#cb drabble

“I just don’t get it,” Nayun says as she straps her pads on. Jisoo doesn’t react and Rose looks like she might actually kick your asses if you aren’t on the court in ten seconds. “What do you not get? Like what about this situation is confusing?” You ask. “I’m whipped for Jungkook, we been knew, and he’s apparently through some great act of mercy also whipped for me, and he’s bringing every single one of his nerd friends to the match today. Which isn’t at all nerve-wracking. Whatsoever.”

Jisoo rolls her eyes and tugs harder at your laces. She always does your laces, she’s the only one with the upper body strength to tie the things well. You think she might actually be moonlighting as a secret BDSM dominatrix just based on the way she handles them. 

“No, I don’t get why you’re nervous. He’s seen you play before, didn’t he tell you that he tries to come to as many home games as possible? And his friends know nothing about the sport, they won’t know if you fuck it up.”

“Which you won’t,” Rose says from the door. "Because you’re good at this.”

“And because you’ll kill me if I fuck it up.” She doesn’t respond verbally, but the look she sends you radiates ‘yeah and what about it’ energy. “Look, I’m just...scared of disappointing his friends. He talks me up all the time apparently, and if they get bored or are unimpressed then...”

“What, you think he’s gonna break up with you?” Jisoo’s tone is teasing, but when she looks up to see the insecuirty on your face, she softens. “You put on a cosplay for him, and he’s liked you for almost as long as you’ve liked him. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”  

You just nod, tugging at the laces as she finishes tying them. Realistically, you know she’s right. It’s been a couple months since that night in your apartment, and things have only gotten better. He still comes to the coffee-shop to hang out with his dweeb friends, even if he does spend the time waiting for them talking to you now. He still watches his dumbass anime, thoroughly enjoying your flat-screen to do so, even if he gets consistently distracted by the way you lay in his lap. You talk about your practices that he knows a fair bit about because of some anime, he tells you about his nerd shit that you don’t understand but enjoy hearing about anyway, you help him with his essays and he helps you with Organic Chem, and you even buy him little cupcakes every time he gets a new comment on his fanfic. Things between you are good.

You have no reason to worry, you decide as you push out of the locker rooms and head to the court to get warmups started. You spot him, sitting with his group of friends beside where Jimin and Taehyung sit with the rest of the guys’ team to watch your game. Your boyfriend - your whole chest gets warms as you think it, and you let yourself bask in it for a minute because it took three fucking years to get - looks adorable today; big, round glasses, with that soft beanie and a softer looking shirt. It’s got some kind of weird pumpkin(?) on it, with a point and sharp teeth and the back has a scythe and you vaguely recognize it. You’re pretty sure he watched it at your apartment a few days ago, but you also had his dick in your mouth, so you weren’t paying much attention to anything else. 

You wave back when he waves at you, big and excited and cute, and you’re once again hit with the urge to cover him in kisses while also maybe dangling him off a fifty-story building. His nose scrunches in that way you love and you ignore the way it has your stomach flipping. 

Rose pelts a ball at you and you catch it on sheer instinct. 

“Are you actually going to warm up or are you gonna be entirely useless today?” She asks. You glare at her and throw the ball back in response. If you didn’t have firsthand experience with how good she is, you’d wish she was your opponent so you could wipe the smirk off her face. 

Warmups go well. The team you’re supposed to be playing is good, supposedly pretty well-matched to your own, and you’re excited to see if it holds true. They don’t look especially intimidating. The biggest threat seems to be their captain - which is true for your team as well, Rose is terrifying - and there are a couple girls milling around in jackets and over-shirts. One in particular catches your notice; as you look, you realize it’s because Jungkook has the same jacket. Black, with a big-ass Old-English-styled L on the back of it, and some kind of writing you can’t see on the front and can’t remember from Jungkook’s, small and in the corner where logos usually go. 

You make a note to ask which anime that’s from, just to know in the future, and return to your warmups. 

