Ivy Locke

A beat of silence. Jack pursed his lips and took it as a good sign, a contemplative one. He had lots of time to think on days like these. He liked thinking. He was a good thinker.

"Yesterday was a good day," Robby pointed out.

"Most of them are good now."

"But not today."

"No," Jack confirmed, sniffing. "No, this morning, she screamed when she woke up and thought we'd had a one-night stand. Not the best reaction from my girlfriend of five years."

"Maybe it's because she's still your girlfriend after five years," Robby shrugged, teasing.

It was a blow Robby couldn't have known he made. Jack took in a deep breath and thought of the proposal he'd had planned just under a year ago. Before the accident. Before pieces of your memory faded and returned at random, decimating the easy routine of your life together.

It was a cruel twist of fate that made it him. You always forgot him, like he was etched into that one specific neural pathway, and the semi that had sideswiped you made sure you smashed your head just there. Some days it was like that never even happened. Other days, like today, that part of your brain was unreachable, painful.

Jack rode out each of those days, grateful that you were still alive. There was a long stretch of time when people thought you wouldn't be. He remembered that time like a dismal grey cast over the parts of the hospital that held reminders—the elevator, the fourth floor, the cafeteria on broccoli cheddar soup day.

So he would take you on your bad days, but he didn't want to make it worse by getting married. He didn't know what benchmark would tell him it was okay again. Maybe, what, a month of no bad days? Six months? And how would it be different, he wondered, if you woke up married rather than dating? Would it be different for you?

"Hey, I was just kidding, man," Robby placated, tapping Jack's chest. "You guys have been through a lot. I don't think you have to subscribe to a timeline."

"Yeah, I know."

Robby eyed him. "Good. Good."

"I want to, though." Jack turned his head to the side but kept his gaze on a far wall. "Marry her. I just—I don't want things to be worse. I don't want her to be confused one day and not even have her own name."

Robby tsked, rubbing his hands together and hanging his head slightly. "I don't know, brother. Even on bad days, she still looks for you every time she walks into the ED. I don't know if—"

"Dr. Abbot?"

Jack spun at the sound of his name, trying to balance giving you his full attention and not scaring you off. He righted, then relaxed his shoulders, then schooled his face into attention and patience and nonchalance.

"Or—Jack. Sorry. I know you said Jack, but I—"

"Hey, no worries," Jack soothed, pulling a hand from beneath his casually crossed arms to wave you off. "What can I do for you?"

"Um," you started, mouth twisting in discomfort. He was the only one who knew it was from discomfort. He knew so many things about you. "I don't..."

When your fingers became a tight ball, all wound together and tense, Jack found himself covering them with his own gentle touch. You didn't pull away. He changed his evaluation of the day from not great to not so bad.

"You wanna talk in the hall?" he asked, his voice dropping, head tilting down to give you privacy.

You flushed at the closeness, shoulders rising.

Not so bad was then changed to actually kind of okay.

"I don't know my locker combination," you whispered to him, avoiding his eyes. "I thought I did, but you told me we shared one and then you told me the numbers and my brain feels all..."

"Plugged in wrong?"

"Yeah," you breathed out. "Exactly like that."

Contents -

☁︎ One

☁︎ Two

☁︎ Three

☁︎ Four

☁︎ Five

☁︎ Six

☁︎ Seven

☁︎ Eight

ACOTAR Masterlist

A/n - This series will include content warnings at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.

Another requested fic that I was very excited to write! I'll admit, it took a bit of thinking (and some serious back-and-forth with myself) because I really wanted it to feel just right. Fingers crossed it lands the way I imagined x

Expect plenty of emotions, intrigue, a little spice, and lots of domestic Azris shenanigans because who doesn't love a little cosy chaos? :)

Nick Wagner knows better than to check his phone in the middle of a stakeout. Or he used to, at least. Smiling at the picture on his lockscreen, he flicks his eyes up again to ensure the suspect hasn’t exited his residence.

