mai

I asked my little brother for his favorite 67 pic for this

1.

It all started near the nurses’ station, during hour four of a twelve hour shift.

Cassie stood near one of the trauma room doors consulting with an attending about a discharge plan. Her black scrubs were slightly wrinkled from moving around, her jacket sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, and her arms were crossed tightly over her chest while she listened intently to what was being said.

A few loose strands of hair had escaped her short braid, framing her tired face, and somehow the exhaustion only made her look unfairly more attractive than she already was.

You stood at the nurses station, a tablet balancing loosely around one of your hands, the screen showcasing a half-finished patients chart opened on it, as your fingers stopped and hovered over it.

Dana stood beside you, sipping her coffee from her cup, like it was the only thing keeping her standing at the moment. Technically, you were supposed to be charting. But in reality, your attention and your gaze had drifted all the way across the ED.

To where Cassie was.

Dana slowly lowered her coffee cup, her gaze flicking from you to Cassie and then back again. One of her eyebrows lifted so high up in her forehead she could’ve sworn it disappeared into her hairline. The corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting for her life not to smirk.

“Hey, kid.”

You startled so bad you nearly dropped the tablet you held in your hands straight onto the nurses station countertop. But your grip tightened around it on the very last second before it could, a relieved exhale escaping you. Your eyes were wide when you finally looked at Dana.

Dana barely even looked at you, not shaken in the slightest by your sudden outburst, as she continued. “Quit making eyes at McKay and finish your charting.”

That was all it took for your whole face to turn into a crimson shade of red, as you pretended to busy yourself with anything you could. “I was not making eyes—”

Dana finally turned her head to look at you, giving you a long stare. “You keep staring at her like that,” she took another slow sip of her coffee,“I’m gonna have to file an incident report.”

A snort came from nearby.

Emma who was standing a few feet away, sorting over medical supplies, quickly covered her mouth with her hand when your attention snapped in her direction.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face before desperately pretending to scroll through the patients file on the tablet.“I was just going to consult with her.”

Dana’s grin widened immediately as she looked at you over her cup. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

"Dana!” you whimpered, your voice muffled as you dropped your head into your hands. “It's not like that."

The older nurse let out a quiet laugh under her breath, entirely unconvinced by your words.

Across the ER, Cassie glanced over at the sound of the small commotion. Your eyes met for exactly one second, before you looked away so quickly you almost gave yourself whiplash.

Beside you, Dana absolutely lost it.

“Oh,” she cackled, pointing her coffee cup at you “you are down bad.”

2.

Santos noticed because Santos notices everything.

Trauma Two still smelled faintly like iron and antiseptic after the disaster of a case you’d just wrapped up. The room was a mess of discarded packaging, stained gauze, and a lingering exhausted silence now that the adrenaline had finally worn off out of all of you.

You stood near the bed, stripping off the now bloody disposable gown, and peeling off your gloves, throwing them into the overflowing bin in the room. Across from you, Santos mirrored your actions with her ever so sharp efficiency, despite the fatigue written all over her face.

Just outside the room, Cassie stood by the PURELL hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall. She rubbed the sanitizer over her hands slowly, staring down at her hands like she was someplace else entirely. The lights of the ED washed her out slightly, making her exhaustion more evident now. Her shoulders looked tense beneath her scrubs, her jacket was now gone, discarded on the back of a chair in the nurses station somewhere.

You caught yourself staring at her again.

From her tensed shoulders, to the way she flexed her fingers, after rubbing them clean, like her hands hurt. To the way she lingered standing there, just for a second too long, her eyes closing briefly while she clasped her hands together tightly, like she was trying to pull herself back together before moving to the next patient.

Your chest twisted worriedly at that.

“Will you just ask her out already?”

You inhaled so sharply you nearly choked on nothing but air.

“Santos!”

“What?” She answered, shrugging while tossing her bloody gloves into the trash. “I'm just saying. You stare at her like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time.”

“I do not.”

Santos slowly turned towards you then, her lips pursing and her eyebrows furrowing in her forehead has she looked you over with complete disbelief written across her face.

“You absolutely do.”

You groaned as one of your hands came up to the brim of your nose. “Oh my god.”