The game itself is...well, it’s challenging. The other teams is as well-practiced as yours, they’re balanced against you pretty well, and all of you are enjoying the competition almost as much as you’re frustrated that you aren’t getting anywhere. Their captain - a shorter girl with pretty eyes and dimples - is an absolute beast and Rose looks simultaneously enraged and turned on, and Weeb Girl has been blocking you at every turn. She volleys every serve you give, manages to block every spike without fail, and you can respect that she’s good at this, but you’re also really fucking frustrated. 

It’s the end of the second set and both teams are ready for the ten minute break. You’re in the process of trying to drown yourself in your Gatorade bottle and really considering using the stuff to summon some kind of demon just so you can win the game, go home, stuff yourself with cheap burgers, and then fuck your boyfriend because you could tell from his face at one point that he was getting worked up watching you play, but before you can you catch sight of your friends whispering quietly to themselves. 

It screams ‘hey we’re doing something really shady and don’t want you to know, maybe you should immediately storm over and find out what’s going on’ so you do exactly that. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘should we tell her?’“ You demand, keeping your voice as hushed as theirs. Nayun looks repentant and sorry, Jisoo actually literally makes the emoji face with the teeth, and Rose just purses her lips and gestures over her shoulder. 

You really don’t know what you expect to see, but Jungkook hanging over the side of the bleachers to talk to Weeb Girl isn’t it. His eyes are crinkled at the corners like they do when he’s excited, his glasses are half-down his nose and in danger of falling off because you aren’t there to push them back up like he enjoys, and he’s gesturing happily to Weeb Girl. And she....she looks just as excited, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers and batting her lashes up at him as she says something else that makes him laugh. You can’t realistically hear it, it’s too crowded and noisy, but you feel it when he laughs, every time. 

“We should call the police, she’s gonna kill her,” Jisoo says morbidly from behind you. 

“No,” You respond, scoffing. Your eyes don’t draw away from where your boyfriend is talking to Weeb Girl. “No, I’m not. She can flirt all she wants, it’s fine. Yeah, she’s blocked me at every turn this game, yeah she’s kinda really pretty, and she definitely has the ass for those shorts, and she’s wearing weeb stuff that she’s probably interested in and can talk to him about, but it’s fine. I know Jungkook, he’s not gonna do anything. He’s a good guy.” And you mean it when you say it. If there’s one thing that you’re sure of in your relationship that isn’t Jungkook knowing random weeb stats, it’s that he’s loyal. You know it, deep in your bones. 

You watch as Weeb Girl steps forward, cutting off whatever Jungkook’s saying to push his glasses up his nose, giggling as she does. Your fingers twitch because yes, that is your job, not hers, but it’s fine. It’s absolutely fine. Until her captain calls her back and she giggles again and waves, and Jungkook turns to sit and you see it. He’s got that pretty blush on his face, the one that tints his cheeks and makes him duck his head, the one you love so much but especially when you’re riding him and can get him to break out of the dominant persona he loves and turn pink with your words. 

And you know that your boyfriend is loyal and sweet and wonderful, can tell by the way he searches for you and melts into a smile like the ice cream you’re pretty sure you forgot to put back in your freezer before you had to rush out to get to this game. But pushing his glasses up is your job and that is your blush and you aren’t about to let some weeb queen take it from you. 

Rose looks pleased as you all take the court again. Jisoo looks convinced you’re gonna kill Weeb Girl, and you won’t lie; you’re definitely trying to see if you can will someone to set fire with only the power of your brain as you stare her down across the net. She looks entirely too pleased with herself and even dares to send a quick glance and a shy smile off at where you know Jungkook sits behind you, and you wish - not for the first time in your life - that you had Harry Potter powers and could just Crucio this fucker right now. 

Alas, you’re gonna have to settle for slamming a volleyball into her face. 

Nayun looks horrified at the sight, but you can tell Rose is holding back a smile even as the ref gives you a penalty that you willingly take. Weeb Girl looks pissed and also a little confused. Logically it’s not her fault that she chose to flirt with your weeb; and you can’t even fault her for it, because he’s gorgeous and sweet and perfect, but god damn what a day to do it. 

