It’s way past your usual bedtime. You’re cozied up in a blanket on the main living room, the only lightsource being the tall lamp beside you, it cascates a yellow hue on the pages of the book you were currently reading. As you head to another chapter you glance at the big doors of the entrance hoping to listen to them unlocking, but nothing. You sigh and start reading again.

Your eyes follow the lines of words repeatedly, but the sentences don’t absorb into your mind as it goes elsewhere, to Bruce.

He’s late again, it’s been like this for weeks now to the point where you barely see each other. When he gets home you’re already asleep and by the time you wake up, he’s already out the door.

Everytime you try to talk about it, he refuses or changes the subject and of course your mind always goes to the worst possibilities.

You close your book and don’t bother to mark the page, you shake your head trying to shoo your doubts away, but tonight the voices seem to be louder, especially when the house is so empty.

Your mind drifts to the first time he got home late.

You heard the door of the bedroom creak open which made you wake up.

“Hmm? Bruce?” you mumble still half-asleep.

“Shh, yeah it’s me dear” he whispers and kisses your forehead “Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a second”

Instead of his usual cologne, you notice a sharp smell of metal and sweat in his skin as he kisses you which is odd, but you don’t think much of it as you’re too sleepy to think.

You sink back into the covers and fall asleep to the sound of him showering in the bathroom next door.

The next time you felt something was off was at your dinner reservation.

“It’s been so long since we had time for ourselves” you sip the champagne with a smile.

He reaches his hand across the table to grab yours, caressing the back of it.

Before he can answer, his phone rings.

His eyes widen slightly as he sees the ID caller.

“Sorry love, give me a second” he excuses himself and answers the phone call.

You know Bruce is a busy man so answering a phone call isn’t a big deal to you, yet as the night progresses he seems uneasy and always receiving more and more phone calls from this number you can’t identify.

“It’s an urgent meeting dear, I’ll get Alfred to bring you home” he barely explains while putting his jacket on and giving you his black card.

You can’t even utter a word before he kisses your temple and leaves the restaurant.

By the time Alfred arrives, you’re standing outside with a sad expression and dessert in a take out box.

Yesterday, you noticed the secrecy became more evident the moment he locked his phone in his secretary drawer.

“Bruce can I use your phone, mine’s charging” you enter his office.

“Why my phone? You have plenty of other devices you can use” he continues writing on his computer.

You raise an eyebrow at the answer, sure he’s working right now, but c’mon it’s just a phone.

“I wanted to call Dick for dinner this weekend and he’ll answer your call” you pry on the topic and put your hand out, palm turned up.

He sighs and finally looks from the computer to you, you won’t quit it. He digs in his left pocket and grabs a small key, he inserts it on the first drawer and it opens revealing his phone, nothing else inside.

Hmm weird, you think to yourself.

“Here you go, just return it quickly, I know how you and Dick talk for hours on end” Bruce smirks at you.

“Of course” you take his phone and head out of the office.

You click his contacts and before you could type anything you notice the most recent caller.

The cat

That was the name written, you scroll a bit and your stomach drops, you see Bruce has been calling this number at least twice a day, always at weird hours of the night.

Your instincts kick in, you click on his messages with this number, you know it isn’t right to eavesdrop, but you feel it in your gut.

“Ready for tonight?” - Bruce

“Of course, everything is according to plan” - The Cat

“Be there tomorrow night” - Bruce

Your fingers start to shake as you read the messages, you don’t want to jump into conclusions, but it’s right there in your face that Bruce might be cheating on you or else why would he have a cryptic name for someone with messages like these.

You breathe in and out a couple times before entering his office again.

“Here you go, I confirmed everything with Dick” you give him the phone back.

“Great then” he pockets it immediately.

Usually, you try to make more conversation, or maybe rub his shoulders and bribe him with kisses to try to get him out of the office room, but not this time. You simply nod and head out of the room.

Your thoughts are getting too overwhelming, you get up from the couch and head upstairs to your shared room, you pick up your small travel carry-on and begin stuffing it to the brim, you need to leave and cool down, at least for a couple days to collect your thoughts.

Your mind is clouded by every incident that might’ve been caused by his relationship with the cat: the phone calls at the dinner, his “urgent meeting” or right now as he’s not coming home in time, just like the messages confirm. You only notice you started crying when you taste the salty tear that reached your lips.

“Honey?”

You stop in your tracks, the air has been taken out of your lungs as that voice speaks up, you turn your head from your bag to the direction of the door where Bruce stood. He’s wearing his suit, only now his top buttons are undone and his tie is on his hand instead of its place.

That was your breaking point.

You carelessly close your bag and turn to him fully.

His expression turns from confusion to horror as he sees your tear streaked cheeks and the bag you’re holding.

“What are you doing?-”

“I’m leaving, Bruce” you interrupt him with a shaky voice.

“What!” he tries to approach you, hands ready to hold your arms to keep you in place “Dear, what-”

“Don’t” you put your hand in front of you.

“I know who you are, Bruce” you whisper that last part as you don’t want to cry anymore.

Those words made him go pale, which only confirmed your suspicion on the cheating. But to Bruce, he thought you discovered who he really was, the Batman.

You start to leave the room and Bruce blocks your way with his taller build.

“Honey, no- no- ”

“There’s nothing you can say that can excuse what you did” your voice becomes more stern, your eyebrows furrowed.

“You come home late, you have weird phone calls, you disappear like I’m the last thing on your mind! Bruce, I can't do this anymore! For God’s sake, I know about you and the cat!” you angrily point at his chest.

“You can’t even tell your wife the truth, how am I supposed to stay in your life of secrets?”

Bruce’s arms slump in defeat, his mouth is agape but no words come out, he’s speechless, because you’re right. He isn’t taking care of you, he can’t trust you enough to tell you the truth about his secret identity and the dangerous world he lives in.

With no answer to your question, you take it as a sign, you start walking again to the front door and open it, the wind from outside runs a chill down your arms, you don’t take your keys from the little bowl at the entrance.

The last thing Bruce sees is the back of your head as you shut the door behind you.

The big wooden door echoes through the big halls right to his ears and that’s when he knows he lost you right there. God, he wanted to just run after you and tell you everything from start to finish, begging on his knees for you to come back, but his hero code prevents him from doing it, his moral code to keep his secret persona to protect the ones he loves, so he stays planted on the same spot, still looking at that door like it might open again and you’d run into his arms, but no, he doesn’t know if you’re coming back soon, or coming back ever.

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You're curled up in his bed with the sheets pooled around your waist, wearing one of his dress shirts. The top buttons are undone, revealing enough skin for him to know there's nothing underneath.

Bruce: You're going to be the death of me. You: and what a way to go that would be ;) You: wanted you to see what you're missing You: how's your meeting going?

He adjusts himself under the table, grateful that every investor in the room is focused on the presentation.

Bruce: It was going fine. You: was?

He needs to stop responding. He has twenty people around him. This is wildly inappropriate.

And yet...

Bruce: Send me another.

The three dots appear immediately. You were waiting for him to ask.

You: what do you want to see? Bruce: You know what I want. You: i really don't... you'll have to be more specific

His jaw tightens. Of course you're going to make him spell it out.

Bruce: Less shirt. More you. You: that's better You: give me a minute

That minute feels like an eternity. Bruce has stopped registering what Lucius is saying altogether, his mind stuck on you: bare legs tangled in the sheets, your body warm and soft on his side of the bed.

His phone buzzes.

You: [Attachment: 1 photo]

The shirt is completely unbuttoned now, falling open to reveal your bare chest. Your free hand rests low on your stomach, fingertips grazing the waistband of your black lace underwear where it peeks out above the sheets. Bruce has to physically stop himself from making a sound.

Bruce: Fuck. You: that good? Bruce: Don’t be so pleased with yourself. You: can't help it <3 Bruce: Clearly. You: tell me what you’re thinking about right now

Bruce glances down at the increasingly uncomfortable fit of his pants.

Bruce: What do you think? You: i think i want you to say it Bruce: You. In our bed. No clothes. You: what else? Bruce: Your hand. Where mine should be. You: just where mine is?

He swallows. He's still painfully aware of where he is, even if that awareness has done very little to restrain him.

Bruce: Not just there. Everywhere.

The typing indicator appears, disappears, then appears again.

You: i wish you were here Bruce: Tomorrow night. I promise. You: that’s so far away though Bruce: I know. You: i can't stop thinking about you

His pulse quickens.

Bruce: Yeah? You: mhm. especially about the morning before you left... You: what you did to me before your flight

He remembers. He'd woken you up with his mouth between your legs and made you come twice before he'd even properly kissed you good morning. You'd barely been able to walk him to the car.

You: i've been trying to recreate it but it's not the same :(

Picturing you alone in bed, touching yourself and chasing the same release he’d given you, makes him shift in his seat again.

You: want to help? Bruce: I'm still in this meeting. You: so leave.

Bruce starts typing out a response, something about how he can’t simply walk out in the middle of—

You: [Attachment: 1 photo]

In this one, the shirt's gone entirely. The phone's angled down over your body as you lie back against the pillows with your free hand slipped between your legs. The black lace he glimpsed earlier is fully visible now, darkened enough at the center to make his mouth go dry.

“Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce’s head snaps up. Every person at the table is looking at him.

The investor seated across the room gestures to the figures displayed on the screen. "Your thoughts?"

Bruce clears his throat, schooling his expression into something neutral. "I trust Lucius's judgment on this. I agree with his assessment."

Lucius raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The investors appear satisfied and return their attention back to the presentation.

Bruce looks back down at his phone.

Bruce: You need to stop. You: do you really want me to stop?

He hesitates, but only for a second.

Bruce: No. You: then don’t tell me to stop You: tell me what you want instead Bruce: More. You: more what? Bruce: Everything. I want to see everything. You: ask nicely.

A breathless laugh nearly escapes him. You really have no intention of making this easy for him.

Bruce: Please show me.

Then, just to indulge you, he adds:

Bruce: I need to see you.

For a while, there's no response. Then his phone buzzes again.

You: [Attachment: 1 video]

He stares at the thumbnail. He could watch it on silent. No one would know. His thumb moves toward the play button—

You: don't you dare watch that on mute.

He freezes.

You: i want you to hear every second of it You: so i suggest you find somewhere private

Before he can respond, his phone begins to vibrate with a call and your name fills the screen beneath the FaceTime icon.

The responsible choice is obvious: decline the call, pocket his phone, and give Lucius the attention he promised. Instead, he's already standing.

"Excuse me," he says, moving toward the door. "I need to take this."

Lucius glances from the phone in Bruce’s hand to his face, but Bruce doesn't wait for him to comment.

The hallway outside the conference room is mercifully empty. He finds an unoccupied office several doors down, steps inside, and locks the door behind him. Only then does he accept the call.

You appear on the screen with flushed cheeks, and your whole expression brightens with a smile when you see him. Somehow, that affects Bruce more than any of the pictures.

"Hi," you say.

The sound of your voice only makes it worse, sharpening his longing into an ache that feels almost painful.

"Hi." His own voice comes out rougher than intended.

"Did you watch the video?"

"Not yet. Someone told me to find somewhere private first."

Your smile widens. "Smart man. Watch it now."

Bruce props his phone against the desk and opens the video. It lasts no more than fifteen seconds, but it's devastating. You're on your back with your hand between your legs, touching yourself slowly, almost teasingly. The quiet sighs and whimpering moans that slip from your lips go straight through him.

When the video ends, the call returns to full screen. You watch him expectantly. "Liked that?"

"You have no idea what you're doing to me."

"I have some idea." Your gaze moves deliberately down his body. "Are you hard?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

Bruce exhales through his nose. “This is reckless, even for you.”

"You locked the door, didn't you?"

He glances toward it. "Yes."

“Then I think we both know you’re going to show me.”

A beat passes. Then his hand moves to his belt, and the sharp breath you take makes every risk worthwhile.

"There you go," you murmur as your own hand slips beneath your panties.

Bruce unzips his pants, finally relieving some of the pressure that has been building since that first photograph. When he wraps his hand around himself, your soft moan comes through the speaker.

"Fuck," he groans as his head falls back against the wall. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." Your breathing has already begun to quicken. "Tell me what you’d be doing if you were here."

“I’d put you on your knees first.” His hand moves in steady strokes, eyes fixed on the screen as you touch yourself. "Watch you look up at me with those pretty eyes while you take me into your mouth. Hear the way you gag when I pull your hair and push deeper."

Your hand moves faster. “And?”

“Then I’d have you beneath me in that bed. Taste you until you couldn’t remember why sending those pictures seemed like a good idea.” His voice drops lower. “Your legs around my shoulders while you try to stay quiet even though we both know you can’t.”

“Bruce…”

"Then I'd be inside you, feeling you squeeze around me." His grip tightens. "Listening to the way you say my name when you're close."

A shaky breath leaves you as your hips jerk upward. “Keep talking, please.”

"I'd take my time with you." His voice breaks on a moan. "Spend the entire night making sure you remember exactly what I do to you."

"God, Bruce, I'm close." You're visibly unraveling now, right on the edge, thighs trembling around your wrist.

"I know, sweetheart. Let me see. Let me hear you."

"Only if you come with me," you gasp out. "Please, Bruce. Together."

His hand moves faster, matching your rhythm through the screen. “Together,” he promises, the word coming out strained.

"I wish you were here, wish I could feel you."

"You will. Soon." His breathing is ragged now, everything building to that breaking point. "Look at me."

Your eyes find the camera, glazed and desperate. That nearly finishes him on its own.

"Please—I can't—"

"Now, sweetheart. Come for me now."

You break at the same moment he does. Your breathless cry of his name blends with his rough groan of yours through the phone. He watches you arch and shudder, aching to feel you clenching around him instead of his hand, the frustration of the distance somehow making it even more intense.

For a long moment, there's just the sound of both of you breathing, trying to come back down.

“Well,” you say eventually, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “I think that was significantly more interesting than your meeting.”

Bruce huffs out a laugh as he reaches for a tissue and begins putting himself back together. "You're trouble."

"You like me when I'm trouble."

"I do." He picks up the phone and looks at you properly. You're glowing, hair tangled across the pillow, completely beautiful. "I really do miss you."

Your expression softens. "I miss you too." You pull the sheet over yourself. “Do you really have to stay until tomorrow?”

Bruce glances at the time. The current meeting is nearly over, and everything on tomorrow’s schedule can be handled remotely. “I’m moving my flight up.”

Your eyebrows lift. “Bruce, I was only complaining. You don’t actually have to do that.”

“I know.” He runs a hand through his hair, then smooths it back into place. “Everything tomorrow can be handled over video. I want to be home tonight.”

A smile slowly spreads across your face. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Bruce looks toward the locked door. "I should get back before Lucius comes looking for me."

"Do you think he knows?"

"Lucius knows everything."

"Wonderful. Love that for us."

"Would you like me to apologize to him on your behalf?"

You laugh softly, settling back against the pillows, and the sound makes him wish he was already home.

"So, see you tonight?" you ask.

"See you tonight."

"And when you get here?"

His gaze darkens. "You already know."

"I want to hear you say it again."

"Goodbye."

"Bruce!"

He ends the call while you're still laughing.

It takes him another minute to compose himself. He straightens his shirt and tie, checking his reflection in the darkened office window until he once again resembles a somewhat respectable man.

When he returns to the conference room, Lucius pauses only briefly before continuing the presentation. Bruce settles into his chair and opens the documents in front of him.

