Yes Im Him

Your eyes have to be playing tricks on you.

“Ca-cassie?” you whisper, feeling like you’re staring at a ghost.

The woman in front of you clasps her hands together and presses her lips together to form a smile. Her dimples pop perfectly into place, a detail you almost forgot about her. She’s wearing her green jacket, the shirt underneath is the one you wore the morning after your first and only night of loving passion.

Your brain is barely commuting that she’s here in front of you. Cassie’s here.

“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice like honey to your ears.

“Wha… what are you doing here?”

Cassie inhales sharply and takes a step closer to you, now just inches away. “I just…” Cassie lifts her hands like she’s about to cup your face before balling them into fists and dropping them to her sides. “Fuck,” she sighs. “I needed to see you. I’m done.”

“Done?”

“Done with Ohio. I’m moving back here. I don’t give a fuck about that fellowship. I miss seeing my son regularly. I miss my dad. I miss my usual AA meetings. I miss my job. I miss my house. I miss Pittsburgh. And I miss you,” Cassie lists breathlessly.

“But… what…” You swallow hard, your eyes glossy as you stare into Cassie’s ocean blue ones. “What does that mean?”

Cassie lets out a humorless laugh, her hands flying to her hips. “It means I can’t fight this any longer.” She lets out a shaky breath, her steady voice lowering into something more quiet and vulnerable. “I’m so sorry that I kept pushing you away instead of just dealing with my feelings.”

“You want to be with me?” you ask apprehensively, your voice trembling.

“Yes,” Cassie answers right away. “If you still want me.”

The grip you have on the door handle tightens, as does the ache in your chest. Your head is spinning, still in disbelief that the person your heart has been craving is finally right here. She’s right here and she wants you.

Unable to get any words out, you just nod.

With your silent confirmation, Cassie wastes no time with closing the distance. Her hands fly to your face, cupping your cheeks. The second her lips meet yours, it’s like a homecoming, every lingering doubt falling silent. Instinctively, you gently grab Cassie’s wrists, every piece of you settling back into place as you melt into her touch.

You walk backwards, Cassie following you into your apartment. Without breaking the kiss, she kicks your front door shut. You guide her further into your home as you pour everything you’ve been feeling into this frantic, warm, long overdue kiss.

“You came back,” you murmur against Cassie’s lips.

“I came back,” she echos, sure and glad.

Cassie caresses your cheeks before dropping her hands to your waist, gripping onto you like you’ll disappear any moment. She moves with you, all personal space gone. Blindly, you walk backwards to your bedroom. Cassie moans against your lips as you stumble into a wall. She then breaks the kiss momentarily, glancing over your shoulder before connecting her mouth back with yours.

Reversing the roles, Cassie now walks backwards, heading to your bedroom. The only other time she’s been in your room was on the Fourth Of July. It felt like years dragged on since then. But it also felt like that day happened yesterday, recalling so clearly how your limbs tangled together as you both drifted into a peaceful slumber.

“We don’t have to,” Cassie murmurs between kisses as the two of you enter your dim bedroom. “Do.” A kiss. “This.”

“You don’t want to?” you question, still kissing Cassie.

“I—” She’s cut off as you press your lips against hers, kissing you back for a few seconds before pulling back just enough to speak. “I don’t want you to—” Cassie shudders, your mouth finding her neck. “I-I don’t want you to feel like you have to. Or if you’re not ready.”

“Please,” you whisper against her neck, ready to beg if that’s what it takes.

“Are you sure?” Cassie asks, sliding her hands all over your back, remapping the space she’s worried she forgot.

“Mhm,” you hum against her skin.

“God.” Cassie sighs as she surrenders. “I miss you so much, baby.”

You whine in response, one of your hands holding the back of her neck while the other dances across the small of her back. Cassie walks you backwards to your bed as you continue to shower her neck in heated kisses, each one feeling like a silent vow.

When your knees hit the edge, you sit down. Cassie crawls onto the bed too, continuing to kiss you as she makes her way to the headboard. Once there, you gently push Cassie, her head falling against a pillow. Then you climb over Cassie’s body, tucking some hair behind your ears before leaning down and attaching your mouth on hers again.

Cassie’s hands wander under your shirt, running wild all over the surface of your back. She starts to tug the fabric up, going slow to allow you time if you want to stop. But you encourage her, bringing a hand to the bottom of your shirt to help Cassie remove the barrier.

After she throws it on the floor, you slide a hand under Cassie’s oversized t-shirt, your palm lightly pressing against her stomach. You can feel every little reaction coming from Cassie as your hand glides across her sensitive skin. Your fingertips hit the lower cup of her bra, wanting—no, needing more.

“Wanna feel you.”

Cassie closes her eyes and moans at your words, her nimble hands finding your ass. “Me too, baby.”

With Cassie’s eager permission, you remove her shirt, tossing it so far that it lands on your dresser, knocking over the jewelry tray that was sitting on the edge. You couldn’t care less though, your mind solely focused on Cassie.

She squeezes your butt, you involuntarily arching your back as she does. Your soft stomach is pressed flush against Cassie’s, your guys’ breathing able to be felt by the other. Cassie moans into your mouth, the sound shooting straight to your core.

“Let me take care of you,” Cassie pleads, pulling back enough to look in your eyes. She takes in your flushed appearance, your lips parted as you breathe in through your mouth. Cassie reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, her hand then holding your cheek. “Please, baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper, Cassie’s tender expression nearly making you cry.

Carefully, Cassie rolls you over so she’s on top. Then she hooks her fingers in the waistband of your pajama bottoms, glancing up at you before taking them off. Instead of removing your underwear next, Cassie reaches around her back and unhooks her bra, letting it fall off her chest.

“Cassie,” you whimper.

“I know,” she hums, offering you a smile. One of her hands finds your thigh, rubbing it soothingly. “Just relax.”

You nod and let your head fall back onto the pillow behind you. Cassie starts to remove your underwear—not urgently, but not slowly either. Once they’re off, Cassie takes a moment to admire you, imprinting the image of your bare form to her brain. Then she parts your legs, touching you like you’re something fragile she’s trying not to shatter.

Cassie leans down, hooking your legs over her shoulders. She then licks her lips and takes a breath before diving in. The second her mouth makes contact with your cunt, a cry escapes you. Your hips start rolling against Cassie, unable to stop your restless body. You fist the sheets and bite down hard on your lower lip, trying to hold out.

“You taste like heaven,” Cassie purrs, her hot breath hitting your sensitive clit.

Cassie’s tongue glides from top to bottom, finding home by your entrance. Her tongue pokes through, a broken moan falling from your lips at the gratifying feeling. One hand stays clutching the covers while the other flies to Cassie’s head. Your fingers tangle in her brownish red hair, guiding her motions.

Still working her mouth on you, Cassie blindly reaches up. Through half-lidded eyes, you spot her arm extending up to you. Releasing the sheets, you grab ahold of Cassie’s hand. She gives you a firm squeeze, her strong tongue thrusting in and out of you ravenously.

“You know I thought about you every single day, right?” Cassie mumbles against your pussy, the words barely intelligible.

“Me too,” you confess, a sharp gasp then escaping you as Cassie’s nose bumps your hardened clit.

“And—” A thrust. “I love you.”

Gripping onto Cassie’s hand and scalp tighter, you moan loud, her words turning you on far more than they should. You glance down to look at Cassie only to find her staring up at you. The sight of her between your legs could probably make you cum all on its own.

Your eyes start to get glossy again, overwhelmed by all the powerful feelings swirling inside of you. Cassie’s efforts grow more intentional, knowing how to push you across the finish line. Your hips buck up to her face, chasing your high. Cassie lets you, not caring that her breaths are shallow. She devours you like you’re her oxygen.

“Cass,” you whine as blissful and bittersweet tears pool in your eyes.

Cassie squeezes your hand as if to say I’m here, her movements never faltering. She goes faster. Harder. Determined to make you feel good.

The bridge of her nose keeps brushing against your clit, your hips grinding relentlessly onto Cassie’s face. With your orgasm only seconds away now, hot tears fall down your cheeks, overwhelmed in the best way.

“Gonna—”

Cassie moans into your cunt, letting you know she knows you’re right there. The vibrations of the intoxicating sound she let out heighten the ecstasy coursing through your veins. With one more thrust of her tongue, your legs clamp around Cassie’s head, and you climax.

Your back arches high off the bed as several high-pitched moans leave you. You’re gripping Cassie’s hair so intensely that you wouldn’t be surprised if you pulled out some strands. As pleasure courses through you, you squeeze Cassie’s hand bruisingly tight, your knuckles turning white. Your broken cries fill the room as you use Cassie how you need, your mind fuzzy.

Cassie doesn’t resist. She welcomes it.

Her tired tongue continues plunging in and out of you, swirling the determined muscle against your spongey walls. With purpose, Cassie angles herself so you can utilize her nose to get off, your arousal covering her whole face as she pants, her face red.

When Cassie can tell you’ve rode out your high completely, she pulls back and presses soft kisses between your thighs. She stays down there for a few minutes, kissing and sucking on your sweaty skin not hungrily, but affectionately.

Then Cassie climbs up your body, sensually and lovingly kissing all over your neck and face, expecting nothing in return. Your tired hands come up to the back of Cassie’s neck, holding her closer to you while she peppers you with adoring kisses.

“Baby,” Cassie coos, her hot breath in your ear. “Do you think you have one more in you?” she asks breathlessly and without pressure, letting you take the lead.

“Mhm,” you whine, never going to max out on Cassie.

She kisses your cheek, and then wipes a tear away with her tongue, leaving your skin wet with her saliva rather than your salty tears. Your eyes close, cherishing the feeling of Cassie’s warm body on you.

She surprises you with a kiss on your lips, you instantly melting into it. You can taste yourself on her, the smell of your arousal woven into her face. When Cassie breaks the kiss, she sits up, rubbing her thumbs over your hips before climbing off of you.

“C’m’here,” Cassie murmurs softly, grabbing your hand.

Cassie helps you sit up too. You watch as she moves silently, kicking off her jeans and boxers quicker than you can process, still feeling hazy from your orgasm less than three minutes ago. Then Cassie sits against the headboard, motioning for you to come over. When you’re in reach, she grabs your waist, eagerly tugging you onto her lap. You glance down between your bodies, Cassie’s slick glistening in her dark curls from only eating you out.

“Baby,” Cassie coos, your eyes raising to meet hers. “Here,” she says, gripping your right thigh to move your leg under her left one.

You hold onto Cassie’s shoulders, letting her move you how she pleases. Once your leg slides under Cassie’s thigh completely, you moan and dig your fingernails into her skin, your pussies colliding.

“Is that comfortable?” Cassie asks you as she looks up at you with the most adorable puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah,” you reply, hooking your ankle around her waist.

Cassie’s palms spread across your lower back, keeping you close. “You gotta adjust to find the right angle, okay?” Cassie tells you gently. “Move around for me.”

You nod, and then look down. You wiggle around to find what feels best, Cassie not moving as you do. Just looking at your cunt touching Cassie’s is making you more soaked than you already are, your arousal building without any actual friction.

As you adjust slightly, your clit hits Cassie’s crotch in a way that sends pleasure down your spine. You moan, Cassie pushing you forward to encourage you. Your body takes over, beginning to grind against her.

“That’s it,” Cassie mutters, a groan leaving her after she gets those two words out.

You wrap your arms around Cassie’s shoulders, leaning even closer to her. She meets your movements, grinding in sync with you. Wet, lewd squelches fill the room along with both of your heavy pants. The sounds circling the air around you fuel your desire, your hips starting to move quicker.

“I’m serious,” Cassie mumbles, then moaning as your clits bump.

“Hm?”

“I love— mmph— you. And I’m not just saying that because I’m— oh, fuck— having s-sex with you.”

You moan before telling her, “I know.”

Cassie leans forward, kissing your collarbone, her tongue dragging across the slender bone. “I don’t want you to ever think I don’t love you, baby.”

Tears begin to well in your eyes again, Cassie’s words hitting you deep inside your heart. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

You drop your head to Cassie’s shoulder, hiding your face from her. “I know,” you repeat, your voice breaking both due to a moan and emotion. “I love you too,” you tell Cassie, then kissing her shoulder.

Keeping one hand on your lower back, Cassie brings the other to your head, cradling the back of it. “Hey, hey, hey,” she hushes, stroking your hair while continuing to rub her heat against yours, though, her movements slow a little. “Look at me.”

A single tear falls, landing on Cassie’s freckled shoulder. You left your head, your pink and swollen lips parted as you breathe heavily through your mouth. When you lock eyes with Cassie, your hips instinctively twitch, your drenched folds jutting up into hers. Cassie tilts her head, affection and love being sent to you through her gaze.

With her thumb, Cassie brushes away the stray tear that rolls down your cheek. She gives you a soft smile, her lips parting seconds later as a moan spills out. You grip Cassie’s back, clinging onto her like she’s the first deep breath after being underwater too long, nearly drowning.

“I’m almost there,” you whimper, your hot core grinding against Cassie’s faster.

“Me too,” she cries, her knees buckling straight as her coiling release creeps up.

Cassie leans forward, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips, then on the corner of your mouth. When she pulls back, her grayish blue eyes meet yours right away. As Cassie holds your gaze, it’s like she’s cracking your soul open, what’s spilling out is raw grief, love, and hope all tangled together.

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” Cassie whispers hoarsely, her thumb brushing away tears you didn’t even know were falling. “You’re always so pretty.”

You nuzzle into her hand and whimper as your climax begins to boil over. Cassie can tell, making an extra effort to rub her pussy harder against yours. You cry out and moan as you see stars, your whole body shaking.

Seeing and feeling you come undone like this is what sends Cassie over the edge. She desperately moans your name, her hand on the small of you back pulling you impossibly close as she ruts her cunt into yours. Cassie’s shuddering release reaches every nerve, all the pent-up tension in her body gone. Her eyes try and flutter shut, but she wills them open, needing to look at you. She’s so close to you that she can faintly see her reflection in your eyes.

Once your orgasm fades, your body grows limp. Feeling the change, Cassie guides you to the mattress, setting you on your back before collapsing too. Her breathing is still ragged, not as in shape as she used to be. Your shoulder touches Cassie’s, the subtle contact a reminder that she’s here.

After a minute of silence and recovery, you roll onto your side to face Cassie. She turns her head, a sweet smile breaking out on her lips as she meets your gaze. You’re quiet for a few long moments, finding the courage and words to say what’s on your mind. Cassie lets you gather your thoughts, her kind eyes reassuring.

“Are you really not going to leave?” you whisper, terrified of the answer.

Cassie’s face immediately softens more than it already was. Her brows pull together as she turns onto her side, your eyes dropping to the sheets instead of her.

“Baby,” she murmurs as she places a hand on your arm, that single word making your heart flutter. “Hey,” Cassie softly says, her other hand finding your chin, gently tipping your head up to look at her again. “I’m not leaving,” she tells you firmly. “I’m staying right here. I’m sorry that I left in the first place and for putting distance between us. Even before I moved, I created space and pushed you away, and I’m so sorry.”

You grab ahold of Cassie’s wrist, feeling the beat of her pulse with your thumb. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m still mad,” you admit. “And hurt. But I also want to forgive you— I am starting to already. I just don’t want to be hurt again.”

“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe from that.”

Your eyes sting with tears that don’t fall. “I believe you,” you whisper, your features softening and the corner of your lips curling upwards.

It feels like a weight’s been lifted off of Cassie’s chest. She lets out a relieved breath, a smile then settling on her face. The hand Cassie has on your arm drops to your waist, gently pushing you to her.

You scoot closer to Cassie, her arms immediately enveloping your frame. You bring a leg over Cassie’s while one of your hands finds her side, resting on her bare skin. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, you lean forward and kiss Cassie’s forehead, then the tip of her nose, and finally her lips.

When you pull back, Cassie pecks a final kiss to your mouth before settling into her space. “I don’t want to be away from you like that again. It hurts too damn much to miss you,” Cassie confesses as she grabs one of your hands, kissing your knuckles. “Being torn away from Harrison when he was little was a different kind of pain, one only a mother can experience, but I still felt that same empty, aching hole— just in another part of my heart.”

You nod, recalling months and months ago, not long after you first met when Cassie mentioned that she temporarily lost custody of Harrison. It’s reassuring to know that you’re that intertwined with Cassie’s life. With Cassie. Like you’re a part of her.

“I’m just glad you came back home.”

“Me too,” Cassie says before kissing the back of your hand again.

She then rolls onto her back, her arms still around you. Once she’s settled, you curl up against Cassie’s side. She loosens her hold on you so you can get comfortable, but the second you still, her hold on you strengthens. You let out a content sigh and trace the freckles on her chest with your pointer finger, able to feel her heart beat.

“I love you a lot, Cass,” you whisper. “You make me feel seen. And safe.”

Cassie closes her eyes, fighting back tears. “I love you too,” she whispers back. Cassie then kisses the top of your head, your hair tickling her nose. “So much.”

You curl up more, draping a leg just below Cassie’s waist. Her fingernails dance across your back soothingly, comforting you without words. Your body fits so perfectly against hers, like it knows it belongs there.

Like it’s found home.

╰┈➤ Next

Still, in your defense, with a beauty that drew more than a hundred suitors and a wit that kept them at a distance, for years, you were destined, fated even, by the gods in Olympia, to fall for the brilliance that is Penelope of Ithaca.

You arrived on the island from another island the day after the fleet departed. A scrawny girl, no more than thirteen summers, while she was already a young mother, in her twentieth summer.

Her nurse Eurycleia trained you to serve as her son Telemachus’ maid, still an infant then. Meaning you were in such near acquaintance to her intelligence from your very first day.

You were escorted to the beauty, who sat outside within the walls of her great house, alone, gazing at the sea. Your hands trembled as you neared her presence. Never had you witnessed such majesty.

In your land you had important families, but never mortals who came from the gods and lesser gods.

This was the most noble woman you had met, and upon beholding her, you could not prevent your own heart from ceasing in rhythm, nor could you resume its beating until she addressed you.

You stood unable to reply, your gaze falling to the floor, where her enchanting eyes could not seize and imprison you, holding you forever captive.

As you now stand watching her depart with Odysseus, you remember your story from its beginning, as if you are there once again.

“Does she not speak?”, are Penelope’s first words, her voice as bewitching as her eyes.

You become acquainted with Ithaca’s floors, which are much more mesmerising than the entire home you were purchased from.

“She does, mistress”, with a voice as sharp and unamused as her eyes, the nurse is the one to nudge you towards the Spartan born woman.

“Go on girl, answer your queen”, old hands swat your back when you stall once more. It hurts.

You take a breath, your voice high pitched and with eyes now trailing Penelope’s feet.

“Forgive me, mistress, might you be so kind as to repeat the question you asked?”, fingers twirling the loose thread on your sleeves.

Both older women stare at each other, then you.

“Look up”, the stern woman aims for your back the second time, making you wince, however, you do direct your gaze upward, meeting Penelope.

Behind her, the sea glimmers blue as if a dream.

You find yourself in a strange yet beautiful part of the land, unlike your native shores. Even its very air carries an unfamiliar, calming scent.

Should you fail to make a favourable impression, they may send you back home, to nothing and perhaps to harsher punishments for failing.

“I asked for your name”, the queen stands, now regarding you under curious eyes. She is tall.

“Straighten your shoulders”, the nurse hisses, swatting you for the third time. You want to cry.

“Eurycleia”, she smiles without it reaching her eyes. “I will take it from here. If you can see to Telemachus, he will be rousing from his sleep”, the way she positions herself, circling around you, shields you from the nurse’s access to your back.

“Yes, mistress”, the old hag at last departs.

The prospect of the sea from this height is most astounding, leaving you yet again at a standstill before Penelope, while she quietly regards you, returning to position in front of you.

Your eyes shift from the view, to her, cheeks ablaze with timidness, for she is exceedingly fair, perhaps the most you have seen in your short life.

Still deeming her gaze too unsettling, you fix yours upon her small golden earring when you finally speak, with a voice lacking in confidence.

“My name is Neso, my queen…a gift unto you”.

“My talents lie in the rearing of infants and young children, for I had seven younger brothers”.

“It is a profound honour and privilege to serve you and your noble household, here in Ithaca”.

You cannot discern whether she is impressed or calculating within her mind, as she falls silent, landing her gaze to meet your eyes.

Perhaps you neglect to mention some other important details.

Your shoulders suddenly straighten, as if an invisible Eurycleia swatted your back again.

“You had brothers? What became of them?”.

Her face wears a slight concern, as if assessing if you are indeed fit for the position. There must a dozen other girls lined up by her servants.

She misunderstands.

“My brothers are all in good health, mistress. I mean to say, I now belong to you, and your house, so I had rather than have my brothers”, you clarify, cheeks hotter the longer you speak.

“Mhm”. Her reply and eyes turn towards the sea, beyond the pillars of her fine house. You follow the line of sight, as if expecting to see something.

“Find Eurycleia. I shall see how you do with my son, Telemachus”. She doesn’t regard you.

Instead, she walks to the edge of the wall, turning her back to you. Her scent filling your nostrils.

For the first time since meeting the queen of Ithaca, you permit your gaze to linger on her.

She is adorned with the finest attire; jewels grace her hair, neck, and hands. The gods favour her.

If her beauty thus inflames you, you begin to understand why fleets are dispatched for her cousin Helen. The fairest woman who lives.

You have never seen her, of course, but heard songs of her loveliness from a young age.

If Penelope is this fine of a woman, Helen must be a goddess in comparison.

“Did my words reach your ears?”, she turns to find you still standing foolishly, gazing.

“Yes mistress…I will leave at once, thank you”.

You bow your head, uncertain if this is also a custom the people of Ithaca practice with their sovereign. At home it is your sign of respect.

Your face flushes, and more so when she smiles, as though entertained by your peculiar ways.

Your heart of course trembles at this, resolving to repay her gentle warmth, thinking perhaps she will look upon you with favour, rendering this path of becoming her son’s maid less arduous, especially with Eurycleia at your back.

Even if you did not received her esteem in those early years, you soon learn that Telemachus is a child easy to care for, compared to your seven brothers. He takes a liking to your gentleness.

Penelope is ever attended by her maids, so you are never alone in her presence in the day, unless she expressly summons you, which is a rare occurrence. In fact, she takes no note of you.

Yet as night falls, you share quarters with her and Telemachus, resting at his feet should he stir in the dead of night.

Her bedchamber is partitioned, affording her some privacy. Still, you are blessed to perceive a fleeting view of her nightgown, revealing a little more of her tender skin, than her daylight attire.

At times she visits his chamber to observe you with the babe, assessing your natural skills.

In the first year, he is indeed restless and rouses more frequently, yet as he grows more at ease with you, he slumbers longer without stirring.

It is as though he exchanges places with his mother, who is of a calm disposition at the start, until you begin to hear her gentle cries, seeking the king in her dreams to see to her.

At first you disregard it, supposing one of her maids will surely hear and attend to her. Yet the longer it persists, the more intolerable it grows.

She remains your queen, you cannot turn a deaf ear to her discomfort. So, with great uncertainty, you venture into her bedchamber, trembling at the thought of being caught by someone else.

Her portion of the quarters is another world unto itself. Silks and fabrics entirely foreign drape her body. Her eyes are shut, brows knit with anxiety.

She still calls for Odysseus, her one true love.

You approach their bed with caution, lowering yourself, until your gaze meets with her head.

Your hand extends with deliberate slowness, with tenderness, to stroke her arm.

“My queen”, you whisper.

Yet nothing occurs.

Your fingers move the stands of hair covering her face, waiting to make another attempt of it.

This time deciding to nudge her shoulder, when she calls her husband’s name.

“Mistress…do you hear me?”.

“It is I, Neso”.

Still, she does not rouse.

You consider what your own mother did for you whenever nightmares plagued your slumber.

She summoned you back to the land of the living, not by your title to her, but by your given name, for a name possesses greater power.

However, this is your queen, her title is the most protected and reverenced among all other titles.

Still, her unease is more important to resolve.

You part your lips and pray the gods do not strike you down for forgetting your place.

With a hand gently caressing her arm, you call out

“Penelope…”.

A quiet gasp leaves your mouth, when eyes that were previously shut suddenly open.

Not at all alarmed as she was a moment before, but with a calmness now resting on her face, as if she was never sleeping.

“Neso?”, she is neither angered nor pleased.

Your name on her lips sounds divine.

“My queen, I ask for your pardon. I heard your cries and could no longer turn a deaf ear”.

She beholds you with an expression of gratitude.

“Are you quite well, mistress?”, you retreat your comforting hand from her tender arm and she takes notice, her gaze following the withdrawal.

It is only then it dawns on you how close in proximity you are to her physical presence.

“Forgive me”, your heart pounding in your chest.

You falter in your retreat, stumbling backwards unto your posterior. Soon finding yourself seated.

Her eyes widen, fearing at first you have taken harm, yet when you meet gazes, she breaks into perfect laughter, ringing as music to your ears.

She has never done so in your sole company.

Must the gods bless her with all things good?

Your face grows hot with embarrassment, that thanks to those same gods, she cannot see.

“I am quite well, are you?”, it sounds as if she jests with you. Her countenance sprightly.

“Quite well, mistress”, you press your lips together to stop your laugh from escaping, feeling a timidness take over.

“Then you are forgiven, for trespassing into the bedchamber of your queen. You can at once return to your slumber”, she offers another smile.

Does she continue to jest with you?

Is it fitting to jest in the presence of a queen?

Eurycleia would not think so otherwise.

Not wanting to delay Penelope’s rest, you return, yet find yourself at her bedside the following evening when she cries out for Odysseus.

She stirs not at the sound of her titles, only her name. This time withdrawing yourself by a few steps before she opens her eyes.

“Did I cry out again?”, her voice is surprised.

“Yes, my queen”, you sit gazing at her from the dim light of her chamber.

This night she sits upright in bed, wiping her face, as though wearied by her own thoughts.

Her bare shoulders are revealed unto you, causing you to avert your gaze elsewhere. The silk upon her bed is acquainted with your shy eyes.

“What do I cry for?”, her fingers run through her hair, leaning back against the wall behind.

“It is who rather than what, mistress”.

She turns her head down towards you, listening.

“The king of Ithaca, his name over and over”.

“At times asking him to come see to you…pleading with the gods for his safe return home”.

Penelope sinks into her fabrics, as though recalling the conflict now raging at Troy.

“Of course”, is all she replies with.

For nearly every night since, you find yourself within the queen's chamber, rousing her from her cries and nightmares and prayers for Odysseus.

Although rare, there are times young Telemachus awakens with her, sensing the discomfort.

You soothe and tend to both mother and child, first seeing to the babe, then Penelope.

Yet when her torment begins to happen twice, thrice in a singular evening, you device a plan to help rid her of the cycle once and for all.

It is bold of you to ask.

You take the risk.

“I can recount to you a tale, that perchance your thoughts may dwell upon a different matter”.

An expression unreadable to you passes on her face, making you believe you have crossed a line.

“Are you yourself not longing for slumber?”, she replies with a question.

You shake your head.

“I take pleasure in the night, than the day”, you begin, your gaze landing on her listening face.

“It was in these hours I felt were truly my own in my old home and the times I feel most liberated here in Ithaca”, your voice speaks with certainty.

“I see…well, Neso, the stage is yours”, she bestows an intrigued smile, leaning backwards.

If Eurycleia catches you, she will punish you severely. She still cannot abide in your company, treating you harsher than the other maids.

All of what you do in here with Penelope defies the many rules she gave to you at the beginning.

‘Servants should not entertain or gaze too long at their better. If the queen needs a jester, she can request for one’, you can hear her cold voice.

As if she notices your hesitation, the queen repeats, encouraging you to perform for her.

“Indulge me with one small tale, then I shall determine whether you can continue this or if I should summon one of my maids to attend me”.

How cannot you not defy the counsels of Eurycleia when Penelope sits and gazes upon you with her divine favour. It is far too tempting.

In the same manner as you can ask, how can a thousand ships not be sent to Troy for Helen?

Beautiful women will have you defy even the gods and even those gods will defy each other, for a night with an Aphrodite, or Athena or Hera.

So, you defy Eurycleia and you defy the rules of this house, no matter the consequences.

You clear your throat confidently and the queen nods as a sign for you to begin.

In your family you sharpened your storytelling skills by being a natural jester for your brothers.

“This evening, I offer you the tale of how the goddess Pasithea came to be with Hypnos. Although, the version I have heard from my home, may differ to the one from Ithaca”.

Penelope lowers herself back into a sleeping position, listening with intent. Her countenance is that of someone younger, a girl, as you are a girl.

This becomes your self-appointed duty each evening, at times without her lament, helping her rid the cycle of cries for Odysseus.

Although, there are still nights she is visited by dreams that distress her greatly, you are determined to rid her of those as well.

Eurycleia appears ignorant of your defiance, until some months into this arrangement, a maid alerts her of your frequent visits to the queen.

You are certain Melantho told. Her face is smug when the old woman summons you to the back of the house, which is not a good place to meet her.

She drags you by your ear to the outside, furthest from the back entrance, where none can hear your cries as she whips the tips of your fingers.

Her newest method of correction trialed on you.

For the remainder of the day, you find yourself hard-pressed to accomplish even the most smallest of duties, including tending to the boy.

Your eyes are red and swollen from the tears.

It is Penelope who observes your grimace as you lift him, for you almost drop him, yet manage to find grip at the very last moment.

Her eyes are wide.

“Neso, are you in good health?”.

“Yes, my queen”, you answer right away, offering a smile to further convince her.

“Your eyes-”

“I am quite well, my queen…do not be anxious”, deciding to busy yourself with Telemachus.

“Mhm”, she lingers before leaving your side.

Hours later she returns, as if urgently seeking help, but when she reaches you, there are no words. Her hands lift yours to observe closely, only to see the ugly welts from the lashings.

“Why do you withhold this from me?”, there is anger in her tone. She has never once used it.

You wonder who told her.

“I answer to Eurycleia”, your shoulders straighten as if to compose yourself from suddenly crying.

“You answer to me!”, she shouts, attracting attention from others around you.

“Is she your queen?”.

In your throat sits a thick lump.

“No mistress, however, I disobeyed her strict instructions...I ought not to have entered your bedchamber...it is not my place nor my role to be intimate with you”, your eyes avoid her gaze, your heart and hands tremble, your tears are thick.

Penelope’s short laugh is one of disbelief. Her voice is filled with frustration, though quieter.

“That woman”.

“I instructed you-”

“Come along”, she changes her mind and beckons you to follow her.

You can barely keep up with her long strides and gazes from people in the house, before you find yourself standing in front of the nurse.

The queen, with her face flushed, instructs you to present your hands towards her servant.

“What say you to this?”, her anger is concealed, keeping an even voice. You wonder why.

She is met with unhurried, unafraid eyes.

“The girl defies the rules of your household mistress, she must suffer correction, until she learns”, the old woman replies, truly composed.

“Oh? Is that so? When I have bid her to enter my quarters for my son’s sake and my bedchamber for my own, whenever she pleases”.

“I instructed her to attend me”.

The nurse for the first time seems shaken, moved by her own error of judgement and punishment.

“Mistress-”

“What now Eurycleia?”, her voice rises in anger.

“Will you marr the rest of my servants?”.

“Forgive me, my queen, the girl did not express your permission to her”, she lowers herself.

“Her name is Neso! How long has she been with us for you to keep oppressing her this way?”.

“Even if she had not expressed my permission, you chose to hear rumours, than ask me”.

“Eurycleia, do not make me forget you are favoured by my husband. You are my servant”.

“Yes my queen, I beg your forgiveness”, her posture remains bent forward, eyes to the floor.

“From this day forth, entrust her correction to me. Inform me, if she so defies this household”.

Penelope turns her heels with a swiftness to depart. You assume she leaves you to confront the old woman alone, yet, you hear her summon you by name when you do not follow behind.

This is the first instance of her guardianship and open favour over you, for many years to come.