Throughout the rest of the third set, you’re basically unstoppable. You score three times on her, and you take a sick pleasure in the bruise that’s already forming under her eye. Her entire team looks confused, and you are too, because none of you are sure of where this sudden burst of skill and fury is coming from, but you’re determined to ride it out for as long as it lasts. 

When the game’s over, your entire team crowds you to celebrate. You’re a good player, you don’t have any allusions to that, but you’re also pretty much just reliably good. You’ve never played like that, not in your entire life, and you’re thriving with the knowledge that you even can. 

When they finally back up, you bolt before they can throw Gatorade on you, already climbing the stands. Jimin laughs as you shove him to the side, and you decide to feel guilty about the way he almost falls later, because right now you’re on a mission. You straddle the stand and fist one hand in Jungkook’s shirt, pulling him into a heated kiss that he doesn’t hesitate to return. In seconds you’re almost on his lap, one of his hands gripping your jaw so he lick into your mouth the way he likes while your free hand tangles in his hair. When you eventually pull back, he settles soft kisses along your jaw and you take great pride in looking straight at Weeb Girl. She doesn’t look mad, exactly; more resigned and slightly impressed, and you send her a wink that makes her roll her eyes. 

“Hey,” You whisper to Jungkook. He detaches himself from the mark he was determined to make behind your ear, and you revel in the blush on his face. It spreads across his face and along to the tips of his ears, and you want nothing more to than to make is spread further. “You wanna go put on some Haikyuu and break in your new mattress?” 

Mary had been laughing - proper, eyes-scrunched-up, head-thrown-back, laughing. The kind of laughing you knew was genuine, because the youth on her face shone through, refusing to be avoided.

She’d been pretending to slow dance with Toby, it really an excuse for the two of them to bitch about the stupid dinner they were at whilst Mary asked him about his woodsy cologne and was that cocoa butter she smelt on his skin?

But then her husband had appeared beside her - and asked her to dance.

Naturally, she’d tried to get out of it; even going so far as to state she simply didn’t know how, lying about her actually fairly neat footwork. But Adam had hd none of it, and Mary had secretly known it had been a lost battle before they’d even begun.

She was still reeling from the casual way her hand had been held earlier, as well as the dumb shock that had caused her to allow it. It felt so… Familiar, so easy to slip into. But it couldn’t be.

It wasn’t real.

“Your footwork seems great to me.” Adam said easily, trying to contain his amusement at how Mary was trying very pointedly to avoid his gaze. Honestly, Adam still hadn’t recovered from seeing her earlier - if anything, seeing her so close was… Captivating.

Her dark hair shone in the light, her lips glossy, red and alluring before him, her chest not quite flush against his, but not quite away, either. It took all of his willpower to remind himself that he had seen breasts before, that they served a human function (and that Mary didn’t just look really, really incredible), that staring like a madman would only make Mary uncomfortable.

But he could smell wafts of her perfume - and more than that, her scent underneath. She smelt… Relaxing, and, as odd as it sounded, luxurious. The subtle, sweet smell of essential oils emanating from her skin reminded Adam of a massage somewhere, serene and blissful.

She moved elegantly with him, her head tilted at an angle so that she wasn’t facing him - and so that she didn’t have to acknowledge the lack of space between them, he knew.

Mary didn’t respond to his comment, instead becoming agitated at something over his shoulder.

Adam quirked an eyebrow.

“Everyone we know is staring.” Mary muttered self-consciously, glancing down at her shoes as they glided across the floor. “We have an audience.”

“Can you blame them?”

It took Mary a moment to register Adam’s comment - but when she did, a second or so later, she let out a small laugh. One single peal of disbelieving laughter, followed by a quick glance at Adam’s face, a smile playing on hers, to check his audacity was sincere.

“How nice for you to have such confidence in yourself.” 