A laugh threatened to escape Santos, but she swallowed it down as she moved towards the sanitizer dispenser by the door, pumping some of it into her palm.

“Oh, and for the record,” she added casually, as she rubbed her hands together. “McKay definitely stares back.”

Your head snapped up so fast your neck almost cracked.

Santos, who looked like she was expecting a reaction of the sort, smirked.

“Yeah,” she said, “thought that might get your attention.”

3.

Cassie had fallen asleep in the break room during her small break. That alone felt unnatural enough to make you stop in your tracks as you walked past it.

She had one of her arms curled beneath her head, her bangs messy against her forehead. The light of the room cast a soft glow across her face, making her look strangely younger and softer, and less like the competent resident physician everyone relied upon.

You stood there in the doorway far longer than you initially intended to. You just couldn’t help yourself, she looked so peaceful in that moment.

“You know she’s not going to disappear if you blink, right?”

You startled violently, one of your hands flying up to your mouth to muffle a gasp that threatened to escape.

Javadi stood beside you leaning in the doorway, nursing a cup of coffee in one hand, while the other came up and gently held the frame of the door, as she looked both fascinated and surprised by the situation.

Behind the two of you, Whitaker stood with his hands clasped behind his back, as he glanced towards where Cassie was asleep sitting by the table, only to immediately look away again, clearly uncomfortable intruding in her space like that.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” Javadi whispered immediately. “But it’s okay.”

“It’s really not,” Whitaker added in a low, careful voice, trying not to wake Cassie up.

Javadi didn’t even seem to acknowledge him completely. “I just think this is emotionally very intense,” she went on, still watching you like she was analysing a patient. “Like… French cinema intense. The kind where nobody communicates and everyone suffers silently yet beautifully.”

You stared at her, your mouth slightly open, genuinely unsure if you were being insulted, diagnosed or profiled, or every single one of the above all at once. Yet, still baffled by the comparison she so thoroughly seemed to have put so much thought into.

Whitaker shifted his weight awkwardly as he stood between the two of you, his hands half-raised like he wanted to physically put an end to the conversation. “We should probably let her sleep.”

“Right, yes, obviously,” Javadi nodded, agreeing immediately. Then, as if she forgot what she had just said, she leaned back in, lowering her voice even further, as if that was even possible. “But also McKay definitely has, like… a strong energy. You know? She’s humble. Very ‘main character in a hospital drama’ like.”

You made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a choke. Whitaker looked instantly alarmed at the sound, but nevertheless confused.

“What? She does.” Javadi shrugged her shoulders.

“She might hear you.”

From the small table in the corner of the room, Cassie shifted ever so slightly, one arm moving just enough to adjust her head, but she stayed asleep.

Javadi’s eyes went wide as she stared at the both of you with genuine panic. “Oh my god, do you think she heard me?”

Whitaker exhaled slowly, like he’d narrowly survived something. “We should all probably go,” he said, already stepping back into the hallway.

Javadi nodded again, but pointed at you as she backed out of the doorway, still whispering like she was delivering classified intel. “For the record, I support this.”

You stared at her, eyes wide, as you swallowed thickly.

“The age gap may be a little… questionable” she said, gesturing vaguely between you and the table where Cassie was still asleep in, “Which is fine! I have nothing against it! And i don’t think either of you cares about it any way.”

Whitaker froze mid-step, looking like he wished the floor would swallow him whole.

Javadi, completely aware of the meaning behind her own words, gave you an awkward smirk, along with a final little nod like she’d just closed a case file, and just stepped back into the ED once more, as if nothing had happened.

Leaving both you and Whitaker dumbfounded.

4.

The ED was chaotic like it usual was during the day shift. The waiting room was overwhelmed with restless patients awaiting their turn for god knows how many hours. Nurses rushed between the beds, monitors beeped, phones rang, and stretchers were wheeled down the hallways.

But even through all that, Cassie still moved with that same controlled intensity she always did.

You were standing with Samira near one workstation, the both of you bent over a fresh set of labs that had just gotten down from upstairs. The two of you were going through the possible next steps to take, considering the results you just got back.

Meanwhile, Cassie was with a patient in one of the curtained bays across the hall.

You tried not to look. You really did.