In the following three summers when you are in your sixteenth year, the boy is now of an age where he can speak and run, meaning you find yourself all over the house chasing after him.

He still enjoys your gentleness, now also your playfulness. You learn to love him deeply, able to understand why Eurycleia is so loyal to Odysseus.

You have not grown fond of her, but there is a certain sense of understanding between the two of you, especially as she witnesses your devotion to the queen of Ithaca and her young heir.

Your love for them is undeniable to others.

However, not a living soul knows of your secret affection for your mistress, not even she herself.

It has only flourished with each passing night you spend in her company, regaling her with every tale you know and recounting them for both her and Telemachus when he can comprehend them.

Penelope and her son are the finest portion of your days. She especially is the spur to all that you accomplish, with a deep desire to please her.

Your very own Helen or Aphrodite.

Her beauty and wit still overwhelm you, yet now you hold her gaze for longer than mere seconds.

It brings you great joy to behold her.

There are moments in this third summer when you consider Penelope may hold some affection for you too, from small observations.

In the times you sit together watching the sea, you can sense her gaze upon you, lingering, from the corner of your eye.

It stirs a strange fluttering in your belly and an alarming feeling of pleasure. Still, rather than suppress it, you permit it to dwell within you, becoming an unceasing, covetous thing.

Desire is its truest name.

You regard her as well, when she takes no notice. Applying attention of the delicate taper of her neck, the graceful prominence of her collarbone, the softness of her hands as she touches objects.

You at times wish you were an object, to feel Penelope’s fleeting fingers graze your skin.

She has completely consumed you.

And though her nightmares have ceased, accomplishing your task, you pass each eve by her bedside, still recounting a tale or two.

On occasion you fall into a deep slumber where you sit, when she too is at rest after the stories.

In your seventeenth year, you begin to notice the nights you awaken to find her gaze upon you.

She never did this before. The queen would usually bid you return to Telemachus's chamber.

Yet, one evening, she summons you to sleep beside your storytelling seat, requesting you bring your blankets and belongings here too.

By then the boy is old enough to not need a maid at this feet. You assume this is one reason she settles you closer to her, with the second reason being her desire to shield you from the maids, who envy you for her publicly displayed partiality.

The idea pleases you greatly, however, your mistress is not prepared for the fact that you yourself are pursued by nightmares in your slumber, though less often as you age.

Her acquaintance to this fosters a new intimacy, for you feel her hand reach down to rouse you, when such dreams occur.

Penelope’s fingers upon your bare shoulder, fleeting though they be, transform you.

You yearn for her to leave them on you, every time it happens, coming close to placing your own hand on top of hers in a thought of passion.

It is not until your eighteenth year that she begins to bestow you with small gifts, far too dear for your customary taste.

The queen gives you her fabrics from distant lands for your attire and her old jewels from her younger years, as if to embellish or claim you.

This is not an unusual tradition in itself, but that she should do so for you is what raises eyebrows.

A lowly servant, sold to her for work is parading herself adorned with some of the most costly and exquisite jewels in the Ithaca.

The other maids whisper amongst themselves, and those who were once friendly begin to shun you, ignoring your presence when the queen is otherwise occupied with her duties.

You carry yourself as though it troubles you not. Nurturing your own assurance, offering thanks to the goddess who bloomed your form. For you are no longer scrawny, but a maiden in full flower.

Surprisingly, it is the old nurse, Eurycleia, who warms up to you, approaching you with kindness, as if the world has been turned upside down.

She sees the gifts as the queen’s gratitude towards for your commitment to this house, going as far as scolding the envious servants.

Her slow friendship is the most unexpected of gifts, at a time you so desperately need a friend.

You begin to see her with new eyes, not minding her sternness now that it is directed elsewhere.

The only other sort of friend you have besides your dear boy, Telemachus, is his father’s cowherd Philoetius.

He is a kind and generous man, reminding you of your people from home, always jesting with you.

On one particular evening that alters your fate, you are awakened from your nightmare by the queen. This time her hand lingers upon your bare shoulder for much longer than the other times.

“Come lie beside me”, she withdraws, moving herself further on the other side of the bed.

Her fingers grab her silks and pulls them for you.

Your heart has never pounded so much.

All you can do is gaze down at her hand holding open the sheets and back up to her calm face.

“Have you heard my words?”, she asks.

“Yes, mistress”.

Yet you do not hurry to move.

“Then why do you make your queen wait”, there is an impatience in her voice, as if exasperated.

“Forgive me”, finally standing to join her in bed.

The first night she turns away from you, as if you are not there at all, it is strange, but delightful.

Penelope is a mystery. One that will take fifteen years of your life from this day to unravel.

After the first week passes of sleeping with her, she is not quick to turn her back from your face.

You resume telling her the stories she so loves to hear before her rest, now in her soft bed than sitting on the floor of her chamber. Not that you minded, as long as you were in her presence.

Although she’s an entire arm’s length away from you, further than before, she feels the closest yet.

Her gaze is intent as she listens and laughs, asking you questions about the characters.

She becomes a girl again in these moments, making this side of her dearest to you, for not many experience her this way, except Odysseus.

In the dead of night, when either of you are visited by a nightmare, you only have to close the arm’s length, rousing the other with a hand and a name.

During these moments, your heart does indeed cease, when you take in her scent and warmth. Her soft skin lightly grazes yours, making your inner thighs grow hot with what you assume is affection, but you soon learn the difference.

Lust is the truer name for it.

The longer you stay awake with her, the queen begins to ask you questions, not just about the characters in your tales.

“Neso”, she grabs your attention instantly whenever she uses your name this way.

“Yes, mistress?”, you bestow a smile to yourself, gazing at the back of her head.

“Are you yet asleep?”

“Not quite…”, your heart picks up in speed when she turns back around to face you, studying you, without offering her usual warm countenance.

“Then tell me, what do you and my husband's cowherd discourse? You always laugh in his presence…and furthermore, I have observed his eyes seeking you when he attends this house”.

Oh, how strange of her to notice this.

Her voice is composed, yet something in her gaze unsettles you, it feels urgent, as if she has been waiting for weeks to ask you.

You are careful in the way you answer her.

“Mistress, I speak to him about the shores I came from, and he tells me stories from Troy…nothing of importance to the war”.

“He is kind and honest with me. I can see why the king entrusted him with your stock”.

“Mhm”.

Another question lies on the tip of her tongue, you watch her sift through her thoughts.

“Has he…”, she sighs.

It is not an accusation, rather a curiosity.

“Does he touch you, Neso?”.

You shake your head profusely.

“No, my queen, I would never allow such a thing. I belong to the house”, your heart is racing.

‘And I belong to you’, you wish to add, but do not. Instead, you continue your explanation.

“Philoetius is a loyal man to you and the king”.

“I give you my word, mistress. He would not attempt it either, I trust his character”.

“Why do you think such things of him and I?”

She sighs heavily, what troubles her so?

“I see the manner in which the men of this house regard you and search for you”, her voice quiet.

“Now that you are a…ah, shapely young woman”.

Your face flushes, although hidden by the night.

“Are you so oblivious to their ardent designs upon you? You cannot openly trust them”, she sounds irritated by your reply.

You nod slowly, confirming to her your naivity.

“I have never noticed, nor cared for any of them”, your plain simple truth, spoken with certainty.

Her brows furrow, as if surprised.

“But you are…no longer a girl, is there really no one who you have an affection towards?”.

‘You, my queen, always’, your mind laments.

“Even I am aware my maids share affections for men of this house and those who visit Ithaca”.

Penelope’s gaze is unreadable, a mix of things.

“I do not care for any man”, you reveal without sharing the deeper truth about her.

She falls quiet for some time, watching you.

“That will change one day, when you meet a man worthy of your affection…it transforms you”.

A knowing smile spreads on her perfect full lips, as if recalling her own experience with love.

‘I certainly hope not’, thinking in your mind.

“Yes, mistress”, your eventual response to her.

You do suddenly imagine what it might be to receive her love, how she might touch you, were she to hold you in affection.

It makes your belly knot up, your body inflames with both desire and lust, so your cross legs to cease the maddening feeling in her company.

Somehow, this new position causes your inner thighs to feel a tingling sensation, the in between throbs, followed by a string of moisture leaking.

This is the first time your affection for her has produced a physical substance you can touch.

“What is it?”, the queen is watching you.

“Nothing, mistress…sleep well”.

You are the one to turn your back on her, another first this eve since joining her bed. Out of the feeling of embarrassment, perhaps also shame.

In the months to follow from this incident, you experience those symptoms more frequently, whenever you are in close proximity to Penelope.

The nights are the worst for it, feeling as if you are burning in your own body. The air around you growing thicker. The wild dreams, exposing your affection, no, your lust for the queen of Ithaca.

You avert your eyes more often whenever you see a glimpse of her skin. A slip of her gown when she moves, revealing her thigh causes the knot in your belly to tighten, as if it might burst any moment.

If there is any reason to get you away from her presence in the day you take it. Spending time outside the walls of the house with Telemachus and Mentor. In the guise of tending to his needs.

One eve, after sharing another one of your tales in her bed, she continues to gaze upon you, as if about to ask something of great importance.

It sets your heart racing when you recognise this.

You almost encourage her to question you, in anticipation, however she beats you to it.

“Why do you hide yourself from me?”. Her voice has grown more tender towards you recently.

“During the day whenever I bid the maids to call you to my side…you are ever abiding beyond the house, as if running from me”.

You open your mouth as if to speak, but no words come out, rather a tight feeling sits in your throat.

‘Do not ever lie to your queen’, Eurycleia’s earliest lesson visits you in this very moment.

Besides, she will know you if you attempt it.

“Mistress…I long to see the remaining parts of Ithaca…beyond your fair home. That is my motive for joining Telemachus and Mentor each day, truly…I enjoy the outdoors…I would take my brothers, back home”, you feel nonsensical.

“Forgive me, for my recent absence”.

It is not a lie, you yearn to see more than Ithaca.

Her expression is thoughtful, assessing you, and then, as if by a trick, she softens in her eyes, no longer wearing such a solemn countenance.

“You will not behold much tailing after my son and his teacher”, she breaks into laughter.

You bestow a smile, enjoying her expression.

“I fear you are not wrong, my queen, but it is more than I have ever seen in all my life”.

Her laugh seizes and her chamber falls quiet.

You hope she believes your words, they are true, just not the entire truth. She cannot know.

While journeying through your thoughts, Penelope moves closer to you, as if ready to rouse you from another one of your nightmares.

Her hand reaches to touch your shoulder, but instead hovers above your face, cupping it, the inside soft as a sweet dream.

“If the gods grant it, you will see so much more dear Neso. Your life extends beyond this house”, she smiles, her thumb rubbing your cheek a few times, before retreating her entire hand.

You will not understand these words of hers for fifteen years, perhaps even more than this.

“I never want to be an arm’s length away from you, my queen”, a truth slips out of your lips.

Her eyes are still, as if already knowing. She is unmoved by your small confession.

“Then do not leave me again…without my consent. You belong by your queen’s side”.

Her body turns away from you.

“Yes…my mistress”, you beam with a new joy.

Penelope grants you a few days each week to accompany her son beyond the great house.

Telemachus, now six summers, has grown to be spirited, though he remains shy outside the company of his teacher, yourself and his mother.

You derive great pleasure from engaging him in longer discourse, learning to understand the workings of his mind, and spurring him to greater self-assurance.

The boy is the nearest you come to having a child of your own. Your love for him is steadfast.

You imagine at times what kind of a king he will become, hoping he remains kind and generous.

Mentor is brilliant with him, giving you time to enjoy yourself whenever they are in training.

On the days you venture outside, you return to the house wearied, yet in a pleasant state. The queen notices the differences in your disposition.

During these particular nights, you find her nearer than an arm’s length, as if to convey her longing for your presence by sleeping closer to your side.

The lustful thoughts of Penelope still plague you with each slumber, until you can no longer bear it. Especially when her hair curtains your face and you take in her haunting, sea salt scent.

At times, you catch your fingers mindlessly stroking her soft locks, as you attempt to separate yourself from her.

This action transforms your intimacy exceedingly when you hear her hum, enjoying the small sensation. As if in disbelief, you still your hand and she becomes quiet, yet when you attempt to move it, she resumes the little sighs.

Not wanting to disappoint your mistress’s pleasure by withdrawing, you dip your hand further into her hair, your tips meeting her scalp.

You begin to scratch lightly, uncertain in your movements, but when her hums increase in volume, it encourages you greatly.

Suddenly, as if possessed, your body moves closer to hers, using both your hands to massage her entire head.

Penelope sings with pleasure, having not been touched by anyone in the last five summers.

You never want to part your fingers from her scalp, her scent now injected in you.

Those feelings of desire you go to battle with every evening are alive within you and tonight you make peace with that war, surrendering at last.

With your permission, desire and lust direct all of your next moves. Starting with her back.

Your right hand continues to scratch her head, while the left slithers down past her neck and onto her shoulders.

In the same manner, you massage her there, squeezing your affection through the works of your hands, as a vessel to make known your love.

The queen’s hums turn into a noise that causes the in between of your thighs to throb, with a desperate want. That familiar moisture choosing this time to run down your leg.

You decide to join your right and left hands on her shoulders for a greater response, which indeed you are rewarded with shortly after.

Penelope falls into a trance, turning herself flat on the bed to give you better access to her back.

Her head faces the other way, but you can see when you climb over her body how her lips part.

Possessed is what you are, both hands dutifully kneading her through the nightgown she wears.

From the top of her head to the bottom of her feet, nothing is left untouched, well, except her posterior. You avoid it as if it is a plague.

Your mind cannot comprehend your actual position, each thigh on either side of her body.

Desire and lust instruct you further, when you decide to lower yourself, so your front is on top of her back. It is a feeling that inflames you both.

Before she has a chance to speak, your mouth attaches to the side of her neck, just below her ear, planting one brief but tender kiss.

“Neso…”, she starts, you do not let her finish.

“Each night I hope for you, praying to Aphrodite that you may behold me with lover’s eyes”.

“My affections are for you, Penelope, you alone and no other living soul. No one compares”.

“There cannot be another man, or woman who exceeds what you have done to my heart”.

“It is yours, my queen, take it…take all of me”.

The brief silence that follows after your truest confession is unbearable. You lower your lips again, this time attaching to her jawline, then her cheek, then her temple and brow.

Her noise returns with each kiss, feeling an urge to grind your body on hers.

When at last you approach the corner of her lips, she turns herself on her back to meet your eyes, pushing you up from your position.

“Forgive me, mistress”, your heart trembles at the sight of her witnessing your lustful thoughts.

“Sleep well”, you remove yourself entirely.

By the time you are turned to your side, you assume she has returned to her slumber.

“Neso…”, she calls after a few moments.

“Yes, my queen?”, without turning back around.

“Do not hide from me”, those simple words spoken by her invoke greater encouragement.

You turn, with a deliberate slowness, deciding to lie on your back, finding her propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you.

She bestows her warm smile, fingers reaching to trace your cheek, until her index and thumb grab hold of your chin.

Penelope lowers herself, her face and yours now mere inches away.

“The day you first came to me, you told me that you belong to me and ever since, you have only proved yourself worthy of belonging to a queen”.

She presses her merciful, tender lips unto yours, with a kiss so fleeting, you miss it the moment she pulls away.

“I belong to you…”, you repeat in a trance.

Her mouth returns on you once more, this time with a deepened kiss. She hums when you find your tongue slipping inside her, wet and cautious.

Still possessed by desire and lust, you grab hold of her hand under her silk sheets and direct it to that throbbing feeling between your legs.

You place it there not knowing what to do, but when she starts to make small circles, your mouth parts open, your voice letting out a sigh, then a moan, each time she moves.

A smile stretches on her lips, watching you.

“So, this is what plagues you each night you lie down with me?”, her circles firmer.

You nod, meeting her gaze.

“Answer me”, she halts briefly.

“Yes, mistress”.

The knot in your gut tightens more than ever when she resumes her movements on you.

“Then tell me, why did you not confide in me?”.

“I could have long aided you in combating this small problem and, we could have triumphed”.

Heavens, she is perfect.

“I was ashamed, my queen”, you exhale.

“Ashamed of desire? It is the most natural of things…a pure thing…do not ever be ashamed again, do you hear me?”, she quickens her pace.

“Yesss, mistressss”.

Then something bursts in you, causing you to cry out, but Penelope clamps her hand over your mouth, to avoid attracting attention, rubbing you vigorously, feeling moisture on your nightgown.

Even her hand is wet after she removes it from you, and a particular smell fills the chamber.

“Oh, you beauty…you shall indeed slumber soundly this evening, will you not?”, she plants a kiss on your forehead, before turning herself.

You cannot quite put into words this moment you shared with her, it is a fantasy come true.

All you can manage in your thoughts is how much you want it again and to switch positions.

You feel as though you have to catch your breath, the tingling sensation still in between your legs, just now satiated by the queen of Ithaca.

Her aiding of you continues for months before she ever allows you to aid her in return.

After this, that is all you do with each other for many nights over the following fifteen summers. So intertwined are you, that you slumber in each other’s arms, with no longer a gap in between.

Even after the war ends and the uncertainty of her future begins, when the unruly suitors make camp in her home, you are her only constant.

Your unwavering devotion and dedication to her pleasure, keeps her nightmares at bay.

There are only a number of times you fight, yet even then, you soon find your way back to the other. Quick to forgive harsh words or her temper.

Many times you consider what may become of the both of you if Odysseus really is forever gone. The thought of any other man touching her the way you do each night makes you possessive.

She returns similar feelings of jealousy when some of the suitors begin to chase after you.

Their efforts are wasted.

Before she takes you to bed, you aid her in the unraveling of the threads she wove in the day.

When your beloved Telemachus suddenly departs in search for his father, you hold her each night she cries herself to sleep.

You pour all you have into Penelope, lifting her out of the dark misery looming over her life, until the day the king returns, making it known it really is him, the great hero Odysseus, not just a beggar.

The final night you spend in her bed before these revelations is the hardest to recount.

You fight.

“Should it truly be Odysseus, will you relinquish the throne and set sail with him?”.

She sighs, exasperated with you.

“Indeed, of course I shall. You have known this from the very beginning, and I shall do so with all my heart. He is my husband, Neso”.

Your hands reach to her own, holding tightly.

“And what of me? I am yours, do you not recall? You said I ought to remain at your side!”.

“As queen! I shall no longer be the queen. Another shall take my place when my son marries, that is what I meant by it!”.

She continues, with less volume in her voice.

“Please, let us not quarrel upon this, on our final night…come, make love to me, sweet girl”, she caresses your arm.

You refuse her.

“Penelope, I am in love with you, I must be yours. Can you not see me? What we share is rare…”.

She sighs deeply, her words melancholic.

“I have seen you, Neso, my dear one, more than most and have bestowed upon you fifteen of my finest summers, longer even than those I shared with Odysseus”.

“Yet, he remains the true affection of my heart”.

“None can compare to this feeling…not even you my love. I am bound to him. I have yielded all to you, save my own heart, for it belongs with him”.

Your tears quietly fall, your voice softer, more desperate. You cannot let her go, she is yours.

“But I cannot exist without you. Fifteen years are but a fleeting moment for the affection I bear for you, Penelope. I beg you, permit me still to be yours when you lay down your title as queen?”.

Her own tears sit at the very edge of her gaze.

“No. I liberate you from myself”.

“There is nothing more I can give to you, but your freedom…you told me many summers ago your desire to behold more than just Ithaca, well take the chance and be free from this life”.

You are moved greatly by her words, so much so you clutch onto her, remembering her form.

“I do not want my freedom, I want your love”.

This exchange goes on for most of the night, you begging, her refusing you gently, with a tenderness that breaks your heart further.

Now watching her ship sailing away, you wish you had spent your last time with her differently.

Though your heart rejoices for the young king, your beloved Telemachus, it is crushed from losing Penelope, your only love.

It is Eurycleia who finds you sitting in the former queen’s favourite seat, overlooking the sea.

When you see her pitying countenance, you weep loudly, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

She is deliberately gentle with you.

“Dear child, I know this wounds you greatly, but the queen held you in higher esteem than any other present in this home”.

“Only Odysseus surpasses you”.

“That is not a terrible place to be”.

You tighten your embrace on her, as if it is Penelope herself telling you these words.

But after a few moments she steps back to behold your face. Her own eyes filled with tears.

“Our mistress has left a few things for you in order, starting with a new title. Her parting gift to you is your liberty, for you to witness the world and travel far from Ithaca, as you wished”.

“Yet if you choose to remain with myself and our young king, she has elevated you in ranks”.

“You shall never want for anything, Neso”.

You never imagined that the woman who once brought you a lot of physical pain, would be the one to deliver you your freedom.

“Thank you, Eurycleia”.

She departs shortly after kissing your temple.

As you continue to sit in your beloved’s position, grateful for her parting gifts, your heart is breaking before you in a manner which denies you the enjoyment of all of these good things.

Freedom and titles are not small gifts.

Penelope must love you deeply to impart such blessings over the rest of your life.

She has given you everything, except her heart.

Somehow this hurts more, her care for you, knowing it is true and deep, but no more.

King Telemachus later finds you in the same position, once an hour has passed.

You feel your tears close upon beholding his face.

He finds a seat and remains quiet for a moment.

“I know you loved her, but do not remain here Neso, out of loyalty for me or my mother”.

“She wished for you to be free in the world”.

“Take the chance, trust me, it will change the course of your life, to experience something else other than Ithaca. It certainly changed me”.

“You always and forever have a home with us, so if you find it difficult or unbearable, just return. But I urge you to first travel and see for yourself”.

He stands before you respond, giving you a pat.

“Thank you, my king”, but he has already left.

Something begins to stir in your mind, until it forms an idea.

If all that consumes you is Penelope, then you will begin your travels with her place of birth and upbringing, to understand her further.

Sparta.

Perhaps you will reunite one day in the many summers to come, able to once again embrace and stand an arm’s length away from the beauty.

Fin.

i wrote it listening to this particular track, it was done so beautifully. thank you for reading and engaging with this 💞

Baran sighs and sets down the folder, hands coming up to press deep into her eyes. 

“Not that one either?” Gloria muses from her left. Baran likes Gloria, at least far more than the average doctor in this hospital, but she’s been a nuisance the entire hiring process. Gloria suggests Baran calls you and asks you politely to come back. After the fourth attempt, Baran had snapped that if Gloria missed you so dearly, she could call you herself. 

“He had no previous experience in a trauma center,” Baran sighs, tipping her head back against the wall from her swivel chair. “That would be fine if we were hiring a new RN, but Y/N was an NP, so we need a new one of those.”

Gloria just stares blankly at her, and Baran is reminded how little this woman actually understands the inner workings of the hospital. She’s a glorified bureaucrat. 

“More schooling,” Baran summarizes. She’s too tired to say more. 

“There have to be more NPs in the Pittsburgh area,” Gloria says. “Why didn’t we send out a hiring request specifically for those?”

“We did. There’s a job market crisis, though, Gloria, it’s no surprise anyone even semi-qualified decides just to give it a shot.”

“Well, that seems like a waste of everyone’s time.”

“Well, you could try to sympathize with the unemployed people of Pittsburgh.”

Gloria shoots her a look at that, as do the three other men in the room whose names Baran can’t remember but doesn’t care to ask, because no one in this room cares to pronounce her name right. They can all fuck right off.

“Is there a problem, Dr. Al-Hashimi?” one of the bald men asks, and Baran wants to rip out her hair at the butchering of her name even after two years of her fronting the ER.

“Al-Hash-ih-mee,” she corrects, eyes already flipping through the next application. “Once again, it doesn’t rhyme with ‘creamy.’ I spelled phonetically on my application when you hired me, unless none of you actually read it?”

“Baran,” Gloria gasps, head swivelling to her. “Should we all take a break?”

Baran is already standing. “I think that would be wise.”

Gloria and the three men reluctantly stand and automatically move to huddle at the other side of the conference table, but Baran has no interest in debriefing with any of them. She finds the door and shoves it open open-palmed and lets her feet carry her back into the ER. 

Samira winces when they see her. “That bad?”

Baran just shakes her head, both hands running over her head to try and smooth down the hair. “It’s ridiculous. They’re all imbeciles who just want to get another body in here so this can get off their plate. Gloria didn’t even know the qualifications for the role.”

Samira grimaces, turning to survey the pitt. From an outward perspective one probably couldn’t visibly detect how understaffed they are, but ask any patient, any doctor, any nurse. They’re drowning. “What, is she suggesting we lower the requirements?” Baran huffs a laugh. “No. I won’t stand for that. They’re all just lazy, as I said, and aren’t actually interested in hiring someone with the same talent as—”

She swallows your name sourly.

Samira sighs, allowing their weight to rest against the wall as they tuck their chart under their arm. “I still can’t believe Y/N is gone. Trin and I have texted her probably no less than twenty times each asking her to get drinks or something but it’s been radio silence.”

Baran intentionally doesn’t display her surprise. “Oh, really? Nothing? What about with Javadi?”

“Nothing either,” Samira shrugs. “I can’t tell if she blocked all of us or got a new phone or what. I just hope she’s okay, finding a new job right now has to be a bitch.” 

Samira pauses, eyes going wide, “I mean—”

“I don’t care if you curse, Samira,” Baran sighed, “I agree with you. It can’t be easy.”

“Just, like, did we ever get a reason? Did she seriously just Irish goodbye all of us?”

Baran’s phone buzzes with a text from Gloria, already, asking if she’s calmed down enough to ‘revisit the agenda.’ Baran scans over the incoming admits out of some mildly masochistic hope someone will come in injured enough to offer her an excuse to ditch. But the ER, probably just to spite her, is relatively calm.

She tucks her phone away. “Y/N had personal leave. She was entitled.” 

“Sure, sure,” Samira nods. “It just doesn’t seem like her. But, maybe I didn’t know her very well.”

No, Baran thinks, maybe I didn’t either. 

ꕥ

"My lot is descending a lonely staircase to something rotting and falling apart in its exile."

You don’t have enough money to leave Pittsburgh entirely and take root somewhere new, but you have enough self-respect to know you cannot work at PTMC anymore.

Maybe it was stupid think you ever could’ve. You know yourself well enough to know how it would have grated on you, trying to balance the line between Baran as a boss and Baran as a lover. There’s a power dynamic there that you can’t ignore as much as you love her. Or, loved. Whatever. 

The past two weeks since you left PTMC have not been fun. The first three nights Baran came to your apartment and knocked for thirty minutes straight, but you just put in your airpods and blasted music and waited her out. You knew she wouldn’t stay forever because her maternal instincts would pull her back to her son, and sure enough she’d always be gone by 9. 

The fourth night you printed out a piece of paper that said “WARNING: AGGRESSIVE DOG ON PROPERTY, WILL BITE!” and slapped it on your apartment door. The millisecond you heard her first knock you pulled up a 30 minute long “angry dogs barking” video on YouTube and used that to drown her out. She stopped trying to talk to you in-person after that.

But Baran hasn’t stopped messaging you. Oh, no. Every day you wake up to at least five emails from her to your work email (you’ve blocked her number over text, no clue how she found out.) Usually two of them are long-winded pleas for you to come back to PTMC. A couple others are forwarded notices of another hospital’s job opening. Occasionally she’ll send a link to a government benefit, a detailed infographic on how to collect unemployment, a PDF of a peer-reviewed article about the psychological effects of job loss. Sometimes it’s as simple as “I hope you’re okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Those ones you delete with a shaking finger. 

It’s patronizing and oppressive but also painful because you can picture her perfectly, hip against her marble counter in the early mornings, head half-tilted to make sure Kaveh is brushing his teeth, shaky thumbs tapping out message after message out of worry. She doesn’t want you to sink. She doesn’t know if you already have.

You watch the bubbles accumulate from Donnie, Dana, and Perlah who always signs off her messages with a “heart, P & P” so you know Princess is fretting over you too. Those you answer. Nurses look out for nurses, and you know whatever you say to them won’t be passed along.

Most of Dana’s messages are light-hearted and easy. She offers to smuggle you back in, give you a haircut and dye your hair and give you a nose piercing (she reveals she had one in her teenage years, she’ll send you a photo if you come back) so that Baran won’t spot you. They’ll give you a kickass pseudonym witness-protection style. All you have to do is come home.

You answer her always, but refuse and refuse. Eventually, Dana’s messages dwindle.

Samira and Trinity you aren’t as quick to answer. You’re close in age, you’ve gotten drinks with them a few times, and Trinity introduced you to your favorite gay bar so you’ll always owe her for that. But it’s more likely than not that Baran sent them and you aren’t willing to take any chances. You’re not giving Baran a back channel into your life. 

After the third week you get accepted into UPMC Mercy, center of the city, level one trauma center. Their scrubs are nicer and their ED is better staffed and they give you a lot of command. The staff is friendly and you like the charge nurse and the chief attending is a similarly strong-willed woman, firm but kind, but you’re mercifully not in love with her. It’s almost, almost perfect.

ꕥ

"My lot is a gloomy stroll in a grove of memories, and dying from longing for a voice that says: I love your hands."

“Fuck, he’s losing too much too fast,” Langdon is panting, stuffing more gauze into the patient’s open chest. “I think I nicked something on the way in, his breath sounds are diminished on the left. Do we go FAST exam?”

“Yes, someone get the ultrasound,” Baran orders, rounding the bed in a rush, gloves snapping on, gown being tied behind her neck. “It’s either tension pneumo or hemothorax. Langdon, get the packing out of his chest.” 

He obeys and the blood comes faster, pooling in current up and out of the chest cavity and all over the floor. It just pumps and pumps and pumps.

“Jesus fuck,” Trinity whines, “This guy is gonna crash like this. Two units won’t even touch this.”

“So we call for more than two units,” Baran calls back, probe pressing into the man’s chest. “Can someone get on that?” “I’ve got it,” Samira rushes to the phone, dodging body after body to the corner. There are so many goddamn people in the room. 

Baran remembers you beside her during cases like these. You'd have already had the pressure bag primed. You'd have caught her eye once and jerked your head for which end you were gonna take so she wouldn't have to spend breath asking.

If the case went well you would’ve been grinning luminously with a slightly sweaty-face and you would’ve high-fived her because you found it so funny to watch her awkwardly lift her hand to receive it. Then you’d have ridden her ass about it for at least the next hour, because “you make such a weird face whenever I do this, B,” and she’d jokingly pout for the sake of the bit even though she really wasn’t sure what expression one was supposed to wear when being high-fived. 

She would’ve watched you giggle and ride the adrenaline high, and she too would’ve been consumed by the sheer joy that pulsed out of you. She would’ve waited thirty minutes until she was certain no eyes were on the two of you. She would’ve pulled you aside and kissed that grinning face and invited you over for dinner, and she knows you would’ve gotten that twinkly look of smug satisfaction in your eyes from the proof that she liked you and you would’ve said yes.

“Where the hell is CT surg?” 

“Who the hell cares about CT surg right now? We can tell something fucked him up, we need to stop the bleed.”

“Langdon, Santos, not now,” Baran snaps. “We need to get a chest tube in. Trinity, eyes up.” 

The resident snaps-to immediately and rushes to Baran’s side and the tube goes in, and the blood rushes up into it fast and just keeps on filling. It hits six hundred mils easily and just keeps pouring. 

Someone needs to be calling the blood bank, he’ll need a central line, he’ll need to go to the OR, he needs—

“Can someone get Y/N in here?” Baran hears herself beg, overwhelmed, and then she freezes. She physically feels all eyes slide and stay on her as everyone waits.

“Perlah, I meant,” she breathes. “Or Jesse, or Donnie. Whoever’s available. Just someone get me a nurse, please.”

Perlah and Princess fly in probably forty seconds later and immediately jump in. They’re magnificent, and so are Frank and Samira and Trinity, and somehow they keep the man on the cot from pumping out all of the blood in his body onto the floor of the room.