Adam hummed disapprovingly, garnering Mary’s attention again. Although unintentionally she created more distance between them upon looking directly into his eyes, Adam couldn’t help but feel a swell of… Something - hope? - in his chest as she looked right at him, her curiosity taking over her conscious efforts to ignore the intimacy of their lightly brushing bodies.

“It’s not me I have the confidence in.” Adam told her calmly, his eyes glittering with something mischievous as Mary’s breath seemed to halt in her throat at realising his insinuation.

Doctor Adam Kaiser was taking her by surprise much too often this evening.

Mary swallowed noisily.

“How many times has that line worked before now?”

Adam grinned.

“It hasn’t.” He told her, twirling her gently. Mary obliged, her body stiffening - but not pulling away - as Adam gently pressed her body against his upon her returning to where she had began. “That was the first time, and apparently it failed spectacularly.”

Mary said nothing, staring at her shoes again.

The dance was almost over when Mary finally spoke - and so quietly, it was lucky Adam heard her at all.

“You’re trying to disarm me.” She stated quietly, her eyes flickering up to his upon realising she had his attention. 

They both stopped the pretence of dancing anymore - instead they stood, Adam’s heart stuttering embarrassingly in his chest as he realised that Mary was now intimately pushed against him; one hand on his chest, the other still draped over the arm that had a hand pressed carefully on the centre of her back.

“It’s working.” Adam stated just as coolly back - and the way Mary’s eyes didn’t flicker away, the way she stared calmly back at him - was all the confirmation Adam needed.

Adam and Mary were beginning to fall into a routine regarding their new sleeping arrangements, and Mary absolutely hated it.

Mary was a creature of comfort. She liked certain things a certain way and, so long as those things stayed the same, Mary could deal with most things.

One of those said “certain things”, was her bed.

It had to be made every morning - she couldn’t get into an unmade bed. Clean sheets were a necessity, and preferably colourful ones, though the world didn’t end if they were a little boring. She had four pillows on her double bed, but only slept with two - side by side -, because two stacked pillows was bad for her neck and no pillows was uncomfortable for her head.

But most importantly, the bed had to smell like her.

Mary sprawled over her bed in the night, so this was of paramount importance. She’d hated, even as a child, having people sleep in her bed - it was the smell. Mary knew her own smell so well, like most humans, that it barely registered to her any more - but she knew it was clean and, paired with her favourite lavender mist bed-spray, made for a rather pleasant smell to fall asleep to. It certainly masked the hints of industrial bleach that Mary carried back with her from the hospital.

The lavender mist could slowly fade away, or not be refreshed for a while. That was fine. But the lavender mist could not be replaced.

Doctor Kaiser was replacing the smell of her lavender mist.

Doctor Kaiser either smelt like his daily Bleu de Chanel cologne, or lemonade shower gel (it was a pale yellow and in a funky looking bottle that, if it were not her bathroom’s intruder’s, Mary may have appreciated), or fresh soap from saving or washing his face or whatever products men used in conjunction with their face. There was also his smell - not unpleasant, but distinctly male.

Mary smelt like... Vanilla ice cream and essential oils, or fruit. Doctor Kaiser smelt like cotton and lemonade and cologne that lingered and clung to the sheets.

It was bad enough that Mary couldn’t sprawl out comfortably, spread-eagled, across her bed like usual. But now she was waking up to the smell of cotton and vanilla ice cream and everything that represented, and it was awful.

Mary had begrudgingly fallen asleep with these thoughts, which was unfortunate - because it was one of the rare nights so far where Doctor Kaiser and Mary had the same sleeping schedule. Mary’s intern exams would be soon, so she’d been busier than usual, and Doctor Kaiser was working more complex surgeries for his own examinations coming up. Thankfully for Mary, their paths had only crossed in her - sorry, their - bedroom a few times.

Mary stirred in her sleep, the slightest smell of lemonade waking her slightly.

Sensing light behind her eyelids, Mary blinked sleepily. It was still early yet, early enough that she needn’t move - but not early enough that she could allow herself to fall back asleep.