But it was almost impossible not to notice the way she stood slightly bent beside the bed, bringing herself to be eye level with a young girl who looked terrified and overwhelmed. Her voice was low but steady, completely calm, and one of her hands rested briefly on the bedrail like an anchor while she spoke. She held eye contact with the young girl the entire time, until eventually the girl’s breathing slowly started to even out.

You didn’t realise you were watching until Cassie tilted her head and let out a small yet soft chuckle at something the girl had said. It was quiet, but it still cut straight through the noise of the department.

Your head had lifted on instinct. Because, of course it did.

Samira didn’t even bother to look up from the lab results. “She’s good with people.”

You blinked, caught off guard, and forced your attention back to the screen before she could notice anything else. “Yeah,” you said quietly agreeing with her words. “She is.”

But your eyes drifted back towards Cassie anyway.

Samira glanced over properly this time, watching her for a moment. “She stays longer with difficult patients than anyone else around here.” She added, almost matter-of-factly.

Something warm twisted inside your chest at that. “Yeah,” you repeated yourself once again, softer this time.

Samira looked back at you then, and this time she actually paused, as she took in your expression. “Oh.”

Your stomach dropped instantly, your gaze shifting from Cassie to her. “What?”

“You really like her.” Samira’s mouth curved into a small, knowing smile. “You do know she likes you too, right?”

You felt heat rush straight through your entire face. “Please don’t say things like that.”

Samira raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “She checks in on you every shift.”

Your heart tripped over itself. You looked down at your hands like they might save you from having this conversation. “That’s not—”

“Half of the ED has noticed.”

You froze, as your gaze snapped towards hers in absolute dread. “Half the ED?”

Samira nodded once, completely unbothered, as she shrugged. “There’s even a betting pool going around.”

“Oh my god.”

Samira winced apologetically, as she took in your horrified expression. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

But it was already too late.

+ 1

Cassie started to notice you staring long before anyone did.

Not because you were obvious, although, according to half of the ED, you absolutely were. But rather because Cassie was exceptionally good at reading people.

For instance, she noticed when patients lied about their pain because they were embarrassed or afraid. She noticed the way family members hovered when they were reticent to ask whatever they wanted to ask. She noticed the small details, the trembling hands, the exhausted eyes, and most importantly, the forced smiles.

And she also noticed you.

At first, it was the little things. The way your attention seemed to drift towards her almost everytime she walked through the department. Or the way she could feel someone watching her during shifts, only to glance up and find you immediately snapping your attention elsewhere.

Every. Single. Time.

Cassie would look up from a workstation, or a trauma bay, and there you’d be, looking at her with this soft, distracted expression like you hadn’t even realized you were doing it.

And then, just as her eyes went to meet yours, you’d instantly look down at a chart, or at a monitor, or a tablet, fiding anything and everything around you to be fascinatingly more interesting.

The first few times it happened, Cassie didn’t think much of it, she had just brushed it off.

But then, somewhere along the way, and agaisnt her better judgement, she started to expect it. Looking forward to it.

And today was no different.

The ED had settled into one of those rare quiet moments after the many hours of utter chaos. Everyone seemed to move slower now, exhaustion dragging at everyone’s shoulders. And as for Cassie, she stood at the nurses station finishing up her charts, one hand curled loosely around a cup of now lukewarm coffee.

That's when she felt it again.

That familiar weight of your gaze on her.

This time, she didn’t look up right away. Instead she took a few moments to dwell on the feeling of your eyes on her. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch faintly, as she tried not to smile to herself, and continued to pretend to read through the chart in front of her. In all honesty, she had found this whole situation strangely endearing.

She took another slow sip of her coffee, pretending to focus on the screen for another minute before finally lifting her head. And rest assured, there you were.

Standing across the station with a tablet tucked awkwardly against your chest, completely distracted from whatever you were supposed to be doing. You were just staring at her again, your expression was soft and distant, like the rest of the department had vanished all together.

Something warm settled quietly in Cassie’s chest at the sight of your soft expression, and so before she could stop herself, she smiled at you. Not those polite, tired half-smiles she gave most of the time during her shifts. No. This time she smiled a real, soft and warm smile.

