#day31

One that had led you both to your first ‘date’, a long shift where neither of you felt like going home just yet. Neither of you had wanted to be alone. 

You remembered it all too well, as you stood outside the hospital, the evening air simmering with the early summer heat. The gleaming moon above. 

You simply stood there. 

Arms crossed over. Bag slung over your shoulder, feet tired, eyes dry. 

And yet. 

You couldn’t will yourself to go home. 

You just couldn’t do it. 

That was where Brendon had crossed paths with you. Where he had offered to go get something to eat together. 

The start of something. 

Something that you had yet been able to name, label. Comprehend. Simply relishing in his company, not wanting to spoil the good thing you had going between you both. 

It had become habitual, you and him going out after shifts. 

But there was always a feeling of doubt planted in the back of your mind. Never quite sure whether he wanted this to be more than what it was. 

Never sure if he wanted anything more with you. 

Tonight was another one of those nights. 

Whilst you clipped in your earrings, smoothing your hair as you admired yourself in the mirror. 

Hands shifting to smooth out your dress. While it clung to all the right places, and cascaded delicately down to the floor. Flowing as though it were the ocean waves themselves. 

The image of elegance. 

You felt gorgeous. 

For once you weren’t in your scrubs, your runners now traded in for heels. The bags beneath your eyes now concealed with a swipe of concealer. 

Cheeks powdered with a hint of colour, whilst your lips popped with a vibrant lipstick. The slight shimmer patted onto your eyelids, as it twinkled beneath the lowlights.  

For a little moment you would enjoy the way you looked, you would enjoy the way it made you feel. 

…Before discomfort would eventually settle in

Before you’d be elbow to elbow with people you’d rather not talk with.

With people you had to play nice with. Whilst you pampered their egos, laughed at their hollow jokes, and amused them. Just to convince them that donating to the hospital is a worthy cause.

Justifying the work you did to people who didn’t truly understand it – as if it weren’t essential, as if your job didn’t revolve around saving lives. 

…A real headache as it were. 

Your mood only quelled slightly by the fact that these events often had food and drinks on offer. 

You liked dressing up, you simply didn’t enjoy why you were dressing up. 

You loved being a doctor.

The galas were simply an unfortunate string attached to it. 

And tonight’s gala. 

Was nautical themed. An evening soiree, held on a boat cruising down the river. 

Unfortunately you were running late. Your uber had gotten stuck in traffic, leading to you missing the boat as it shipped off from the pier. 

Stumbling slightly as your shoe catches the bottom of your dress. Maybe you should’ve gotten it altered…

Arms curling around yourself you stand at the edge of the pier. Watching as the boat heads off in the distance. 

The sound of footsteps catches your attention. Not yet turning your gaze. 

“Looks like you’re late,” the deep voice echoes from beside you. 

Tutting you look up at Brendon with a raised brow, “You’re standing with me too–guess you were late too”

He shrugs, “I was waiting for you” 

For some reason that sparked something in you. Warming and sweet. 

Jutting his head, he begins to turn back, “There’s a dinghy boat that’ll take us and a few of the other late comers,” he glances back at you, simply taking you in. The simple admiration of you. 

You looked so beautiful tonight. 

In Brendon’s opinion you looked beautiful each time he saw you. But tonight. There was something so magnetic about you. 

Smiling you catch up to him, almost tripping over once more as your heel catches onto your dress, “shit”

His arm reaches out to steady you. 

“Thanks,” you nod. Standing straight to smoothen your dress once more. That damn dress, as beautiful as it was. It was going to be the death of you if it keep this up

He offers you a small smile, linking your arm with his. As you looked at him with a questioning glance. 

“Can’t have you falling off the pier now, can we?” he joked, “Besides, I’d hate to go to the gala alone”

Grinning, you lean against him, as you playfully tease, “Careful Shark, someone might think you had a soft spot for me”

He doesn’t reply, but the faint quirk of his lip, how his smile doesn’t fade. 

Let’s you know that what you said, might’ve had a semblance of truth to it. 

He helps you step down into the little boat. 

