the sudden accelerated speed of his heart was due to his new anxiety meds, not because the pretty, young, resident he had his eye on was looking up at him with doe eyes, asking if she was doing good.

In jack's mind, there was absolutely no way in which his infatuation with you could possibly worsen.

And this had been the truth for the two years in which you'd been at the Pitt.

It all ended on that fateful night.

After 16 hours of continuous work, Jack found himself sharing some beers with the usual crew of the Pitt. it was always a similar bunch, usually gathering after the specifically strenuous shifts that forced them to remain a few hours past the clock.

In this past year or so, you'd become part of that small crew.

Usually, you'd stand by doctor king or doctor santos, flocking towards people your age (which he noted with a pained heart), rarely ever sharing the usual bench with him or even interacting with him past a polite nod of acknowledgement or a 'goodnight' directed at the group in general.

You appeared to be too exhausted after extended shifts, with your body clearly not having grown accustomed to the sudden overtime shifts at the Pitt just yet. you'd slump over on Santos' shoulder, or occasionally stand with an armed linked with Mohan to shift some of your weight onto her.

It was rare for you to speak up or highlight your presence in these occasions. By all intent and purposes, Jack was certain saw you as a shy, reserved type of girl. Sure, you had your moments of vivacity in between procedures, but you were always avoiding his stare, usually docking your face down whenever you were one-on-one with anyone of authority.

So the words that left Santos that particular night had completely blown the breath out of his lungs.

He had spotted that leftover glitter on your cheekbone — how could he not, when his eyes wandered to you during any miniscule lull in his day? Sometimes there were some speckles on your lid, other times hidden on your top lip, but he could have never conjured that this could be the reason as to why it was there.

"Hah, what's with the glitter? This isn't your night job."

Immediately, Jack's ears perked up.

Even in his older age, his mind went straight to the gutter.

With that teasing tone of voice, there was only one thing Santos could have possibly meant by your night job.

Then he looked to you, finding your bambi eyes expanded larger than he'd ever seen them, mortification filling your features as you panicked and blurted out a half-hearted curse to your friend and all but ran off.

Some comments floated around after that, but Jack blocked them out, only really looking after you as you walked away. He pursed his lips in genuine pity, wishing he could run after you — not that you'd want him to, anyway. His leg was settled comfortably on the bench, and putting it on to chivalrously chase after you would've only made things worse for you.

Then Santos spoke again.

"She's not a sex worker, okay? She's a stripper! Now shut up!"

Jack felt like he'd been shot — a comparison he could easily make, since, clearly, he'd actually been shot at before.

His heart rate went off the charts. His knuckles went white as he gripped his beer can, denting it a little in the process. His jaw tensed and teeth clenched. He wasn't sure if any of this was out of empathetic mortification for you, or if it was due to the images of you flashing through his head. You donning a pretty little number, body bathed in glitter as you performed on stage for all the pathetic idiots fishing for just one bit of attention from you.

(It was the latter).

After that, jack was unsure of what to do.

It was silently (or at least, mostly silently) agreed after that that no one was to give you any shit for the news Santos had not-so-graciously delivered about your personal life.

But, of course, as it always is with a gossipy department, a few whispers of when should we make a trip down there? Or small quips of curiosity in regards of your skill level were shared here and there. Jack didn't participate in them, but he was still privy to them all.

Jack avoided your eyes for a few days afterwards, but never once took part in making you feel any sort of way in regards to what had happened — even though his stupid brain kept conjuring the most inappropriate scenes of you every time you so much as crossed his mind.

So, even in spite of how self composed he'd been, he was a little shocked at himself when he found himself mentally adding himself to the list of people getting together to go check out the club you worked at.

(Garcia had gotten the idea in his head, with her nosy and expansive commentary mid surgery about your first sighting at the club. She went on and on about how you danced, what you were wearing, those bambi eyes popping out when you'd spotted Garcia and Santos in the crowd, the way in which you giggled and concealed a shy smile when they insisted on shoving dollar bills in your g string. It was all mindless gossip to her, but an impending heart attack to Jack.)

He hadn't planned it, not really. He'd heard Princess and Ellis discussing some group outing while he stopped by the nurses' station to pick up some charts, something about a girl's night to support one of the girls — not his words. He wasn't trying to be nosy, but to escape gossip at the Pitt was an impossible mission.

He didn't arrive with the little group that had formed, not even fully sure as to who'd be coming. All he had heard was your name and the time and place, and suddenly he was rearranging his schedule to make sure that he was off that night.

Sweat formed at the back of his neck as he stood there. The place seemed a little shadier than he expected, but he had no time to worry about your safety, not when he needed to muster the courage to walk in and put an end to his misery.

He was a little late, so surely he would've missed most of your dance. Perhaps he'd unknowingly orchestrated it as so. Maybe his subconscious was trying to retain the last remains of his sanity.

And so he walked in, steps heavy and a with some faux confidence in them.

-

Santos had been right. It hadn't been that bad.

Situated on a small table towards the left corner of the stage, you saw a familiar bunch huddled together, all with some fruity drink in hand.

Perlah and Princess were obvious attendees, though you were shocked to see Mel and Samira among the group. Trinity had come in order to provide emotional support, bringing along Whitaker and your favorite night shift duo — Ellis and John.

That had been it.

There was no Robby or Langdon or Dana.

And no Abbot.

Would it have been stupid to be weirdly disappointed by his absence?

Part of you had kind of hoped he'd be one of the bunch, but it was a conflicting thought you hadn't entertained much thus far. He was often present in group outings, usually brooding in the back with Robby or silently paying for a few rounds for the younger doctors.

You didn't allow yourself to ponder the thought for too long as you finished your set, shaking the thought out of your head as soon as it'd arrived.

How could you ever possibly want him to see you like this? Your brain was already scrambling as you tried to convince yourself he didn't see you differently after finding out. Everything was jumbled in your head, unsure as to whether you wanted your boss to see you half naked or not.

His demeanor had remained the same, but he was a pretty stoic guy a lot of the time. You couldn't tell left from right when it came to him.

But then the fleeting thought rushed back in once more.

Would he like to see you like this? Would he sit back and watch you work the pole, watch you bend and flip and twirl all around it as your bare skin shone with that cheap body glitter that made your thighs sparkle?

Maybe he'd finally see you in the way you saw him. Maybe that primitive part of him would come out and he'd finally look twice when you passed by. He'd picture the tiny pink lace under your scrubs, would avert his eyes when you caught him looking for a little too long.

But that was all a fantasy.

Because even at the perfect chance to show up, the one time in which it wouldn't have been odd or inappropriate for him to show up with the rest of the crew, he wasn't there.

It was stupid to be disappointed. You had tried to keep this from everyone in your personal life. And now, at the sudden chance to have the man you'd been going crazy over for the past year (and then some) show up and see you like this, you were sad? You were crestfallen and pouting and confused?

But you'd come to be somewhat of a professional at this.

So even when you looked down and did not find that familiar face down there, you still danced to your heart's desire, weirdly happy to have the cat out of the bag and to have your work friends show up to hype you up like this. It was dumb and silly, but you had your fun.

A little over an hour later and you were calling it an early night.

You stopped by the table, now with your robe on as your friends began to leave one by one. You shared some drinks, giggling when a tipsy Princess insisted on giving you all her leftover dollar bills that hadn't made it your way when you were performing.

The last man standing had been Trinity, who was no longer an anxious mess at the thought of having fucked up when she'd blurted out your secret. The shared laughs confirmed that it was all water under the bridge.

"See? That wasn't that bad. They liked it! I think Parker and Princess might've liked it a little too much, though."

You chuckled with a shrug, "Yeah. Wasn't as embarrassing as I thought."

"Aaaand Abbot was a no-show! Told you!"

It was unfortunate that Trinity was just as perceptive even when tipsy, because she did not miss that millisecond in which your disappointment showed on your face.

"Oh, my god- You wanted him to show?"

"Stop!" you shushed her, "It's not- it's not that i wanted him to, it's just..." you paused, "is he really just not interested at all?"

It felt pathetic even as you said it, and Trinity let you know as much.

"That is absolutely pathetic, man. Please pick yourself back up," she said, bluntly, sighing when she noticed your crestfallen demeanor, "Buuuut, maybe he just didn't show because he thought it'd be inappropriate? It doesn't mean he doesn't, you know, want you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, even if he showed, how old is he? Like 60? His heart probably couldn't take it anyway."

That got a laugh out of you, shoving trinity lightheartedly.

"It's time I turn in," she paused, "But remember - you could jump any person in that audience and they'd thank you. Don't sell yourself short."

With those last words of wisdom, she lifted two fingers to her forehead and signaled a goodbye to you, leaving you to the more menial aspects of your job.

The disappointment wore off a little as you helped the bartenders clean up the littered napkins and tiny umbrellas scattered all across the floor, but it remained in the back of your head.

Maybe next time.

-

Jack felt like a coward as he stood out there for longer than seemed socially acceptable.

People came and went, some slightly under the influence, stumbling out of the building, others a little too happy for whatever went down in there. Jack immaturely hoped for a similar outcome for himself before mentally slapping the idea away.

She's your resident. She's so much younger. You shouldn't even be here, encroaching on her personal life like this.

But, even then, he stayed there. An hour passed, two, and he continued to lean against his car in the parking lot — an improvement to standing right outside the entrance like a creep.

From his spot in the parking lot, he could somewhat hear the muffled music coming from inside up until it halted altogether. His mind conjured up images of you dancing to the music, of fucking Parker and Shen teasing you as they threw dollar bills in your direction.

Surely that was an image he'd never forget.

That is, if he grew the balls to walk in.

"I've never bought into the whole 'wisdom comes with age' thing, but, you know, for someone so old, you have, like, zero wisdom."

That broke him out of his thoughts.

It was that familiar voice that had landed him in this situation in the first place.

The slight eyeroll couldn't be helped, neither could the sigh, which Santos clearly caught as Jack turned in the direction of the voice as he continued to lean against his car. His leg had started to bother him by then.

"What's that mean?" he nodded towards her.

"You're late," she began, confidence always oozing out of her even as she spoke to a superior, "You've been out here this whole time? thing's kinda over."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, taking a step forward, "Buuuut, I'm sure you could still catch her if you hurry," she paused in some hesitation before continuing, "She, uh, might be happy to see you."

That caught him off guard, and unfortunately his usually suave exterior broke for a second as he stuttered in response, "That- that right?"

Santos now had the upper hand, which she seemed happy to realize.

With pursed lips, she shrugged, hands behind her hips, "Nothing wrong with supporting your coworker in her ... personal endeavors."

Jack was practically useless in conversation by that point, and so Trinity bid a casual goodbye and walked away. Jack stood there, dumbfounded, a ringing in its head making its appearance as he thought about every decision that had somehow landed him there.

Before he could overthink it, he pushed himself off the hood of his car and walked towards the entrance.

Nothing wrong with showing support for a coworker.

-

"I guess I'm late, huh?"

The words made you stop in your tracks. Skin rose on the back of your neck. You were entirely sure that that could not be the voice you thought it was.

But then you turned around and found him. With that same intense stare that you felt was almost only reserved for you.

Suddenly you felt very self-conscious of what you were wearing, of the pleasers that made you five inches taller, of the silk robe riding off slightly at your left shoulder and giving him a pristine view of your lace-covered breast.

Within seconds you straightened yourself up, readjusting your robe and kicking off your heels as you fixed your posture like a soldier with their commanding officer. You felt as if you'd been caught making a mistake at work, overly apologetic to Abbot only to find that he wasn't on his way to scold you.

Due to your silence (and likely your incredibly awkward demeanor), Abbot cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Sorry i couldn't make it- or, not sorry? you probably don't want your attending coming around here, huh?"

You were too much of a deer in headlights to catch the self-conscious shift in his tone, eyes roaming all over him in his casual clothes, taking particular notice of his arms as they folded over his chest.

"Not- not at all," you finally spoke, "Just, maybe a little awkward? Or at least that's how it felt with everyone else ... The rest of the guys seemed to enjoy the show, though."

He hummed, "Too bad I missed it."

"Yeah," you nodded.

Another awkward silence.

"You could, uh- you could come next time, if you want to?"

Shut up. Don't continue that thought.

His eyebrows shot up as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Oh?"

"Y-yeah," you swallowed, "If you're free, that is-"

"Yeah," he coughed out, "I'm free."

You hadn't even told him what day yet. Your heart sped up.

"Yeah? You free next Friday night?"

He nodded slowly, breathing in deep through his nose.

You were convinced you'd caught his eyes run up and down your body. It'd been too quick and you'd been too nervous to be sure. but you were a good 80% sure it'd happened. It had you shuddering internally, somewhat annoyed that you'd thrown on the robe at all, that he wasn't looking at you in the pretty set you'd picked for that night.

"Everyone else coming too?"

You halted, "Oh, uhm, no, I don't think-"

"Good," he interrupted, not adding anything more.

It made you gulp.

"Y-yeah. I'll see you on Friday, then?"

He nodded, lips pursed.

"No, kid. I'll see you on Friday."

Again, he nodded in confirmation, a small smile overtaking his lips. Within mere seconds he had gotten the upper hand of the conversation, leaving you an awkward mess and with your skin rising up in goosebumps at the mere thought of him seeing you.

Unlike in every other interaction you'd grown used to having within the four walls of the club, you were awkward, fumbly, nervous and with absolutely zero game. Trinity would laugh in your face.

Those sultry eyes you were expected to throw at patrons were replaced by saucers, and your confident body language turned into you embarrassingly wanting to rub your thighs together at the confidence in which Jack Abbot had managed to secure a one-on-one with you in your panties.

You said goodbye in return, awkwardly stumbling over your words again as he winked at you on his way out.

All gravity almost left you as soon as he left, legs jelly and breath muted.

You were going to crash and burn come next Friday.

-

A few days passed and Jack was going out of his mind.

He couldn't stop thinking about that night at your club. Of the uncovered skin of your chest, your hair undone, your glossy lips, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. Every small detail drove him insane.

All that faux confidence had left him as soon as he'd left your eyeline. His heart had been going a mile a minute the moment he walked into the place, reaching a worryingly high heart rate at those bambi eyes staring up at him like he'd caught you with a hand in the cookie jar.

The conflict in his mind between the sexy lingerie he'd gotten a peek of and those innocent eyes staring up at him stirred endlessly from the moment in which he'd bid you goodbye.

He hadn't meant to be too forward, but this had felt like his one chance, and with it he'd somehow signed his death sentence for next Friday.

Ss the days passed, the two of you worked as if nothing had happened whenever your schedules overlapped.

You were still the shy resident who'd squeak whenever caught off guard by him, messing with his poor heart at every turn. You'd share these looks sometimes. Looks that spoke of the anticipation you both felt for what was to come.

And as unsure as he felt about crossing that boundary (and as ashamed as he felt to admit it), this felt like some tricky, painful, extended sort of foreplay that was bursting at the seams.

In bed, he could feel his body itch as he attempted to find sleep. And at night, as he worked, he was constantly on alert at the possibility of your schedules overlapping and having to meet your eyes. You'd undone him without much effort. He couldn't imagine what would happen once he finally saw you on that stage.

Truly, he had no idea what he was doing. He knew he wanted you, but didn't know how to go about it like an adult. Instead, he seemingly opted for what he could probably label as voyeurism.

Because, really, what made him any better than the other rowdy, middle aged men vying for your attention as you worked a pole on stage?

Luckily Jack was used to this constant guilt, this endless turmoil in his mind. The self-depreciation wasn't new, either. It was just a little more glaring any time he'd think of you.

After endless thoughts of you under the pink and purple hues of the club, the days passed and jack finally found himself on the day of his impending doom.

Maybe he was being a tad dramatic about it all. But as soon as he stepped foot in that club during his working hours he came to realize that maybe he would've felt justified in being even more dramatic. His heart felt like it was about to give out.

You hadn't worked that day, clearly. He had opted for half a shift, knowing he'd have gone crazy if he stayed home all day but still wanting to ensure he made more than enough time for your...

Appointment? Date? Meeting? They all sounded either clandestine or suggestive.

He'd tried telling Robby about the whole thing. To try and alleviate some of the weight the whole thing carried. It had proved futile, though, and frankly a little predictable.

"You're- you're actually going? Alone? Isn't that a little... questionable?"

Inappropriate would be a better word for it, yeah.

The words were spoken with an annoying edge of shock and mockery. Jack couldn't say he appreciated them much.

"Hope you know what you're doing, brother."

That was as much reassurance as Jack was going to get from Robby on the matter. It was enough for a man already convinced of stepping into the fire.

When the time came for Jack to step foot in that place, the speed of his heart made him certain that he was on his way to cardiac arrest. The booming music coming from the building and the scent of alcohol mixed with smoke warned him to walk away, but the thought of finding you in there was enough to drive those thoughts away.

The first thing he saw as he walked in was the center stage. It was divided into three, parting towards the left, right and middle. On each flank was a stripper engaging with two or three men perched front row of each respective extension to the stage.

Next thing he saw were small tables scattered all around the place. Some were empty, others had one or two people enjoying a drink, while others were pushed away from the high chairs in favor of making space for a man, his lap, and a stripper sat on it.

He felt out of his depth.

Strip clubs had never been his thing. He held no judgement for the women who made a living inside them, but having gotten married straight out of college, this was just not a lifestyle he had ever engaged with.

After losing his wife, women were something he'd somewhat sworn off. This was the last place he'd ever expected to find himself at this stage of his life. Much less did he imagine ending up here due to the inappropriate work crush he'd fostered on the shy little resident he'd been trying to poach into joining the night shift for the past year.

You were nowhere to be found, and, to be frank, he was a little scared to make eye contact with anyone, lest they believe he's looking for a lap dance.

Jack Abbot and avoidance of eye contact were not two things that went together, he was well aware.

But his wavering confidence would only continue to build up through the night.

It took him a few minutes of wandering around in amazement and confusion until he eventually landed himself on an empty table somewhere near the back. You were bound to show up on stage eventually, right?

Seeing the other girls' performances made his palms sweat.

Would you be doing the same thing? Was he about to witness you in tassels, rhinestones, lace?

Would you sway your hips full of confidence as you marched your way to the pole? Would your muscles contract at the effort needed to swirl around it as you stared him out like a predator did its prey?

His questions only went unanswered for about ten minutes as the curtains connecting the stage to what jack could only assume was your dressing room suddenly flew open.

St the head of the stage, you popped up, standing tall and proud, and completely different from what he'd grown used to seeing all those shifts he'd shared with you these past couple of years.

Your every step was heavy and confident, heels clicking against the shiny floor of the stage. With your hands laid on your hips, your hips swayed seductively, achieving the goal of drawing in every pair of pathetic eyes drooling over you in the audience — Jack included.

Your skin was adorned by baby pink lace, legs, arms, and chest shining under the purple and pink hues of the club. Every inch of you was bare and open for his perverted enjoyment. The lace stuck to your skin and gave him a perfect view of your silhouette. He felt thirst invade his being.

Unable to take his eyes off you, Jack found himself sitting up on his seat, back leaving its recline as his body slowly began to gravitate from his seat into a fully standing position. He was like a moth to a flame, immediately affected by your magnetizing effect.

Every step was mocking torture. He knew his demise was nearing at every step that drew you closer and closer to the edge of the extended stage, where you'd grab onto that pole and finish him off.

He was unable to pay attention to the server who'd stopped by asking him if he'd like a drink, too enthralled by you to do anything more than wave them away.

By the time your manicured hand made its way to the pole, your eyes found his by chance.

There was a millisecond of surprise before that confident vixen consumed you once more. Jack couldn't help but gulp at that look in your eye. The balance shifted immediately. He was no longer your attending, but prey ready to be consumed.

He could have sworn he blacked out for your performance, falling back on his seat the moment you began to wrap your legs around the metal and swirled around it with expertise he never imagined you'd have.

Your every move was life-ruining for Jack. Pathetically, he regretted not camping outside that door waiting for the moment the doors flew open in order to stand a chance at a seat front and center to your show. There was bile forming in his stomach at the sight of every other man eyeing you down, being able to see you up close and throw their unworthy bills in your direction.

Jack thought to himself for a fleeting moment — I'd give you everything. All the money you need. I'd shove it in your purse while you showered in my bathroom. I'd deposit it into your bank account. I'd trap it in the hem of your panties as I watched you dance for me.

Shaking those thought away, he continued to watch you, rendered completely immobile by what he was seeing. The softness of your outfit (or lack thereof) made him dizzy. He ached to run his hand through the delicate lace, to softly snap the bra strap on your shoulder and have you whine his name in return.

He felt sick with desire, something he'd never experienced before. The culmination of feelings he already had towards you — the protectiveness, the adoration, the admiration, the infatuation — fought against the intensity of the lust he that was blossoming inside him. It was always there, but to have it swell, inflamed and threatening to burst made him lightheaded.

Every so often your eyes would find his. You'd send a little kiss his way, or a cheeky wink. Jack's heart boomed out of his chest at every instance.