“Everything okay?” Karadec asks, writing something in his field notebook.

“Fine,” Nick answers flatly. “Can I ask why you offered to watch the guy’s house instead of putting someone else from your team on it?”

Karadec shrugs one shoulder. “They’ve got other cases they can work.”

“And you don’t?”

“Sir, all due respect, but my team has been monitoring this guy’s finances, his phone calls, text messages, acquaintances… they deserve a break from him. If I can give them a few hours of reprieve, I’m going to.”

Nick nods, slumping in the seat as he watches the covered front windows of the house. “I like that approach, Detective.”

Karadec hesitates to respond, then says, “Thanks.”

Sighing, Nick glances at his phone again, telling himself he’s just checking the time and not looking to see if he has any new texts.

“Somewhere to be?” Karadec asks lightly. “I can handle this if you need to go.”

“I’m good,” Nick assures him, thinking about the smiling girl on his phone until the door opens and the suspect takes a careful step outside. “Move in? Your case, your call.”

“Let him get to the corner,” Karadec advises. “We won’t let him back in the house.”

Nick’s phone buzzes, and he smiles to himself, looking forward to checking that message after he slaps cuffs on another bad guy.

Nick pushes the door open and removes his key from the lock, then knocks.

“Nicky!” someone yells inside.

With that call, it’s as if the weight of the LAPD has been lifted off Nick’s shoulders. He closes the door, then drops to his knees when rushed footsteps approach him.

“Nicky!” your daughter repeats, laughing as she throws herself into Nick’s arms, trusting him entirely to catch her, to hold her, to protect her.

“Hi, Honeybunch,” he greets, holding her close as he stands.

She laughs at the nickname, burying her face in Nick’s shirt as she clings to him.

“Where’s Mom?” Nick inquires, bouncing her slightly.

“She’s making me dinner.”

“Dinner? Just for you?”

“Mmhmm.”

Nick sighs, patting his stomach. “Man, I sure am hungry,” he muses.

“No mac ‘n’ cheese for you!”

“Oh, now we’re not sharing,” you mutter to yourself in the kitchen. “But when I was trying to have ice cream last night, the key to world peace was sharing.”

“Ice cream is different,” Nick answers. He smiles when you turn toward him, an easy smile on your face as you greet him. “Nothing fair in love and ice cream… and mac and cheese, apparently.”

“She’s been pestering me for it for a week!” you exclaim dramatically, tickling your daughter’s side when you say pestering.

“She deserves it,” Nick decides, twisting her out of your reach. He drops his voice to whisper, “Babe, don’t make her turn on me.”

Your daughter squeals in excitement before resting her cheek on Nick’s shoulder, a bright smile on her face.

“What if I make extra mac and cheese for us?” you bribe, batting your eyelashes.

“What if I want something else?” Nick asks lowly.

“Chicken nuggets,” your daughter interjects decidedly, nodding once.

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, matching her nod. “Chicken nuggets.”

“What do I look like, McDonald’s?” you whisper as you step toward the fridge.

“Definitely not McDonald’s,” Nick decides. He dips his chin to confer with Honeybunch, who helps him decide. “Chick-fil-A, if anything.”

“I guess I’ll take it. Honeybunch needs to go to bed early,” you inform him.

She pouts, and Nick frowns at you.

“We’ve got an early doctor’s appointment,” you defend.

Nick’s eyes snap to yours, his brows pinched as he repeats, “Doctor?”

“Just her yearly check-up,” you explain, rubbing his arm. “She’s fine.”

“I’ve got some time between meetings, if you want me to come with.”

Smiling, you remind him, “That’s Honeybunch’s decision.”

“Hey,” Nick coos, drawing her attention up. “Want me to come with you tomorrow?”

“We get ice cream after?” she checks.

“Absolutely,” Nick answers. He doesn’t give you time to speak before he looks at you and murmurs, “She holds great power. Did you see how she looked at me?”

