#anyone notice .. the kinda .. soft reference ..

she knew rafe better than anyone; being recorded doing some silly trend for the world to see simply wasn’t something he’d be willing to do. despite that fact, she knew it wouldn’t hurt too terribly to propose the idea. so, with little hesitation, she made her request known.

“rafe?” she quipped from her place on the couch, her legs draped lazily over her boyfriends lap. “hm?” he hummed, his attention momentarily glued to the phone in his hand as he finished a text. “can we, maybe, try something?” she asked, watching as he completed his typing before tossing the device onto the coffee table with a clank.

“what’s that?” he mumbled, running a hand up her bare leg and resting it on her thigh, lightly squeezing as he gazed at her. “before you say no, just hear me out, okay?” she asked, his face quirking at the request. he nodded his head in a way that prompted her to continue, so she did.

“i wanna see if you can lift me,” she informed simply, to which rafe’s brows rose in question. “if i can lift you?” he clarified with a mild confusion, “y’know i can — do it all the time.”

“no, i mean, like—,” she fumbled with her phone for a moment, tapping at the screen before turning it to face him, “it’s for a video thing… like this.” he watched intently as a couple performed the ‘lift’ in reference and his face contorted to one of scrutiny.

“why?” he questioned, genuinely not understanding the appeal. “i don’t know, looks fun — it’s cute,” y/n mumbled with a shrug, gradually becoming less enthused. “looks kinda dumb,” he muttered honestly, completely disconnected from the internet and it’s need for spontaneous niches. “oh,” y/n spoke quietly as she stared down at the device — maybe he was right.

rafe noticed the shift in her demeanor instantly, his heart squeezing as she slouched against the armrest of the couch, a small pout pulling at her lips that she tried to fight against. he felt a pang of guilt in his chest, hating how filter-less his mouth could be. he didn’t mean come off as cold and dismissive, but he knew that he did, and often does; he also knew that he needed to fix it.

“okay, come on,” he sighed, patting her thigh before sliding her legs off his. “what?” she asked in surprise, her eyes following him as he stood. “let’s do it,” he shrugged, holding out a hand for her to take. immediately, a bright smile flooded her face as she wrapped her digits around his larger palm. “really?” she beamed as he pulled her to her feet. “yeah, i just— is that it?” he motioned to the phone in her grasp, “i just pick you up?”

“yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically with a grin, her eyes glistening as she did so and rafe couldn’t help but let his lips mimic her own. “alright, go set it up,” he instructed as he peered down at her, softly patting her hip in encouragement. she obliged quickly, propping her phone up on the coffee table and setting a timer to count them down from thirty, hoping that would allot them enough time to prepare.

“please don’t drop me,” she laughed as rafe situated his large hands around her waist, his long fingers nearly touching each other at the center of her stomach. “i’d never,” he scoffed with a soft smile, “just tell me when.”

“almost,” she muttered as she watched the numbers descend on the screen, “okay-okay, three, two, one.” instantly, she felt the hold on her body tighten as rafe effortlessly lifted her through the air; she didn’t need to jump in assistance, nor did he grunt or struggle in the slightest, carrying her gracefully as though she was a feather. she instinctively gripped his wrists as a squeal left her mouth, a melodic stream of laughter following as he propped her onto his shoulder, her body fitting perfectly on the broad surface.

the recording ended and the song looped softly in the background as rafe carefully slid her down his body, his hands resting underneath her arms as he lowered her to the ground. as soon as her feet hit the floor, she padded over to watch the perfectly imperfect recording — the framing was off, seeing as rafe was too tall to fit, and she didn’t lip-sync to the lyrics as most others had, but none of that mattered in the slightest.

“look,” she grinned, holding the phone out for rafe to see. he smiled fondly down at her, his eyes flickering between her face as she watched the clip and the clip itself. admittedly, he enjoyed participating, enjoying even more how giddy she was about it. “i see,” he assured with a small smile, his focus primarily on his happy girl as he rested a hand on her hip, rubbing small circles on the bone.

“i love it,” she gushed, ecstatic to have something so sweet and silly of herself and her boyfriend that she just knew she would watch over and over and over again. “good,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the moment being interrupted when his phone rang out — a call he was expecting.

“i’ve gotta take this,” he informed, running his fingers under the hem of her shirt and softly grazing the skin before breaking the contact. he grabbed the cell from it’s place on the table, answering it with a hushed greeting before exiting the room, leaving y/n to rewatch their video again with a cheek-aching grin; her man was in-fact very jacked and oh-so kind (but only ever for her).

you were at your desk, doing some paperworks. he noticed that you refused to look at him, he will not be surprised if he touch your face you'll be burning hot right now.

"master..." he called out your name gently, you try to be indifferent and hummed in acknowledgement.

and the air is significantly changed the moment he revealed his secret.

"so you're not... transgender? not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just that i thought.." he smiled slightly before masking it back with neutral expression, oh you're just too cute.

"as far as i'm aware, yes.. i am not a transgender master..."

"do my parents know this?"

"yes, they're aware of this, they're the ones who gave me a chance"

you curses, eyebrows still furrowed like you're being betrayed. there's a pang in his heart, maybe it's guilt for keeping you out in the dark even though he knows he can trust you with his whole life.

"what do you mean i have a pretty man for a maid this whole time?"

there's a pause, he stared at you blankly making you sputter- maybe you've crossed the line and quickly apologies.

he cleared his throat before excusing himself as he still have a duty to attend to, but if you look closely you'll catch red color dusting the tip of his ears. seems that he liked being called pretty by you a little bit too much.

but of course, everything will continue back to normal after that even if you found out the truth, he still have an identity to protect anyways. and you- again bless your heart- still refer him as a woman in public, not really surprising because you're always respectful to other people's choices.

of course you are, this is just another reason to protect you from unsavory men and women and anyone who dares to try to win your heart. no one deserves you. you're too good even for him.

but he does kinda regret it since your teasing- in private of course- has multiplied tenfolds, you always enjoy trying to break down his wall. most of the times you failed, atleast on the outside. but on the inside? he almost combust. (not in that way you freak).

soobin never planned to go to that party. he had a project due on monday, a group report no one else was helping with, and a whole list of unread notifications in his coding forum. parties weren’t his scene. they were loud, chaotic, full of meaningless chatter and fake small talk.

but his roommate, choi beomgyu begged him to go — “come on, hyung, the girls from visual communication are joining this time. you can't code your youth away.”

so, reluctantly, soobin showed up, neat as always — white button-down shirt, black slacks, and his usual black-rimmed glasses that he adjusted every few minutes out of habit. while his classmates shouted over music and downed shots of soju like water, he sat at the far end of the table, sipping a soda, quietly observing.

that’s when you walked in.

he saw you before you noticed him. you wore confidence like perfume — not overwhelming, but impossible to ignore. your black crop top hugged your body perfectly, a short skirt revealing just enough, and those heeled boots clicked against the floor like a beat only you could walk to. your hair fell just right. your eyes scanned the room like you already owned it.

and then they landed on him.

you tilted your head curiously. he looked different from the others — formal, stiff, awkwardly seated like he was out of place. but there was something about him... maybe it was the way his lips twitched nervously whenever someone made a joke, or how his fingers tapped rhythmically on his glass, like his brain was always working on something unspoken.

you slid into the empty seat across from him.

“hi,” you said, voice clear and sweet, but assertive. “soobin, right?”

his eyes widened slightly. “y-yeah. How’d you—?”

“you’re the only one not yelling,” you smirked. “kinda refreshing.”

he chuckled nervously, pushing his glasses up. “i guess i don’t blend in much.”

“that’s a good thing,” you replied without hesitation. “wanna drink?”

he hesitated, eyes flickering to the soju bottle you were holding.

“i don’t really drink.”

you leaned closer, a playful smile on your lips. “i won’t let you overdo it. promise.”

something about the way you said it — lighthearted, but sincere — made him nod.

you poured the drinks. one. two. light sips. soft laughter. his walls started to come down, little by little. you asked about his major. he asked about yours. you joked about how communication students always had to look flawless for presentations, and he admitted he didn’t even own hair gel.

then, the conversation shifted.

“so, uh,” soobin began, scratching the back of his neck, “i’ve been playing around with some indie game engines. just as a hobby. i’m trying to create this… interactive narrative? like a retro pixel art game with moral choice-based paths. i know it sounds kinda nerdy—”

“nerdy?” you interrupted. “that sounds sick. wait—so, like, the player’s decisions affect the storyline?”

his eyes lit up. you weren’t mocking him — you were interested.

He nodded, and as he talked, he got more animated. His voice rose with excitement as he described the branching paths, the artwork, the emotional arcs. he didn’t notice the way you shifted closer, your hand now resting on the table near his. he didn’t notice the way your thigh gently brushed his leg under the table.

“so... moral choices, huh?” you say, chin propped on your hand as you watch soobin’s eyes light up with every word he speaks. “like what? save the princess or let her die?”

he laughs, warm and unguarded. “kind of. but more... morally gray. like: help your friend cheat on an exam and risk your own grade, or tell the professor and lose the friendship.”

you raise a brow, intrigued. “damn. that’s... deep. and very specific. did that happen to you?”

he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “no. maybe. it’s a hypothetical.”

“right,” you say with a smirk, reaching for the soju bottle to pour another round. “well, professor choi, i hope you gave your digital friend some slack.”

“i made two endings,” he replies, then pauses. “wait, professor?”

you shrug, tilting your glass toward his. “you talk like one. all serious and nerdy.”

“i’m not that serious,” he protests, smiling now, more relaxed.

you lean in slightly, voice soft. “you kind of are. but I like it.”

he’s silent for a moment, blinking.

then, in a softer voice, he asks, “what about you? i’ve been rambling this whole time. what’s your major again?”

“media production,” you say casually. “i make pretty things look important.”

he smiles. “sounds fun.”

you nod. “it is. lots of editing, lots of late nights. but i like telling stories.” you pause, your gaze dipping to his lips for the briefest second before locking eyes again. “even the fake ones.”

he laughs at that. “maybe you could help with the cinematics for my game.”

“only if you give me creative control over the main character’s love story.”

he raises a brow. “that’s... oddly specific.”

you wink. “everything’s a love story, soobin.”

he swallows, hard.

but he noticed when you suddenly leaned into him to hear better — the bar had gotten louder, the music thumping. your shoulder touched his. your chest grazed his arm. and for the first time in his life, choi soobin forgot how to breathe.

you didn’t pull away.

neither did he.

you both sip your soju, and for a moment, neither speaks. the table around you has gotten louder. someone yells out a drinking chant. you glance sideways, then lean in just a little more so he can hear you.

“you know,” you murmur near his ear, your breath warm against his skin, “your friend beomgyu is wasted.”

soobin follows your gaze. beomgyu’s halfway off his seat, swaying dramatically while trying to sing along to a girl group song.

he huffs a laugh. “he’s always like that. gets drunk off three shots and starts performing like he’s on music bank.”

you turn your face toward soobin’s, still whispering. your lips are inches from his ear. “at least he’s not in the bathroom with a sunbae.”

soobin blinks. “what?”

you grin. “my friends went with a few. they’ve been gone for a while.” you pause for dramatic effect. “you do know what happens when girls go to the bathroom with sunbaes, right?”

soobin’s entire face flushes.

“i—uh—i mean—maybe they’re just—talking?” he stammers.

you burst into soft laughter, brushing his knee with yours under the table. “you’re so pure, soobin.”

“i’m not!” he protests, but he’s still red, ears pink and glowing.

“oh, really?” you tease, tilting your head. “then why are you blushing so hard?”

he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. he looks away, adjusting his glasses, trying to hide the way his eyes keep drifting back to your lips — still glossed and shining from the soju.

you lean closer, your voice barely above a whisper now. “you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

soobin freezes.

you smile.

and he realizes something, right then and there: you're not just beautiful. you're dangerous.

the music booms louder. someone starts chanting for shots again. but for you and Soobin, the world has narrowed into one tiny space: the few inches between your face and his.

he’s looking at you like he’s not sure if this is real — like you might vanish if he blinks too long.

but you don’t.

instead, you stay close. too close. your perfume has wrapped around him like a spell, and your knee is still brushing against his. the room is hot, but it’s nothing compared to the burn beneath his skin.

“soobin,” you whisper again, teasing, your voice honeyed, “are you really as pure as you look?”