After what felt like hours, you leaned down to gather all the loose bills men had ready for you, regaining that girlish and innocent air you always had as your performance ended. It was as if you'd been possessed, making your way back to your usual persona as soon as your set ended.

Jack had to brace himself for what he knew was coming. His hands felt clammy and his shirt began to stick to his skin. He had ascended and been brought back down multiple times within those short minutes. He needed to gain his cool back.

But then you walked over, smile shy and eyes giddy.

It was that same look you always had any time he'd call your name for a fun procedure. Even as you walked towards him (no longer swaying your hips in that torturous manner), draped in seductive lace and makeup that could make a man drop dead, he still saw that pretty girl he'd first fallen for.

Your eyes wandered away from his as you stopped at his table with a meek, "Hi."

"Hey," he started, not as smooth as he'd hoped, "That was... some performance."

The way you flushed was a visible, lips turning up in a shy smile.

"Yeah? you liked it?"

"I don't think it'd be appropriate for me to answer that question."

"No? Is your response not family-friendly, then?"

The banter was somewhat new. Back at work, you'd occasionally engage with his back and forth, but you weren't too receptive of it. He knew you were capable of it, as he'd heard you go at it with Santos every other day, but when it came to your superiors (or maybe him in particular), you were more meek.

Maybe it had to do with the way his eyes couldn't find yours. Perhaps you'd noticed the hard time he was having keeping them away from the bare skin he'd been salivating over just a few moments ago. And maybe that was why despite your usual shyness, he still saw some newfound confidence in how you spoke to him.

But two could play at that game.

(Or at least he'd try his hardest to regain the upper hand in order to properly flirt with you. It was the least he could do).

"Why don't you sit and I can tell you all my thoughts?"

Your face morphed from flirtatious to that bashful smile he was so used to seeing. With your eyes timidly downturned, you chuckled as you shook your head.

"As much as I'm sure we'd both enjoy that, I'll get reprimanded," your lips came into a straight line, nose scrunching a bit, "However," you let it drag a bit, "I have a better idea."

At that, you looked around you to see if there was anyone nearby before turning back to him with a smile.

"C'mon," you extended your hand towards his, "The couches are far more comfortable, and I know you've probably been on your feet all day."

He chuckled and took your hand, trying to ignore how sweaty his had been mere minutes prior, "Only took half a shift today. had an important... appointment with someone today."

"Appointment?" you asked, "That's an interesting choice of words, doctor," you spoke as he let you drag him towards the far end of the room.

"Don't wanna test my luck, that's all."

Once you'd made it to the booths, you led him to a worn couch next to a detachable table. Based on some of the other men on the couches, they seemed like the perfect spot in which to get some special attention from the dancers. Jack tried to not let his mind head that way, not wanting to test his luck and all that.

He sat down, comfortably leaning against the couch as you took the spot next to him. Rather than sit normally, you opted to sit on your knees, feet off the floor and body turned towards his own. It had him doing a double take, but he could only assume you weren't allowed to just casually sit unless you were entertaining a patron.

"Feeling lucky, Abbot?"

The added confidence in your cadence was really doing him in. He'd grown so used to your eyes fleeting away from his any time he found you looking his way, looking away if his attention landed on you. There was still a bit of that, but you were firing back. His flirtation was met with reciprocation and he was finding himself at a loss.

"After that performance any man would be lucky to have your attention."

Maybe it was too pointed, but you were so close, and your perfume was beginning to reach and penetrate his pores. The shine of your skin made it impossible to look away, as did the plush of your skin accentuated by the tight lingerie failing at properly concealing the most enticing parts of your body.

Those words seemed to reach a little deeper, and so you chuckled again, shaking your head.

"I'm sure you say that to all strippers."

It was deflection. He could've doubled down with how much seeing you up there — how much having you sat next to him with all your focus solely on him — made him lightheaded and stupid. But he wanted to drag the night as long as possible. He was willing to empty out his bank account if it meant you could sit there and talk to him all night.

He didn't need any funny business with you (as much as every bone in his body was aching for it). He just wanted to get his fill of looking at you, of getting this confident version of you to respond to his flirting, giving him at least some false hope that his infatuation wasn't purely one-sided.

And so he talked. Flirtatious comments came and went. The spaces in between were filled by talking about work, by joking about your weird schedules, your odd hobbies and how you both kept to yourselves in that regard. It was nice, tame, until a charged comment would suddenly pop up in the interim.

"I'm gonna get in trouble if I keep slacking off with you, Doctor Abbot," you said after a while.

Your voice had morphed over the course of your conversation. It was smooth and carried an air of seduction even if what you were saying was completely innocent in nature. Jack was losing his mind.

"Wouldn't want that, would we?"

You shook your head, eyes on his and a satisfied smile on your lips.

"But i think I have an easy fix for that."

That piqued his interest, though his poor heart began to speed up again.

Before he could come up with some flirtatious, yet ambiguous response, you were suddenly pushing his shoulder back, forcing him to recline against the plush of the leather couch and dragging your leg over his, easily straddling his thighs.

Your weight above him made him dizzy. His arms laid limp on his sides, fingers flexing with restraint. He absolutely could not touch you or he'd lose any remaining sanity. It was the one rule at strip clubs — hands off the strippers. It was the most torturous exercise on restraint he'd ever overgone. even if your hips were begging to have his fingers dig into the perfect skin.

A floral scent that had been floating around began to completely overtake him at your newfound closeness. He wasn't sure if it was your perfume or shampoo, or maybe whatever body oil you had on that gave your skin that extra sheen.

"This okay?" you asked at the sudden proximity, "Need to make it seem like I'm working."

Before he could stumble upon a response, you leaned in closer, lips gracing his ear.

"I can touch, but you can't, okay? Don't wanna look suspicious," you whispered, "Don't wanna be sent away to dance for some other guy."

It made him irrationally frustrated to hear of that possibility.

"More than okay," he huffed out.

"You sure? you seem a little tense."

Your nose dragged up his jaw, making him shudder. You weren't fully on him, but rather hovering above him. Your weight laid on your knees, leaving some space between his crotch and your own. The itch to pull you down internally clawed at him.

"Yeah, tense's one word for it."

Once you'd gotten your feel of making the skin of his neck rise in goosebumps, your lips trailed at his cheek, now facing him. Some distance remained between your faces, but not enough for it to be considered appropriate.

"This is weird, right?" you smiled, bashful again, "This is probably not the impression you had of me at work."

He chuckled, fingers digging into the couch beneath him, "Can't say that it was. It's a welcome surprise, though."

You hummed in affirmation before taking in a breath. There was a small glimpse of uncertainty in your eyes.

"So... you're not disappointed?" you began, rephrasing, "I mean... you don't think less of me?"

This caused him to draw his head back slightly. He needed to look at you properly.

And when he did, he found those same eyes that looked to him with worry any time you were certain you'd messed up. It was like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be either objectified or scolded by the man who'd just been melting under you mere seconds ago.

"Kid," he shook his head in disbelief, "you're an adult, and you can do anything you want. Don't let anyone ever try and judge your choices when-"

"No, no, I- I know, I just- I want to know what you think."

That took him by surprise. It also arose a million questions in his mind.

Did you think he was that much of a hardass? That he wouldn't support anything you did, just because it was you doing it? Did you care this much for his opinion?

"Nothing you could do would disappoint me."

Seemingly working your way through a half-formed thought, your mouth shut back up before you could even begin. You gave him those eyes that were always causing him problems back at work. The eyes that held way too much admiration for someone as troubled as him.

You didn't say anything in response. Instead, your hand left his shoulder, reaching up to his cheek and tracing it as you looked down at him with your bottom lip jutting out.

Tucking at a stray curl that always formed next to his ear, you let the moment of fondness pass as soon as it began, smiling down at him once more.

"So, think you'll come again?"

Just like that, the mood shifted to lighthearted flirtation once more. your new normal.

"I'll be front row, kid."

-

A few weeks passed and Abbot kept up with his promise.

Well, maybe he wasn't front row, but he made it in time to see you up on stage doing your short little number twice a week.

It was unfortunate your schedules overlapped so much. He would've stood outside waiting to be let in every other night otherwise.

Every other meeting went just like the first one. They were all held under the pretense of curious innocence. Like ice slowly melting, never going further than tame flirtation.

The suggestive surroundings created an added element of heat that Jack couldn't overlook, but he tried his best. it only became harder when you'd come to sit on his lap, claiming the usual excuse of convenience so you could talk to him without getting reprimanded.

But was it necessary for your lips to trace his neck? For your fingers to play with the hair on his nape? For your breath to fan on his ear?

He'd grown used to the weight of your body on his lap. It was something he couldn't handle losing after just a few times of feeling it.

But despite that, he'd still discourage you wasting your time at the club entertaining him when you could be making money on another man's lap (though the thought killed him). It felt inappropriate to pay you himself, to encourage you to do more than just pretend to keep him busy and entertained, and so he kept his hands to his sides and simply pretended he was like one of the many other men.

And sometimes he felt that maybe he was just that.

But then one of your coworkers would call your name as you sat on his lap mid conversation, telling you that one of the 'big-spenders' was lonely in one of the private rooms, and you'd just give them a look that sent them on their way, one that told them you were busy with something more important.

Jack never questioned this. he simply enjoyed that it meant he could spend just a little longer with you on his lap.

Back at work, no word of these meetings was spoken.

A few looks were shared, a few sheepish smiles and silent agreements that yes, you'd be seeing each other in just a few hours. But nothing further was ever even suggested.

It was your little secret.

It gave Jack an extra edge to his life. The adrenaline spike your meetings gave him rivaled those at his shifts with SWAT.

He never got used to seeing you walk his way, to seeing the sway of your hips as you finished your set and made your way straight to him.

There was no longer any small talk before you were dragging him to a couch and settling on his lap. Your hands got more and more curious every time, though they always remained caressing his jaw and hair, never wandering southern of his neck.

And every passing day, he was growing sicker with want.

Tonight things played out slightly different.

The confident sway of your hips remained, as did the satisfied smile upon seeing the way he tried to subtly eye you up and down as you approached him.

The dragging to a couch in the back of the room was missing. Instead, you led him in a different direction, not speaking a word until you were behind a closed curtain, inside a tiny room that had a couch identical to those outside, just slightly less worn.

There, you parroted your usual moves, guiding him into his seat, but turning back to secure the curtains closed before heading back in his direction.

His heart was going a mile a minute. The velvety walls of the room felt suggestive in nature. The darkened hue of magenta filling up the space reflected perfectly on your skin, making jack gulp against his will.

You donned a burgundy set today. It was tasseled, under the false pretense of covering a little more than usual. Your every move caused the tassels to sway, giving him an eyeful of every curve he ached to touch, bite, lick.

"I thought a change of scenery would be nice."

You broke the silence, once again torturing him with that sway of hips as you sat on his lap again.

— Which was completely unnecessary. No one could see you. There was no need to assimilate, to act as if he was a client. You were alone. Jack didn't voice any complaint.

"Careful, you'll make me think I'm special."

You clicked your tongue, leaning into his ear.

"You are special, Doctor Abbot," you whispered hotly before pulling back and looking into his eyes, "And since we're alone... I thought I'd give a little more special treatment this time around."

Jack's throat went dry. His arms flexed at his sides. His body burned with unchecked desire. He'd been aching since the first time he saw you.

Without any other words, your hands guided his onto your hips, forceful as you made sure he gripped at the bare skin. The tassels tickled at him when his hands went under them.

"Kid..."

"I've never done this before," you began, but your voice remained sultry, "Take a guy back here, let him touch me."

As you spoke, your eyes panned down to his lips, making him lick them absentmindedly.

The gloss on your lips looked so enticing to him, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander as well.

"I usually do a few dances and call it a night. But I've been putting that off these past few weeks."

This time, your weight laid fully on his lap. There were only a few layers of separation between the hardness forming under his jeans and the softness of your-

"I can't focus with you in the room," you continued, "I can't entertain any other man when you're here."

Every word was breathless, and your eyes had lost any sense of subtlety, now fully focused on his lips. Noses bumped, hands reached new places. It was all too heavy for him to handle.

Jack was practically panting by then. Your breaths intermingled. Even your breath had him going dizzy.

"It was bad enough that I couldn't focus at work, and now... now I can't think unless it's your lap I'm sitting on."

"Baby," he moaned.

He couldn't help it. Not when you were so deliciously close. Your lips were a mere inch away from his. and any time he tilted his chin just a tiny bit closer, you'd inch away, forcing him to uselessly chase you.

"I couldn't touch you out there," you breathed out, bottom lip jutted out, almost touching his own, "Cause then I wouldn't be able to stop."

Greedy hands went up and down the bare skin of your back. Every so often they'd land back on your hips, pulling you inhumanly closer, silent in their plea for you to use him. he'd take anything you gave him.

Jack had never felt such desperation in his life. Sweat trickled down his brow, and a small whine threatened to leave his lips. His body pathetically arched towards yours. he was utterly fucked.

"I need you to touch me, Jack."

Jack.

It was always abbot, doctor, sir, never Jack.

It sounded like music coming from your lips.

But, still, he shook his head. his body acted against his needs. For some reason he needed to retain the very last bit of decorum that remained between you.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

Shaking your head, you refused to listen to those words. Leaning in closer, your tongue peeked out of your lips, teasingly swiping at his lower lip. It was so quick anyone who'd seen it would've missed it. But to Jack it felt like someone had lit him on fire.

"Want you so bad, Jack," you all but moaned, "You've already had me on your lap so many times. Why keep pretending?"

Jack's hands squeezed your hips, stumbling over a response.

Again, you leaned in close. Your lips graced his.

"Kiss me, Jack."

Jack broke, taking the plunge and pressing his lips to yours.

There was nothing accidental or subtle about your first kiss.

Swallowing his groan, you pulled him closer, fingers running through his curls and pulling softly. Your mouths were open, tongues seeking out one other and puffs of breath being shared between you. He could feel your eyes flutter at the intensity of the kiss.

His hands could not find a landing spot. They squeezed at your hips, pulled you closer before running back up the length of your back and tangling in your hair, keeping you hostage in his kiss.

You'd lick into the roof of his mouth, drawing him in, making it torture to even think of pulling away. Your every sigh landed on his lips. Jack couldn't help but grunt at every flick of your tongue against his.

Within seconds of that first, animalistic kiss, your hips began to move against his. It was subtle at first, just a simple sway of your hips into his own. It caused an immediate reaction in him, making him draw a deep breath against your lips and pull you even closer.

The lack of fabric in your lingerie made it so it was just his clothes that remained an obstacle between you. It seemed to bother you pretty quickly into the kiss, as your hands began to paw at his shirt, dragging it up so you could feel at his abdomen.

Your hands were anything but shy, feeling him up like you were trying to meld into his skin. He couldn't blame you. Not when his own hands had been molding you against him, feeling every delicious curve available to him.

After some moments, he reached behind him to pull his shirt off all the way, not missing the tiny mewl you released against his lips at the short moment of separation between his hands from your body. Also gone unmissed was the pout you gave him when your lips separated for the first time.

A second kiss took place just a few moments later, only slightly delayed when you took a moment to eye his naked torso. There was lust in your eyes that made Jack shudder internally. Was that how he'd been looking at you every time you approached him with a new set of life-ruining lingerie?

Again, your hands went up to his chest, hands digging against his pecs. Scratching softly while your tongue attempted to fuck his mouth. He was delirious.

"Yeah, baby, scratch my chest. Just like that..."

That got a reaction out of you. It made you moan, It made you seek out his tongue, trap it in between your lips and suction. Your manicured nails dragged down his chest a little harder now, eventually finding his nipples and rolling. He could do nothing but pull you closer, groan into your lips, rock his hips upward and into yours with a newfound desperation.

"Jack," you sighed out as you pulled away. his lips followed yours, kissing you chastely a few times, "Want you to touch me more."

His hands had been up and down your torso, stuck to your ass and tits, but he hadn't wandered where he knew he'd find the drenched center that had already been dampening his jeans. He knew that the moment he felt you, there'd be no turning back. He'd want to come back again and again, beg you to pull him back here, to say fuck all to your job and let him take you in this tiny room every night. He'd change to days if it meant he could have this every night instead.

But that was too much to drop on you all at once.

Instead, he kissed you again, twirling his tongue in yours before his hand made its way between your bodies.

A full-body shudder overtook him when he reached that crook between your legs. The tiny thong hid nothing, trapped between your lips after all that grinding. Tracing the string with his fingers, a trail of wetness became trapped on his fingers.

He rubbed at you, tracing his way to your clit and circling at the swollen nub. It was begging for his attention, making you cry out at the lightest of touches.

You sighed his name right against his ear. Your hand dug into the skin of his shoulders, gripping onto the muscle as he circled mercilessly at your clit.

It started off slow, calculated, following a particular rhythm that had your eyes crossing. And once he got his fill of your pretty whines of his name, your incoherent pleas for more, he finally sped up, torturing your clit further.

"It's so wet, baby. All for me?"

You nodded pathetically, mouth open, lips gracing the shell of his ear, breath heavy.

Eventually his fingers reached further back, finding your opening. After one finger went another, squeezing into the tight fit of your cunt. It made his mouth water, to think of that pretty pussy weeping around him, unable to take him, too tiny, too tight for him.

You humped at his hand mindlessly, and he let you. He laid his palm flat as he fingered you, letting you rub that aching clit against his palm in the pursue of pleasure.

"Feels so good, Jack. Gonna make me come," you whimpered.

And as much as he wanted to have you shake and cry on his lap, to dig your nails so deep down his back that it scarred, he needed the first time he made you come to be with him, on his dick.

—And maybe also because he was so weak for you, so weak of mind and body that he could already feel his peak threatening to drag him under.

When he stopped his movements, you cried out, continuing to hump at his hand like a bunny in heat. it only served to break him further.

"Jack, fuck me- I'm begging you, please."

Nothing could've taken his breath away like those words. Those breathy, desperate words whined right into his lips. It took a herculean effort not to lose himself at that moment, not to grab you and bend you over and have his animalistic way with you. He wanted to. so badly.

"I'll give you anything you want, baby, you know that," he sighed out, brain completely melted, "I'll fuck you," he nodded to you, a little patronizing, a little dizzy with desire, "I'll take give it to you, baby."

You kissed him again, shamelessly moaning into his lips and going back to humping his bulge. His hands gripped at your ass, pushing you against him, desperate for the friction despite feeling like he was about to explode. You were the most delicious thing he'd ever had on his lap. he was desperate to have you.

Whining into his lips, you went to undo his belt, fidgety and all over the place. He could've helped you out, but he grew distracted as his lips trailed a path down your neck, suckling at skin without any thought in mind other than how good you smelled, how soft your skin was. There was no thought to all the marks he'd end up leaving behind.

When he finally reached your breasts, you'd finally undone his belt and unzipped his pants. He grunted as he lifted his hips and lowered his pants and boxers just enough to give you full access to his dick. You took hold of it just as his lips reached your breasts, fingers easily pushing your bra aside in order to have his fill of you.

He groaned against your tit, nibbling and pulling at your nipple with his tit as you wrapped your hand around him.

"Hnng- ffuck, you're so big, Jack," you panted out, one hand on his dick and another dug deep into his curls, keeping him attached to your breast, "It's not gonna fit."

There was a pout in your voice, he could tell as much. The words had their intended effect on him, making him fuck into your fist just once.

Yeah, it was gonna be a tight squeeze. It was gonna be so excruciatingly tight he ran the risk of cumming within ten seconds of your cunt suffocating him. But fuck if he wasn't going to drag your pussy up and down his cock.

He voiced as much to you.

"But this pussy's gonna take it. right, baby?" His lips trailed their way back up your neck, finding the shell of your ear. Your head tilted away, begging that he press his lips to your skin again, "Hmm? This perfect pussy's gonna take my cock, isn't it? That's what you've been wanting, sweetheart? A big cock in this tiny pussy?"

You fisted at him harder, faster. One hand clawed at his back, surely leaving marks over the ones you'd already left behind.

"J-jack, please— Need it so bad- been thinking about it for so long..."

He took over for you, nudging you so you'd raise your hips a little and taking a hold of his dick. Taking advantage of the angle, he circled his tip against your puffy clit. it was still begging for his attention.

It only made you whine some more. The music from the club drowned out the sound to anyone who may have been outside. but, then again, these sounds were not foreign between these walls.

"Yeah? How long, baby, tell me."

He was torturing himself. Getting the tip in, he swallowed back a groan at the tight fit. It was so warm and wet. It was heaven.

You sobbed out. You were a mess. Some eyeliner pooled under your eyes. The glitter on your cheek was damp with sweat. You were just as fucked up as him.

"Since- since I met you— couldn't get you out of my head. Want you so bad, Jack-" you gasped, feeling him bury himself a little deeper, "Need- need you so much- I'll be so good, baby, I promise-"

Finally, he buried himself all the way in. He knew in that moment he could never look at you the same. You'd broken him down night by night, torturing him with a new little set every time, making his imagination run wild with pictures of his fingers pulling at the delicate strings, at fantasies of bending you over one of those worn out couches and fucking you stupid.