Your eyes widened immediately the second you realized she was smiling at you. Panic flashed across your face almost instantly, as you looked down at the tablet pressed against your chest so quickly, as your fingers fumbled nervously across the screen.

Cassie let out a small snort under her breath. Then, she carefully placed her coffee cup down on the counter and made her way towards where you stood.

“Hey,” she said gently once she reached you.

You froze on the spot. Your eyes, still wide and helpless, slowly lifted to meet her gaze. "Hi..."

Cassie tilted her head forward slightly in your direction, her hands slipping into the pockets of her scrub pants while she studied you with barely concealed amusement. "You do that a lot, you know?"

Heat rushed across your cheeks instantly, as you averted your gaze to somewhere over her shoulder, swallowing the big lump that had settled in your throat, as you asked. "Do what exactly?"

Her warm, calm and patient gaze was steady on yours just enough to make your heart stutter. "Stare at me," she explained, "and then pretend you werent."

Embarrassment flickered across your face, as you whished the floor would open up and swallow you whole. "Im so sorr—"

Cassie chuckled quietly before you could finish. “It’s okay, I'm not upset about it.” She moved to lean lightly against the counter now, her posture relaxed, as she shrugged. “I think it’s sweet.”

The tension in your shoulders loosened slightly upon hearing her words. "You do?"

Cassie nodded once, still watching you with that same warm look. “Yeah," she said softly. "I do.”

For a second neither of you said anything. The noise of the ED blurred into the background again, but Cassie barely noticed any of it.

She was too busy watching you adorably unravel in front of her.

As for you? You were too busy trying desperatly not to melt from embarrasment in front of her and the entire department.

“I'll stop.” You said quietly after a moment.

Cassie's smile faltered slightly at your words.

“No. Don't.” She said, far too quickly.

Then after a second, her warm and soft smile returned, as she added quietly, a little more composed this time.

“Hi.” She hums into it, her own hands settling over your sweater covered waist.

“Excited for your hot date?” You ask, though she notices a hint of something behind it — knowing maybe.

“Always.” She tries, regretfully of the way her overly happy smile doesn’t match her tired eyebags.

“Such a liar.” Your retort comes with a gentle smile, letting her know you’re not mad at all that she feels this way but that you were aware she did even before talking to her. Maybe the daily pics she sends to you aren’t a good idea anymore. You could be a profiler.

Cassie huffs, forehead slumping a little against your shoulder. “M’sorry.” Because she knows you’re not letting her get her way.

“Don’t be.” You reassure with simplicity. “Can i suggest something?”

“Sure, honey.” Her voice is laced with affection, making your stomach erupt in a thousand butterflies.

“Stay over today? We can have dinner and sleep early.” Your fingers work on her shoulder as you speak, massaging the tension in them away. “You kinda can’t say no cause i already cooked and i’m gonna think you hate me.”

You’re so sweet she wants to aggressively shove you in her pocket.

“I don’t have pj’s with me.” She reasons, very inclined to accept anyway.

“So what? Wear mine.” You’re quick to come up with a resolution.

“Okay.” Your girlfriend relents easily.

With a happy grin you pull her to you, lips to her forehead before opening the door to the e seat for her and closing it only once you’re sure she’s comfy.

Your apartment is still a little unfamiliar to her, way tidier than hers and definitely cozier. Though she does try to make hers looked lived in and happy. You just have the gift to make everything look so you, she thinks. It smells good too, a mix of the candles you keep and the homemade meal you prepared for her.

While she puts on something from your wardrobe you set the living room, tv turned on in a low volume and meals on the coffee table. Her stomach grumbles as soon as she sees it.

You somehow (not really) end up paying more attention to her than the food, plate forgotten before you’re even halfway through your meal. Your legs are thrown lazily over hers, cheek squished against her shoulder as you feel particularly in the mood to annoy her.

Without much thought your finger find her brown hair, carding through it like a second nature.

“You need to cut your bangs.” You state with a twirl of her hair.

“I do.” Cassie hums before bringing another forkful of rice to her mouth.

If she’s bothered by your crowding and slouching over her, she doesn’t mention it at all. In fact, she seems quite unbothered by it. Her hand rests on your calve when it’s not holding the fork, head leaning towards your hand without noticing.