“i—” he starts, voice dry, but you cut him off.

you tilt your head and, without warning, you press your lips to his.

it’s soft.

just a taste.

he freezes for a second — surprised, breath caught — and then, like something deep inside him snaps, he kisses you back.

harder.

with need.

his hand finds your waist, gripping tight, pulling you closer with a quiet desperation. you gasp slightly against his mouth, not expecting the sudden boldness. but you love it. you lean in more, wrapping your fingers around the collar of his button-up shirt, tugging him toward you.

he tastes like soju and mint gum and something that’s just… soobin.

his other hand fumbles before settling on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. there’s something both unsure and intense in his touch — like he’s scared he’ll mess it up, but even more scared to stop.

you pull back just enough to breathe, your lips swollen and your eyes glazed with heat.

“not so pure now, huh?” you murmur, teasing again.

he looks at you like he doesn’t know whether to kiss you or confess something bigger — but he chooses the first, crashing his mouth back onto yours with a groan that rumbles from his chest.

when you shift closer, almost climbing onto his lap, he holds you with more force than you expected. his fingers dig into your hips as if anchoring himself, as if he doesn’t want to let go.

your hand slips beneath his shirt, palm brushing his stomach, and he exhales sharply against your mouth. his lips move to your jaw, then your neck, uncertain at first… until he hears your soft gasp.

“let’s go,” you whisper in his ear, breathless, the suggestion hanging hot in the space between you.

he stiffens. “to… my place?”

you smirk. “too far.”

your hand slips into his, firm and electric.

“my apartment’s closer.”

you don’t wait for him to agree.

you just lead him out — past the pulsing music, past beomgyu still singing in his drunken stupor, past your friends who are nowhere to be seen — and into the cool night air, where soobin’s heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it.

he doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

but he knows he’s not stopping you.

and that he wants this — you — more than anything he's ever wanted before.

your apartment was dimly lit — soft, warm, intimate. the moment the door clicked shut behind you, it was like the air changed. soobin stood there for a second, his eyes scanning your space like he’d just stepped into another realm. then you turned to him, a teasing smile curling at your lips, and tugged him gently by the hem of his shirt.

he followed like gravity.

the first kiss happened slowly — a hesitant brush of lips that turned into something deeper. desperate. heated. you tasted of soju and strawberry gloss, and he tasted like restraint finally snapping in half. his hands found your waist, clumsy at first, then firmer, as if he was trying to memorize the shape of you with his fingers.

clothes fell off in pieces — half-forgotten in the trail from the hallway to your bed.

soobin’s eyes never left yours, even when you pulled him over you, even when your nails raked softly down his back. he asked you quietly if this was okay. you answered with a kiss that made him groan against your mouth.

and when he finally moved inside you — shaky but tender — it wasn’t perfect.

it was better.

it was real. hot. messy. and achingly good.

you guided him, whispered to him, taught him what you liked — and he listened. god, he listened. every sound you made, every arch of your back, he responded like he was being graded on it.

and if he was, he passed with flying colors.

he was intuitive. curious. attentive.

no man had ever made you feel like that.

the climax hit you like a wave crashing too fast — unexpected and all-consuming. his name fell from your lips like a secret, like a confession. and when it was over, when you lay tangled together in the silence of your room, your heart was racing not just from the sex, but from him.

you should’ve felt satisfied.

instead, you felt… addicted.

the hum of the editing lab wrapped around you both like a low heartbeat. it was almost midnight, and the room had long emptied, save for the soft glow of the screen and the occasional sound of soobin typing, hesitant, as if even his fingers were overthinking.

you leaned back in your chair, eyes on the render but mind somewhere else — maybe still tangled in his sheets from last night.

“you okay?” he asked quietly, glancing sideways at you.

you nodded, absently. “just tired.”

"so..." he starts, voice low, not meeting your eyes. “last night. i didn’t mean to stay so long.”

you tilt your head, smirking. "you mean, you didn’t mean to keep me up 'til 3 am?"

his ears flush pink, but he chuckles. “well, you didn’t seem to mind.”

you lean in, your voice dropping an octave. “i didn’t.”

it was a half-truth.

you weren’t tired. you were numb.

not from exhaustion, but from the repetition — the cycle.

work. touch. release. silence.

he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, then stopped. instead, he scrolled through the code, pretending to focus, but his eyes kept drifting.

you noticed. of course you noticed.

you always did.

“you know,” you said, breaking the silence, “your animation loop still stutters at frame 27. i can help you clean it up later.”

he smiled — small, shy. “you don’t have to. I already owe you too much.”

you shrugged. “it’s your project, soobin. i’m just… happy to be part of it.”

another silence fell, but this one was heavier. His gaze lingered on you longer now. not the way he did when you were naked and under him. this was different. softer. wanting.

you hated that look.

so you stood up, stretching slightly, letting your shirt ride up just enough to tease.

“i should go,” you said.

he blinked, caught off guard. “already? it’s not that late—”

“you need rest,” you cut in, grabbing your bag. "big day tomorrow.”

he hesitated. “can i… can i come over?”

you turned to him slowly, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

“do you want to?”

his ears flushed. he looked down at his hands. “you know i do.”

you stepped closer, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “then say it.”

soobin looked up, meeting your eyes. there was something fragile in his expression — hope, maybe. longing.

but you didn’t let it bloom.

you leaned in, brushing your lips against his, soft and fleeting. a kiss with no promise.

no future.

“i’ll text you,” you whispered. “if i feel like it.”

then you turned and left, the door clicking softly behind you.

it was past 1:30 a.m. when you heard the soft knock at your door.

three short taps. hesitant. familiar.

you were in bed, hair loose, wearing nothing but an old oversized tee and underwear, your laptop glowing softly with a paused movie. for a second, you thought you were imagining it. but then it came again — one more knock. you got up slowly, half-annoyed, half-curious.

when you opened the door, there he was.

choi soobin. hoodie slightly damp from the drizzle outside. his glasses fogged up. eyes wide, like he didn’t plan on actually doing this until he did.

you leaned against the frame, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “couldn’t sleep?”

he looked down, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted quietly. “i didn’t want to wait for a text.”

your lips curled slightly. “bold tonight, aren’t you?”

he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “can i come in?”

you stepped aside, not saying a word. he brushed past you, and you closed the door behind him with a click that sounded like permission.

as soon as he turned around, you pressed him against the wall, your hands sliding under his hoodie. he gasped softly, but his hands found your waist like instinct.

“i wasn’t sure you’d come,” you murmured against his jaw, lips ghosting over his skin.

“i told you i would if you asked,” he whispered, already breathless.

“i didn’t ask.”

“you didn’t have to.”

you kissed him then — no teasing, no buildup. just lips crashing, hungry, messy, desperate. he kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d imagined this moment a hundred times, and now it was finally real. your fingers tangled in his hoodie, pulling it up, and he broke the kiss only to help you tug it off.

your hands roamed his chest, down to his abs — firm, warm. he wasn’t the scrawny nerd you first thought he’d be. He had strength, a body that surprised you. you tugged him down by the waistband of his sweats, eyes locked on his, voice a low whisper against his lips.

“sit back for me, soobin.”

he blinked, confused, aroused. “w–what?”

you pushed gently at his chest, guiding him to the edge of the bed. he obeyed without protest, legs parted, hands gripping the sheets.

“i want to taste you,” you said simply, dropping to your knees between his thighs.

his breath hitched. “y/n…”

you smiled up at him, slow and sinful. “relax.”

with one hand, you pulled his sweats and boxers down in a single motion, exposing him fully. He was already hard, flushed and twitching, and the sight of it made you ache.

“shit,” he whispered, covering his face with one hand. “i can’t believe this is happening.”

you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, then up, up — teasing, warm, slow. he trembled under your mouth. when you finally took him in, inch by inch, his hand flew to your hair, not to push, just to hold. like he needed something to ground him.

“f–fuck, y/n—” his hips bucked slightly, but you pressed a hand to his stomach, holding him in place. your tongue swirled around him, dragging moans from his throat like music.

“you feel so good,” he groaned, head falling back. “i don’t think i’m gonna last…”

you pulled back just enough to say, “then don’t.”

then you took him deep again, your rhythm relentless, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on his. watching him fall apart under your touch. his thighs tightened, his moans got louder, breath ragged.

“y/n— i’m— i’m gonna—”

you didn’t stop.

you stayed right there, even when his hips jerked, when he spilled into your mouth with a broken, helpless cry of your name. you swallowed, slow and deliberate, then licked your lips as you sat back on your knees, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

he looked down at you, completely wrecked.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, eyes still glazed.

you just smirked. “not yet.”

then you pulled him down to the bed, climbed on top, and whispered against his lips:

“soobin,” you whispered, voice low, sultry. “you gonna just stay there, or are you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

his eyes widened, dark with desire. “i don’t wanna mess this up.”

you stepped closer, pressing his hand against the curve of your ass. “then don’t.”

That was all it took.

he grabbed your thighs and lifted you easily, like instinct, like he’d wanted to do this forever. you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips finding his again as he carried you, bumping into the walls, breathless laughter between kisses. when he laid you on the bed, his hands trembled — not from fear, but anticipation.

he knelt between your legs, pulling your panties down slowly. watching your expression. eyes flickering between your parted lips and the way you bit them.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “i’ve never seen anything like you.”

you smirked, “then show me how much you like what you see.”

and he did.

his mouth, warm and eager, exploring your skin, your thighs, your core. It wasn’t perfect, but it was passionate. raw. messy. and so damn real. you moaned his name, fingers tangling in his hair, and when he finally slid inside you — slow, deep — he gasped like it was the first breath he’d taken in hours.

“so tight,” he groaned into your neck. “fuck—i... i love this..."

you rocked your hips against his, matching his rhythm, breath against his ear. “feel me, baby. you’re inside me now. nothing to overthink.”

his pace quickened, your bodies moving in sync, sweat slicking your skin. his name spilled from your lips, breathy and broken. he looked down at you, jaw clenched, fighting to last.

“i’m close,” he warned.

you cupped his face, kissed him deep. “then don’t hold back. cum for me.”

he did — with a soft, choked moan against your neck, his whole body trembling. and you followed soon after, your climax crashing into you like a wave, sharp and sweet and overwhelming.

you lay there for a moment, tangled in sheets and each other, chests rising and falling in sync.

but then, the moment passed.

you pulled away first.

no words. no promises. you grabbed his hoodie from the floor and tossed it to him.

“It’s late,” you said, voice flat now.

he nodded, quietly getting dressed, still catching his breath. “right. i’ll… see you tomorrow? for the project?”

you smiled faintly, eyes unreadable. “of course.”

and just like that, he left — around 3 a.m., hoodie half on, hair messy, heart heavier than he’d admit.

you lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

he was addictive.

but this wasn’t love.

just affection.

the next day, you were already in the media lab by noon, hair up in a clip, sipping an iced coffee like nothing happened. like you hadn’t spent half the night moaning his name into your sheets. you were scrolling through some reference animations when you heard the door creak.

he walked in — soobin, hoodie slightly rumpled, eyes darker than usual, laptop tucked under one arm like a shield.

“hey,” he said, voice low, careful.

you didn’t look up right away.

“hey,” you replied casually, then shot him a glance. “you look like you slept five minutes.”

“three,” he muttered, sitting beside you. “thanks to you.”

you smirked. “you're welcome.”

he chuckled under his breath, but the way his eyes lingered on your collarbone, on the way your fingers tapped against your straw — it wasn’t casual for him. not anymore.

“so… did you get a chance to work on that npc dialogue system?” you asked, flipping the screen toward him.

he blinked. took a second too long to switch gears. “yeah, uh—yeah. i built the first tree structure. i’ll show you.”

you leaned closer, shoulder to shoulder, like nothing. like you hadn’t had him inside you hours ago.

he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his position, fingers suddenly awkward on the trackpad.

“you okay?” you asked, feigning innocence.

he nodded, then… hesitated. “do you… always do that?”

your brows lifted. “do what?”

he stared at the screen. “act like it didn’t happen.”

you tilted your head, biting back a grin. “did you want a commemorative plaque or something?”

soobin flushed immediately, lips pressing into a line. “no. just—forget it.”

silence stretched for a moment. you let it.

because you were fine. it was what it was.

friends. collaborators. occasional bodies tangled in bedsheets.

no promises.

no future.

just affection when the night hit hard and the skin craved warmth.

you leaned in again, voice low and playful, barely above a whisper. “i like you better when you’re coding instead of catching feelings.”

that made him laugh — small and bitter, but still soobin.