And now he had you sobbing on his lap, grinding against him, using his body like there was no shame left in you.

His head rolled back to the cushion of the couch, hands gripping your hips unforgivingly as you fucked yourself on him. His hips followed yours, matching your rhythm, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You shone perfectly under the fluorescent lights of the room. Your makeup was a little runny and your hair a little messy, but you still looked like a fucking dream. He couldn't believe he had such a pretty thing going crazy on his cock. The thought alone made him rock his hips harder against you.

Despite the discomfort, he put his weight on his feet, humping you like an animal in heat. The faster he went, the more cries of his name that left your lips. it felt like sustenance to him.

"Feel good, sweetheart? Huh? Tell me- tell me how good it is-"

"S-so good, Jackie- hnng- gonna come for you- gonna— J-jack, ffffuck-"

It drove him crazy. He needed more of you. He needed to die buried in you.

With one hand, he pulled your head in his direction, fingers gripping at your hair before slipping to the angle of your jaw. There, he held you in place, licking lazily at your lips as you continued to cry his name.

"Mouth open for me, baby. Tongue out- yeah, like that, gorgeous."

The kiss was absolutely nasty, but Jack couldn't help himself when it came to you. His tongue licked at yours, and like the obedient girl you were, you let him have his fill. He licked into your mouth, swallowing every tiny gasp when his hips drove into that perfect spot in your cunt.

When you came, you finally pulled away, stuttering a series of gasps of his name as your nails clawed down his back one last time.

He kept on fucking you, eyes clamped shut in pleasure. Your sounds continued spurring him on as he reached his peak. Your voice whispered in his ear seductively, almost making him lose his balance in the process—

"Inside- 'm on birth control. Come inside, please-"

Jack's eyes rolled back as he finally let go with a pained groan and one last thrust. His body deflated on the couch as he buried himself as deep as humanly possible, filling you up with everything he had to give. Atop him, your hands continued to run through his hair, adding that extra layer of pleasure for him.

Dome silence followed, though the music continued to sound off in the background. Your heavy breaths took up most of the sound in the small room.

"Jesus Christ, kid," he panted out, hands still intermittently squeezing at your hips, "I really hope you're not doing that to every guy you give a lap dance to," he chuckled, breathless.

You carded your hand through his hair, frowning jokingly at him.

"Told you I was giving you special treatment."

"'Special''s damn right."

More silence ensued; comfortable silence. Your bodies relocated slightly, with you still on his lap but cuddled up against him and him no longer hard. It was comfortable, even somewhat domestic. Every so often you'd kiss at his skin or him at yours. It was more than clear that this was no spur of the moment thing, that he was far more than any other man who'd ever walked through these walls.

Then you broke the silence once more.

"Remind me to thank Trinity for her big mouth."

Jack laughed under you, nudging you under his chin, kissing your hair chastely.

It started on her very first day at the Pitt, a day in which she'd uncovered two pivotal pieces of information that no one had been made privy to up until that point.

Dennis Whitaker was living in the hospital.

Frank Langdon had a substance abuse issue.

Both these pieces of information could've served as gossip, but trinity had always considered herself a trooper, and so she kept her mouth shut about both of them.

Throughout her time at the Pitt, more and more news revealed themselves to her. And every single time, Trinity kept them all to herself.

Whether it was something as small as Ogilvie eating the sandwich Samira had been saving in the fridge, or as big as Dana asking McKay for another secret script of sedative to carry around in case of an emergency, Trinity always turned a blind eye and acted surprised whenever someone else happened to stumble upon the same piece of gossip and spilled the beans to everyone else at the Pitt.

But even with her angelic ability to keep her mouth shut, Trinity was, after all, just a person. And sooner or later, something would eventually be too juicy for it to not slip past her lips when probed just at the right moment.

It was only too bad that you happened to be on the receiving end of it.

-

Trinity liked you.

You were a useful addition to the many doubles she had a tendency to pull, always a good partner to have in the long hours under the bleed of the fluorescent white lights of the ED.

She liked to think (and was pretty sure) that the feeling was mutual.

The two of you shared a similar humor, usually placing either Whitaker or Langdon at the butt of every joke, bugging at Robby for more complicated procedures or gaslighting Shen into sharing his Dunkin's coupons with you.

You'd been aware of her thing with Yoyo back when it was no more than a situationship kept on the down low. Just like she was well aware of your moon-eyed crush on the greying night shift attending — information that she always kept to herself despite how obvious she thought you were.

And so she felt pretty confident in saying that she knew you pretty well.

But was she colored impressed when she came to find out that that was not true at all.

Because standing across from her, she found a scantily-clad you, body packed with glitter and hair with the most volume she'd ever seen, dancing to your heart's content up on the stage of the strip club Yoyo had insisted they check out for their weekly date night.

Yoyo had already been here multiple times, or so she had told Trinity right before parking up front about twenty minutes prior to that moment. Yet her eyes widened just as big as soon as she spotted you, fellow resident of Trinity's, practically naked on stage.

As her eyes widened, they turned to Santos', finding them just as wide and peeked at a tiny amused smile forming. Within moments they were both giggling to themselves, betting on a margarita as to how long it'd take you to turn your head slightly north in order to find two of your coworkers in the audience.

All in all, Santos had to admit that, damn, you knew what you were doing.

This was no side hustle or hobby. This was clearly something you'd studied the art of to a T.

But your performance only got better the moment you actually spotted Trinity and Yoyo, eyes wide and a stutter in your step as you walked your way to the pole found at the closest end of the stage.

Your coworkers made a show of cheering for you, wooing at you, throwing bills in your direction, sending one or two pointed whistles your way. Within moments your shock turned into annoyance, and the rest was pretty much history.

Weeks passed until this Trinity brought up the events of that night again.

(Other than the immediate aftermath in which Trinity chastised you for not sharing such an interesting bit of your life with your work bestie and you pleading that she keep her mouth shut about it at work).

And when it was finally brought up again, it was all accidental. Trinity swore by that! She was not the type to blabber about things that didn't concern her.

But it had been a very long shift, and drinks were being passed around at the park, and you had a little bit of leftover glitter on your cheekbone she somehow hadn't noticed in the past 18 hours and she couldn't help but to-

"Hah, what's with the glitter? This isn't your night job."

She'd said it with what sounded like a malicious snicker and happened to word it in a way that made you sound like a lady of the night, but, truly, she had not meant it that way! Had not even realized what she'd said until she realized all voices had quietened down and that the only sound to be heard was the odd cricket hiding around the bushes of the park.

You froze, eyes wide like bambi and a lips slightly agape in pure shock. All color seemed to drain from your face immediately as a strange sense of shame took over your features.

Rather than to immediately look to santos in shock, your eyes looked to the bench across from you where your two attendings sat, mortified at the sudden reveal and at the way in which all conversation seemed to half at Santos' words.

Across from where you stood were Abbot and Robby, pausing their side conversation to look over in your direction, with the former in slight shock and the latter with some amusement at Santos' sudden reveal.

Realization that she'd fucked up and embarrassed you in front of your crush made Santos feel even worse at her sudden blunder. She was hitting herself internally at every extended second of awkward silence.

In the pseudo socratic circle you'd always form when sharing a beer after a long shift at the park, multiple of your other coworkers also reacted to Santos' comment, including Whitaker choking on his beer and Javadi gasping out loud.

Langdon had been a little more reserved, simply lifting his brows in curiosity and Samira furrowing hers in confusion.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, your eyes swam over all the people around you, mortified, before landing back on Santos next to you. Your embarrassment morphed into irritation, now scowling at the girl before grunting out a response.

"Santos—! God damnit, I- I have to go."

And with that, you walked away despite all the eyes on you, ignoring santos as she spluttered a weak apology in your direction, hand landing on her forehead as she regretted the words that had left her lips.

"Night job?"

"Shut it, Huckleberry, that is not what i meant-"

"Oh my god, is she, like, a sex worker?"

Javadi's choice of language was respectful, but did not aid in santos' case after her fuck-up.

"No! What i meant was-"

"Dude, so not cool exposing her private shit like that."

This time it was Langdon, shaking his head as he aimed, threw, and landed his crumpled beer can into the trashcan to his left.

A few more chastising comments were given by a few other coworkers, leaving Santos no option but to, once again, blurt out something she truly did not mean to say.

"She's not a sex worker, okay? She's a stripper! Now shut up!"

Silence again.

Trinity winced as she took in the repetition of surprised reactions. She just couldn't stop fucking it up even further.

And in that awkward silence, she somehow managed to miss the outlier sitting on the bench across of her displaying all five stages of grief on his face as he took in the new information just given to him.

Abbot sat there, dumbly doing nothing as you walked away in mortification, as Santos continued to unintentionally embarrass you upon your exit, as everyone reacted to the newest and juiciest piece of gossip to hit the Pitt.

He couldn't help himself in the state of shock he'd arrived to. Couldn't even think about moving, much less listening to Mohan scold Santos and Santos promise she'd apologize as soon as she saw you and as she pleaded that no one ever bring up her fuck up ever again.

All he could do was think back to that tiny bit of glitter he'd also happened to spot the moment you'd clocked in and to all the other times in which he'd seen leftover glitter on your lid, on your cheek. He couldn't help but think of all the mumbled excuses you'd give as to why you couldn't join the night shift full time.

Everything suddenly came to light in a whole different way than he'd imagined, and the thought of you like that? Well, it sure had some sort of effect on him.

Unknowingly, Santos had not only ruined your life, but had also completely destroyed jack.

-

"Okay, so don't be mad."

"I already told you I'm not mad at you, Trinity," you sighed as you slipped off your stethoscope, facing your locker while gathering your things.

A few days had passed since the incident.

Santos had turned up at your apartment about half an hour later, groaning to herself as she told you about the aftermath of your sudden exit and very apologetic about it all.

After bribing you with access to her Doordash account for a month and offering to cover for you whenever your second job got in the way, no questions asked, you came around to letting it be water under the bridge.

You'd been lucky that the only people present to hear about your secret had been people you considered somewhat close.

Except that the thought of Jack Abbot, of all people, hearing of such a scandalous secret kind of made you want to die.

It wasn't that you were embarrassed, per se, but who'd want the sexy older guy they can't even maintain eye contact with finding out that you strip every other night? Sooner or later he'd do the math and realize that that was why you'd been rejecting his offers to be under his tutelage (and thus spending more time with him) during the night shift for twelve hours a night — because your side hustle got in the way.

You didn't want him to be... disappointed, for him to see you differently, to view you as cheap or as if you were selling your body. He respected you, and his respect was something you'd never want to lose.

Blatant judgment wasn't something you'd ever expect from Abbot, but the possibility existed within your irrational thoughts any time your brain decided to put those two parts of your life together. Even if your current relationship wasn't anything past mentor and mentee, you would be fine with it staying like that if it meant Abbot at least looked to you with a smidge of fondness in his eyes.

But Abbot hadn't said anything since Trinity blabbed.

There had been no sort of reaction from him, or anyone really.

Upon your return to the Pitt the following day, tail between your legs, no one had made any snarky quip or even looked at you weird after you'd been exposed and had dramatically run away. There were no further comments made other than Santos consistently apologizing over and over again in hushed tones throughout your shared shift.

And so you forgave Santos.

You were friends, and you weren't particularly embarrassed about moonlighting as a stripper for extra cash. It was just not something you openly discussed with your coworkers. You felt that reasoning was valid enough to keep it a secret.

Santos continued, "Well, maybe not now, but tell me that again in two minutes..."

At that, you closed your locker door, trying your hardest not to slam it. Perhaps you'd been a bit jumpy after all. Your guard was always high when it came to this subject.

"What did you do this time?"

Santos grimaced, groaning dramatically to herself and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before seemingly ripping the band-aid off.

"Abunchofpeoplegottogetherandthey'reallgonnagowatchyouthisweekendatyourclub."

"What?"

She sighed, cursing under her breath and attempted it again.

"A bunch of people got together ... and decided they're going to go to your club to watch you perform this weekend."

Your heart dropped at the word 'club' and stopped altogether at the word 'perform'. You were pretty sure you were about to enter cardiac arrest in that very moment.

Every second of your life flashed before your eyes.

"Oh, my god, santos-"

"I swear I didn't tell anyone about where you work!" she started, a little frantic, "I guess Yoyo told someone upstairs about a cool new club we went to, and then that person told someone else, and then it reached Parker and Shen, — who did the math — and then princess suggested some of the girls go watch you, and then Whitaker decided to join in cause he's sorta one of the girls, and it turned into Langdon joining and I think maybe Robby for some reason? anyway, I think-"

"Oh, my god."

"It's not that bad—!"

You huffed in despair, hands coming up to your face and mutely screaming into them for a few moments. You needed to get it out of your system, and seemingly Santos understood that sentiment as she stood taking in your misery.

"You've completely ruined my life," you said blankly, emotionless.

Dramatic, but it felt that drastic at that moment.

"Well, uh- you should be glad! You know, that, uh, at least Abbot isn't going!"

The mention of his name only made things worse for you.

"Oh, god."

Santos was well aware of your crush on the older man, though she usually used it to tease you. It was bad enough that he was one of the few who had heard the news firsthand, but to even think of him seeing you on the job?

Fuck.

"Do you think he'll... go?"

Santos shook her head a little too quickly, clearly eager to atone and reassure you, not at all actually sure.

"He's an old man! And he works the night shift! You dance nights, right?" you nodded and she continued, "See? He'd have to take the night off, and when was the last time he ever did that? Nothing to worry about."

Her logic was somewhat sound, but her tone of voice assured you that it was mostly just wishful thinking.

And even if abbot skipped this particular outing, knowing that Robby or Princess would probably give him (and the rest of the staff) the 411 of your night job made your skin itch with anxiety.

"From one to ten, how bad would it be if i quit both jobs before then?"

Santos shook her head, lips pursed.

"You can barely afford your apartment on two salaries and tips, you'll be homeless within a week."

"Fuck."

-

After that, you occasionally heard a comment or two about the big night.

You weren't quite sure how or why this had become a thing, much less how it wasn't firing off alarms with HR that not only was one of their doctors openly a stripper — was there some sort of rule for that? — but also that a good dozen of her coworkers were joining in on some scheme to torment her for said stripping.

Okay, maybe 'torment' was a little much.

Mel and Whitaker seemed genuinely interested in watching you out of sheer curiosity. Langdon appeared a little awkward about it, but didn't want to be left out. Javadi was perhaps a little judgmental about it (and would probably vlog it for TikTok), but both her and Samira showed some amused interest at that side of your life.

Robby got a little red in the face when the subject was brought up by Princess in your presence, but he also hadn't shown any judgment.

Plus, you always knew that it was only sooner or later that some patron at the strip club would recognize you or that someone at the hospital would end up on a night out at the club.

You were mostly just glad that Abbot had made no comment thus far, nor had he even been around any time the subject was brought up.

Still, you were a little anxious as Friday night turned up and you bid your goodbyes to Trin and Mel as you headed to the club in order to get undressed and ready to perform.

The girls at the club were pretty much clueless that you'd be bringing in a flock of doctors into the audience that night. It was better that way. Better to keep both jobs as separate as possible (even if they were beginning to seep into one another).

With a few breathing exercises, you did your thing, with a pretty pink set of lingerie, some pumps a bit too high, and a dyson to aid in fixing up something that would allow for some extra volume in your hair.

You couldn't forget the body glitter either, obviously.

Looking in the swanky mirror backstage, you took in your appearance, already an expert in the art of making yourself up for your audience.

Santos sent you a quick text, letting you know everyone was here and that there was no sighting of Abbot, which at least worked in docking down your heart rate a few bpm from its accelerated speed.

The music was already booming outside, and from backstage you could get a sense of the fluorescent lights flashing across the main room.

With one final deep breath, you made your way to the entrance to the stage, a little self conscious at your coworkers seeing you like this, but ultimately sort of glad that the secret was out of the bag and that it was just your friends out there — some lighthearted teasing and a few exaggerated cheers wouldn't kill you, would they?

-

Jack's week had been an absolute rollercoaster.

While externally everything might've remained mostly stagnant in Jack's life, — a difficult statement to make for someone who works night shift in emergency medicine — it was mostly his internal turmoil that had been keeping his mind occupied as of late.

Nothing had happened due to his own doing. But, hell, he could hardly blame anyone else.

But in his messed up mind, he still sorta did.

And that blame fell strictly on second-year resident, Trinity Santos.

(Though Jack was very well aware that this was all his fault. All the fault of the horribly inappropriate way in which he'd been looking to another second-year resident under his care).

Luckily for jack, he had a handle on it — like he did on most things. With a few distractions, he could stop his mind from wandering after your hands graced his mid procedure. He could simply pretend that the sudden accelerated speed of his heart was due to his new anxiety meds, not because the pretty, young, resident he had his eye on was looking up at him with doe eyes, asking if she was doing good.

In jack's mind, there was absolutely no way in which his infatuation with you could possibly worsen.

And this had been the truth for the two years in which you'd been at the Pitt.

It all ended on that fateful night.

After 16 hours of continuous work, Jack found himself sharing some beers with the usual crew of the Pitt. it was always a similar bunch, usually gathering after the specifically strenuous shifts that forced them to remain a few hours past the clock.

In this past year or so, you'd become part of that small crew.

Usually, you'd stand by doctor king or doctor santos, flocking towards people your age (which he noted with a pained heart), rarely ever sharing the usual bench with him or even interacting with him past a polite nod of acknowledgement or a 'goodnight' directed at the group in general.

You appeared to be too exhausted after extended shifts, with your body clearly not having grown accustomed to the sudden overtime shifts at the Pitt just yet. you'd slump over on Santos' shoulder, or occasionally stand with an armed linked with Mohan to shift some of your weight onto her.

It was rare for you to speak up or highlight your presence in these occasions. By all intent and purposes, Jack was certain saw you as a shy, reserved type of girl. Sure, you had your moments of vivacity in between procedures, but you were always avoiding his stare, usually docking your face down whenever you were one-on-one with anyone of authority.

So the words that left Santos that particular night had completely blown the breath out of his lungs.

He had spotted that leftover glitter on your cheekbone — how could he not, when his eyes wandered to you during any miniscule lull in his day? Sometimes there were some speckles on your lid, other times hidden on your top lip, but he could have never conjured that this could be the reason as to why it was there.

"Hah, what's with the glitter? This isn't your night job."

Immediately, Jack's ears perked up.

Even in his older age, his mind went straight to the gutter.

With that teasing tone of voice, there was only one thing Santos could have possibly meant by your night job.

Then he looked to you, finding your bambi eyes expanded larger than he'd ever seen them, mortification filling your features as you panicked and blurted out a half-hearted curse to your friend and all but ran off.

Some comments floated around after that, but Jack blocked them out, only really looking after you as you walked away. He pursed his lips in genuine pity, wishing he could run after you — not that you'd want him to, anyway. His leg was settled comfortably on the bench, and putting it on to chivalrously chase after you would've only made things worse for you.

Then Santos spoke again.

"She's not a sex worker, okay? She's a stripper! Now shut up!"

Jack felt like he'd been shot — a comparison he could easily make, since, clearly, he'd actually been shot at before.

His heart rate went off the charts. His knuckles went white as he gripped his beer can, denting it a little in the process. His jaw tensed and teeth clenched. He wasn't sure if any of this was out of empathetic mortification for you, or if it was due to the images of you flashing through his head. You donning a pretty little number, body bathed in glitter as you performed on stage for all the pathetic idiots fishing for just one bit of attention from you.

(It was the latter).

After that, jack was unsure of what to do.

It was silently (or at least, mostly silently) agreed after that that no one was to give you any shit for the news Santos had not-so-graciously delivered about your personal life.

But, of course, as it always is with a gossipy department, a few whispers of when should we make a trip down there? Or small quips of curiosity in regards of your skill level were shared here and there. Jack didn't participate in them, but he was still privy to them all.

Jack avoided your eyes for a few days afterwards, but never once took part in making you feel any sort of way in regards to what had happened — even though his stupid brain kept conjuring the most inappropriate scenes of you every time you so much as crossed his mind.

So, even in spite of how self composed he'd been, he was a little shocked at himself when he found himself mentally adding himself to the list of people getting together to go check out the club you worked at.

(Garcia had gotten the idea in his head, with her nosy and expansive commentary mid surgery about your first sighting at the club. She went on and on about how you danced, what you were wearing, those bambi eyes popping out when you'd spotted Garcia and Santos in the crowd, the way in which you giggled and concealed a shy smile when they insisted on shoving dollar bills in your g string. It was all mindless gossip to her, but an impending heart attack to Jack.)

He hadn't planned it, not really. He'd heard Princess and Ellis discussing some group outing while he stopped by the nurses' station to pick up some charts, something about a girl's night to support one of the girls — not his words. He wasn't trying to be nosy, but to escape gossip at the Pitt was an impossible mission.