Baran's hands are red to the wrist in the aftermath. Absurdly she thinks of a softer set of hands. It’s not hard to recall the feeling of hard-earned callouses against the apples of her cheeks. The unique feeling of skin, of tracing your current-like veins up the length of your arms to where they disappear under your palms, imagining the life running under your skin where she would press. She really had you in the palm of her hand. 

Well, that sounds awful. She means it as tenderly as one can; her memory tilts toward you even now, how she was able to feel the proof of your living body under the press of a finger. She means it the way only a doctor can means it, because she understood that was the ultimate responsibility and because you were young, and breakable, and irreplaceable. You were so beautifully alive in her hands, and now you were gone.

ꕥ

"I plant my hands in the garden soil— I will sprout, I know, I know, I know. And in the hollow of my ink-stained palms swallows will make their nest."

This is my lot. 

There is an apartment on the fifth floor of an apartment building on the West End of Pittsburgh with no air conditioning to which she used to have the key. There is a closet in the main bedroom where she used to change into pajamas and crawl into your bed.

This is my lot.

Twice a week she reads a discharge folder from a hospital she doesn’t work at. There is a man at Mercy who owes her nothing, who only answers because she once saved his sister's life several years back. He reports you are doing well, the best hire they have had in years, and she reads it at the kitchen counter and thinks, maybe I’ll try to text her again.

This is my lot.

Voicemails she has recorded and re-recorded, voicemails she has shakily sent. Saved or deleted, she’ll never know which. A needle sliding under skin and pushing in its desperate medicine is all they were, a last-ditch attempt to revive a thing long-dead.

A life does not end because a body, however beautiful, has been lost. She likes to think of it like heat, that beauty migrates and evolves, moves to one and the next and warms each and all. That beauty must be tilled to be found, turned up the way a dark clod of earth will split open to show the pale root threading through it, the smallest, wet proof of life. 

How specific of a pain it is to know you held something beautiful in both hands and felt it warm within your palms, and now your palms are just palms again. To know a life opened itself up for you and beckoned you in, and you turned it away. 

Come morning, Baran will lean against her counter again. Her son will still turn on the vibrating tooth brush and hold it still until her head pops in and tells him to do it right. Her fingers will find her keyboard as always, pressing that pale root into the dark, and she’ll send you something more. Hope remains in her like that little bird, some poet once compared it, and she thinks maybe that’s a little beautiful too. Maybe the hope is enough. Maybe this time, you’ll reply. 

end notes: did we catch that emily dickinson reference :D i know this isn't the style that i usually write but this is actually my favorite style to write in. so depending on what you guys think maybe i'll dip into these nachos more...

three photos of you, shirt hiked up and bra pushed up over your tits. there are bruises along the swell of your breasts, left by cassie last night.

theres a few messages along with the pictures. "hope you're having a good day x" "these are coming in nicely." "work is slow. thinking about you instead."

that's the one that gets her. it makes her do a double take. you work from home half of the time. she wasn't even aware you were going into the office today. but as she looks more closely at the pictures, she realizes you are, in fact, in a public bathroom.

her girl. in the bathroom at work. tugging your shirt up just to send her pretty pictures of your tits.

cassie's cock twitches in her scrubs.

fuck. jesus. not now.

her fingers move quickly over the keyboard. "don't get yourself fired for sending me these from work."

your text bubble pops up. cassie glances at her watch. she needs to go. but now she's half hard. and she's about to make it worse by continuing this conversation with you but she can't help herself.

cassie groans, pausing to adjust herself in her pants. she's a grown woman, she can will the boner away. she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, thinks about the cases she's working on instead of how pretty you look covered in her marks.

"MCKAY!"

cassie jumps at the sound of dana's voice echoing through the bathroom. her phone clatters to the floor. she winces, thankful she has a thick protective phone case.

"yeah?" cassie questions, she bends over to grab her phone, but it slid under the door. she opens the stall and comes face to face with dana.

"i've had the results of the bloodwork and urine tests waitin' for ya for 15 minutes, what are ya doin in here? move it, missy."

"geez, sorry for needing to use the bathroom. i'm coming, i'm coming." (she wishes).

"you never take long, thought you fell in or were throwin' up so i came to check on youse."

cassie reaches down to grab her phone. dana glances down at it as she does.

fuck. your conversation is still open. the most recent picture of your tits still on screen.

dana snorts and starts to walk off, leaving cassie growing pink in the cheeks as she stuffs her phone in her pocket and quickly moves to wash her hands.

"fuckin' horndog." dana says over her should.

"i wasn't--"

"didn't ask, don't care! just get your ass back out here."

cassie splashes some cold water on her face and wipes it off before rushing out behind dana.

you pull the blanket around yourself and allow a few more seconds of staring at her.

the reminder of what happened last night and your ex boyfriend come flooding back in, snapping you out of your cassie trance.

you reach for your phone, still half asleep. the screen lights up with missed calls and messages from your ex. your stomach drops before your brain catches up. and you realized you forgot to change his contact name.

baby <3: can we talk?

baby <3: please answer. i don’t think breaking up is a good idea.

baby <3: i don’t want us ending like this.

a part of you wanted to respond, to forgive him because he was safe and he was all you knew for two years. but looking at cassie lying next to you, you realized how much you didn’t like being with your him. that your entire relationship was built on surviving what cassie had left you with.

your thumb hovers over the messages. texting back felt like someone asking you to finish a conversation you’ve had in your head already a million times before.

cassie stirs beside you, making you shut your phone off instantly and set it aside before thinking too much about it.

cassie’s eyes open, and she notices the expression on your face immediately.

“what happened?” she groaned into her hands. the smile she’d been starting to form disappearing from her face.

you glance down at your hands.

“nothing.”

cassie raises an eyebrow. an expression that says that she doesn’t believe you for a second.

“he texted me,” you finally give in.

“oh?” she propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look at your face.

admitting to her that he called you over five times feels embarrassing now, almost like you were bringing whatever hell was raised upon you into cassie’s safe room.

“he called a few times,” you whisper.

cassie looks at you and simply nods. she wasn’t sure if you were going to go back to him or not, but the idea of you leaving her side again was slowly starting to kill her.

she reaches across the bed and snakes her arm around your waist. as simple as that. the warmth of her palm against your stomach settles something inside of you.

you hadn’t realized how tightly youve been holding yourself together, with cassie you can just sigh into relaxation and not care what comes next. she was the only one that provided you with that feeling, no one else felt like home the way cassie did.

“what do you want to do?” she asks quietly.

what do you want to do. not what you should or what are you going to do.

the question catches in your throat, because for so long, for as long as you could remember those have felt like different things.

you turn to look at her, at her messy hair and puffy eyes and all you want to do is kiss her. you look back down at cassie’s arm around your waist to hold yourself back from doing anything stupid.

“i want coffee.”

cassie laughs, her arm tightening around you as if she was relieved your answer wasn’t to call him back.

“yeah?”

you reach down and squeeze her arm. “yeah.”

“coffee i can do.”

you expect her to get up, to pull you out of bed and drag you to the kitchen. instead she stays exactly where she is with her arm still thrown around you.

her thumb starts brushing against your stomach softly.

“you don’t have to act like last night didn’t happen, y’know,” she whispers.

“i know.”

cassie doesn’t push.

last night your ex had looked at you, spoke to you like he couldn’t tell who you were anymore, like he’d lost you all at once. even if he never really had you in the first place.

you’d just finally stopped pretending otherwise and the memory makes your chest ache. not because you want him back, no but because there was a version of your life you’d tried so hard to make work.

a life where you shared grocery lists and future plans and fill the house with furniture you picked out together. a life that looked right from the outside looking in.

and now it’s fizzled into nothing.

“i hate that he hurt me,” you whisper, eyes welling up with tears you didn’t ask for. “i know i shouldn’t care. it’s just…i never expected him to do something like that.”

cassie goes quiet for a moment, letting you sit in your thoughts and while longer before her thumb brushed your hip where your tattoo was.

“it’s normal to be disappointed and hurt,” she said her eyes on your tattoo. “even if it was from somebody you thought you could trust.”

it was hypocritical, the words being from her, but they still comforted you. even if years ago cassie did the same thing to you, your heart found a way to squeeze at her words.

you slowly begin to realize that there was nothing he could say or text you that will make you feel any better about this.

there isn’t a message that’s going to explain why somebody who loved you chose to hurt you. nothing along those lines can give you back the version of him you thought existed.

“you don’t owe him a response before breakfast,” cassie said breaking you out of your haze.

the corner of your mouth twitches.

“before breakfast?” you smile. “that’s your rule?”

“it’s a very important one,” she smiles back at you before shuffling closer to you and leaning her head on your shoulder. “i don’t like seeing you upset.”

you lean into her and place a kiss on the top of her head. “i don’t like being upset, and you still owe me a lot of apologies.”

she lifts her head up at that, furrowing her brows at you with the soft presence of a pout forming. “i do? i thought i–”

“oh yeah, a lot.”

“i can apologize in many different ways, baby. pick your poison,” she teases before leaning back down to place a kiss on your neck. “this is one of them.”

you gasp grabbing her arm to pull her away even if you didn’t want her to stop. you needed her to grovel some more before she could get to touch you again.

“not that easily, doctor mckay,” you giggle holding onto her shoulder.

“doctor?”

“you like that? hm?” you whisper into her ear before biting it. “i think you love it when i call you doctor…maybe later i’ll let you help with the pain between my legs.”

cassie groans and leans her head down in defeat on your shoulder.

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

-

the kitchen smelled like coffee and burnt pancakes. cassie stood in front of you with her back to you, hair still tangled from sleep, and she was missing a sock.

it’s such a ridiculous sight that it almost makes you smile. you sat perched on one of the stools at the island and watched her move around the kitchen.

she caught you staring when she turned to grab something from the island.

“what?”

“nothing.”

“you’re staring at me,” she says crossing her arms, and god does it take all of your self control not to pounce on her at the sight of them.

you recognize small details, the same details you used to see everyday. the ones you selfishly thought were going to be in your life forever.

the way she shifts her weight onto one hip. the line between her eyebrows when she’s suspicious of someone or something but can’t figure it out. the way her hair always sticks up on the left side when she wakes up.

you remember all of it.

apparently your face gives it all away, because cassie’s expression changes again.

“what?”

you look down at the counter top, finally breaking eye contact with cassie’s everything.

“it’s nothing.”

“okay,” she nods slowly pressing her lips together. “can i give you the first of my many apologies?”

you look up at her and smiled, amused. “of course.”

without another word she turns to the stove. completely serious as she flips the pancakes onto different plates. she turns back around toward you, sliding a plate in fromt of you.

your stack was a near perfect stack of pancakes while hers looked a little burnt and disregarded.

“you gave me the good ones,” you chuckle.

“i’m apologizing, baby,” she leans forward into the counter. “do you accept my apology?”

“yes i think i do,” you whispered and a look of shock washes over cassie’s face.

“you think?”

“you really hurt me,” you exhale looking down at your plate. the words managing to leave your mouth before you regretted them. you weren’t planning on talking about it. not when today has been so good. “i don’t think you understand what it was like after.”

cassie doesn’t say anything, she just stands there taking your soft blows. the silence stretches and you can heae a bird somewhere outside, so you keep going. because now that you’ve started you can’t seem to stop.

“you left and it took so much of me to get over it,” your voice comes out rough, as you try to hold back your tears. “it was a month. barely. but it still was the first thing i thought about when i woke up.”

it was all the tiny things that were impossible to forget. cassie had entered your life in such a tainting way that even now, years later, you couldn’t separate the wound from the wanting.

“i spent so long being angry at you,” your voice breaks.

you hated that. you hated crying, not because it was embarrassing, because it was something you’d get scolded for often. your father made sure of that.

crying didn’t earn you comfort, and you hated it. so you learned how to bite the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. a part of you still expected your father to scold you as you cried, even as an adult. even here, in front of cassie.

because if there was one thing more terrifying than crying in front of someone you didn’t trust, it was crying in front of someone you love.

“you could’ve left me with a phone number or something…something that brought you back to me when you realized how big of mistake it was to leave me,” your voice sounds smaller around the bigger words.

you watch as cassie’s mouth opens then closes the opens again like she can’t seem to find the right words. good. let her struggle, like you’ve been struggling with this for years.

“why didn’t you?” you ask. the question barely comes out.

“you really want to know?” she almost laughs before nodding as if she’s arguing with herself.

“yes.”

cassie pauses, staring at you. you could see her mind jumping around deciding what she wanted to say.

then, she says. “because i loved you.”

the world slows down.

you were certain you heard her wrong but cassie gives you another broken laugh.

“i was so fucking in love with you,” she says, and you were sure you could hear how loud her heart was beating from where you were sitting. “everytime you were around me it was like i didn’t know what to do with myself. i wanted my every second to be you and only you. and it scared me.”

“cassie–”

“no, let me finish because if i stop now it’ll take a lot for me to speak again,” she chokes out as tears gathered in her eyes. “i– you were twenty one and every day i kept thinking that eventually you’d wake up and realize what a terrible idea this was.”

her voice trembles. “i thought if i left first, it’d hurt less.”

it was your turn to stare and listen to her talk. you stare at her like it’s the stupidest thing you’ve heard, because it was. but it was also the most heartbreaking thing you’ve heard.

a tear slides down her cheek and she wipes it away immediately. almost like she was angry at herself for conveying emotion.

“i know how stupid that sounds now.”

“you left because you loved me?”

“i left because i was terrified.”

the honesty of it stole the air from the room, leaving behind the quiet weight of humidity.

“you were this bright, impossible thing,” her eyes meet yours. “and i wanted everything. i wanted to wake up next to you, to have breakfast with you, and every stupid thing after that.”

her voice falters.

“so i left.”

neither of you spoke after that, only stared at each other, taking in the others state as you tried to piece together what was next for the both of you.

“the worst part was that i never got over you,” cassie spoke, a sad smile on her lips. “god, i tried so hard to forget you. but you were in every corner of every room.”

your eyes fill immediately at that, because you were also struggling to get over her. because she stood in every corner of every room, every relationship, everything.

cassie walks over to your side, her hands reach and land on your hips. “i’m so so sorry.”

you look at her through your tear filled eyes, and the look on her face nearly destroys you. she reaches for your face the same way she’d been wanting to do since she walked out that door.

“i never stopped loving you.”

you lean into her hand before you realized and cassie’s eyes close at the warmth of your contact. she lets out a breath like she was finally allowed to.

there was no hesitation left. when her mouth found yours, it wasn't a sweet reunion, it was a desperate collision of two years of longing. the kiss tasted of salt tears and the warmth that belonged only to her.

cassie’s hands shifted from your hips, her fingers digging fiercely into your back, pulling you up and against her until there was no air left between you. she moved you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the couch, the two of you caving onto the cushions together without breaking the contact of your lips.

the fabric of your clothes felt like a barrier. cassie’s hands were frantic, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, her skin burning hot against yours. wvery touch was heavy with an urgency that made your breath catch in your throat, a low sob turning into a sigh as her mouth moved down the line of your neck.

“cassie,” you breathed, your fingers tangling into her hair, pulling her down, needing the feeling of her on top of you.

she slid her hand down from your ribs, her fingers moving over your stomach, tracing lower until they found the wet, burning heat between your thighs. when her fingers first brushed against your clit, a sob escaped your throat, your hips arching against her palm.

“fuck, cassie.”

cassie used the weight of her body to hold you down, her thumb pressing hard and steady against your clit, sending an ache straight through your core.

your hands gripped the muscles of her shoulders, your fingernails digging into her skin as you pulled her down flat against your chest. cassie’s other hand tangled into your hair at the nape of your neck, holding you steady as her mouth moved down to the soft skin of your shoulder, biting down just enough to leave a mark, proof that she was finally there. a groan came from deep in her chest, a sound so raw it made a wave of heat bloom right behind your hips.

you wrapped one leg tight around her waist, lifting your hips up to meet the pressure of her hand, your body needing her completely. the room caved into a breathless world of damp skin, and the synchronized shift of your bodies.

“i’m close, shit. cassie, i’m so close.” you cried out.

cassie lifted her head from your shoulders and kissed you like she was hungry. her mouth sliding over yours in a way that completely stole whatever air you had left. her tongue tangled with yours, as if she were trying to consume you whole.

you let out a broken, muffled sound into her mouth, your hands flying from her shoulders to grip her hair, pulling her even closer, matching her intensity with a hunger of your own.

her hand didn’t slow down. your hips kept bucking up against her hand entirely out of your control, your knees flaring wide as the tension in your lower stomach coiled into a tight knot.

cassie broke the kiss just an inch, her lips slick and swollen, her breath hitching sharply as she looked down at you. her eyes were completely blown out, fixed on your face as you came apart under her.

“cassie– please,” you choked out, your fingers tightening in her hair.

“right here,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it. “i’m right here.”

she drove her fingers deeper, her thumb pressing flat and hard against your clit, tilting her wrist to catch you perfectly. the knot in your chest snapped, and a violent, rolling wave of release crashed through your hips. your back arched off the couch, a loud gasp tearing from your throat as your muscles clamped tight around her fingers.

cassie didn't pull away. she held you through your orgasm, keeping her hand steady against your trembling body. she buried her face back into your neck, her own chest heaving as she let out a groan, her whole body shuddering against yours as she finally let the last of her control break.

you were still shaking, the aftershocks of your orgasm making you hyper sensitive, but the sight of cassie hanging over you, her chest heaving, her hair completely wild, made a new heat flare up in your stomach.

you didn't let her pull away. your hands slid down her back, your fingers hooking firmly into the waistband of her underwear and pulling her down.

“your turn,” you whispered, your voice still rough and breathless against her hair.

cassie let out a low, shaky breath, her forehead dropping against your collarbone. “baby, we don't–”

“shut up,” you said softly, a sudden rush of authority taking over. you shifted beneath her, using the adrenaline to roll her over onto her back.

cassie hit the couch with a soft gasp, her eyes wide and vulnerable as you pinned her down. seeing her like this, under you in the morning light, stripped of her boundaries, made your heart beat flat against your ribs.

you crawled between her thighs, your knees pushing her legs wide, the heat of her skin burning against your inner thighs. you didn't give her time to think. when you looked back down, her eyes were locked on yours, her mouth parted.

you leaned down and kissed her, tasting the salt of your own tears on her lips. cassie’s hands immediately came up, her fingers digging into your hips with a possessive grip, her hips lifting off the sheets to meet yours.

sliding your hand down between your bodies, you found her wet, her breath catching sharply the moment your fingers made contact with her aching clit. you pressed the heel of your hand hard against her, finding a rhythm that made cassie's head instantly roll back into the couch, a groan tearing from her throat.

“baby,” she choked out, her knuckles turning white where they gripped your hips.

you didn't answer with words. you slid two fingers inside her, finding how tight and hot she was for you, while your thumb maintained a relentless, heavy pressure against her clit. the contrast of cassie, usually so contained, so careful with her words and her space, completely losing her mind under your hands was intoxicating.

you shifted your weight, sliding down her body until you were kneeling between her thighs. cassie’s breath hitched, her head lifting off the cushion as she felt the shift.

“baby,” she breathed out, her voice a murmur. her long fingers reached down, tangling into the fabric of your shirt at your shoulders, but she didn’t pull you up. she just held on.

“stay still,” you whispered.

you hooked your hands under her knees, gently pushing her legs wider until she was completely open to you.

when you leaned in, the first touch of your tongue against her wet folds made cassie’s entire body bolt off the couch. a loud gasp tore from her throat, her fingers locking into your hair, her knuckles firm against your scalp.

you pressed the flat of your tongue against her, a slow stroke from bottom to top that made cassie let out a moan, her head slamming back into the cushion. you used your hands to grip the undersides of her thighs, pulling her down as you found a steady pace.

the taste of her was familiar. you used your thumb to part her lips, exposing her fully to the cool air of the room before covering her again with the heat of your mouth. your tongue swirling over her clit while you slid two fingers deep inside her, matching the rhythm.

cassie went completely dumb under you. she wasn’t a quiet person, every movement of your mouth dragged a broken sound from her chest. her hips began to buck against your face, her muscles clamping tight around your fingers.

“fuck, you’re so good baby,” she choked out, her voice cracking as she lost her grip on her own control. her hands left your hair, her arms throwing backward to grip the back of the couch, her knuckles turning white as she tried to anchor herself against the waves of pleasure.

you increased the pressure, your tongue against her center, your fingers moving fast inside her. cassie’s thighs clamped tightly around your head, trying to press you even closer, her breath coming in tiny gasps.

you could feel the tension coiling hard in her muscles, the pulse of her blood right beneath your lips. you didn't back off, you pressed your mouth flat against her, sucking her in deeply while your fingers curled inside her to catch her g spot.

“look at me,” you whispered.

cassie’s eyelids fluttered open, her eyes dark and blown out with pleasure, focused on you through the haze. that was the breaking point. cassie’s back arched off the couch, a loud cry tearing from her throat as she came apart. her entire body shuddered, her hips pulsing in contractions against your mouth for several breathless seconds before she finally caved back into the couch, spent and entirely yours.

you stayed right there, your face pressed against the skin of her inner thigh, listening to her breathing slow down.

cassie’s hand came down, her long fingers found the back of your neck, her thumb gently stroking the hairline.

“come here,” she whispered.

you crawled back up her body, the skin of your chests sliding together. she pulled you back against her chest until there was no space left between you, burying your face into the crook of her neck.

her hand came up to cup your jaw, her thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. when she kissed you this time, it was different. it was slower. her mouth moved against yours with no rush, lingering on your lower lip, tracing the shape of it.

you let out a sigh into her mouth, your fingers tangling loosely into her shirt, pulling her down enough to deepen the contact. there was no pressure anymore. just the sound of your breathing syncing up in the quiet.

when she finally pulled back, just an inch, her eyes were soft, focusing on your face.

“let me look at you,” she whispered, her eyes scanning every detail of your face as if ensuring you weren't about to disappear.

“i’m right here,” you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

cassie’s face went completely soft. she didn't say anything for a moment, she just leaned down and pressed a long kiss to your forehead, right between your eyes, holding it there until you felt the muscles in your shoulders completely drop.

she reached down, her warm palm finding your bare foot, rubbing the cold skin in a way that made a wave of comfort wash straight through your chest.

“are you okay?” she asked softly, her eyes searching yours.

“yeah,” you breathed, leaning your head into her shoulder, your chin tucked right into the collar of her shirt. “more than okay.”

cassie let out a long breath that felt like surrender. she wrapped her arm securely around your waist, her fingers hooking into the fabric of your clothes, pulling you against her side. she buried her face into your hair, her chest rising and falling against your back.

her hand was still moving against your waist, her thumb brushing through the fabric of your shirt.

the reality of the morning slowly started to creep back in, a small anxiety began to stir in your chest.

you have to figure out the next few days, your fingers idly tracing the soft seam of her shirt.

you knew harrison was coming home soon, and you didn't want to complicate cassie's life or make things difficult for her as a mom right out of the gate. you wanted to be careful with her.

you remembered the text message from your coworker/friend luca, last week, a genuine, no strings attached offer. at the time, it had just been a backup plan for if things got harder between you and your ex, but right now, it felt like a safe compromise.

you could stay at luca's for just a few days while you look for a place, give cassie some breathing room with her son, and then the two of you could figure out how to navigate this properly, without any rush.

it's the smart thing to do.

you leaned up slightly to look at her face. you didn't think twice about it. yiu were completely secure in her love now, totally wrapped up in the warmth of the couch, believing she would just see it as a helpful solution.

you shifted your head slightly against her shoulder, your voice coming out small and quiet in the warm space between you.

“cassie.”

“yes baby?”

“my friend, luca. someone i work with... he offered me a place to stay last night.

the slow movement of cassie’s hand stopped instantly.

her chest hitching before flattening out into a tense stillness. for a second, she didn’t move at all. then, she pulled back just enough to look down at you, her face completely serious.

“what?”

you blinked up at her, caught off guard by how fast the softness had drained out of her expression. “he just... he has a spare room.”

“no,” cassie said. it wasn’t a negotiation, her grip on your waist tightened.

“cassie, it’s just an option–”

“you’re staying here," cassie murmured, her voice softening. she reached up, her long fingers tangling into your hair to pull your face back up to hers, her forehead pressing hard against yours. “with me. in this house. don’t ever mention leaving my side again.”

you nuzzled your face back into her neck and kissed her pulse point. “i won’t.”

for so long, you’d imagined what would happen if you saw her again. in some versions, you screamed at her. in others, you were the one that walked away leaving her hurt.

sometimes you dreamt of her apologizing and you forgiving her and other times you dreamt of her not apologizing and you never forgiving her.

but not one of those possibilities, not one of those versions could fathom this. cassie in your arms again, holding you like there was nothing else worth holding onto as hard.

“cassie,” your throar tightened.

“hm?”

“i’m glad it’s you.”

she couldn’t find the words, she hadn’t expected that from you, of all the things you might say. then she leaned down and pressed a kiss on your head.

“i’m glad it’s you too.”

-

a month later, and things were going better than expected between you and cassie. she had made you space in her home and introduced you to harrison and her family, she drove you to work on her off days and picked you up, she didn’t want you driving alone at night.

it was a friday and you were working the bar, the rush never changed. you were moving entirely on muscle memory, wiping down the surface with a rag without really looking at it.

you finish pouring a double gin and tonic, slide it across to a customer, and pocket the tip. as you reach for a fresh towel, your phone buzzes once in your back pocket. you pull it out, shielding the screen behind the liquor well from your nosey coworkers, and look down.

wife <33: traffic on the bridge is a mess. i’m going to be about ten minutes late. do you need me to grab anything before the store closes?

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. you quickly tap back with one hand.

you: just some orange juice. take your time. i’m wrapping up my work here.

wife <33: got it. see you in a few minutes. i love you.

your chest aches, still that good kind of ache, but now it feels real. familiar. like a habit you’ve finally been allowed to keep.

around midnight, the doors of the bar swing open, cutting through the fading light of the room. you don't even have to look up to know it's her, you can hear the click of her boots against the tile.

when you finally lock the drawer and lean your elbows on the bar, she’s already standing there. she’s leaning against the wood right in front of you, a plastic bag from the corner store dangling from her wrist.

“hey,” she murmurs.

“hey,” you say back, reaching across the wood.

cassie doesn't hesitate. she takes your hand, her long fingers sliding between yours, her thumb rubbing a slow, comforting circle right over your knuckles.

“ready?” she asks.

you look around the empty bar, then back at the woman who used to complain about every single square inch of the city, but who has spent the last four weeks making this specific commute without a single word of protest.

“almost,” you tease. “why?”

“because i’d like to take you home,” she squeezes your hand.

cassie mckay was never good with love. romantic love to be specific, she treated it as a liability.

she had spent a lifetime believing that keeping her distance was the same thing as keeping her balance.

but with you, that never worked out. you were never something she was capable of keeping at arms length.

no matter how far she tried to run from it, from the comfort of love and being loved. in the end, it had found it’s way back to the same place it started.

your hand in hers.

1.

“You’re staring again.”

Cassie barely looked up from where she was leaning against the break room counter, one hand curled loosely around her to go coffee cup. The light of the break room overhead cast a tired sort of glow across her features. The sleeves of her light grey undershirt were pushed up to her elbows, exposing the soft skin of her forearms.

Still, even exhausted, she looked so unfairly good.

“Can you blame me?” she asked, her voice slightly raspy by fatigue.

You felt heat immediately creep up your neck.

You rolled your eyes to try and hide the effect she had on you, as you leaned back against the vending machine, across from where she stood, with your arms crossed loosely over your chest. The break room was empty for once, the door was ajar muffling the sounds of the chaotic ED outside.

“God, you’re impossible,” you muttered.

The corner of Cassie’s mouth twitched upward teasingly.

“And yet,” she started casually, yet lowly in the empty room, setting her coffee down beside her before stepping closer to where you stood, “you still love me.”

Cassie stopped directly in front of you, close enough that you could smell the lingering soft scent of her shampoo mixed with the scent of fresh, warm coffee. One of her hands settled against the vending machine beside your hip, caging you in without really meaning to.

You looked up at her and immediately regretted it. Not because you didn’t like how she was looking at you, but rather that you liked it way too much to maintain a professional posture. The look she was giving you made your stomach flip and your heart beat increase embarrassingly fast against your chest.

“You know, Santos is getting suspicious,” you whispered, your voice quieter now that Cassie was standing so close to you.

Cassie leaned one shoulder lazily against the vending machine you were leaned onto, her eyes still fixed on your face. “Santos is always suspicious about everything,” she said.

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, but now she’s interrogating me.”

Cassie lifted her eyebrows in question. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been pressing me about where I’ve been wandering off to most nights.”

At that, Cassie snorted quietly, the sound warm and fond all at once. You watched the corner of her mouth lift slightly before she stepped even closer, if that was even possible, until the front of her scrubs brushed lightly against your own.

“She’s been literally cornering me every chance she gets.” you muttered, lowering your voice despite the fact the break room was empty besides the two of you.

Cassie’s hand then settled against your waist, and her thumb brushed absentmindedly against the fabric of your own undershirt, the small movement was enough to send warmth curling low in the pit of your stomach.

Cassie seemed to notice this immediately, as a faint, knowing smile pulled at the corner of her mouth at your reaction, leading her to lean even closer to you.

“She’s gonna figure it out eventually,” Cassie whispered.

You swallowed hard at her words. “You sound weirdly too okay with that.”

Cassie’s fingers tightened slightly at your waist before sliding just barely beneath the hem of your scrub top, her touch was warm you could feel the heat of her hand straight through your undershirt.

“Maybe I am.” She admitted softly.

Your breath caught embarrassingly fast at that, as you stared straight at her, your faces now inches away from each other. And before you could respond, she kissed you.

Quick at first. Just a brief press of her lips against yours, familiar and warm yet entirely unfair and unprofessional for where the both of you stood. But then, as if automatically, your fingers came to loosely press against the front of her scrub top, and Cassie made that all too familiar quiet sound in the back of her throat, the one that always seemed to destroy your ability to think, against your mouth before kissing you again, deeper this time.

The hand that was on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer until your entire body was pressed back against the vending machine. You could still taste the coffee she drank a few minutes ago on her lips. Your breath caught when her hand moved to the hollow of your back pushing your body further into hers.

“Cass…” you murmured against her mouth, slightly out of breath, though you weren’t entirely sure if your words came out sounding like a warning or encouragement.

And judging by the way Cassie kissed you again immediately after, she didn’t know either.

Her hand tightened gently at your waist as she leaned into you, slow and deliberate, savoring the moment before the two of you would be pulled back into work. Your fingers curled into the front of her scrub top instinctively, wrinkling the fabric beneath your hands as her lips moved against yours with lazy confidence, pulling her to you.

God. This was dangerous. But Cassie’s lips were always your undoing.

Then, a low muffled voice echoed down the hallway outside.

Both you and Cassie seemed to wake from the spell you were under and paused for a second, neither of you moving. The voice got louder, closer, as someone was approaching the break room.

After a few moments the door opened wildly, revealing Whitaker.

The both of you jumped apart instantly.

Cassie stepped back first, fast enough to be impressive, grabbing her abandoned coffee cup from the counter like absolutely nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just been kissing you stupid against the vending machine thirty seconds ago.

Meanwhile, you were trying desperately to calm your heavy breathing before Whitaker noticed anything. Which was difficult considering your heart was still pounding against your chest.

Whitaker stopped mid-step into the room, as if he hadn’t noticed the two of you immediately, completely lost in his own thoughts. Before he blinked rapidly and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to just barge in,” He apologized, awkwardly lifting his hands in surrender. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” you answered immediately, perhaps a little too fast.

“Not at all,” Cassie added smoothly, without even looking at him properly as she lifted her coffee cup and took a slow sip.

Whitaker’s gaze flicked between the two of you, slow and uncertain.

You crossed your arms casually, in hopes it looked natural and not like you were actively fighting for your life. Cassie on the other hand looked perfectly composed, like she hadn’t just been pressed against you a minute ago.