“Just don’t let me do it i’ll leave you bald.” You joke, teasing her.

“I can cut them.”

“You cut your own hair?” You pretend to be surprised, nose nudging her jaw softly. Though she really does seem like the type to cut her own hair.

“Sometimes, yeah.” Her shoulders shrug slightly, picking up the napkin to dab at the sauce on the corner of her lips — which you eye for too long.

“Woah so handy.” You exagerate, arm slipping around her shoulders. “Really need to thrim them.” A little lower.

“Just say if you don’t like my hair.” Cassie grumbles, though it’s not heartfelt. She’s not mad at all, throwing herself into your dramatic antics.

“Shut up.” You hit her shoulder without force, pouting. “How would i see your pretty eyes if they were covered?”

You’re mostly teasing, but she feels the heat rush up her cheeks anyway. She doesn’t think she’s ever been with someone who compliments her so openly. It makes her overly giddy.

“Such a dork.” The nervous chuckle she lets out is enough to let you know how she feels.

You nose her jaw and cheek again, pressing a soft kiss soft next to her eye once you reach it. “I love your hair, promise.”

“I know, sweet girl.” Her fingers squeeze your leg, pet name leaving her mouth way too easily by now. It’s taken her a bit to get used to it. “You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” You answer honestly, having spent too much time cooking and trying the food.

She hums, taking note to have you eat something later before bed. And to make you a nice breakfast in bed as a payback for your loveliness.

You both go to bed not late after, lazily doing your skincare and brushing your teeth side by side in front of the mirror.

Cassie falls asleep to the feeling of your hot wet kisses against her neck.

When she wakes up it’s several hours later — nine or ten she thinks. But she’s happy from the moment she does, warmth pressed to her chest and comfortable coverts wrapping her in a soft hug.

The sight of you has her softening inside, hair mussed from rolling around in your sleep and face more relaxed than ever. Your pajamas rumpled, neckline of your shirt drifted to the side and exposing your collarbone. She presses a kiss there impulsively.

You hum, still asleep but scrunching your face softly and pressing closer to her with the sweetest pout on your lips.

Her eyes suddenly waver with tears, heart thumping against her chest as she watches you with what she’s sure are heart eyes.

Though she doesn’t remember the last time she cried, this really does feel fitting. She doesn’t remember ever knowing someone who treats her as nicely as you, so soft and gentle.

“You okay?” You ask with a groggy voice, eyes only half open but alert at her wet cheeks.

Cassie nods in reassuring, guiding your face back into her neck and squeezing you with strength. “Very okay.”

You press a kiss to her skin, not questioning her tears as if you know they’re not from sadness.

Cassie didn’t know what exactly she would do after her residency. She was considering a handful of fellowships, namely addiction and pain management. Different fellowships with the same outcomes—so to speak. Working with the street team had changed her even more than her own experiences changed her. Each person she treated had a story, a history, friends and family. They were owed dignity and respect. 

More than that, working with the community and other mutual aid groups kept her going on days when it felt like the world was no longer fighting for those that needed it. This country was big, vast, and unforgiving. It would eat you up and spit you out without a second thought. And yet, there were also people dedicated to caring, to pushing back on the jaws that tried to grind and destroy. Cassie hoped she was one of those. 

Every kind of person worked in mutual aid. While it was uncommon, there were handful of rich business people, more often than not though, it was young people who saw the changes in their community and wanted to push back. 

Cassie hadn’t been sure what to make of you, though. 

She first heard about you from Yasmin and Petunia, two older women who had probably been living on the streets longer than not. 

“The art and gift shop down the road, she lets us use her shower and her nice products,” Yasmin told Cassie conspiratorially. “And she helped re-bandage Jimmy’s foot.” 

“Really?” Cassie asked, her eyebrows raising. “Sounds generous.” 

“There are rules, but we all tend to abide by them.” 

“What rules?” Cassie asked. 

“Not to steal products, only take what you need, things like that. Sometimes, she cooks us dinner. It’s not very good, but she’s nice about it,” Petunia replied. 

“She lives above the shop, so when Carlos had his overdose, she is the one who called 911 and gave him narcan,” said Yasmin. 