He didn't arrive with the little group that had formed, not even fully sure as to who'd be coming. All he had heard was your name and the time and place, and suddenly he was rearranging his schedule to make sure that he was off that night.

Sweat formed at the back of his neck as he stood there. The place seemed a little shadier than he expected, but he had no time to worry about your safety, not when he needed to muster the courage to walk in and put an end to his misery.

He was a little late, so surely he would've missed most of your dance. Perhaps he'd unknowingly orchestrated it as so. Maybe his subconscious was trying to retain the last remains of his sanity.

And so he walked in, steps heavy and a with some faux confidence in them.

-

Santos had been right. It hadn't been that bad.

Situated on a small table towards the left corner of the stage, you saw a familiar bunch huddled together, all with some fruity drink in hand.

Perlah and Princess were obvious attendees, though you were shocked to see Mel and Samira among the group. Trinity had come in order to provide emotional support, bringing along Whitaker and your favorite night shift duo — Ellis and John.

That had been it.

There was no Robby or Langdon or Dana.

And no Abbot.

Would it have been stupid to be weirdly disappointed by his absence?

Part of you had kind of hoped he'd be one of the bunch, but it was a conflicting thought you hadn't entertained much thus far. He was often present in group outings, usually brooding in the back with Robby or silently paying for a few rounds for the younger doctors.

You didn't allow yourself to ponder the thought for too long as you finished your set, shaking the thought out of your head as soon as it'd arrived.

How could you ever possibly want him to see you like this? Your brain was already scrambling as you tried to convince yourself he didn't see you differently after finding out. Everything was jumbled in your head, unsure as to whether you wanted your boss to see you half naked or not.

His demeanor had remained the same, but he was a pretty stoic guy a lot of the time. You couldn't tell left from right when it came to him.

But then the fleeting thought rushed back in once more.

Would he like to see you like this? Would he sit back and watch you work the pole, watch you bend and flip and twirl all around it as your bare skin shone with that cheap body glitter that made your thighs sparkle?

Maybe he'd finally see you in the way you saw him. Maybe that primitive part of him would come out and he'd finally look twice when you passed by. He'd picture the tiny pink lace under your scrubs, would avert his eyes when you caught him looking for a little too long.

But that was all a fantasy.

Because even at the perfect chance to show up, the one time in which it wouldn't have been odd or inappropriate for him to show up with the rest of the crew, he wasn't there.

It was stupid to be disappointed. You had tried to keep this from everyone in your personal life. And now, at the sudden chance to have the man you'd been going crazy over for the past year (and then some) show up and see you like this, you were sad? You were crestfallen and pouting and confused?

But you'd come to be somewhat of a professional at this.

So even when you looked down and did not find that familiar face down there, you still danced to your heart's desire, weirdly happy to have the cat out of the bag and to have your work friends show up to hype you up like this. It was dumb and silly, but you had your fun.

A little over an hour later and you were calling it an early night.

You stopped by the table, now with your robe on as your friends began to leave one by one. You shared some drinks, giggling when a tipsy Princess insisted on giving you all her leftover dollar bills that hadn't made it your way when you were performing.

The last man standing had been Trinity, who was no longer an anxious mess at the thought of having fucked up when she'd blurted out your secret. The shared laughs confirmed that it was all water under the bridge.

"See? That wasn't that bad. They liked it! I think Parker and Princess might've liked it a little too much, though."

You chuckled with a shrug, "Yeah. Wasn't as embarrassing as I thought."

"Aaaand Abbot was a no-show! Told you!"

It was unfortunate that Trinity was just as perceptive even when tipsy, because she did not miss that millisecond in which your disappointment showed on your face.

"Oh, my god- You wanted him to show?"

"Stop!" you shushed her, "It's not- it's not that i wanted him to, it's just..." you paused, "is he really just not interested at all?"

It felt pathetic even as you said it, and Trinity let you know as much.

"That is absolutely pathetic, man. Please pick yourself back up," she said, bluntly, sighing when she noticed your crestfallen demeanor, "Buuuut, maybe he just didn't show because he thought it'd be inappropriate? It doesn't mean he doesn't, you know, want you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, even if he showed, how old is he? Like 60? His heart probably couldn't take it anyway."

That got a laugh out of you, shoving trinity lightheartedly.

"It's time I turn in," she paused, "But remember - you could jump any person in that audience and they'd thank you. Don't sell yourself short."

With those last words of wisdom, she lifted two fingers to her forehead and signaled a goodbye to you, leaving you to the more menial aspects of your job.

The disappointment wore off a little as you helped the bartenders clean up the littered napkins and tiny umbrellas scattered all across the floor, but it remained in the back of your head.

Maybe next time.

-

Jack felt like a coward as he stood out there for longer than seemed socially acceptable.

People came and went, some slightly under the influence, stumbling out of the building, others a little too happy for whatever went down in there. Jack immaturely hoped for a similar outcome for himself before mentally slapping the idea away.

She's your resident. She's so much younger. You shouldn't even be here, encroaching on her personal life like this.

But, even then, he stayed there. An hour passed, two, and he continued to lean against his car in the parking lot — an improvement to standing right outside the entrance like a creep.

From his spot in the parking lot, he could somewhat hear the muffled music coming from inside up until it halted altogether. His mind conjured up images of you dancing to the music, of fucking Parker and Shen teasing you as they threw dollar bills in your direction.

Surely that was an image he'd never forget.

That is, if he grew the balls to walk in.

"I've never bought into the whole 'wisdom comes with age' thing, but, you know, for someone so old, you have, like, zero wisdom."

That broke him out of his thoughts.

It was that familiar voice that had landed him in this situation in the first place.

The slight eyeroll couldn't be helped, neither could the sigh, which Santos clearly caught as Jack turned in the direction of the voice as he continued to lean against his car. His leg had started to bother him by then.

"What's that mean?" he nodded towards her.

"You're late," she began, confidence always oozing out of her even as she spoke to a superior, "You've been out here this whole time? thing's kinda over."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, taking a step forward, "Buuuut, I'm sure you could still catch her if you hurry," she paused in some hesitation before continuing, "She, uh, might be happy to see you."

That caught him off guard, and unfortunately his usually suave exterior broke for a second as he stuttered in response, "That- that right?"

Santos now had the upper hand, which she seemed happy to realize.

With pursed lips, she shrugged, hands behind her hips, "Nothing wrong with supporting your coworker in her ... personal endeavors."

Jack was practically useless in conversation by that point, and so Trinity bid a casual goodbye and walked away. Jack stood there, dumbfounded, a ringing in its head making its appearance as he thought about every decision that had somehow landed him there.

Before he could overthink it, he pushed himself off the hood of his car and walked towards the entrance.

Nothing wrong with showing support for a coworker.

-

"I guess I'm late, huh?"

The words made you stop in your tracks. Skin rose on the back of your neck. You were entirely sure that that could not be the voice you thought it was.

But then you turned around and found him. With that same intense stare that you felt was almost only reserved for you.

Suddenly you felt very self-conscious of what you were wearing, of the pleasers that made you five inches taller, of the silk robe riding off slightly at your left shoulder and giving him a pristine view of your lace-covered breast.

Within seconds you straightened yourself up, readjusting your robe and kicking off your heels as you fixed your posture like a soldier with their commanding officer. You felt as if you'd been caught making a mistake at work, overly apologetic to Abbot only to find that he wasn't on his way to scold you.

Due to your silence (and likely your incredibly awkward demeanor), Abbot cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Sorry i couldn't make it- or, not sorry? you probably don't want your attending coming around here, huh?"

You were too much of a deer in headlights to catch the self-conscious shift in his tone, eyes roaming all over him in his casual clothes, taking particular notice of his arms as they folded over his chest.

"Not- not at all," you finally spoke, "Just, maybe a little awkward? Or at least that's how it felt with everyone else ... The rest of the guys seemed to enjoy the show, though."

He hummed, "Too bad I missed it."

"Yeah," you nodded.

Another awkward silence.

"You could, uh- you could come next time, if you want to?"

Shut up. Don't continue that thought.

His eyebrows shot up as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Oh?"

"Y-yeah," you swallowed, "If you're free, that is-"

"Yeah," he coughed out, "I'm free."

You hadn't even told him what day yet. Your heart sped up.

"Yeah? You free next Friday night?"

He nodded slowly, breathing in deep through his nose.

You were convinced you'd caught his eyes run up and down your body. It'd been too quick and you'd been too nervous to be sure. but you were a good 80% sure it'd happened. It had you shuddering internally, somewhat annoyed that you'd thrown on the robe at all, that he wasn't looking at you in the pretty set you'd picked for that night.

"Everyone else coming too?"

You halted, "Oh, uhm, no, I don't think-"

"Good," he interrupted, not adding anything more.

It made you gulp.

"Y-yeah. I'll see you on Friday, then?"

He nodded, lips pursed.

"No, kid. I'll see you on Friday."

Again, he nodded in confirmation, a small smile overtaking his lips. Within mere seconds he had gotten the upper hand of the conversation, leaving you an awkward mess and with your skin rising up in goosebumps at the mere thought of him seeing you.

Unlike in every other interaction you'd grown used to having within the four walls of the club, you were awkward, fumbly, nervous and with absolutely zero game. Trinity would laugh in your face.

Those sultry eyes you were expected to throw at patrons were replaced by saucers, and your confident body language turned into you embarrassingly wanting to rub your thighs together at the confidence in which Jack Abbot had managed to secure a one-on-one with you in your panties.

You said goodbye in return, awkwardly stumbling over your words again as he winked at you on his way out.

All gravity almost left you as soon as he left, legs jelly and breath muted.

You were going to crash and burn come next Friday.

-

A few days passed and Jack was going out of his mind.

He couldn't stop thinking about that night at your club. Of the uncovered skin of your chest, your hair undone, your glossy lips, the slight sheen of sweat on your skin. Every small detail drove him insane.

All that faux confidence had left him as soon as he'd left your eyeline. His heart had been going a mile a minute the moment he walked into the place, reaching a worryingly high heart rate at those bambi eyes staring up at him like he'd caught you with a hand in the cookie jar.

The conflict in his mind between the sexy lingerie he'd gotten a peek of and those innocent eyes staring up at him stirred endlessly from the moment in which he'd bid you goodbye.

He hadn't meant to be too forward, but this had felt like his one chance, and with it he'd somehow signed his death sentence for next Friday.

Ss the days passed, the two of you worked as if nothing had happened whenever your schedules overlapped.

You were still the shy resident who'd squeak whenever caught off guard by him, messing with his poor heart at every turn. You'd share these looks sometimes. Looks that spoke of the anticipation you both felt for what was to come.

And as unsure as he felt about crossing that boundary (and as ashamed as he felt to admit it), this felt like some tricky, painful, extended sort of foreplay that was bursting at the seams.

In bed, he could feel his body itch as he attempted to find sleep. And at night, as he worked, he was constantly on alert at the possibility of your schedules overlapping and having to meet your eyes. You'd undone him without much effort. He couldn't imagine what would happen once he finally saw you on that stage.

Truly, he had no idea what he was doing. He knew he wanted you, but didn't know how to go about it like an adult. Instead, he seemingly opted for what he could probably label as voyeurism.

Because, really, what made him any better than the other rowdy, middle aged men vying for your attention as you worked a pole on stage?

Luckily Jack was used to this constant guilt, this endless turmoil in his mind. The self-depreciation wasn't new, either. It was just a little more glaring any time he'd think of you.

After endless thoughts of you under the pink and purple hues of the club, the days passed and jack finally found himself on the day of his impending doom.

Maybe he was being a tad dramatic about it all. But as soon as he stepped foot in that club during his working hours he came to realize that maybe he would've felt justified in being even more dramatic. His heart felt like it was about to give out.

You hadn't worked that day, clearly. He had opted for half a shift, knowing he'd have gone crazy if he stayed home all day but still wanting to ensure he made more than enough time for your...

Appointment? Date? Meeting? They all sounded either clandestine or suggestive.

He'd tried telling Robby about the whole thing. To try and alleviate some of the weight the whole thing carried. It had proved futile, though, and frankly a little predictable.

"You're- you're actually going? Alone? Isn't that a little... questionable?"

Inappropriate would be a better word for it, yeah.

The words were spoken with an annoying edge of shock and mockery. Jack couldn't say he appreciated them much.

"Hope you know what you're doing, brother."

That was as much reassurance as Jack was going to get from Robby on the matter. It was enough for a man already convinced of stepping into the fire.

When the time came for Jack to step foot in that place, the speed of his heart made him certain that he was on his way to cardiac arrest. The booming music coming from the building and the scent of alcohol mixed with smoke warned him to walk away, but the thought of finding you in there was enough to drive those thoughts away.

The first thing he saw as he walked in was the center stage. It was divided into three, parting towards the left, right and middle. On each flank was a stripper engaging with two or three men perched front row of each respective extension to the stage.

Next thing he saw were small tables scattered all around the place. Some were empty, others had one or two people enjoying a drink, while others were pushed away from the high chairs in favor of making space for a man, his lap, and a stripper sat on it.

He felt out of his depth.

Strip clubs had never been his thing. He held no judgement for the women who made a living inside them, but having gotten married straight out of college, this was just not a lifestyle he had ever engaged with.

After losing his wife, women were something he'd somewhat sworn off. This was the last place he'd ever expected to find himself at this stage of his life. Much less did he imagine ending up here due to the inappropriate work crush he'd fostered on the shy little resident he'd been trying to poach into joining the night shift for the past year.

You were nowhere to be found, and, to be frank, he was a little scared to make eye contact with anyone, lest they believe he's looking for a lap dance.

Jack Abbot and avoidance of eye contact were not two things that went together, he was well aware.

But his wavering confidence would only continue to build up through the night.

It took him a few minutes of wandering around in amazement and confusion until he eventually landed himself on an empty table somewhere near the back. You were bound to show up on stage eventually, right?

Seeing the other girls' performances made his palms sweat.

Would you be doing the same thing? Was he about to witness you in tassels, rhinestones, lace?

Would you sway your hips full of confidence as you marched your way to the pole? Would your muscles contract at the effort needed to swirl around it as you stared him out like a predator did its prey?

His questions only went unanswered for about ten minutes as the curtains connecting the stage to what jack could only assume was your dressing room suddenly flew open.

St the head of the stage, you popped up, standing tall and proud, and completely different from what he'd grown used to seeing all those shifts he'd shared with you these past couple of years.

Your every step was heavy and confident, heels clicking against the shiny floor of the stage. With your hands laid on your hips, your hips swayed seductively, achieving the goal of drawing in every pair of pathetic eyes drooling over you in the audience — Jack included.

Your skin was adorned by baby pink lace, legs, arms, and chest shining under the purple and pink hues of the club. Every inch of you was bare and open for his perverted enjoyment. The lace stuck to your skin and gave him a perfect view of your silhouette. He felt thirst invade his being.

Unable to take his eyes off you, Jack found himself sitting up on his seat, back leaving its recline as his body slowly began to gravitate from his seat into a fully standing position. He was like a moth to a flame, immediately affected by your magnetizing effect.

Every step was mocking torture. He knew his demise was nearing at every step that drew you closer and closer to the edge of the extended stage, where you'd grab onto that pole and finish him off.

He was unable to pay attention to the server who'd stopped by asking him if he'd like a drink, too enthralled by you to do anything more than wave them away.

By the time your manicured hand made its way to the pole, your eyes found his by chance.

There was a millisecond of surprise before that confident vixen consumed you once more. Jack couldn't help but gulp at that look in your eye. The balance shifted immediately. He was no longer your attending, but prey ready to be consumed.

He could have sworn he blacked out for your performance, falling back on his seat the moment you began to wrap your legs around the metal and swirled around it with expertise he never imagined you'd have.

Your every move was life-ruining for Jack. Pathetically, he regretted not camping outside that door waiting for the moment the doors flew open in order to stand a chance at a seat front and center to your show. There was bile forming in his stomach at the sight of every other man eyeing you down, being able to see you up close and throw their unworthy bills in your direction.

Jack thought to himself for a fleeting moment — I'd give you everything. All the money you need. I'd shove it in your purse while you showered in my bathroom. I'd deposit it into your bank account. I'd trap it in the hem of your panties as I watched you dance for me.

Shaking those thought away, he continued to watch you, rendered completely immobile by what he was seeing. The softness of your outfit (or lack thereof) made him dizzy. He ached to run his hand through the delicate lace, to softly snap the bra strap on your shoulder and have you whine his name in return.

He felt sick with desire, something he'd never experienced before. The culmination of feelings he already had towards you — the protectiveness, the adoration, the admiration, the infatuation — fought against the intensity of the lust he that was blossoming inside him. It was always there, but to have it swell, inflamed and threatening to burst made him lightheaded.

Every so often your eyes would find his. You'd send a little kiss his way, or a cheeky wink. Jack's heart boomed out of his chest at every instance.

After what felt like hours, you leaned down to gather all the loose bills men had ready for you, regaining that girlish and innocent air you always had as your performance ended. It was as if you'd been possessed, making your way back to your usual persona as soon as your set ended.

Jack had to brace himself for what he knew was coming. His hands felt clammy and his shirt began to stick to his skin. He had ascended and been brought back down multiple times within those short minutes. He needed to gain his cool back.

But then you walked over, smile shy and eyes giddy.

It was that same look you always had any time he'd call your name for a fun procedure. Even as you walked towards him (no longer swaying your hips in that torturous manner), draped in seductive lace and makeup that could make a man drop dead, he still saw that pretty girl he'd first fallen for.

Your eyes wandered away from his as you stopped at his table with a meek, "Hi."

"Hey," he started, not as smooth as he'd hoped, "That was... some performance."

The way you flushed was a visible, lips turning up in a shy smile.

"Yeah? you liked it?"

"I don't think it'd be appropriate for me to answer that question."

"No? Is your response not family-friendly, then?"

The banter was somewhat new. Back at work, you'd occasionally engage with his back and forth, but you weren't too receptive of it. He knew you were capable of it, as he'd heard you go at it with Santos every other day, but when it came to your superiors (or maybe him in particular), you were more meek.

Maybe it had to do with the way his eyes couldn't find yours. Perhaps you'd noticed the hard time he was having keeping them away from the bare skin he'd been salivating over just a few moments ago. And maybe that was why despite your usual shyness, he still saw some newfound confidence in how you spoke to him.

But two could play at that game.

(Or at least he'd try his hardest to regain the upper hand in order to properly flirt with you. It was the least he could do).

"Why don't you sit and I can tell you all my thoughts?"

Your face morphed from flirtatious to that bashful smile he was so used to seeing. With your eyes timidly downturned, you chuckled as you shook your head.

"As much as I'm sure we'd both enjoy that, I'll get reprimanded," your lips came into a straight line, nose scrunching a bit, "However," you let it drag a bit, "I have a better idea."

At that, you looked around you to see if there was anyone nearby before turning back to him with a smile.

"C'mon," you extended your hand towards his, "The couches are far more comfortable, and I know you've probably been on your feet all day."

He chuckled and took your hand, trying to ignore how sweaty his had been mere minutes prior, "Only took half a shift today. had an important... appointment with someone today."

"Appointment?" you asked, "That's an interesting choice of words, doctor," you spoke as he let you drag him towards the far end of the room.

"Don't wanna test my luck, that's all."

Once you'd made it to the booths, you led him to a worn couch next to a detachable table. Based on some of the other men on the couches, they seemed like the perfect spot in which to get some special attention from the dancers. Jack tried to not let his mind head that way, not wanting to test his luck and all that.

He sat down, comfortably leaning against the couch as you took the spot next to him. Rather than sit normally, you opted to sit on your knees, feet off the floor and body turned towards his own. It had him doing a double take, but he could only assume you weren't allowed to just casually sit unless you were entertaining a patron.

"Feeling lucky, Abbot?"

The added confidence in your cadence was really doing him in. He'd grown so used to your eyes fleeting away from his any time he found you looking his way, looking away if his attention landed on you. There was still a bit of that, but you were firing back. His flirtation was met with reciprocation and he was finding himself at a loss.

"After that performance any man would be lucky to have your attention."

Maybe it was too pointed, but you were so close, and your perfume was beginning to reach and penetrate his pores. The shine of your skin made it impossible to look away, as did the plush of your skin accentuated by the tight lingerie failing at properly concealing the most enticing parts of your body.

Those words seemed to reach a little deeper, and so you chuckled again, shaking your head.

"I'm sure you say that to all strippers."

It was deflection. He could've doubled down with how much seeing you up there — how much having you sat next to him with all your focus solely on him — made him lightheaded and stupid. But he wanted to drag the night as long as possible. He was willing to empty out his bank account if it meant you could sit there and talk to him all night.

He didn't need any funny business with you (as much as every bone in his body was aching for it). He just wanted to get his fill of looking at you, of getting this confident version of you to respond to his flirting, giving him at least some false hope that his infatuation wasn't purely one-sided.