“We were just talking,” you added, your voice much steadier this time.

Whitaker visibly relaxed at that. His shoulders dropped just a fraction as the tension started to ease out of him. “Oh, okay.” he said, nodding once, as he glanced at the coffee machine, then back between you two, still mildly hesitant but no longer suspicious. “Cool.”

As Whitaker moved to the coffee machine, Cassie continued sipping her coffee like absolutely nothing had happened. You on the other hand, let out a quiet breath through your nose, moving to slowly uncross your arms, as you pushed off the vending machine.

Carefully, you dared a glance at Cassie, who was already looking at you.

Her expression was calm and composed, apart from the slight barely there smirk at the corner of her mouth.

Your stomach flipped slightly at that. You narrowed your eyes at her, trying but failing to look annoyed. Cassie’s smirk deepened just a fraction in response.

That had been a close one.

2.

You were snuggled together on Cassie’s couch after a draining shift.

Her apartment was dim except for the warm yellow glow of the lamp beside the couch and the flickering light of some random late-night film neither of you were actually paying attention to. Your takeout containers sat abandoned on the coffee table, along with Cassie’s discarded phone and your hospital badge tossed carelessly beside it.

Cassie was stretched over you lazily, one arm braced beside your head while the other rested low against your waist beneath the hem of your shirt. Her hair was slightly messy from your fingers running through it, and her eyes looked heavy with exhaustion despite the small smile lingering on her lips.

“You know,” you murmured against her mouth between kisses, your voice quiet, “we should go on more dates.”

Cassie kissed you again before answering you. “We go on tons of dates,” she mumbled against your lips.

You snorted softly, your fingers sliding through the hair at the back of her neck. “Sneaking sandwiches between hallways at work are not dates.”

Cassie hummed thoughtfully, brushing another kiss against the corner of your mouth before moving lower along your jaw. “It is if we’re together.”

You laughed softly as she kissed your jaw, the sound barely escaping you before dissolving into a quiet breath.

One of your hands came to her back, your fingers sliding underneath her shirt, your palm brushing against the warm skin there. Cassie exhaled quietly as she settled more comfortably against your body. The couch cushions dipped beneath the two of you, as Cassie’s lips moved slowly to your neck, unhurried and warm, sending a shiver down your spine when she bit lightly at your pulse point.

You could feel her smile against your skin at that. One of her hands made its way to your waist, slipping beneath your shirt, her fingertips warm against your side as she caressed your skin.

“Cass—” you whispered breathlessly.

Then, your phone suddenly rang.

Neither of you moved.

Cassie stayed exactly where she was, her mouth still lapping at your skin while her hand tightened slightly at your waist beneath your shirt.

You tilted your head back against the couch with a quiet breath as Cassie moved to kiss against your collarbone, clearly having no intention whatsoever of stopping now that she finally had you alone and all to herself. You reached with one of your hands blindly to the arm of the couch behind you, your fingers fumbling around until you were able to grab your phone.

You glance down at it to check the caller ID.

Whitaker.

You rolled your eyes at the terrible timing Dennis had and tossed your phone somewhere onto the couch beside you without even bothering to check where it had landed, far more focused on the feeling of Cassie’s mouth against your neck than whatever Whitaker possibly wanted right now.

The second your hand returned to the back of Cassie’s neck, she made a soft approving sound against your skin. You barely had time to laugh before she nipped lightly at your collarbone, just enough to make your breath hitch. Your fingers tangled into the soft hair at the nape of her neck, once more.

Then your phone started ringing again from wherever you’d thrown it minutes ago.

Cassie groaned dramatically as she let her head rest tiredly against your shoulder. “Oh my god.”

Your ringtone sounded somewhere from beside you on the couch cushions.

Your hand reluctantly slipped from the back of her neck as you blindly reached for your phone again, fumbling around the cushions until your fingers finally closed around it.

Cassie kept her head against your shoulder, while her thumb brushed lazy circles against your waist beneath your shirt.

This time it wasn’t Whitaker's name that was displayed on your screen. It was Santos. You stared at her name for a second, letting out a sigh. You silenced the call and your phone, and tossed it aside once more.

Your hand came up to stroke Cassie’s cheek as she rested her chin on your shoulder, you regarded her fondly as you told her who had just called you. “It’s just Santos.”

She nodded absentmindedly, and her lips found yours once more, more rushed and impatient this time, as her frustration took over from the constant interruptions the both of you have been having lately. She leaned further into you, deepening the kiss, as one of her arms planted next to your head, holding most of her weight up to keep her from crashing into you. Your legs parted slightly to let her settle closer between them, her body pressing more fully against yours now.

Cassie exhaled softly against your lips when your fingers slipped from the hair at the nape of her neck to the back of her head, and for a second it felt like the rest of the world disappeared entirely.

Until.

Cassie’s phone rang loudly from the coffee table beside the couch.

You both jumped slightly at the sound of it. Cassie closed her eyes briefly and pressed her forehead to yours. She sighed feeling deeply frustrated at the occurring situation. Both your hands came to rest around her waist squeezing softly, holding her while you sighed softly in disappointment as well.

For a second neither of you moved, as her phone kept ringing insistently on top of the coffee table.

Cassie pulled back just enough to glance towards the glowing screen, “It’s Dana.”

You exhaled softly through your nose, tilting your head slightly as one of your hands came up from her waist to brush lightly against the side of her head. “Then you should answer it,” you muttered, leaning in to press a quick but soft kiss to her forehead. “Might be important.”

Cassie let out a small, reluctant huff before finally pushing herself up from you, breaking contact slowly like she didn’t fully want to. She moved across the short space between the couch and the coffee table, to find her phone. Her fingers closed around it, the glow of the screen lighting up her tired features for a moment before she turned back toward you.

You sat up on the couch, bringing your knees to your chest, as one arm came to rest against the couch cushion at your side, to hold your head up to look at Cassie, as she sank back down beside you, with her legs slightly spread as she brought the phone to her ear.

“Yes, Dana?” she said into the phone, voice steady despite everything, while one hand lifted automatically to push her messy bangs back from her face.

Meanwhile, you stared at her.

God, how you loved to stare at her.

At her disheveled hair, a result from your hands running through it. At her shirt, that was all wrinkled from being pressed against you. At her gold chain that dangled around her neck, and the contrast it brought against the faint flush that still lingered on the skin of her neck.

She looked absolutely breathtaking.

You bit your lip as you leaned further into the couch, your eyes fixed on her, completely and shamelessly captivated by her presence.

“No…” Cassie murmured, eyes closing briefly as she listened to Dana on the end of the line. You couldn’t exactly make out Dana’s side of the conversation, just the faint, indistinct chatter through the speaker. So, you took that as your opportunity to slowly straddle her lap, your knees settling comfortably on either side of her hips. Cassie’s hand instinctively came to rest against your thigh, as you leaned in to press kisses down the side of her neck. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t be answering Santos and Whitaker.”

She glanced down at you, as she felt your smirk faintly against the side of her neck, her grip on your thigh tightening just a fraction. “Why?” she asked Dana, even though the answer sat on her lap right there in front of her. “Is everything alright?”

Cassie listened to Dana, her eyes flicking away from you for a second like she was trying to refocus, shoulders subtly straightening. “No,” she said after a beat, her voice steadier again. “I haven’t seen her. She’s probably busy.”

“Tell them she’s probably fine, just doesn’t want to be bothered,” Cassie said into the phone, her voice steady, though her attention kept slipping towards you.

Your hands slid underneath her shirt, your fingers meeting her warm skin once more. Cassie inhaled sharply at the contact, her shoulders tensed above you, her head tipping back slightly as she tried, and failed, to stay focused on what Dana was saying. Her grip on your thigh wandered to your hip, like she needed something to anchor herself with.

“Yeah… look, I gotta go now,” she said suddenly, faster this time, words tumbling out a little rushed. “I’m in the middle of something.”

Cassie’s breath caught against her throat once more, as you moved to press open mouthed kisses to the exposed skin of her neck. “See you tomorrow. You’re welcome. Bye.” She said, and ended the call.

The phone dropped onto the couch beside her without missing a beat, as she let her head fall back against the cushions with a long, frustrated exhale, with her eyes closed.

“So?” you asked her, looking at her through your lashes.

Cassie tilted her head slightly toward you, opening one eye to look at you. “Nothing worth worrying about,” a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she held your gaze. “Where were we?”

Before you could answer her question, her hands slid back to your hips, her grip firm and familiar, pulling you closer until there was no space left between the two of you. Your arms wrapped around her neck, your fingers tangling into her hair once again, her strands still slightly messy from before. Cassie exhaled softly after a particular firm tug, and her nose bumped yours affectionally, before she pulled you in for a particularly hot open-mouthed kiss.

3.

The locker room was empty by the time you finally made it there. As you rolled your shoulders to relive some of the days tension you made your way to your own locker, rummaging through your things.

Cassie slipped into the room sometime later, as she made a bee line to her own locker, and leaned her back onto it with her head tipped back briefly against the cool metal behind her.

You watched her for a second, across the narrow aisle, while pulling your bag from your locker.

“Tired?” you asked her softly.

Cassie cracked one eye open to look at you. “What gave it away?”

You laughed quietly, while slinging your bag over your shoulder. “The fact you look two seconds away from passing out.”

“Hm.” The corner of her mouth twitched faintly, “Could be worse.”

You stepped closer to her, leaning lightly against the locker beside hers. The metal felt cool against your shoulder, and Cassie turned her head slightly to look at you. Even exhausted, there was something about the way she looked at you that always made your stomach flutter.

The sleeves of her long-sleeve undershirt were pushed up to her forearms. Her hair was messy from the days shift. Her gold chain peeked out slightly from beneath the collar of her scrubs when she shifted in her feet.

Cassie's gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. “You’re staring,” she murmured.

Her voice was low, rough around the edges after a twelve-hour shift and too little sleep.

You leaned your shoulder more firmly against the locker beside hers, you could feel the warm radiating from her body against your upper arm. “It’s your fault,” you said eventually. “You’re too distracting.”

She let out a quiet huff of amusement. “That sounds like a you problem.”

You rolled your eyes immediately, but the smile pulling at your lips ruined any chance you had of looking annoyed.

Without another word, you reached to caress her cheek for the front of your scrubs and tugged you closer until you were standing right in front of her. Her lips brushed yours before you could form a sentence.

Your hands settled instinctively against her hips while Cassie’s slid up to the back of your neck. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than either of you had first intended. It wasn’t rushed, nor desperate, it was the kind of kiss that came after an exhausting shift, it was comfortable, familiar.

The both of you seemed to melt against the other, and you felt Cassie’s hand slip into your hair, her fingertips lightly scratching against your scalp, and you heard yourself hum against her lips. A quiet laugh escaped her when she felt the reaction she got out of you.

As the both of you pulled back for air, Cassie’s forehead found yours. Her eyes were soft, as she gazed at you through her lashes, you couldn’t help but smile at her. Then, your hands came up, and gently caught her wrists, that had been around your neck, bringing her hands down to your lips and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles.

“Let's get you home,” you said softly.

One of your hands went up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing lightly across her skin before you leaned forward and pressed one last kick kiss to her lips. When you pulled back, Cassie smiled at you.

Then you turned toward your locker, reaching out to close the metal door with a soft clang. But, even then, one of your hands remained linked with Cassie's.

That’s when the locker room door swung open.

Both of you dropped the others hand with an impressive speed.

And in the doorway stood Javadi, who seemed to have stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes were wide behind her exhausted expression as she clearly hadn't expected anyone else to still be there.

For a second, nobody said anything.

Cassie immediately turned toward her locker and reached for her bag as if absolutely nothing had happened seconds before. Like the two of you hadn't just been kissing. Like her fingers weren’t just tangled against your hair.

The metal locker door of Cassie’s locker rattled softly as she grabbed her jacket from the inside, her movements calm and unhurried.

“Sorry,” Victoria said, lingering awkwardly in the doorway.  “I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you answered her immediately.

Victoria blinked at you, and then her tired eyes moved between you and Cassie, clearly picking up on the strange atmosphere hanging in the room, as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Cassie as calm as ever, threw her jacket over one shoulder and slung her bag over the other. “We were just leaving.”

Victoria visibly relaxed at that. Her shoulders dropped slightly, as though Cassie’s answer had solved whatever concern was beginning to form in her head. “Oh, okay.”

Cassie shut her locker door before glancing at you, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly, and then she simply headed towards the exit, seemingly unbothered and calm. As she passed by you, the back of her hand brushed lightly against yours subtly, and quick.

That was enough to make your pulse quicken, and a shiver make its way up your spine. Victoria's gaze followed Cassie toward the door before slowly returning to you with her eyebrows furrowed, looking confused.

You took that as your cue to leave.

“Goodnight, Vic.” You nodded once at her, with a small awkward smile.

Victoria blinked. “...Goodnight?”

But you were already halfway out the door before she could ask whatever questions were currently forming in her head.

+ 1

It happened because Cassie was careless.

The shift had ended horribly late, everyone from day shift was exhausted, or half-delirious, or both. To your luck, both you and Cassie, had the day off tomorrow, so that was a plus. Your apartment was the closest, the one you shared with your two roommates, who also happened to be your coworkers, Santos and Whitaker.

So, it became the obvious choice without much discussion, as you’d reassured Cassie that both Dennis and Trinity wouldn’t be home until the very early hours of the next morning. Since, Santos was going out with some of the day shift crew to the karaoke bar nearby, and Whitaker was going to Amy’s for something farm-related you couldn’t quite remember and were too tired to care.

Which meant you had the place all to yourselves for the rest of the night.

The two of you barely made it past your bedroom door before exhaustion completely caught up to you both. Your clothes were swapped for much more comfortable ones, and your bed immediately became the only thing that mattered in the world. Cassie curled around you as soon as the both of you collapsed onto the bed, one of her arms slid around your waist, pulling your back into her chest, her body was warm and solid against your own.

By the time you stirred awake, the room was brighter.

You opened your eyes slowly, still half caught in sleep, your body heavy and warm under the blankets. Your room was slightly illuminated by the half-opened blinds you’d been too tired to close last night. Something warm and strong was pressed to your back, an arm slung around your waist, its grip tightening ever so slightly as you stirred, pulling you further into the warmth.

You exhaled softly, relishing on the feeling of Cassie’s body wrapped around yours. You turned carefully onto your side, so you could face her. Cassie was still asleep. Her hair was all over the place, her expression completely unguarded, she looked so peaceful right there and then, that it made your heart flutter.

“Stop staring,” Cassie mumbled, with her voice rough with sleep, and her eyes still closed. “and go back to sleep.”

You huffed a quiet laugh under your breath, shifting a little closer without thinking, letting your forehead rest against hers. Her arm tightened around your waist in response, pulling you closer like she was trying to drawn you back into sleep with her.

Before you could answer her, the faint hum of the microwave turning on from the kitchen cut through the quiet of the room. And for a second you seemed to recall why you had so suddenly stirred awake. Realization dawned upon you. Your entire body locked as you pushed yourself up slightly on the bed, your eyes darting instinctively toward the bedroom door like it might confirm what you already knew.

Then your gaze drifted to your bedside table.

To your phone.

You tapped it twice to check the time.

“Shit,” you blurted out immediately, fully awake now.

Cassie shifted behind you, an arm still half wrapped around your waist but her grip loosening just enough for you to turn more properly toward her. Strands of her hair  were sticking out in every direction across the pillow, her expression slowly shifting from sleepy into utter confusion.

“Cassie, we overslept,” you whispered, already sitting up more as your hands dragged across your face.

Footsteps could be heard from outside your room. You lowered your voice even further, urgency creeping in. “Whitaker and Santos are home already, and they’re up.”

Cassie opened her eyes then, her face still etched with sleep, blinking slowly as she shifted against you. And then, very slowly, she exhaled, before answering your panicked whispers, “Of course they are.”

One of her hands came up to rub at her forehead like she was trying to remain awake. Then she stretched, seemingly completely unbothered by the information you just gave her, as she rolled onto her back with a soft exhale, her other arm still loosely draped over you.

“What time is it?” she asked, voice calm and etched with sleep.

You stared at her for a second before muttering to her that it was almost half past six in the morning.

Cassie didn’t react the way you had expected her to. She just stared up at the ceiling for a second, like she was processing the situation, then gave you a small shrug in response like Whitaker and Santos being home was something mildly inconvenient to the both of you.

“It’s fine,” she said lowly, still perfectly relaxed. “We just wait until they leave for work.”

Your lips parted in surprise at her words. “…You’re way too calm about this.” You murmur.

Cassie looked at you seemingly more awake now, one of her eyebrows lifting slightly at your words. She shifted a little on the mattress, the bedsheets rustling softly as morning light shined across her features through the blinds. “They’re not going to just barge into your room at this time in the morning,” Cassie said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She reached for you again, tugging you back down onto the mattress to lay down next to her. The sheets were still warm, tangled slightly around your legs as you hesitated, half-protesting even as she pulled you closer.

“When they know it’s your day off,” she added, already pressing back into you.

“You underestimate them both,” you muttered, though you still let yourself lie back down beside her.

Cassie made a quiet sound of disagreement, completely unbothered, as one of her hands slid to rest at your hip as she drew you in against her. “You need to relax,” she murmured, as her head dipped into the crook of your neck, her warm breath brushing against your skin as she breathed you in slowly.

“Cassie,” you warned, though it came out weaker than you meant to. “I’m being serious,” you added, shifting slightly against her hold.

She hummed against your skin, before lifting her head to look into your eyes. “So am I.”

And then she kissed you.

It was slow at first, just enough to steal whatever composure you had left in you, before her lips lingered, deepening the kiss. Her hand tightened at your hip as she guided you more firmly onto your back, the mattress dipping with the both of your weight as she followed you down. Cassie’s arm came up to as she braced herself onto the pillow beside your head, holding her weight above you as she pressed her body to yours just right.

One of your hands came up to the back of her hair, fingers tangling against her strands as you tilted your head slightly, letting yourself sink into the feeling of her mouth against yours, slow and warm. Your other hand found its way beneath the hem of her shirt, palm pressing against her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing.

By then neither of you were paying attention to your surroundings.

Which was why neither of you noticed the door of your room opening.

“Holy shit,” Santos exclaimed from behind you.

You and Cassie jerked apart at that.

But it was too late already.

Santos stood frozen halfway into the room holding a sweater in her hand.

“What?” You heard Whitaker’s voice ask, as he made his way to the room and peeked over Santo’s shoulder.

You watched as his expression changed in real time, from confusion, to recognition, and then to something between horror and disbelief. Santos, on the other hand, lit up like she’d just won the lottery.

“I knew it!” she practically shouted, pointing triumphantly between the two of you, glancing over at Whitaker to see if he was seeing the same thing she was. Whitaker seemed to not have heard her, as he just stood there with his mouth agape, and his eyes so wide you could’ve sworn they would pop out of his skull.

“Can you knock?!” you blurted, still half sitting up in bed, pointing vaguely at the door.

But Santos didn’t even acknowledge you, as she went and stepped further into the room, to place the sweater she had on her hand on the back of the chair in your room. “Fucking finally.” She said, completely unfazed.

“Let’s go, huckleberry,” she added, already turning back toward the door. “I need to get to work to collect my prize money.”

Whitaker just blinked at her, lowering his head in your direction as an apology, before both of them walked out, pulling the door to your room shut behind them.

You stared at the now closed door.

Then slowly turned your head to the side to look at Cassie. You were still out of breath by the whole situation. And Cassie was still propped on her elbows, her breathing slightly uneven mirroring your own, her hair completely wild. As soon as you’d turned to look at her, she’d let out something between a scoff and a laugh, as she fell back onto the mattress, her hands coming up to run through her hair.

“Well,” she said casually, “guess it’s not a secret anymore.”

your phone on the mattress didn’t stop vibrating.

you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the small screen. your boyfriend had left the apartment in a dead silence, but your mind kept drifting back to forty five minutes ago to the quiet kitchen where you had been sitting with cassie.

she was adamant that you take her number before you left to go back to your apartment, just in case anything happened. you told her that your boyfriend would never hurt you, but cassie didn’t budge.

cassie mckay: did he leave? is he there with you?

cassie mckay: i shouldn’t have let you take an uber. i’m sorry.

cassie mckay: please answer me.

your fingers shook against the screen. you typed back with one hand, your chin tucked into your collar.

you: he left. i think it’s over.

you: i don’t know where to go.

you: please.

three dots appeared instantly, and disappeared into a single line.

cassie mckay: stay there. i’m coming send me your location.

not even thirty minutes later, the door of cassie’s car clicked shut.

it was always the car. every single time you had ever touched, or argued, or sat in a silence that felt too intense, it had been inside these four doors.

cassie steered away from the curb, her hands loose on the wheel but her eyes on the road.

“can i ask you what happened?” cassie asked. she didn't look over. “you’re shaking.”

you didn't answer. you pulled your knees up to your chest. you watched telephone poles blur past as cassie kept looking over at you, needing confirmation that you were okay.

when you wouldn’t respond, cassie pulled the car into the back of a grocery store parking lot. she turned her head, looking at the back of your hair.

“you’re staying at my place,” cassie said simply. “we’ll go back for the rest of your stuff tomorrow.”

you shifted, back against the door, looking at her.

“tell me something you’ve never told anyone before,” you whispered.

cassie let out a short breath. “what?”

“tell me a secret,” you said. “tell me something real.”

“are you playing a game?” cassie turned fully, her brow furrowing.

“it’s not a game,” you said, eyes fixed on cassie’s mouth. “i just want to know something about you that no one else in the world does.”

cassie paused, staring at you, deciding how much she wants to tell you.

“okay…before we first met,” cassie began. she looked out at the wall of the grocery store. “i spent some time in a house. i was using. a lot.”

you didn’t blink.

“i lost harrison,” cassie continued, her fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “i didn’t see him for a while. that summer i met you, the month we took that drive…that was the first month i was clean. i’ve never told anyone.”

you looked down at the plastic cup holder between you. it was empty except for a few pennies and a gum wrapper.

“my turn,” you said.

cassie watched you, her shoulder leaning against her door. “you don't have to.”

“when i was younger, my mom died but she-she didn't have a heart attack. even though i told everyone that,” you hesitated. your voice was almost casual, the same way someone talks about the weather. “she used a rope in the garage.”

cassie’s hand stopped tapping.

“i went to school anyway,” you said, staring at your own shoes. “i had a biology quiz. i didn't tell the teacher. i just sat there looking at the clock until three o'clock. i told my boyfriend she was sick because it’s easier to say that than to explain everything.”

you turned your head back to the window. outside, you spotted a woman in a raincoat pushing a shopping cart. your eyes focused on her as your heartbeat settled.

“i wanted you to know,” you whispered. “that's all.”

cassie kept both hands on the wheel, her posture slightly slouched, now driving with a quiet precision. she didn’t look over at you. she just watched the brake lights of the car in front of you, her face completely still.

you reached out and touched the window. the glass was cold against your fingertips.

“is the house nice?” you asked.

“no,” cassie said. she moved her foot on the pedal as the light ahead turned yellow. “it had green carpet. it was ugly.”

“my mom's garage had bright green shelves,” you said, eyes tracking a single drop of water as it finally slid down the side window. “my dad painted them, but she hated the color.”

-

ten minutes later, cassie pulled into her driveway. the engine died, and the radio clicked off, it was quiet again. neither of you moved to get out, and through the windshield, you could see the front porch of the house.

“harrison’s at his father's until friday,” cassie said. “the house is empty.”

“can we just stay here for a minute?” you asked.

cassie let her hands drop from the wheel, resting them in her lap. she didn't look over, but she leaned her head back against the headrest, closing her eyes.

“yeah,” she whispered. “we can stay.”

the rain started to come down fast against the roof of the car. you let your head sink back against the headrest, copying cassie’s posture.

cassie’s hand was still resting loosely on the space between the seats, her fingers just an inch away from your sleeve. the weight of the secrets you had just told each other sunk into the quiet between you.

suddenly, your breath hitched. almost like your body was deciding this is when you’ve had enough of holding it together for so long.

it wasn't a nice buildup, it all just caved in on you. a sob tore out of your throat, sounding loud in the silence.

cassie shifted instantly, her eyes flying open. “hey hey, what’s wrong?”

you covered your face with both hands, your shoulders shaking violently as the tears tracked down your wrists. “he was right. i’m so fucked up,” you choked out. “i'm just... i'm completely fucked. he was right. nobody else is ever going to deal with me because i'm too much to…to fucking handle.”

“stop,” cassie said. she reached across the console, grasping your wrists and gently pulling your hands away from your face so she could look at you. “don't say that. he doesn't know anything.”

“but he's right!” you cried, eyes glassy, and desperate. “look at me. look at my life. my mom, my dad... everything i touch just falls apart. who is ever going to look at all of this shit and actually want it?”

cassie stared at you, her jaw tightening so hard a small muscle jumped near her ear. her dark eyes searched your wet face, full of a protective rush that she was clearly trying to keep a lid on.

“i would,” cassie said.

the words came out too fast, cutting through your panic like a knife.

cassie stilled. her breath caught in her throat, her lips staying slightly parted as the weight of what she had just said settled between you. she didn't look away, but her grip on your wrists loosened just a little, her fingers suddenly trembling.

your cries quieted into a ragged, uneven breathing. you stared back at cassie, your heart beating hard against your ribs again. “what?”

cassie swallowed hard. she looked down between your seats, suddenly tense.

“i mean...” cassie started, her voice lower now, hesitant, as she looked for the right, safe words. she cleared her throat, her thumb making a small, nervous twitch against your skin. “i mean...i care about you. obviously. i'm here.”

“cassie,” you whispered, leaning an inch closer over the console. “that’s not what you meant.”

cassie closed her eyes for a brief second, letting out a long breath. when she opened them, she looked directly into your eyes, her expression deeply vulnerable.

“it doesn't matter what i meant right now,” she murmured. “you’re exhausted. we need to get you inside.”

she didn't deny it, but she didn't say it again either. she just shifted her hand down, her fingers sliding into your palm and squeezing tight, a small gesture that felt like a promise she wasn’t allowed to give you yet.

cassie didn't want to wait a second longer. she shoved her door open into the rain. you moved a second later, your shoes hitting the wet gravel as your dragged your suitcase from the backseat.

the rain was soaking through your clothes before you even hit the bottom step of the porch. cassie was already at the door, her fingers clumsy and shaking as she jammed the key into the lock.

inside, you stood on the rug shivering, the water dripping from your jeans onto the floor. your suitcase sat by your ankles.

cassie dropped her keys on the table. she didn't turn on the lights. she just stood there in the dim night light coming through the door glass, her shirt damp at the shoulders, looking at you.

the distance between you on the small rug was barely a foot, but it felt wide. cassie’s hands were stuffed deep into her pockets, her shoulders hunched as she watched you shake.

everything she’s ever felt for you was still there, written plain in the line of her jaw and the way she wouldn't look down at the floor, but the walls were already going back up.

“you need dry clothes,” cassie said quietly.

“cassie–”

“follow me,” she murmured, her eyes softening for a second before she turned toward the hallway. “come upstairs. let’s get you warm first and then if you want to talk we’ll talk.”

cassie walked a step ahead, her back straight, her wet socks leaving faint prints on the wood. she didn't look back to see if you were following. she just kept moving up to the second floor.

you reached the bedroom at the end of the hall. cassie pushed the door open, letting it open wide into a room that smelled like fresh laundry.

cassie stepped inside, heading straight for the small laundry basket in the corner. she looked through it before pulling out a thick, black shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.

“these should fit,” cassie said. she turned around, holding the clothes out like a shield between you, like she’d do something stupid if she stepped any closer to you. “they're clean.”

you didn't reach for them right away. you stood inside the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around your chest, still shivering in your soaked jacket.

“thank you,” you whispered.

cassie looked at you, her eyes scanning the line of your collarbone where the wet shirt clung to yiur skin. her jaw tightened, that same desperate expression flickering across her face before she forced her expression back into something blank.

she stepped forward, dropping the clothes onto the edge of the mattress.

“change out of those wet clothes,” cassie murmured, as she edged past you toward the door. “i'll go downstairs and make something warm.”

“cassie, wait.”

the words were out before you could stop them.

cassie paused right in the doorway, she didn't turn around fully, just shifting her head enough so she could look at you.

“please,” you said softly. “don’t do this again…don’t start acting like this.”

cassie’s shoulders dropped slightly, a slow breath escaping her lips.

“i have to,” she whispered. she didn't look back. “if i don't... we're both going to regret it.”

before you had the chance to say anything back, she stepped out into the hallway, footsteps fading down the stairs. you grunted and kicked the foot of the bed.

“fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” you whispered repeatedly, as you freed yourself from your wet clothes.

you were hit with the exact same feeling you had when cassie left you in that motel room two years ago, while you were begging her to stay.

and then you remembered how your life looked like without her, how unbearable it was to live and breathe without having her by your side.

because no one made you feel the way she did, no one was as gentle and meant it, no one sat through your bad and sought for the good and meant it. everything that happened after her felt like a stupid joke.

you changed quickly, pulling cassie’s shirt over your head. you left your wet clothes in a pile by the door and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest looking for some comfort.

downstairs , the house was quiet except for the distant clink of a mug against the kitchen counter, and then the whistle of the kettle beginning to heat up.

you stared at the duvet between your legs. everything felt too real. the apartment you had lived in for two years, your boyfriend who had loved you like it was as easy as breathing but still told you that you were unlovable, it all felt like it belonged to someone else. the only thing that felt solid was the weight of cassie’s shirt against your skin.

ten minutes passed before the floorboards in the hallway creaked again.

cassie appeared in the doorway, carrying two mugs. she had changed out of her damp clothes into a simple, faded band t-shirt, her dark hair pulled back into a loose, messy knot at the base of her neck.

she stepped into the room, her movements careful as she set one of the mugs down on the small nightstand next to you.

“chamomile,” she said quietly. “it'll help with the shaking.”

“i'm not shaking anymore,” you whispered, though cassie could see your fingers still tucked tightly into the cuffs of your sleeves.

she didn't contradict you. she stood by the foot of the bed, holding her own mug with both hands, she looked completely exhausted.

the silence between you wasn't the angry kind from the apartment that your boyfriend had. it was the quiet of two people who had said too much and were now scared of the distance those same words had created.

“you should sleep after you finish that,” cassie murmured, still not looking at you.

you looked up, watching the slow rise and fall of cassie’s chest. “are you going to stay down there the whole night?”

cassie’s thumb traced the rim of her mug, a slow, nervous circle. she looked up then, her dark eyes meeting yours with a look that was so intensely weary, so full of that quiet, miserable need from the driveway, that you felt her own breath catch.

“it's better if i do,” she said softly.

she turned to leave, shoulder brushing against the doorframe, but she didn't move quickly. she stood there, her back to the room. she was waiting for something, for a reason to stop walking, or maybe just for the strength to keep going down the stairs.

“stay,” you whispered.

the words were raw, slipping out of you before you could stop them. your fingers dug into the thick cotton of your sleeves. “don't leave me alone in here.”

cassie froze. her back stayed toward the room, her head tilted slightly down. her shoulders went rigid beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

“i can’t,” she murmured, and her voice sounded completely ruined. “you know i can’t.”

“i don’t,” you whispered, voice cracking as you leaned forward, your bare feet touching the cold floor. “i’m just asking you to sit here. you don’t have to say anything. you don’t have to explain what you said in the car. just... stay in the same room as me. please.”

a second ticked by on the small clock on the nightstand.

then, cassie turned around.

she set her mug down on the edge of the dresser. she didn't look at you as she walked across the room. her movements were almost heavy with defeat, her eyes fixed on the rumpled duvet.

she sat down on the very edge of the mattress, her back to you, her hands resting flat between her knees. she didn't lean back. she just sat there, her spine curved, looking out at the window.