In a petty (but entirely justified, in her opinion) attempt to make her bed her own again, Mary had slept with her hair out after washing it with her favourite, strongest-smelling apple and blackberry shampoo. As a result, Mary could feel her hair concealing almost the entire of her face, some of it unfortunately placed in her mouth.

“Morning.”

Mary stopped - because although a voice greeting her in the morning was still unfamiliar, it wasn’t shocking. But the proximity... 

Mary knew it sounded muffled - after all, she’d fallen asleep head-first in her pillow with her hair acting as a secondary sound barrier. Maybe that was why she couldn’t actually feel her pillow - maybe she’d burrowed her face into the mattress...

Slowly, Mary rose her head - hair still concealing her face - only to quickly spit the hair out of her hair and brush it quickly from her face, upon realising Doctor Kaiser’s face was only inches from hers.

She hadn’t fallen asleep on the mattress.

She’d somehow managed to fall asleep half-thrown over Doctor Kaiser’s chest.

A small part of Mary’s brain registered the intimacy of their situation. Doctor Kaiser slept in sweats and a white vest (leading to Mary’s suspicions that he ordinarily slept shirtless, but was wearing additional clothing more for her sake than his), whilst Mary slept in the deliberately unflattering flannel PJ sets to prove a point.

Last night, however, she had been warm. With wet hair. Wet hair that would dry frizzy and untameable - and so she’d swapped her usual matching flannel shirt for a tank top of her own instead...

Mary’s breasts were pressed square in the centre of Doctor Kaiser’s chest, one hand resting loosely on his shoulder and the other leaning over his stomach and dangling over his opposite side.

This was not the first time this had happened. It was certainly the worst.

A wave of utter humiliation hit Mary as she realised she had pushed the hair from her face... And had gaped at Doctor Kaiser ever since.

“Sorry.” Mary said, jerking her arms away one by one - and then quickly scooting so that she was off of Doctor Kaiser’s body, before sitting upright on her side of the bed. “I - I was asleep. Obviously.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Doctor Kaiser yawned, throwing an arm over his face. His jaw was lined with fresh stubble and his dark hair looked particularly soft in the dim, soft light of the early morning. “You seemed to be having a pretty decent sleep, I didn’t want to disturb you. And you were warm.”

Mary made an aghast face, her mouth dropping open in a mixture of horror and disgust - but Adam, with his barely-awake faculties, did not notice.

“You don’t have surgery this morning?” Mary asked woodenly, suddenly hyper aware of her every movement. He was right. She’d felt warm as she’d slept - not uncomfortably so, either. 

“What time is it?”

Mary glanced at the clock. “5:30am.”

“Not for another few hours.” Adam murmured, his face still obscured. He’d slept well. It was groggy mornings like this that Adam wondered why he’d given up a lifetime’s worth of good sleeping hours for... Not that. “What time are you heading out?”

“I’ll leave around seven-thirty.” Mary replied, silently flapping her arms as she struggled to decide what to do. She was flustered - very flustered. Taking a quick sniff of her tank top, Mary scrunched her eyes up in horror - it smelt like lemonade. 

“I can make breakfast in a little while?” Adam continued, yawning again. His face was still covered by his arm. His other arm was outstretched over Mary’s pillow, the leather bracelets on his wrist much too close to Mary’s leg for her liking. “French toast sound good?”

“Mhmm.” Mary nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else.

“Cool.” Adam said sleepily, before patting Mary’s pillow with his hand. “Get back into bed, it’s cold.”

It was cold now that Mary had thrown back the sheets, and she did want to get back into bed...

So she did. Except Mary tried to move as little as possible, because once she was lying down and covering the both of them again with the duvet, the arm that had been resting over Doctor Kaiser’s face moved - to rest with his hand scarily close to resting near, or even on, Mary’s body.

Why would he do that? Had he done that before, as she’d slept? Did he sleep with his hand on her waist now? Was that a... Thing?

Needless to say... Mary didn’t fall back asleep.