And so he talked. Flirtatious comments came and went. The spaces in between were filled by talking about work, by joking about your weird schedules, your odd hobbies and how you both kept to yourselves in that regard. It was nice, tame, until a charged comment would suddenly pop up in the interim.

"I'm gonna get in trouble if I keep slacking off with you, Doctor Abbot," you said after a while.

Your voice had morphed over the course of your conversation. It was smooth and carried an air of seduction even if what you were saying was completely innocent in nature. Jack was losing his mind.

"Wouldn't want that, would we?"

You shook your head, eyes on his and a satisfied smile on your lips.

"But i think I have an easy fix for that."

That piqued his interest, though his poor heart began to speed up again.

Before he could come up with some flirtatious, yet ambiguous response, you were suddenly pushing his shoulder back, forcing him to recline against the plush of the leather couch and dragging your leg over his, easily straddling his thighs.

Your weight above him made him dizzy. His arms laid limp on his sides, fingers flexing with restraint. He absolutely could not touch you or he'd lose any remaining sanity. It was the one rule at strip clubs — hands off the strippers. It was the most torturous exercise on restraint he'd ever overgone. even if your hips were begging to have his fingers dig into the perfect skin.

A floral scent that had been floating around began to completely overtake him at your newfound closeness. He wasn't sure if it was your perfume or shampoo, or maybe whatever body oil you had on that gave your skin that extra sheen.

"This okay?" you asked at the sudden proximity, "Need to make it seem like I'm working."

Before he could stumble upon a response, you leaned in closer, lips gracing his ear.

"I can touch, but you can't, okay? Don't wanna look suspicious," you whispered, "Don't wanna be sent away to dance for some other guy."

It made him irrationally frustrated to hear of that possibility.

"More than okay," he huffed out.

"You sure? you seem a little tense."

Your nose dragged up his jaw, making him shudder. You weren't fully on him, but rather hovering above him. Your weight laid on your knees, leaving some space between his crotch and your own. The itch to pull you down internally clawed at him.

"Yeah, tense's one word for it."

Once you'd gotten your feel of making the skin of his neck rise in goosebumps, your lips trailed at his cheek, now facing him. Some distance remained between your faces, but not enough for it to be considered appropriate.

"This is weird, right?" you smiled, bashful again, "This is probably not the impression you had of me at work."

He chuckled, fingers digging into the couch beneath him, "Can't say that it was. It's a welcome surprise, though."

You hummed in affirmation before taking in a breath. There was a small glimpse of uncertainty in your eyes.

"So... you're not disappointed?" you began, rephrasing, "I mean... you don't think less of me?"

This caused him to draw his head back slightly. He needed to look at you properly.

And when he did, he found those same eyes that looked to him with worry any time you were certain you'd messed up. It was like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be either objectified or scolded by the man who'd just been melting under you mere seconds ago.

"Kid," he shook his head in disbelief, "you're an adult, and you can do anything you want. Don't let anyone ever try and judge your choices when-"

"No, no, I- I know, I just- I want to know what you think."

That took him by surprise. It also arose a million questions in his mind.

Did you think he was that much of a hardass? That he wouldn't support anything you did, just because it was you doing it? Did you care this much for his opinion?

"Nothing you could do would disappoint me."

Seemingly working your way through a half-formed thought, your mouth shut back up before you could even begin. You gave him those eyes that were always causing him problems back at work. The eyes that held way too much admiration for someone as troubled as him.

You didn't say anything in response. Instead, your hand left his shoulder, reaching up to his cheek and tracing it as you looked down at him with your bottom lip jutting out.

Tucking at a stray curl that always formed next to his ear, you let the moment of fondness pass as soon as it began, smiling down at him once more.

"So, think you'll come again?"

Just like that, the mood shifted to lighthearted flirtation once more. your new normal.

"I'll be front row, kid."

-

A few weeks passed and Abbot kept up with his promise.

Well, maybe he wasn't front row, but he made it in time to see you up on stage doing your short little number twice a week.

It was unfortunate your schedules overlapped so much. He would've stood outside waiting to be let in every other night otherwise.

Every other meeting went just like the first one. They were all held under the pretense of curious innocence. Like ice slowly melting, never going further than tame flirtation.

The suggestive surroundings created an added element of heat that Jack couldn't overlook, but he tried his best. it only became harder when you'd come to sit on his lap, claiming the usual excuse of convenience so you could talk to him without getting reprimanded.

But was it necessary for your lips to trace his neck? For your fingers to play with the hair on his nape? For your breath to fan on his ear?

He'd grown used to the weight of your body on his lap. It was something he couldn't handle losing after just a few times of feeling it.

But despite that, he'd still discourage you wasting your time at the club entertaining him when you could be making money on another man's lap (though the thought killed him). It felt inappropriate to pay you himself, to encourage you to do more than just pretend to keep him busy and entertained, and so he kept his hands to his sides and simply pretended he was like one of the many other men.

And sometimes he felt that maybe he was just that.

But then one of your coworkers would call your name as you sat on his lap mid conversation, telling you that one of the 'big-spenders' was lonely in one of the private rooms, and you'd just give them a look that sent them on their way, one that told them you were busy with something more important.

Jack never questioned this. he simply enjoyed that it meant he could spend just a little longer with you on his lap.

Back at work, no word of these meetings was spoken.

A few looks were shared, a few sheepish smiles and silent agreements that yes, you'd be seeing each other in just a few hours. But nothing further was ever even suggested.

It was your little secret.

It gave Jack an extra edge to his life. The adrenaline spike your meetings gave him rivaled those at his shifts with SWAT.

He never got used to seeing you walk his way, to seeing the sway of your hips as you finished your set and made your way straight to him.

There was no longer any small talk before you were dragging him to a couch and settling on his lap. Your hands got more and more curious every time, though they always remained caressing his jaw and hair, never wandering southern of his neck.

And every passing day, he was growing sicker with want.

Tonight things played out slightly different.

The confident sway of your hips remained, as did the satisfied smile upon seeing the way he tried to subtly eye you up and down as you approached him.

The dragging to a couch in the back of the room was missing. Instead, you led him in a different direction, not speaking a word until you were behind a closed curtain, inside a tiny room that had a couch identical to those outside, just slightly less worn.

There, you parroted your usual moves, guiding him into his seat, but turning back to secure the curtains closed before heading back in his direction.

His heart was going a mile a minute. The velvety walls of the room felt suggestive in nature. The darkened hue of magenta filling up the space reflected perfectly on your skin, making jack gulp against his will.

You donned a burgundy set today. It was tasseled, under the false pretense of covering a little more than usual. Your every move caused the tassels to sway, giving him an eyeful of every curve he ached to touch, bite, lick.

"I thought a change of scenery would be nice."

You broke the silence, once again torturing him with that sway of hips as you sat on his lap again.

— Which was completely unnecessary. No one could see you. There was no need to assimilate, to act as if he was a client. You were alone. Jack didn't voice any complaint.

"Careful, you'll make me think I'm special."

You clicked your tongue, leaning into his ear.

"You are special, Doctor Abbot," you whispered hotly before pulling back and looking into his eyes, "And since we're alone... I thought I'd give a little more special treatment this time around."

Jack's throat went dry. His arms flexed at his sides. His body burned with unchecked desire. He'd been aching since the first time he saw you.

Without any other words, your hands guided his onto your hips, forceful as you made sure he gripped at the bare skin. The tassels tickled at him when his hands went under them.

"Kid..."

"I've never done this before," you began, but your voice remained sultry, "Take a guy back here, let him touch me."

As you spoke, your eyes panned down to his lips, making him lick them absentmindedly.

The gloss on your lips looked so enticing to him, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander as well.

"I usually do a few dances and call it a night. But I've been putting that off these past few weeks."

This time, your weight laid fully on his lap. There were only a few layers of separation between the hardness forming under his jeans and the softness of your-

"I can't focus with you in the room," you continued, "I can't entertain any other man when you're here."

Every word was breathless, and your eyes had lost any sense of subtlety, now fully focused on his lips. Noses bumped, hands reached new places. It was all too heavy for him to handle.

Jack was practically panting by then. Your breaths intermingled. Even your breath had him going dizzy.

"It was bad enough that I couldn't focus at work, and now... now I can't think unless it's your lap I'm sitting on."

"Baby," he moaned.

He couldn't help it. Not when you were so deliciously close. Your lips were a mere inch away from his. and any time he tilted his chin just a tiny bit closer, you'd inch away, forcing him to uselessly chase you.

"I couldn't touch you out there," you breathed out, bottom lip jutted out, almost touching his own, "Cause then I wouldn't be able to stop."

Greedy hands went up and down the bare skin of your back. Every so often they'd land back on your hips, pulling you inhumanly closer, silent in their plea for you to use him. he'd take anything you gave him.

Jack had never felt such desperation in his life. Sweat trickled down his brow, and a small whine threatened to leave his lips. His body pathetically arched towards yours. he was utterly fucked.

"I need you to touch me, Jack."

Jack.

It was always abbot, doctor, sir, never Jack.

It sounded like music coming from your lips.

But, still, he shook his head. his body acted against his needs. For some reason he needed to retain the very last bit of decorum that remained between you.

"I don't know if that's a good idea."

Shaking your head, you refused to listen to those words. Leaning in closer, your tongue peeked out of your lips, teasingly swiping at his lower lip. It was so quick anyone who'd seen it would've missed it. But to Jack it felt like someone had lit him on fire.

"Want you so bad, Jack," you all but moaned, "You've already had me on your lap so many times. Why keep pretending?"

Jack's hands squeezed your hips, stumbling over a response.

Again, you leaned in close. Your lips graced his.

"Kiss me, Jack."

Jack broke, taking the plunge and pressing his lips to yours.

There was nothing accidental or subtle about your first kiss.

Swallowing his groan, you pulled him closer, fingers running through his curls and pulling softly. Your mouths were open, tongues seeking out one other and puffs of breath being shared between you. He could feel your eyes flutter at the intensity of the kiss.

His hands could not find a landing spot. They squeezed at your hips, pulled you closer before running back up the length of your back and tangling in your hair, keeping you hostage in his kiss.

You'd lick into the roof of his mouth, drawing him in, making it torture to even think of pulling away. Your every sigh landed on his lips. Jack couldn't help but grunt at every flick of your tongue against his.

Within seconds of that first, animalistic kiss, your hips began to move against his. It was subtle at first, just a simple sway of your hips into his own. It caused an immediate reaction in him, making him draw a deep breath against your lips and pull you even closer.

The lack of fabric in your lingerie made it so it was just his clothes that remained an obstacle between you. It seemed to bother you pretty quickly into the kiss, as your hands began to paw at his shirt, dragging it up so you could feel at his abdomen.

Your hands were anything but shy, feeling him up like you were trying to meld into his skin. He couldn't blame you. Not when his own hands had been molding you against him, feeling every delicious curve available to him.

After some moments, he reached behind him to pull his shirt off all the way, not missing the tiny mewl you released against his lips at the short moment of separation between his hands from your body. Also gone unmissed was the pout you gave him when your lips separated for the first time.

A second kiss took place just a few moments later, only slightly delayed when you took a moment to eye his naked torso. There was lust in your eyes that made Jack shudder internally. Was that how he'd been looking at you every time you approached him with a new set of life-ruining lingerie?

Again, your hands went up to his chest, hands digging against his pecs. Scratching softly while your tongue attempted to fuck his mouth. He was delirious.

"Yeah, baby, scratch my chest. Just like that..."

That got a reaction out of you. It made you moan, It made you seek out his tongue, trap it in between your lips and suction. Your manicured nails dragged down his chest a little harder now, eventually finding his nipples and rolling. He could do nothing but pull you closer, groan into your lips, rock his hips upward and into yours with a newfound desperation.

"Jack," you sighed out as you pulled away. his lips followed yours, kissing you chastely a few times, "Want you to touch me more."

His hands had been up and down your torso, stuck to your ass and tits, but he hadn't wandered where he knew he'd find the drenched center that had already been dampening his jeans. He knew that the moment he felt you, there'd be no turning back. He'd want to come back again and again, beg you to pull him back here, to say fuck all to your job and let him take you in this tiny room every night. He'd change to days if it meant he could have this every night instead.

But that was too much to drop on you all at once.

Instead, he kissed you again, twirling his tongue in yours before his hand made its way between your bodies.

A full-body shudder overtook him when he reached that crook between your legs. The tiny thong hid nothing, trapped between your lips after all that grinding. Tracing the string with his fingers, a trail of wetness became trapped on his fingers.

He rubbed at you, tracing his way to your clit and circling at the swollen nub. It was begging for his attention, making you cry out at the lightest of touches.

You sighed his name right against his ear. Your hand dug into the skin of his shoulders, gripping onto the muscle as he circled mercilessly at your clit.

It started off slow, calculated, following a particular rhythm that had your eyes crossing. And once he got his fill of your pretty whines of his name, your incoherent pleas for more, he finally sped up, torturing your clit further.

"It's so wet, baby. All for me?"

You nodded pathetically, mouth open, lips gracing the shell of his ear, breath heavy.

Eventually his fingers reached further back, finding your opening. After one finger went another, squeezing into the tight fit of your cunt. It made his mouth water, to think of that pretty pussy weeping around him, unable to take him, too tiny, too tight for him.

You humped at his hand mindlessly, and he let you. He laid his palm flat as he fingered you, letting you rub that aching clit against his palm in the pursue of pleasure.

"Feels so good, Jack. Gonna make me come," you whimpered.

And as much as he wanted to have you shake and cry on his lap, to dig your nails so deep down his back that it scarred, he needed the first time he made you come to be with him, on his dick.

—And maybe also because he was so weak for you, so weak of mind and body that he could already feel his peak threatening to drag him under.

When he stopped his movements, you cried out, continuing to hump at his hand like a bunny in heat. it only served to break him further.

"Jack, fuck me- I'm begging you, please."

Nothing could've taken his breath away like those words. Those breathy, desperate words whined right into his lips. It took a herculean effort not to lose himself at that moment, not to grab you and bend you over and have his animalistic way with you. He wanted to. so badly.

"I'll give you anything you want, baby, you know that," he sighed out, brain completely melted, "I'll fuck you," he nodded to you, a little patronizing, a little dizzy with desire, "I'll take give it to you, baby."

You kissed him again, shamelessly moaning into his lips and going back to humping his bulge. His hands gripped at your ass, pushing you against him, desperate for the friction despite feeling like he was about to explode. You were the most delicious thing he'd ever had on his lap. he was desperate to have you.

Whining into his lips, you went to undo his belt, fidgety and all over the place. He could've helped you out, but he grew distracted as his lips trailed a path down your neck, suckling at skin without any thought in mind other than how good you smelled, how soft your skin was. There was no thought to all the marks he'd end up leaving behind.

When he finally reached your breasts, you'd finally undone his belt and unzipped his pants. He grunted as he lifted his hips and lowered his pants and boxers just enough to give you full access to his dick. You took hold of it just as his lips reached your breasts, fingers easily pushing your bra aside in order to have his fill of you.

He groaned against your tit, nibbling and pulling at your nipple with his tit as you wrapped your hand around him.

"Hnng- ffuck, you're so big, Jack," you panted out, one hand on his dick and another dug deep into his curls, keeping him attached to your breast, "It's not gonna fit."

There was a pout in your voice, he could tell as much. The words had their intended effect on him, making him fuck into your fist just once.

Yeah, it was gonna be a tight squeeze. It was gonna be so excruciatingly tight he ran the risk of cumming within ten seconds of your cunt suffocating him. But fuck if he wasn't going to drag your pussy up and down his cock.

He voiced as much to you.

"But this pussy's gonna take it. right, baby?" His lips trailed their way back up your neck, finding the shell of your ear. Your head tilted away, begging that he press his lips to your skin again, "Hmm? This perfect pussy's gonna take my cock, isn't it? That's what you've been wanting, sweetheart? A big cock in this tiny pussy?"

You fisted at him harder, faster. One hand clawed at his back, surely leaving marks over the ones you'd already left behind.

"J-jack, please— Need it so bad- been thinking about it for so long..."

He took over for you, nudging you so you'd raise your hips a little and taking a hold of his dick. Taking advantage of the angle, he circled his tip against your puffy clit. it was still begging for his attention.

It only made you whine some more. The music from the club drowned out the sound to anyone who may have been outside. but, then again, these sounds were not foreign between these walls.

"Yeah? How long, baby, tell me."

He was torturing himself. Getting the tip in, he swallowed back a groan at the tight fit. It was so warm and wet. It was heaven.

You sobbed out. You were a mess. Some eyeliner pooled under your eyes. The glitter on your cheek was damp with sweat. You were just as fucked up as him.

"Since- since I met you— couldn't get you out of my head. Want you so bad, Jack-" you gasped, feeling him bury himself a little deeper, "Need- need you so much- I'll be so good, baby, I promise-"

Finally, he buried himself all the way in. He knew in that moment he could never look at you the same. You'd broken him down night by night, torturing him with a new little set every time, making his imagination run wild with pictures of his fingers pulling at the delicate strings, at fantasies of bending you over one of those worn out couches and fucking you stupid.

And now he had you sobbing on his lap, grinding against him, using his body like there was no shame left in you.

His head rolled back to the cushion of the couch, hands gripping your hips unforgivingly as you fucked yourself on him. His hips followed yours, matching your rhythm, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You shone perfectly under the fluorescent lights of the room. Your makeup was a little runny and your hair a little messy, but you still looked like a fucking dream. He couldn't believe he had such a pretty thing going crazy on his cock. The thought alone made him rock his hips harder against you.

Despite the discomfort, he put his weight on his feet, humping you like an animal in heat. The faster he went, the more cries of his name that left your lips. it felt like sustenance to him.

"Feel good, sweetheart? Huh? Tell me- tell me how good it is-"

"S-so good, Jackie- hnng- gonna come for you- gonna— J-jack, ffffuck-"

It drove him crazy. He needed more of you. He needed to die buried in you.

With one hand, he pulled your head in his direction, fingers gripping at your hair before slipping to the angle of your jaw. There, he held you in place, licking lazily at your lips as you continued to cry his name.

"Mouth open for me, baby. Tongue out- yeah, like that, gorgeous."

The kiss was absolutely nasty, but Jack couldn't help himself when it came to you. His tongue licked at yours, and like the obedient girl you were, you let him have his fill. He licked into your mouth, swallowing every tiny gasp when his hips drove into that perfect spot in your cunt.

When you came, you finally pulled away, stuttering a series of gasps of his name as your nails clawed down his back one last time.

He kept on fucking you, eyes clamped shut in pleasure. Your sounds continued spurring him on as he reached his peak. Your voice whispered in his ear seductively, almost making him lose his balance in the process—

"Inside- 'm on birth control. Come inside, please-"

Jack's eyes rolled back as he finally let go with a pained groan and one last thrust. His body deflated on the couch as he buried himself as deep as humanly possible, filling you up with everything he had to give. Atop him, your hands continued to run through his hair, adding that extra layer of pleasure for him.

Dome silence followed, though the music continued to sound off in the background. Your heavy breaths took up most of the sound in the small room.

"Jesus Christ, kid," he panted out, hands still intermittently squeezing at your hips, "I really hope you're not doing that to every guy you give a lap dance to," he chuckled, breathless.

You carded your hand through his hair, frowning jokingly at him.

"Told you I was giving you special treatment."

"'Special''s damn right."

More silence ensued; comfortable silence. Your bodies relocated slightly, with you still on his lap but cuddled up against him and him no longer hard. It was comfortable, even somewhat domestic. Every so often you'd kiss at his skin or him at yours. It was more than clear that this was no spur of the moment thing, that he was far more than any other man who'd ever walked through these walls.

Then you broke the silence once more.

"Remind me to thank Trinity for her big mouth."

Jack laughed under you, nudging you under his chin, kissing your hair chastely.

JACK ABBOT

quarantined by @itslowkeyatthenightshift you and your attending butt heads—and it’s no secret around the ED that Dr. Jack Abbot is harder on you than the other residents. He pushes you further, critiques you sharper, expects more—and you’re done with it. Just as you’re about to go to Dr. Robby to request a switch to days and finally put some distance between you and him, your patient—and his patient—tests positive for COVID-19. Suddenly, you’re both exposed, and with hospital protocol leaving no room for argument, you have no choice but to quarantine together.

do you want the kitchen tour? by @witchywithwhiskey when your already bad date takes a turn for the worse, the head chef of the restaurant comes to see what he can do to help. when he offers to give you a tour of the kitchen, you jump at the chance to escape, and your bad night turns into something else entirely.

behind closed doors by @andrewmiinyard you took over jack and robby's spare room a few months ago and now you and jack are constantly at each other's throats. robby has finally had enough and he's hoping some forced proximity will do the trick. seems like it works a little too well.

temperature control by @mrshatosy Jack Abbott was supposed to find a safer hobby. He wasn’t prepared to find you.

you have no idea by @geminiwritten even after swapping from nights to days, you just can’t seem to escape the inconveniently attractive night shift attending. then a ptmc night out, a sparkly dress, and a not-so-innocent game of never have i ever leads to dr. jack abbot making sure you can never utter the words “never have i ever finished during sex” ever again

the art of mutual benefit by @softundermoonlight “I will pay for your coffee,” you add quickly, stepping forward and leaning into his space. He keeps shaking his head, so, in a moment of pure madness, and lacking better ideas, you just say: “I’ll go down on you.”

gentleman's instinct by @sun-snatcher Sometimes you're reminded how merciless Abbot can be. You indulge in it.

semper fi by @hirukochan Jack Abbot finds himself feeling oddly protective over the new night shift attending. He tells himself it's natural. You were the young widow of a Marine, a military spouse who brought the greatest sacrifice for her country - your husband. He watched you push on with gritted teeth, haunted by your own demons and trauma, all for the little girl depending on you. It was only natural. Any serviceman would feel an obligation towards your well-being. Any serviceman would want to know you were safe... happy... So how come, he can't help but feel like he is stealing another man's life?