“i'm here,” she whispered.

you shifted, sliding across the cool sheets until you were sitting right behind her. you didn't lean into her, and you didn't reach for her hand. you just sat close enough to feel the radiating heat of her shoulders, the two of you trapped in the void where everything was finally beginning to ache.

you moved forward an inch, your knees brushing against the small of cassie’s back, and then you let your forehead sink against the center of cassie’s shoulder blades.

beneath it, you could feel the ridge of her spine and the slow, heavy rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed.

the moment the weight of your head touched her, cassie went still. her hands, which had been resting between her knees, curled into loose fists. she didn't pull away, she was physically unable to, your head against her felt like everything she didn’t feel like she deserved, everything good.

“you're still cold,” cassie murmured after a long beat. her voice was vibrating through her bones and into your forehead, making the words feel less like words and more like a pulse.

“i’m not,” you whispered against her.

you kept your forehead pressed against her back, your eyes closed, listening to cassie’s heart through the thin cotton.

cassie slowly uncurled her fists. her right hand moved backward across the mattress, her knuckles dragging over the sheet until they met the bare skin of your ankle. she didn't squeeze. she left her palm resting there, her skin warm and rough against your cold skin.

“your feet are like ice,” cassie murmured.

“they're fine," you whispered.

you shifted your leg slightly, just enough to tuck your toes under the waistband of cassie’s sweatpants, seeking the heat. cassie’s thumb began to move in a slow circle against the side of your foot.

you took a deeper breath, the scent of cassie’s laundry soap and skin filling your head. for two years, you had forgotten how quiet cassie could be when she wasn't trying to be the adult in the room.

cassie tilted her head back, her hair catching on the collar of the shirt, her shoulder dropping just enough to cradle the side of your face against her back.

“we should turn the light off,” cassie whispered, though she didn't make a move toward the lamp.

“don’t,” you said against her shoulder blades. “it’s fine like this.”

you stayed exactly like that. there were no promises about tomorrow, and no names for what sat between you on the mattress.

cassie moved slowly, her back leaving your forehead for just a second as she turned around on the mattress to face you. she didn't move away, she just brought her legs up onto the bed, crossing them loosely.

in the dim light, cassie’s face was entirely soft, her blue eyes as she looked down at your bare feet, then reached out with both hands.

her palms were broad and incredibly warm as she wrapped them around your cold feet, her fingers rubbing the skin in slow, heavy strokes. she didn't say a word. she just looked down, her thumbs pressing into the arches of your feet. the touch felt more intimate than any confession.

you watched her. you watched the way cassie’s hair had fallen out of its knot, a few stray strands casting shadows across her cheekbones.

“cassie,” you whispered, the sound barely audible in the small space between you.

cassie paused her hands, her thumbs resting against your skin. she looked up, her eyes wide. “yeah?”

“come closer.”

cassie didn't hesitate this time, she moved like she was waiting for something to push her to. the caution was still there, but the need was heavier. she slid forward, her knees settling against your thighs. she reached up, her long fingers brushing a strand of damp hair away from your forehead, her knuckles lingering against the warm skin of your temple.

her touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid that if she pressed too hard, reality would shatter.

you leaned into her palm, your eyes closing as cassie’s thumb traced the line of your eyebrow, then slid down the side of your nose to touch the corner of your mouth. it was the quiet confirmation that you were both there, and that for tonight, the rest of the world was locked outside.

cassie dropped her forehead against your shoulder, her breath hot through the cotton of your shirt. she didn't move any further, her hands coming around to rest loosely on your waist, holding you.

you reached up, your fingers hesitating for a second before you touched the back of cassie’s neck, her skin warm under the stray hairs.

“cassie?” you whispered.

“yeah,” cassie murmured, her voice muffled against your shoulder. she didn't lift her head, but her grip on your waist tightened a little.

“what are you thinking about?”

cassie let out a breath that sounded like a laugh, though there wasn't any humor in it. she slowly lifted her head, her eyes finding yours. the lines around her eyes looked softer.

“i’m thinking about how quiet it is,” cassie said softly, with the hesitation of someone who knew exactly where the line was and was currently watching it disappear. “and i'm thinking about how i'm supposed to be the one who knows better.”

“you don't have to know better tonight,” you said, your heart giving a slow, heavy thud against your ribs. “nobody's watching us.”

cassie looked down at your mouth, her thumb tracing a small line against the fabric at your hip. she swallowed hard, the muscle in her jaw jumping.

“i really, really want to kiss you right now,” cassie whispered.

the confession hit with a terrifying weight. it wasn't quick, and it wasn't a mistake, it was just the truth. cassie had run out of lies.

your breath caught in your throat. you slid your hand up from the back of cassie’s neck, your fingers framing the side of cassie’s jaw, your thumb resting right against the racing pulse below her ear.

“then do it,” you whispered back. “please.”

she leaned in almost instantly, her mouth meeting yours with a gentle touch.

the kiss was slow, but still desperate. cassie’s lips were soft, parting yours with a gentle movement that felt less like an ending and more like a overdue conversation. there was no rush, no grabbing, it was just cassie’s hands sliding up your back, pulling you flush against her chest until there was no space left between you.

cassie’s mouth moved against yours with a practiced movement that felt heavy with everything she’d kept locked away from you. her hands moved up from your waist, her palms warm as they slid under your shirt, her fingers pressing into the bare skin of your back.

a small, shaky breath escaped your lips into the kiss, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of cassie’s neck.

when cassie finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours. her breathing was shallow, she looked completely undone.

“tell me,” cassie whispered, her voice thick with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “are you sure? tell me if you want me to stop.”

“please don’t stop,” you whispered against her lips. “please, please don't.”

cassie didn't answer with words. she slid her hands down to the hem of your shirt, her movements hesitant, before she helped you slide it over your head, leaving it discarded on floor.

when cassie looked at you now, there was no caution in her eyes, and no shame. there was just tenderness. she leaned down, her lips tracing a path from your jawline down to the hollow of uour throat, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there that made your eyes close with pleasure.

you moved together under the cool sheets, but the bed didn't feel cold anymore.

when cassie hovered over you, framing your face with her hands, it felt completely exposed, more intimate than anything you had ever known.

the movement was slow, matching the steady hum of the rain against the glass. cassie’s fingers stayed tangled in yours, her grip tight as if she were anchoring both of you to the mattress.

you arched into her instinctively, your eyes watering from the overwhelming relief of being held this way. for the first time in so long, everything went completely silent.

“look at me,” cassie murmured, her voice trembling as she looked down into your eyes. her thumb wiped away a stray tear that had slipped down your temple. “i’ve got you. i’ve got you.”

then, she shifted, her thigh sliding between yours. she leaned down, her mouth finding the sensitive skin under your ear, her lips parting to leave kisses along your neck until your breath hitched.

“cass,” you breathed, your fingers tightening in her hair, pulling her closer, needing her, needing the absolute certainty of her.

“i know,” cassie whispered against your skin, her voice rough.

she moved her hand back down between your bodies, her long fingers tracing the curve of your hip before sliding down, her touch gentle as she found the center of the heat between your thighs again. you arched into the touch, your eyes closing tightly as a sweet ache rippled through you.

cassie’s fingers were steady, knowing exactly how to hold you, how to move against you in a way that made you feel consumed.

every small sound you made, the rustle of the sheets, the soft feeling of skin against skin, the ragged breathing, amplified the want more within her.

a low moan escaped cassie’s throat when you clenched around her fingers, her forehead dropping back against your shoulder as the tension finally broke, a shuddering release that left you shaking under her.

cassie didn't pull away. she stayed right where she was, her forehead resting in the hollow of your shoulder, her chest rising and falling against your breast. her body was relaxed now, the tension that had held her rigid drained out of her muscles.

you lay beneath her, fingers still loosely tangled in the strands at cassie’s neck. your heart was hammering a against cassie’s ribs, but the panic was gone.

slowly, cassie shifted her weight, rolling onto her side but keeping her arm draped heavily over your waist, pulling you back against her side. she tucked her chin into your hair, her breath warm against your temple.

“don’t move,” cassie whispered.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said. you turned your head slightly, your nose brushing the soft skin of cassie’s neck.

cassie’s hand on your waist tightened, her fingers flat against your stomach, pulling you against her again as if you weren’t close enough.

she lazily shifted her arm, pulling the sheet down just an inch to tuck it tighter around your shoulder, her thumb caught on a texture she didn’t recognize. she leaned up slightly on one elbow, her hair falling forward over her shoulder. her eyes tracked down to the soft skin just above your hip bone.

there, half hidden by the shadow of the sheets, was a small patch of ink.

cassie reached out, her finger tracing the line of it. it was small, clean set of coordinates, or maybe a tiny minimalist shape, the edges sharp and fresh compared to the older ink on your body. it definitely hadn't been there two summers ago, not that cassie remembers.

“what's this?” cassie asked softly.

you tensed at the cool air hitting your skin, but as cassie’s warm finger continued to trace the design, you let out a slow breath and looked down.

“oh,” you whispered, your eyes fixing on cassie's hand against your hip. “i got that last winter. when things were... really bad with my boyf– my ex.”

cassie’s finger stopped moving, resting flat against the ink. you didn't say your boyfriend's name, you didn't want him in this room.

cassie looked up from the tattoo, her dark eyes finding your face, searching it.

“what does it mean?” cassie murmured, her thumb making a small, comforting stroke against your skin, waiting for the story.

“it's the highway marker,” you said quietly. “the one right outside wheeling. where your car broke down and we had to sit on the hood for four hours waiting for the tow truck.”

cassie’s finger stilled against the small ink lines, the warmth of her palm seeping into your hip. her eyes widened slightly, her gaze dropping back down to the numbers tattooed into your skin.

“you remembered the coordinates?” cassie whispered.

“i didn't have to look them up,” you said, turning your head on the pillow to face her. “i remembered the sign. i stared at it while you were screaming into your phone at the triple a. it was the last day before everything got complicated. before you stopped talking.”

an emotional silence caved into the space between you. cassie looked at the ink, then back up at your face, her expression completely bare, filled with a sudden realization of just how deeply she had been carried through those two years of silence.

“i thought you hated that day,” cassie murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “you were miserable because the ac was broken.”

“i was happy,” you said softly, your thumb finding cassie’s wrist, feeling the beat of her pulse. “it was the only place i wanted to be.”

cassie let out a breath that sounded almost like a sob, though her eyes stayed clear. she leaned down, her forehead resting right above the tattoo. she pressed her lips to the skin just above the ink, a quiet kiss that felt like an apology for every single day she spent without you.

The break room coffee tastes like burnt rubber, but you drink it anyway because it gives your hands something to do. Something to focus on besides the tightness in your chest that’s been building for weeks.

The fluorescent lights hum overhead, washing everything in institutional beige. At two in the morning, the hospital always feels a little unreal, like the whole world has narrowed to monitors, pagers, and burnt coffee.

Cassie sits across from you at the small table, her scrubs wrinkled from a twelve-hour shift. She scrolls through her phone, but you can tell she’s not really reading anything. That’s the thing about Cassie McKay. She notices everything.

The way you’ve avoided eye contact all week. The way your laugh has sounded too hollow. The way you’ve volunteered for every awful assignment just to stay busy.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on,” she says finally, setting her phone down, “or are we just going to sit here pretending this coffee is drinkable?”

Her voice is gentle but direct. No bullshit, but never cruel.

You open your mouth. Close it again.

“I’m fine,” you say automatically.

Cassie leans back in her chair, her green eyes fixed on you.

“Try again.”

That’s all it takes.

Something inside you cracks open.

“I don’t know who I am,” you whisper. Your hands shake around the coffee cup. “I don’t know what I want. Romantically. Sexually. Any of it. Everyone else seems like they got some kind of manual, and I’m just... lost.”

The confession hangs between you.

You can’t look at her. You’re afraid of pity, confusion, or worse, that careful distance people use when they think you’ve shared too much.

But Cassie doesn’t pull away.

Her chair scrapes softly against the floor as she moves closer. Then her hand covers yours, warm and steady.

“Hey,” she says softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Your voice cracks. “I’m old enough. I should know by now. I should know whether I’m into men, women, both, or neither. I should know what I want from a relationship. But every time I try to put a label on it, nothing fits.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

Cassie’s thumb brushes over your knuckles. “Who says you have to have it figured out?”

You let out a wet laugh. “Everyone? Society? The entire concept of adult life?”

“Fuck that,” she says firmly.

You look up.

“I spent my early twenties thinking I had to be one thing or another,” she says. “Gay or straight. Wild or stable. Addict or sober. Like there was no room for complexity. I made myself sick trying to fit into boxes that were never meant for me.”

You know pieces of Cassie’s past. The substance abuse. Losing custody of her son. Rehab. Medical school as almost a form of redemption. But she’s never spoken about this part before.

“I still don’t have all the answers,” she continues. “Some days I think I understand myself. Some days I don’t want to think about any of it. And you know what I’ve learned?” She squeezes your hand. “Not knowing is allowed.”

“It feels like failing.”

“It’s not. It’s being human.” Her voice softens. “Do you know how many people walk around pretending they have it all figured out when they’re just as lost as you are? At least you’re brave enough to admit it.”

“I don’t feel brave. I feel terrified.”

Cassie smiles, sad and knowing. “Yeah. That’s usually what brave feels like.”

For a while, you sit in the humming silence of the break room, her hand still over yours. Something shifts. Not into certainty, exactly, but into possibility. Like maybe there’s a path where you don’t need every answer right away.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say suddenly. “You’re my best friend, and I don’t want my mess to change that.”

Cassie’s expression softens. “You’re not going to lose me. Whatever you need to figure out, however long it takes, I’m here. No judgment. No pressure. Just here.”

The relief is almost painful.

You turn your hand over beneath hers, lacing your fingers together.

“Thank you,” you breathe.

“Always,” she says.

Outside the break room, the ER keeps moving. Monitors beep, pagers go off, shoes squeak against linoleum. The world doesn’t stop.

But in the fluorescent quiet with Cassie’s hand in yours, something’s changed.

You don’t know what yet.

And for the first time in months, the uncertainty doesn’t feel quite so terrifying.

The week passes in shifts, stolen conversations, and texts sent at strange hours when neither of you can sleep.

You and Cassie fall into a new rhythm. Coffee breaks last longer than they should. Eye contact across the ER feels weighted with something neither of you names. She doesn’t push. You don’t run.

Friday night, Langdon suggests drinks at McGinty’s, the dive bar three blocks from the hospital that’s become the unofficial resident hangout. The windows are already strung with rainbow flags, and Pride posters cover the walls. June is close, and the city’s buzzing with that particular energy that makes everything feel a little more visible.

You almost say no.

Then Cassie catches your eye across the locker room and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself say. “I’m in.”

McGinty’s is crowded and loud, all dark wood, dim lights, beer, and fried food. You squeeze into a booth with Cassie, Langdon, and two other residents, letting the noise wash over you.

For a few hours, it almost feels normal.

Almost.

Because you’re painfully aware of Cassie beside you. The warmth of her thigh against yours in the cramped booth. The way she laughs at Langdon’s terrible jokes. The casual brush of her fingers against your arm when she reaches for her beer.

You nurse a whiskey sour and try not to think about how badly you want to touch her.

By eleven, the group starts to thin. Langdon leaves first, then the others drift out one by one until it’s just you and Cassie in the booth.

Through the window, the Pride flag outside glows under the streetlight.

“Walk you to your car?” Cassie asks.

There’s something soft in her voice. Something unsure.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Okay.”

The night air is cool after the warmth of the bar. The parking lot is mostly empty, lit by yellow streetlights. Pride Month is only days away, and rainbow flags already hang in storefront windows. The whole city seems to be holding its breath.

You walk in silence until you reach your car, parked beside Cassie’s old Honda.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say quietly. “I needed this. Just... normal, you know?”

Cassie steps closer. Close enough that you can smell hospital soap, shampoo, and something underneath that’s just her.

Your breath catches.

“Can I...” She stops and swallows hard. Her eyes search your face. “Can I kiss you?”

The question seems to stop time.

Your heart hammers against your ribs.

“I... Cassie, I don’t know if I...”

“Hey.” Her hand cups your cheek, gentle and warm. “No pressure. I’ve just been thinking about it all week. About you. But if you’re not ready, or if you don’t want...”

“I want,” you interrupt, the words tumbling out. “God, Cassie, I want. I’m just scared.”

“Me too,” she whispers.

Somehow, that makes it easier to breathe.

She leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

You don’t.

Her lips brush yours, soft and tentative. A question more than a statement. For a heartbeat, you freeze, your mind going completely blank.

Then you kiss her back.

Your hand catches in her jacket, pulling her closer. She makes a small sound against your mouth, surprised or relieved or both, and her other hand settles at your waist.

The world narrows to the cool night air, the warmth of her body, the softness of her mouth, and the wild pounding of your heart.

When she pulls back, you’re both breathing hard.

“Okay?” she asks.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” She presses one more brief kiss to your lips, then steps back enough to give you space. “We can take this slow. Figure it out together. No rush.”

Your whole body is humming.

You still don’t have answers. You don’t know what you are, what you want, or what this means.

But as you drive home, still feeling her kiss on your lips, you realize something.

Maybe you don’t need to know yet.

Maybe this is enough for now.

The hospital rooftop isn’t technically off-limits, but it’s not exactly encouraged either. You have to take the service elevator to the top floor, then climb a narrow stairwell to a door that’s supposed to be locked but never is. Residents come here when they need to breathe, think, or escape the fluorescent hell of the ER.

It’s where Cassie texts you to meet her at two in the morning.

Rooftop. Need to talk. —C

Your stomach drops when you see the message. Those words never sound good.

For three days, there’ve been stolen glances, quick touches, and texts at odd hours. You haven’t really talked about the parking lot. About what it means. About what you are to each other now.

The rooftop door creaks as you push it open. The night air is cool, carrying the distant sounds of traffic and sirens. Pittsburgh spreads below you in scattered lights.

Then you see her.

Cassie leans against the low wall, still in scrubs, shoulders hunched against the wind.

“Hey,” you say softly.

She turns. Even in the dim light, you can see the tension in her face.

“Hey. Thanks for coming.”

You stop beside her, close enough to touch but not touching. “Your text sounded serious. Everything okay?”

Cassie lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “I don’t know. Is it?”

The question hangs between you.

“I don’t know either,” you admit.

“That seems to be our theme lately.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. The wind carries the smell of rain. Below, small Pride flags are scattered in windows across the city. June is almost here, bringing visibility and celebration and all the questions you still don’t have answers for.

“I’ve been thinking,” Cassie says finally. “About what we’re doing. What this is.”

“Yeah?”

“And I realized I have no idea.” She laughs, strained. “I keep trying to put a label on it. Like if I can name it, I’ll know what I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to feel. But every time I try, it slips away.”

You know exactly what she means.

You’ve been lying awake doing the same thing. Gay. Bi. Pan. Queer. A relationship. An experiment. Something else entirely. The questions circle endlessly without landing anywhere solid.

“I kissed you,” Cassie says. “And it felt right. But I don’t know if that means I’m attracted to women, or just attracted to you, or if there’s even a difference.”

“Cassie...”

“I’ve been with men. I’ve been with women. I thought I had it figured out. But then there’s you, and suddenly every label feels wrong. Or maybe right. I can’t tell anymore.”

She turns to face you, raw and scared.

“What if I’m doing this wrong?” she whispers. “What if I’m confused and dragging you into my mess?”

The fear in her voice breaks through your own.

You reach for her hand. “You’re not dragging me anywhere I don’t want to go.”

“But what if you regret it?”

“I don’t.” You squeeze her hand. “I’m just as confused as you are. But I don’t regret kissing you. I don’t regret any of this.”

Her eyes search yours. “No?”

“No.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to fit into boxes that don’t make sense. Trying to feel what I’m supposed to feel. And yeah, I’m terrified of getting this wrong. But for the first time, I feel something real. Even if I can’t name it.”

Cassie’s thumb brushes your knuckles.

“So what do we do?” she asks. “How do we navigate this when neither of us knows what we’re doing?”

You think about it. About all the labels and rules and neat categories that’ve never quite fit.

“Maybe we stop trying to define it right now,” you say slowly. “Maybe we just let it be what it is. We figure it out as we go.”

“Without labels?”

“Without needing them yet.” You step closer, your free hand rising to her cheek. “We can be us. Two people who care about each other, who want to explore this together. We don’t need all the answers tonight.”

Cassie leans into your touch. “That sounds terrifying.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “It does.”

“But also kind of freeing?”

You smile. “Yeah. It does.”

A little spark returns to her eyes.

“So we’re just going to wing it?”

“We’re doctors,” you say. “We’re supposed to be good at evidence-based decision-making.”

Cassie blinks. “Did you just compare us to a clinical trial?”

“I’m saying we should gather data.”

She laughs, bright and real this time. “You’re such a nerd.”

“A scientifically sound nerd.”

“A really hot nerd,” she says, pulling you closer.

Your breath catches as her forehead rests against yours.

“So we’re doing this?” she asks. “No labels, no pressure, just seeing where it goes?”

“Together,” you say. “We figure it out together.”

“I can do that,” she whispers.

“Me too.”

She kisses you then, soft and full of promise.

Standing on the rooftop with the city below you, uncertainty no longer feels like drowning.

It feels like possibility.

Cassie’s apartment is smaller than yours, tucked into a converted brownstone in Lawrenceville. The living room is cluttered in that lived-in way, with medical journals stacked on the coffee table, a throw blanket draped over the couch, and framed photos on the bookshelf that you’ve never really looked at closely before. Pinned above her desk, you notice for the first time, is a small pride flag. It’s subtle, placed beside her med school diploma and a photo of her son, but it’s there. An admission. A declaration.

Now, standing in her doorway at midnight on a Friday, still in your scrubs, you notice everything with hyperclarity.

The way her hands shake slightly as she locks the door behind you. The way she turns and just looks at you for a long moment, her green eyes dark and wanting. The way your heart hammers so hard you can feel it in your throat.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, and her voice is rough, uncertain.

You shake your head. “No. I just want...” The words stick. “I want you.”

Something flashes across her face. Relief, desire, maybe a little fear. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You close the distance between you, your hands finding her waist, pulling her close. “Is that okay?”

“God, yes.” She kisses you hard, all the restraint from the past week dissolving in an instant. Her hands fist in your scrub top, and you stumble backward until your shoulders hit the wall. The impact makes you gasp, and she swallows the sound, her tongue sliding against yours.

It’s different from the tentative kisses you’ve shared before. This is hungry, desperate, weeks of tension finally breaking free. Your hands slide up her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric, and she presses closer, her thigh slipping between yours.

The friction makes you moan into her mouth, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, her pupils blown wide.

“Bedroom?” she asks breathlessly.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

Her bedroom is dim, lit only by the streetlight filtering through the curtains. The bed is unmade, sheets rumpled, and somehow that detail, the intimacy of seeing her private space and her real life, makes your chest tight with emotion.

Cassie turns to face you, and for a moment, you just stand there, breathing hard, looking at each other. Then she reaches for the hem of her scrub top, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. She’s wearing a simple black bra underneath, and the sight of her, skin pale in the low light, the curve of her breasts, the slight tremor in her hands, makes your mouth go dry.

“Your turn,” she says softly, and there’s vulnerability in her voice that matches the fear in your chest.

You pull off your own top, letting it fall to the floor. Cassie’s eyes track over you, and you resist the urge to cover yourself. Instead, you step closer, your hands finding the waistband of her scrub pants.

“Can I?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please.”

You undo the drawstring with shaking fingers, pushing the fabric down over her hips. She steps out of them, and then she’s standing there in just her underwear, and you’ve never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

“You’re staring,” she says, but she’s smiling, a little shy.

“You’re gorgeous.” You mean it. Every word.

She reaches for you then, her hands sliding to your waist, undoing your own pants. You help her push them down, kicking them aside, and then you’re both standing there in your underwear, skin to skin, hearts racing.

“I’ve never...” you start, then stop. “I mean, I have, but not with...”

“Me neither,” Cassie interrupts gently. “Not like this. Not with someone who matters this much.”

The confession breaks something open in you. You kiss her again, slower this time, savoring it. Your hands explore the planes of her back, the dip of her waist, the soft skin of her stomach. She makes a small sound against your mouth, and you feel it vibrate through your whole body.

“Bed,” she murmurs, and you let her guide you backward until your legs hit the mattress.

You lie down together, a tangle of limbs and racing hearts. Cassie hovers over you, her hair falling around your face like a curtain, and she looks at you with such tenderness that you feel tears prick at your eyes.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her hand sliding up your ribs, stopping just below your breast.

“Yes.” Your voice is shaky but sure. “Yes, Cassie, please.”

Her hand moves higher, cupping you through your bra, and the sensation makes you arch into her touch. She watches your face carefully, gauging your reaction, and when you moan softly, she smiles.

“You like that?”

“God, yes.”

She leans down to kiss you again, her hand kneading gently, her thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric. The friction is maddening, not enough, and you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra with fumbling fingers.

Cassie helps you pull it off, and then her mouth is on your breast, hot and wet, her tongue circling your nipple. The sensation shoots straight through you, and you gasp, your hands tangling in her hair.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Cassie, that’s... oh God.”

She hums against your skin, the vibration making you shudder, and her hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the edge of your underwear.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, pulling back to look at you. Her eyes are dark with want, but there’s still that careful consideration, that need for your consent.

“Please,” you manage. “I need... please.”

She hooks her fingers in the waistband and pulls your underwear down slowly, giving you time to change your mind. But you don’t. You lift your hips to help her, and then you’re completely bare before her, vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone.

Cassie’s breath catches. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and the reverence in her voice makes you believe it.

Her hand slides up your inner thigh, and you spread your legs for her, trembling with anticipation. When her fingers finally brush against you, feather-light and exploratory, you cry out softly.

“Is this good?” she asks, her fingers moving in slow circles. “Tell me what you like.”

“That’s... yes, right there.” Your hips rock into her touch, seeking more pressure. “A little harder.”

She adjusts, and the pleasure spikes. You’re already so wet, so ready, and when she slides one finger inside you, you both moan.

“Okay?” she checks, her voice strained.

“More than okay.” You reach for her, pulling her down into a kiss. “Don’t stop.”

She finds a rhythm, her finger moving in and out while her thumb circles your clit, and it’s perfect, it’s everything. You break the kiss to gasp for air, your head falling back against the pillow, and Cassie watches you with an intensity that makes you feel seen in a way you never have before.

“You’re so wet,” she murmurs, almost in awe. “So perfect.”

The praise makes you clench around her finger, and she adds another, stretching you, filling you. The sensation is overwhelming, not just the physical pleasure, but the emotional weight of it. This is Cassie. Your best friend. The person who knows you better than anyone. And she’s touching you like you’re precious, like you matter, like this means something.

“I’m close,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “Cassie, I’m...”

“Let go,” she whispers against your ear. “I’ve got you.”

Her fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars, and her thumb presses harder against your clit. The pleasure builds and builds, a wave cresting higher and higher, until it finally breaks.

You come with a cry, your body arching off the bed, pleasure washing through you in pulses. Cassie works you through it, her movements gentling as you come down, and when you finally open your eyes, she’s looking at you with such tenderness that you feel tears slip down your temples.

“Hey,” she says softly, withdrawing her hand carefully and wiping it on the sheets. “You okay?”

“I’m...” Your voice cracks. “That was incredible.”

She smiles, leaning down to kiss you gently. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You reach up to cup her face, your thumb brushing across her cheekbone. “Your turn.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You sit up, guiding her onto her back. “I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

Cassie nods, and you can see the trust in her eyes, the vulnerability. You help her out of her bra and underwear, taking your time, memorizing every inch of skin revealed. When she’s finally naked beneath you, you just look at her for a moment, overwhelmed by how much you feel.

“You’re thinking too much,” she says gently, reaching up to touch your face. “Just feel.”

So you do. You kiss her deeply, your hands exploring her body, the soft weight of her breasts, the curve of her hip, the smooth skin of her inner thigh. When you finally touch her between her legs, she’s just as wet as you were, and the knowledge that you did this to her, that she wants you this much, makes your head spin.

“Show me what you like,” you murmur against her lips. “Guide me.”

She takes your hand, positioning your fingers where she needs them, showing you the pressure and rhythm she prefers. You follow her lead, watching her face for cues, adjusting when she gasps or moans. It’s a conversation without words, a dance of give and take, and when you slide two fingers inside her, she cries out your name.

“Yes,” she breathes. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You work her with steady strokes, your thumb finding her clit, and she rocks into your hand, chasing her pleasure. Her hands grip your shoulders, her nails digging in slightly, and you love it. Love the evidence of her need, her abandon.

“I’m gonna...” she gasps, her body tensing. “Oh God, I’m...”

She comes hard, her inner walls clenching around your fingers, her whole body shaking with it. You watch her face, awed by the beauty of her pleasure, and when she finally goes limp beneath you, you withdraw carefully and gather her into your arms.

For a long moment, you just hold each other, hearts racing, skin slick with sweat. Cassie’s face is buried in your neck, and you can feel her smiling against your skin.

“That was...” she starts.

“Yeah,” you agree. “It really was.”

She pulls back to look at you, and there’s something in her expression, joy and fear and hope all tangled together. “We just...”

“We did.” You brush a strand of hair from her face. “And I don’t regret it. Do you?”

“No.” She says it firmly, without hesitation. “Not even a little bit.”

You kiss her softly, and it feels like a promise. Like a beginning.

You still don’t have all the answers. You still don’t know what you are, what this means, where it’s going.

But lying here in Cassie’s bed, her body warm against yours, her heartbeat steady beneath your palm, you know this is real.

This matters.

And maybe that’s enough for now.

Three weeks later, the ER is experiencing one of those rare lulls that makes everyone nervous. The calm before the storm, Dana calls it, eyeing the board with suspicion. But for now, the trauma bays are empty, the waiting room manageable, and you’ve been given a fifteen-minute break.

You’re not thinking about rest when you slip into the residents’ locker room.

Cassie’s already there, leaning against her locker, still in her scrubs. The moment she sees you, her eyes darken with that look you’ve come to recognize, the one that makes heat pool low in your belly.

“Hey,” she says, her voice dropping an octave.

“Hey yourself.” You lock the door behind you, heart already racing. “We shouldn’t.”

“Probably not.” She crosses to you in three strides, her hands finding your waist, backing you against the cold metal lockers. “But are we going to?”

The impact of your back hitting the locker makes a soft clang, and you gasp. “God, yes.”

She kisses you hard, all tongue and teeth and barely restrained hunger. It’s different from those first tentative kisses. This is confident, demanding. Her thigh slots between yours, pressing up, and you moan into her mouth.

“Shh,” she murmurs against your lips, but she’s smiling. “Someone might hear.”

“Then maybe you should stop making me want to scream,” you shoot back, your hands fisting in her scrub top, pulling her closer.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Her mouth moves to your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point, and your knees nearly buckle. “I love the sounds you make.”

Your hands slide up into her hair, tugging slightly, and she groans. “Fuck, do that again.”

You do, harder this time, and she rocks against you, her breath hot against your throat. “Cassie, we have maybe ten minutes.”

“Then we better make them count.” Her hand slides under your scrub top, fingers splaying across your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “Tell me what you want.”

The directness of it, the confidence in her voice, makes you dizzy with want. Three weeks ago, you would’ve been too shy to answer. Now, you meet her eyes and say, “Touch me. Please.”

“Here?” Her hand moves higher, cupping you through your bra, and you arch into her touch. “Or here?” Her other hand slides down, pressing between your legs through the thin fabric of your scrubs, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“Both,” you gasp. “Everywhere. I don’t care, just...”

She kisses you again, swallowing your words, her hands working you with practiced ease. You’re already wet, already desperate, and when she slips her hand inside your scrub pants, inside your underwear, you break the kiss to bury your face in her shoulder, muffling your moan.

“So wet already,” she whispers in your ear, her fingers circling your clit with maddening lightness. “Were you thinking about this during rounds? About me touching you?”