There were a couple dozen or so homeless neighbors (Kiara preferred house-less, but Cassie didn’t mind either way. When she was homeless it wasn't just because she was lacking a house; she was lacking a home.) In the five block radius of the community clinic corner. Every week one of the street teams would deploy to this area and people would come by and seek out whatever services they needed. Cassie deployed a lot of methadone and gave away a lot of narcan. 

“She gives away sterile needles, too. She had a bin in her alleyway for people to get rid of them safely,” piped in Alexander. He was younger than the two women; they seemed to have adopted him. He had only been on the street for the last few months. Both women were trying to convince him to take advantage of more than just the medical services the street team provided. 

“That’s really kind of her,” Cassie replied. 

“She pays me to clean up the needles around the street. Gave me stick proof gloves and everything,” Alexander continued. He fished them out of his coat pocket and handed them to Cassie. 

Whoever this woman was, whoever you were, Cassie was determined to meet you before the day was up. 

After a long day walking along the homeless encampment under the bridge, Cassie trudged up to the high street and found the juxtaposition startling. The tree covered idyllic road was covered in pedestrians, cars, and young families taking advantage of the cool fall day. Each meandering person was so unaware that on the underside of the bridge were dozens of people who were never guaranteed food, water, or any kind of safety. 

But that’s often how people preferred it. 

Still, Cassie shouldered her backpack and made her way into the crowd eventually landing in front of your storefront. 

Uncommon Goods. 

The shop was the same orange-ish red brick as its neighbors, with an inset door and a wide window decorated with a display of goods. There were art pieces, herbs, jewelry and more based on the window. There was a hand painted sign that displayed: Local artisans. Local goods. Local prices.

Cassie thought it was a clever way of saying expensive, but she couldn’t begrudge. It was expensive just to exist now-a-days and if advertising unique hand-crafted goods with euphemistic pricing is how you stayed in business, well, so be it. 

Pushing through the door, there was a soft tinkle of bells above her. The smell was not as strong as Cassie had been expecting, not that Cassie could identify any of the scents. She had lost most of her sense of smell years ago. There were tall shelves full of beautiful artwork, decor, hand crafted items. There were also herbs and things that might suggest the store moonlighted as a witch’s coven. 

You were sitting at the counter, perched on a stool. It had been years since someone had taken her breath away. Frankly, Cassie had thought that she had been mostly desensitized to the visuals of a human body, considering how often she had seen it in so many different states. However, you were as close to a goddess as Cassie had ever seen in real life. Tattoos were covering your arms, jewelry stacked on your ears, fingers, and neck. 

Despite the eccentricities of the shop, you were wearing a simple shirt and jeans. Cassie suspected if she could peak behind your counter, heavy boots would adorn your feet. You looked exactly as she was expecting and also nothing at all. It was hard to pin an age on you and Cassie wasn’t too interested in trying. 

Instead, she moseyed around the shop, looking at hand crafted soaps, candles and even pottery. When the customer you had been helping finished, Cassie made her way over to you and said, 

“This is an impressive place.” 

You looked up from your computer and beamed at her. Briefly, Cassie wondered if this is what a heart attack felt like. She wanted all of your attention and none of it at the same time. It was like you had wrapped her in a magic spell, not that Cassie was in any hurry to leave. 

“Thank you,” you replied. Even your voice was magnetic. “First time in?” 

“Yeah, I got it on recommendation,” Cassie replied. 

“Oh? From whom?” 

Even your grammar was impeccable. 

“Petunia and Yasmin,” Cassie replied. 

“Really?” Your face was unreadable and Cassie realized you were waiting to see why Cassie was here. She wondered if the women below the bridge were still being harassed by the local PD after their protesting against demolishing the community center down the street. 

“I’m with PTMC’s street team. We come out to the bridge every week to check on the neighbors,” Cassie replied. 

Your smile relaxed and you said, “What’s your name?” 

“Cassie McKay.” 

“Oh! Yes! They’ve mentioned you.” 

“I wanted to meet the woman who is so kind to them,” Cassie replied. “I’ve grown to care about them a lot.” 

“They’re good people. They have a rotating schedule of who uses the showers so everyone gets water and a chance at being clean.” 

“Sounds like them, they run that place like the navy,” Cassie replied. “How long have you worked here?” 