“yeah,” he murmured, “me too.”

you sat side by side, going over the storyboard edits for soobin’s game. but his knee kept brushing against yours. your fingers kept finding excuses to linger near his. every time you spoke, he looked at your lips instead of your eyes.

a laugh. a brush of fingers when you reached for the same pen. the hum of your breathing syncing unconsciously as you leaned over his sketchpad, discussing the new character render.

but the tension was undeniable — thick, like summer air before a storm.

you shifted in your seat. soobin’s gaze followed the curve of your mouth when you smiled at something dumb he said. his knee bumped yours under the table — once, twice — and this time he didn’t move away.

your eyes locked.

he licked his lips.

you tilted your head.

“are you going to kiss me,” you whispered, “or just keep pretending you’re focused?”

soobin blinked, startled — but only for a second. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in with a hunger he rarely let slip. his mouth found yours in a kiss that was wet, desperate, a little uncoordinated, but still made your body heat like a fever.

you straddled him in the lab chair, fingers digging into his shoulders as his lips mapped your throat. he groaned quietly when your hips rolled against his. you loved how sensitive he was, how new it still felt to him.

his fingers fumbled at your waistband, and yours slipped under his hoodie, nails grazing the skin of his stomach.

and then—

his voice broke through the haze.

“i think i love you...”

time paused.

the kiss didn’t end — not completely. but you stilled in his arms, lips barely touching.

he looked up at you, chest heaving. there was no mask, no hesitation in his gaze — only raw, trembling honesty.

you swallowed hard.

“someone could see us,” you murmured, pulling back slightly. your hand pressed flat against his chest. “we shouldn’t… not here.”

he nodded slowly. “right. sorry.”

but you saw the flicker in his eyes.

he knew you weren’t talking about getting caught.

and you knew… he meant every word.

soobin picked at his food, eyes blank, fingers tapping against the side of his glass.

beomgyu dropped into the seat across from him with the energy of a man who hadn’t just bombed an engineering quiz. “yo, you look like someone stepped on your graphics card.”

before soobin could reply, minah slid in beside beomgyu, planting a kiss on his cheek. “hey, babe.”

soobin blinked. “you guys are dating?”

minah giggled. “it’s recent. we met at that party a few weeks back. y/n introduced us.”

beomgyu grinned. “she’s basically the campus matchmaker.”

soobin tried to smile.

minah looked at him with a knowing softness. “she said you two are close. working together?”

“yeah,” he said, voice low. “the game project.”

“she always puts her heart into everything,” minah said, stirring her coffee. “she’s one of the kindest people i know. genuinely warm. i’ve never seen her turn anyone away.”

beomgyu smirked. “you sure that’s all it is, soobin? that game project?”

Soobin froze, caught.

minah’s smile wavered. “can i… tell you something?”

his throat tightened. “yeah.”

minah took a breath. “she dated someone last year. jung jaehyun. from the film department.”

beomgyu’s eyebrows rose. “that asshole?”

minah nodded. “he cheated on her. more than once. manipulated her too — made her feel like everything was her fault. she loved him so much, and he treated her like she was disposable. it took her almost a year to recover. she still isn’t fully herself.”

soobin felt the blood drain from his face.

“she stopped believing in love,” minah whispered. “she’s terrified of it now. of letting someone in. that’s why she pushes people away when it gets too real.”

suddenly everything made sense.

the kiss that ended too soon.

the soft panic in your eyes when he said those words.

the coldness in your voice that didn’t match your trembling fingers.

you were afraid.

not of him — but of what he made you feel.

the soft hum of the bustling street outside the café filled your ears as you stepped out into the cool evening air. you hadn’t expected to see soobin again so soon after that moment in the lab — after everything.

but there he was, standing a few feet away on the sidewalk, looking lost in thought, as if he had been waiting for something… or someone. the moment you saw him, your heart did something unexpected. It skipped, then raced. the last few hours replayed in your mind like a movie — the confession, the words you couldn’t quite process, and the tension that clung between you two.

it felt as if the air around you was thick, but in a way that made it harder to breathe, harder to stay composed. you didn’t know what to expect. but you couldn’t walk away now. not after what had happened. you hesitated, then took a step toward him, the streets buzzing around you as you made your way through the crowd. and when he turned to face you, his eyes met yours, searching. they held something — hope, maybe.

but beneath that, a vulnerability, something you’d never seen in him before. “soobin,” you said softly, just to break the silence that seemed to hang in the air. his lips parted as he spoke your name, but before he could say anything else, he took a step closer.

“i didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with a small smile, his voice a little breathless. you stood there, unsure of what to say next. the weight of your emotions was too much to voice. you’d been trying to keep your distance, but everything you’d told him in the lab — everything that had been left unspoken, was still so fresh. "y/n," he began, his tone softer than before, as if he was carefully choosing his words. "i heard something earlier... from minah. about you and jaehyun."

you froze for a moment, your heart dropping to your stomach. you hadn’t expected this, not now, not after everything. the mention of jaehyun's name immediately brought a rush of old memories — the good and the painful.

soobin noticed your reaction, his expression filled with concern. he continued, his voice quiet but sincere. “she... she told me about your past with him. how he hurt you. how you’ve been carrying that pain for a long time.”

the words hit you like a cold wave, and you immediately felt the familiar wall go up inside you. the one you had built after jaehyun shattered your trust. you tried to keep your composure, but it was hard to suppress the hurt that resurfaced in an instant.

"i didn’t mean for anyone to know," you said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

soobin stepped closer, his gaze steady but filled with empathy. "y/n, i... i didn’t know. but hearing that from her, i just want you to know that i’m not like him. i’m not going to hurt you. i care about you."

it was like everything about him had a magnetic pull on you, drawing you in. but what was it? you wanted to understand it, but you weren’t sure you were ready for that yet. you had never really thought about falling for someone again — not after what jaehyun did to you. but soobin? he was different.

from the moment you met him, something in you had clicked. his presence, his voice, the way he made everything seem lighter. it had been almost a shift in your routine. the days had become brighter, the moments when you found him beside you felt full of a warmth you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. and, just like that, your feelings for him had grown, but slowly. subtly. almost like an invisible thread that tied you to him.

and now, standing here, you realized that in the short time you’d known him, everything had changed. your world had shifted, in the best way possible. you couldn’t even remember what life was like before him anymore. the routine of school, the small annoyances that once felt like mountains, they didn’t matter anymore when you were around him. soobin made everything feel like it could be okay, like things could be light again. he made you smile without trying, made you laugh just with the way he looked at you, or the way he spoke to you. and as your heart raced now, looking at him, you realized it had been him all along, ever since that first encounter.

he took a slow step toward you, his eyes full of something sincere. “i never expected to meet someone like you,” he said. “you… you’ve made things so much better. i wasn’t sure how to say this before, but now, i have to tell you. i’m really glad i met you.” your heart skipped a beat. the words, his honesty, made your chest tighten.

"i am too," you whispered. "but i’m just... scared. you know?" he paused, looking at you with understanding.

“scared of what?” he asked gently.

"scared that i’m not ready for this," you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady. "scared of... falling for someone again. what if i screw it up? what if i can’t do this? i don’t want to hurt you, soobin."

soobin stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him. his voice was barely above a whisper.

"y/n... i'm not going anywhere. i’m here for you. whatever this is… i’ll be here, for as long as you’ll have me." you felt like you were losing control of everything inside of you. his words, his sincerity, the feeling of being cared for in a way you hadn’t felt in so long, it made your heart ache in the best possible way.

you looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of hope. but then the fear crept back in. the fear that maybe you weren’t ready to trust again, that maybe you weren’t worthy of someone’s love, especially not someone as kind as soobin.

"why does it have to be so hard?" you whispered, almost to yourself.

soobin squeezed your hand, his voice steady and calm. "because it’s worth it. if we give it a chance. if you give me a chance."

you didn’t know what to say. the vulnerability that you felt in this moment was overwhelming, but you also realized something. soobin wasn’t asking for perfection from you. he was asking for honesty, for a chance to show you that he wasn’t like jaehyun.

and despite all the fear, despite the scars left by the past, you wanted to believe him. you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

soobin and you walk into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you like sealing a secret. neither of you speaks—there’s no need. the electricity between you crackles in the silence, heavy with all the things you’ve both wanted to say but instead chose to show.

soobin shrugs off his hoodie in one smooth motion, and underneath, the fitted polo clings to his arms, hugging every inch of muscle you’ve fantasized about. your eyes drag over him, slow and hungry, and he catches your gaze, a smirk twitching on his lips.

“come here,” he murmurs, voice thick with intent.

you don’t even make it to the bedroom before his hands are on your waist, his mouth crushing into yours with a hunger that steals the breath right out of you. you melt into him, fingers gripping the fabric over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart pounding like it wants to break free.

the kiss deepens, lips sliding, teeth nipping, tongues meeting with desperation. he backs you into the wall, grinding his hips into yours just enough to make you gasp. one of his hands travels under your shirt, grazing the soft skin of your waist, while the other cups your jaw to tilt your face and devour your mouth deeper. you moan into the kiss, your knees going weak, and he catches you like he was waiting for it.

“you feel so good,” he breathes into your neck, licking and sucking at the skin there, leaving you marked—claimed. “you drive me fucking insane.”

by the time you reach the bed, your shirt is gone, your bra unclasped, and soobin's hands are everywhere—greedy, but still careful. he kisses down your chest, slow and savoring, like he’s worshipping you with his mouth. then his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, finding you already soaked.

“fuck,” he groans, voice rough, eyes hooded as he pulls them down. “look at you. so wet for me already. you want this?”

“god, yes,” you whisper, breath trembling.

he slides a finger inside you, slow at first—testing. then a second joins, curling just right, hitting that perfect spot that makes you whimper and arch into him. he watches you like you’re his favorite sin, completely mesmerized by how you fall apart under his touch.

your moans get louder, higher, your body trembling as he picks up the pace, his thumb circling your clit with expert pressure. he kisses your thigh, murmuring praises between each stroke—how beautiful you look, how tight and perfect you feel, how he could stay between your legs forever.

when your climax crashes into you, it’s sudden and overwhelming. Your walls clench around his fingers as you cry out, your hips jerking and your thighs trembling. he doesn’t stop until he’s milked every last spasm from your body, until you’re panting and spent and completely undone beneath him.

“shit… that was so hot,” he says, his voice low, lips brushing against your cheek as he slowly withdraws his fingers. you catch his gaze and, feeling bold, you take his hand and pull his glistening fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean while holding eye contact.

soobin lets out a broken sound—half-moan, half-growl—as he crashes his lips to yours again, desperate, messy. he pulls you into his lap, settling you on top of him, both of you half-naked and feverish with want.

your body is still humming, trembling in the aftershocks of your climax when soobin kisses you again—hungry, desperate, like he’s chasing something deeper. his hands don’t leave your body, fingers tracing over your hips, up your stomach, down between your thighs again.

you whimper when he strokes you, still sensitive, but the way he looks at you—so enamored, so lost in you—makes the overstimulation morph into pleasure all over again.

“you can take it,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “you’re so fucking perfect like this… i need to feel you again.”

he doesn’t wait for an answer. his fingers glide between your folds, spreading the wetness he’s already coaxed from you. he groans low, almost a growl, as he guides himself to your entrance, teasing you just enough to make you whine.

then he pushes in, slow but deep, stretching you inch by inch.

a gasp leaves your lips as he bottoms out, your body molding to fit him. he shudders against you, his arms wrapping around you tight like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“fuck—” his breath stutters. “you feel so good, baby… so fucking good.”

he starts moving, slow at first—rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, savoring the way your body clenches around him. His forehead rests against yours, and when you open your eyes, you find him staring at you like you’re something sacred.

that’s when his voice breaks.

“i love you,” he confesses, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. “god, i love you so much it hurts.”

tears spill from his eyes, slipping down his cheeks before he can stop them. the rawness in his voice, the vulnerability in his touch—it makes your chest ache.

you don’t answer with words. instead, you hold his face, kissing his tears away, soothing him with soft whispers, with the warmth of your body moving in time with his.

then you shift, pushing gently on his shoulders, guiding him onto his back. he lets you take control, his lips parted in awe as you settle on top of him, sinking down onto him so slowly that he swears under his breath.