“Yes,” you admit breathlessly. “God, Cassie, yes. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Good.” She increases the pressure, and your hips buck into her hand. “Because I’ve been thinking about you too. About how you taste. How you sound when you come. How fucking beautiful you are when you let go.”

The dirty talk is new, something you’ve both been experimenting with, and it works embarrassingly well. You’re already close, wound tight from weeks of stolen touches and heated glances across the ER.

“I’m gonna...” you start, but then you hear footsteps in the hallway outside.

You both freeze. Cassie’s hand stills, though she doesn’t withdraw, and you hold your breath as someone walks past the door. The footsteps fade, and you let out a shaky laugh.

“That was close,” you whisper.

“Too close.” But Cassie’s grinning, her eyes bright with mischief and arousal. “We should stop.”

“We really should.” You rock against her hand, making your intentions clear. “But we’re not going to, are we?”

“Absolutely not.” She resumes her movements, faster now, more purposeful. “Come for me. Quick and quiet. Can you do that?”

You nod, biting down on her shoulder to muffle the sounds threatening to escape. Her fingers work you expertly, and it only takes another minute before you’re coming, your body shaking, your teeth leaving marks in her scrub top.

When you finally come down, she withdraws her hand carefully, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking them clean. The sight makes you want to start all over again.

“Your turn,” you say, already reaching for her.

“No time.” She kisses you softly, and you can taste yourself on her lips. “Rain check?”

“Definitely.” You straighten your scrubs, trying to make yourself presentable. “My place tonight?”

“I’ll bring dinner.” She unlocks the door, checking the hallway before turning back to you with a smile that’s pure sin. “And dessert.”

You watch her leave, your body still humming with pleasure, and think about how far you’ve come in three weeks. How much bolder you’ve gotten. How much more comfortable in your own skin.

You still don’t have all the answers. But you’re learning to be okay with that.

Your apartment is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and Cassie’s, both of you still coming down from the high. The sheets are tangled around your legs, and her head rests on your chest, her hair tickling your collarbone. Your fingers trace lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, and for a long moment, everything feels perfect.

Then Cassie speaks, her voice small in the darkness.

“What happens if this ends badly?”

Your hand stills. “What?”

She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow to look at you. Even in the dim light from the streetlamp outside, you can see the worry etched in her features. “I’m serious. What happens if we do this, whatever this is, and it doesn’t work out? What happens to us?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut because you’ve been thinking the same thing. Lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, imagining all the ways this could fall apart.

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly.

“That’s what scares me.” She sits up fully now, pulling the sheet around herself. “You’re my best friend. The person I trust more than anyone. And if we fuck this up, if I fuck this up, I lose you. Not just as... whatever we are now. But as my friend. As the person who knows me.”

Your chest tightens. “Cassie...”

“I’ve lost people before,” she continues, and there’s a rawness in her voice that makes your heart ache. “I’ve burned bridges. Pushed away everyone who cared about me. And I worked so hard to be different, to be better. But what if I’m not? What if I’m still that person who destroys good things?”

You sit up, reaching for her hand. “You’re not that person anymore.”

“How do you know?” Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “How do you know I won’t hurt you? That I won’t wake up one day and realize I can’t do this, and you’ll hate me for it?”

“Because I know you.” You squeeze her hand. “And even if this doesn’t work out romantically, I could never hate you. You’re too important to me.”

“But what if you do?” The tears spill over now, tracking down her cheeks. “What if I’m not enough, or I’m too much, or I want things you can’t give me? What if someone at the hospital finds out and judges us, and it makes everything complicated? What if...”

You pull her into your arms, cutting off the spiral of what-ifs. She buries her face in your neck, and you feel her tears hot against your skin.

“I’m scared too,” you whisper into her hair. “You’re my best friend. The person who saw me falling apart and didn’t run. And the thought of losing you, of this changing things between us in a way we can’t come back from... it keeps me up at night.”

She pulls back to look at you, her face blotchy and vulnerable. “Then why are we doing this?”

“Because it feels right.” You cup her face, your thumbs brushing away her tears. “Because when I’m with you like this, I feel more myself than I ever have. Because I’d rather take this risk with you than spend the rest of my life wondering what if.”

Cassie lets out a shaky breath. “I’ve been with other people. Men, women, everything in between. But it never felt like this. It never felt like I had something real to lose.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know.” She laughs wetly. “It’s terrifying. Every other relationship I’ve had, there was always an exit strategy. A way out. But with you... I don’t want an exit strategy. I want to stay. And that scares the shit out of me.”

You understand exactly what she means. The vulnerability of wanting something this much. Of caring about someone enough that losing them would actually break you.

“What if we promise each other something?” you say slowly. “What if we promise that no matter what happens, whether this works out or not, we don’t lose each other completely. We find a way back to friendship, even if it takes time.”

Cassie searches your face. “You think we could do that?”

“I think we have to try.” You press your forehead to hers. “Because losing you would destroy me. But not trying, not exploring this thing between us... I think that would destroy me too.”

She closes her eyes, and you feel her breath shudder out. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay. We try. We’re honest with each other. And if it gets too hard, if we start to lose ourselves or each other, we talk about it. We don’t just run.”

“We don’t run,” you agree.

She kisses you then, soft and salty from her tears. It’s not passionate or heated. It’s something deeper. A promise. A commitment to honesty, to vulnerability, to trying even when it’s terrifying.

When she pulls back, she’s smiling slightly. “We’re really bad at this whole casual thing, aren’t we?”

You laugh, the tension breaking. “The worst.”

“Good.” She settles back against your chest, her arm draped across your waist. “I don’t want casual with you anyway.”

You hold her close, your heart still racing but somehow lighter.

You still don’t have all the answers. You still don’t know if this’ll work or how you’ll navigate the complications.

But lying here in the darkness, Cassie’s heartbeat steady against your ribs, you think maybe the uncertainty is okay. Maybe the fear is just proof that this matters.

That she matters.

And that’s enough for tonight.

Saturday morning light filters through Cassie’s bedroom curtains, soft and golden. You’re both exhausted from the overnight shift, twelve hours of chaos that ended at seven in the morning, but neither of you can sleep. There’s too much energy crackling between you, too much want that’s been building for weeks.

You’re lying face to face on her bed, still in the clothes you threw on after showering at the hospital. Her hand traces lazy patterns on your hip, and every touch feels electric.

“I want you,” Cassie says quietly, her green eyes dark with desire. “All of you. I want to feel you everywhere.”

Your breath catches. You know what she’s asking. What she’s offering. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She leans in, kissing you softly. “But only if you want to. We can keep doing what we’ve been doing. There’s no pressure.”

You think about the past month, the stolen kisses, the heated touches, the way she’s made you come apart with her fingers and her mouth. It’s been incredible. But there’s been this edge of wanting more, of wanting to be as close to her as physically possible.

“I want to,” you whisper against her lips. “I want all of you too.”

Her smile is radiant. “Yeah?”

“God, yes.” You kiss her harder, your hands already pulling at her shirt. “I need you, Cassie. I need to feel you.”

She helps you pull her shirt over her head, then reaches for yours. Within moments, you’re both naked, skin to skin, and the sensation makes you gasp. You’ve been naked together before, but this feels different. More intentional. More significant.

Cassie’s hands slide down your sides, mapping every curve, every dip. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs, her mouth trailing kisses along your jaw, down your neck. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“You do,” you breathe, arching into her touch. “You have me. All of me.”

Her mouth finds your breast, tongue circling your nipple, and you moan. Your hands tangle in her hair, holding her close as she lavishes attention on first one breast, then the other. The pleasure builds slowly, a warm tide rising through your body.

“Cassie,” you gasp. “Please.”

She pulls back to look at you, her lips swollen, her eyes hungry. “Tell me what you need.”

“You. Inside me. I need to feel you inside me.”

Her breath hitches. “Okay. Okay, yeah.” She reaches for her nightstand, pulling open the drawer. “I have... do you want to use a strap? Or fingers? Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

The question makes your heart race. You’ve thought about this, fantasized about it during long shifts when you couldn’t stop thinking about her. “The strap,” you say, your voice shaky with want. “I want to feel you fuck me.”

The crude words make her groan. “Jesus, you’re going to kill me.” She pulls out a harness and a silicone dildo, nothing too large, but substantial enough to feel. “This okay?”

You nod, watching as she steps into the harness, adjusting the straps. The sight of her like this, confident, powerful, the toy jutting from her hips, makes you clench with need.

“Come here,” she says, settling back on the bed and pulling you into her lap. You straddle her thighs, the toy pressing against your stomach, and she kisses you deeply. Her hands roam your body, your breasts, your waist, your ass, and you rock against her, desperate for friction.

“I need to get you ready,” she murmurs, her hand sliding between your legs. You’re already wet, have been since you walked into her apartment, but she takes her time anyway. Two fingers slide inside you easily, and she works you with practiced skill, her thumb circling your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, riding her hand. “Cassie, I’m ready. I’m so ready.”

“I want to make sure.” But she’s breathing hard too, her control fraying. She adds a third finger, stretching you, and the sensation makes you cry out. “That’s it. Take it. You’re doing so good.”

The praise makes you clench around her fingers, and she groans. “You like that? Like when I tell you how good you are?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “God, yes.”

She withdraws her fingers, and you whine at the loss. But then she’s reaching for the lube, slicking up the toy, and anticipation coils tight in your belly.

“How do you want it?” she asks, her voice rough. “Like this, with you on top? Or do you want me over you?”

“On top,” you decide. “I want to see your face.”

She helps you shift, laying you back against the pillows. She settles between your spread thighs, the toy pressing against your entrance, and looks down at you with such tenderness that your chest aches.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” she says, positioning herself. “We go at your pace.”

“Okay.” You reach up to cup her face. “I trust you.”

She pushes in slowly, and the stretch makes you gasp. It’s bigger than her fingers, fuller, and for a moment it’s almost too much. But then your body adjusts, opening for her, and the pleasure starts to build.

“Okay?” she checks, holding still.

“More,” you breathe. “Give me more.”

She sinks in deeper, inch by inch, until she’s fully seated inside you. You both moan at the sensation. You at the fullness, her at the sight of you taking her so completely.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” she groans. “Look at you, taking my cock so well.”

The dirty talk makes you clench around her, and she starts to move. Slow, deep strokes that hit something perfect inside you. Your hands grip her shoulders, your nails digging in as the pleasure builds.

“Harder,” you gasp. “Cassie, please, harder.”

She braces herself on her forearms and picks up the pace, her hips snapping against yours. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed with your moans and her ragged breathing. The base of the toy grinds against her clit with each thrust, and you can see the pleasure building in her face too.

“Touch yourself,” she commands, her voice strained. “I want to feel you come around me.”

You slide your hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. The added stimulation makes you cry out, your back arching off the bed. Cassie leans down to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as she fucks you harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” you gasp against her lips. “Cassie, I’m so close.”

“Come for me,” she breathes. “Let me feel it. Let me see you fall apart.”

The orgasm hits you like a wave, pleasure crashing through your body in pulses. You cry out her name, your inner walls clenching around the toy, and she works you through it, her movements gentling as you come down.

When you finally open your eyes, she’s looking at you with such awe that it makes you want to cry.

“That was...” you start, but she kisses you softly.

“I know,” she whispers. “I know.”

She pulls out carefully, and you whimper at the loss. But then you’re pushing her onto her back, straddling her hips, and her eyes widen.

“Your turn,” you say, reaching for the harness. “I want to make you feel good too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You help her out of the harness, tossing it aside, and slide down her body. “I want to taste you. Is that okay?”

“God, yes.” Her hands tangle in your hair as you settle between her thighs. “Please.”

You take your time, exploring her with your tongue. She’s soaking wet, and the taste of her makes you moan. You find the rhythm she likes, the pressure that makes her hips buck, and you work her with single-minded focus.

“Fuck,” she gasps, her thighs trembling. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You add two fingers, curling them inside her, and she comes with a cry, her whole body shaking. You work her through it, gentling your movements as she comes down, and when you finally pull back, she’s looking at you with tears in her eyes.

“Come here,” she says, pulling you up into her arms. You settle against her chest, both of you sweaty and satisfied, and she presses a kiss to your forehead. “That was incredible. You’re incredible.”

“So are you.” You trace patterns on her stomach, feeling her heartbeat slow beneath your palm. “I’ve never felt like this before. So connected to someone.”

“Me neither.” Her arms tighten around you. “This is different. You’re different.”

You lie there in the golden morning light, wrapped in each other, and something settles in your chest. Not certainty. You still don’t have all the answers. But something close to peace.

“I think I’m falling for you,” you whisper, the confession slipping out before you can stop it.

Cassie’s breath catches. Then she tilts your chin up, making you meet her eyes. “I think I’m falling for you too,” she says softly. “And that’s terrifying. But also... kind of wonderful?”

You smile, leaning up to kiss her. “Yeah. It really is.”

You still don’t know what you are. What labels fit, if any. What the future holds.

But lying here in Cassie’s arms, your bodies still humming with pleasure, your hearts beating in sync, you know this is real.

This matters.

And maybe that’s all you need to know for now.

The rooftop door creaks the same way it did a month ago, and the sound makes you smile.

Some things don’t change, even when everything else does.

Cassie’s already there, leaning against the low wall, silhouetted against the burnt orange sky. The sun sets over Pittsburgh in shades of gold, pink, and purple. She’s still in her scrubs from the day shift, hair loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” you say, crossing to her side.

She turns, smiling. “Hey yourself.”

She reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers through hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it is now.

For a while, you stand together in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink lower.

A month ago, this rooftop was where you talked about labels, fear, and not knowing. A month ago, Pride Month was still approaching, distant and theoretical.

Now June is bleeding into the sky above Pittsburgh, and it feels real.

So do you.

“Hard to believe it’s been a month,” Cassie says.

“Feels longer,” you say. “And like no time at all.”

She turns to face you. “Remember what you said to me that night? About feeling lost?”

You nod.

You remember the fear in your voice. The certainty that something was wrong with you because you didn’t have yourself figured out.

“And now?” she asks.

You think about the past month. The conversations. The exploration. The fear. The laughter. The way Cassie helped you feel less like a problem to solve and more like a person allowed to become.

“Now I think maybe there’s no manual,” you say slowly. “Or if there is, it’s different for everyone. And that’s okay.”

Cassie smiles. “Yeah. It is.”

“I still don’t have all the answers,” you continue. “Some days I think I might be bi. Some days pan feels right. Some days I don’t want a label at all. But I’m learning that’s allowed.”

“It is allowed.” She steps closer, cupping your cheek. “You’re allowed to not know. To change your mind. To be complicated.”

“So are you,” you remind her.

“I know.” She laughs softly. “I’m trying to give myself the same grace.”

You lean into her touch. “What about us?”

It’s the question you’ve both circled for weeks.

Cassie doesn’t look away.

“I don’t know what we are,” she says honestly. “A month ago, that would’ve terrified me. I would’ve needed to define it. But now I think we’re just... us. Two people who care about each other deeply. Who want each other. Who are figuring things out together. Maybe that’s enough of a definition for now.”

Relief washes through you.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I think it is.”

The city lights flicker on below, one by one.

“I’ve learned so much this month,” you say. “About myself. About what I want. About how to be vulnerable without falling apart.”

“Me too.” Cassie wraps her arms around your waist. “You taught me it’s okay to want something without knowing exactly what it means. That I can be scared and brave at the same time.”

“We taught each other,” you say.

She rests her forehead against yours. “Yeah. We did.”

You stand there as the last sunlight fades, holding each other in the gathering dark.

A month ago, uncertainty felt like drowning.

Now it feels like freedom.

The freedom to explore. To change. To be exactly who you are in this moment without needing to know who you’ll be forever.

“So what happens now?” you ask.

Cassie pulls back enough to look at you. “We keep going. One day at a time. No pressure. No expectations. Just honesty.”

“No labels unless we want them?”

“No labels unless we want them,” she confirms. “And if we want them someday, we figure it out together.”

You think about the future. How you’ll navigate work. What you’ll call yourselves. Whether this will last or shift into something else.

A month ago, those unknowns would’ve terrified you.

Now they feel like possibilities.

“I’m glad it’s you,” you whisper. “I’m glad I get to figure this out with you.”

“Me too.” She kisses you softly. “You’re my best friend. And you’re also more. Whatever that means. However that looks. I’m just glad you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you say. “And you’re mine. For however long this lasts, in whatever form it takes.”

“One day at a time,” she murmurs.

“One day at a time,” you echo.

The rooftop door opens behind you, and voices drift into the air. Other residents coming up to breathe.

You and Cassie step apart slightly, but you don’t let go of her hand.

You’re not hiding.

You’re simply keeping this new thing private for now. Sacred.

Maybe during Pride, you’ll be ready to be louder about this. About her. About who you’re becoming.

But tonight, this quiet certainty is enough.

“Come on,” Cassie says, tugging you toward the door. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll make dinner at my place.”

“Yeah?” You follow her, heart light. “What are we having?”

“No idea,” she says. “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

You laugh because that’s perfect.

No plan.

No predetermined outcome.

Just the two of you, figuring it out as you go.

As you descend the stairs, leaving the rooftop and sunset behind, you realize you’re not afraid anymore. Not of the uncertainty. Not of the questions. Not of the future.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

And when she saw that you actually had shaved, she cleared her throat before saying anything. You bit your bottom lip as you scanned her reaction. You weren’t sure how she felt— you were sure she felt like that, too. She seemed very confused.

“Alright,” She said, her hand dove deep into her curly black hair. “You shaved your bush.” She said in a louder voice. You nodded, your teeth still stuck in your lip. Diana pressed a kiss into your kneecap. “It’s okay— not the end of the world, nor is it the end of your bush, right?”

“Yes, yes, right.” You replied, trying not to laugh.

“You make fun of me, my love, but you don’t understand how I feel about all of this right now.” A shiver went down your body when she pressed her finger on your bare pussy. “Next time you decide to do it, do not— For me, at least.”

₊⊹ TALIA AL GHUL: DISAPPOINTED

“You shaved your bush?”

You could never forget the emotions etched into her voice. The frustration was flowing through her eyes and mouth, her frown got deeper every second she thought about your action.

“Talia, my love,” You grabbed her arms lightly, shaking her a little bit to make her look at you. “I thought you’d like it.”

You tried to console her but with your words she frowned even deeper. “Have I given you the impression that I didn’t like your bush?”

“God, no,” You sighed. You felt her hand snake around you and grab your waist, pulling your body towards herself. Her breath hit your face, she was so close to you. “It’s just I wanted to try something new, something I’ve never tried before.”

Her hand on your waist was rigid, holding you right where you were. You weren’t complaining. There was nothing more you liked than being on her arms like this. “Oh, Beloved, please don’t give me a heart attack like this again.”

You kissed her cheek, pressing your lips to her skin to stop yourself from laughing at her reaction. “As you wish, my love.”

₊⊹ KARA ZOR-EL: SARCASTIC

“You shaved it?” She asked. “All of it?” She patted Krypto’s head, who had been running around for attention.

“Yes, Kara, all of it.”

Krypto finally sat down and threw his body over Kara, who didn’t look like believed you. You knew so well her relationship with your cunt, especially your bush. She loved the feeling of it brushing her skin as she ate you out. She loved it when it tangled into her fingers she was rubbing the most sensitive parts of your body. She loved—

“But why?”

“Well, I… don’t really know. Wanted to try something out I guess.”

She gently pushed Krypto to the couch and got up to get in front of you. She held your hands, pulling you closer. You could smell the scent of the city all over her. Her Supergirl suit was still on…

“My darling, beautiful, amazing lover,” Kara thought a little more adjectives but then gave up. “Please, don’t do it again.” Kara’s palm made contact with your cheek. “I miss her already.”

“Stop talking like that!” You tried to pushed her but she didn’t move. You saw her grin on her face. “You know it makes me feel weird, Kara.”

“What? Treating your body like a goddess’ statue? You know I’ll never stop doing it.”

Even though it made you burn up with embarrassment, you liked it when she did it.

Kara tickled your side, “Promise you won’t even think about it again?” She held up her pinkie in front of your face.

“Is this a threat from the big bad Supergirl?”

“Nope. But can be if you make it to be. So… promise?”

You linked your pinkie with hers and nodded. “Promise.”

₊⊹ ZATANNA ZATARA: FLIRTY

It was right before her night show that Zatanna had realized you shaved earlier that day. She couldn’t have the time to make any comments about it because of the show— but after it, she came up to you before you could even congratulate her.

“So,” She said as she caught you in between her body and her vanity. Her hands were on the table, right next to you and her face was so, so close to yours. You were burning up. “You shaved, huh?” She had a crooked smile.

What was she planning?

One of her hands flied right into your hair and her fingers twirled your hair around. “I have.” You nodded. “You’re mad or something?”

“I might be,” She shrugged. “But… I am so happy right now. So, I am not giving you what you exactly want.”

When you tried to hug her waist, you felt your hands pulled down to your sides. Her magic. Your breath got caught in your lungs— You were getting excited.

She always knew how to elicit something from you.

“And what do I exactly want, Zee?”

Her fingers in your hair carried themselves to your chin, and she held your face like it was something precious like diamonds. Your eyes were wandering in between her eyes and lips.

“You want me to be mad at you— Mad enough to punish you, maybe.” She pecked your lips. “Not tonight, baby.” Her finger slipped over your lips. “I can’t be mad at you right now, but if you really want me to be mean, I can be.”

“Oh god, Zee…” Your lips caressed her finger tip as you spoke. “I love how well you know me.”

“Can say the same about you.”

You blinked and when you opened your eyes, you were in her bed.

₊⊹ STEPHANIE BROWN: ANGRY

“You did what?” Her shouts made you laugh. You threw your head back into the pillow as you giggled at her. She gently slapped the inside of your thigh. “Stop laughing, this is murder!”

Stephanie averted her eyes from your face and checked your pussy again to understand if she was seeing wrong or not.

She was not having a nightmare. You actually, really shaved your bush.

“No…” She whispered against your now bald skin.

“Steph, it’s not that bad.” You tried to make her look at you but she didn’t look up. “Also, it will grow back.”

“You better keep it.” She pushed herself up and climbed over your body, placing herself right on top of you. Her curls were flowing down and covering your face like a curtain.

“I will, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes when she lifted one of her brows in disbelief. “I don’t like how it is right now, so I really, really won’t.” When her pout got bigger you grabbed her cheeks. “Steph! I promise, baby.”

“Ugh, fine, fine! But if you butcher your bush again, I will put a sex ban on you.”

You sighed. “That’s fair.”

then your back starts to ache, and you realize you’re on the floor. one of your legs is tangled in a blanket that smells like someone awfully familiar.

cassie.

you sit up too fast and immediately regret it, your head pounding from last nights drinks.

“fuck,” you whisper, pressing a hand over your eyes.

memories of the night before come back wrong. a bit bent around the edges. your boyfriend confessing to you that he finds you difficult, you storming out onto the deck, cassie appearing behind you and then everything after dissolves into static.

you look around slowly, your pounding head trying to piece the clues of where you were together. not your room. definitely not your room.

there’s a duffel bag next to the dresser. you spot black jeans thrown over a chair, and silver rings lined up on the nightstand. your stomach drops.

“oh my god.”

you look beside you quickly, but the space was empty. cassie wasn’t laying next to you, she wasn’t even on the bed.

before you could stop yourself, your brain gives possibilities faster than you can stop it. thoughts of having sex with cassie flooded your mind, but no, no, you’d remember that. wouldn’t you?

it takes everything in you to push yourself up, still wrapped halfway in the blanket, and stumble toward the door.

the energy in the cabin is quieter than it was last night. you can hear soft chatter downstairs, cabinets opening and closing, a coffee machine sputtering.

“you sleep well?”

cassie stood at the end of the hallway holding a mug of coffee. her hair was wet and pulled back messily, dark circles under her eyes like she barely slept. she’s already dressed, in a white shirt and blue jeans.

“yeah, uh,” you rub at your forehead. “why was i sleeping on your floor?”

cassie looks down at her mug. “well, you were drunk. you had an argument with your boyfriend.”

“right.” you whispered, then paused looking down at your feet then back up at her. “did we…like-did something happen?”

cassie’s shoulders tensed. if she told you the truth, there was no going back. and looking at you right now, oblivious and bracing for the worst, a wave of hesitation hit her.

tell her.

tell her i held her wrist against my heart for three hours because i was too weak to push her away.

“cassie?” you spoke, a little more anxious this time. “oh god. did i do something stupid?”

cassie couldn’t look at you now. she had about three seconds to choose her lie or her truth.

“no,” she says quickly. “no, nothing happened.”

a lie that tasted weird on her lips, the same lips that remembers yours from a couple hours ago. the same lips that kissed her first, tasting of everything that was bound to ruin her.

cassie’s body close to yours while you curled beside her on the floor sometime after three in the morning, your voice wrecked with sleep when you whispered

you don’t have to leave me behind to fix yourself, cass. you can change, but you can still choose me

“you needed somewhere to sleep,” she says.

you stare at her for another second, trying to read something in her face, you nod, a wave of relief washing over you as you take her word for it. you actually believe her. you think you just fell asleep.

“okay,” you breathe, offering a small smile. “good. i was worried i made a fool of myself.”

“never,” cassie says, her thumb tracing the ceramic rim of her mug over and over, trying to forget the exact pressure of your lips against hers.

-

after taking a hot shower to help relax your muscles, you find your boyfriend in the kitchen downstairs digging through the cabinets when you finally decide to rejoin society.

he looks like he’s had a rough night as well. his hair was sticking up everywhere, and he was wearing sunglasses indoors like an idiot.

he spots you immediately, and his entire body stills. he’s frozen mid reach, one hand gripped around a box of cereal, the dark lenses of his sunglasses completely hiding his eyes, but you can feel the exact weight of his stare anyway.

he slowly lowers the cereal box onto the counter, his movements stiff, like he's trying not to make any noises that might hurt his own head.

“morning,” he says. he doesn't move towards you, just stays near the kitchen counter, watching you hover until you land near him.

he clears his throat, trying and failing to look casual. “you, uh... you want some water?”

you don’t respond.

parker, who was sitting on the kitchen island eating cereal, slips awkwardly past you and disappears outside the second she sensed the tension.

your boyfriend exhales through his nose. “where did you go last night?”

“i don’t think i owe you that answer.”

his face pinches. “are we still doing this?”

“you talked about me like i’m some kid. so yeah, we’re still doing this.”

“i was drunk.”

“and?”

“and you were yelling at me,” he snaps, his voice rising enough to make him wince.

“you’re unbelievable,” you scoff.

“i don’t even remember half the fight.”

“well, i do.”

that finally gets him to look at you properly. he reaches up, pulling the sunglasses off his face with an annoyed grunt, letting them drop onto the counter with a clatter.

there’s something in his face. not remorse. more like irritation that this is continuing into the morning, that he has to deal with the consequences of a night he already crossed off.

“you can’t say shit like that,” you say quietly, the coldness in your voice surprises you. “and then expect me to excuse you because you had a couple drinks?”

he laughs quietly, looking away toward the window. “okay.”

“no, seriously. you’re a piece of shit.”

he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t defend himself, he doesn’t even move. the only sign that he heard you was the way his bloodshot eyes slightly squinted.

“a piece of shit,” he repeats. his voice is flat.

he takes a step back, leaning against the sink, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. there’s no apology in his posture. he’s just digging his heels in, the irritation turning into something bitter.

“i was drunk, you were drunk. we had an argument. it happens. but you have to turn it into some grand act because god forbid you ever just let something go,” he says, a humorless smile at the corner of his mouth.

before you got the chance to respond, cassie walks around the corner, stopping short at the sight of the both of you.

she takes in the scene, you standing by him, your boyfriend holding the edge of the sink with his jaw clenched.

“oh,” cassie says, her eyes darting between you and him. she holds a set of keys, her fingers wrapping around them to stop them from jingling. “sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt. i was looking for my jacket.”

your boyfriend blinks, his face going back into something softer than the glare he had on. he clears his throat, as if he hadn’t just been on the verge of a rage fit.

“hey,” he says. “no, you’re fine. we were…getting breakfast started.”

cassie doesn’t look at him. her eyes lock onto yours, checking the look in your eyes, silently asking if you were okay. she stays right where she is.

“actually,” cassie says, keeping her gaze on you, “i was hoping you'd come up and help me look for it?”

“yeah, of course,” you say.

you don't look back at your boyfriend as you move away from the counter. you walk right past him, your shoulder barely missing his, but you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. he doesn’t say anything to stop you.

cassie steps back into the hallway to give you space, then turns to walk beside you as you head toward the stairs. she keeps her pace matched to yours, her shoulder brushing against yours as you climb up.

when you finally reach the top of the stairs, cassie stops in the hallway, looking at you.

“you don’t actually have to help me find the jacket,” she says quietly, so your boyfriend wouldn’t be able to hear. “i know where it is.”

“i figured.”

“i heard what he said,” she says with no hesitation in her voice, no carefulness around your relationship status. “he’s a jerk.”

“yeah. i told him he was a piece of shit”

“you did?” cassie’s eyebrows shot up, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“yeah.”

“good.” she says softly, reaching out, her hand hovering before her fingers gently catch your sleeve, tugging you toward her room. “come here.”

she pulls you inside and shuts the door behind you. the room is exactly how you left it a few minutes ago, the blankets on the floor where you layed with cassie still there.

cassie doesn't go back to the bed. she stays by the door, leaning her back against it, watching you as you sink down onto the edge of her mattress.

then she walks over, sitting down on the floor right in front of you, crossing her legs.

“are you okay?” she asks, looking up at you.

“i don’t know,” you shrug.

your mind tugs at the blank space in your memory again. the blurry image of her face close to yours, the smell of her shirt.

“cassie,” you say, her name slipping out before you can stop it.

“yeah?”

“are you sure nothing happened last night?” you look at her closely.

cassie freezes. she doesn’t look away, she never looks away, but her throat moves as she swallows.

“you don't remember,” she says, her voice almost a breath. it’s not a question.

“i remember some bits,” you admit, your heart starting to hammer against your ribs. “i remember being on the floor. i remember... getting closer to you. did i do something?”

cassie feels her heartbeat everywhere at once.

she should tell you.

she should just tell you the truth. you kissed her. your hands were shaking when you did it. you looked at her like you were terrified of still wanting her and did it anyway.

she knows exactly what happens if she says it out loud. the night comes ripping back open and every old wound with it. every moment the two of you spent pretending this thing between you was manageable as long as nobody acknowledged it directly.

you barely survived it the first time.

neither of you did, really.

her mind flashes to the feeling of your mouth against hers, soft for a second before it became desperate. like you were trying to say something you didn’t know how to say sober.

and god, she wanted to answer you.

what if you regret it, if you pull away, apologize, decide it was just the alcohol, cassie genuinely doesn’t think she can survive reopening this just to lose it again.

so she lies to you.

“we just talked. you were really upset about the fight, and you fell asleep,” she says easily, reaching out and giving your knee a reassuring squeeze before pulling her hand back. “that’s it. i promise.”

a knock on the door interrupted the moment, your boyfriend’s voice from the other end made cassie back away from you.

“babe? can we just go home? we’re both exhausted. let’s just get in the car and talk about this on the way back.”

cassie looks back at you. “you don’t have to go with him.”

“unfortunately, i live with him,” you say, eyes dropping to your hands.

“no, i mean i can take you home,” cassie offers, lowering her voice so your boyfriend wouldn’t hear the two of you talking.

“but what about your–”

“this isn’t about her, she’s not even my girlfriend,” cassie interrupts and studies your hesitation for a moment. “you can say no.”

“i don’t know if it’s a good idea. i mean i haven’t-we haven’t been around each other for longer than an hour in years.”

“you can say no.” cassie repeats.

you look at her then, really look at her. the way she was sat in front of you silently wanting you to say yes and be hers again even if it’s just for a couple lf hours.