ANDREW CODY

bambi series by @miasvelvetvoid One secret changes everything. As the Cody family’s carefully buried truths come to light, you find yourself caught between running from the people you love and fighting for them. In the end, loving Pope Cody doesn’t just change your life, it changes the entire family.

here is my hand that will not harm you by @erwinsvow against better judgement, you send a letter to a man at folsom with very sad eyes. against even better judgement, you send letters every week for years until he stops replying one day. and against everything you know, when he shows up at your door, you invite him inside.

sweetheart by @pearlessance Everyone knows that Pope Cody's girlfriend is a real sweetheart. What they don't know is that, behind closed doors, you're a real fuckin' freak, too.

late shift by @in-ky Being the Cody’s on-call emergency nurse isn’t easy. A dislocated shoulder turns into late night gunshot wounds and before you know it, you’re part of the family. After a rough night, Pope needs some TLC. And who else can help him if not his favorite nurse? You’re the only one who can stitch him up, physically and emotionally.

break me down and I'll call you mine by @flowersforbucky other than the men he brings home on occasion, you’re the only person who knows that deran cody is gay. when your best friend becomes anxious that people are growing suspicious of his sexuality, you suggest telling people that the two of you are dating. everything is going perfectly…until his brother is released from prison and you start feeling things that you haven’t felt in years.

fate. by @andrewmiinyard the three times you decided to flirt with pope cody and the one time you decided to take it one step further.

crush by @pittrabbit the aftermath of overhearing that conversation between pope and baz

worthy by @stellamarielu you tell andrew you want to start a new life with him— away from the chaos of his family, and he agrees with another future promise on his mind

found out by @love-quinn as his favourite waitress at the only diner in town that’ll still serve him, you’re pope’s girl. doesn’t matter if you have a boyfriend, everybody in town knows you belong to andrew cody. especially your poor neighbours on the other side of your apartment’s paper thin wall. you’d usually try and be more considerate of the noise, but with your boyfriend in the trunk of his car, pope needs everybody to hear exactly what he was doing on the night of the third. for alibi purposes.

TITUS DANFORTH

the hunt and the vow by @sargeant-bxrnes you broke up with titus danforth this morning. by nightfall you’re running through his family’s forest with a seven-minute head start and one rule: if he catches you before sunrise, you marry him.

the devil's favorite by @hirukochan In all the years Titus had been alive, no woman had ever captured his attention like you did. Titus could not explain it, he just knew, from the second he first met you, he needed you like air. And he'd move heaven and hell if necessary to get you. Not his father, not yours, not the Lawyer, Mr Le Bail or his demons he had watching over you could ever stop him.

the lottery by @thatcorporategirlie You return to the estate after learning Chester has fallen ill, and learn that the beginning of a new game is about to unfold.

mrs. danforth by @rr-after-dark  As Titus Danforth's sugar baby, you don't know much of his secretive, wealthy lifestyle. But when he accidentally gets you pregnant with a potential Danforth heir, it's decided that you'll be joining the family. There's no manual as you're plunged into their world of extravagance and violence.

hazard pay by @spikedfearn The Danforth estate was built to swallow screams, and tonight you’re the one cleaning up what the hunt leaves behind. When Titus Danforth arrives bleeding, furious, and far too aware of your hands on him, the private medical room becomes its own kind of trap.

"You kept me up all night." you teased. "Not complaining, but I need at least another hour."

Andrew leaned to the side of the bed, checking the clock on the bedside table to confirm the time. "It's 6. We got til 7 til we gotta get up and get Lena to school. I think Baz and Lucy just left her here last night."

"Assholes." you said, referring to Baz and his girlfriend. "But he gets a pass for getting my Andrew back home to me."

He twitched at that. Your Andrew. Those weren't words he'd ever heard paired together. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge them either, knowing he'd probably say something stupid or mess up and make it so you never said them again. And he wanted you to say it again, wanted it to be a fact of life. Because he was your Andrew. The events of the past few days only confirmed it.

"I'll get up." you groaned, earning a matching groan from him when you left his arms, beginning the trek to get up.

When you stood up from the bed, stretching, making noises that confused Andrew's body, he looked to you, taking in the sight of your nude body as you got up to pick up his clothes that he'd given you off the bedroom floor. Meanwhile, he admired you, shifting on his side to get a better view of you, feeling a little perverted, but encouraged to keep staring when you smiled teasingly at him, making a show of walking around to purposely rile him up.

"Gonna shower before we go drop Lena off at school. I'll take some clothes from your closet til I can go back to Deran's to change."

He sat up, hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and nodding.

"Yeah, okay. I'll, uh, I'll go make us some breakfast."

But you walked back to him, rerouting from your path to the restroom and pulling at his arm as he sat against the bedframe.

"Or," you dragged the consonant. "you could take a shower with me. Saves water and all."

You took a few steps back, his hand still on yours, lightly pulling him closer to getting up.

"That's ... that could be dangerous."

"I live life on the edge." you joked, forcing a small chuckle out of him, you giggling along.

In the end, he could never say no to you. Specially not as he saw you standing there, naked, looking to him with a teasing glint in your eyes, lower lip trapped by your frontal teeth. And so he stood up, sheets falling off his body and leaving him just as nude as you.

As he warmed up the water for you, you brushed your teeth, shameless as you eyed his backside through the mirror and winking at him when he caught your eyes on him. He looked down, blinking hard a few times before joining you in brushing your teeth.

Finished, you made your way to the shower, opening and closing the clear glass door as you allowed the steamy water to dampen your skin, arching your back as it rained down all over you and giving Andrew what felt like a life-ruining view from the mirror.

He spit out his toothpaste, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and marching to the shower, harshly opening the door and slamming it shut before cornering you against the shower wall, welcomed immediately by your arms and by your tongue, which wrapped around his within half a second of his mouth being on yours.

Greedy hands rubbed at your skin, antsy and frustrated first thing in the morning. One hand wrapped around your thigh, wrapping it around his waist while the other held onto your hip, making sure you had a good foundation and wouldn't slip on the wet floor.

This was the fourth time within the past 48 hours in which Andrew had had you naked and at his mercy, hard dick weeping at a chance to find a home inside you. But he'd quickly learned that he just couldn't help himself around you. Just one look from you, one tilt of your head or one bite of your lip and his fingers burned to be on you, to mead the skin of your hips, grip your thighs and fold you in whichever way necessary to make space for himself inside you.

He continued kissing you, hips rolling against your own, killing his own sanity as he ground into you, hardness pressing onto your weeping cunt, creating a friction that had you gasping his name into his lips. The stream of water made it so he could enjoy your sounds without worrying that J and Nicky would hear you from the other room attached to the bathroom.

"Please, Andrew." you licked his lips, nibbling at the bottom one, dragging a grunt out of him. "Want you to fuck me. Please?"

"I will." he promised, tongue trailing down your jaw, moving onto the water droplets on your neck. "Just give me a second."

You let him have his fun, let him suck hickeys all over your chest, bite you to the point he almost drew blood. You let him scratch at your skin, leaving red marks on your legs and hips as his hips began losing control during the torturous grind he'd set. You let him have anything he wanted, rewarding him with sighs of his name, with hands playing with his hair, with your hips matching his rhythm.

"Turn around." he said after he'd had his fill, strong hands already working you to face away from him before you could do it yourself. "I want you like this."

A whine left you, as if him wanting you was something you just couldn't handle. He still couldn't understand that reaction, couldn't understand why you wanted him as much as he did you (and he still wasn't convinced that was really possible). But he pushed those thoughts aside, grabbing onto his dick and pressing into your opening, sighing your name when you arched your back, pushing your hips back, showing him how much you wanted him.

"Oh, god, Andrew ..." you cried, and Andrew wished he could see the look on your face now, could see your eyes rolling back in the way he'd gotten to witness a few times already just mere hours ago.

"I know." he grunted, forehead digging through your hair and landing on your shoulder, heavy breath landing against your skin.

He began hammering into you then, groaning as you'd push back against him.

Without meaning to, he lost himself in it, pushing you harder against the glass, making your hands fall off the glass and lay to your sides, your breasts now pressed up against it and his thrusts making it vibrate with the intensity in which he fucked into you. His grunts and your whines filled up the room, overpowering the stream of the shower hitting the floor.

Cries of his name left your lips, growing louder by the second. His eyes rolled back at the sound, at the feel of you squeezing around him, begging he keep going, begging he fill you up and mark you as his again and again.

"Is it good? Huh? Tell me." he huffed out.

"S-so good, Andrew." you moaned. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't stop. I need- need you to- Oh, oh fuck, Andrew."

He groaned one last time, letting go, releasing in you for the nth time since you'd first let him get his hands on you. A broken cry left him, head burying in your shoulder and biting there again.

Desperately, his hand rounded your body, index and middle fingers reaching between your legs and finding your clit, circling it harshly in eight's so he could get you there with him.

And when you came, you cried his name again, fogging the glass in front of you, smearing it with drool and purring when he gasped at the way in which you squeezed him as you came.

It took a few moments for the two of you to catch your breaths, but Andrew immediately turned you back around, chest still contracting and relaxing deeply as he leaned into you and kissed your forehead, mumbling soft words to you.

"Wasted a lot of water there, huh?"

"Yeah." he chuckled. "Bad for the environment."

"But good for me." you rebutted, reaching behind him to grab his shampoo. "Can I use this? Wanna smell like you."

You said it so casually, making him swallow before he nodded. He stepped aside, giving you some space to rummage through his things in the shower, which you did freely. Grabbing the things you were going to use, you turned back to him with a grin.

"C'mon, turn around. I'm gonna wash your hair first."

"You don't have to do that-"

You shook your head, petulant. "I've been itching to get my hands on those curls. Please?" you dragged the 'e', batting your lashes at him and giggling when he nodded reluctantly.

The two of you spent about half an hour in there, washing each other's hair, gathering suds of soap on each others bodies and sharing a few kisses in between.

Your fingers on his hair had him in heaven. The occasional kiss landed on his back, on his shoulders, making his eyes flutter shut due to the softness behind your every touch. He almost felt himself falling asleep as he stood there, taking your every affectionate caress and purring when you started humming some tune, filling up the otherwise silent bathroom.

By 7:08, the two of you were ready to start the day, with you heading over to wake Lena while Andrew made a quick breakfast for the two of you, being talked into making some extra for his brother when you walked in and kissed his cheek, taking pity on a hungover Deran lounging nearby.

➽──────────────────❥

As it usually went in Andrew's life, things couldn't stay as serene as they'd been that morning for long.

He had a true first taste of what a domestic life would feel like. He'd woken up with the love of his life in his arms, being kissed and touched as you practically begged him to fuck you. He'd made breakfast for his family, having you jokingly feed him a pastry and kissing the smeared jelly off his lip. He'd driven Lena to school, with you on the passenger seat while he listened to the two of you talk, giggling with each other.

And then he'd arrived home, opening your door and leading you off the car reluctantly as he spotted the police officers waiting for the two of you there.

At first he'd believed it was some benign issue. Maybe last night's party had gotten too loud. Maybe a neighbor had complained.

But it wasn't that.

Baz was dead.

His voice shook as he asked for confirmation, his body trembling and only finding fortitude when your hand reached out to him, holding onto his arm as the officers spoke to you, offering some silent support as you also took in the news.

Andrew wanted to break down, wanted to scream, break something, take his anger out on the messengers, to make matters even worse by losing his mind. But you provided an anchor for him, worried eyes and frowny lips showing him your concern, but not voicing it, giving him space to feel everything he needed to feel without attempting to deter his emotions.

With you, he rushed to wake Nicky up, being perhaps meaner than he needed to be as he dragged her along with the two of you into his truck and went to look for J, asking you to call Deran and Craig as he drove J back to the house for a family meeting.

"How?" Deran asked, distraught.

You all gathered together in the living room, with the exception of Craig, who had run off to Mexico with Renn sometime the previous night.

"Cops only said he'd been ... he'd been shot."

"By who?"

"They didn't say."

"You didn't ask?" Deran raised his voice, though you knew it was out of sadness rather than frustration.

"Of course I asked!" Andrew yelled.

"Baz is dead?" Nicky whispered, shocked, sad.

"Where's Craig?" Andrew had been kept out of the loop.

"He took off last night with some money and the Scout."

"You try calling him?" Andrew paced around the room, not knowing where to look, where to stop.

"Yeah. He's on his way to Mexico. Probably doesn't have any service."

J interrupted. "Did he leave around the same time Baz got shot?"

This caused both Andrew and Deran to halt, avert their eyes and look to J with disdain in them.

"What's that supposed to mean, J?" you could hear the grit in Deran's voice.

"He didn't mean it like that." you finally interjected, getting up from the couch and stepping towards Andrew, holding his hand wordlessly.

"Yeah, well."

"You need to find Craig. They could be looking for him too." Andrew warned, hand squeezing yours.

"Who's coming for Craig?" Nicky's tone was worried, exasperated.

"Smurf is in jail for killing Javi, sweetie. You don't think his crew's gonna have something to say about that?"

The room fell silent at Andrew's cold intonation, everyone growing more worried by the second. The silence was sharp, bitter, making your heart race and the feeling of dread gnaw at you.

"What about Lucy?" Deran wondered out loud.

Andrew ignored him, looking down on him from his spot sitting on the couch. "Find Craig now."

Later in the day, all the brothers were called down to the police's station, the requirement of individual interviews coming up due to the nature of Baz's death. You remained quiet through it all, not knowing how to comfort Andrew, feeling inadequate at Deran's icy glare.

It was a strange feeling, feeling so out of place as the two men mourned their brother, as J shared your inadequacy, never having been too close to Baz. They discussed theories of Baz's death in front of you, clashing with each other about what to do with Smurf, how to get revenge from whoever killed Baz, who'd take care of Lena.

But looking at Andrew, you knew that in the end all these burdens would likely fall on him. You knew that no matter how much you cared for your friend Deran, how much you'd grown to respect J, that Andrew carried a big weight as the eldest brother. In your eyes you could see his worries, sharing his dread for what was to come next in Lena's life.

You gave him space, not wanting to be too much for him at that moment. While Andrew planned his next move, you went to Deran, hugging him, kissing his cheek, caressing his hair and silently crying at your friend's sadness. He'd told you to do the same for Pope. That he'd need it once he fully processed what happened.

When Andrew asked you to stay home with Nicky while he and his brothers went to give their statements, as he went to tail J as he visited Smurf, you agreed, not many words exchanged between you.

He was acting cold, detached. It made you feel out of place, gave you whiplash from how affectionate he'd been just a few hours prior. But you understood. You held your ground, kissing his cheek, hugging him and telling him you were sorry for his loss, that you were there for whatever he needed.

And when it came to be the afternoon and Andrew came home from picking up Lena, you found yourself agreeing at his request that you move in with him to Baz's apartment. Something about Lena wanting to stay there, liking her home and him wanting to give her that stability now that both her parents were gone.

He'd been shy about it, easy to read in how he was beating himself up about it, likely thinking himself an inconvenience.

"I ... I know it's soon." he started. "I know we've only been together for- not for long." but then he corrected himself. "I don't even know if we're together-"

You interrupted, grabbing his hand. "Hey." he looked to you then. "We're together. And I'll go. I'll tell Deran I'm moving out and I'll go stay with you and Lena."

Andrew swallowed, looking down.

"Are you sure? If it's too much, I understand."

Shaking your head, you smiled at him again, light, small. "It's not too much. We'll do this together, okay?"

He kissed you then, for the first time since you'd left the bathroom together that morning. He sighed against your lips, letting himself get a little more carried away than he'd hoped before forcing himself to pull away.

"I love you." was the last thing he said before grabbing your hand and leading you to his car.

➽──────────────────❥

Six months passed since Baz's death.

Six months since you and Andrew took up the responsibility of raising Lena yourselves.

Six months since you'd been holed up in Baz's old apartment, playing the domestic game of a family together as you tried to keep Lena afloat.

Six months since Andrew had been dealing with his grief, trying and failing to find out who'd killed his brother.

The two of you struggled to keep Lena from wallowing in her grief, something she was still too young to really understand. Getting bullied at school over her family's reputation, she stayed up all night, didn't eat, refused to go to school. And you took on the responsibility of being there for her, becoming the closest thing to a maternal figure and as much of a friend to her as you could be.

After getting her into a private school, Andrew would begin disappearing during the days, spending a few hours parked outside as he waited for her day to finish, the rest being used up in investigating Baz's murder.

The domestic bliss was dystopian at times, not what you'd pictured, and Andrew could tell. Yet he couldn't help himself in becoming obsessive with every issue that began to arise. Smurf still didn't know about you, which was the only silver lining in his life.

Things began to look up after Lena settled into her private school, somewhere around the same time Craig came back from Mexico and J started lining up new jobs for them. Things were still muddled, with too many issues left to fix for Andrew to count, but as he came back home with well-earned money in his pocket, finding you with his shirt on and cooking dinner for him, he couldn't help but see the good in life.

In the past six months of living together, Andrew became a little better at physical affection. He was still a little awkward, not knowing when it was acceptable for him to touch you (always) or how it was acceptable to touch you (in any way), but you'd always smile at him, eyes wrinkling in amusement at how he'd fumble even after all this time.

He approached you from behind, mumbling a low 'hey' as he pondered whether or not to do that things couples did where the guy would come up behind the girl as she cooked, wrap his arms around her and press up against her. It seemed domestic, like the type of thing he'd be expected to do (and the type of thing he craved to do), but he faltered halfway, instead reclining against the counter.

But you weren't like him.

Instead of taking a simple 'hey' and welcoming him home with one in return, you turned down the heat of the burners, turning around and meeting him where he stood, placing your arms on his shoulders before sneaking them back to the back of his head, finding the curls there and tugging at them softly. You leaned up for a kiss, humming when he tried to pull away and licking his lip for an entrance.

"Missed you today." you mumbled between kisses, sighing when he finally let his guard down and laid his hands on your waist, light hold as if he was already pushing it.

Your hands moved his own down to your ass, chuckling when he grunted at it, mumbling that he'd missed you too, but barely able to get the words out between kisses.

"Job go well?"

He nodded. "Yeah. J came up with a good one today."

"That's good. You look like you're in a good mood."

"I wasn't, actually. The guys are still fighting. But I feel better now."

You smiled, biting your lip. "What, cause you came home to me?"

"Yeah."

You kissed him again, a little harder now, purposely moaning into his mouth just to get a reaction out of him and succeeding when his fingers flexed, squeezing at the meat of your ass. Pulling him closer, you arched into him, licking his mouth and murmuring his name when his tongue sucked on yours, creating a squelching sound that had your legs pressing together.

"Let me ... let me take you to our room." he interrupted, mumbling a couple of words in between kisses, unable to fully separate from you.

"What if I want it here?"

You were teasing. You knew of Andrew's aversion to disorder, well aware that fucking in the kitchen was something he just could not bring himself to do. It was something that'd be deeply uncomfortable for him, but he knew you were teasing, knew you liked to rile him up a little, to get things going by making him fight with himself before he could truly have you.

"It's dirty. Sex shouldn't be had in the kitchen."

One last kiss was delivered to his lips, with one following in tandem on his nose, and one on his chin.

"Then take me to bed, handsome."

With minimal effort, he lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he took a few steps towards the stove and turned off the burner before dragging you along to your shared bedroom. There, he laid you down at the edge of the bed, not hovering over you as per usual, but instead kneeling on the floor, looking up at you with hooded eyes, with his chest heaving as he struggled to control himself.

It never took long for you to break him down into this state, into a mindless mess that sought out your body like a lifeline. One look, one touch, was all he needed to lose himself and seek pleasure from your body like his life depended on it. And everything about you gave him pleasure. He could bury himself between your legs for hours, meet his completion inside his boxers as he rocked his hips into the mattress while you cried his name. He could hammer into you with endless need, reach his end as you dragged your nails down his back. Or sometimes he could lay back, falling victim to your seduction, to the breathy whispers against his ear begging that he let you take him in your mouth, arguing against all his refusals (refusals born out of low self esteem, out of feeling like he didn't deserve that sort of self-serving pleasure) and whimper your name as you toyed at him for hours on end, only letting him cum after tears dampened his cheeks.