The little motor sputtered to life as the driver pushed away from the dock.

Ahead of you, lights glittered across the harbor where the gala boat floated like a palace on the water.

You and Brendon sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the narrow bench.

His suit was immaculate, pressed to perfection, not a single crinkle in sight. Hair gelled back. A gleam in his eye. 

He looked so handsome tonight. 

The evening stretched ahead with promises of expensive champagne and boring speeches.

Neither of you looked particularly excited.

"You know," you said quietly, not wanting those around you to hear, watching the city lights reflect off the water, "If we're lucky maybe we'll miss the speeches."

"We're not that lucky," he murmured into your ear. 

You laughed.

The sound lingered between you.

Then the larger vessel came into reach. Deckhands tossed down a rope, while the dinghy bumped gently against the side.

One by one, the handful of late arrivals began climbing aboard.

And then you were next. Brendon standing just behind you, hands out in case you fell backwards. 

What neither of you had anticipated. Was the passing boat causing waves to ripple out.

Straight towards you and the little dinghy boat. 

A wake rolled through from a passing boat.

The dinghy lurched violently.

Your heel slipped, catching the fabric of your dress. And not the step of the boat. 

And then suddenly there was nothing beneath you. 

The freezing harbor water swallowed you whole.

Plunged into the cold depths of the water, the faint muffling of loud voices from above the water. 

Whilst your arms move, legs kicking as you try to resurface. The weight of your dress, fighting against you. 

You really should’ve had it hemmed.

Then a hand comes into your eyeline, blurry and shadowed in the dark lighting. Your hand clasps onto him as it pulls you back onto the boat. 

You sputter out, eyes clenched shut as your teeth chatter from the chill seeping into your very bones. 

Strong arms wrapped around you. Hands rubbing your back, doing their best to keep you warm. 

“I got you” 

Brendon. 

Of course it was. 

“I’m okay,” you coughed out. Shivers wracking your body. 

You were drenched to the bone, dress clinging to every inch of you, one heel now long forgotten in the depths of the water. Your makeup almost definitely running. 

The water seeping into the fabric of his suit as he held you, he informed the driver to turn the dinghy around.   

In a matter of minutes you were sat miserably in the passenger seat of Brendon’s car. Wrapped up in his suit jacket, trying to hold onto any feeling of warmth. 

Water still dripping off of you. 

Seeping into the very expensive and plush leather seating beneath you. Which you were undoubtedly ruining. 

Biting your lip in embarrassment. 

Wincing as you hear the slight squelch as you shift, “Your car is going to smell like harbour water forever”

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, hand adjusting the fans, as he turns on the heater. 

“It’s not fine,” you claim. 

He sighs, “It’s just a car”

“A very expensive car,” you said pointedly. 

“It’s still just a car”

For a moment you just sat there in silence. 

The engine roared to life, while Brendon began to drive. 

Eyes tracing his features, as the streetlights drifted across his face. 

You noticed the damp curls at his temples. The dress shirt sleeves now rolled up to his elbows.

The way he still hadn't complained once.

Not about missing the event.

Not about the ruined suit.

Not about his ruined evening.

Not about dragging you out of a harbor.

Not about anything. 

But then you sit up as you realise something, “Hey do you even remember where I live?” 

“I was driving you to mine–”

“And why?” you asked. 

“It’s closer…” he explained, a tinge of vulnerability bleeding into his words, of the care he felt for you, “And you need dry clothes before you’re at risk for hypothermia”

You nod. 

Even if you knew you were going to be fine, that the risk of hypothermia had decreased exponentially for you.  

It simply meant he cared. 

And that was a sweet thought. 

“Fine,” you hummed in agreement. 

Noticing the faintest twitch at the corner of his lip. 

Soon you’re pulling into his driveway. He walks around while you open the car door, his hand held out to you. 

“What a gentleman,” you teased, grasping onto him, still wrapped up in his jacket. Still dripping.  

He grumbled lightly in response. 

Guiding you up to his front door. The small click as he unlocks it. Welcoming you inside. 