Tilly was on morning rounds, Doctor Kaiser was stuck in surgery as of last night and the apartment was empty - and so Mary was taking full advantage, by dancing around in her underwear as she fried some eggs. 

Mary was too busy to keep up-to-date with the rising music artists of the current time, but Mary did recognise the song from various nurses’ stations around the hospital. The main lyric - I’ve got one less problem without you - seemed particularly apt for Mary’s freedom-induced antics.

Setting the pan to warm and turning up the volume to loud enough to fill the apartment’s open lounge and kitchen, Mary caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror - hair drying into curling tresses in a messy bun atop her head, in her favourite underwear: grey lace panties and a matching bralette. She daren’t wear such things when her “beloved” husband was home - she didn’t want him getting the wrong idea and it was a shame to waste such beautiful undergarments on the sweats and toils of everyday surgical training.

Realising frying eggs would probably cause tiny droplets of burning oil to singe her stomach - as Mary had frequently reminded many an acquaintance in high school, there really was nothing sexy about a man cooking shirtless when he was exposing himself to lots of tiny first-degree burns -, Mary caught sight of a nearby hoodie and picked it up, slipping her arms into it and rolling up the sleeves without thought.

It was Doctor Kaiser’s, she realised a few seconds later - it smelt faintly of his shower gel, something she only realised because it had been the foreign scent to plague her bedsheets in recent times. Lemonade.

He was a grown man, but used lemonade-scented shower gel.

No matter. The smell was only unpleasant in the sense Mary didn’t like anything other than the smell of her shower gel - honey - and lavender mist bedspray on her sheets. And anyway, she’d be sure to wash it and put it back later.

Zipping it high enough for her midriff to be adequately protected, Mary hummed her way over to the stove and set about making her breakfast eggs.

The radio continued with its preppy pop music that Mary only barely recognised, but she liked it, all the same. It felt nice to do something so ordinary as cook in her underwear for once. That wasn’t to say Mary was the most domestic of types, but it certainly made a pleasant change.

There was one point where Mary thought she heard something - but upon turning the radio down and hearing nothing, she resumed her concert-level music and continued with her stolen moment of happiness.

That was, until Adam froze in the kitchen doorway to see Mary shaking her hips as she poured chopped red bell peppers into the frying pan.

When Mary’s dancing finally took her to face the newcomer in the doorway, she shrieked.

“Y-you’re back!” Mary finally managed to stutter, her hand resting on her throat from the shock. “When did you-?”

“Surgery finished an hour ago, I just came in for a shower and something to eat...” Adam murmured, Mary missing how his eyes narrowed in recognition as she hastily turned away to turn down the radio. “Is that my hoodie?”

Mary froze.

“I - yes, I was just using it so I wouldn’t - the oil, from the pan-” Mary winced. “You know what? You can have it back, I shouldn’t have just borrowed it without asking, I’ll wash it for you now, I planned to afterwards anyway-”

“Mary.” Adam interrupted, causing Mary to pause. He glanced down at something under her face. 

Following his gaze, Mary realised she was shrugging off the only thing hiding her body in lacy underwear from Adam’s plain sight.

“You know, I may actually give this back to you later, if you don’t mind?” Mary laughed falsely, quickly wrapping the unzipped hoodie tightly around her. “I - I’d just come out of the shower and-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” Adam said kindly, stepping into the kitchen. Despite the fact there were a good few strides between them, Mary still stepped back. “Looks better on you, anyway.” He winked - and Mary couldn’t help the confused expression that immediately graced her features. Stepping closer still, Adam continued - “What are you cooking?”

“Spanish omelette.” Mary replied woodenly, trying to ignore his previous statement. 

“Nice.” Adam nodded, throwing a runaway piece of red bell pepper into his mouth. “Any free going?”

He was standing even closer now, and Mary was very aware of that fact.