“fuck—” he gasps, head tipping back against the pillow.

you start moving, rolling your hips, riding him at your own pace, watching the way his brows knit together, how his hands grip your thighs, his lips falling open in pleasure. he looks wrecked beneath you, completely at your mercy.

“you’re such a good man, soobin,” you whisper, leaning down to press kisses along his damp cheeks. “you don’t have to hide from me. i see you… and i want you. just as you are.”

a broken sound leaves him—half-whimper, half-sob—as his hands slide up your back, pulling you closer. you keep moving, slow and deep, letting him feel everything.

his hips stutter under you, his breathing turning erratic.

“baby, i—” he cuts off with a strangled moan, his body tensing beneath you. “i can’t— i’m gonna—”

“cum with me” you whisper, kissing him deep as his release overtakes him.

soobin lets out a wrecked, breathless moan, his whole body shaking as he spills inside you. sis hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he rides out his high. his chest rises and falls in heavy gasps, eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed and undone.

even as the tremors subside, the tears don’t stop. you brush them away with gentle fingers, pressing soft kisses over his damp cheeks, his forehead, his lips.

“you’re okay,” you murmur. “i’ve got you.”

he exhales shakily, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you against his chest, still buried inside you, still trembling. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you—like you’re his anchor, his salvation.

and you let him.

because even though you didn’t say it back, he knows.

he feels it in the way you kiss him. in the way you hold him. in the way you don’t let go.

and for now, that’s enough.

he stops, just for a second, forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaky and shallow.

“i love you,” he says, barely louder than a whisper, but it hits like thunder.

you freeze, just for a moment. your heart skips, your lips part—but you don’t say it back. not yet. instead, you kiss him. slow, deep, tender. you pour everything into that kiss—every spark, every silent yes, every beat of your heart screaming me too.

he exhales like it’s all he needed. you hold his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, and whisper, “you’re everything right now.”

he nods, tears brimming in his eyes.

and for the rest of the night, you show him. again and again, in every touch, every breath, every moan—you show him exactly what he means to you.

friday night, 9:53 pm. the streets of pittsburgh are illuminated by warm streetlights and late night festivities; along some, you’ll find clubs beaming with pink and blue neon lights. and, rounding the corner of that street, leads to an effervescent little bar that locals love to frequent, especially on fridays. their main appeal being the bi-monthly trivia nights and alternatively open mic karaoke. it’s a great place for people to have fun, get a little buzzed and avoid the cramped and sticky feeling of being in a club.

“go go juice?” victoria reads off the led screen. she looms by the tv stand and her large doe eyes reflect the random beach scene on display with large, white-outlined, blue letters displayed across the panel.

”yep! by sabrina carpenter.” you grab the microphone offered by the bar manager as a countdown appears on screen. you wobble a tiny bit, barely anyone noticed (everyone did), trying to get on stage and hold on to the microphone stand to steady yourself before cheering and hyping up the crowd of a mixed demographic.

“oh she’s a wreck” cassie mutters under her breath with a smile tugging at her lips, sipping on her second diet coke of the night. dennis could only nod at that as he takes a swig of his beer.

they all had watched you go up to the manager and say something along the lines of ‘lemme sing, man’ or ‘put me in, coach’, so very clearly out of it. yet they also didn’t stop you. why? because, to be honest, they were hoping to get a little bit of entertainment tonight. and who are they to stop you from being an entertainer.

the countdown on screen flashes ‘1’ before the first melody of the song blasts out through the speaker situated in every corner of the tiny bar. you somehow manage to spit the first words out two beats too late which then evokes laughter from the crowd.

‘happy hour! 8 pm - 12 am’ dennis warily eyes the clear acrylic stand in the middle of the polished table. ‘20% off drinks for groups of 5 or more!’ then his eyes pan over to the girl drunkenly shaking ass on the little makeshift stage. honestly, he thinks it all happened too fast. you got here forty-five minutes ago. how in the world are you this wasted?

͙͘͡⭑.ᐟ

earlier today, at around 3 pm, ptmc was rather… well no one wanted to say it but everyone was thinking about it. the ‘q’ word. all the chaos and the long lines from the morning had slowly dwindled down to possibly one or two people who would be in and out. irresponsible choices made by irresponsible people, but that's just how the people of pittsburgh are.

trinity walked up to you as you were charting, that god awful nickname (that you’re quite fond of now) falls off her lips and she leans her arms on the counter above you, sporting a scheming smile.

”hey burn, wat’chu doin’ tonight?” she gives you a conniving look, hazel eyes piercing into the side of your head. “got a lil’ date with a special someone?” she teases.

you give her a little noncommittal shake of your head, eyes still trained on the monitor in front of you. “no plans tonight”, you mutter lowly, too focused on typing down the medication and dosage you had given to a patient a couple minutes ago.

”yeah i figured.” trinity beams and, for a moment, you snap your eyes to look at hers dead on before busying yourself with charting once more.

”anyway, i told whitaker and javadi that i’d take them to this open mic karaoke bar near my apartment. i was thinking maybe you’d like to come with?”

you give her a hum and raise your palm up to her, typing down the last bits of this chart before finally turning to the intern in front of you.

”are they actually down?” you raised a brow.

and before trinity could squeeze out a lie from between her teeth, your pointed stare changes her mind.

”okay, we both know that huckleberry has no choice because he lives with me rent free. and maybe i did tell crash that matteo might possibly, probably, hopefully be there, but it’ll be fine.”

“what’s the catch?”

”catch?!” trinity holds a hand to her chest as if offended by the mere implication that she is doing all of this to slither her way into some sort of— “fine. there’s a twenty percent discount on all drinks for people who come in groups of five or more.”

…

“think about it!” the girl in front of you speaks again after she’s met only with a tentative hum, “that’s such a steal. if each person buys a drink, a sixth one might as well be free.”

you pause your pondering to think about the math that had just happened, you’re not entirely sure if she was right, but you weren’t entirely sure if she was wrong either. perhaps she was somewhere in the gray area.

“but if it’s just you, me, whitaker and javadi, how does that make it five?” you grab a nearby tablet and mentally plan on making another round throughout the department, not like there’s much to do anyway.

“duh, i’m still gonna ask a bunch of other people, burn.” trinity follows you as you get up and walk around the hub, making your way to north whilst ignoring the scalding glare you throw at her for the stupid nickname.

“like who?” you turn your body to face the scampering intern as she tries to match your pace. your back comes into contact with the cold metal of the swinging doors that open to north and you push your way through.

”i dont know…” trinity starts. “maybe mohan?”

”hello.” samira mohan, ever so lovely, suddenly spawns from behind trinity and startles you both. “do you need something?”

”oh, just the person i need!” you watch a small smirk grow on trinity’s face as she asks samira about her evening plans, if she had any.

”i’m relatively free tonight. what’s up?” says samira.

the intern fills in the third year resident in on the plan, trying hard not to beg for her to say yes even though she really, really wants to. you linger for a moment before realizing that you should get going. if you want to lose trinity from your heels, you’d have to excuse yourself whilst mohan mulls over her decisions.

you only make it past north 3 before you hear vivacious ‘yes!’ from trinity, which could only mean that samira had said yes.

you chuckle to yourself as you peek into each room, noting which ones had patients and which ones were empty. amongst your peeking and glancing down at the tablet in your hands, you fail to notice another doctor coming your way.

”eyes on the road, kid!” you recognize that voice before you could even look up.

cassie mckay. second year resident, redhead, riveting blue eyes with a tiny patch of brown in her right iris. her hair’s down in a braid with little strands that had fallen to frame her face and her distinctive bangs were kind of all over the place (nothing new). the same charming cassie you’ve met about over a month ago when you started your rotations at ‘the pitt’.

she catches you when you lightly bump into her shoulder, places both hands on your arms to keep you steady and flashing her signature smile, bright with dimples playing at the corner of her lips. ‘woah there’ you hear her mutter under her breath.

“what’s she up to this time?” she nods her head in the direction where trinity can be seen doing a little jump and dance.

you follow her gaze and start to smile yourself.

“i’m guessing mohan had said yes to tonight's plans.” you see santos point at you from across the hall and you hear her say ‘be at my apartment at eight!’ before she skips through the doors and into central.

”and what are these plans that you speak of?” cassie inquires, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning closer to you, something you noticed she does with everyone. she seems to be quite the fan of everyone else’s personal space

“some bar near her place is having this discount for groups of five. and so far she’s asked me, javadi, whitaker and now mohan.” and before you could even process, an invitation slips through your lips. “if you’re free tonight, maybe you’d want to join us?”

that happens a lot when you’re around cassie; you start speaking before you think. well it’s kind of hard to think when your brain just starts playing static when she’s around. you don’t know why, maybe it’s her scent? how she smells clinical and home-y like laundry softener. or the aura that she just brings, how she just seems to revel in holding eye contact and crowding your space whenever you two converse. perhaps it’s her stance, arms crossed over her chest and back slouched leisurely, with her gold chain reflecting the bright white lights of the ED. or maybe you’re just susceptible to attractive women who are almost twice your age.

she angles her head a teensy bit to the right and her smile follows suit, tilting into a soft smirk. she sucks in a breath through her teeth before she responds, “if my math is correct, that makes you a group of five, right? seems like your little ensemble’s complete.”

you mirror her tilt and press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, bringing your shoulders up in a little shrug.

“the more the merrier?”

this action wipes the smirk off of mckay’s face and she fights off a laugh by biting at her bottom lip, you were just too cute. she drops her arms and instinctively pushes them into her scrub pockets, hips slightly jutting forward to maintain balance.

you hear her say something along the lines of ‘i can’t keep up with you young ones’ and ‘im too old for that’. but her voice somewhat fades in your ears and a ringing starts occupying your head again. your eyes are trained on her pink lips that she was just biting a moment ago. so beautiful. you love looking at her, whether up close or from afar, you’re not one to choose. god, what you’d do to have the chance to just give her a little peck on the lips. would she like that? does she even like women? and if she does, would she want a girlfriend who’s half her age? maybe she’d think you’re too young. or that she’s too old. puh-lease.

”you’re not that old.”

cassie’s guffaw snaps you out of your trance and you realize that you had been thinking out loud. all the blood in your body rushes up to your head, tinging your skin red from the apples of your cheeks to the tips of your ears. did you say all that out loud? you don’t even know. you hope not.

“that’s funny, kid. i’m old enough to be your mother.” all the blood that was just in your face suddenly freezes when you go cold… did you actually say all that out loud? ”i got the bones of a sixty-year old woman, too brittle to be in a bar with a bunch of twenty-somethings.” okay maybe not.

you roll your eyes at her exaggeration, you’ve seen cassie, first hand, lift patients off gurneys, so whatever this is she’s saying about having weak bones was clearly false. and she had the biceps to prove that wrong too. mmm biceps.

“if you’re try’na flatter me, just know that it’s working.” she steps to the side and gives your arm a small nudge with her elbow, as if saying goodbye as she starts walking in the direction of central. “but i’m gonna have to find other things to occupy my free day.”

͙͘͡⭑.ᐟ

you study your reflection one last time in the mirror, turning your head side to side to make sure you didn’t miss anything. you did your best to look presentable with the little time you had; concealer, blush, brows, lash, lip and then you were out. you decided to pack a little to go bag because, knowing you, you’re most likely gonna get drunk off of whatever fruit flavoured cocktail they had and land face first into santos’ couch (if you’re lucky).

victoria’s already occupying the loveseat when you arrive at dennis’ and trinity’s apartment and you give her a small wave. you spot dennis in the dining area, arm resting on the back of his chair and still looking as tired as ever.

“nice pants.” the male nods at your bedazzled flared lowrise jeans, ones that you diy-ed a couple years ago before med school consumed your life and hobbies.

”nice jacket.” you return the compliment, gesturing at his black and white speckled tweed jacket.

”you can thank amy for that!” everyone turns to look at trinity who just walked out of her bedroom in an asymmetrical red top and her hair down, she throws a teasing smirk at the man who can only roll his eyes at her words and grunt.

“are we all good to go?” victoria asks, getting up from the sofa to join the small gathering in the dining room. “where’s samira?”

and like clockwork, trinity’s phone rings from her back pocket. it’s mohan.

”sorry, trinity. i have an early shift tomorrow and it completely slipped my mind.”