You give him the same look to remind Nick where she gets it, but it garners a different response when you do it.

Karadec and Morgan are arguing. It’s as consistent as the coffee pot in the bullpen being empty every morning. Nick is waiting for an opportunity to weigh in, but it doesn’t come before his phone chimes with a reminder.

“I’ve gotta go,” Nick announces. “If you come up with anything useful, I’ll have my phone.”

“Where are you going?” Daphne inquires.

“Doctor’s appointment,” Nick answers distractedly, focused on texting you that he’s on his way and already has a car seat.

“Are you sick?” Oz adds.

“Not my appointment,” Nick murmurs as he walks out of the room.

“Whose is it?” Morgan calls after him.

“You heard that but not me when I tried to remind you that there’s a witness waiting,” Selena deadpans. “Selective hearing seems nice.”

Nick wipes Honeybunch’s tears, his own eyes glassy as he kneels beside her.

“Don’t wanna,” she insists quietly.

“I know you don’t want to,” Nick replies. “But this shot will make sure you don’t get sick. That’s really good because you don’t want to get sick, do you?”

Honeybunch shakes her head, then wipes her nose with the palm of her hand. Nick smiles, reaching past her to get a tissue. He cleans her hand, then gets another to wipe her nose. You’re sitting in the chair beside the examination bed, watching them interact. Honeybunch might not have Nick’s chromosomes, but there’s no question that she is his daughter.

“It hurts,” Honeybunch insists.

“Not for long,” Nick promises. “It’s a tiny pinch and then bam, you’re healthy. Kinda like a magic trick.”

She shakes her head, unconvinced that it won’t hurt. You’d weigh in, but you already know that Nick will have more success than you. Honeybunch has him wrapped around her finger. The part that makes you cry happy tears after Nick rocks her back to sleep after a nightmare is that she loves him just as much as he loves her.

“What if Nick holds you while you get the shot?” you suggest. “He can tell you a funny story, so you won’t even feel it.”

She seems to consider it for a moment, then changes her mind and shakes her head. Still, she moves forward and wraps her arms around Nick’s neck. When she turns her face toward him and closes her eyes, you move silently toward the door.

The nurse walks in with light steps and the shot ready to go. Nick drags his hand down Honeybunch’s arm while he tells her a story about something Ingrid did last weekend. The nurse moves in his wake, giving her the shot. The nurse nods at you when she’s done, so you follow her out of the room.

“You ready to be here until she turns 18?” you check. “Thank you so much; that’s the first time she’s ever responded like that. It’s usually hours, if not days, of tears.”

“Of course,” she responds. “It’s what I’m here for. The doctor is on her way back, but I just wanted to… Look, I’m sure you know this, but you’ve got something special with him.”

With Nick, she means. The man who treats your daughter like his own — who drives across town at midnight because she suddenly decided there’s a monster under her bed, who holds her while she gets a flu shot, who would give her anything she asked for.

“I do know,” you reply. “Sometimes I worry he gives us more than he gets.”

“He’s not worried about that.”

“How can you-”

“I see a lot of parents. Engaged, scared of needles themselves, more concerned with their phone or their nails than their kids. And I see a lot of couples. The new parents who are mad at each other because one or the other won’t get up and feed the baby in the middle of the night. The soon to be empty nesters clinging to one another because their world is changing again. But you two? You two have something special and you both carry yourselves like you know it.”

“Thank you.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous, right?” she jokes, winking as she lightens the mood.

“Certainly does not. I’m out of my league here,” you respond with a laugh.

“No, you’re not.”

Your brows lift, but the doctor returns and interrupts before you can ask what exactly she means by that. In the room, Honeybunch has noticed the Paw Patrol bandage on her arm and is telling Nick why Marshall is better than Chase. You think for a second you can see his heart breaking.

“You’ve got a healthy monkey here,” the doctor says. “Wait, no, that’s the wrong chart. Child! You’ve got a healthy kid here.”