Lucius finishes explaining the next set of projections before addressing him. "Everything handled?"

"Yes."

Lucius studies him for a moment. "Good."

Bruce knows that tone. He ignores it.

“I’m returning to Gotham tonight,” he says. “I’ll join tomorrow’s meetings by video.”

“Of course. I’ll make the arrangements.”

No smirk. No teasing comment. Somehow, Lucius’s professionalism is worse.

Bruce's phone vibrates one final time.

You: can't wait to see you, baby <3

He makes himself wait to respond, and by the time he does, he's seated inside the Wayne Enterprises jet.

Bruce: On my way.

the next morning, jack buys you breakfast from a donut shop down the street. almost having your exact coffee order down to a t. the two of you spend hours talking about anything that came to mind. well, you did most of the talking while he just listened. kind of like last night. and when you inevitably have to leave so you can go home and clean up before your shift, he walks you to your car. even kissing you goodbye.

but after that night together, you had just assumed that jack would forget it ever happened. not that he seemed like the type of guy to do a one and done. but you'd rather assume the worst than hope for the best. however, he acted as if nothing had changed. if anything, it was like it changed for the better. he texts you whenever you come into his mind. which is almost all the time. it starts off as little things. like a simple 'good morning' or a quick check in here and there.

jack starts to hate working nights. not because of his crew. god, no. he knows he probably has the best one. but because it means whenever he has down time in between patients, he can't ask you how your day went, knowing his text will go unanswered since you're fast asleep. sometimes you'll respond on the nights that your insomnia is really bad. but then he'll start feeling guilty for keeping you awake. so he'll instead just text you a soft command about going to bed so you don't feel sick in the morning. he knows that you get really bad migraines the day after you don't sleep. something you mentioned in passing, by the way.

but the best part about working nights? it means robby's at work when jack's not. he'll catch a few hours of sleep before driving over to your place and taking you out for lunch. maybe a quickie in his truck if you're feeling up to it. and then he'll drive you to work, walking you inside. much to the amusement of your coworkers. he'll kiss you on the cheek, knowing how much you hate physical displays of affection, before wishing you a quiet goodbye before leaving. the first time he dropped you off, all of the girls turned to you and started giggling, asking who the mystery man was.

"he's just a friend," you replied, walking away to restock one of the cd shelves. one of the girls, shelby, rolled her eyes. "oh, yeah, sure. because a hot, older guy driving you to work and kissing you on the cheek is 'just a friend'."

but now, about two months later, it's normal for them to see jack around. because in said two months, you and him only grew closer. over time, the lines between whatever you had going on with him began to blur. it felt less like hookups and more like an actual relationship. not that you're really complaining. he's treated you better in these past few months than your ex ever did in those five years.

the only issue is having to hide it. like right now. football season had recently started, meaning every weekend possible, robby was over at jack's place. much to robby's surprise, you had requested if you could come along. when asked why, said that you just wanted to spend some time with your dad. not a total lie, but not the full truth. you definitely didn't want to tag along because his hot best friend was also your fuck buddy. no, definitely not.

robby sits on one side of the couch, with you sitting on the other. meanwhile, jack is lounging on his recliner. the same recliner he fucked you in about a week ago. you shake your head, attempting to forget that memory as you try and focus on the script in your lap. there was an audition coming for a side character in a thriller tv show. you highly doubt that you'll get the role, let alone a callback, but you're not ready to give up on your dreams just yet. both men let out a loud cheer when the team they're rooting for, the steelers, score another touchdown. a whistle blows, signaling that halftime has just begun.

"i'm gonna go get another beer. need anything, brother?" jack asks robby, slowly standing from the chair. he stretches his arm, making his shirt ride up just a bit. the waistband of his boxers peaks out, which definitely catches your eye. he's doing it on purpose, you realize. because the second your eyes land on the small strip of skin, he's already looking at you with a small smirk. you quickly avert your gaze back down towards your script. "nah, i'm all good. thanks though," robby replies, completely focused on the tv.

jack nods, walking behind the couch and to the kitchen. but as he passes, he lightly tugs on a couple strands of your hair. a silent tell to meet him in the kitchen. you wait a few minutes before saying, "i'm, uh, gonna get more soda." not as smooth as jack, but robby barely even glances at you before absentmindedly nodding.

when you enter the kitchen, jack's back is turned to you, washing some stray dishes at the sink. slowly, you creep up on him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. "hey, sweetheart," he coos, turning to face you. careful to dry his hands on his pants before touching you. "hi," you greet back. meeting you halfway, he captures your lips in a quick kiss. nothing but a wall separates you and him from your dad sitting in the living room. so unfortunately contact has to be kept to a minimum. "i've missed you," he whispers once pulling back. "you saw me last week," you reply.

"yeah, a week too long. been lonely without you. how you doing, huh?"

"i'm alright. been missing you too. the store recently got stock of that springsteen album you mentioned. i bought it and have it waiting in the apartment."

jack's face softens. "you shouldn't have done that. let me pay you back," he insists, but you shake your head. "you buy so much for me. the least i can do is buy you a record."

"you're amazing, you know that?"

you shrug, feigning humbleness. "so i've been told." he lightly pinches your side, making you squeal softly. "shh, baby, gotta be quiet, remember? you still coming in while i'm at work tomorrow?" he questions, a bit of hopefulness present in his tone.

"of course, jackie," you confirm. ever since moving in with robby, you've made a point to visit the pitt every monday. gifting the day shift with whatever baked goods you made over the weekend. and jack has started coming in earlier on said mondays. making up some excuse about wanting to make sure everything is prepared for the week ahead. definitely not because he wants to have a few minutes with you while locked in the supply closet.

"good. because they all miss you and your sweet treats."

"do they, huh? or do you?" you tease.

"can't it be both?" jack leans in to kiss you again, but then robby calls you both. halftime is over. an annoyed sigh escapes him as he leans forward, resting his forehead on your shoulder. you chuckle softly at all his incoherent grumbling. then pressing a kiss to his temple. all he wants is more time with you. but life keeps getting in the way. "tomorrow, okay? i will actually kiss you tomorrow," he promises. he instructs you to leave first, making sure to slip a soda in your hand to keep up the act. right before you leave, however, he lands a soft slap on your ass, causing you to glare at him playfully.

the next day, you show up at the pitt, just like you promised. it's eight o'clock, nearing the end of robby's shift. you can't find him when you enter through the ambulance bay, but langdon greets you warmly as he reaches out for some dessert. "what do you have for us today, lil robby?" ever since you've started stopping by both, he and a few of the other crew people on day shift have begun calling you 'lil robby' after your dad. it's not the cutest nickname, but it's the thought that counts. "uh, double fudge brownies," you reply.

"sounds amazing. hold on, these aren't laced are they? one time this lady brought in brownies to thank us, conveniently leaving out that they had weed in them."

"oh, yeah, jack told me about that the other night."

langdon looks at you suspiciously. even you know how it sounds. to the outside eye, you and jack are practically strangers. why would he tell you about a funny situation at work? thankfully, langdon isn't gonna push for an explanation. "if you're looking for your dad, he's with a patient. want me to go get him?"

"no, that's alright, i'll just drop them off with dana."

"alright, sounds good. thanks, again," he says, grabbing a brownie, maybe two, before going on his way.

you find dana where you expected her to be. right at the nurse's station. that bitchy nurse, monica, isn't around. she hasn't been since you first met her. thank god. instead, there's a new charge nurse in training, emma. a sweet girl. she says 'hi' to you as she passes by.

"hey there, honey. it's good to see you," dana says, pulling you into a hug. "your dad is busy right now."

"i know, langdon already told me. he'll be home soon, so i don't mind. i'm just gonna drop these off here, yeah? that way everyone can find them."

"that's alright with me," she replies. just then, jack comes in. eyes lighting up when he sees who's standing with dana. "hey, sweetheart," he greets, sliding up to stand beside you. your mutter a soft 'hi' in response. his hand rests on the small of your back just barely. enough for you to feel him, but not enough for anyone else to notice. except dana. because dana notices everything somehow. he nods at dana once before leaving to go to his locker.

as soon as he's gone, dana looks at you with that knowing look in her eyes. "what's going on between you and abbot, huh?"

"what do you mean?" oh, god. how did she figure it out? whatever... this is between you and jack had been contained for two and a half months. and you had done a pretty good job of keeping it hidden since then. but you're anxious look is answer enough for her. "i knew it."

damn her and how smart she is. "what? how did you know?"

"he's been happier than normal. brighter and less tense. besides, he has that look in his eyes whenever someone mentions your name. i haven't seen him with that look since..." her voice trails off, sentence unfinished. but she doesn't need to for you to know who she's talking about.

jack's wife. she passed just over a decade ago. he's told you things about her here and there. how beautiful she was. how kind hearted she was. how she was the one who kept him from quitting his job when things got a little too hard one night. from what he's told you, she sounds like she was a wonderful lady. so to have dana somewhat put you on the same pedestal as her... it's intimidating.

"well, we're not dating, though. we just hook up every once in a while," you try and explain. "then maybe you should tell jack that, honey," dana replies. someone calls her name, pulling her away from you shortly after. you look for your dad, who you still can't find. before looking for jack, who you now can't find.

ultimately, you decide to just head home and catch some sleep before work tomorrow. but even as you crawl under the covers and lay your head on the pillow, dana's words still stick with you. "maybe you should tell him that." you wonder what she meant by that.

you never get the chance to find out, though. because his line of work never sleeps. jack gets called in early almost every single day this past week. every single time it happens, he texts you with one of those sad faces you taught him how to do. this one :(. he hates it. not being able to see you. but he'll take all the quick phone calls he can get while on the way to work. you haven't told him about what dana said. you figured that that kind of conversation was better to have in person and face to face.

the time you end up seeing him isn't until a week later.

you come into the pitt, this time with cupcakes, and place them down at the nurse's station. unfortunately, you're not greeted with the familiar smile of dana. nor are you greeted with emma's warm smile. no, you're greeted my monica. and barely at that. she glances up at you, rolling her eyes. she does a piss poor attempt at trying to hide it, but you catch her anyway. "bringing cupcakes into an emergency department? are you serious?" she sneers.

"it's just for the workers in case they get hungry," you explain. you even try to give her a cupcake as a peace offering, but she's having no part of it. "i didn't say i wanted one, did i?" she snaps at you. saved by the bell, or the man, jack comes from around the corner to your rescue. "hey, sweetheart, it's good to see you. how about you come with me?" he says hurriedly, not even sparing a second glance to monica.

gently, he grabs your wrist and tugs you over to the storage closet down the hall. "thank you, jackie," you whisper once inside the small space. his response is pulling you into a breath stealing kiss. one hand on your waist, the other tangled in your hair. your hands reach up to rest on the front of his chest. fingers curling into the black fabric of his shirt. you needed this. both of you did. he taps you on your side twice, a silent command to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. which you do without a second thought.

jack's hands come down to cup the bottom of your ass, before holding you up against the wall. he breaks the kiss to start kissing down your neck. he gently bites on your pulse point, making you whimper. he shushes you softly, reaching up one of his hands to slip his thumb into your mouth. something small for you to suck on and keep you quiet. "you're so warm, baby. i missed this. missed you," he says against your neck. "been thinking about you all week, you know that? about you and your body. how pretty you looked on top of me those two weeks ago riding my cock. fuck, couldn't stop touching myself to you."

the memory sends a shiver down your spine. you hadn't forgotten about that shared night, either. it was the most recent, sexual encounter with jack, so it was the one you thought about when touching yourself late at night. but your fingers never felt as good as jack's. not as good as they feel dipping into the waistband of your jeans. his thumb slips free from your mouth, giving you the chance to speak. "jackie, aren't you needed out there?" you worry softly. "no, i got a few minutes, baby. you can come fast, can't ya?" he teases, and you nod rapidly. "yeah, good girl, i know you can."

but it doesn't go much farther than some over the clothes stuff. in the heat of the moment, jack forgot to make sure that the door was locked. with him being older, he doesn't hear it at first. but you do. the clicking of the door being opened makes you perk up and push his hands away. you do your best to smooth down your clothes and hair in the two seconds you have. it doesn't help that you end up face to face with your dad. "brother? i was looking for you and monica said-" robby begins to say, but his voice trails off.

both you and jack realize just how bad this looks. there's no way of lying out of this one. why would a good-looking guy and a pretty woman be hidden away in a closet together if not doing nefarious activities? it doesn't help that jack is sporting a huge hard on right now. which he does his best to cover with his hands. "are you fucking serious?!" robby exclaims, his voice booming. "dad, please, i can explain," you try and say, but he wants to hear no part of it. "i don't wanna hear anything from you, do you understand?" he snaps, silencing you immediately. robby got annoyed at you, sure, but never angry before. not like this. "both of you outside. now."

he turns his back to you both, assuming that you'll just follow. which the two of you do. walking through the emergency department, you notice how nearly everyone is silent and looking at the three of you. some are looking at you with pity, while others don't even attempt to look due to awkwardness. but there's one that sticks out. monica. she's looking at you with nothing but smug on her face. you feel ashamed like a kid who just got caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. but even now, jack pulls you closer and forces your head to rest in his neck. if you can't see them, they can't see you. and if anyone even dares to say anything, he'll say something back.

once you're outside, robby turns back around to look at you two. "you get your hands off her right now," he commands, and jack listens. but he doesn't allow you to go far. instead, he moves his body to stand in front of you, blocking you from robby's piercing gaze. "listen, before you start, don't go and get mad at her. this was all my idea, okay? she didn't do anything," jack says, arguing in your favor. which you appreciate, but he's making himself sound like some weirdo. "jack, what are you doing?" you whisper to him, tugging at the back of his shirt. "helping you out," he replies.

"no," you say, moving to step between the two men.

"no?" they ask in unison.

"yeah, no. i wanted this too, just as much as jack did. he didn't force or coerce me into anything. i chose this. so if you should be mad at anyone, be mad at me."

robby just stares at you. for a second you think that this whole thing has just been finished on under five minutes. but then he says, "i just can't believe you. i thought you were smarter than this. you're just so young and he's..."

"he's younger than you," you retort. "but he's still almost twenty years your senior!" he argues back. those words act as the catalyst. the two of you start going at it, yelling about anything and everything that comes to mind.

jack can barely make out what you say, because your voices are so loud and heavy they start to overlap each other. but what he does notice is how similar you two are. he can tell that robby was the man who practically raised you. shit, he wouldn't even be surprised if robby turned out to actually be your father. the two of you have that same line between your eyebrows when angry. the same stance of your hand on your hips or your arms crossed over your chest.

"uh, robinavitch?" dana asks, stepping outside.

"what?" both you and robby ask in unison. if it weren't for the tense situation, jack would probably make a joke about how the two of you look like twins at the moment. "not you, honey," she says sweetly at you. but her expression hardens when she looks over at robby. "you. get inside, now." robby sighs, rolling his eyes and rubbing harshly at his forehead. "we're not done, understand?" he says before following after dana.

the second he's gone, you feel as if you can breathe again. a shaky sigh escapes you, as well as a tear. and then another. then another. before you know it, you're completely breaking down in the middle of the ambulance bay. jack is there to comfort you. pulling you into the tightest hug imaginable while rubbing circles on your back. "just breathe, baby, breathe. you're okay," he coos. "how about you head over to my place for the night, okay? unless you wanna go to yours?"

you shake your head. "no, i-i wanna stay at your place."