…

trinity’s now the one on the loveseat, her elbows resting on her knees, face in her palms and she’s been like that for the past five minutes. you’re getting a little concerned.

“we can still go out without her.” dennis tries to comfort his roommate, his hand awkwardly hovering over her shoulder, then her back, then her head before settling back down onto his lap.

“the whole point was the discount…” trinity’s voice is muffled as she sighs against her skin. “might as well get drunk at home.”

you watch your friend with sympathetic eyes. sure, santos maybe a little rough around the edges, but that doesn’t mean she’s not a good person. you’ve always had a soft spot for her, because behind all those shitty nicknames and the occasional outbursts, you know that she’s just doing her best, coping with how the world is moving around her. just like everyone else. she deserves to have a little fun on a budget if she wants, and you’re not going to let a little oversight ruin her night.

you set yourself down on the carpet beside her feet, nudging her shoes with your black open toe kitten heels. trinity pulls her head out of her hands and turns to look at you, raising an eyebrow.

”we can always try someone else.” you look up at her mirthfully, hoping that she takes your offer.

”like who? mel?” she scoffs.

”hey! i happen to love mel!” you shove at her knees, making them knock into one another.

and you do, love mel, because she’s just so sweet. but you’re not quite sure if this night would be up to her pace. loud noises and the smell of booze lingering in the air does not exactly sound like mel’s perfect night. but who are you to assume? maybe you’ll end up surprised.

you rack your brain trying to think of mutual friends/acquaintances you have with the group and only coming up with the people you work with (you have got to get more friends). you start throwing out a list of people around trying to see who you guys could settle on.

”matteo?”

”out on a date.”

“what!” javadi, now perched on the windowsill, squawks from across the room.

“you’ll get over it.” trinity absentmindedly waves her hand in her direction, she already knew matteo was not gonna be in attendance. victoria did too, but she just wanted to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope.

you continue to bounce names around the room, ranging from nurses to night shift doctors, before the voice in the back of your head finally wins over your thoughts.

cassie.

you’ve been trying to suppress the thought of her for the past minute, in fact, she was the first name that popped up when you were brainstorming. not because you think she’d be no fun, but because you don’t think you could trust yourself. surrounded by as much liquor as your heart desires, and wallet can handle, you’re most entirely certain that you wouldn’t be able to act normal. your brain already fizzes out when you’re sober and on the clock. who knows what will happen tonight?

”what about mckay?” whitaker suggests, leaning back onto the brown leather of the sofa. his legs automatically spreading a tad bit wider to make himself comfortable, only to get shoved close by trinity who points at a sign on the nearest wall that said ‘no manspreading allowed!’, for sure she got that right when dennis moved in.

the three people in the room turn to look at you once the doctor’s name hangs in the air. this causes your brows to furrow and back to straighten, suddenly feeling a little defensive. “what are you looking at me for?”

you weren’t that obvious about your crush on her, were you?

they all share a look before trinity breaks the silence, “i saw you talking to her earlier today. maybe she might’ve mentioned something?”

you try to call back your conversation at the hallway in north, skimming past all your thoughts about her eyes, her hair, and her face. thinking really hard, you seem to remember her saying ‘free day’ at the tail end of your conversation and your face lights up.

“i’ll give her a call.” you jump on your feet and head to your purse on the dining table, finding cassie’s contact: ‘dr. mcbangs’ and pressing the phone up to your ear.

cassie’s voice is groggy when she answers and you’re worried that you’ve woken her up. she chuckles out a reassurance that she was just doing a little reading after cleaning her kitchen and you two begin to fall into a comfortable conversation. you ask what she had for dinner and comment on how she should try adding a little red pepper flakes to her pasta if thats her style.

santos, javadi and whitaker stare at you from the living room, eyeing the way your hips leans onto the wooden edge of the table and how your right ankle crosses over the other. your head is leaning towards your phone and your free arm props on the surface behind you as a stabilizer. they watch you giggle softly at a joke that cassie makes and eventually your cheeks turn a slightly deeper pink than the makeup you have on.

trinity suddenly clears her throat, jolting you out of your dream like conversation with the older woman.

from the other side of the phone, cassie’s sitting on her couch, a cup of tea sitting hot on her coffee table. her book rests opened on her stomach, saving the page she was reading just before you had called.

she hears someone, who she assumes is santos, clear their throat and you suddenly scramble to find your words.

”if i remember correctly, you mentioned that it’s your day off tomorrow?”

she hums in response.

”are you also free tonight? mohan forgot she had to work early tomorrow and we’re kinda missing a person…” your voice trails off and cassie can practically see the face you're making, brows drawn in and eyes wide and catching the light in the room.

she smiles to herself and thinks about her options. looking down at the book she has and the cup of tea in front of her, she weighs out the scenarios that could take place. stay in, finish up on her book and enjoy a nice hot drink that will then lull her to a deep comforting sleep where she doesn’t need to worry about waking up early the next day? or sit in a loud, crowded bar babysitting a bunch of drunk twenty year olds as she sits sober and miserable?

she takes in a breath in contemplation, thinking that she’s getting too old for the night life scene. she no longer feels the same as she did twenty years back.

but then you start pleading.

”please cassie?” your voice purrs from her phone speaker. “trin was really excited to go out tonight.”

cassie knows it’s wrong. to suddenly feel so weak for just your voice, her subordinate who’s half her age. even more of a reason to not go out. her palm makes contact with her face and she drags it down to her chin. god give her the strength.

twenty minutes later you pull up at the local bar, arriving on foot because trinity knew a shortcut that shortened the usual route to about half, and because cassie had offered to be the ‘uber’ back to the apartment. when you got there, the older resident was already parked up front, leaning on the hood of her green 2002 toyota corolla, scrolling through her phone, probably on facebook, wearing a black tank tucked into brown trousers.

to say you were winded would be an understatement. her hair was out of its normal ponytail or braid and hung loosely over her shoulders, the gold chain she always wore glistened under the streetlights and sent your mind into a frenzy. you’re either going to have a field day tonight or regret everything by the morning. your eyes could not stop scanning her figure illuminated by the warm lights overhead, and if it wasn’t for javadi hooking her arm around yours then you would have stopped in your tracks.

the patter of footsteps on the asphalt captures cassie’s attention and she sees the four of you walking her way. she offers a friendly smile to the group before her eyes are drawn to you, arms linked with trinity and victoria and your eyes already on her. she takes in the black halter top that fits you just right, neckline hanging low enough to reveal a part of your small stick and poke tattoo that sits in between your breasts but just hidden enough to lure her curiosity.

͙͘͡⭑.ᐟ

you’ve had three pornstar martinis.

and a fourth one, half empty, awaiting the end of your performance. dennis counts the pairs of conical cocktail and shot glasses huddled into one corner of the table, right beside your purse. no doubt all downed by you. he has no idea where you got them, he never saw you walk up to the bar, yet every single time he looks back at you, you have a brand new, filled to the brim, pornstar martini. he holds his bottle of beer up to his lips and watches you on the mini stage of the bar.

you’re coming to the tail end of the song, chanting drunken slurs that no one’s sure are part of the lyrics or not, the crowd had gathered up front and sang with you, feeling your energy radiate off the stage and catching the vibe as if it were a virus.

after belting out the final note off-key, which, mind you, not one part of the song ever required for you to do that, you give a twirl and a bow and then skip off the stage, walking back to your table with your kitten heels clacking against the wooden floors and announcing your return.

cassie watches as you incoherently swayed side to side, noting the way your jeans hug your hips. your wrists were covered in gold bangles that jingled with your every move and paired with your clacking heels, well that just meant everyone would be turning their heads to look at you. it didn't help that you looked extremely exquisite at this moment.

you slam your hands onto the table with a giggle, “that was fun” you tittered, grabbing your glass and immediately downing the rest of your fourth drink. tilting your head back you try and chase the passion fruit droplets into your mouth before ultimately giving up, not catching the way cassie’s eyes lingered on the skin of your neck and trailed down to where your tattoo sits. she makes out a tiny north star surrounded by symmetrical, intricate lines that fall beneath the fabric of your top.

“i’m gonna go get another one.” you chirp.

dennis protests, saying you’ve had enough and reaching over the table to try and stop you. but you go ‘don’t be a denny downer and have some fun will you’, earning you a couple chortles from the table.

“after this one, my sixth will be free!” you giggled once more, walking towards the bar.

javadi furrows her brows at that statement, she thinks she heard it somewhere before, but she’s not sure. she takes another sip of her pretty pink strawberry chamomile spritz mocktail and takes in the sweet flavours on her tongue before looking around the room. a man had taken your spot on the stage, singing a country song she doesn’t know, the bar is littered with people taking advantage of the ongoing promo and she spots you amongst the horde, arms leaning onto the surface and ass protruding delectably, trying to get your order to the bartender in front of you.

victoria hears cassie excuse herself, with her chair scraping against the wooden floor, she then heads out towards the lavatory. the student doctor sees her senior discretely tilt her head up over the crowd in your direction, and javadi thinks that there's nothing subtle about the way that cassie is staring at your ass.

“twenty bucks says they’re hooking up tonight.” trinity leans across the table to whisper, more like yell through the music, to the people left at the table.

”not a chance, i already put down forty with ahmad last week! and i said they’d do it at the end of the month.”

whitaker had decided to be a big baller when ahmad opened another bet to the department. things had been getting a little boring in the past couple of weeks, but with the way you were oh so blatantly ogling at your coworker yet so painfully oblivious to how that same coworker returned your glances, the security guard thought to make it all worth his while. he had everyone’s bets in his little notepad to keep it a secret from you and mckay.

“i put five on three weeks.” javadi sings through her straw, taking another long sip from her drink and ignoring the judgemental stares she received from her coworkers for her grossly low bet. so what if she’s more of a risk averse type of girl?

”and i put twenty on this week.” trinity downs what remained of her gin and tonic, cringing at the bittersweet taste. “i’m gonna go get another.” she gestures at her now empty glass. her third one. so far she’s had two gin and tonics with an espresso martini in between, just because she felt like branching out a little bit.

whitaker figures out her motive the moment she starts beelining towards your swaying form at the bar. ‘don’t do anything to provoke them!’ he yells out, voice getting drowned in the music. but all trinity hears is ‘provoke them’ and a sinister smile settles on her lips.

you ask the bartender for another one of your cocktail and wait around as she mixes up your drink. your wandering eyes fall on a familiar silhouette from across you and you can't help but ogle. eyes tracing over the exposed skin of her biceps and cinch of her waist. even from the back cassie mckay looks divine.

”she’s gonna melt, burn” trinity slides into the space beside you on the bar, putting emphasis on that stupid nickname she gave you several months ago, and you roll your eyes.

͙͘͡⭑.ᐟ

on your first shift at ptmc, you were shadowing cassie, following her around triage and treating a variety of people. then ,after seeing exactly three patients, the r2 had decided that the next one would be all yours. and she’d watch you from the sidelines.

unfortunately, you were served a rather unruly… lady (to put it nicely). the entire time you were with her she would talk over you, dispute whatever you were saying with information that was completely incorrect, and she kept demanding boiling hot water. you questioned the odd request but her only response would be “for sterilization!”. you’d occasionally turn to make eye contact with cassie out of sheer confusion but also for approval. she’d give you a nod or mirror your perplexed expression from time to time, until you hear someone from across the hall yell her name. then she had to excuse herself and walked through the triage curtains.

after five agonizing minutes of this lady yelling for the damn water, you thought to yourself, ‘you know what? whatever!’, and against your better judgement, headed out to the break room. by the strength of the lord you managed to come out with just what she wanted:

boiling hot water.

with your eyes trained on the styrofoam cup in your hands, you slowly weave through the sea of bodies beelining their ways to different areas of the department. cassie had already found her way back to triage and she eyed you and the steaming cup as you gently placed it into the lady’s hands.

“too hot!”

a searing pain suddenly spread across your wrist and forearm before you could even decipher what had just happened. you watched as the white cup clatters to the ground and rolls over the tile, before shrieking the most pained ‘fuck!’ you’ve ever shrieked.

stupid fucking water! stupid fucking cup! stupid fucking bitch!!

you jerk back and hold your arm close to your chest, mentally chanting every single cuss word you knew in every language. you faintly hear someone calling your name, a chair shuffling and bumping against the wall and frantic footsteps coming your way.

in the next five minutes you’re back in the break room, sitting around the table with non-stick dressing wrapped around your hand (courtesy of dr. mckay herself). and victoria javadi, your fellow ms3, beside you. apparently she had fainted after witnessing a nasty degloving incident and suddenly you’re glad to just have burns on your hand.

the door suddenly opens and in walks a smug trinity santos.