Even as he'd grown used to the carnal bliss you gave him time and time again, Andrew could never handle how you made him feel. Even now as he knelt before you, hard and bursting through his pants while he stared up at your bare thighs, — your shirt having already been thrown off as he reminisced of every time you'd filled these walls with cries of each other's names — he groaned as he lowered his lips down to your foot, one hand holding onto your foot and holding your ankle up to his mouth.

You were sitting up, looking down at him with a lustful heaviness in your eyes. You inhaled deeply when he began kissing up the length of your legs, sucking hickeys all throughout it, not caring about the atypical spots in which he was leaving marks (next to your ankle, your calves, your thighs). He got off in knowing he could have you losing your breath with kisses in non-erogenous zones, losing his own at every sigh that left your lips, silently begging for more.

"You've been so patient with me." he whispered between kisses to your thighs. "You've put up with too much." every few words were punctured with a kiss, a suck, a lick.

His hands gripped your legs, sitting up on his knees and lips reaching your panties while your eyes fluttered.

"You're everything to me." he kissed your cunt then, tongue sneaking out and licking at your clit through the lace of your panties.

"You're everything." you whined, brain already empty as you corrected him.

Andrew groaned, burying his head in your cunt, licking harshly at you despite the fabric and rubbing his nose against your clit. It took him a while to grow desperate enough to lick you raw, ripping off your underwear carelessly, breathing you in deeply when he finally had your cunt right in front of him.

His hands reached up, grabbing your hips and scooting you over closer, looking up at you as he licked, eyes begging silently, hoping you understood what he wanted.

And you did. You needed no words to understand Andrew, just as you always had.

Your grip on his hair tightened as your hips gyrated against his face, practically riding his tongue. This provided Andrew with the prettiest view, with your mouth agape and your eyes rolled back, a hand on his hair and the other rubbing at your nipple. Andrew whimpered against you, cried your name despite knowing it'd get muffled by your cunt.

"Oh, f-fuck, Andrew ... That's it, that's so- Oh ..."

Cries of his name filled up the room, and then he lost his mind. He gripped at your hips again, sitting up straighter and pushing you to lie back on the bed, head now hovering over your cunt as he tongued at it with a complete lack of finesse. He shook his head back and forth, licked in patterns, out of patterns, rubbed your clit, lined your entrance, he did everything that his lust-filled heart wished to at that moment, stealing an orgasm from you without bothering to stop.

"Andrew, baby, that's- that's enough. I can't-"

"Please." he mumbled, almost inaudible.

And he was taking advantage, really.

He knew by now that you had a hard time saying no to him. It was rare for him to use this privilege, to even ask for something from you, but he couldn't help himself in this moment.

You'd been the first light in his life ever since Julia had been taken away from him, ever since Cath's rejection really dawned on him and he'd been made to get rid of her. You were the only person he'd ever loved like this, the only thing he needed to exist. He'd grown to a point where he knew that he could take anything coming his way as long as he had you, the one and only person who looked forward to seeing him, who kissed him goodnight and couldn't fall asleep unless he laid beside you.

At some point during his internal monologue, he'd began humping the bed, aggressively pressing his hardness against it as his hands gripped you with a bruising capacity. He was groaning into your cunt, creating a mess of your juices and his saliva while you screamed his name above him.

You couldn't speak anymore. No words left you, making Andrew lightheaded at realizing that his name was the one and only thing you remembered while in complete delirium.

When you came a second time, he followed right behind you, almost biting at you at the sudden burst of pleasure, the liquid squirting inside his pants and making him grunt at the feeling. But it was really the last thing on his mind. It wasn't something he could concern himself with at the moment because, see, Andrew could be pretty one-track minded sometimes, and right now you were the only thing on his mind.

He crawled up to you, well aware by now of how touchy you'd get after orgasming, finding you already stretching your arms towards him and making grabby hands while you attempted to catch your breath.

"C'mere, Andrew. Wanna taste."

He landed on you, mouth first and tongue ready to be received by yours. Even with his aversion to germs, he couldn't find it in himself to mind the mixture of fluids being exchanged by you at that moment. Instead of feeling antsy, his eyes rolled back as you suckled shamelessly at his tongue, moan vibrating against him when you caught a taste of yourself.

"Go change your pants, handsome. I know you're probably itching at the feeling."

"Sorry." he gave you a light smile. "I wanted to do it with you, just-"

"Don't apologize. It was hot." you bit his lip one last time before getting up with him, guiding him to the bathroom with a silent promise to help him wash up.

➽──────────────────❥

The following day hadn't gone as well for Andrew.

He'd had his usual routine, one that you'd grown used to sharing with him, tending to it every morning with little variation in between.

Andrew knew he had some issues, that he was unlike others when it came to order. He knew he could be hard to deal with, just a little too intense when it came to the simpler things.

But you'd never once expressed any dislike towards any of his habits. You'd never questioned him for anything other than clarification, wondering why he liked his sandwiches made a specific way and copying his method next time around, joining him when he folded his clothes and asking him to teach you his method, allowing him to make the bed every morning to his liking, giving him a kiss on the cheek accompanied by a 'thank you' for taking on the task every time.

And today, he'd done the same thing, receiving his kiss and heading out with you and Lena, dropping her off at school before leaving you at Deran's bar and heading his own way for some other job orchestrated by J.

The job went as well as most others, with very minimal issues and a large sum of money acquired by the end. And as per usual, they'd all decided to head back to the house for a celebratory meal, one which you'd offered to cook since Smurf was now gone from the house.

But before Andrew could walk inside, bask in the fact that he had a girl that was crazy about him waiting for him and his brothers with food on the table, he was met with an unknown car parked in the driveway.

The person that stepped out of it was Billy.

Billy, as in Deran's deadbeat dad.

Immediately, Andrew grew angry, yelling at him to get the hell out of his property, practically threatening his life in the process.

None of his brothers had any idea who he was, having been too young to recognize his face from the incredibly short amount of time he'd been around. This meant that Andrew was the only person present who was aware of Billy's heinous behavior while he was just a kid. He was the only one who knew of the endless times in which Smurf had to kick him out, of the shady men he brought around that caused trouble for Julia, of the time in which he'd locked him in a closet for three days.

But even with his anger and insistence he be kicked to the curve, his brothers were reluctant, Deran too curious about his dad and Craig just bored and nosy. J was indifferent, and you were angry along with Andrew as soon as you'd caught wind of the way he'd treated your boyfriend when he was a kid.

Sadly, it was three votes against two, meaning Billy did stick around for longer than Andrew would've liked. Him, and his companion Frankie, who Craig had gained interest on upon laying eyes on her.

Things only got worse for Andrew as DCFS started to snoop around Lena's life, questioning her, raiding your shared home, making thinly-veiled threats of taking her away. All while Deran made plans for a job with Billy, a job that required an extra man, meaning that Deran was eyeing you for the task, creating even more tension in Andrew's life.

That's how you found yourself driving a truck of cargo for them a few days later, agreeing to participate as long as you didn't have to do anything overtly illegal. Andrew was still bothered by it all, but your presence helped him despite the general worry of things going wrong and implicating you with their crimes.

You were driving contraband — as in hollow basinets in which Deran and J would hide, waiting for you to deliver them onto a cargo plane that would then take them to their final destination. After you finished your part, Andrew picked you up on his truck, driving Billy and Craig along as you all headed towards the final meeting point in the middle of the desert.

You sat in the back, diagonal to Andrew as he drove, next to Billy and behind Craig.

"You do any funny shit and I'll kill you." Andrew had warned Billy as soon as he saw him eyeing you, bothered you'd be sitting in the back with him, but knowing Craig was more needed at the front, more experienced.

"Damn, Pope. This your girl? Didn't think you had it in you."

All you could do was ignore him, look out the window and try not to laugh when Billy had reached to the front to turn on some music, only to have his hand slapped away by Andrew, being threatened with getting thrown off the car if he tried again.

At some point you parked, getting out of the car with Andrew as you waited, attempting to calm him as he argued with Billy about benign things, some of which grew more serious as they both irritated one another further.

"Remember the time you lit a fire in the RV?" Billy chuckled, wiping his sunglasses as he paced around in boredom.

"Oh, I remember a lot of things, man. A lot of things."

Billy groaned, as if already fed up of Andrew. "Jesus Christ, like what?"

"Like the time you locked me in a closet and you went to score and you forgot about me for three days?"

You interrupted, scoffing at Billy. "What the fuck? Why would you do that to a kid?"

Andrew shook his head in disbelief, annoyed to relive it.

"Okay, first of all, that never happened." Billy started. "It was a day and a half. But I was a kid, what'd you want me to do?" he continued to pace around while you and Andrew leaned back against the car, Craig napping inside it.

"I was the kid. You were ... You were an adult. You were ... You were 25." Andrew grew exasperated, likely the outcome Billy wanted.

"Yeah, well, technically, the male brain doesn't mature until age 26, okay? So we were both kids."

"I guess you haven't gotten there yet, have you Billy?" you interjected, rolling your eyes at him.

Before he could respond, you grabbed Andrew's hand, taking him away from what was clearly an stressor for him and guiding him to the car with you. Billy continued complaining outside, only getting back into the car to ask Craig if he had some oxy or some blow to kill the time.

Your wait lasted longer than expected, with J calling you guys up and telling you their side of the plan had a detour, that they'd landed at the wrong spot and needed you guys to drive all the way over there, round the mountain past over 60 miles and pick them up from there.

Annoyed at having to share the car with Billy for longer than expected, you bit your tongue, hoping Billy would do the same and leave Andrew alone.

But his silence lasted mere seconds, with him insisting he needed a stop, that he needed to score, or maybe make a pit stop so he could have a few minutes with a hooker to take the edge off. Through the whole ordeal, he and Andrew argued, with Craig annoyingly taking Billy's side in wanting to stop for a piss, or to join Billy in scoring some drugs.

"Yeah, right, he doesn't mind if you piss your pants." Billy started once again when Andrew refused to pull over. "Cause he was in diapers till he was 6." he cackled, enjoying the humiliation he was dawning on Andrew. "God, I remember that like it was yesterday. The doctor said he was regressing."

You could see Andrew's form still from the rearview mirror, posture erect and eyes looking down, likely avoiding meeting anyone's through the reflection. And then Billy continued.

"Personally ... I think it was cause he liked the feeling of Smurf's hands between his legs."

That's when you tensed. You side-eyed Billy, not daring look to him directly, but still eyeing him with anger from your peripheral vision. You felt bile forming in your liver traveling all the way your esophagus and burning at you to burst, felt yourself start to fume at Billy's insistence in humiliating Andrew. Beneath you, your fingers graced at the knife Deran had given you before you'd departed from home, telling you he didn't want you carrying a firearm just yet, but insistent you keep at least one concealed weapon just in case.

You didn't feel anything as you considered your options, anger taking over while you looked to Andrew, taking note of the tight grip he had on the steering wheel. Craig laughing along didn't help matters.

It was when Andrew's embarrassed eyes found yours in the rearview mirror that you really felt like you were about to blow up. He looked away immediately, the car's path wavering slightly, a clear indication that what Billy was saying was getting to his head.

Billy nudged your shoulder with his, urging you to join in on the laughter. "I'm serious. I can't tell you how many times I was banging their mom and we'd feel like somebody was watching us. We'd look up and there'd be Pope. Little Pope just staring at us without even blink- Argh, fuck!"

You couldn't really explain what came over you as you did it, but before you could even consider it, you'd already pulled out the knife from it's hidden spot under the leg of your jeans, bringing it up swiftly and cutting a straight, vertical line down Billy's thigh, deep enough to cut his pants and draw blood out of it — Hell, deep enough it was likely to require stitches.

At that same moment, Andrew swerved the car, coming to an abrupt halt as you all held onto yourselves to not slam your heads against the car seats due to the rapid and sudden movement.

"What the fuck was that, you crazy bitch?" Billy hissed, hands coming to his thigh and pressing on the blood there.

You didn't respond, ripping off your seatbelt and stepping out of the car, your door slamming in the process. Andrew did the same, though instead of rounding the car as you had, he went straight to Billy's seat, pulling the door open and fisting at his shirt, dragging him out before slamming him against the side of the truck. You were standing beside him within seconds, knife still in hand.

"Woah woah, everybody calm down!" Craig said from his seat, peeking back to look at the commotion but not getting off the car.

"Talk to her like that again. I dare you." Andrew huffed, almost nose to nose with Billy.

"You control your bitch. Do you see what she did to me? What, am I not supposed to defend myself when your psycho bitch goes after me like- God, Fuck!"

A punch landed straight to Billy's abdomen, interrupting the spit-filled sermon he'd been delivering. He keeled over, but was immediately slammed back against the car by Andrew.

"Do it. Beat my ass, Billy." you dared him. "Deran will kill you. He'd run you over like roadkill before he let you touch a hair on my head." you looked to him with disdain. "That's if Andrew doesn't do it first."

"You cunt-"

"Yeah, I wouldn't say that if I were you." could be heard from Craig from his spot inside the car.

No more words were exchanged as Andrew's fingers tightened back up around the bunched fabric of Billy's collar, dragging him and pushing him with enough strength he tripped and fell on the sandy field of the desert. Quickly, he led you back to your seat, pushing Billy down once more when he tried to get up and proceeding to get back to the driver's seat, driving away as he ignored the expletives yelled out by Billy as he created distance between you.

When you arrived to the meeting spot, you found J and Deran being dropped off by some unknown woman, questioning her presence until being told to shut up by the latter and letting the two boys into the car.

"Where's Billy?" Deran asked as soon as he settled in beside you, with J to the other side of you.

"He was being an asshole so Pope threw him out." Craig explained.

"Are you kidding me?" Deran looked to you. "We can't do that, man."

You shrugged. "He called me a cunt. I'd say he got off easy."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, after you stabbed him." Craig chuckled.

Deran's eyebrows furrowed, "You what?"

"I didn't stab him, I cut him-"

"We have to go!"

"This is bullshit, we gotta go back for him. This is his job!"

You all spoke over each other, with Andrew interrupting in a low tone, "I told you the cops were onto us. Are you out of your mind?"

"Alright." J gave the final word. "It's fine, let's just go."

Deran sat back, clearly angry at the situation, eyes throwing daggers at the back of Andrew's head until you punched his leg, huffing at him.

It was uncharacteristic of you to act the way you had, and you knew that. But Billy was bad news. Not only was he bad news to Andrew, bringing back painful memories and unnecessarily going out of his way to put him down, but you also knew that on the long run, he'd be bad news to Deran too. He was just too blind to see that, with his mother now in jail and an unspoken want to get to know his father.

Getting back home, you made a stop at a storage unit, unbagging all the cargo from today, the near $1 million dollars the guys had scored on the job. The mood quickly lifted as the guys unloaded stack upon stack of cash from the bags.

"That's a good haul." Andrew praised, receiving a squeeze of his arm from you in silent congratulations.

"Hell yeah, that's a good haul."

"It's almost a million dollars!"

"It's almost 158 grand each." J calculated.

"No, it's 130 each. We're six, remember?" Andrew corrected, gesturing over to you.

You could see both J and Craig faltered at that, looking to each other with a hesitant look.

"Uhm, nah, it's 158 each. I'm not taking anything." you corrected, drawing all four pairs of eyes on you.

"What are you talking about? You helped, you deserve your share." Deran interjected.

You shook your head, eyeing the large stack of money, but not caring much for it otherwise.

"I only did this for Andrew. And, well, for you. I don't want any money."

They stayed silent for a second, looking to each other silently before J nodded, prompting the same response from Craig and Deran. Andrew remained pensive, a sort of frustrated look on his face.

"Listen, this will take a while to clean, so, how about we start with 9 grand cash each?" J suggested. "Here, at least take the 9 grand." he handed everyone a small stack, including you.

Taking it, you weighed it on your hand. It looked very small, comprised of 100 dollar bills, appearing to be less than what you'd expect that amount of cash to be.

You shook your head again, throwing it back onto the larger stack in the middle. "Give my 9k to Lena. I'm sure you guys must have some trust fund for her or something." you knew Andrew did, but you didn't want to be obvious in case the guys weren't aware. "Her parents are gone, you should put this aside for her."

Andrew cleared his throat, taking a quiet step closer to your side, hand silent as it reached yours, thumb running over the back of your palm. It was subtle, unnoticed by the guys as they each put away their money.

"She's right. She's family." Andrew reminded them.

They all looked uncomfortable by the implication, knowing this would create a pattern of cutting an extra share for Lena, but none of them said anything. You made a mental note to talk to Deran about it later.

-

After dropping you and Deran off at the bar, Andrew kissed you goodbye, heading back to the Cody house with the other boys. You didn't really like staying there, considering it enemy territory, still unwilling to be associated with Smurf in any way even during her absence. Andrew understood.

You hung around the bar for a while, until you spotted Deran walking to the back with Billy, who had somehow made it back to civilization after you'd left him stranded back at the desert.

As you walked into the kitchen of the bar, you heard their conversation, not caring to eavesdrop and instead just walking in.

"—a little piece of, you know, fatherly advice. You guys shouldn't do any more stuff with Pope, dude. He's- he's crazier than he's ever been, dude. He's gonna get you guys killed."

You rolled your eyes, making your steps louder so he'd hear you coming.

"How's the leg, Billy?"

He groaned to Deran when he saw you walk in.

"Or this psycho. Did she tell you what she did to me? This crazy bitch and her boyfriend?"

Deran sighed, frustrated, not really caring about the gash on Billy's thigh he'd spotted when he walked into the bar. There was some dry blood on it, but Deran could tell it was a superficial cut, nothing serious.

"Don't talk about her like that, man. From what I'm hearing you deserved it." it was his subtle way of defending you against his dad. He didn't like to take sides, on anything really, but he made sure you knew he wasn't against what you'd done.

"Also." he turned to you. "Smurf's back from jail. I'd steer clear of the house for a while. She'll lose her shit when she finds out Pope's dating someone."

Your eyes widened. The name alone making you groan internally, already looking into the future and all the dumb shit that was about to unfold due to her return. You'd never met her, and you'd never wanted to. Being friends with Deran didn't give you any reason to get to know her, seeing as they all had friends they kept out of her reach. Even being close to him hadn't made your paths cross.

But you were now best friends with her youngest while dating her eldest. There was now a ticking time bomb until you were forced to be in her vicinity.

Things only got worse for Andrew upon Smurf's return. He pulled away from you once the DSFC dropped in on you a day after your return from the job, deciding it was in Lena's best interest if she were placed with a foster family. This on its own destroyed a fundamental part of what your lives had been for the past six months. It made Andrew spiral, with him out of the house at most times, arriving home after you were in bed and only mumbling something about how he'd been looking for Lena all day when he'd return.

You gave it a week before giving up on giving him space. You were worried about him, about Lena. And you really seemed like the only person who shared these concerns. From your understanding, not even Smurf was up to date (nor interested) with what was happening to Andrew.

And so you went to look for him at Smurf's.

Deran had begged you not to, saying that as soon as you met Smurf, your relationship with Andrew would never know peace again. He'd made sure Smurf never knew of Adrian, never allowed her close enough to poison the relationship.

When you got there, having the door opened to you by Frankie, you walked into the pool area. There was some commotion.

There was Andrew right on top of Billy, beating him to a pulp. You saw Andrew shove Billy's head into the pool water, saw Billy pull out a blade and saw Andrew smack it right out of his hand. Everyone gathered to watch, silent and in shock.

J spotted you, and so did Frankie and Craig, but you could only pay attention to Smurf, who had a smile on her lips as she watched her son beat her ex boyfriend to near death.

And just when Andrew was about to land a punch straight at Billy's nose, you spoke up, uttering his name and immediately halting his actions.

"Andrew."

Everyone looked to you then, even Smurf, whose smile dropped and eyes narrowed in your direction.

Andrew got up, landing one last kick at Billy before walking your way only to be received by your open arms.

"Go on boys. Get the groceries from the car." Smurf broke the silence, eyes still on you as you joined the guys in unloading the trunk.

➽──────────────────❥

Smurf hadn't quite acknowledged you just yet, but things were slowly falling right back into place for her.

She'd taken Andrew for a drive, making a few calls and finding out where Lena's foster home was, getting Andrew right back under her thumb with just that bit of information. The same had happened with Deran, whose father had robbed him of his safe at the bar, causing a distressed Deran to come back home for the time being.

You joined Deran and Andrew, staying at their house, steering clear of Smurf under their request, but still having to deal with the looks of annoyance she'd throw your way. She didn't bother much with the facade of niceties she usually pulled, having figured you out as Andrew's girlfriend from the moment your call of his name had been enough to get him to calm down — a skill only ever before being possessed by Julia and Smurf.

"How long you staying here for, sweetie?" she'd asked one day, flipping a pancake.

"For as long as Andrew's here, if that's okay with you." you decided to be civil despite how much you already hated her from mere word of mouth.