"okay, baby. still got your key?" he asks, which you nod.

"alright, head there and get some sleep. i'm calling you out of work tomorrow. you need it." jack kisses your head, then your cheek, before pressing a quick one on your lips. "i love you, baby," he murmurs. a look of panic washes over him at his choice of words. no fucking way. his first 'i love you' and it's right after getting into a verbal tussle with your dad. it's a fucking dick move. but then all his worry goes away when you whisper, "i love you too, jackie." that makes him smile. "keep my bed warm for me tonight, alright?" he commands gently, before sending you away with a soft love tap on your ass.

the shift is long and grueling and completely awkward. dana forces robby to go home shortly after the whole debacle, and jack watches as his friend glares at him the whole way out. he can't blame him for being upset. if the roles were reversed and robby was secretly banging jack's daughter, he'd be pretty pissed off too. but jack loves you. god, he loves you so much. he's not in it for just the sex like most older guys would be. sure, the sex is amazing, but he loves your smile.

he loves that little snort laugh you have whenever you watch your little youtube videos. he loves watching you perform all your lines in front of him while he sits on the couch. and he loves the look you get in your eyes when you watch him while lying in bed. you look at him like he hung the moon and stars himself.

once he's home, jack shrugs off his jacket and backpack onto the hanging rack before slipping off his shoes by the door. he heads towards his room, ready to crawl into bed with you, but you're not there. he checks the bathroom, you're not there either. you weren't downstairs in the living room or by the pool. now he's worried. but then he notices that the balcony door is cracked open. he makes his way out there, which is where he finds you.

you're wrapped up in one of his hoodies and a pair of your shorts, legs pulled up tight to your chest. a cigarette hangs between your pointer and middle finger. you probably haven't noticed him yet, and he doesn't wanna scare you. so he slowly sits down beside you on the empty chair. you glance at him then, but don't say anything. you don't wanna talk, that's okay. he's not gonna force you to. instead, he just sits. and waits.

the moment feels so reminiscent to the night you first met. but yet, it feels like the beginning of the end. you don't know what jack is gonna say. is he gonna break up with you? technically, you're not even together, so can he even do that? either way, you don't want him to. you just wanna keep him forever, but you feel like forever is slowly slipping away from you. the thoughts become too much, and you need answers now, so you blurt out, "are you breaking up with me?"

"huh?" jack asks, eyes bugged out wide.

"are you breaking up with me? which, i don't think is possible because we're not dating. but i just-" you take a hit of the cigarette to calm down, "i just need to know, jack. are you breaking up with me?" you repeat.

that... wasn't what he was expecting from you. like, at all. "i'm not breaking up with you, baby, why would you think that? besides, i thought we were dating...?" he questions, a bit confused.

now it's your turn to be confused. "really? since when?"

"since the night we slept together," he replies, as if it was so obvious. "are you serious?" and he nods in response. "well, how come you never told me?" you ask. jack shrugs. "i thought you knew. i made it pretty clear." he's always been a gentleman. he was raised by his mother to be respectful and kind to any and all women he comes in contact with. that's how he was with his wife. that's how he is with you. if he had known that he had to tell you outright, he would've done it.

"oh..." you murmur. "i'm sorry, i didn't know." he shakes his head, kissing your temple.

"don't apologize, baby. that's on me. but i'm not breaking up with you, okay? what happened with robby is not gonna scare me away. it takes a lot to do that, baby," he promises.

"i just, i feel like i've messed everything up, jackie. dad's not gonna want to talk to me."

"that's not true. you didn't mess anything up, sweetheart. he'll come around, he always does. robby's just a stubborn asshole, kind of like someone i know," he teases, bumping your shoulder with his.

you playfully roll your eyes and shove him lightly. he catches your hand in his, pressing a kiss on each knuckle. "how 'bout we head to bed, yeah?" he offers. "i took tomorrow off, so we can sleep in as late as you want." you nod, letting him pull you up to stand. you put out the cigarette on the little ash tray that jack bought for you to keep outside.

you sit on the bed while he excuses himself to change and get off his prosthetic. when he comes back, you're nearly passed out. slowly, he crawls under the covers with you, tugging you into his side. your head rests right under his chin, on top of his chest.

you're not sure when robby will talk to you. maybe tomorrow, maybe a week from now. you hope that he does, because at the end of the day, he's still your dad. blood related or not. but you're not alone anymore. you have jack, and for now, that's all you need.

a month has gone by since you've moved to pittsburgh. it's nothing like the small town in oregon you grew up in, but you're grateful that robby was kind enough to offer you a room free of charge. he took a whole week off during your first week back so that he could show you around town. even taking you to his place of work so he could introduce you to everyone on his crew.

most of them were shocked to discover that robby had a daughter, all except dana, who already knew of you and your existence. and you had to explain that long story about robby technically being your godfather, but it's easier to just say he's your dad. besides, it wasn't like your actual dad was always the most stable figure in your life.

speaking of him, he calls you one night as you begin plating the table for you and robby. he starts spouting the same bullshit about you being such a terrible daughter for leaving him and oregon behind to pursue a career that'll never take off. you just let him talk, not really caring anymore to defend yourself. already knowing that it'll go nowhere and only escalate the argument. just as you finish setting up is when robby comes home, discarding his shoes and jacket, dropping his backpack beside the front door.

the volume of your dad's voice is so loud over the phone that you have to hold it away from your ear, making robby tilt a brow in confusion. 'your dad?' he mouths, which you nod. "listen, i gotta go and make dinner. goodnight," you say, ignoring the flew of curse words he spills as you hang up.

"what lovely things did he have to say to you tonight?" robby questions, wasting no time to dig into the spaghetti you made. "oh, you know, how much he hates me for leaving. how he thinks my acting career will go nowhere. and how disappointed mom would be in me if she was still here. so the usual," you reply, harshly stabbing at the salad you made as a side. he lets out a soft huff, shaking his head. "that's not true, you know. your mother would be very proud to see the woman you've become," he assures softly. "yeah, i know that. you would think he'd know that."

"how's the job hunting going?" robby questions, changing the topic. "there were a few listings for some roles that seem interesting. but in the meantime i got an interview tomorrow for a local record store down the street."

"that's good, bug. you've been so stuck in the house this past month. i'm glad you're getting out. speaking of getting out, though, one of my friends from work is throwing a fourth of july barbecue this weekend with some of his old army buddies."

"and you're thinking of going?" you ask with a chuckle. "wow, i never thought i'd see the day when michael robinavitch would willingly take a day off."

"haha, very funny," robby replies sarcastically. "with al-hashimi around, i don't feel as conflicted taking days off. but just for that, you're coming along with me."

"are you serious? what am i supposed to do around a bunch of old guys drinking and sharing their war stories?"

robby shrugs. "gets you out of the house. besides, one of them is bound to have a son around your age. maybe you can get yourself a boyfriend."

"i think i'm okay with no boyfriend for a while." he stares at you with a look combined of pity and understanding. he knows why you've come to the decision of steering clear of men. mainly due to the fact that your now ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you with your now ex-best friend for more than half the time you two had been together. so, you know, not the best relationship ever.

"alright, well, just think about coming with me, okay? jack is a good friend of mine. nice, too. i think the two of you would get along."

"i'll think about it," you promise. "that's all i ask, bug. now you go ahead and get ready for bed. i'll clean up." you nod, handing over your empty plate to him. "night, dad."

"night, bug. love you," he says, pulling you into a side hug and kissing the crown of your head. "love you too."

saturday comes by a lot sooner than expected. robby parks the car on the edge of the curb, just near the driveway. he looks over at you before exiting the car. "just try and have a good time, yeah? if it gets too boring, there's a balcony on the second floor that you can hang out on. i'm sure jack won't mind." you give him a small smile. "don't worry me about me, dad. just focus on enjoying your night off. he mirrors your smile, rubbing his palm over the top of your head. you groan, trying to slap his hand away, making him laugh. "c'mon, bug, let's head inside."

jack's house is huge compared to the apartment that robby lives in. it's two floors with a spacious kitchen and dining room. hell, there's even a living room and a tv room. no way he was able to afford all this while having the same pay as robby. "they must be outside," robby infers, guiding you towards the large french doors that lead to the backyard. you didn't expect the outside to be just as huge as the interior, but you were quickly proven wrong.

just like he told you, there's nothing but guys at this party. most are just sitting around and drinking. and a few of them are hanging in the pool. a couple of them greet robby, eyeing you as you walk past them and to the long table near the grill that holds all the food. he drops a couple beers in the cooler while you set down the brownies he requested you to make. one guy comes up to robby, grabbing a beer from him and making friendly conversation.

"hey, man. it's good to see you. we weren't sure if you'd take the day off to come see us," the man says, slapping robby on the back. "yeah, i'm just as surprised as you. but i decided that a day off could be good for me," robby replies.

"tell me about it. work has been kicking my ass recently. obviously nothing compared to yours and jack's, of course." the man's barely glances at you before doing a double take. "who's this?" he asks, a smirk making its way on his face. "don't even try it, adam," robby warns. "this is my daughter, y/n."

"it's nice to meet you," you greet with a tight lipped smile. the man, adam apparently, puts out his hand for you to shake. you don't. not because you're trying to be rude. you just don't do well with physical touch. especially from strangers. "don't sweat it, sweetheart. it's a pleasure to see a pretty face at one of these things instead of a bunch of old guys." his words make you grimace. they also have an affect on robby, who stands a bit taller and shifts his body in front of yours. but before he can say anything, an unknown voice cuts in.

"adam, back off it. don't harass the girl." even though it's masked as a joke, you can hear the underlying warning. it's enough that adam backs off with his hands held in surrender, before walking away to another part of the backyard. robby turns around to the new man. "thanks, brother," robby says, dabbing him up before pulling him into a quick hug. "don't worry about it. adam can be a piece of work at times." you turn around as well, coming face to face with probably the hottest guy you've ever seen.

he stands a couple inches shorter than robby, but he's larger in size. his biceps strain against the black tee that he wears. and the slightly baggy jeans he has on does nothing to hide that his thighs are fucking huge. his hair is gorgeous, the salt and pepper curls sitting perfectly atop his head.

okay. you need to stop staring before you start drooling. get a grip. like seriously.

thankfully, mystery man doesn't notice you ogling him. if he does, he's kind enough not to mention it. "you must be y/n, i'm jack. robby talks highly of you." he doesn't put his hand out for you to shake. he must've noticed that you didn't shake adam's. "uh, you have like, a crazy nice house," you say awkwardly. but it makes him laugh. "i appreciate that. you let me know if there's anything you need, okay?" he's just being a good host, you tell yourself. "yeah, thanks." he nods once at you, a gentle smile on his face, before slapping robby on the back and heading towards the grill. "told you he'd be nice," robby mutters, bumping your shoulder once with his.

the barbecue ends up not being bad as you thought it would be. most of your time is spent sitting beside robby and eating. some of the guys ask you questions, but other than that, you're mainly silent. not like you mind it, though. you hate pointless small talk with others. by now, the sun has set, and people are starting to shoot off some fireworks. the guys have also gotten a little more drunk as the night goes on, making the environment louder than before. so it's no surprise to robby when you politely excuse yourself to a quieter area.

when entering back into the house, you remember what robby had told you earlier about there being a balcony you could escape to. you walk up the stairs and down the hallway. you're cautious when looking for said balcony. the last thing you want is for jack to assume you're some weirdo trying to snoop in his house. as if fate is on your side, there's a bedroom door cracked open at the end of the hall. and when you peek inside, you can see the balcony door open across the room.

there's two chairs placed on the small surface, both of which are facing towards the skyline. minutes go by of silence and the occasional firework. jack's neighborhood is relatively quiet. you take a hit of your vape when you hear a familiar voice. "those things aren't good for you, you know," jack scolds playfully, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. you can't help it when your eyes drop down to forearms. "even on your day off, you're still giving doctor's advice?" you tease. he shrugs, moving to the chair beside you. a soft groan escapes him as he sits down. "what can i say, i'm just a caring individual."

you chuckle softly. "it's just a bad habit i picked up in college. i hope you don't mind me being up here. dad said that it was a good place for me if it got too loud."

"don't worry about it. robby had mentioned that loud and crowded spaces get you nervous at times, so i set up the chairs out here just in case you needed to get away."

jack's words take you by surprise. he did that for you? before tonight, he'd just heard stories about you from robby. yet he's singlehandedly done the most thoughtful act anyone has ever done for you. "that's really nice of you. thank you." you start to feel how warm your cheeks are, so you look away before he notices the soft blush on them. "it's beautiful tonight," you murmur, admiring the night sky. "yeah, it is," he agrees. but you're too focused on the fireworks to notice he's looking at you. "how are you liking pittsburgh so far?"

"slowly but surely i'm getting used to it. it's definitely different than roseburg, but overall, i like it here. it's more lively and has more opportunities."

"robby told me you were a drama major, is that right?"

"i am, yeah. i know it's not the most useful degree, but..." you just shrug, unsure of what to say. "hey, a degree is a degree. from what i've heard, you're pretty talented. you been in anything?"

"nothing major, no. a few local commercials and i was a background character in a horror movie a couple years ago."

"well, i'm sure any agency would be glad to have you." god, could jack be anymore perfect? you've only known him for what, a couple hours? and somehow he's raised the bar for you by miles.

a gust of wind blows by, making you shiver. maybe wearing shorts and a tank top with no jacket wasn't the best idea. "you cold?" jack asks. "a little, but i'm okay. you don't have to-" halfway through your sentence he stands up and goes into the room connected to the balcony. now that you're looking at it, you realize that it's his bedroom. oh my god. he comes back out with a navy blue blanket in hand, draping it over your legs that you pulled up to your chets. "there you go." the blanket itself is soft and warm, like it recently came out of the dryer.

"you know, you don't have to feel inclined to stay. i'm sure being down there is a lot more fun than up here with me," you suggest. "nah, i like it up here. besides, you are a lot more fun than those guys, believe me, sweetheart. a lot less drunk too." you like the way he calls you sweetheart. it feels less icky than when adam called you it. you barely notice how much times passes by.

unlike most people, jack doesn't attempt to fill the silence with forced conversation. the questions he asks are sincere, like he actually wants to know about you. and your responses come out so naturally that it doesn't feel like jack was a complete stranger until tonight. you only know that it's gotten late when robby comes searching for you. "bug? there you are," he says, walking out on the balcony. "hey, brother, what are you doing up here?"

"just getting to know the little movie star. you planning on heading out?" jack asks. "yeah, it's getting late and i promised dana that i would come in tomorrow to make up for missing today. you ready to head out, bug?" you nod, stretching as you stand up. "thanks for the blanket, jack," you say, folding it and setting it down on the chair. "you're welcome. c'mon, let me walk the two you of out."

robby leaves the balcony first, then you, and then jack. as you walk downstairs, you nearly miss the last step. but just before you take a tumble, jack catches you with a hand on the small of your back. "careful there. that step is rickety," he mutters. you can feel how warm his breath is on the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

once outside, jack pulls robby into a quick hug. "thanks for coming tonight, it was good seeing you outside of work."

"i appreciated the invite. you coming in tomorrow?"

jack shrugs. "we'll see how my leg is feeling. it's been killing me all day." robby claps him on the shoulder, the closest thing to comfort that he'll give. "well, just let me know. i'll see you around, brother."