”well if it isn’t crash and burn.”

no one was impressed that day.

͙͘͡⭑.ᐟ

if you think about it, that was probably when your crush on the doctor started. obviously you could see that she was beautiful, that’s something you established when you first laid eyes on her. but while she was treating your burns, she held you so gingerly, something that she most likely does with all her patients. and her dulcet voice that was a little gravelly was music to your ears, talking about protocol and safety, how she called you endearing names throughout the whole process. and the eye contact, oh. your heart was fluttering in your chest the entire time, you were somewhat surprised that you managed to stay grounded that day.

“so, dr. mckay, huh…” trinity trails off, “didn’t peg you to be into the mommy type.” she finishes with a smirk

“please, that’s dada right there.” your cheek is now in your palm, dreamily following cassie with your eyes as she walks back to the table. before she takes a seat, her eyes make their way to you and she gives you a little cocky smirk.

the crassness of your drunken stupor momentarily sobers santos up, her back straightens and she side-eyes your face. but her gaze was left ignored, for you favoured staring at cassie as she wraps her hand around her can of coke and pour its contents out into a glass. the intern resumes her previous position, raising a brow at you as she leans to get into your line of sight, intending to interrogate you while you’re vulnerable.

“‘dada’, huh.” she tries her damn hardest not to burst out laughing, “i take it you’re really into her?” as she finishes her question, the bartender walks over and sets your fifth cocktail down in front of you, “and apparently pornstar martinis too.”

”yup! i got a soft spot for a bev’ and a girl that’s fruity.” you sing into the rim of your cocktail, quoting a lyric from the song you sang a few minutes ago.

mentally, trinity’s singing to the gods and thanking them for this wonderful opportunity and for giving her such a lovely friday night and such a lovely friend.

“you think mckay’s fruity?” she discretely grabs your shot of sparkling wine and turns to head back to the table, nodding in that direction to signal that you, too, should get up, and you do. when your back is turned, trinity waves over your bartender to tell her that you’re cut off for the night and that if you ask for another then you’ll be getting fruit juice in a glass.

“have you heard of ‘hung smile’?”

frankly, trinity doesn’t want to know what any of those words mean. but you tell her anyway, you talk her ear off about how cassie has a ‘hung smile’… whatever that means.

”i’m just saying, it’s definitely there and it’s definitely big and heavy.” your voice attracts the attention of everyone at your table.

”what are we talking about?” javadi cautiously asks after catching the end of your conversation.

trinity shakes her head, muttering ‘you don’t want to know’ under her breath. she helps you into your seat and places the shot glass in front of you. you take sip out of your cocktail before setting it down, making sure that none of this liquid gold gets wasted.

”another pornstar martini?” cassie spots the drink in your hand and scoffs in disbelief. “maybe i should go up there and tell them to cut you off.” she half jokes.

a whine erupts from your lips and you pull your drink close to your chest, as if guarding it from the people at the table. at least one person amongst the group wants to take your cocktail from you and you’re not about to let them have it.

as time passes, the seating arrangement gets shuffled. an endless cycle of one person getting up and having their seat claimed by someone else. when trinity stands to walk over to the bar, dennis takes her place. when victoria heads to the bathroom, you slide into her seat and continue to babble to whoever is nearby. except cassie. apart from that one time where she had gotten up to wash her hands, she’d remained seated for the past forty minutes or so.

eventually you end up sitting beside the older resident, chair inching closer towards hers. your elbow props up on the polished surface of the table and you rest your cheek on your palm. your eyes stare deep into cassie’s blue irises as your mind slowly, but surely, processes the situation and finds a topic to think about. your other hand absentmindedly traces the rim of your empty cocktail glass and that reminds you that it’s probably time to get another one.

your last one.

your free cocktail.

?

cassie’s lips fall open as she tries to start a conversation with you, but you cut her off by announcing that you’d be getting your last drink of the night.

”hey now, hun.” cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist, the contrast of her cold palm on your warm skin makes you shiver. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” her voice echoes in your ears, deep and inviting and you’re almost tempted to do as she says. like her little obedient pet. you can’t find it in you to quip back a catty remark, because unlike dennis, cassie leaves you speechless. unable to find the words in your sluggish haze.

”let her be, cass.”

trinity smiles from across the table, nodding her head at you as cassie’s grip slowly loosens. ‘trust me’ the intern mouths at the redhead, giving her some sort of reassurance that you’ll be fine. as you walk back towards the bar, cassie pointedly raises a brow at santos and the younger woman takes that as her cue to explain herself, quickly.

”i told the bartender to cut her off, to give her a lil’ juice if she ever came back.”

the two women watch as you sway through the crowd, hips softly swinging along the melody of a bar-goer singing on stage. admittedly, both their eyes trailed lower and lower onto your ass. trinity’s defense would be that she can’t ignore a banging body that’s right in front of her. and she’s always done that (checking you out), complimenting your looks and whistling when you’re looking good enough to eat, in fact you do the same to her!

but cassie? she can’t explain why she does that. obviously, everyone knows that you look good, and that’s something she cant deny. but how come she can’t take her eyes off of you? she’s been around attractive women before, how come you’re so different. how come you lure her in and make her think thoughts that she hasn’t had in years. maybe she’s misinterpreting these complex feelings she gets when you’re around, perhaps what she’s feeling is shame, for being attracted to a woman decades younger than her.

“i wanna see if she’ll even notice the difference.” trinity finishes, curiosity dripping from her words.

“that does not look like juice to me…” victoria’s voice breaks the conversation between the two and they all turn to focus their eyes on you.

at the bar.

and a man pouring jagermeister down your throat.

”jesus fucking christ.” cassie immediately gets up off her seat and strides towards you. she hears another chair scrape behind her and she assumes that it’s trinity who’s currently hot on her trail.

“what the hell!”

is all the man says when cassie rips the bottle out of his hands and sets it on the counter. she ignores every word that escapes his lips and holds your head in her hands, noting the way your face scrunches at the strong taste of the liquor and coughing at the rancid flavor.

“hey, hun. you okay?” when your eyes open, you’re met with cassie’s concerned stare, your head buzzing and ears ringing. she pulls you up to your feet and you cant help the stagger in your step as she guides you to stand away from the man at the bar. her arm wraps around your waist and her palm on the sliver of skin above your jeans nearly shocks you back alive.

”i thought i told you to cut her off?” trinity exclaims to the bartender who’s watching the exchange with confused eyes, saying that she didn’t even notice you walking up. the intern sighs and apologizes for coming off too strong, recognizing that the fault is not on the bartender but rather the man bucketing alcohol into your system.

both cassie and trinity glower at the stranger, cassie holding you upright against her side and trinity balling her fists, seemingly ready to start a fight. the said man looks just about as wasted as you were and he holds up both his hands in mock surrender. cassie just wants to punch his stupid face.

(un)fortunately, dennis got in between the two just before trinity could throw out the first punch and slowly started dragging the three of you back to the table.

“let’s just leave it, girls.” he says cautiously.

“are you hurt?” cassie examines you as she sets you back down onto your seat, asking if the man had put his hands on you. to which you answer with ‘no’, you remember that quite well. everything else was a blur though, one second you’re looking for a bartender and then next thing you know, a man’s by your side asking if you’d take a shot with him. and you have a sneaking suspicion that you’ve had more than a shot…

”i’m alright.” you shake your head and a dopey smile settles on your lips, the alcohol catching up to your senses. “he didn’t give me that much.”

even though you say that, cassie still can’t shake off the anger she has towards that man. not only was that completely reckless but there’s a twinge of jealousy that settles inside her. she has to admit, it all looked somewhat intimate, and that’s what irks cassie. she’s for sure left the party life behind her and has absolutely no intentions of going back, but something about the scene not involving her just boils her blood. she wants to rip that asshole a new one for simply being around you. maybe theres a lot of misplaced emotions on her part but she can’t exactly wallow in them for long.

because she faintly hears trinity say ‘i think it’s time to go home’, and it makes you lurch out of cassie’s hold and into santos’ arms, holding onto her and begging no and that she should at least sing one song before leaving! because that’s what she came here for, right?

trinity would argue that she came here for the discounted drinks, but no one has the heart to argue with you when you start pleading, oh definitely not cassie. if she were in trinity’s shoes, she’d already be up on the stage and singing terribly by now.

and with a roll of her eyes, santos mutters a quiet ‘whatever’ before grabbing whitaker by the collar and pulling him up to the stage. they had ‘both’ decided to sing a little duet for you, mainly because you would refuse to go home unless they did so.

and that’s where they are now, typing in the numbers onto the keypad to select a song. ‘dancing queen by abba’ starts playing through the speakers and the crowd erupts into a fit of cheers as the duo grab a mic each and clear their throats.

somewhere between the first verse and the chorus, cassie taps javadi’s shoulder and lets her know that she’ll be outside. needing a break from the atmosphere and her thoughts, opting to take in a little fresh air. it’s a well-welcomed change in cassie’s lungs because she doesn’t know if she could handle any more of the scent of alcohol. and she needs to get her emotions in check and figure out exactly what she’s feeling right now.

cassie stands by the entrance of the bar, the cold evening air makes goosebumps stand on her bare arms. her head comes into contact with the brick wall she’s leaned up against and she lets out a heavy sigh, channeling all of her regret that she forgot to bring a jacket into one exhale.

does she think it was a stupid decision to come out and ‘babysit’ her coworkers who are half her age? maybe. but does she regret doing that? well she would have, but fortunately you were there. so, in her head, the cold breeze that ruffles her bangs and the streetlight that shines a little too yellow for her liking is all worth it.

the wooden doors of the bar open and the sound of whitaker and santos having a duet in the open mic karaoke spills out onto the street. a short chuckle escapes her lips as she turns towards you, who’s walking (more like wobbling) out of the building, your heels clicking and clacking onto the pavement and your bracelets clinking as a way to announce your entrance, or exit.

“oh cassie!” you finally spot her and lunge into her arms.

the older woman mutters an amused ‘woah there’ as she catches you, your skin is soft against hers and somehow the contact makes the goosebumps on cassie’s skin stand taller. your face buries into her chest and your giggles get muffled into her tank top. she tries her best to steady you back on your feet, but you fight her every move, seemingly content with staying cuddled up in her arms in the dead streets of pittsburgh.

“where’s everyone else?” mckay mutters into your hair, having given up on getting you upright. her hand moves like it has a mind of its own and finds its way into your hair, fingers gently combing through each strand.

in response to that, you give her a shrug, currently not in the right mind to give her a proper answer. all you’re concerned with is how good cassie smells and how warm she is compared to the freezing september night.

once again, cassie knows it’s wrong. she’s known that this whole time. she chants it in her head like a mantra when she finds herself getting too curious about that tattoo on your chest, when her hands itch to pull the fabric of your top down to see what the rest of your inked skin looks like. or when she catches herself ogling at the way the denim of your jeans stretches over the swell of your ass and the lowrise cut reveals the dimples that you have on your back. not even the sound of your heels hitting the ground is safe from cassie’s perverse thoughts.

it’s all so wrong.

but then you look up at her, chin resting on her chest, eyes glossed over and glimmering under the yellow streetlights that she no longer hates so much. your inebriated gaze does so much to her that she finds it hard to breathe, finds it difficult to respond when you give her an inquisitive hum, wordlessly asking what's on her mind.

”hows yous been?” you snicker with your bottom lip tugged in between your teeth.

“never been better.” she responds.

from your slurred speech to your incorrect grammar, cassie nearly cries in frustration as she yells ‘this is wrong’ in her head. she shifts her gaze onto the middle of your forehead, a pathetic attempt to escape your stare and not fall into whatever it was you were doing to her right now.

a silence settles between the two of you. cassie holds you firmly in her arms, afraid that you’d lose your balance and fall if she loosened her grip, while you continue to stare up at her, studying her features. the soft slope of her nose, her bangs haphazardly falling over her forehead and nearly covering her tantalizing blue eyes. you want to push it away and see her eyes clearly. you want to run your fingers down the curve of her nose and feel her skin on the tips of your fingers.

you’re not sure what gives you the courage to do so, certainly not the five cocktails that you had in the last two hours, but slowly you reach up and graze your fingers against cassie’s fringe.

and from the corner of her eye, cassie sees your hand slowly come up to brush her bangs out of her face. she freezes, your touch feeling foreign on her skin, but not unwelcomed. as the tips of your fingers trace the outline of her nose and then her lips, they leave a trail of sparks in their wake, making her cheeks heat up and body tingle.