Honeybunch giggles, clutching Nick’s hand as he stands beside the exam table. The doctor tells you about how healthy she is, checks her vaccine record, and then invites you to ask any questions you have.

“Is it time for ice cream?” Honeybunch inquires.

“That’s the most important question a patient has ever asked,” the doctor muses. “I’ll send the nurse back in to check you out. You’ve got a lovely mon- kid here.”

Neither you nor Nick have ever corrected someone who assumes Honeybunch is yours and Nick’s. Because she is.

You’re in a meeting when Nick calls. It’s the middle of the day, so your heart drops to your stomach. Stumbling over your words, you excuse yourself and find somewhere quiet to answer the phone.

“Nick?” you ask immediately.

“Is Honeybunch at daycare?” he questions.

“Yeah, I dropped her off this morning because I have a meeting. Why?”

“There… Baby, there was a threat,” he admits. “Officers are en route now and I’m heading over there, too.”

“What kind of threat?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nick.”

“I really don’t know. I heard the radio transmission and ran out of the station. As soon as I know something, I will let you know.”

“I- Should I go home?” you ask. “Or be ready to come pick her up?”

“That’s up to you. If you want me to take the rest of the day and take her home until you finish your meetings, say the word.”

You try to take a deep breath, but it feels as if it gets trapped in your throat. “I’m scared,” you confess.

“I know,” Nick hums, the sirens on his car almost as loud as him. “I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe.”

“Keep yourself safe, too,” you demand. “Let me explain the situation and then I’ll head home.”

“Go to mine,” Nick invites. “It’s closer and I can bring her straight over.”

“How do you know it’s closer?”

“What?”

“You said your place is closer. It is. How’d you know?”

“I check in on you.”

“Ah,” you realize, smiling to yourself. “I stalk you sometimes, too.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” Nick promises. “Drive safe.”

He ends the call before you can remind him to take care of himself. The daycare center is surrounded by police cars when he steps out of his unmarked cruiser, the sirens silencing when he shifts into Park.

“What’ve we got?” he asks a lieutenant.

“Apparently this was all a big misunderstanding,” the man grumbles. “Half the kids are elated and touring our shops right now and the other half are inside crying for their mommies because we came in guns blazing.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?”

“From what I've gathered, a dad came in to pick up his kid for an appointment, not realizing that the mom got him five minutes before. When he heard ‘he’s not here,’ he made a comment about leaving with a kid. Someone overhears, think it’s a kidnapping threat, calls 911, and now the cavalry is here.”

“Good to know we can roll out quickly for the next valid threat,” Nick grumbles. “Let the kids have fun until you get another call.”

“Yes, sir. There’s a detective and a social worker around here somewhere talking to the dad. Just in case.”

Nick nods as he maneuvers through the crowd of cop cars. It’s a good precaution to take, but his thoughts have shifted entirely to Honeybunch. She’s either out here somewhere talking to police officers or sitting inside, scared. He’d gamble she’s out here, but he decides to check inside first.

Two daycare center workers are attempting to calm the children gathered inside. Nick knocks and requests one of them buzz him into the main area of the center. He scans the group twice and doesn’t find Honeybunch.

“Looking for someone?” the worker who let him in asks.

Nick offers her name, and she smiles.

“She’s outside with Officer… Pena, I think.”

“Thanks.”

Nick rushes back outside, his eyes narrowed as he searches the parking lot.

“Nicky!” someone yells.

He exhales, relieved as he runs toward Honeybunch. She meets him halfway — it’s more like one-third of the way while Nick covers the other two-thirds, but she fancies herself a fast runner in her new shoes.

“You okay?” Nick checks, holding her close.

“Officer Pena has a K-9!” she exclaims. “Like Chase!”

“You want to go home?” Nick checks. He’ll take her to see all the K-9s she wants another day.