"see ya, brother." robby waves, before hopping inside the car. "and you," jack points at you, "don't be a stranger, yeah? it's nice having a new and pretty face around."

"you got it..." you're unsure of what to call him. you know that his last name is abbot from the small background robby gave you on the drive here. calling him dr. abbot would be too formal. but would jack be too casual? you just met him, so you don't know. "jack. you can call me jack, sweetheart," he assures.

there it is again. sweetheart. and that smile... god, you're gonna need a cold shower when you get home. "alright, you got it, jack. might have to take you up on the offer and try out that pool of yours," you say jokingly. "it's open to you anytime you want it," he retorts. but he means it. "have a good night."

"you too," you reply, waving goodbye. now in the car, robby looks over at you. "you feeling okay? you're looking a little warm."

"huh? oh, yeah, i'm fine. i must've got heat exhaustion or something." sure, heat exhaustion. it looks like he almost doesn't believe you, but chooses not to argue. "alright, well, drink some water and electrolytes when we get home. and put a cold towel around your neck."

"you got it, dad." robby then pulls off of the curb, making a u-turn and driving away. the whole drive home, your thoughts are stuck on jack. you're not sure what will cure whatever it is that jack is making you feel.

you end up not seeing jack for almost two weeks since that night. in those two weeks, you've done everything in your power to get him off your mind. you ended up getting the job at the record store, taking shifts pretty much whenever possible so you could rake in money for yourself. you did a few auditions here and there, but had no luck in getting callbacks. hell, you've even rearranged your room more times than you could count whenever thoughts of him flooded your mind at night.

by this point, you believed that luck was not on your side. until robby called you on your way home from work. "hey, bug, i hope i'm not bothering you while you're at work, but i'm gonna have to pull a double tonight."

"everything okay?"

"as okay as it can be, i guess. there was a pretty big pileup and the closest hospital is ours so we're gonna need all hands on deck basically," robby explains.

"okay, well, i can bring you dinner if you want."

"you don't have to if you can't, bug."

"dad, really it's fine. besides, i just left work so i don't mind it," you insist.

robby sighs over the phone, knowing how stubborn you are. "alright. you can come in through the ambulance bay, it'll be faster. i'll let ahmad know you're stopping by."

"sounds good. love you."

"love you too, stay safe."

due to the aftermath of the pileup, it takes you longer than expected to pickup the food and get to the hospital. thankfully, though you don't run into any complications when arriving through the ambulance bay. a man in a security uniform waves you in and politely nods. that must be ahmad. you head towards the nurses station, looking for dana. but you instead find an unfamiliar, older woman.

"hello," you greet with a soft smile. "can you please tell me where dr. robby is?" she's not nearly as friendly with you as you were with her. "are you a patient?"

"no, ma'am, i'm not."

"are you the family member of a patient?"

"no-"

"then why are you here? matter of fact, how did you get in here? so leave, before i call security on you."

you're grateful for the familar voice that cuts in. "monica! this is robby's daughter, y/n, that's why she's here. how about you go take a smoke break, huh?" dana suggets. monica eyes you up and down with clear disdain, especially at your outfit. she mumbles something about 'this generation nowadays' before walking outside to the ambulance bay. "sorry about her, honey, monica can be a real piece of work sometimes," dana apologizes once she's gone.

"it's alright, i'm fine," you reply. "can you tell me where dad is?"

"he's in trauma room one right now. why? something wrong?" dana puts on her glasses, ready to examine whatever injury you might have. "no, nothing's wrong. i just brought him some dinner since he's pulling a double. do you think he'll be out anytime soon?"

"i don't think so, hun. the patient he got was in a pretty rough state when they came in." you nod, understanding. "okay, well, can you give it to him when he's done? i know that if anyone else does it he won't listen and actually eat the food." she laughs, tapping you on the arm. "you got it. come back and visit more often, yeah?"

"yes, ma'am, see ya!" she waves goodbye, you do the same. as you walk out, you glance down at your phone for maybe a second, before running into a brick wall. no, it's definitely not a brick wall. because a brick wall doean't smell like sandalwood. also because two large hands grab you by your biceps to steady you. "jack," you breathe out.

"gotta be more careful, sweetheart. i can't always stop you from falling," he teases. "what brings you around here?"

"i brought dad some dinner for tonight."

he hums softly. "it's good to see you again. you doing alright?"

"i am, yeah. how about you?"

"better now that you're here." jesus christ, if you weren't surrounded by ambulances and complete strangers, you probably would've jumped his bones right here and now. "hey, are you free this weekend?" he suddenly asks.

"uh, i should be. why?" please be a date, you think over and over. "i was thinking about inviting you and robby over for dinner. it would be nice to get to know you more," he instead says. hopefully, you mask your disappointment well. "that would be great, yeah. i'll let him know."

"alright, well, i need to give you my number so we can smooth out the details." you put your phone in his outstretched hand, watching as he punches in his number. "well, i should probably head in there soon. but hopefully i'll see you this weekend?"

"yeah, this weekend," you echo.

"cute shirt, by the way," jack says, fingers lightly brushing the thin strap of your flowery top as he passes. it doesn't occur to you until you get home that robby already has jack's number.

jack never needed to give you his.

friday night, you receive a text from jack's contact who saved himself in your phone as 'jack 😎'. the single emoji makes you laugh softly.

the next day, you spend all morning trying to figure out what to wear. you know that it technically isn't a date, but you still want to look nice. but nothing too forward. god, this is hard. you land on something basic, but reason that it'll be good enough. jack offers to pick you up, but you insist that you can drive yourself. so he texts you his address.

jack greets you at the door with a gentle smile. "i'm glad you could make it, sweetheart. dinner's already made. i set it out on the patio if that's okay."

"that's perfect," you assure.

"alright, follow me then."

you're surprised by how all out jack has gone for this dinner. a fresh bouquet of flowers sit in a glass vase right in the middle of the table, with small candles lit around it. "you did all of this?"

"yeah, i did," he responds. like it's no big deal. "why? you don't like it?"

"huh? no, i do. it looks amazing. i just wish i would've known you were going all out. i would've worn something a little more nicer than this," you say, gesturing towards your outfit. he looks at it up and down. "i think you look beautiful the way you're dressed now," he replies without a second thought. "now let's eat before it gets cold." he moves over to the atble, pulling out your chair for you. even pushing you in once you're sitting down.

jack takes his place across from you, plating your food first before his. "i wasn't sure what you liked to eat, but i figured that you can't really go wrong with pasta. and i also assumed that you don't drink alcohol because i didn't see you drink during the party. but i noticed you drinking diet coke. is that fine?" it makes you smile to see how attentive he is. he cares so much to impress you at the moment that you're almost taken aback. "everything is perfect. like, seriously. the food is amazing too," you praise.

jack's shoulders drop just a bit, like the praise you've just given him was exactly what he needed to hear. he hasn't done something like this in years. not since the passing of his wife. so it feels good to hear that he's doing this right. "robby told me you got a new job?"

"yeah, i did. i work at the record store down 5th."

"how are you liking it?"

"it's good so far. it's close to the house, and the owner and all the staff is really nice. but i don't see it as like, a forever career, obviously. i'm mainly just working there so i can save away money to move out of dad's place. i just feel bad for free loading or whatever," you ramble, a little embarrassed when you realize that you added on a lot more details than needed. but jack doesn't seem to care. he doesn't even seem to notice. he's just sitting there and listening. "you know, your dad doesn't see it that way. he loves you a lot," he reassures.

"yeah, i know. but dad has already done so much for me, you know? he's always been there for me since i can remember."

"was he friends with your birth dad?"

you shake your head. "no, he was friends with my mom. they grew up together, actually. same neighborhood, same school. they were really close. apparently, everyone used to say that they wouldn't be surprised if the two of them ended up marrying each other. it obviously never happened because he went away to new orleans to do his residency. when he came back, my mom was already married with a little girl. i remember being so young and telling people i couldn't wait to become a doctor like my uncle robby." you recall the memory with a small laugh. for your seventh birthday, he even bought you one of those play doctor kits.

"why didn't you?" jack asks softly.

"my mom got diagnosed with stage four breast cancer when i was sixteen. it was just really hard, you know? to see her so weak and sick when i so used to seeing her lively. she passed a few months after the diagnosis. after that, i just couldn't see myself being surrounded by sickness and death."

you had never told anyone that before. besides robby, no one knew about your old dreams of being a doctor. you're not sure why you tell jack all of that. but there's just something about him that seems so trustworthy. but you appreciate that he doesn't look at you with pity like everyone else does. instead he almost looks... understanding of you and your pain.

"i, uh, i lost my wife to breast cancer. about ten years ago now," he admits quietly. "it's good to talk about them, the people you've lost. just because they're gone doesn't mean the relationship is done."

"amen to that," you say, tipping your soda towards him. the small gesture makes him laugh. and the previously solemn air feels lighter. like maybe two people have just felt a little less lonely than before.

dinner unsurprisingly continues to go well after that. jack asks you all kinds of questions, and you answer them all with enthusiasm. you notice that he doesn't really talk much himself. not for a lack of trying, though. whenever you would attempt to let him chime in or change the conversation topic, he would turn it back around on you. "i feel bad. i'm doing all the talking," you say. "good thing for you, sweetheart, i like listening," he retorts.

once dinner is over, you try to help him out by washing the dishes. but he comes up from behind, grabbing your hips as he moves to the side. "jack, c'mon, i'm trying to help out," you argue, but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head while rinsing the utensils. "you're my guest, meaning you don't do the cleaning up."

"are you sure? i don't mind helping."

"positive. go ahead and hop in the pool if you want. there's a bathroom down the hall for you to change in."

you nod, knowing that no amount of convincing will change his mind. grabbing your purse off of one of the chairs in the dining room, you head down the hall and towards one of the doors. "uh uh, to your left, sweetheart. there you go," he says, leading you to the correct door. thank god your back is turned so he can't see how warm your face gets. you shouldn't feel so aroused at what he said. they're normal, everyday words! but it's just how he said it... you throw some cold water on your face to snap out of it.

jack is robby's best friend. and whether blood related or not, you still see robby as your dad. it would probably give him a heart attack to see his surrogate daughter all over his best friend. besides, jack doesn't see you that way. he's just being nice. he had mentioned he was born in south carolina. it's just that southern hospitality or whatever. he definitely has southern charm, that's for sure.

quickly, you realize that the bikini you packed is probably not the most appropriate. it's not scandalous, and even if it was who gives a fuck, but it's also not the best to wear around a man that you barely know. not that jack would do anything, at least you hope not. but it was the only one you had unpacked. you peek your head out of the bathroom to look towards the kitchen and see if jack is still there. oddly, he's not. fully stepping out, you realize that he's nowhere to be seen. he's probably outside. but when you go out there, his presence can't be found. must be upstairs, then.

slowly, you sink into the shallow end of the pool. inch by inch since it's so cold, causing goosebumps to rise in your skin. to be honest, pools were never really your thing. being an only child and only having older cousins meant never getting to experience playing mermaids with someone your age. but you enjoy the calming effect that water has on you. so most of the time, you just end up awkwardly floating around until your fingers prune.

the sound of a chair being scraped across the concrete breaks you out of your thoughts.

looking behind you, you see jack sitting down, rubbing at his right knee. "you're not coming in?" you ask and he shakes his head. "can't," he replies. just as you're about to question why, he tugs up his right pant leg, displaying the metal prosethtic. "sometimes the chlorine really messes with it."

"oh, i'm sorry," you apologize, a bit sheepish now after not knowing about his disability. "no need to say sorry, sweetheart. you didn't know," he says, shrugging it off. "people have said and reacted a lot worse when seeing it."

you let a few seconds pass before asking, "does it hurt?"

"sometimes it can, yeah. if i keep the prosthetic on for long periods of time, it'll put pressure and dig into my skin. and once in a while, i'll get phantom pain where my leg once was," he explains. he doesn't allow himself to dwell on it too long before changing the topic. "you liking the pool?"

"it's really nice. wish i had my own on days when it gets unbearably hot."

"then come over whenever you want. not like anyone else is using it," he simply says, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. you smirk softly. "those things aren't good for you, you know," you say, mocking his words from the other night. he mirrors your smirk. "you gonna stop me from smoking it, sweetheart?" jack asks, smoke spilling out the side of his mouth as he talks.

you hold up your hands in fake surrender. "let me have a hit?" and he nods, holding it out to you. "i don't wanna accidentally drop it or something." playfully he rolls his eyes. "forgot how clumsy you are," he teases. "c'mere then." you push yourself up, forearms resting on the edge of the pool. it takes all the restraint in him to not look down at the way your cleavage is pushed up in this position.

jack takes one long drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in his mouth. he beckons with his pointer and middle finger to come closer, which you do. his nose brushes yours as he leans in to let the smoke travel from his mouth to yours. your lips touch, just barely, but it's enough for him to groan at the feeling. once the smoke is gone, you move away. but only slightly.

jack glances down at your bikini. just this once, he reasons. red, white, and blue. cute. "did you buy it for the fourth?" you shake your head. "not for this one. i bought it a couple years ago for a pool party with my boyfriend."

"you still got one?"

"got what? a boyfriend?"

"yeah, a boyfriend," he confirms. "a pretty girl like you must have one."

"no, i don't. not since i found out that he was cheating on me for three out of the five years we were dating."

jack tsks, flicking some of the ash off the cigarette. "it's his loss then. should've known that he had the best he's ever gonna get." you snort softly. "you're just saying that," you say, but he shakes his head. "no, i mean it. he wouldn't know how to handle you, anyways."

you raise an eyebrow. this is definitely getting interesting now. "oh, really? what, and you do?" you wonder if jack knows what you're doing. which, of course he does. he's not blind. and much to your luck, he taks the bait. "yeah, sweetheart, i do."

seconds, minutes, maybe even hours pass as the two of you just stare. you're not sure who, but someone leans in first, closing the distance between you. the second your lips touch his, jack doesn't hold back. he lets the cigarette fall from between his fingers, stomping it out beneath his shoe. his hands come up to hold the sides of your face, pulling you as close as possible. one of your hands reach out towards the edge of the pool to stabilize yourself.

you tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss. jack's tongue swipes across your bottom lip, silently requesting access. and you give it to him, obviously. you moan softly, which makes him smirk against your lips. the kiss continues for a few seconds more, with quiet sounds escaping the both of you. he pulls away first. a soft whine slips from your mouth. his thumb bumps your bottom lip, wiping away the single strand of spit connecting your lips to his.

"don't be like that, baby. i'll take care of you. want me to do that?" he asks and you nod, but that's not enough for him. "use your words, c'mon."

"i want you to take care of me, jack. please," you breathe out. ever the gentleman, jack helps you out of the pool, careful not to let you slip. he's now given a better view of you in your bikini. the wet cloth sticks to your skin, water droplets dripping down your smooth thighs. but that's not what intrigues him. well, correction, everything about you intrigues him. but there's a belly button piercing that catches his eye. it has a silver bar and jewel, with the little playboy bunny logo dangling.