“I made enough for leftovers, there should be enough for you to have now.” Mary murmured, avoiding Adam’s exhausted - yet somehow rather smug - eyes. Under the pretence of placing the lid over the pan, Mary quickly turned away. This wasn’t a battle she could fight in her underwear. “I’ll just get dressed-”

“Oh, I’m hopping into the shower now, unless you didn’t mind seeing me naked.” Adam told her brazenly.

Mary blinked.

“I... Guess I’ll wait, then.” 

“Cool.” Adam nodded, feeling rather proud of himself. It had been a long, but successful, surgery and his rather good morning had only been furthered by seeing Mary dancing in his sweater and her underwear upon walking in. “I’ll be about ten, maybe fifteen, minutes and then I’ll put some coffee on?”

Mary nodded dumbly.

“And... Then I’ll change.” Mary said, though more to herself than Adam.

Though apparently, he heard.

“Oh, don’t on my behalf.” Adam called out to her as he walked out into the hallway. Mary stared after him in confusion. “The whole my hoodie, your underwear... That’s a good look for you.”

Mary didn’t quite understand what Adam had meant - after all, he was usually a lot more sensitive to Mary’s feelings.

“If you needed help, you could have just asked.” Mary sighed, appearing from nowhere - and by the time Mary had pulled on Adam’s shoulder to turn him around, Adam had forgotten how to speak thanks to the glimpse he’d caught of her reflection.

“I, uh, it’s-”

“I’m sure you can do a tie, but whether or not it takes a few millennia is apparently a separate issue.” Mary interrupted smoothly.

Adam fell quiet. Honestly, she could have told him he was the dumbest man alive, and he would have just nodded - because the way she looked...

In a stereotype Adam was sure Mary would have found boring, Adam was falling apart of the sight of Mary in a figure-hugging, low-cut red dress with no sleeves, wearing high heeled red shoes to match. As it happened, as Mary fixed his tie, this was the closest he’d ever been to so much of her naked skin. 

It was both a glorious and painful moment.

Adam was so used to seeing the every day Mary - Mary in scrubs, tired and with messy hair, in unflattering hospital lighting. He still found her attractive, even if it was in a somewhat plain way - but then there were moments like this, when he realised Mary was anything but plain.

Her hair was tied neatly into a high pigtail, and her lips painted a glossy red. It looked so... Simple, so put-together. But for the first time since he’d started med school, Adam couldn’t see the whole picture; he could only catch glimpses of tiny details that were making his throat close up.

Hours of running around the hospital had contributed to gloriously well-sculpted legs, golden looking under warm light of Mary’s bedroom. The curve from her neck to her breasts certainly had Adam’s attention and, as Mary’s fingers fiddled expertly with his collar and tie, he could catch wafts of her sweet perfume.

“You’re staring.” Mary said impassively, not glancing up from his tie.

“Tonight, I have a reason to.” Adam replied softly.

Mary’s eyes jerked up at his words before she could help herself - but then she was turning hastily back to the problem at hand, the only reason they were standing in such close proximity in the first place.

“All done.” Mary finally coughed, taking a step back. Adam’s eyes maintained contact with her eyes, a smile with something she couldn’t quite decipher tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.” Adam nodded, beginning to walk past her - but then Mary nearly jumped out of her skin, because Adam’s hand as caught hers, and now they were holding hands as Mary trailed behind Adam towards the door.

“You’re a surgeon.” Mary stated calmly, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re meant to be more sensible than this.”

“I’m a surgeon, so if those stitches aren’t perfect, I’ll know.” Adam replied shrewdly, causing Mary to pause and glare up at him.

Because Adam was a total moron, when he and Josh had been playing soccer in the park earlier, they’d tackled one another too hard and had ended up in A&E - of the hospital they worked at. Adam had gained himself a nasty laceration under his left arm and Josh had supposedly broken three fingers. 

Of the two, Mary knew Josh was worse off - he wouldn’t be performing surgeries until his fingers were fully healed, even if Adam’s wound looked nastier. Technically, however, Mary wasn’t meant to be treating him - after all, they were related. But Adam had stated it was fine and, seeing as they were in the unique position of being surgical resident and surgical intern, as well as Official Hospital Couple and mentor and mentee, it had been allowed.