"Any of Andrew's friends are our friends." she'd said with a saccharine tone that made you sick.

The reality was that she had bigger fish to fry at that moment. You were a temporary problem she'd be dealing with after she dealt with Lucy and her crew.

She'd been pushing at her sons and grandson to work on Lucy and her guys, trying to convince them that they'd killed Baz and that they'd stolen the money Baz had stolen from her. Somehow she'd been able to make them believe that she'd kept that money as insurance for them, and that Baz had stolen it and hidden it with plans to run away with Lucy to Mexico. You knew it was a partial truth, but were still grateful the guys were at least apprehensive of her words, that they wouldn't fall blind victims to her lies.

But even then, Smurf was able to get them involved in her schemes without much effort.

She'd hired Pete's guys to track down Lucy's brother, Marcos, kidnapping him and using him as leverage to get her to give back the 1.4 million dollars she'd stolen in exchange for his safety.

And just like that, they'd agreed on a time and place to meet. The guys were reluctant, equipping themselves with bulletproof vests and hidden weapons just in case. The job was a simple yet deadly one, which led to your insistence in going.

"The hell you are." Andrew scoffed when you'd suggested it.

"Andrew, I'm not waiting at home to get a call that my boyfriend got killed in a shoot out. I'm going."

You were in the living room of the house while all the guys packed up the truck with weapons. You'd pulled Andrew aside, telling him of your demands.

"Are you crazy? I don't even wanna go. I'm not putting you in harm's way. These guys are dangerous." he huffed, angry at the mere suggestion.

"I'll wait in the car, outside, a block away, I don't care. I'm going. I already spoke about it with Deran."

That was coincidentally when the rest of his family made it back into the living room, eyeing you curiously at your defiant stance. Smurf had an amused look in her eyes.

"What's up?" asked Deran, patting your shoulder absentmindedly as he passed by you on his way to the coffee table.

"The hell do you think you're doing telling her she can come?" Andrew growled at Deran.

Deran shrugged. "She can just wait in the car. We need someone manning the truck in case we need to run fast anyway."

"He's right, baby. Let her come. She wants to help, isn't that right?" Smurf interrupted, making Andrew narrow his eyes at her.

"Mind your own business, Smurf."

"Guys, this is just wasting time. Let's just go. She'll drive the getaway car if things get to that, okay? She did fine with the truck for Billy's job, it's fine." J surprisingly interjected.

You said nothing more, at least glad you could be there for Andrew, already making a promise with yourself that you'd be more present in his life, no matter how dangerous the things he got up to were.

Andrew continued to sulk, complaining and angry everyone would go against him like this, but in the end he had to force a nod, agree and move on.

-

Once there, Craig parked the truck inside the warehouse in which you'd all agreed to meet. You moved onto the driver's seat when they all got off, getting one last kiss from Andrew as he walked away from the car.

"If shit goes south, you just drive, okay? Leave me behind if you have to."

You shook your head. "Anything that happens to you happens to me."

He sighed, but understood you wouldn't change your mind and kissed your lips, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before joining his family as they waited for Lucy's men to arrive.

From your spot in the car, you couldn't really see much. They were all behind you, standing at a few feet away from Lucy and her men. You could, however, make out some of the words they exchanged. Your hands remained on the wheel, ready to go as soon as they got back into the car. It was unlikely you'd have to actually drive them away, as they were supposed to be able to collect their money and load it in the trunk calmly, but Deran and Craig had insisted you be prepared just in case.

They exchanged Marcos for the suitcases full of expensive jewelry, seemingly not having the entirety of the money owed to Smurf. You could see Andrew and Craig load them up into the trunk of the car as you waited for them to be done, but then there was a voice that suddenly broke out.

"You think this shit is over?" Marcos growled when one of their men took off his mouth gag. "I'm gonna blast all you punk asses tomorrow, watch!"

"Shut up, Marco!" Lucy yelled.

"You sicko bitch. You're done. All of you!"

Andrew was on his way to deliver the last bag into the trunk when Marco suddenly yelled again, pulling a gun out of the man's belt and shooting in Andrew's direction, causing him to fall.

You had no time to react before everyone started shooting, ducking while in the car as they began shooting at it, shooting at Smurf and J who'd jumped behind it to hide.

Craig and Deran pulled out guns, hiding behind anything they could find and shooting in Marcos' and Lucy's directions. Glass shattered from their bullets hitting the car, making you lay sideways across the front seats of the car to avoid getting hit.

Before anyone could process anything, Lucy's guys had already dragged Marcos, who'd been shot on the stomach by Craig after he'd shot Andrew, into their car. They drove away as Deran and Craig continued to shoot after them, and only when the guns seized were you able to get out of the driver's seat, rushing as you'd believed to have seen Andrew become collateral damage.

They all went to check in on each other, asking if everyone was okay, if anyone'd gotten hurt. Meanwhile, you looked around frantically, not even taking note of the various shards of glass that had cut your arms, some even your face. Your chest heaved as you began to hyperventilate, unable to spot Andrew anywhere.

"Where's Andrew?" you cried out, calling everyone's attention.

Deran knelt down, defeated while everyone else's eyes widened, gazes scouting the area but not spotting him anywhere.

"Where- where is he?" you asked again, hand clutching at your chest.

Deran went to you, holding onto you when he realized how heavily you were breathing, trying but failing at soothing you.

➽──────────────────❥

You all made it back home soon after that.

The driving had been left to Craig, as you were in no position to do so at the moment. Deran's passenger seat had been given to Smurf as he sat in the back with you, holding you while you muffled your cries for Andrew.

It had been hard for Deran to convince you to go back home. You'd been adamant, nearly hysterical in you screams to go get him back, to at least try and tail the car that had taken him. But they all saw reason better than you did at that moment. They'd done this before, knew that it was not only impossible to follow them, but also a waste of time. They knew that now you'd just have to wait.

You made it back to the Cody house, everyone quiet with remorse at what had happened. Some surely believing about the chance that Andrew might've been dead by now, having been shot and not treated, or perhaps that he'd been taken and tortured as revenge for Marcos.

They all argued with each other as soon as they sat in the living room. Craig immediately lost his cool, screaming about how they needed to go after him, that they needed to head to Mexico, to act now and get him back before they could begin hacking away at his limbs. Deran seemed more defeated, sitting you next to him as you practically dissociated, head lowered and tears still rolling down your cheeks. You said nothing while they yelled at each other, sat there completely defeated as anger brewed inside you when Craig brought up the reason they were in that situation in the first place.

Smurf.

"Stop. We're gonna get him back, but we need to keep our heads and think it through." she said to Craig.

You scoffed.

"Oh, think it through? Is that what you did when you went behind our backs and took Marco in the first place?" Craig argued back.

"I did that for the family and you know it."

"Oh, yeah, I bet you did." Craig was fuming, something you completely understood.

"Bullshit. This was about you." you interjected, looking to her with the most hatred your eyes could muster. She looked back in a similar fashion.

"You did this shit for you." Deran added, huffing.

"If we had let Lucy steal from us, we would be finished!"

"Finished?" you sneered back. "None of them wanted to do this in the first place! Not Craig, not Deran, not Andrew!"

"You watch your mouth." she warned.

"No, she's right, Smurf." Deran growled, getting up and walking towards her seat. "If Pope is dead. this is on you. This is on you!"

They continued yelling at each other, with Craig accusing J of knowing Lucy's guys while Smurf screamed at them to calm down. Deran kept quiet, but you could still see the anger in him. Eventually you all dispersed around the house, attempting to catch your cools in order to formulate a plan to get Andrew back.

It took hours until Smurf walked into the living room, finding you all sitting around, still fucked up by all that'd happened within the last few hours.

"I'm going to meet Lucy now. Alone." she spoke up. She looked completely destroyed, a look you were sure was brand new for her sons to see.

"Is Pope alive?" Deran asked.

"I don't know."

"I'm coming with you." Craig interjected, only to get shut down by Smurf.

"That's bullshit-"

"You can't go alone, Smurf. It's too dangerous." J reasoned.

But it all ended the same. No rebuttals from any of you could change her mind about going alone. And she was right to do so. There was no way Lucy or her men would ever let a third party interfere, so you all reluctantly agreed. Despite your heart beating right out of your chest, you stayed down, quietly sitting next to Deran as you watched Smurf leave.

It took hours for them to get back. You sat there for hours, rejecting every offer for a drink to ease your nerves coming from Craig and matching every pensive look J had adorning his face. The hours passed as you sat there, immovable, slowly trying to make peace with the fact that maybe Andrew would never come back, that the last words you'd spoken had been a lie.

'Anything that happens to you happens to me.'

Yet you'd remained inside the car, hidden, not even seeing when or where he'd gotten shot, having no idea he'd been taken until after the fact. You hated yourself for it. It was unrealistic to think you could've made any difference, but knowing that Andrew had been taken without a single person putting up a fight to prevent it made you sick to your stomach.

You ran to the bathroom to throw up, with Deran running after you and patting your back to offer you some comfort at what he knew was the worst moment of your life.

Once the sun had set, you finally heard a car pull up in the driveway. You'd stayed stationary in the living room all day, waiting and refusing to go to sleep when the guys had insisted, telling you they'd go get you when they came back. If you missed the moment he came back, you'd only beat yourself up about it even more than you'd already been doing. You couldn't even muster it within yourself to consider the possibility of Smurf returning alone.

The three of you stood by the entrance as the car parked, unable to make out if there was someone on the passenger's seat due to the headlights blaring in front of you.

But then the passenger door opened, and out came your Andrew.

His two brothers stood there as they watched him walk over, but you couldn't hold yourself back from running to him, arms wrapping around the back of his neck and bringing his head down to your shoulder, that space in the crook of your neck he always loved to nuzzle when you held him. His arms wrapped around you within seconds, engulfing you in his large frame while he breathed you in deeply.

"Andrew ..." you cried.

"It's okay. I'm okay, I'm sorry."

You shook your head, fingers running through his hair to soothe him.

"Don't apologize. None of this is your fault, Andrew. Just ... Fuck, just stay like this for a minute."

The guys let you have your moment, with Smurf walking past the two of you hugging and stepping into the house without a word. If she looked angry, you couldn't tell, because your mind was entirely occupied by Andrew as you held him.

When you finally let go, the guys had their turns giving him a hug, eyes teary as they expressed their gratitude for his return, their sorrows for letting him get taken.

"Come on, help me pack some stuff. We're not staying here tonight." Andrew said after you'd made it to his room.

"No? Where are we-"

"Deran's. I already told him. I don't want you staying here with Smurf, it's not safe anymore."

You didn't question him. He was already decided, not even giving himself a minute of rest before he shoved a few things in a duffel bag and grabbed your hand, letting you kiss Deran goodbye and hug Craig and J before leaving. The brothers found your affection strange, but returned it nonetheless.

The drive was a short one, making it to Deran's bar and upstairs to the small apartment within less than fifteen minutes. It was silent, but not tense. Andrew held onto your hand the entire drive, bringing it up for kiss its back at a stop sign when he noticed some tears still in your eyes.

By the time you arrived, you were both exhausted, letting the day get the best of you and practically dragging your feet upstairs. The silence did not help matters, making him feel unnerved about everything when you'd entered the apartment and simply stood in the middle of it while looking down at your hands.

"Andrew ..." you called his attention, sniffling.

He took a few steps towards you, letting the duffel bag fall off his shoulder in the process. He spoke first.

"If this ... If this is too much for you, I understand." he began, exhaling, "You shouldn't have to put up with this- this bullshit. You shouldn't be putting yourself in dangerous situations, waiting for me to get back, or, fuck, joining us when shit goes south."

You shook your head as he spoke, not even entertaining the motion of what he was implying.

"Stop- stop saying that. I don't care, Andrew. No matter what happens, I don't care. I'm staying."

He sighed, looking down and finding your hand reaching for his. He couldn't deny you, not even as he tried to convince you to break up with him, to run and not look back.

"You can't say that. You cant ... You can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not worth it. I can't let you do it."

"Hey." your hands lifted, dropping his and cupping his cheeks instead. "I love you. Anything I have to do to be with you is worth it. Do you understand?"

Your voice was stern, a tone Andrew had never heard from you. In other circumstances he'd feel scolded, duck his tail between his legs and avoid your eyes. But despite your tone, despite how serious and furious you sounded, your eyes were still full of compassion for him.

Without a response, he nodded, letting you pull him down for a kiss and wrapping his limp arms around your waist, holding you to him as he'd done when he first arrived back at the house. The kiss ended after a bit, but your embrace continued for a while longer. Andrew felt you shudder in his arms, frowning at the realization that he'd made you cry again.

Andrew led you to the shower, undressing you and himself, holding you under the water for a few minutes before even bothering to move to get yourselves clean. But your nails dug into the skin of his forearms, and he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. He laid kisses on the wet top of your head, chin eventually finding its home on your shoulder and lips turning every so often to kiss your skin.

When he went to grab some shampoo, your hand reached out to his wrist, stopping him before he could continue, and looking into his eyes with a look that made his heart break. It was the most vulnerable he'd ever seen you, a girl he'd always known for her outspoken confidence, her lack of trouble when holding his gaze in a way not many others were able to.

"Please ..." you pleaded. "I want- I want to feel you. Please, Andrew? I need to ... I need to know you're here."

Your voice destroyed him inside out. It was so meek and broken, lacking any confidence — as if you were scared he wasn't real, that he'd get taken away again if you made your needs known. It was either that or a belief that he'd ever reject you, that he'd ever be offered a way in which to take care of you and decline it.

"Okay." he nodded, leaning down and kissing your lips again.

You cried against his lips, needy hands reaching to his hair and pulling him closer. His own lips opened, seeking you out, taking control and letting himself have you.

It was easy to let go while he had you in his arms. The short time he'd been away, you'd been the only thing on his mind, the one regret he had leaving behind. And he kissed you like so, like he couldn't breathe without you, like he needed to prove just how much he regretted ever being taken away from you. Because this was the only place in which he belonged. He'd come to learn that that feeling was mutual, and he couldn't handle the thought of taking this away from you, of having it be taken away from him.

One of his hands slid down your body, already familiar with the song and dance to get you into position, get your leg lifted, wrapped around his waist so he could slide inside you, neither of you caring that it was too soon or that you needed more prep.

Your shared groans of relief landed in each other's lips, your noises of pleasure making it almost impossible to kiss, but still fighting the battle to try.

Andrew almost lost his balance at the pleasure of being sheathed inside you, one palm slamming against the glass door behind you to recover his balance. He pounded into you, not aggressively, but with every pent up feeling inside him. He let himself loose, liberally groaning and whining your name in between expletives, declaring himself to you.

"Please. Please don't leave." he cried. "I need you here."

It only made you cry louder, nodding your head aggressively and attempting a few syllables in between moans but failing. All you could do in between the crying and the noises of bliss were blabbers.

"Can't fucking do this shit without you. D- don't make me stop."

Your ankle dug harder into his back, pushing him even deeper inside you in a silent plea for him to never stop.

"Don't, oh fuck, please don't stop." you sighed out, head falling back.

Licking at the exposed skin there, he grunted into your neck, sucking on an old hickey he'd left there earlier in the week. He couldn't let it fade. Needed it to be there as a reminder for the two of you.

A chorus of his name hit his ear when you came, pulling him into heaven right with you. But even as you finished, now filled with his essence, he stayed inside you for a while. He kissed and loved on you, something you usually did to him instead. He wasn't sure what'd changed when he'd been abducted, but he just couldn't help himself. It grounded him.

The shower was slow, the warm water somehow lasting all throughout the near two hours you were in there taking care of each other.

He washed you while you washed him, hands soft and slow in their movements. Not many words were exchanged, but those that snuck in between the silence were vows of affection that couldn't help but leave your lips.

When the two of you finally made it to bed, Andrew laid back, positioning himself the same way he always did to engulf you in his arms. But you stopped him, finger gesturing at him to turn around.

"I wanna hold you tonight. I need to make sure you're still here."

And he couldn't disobey that request.

It felt better than he'd ever imagined.

He'd never been held like this by anyone who wasn't Smurf or Julia.

His back was too wide for you to lay down while nuzzling into the crook of his neck like he did to you, so you opted to kiss at his back, mumbling something about wanting to give him a kiss for every freckle adorning it.

"It was her." Andrew whispered after a while of being doted on by you.

"Who?"

"Smurf." he clarified. "The person who killed Baz."

"Did Lucy tell you that?"

You believed him. You just wanted to give him space to keep talking, get it all out of his chest.

"Yeah. A few weeks ago, when she called me down to Mexico. Said Smurf hired some girl to kill him."

"I'm sorry, Andrew."

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. But you could tell it was. You could tell that if you prodded too much, he'd break.

"I think I need to take care of her." he said after some silence.

"What do you mean?"

He gave you a pensive hum before responding. "I can't tell you. I don't wanna implicate you."

You nodded to yourself, kissing his back one last time in affirmation.

"Okay."

The two of you fell asleep quickly after that. And when you woke up, you chose to spend the next few days holed up in Deran's apartment. It was a way for Andrew to heal from everything he'd been through the past few days, The only worry on his mind was Lena, but you assured him that she was probably fine with her foster family, that you'd help him with whatever he needed after he took rest for a couple of days.

➽──────────────────❥

Things continued to spiral.

Andrew was happy with his alone time with you, away from Smurf and all her pretenses for care for her family.

But when he went back home to discuss Lena with her, he'd found some unprecedented news.

Lena was coming home, but she was coming home to Smurf, with her becoming her primary guardian due to Andrew's record.

She'd used this to rope Andrew into moving back home with her, which he reluctantly accepted after your reassurance that you'd join him if he asked you to — which, despite his shame, he did.

Immediately upon Lena's arrival back home, it was obvious to you and Andrew she did not want to be there. She'd had a taste of a good foster family, one with a daughter her age, looking to adopt a girl just like Lena, and she'd finally found some of the stability that'd been robbed from her when her mother died.

It took everything in Andrew to make this decision, but he ultimately gave in, deciding he'd do everything he could to get Lena back into her foster house, even if it meant dealing with Smurf.

You accompanied him to the foster house, sat back while he talked to Lena as they sat on the swings, apologetic as he shared his struggles when he was her age. He told her about how he was always angry, how kids would push him around, that he'd defend himself and the teachers would get mad, never once punishing the other kids like they did him. He told her about how they all thought he was terrible, even Smurf. He admitted to how awful he thought himself to be, but at least he had someone who was nice to him — his sister, with Baz being the second, and Cath the third. He told her how he promised them he'd take care of her. He cried, knowing this was the final goodbye and shared one last hug with her before getting up and walking back to you.

Your heart broke when you heard him share the intimate details of his childhood with Lena. It made bile fill your stomach, made you shut your eyes close to prevent the tears from trailing down. And when the two of you walked out of the house, you held him, letting him cry in your arms at the sacrifice he'd made.

Back home, Andrew made a deal with Smurf.

He'd give Lena away to her foster parents and keep Smurf's secret about what she'd done to Baz. She argued back, claiming he was in his head, that everyone was worried about his behavior and that she needed him to stay home with him where she could take care of him.

With hesitance, he agreed, knowing that if he didn't, Smurf would go after Lena and the cycle would repeat. He couldn't let that happen to Lena.

"What about Lena?" he'd asked.

"I'll forget she ever existed."

"And ... and what about her?" he asked, referring to you.

Smurf smiled at him. "She's not staying anywhere near my house." she got up, patting his arm lovingly. "Now, you pull yourself together and come join the party."

-

Andrew spent the next three weeks in almost complete isolation in Smurf's home.

It was never explicitly stated, but it was heavily implied that Andrew was not to leave the house, that he was not to step out of line, or else Lena would pay the consequences.

Andrew hadn't seen you in those three weeks. He'd heard from you through Deran, living in turmoil at the thought of being away from you for so long. He hoped you understood, tried to believe you when you said you did, but he was still terrified that you'd one day have enough and run off.

Within those three weeks, Andrew had once opened the door to some woman, a hooker Smurf had sent for him. She'd told him he seemed stressed lately, that he needed something to take the edge off. This only angered him further, making him panic at the thought of this getting back to you.

After sending the woman away, Andrew couldn't help himself, getting in his car and rushing to Deran's bar, no shirt or shoes on due to his rush.

When he finally arrived there, he knocked on your door, tears welling in his eyes and lips quivering. You opened the door within a few seconds, taking him in and immediately rushing to him and cradling him in your arms. The two of you crumbled to the floor as he cried. His hands gripped you harshly, terrified of letting you go and having you disappear forever.

"I'm here, Andrew. I'm here." you comforted him.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I miss you so much. I miss Lena. I miss- I can't do this."

And you cried with him, telling him you missed him too, that you'd be waiting for him until things with Smurf calmed down and enough time passed to make it harder for her to take Lena away from her foster parents. You told him that as soon as she was officially adopted, you'd drag him out of that house yourself, keep him all to yourself and never let him go.

➽──────────────────❥

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