"when did you get this?" jack asks, brushing at the piercing. "when i was seventeen. after my mom's passing, i kinda went through this rebellious phase. getting this piercing was one of the first things i did," you explain. "why? you like it?"

he nods. "yeah, i do," he rasps, "let's take this upstairs, okay, baby?" you let out a small 'okay', letting him gently drag you into the house.

you can't believe it. you really can't believe it. no way did you ever think that coming to jack's house tonight was gonna result in you two hooking up. not that you're really complaining, though.

you smile to yourself. he likes my piercing, you think as you walk up the stairs. your ex hated your piercing. always claimed that it was a poor excuse to slut yourself out. yeah, well, he was a fucking dick so who cares now.

once in the room, jack shuts the door behind you two before pulling you into another breath stealing kiss. it's shorter than the first, but not any less passionate. he grabs at your hips, moving you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bedframe and you fall onto the bed. his body cages yours, forearms resting on either side of your head. pulling away from your lips, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. he bites you on your pulse point before sticking out his tongue to soothe the aching spot. you moan, bucking up your hips to meet his, feeling his growing bulge.

you hope that he leaves a mark. selfishly, jack does too. one of his hands sneaks into your bikini bottoms, swiping at your entrance. a soft groan escapes him when he feels how wet you are. "fuck, baby. all this f'me?" you nod rapidly. "yes, jack, it's all for you. just, please," you beg, pushing up against his hand for anything. any kind of friction to soothe this aching feeling. "please what, huh? use your big girl words again."

you let out a soft huff. it's almost humiliating to admit how needy you are right now. but you know won't get what you want, what you need, if you don't speak up. "i want you to fuck me, jack. please, jackie, please," you admit, breathing heavily.

jack smiles against your neck. licking a long stripe from the base of your neck to behind your ear. he then presses a small kiss there. "that's it, sweetheart. that's what i wanna hear." he pulls away to look at you. "but not yet, okay? i gotta ease you into it." he slides down to the floor in a prayer position, ignoring the way his leg starts aching. instead, grabbing at your thighs to pull you closer. "hand me that pillow beside you," he softly commands, gesturing to the light gray one to your left. you do as he says, tossing it to him so he can place it beneath his prosthetic.

slowly, jack starts to tug down your bikini bottoms, inch by inch, before your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. "what are you doing?" you ask hesitantly. "i told you. let me ease you into it. but if you don't wanna do this, that's okay too, baby," he replies, already moving to stand up, but you pull him back in. "no, i want this, please. i just didn't expect you to, you know, eat me out," you admit. truth be told, your ex never did that. always said it was gross, despite the multiple times he would make you go down on him. his form of 'foreplay' was roughly fingering you for like five seconds before putting it in.

jack is able to pick up on what you don't say. this is your first time getting this kind of treatment. "i'll go slow with you, okay? if it gets too much for you, tap on my shoulder twice."

"okay, i trust you," you whisper, nodding once as a sign for him to continue. jack finishes tugging your bikini bottoms down, letting them fall onto the ground beneath him. he begins to kiss up the insides of your thighs. the light stubble on his jaw rubs against your skin, making you shiver. he starts with short kitten licks on your cunt. the sensation is nothing like you've ever felt before. he goes slow, but in the best way possible. it keeps you right on the edge.

jack keeps his left hand on your thigh, pinning it down to the bed. but his right ends up between your legs. he starts with his pointer, slowly sliding it in. his fingers are longer, thicker. reaching places that you never could when by yourself. a soft moan slips from your lips. "you like that?" he asks, voice muffled.

"yes! yes, jack. more please." and how can he deny you when you ask so nicely? he pumps his finger in and out faster, simultaneously speeding up his tongue. he slips a second finger in. this one hits you just right. another moan from you. this one louder than before. there it is, he thinks to himself. he starts to lick at your clit. the two sensations combined feel like heaven on earth. he keeps the same pace. only slowing down when he feels you getting close. he hopes that you know he's not trying to be mean. he wants this to last for you.

it all feels so good that your legs start to shake. he forces one of your legs open with his free hand. a coil in your belly starts to tighten when he keeps hitting your g-spot over and over and over. "jack, 'm so close. please, right there. just- ugh, fuck, keep going," you whine, fingers digging into his sheets. you're fisting the sheets so tightly that you might rip them. jack lets go of your thigh to grab that hand. he squeezes it once. a silent 'i got you'. he brushes against your g-spot one last time, sucking on your clit, before you come. it rushes out of you so hard that you almost see stars. without meaning to, your thighs clamp around his head as a multitude of moans escape you. not like he minds it, though. he's happy right where he is.

finally, jack pulls away, moving to hover over you again. "you doing okay, sweet girl?" he notices your eyes are shut. when you don't respond, he lightly slaps your thigh. your eyes open. "i'm sorry. it's just... i haven't come like that in a really long time. kinda took me out for a sec," you reply. "do you think you can keep going?" he questions. he's not gonna push you if you don't want to. you nod. "i can. besides, i can't just leave you hanging." your eyes flick down to the bulge straining against his jeans.

fuck, even in his pants he looks huge.

"c'mere," you mutter, pulling him in by his chin to makeout with him. your sudden burst of dominance makes jack groan into your mouth. your hands tug at the hem of his shirt with a soft whimper. a silent plea that you need this stupid fabric off of him. he obliges. breaking away from the kiss for just a second. the sight of him shirtless distracts you. with the farmers tan on his thick arms, the freckles across the expanse of his chest, and his soft belly. "like what you see, sweetheart?" he asks. "fuck, yeah, i do," you reply, before pulling him back in for a kiss.

his large fingers tangle into the wet strands of your hair. you blindly fumble with his belt, unable to get a firm grasp on it. he reaches down with his right hand, though, undoing the button and zipper easily.

pulling down his boxers and jeans in one go, jack's cock springs free, slapping against the ridge of his soft abs. your ex was average, only around five inches. but jack? he's huge, just like you expected. seven, maybe even pushing seven and a half inches. but not only that, he's girthy as shit. now you understand why he couldn't just fuck you right away. you swallow nervously, eyes darting between his face and cock. "will it even fit?" you ask soflty. he presses a quick kiss on your forehead. "i'll be gentle. i won't rush you, promise."

jack leans over to search through his nightstand for a condom. when he doesn't see the familiar gold foil, he mutters a quiet expletive. "shit, baby, i'm sorry. i don't have any condoms-" he begins to say, but you cut him off, blurting, "that's fine! i mean, i'm on the pill," you correct yourself. "so i'm okay with it if you are." he nods once. "only since you're said it's okay, yeah? but if it gets too much, you let me know," he reminds. he grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. then, slowly, he begins to push himself in.

the initial push takes your breath away. he then adds another inch, then another. by this point, he's barely halfway in and still has you letting out soft mewls. the burn of his thick cock splitting you open is new, but not unpleasant. inch by inch, he enters in you before he's fully nestled inside of you. both of you let out similar moans of pleasure. he doesn't move for a few seconds, allowing you to get used to his size. you feel so full you almost can't breathe. it's like the tip sits right under your sternum, leaving you to feel nothing but him. gradually, he begins to move back and forth, cock dragging against the walls of your cunt.

it doesn't take long for him to find your g-spot once again. you let out a quiet whimper when he does. but this time, he doesn't move fast, like with his fingers. his movements are slow and calculated. right now isn't about him. it's about you and giving you the pleasure that you deserve. he won't allow himself to come until you do. he hits that gummy spot over and over.

you drag your nails down his back, before digging them into the skin between his shoulder blades. a quiet groan escapes him when you do. he likes it, you realize. as his cock pulses inside you. "you feel that, huh? got me all hard and pent up. that's what you've done to me. haven't been able to get you out of my mind since we first met. you and those little shorts. you're just so gorgeous, baby," he praises, which makes you moan and clench around him.

"fuck, jackie, 'm close. please, let me come, please," you beg.

"yeah? you wanna come, baby?" jack teases and you nod rapidly. "i bet your ex never fucked you like this, huh?" you shake your head. he lightly slaps you on your cheek, just enough to make you look at him. "come on, sweetheart, words. i bet your ex never fucked you like this," he repeats.

"no! no, he never did. not like you, jackie. mhm, shit, you feel so good."

"yeah, that's what i like to hear. come on, sweetheart, come on my cock. you got it, i know you do." he moves one of his hands back down to start thumbing at your clit, just enough to push you right over the edge. barely three seconds later, you come around him with a scream. thanking god that he doesn't live in an apartment complex. your cunt clenches around him as you come, giving him enough stimulation to follow suit. but he pulls out at the last second, coming on your stomach with a groan.

nobody moves for minutes. both of you needing that time to catch your breath. jack start gets up first, tucking himself back into his jeans. "i'll be back, just lie down," he says, kissing you on your temple. he leaves into the bathroom, before coming back out, a wet rag in hand. he cleans off his release from your stomach, moving down to wipe at your cunt. the cold rag makes you shiver and whine, attempting to close your legs. "shh, it's okay, baby. let me clean you up first," he coos, wiping you down as gentle as he can. once done, he tosses the rag in the same corner of the room as his shirt. "can you stand up?"

you grumble, attempting to roll over. "i'm too tired."

"i know, but you gotta go pee first. then we can go to bed." jack pulls you into his arms bridal style, quietly hissing at the ache in his back and leg. he carries you all the way into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet. leaving you to do your business as he finds you something to sleep in. a pair of boxers and old army shirt will do. just as you're finishing up washing your hands is when he returns. "you can sleep in these for tonight." you mutter a quiet 'thanks.'

jack turns around, giving you some privacy to change. it makes you giggle softly. the man just rearranged your guts and fucked you so well less than ten minutes ago, yet he's still not watching you as you change. "i'm done," you say, and he turns back around. the dark green shirt falls just above your knees, slipping off one of shoulder. the ends of your hair slightly curl from getting wet earlier, and you have that after sex glow. you look beautiful right now. he must realize that he's staring, because he clears his throat and steps to the side. "uh, you can lie down. i'll finish cleaning myself up," he says, to which you nod.

the second your head hits the pillow you're knocked out. from swimming to fucking, you're body is completely drained. about thirty minutes later, jack comes back out. grey hair wet with water dripping down his chest. he's careful to not make any noise on his crutches as he moves towards the bed. sitting down on his side, he leans the crutches on the wall, before rubbing some moisturizer on his stump. he slides under the covers, instinctively wrapping his arms around your waist. even in your sleep you lean into him. head on his chest, right above his heart. "sweet dreams, baby," he murmurs into your hair, kissing the top of your head.

it hits jack in this exact moment that he just slept with the goddaughter of his best friend. he should probably stop it before it happens again. before feelings arise and emotions get in the way. but it's too late. now that he's had you, he doesn't think he can let go.

You couldn’t help but laugh, one of those breathy, exhausted ones that you’d grown accustomed to since working here.

“Peachy”

His eyes, so naturally sad, saddened even more as he huffed, hesitating a moment before locking the door and moving to sit beside you.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Your eyes panned from the lock to him.

The question was out before you could even think to ask it.

“We’re adults,” he stared at the floor.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “And what about all the people out there who know we’re locked in a bathroom together?”

He shook his head, sighing loudly, “We’re two coworkers taking a much-needed break.”

“Right,” you murmured, “You’re not the one everyone says is fucking their boss anyway”

He looked up then- and you both learned he was much too close.

“Is someone bothering you?”

“no- not to my face at least”

A beat passed.

“I... I’m sorry y/n”

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes “Good to know”

You went to stand up when his fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait-I-” He was looking up at you like one would look asking a queen for mercy. “Please... stay”

You shouldn’t have to.

Not after the past week.

And yet you were sitting down again.

“I really am sorry y/n”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“For what? For kissing me or for acting like a jackass for a week after?”

“I-” his head fell to his hands, fingers gripping his own hair to try and ground himself- to try and figure out what to say.

He’d fucked up. A lot.

“That...” he started, his eyes finally finding yours again. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Yeah, no shit”

“And... and I’m sorry for how I acted.” Solemnity traced his voice, “I was- I was...”

“An asshole”

“Yeah”

Today was the first day he had resumed talking to you.

Just about seven days after everyone had already figured out something had happened, seeing as your attending appeared to go out of his way to avoid you and seemed incapable of even looking you in the eyes.

Seven days after walking out on you, spewing some afraid bullshit about not being able to do that kind of stuff when his taste still lingered on your lips.

“I wasn’t thinking,” his words bordered on whispered now. “It’s your first year here, and I’m your attending and... I messed everything up”

“Yep”

There was the part both of you were conveniently choosing to forget about- the part where you didn’t stop him when he kissed you.

“I-I’m old” he went on, “Too old for you”

“right”

“And I just...”

“What?”

Something happened then, a little something cracked, and for the quickest moment, his gaze fell to your lips.

“Fuck-”

Your heart was beating much too fast for this to be appropriate.

“What, Dr. Robinavitch?”

“This wasn’t a good idea”

“I tried telling you.”

You realized then that his hand was still on your wrist, and it felt as if his touch turned scorching hot.

“You should go” your voice was nothing but a thread.

His labored breathing fanned against your face.

“I should”

The air thickened, and the world went silent.

“Dr-” you tried to speak, but his lips were already on yours.

A mix of shock and the simplest purest joy exploded inside of you as you closed your eyes.

It all happened so fast, one second you were sitting down and the next he was all over you.

His hand gripped the back of your head, forcing the kiss to grow deeper and deeper until he was basically just devouring you while his other hand remained firmly on your waist.

His beard stroked your skin, and when a soft moan climbed up your throat, he was guiding you down to the floor.

That was until you remembered-

“Bathroom-” you managed to get out as he groaned frustratedly, trying to resume the kiss. “Bathroom floor— gross”

It took a second, but then it finally clicked, and he leaned away.

“Shit-right, right”

Even as he spoke, his eyes were unfocused, he was completely lost in whatever overcame him.

Silence wrapped around you for a moment- you stared speechless into each other’s eyes until he finally spoke up.

“Standing up?” was all he could come up with.

And somehow it worked because a beat after he was pinning you against the wall, forcing one of your legs around his waist so he could grope your ass while his tongue delved into your mouth as if you’d done this a billion times.

You both weren’t thinking anymore.

He was just going with his most basic instincts, which right about now were imploring him to get rid of all your clothes and get inside you as quickly as possible.

In that position, you couldn’t help but grind against his bulge, whimpering lowly at the feeling... and that was it.

Your pants and panties were at your ankles before you could blink. He picked you up and you akwardly stuggled to free one of your legs from the scrubs until you could finally wrap your legs around him.

He hadn’t stopped kissing you for even a moment, not even as he freed himself from his pants, not even when his naked cock could finally slide against your wet heat.

You were holding onto his shoulder with your left hand, while your right gripped his locks as you desperately tried to wiggle him inside of you.

“Please,” you finally broke, “Please, Dr. Robby.”

He pulled away with a growl, “Michael-” he muttered, his gentle brown eyes so very out of it “fuck- call me Michael when I’m about to be inside you, please.”

You were about to combust.

You needed him now, no matter whatever his fucking name was.

“Please, Michael- please, I-I need it-” You didn’t have the time to finish your sentence because he’d already granted your wish.

You both moaned way too fucking loud, and he made a point to crush your lips with his to try and stifle the cries as he retracted his hips and thrust all the way inside you.

Jesus Christ he was big.

He didn’t even give you a chance to adjust, he just started drilling you like a man possessed, making your body slide up against the cold wall with each and every push.

You greedily swallowed every single one of his frantic groans as you started meeting his movements.

“Fuck” he breathed, his nose caressing your cheek as he murmured against the corner of your mouth “You feel so fucking good”

“Oh my god,” was all you could whine, your breathing erratic, “fuck you’re huge”

That earned you a very whiny groan and a look that he hoped said “please don’t say shit like that again or I’m gonna come way too soon”

With that, he picked up his pace, burying his head into your neck while kissing and biting all the skin he encountered.