“Can we get lunch?” she inquires, rubbing her stomach. “I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, we’ll get lunch,” he promises. “As soon as I tell Mom you’re okay.”

“She had a meeting.”

“She did. She’s waiting with Ingrid to see you.”

“Ing!” Honeybunch cheers, clapping her hands together.

Nick pulls her up into his arms, waves off a police officer with a question, and secures Honeybunch in her car seat. He’s surprised Morgan hasn’t commented on the fact that he keeps one in his cruiser. Maybe Karadec didn’t tell her about it. He can’t decide which is more telling of their characters.

You’re waiting in the driveway when Nick arrives. He opens the backdoor, keeping a hand on you as you pull Honeybunch out of her car seat. She’s already telling you about Officer Pena’s K-9 before you unbuckle the first restraint.

“But you’re okay?” you check when she stops to take a breath.

“Yeah!” she answers. “And Nicky bought us lunch.”

She runs inside to see Ingrid, and Nick’s hands find your waist.

“She’s okay,” he promises.

“I’m going to kiss you so hard later,” you sigh, leaning against his chest.

“I need to interrupt your meetings more often,” he muses.

“… The blood was at an angle and- oh my gosh.” Morgan jumps when she sees a little girl gazing up at the donuts on Oz’s desk. “Who are you?” she checks.

“Honeybunch!” Nick calls, stepping into the bullpen. “You can’t run off like that.”

“Donuts,” the girl — Honeybunch — points out.

“I’ll get you donuts later,” Nick promises as he takes her hand.

“Uh, Captain?” Morgan asks, looking at their joined hands. “Who’s this?”

“Honeybunch,” Daphne answers for Nick. “Better question: who is she to you?”

“You have a child,” Karadec deadpans, stepping out of Soto’s office.

“I like your skirt,” Honeybunch interrupts, smiling at Morgan.

“A very smart child,” Morgan praises. “Thank you. Hey, who is Nick?”

“Nicky?” Honeybunch repeats, tipping her head.

She reaches up, and Nick takes the cue, hoisting her into his arms.

“Nicky’s my dad,” Honeybunch explains softly.

Nick freezes, his eyes wide as his hand stills on her back.

“Is he?” Morgan asks, just to say something because everyone else looks how she feels. “Is he a good dad?”

Honeybunch nods once. Morgan recognizes the motion as being one of Nick’s signature nonverbal responses.

“He’s the best,” Honeybunch answers.

“He really is.”

Your voice draws everyone’s attention. You wave from the doorway, watching Nick turn toward you slowly.

“I’m getting donuts,” Honeybunch tells you, unaware that she just changed Nick’s entire life in three words.

“She can have one of these,” Oz offers.

“Really?!” Honeybunch checks.

“If he’s sure he wants to share,” you agree. “But please don’t feel like you have to. She knows the power she holds with those puppy dog eyes.”

“Even better,” Morgan whispers.

Honeybunch returns to her own two feet, moving toward Oz as he tips the box so she can see her options.

“You alright?” you ask Nick, tracing his cheekbone.

“She called me her dad,” he mutters.

“Well, what’d you expect? You are.”

“What does she want for Christmas?”

“It’s not even summer yet.”

“We should get her a car.”

“She’s four.”

“And I’m her dad.”

Smiling, you pat Nick’s chest and affirm, “Yes, you are. The best dad ever.”

Bonus:

“I think she’d look good in a G-Wagon,” you muse.

Nick tries to follow you up, chasing another kiss. “The car thing was a joke,” he groans, holding your hips as you smile down at him.

“No, it was an impulse reaction to you being the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“I can think of one thing that would make me happier.”

You lift your eyebrows, expecting you know where this is going.

“And Honeybunch already said she’d be a great flower girl.”

“That is not what I thought you were going to say,” you blurt out. “Was that a proposal?”

Nick uses your surprise to pull you down against him, brushing his lips against yours before he promises, “You’ll know when I propose.”

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