“I opened the shop in 2022,” you replied. “Not very long, but long enough that I think we’re here for awhile.” 

“Everything is created by people in Pittsburgh?” 

“Definitely, the art, pottery, jewellery, everything.” 

“Do you make anything?” 

“I do the stained glass and some of the jewelry,” you replied. “Hold on a second.” 

You stood (Cassie was right about the boots) and disappeared through a beaded curtained off doorway. Shifting from foot to foot, Cassie found herself amused by the stickers and key chains waiting for an unsuspecting tourist on the counter. A cute cartoon bird that said “Support Your Local Murder” was emblazoned on a key chain and sticker. Cassie picked it up the sticker for Harrison and key chain for her name badge

When you returned, you had a small pair of earrings in your hand. They were a faded orange, like the last vestiges of a sunset. Neither were identical, instead, were a long oblong shape, maybe an inch long. Cassie thought they were beautiful. 

“For you,” you said, sliding them over to you. “For all the work you do for my neighbors.” 

“I can’t accept this,” Cassie said. “Let me pay for it.” 

“No way,” you leaned closer and whispered, “Between you and me I went viral on tiktok a while back. I’m not hurting for customers.” 

“At least let me pay for the sticker. It’s for my son,” Cassie said. She wasn’t sure why she mentioned Harrison. 

Your smile didn’t change, but you almost looked…disappointed? 

“Still, no. But if you tell me you want something for your husband and not wife, I might be inclined to charge you. We’re very pro women here, well, perhaps we’re anti-cis men,” you amended. 

Cassie felt her cheeks flush. “No husband or wife, or partner.” 

“Really?” You asked. “Shame.” 

“Shame?” 

“Well, not for us single women in Pittsburgh,” you said winking. 

“Are you flirting with me?” Cassie found herself spluttering. 

“I’m trying to.” 

“And what would you do if I flirted back?” 

“I’d ask the most beautiful doctor I’ve ever seen on a date and then brag about how I went on a date with a doctor. What else would I do?” 

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that.” 

“Even though I have a son?” 

“I’ve always had a thing for MILFs,” you said sitting back on your stool and crossing your legs. Cassie’s eyes couldn’t help follow the lines of your legs. 

“What if I’m a terrible person?” Cassie challenged. Why was she challenging this? A beautiful woman was kind of asking her out and she was fighting it?

“Then Petunia and Yasmin wouldn’t like you,” you said simply. “Do you have any other silly questions or can I get your phone number and pick you up the next time you’re free?” 

“I’m free tonight,” Cassie heard herself say. 

“You don’t say. Tell me, Cassie, do you like sushi?” 

“Yes.” 

“When do you get off your volunteering shift?” 

“In an hour.” 

“The shop closes at six.” 

“I could meet you back here. Maybe when I am not dressed in scrubs.” 

Your eyes clearly roved over her form. “They certainly do something for you.” 

“That is bullshit,” Cassie laughed. You just grinned at her and said, 

“Meet me here at six. I’ll wine you, dine you, and maybe if I’m lucky you’ll come upstairs with me.” 

“I don’t do that on the first date,” Cassie said, almost apologetic. 

“Well, I guess I should make sure I’m fun enough for a second date.” 

“I guess you should,” Cassie replied, still struck by how she walked in without a date and left with plans. “The earrings weren’t to bribe me on a date, were they?” 

You snorted but said, “No, they were thank you gifts for treating my friends with dignity. Anyone else from your team is welcome to stop in, too.” 

“I kind of want to keep you to myself,” Cassie muttered. She didn’t realize you could hear her until your wind chime laugh erupted. 

“Don’t worry, Dr. McKay. I think you’ve bewitched me too much for another to catch my eye so soon.” 

The heat that had been slowly building in Cassie's gut bloomed into butterflies. Not even Chad had spoken to her in such a blatantly flirty way. It wasn’t even true that she didn’t sleep with people on the first date—that’s almost exclusively what she did. But for some reason she didn’t want you to only be interested in sex. She wanted to keep you in her orbit for however long you were willing to stay. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

“Don’t worry, my actions will back me up, too,” you said. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Cassie.” 

“Yeah,” said Cassie. “You will.” 

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