“Jesus-fuck” he murmured incoherently.

His cock was so deep inside of you, you could feel it in your belly, while his beard rubbed against your skin like a tease, and you tried- you really did- not to moan so loud, but the spot he was hitting was one you weren’t even aware of having.

“I need you to be quiet, baby.”

Jesus fucking Christ

“I-I know” you whimpered, biting your lip “You just... you feel so-”

“I know” he cooed, his mouth ghosting yours as one of his devious hands reached in between your bodies and two of his fingers found your clit. “I know baby, I know.”

He really was not helping.

Your mouth opened in a silent gasp as he started circling your bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck” you squeaked, looking at the lust and desire blanketing his eyes “Fuck-”

“Shh” he cooed as if he wasn’t thrusting his cock into you with all his strenght “Just let it happen baby” he instructed “Come for me”

And so you did.

A wave of pure pleasure coursed through you as your face fell between his shoulder and neck, and you stifled your desperate cries against his skin.

“Goddamn it” you barely heard him curse as you squeezed him so tight he could die.

He was still going, letting you ride out your high as fireworks exploded all over inside your body. But the way you were moaning, and the way your walls were squeezing him... he didn’t stand a chance to get out in time.

“Fuck baby-fuck”

You didn’t even realize you’d cried his name, but he certainly had.

He came with a much too loud grunt, burying himself inside of you as he spilled all of his seed deep into your heat.

Silence wrapped around you two as you stayed like that, trying to catch your breath and to wrap your head around what just happened.

That was until a knock at the door broke the spell.

“Dr. Robby, sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got a trauma coming in in 5’!”

Even from the other side of the door, you both could hear the grin on Dana’s face.

He sighed, raising his head to look at you, and for some reason, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Jesus” he shook his head.

“Yeah” a soft laugh escaped you.

“I-” he opened his mouth to speak only to realize he had no clue what to say.

“Go” you cut him off, “they need you.”

He still didn’t move.

He didn’t know how, but he wanted you to know this wasn’t like last time.

“We’ll talk later” you murmured, kissing the tip of his nose. Those words held a promise you both needed. He wasn’t gonna shut you out- not again.

“We will” he nodded, finally helping you to the floor.

Your legs felt like jelly, but you managed to stay up and started to try and make yourself presentable again.

He was staring at you as he tucked himself back in his pants, and a smirk pulled at your lips as you caught him placing a hand on his back while trying to hide a grimace.

“Too much of a workout for you, old man?”

A little grin appeared on his lips as he shrugged.

“Worth it.”

You bit down a chuckle, eyeing him for a beat before getting back to reality.

“I need to... clean myself up” you said. “You should get going.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry about that,” he remembered, “I should help”

“It’s ok, I’m on the pill.” You laughed softly, shaking your head,“And I can manage fine on my own Dr. Robby,” you smiled, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Right,” he swallowed dryly, still unable to get his eyes off of you, “I should...”

“Yes, you should,” you eyed the door.

When he still didn’t move, you took a step closer, pressing your lips on his for a quick, chaste kiss that somehow felt more intense than anything you’d done in the past 20 minutes.

And you’d be more than happy to massage his tensed shoulders after a long, stressful day then place a warm meal before him. Sitting in Pope’s lap as he ate, listening to the nature documentaries playing in the background. 

Pope had returned home after another fight covered in red scratches and bruises. The scent of his sweat still lingering in the air as he stepped into your shared bedroom. No cologne, but simply the smell of his deodorant and musk. 

Normally, you would tend to his injuries first, kiss his bloody knuckles clean, before hopping together in the shower. But something about your boyfriend felt different. Eyes darkening, looking at you like a piece of cake. Only then did you notice the bulging tent in Pope’s sweats. 

Oh. 

Before you could even register what was happening, he was all over you. Muscular chest crushing your breasts, lips hungrily chasing yours, tongue invading mouth, his body firmly guiding yours toward the messy bed. Sometime along the way, your clothes were discarded and forgotten onto the floor.

Pope gently nudged you forward and you crawled onto the mattress. A pair of his strong hands grabbed onto your hips firmly and pulled you underneath him. You barely managed to squeal in surprise as he was already pushing the swollen head of his cock between your legs, precum dribbling onto the back of your thighs. 

— Aw, fuck! — You mewled, chewing on your lower lip as Pope sank into your tight pussy in one, excruciatingly long thrust. 

Shit, he always made you feel that funny tingling in your lower stomach, feet curling as he just slid his fat lenght in. No matter how many times you two had sex before, every time was deliciously driving you delirious. 

He was already panting, right next to your temple – his warm breath tickling your cheek. One, thick arm wrapped around your neck, holding you close, where he needed you. His tummy fit like a puzzle into the small curve of your lower back as Pope began to thrust into you. Toned thighs on both sides of your legs, the swell of his cock sliding through your gummy walls, rubbing all the right places. 

— Andy~ — You whined softly. Hips tilting and arching slightly changing the angle just how you liked it. — My Andy.

You loved everything about your boyfriend – especially when every roll of his hips was igniting a flame deep within you, that was slowly blinding your vision with stars.

One of Pope’s many secrets would be that he deeply cherished his girlfriend’s affection and endless praises for how strong and manly he was. It would drive Pope even more crazy, that he had such a pretty thing like you all for himself. 

As the pleasure grew and grew, his skin sticking to your spine, you allowed yourself to slowly drift into that sweet oblivion, cheeks sinking into the meat of his arm that has been wrapped just under your chin. Soft moans echoed through the room, the veiny underside of his cock dragging along your throbbing walls.

— ‘m sorry, baby. Needed you badly. — Pope murmured, breath hitching, as you clenched onto the sensitive head of his cock. 

You knew he preferred taking his sweet time and the fun of prolonged, overstimulating foreplay, making sure you’re wet and aroused enough to take him without discomfort he had a big dick. 

But to be honest? You began to like it, when he carelessly just pushed his cock inside of you, releasing all of the pent up energy he had through the day. You were more than happy to help your boyfriend with all the stress his family has caused. 

And if this was a remedey? Fuck, you'll need another dose.

— Did you win?

— O-Of course I did. – His thrusts became sloppy, the rhythm long abandoned. Pope nuzzled the side of your head, most of his body weight resting on top of you. He rubbed against you, hoping that your scent, your perfumes, will stick to him. So he can feel your presence throughout the next day. 

— 'm proud, Andy~ 

You said on an exhale, most air escaping from your lungs as his heavy mass, grinded you into the mattress below. 

— Fuck, I– I’m gonna–

— ‘s okay, Andy. You can come inside.

His sweet, precious angel. 

There were days when Pope still couldn’t believe that you were real, that he was so blessed to have such a good girlfriend. That he deserved someone like you – taking care of him in every way. Even now, as you lay splayed out beneath him, asking him to fill you up.

It didn't take much more for Pope and after a couple more, frantic rolls of his hips, he reached his peak. His whole body tensed, mouth parted and he moaned. His warm seed flooded your pussy as you peppered his elbow that was tucked under your chin with kisses.

— Love you so much, baby. — Pope tilted his head as he kissed the skin between your eyebrow and an upper eyelid.

Majorie Deacons, 83. Survived by her husband, Harold, of 62 years, her three children–Mary, Thomas, and Steven–and 10 grandchildren. Worked as a paralegal for 48 years before retiring to the Poconos with Harold. Moved back to Pittsburgh when she got sick. Died from sepsis as a result of her cancer-weakened immune system.  

That was all you knew of the woman laying in front of you, her skin pale and body unnaturally still. You thought about her life as you removed her engagement and wedding ring, the crucifix pendant around her neck, the diamond bracelet around her frail wrist–all logged securely for the family to pick up at their convenience. 

You thought about her life, about the 83 years she spent on this earth. Where did she grow up? Was Harold her high-school sweetheart, or did they meet in college, or a bar? Did they travel? What sights did they see, how many sunsets did they share? Did she remember exactly where she was when Kennedy was assassinated, like most older folks did? Did she like red lipstick or pink? When did her hair turn white–did she hate it or did she embrace it? 

Did she feel welcomed by death, or did she fight it kicking and screaming? 

83 years, such a long life and yet still not long enough for the people who loved her. 

You spent a lot of time grieving people you’d never met before as a morgue technician. It was a tough job–one spent with people on the worst days of their lives. Sure, you weren’t the one responsible for saving lives–didn’t have a relationship with the patient while they were living–but sometimes you thought maybe it was worse in a way. You learned about these people from their families, from the people so deeply grieving their loved one that often all you felt was gut-wrenching sadness for the hole that now lived in these people’s hearts. You didn’t get the benefit of seeing them interact with their loved ones, didn’t get to know their personality or see their quirks. All you experienced was the grief their loss wrought, not the joy their life had created. 

You liked being there for people, though. Death is not something Americans are accustomed to talking about openly, the aftermath of losing a loved one often impersonal and shrouded in mystery. Especially at the hospital, it often felt more clinical than anything else, with procedure and policy often taking center stage over the deceased.  

You liked bringing a sense of humanity to the process; liked to have the families reminisce about their loved ones, liked getting to know them through the people who cherished them the most despite the deep ache it sometimes left in your chest. 

You learned about Marjorie upstairs, from the family as you collected the body, and you’re looking forward to learning more about her when the family comes to collect her effects. You found that getting people to talk about the person they lost made it easier to discuss funeral and transport arrangements. You didn’t want them to feel like they were just another box to check off your to-do list. 

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Hey, we got another one upstairs. Transport’s been taking forever tonight,” Elise, your boss, said, rolling her eyes. “They have one job: get the body from point A to point B. What gives?” 

You shrugged, sighing as you finished cataloging all of Marjorie's effects. “I’ll be back soon,” you said, squeezing her hand gently before making your way to the elevators, up to the emergency department. 

Transport was supposed to, well, transport the body. But they were often backed up for one reason or another, and delays in moving the body meant a valuable room remained occupied when it could otherwise be used for another patient. So, more often than not, Elise sent you up to grab the body and bring it back down for processing. It was faster that way, and often gave the family some peace knowing that their loved one wasn’t just sitting in the emergency room. 

You didn’t mind, exactly. As much as you enjoyed the quiet and solitude of the mortuary, you liked peaking your head up in the ED and seeing the hustle and bustle there, the way it teemed with life as well as death, even at night.  

And it didn’t hurt that the senior night shift attending was perhaps the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d had a crush on him since you met him, your introduction being maybe one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. 

It was your first time up in the emergency department, the incessant beeping and constant chatter a stark difference to the quiet morgue–if people were talking down there, something was seriously wrong. 

You’d been taken on a brief tour by the charge nurse, Lena, who gave you a rundown of the transport procedure. You met a few of the residents, Dr. Ellis and Dr. Crus, and a handful of nurses, all of whom seemed nice enough.  

But you almost stopped dead in your tracks when you met the kind hazel eyes of the graying, curly-haired man standing at the nurses station. 

“And this is Dr. Abbot, senior night shift attending. You’ll need his or Dr. Shen’s signature whenever you transport a body,” Lena introduced you, “Dr. Abbot, this is the new morgue technician. She graciously offered to help with transport.” 

You held your hand out, brain nearly turning to mush when he shook it. His palm was rough, calloused from many years of working with his hands, and unbelievably warm. His hand also dwarfed yours, which sent a tingle down your spine. 

“New morgue technician?” he asked, “Well, no offense, but I hope we don’t see you too much around here,” he joked with an easy smile on his face.  

“I guess that remains to be seen,” you said, and followed it up with a ‘ba dum tss’ sound effect and finger guns. Yes, you really did that. 

The joke didn’t land; they never did. Jack cocked his head to the side, an almost-smile gracing his lips, and shot you an inquisitive look, like he was trying to figure you out. 

His intense stare made your cheeks heat and your tummy swirl. You weren’t sure if you were aroused or uncomfortable, or some combination of both.  

You couldn’t get out of there sooner. 

It felt like you could never get your foot out of your mouth when Jack Abbot was around. And so the cycle began: get called up to retrieve a body, make an ill-timed joke, embarrass the hell out of yourself, and return back to the safety of the morgue as quickly as possible. 

You never made jokes in front of patients or families; you knew that it was something strictly reserved for your peers, people you thought understood the challenges you all face in healthcare–and deathcare. 

You weren’t sure why it seemed physically impossible for you not to use humor as a defense mechanism. Part of it was the nature of your job–gallows humor was a coping mechanism you latched onto and couldn’t seem to shake off. It was the same way some people laughed when they were nervous or panicked–a reaction to pent up emotions and stress that manifested as humor instead of as tears. 

But you’d also always been like this, trying to diffuse uncomfortable situations with humor instead of meeting them head on, or making a joke at your own expense before someone else could. It hurt less that way, if you could subvert something painful into something lighthearted.

You’d always been admonished for it, by your parents, friends, partners. Had been told that it was inappropriate and that you were too crass, too loud, too much. Which was probably true. It confused you, though, how some people did bond over humor, in the occasional callousness of it, when you were criticized for it. That was something you’d never been able to work out, how it was always wrong when you did it; why you’d never been able to bond with people the same way others did. Well, there was a reason you worked the night shift at a morgue, after all. 

You pushed those thoughts away and instead tried to talk yourself up as you stood in the elevator, willing yourself not to be weird. 

“Hey, Lena, heard you got another customer for me?” you grinned at her, leaning against the nurses station. 

“Sure do, sweets. Her name is Cary West,” she replied with a soft smile. Lena, at least, seemed to like you. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

She pointed you to the correct room, where Mateo was cleaning up the body. You stood silently as he finished, taking a moment to honor the person they were and the people they’re leaving behind. These moments always felt weird–liminal, in a way. No longer a patient, but not yet ready for the funeral home–they were entrusted in your care in the meantime. 

There was no family in the room, which wasn’t abnormal for night shift. Folks had gone home, to sleep or cry or do whatever else one does to process the grief. You always hope you’ll meet the family of the deceased, but you’re not holding on hope on this one. It was 4am, the family would likely be back during the day to take care of funeral arrangements and Ms. West would be long gone by then. Still, though, you thought about her life, her wants, her dreams–tried to insert some humanity where it had been lost.  

“Sorry you had to come back up so soon, I know you just got down there with Ms. Deacons,” Mateo said quietly, pulling the sheet over her head. 

“Oh no worries, I don’t mind. It's not like she’s gonna talk my ear off.” 

He just shook his head at your joke, unimpressed and unamused. 

“Looks like Dr. Abbot is at the nurses station. C’mon, and we’ll get the transfer paperwork signed,” he said, holding the door open for you to push the gurney through. 

Dr. Abbot looked worn out. His eyes were tired, and the kind smile he usually sported was replaced by a slight frown and a furrow between his brows. His shoulders were drawn up tight, the tension built up there almost looking painful. It must have been a rough night. 

You greeted him with a soft smile, and handed over the clipboard for his signature, which he promptly filled out. 

He handed you the clipboard before turning his attention back to the gurney. His jaw was clenched tight, a pained look on his face as he squeezed Ms. West’s hand peeking out from the blanket. 

“Treat her well for us, please,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“Always do, I wouldn’t want to know what the reaper-cussions would be if I didn’t,” you joked before you could think better of it, cringing internally at your lack of tact. 