“okay, yes,” you nod quicker than expected.

“baby?” your boyfriend calls.

cassie gets up and heads for the door, pulling it open and watches the way your boyfriend straightens up at the sight of her. “i’m driving her back.”

her lets out a dry laugh. “thanks cassie but we live together. so i don’t really see the point in that.”

“i don’t want to get in a car with you,” you say, feeling the coldness returning to your body.

“come on baby,” he steps forward, his face pinching with irritation. “you’re going to make a scene over a stupid argument? come on. let's go home.”

cassie steps right in front of him. “you heard her. she he just said no. if you want to go home, go. she can crash at my place tonight.”

your boyfriend stands dumbfounded, looking from cassie, to you, and back to cassie.

“when did you two get so close?” he asks, his voice dropping.

when did you two get close? it feels like a trick question. two years ago. a humid month in a beat up car, driving through state lines until we ran out of road and ended up in a motel.

i spent months putting myself back together after she hurt me, eventually finding something stable, with the man standing waiting fir me now.

and yet, looking at cassie right now, the anger and the memory of that abandonment are fighting with the realization that even after two years of silence, one night on her floor was all it took to pull you right back into her orbit.

cassie had spent those two years pretending she didn’t regret it. hut seeing you end up with a guy like this who makes you look this small is a sickening mirror. cassie knows she doesn't have the right to be the protector here. she knows she gave up that right the second she walked out. but looking at the exhaustion in your eyes, she realizes she’d rather face the wreckage of your past than let you spend one more night with a man that didn’t deserve you. even if she didn’t deserve you either.

you boyfriend scoffs and looks past cassie's shoulder, trying to lock eyes with you. “you're going to crash at a stranger’s house because of a stupid argument? grow up.”

“fuck you. i am grown,” you say, your voice finally finding its stability, shaking just enough to betray the adrenaline spiking in your veins. “that's why i'm leaving.”

“fine,” he snaps. “go. play whatever little game you're playing. but don't expect me to be waiting around when you realize you're being ridiculous.”

he doesn't wait for a response. he storms back into the hallway. the heavy thud of the front door slamming shut echoes through the house.

and then, it’s just the two of you.

you look at cassie's back, your heart hammering against your ribs.

cassie slowly turns around to look at you.

“my car's out back,” she says quietly, her voice now soft in a way that always undid you. “let's get your stuff.”

-

you lean your head against the cold window and watch buildings streak by. the adrenaline from earlier has burned out of your system, leaving nothing behind except that awful hurt spreading through your chest.

“you can take the bedroom tonight,” cassie says so quietly you almost miss it. her eyes never leave the road. “i’ll sleep on the couch.”

“cassie, no.” your voice comes out raw. “it’s your house. i can take the couch.”

“i’m not making you sleep on a couch,” her tone stubborn and soft at the same time. “let me do this. please.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, looking over at her. she’s being good to you and it only drives you more into confusion.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you whisper.

cassie’s thumb twitches against the steering wheel. “do what?”

“taking me home. defending me against my boyfriend.”

cassie slows the car as she approaches a red light, bringing it to a stop. finally, she turns her head to look at you. it was the exact same look she gave you before she opened the door to leave you two years ago.

“i wasn't going to let him talk to you like that,” she says, her voice low.

you let out a breath, looking away from her, back out at the road.

“what, you’re like some savior now?” you whisper, anger running through your veins.

cassie doesn't step on the gas even when the light turns green, letting the car roll on momentum.

“i’m not trying to be a savior,” she says. “i’m trying to be a friend.”

“is that what we are? friends?” you laugh. you turn in your seat to look at her, your chest heaving.

cassie’s grip on the wheel turns white. she pulls the car over to the curb, hitting the hazards with a click.

when she finally turns to look at you, her eyes are swimming. the facade she wore in front of your boyfriend is gone.

“you think i didn't care?” she asks. “you think walking away didn't hurt me? i was terrified. you were getting under my skin in a way that scared the hell out of me, and i ran. it was stupid, and i have spent every single day since then wishing i had just stayed."

she takes a shaky breath, her stare locked onto yours.

“but seeing you with him? seeing you let some guy make you feel like you're a burden for existing?" she says. “i couldn't sit and listen to it. i couldn't. call me whatever you want, hate me for what i did, you have every right to, but don't you dare tell me i don't care about you.”

your heart is hammering so hard it hurts your ribs. the air in the car is thick with the unsaid. you stare at her, your vision blurring as your tears spill over.

“i wish you’d stayed as well,” you choke out. “but you don’t get to come back two years later and tell me how hard it was for you to leave me.”

“i know," she whispers. “i know. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.”

“i built a whole new life just to forget you,” you say, your voice a desperate whisper, your hands gripping the edge of the passenger seat just to keep from reaching for her. “ i found someone safe. and now i'm sitting in this fucking car, and it feels like all that progress didn't even happen.”

she looks at your mouth, and for a second, the space between you vanishes.

she wants to tell you. you can see the truth fighting its way up her throat. she wants to tell you that you didn't forget her, that your body remembered her even when your mind couldn't, that you kissed her and begged her to stay.

but she forces the truth back down. she protects the lie, even as it chokes her.

“this doesn’t have to mean anything,” she whispers, her hand trembling as she reaches across, her fingers hovering above your knee, desperate to touch you.

you look down at her shaking hand, leaning your head back against the glass of the window, feeling defeated.

“just drive,” you whisper into the cold glass. “cassie, please. just drive.”

-

the rest of the drive was a blur, you spaced out for the entire way home. a part of you was anticipating getting a glimpse of cassie’s life, she was so closed off you barely knew anything about her, going to her house and staying there might give you hints on who she really is.

when she pulls into the driveway of a small house on the edge of town, she kills the engine.

“we’re here,” she says softly.

you get out of the car, grabbing your bag from the backseat. cassie leads the way up the porch steps., she pushes the front door open, expecting a house where everyone is away.

she thinks her son is at her parents' place for the weekend. she thinks she has time to hide her life, just like she always does.

she’s wrong.

the smell of waffles and maple syrup hits you. from the kitchen down the hall, a little voice cuts through the house.

“mommy!”

cassie freezes in her tracks. the keys slip from her fingers, clattering against the floor.

before she can move, a boy with wide eyes comes running around the corner, a toy clutched in his hand. he stops short when he sees you standing in the entryway, blinking up at the stranger in his house.

you stop breathing. because he looks like her, he has her eyes. not exactly, but enough to make something cold settle in your stomach.

the boy blinks at you curiously. “who’s that?”

cassie still hasn’t moved.

“hi baby, can you go back into the kitchen for me?” she says, but her voice comes out thin and fragile.

“but-”

“please.”

cassie looks like she’s about to faint. her chest is heaving, her eyes darting from her son to you, her hands shaking, she can’t even pick up the keys she dropped. the carefully constructed wall she built around herself, has collapsed.

a man appears behind him a second later, older, tired looking. probably cassie’s dad.

“harrison,” cassie chokes out. she drops to her knees, her hands gripping the little boy’s shoulders, partly to hold herself up and partly to turn him away from the look on your face. “sweetie, go back into the kitchen with grandpa for a second, okay? mommy has a friend over.”

“come on,” cassie’s dadsays gently, taking his hand. “let’s go eat.”

the little boy pouts but lets him pull him away.

you can't breathe. your lungs feel like they're full of glass. you stand paralyzed by the doorway, your hands gripping the strap of your bag.

you step back, your heel hitting the front door. you look at cassie, and it feels like you're looking at a complete stranger. every memory, every tear you shed over her leaving you, it all feels dirty. It all feels fake.

“i can’t–i can’t be here,” you manage as you frantically turn around to open the door and escape this hell.

“no, wait please,” cassie slams her hand on the door trapping you between her and the door behind you. “please listen to me.”

“how old is he?” you asked.

“what?”

“how old is he?”

“five,” cassie breathes out, closing her eyes.

which means when you met her two years ago, he was already there. three years old somewhere while you and cassie drove across state lines and slept in cheap motel rooms and built something you thought was real.

you laugh once under your breath. “this is fucking crazy.”

“please–”

“you have a kid,” your voice trembling. “and you never said anything.”

“i know how this looks,” cassie’s face crumples.

“how this looks?” you stare at her. “what the fuck is wrong with you, cassie?”

“i didn’t know how to tell you.”

“how do you not mention something like that?”

“i was scared,” she bites her lip as tears start to well up in her eyes. this the most vulnerable you’ve seen her and it was taking everything in you not to just hold her.

“of what? me finding out you had a life outside of me?”

“no,” cassie looks at you, eyes red and desperate. “of you seeing what my life actually looked like.”

you didn’t know what to say, you just kept staring at her.

“i was scared, that you wouldn’t have wanted me anymore if you found out.” she swallows hard. “if you knew i had a kid, if you saw what my life actually looked like, you would’ve left.”

something sharp twists in your chest.

“how do you know that?” you ask immediately.

“look–”

“no,” you step closer before you can stop yourself. “how the fuck did you decide that for me?”

“you were twenty one.”

“so?”

“you were free!” her voice cracks slightly. “you could’ve had anything. anybody. why would you tie yourself to somebody with a kid and baggage and–”

“i didn’t want anybody! what don’t you understand?” you snap. “i fucking loved you, cassie.”

“no, you don’t mean that,” she says quietly. “love is stupid, it’s not enough. people say it when they’re lying. or cheating. or about to leave.”

she wipes at her face. “eventually it just starts sounding like something people say to make themselves feel better.”

“and you think that’s what this was?”

“no.” her voice breaks slightly. “that’s what made it scary.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

because the issue isn’t that cassie didn’t love you enough. it’s that she loved you so much and still didn’t believe love could save either of you.

“i did love you,” you repeat, tears burning behind your eyes. “and you just decided that for me. you decided i’d leave before i even got the chance to stay.”

cassie shakes her head immediately.

“you don’t understand–”

“no, i don’t understand,” you say. “because i spent so long thinking i wasn’t enough for you. thinking there was something wrong with me. and the entire time, you were sitting here convincing yourself i would’ve stopped loving you because what? you had a kid?”

“i was scared.”

“so was i!” you almost yell, your eyes locked on cassie’s red face.

cassie presses the heel of her hand against her mouth, trying unsuccessfully to hold herself together.

“you don’t get it,” she whispers. “people look at you differently after stuff like that. after becoming somebody’s mother. it’s like…” she laughs bitterly through tears. “it’s like they stop seeing you as a person first.”

your chest aches so badly it feels unbearable.

“so you thought i’d stop seeing you too?”

“i was ashamed of myself,” she says through tears. “if i stayed, eventually you would’ve seen the rest of my life. the ugly parts. the hard parts and i couldn’t survive watching you realize i wasn’t what you thought i was.”

“you should’ve let me decide that,” you whisper.

cassie nods slowly without looking at you.

“i know.”

the kitchen gets louder for a second, harrison laughing at something on TV, cassie’s father talking softly over the sound of dishes.

normal sounds. real life sounds.

it made you feel suffocated, like the walls were about to crush you in.

“this feels fucking humiliating.”

cassie drags her hands down her face and takes a shaky breath.

“let’s sit down,” she says weakly.

you wanted to laugh. instead, you drop your bag by the door and follow her into the living room, sitting next to each other on the couch. neither of you look at each other.

“i hated you for a while,” you admit. “i mean really hated you. i thought you used me and got bored. and then i thought maybe i imagined the whole thing. like maybe it meant more to me than it did to you.”

“no,” she says too fast, her eyes welling up with tears again. “it wasn’t nothing. it was never nothing.”

your chest tightens so hard it pisses you off.

“then why did you leave?”

cassie leans her head back against the cushion behind her.

“because i went home.”

“what does that mean?” you frown slightly.

“it means reality came back.” she wipes under her eyes with her sleeve. “i got home and harrison ran up to me and wanted cereal and cartoons and my dad was asking if i’d finally gotten my shit together and suddenly the entire trip felt insane.”

you don’t say anything, deciding to stay quiet and listen to her.

“i remember looking at you asleep that last morning,” she says softly. “and all i could think was, that you were just a girl and you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

the word girl stings more than it should. she said it like you were just some kid to her. cassie notices immediately.

“i don’t mean–”

“no, it’s fine.” you look away. “i get it now.”

“that’s not what i meant.”

“you were right though, weren’t you?” you ask quietly. “you were older. you had responsibilities and a kid. i was just…” you shrug helplessly. “some twenty one year old who fell in love with the first person who made her feel like she’s worth something like she’s finally seen.”

”don’t say that, you made me feel seen too,” she says firmly, even with her tears. the sincerity in her voice makes your stomach turn. because you believe her. that’s the problem.

you believe every word she’s saying and you still don’t know if you can forgive her.

the kitchen door opened and both of you look up immediately. cassie’s dad steps halfway into the hallway, hesitating when he sees your red faces.

“harrison wants to know if your friend likes waffles,” he says carefully.

cassie looks mortified.

you actually almost laugh this time. not because it’s funny. because the situation is so painfully human that your brain doesn’t know what else to do with it.

cassie covers her face with one hand. “dad, please.”

“what?” her dad says gently. “the kid’s asking.”

before you can think too hard about it, you hear yourself say.

“yeah. i like waffles.”

cassie looks at you immediately. a stunned look on her face. her dad nods once before turning around to disappear into the kitchen.

“i’ll make another plate,” he says softly.

“you don’t have to stay,” she whispers.

“i know.” the two words feel heavy in your mouth.

“but you are.” it’s not a question. it’s a quiet observation, her gaze dropping to your hands on your knees, then back up to your face, searching for a hint of the anger that was just there.

you swallow hard, the muscles in your throat tight. your hand twitches against your jeans.

“i think so.”

cassie’s eyes fill again at that, the tears welling up and spilling over her lower lids before she can even blink. the raw look on her face is too much to look at, too real.

almost.

-

the bubble bursts about an hour later.

you’re sitting at cassie’s small kitchen table, staring into a mug of black coffee you haven't touched. cassie’s dad left twenty minutes ago, taking harrison to the park after a conversation with cassie by the back door. the house is finally quiet.

then your phone starts vibrating against the table.

the screen lights up with your boyfriend’s name and his picture. it buzzes three times, cuts off, and instantly starts vibrating again. he’s not letting it go to voicemail.

cassie is standing by the sink, her back to you. the second the phone starts ringing, her shoulders tense up. she doesn't turn around, but you can see her reflection in the window above the sink, her eyes are fixed on the reflection of the phone on the table.

you slide your thumb across the screen and put the phone to your ear. you don't even say hello.

“are you done?” his voice comes through the speaker, entirely stripped of the patience he was trying to fake this morning. he’s back in your apartment, and you can hear the sound of his television in the background. “are you done throwing your tantrum?”

you swallow, your voice feeling small. “i’m not throwing a tantrum.”

“good. then get in an uber and come home,” he snaps. “i’m not doing this with you, babe. i’m not playing into to whatever weird breakdown your having. you left your house keys here anyway, so you can't even get in unless i’m home."

the reminder of the keys makes your stomach drop.

across the kitchen, cassie slowly turns around. she’s watching your face.

“i’m not coming back today,” you say into the phone.

an irritated sigh comes through the line. “fuck. are you serious? over what? because i stayed over at my ex’s house? you’re going to stay at the house of a woman who is a complete stranger to you, because of an argument about something taht happened before we were dating?"

your eyes dart up to cassie. she doesn't move, she looks down at the floor.

“you don't know anything about her,” you whisper, your grip tightening on the phone.

”i know you're using her to avoid fixing your own shit. look, i’m going out with the guys in an hour. if you’re not back here by the time i get home tonight to talk about this like an adult, don't bother coming back tomorrow to get your clothes. i’ll just leave them outside." he fires back, his voice rising.

the line goes dead.

you slowly lower the phone, the silence of the kitchen rushing back in to fill the space.

he didn't just ask you to come home, he drew a line in the sand, using the apartment, your clothes, your entire stable, to force you into coming back.

cassie watches you, her hands flat against the edge of the counter behind her. she looks at the phone in your hand, then up at your eyes.

“what did he say?” she asks quietly.

-

the front door of your apartment was left unlocked.

you push it open and step into the living room. you drop your bag by the door and walk into the bedroom.

your suitcase is in the top of the closet. you pull it down, the heavy thud of it hitting the mattress. you don't even look at the hangers, you just start grabbing handfuls of your clothes from the dresser, shoving them into the open bag without folding them.

then the click of the door lock makes you freeze, a handful of shirts clutched against your chest.

the thud of his boots echoes, followed by the rattle of his keys hitting the entryway bowl. he wasn't supposed to be back for hours, but the silence from the living room tells you he’s alone. and he’s sober enough to be angry.

“baby?”

you don't answer. you stand still by the bed, your heart hammering against your ribs.

footsteps approach the bedroom door. when he steps into the frame, he’s already taking off his jacket, his eyes sweeping over the open suitcase on the mattress, the half empty drawers, and finally, you.

he lets out a mocking laugh, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “oh, wow.”

“i’m just getting my things,” you say. your voice sounds small compared to how loud your pulse is in your ears.

“i can see that,” he walks fully into the room, you felt like you were being backed into a corner. “look babe you don’t have to–”

“please, you’ve said enough,” you interrupted him, holding a hand up to shut him up. “was i some part of your weird fantasy? of fixing the fucked up girl? you’re only with me because you wanted to prove you could manage or heal me.”

“that’s not what i meant,” he snaps, his hands shoving deep into his pockets as he tries to regain the upper hand. “i was scared of committing. people get cold feet. i didn't hide anything from you.”

“no, you just hid your feelings,” you say, your voice dropping to a whisper. “you sat there and told me i was too much to deal with, because you couldn't handle a real relationship.”

“i came back,” he defends himself. he takes a step back, looking at the messy room. “i put a roof over your head. i’d like to see you go find out how long anyone else puts up with your shit.”

“i don't need anyone to put up with me,” you say, your voice steady despite the stinging in your eyes. “i just need you to get out of my way.”

he stares at you, realizing he's lost his grip on the conversation. with a scoff, he turns on his heel and storms out of the bedroom. the door slams so hard the framed prints on the bedroom wall rattle against the drywall.

you stand alone in the room, looking at the closed suitcase. your chest is aching, your hands are shaking.

and then the sobs catch in your throat, ripping out of you in ugly bursts.

it’s too much. the entire day is just crashing down on you at once, the car ride, cassie’s secret son, and now your boyfriend and this bedroom.

"Am I good to go, Dana?"

"Yeah, kid."

"Okay, sweet. You better leave too, Lena's got things covered." Your gaze drifts from Dana to the night shift charge nurse sitting across from where you and Dana are standing. "Right, Lena?"

"I think I got everything covered", Lena says. "Ever since y/n has started working here, you've been getting out earlier than you used to. She's a good one."

A small smile spreads across your face. "Ain't that the truth", Dana replies with a soft smirk. "I'll leave in a minute. Have a good night, kid."

"You too", you say before walking away.

Once you reach the lockers, you throw on the winter jacket you brought. You then gather all of your belongings.

As you pull out your bag from your locker, you hear someone else coming in. A familiar voice pipes up behind you. "Man, I am not looking forward to driving in this weather."

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turn around to find Cassie looking at you. "Me either."

Cassie walks over to her locker and punches in her code. "Winter is always so depressing, but it's always been somewhat comforting to me." You watch Cassie as she slides on her winter coat.

"Same", you look at the ground for a second, pondering, and then your eyes return to Cassie. "As stupid as it sounds, there definitely is something comforting about the darkness."

Cassie pulls her bag over her shoulder and closes her locker. "Yeah", she says, eyeing you thoughtfully. Cassie sucks in a breath and pulls her lips in a smile, her dimples showing. "Well, I'm going to head out."

You nod. "Same."

In silence, you and Cassie walk out of the hospital. The second you step outside, the cold winter air hits you. Shivering, you tuck your hands in your jacket pockets.

Both you and Cassie look both ways before crossing the street to the parking garage. As you're walking across the street, Cassie turns to you and breaks the silence. "Did you, uh, manage to get first floor parking today?"

You shake your head. "No, second floor. They really need to reserve more staff spots."

"Right?", Cassie exclaims.

You walk side by side with Cassie as you make your way up the parking garage stairs. After you make it to the second floor, you glance at Cassie. "I'm this way", you tell her, pointing to the right.

"I am too." The faintest smile tugs at her lips.

When you reach your car, you stop walking. Cassie's now a few feet ahead of you. "This is me."

Cassie looks forward and then back at you with an amused, hung smile. "No way, I'm right here", she says as she points to her blue car. There's only one car between your spaces.

You stand on your tiptoes and peek at her car. "I didn't know you had a blue car."

"Yup. My dad gifted it to me when I graduated medical school."

"That's so sweet", you say with a warm smile.

"I'm grateful to have a dad like him."

"Most dads are shit", you joke, but it comes out heavier than you intended.

Cassie stares at you, analyzing your expression. She awkwardly pulls her lips into a tight-lipped smile and rocks back and forth on her toes.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean for that to come across as a mood killer", you say as your gaze drops to the ground. "That wasn't supposed to make it seem like I was jealous or I was trauma dumping I swear, well, if you even took it that way—"

You stop talking when you feel two hands on your biceps. Surprised, you look up to find Cassie in front of you. How did you not realize she walked over to you?

With a small chuckle, Cassie shakes her head. "Honey, I didn't take it like that", she reassures you through an amused smile. "Just stop overthinking, okay?" Her eyebrows pulls together as she looks at you. She gives your biceps a gentle yet grounding squeeze.

"Sorry", you whisper.

"Stop apologizing", she replies, her voice lower and softer than before. Cassie's eyes drop down to your lips, gaping for a few seconds, and then she looks back up into your eyes.

Your breath hitches. All of a sudden you feel lightheaded. Without thinking, you lean in, your lips attaching themselves to hers.

Cassie squeezes your arms again and kisses you back. But only five seconds into the kiss, she pulls back and lets go of you.

Your brain short circuits, and you can't think of anything to say. Cassie seems to be in the same headspace.

You blink a few times and curl your hands into fists so you can dig your nails into your palms, pulling yourself out of whatever trance you were just in. "Oh my god. Shit. Sorry." You run your hands over your head. "I-I'm so sorry", you stammer.

You turn around, mentally kicking yourself for what you just did, but you unexpectedly hear Cassie rasp out, "Wait!" Before you even have time to think, Cassie grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back to her.

Her lips slam against yours. She lets go of your wrist and cups your face. Your arms wrap around her neck.

The kiss gets messy quickly. Cassie's tongue pushes into your mouth, tangling with yours. She then pulls back just enough to trap your lower lip with her teeth. Immediately after, her mouth is on yours again.

The tiniest whimper escapes you which she swallows with a small groan of her own. Cassie's hands move from your face to your waist, digging her nails into your hips.

BEEP!

Suddenly, you both jump apart. There's a car alarm going off the row over from where you and Cassie are parked. You look at her breathless, unsure of what to say.

Cassie lets out a shaky breath, and then pulls her keys from her jacket pocket. "Uh, I should go", she says, her voice barely above a whisper, and takes small steps backwards.

"Oh, um, yeah, yeah." You tug your bag's strap up your shoulder, needing something to hold onto. "Sorry", you murmur.

Cassie laughs, the tension in her expression leaving. "I told you to stop apologizing." She unlocks her car and opens the driver side door.

Chuckling, you grab your keys. "I want to apologize for that", you jest.

Still smiling, Cassie rolls her eyes playfully. "You better not."

You put your hands up in surrender. "Fine."

"Good." She looks at you for one more moment, and then tears her gaze from you to her car. "I'm gonna go now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight", you say back, barely loud enough for Cassie to hear.

"Drive safe", she tells you before getting in her car.

"You too", you mumble more so to yourself as you unlock your car.

By the time you start the car and place your bag on the passenger seat, Cassie's already backing out. For someone who just mentioned road safety, she sure was driving fast for a parking garage.

Sighing, you drop your head to the steering wheel. Did that really just happen? Did you really just kiss Cassie? As in your coworker Cassie? The one who has a son and is almost twice your age?

And yet, you wished you could go back in time to that moment. To that kiss. That perfect kiss Cassie McKay gave you.

Before that night, you never saw Cassie as more than friends. Yeah, you always found her pretty, but the thought of Cassie being your girlfriend or simply hooking up with her had never crossed your mind. But now? You're addicted to her.

An hour after you got home Cassie texted you saying she's the one who needs to apologize. There's a line she crossed that can't be ignored again. She asked you to just forget about it.

But you couldn't. So since then you would flirt with her at work every now and then. Text her a picture of yourself when you had a fun outfit. Touch her in a way that affectionate friends would.

It wasn't enough though. You needed more. You needed her.

A month after your kiss, you pulled Cassie aside one evening after a shift to talk about it. It was clear she didn't want to even think about the kiss, let alone having a conversation about it with you. Still, you confessed to her that you wanted to kiss her again.

And for a moment it seemed like she was going to kiss you right then and there in the ambulance bay, but she didn't. Instead, Cassie told you it was a mistake. In her own words it was "highly inappropriate" and she's "disgusted by herself."

It hurt to hear her say that. You can still remember how your eyes stung as you held back tears. Miraculously, you were able to keep from crying. All you could muster out was a measly "okay."

The second you made it into you car you broke down. It took you almost 30 minutes before you could drive back home.

Now, that kiss with Cassie was a year ago. She's never brought it up since. At times it felt like a faint dream. Almost like a childhood movie you start doubting was real.

While you weren't heartbroken anymore — at least not as bad as before — you still gravitated towards her.

Dana noticed. She knew something changed.

Since your first day at PMTC, Dana took you under her wing. She's always been observant over everyone, but especially you. Which is why her mini lecture with you right now was not surprising in the slightest.

"When you're with a patient, your attention needs to be fully on them." Irritated, you sigh and cross your arms, looking at Dana as she continues. "You shouldn't be glancing across the ER, and you should never be staring at another doctor working a totally separate case. Your focus needs to be on your patients."

"Dana", you start, "I—"

She holds a hand up. "Save it, kid. You've been making eyes at McKay for months now, and it's starting to affect your work."

Your eyebrows draw together, confused. Cassie was not on your mind nearly as much as she was a year ago. "I'm fine, Dana. Maybe I've looked for", you lower your voice, "her once or twice, but it's because I'm going to consult her."

"Uh, huh", Dana says, not buying what you're saying. "Whether you're doing it every minute or once every day, you need to cut it out. I already told you that it's interfering with your ability to treat patients, and it's doing the same to her."

Your eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"I'll pull McKay aside too. Whatever nonsense is going on between you two needs to stop or at the very least leave the workplace."

"Dana, there's nothing going on with us."

Dana takes her glasses off and rests a hand on her hip, side eyeing you. "I don't believe that's true, but if it is, you still need to find a way to treat patients the way they deserve."

A pang of guilt hits you. Have you been doing a bad job lately?

Of course, Dana seems to notice you second guessing yourself. "Kid, you're a great nurse." She places a hand on your shoulder. "But if you want it to stay that way, you need to cut out whatever bullshit you and Cassie got going on. Capiche?"

You draw in a breath and nod. "Got it."

She gives your shoulder two taps before walking away.

"Fifty dollars says those girls keep making eyes at each other", Princess whispers in Tagalog to Perlah as you look over a chart. You were completely oblivious that they even heard your conversation with Dana.

"Bitch, that five dollars would go down the drain. Of course they're going to continue to stare", Perlah says back to Princess. They look at each other and then start laughing at the situation as you walk away to attend to a patient.

There was only an hour left in your shift as you sat beside Perlah at the nurse's station. After your conversation with Dana, you avoided Cassie as best as you could. Out of sight out of mind, right?

Perlah glances at the board above you, and then turns towards you. "Sweetie, there's a seven year old girl waiting to get her cast off in South 19 if you're up for it."

"Hm?", you murmur as your head jerks to the right where Perlah is. "Oh, um, yeah, I can do that", you say, forcing a smile.

You stand up and grab the patient's chart. Grace Fisher. Left arm cast removal. Simple enough.

You head over to South 19, softly humming a tune to yourself. But when you open the curtain, you freeze.

Cassie.

She turns and her sparkling blue eyes find yours. "I, uh..." You draw in a breath and will yourself to look away. With a smile you introduce yourself to the girl, Grace and her mother.

After you greet them, Cassie walks over to you. She lowers her voice so only you can hear her. "Robby asked me to take care of this real quick. He's trying to clear out as many patients as possible before night shift gets here."

Without looking at her, you nod. "I can do it if you need to get back to your other patients."

Cassie points to a tray behind her. "I already have the stuff. I was explaining to Grace how a cast saw works before you came in."

Still facing forward, avoiding eye contact with Cassie, you shrug. "Guess you don't need me then", you mutter somewhat bitterly.

Cassie's voice softens automatically. "No, no, you can stay. I mean if you want to."

You take a few seconds to think, only making this interaction more awkward than it already is. A weary breath escapes you as you finally face Cassie. "Okay."

"Do you want to do it? I've noticed you've been doing desk work most of the day."

Was Dana right? Was Cassie watching you?

"I'll do it. Thanks, Cass", you say before walking over to grab the cast saw. You don't see the smile that lights up Cassie's face as you call her "Cass."

You grab a stool and sit beside Grace. "Dr. McKay here already explained to you how this works, right?"

Grace nods, clearly nervous. Her mom grabs her daughter's free hand. "She did", Mrs. Fisher tells you.

"Okay, great", you say in your softest voice. "Do you have any questions before we start?" Grace shakes her head. "When your cast is off do you want to pick out some stickers?" you ask as you lean in. "I know where all the good stickers are hidden."

Grace smiles shyly. "Okay."

"You're so brave. I'm going to start on the count of three. All you're going to hear is some buzzing, okay?" Grace nods, more assertive this time. "Ready? 1, 2, 3", you say, starting to remove the cast.

Even though Cassie is just a few feet away from you, you focus on the patient in front of you. Cassie however, can't take her eyes off of you. She doesn't even realize she's smiling as she watches you chat with Grace, helping the anxious kid become more comfortable.

"All done", you tell Grace. "How does it feel?"

"Awesome", she says with a big smile. "Can I get stickers now?"

You chuckle. "Of course, sweetie. I'll be right back, I'm gonna go grab them now."

You stand and head out of the room, Cassie follows you. "You were really good with Grace", she says.

"Thanks."

"You've always been good at soothing kids."

"I was an anxious child, so that probably helps."

"The best doctors and nurses apply their own experiences to their work."

"Like you", you murmur without a second thought.

Cassie blushes slightly, but you don't catch it. "And you."

You fight a smile as you walk into the nurse's station to the drawer where Perlah and Princess keep stickers and grab a few sheets. When you turn around Cassie is right in front of you.

"Oh, sorry", she says, stepping aside.

"It's okay", you assure her as you walk back to South 19 to give Grace some stickers. Cassie follows you in silence.

When you reach the room, Cassie walks ahead of you and pulls open the curtain. "After you", she says while holding a hand out.

"Why thank you Dr. McKay." You can't fight back the smile creeping up. Wow, that's the first genuine smile you've had all day. Huh.

"My amazing nurse here has some stickers for you to chose from, sweetheart", Cassie says to Grace.

You hand the stickers sheet you have over to Grace and let her pick a few. She ends up choosing a mermaid, a princess, and a cat. "Good choices", you tell Grace with a wink. Then you look over to her mom. "You guys are all good to go."

"Thank you both", Mrs. Fisher says.

"It was our pleasure", Cassie says with a kind smile.

You look at Grace and put up a hand. She gives you a high five with a big grin on her face. "You were so brave", you tell her.

Cassie opens the curtain, and Mrs. Fisher and Grace step through. She points up ahead to the left. "The exit is just this way. Would you like one of us to walk you guys out?"

"No, you've done enough already."

"Okay", Cassie says. "Have a good night."

As they leave you start walking to the break room, in desperate need of a cup of coffee. "Hey, wait up", Cassie calls out to you. Once she's caught up with you, she takes a deep breath. "Can we talk after our shift?"