The staff of John Hopkins were taking great joy in not only seeing what they considered a rare, intimate moment in public, but also Adam with his shirt off. People were also largely mistaking Mary’s annoyance at Adam’s stupidity as concern.

“Ah.” Adam hissed, ignoring how Mary rose her eyebrow at him. “Is this your bedside manner usually? Because if it is, it needs work.”

“Oh, surely you know her bedside manner to be a lot more friendly.” Shelby winked, breezing past. Although Adam’s mouth twitched, Mary looked like she was going to stab her suture needle into Adam’s chest.

Adam fell silent then, deciding it was best to not aggravate not only the woman he would be going home with, but also the woman who was currently piercing his skin in - Adam felt rather proud upon checking - a rather professional manner.

He decided to watch her instead - and that he did. It was one of those extremely rare moments where Mary couldn’t admonish him for such a thing, and Adam figured he may as well take advantage.

Mary looked paler under the harsh lights of A&E, the shadows under her eyes sallow and the brightness of her cheeks a little too stark. Her hair was pulled into a neat, somewhat complicated-looking bun - the only hair out of place a small strand, slightly curled from her shower, falling in front of her eyes. It wasn’t long enough to irritate her, but it was long enough to highlight her eyes - the chocolatey brown, glinting with concentration under the light.

A sudden thought occurred to Adam - had his deodorant worn off? He’d been sweating when he’d been playing, and he was lying on a hospital bed with his arm over his head. Ordinarily, he would have given no thought to it - a patient smelling of dried mud, blood and sweat after physical activity, mixed with the scent of antibacterial liquid was amongst the more pleasant smells a doctor in A&E could come across -, but Mary wasn’t just another doctor. This was the same woman who Adam would one day (hopefully soon) be sleeping with.

In more than the platonic way.

Adam hoped she liked what she saw.

Ironically, similar thoughts flashed through Mary’s mind as she continued to stitch up Adam’s arm. He didn’t smell the most pleasant he ever had - ordinarily, he smelt of Bleu de Chanel cologne and linen, not dried mud and a sweet edge that Mary recognised as sweat - but Mary accepted why. If anything, despite being slightly disgusted by this, it was... Affecting her somewhat, creating a growing, swirling sensation at the pit of her stomach.

Mary knew it wasn’t her fault. Mary knew it was probably pheromones - which was actually a good sign, if she considered it purely from a scientific standpoint. She’d chosen Doctor Kaiser based on their assumed compatibility on paper, but if their bodies considered them compatible on a basic biological level, that was very promising news.

But from a slightly more personal perspective... It was gross.

“Sutures are looking good.” Adam finally mumbled.

Mary nodded. Considering her mental turmoil, she thought so, too.

“Maybe now you can stop staring at me.” Mary replied coolly back - and she just about managed to successfully bite back her smirk as she heard Adam laugh to himself once in disbelief... And then felt his body move beside her to relax, no longer scrutinising her every move.

Five minutes later, Mary cut the remaining string, threw her used tools into the small dish and ripped off her gloves.

“All done.” Mary sighed. “Would you like a mirror to check the stitches better?”

“Nope, it looks pretty good.” Seeing Mary’s disgust, he quickly amended - “Good, I mean. Good.”

“You’ll be okay getting home by yourself?” Mary asked, standing - and pointedly ignoring the coos of their nearby colleagues. 

“Yeah, I’ll be-”

“Don’t worry about it, Azizi, I spoke to the Chief.” Shelby laughed, walking over. Mary thought it particularly unlucky that she was heading A&E tonight. “You can give him a good nursing at home.”

Mary’s eyes widened in horror at the same time Adam’s winced in embarrassment. The difference was, Adam was smiling slightly.

“Doctor Helle, I’m sure Doctor Kaiser can-”

“Take your hubby home, Mary!” Shelby sighed loudly, already walking away. “Go on. You’re off shift.”