There was a split second of silence, the tension simmering hotly before fully boiling over. 

“Jesus fucking christ, can you be serious for one fucking second? This is a hospital, not a fucking comedy club. There are people grieving here. You need to learn to be an adult and keep your fucknig mouth shut,” he boomed, his face red and chest heaving. 

He was looming over you now as he spit out, “get the fuck out of my ED.” 

Your ears were ringing. You weren’t sure if the department had actually fallen silent or if you’d just temporarily lost the ability to hear.

You couldn’t breathe, oxygen not flowing properly into your lungs. It felt like you’d been punched in the gut, all the air sucked out and replaced with lead.  

“S-sorry,” you stuttered out, cheeks burning and throat closing in on itself. Tears were building up quickly in your eyes, but you weren’t going to cry in front of these people; you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction. 

You gripped the edge of the gurney and pushed ahead, desperate to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. No one stopped you, no one offered any apologies or sympathies, just watched your humiliated form disappear into the elevator. 

The minute the elevator doors closed the tears fell, the hot trails burning your face as you tried to conceal your sobs. 

“I’m s-sorry, Ms. West, I shouldn’t be crying like this. I don’t really have much to be upset about in comparison,” you apologized to the corpse, feeling guilty for being so upset when you were literally transporting a dead woman. 

You managed to calm yourself down before you reached the morgue. You didn’t want to explain what happened to Elise, didn’t want to recount every embarrassing detail that was already replaying in your head. 

You soothed yourself with routine, with the repetitive motions of logging personal effects, filling out reports, and contacting the funeral home to make arrangements. 

By the time 7AM rolled around, you were more than ready to get the hell out of there.

The sun is blinding against your puffy eyes. The past two days were a blur, mostly spent crying and replaying the incident over and over. You called out of work, citing a stomach bug. Which wasn’t all that untrue–the thought of encountering anyone in the hospital did make you feel violently ill. 

You had already put in for a transfer to day shift, feigning some excuse about your school schedule changing. You couldn’t wait to finish your studies and officially become a mortician. You’d leave the hospital and start your own business, helping people through the grieving and burial process in your own way. 

And maybe you’d never have to see Jack Abbot ever again. The thought was as relieving as it was devastating, because you liked him. And you were starting to think maybe he liked you too–at least as a friend or acquaintance. 

It was a slow night, which you were thankful for. It meant there weren’t any bodies in the morgue–that there weren’t any deaths so far tonight. So you weren’t too bent out of shape when you got shipped up to the ED to collect a body. 

You found Dr. Abbot quickly, signed the necessary paperwork, and wheeled the body out to central. 

“Thanks for picking up, I don’t know what the hell’s going on with transpo tonight,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it, we’re actually empty right now. There’s no body there,” you said, a cheeky grin crossing your lips. 

And Jack laughed. A full-on, deep-throated laugh. It was one of the most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard. Your chest swelled with pride, and all you could think about was making him do it again. 

He shook his head at you, smile still lingering on his face, “what makes a girl like you want to work night shift at the morgue?”  

“Girl like me?” you asked coyly, raising your eyebrow at him. 

He assessed you, eyes flitting over your face, “yeah, young, smart… pretty.”

You flushed at that, your body getting all warm and tingly, “well, I’m not a mourning person, for one,” you joked, earning another laugh from Jack. 

“I, uh, I’m in school for mortuary science,” you continued, giving him a real answer, “I want to be a mortician when I’m done.” 

“That’s… admirable,” he said, “you don’t get the glory of saving lives but you do get all the dirty work. Good for you.” 

Jack’s attention made you feel like you were on fire–like a white hot ball of flame that would spread given the littlest bit of ammunition. His stare was brazen, unapologetic–you couldn’t look away if you tried. 

You cleared your throat, breaking some of the tension, “I guess I should probably get him downstairs,” you said, gesturing to the gurney in front of you. 

“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” Jack said, moving to stand by your side. He rested his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the elevators. The touch was electrifying–you could feel the warmth radiating from him through the layers of scrubs. He was close enough now that you could smell the warm amber of his cologne mixed with his own musky scent. You felt dizzy, and all you wanted to do was press yourself against him, to nestle yourself in the crook of his neck and inhale. 

He pressed the button for the elevator when you arrived and helped you wheel the gurney in. 

“It was good seein’ you, pretty girl,” he said, and just as the elevator doors were closing, he winked at you. 

You were surprised you didn’t turn into a puddle right then and there. 

Your chest twisted at the memory. Maybe that’s why his words hurt so much–why they’d sunk into the marrow of your bones, confirming that he thought as lowly of you as you already thought of yourself. He’d given you hope, shown you kindness where no one else in the ED had. 

It was stupid, anyway. Thinking that a man like Jack Abbot could feel anything other than disdain for someone like you. Of course the hot, older, accomplished attending wouldn’t want anything to do with the awkward morgue technician. 

Every time you thought about it, your heart ached, a dull pang ringing through your chest and reverberating through your body. Tears pooled in your eyes at the mere thought of the incident. It felt like you were back in high school, asking Alex Williams to the school dance just to have him laugh in your face and say he wasn’t going to go with a freak. 

You couldn’t dwell on it, though. You had a job to do, bills to pay. You could only hope that day shift was better, or that you could whip yourself into shape and keep your comments to yourself.

“Jesus, why is the body in north 2 still there?” Jack asked, eyes trained on the board ahead of him. Wait times were astronomical and chairs was full to the brim–the sooner they moved the deceased out, the sooner they could move a new patient in. 

“Not sure, I called transpo an hour ago, but you know how concerned they are with being timely,” Lena responded. 

“What about the morgue? Why haven’t they sent anyone to collect the body?” 

Lena looked at him over the top of her glasses, an unimpressed look on her face. 

“Oh, you mean that sweet girl who helps us out by transporting bodies when transpo is dicking around? The one you screamed at in front of the entire department? Gosh, I can’t think of a reason she’s not chomping at the bit to come up here,” she deadpanned, fixing Jack with a glare. “Last I heard she switched to day shift. Said she had some personal schedule conflicts, but I think we both know that’s not true.”   

Jack winced, guilt coursing through him. He hadn’t meant to make such a scene, to be so cruel. It had just been such a monumentally horrible day, his chest wound so tight and hackles raised that your little joke set him off. It was stupid, too, because Jack had easily made far worse jokes at far more inappropriate times. 

It could have easily been anyone else that he snapped at, would have been, if you weren’t there. But you were, and so you bore the brunt of his wrath. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been replaying the look on your face, the way it crumpled and tears welled up in your pretty eyes. He remembered how your breath hitched, how you shrunk in on yourself and ran away as fast as you could. 

It made his chest ache to think about. He wanted to find you, to apologize, but he thought he might just make it worse. And selfishly, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the conversation that would ensue. He assumed he’d see you up here at some point, where he could take you aside and beg for forgiveness–he didn’t think you’d rearrange your entire work schedule just to avoid seeing him. 

He wasn’t sure why he acted so indifferently toward you. Or rather, he did–he just didn’t want to acknowledge the way you made him feel. You made him feel giddy–made his face warm and his heart race, like a teenage boy flirting with a pretty girl for the first time. He briefly tried flirting with you, but he was pretty sure you were oblivious to it–either that or you didn’t feel the same. He was hoping for the former.  

He hadn’t felt this way about someone since he started dating his wife. Frankly, it made him uncomfortable to think about, made him feel like he was betraying her in some way. He knew that wasn’t true, knew that his wife would want him to be happy, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling. 

He’d been talking about it with his therapist, trying to cope with these feelings–trying to get up the courage to ask you out.

And the kicker was he was going to, he was getting bolder, complimenting you and finding any excuse to, respectfully, put his hands on you. And now he’s fucked it all up. 

“Shit,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands down his face.  

“Yeah, shit. I suggest you take your ass down there and apologize. Properly.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” he said absent-mindedly, already wracking his brain for the right words to say to you.

The change to day shift was brutal. Your body wasn’t used to waking up when you were supposed to be going to bed, and vice versa. You were also working less hours to accommodate your school schedule, which was the reason you were on night shift to begin with. But you took it in stride the best you could. Lemonade out of lemons, and all that. 

You’d been up to the ED a couple times since the incident, feeling as awkward as ever even though most of them weren’t on shift when Dr. Abbot berated you. You covered day shift a few times, so you weren’t completely unfamiliar with the staff. Dr. Robby seemed nice enough, though you never stuck around long enough to build rapport. It was in and out from now on, speaking as little as you could before you retreated back to the morgue. 

You wished you could flat out refuse to go up there, but you didn’t want to punish innocent people just waiting for a bed. The sooner you got the bodies to the morgue, the sooner someone else could be seen by a doctor. 

Right now, though, you were sat at your desk, filling out log reports and finishing up paperwork before you inevitably got another body. It was monotonous work, yes, but calming in a way. The mindless action gave your brain a break between decedents–gave you a chance to mourn the person and compartmentalize it away before it ate away at you. 

You faintly heard the door at the end of the hall open and close, and assumed Elise was taking her lunch break. 

That is, until you heard a painfully familiar voice call out, “Hello? Anybody in here?” 

Oh no, why is he here? Attendings rarely visited the morgue–usually only if there was a particularly complex cause of death that they wanted to further examine. But there were no such cases right now, the only bodies currently in custody being a run of the mill STEMI and a GSW to the head–both pretty self-explanatory. 

And the night shift hadn’t started yet, the clock reading 5:34pm. There’s no plausible reason for Jack Abbot to be down here right now. 

His steps were getting louder–he was almost at your office now. 

You panicked. That is the only explanation you have for scrambling up from your desk and darting into the small storage closet to your left. You pressed yourself against the wall to the side, out of view of the frosted glass window. Was this the mature course of action? Absolutely not. But you weren’t sure you could handle seeing him right now. You hadn’t seen him since the incident, had done everything in your power to avoid any and all interactions. 

He called out again, and you could see his silhouette standing in the doorway of your office. 

Eyes closed, you took deep breaths to try and calm your rapidly beating heart. Hopefully he’d see the empty room and take his leave quickly.  

It was quiet, and for a moment you thought he’d left until–knock knock. 

“I could be crazy, but I’m pretty sure I heard someone stumble into this closet and slam the door shut,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

You didn’t answer, hoping maybe you could convince him he was crazy. 

The doorknob rattled, and you instinctively grabbed it, pulling it with all the force you could muster to keep it closed. You weren’t sure why–surely he was much stronger than you and could rip the door open if he really wanted to. And god, why was thinking about how strong he was making you flustered?  

It’s not that you were scared of him, you were just… woefully unprepared for this conversation. Despite ruminating over the incident itself, you hadn’t actually pictured a scenario where you’d ever speak to him again. Hadn’t had time to go over it a million times in your head, coming up with the best comeback and constructing the perfect barb to lodge in his soft underbelly, the way he’d done to you. 

He sighed, resting his forehead against the glass. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for the other day, if you’ll give me the chance.” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, considering. You’re not sure that an apology will do much for you, not sure that it’ll quell the pit in your stomach that’s opened and doesn’t show any sign of closing. 

You nodded to yourself anyway, letting out a quiet, “go ahead.” 

He chucked lightly, “face-to-face, if you don’t mind.” 

Damn him, you groaned internally. Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door. Jack stood opposite you, hands tucked into the pockets of his scrubs. You crossed your arms and fixed your gaze on your scuffed up shoes, the thought of looking him in the eye daunting and exciting at the same time.  

He let out a deep breath, “I’m really sorry for how I acted the other night. It was an exceptionally shitty night, and it wasn’t your fault but I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have.” 

You nodded, appreciated the effort it took to come down here and apologize. It did little to soothe your bruised heart, though. There was still a painful twinge in your chest, his words having already wormed their way into your brain and confirmed every worst thought you had about yourself. 

“Thank you, Dr. Abbot, apology accepted,” you said curtly, moving past him to get back to your desk. 

He stopped you, his hand resting on the bare skin just above your elbow. Goosebumps prickled against your skin from the roughness of his palm. You hated how your body craved more, how you wanted him to slide his hand up to your neck, tilt your head back and kiss you. Traitor. 

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “that woman that night, the one you picked up, she died of ovarian cancer,” he said. He looked conflicted, eyes flinty and mouth twisted to the side like he was warring with himself as he bit out the next words, “that’s how–my wife–she died of ovarian cancer.” 

Oh. You didn’t know that, didn’t even know he had a wife. Your eyes drifted to his left hand and saw the slightly lighter patch of skin there. Your heart ached and your defenses softened just a tad at the revelation. You could only imagine what it would feel like to lose a patient in the same manner you lost the person closest to you, could imagine the ugly emotions it would pull out of you. It didn’t make what he said okay, but you understood the circumstances that led him to say it. 

“And before that we had a kid who died from drowning, and a couple close calls, and a bunch of Dr. Google bullshit. And your joke was just… the straw that broke the camel’s back. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, not like that and not in front of everybody. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m truly sorry,” he said, and you could feel the sincerity dripping from his words. His eyes were soft and pleading as he looked at you, and once again you found yourself unable to look away. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that–about your wife,” you said softly, not wanting to make it any more painful than it already was, “and I’m sorry about the joke. I know it’s not appropriate, and I’ve been trying to stop, but you know how hard it is to quit unhealthy coping mechanisms,” a small smile lifting the corner of your lips. 

He shook his head, “please don’t, you have nothing to apologize for. Gallows humor is how we all get by; I can’t tell you how many off-color jokes I’ve told in my day. It was really the pot calling the kettle black, if I'm being honest,” he said, “If it wasn’t you who set me off, it would’ve been Ellis or Shen, or some other unsuspecting person. I promise you it had so much more to do with me than it did with you.” 

You nodded, accepting his explanation. You felt a little lighter, a little less burdened by his words.    

“I’d like to make it up to you, if you’ll let me,” he said, “maybe coffee or dinner, if you’re up for it?” 

You shook your head, “That’s really not necessary, Dr. Abbot. I meant it, I accept your apology, you don’t have to do anything else.” 

He nodded at that, looking a little deflated but otherwise satisfied that you’d accepted his apology. 

Jack felt the need to make it up to you anyway. 

It started with coffee after his shift ended. The first time, he brought you the most insane coffee order you’d ever seen–a mocha cappuccino with 5 extra shots of espresso, pistachio syrup, vanilla cold foam,  caramel AND white mocha drizzle, and salted caramel topping–a monstrosity borne from a recommendation from the woman ahead of him in line. You’re not sure how you didn’t immediately get cavities in all of your teeth. 

You couldn’t lie, though, the fact that he made the effort to go out and get coffee after his 12 hour shift was endearing, and once you gave him your coffee order, he got it right each and every time. 

It became routine over the next month for Jack to bring you coffee, and even though you didn’t have much time to talk in the morning, you began looking forward to the 10-15 minutes of conversation you shared with him each morning. You never discussed what this was, if it meant anything or if it was just a kind gesture between friends. You certainly hoped it meant something, but you weren’t going to get your hopes up. 

You were catching up on paperwork when his text came through. 

Jack: Can’t make it for coffee this morning, sweetheart, how about I bring you lunch later? 

Your cheeks heated at the pet name. He hadn’t called you that before, and you hoped you weren’t reading into it. 

You: sounds great, see you later :) 

You spend the morning counting down the minutes until Jack showed up. It only slightly hindered your progress on your paperwork, your mind only occasionally wandering off to think about his pretty pink lips.