You come to a halt and hesitantly turn towards her. "About what?"

"Just... stuff."

Your brows pull together. "That's very descriptive", you say before resuming walking.

"I just don't want to get into it right now. I don't want to stress you out or distract you."

You open the break room door and see Langdon pouring himself a cup of coffee. Hushed, you mutter to Cassie, "well you kind of already are."

"Lucky for you guys, I just made another pot", Langdon says as he walks out.

"My savior", you call out over your shoulder.

Once Langdon is gone, Cassie continues. "It's nothing to worry about. Just go about the rest of your shift like usual, okay?"

The rich, earthy aroma of the freshly brewed coffee fills your nose as you pour yourself a cup. "I'll try."

"Meet me by the lockers when we're off the clock?"

You turn towards Cassie and lean against the counter. For the first time since this morning you really take in Cassie. Her hair is all messy and falling out. Her lips are a little dry. She looks tired. But still gorgeous. So damn gorgeous.

Nodding, you take a sip of your coffee. "Mm, will do."

"Okay, great." Cassie gives you a small smile that reveals her dimples as she reaches forward and places her hand on your arm. Her touch is so warm and tender. "See you then", Cassie says before pulling away and leaving the break room.

You're left alone, coffee in hand with the heat of Cassie's touch lingering on your arm. Despite Cassie saying the reason why she wants to talk to you isn't bad, you're still nervous. You wanted your shift to be over now and you wanted your shift to last forever at the same time.

You check your phone. 7:12pm.

Nervously, you bite the inside of your cheek as you lean against your locker. You've been waiting for Cassie for five minutes now. She was likely still wrapping up everything she needs to so she can leave and night shift can take over.

Five more minutes pass. You pull your water bottle out of your bag and take a sip. Right now you were wishing it was vodka.

You close your eyes and lean against your locker, taking a few deep breaths.

"Tired?"

Startled, you open your eyes. Cassie's opening her locker.

"Yeah, a little bit."

"Here." You watch as Cassie pulls something out of her locker. "It's a protein bar. You've been downing coffee all day, you need something to eat."

As you take it from her, your fingers touch, lingering longer than necessary before you pull away. "Thanks." You open the wrapper and take a bite. It's peanut butter and chocolate— your favorite.

Cassie throws on a jacket, grabs her bag, and closes her locker. Then, she turns to you. "Walk with me?"

Your mouth is full with a bite of the snack Cassie gave you, so you just nod. She walks to the exit with you at her side. Before you leave the building, you toss the protein bar wrapper in the trash by the door.

"Are you, uh, doing anything after you get home?"

You have a bite in your mouth, chewy and delicious. Before you respond you bring a hand over your mouth. "No, nothing."

"Same."

Cassie doesn't say anything else after that. An awkward silence brews, tension growing.

You take the last bite of the protein bar and put your hands in your pockets. After you finish chewing you look at Cassie. Her eyes are on the street in front of you two.

"Cassie?"

"Yeah?"

A shaky breath leaves you. "What did you want to talk about?"

Cassie nods, knowing she can't put it off any longer. "Well, um, Dana talked to you today, right?"

You and Cassie walk into the parking garage. "Yup, just like she does everyday." Cassie tilts her head at you.

"You know what I m—"

"Where are you parked?"

"Oh, uh, just down this way", Cassie says, pointing at the back of the parking garage.

"I'm on the opposite side."

"Okay." She slides her hands in her jacket pockets. "I'll walk you."

You nod, leading the way.

Cassie says your name, her tone laced with seriousness yet it's still gentle. "Dana talked to you today about me, correct?"

"Correct", you confirm under your breath.

You hear Cassie let out an exasperated breath from behind you. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

"The same page about what?"

"That nothing's going on."

Scoffing, you shake your head. "I'm aware."

"Okay, then why is Dana telling me you're always looking at me?"

Stopping in your tracks, you turn around so you're facing Cassie. "Me? What about you?"

She crosses her arms and sighs. "Look, Dana's already on my ass for this. She thinks you're not as focused as you should be. I wanted to ask you if there's anything you want to tell me."

"Like what?" you bite out.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!"

You huff out a laugh. "Fine. Do you want the truth?"

Cassie takes a step closer to you. "Yes."

Your eyes scan hers for a couple moments, making sure you should confess. "Fine. Ever since you kissed me, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. We only talked about it once and all you said was it was gross and inappropriate. Like what the fuck? You never even asked me how I felt. You just stated it was a mistake."

Cassie takes a deep breath like she's thinking over her words carefully. "Because it was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened, and I'm ashamed. Besides, you kissed me first!"

"You— you", you gester at her, "you kissed me. Yeah, I kissed you, but for a second and then I apologized and walked away." You point your finger at her, clearly upset and angry. "You pulled me back. You kissed me again. You were the one who wanted more."

Cassie closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. "And I apologized for that. I told you, it shouldn't have happened— I shouldn't have done that."

"So I'm just a mistake to you?" You can feel tears starting to pool in your eyes, but you force them back.

"You're not a mistake, but what I did to you was."

"What you did? You literally just told me that I kissed you first!"

"Yeah, but it was my responsibility to end it, not pull you back to me."

"Why?" You cross your arms. "Because I'm your coworker?"

"Yes... and you're too young."

You blink a few times, taken aback. Your brows pinch together, confused. Did Cassie feel guilty?

"I'm disgusted by myself because I wanted to kiss you and I wanted more", she admits, her voice shaky.

"I wanted more too, Cassie. You could've told me—"

"That's exactly why I didn't! We can't be together, it's just not right."

"Because I'm younger than you?"

"Because you're so much younger than me. Jesus Christ, I could be your mother!"

It's getting harder to fight back the tears forming. "So... all of this is about your guilt?"

"Oh my god", Cassie says while shaking her head. She looks down at the ground for a few seconds before looking back up at you, her eyes finding yours. "It's wrong", she whispers, her voice breaking. "I hate myself for kissing you."

A single tear slides down your cheek. Cassie looks like she's about to cry as she watches you.

"I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did", you muster out, another tear falling. Cassie tilts her head in a way that looks like she wants to absorb your pain.

"I'm sorry", she whispers.

You inhale deeply, centering yourself, and then wipe away the tears stained on your cheeks. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry that I kissed you. I'm sorry that I've burdened you. And I'm sorry I've made you hate yourself. If I could I would transfer that hate onto me. I would rather you hate me than hate yourself. So I'm fucking sorry."

Without waiting for a response, you spin around and walk towards your car. You hear Cassie calling out your name, her voice breaking slightly, which makes tears spill again.

When you reach your car, you get in as quickly as possible. As soon as the door is shut, you start sobbing. In an attempt to ground yourself, you place a hand over your chest and tap.

You just wanted this feeling to go away. Why did Cassie have to pull you into that damn conversation? How were you supposed to go to work now and face her?

Your eyes start to sting as you keep crying. You know they'll be red and puffy in the morning. Maybe you'll just call out of work tomorrow.

If only you hadn't kissed her that day. All of this could've been avoided. But you did. And there's no going back.

"I'll go grab Mohan for you, Dana."

"Thanks, kid."

"No problem." You leave the central nurse's station and head over to north wing of the ED where Samira is.

It had been three weeks since the blow up with Cassie. You ended up calling out sick for the next three shifts you had. Cassie called out the following two days, returning just a day before you, although, you never knew about it.

Dana did, however, and knew something had happened. She never pushed either of you to talk about it, only leaving little hints here and there. Both you and Cassie never took the bait.

As best as you could, you tried to avoid working the same shifts as Cassie. Luckily, Cassie's schedule is pretty set in stone since she works around Harrison. Even so, she still works a lot— just like you.

When you did work together, you went out of your way to avoid her. If someone assigned you on a case with her, you passed it off to someone else. If she was in the break room, you weren't. If she was talking to someone you needed to talk to, you just waited no matter how long.

Avoiding Cassie took such a toll on you that you ended up working night shifts every now and then. It fucked up your sleep schedule to go back and forth, but you couldn't fully commit to only working nights. Switching between night and day shifts to avoid Cassie was worth losing sleep over.

Today you were not on night shift. You were working the day and so was Cassie. So far you've been doing a pretty good job of not seeing her.

You round the corner and enter room two, where Samira should be. But when you open the door it's just a patient. Before you leave to go search for her, you decide to make sure this patient doesn't need anything.

You introduce yourself and grab his chart. Tommy Krill. A 30 year old white man who passed out in a bar due to dehydration. His brother brought him drunk and and high off of MDMA a little over an hour ago.

"Mr. Krill how are you feeling?" you ask as you walk over to his bed. He's groggy, he likely just barely woke up a few minutes ago. "Do you know where you—"

All of a sudden a fist hits your chest and you stumble back, not fully processing what's happening. Mr. Krill frantically pulls out the IV he's hooked up to and all of the monitors that are connected to him. He looks over to you. You're running out of the room.

He chases after you. "Hulahoop!" you yell out, "hulahoop!"

Jesse's at your side in the blink of an eye and steps between you and the man chasing after you. Donnie is there just a few seconds later, helping to restrain the patient.

"That bitch was trying to kill me!", Mr. Krill shouts over and over.

You lean against the wall of pedes, breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your eyes are on the floor as you try to focus on your feet.

Faintly, you can hear someone calling your name. Multiple somebodies.

When you look up you see Robby and Dana rushing towards you.

"What the fuck happened?" Dana asks angrily.

"The patient in 6 attacked me."

Dana grabs your arm gently, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on your forearm. Her touch is a contrast to the anger in her face. It looks like Dana's about to kill someone.

Robby does his best to examine you while you stand there. "Are you hurt?" he asks.

"No, I'm fine. He did punch my chest, but I'm okay."

"That motherfucker", Dana mutters furiously.

"I just need a few minutes and then I'll be good to go back to work. I don't need a—"

"What the fuck? Are you okay, what happened?"

Out of nowhere, Cassie's now at your side. Concern and fear are written all over her face.

"No, no, I'm fine."

"You still need an examine", Robby tells you. "It's protocall. You can get back to work after if you want." His gaze meets yours, and he gives you a small nod. "I'm going to go pop in and check the son of a bitch who hit you."

"He hit you?!"

"Cassie, I'm fine."

"He punched her in her chest", Dana tells Cassie, her voice laced with rage. "Can you examine her? I'm going to call the police."

"Yeah, of course", Cassie says. She places a hand on your shoulder. "Come on."

Pushing off the wall, you rub your eyes. "I'm telling you I'm fine. Let's just make this as quick as possible."

Cassie nods, still clearly worried. She reluctantly takes her hand off of you. "South 16 is open", she says, her voice soft.

You don't say anything, you just walk over there. Now that the adrenaline is leaving your body, you feel a small ache under your boobs on the left side of your ribs.

Once you reach room 16, Cassie holds the door open for you. For a second you glance at her, but quickly look away after you make eye contact.

"Sit on the bed", she instructs you gently.

"Cassie—"

"Now", she says more firmly but still soft.

"Goddammit", you whisper to yourself as you sit on the edge of the bed.

Cassie untangles the stethoscope she has around her neck. You sit up straight as she comes closer, knowing the drill. "Any pain?" she asks as she puts the stethoscope over your heart.

"No", you lie.

"Take a deep breath for me."

You do as she says. Cassie then moves the stethoscope to the other side of your chest before checking your back.

"Your breathing is good."

"I could've told you that", you mutter.

Cassie places her stethoscope back around her neck, her hands gripping the ends as she looks at you. "Are you going to tell me where it hurts?"

"I told you I'm fine", you grumble, your gaze on your feet.

Cassie sighs and takes a step closer to you. "I'm gonna have to check for injury now."

"Fine."

Her eyes remain on you, just standing there before proceeding. Cassie places her right hand under your right breast. "Any pain?"

"No."

Cassie moves her hand to the left, lightly pressing. She touches a spot that makes you wince. You do your best to hide the hiss that started to slip out.

Crossing her arms, Cassie takes a step back. She says your name in a commanding tone that you know comes from concern. Reluctantly, you look up at her. "Let me see."

This is the first time since the parking garage that you've really looked at Cassie. She looks more tired than usual, like she hasn't been getting enough sleep.

"I'm fine", you say as you pull up your scrub top. "See?"

Cassie comes closer to you and crotches down slightly so that she can better see where you're hurting. Gently, Cassie presses down on that same spot.

Trying to hide a reaction, you take in a deep breath. But Cassie sees right through you.

She lingers, her hand resting on your side before she pulls back. "There's light bruising. It'll probably get a little darker, but not anything too bad."

"I told you I'm—"

"Fine, I know", Cassie cuts you off. You can't help the smile that wants to come out as she finishes your sentence.

Cassie notices you're fighting a smile which makes her smile.

You tug down your scrub top and look up at Cassie. "Thanks for examining me."

She nods with a small smile that shows her dimples. Then, she leans back on her heels. As Cassie's weight shifts to her toes, she puts her hands in her scrub pockets. "So, um... that guy really punched you?"

"Just my luck."

A small chuckle escapes Cassie. "At least you're okay." Then, she shakes her head in disbelief. "God, what an asshole."

"You could say that about all men", you half joke. "At least he doesn't hit that hard."

"Still hard enough to leave a bruise."

"I've been hurt worse."

Fuck, you didn't mean for that to come out the way it did. The tension in the room grows, but your eyes don't leave Cassie's.

"Uh... I mean physically. N-not emotionally."

"It's okay."

"Sorry", you say, almost a whisper.

"I told you to stop apologizing."

You raise your eyebrows, somewhat playfully.

"You're making me want to apologize for apologizing."

Cassie can't help but laugh which makes you do too. The air feels lighter. Happier. Right.

But as soon as your laughter fades, and you're left looking at one another, it feels heavier again.

"I mean it though. Seriously, don't ever apologize to me." Your head tilts slightly, trying to figure out what Cassie means. "You have nothing to be sorry for, and that includes apologizing for 'burdening me' because you aren't a burden."

Your heart stops. For a moment you forget how to breathe.

"You shouldn't have apologized for 'making me hate myself' because that's on me. Not you. It never was." With a bated breath, Cassie shifts her weight to her other foot and crosses her arms. "And you shouldn't have apologized for kissing me."

Like a deer in headlights, you are frozen. If you move, maybe you'll cry. You don't know what to say anyways. So you just sit there. Taking Cassie in. Her blue eyes seem dimmer, replaced by pain.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry that you keep changing shifts because of me. I'm sorry for ever making you feel like you did something wrong because you didn't. I'm sorry I didn't ask you what you need, I just assumed I knew what was best. And I'm so fucking sorry for hurting you."

Cassie steps forward and grabs your right hand from below. You look down as she puts her other hand on top of yours. You're scared to look back up because you know if you look at Cassie you'll break.

"I never ever wanted to hurt you. I've missed seeing you around the ED. Way more than I thought I would." Cassie keeps one hand on yours while the other leaves and finds your chin. "Can you... look at me?"

You feel the nervousness in her voice because it's the same feeling flowing through you. Cassie tilts your chin just a little bit— not wanting to push you, but encourage you.

Your eyes shut as you lift your head up. Slowly, you open your eyes. Cassie's are staring down at you tenderly with a hint of vulnerability.

"What if...", Cassie looks away, the words she's trying to say are difficult for her to get out. "What if you find someone younger? That you like better?"

It feels like a piece of glass just cut your heart. You give her hand a comforting squeeze and place your other hand over hers. "Cass... that won't happen."

"How do you know for sure?", Cassie whispers, her voice trembling.

"Because as long as I know you, I know there won't ever be someone as kind or caring or beautiful." A salty tear falls down your cheek. "Cassie", your voice falters. "Um... look at me? Please?"

She does. She's met with a warm smile. Your warm smile.

Cassie sees the tear on your cheek and instinctively brings her hand to your face. She cups your cheek and her thumb gently brushes over your tear, erasing it. "Can, uh..." Cassie pauses, swallowing before continuing, "Is it alright if I kiss you?"

Right away, you nod. Without wasting any time, Cassie leans down and presses her lips against yours.

Your arms wrap around her neck while hers find your waist, sliding to your lower back. The kiss isn't messy, but it isn't soft either. All of the things you've been feeling for each other pour out into the kiss.

There's a knock at the door.

"Jesus", you mutter, startled. Cassie pulls back, but leaves her hands on your waist. She looks over her shoulder, and you peek around her.

Dana.

"I was just checking to see how, uh", Dana nods at you, "you're doin'."

"Oh, fine. I-I'm fine."

"I'm glad", she replies with a smug smirk. "The cops will be here within the next half hour for a statement." You nod. "Finish up in here and get back to work."

"Got it, Dana. We'll be out in a minute", Cassie says.

Dana looks at you, then Cassie, back at you, and then Cassie again, still smiling, before she leaves.

Cassie turns back to you, her face flushed. You giggle, finding it cute which makes her laugh.

She leans in and gives you a soft, promising kiss. When she pulls back her face seems lighter than it had been in a while.

"We have to get back to work", Cassie says as her hands reluctantly leave your hips.

"Yeah", you murmur. Slowly, you stand up. Cassie offers her hand to steady you which you don't need, but you take anyways.

"After work can we talk? A good talk, I promise."

With a chuckle, you nod. "Yes."

Cassie cups your face and gives you a doting forehead kiss. "Come on", she whispers.

You and Cassie leave the room and try to go about the rest of your shift like everything's normal. But both of you are smiley— way more than usual, especially in the last three weeks.

For someone who just got assaulted, you sure were visibly happy, unable to stop beaming.

"Cassie", you moan as she pushes you against her car, her lips attached to your neck. Your hands are exploring Cassie's back, and hers are caressing your sides up and down.

"Pocket", she mumbles against your jaw. "My keys are in my right pocket."

Cassie trails her kisses up to your mouth, devouring you as your hands find her scrub pants. You squeeze her ass before diving into her pocket to pull out her keys.

Panting, you pull back and hold up the keys in between you two. Cassie's eyes are filled with lust, reflecting yours. She takes the keys from you and unlocks her car. "Give me your bag", she orders.

Quickly, you slide your bag off of your shoulder and hand it to Cassie. She takes a step to the right and opens the passenger side door. Swiftly, she then throws her bag on the floor and yours on the passenger seat before looking back at you.

"Um... do you want to go in the back?" Cassie asks you nervously, her confidence faltering.

Right away, you spin around and open the back door of her car and climb in. Cassie follows behind you. Once she's in, she closes the door and you throw yourself at her.

Your arms wrap around Cassie's neck and you kiss her hard. Her head rests against the side window, and her hands find your hips. You moan when her tongue tangles with yours, deep and needy.

Slowly, Cassie pushes off the car door and leans forward into you. She keeps one hand on your hip, her grip tight, and the other finds the back of your head. Cassie pulls you to her as close as possible, your kiss deepening even further. She then lowers you onto your back, her lips never leaving yours.

Cassie's mouth trails down your neck, sucking a mark on the right side. She mumbles your name against your skin, which makes you moan.

Cassie gives your neck a few soft kisses over the spot she was just sucking, and then pulls back to look at you. "I don't usually do this. But I haven't gotten laid in years and I like you so much. Sorry if the car is uncomfortable. If you want to stop let—"

You plow your lips against hers, cutting her off which elicits a moan from her. Your hands are on the back of her neck, pushing her into you. You pull back just to put your mouth on her jaw, giving her wet, sloppy kisses.

Just enough so you can speak, you pull back in between kisses. "It's kind of hot", you say, smirking against your skin. "I've always wanted to try car sex. Guess I never found the right person."

"Until now", Cassie says as one of her hands trails down your chest — making sure to avoid where that patient punched you — to your stomach until she reaches the end of your scrub top. She places a hand underneath the grey fabric onto your stomach while you nibble on her neck.

You tug at the hem of Cassie's scrubs. "Can I take this off?"

Immediately Cassie nods, her hands leave you as she rushes to take her top off, you helping. After her scrub top is discarded, she leans down to capture your lips.

While Cassie maps out the inside of your mouth with her tongue, your hands find Cassie's back, and your fingers work on unhooking her bra.

After her bra comes undone, she shrugs it off. Cassie then scoots back and eagerly hikes up your scrub top along with the tank top you have underneath it. She kisses and licks your sensitive stomach, your breath hitching. Slowly, Cassie kisses her way up to your sternum. When she reaches your bra, she pulls back and fists the fabric of your top.

"Arms up."

You do as Cassie intructs. She swiftly discards your top, followed by your tank top. You arch your back so Cassie can unclasp your bra. She does so with ease, throwing it on the car floor.

Cassie admires you for a few moments. And then she dives down, putting her mouth on your right breast. As she sucks and licks your plump flesh there, you put your hands on the back of her neck.

Cassie trails fiery kisses to the other side of your chest, taking your hardened nipple into her mouth, softly biting. You let out a small moan. She keeps sucking and nibbling, and you take out Cassie's ponytail.

The second her hair is down, your grab a fist full, desperately needing something to hold onto. You direct Cassie back up to your face, kissing her hard.

Her hips roll into your lower half. A moan escapes Cassie which you devour instantly. You can tell she's growing more and more needy.

"Cassie", you murmur against her mouth.

"Hm?"

"Switch."

Cassie pulls back slightly, taking in your flushed face before she moves off of you. You sit up, moving out of the way so Cassie can lay down.

Once she's in your former spot, you hook your fingers in her scrub bottoms and look at her for permission. She nods, her face already red and sweaty. You pull down both her pants and underwear. When they hit her ankles she kicks them off along with her shoes.

As fast as you can, you kick your shoes off too. You then turn back to Cassie, her entrancing blue eyes on you. Your left knee is at Cassie's side on the backseat, and your other leg dangles off the seat, your right foot touching the floor.

You lean down, once again capturing her lips with yours. Cassie grips your hips tightly, pulling you to her. You trail your right hand down her chest, to her stomach, and then to her core.

Cassie gasps and her nails dig into your hips. Your fingers move down her already soaked slit. Still kissing Cassie, you slowly slide one finger inside of her.

A groan leaves Cassie's mouth and goes into yours. She pulls back from your kiss just enough to mewl, "God, baby."

Her words send a shiver down your spine. You put your middle finger inside her cunt, joining your pointer finger. Cassie's hips jerk forward involuntarily.

As you pump your fingers in and out, your thumb finds her clit, gently pressing against it. Cassie bucks up into your touch, moaning. She takes her mouth off of yours and leans up to kiss your neck.

You curl your fingers inside her in a way that makes Cassie whimper. Your thumb starts to draw circles over her clit. "Right there", she whines against your red, kissed out skin.

Your fingers work faster, and Cassie's hips chase your hand. She lets out several moans, the sound going straight to your core. You feel her clench around your fingers as she lets out a raspy groan.

Your hand slows down as Cassie comes down from her orgasm. She's slightly embarrassed at how fast she came undone, but you couldn't care less— if anything you find it hot.

Once Cassie's hips come to a stop, you pull out your fingers which are now drenched in her arousal. You pepper a few kisses on her jaw.

"Fuck", she murmurs. Cassie grabs the back of your head firmly but not rough, and puts your mouth on hers. She takes your lower lip between her teeth for a few seconds before releasing it. "I wanna taste you."

"Cassie", you whine.

She lifts you off of her, and then sits up. Without saying anything, Cassie looks at you, her eyes dark, and points at the backseat where she just was.

Right away, you lie back. Cassie urgently pulls down your pants. Once they're off she leans down and presses light kisses on your throbbing cunt through your underwear.

"Please, Cassie", you say through a moan.

She looks up at you, a smirk growing on her lips. "Look at you", she murmurs. "So fucking beautiful."

A needy whine leaves you. Cassie chuckles and hooks her finger in the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down. She grabs your right leg and places it over her left shoulder, and then puts her hand on the inside of your left thigh, pushing it out.

Cassie takes you in, all spread out and needy for her. When she looks into your eyes, they're clouded by desire, silently begging for Cassie to give you some kind of release.

Finally, she lowers herself down to you. Cassie presses kisses in between your thighs tantalizingly slow, making you squirm. When she finally reaches your center, her lips attach to your clit which makes you moan.

Cassie swirls her tongue around your bundle of nerves. Your hands move to her head, and you push her messy bangs to the side so you can better look at her.

You gasp as Cassie spreads your lips apart with her tongue. The needy whimpers that you let out spur her on. Cassie drags her tongue down to your opening, pushing in.

"Fuck, Cassie."

She hums, pleased, and keeps moving her tongue against your pussy. You can't help it as your hips jut forward, needing more.

Cassie looks up at you with half-lidded eyes. You let out a soft moan which makes Cassie groan into you, the vibrations only bringing you closer to the edge.

She comes up for a breath and licks her lips which almost makes you cum right then and there.

Cassie puts her mouth on your clit again. She sucks and bites, making you writhe beneath her.

Your hips roll into Cassie's face as she brings you closer and closer to the release you so desperately need. Her nails dig into your hips— you just know there's going to be marks tomorrow.

Cassie looks up at you as she continues to lap up every inch of your cunt. "Come for me, baby", she tells you in her soft doctor voice.

Your head throws back against the seat, and your eyelids flutter shut. Cassie's mouth pushes into you harder as you arch up into her. You let out a shaky moan and grip Cassie's hair so tight like you're trying to rip her hair out. Your orgasm washes over you, your legs shaking, and a single tear rolls down your cheek.

Cassie's mouth remains on you as she helps you ride out your thigh. Her grip on your hips slowly loosens. You lie under her with your eyes shut, catching your breath.

You feel a few gentle pecks on the inside of your thighs before Cassie sits up. She leans against the headrest of the seat on the right side and looks over to you.

Gently, Cassie grabs your wrist, pulling you up. "Come here", she murmurs.

Cassie pulls you onto her lap, her arms immediately wrapping around you. She places a long, tender kiss on the top of your head as your sweaty bodies connect.

"Sorry, I, uh... that wasn't really a talk", Cassie says.

You burst out in laughter, Cassie doing the same upon hearing your infectious laugh. It's music to her ears and hers is to yours.

You shrug. "I don't mind."

Still smiling, Cassie kisses your temple. "Do you want to maybe come over? No pressure", she says somewhat nervously. It only makes you smile, finding it cute. "We could, uh, well tomorrow after work you could grab your car. Oh, and we could stop and get takeout. If-if you want..."

Your head drops to Cassie's shoulder. "Cassie?"

"Yeah?" she asks, looking down at you.

You give her a soft kiss on her shoulder before resting your head against her again. "That's perfect."

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. You had your favorite coffee in hand. And your girl at your side.

Maybe it was the Cassie haze you were still in that was clouding your vision, but it was such a perfect day.

As you and Cassie walk over to the hospital, you don't say anything, but every now and then you look at each other smiling and blushing. It takes everything in you to not hold her hand right now. The last thing either of you need are people gossiping about you guys.

When you make it into the hospital, you and Cassie drop your belongings off in your lockers, and then head into the ED.

Robby and a few other day shift staff members are gathered at the hub. Dana, Javadi, Santos, Whitaker, Perlah, and Princess were the only ones here yet.

You take a step away from Cassie, leaving a bigger gap as you both approach the rest of the group. You're greeted by smiles.

Dana steps forward and gives you a hug. Her hugs always feel like getting hugged by your mom when you were scared or upset as a child.

"How you feeling today?" she asks.

"I'm good, there's just a little bruising, but it doesn't hurt", you answer before taking a sip of your coffee.

"Yeah, right, it doesn't hurt", Cassie says with a scoff.

You side eye her and place your coffee on the desk next to you. "I'm fine."

"Holy shit", Javadi says, her eyes wide.

Confused, you look at her. "What?"

"Did the patient who assaulted you do that?" Javadi asks, concerned as she points at your neck.

Still confused, you pinch your brows together, and then attempt to look down to see what Javadi is pointing at.

Oh.

Your eyes shoot up. You rack your brain for what to say, but you can't think of anything.

"Hm", Dana says, examining the mark. "It's oddly mouth shaped." She smirks and looks at you and then Cassie, quick enough to not arouse suspicion.

"Oh, uh..." Everyone is looking at you confused. Everyone besides Santos who's trying to hide a smile, Dana who still has a smirk on her face, and Cassie.

Cassie who's trying so hard not to smile but failing. You glare at her. But that only makes it harder for Cassie to fight back a smile.

She grabs the nearest clipboard to her and raises it to her mouth as she stifles a laugh. You're still staring at her, but you can see in her eyes that she's smug— proud of the lovebite she marked you with.

Robby looks between you two a few times, and then claps his hand together. "Okay", he draws out. Robby turns to you. "You're not in pain, correct? All the... bruising is normal?"

"Uh, um, yeah", you stutter out.

"Then back to work people", he orders.

As people disperse, your eyes find Cassie's again. She's still fighting back laughter. You continue to glare at her, but slowly a smile creeps up on your face.

At the same time, you burst out in laughter.

Perlah and Princess turn to each other. In Tagalog, Princess murmurs to Perlah, "I would have fifty dollars in my pocket right now if you took me up on that bet from a few weeks ago."

Perlah shakes her head with a small smile. "Betting that two people who so clearly love each other will stop making eyes at each other is stupid."

Princess and Perlah turn to look at you and Cassie, and see you giggling with one another. You're in your own bubble. The only people on your radar are each other.

After weeks of tension and avoidance, this morning you're closer than ever before. Beaming and laughing at each other's side.

Most of your coworkers don't know what changed or just shrug it off. But the few that know? They're thrilled.

But it doesn't even come close to how estatic you and Cassie are.

You roll your eyes, testing your bite and tonguing at the newly mended gums. The movements hurt your cheek, settling into an uncomfortable itch.

“I’m fully aware you can fight your own battles. She chose to say that in front of me when you weren’t around, because she thought I was too weak to do anything about it. She was provoking me to do something and I did."

She gives a short hum, washing her hands in a nearby basin and ringing out a wet cloth for you.

“So you were defending your character?"

She brings the cool cloth to your cheek and you groan at the relief it brings to your hot, raw skin.

“I guess. I still think she deserved more than a nose bleed for saying all that."

She paused at this, lifting the cloth to dip and ring it out again. “You made her bleed?"

You fiddle with your hands, not looking at her face. You don't regret it but you did punch one of her sisters, her family. You probably embarrassed her too, her little man's world girlfriend who can't even take a punch.

“Only cus she wasn't expecting it."

She turns your head slightly to the side so the purple rays can focus on your wound and so you can look her in the eyes. Maybe you also have a little concussion because there's a faint smile on her face and something like fondness in her eyes too.

“Not everyone can say they’ve made an Amazon warrior bleed.”

Her hair frames her face as she looks down at you, her eyes lingering on your lips just a second too long. Her hand leaves your jaw to gently swipe the cloth over your forehead. You squint your eyes at her, letting a grin find it’s way to your face despite the soreness.

“You're into this.”

She tilts her head to the side and scoffs at the accusation.

“I did not enjoy finding you bleeding on the floor-”

“But you like that I fought someone for you." You give a mocking gasp, "Diana, what would the press think? Peace-loving Wonder Woman thinks it's hot when her girlfriend punches dickbags! How violent!”

She places her hand over your mouth, unable to hide her smile or her reddening cheeks.

“Hush, your wound is still healing.”

You take her hand and bring it to your unharmed cheek, feeling her skin on yours.

“You think I’m hot, that's so embarrassing for you.”

She shakes her head with a light laugh. Her thumb strokes your cheek gently, her calloused fingertip tickling your skin.

"You could never embarrass me."

She places a kiss on your forehead

“I know, words can still hurt sometimes though.”

Dianna’s brows furrow, she watches your peaceful face, eyes closed, breaths slow but her attention zero's in on the slightest frown on your lips.

“What words, Beloved?”

You shrug, eyes still fluttered shut.

“The usual stuff, why would she be with you? What makes you so special? She must pity you.”

"She said these things to you?"

You give a little hum.

“And what did you say her name was?”

You open your eyes to meet your girlfriend's glare. There's a worried crease between her eyebrows, her pretty lips in a near grimace, determination written all over her features.