“shoulds we hooks up?” you suddenly blurt, the scent of alcohol evident on your breath.

͙͘͡⭑.ᐟ

“she’s knocked out cold.” victoria affirms, watching your limp body sprawl across cassie’s passenger seat.

she was just enjoying the show that trinity and dennis were putting on when she saw you get up from your seat from the corner of her eye. before she could panic, you tell her that you’re going to find cassie. and seeing that your table was not that far from the door, she figured she’d just watch you walk out and cassie would have it from there. god forbid a girl gets tired.

a couple minutes later, she felt her phone vibrating on the table, glowing with a text from cassie saying that you’re now passed out in her passenger seat and to come out whenever they’re ready to leave. and when they do, they’re met with you buckled in cassie’s brown leather seats and the woman leaning on the door frame catching her breath. the woman tells them that you had passed out in her arms and she had to carry you into the car, skipping over the part where she struggled to figure out how to open the car with her arms occupied.

cassie stares at your face while everyone else loads themselves into her backseat. her eyes trail over your lashes and the small part of your lips and she can hear a soft snore with every exhale from you. you looked so peaceful like this, drunk and tired out. a part of her wonders if you would look like this early in the morning, sleeping in her bed and cuddled up beside her.

when cassie get’s into the driver’s seat, trinity already has her waze app pulled up and directions to her apartment glowing bright on her screen. mckay gives the intern a thankful smile and asks her to turn the volume up so she can hear the automated voice as she drives. she buckles in and starts the engine, letting it heat up a little while turning on her air conditioning and headlights.

over the gentle hum of the engine, you croak out cassie’s name in your sleep. and just as the three people in the backseat share a cheeky glance amongst themselves, cassie turns on her stereo in an attempt to mask your sleep talking. the silence is replaced with the melody of ‘does your mother know’ from the mamma mia soundtrack, which makes the group get cheekier and cassie is aware of this. she knows what it looks like to them, the lyrics that go ‘but girl, you’re only a child’ fall from her speakers and she regrets ever turning the music on.

with no other choice but to carry on, cassie ignores the crackle of giggles that builds up from behind her and focuses on the road ahead. she does an excellent job at blocking out the song playing into the car and the whispering of her younger coworkers, but her ears can’t seem to shut out the sound of your soft snores and the occasional hiccup that disrupts them. she hears the tiny grunt you let out when you stir in your sleep, your hand coming up to rub at one of your eyes, essentially smudging your makeup all over it.

when she rounds the corner into santos’ street you groggily lift your head and assess your surroundings, eyes squinted and nose scrunched. you’re barely aware of the familiar buildings and complexes that surround santos’ apartment. because right now, you’re still extremely out of it, your vision comes and goes and the world is tilted to the side whenever you open your eyes. your body feels weightless and heavy at the same time, your fingers and toes tingle under your skin; ‘this feels so good’ you think to yourself, lips stretching into a witless smile. and now you think you’ve lost feeling in your lips.

cassie pulls up right in front of the apartment complex, the automated voice from the waze app declaring your arrival. dennis gets off first and immediately goes to open the passenger seat door, ensuring that you don’t slough off onto the pavement. the two other girls spill out the car right after him, gathering their purses and shutting the door a little too rough for cassie’s liking. but she pays no mind to it.

”we’re here.” he announces to you, reaching over your body to unbuckle your seatbelt.

”i’m not going.” you protest quickly, hands finding the material of the seatbelt and clicking it back in place. you could barely feel your legs right now and all you want to do is sit still and sleep. if anyone were to force you up then you’d probably vomit all over them, you hope dennis knows that. “still sleepy, will vomit.” were your last words before you knocked out once more.

trinity and victoria are leaning against each other as they trudge into the building, trinity’s a little buzzed from her three drinks and victoria’s feet hurt from her cute little pink heels. they both thank cassie for the company and the ride back home, exchanging pleasantries as they make their way through the door.

leaving dennis alone to figure out what he needed to do with you. the man huffs roughly and places his hands on his hips, his mind racing to think of ways to get you into the flat. he’s gonna have to carry you like he would a stack of hay back when he lived on his family’s farm in nebraska. but it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight.

he tries to pull you out once with his hands on your shoulders and a second time by tugging on your right arm while the rest of your body remains limp. it took him about four attempts to finally realize that he’s never gonna get you out of this car.

“you okay there, bud?” cassie had been watching him the whole time. “do you need any help?”

she hears him mutter a low ‘naah, i’m good’ and she just chuckles.

“how far do you have to carry her?”

dennis lifts his gaze off the pavement and onto cassie whose eyebrows are lifted in inquisition. he tells her that it’s not that far off, the apartment, just on the ground floor and near the end of the hall. and that his room is near the entrance, too.

“i assume that trin’s probably gonna put vic in my room, so i’ll probably have to maneuver her around an already sleeping javadi. but my bed’s not that big, so they’re gonna be cuddled up real tight.” at this point he’s just thinking out loud, his eyes had wandered back onto the ground beneath him, mindlessly counting the speckled grey and black of the sidewalk.

“of course i’ll be taking the couch!” his head snaps back up to face the older woman, holding his palms up in a defensive stance as his voice raises a pitch. whitaker stutters a little when he goes to defend himself.

“i would never share a bed with her,” he gestures at you.

upon the realization of how his words may have sounded, he overcorrects.

”or with javadi! not that they’re terrible sleepers, how would i know? it’s just that… yeah”

cassie chuckles at dennis’ state of unease, finding his mousiness somewhat amusing. and with a shake of her head she makes a split-second, irrational decision that she regrets as soon as the words leave her lips.

”i’ll just take her back to my place.”

and dennis stops in his tracks, now raising his brow and slowly turning to give cassie a side-eyed stare, his expression one that toes the line between ‘teasing’ and ‘suspicion’. not because she thinks cassie’s gonna do anything bad to you, but you are extremely inebriated and he just wants to look after someone he cares for.

“relax.” cassie stretches her syllables and rolls her eyes playfully, “she’ll be sleeping in harrison’s room and he’ll be with chad this weekend. and maybe by the time we get there she’d be a little more… aware?”

this reassures dennis and it makes him realize that it would be the optimal choice. each person would have their own space to sleep in with no tangling of limbs, albeit he’d still be on the couch, but nothing he wouldn’t willingly subject himself to.

after taking another second to mull it over, dennis sighs out a relieved ‘yeah’, nodding his head before telling cassie that he should tell trinity and victoria about this. and also that you had a little overnight bag left in their living room. he then runs inside to retrieve your things, where he finds victoria sitting at their kitchen table, on her phone editing one of her tiktok videos. apparently he was wrong about her already being asleep.

with your bag secured in the backseat, cassie thanks dennis and waves as she drives off. this time, the stereo is shut off and it leaves cassie room to think about what had just happened. to think about the entire night. how so many things had happened in under three hours. just this morning she was having a normal day working her shift at the ed. and now, in the hours nearing midnight, she’s driving home with a med student in her passenger seat. the same med student who asked if they ‘shoulds hooks up’.

oh god. suddenly she’s made acutely aware of what her situation may look like from an outsiders perspective.

cassie glances at you when she stops at a red light, the coloured led lights paint your skin and cassie takes this time to observe you. something that she’s done a handful of times throughout the night, though if she had to be honest, she’s been doing that for over a month now.

if there’s something that cassie is not, it’s a liar. she’s always known you were a pretty sight, that’s something she cannot deny. she’s for sure caught herself staring at you while on the clock. twisting her neck and practically bending over backwards when a glimpse of your silhouette enters her peripherals. if the time ever comes when she’d be asked to explain such behaviour, her response would simply be ‘i think she’s pretty’. nothing more and nothing deeper than that.

and right now, you sure do look pretty, alright. from the moment she saw you walking up to the bar, her heart had started speeding up. the way your hair fell over your shoulders and the pitter pat of your heels on the pavement, everything about you made her heart skip a beat. and cassie recognized it was a dangerous match she’d been thrown into. her chances of winning dwindled down to nearly zero as the night continued. the staring across the room and the trailing of gazes down each other’s bodies? how could she expect a favourable outcome from any of this?

she’s been playing a losing game all this time, and she had been none the wiser.

when the lights turn green, cassie only notices because your skin is now lit up by a different colour. she spares one last glance at your sleeping face before carefully stepping on the gas. compared to her rather unhurried driving, her mind races at the speed of light, trying to make sense of what she’s feeling.

excited because she hasn’t felt this way in years. she hasn’t felt this wanted by anyone since her ex husband and hasn’t felt the thrill of having someone ogle at her body. she likes the feeling of being wanted, it makes her skin tingle and her cheeks heat up.

but at the same time, she’s also scared. like she’s been saying since the beginning, this is wrong. there’s so many things wrong with her situation. sure a little office crush never hurt anyone, but this is more than just a work crush. it’s levelled up to something even more in just one night. this progression is something that scares cassie. with how fast things are moving, her mind can’t catch up with everything.

leaving her confused. because she doesn’t know what to do now. she’s been given so much information in such a short amount of time that she can practically hear herself short circuiting. her mind is yelling at her to sweep this all under the rug, act like it never happened. you most likely wont remember a lick of the ‘conversation’ (if one could even call it that) you two had outside the bar, so what’s stopping her from doing the same?

well, her heart wants the exact opposite. she wants you. she wants to feel how soft your lips would be on hers, she wants to find out how far the ink stretches on your body and she wants to see goosebumps rise on your soft skin. maybe she can blame it on the years of celibacy on her part, but she can’t ignore the fact that this feeling only comes about when it’s you in her thoughts. and she can’t ignore the tug in her heart when you expressed your want for her.

the cliche conflict of brain vs heart, something so well documented throughout literature. cassie’s read a couple handful of books regarding the trope, yet she never expected to be subject to it in real life. and with all that she’s read, one could expect for her to not be lost in the middle of it, but here she is disoriented and so incredibly lost.

although cassie would love to have more time to think, the ten minute drive to her apartment has unfortunately come to an end. perhaps she could think even more later as she twists and turns in her bed, because she knows there’s absolutely no way in hell she’ll be able to fall asleep now.

a gentle tap on your shoulder gets you to open your eyes and you’re met with cassie’s beautiful face right in front of you.

”hey, princess. time to get off.”

the building is unfamiliar to you, that much you know, but you can’t be arsed to think about it right now. not when you’re still a little bit dizzy and cassie is consuming most, if not all, of your mind. even in your drunken state, you hear the term of endearment she calls you and it heats your body right back up.

getting you out of the car was significantly easier for cassie to do compared to whitaker. you barely put up a fight this time, but the person helping you out probably had a huge impact on the outcome. cassie’s left arm wraps around your waist and her right hand holds your arm steady over her shoulders. she guides you as you walk up to her front door, muttering ‘left, right, left’ with every step you take.

”i can walk, cassie.”

”doesn’t look like it to me.”

when you’re at her front door, cassie shifts to move your arms around her neck, hoping you get the hint to hang off of her as she lets go of your waist and fish her keys out of her pocket. amidst the jingling of her keys and your steady breath on her collarbones, a thought pops up in cassie’s head.

‘this feels rather domestic’, she thinks to herself, picturing a similar scene with different circumstances. you two would be coming home from a long shift and you’d be tired and hang from her shoulders like you were now and soft chatter would bubble between the two of you about work and the patients you dealt with. but cassie shoves that idea into the very back of her mind, hoping to never see it again.

when the door opens, cassie instructs you to take your heels off and slip into an extra pair of indoor slippers that she had. you kicked your shoes off with a bit more fervor than cassie had imagined and one ends up on its side near the living room. with a chuckle, cassie carefully leans you onto the door and bends over to untie her own shoes and slip into her pair of comfy slippers.