It’s noon before you know it, and someone’s rapping their knuckles on the door frame to your office. 

“Knock, knock,” Jack said, shooting you a smile as he walked over to your desk. He set down a truly alarming amount of food. You laughed as he took out container after container, the sack resembling a clown car more than a fast food bag. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a variety,” he said, a little bashfully, “you can take home whatever’s left for dinner or lunch tomorrow.” 

You selected what you wanted from the smorgasbord he presented you with, and settled into the chair next to him. 

It was a little awkward at first. Most of the conversations you’d had with him up to this point were pretty surface level. Even your coffee chats were light-hearted affairs that didn’t really go deeper than what you did over the weekend. 

But Jack didn’t let it stay awkward for long, as if he knew that once you started talking, he’d be hard-pressed to get you to stop. 

“So, I realized that despite our coffee talks, I don’t really know that much about you. How long have you been a mortuary tech?” 

“About a year and a half. I got the job after I started school for mortuary science. Before that I taught for a little bit, but I didn’t really like it and I don’t think I was much good at it. I was a bartender for a long time too.” 

“So what made you make the jump to mortuary school?”

“I studied anthropology in college and death culture always really fascinated me, especially the way different cultures deal with grief and the burial process. America is so sanitized, so averse to looking at death straight on. We think death needs to be palatable, that the deceased need to look exactly as they did in life to avoid accepting the fact that our bodies are fundamentally different after death–that they are on their way to being absorbed back into the earth.

“I think the way we treat people in death is just as important as how we treat them in life. To some people, that person on the table is just an assemblage of bones and flesh, but to others that was a friend, a mother or daughter, father or son. And I figured as a mortician, I’d be in a position to offer families the kind of support that helps them work through their grief, not just hide it behind pretty floral arrangements.” 

You felt a little shy at the rapt expression on Jack’s face. He was giving you his undivided attention, listening intently to every word that came out of your mouth. You’re not sure any man has ever listened to you as attentively as he was now. Yes, the bar was in hell, but it didn’t make it any less hot.  

“Sorry, that was a lot, I didn’t mean to info dump on you,” you said sheepishly. 

He shook his head, “Please info dump, I could listen to you talk all day,” he said honestly, “do you want to continue working at the hospital when you’re done or do you want to start your own practice?” 

“I don’t think I’ll stay here. I mean, I like helping people through the immediate grief, but I think I just want to help grieving families lay their loved ones to rest in a way that honors the life they lived. I don’t care about selling fancy caskets or high-dollar cemetery plots, I just want to narrow it down to what really matters to preserving and celebrating the individual that was lost.”   

Jack nodded, “I don’t remember a lot about planning my wife’s funeral–Robby helped a lot with that–but I do remember it being really… almost commercial, in a way? Like, ‘do you want cedar or oak for the coffin? Do you want the casket lined in silk or velvet?’” he said, laughing bitterly, “like it was a fashion show or something, not the vessel my wife was going to be buried in. I couldn’t give less of a fuck what the damn thing was lined in.” 

You laid your hand on top of his, giving it a comforting squeeze as he continued. It made your heart swell that he felt comfortable enough to talk about his wife with you. 

“I mean, they were very compassionate, but it always felt like a business–which I get, we’re a capitalist society, but that’s not exactly what you want to feel when you’re burying someone,”  

You nodded, “that’s probably the thing that bothers me the most about this industry. Sometimes it seems like profit is the priority, and the real, hurting people come second.” 

Jack just looked at you with soft eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he smiled at you. He turned your hand over in his, tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb.

“I think you’re going to be an amazing mortician,” he said, without an ounce of amusement or teasing, just pure honesty. “I think you’re exactly the kind of person that people want around them when they're going through the worst days of their lives.”  

You couldn’t help the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. It was the kindest thing someone had said to you about your career path, except maybe Elise. And it was nice to shed happy tears over something Jack Abbot said instead of embarrassed ones. 

You talked long after your lunch break was over, but Elise was out and you didn’t have any pressing work to get to at the moment, so you figured there was no harm, no foul. 

But eventually he had to leave to get ready for his shift, and you did have work to do, though you’d gladly forsake it for a few more minutes with him. 

You got up to dispose of your trash and walked him to the door. 

“Lunch was really nice,” he murmured, resting his hand on your arm, right above your elbow. 

Your breath hitched at the contact and goosebumps prickled up and down your arms. You gaze was locked on his, unable to look away, “yeah, I really enjoyed it,” you said breathily, your heart already racing. 

He moved closer, settling his hands on your waist, and backed you up slowly until the back of your knees hit your desk. 

You leaned back against your desk, widening your stance to allow Jack to step between your legs. His body was warm against you, his hands running up and down your sides soothingly. 

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. You could feel his breath against your lips, so close but still so far away. 

You nodded, a pathetic mewl leaving your lips without permission. It was embarrassing how badly you wanted to kiss this man.  

He pressed closer, his lips just barely grazing yours, his nose slightly bumping your cheek. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as you moved to close the miniscule distance between your lips–

CLANG! 

The door down the hall slammed shut, and hurried footsteps approached your office.  

You nearly jumped out of your skin and stumbled back onto the desk, out of Jack’s grasp. He seemed just as shocked, his hand clutching his chest in surprise. 

A second later Elise came rushing into the room, saying something about a mass casualty event and how you needed to make as much room down here as you could to prepare for the inevitable. You nodded, turning to Jack to apologize, but he beat you to it. 

“Shit, I gotta go, sweetheart, they’re probably gonna call all-hands-on-deck,” he said, a genuinely mournful look on his face. 

“Yeah, of course. I hope it’s not too bad,” you said, equally as disappointed, but understanding. Duty calls.  

He wrapped you up in a tight hug, your cheek resting against his firm chest. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to savor his embrace for a moment before he had to go.

“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” he asked against your hair, his hand rubbing circles on your back. 

You smiled against his chest and nodded, “yes, please.” 

He pulled away and planted a chaste kiss to your cheek before heading out. 

“What was that all about?” Elise questioned, raising her eyebrows at you.  

You didn’t say anything–your hot cheeks and dopey grin were worth a thousand words.

You were called up to the ED several times, each time worse than the last by the looks of the staff. It still felt a little awkward being in the emergency department. Even though most of the people here weren’t on shift when Jack yelled at you, it still felt like the department went still when you walked in, people stopping and staring like you were some sideshow circus freak. 

You were back up here collecting yet another soul, waiting for someone to sign off on the transfer. It seemed like things had calmed down, the worst of it over now. You were lost in thought at the nurses station, picking at the skin around your nails anxiously. 

You hoped Jack would be the one to come over and sign the paperwork–hoped you’d catch another glimpse of him before your shift was over. All you could think about all day was that almost-kiss you shared with him. You couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face every time you thought about it, which meant you basically had a permanent grin affixed to your face. 

You’re only pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of hushed voices to your left. You glanced over and saw two nurses you didn’t recognize taking a break and engaging in some friendly workplace gossip. Or so you thought. 

“–so happy about?” a nurse whispered incredulously. 

“Probably daydreaming about Dr. Abbot,” another said, her tone most likely accompanied by an eye roll.  

“God, when is she going to get a grip? Her fawning over him is not cute.” 

“Yeah, I think he just doesn’t know how to let her down… I mean when he yelled at her she changed her whole schedule, he probably feels guilty.” 

“True. Maybe she’ll realize how embarrassing it is to be so down bad for a man she has no chance with.” 

You stopped listening after that, crestfallen and heartbroken all over again. The illusion of the past month shattered and the feelings from before came roaring back full force. 

Your chest twisted painfully–like someone had grabbed ahold of your heart and squeezed, the squishy flesh bulging between their fingers. Your throat ached, tears surely not far behind. 

You knew you shouldn’t put too much stock in what these two random nurses were saying. You knew that they likely had no idea what they were talking about, that they were just mean girls blowing off steam and you seemed to be the target of it–like always. 

But there was the little gremlin in the back of your brain, the one that told you everything they said was true. That Jack just felt guilty, that he was making himself feel better for the way he treated you. Insecurity wrapped itself around you like a vise, squeezing around you like a boa constrictor, until it was the only thing you could feel. 

And that almost-kiss? Well, he was a man, after all. Maybe he was just overcome with the physical urge to kiss you, get in your pants if he could. But he wasn’t that kind of man, was he? You didn’t want to think so, but all rational thought was obscured by the hurt blooming in your chest that you couldn’t be sure. 

You startled at the hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see Dr. Robby standing there, brows furrowed in concern. Squeaking out an apology, you handed him the transfer paperwork. 

“I called your name three times, you okay?” he asked, flipping through the pages and signing where appropriate. 

“Fine,” you smiled, not trusting your voice not to break. 

He looked skeptical, but didn’t push. 

“Alright, all done. Hopefully that’ll be it, at least from the mass cas,” he said, handing back the paperwork. “We have a trauma counsellor available if you need to talk to someone,” he said before backing away to move onto the next patient. 

You chuckled at that. Of course he thought you were troubled by the amount of death that occurred today. But no, here you were, post mass casualty, and you were more concerned about a man than you were about the people that had died tonight. How fucked up were you? 

Jack showed up with coffee the next morning like usual, setting the paper cup down on your desk, “here you go, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you,” you said without looking up from your paperwork. You tasted acid in your throat, the words from the nurses station echoing in your head in an ugly cacophony. You’d memorized them by heart over the past 12 hours, twisting and turning in bed as they invaded your mind against your will. 

He just doesn’t know how to let her down.

He probably feels guilty.

Her fawning over him is not cute.

You cleared your throat, “you really don’t have to do this anymore, you know,” you said nonchalantly, like it wasn’t tearing your heart out to say. 

He was quiet for a moment. “I know… I do it because I want to, because I like spending time with you,” he said, head cocked and brow furrowed.  

“Sure,” you muttered under your breath. 

“What was that?” 

You sighed and set your pen down, shifting your full attention to him, “I’m just saying you don’t have to prostrate yourself in front of me because you feel guilty, Jack. You’ve done your penance, if that’s all this is. You’re forgiven, no hard feelings.” 

Your throat was tight, but your voice didn’t waver. You blinked back tears furiously as he stared at you, mouth agape. He looked a little more disheveled than usual, his eyes tired and the lines on his face a little more pronounced, like he’d been frowning all night. Obviously, he worked like 16 hours last night. You felt another wave of guilt rush over you–he was wasting his much needed rest time to come placate you. 

He crossed his arms, shaking his head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?” 

You stood up and started behind your desk, feeling restless and hurt and foolish. 

“You just–you don’t have to hang around me because you feel bad or something,” you said, “you’ve more than apologized. I just wish you didn’t make me feel like–like…” you trailed off, ragged breaths tearing through your chest. It was getting harder to force the words out, tears falling down your cheeks in earnest now. 

“Like what?” 

“Like this means something!” you choked out. God, you felt so silly. Aw, is someone upset that their crush doesn’t like them back? 

He looked at you in disbelief, “It does mean something,” he said, rounding your desk and stopping in front of you–effectively ceasing your pacing. 

“Please don’t lie to me,” you hiccuped, your bottom lip trembling violently, “I know I’m too much, I know no one at the Pitt likes me–you don’t have to pretend you do.” You fixed your gaze to the floor–you didn’t think you could handle the pitying look that was undoubtedly in his eyes. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said, cupping your face between his large hands. You tried to wiggle away, but his grip was unwavering–he wasn’t going to let you look away from him. He brushed away your tears, “I don’t know what ideas you’ve gotten into that pretty little head of yours, but if you think I’m anything but smitten with you, you’re dead wrong.” 

You laughed weakly, “who’s making bad jokes now?” 

He didn’t take the bait, didn’t let you deflect from the topic at hand. He pinned you with his eyes, his gaze steady as he delivered his next words. 

“I’m serious. I need you to know that I’m being honest with you when I say this: I’ve been scared for a long time to make a move on you, and I’m not letting anything–not even you–get in the way now, okay?

“I’ve liked you for a while now, pretty girl. You’re the best part of my day, the only thing keepin’ me going some days. I love your smile, your laugh, the way your face lights up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. I love the way you care about people, alive and dead, and I love your jokes, even if they can be a little off color. 

“And I can’t tell you how much I regret how I treated you. The only silver lining is that it kicked my ass into gear, made me realize I’ve been an idiot for waiting so long to make you mine. You’re not too much, and even if you were, I’d want more–I want everything you’re willing to give me.” 

You almost couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of his mouth, but he was nothing but sincere. His eyes pleaded with you to believe him, to give him a chance–and you desperately wanted to. 

“You mean that?” you asked, gnawing at your lip anxiously. You didn’t want to get your hopes up just to have them crushed again. 

“With all my heart,” he said, grabbing your hand and placing it over his heart. It was racing just as fast as yours was. “This is how I feel every time I see you, sweetheart. Feel like I should be hooked up to a monitor sometimes,” he joked. 

“I…I like you too. I have since the day I met you. But I’m scared,” you swallowed thickly, voice small as you finished, “I don’t want to get hurt.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I am too. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this–haven’t since my wife–and I don’t want to fuck it up. We’re in this together, as long as you’ll have me,” 

“I want you,” you whispered, placing your hand on the side of his neck tentatively. 

He grabbed your waist and backed you up against your desk, replicating your previous position from yesterday. 

“Can I kiss you now, sweetheart? Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since we were interrupted,” he asked, thumb stroking your cheek. 

You nodded, “me either,” you said, heart pounding as he leaned in. 

His lips were soft when they met yours. It was tentative–just a slow, gentle press of his lips against yours, like he was trying to maintain some level of decorum.

He started to pull back, and you whined at the loss of contact. You fisted your hands in his scrub top and pulled him back in, your mouths meeting in an uncoordinated mash of teeth. He chuckled against you, “greedy girl,” he murmured, steadying your head in his hands and deepening the kiss. 

He tamped down your eagerness but didn’t erase any of the heat building between you–just kept you right where he wanted you. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you readily opened your mouth for him, desperate to taste him. He licked into your mouth, tongue hot as it tangled with yours. You were greedy, sucking and lapping and nipping at his tongue and lips, getting messy with it and thoroughly forgetting where you were and how inappropriate a setting this was. 

You were like horny teenagers, hands grabbing at whatever bits of flesh they could reach, tangling in each other’s hair, and moaning louder than was appropriate. 

When you finally pulled back, you were both gasping for air, chests heaving against each other. Jack rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath. You didn’t want to waste another moment not kissing him, though, so you began peppering his face with kisses–to his nose, cheeks, chin, wherever you could reach. 

He laughed at the onslaught, craning his head to the side to give you access to his neck, which you happily latched onto, “you’re insatiable, aren’t you?” 

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” you replied as you pulled away, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes at him. 

He shook his head fondly at you, “Now, as much as I’d like to do very, very inappropriate things to you right now, I came here this morning planning to ask you out to dinner. Would you allow me to ask you out properly now, sweetheart? Let me be a gentleman?” he asked, thumbs stroking your jaw. 

You nodded, still dizzy from his kiss–still reeling from the fact that Jack actually liked you. 

“Would you please make me the happiest man in the world, and accompany me to dinner at Altius tomorrow night at 7?” 

“I’d love to,” you grinned, pulling him in for another kiss. 

“And after, we'll see just how insatiable you are.” 

A/N: shoutout to my fellow anthropology majors lol glad that my degree is coming in handy for something cause its certainly not a job