”you want water?” ever the good host that she is, cassie offers as she guides you to walk into her home.

she gets a shake of your head in response but she thinks that she should probably prepare one anyway. she plans to have you lay on her sofa while she gets a glass of water and prepares harrison’s room for your stay. however, as you two make your way to the plush gray coloured furniture, cassie steps over your discarded sandal but your lack of coordination makes you unable to do the same. and when your foot comes into contact with the black kitten heel, your body loses balance and you fall forward into cassie’s arms.

you’re hit with deja vu. looking up at cassie's face, her eyes partially covered by her overgrown bangs and her cheeks growing red with every passing second. your gaze trails over every single one of her features, those captivating blue eyes that you can’t stop thinking about, the angle of her nose, the wrinkles in between her brows and under her eyes, and those godforsaken lips.

once again, before you could even think, your fingers end up tracing her skin, barely touching her yet it makes cassie’s mind go haywire. she can’t even force her brain to function when your palm settles on her cheek.

and before cassie could even blink, you push yourself up on your toes and press your lips against hers.

‘soft’, is what first pops up in both your minds.

but while you revel in the feeling of your lips on hers, cassie freezes; eyes growing wide and her heart drops to her stomach. and she’s scared again. but this time it’s even worse. all the alarms are blaring in her head and she gently pushes you away, her hands settling on your shoulders. she stares at your dazed face with panicked eyes, her brows furrowed and mouth hung open.

cassie’s searching for words in her head, right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. she needs to say something. you need to say something. she can’t just stand there and accept what had just happened. sure, the kiss was pleasant and cassie’s lips tasted like remnants of your kiko milano lipgloss, but the heavy feeling that settled in th pit of her stomach hinders her from enjoying it. one of you needs to break the silence, but cassie can’t find the words. she tried so hard to do so but she’s pulling out blanks. she hopes you would say something, anything, blabber about something totally unrelated, she doesn’t care.

but then you pass out, immediately snoring as you fall back into her arms.

“this is so wrong.” cassie sits on the couch, staring at the glass of water in front of her.

her elbows rest on her knees and she wrangles her hands in disquietude. if she thought that her mind was racing on the drive back here? she doesn’t know what she would call her situation now. all she can think about is how wrong the entire ordeal is. immoral, corrupt or unprincipled. she can list all the synonyms of the words off the top of her head yet none seem appropriate enough. no word seems to cover how grave the situation is.

sure cassie’s been going on and on about how unsavoury the idea of you and her together is because she’s your senior at work, and because she’s twice your age. but all those pale in comparison to the fact that you were shitfaced drunk. drunk and kissing her like it was no one’s problem, as if you two had established a relationship. even though cassie would want nothing but to hold you and kiss you (even if the voices in her head are telling her no), she would rather do so when you’re completely sober and aware of your actions.

͙͘͡⭑.ᐟ

the sunlight that spills through the blinds of harrison’s room is what wakes you up, tangled in a dark blue blanket and cuddling up on a minecraft pig plushie. your eyes scan the ecru coloured walls and you stare at the myriad of kid’s movie posters plastered above your head. eventually you come to the conclusion that you’re neither in your room, trinity’s room, nor dennis’ room. so whose bed is this that you're sleeping on?

to your right, is a bedside table with a simple lamp, an alarm clock, and a small picture frame. upon closer inspection of the frame, you see a kid with dark brown hair that swoops over his forehead and large blue eyes that are exact replicas of the woman’s beside him.

cassie.

and by now you’ve deduced that you’re in harrison’s room, which explains the minecraft themed items and movie posters. looking around the place, you notice that it’s simple and a little larger than what you’d imagine an eleven year old kid would have. theres a dresser on the other side of the room, opposite the bed, and you see a little hamper sitting on the carpeted floor beside it. a small study desk stands under the window with a collection of spiderman comics propped up in one corner. all pretty standard for an eleven year old boy’s room.

you look down at yourself to see that you’re no longer in last night’s get up. your black halter top was now replaced by an oversized washed black shirt, one you assumed was cassie’s (because how in the world would it even fit harrison) and when you shift your legs from under the blanket, you feel the wool brush against the skin of your thighs. your fingers immediately grip at the fabric and hastily look underneath, your pants had been stripped off your legs and the sight sends your mind flying.

did something… happen last night?

you don’t remember a thing from the night before. the last thing you could recall was drinking a pornstar martini.

you don’t know how many you’ve had but you suspect you had about three.

you don’t know how you ended up in cassie’s apartment instead of trinity’s.

you don’t know how you ended up pantsless on her son’s bed.

and speaking of pants, you don’t know where they are.

you toss the blanket off your body and throw your legs off to the edge of the bed, the sudden movement induces a pounding in your head and you have to stop yourself from moving. your toes graze over something on the floor and you peek open an eye to see your bejewled jeans sprawled across the carpet.

just then, a gentle knock erupts from the bedroom door and it slowly pushes open to reveal cassie, smile soft and charming. like always. her hair is already up in a ponytail and her bangs are swept to the side.

”morning, sunshine.” she calls to you.

her eyes follow your gaze and drops down to the pair of jeans by your toes.

”i see you’ve gotten rid of your pants.”

and suddenly, you’re hyperaware of the cold air on your legs and that you’re sitting pantsless in front of thee cassie mckay.

when you and cassie walk through the doors of a nearby diner, the bell that rings from above your head irritates you because its sound is amplified by the hangover you’re currently battling. you adjust the sunglasses that sit on the bridge of your nose, pushing them back up after they had slipped down. they weren’t actually your glasses, they were cassie’s and she’d lent them to you on the car ride here because your eyes were a tad bit too photosensitive.

“trin usually gets the tapsilog when she’s hungover.” you briefly skim over the menu before deciding that you can’t be bothered and settle with your friend’s usual. santos had introduced this place to you the morning after you first hung out together, told you that she loves their ‘all-day filipino’ breakfasts and that they’re perfect for hangovers.

cassie settles on a plate of pancakes with a big cup of black coffee and she insists on you getting water instead of caffeine to go with your meal when you try to order one for yourself.

the diner itself isn’t packed with people, you see a few blue collar workers along the counter enjoying large mugs of coffee and a few families sharing breakfast in several booths. enough to create a soft indistinguishable chatter that fills the room and quiet enough to not trigger another agonizing headache.

”how you feeling?” cassie rasps from across you. her voice is low and soft, a tad bit hoarser than usual but its something you find appealing. she has her hands clasped together and resting on the table, when she leans over to talk to you (as a force of habit) her knuckles nearly graze over yours and she flinches back as if she was burned.

you notice.

after a moment of silence where you stare at the area where her hands previously were, you give her a response. “my head hurts.”

cassie feels bad that she reacted that way. but she doesn’t know how to act anymore. after twisting and turning on her bed the entire night, she can’t help but act restless. her fingers twitch nervously and her eyes jitter as they avoid your gaze. she tried to act normal, steadying her wavering voice before speaking and taking a deep breath to ground herself before doing anything. but the only thing she can think about was last night. your fingers going over the outlines of her face, the feeling of your waist in her arms and your warm breath on her skin. and mostly, the kiss. it’s hard for cassie to believe that she’s unraveled so hard over one tiny peck on the lips.

‘but its the principle! and the circumstances!’ a voice in cassie’s mind yells.

“that’s usually how it is if you drink five cocktails in under two hours.”

this snaps you out of your thoughts and you nearly break your neck looking up at cassie. ‘five?!’ you would have yelled out if your head wasn’t already screaming at you. and no one thought to stop you? yeah no wonder you had a splitting headache!

“i had five drinks?!”

”five pornstar martinis.”

and your jaw drops at this. your hands scramble to dig through your purse in search of your wallet, and when you find it, you practically rip it in half to see what’s left inside. the fact that a fly did not comically flutter out of your red leather bifold is beyond you when all you spot is a flimsy five dollar bill left inside.

“i’ve been robbed.”

cassie let’s out a hearty laugh, your humour seems to help her nerves die down a little.

you start to ramble about how you don’t understand how it happened. you genuinely had lost track of how many drinks you’ve had. and, mind you, pornstar martinis are not cheap. you only intended to have one or two because you knew that they were fifteen dollars a glass. yes fifteen and even with the twenty percent discount that would only bring the price down to twelve dollars per drink. maybe the illusion of saving money had blinded you into spending a whopping sixty dollars in one night.

“i’m never gonna financially recover from this…”

another peal of laughter bellows from cassie’s belly as she takes in your frazzled expression from behind her dark sunglasses. and for a moment, cassie’s brain goes silent, no more of those overbearing thoughts she had not even a minute ago. its almost like your existence just brings her peace. and that’s when cassie’s realized she lost the game.

you basically have her wrapped around your finger, been that way for a while now. everything you do has an overwhelming effect on her. you smile in her direction and she stops breathing. you look up at her with your sweet doe-like eyes and her heart stutters. every joke that comes from you, no matter how unfunny it may be, makes cassie guffaw. and one little kiss makes her spiral like she’s never done before.

and just as cassie’s about to come to terms with her thoughts, your food arrives. a waitress carefully sets down each plate in front of you and offers one more accommodating smile before walking back to the counter.

the pancakes are buttery and soft with a slice of butter sat atop the small stack and a ceramic creamer filled with maple syrup off to the side. cassie’s coffee is hot and the scent nearly overpowers aroma of your tapsilog breakfast. the scent of the marinated beef is strong, but not unpleasant. and everything just makes your mouth start to water.

”cassie i can’t pay for this…” you remember your current dilemma and realize that you’re just a dollar short, so you ask the woman in front of you if you could borrow a dollar and that you’d pay her back immediately if so. all you get is a chuckle as she points to your food and tells you to eat. when she sees that you still look torn over her offer, she insists that it would be her pleasure to pay for your meal and that she would not start eating unless you do.

so what choice do you have?

”i’m really sorry, i can’t believe i was that irresponsible.” you apologize, stabbing a piece of meat and putting it in your mouth with a spoonful of garlic rice.

”you were so drunk.” cassie laughs at the memory.

“oh my god i didn’t do anything embarrassing, did i?”

she recounts the happenings of the night beginning from where your memory started to fog and by the time she tells you about the stranger at the bar with a bottle of jager, you were so close to falling off your seat in shame.

“trinity and i nearly beat the living daylights out of him.” cassie shakes her head and reaches for her mug. “thank god whitaker was there.”

her mind briefly flashes back to when you walked into her arms outside the bar, said all the things you said and did all the things you did, yet she chooses not to mention any of that with you, skipping forward to when dennis was trying to pull you out of her car but to no avail.

”and that’s how you ended up at my place.”

you bury your face into your palms and groan in embarrassment, making a mental note to apologize profusely to whitaker when you see him. apparently you’ve cause quite a bit of a stir-up.

“i’m so sorry for all the trouble i caused, cass.” your voice muffled against your skin.

“please, it’s no issue. it just so happens that harrison’s at chad’s place and, besides, santos’ apartment was kind of packed already.”

“thank you,” you drop your hands down onto your lap, “for taking care of me. and for letting me stay at your place. i hope i wasn’t any more difficult.”

the woman in front of you gives a tender smile and tells you not to worry about it.

“i didn’t really do much, i just removed your makeup and put you in one of my shirts. and i didn’t peek, i swear.” she holds her arms up and you giggle.

”are you sure nothing happened?” you ask, voice weary and meek.

the voices come back, full force in cassie’s head. everything starts replaying in her mind and she has to take another breath to compose herself. what would the benefits be if she told you? she can’t think of any. but when she thinks of the downsides of that situation, her brain is filled to the brim.

you could end up feeling humiliated and want to distance yourself from her and that’s the last thing she wants. she just wants to keep you in her life and forget everything that ever happened. she was working perfectly fine before last night and she just wants things to be back to normal again. she can’t live her life bearing the weight of what had happened all by herself.

the look on cassie’s face tells you that something did happen, and you feel your heart fall into your ass.

”oh no. did i vomit on your carpet or something?”

”yeah,” cassie lies, “but it’s no issue.”

shame pours over your body in buckets and you feel as though you could cry. ripping the sunglasses off of your face, you start spouting numerous apologies and offers to ‘make it up to her’ but cassie just turns down every single one. a smile plays on her soft lips but her eyes are filled with turmoil. and this time, you dont notice.

cassie wishes that you had just vomited on her carpet, because by then the only thing she’d be left with is the scent of rug cleaner and a drying stain as a memory of the night, but now she’s left with all these emotions she cant figure out, and shes torn between keeping it all a secret or telling you about it and dealing with the consequences.