Into the peace of it all. 

Warm. 

Quiet. 

Safe and inviting.

His arm slips from yours, holding up a hand, “Wait, just one moment,” as his figure disappears down the halls. 

You wander into the lounge, leaving your remaining heel by the door, still clinging onto his jacket, as your eyes trace along the features of his home. 

Sleek and clean lines, but with touches of comfort. 

It was exactly how you pictured it to be. 

You’d been here a handful of times, no more than 3. But not once had you really taken the time to fully appreciate his home. 

How it revealed all the little things Brendon kept tucked inside. 

Truthfully. 

You were a little preoccupied the last few times you had come over. And leaving just as quickly to be at work in time. 

But here now. 

There was no rush. No urgency. 

Just stillness. 

A slight cough sounds out from behind you, catching your attention. Neatly tucked in Brendon’s arms were a bundle of clothes, and a towel. 

He held them out to you. 

Taking them from his hands, a soft smile on your face. 

For a moment neither of you moved.

The air felt strangely still.

Brendon's gaze lingered.

Not on the ruined dress.

Not on the dripping water.

Simply eyes trained on you.

Checking.

Making sure you were okay.

His expression softened almost imperceptibly, "There'll be tea when you get out."

Your heart did an annoying little flip.

The kind you tried very hard to ignore.

Because Brendon Park wasn't exactly known for softness.

Yet here he was.

Standing in a ruined suit.

After abandoning a fancy gala.

Bringing you home instead.

Making you tea.

Worried you might catch a cold.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he added with a small nod from your thanks.  

Smiling you reply, “I remember–” raising a brow in jest, “Unless you did some major renovations” 

“Just checking you didn’t lose anything else in the water,” he chuckled. 

Shoving him lightly. “I should’ve pulled you in with me,” you retorted, while walking down the hallway. 

The sound of his soft laughter drifts into your ears. 

And as you disappeared toward the bathroom, you couldn't help but smile.

Peeling the cold dress from your body, laying it down. Groaning as you look at the sad sight. 

Stepping into the shower as the warm water and steam envelopes you whole. 

Sighing in relief. 

Finally retaining the warmth you had lost. 

Scrubbing away the musky smell of the river water that clung to you, replaced by the deep scent of Brendon’s body wash as it enters your senses. 

Stepping out as you dry off, tossing your wet hair up, twisting it into the towel. 

Tugging Brendon’s shirt over you. Pulling up the pants he had given you, pulling at the strings to prevent them from falling off. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. 

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the softness of his shirt. 

Stepping back out into the hallway, you immediately noticed the warmth.

Not just from the shower. But from the house itself.

The soft amber glow of the lamps.

The distant hum of the heater.

The faint clink of ceramic coming from the kitchen.

Home.

Or at least something that felt remarkably close to it.

You padded down the hall barefoot.

Before coming across Brendon, as he stood damp suit now swapped for something softer, more homely. Hair fluffy and no longer slicked down with gel.  

And for a split second he freezes at the sight of you. 

At how right it felt to have you there. 

Before he clears his throat, looking back down at the pan, “Feel human again?” 

“Mostly,” you grin, while slipping down to sit on a barstool. Propping your head up with your hand, tilting slightly, “What are you making?”

The warming smells entering your nose. 

A smile forming upon your lips. 

“Just some pasta–”

“Is that–are you making carbonara?” You ask, peering around his broad shoulders. 

“Maybe”

Shaking your head, “Nothing, I’m just surprised to see you cook”

“I can cook”

“Great. That’s good to know,” you replied. Eyes softening whilst you watch him move around the kitchen, moves precise and as fluid, as though he were in the operating room. 

Then his lip quirked up as he looked over at you, “I know you hate galas, but did you really need to jump into the water to get out of this one?” 

You laughed tilting your head back as you rehash the memory. 

“You know, if you wanted to stay back there, I could’ve made my own way home–”

“And miss out on being here with you?” he said, voice softening as he gazed at you. “Never”

Your cheeks began to ache with how widely your lips stretched across your face. 

He places a plate before you as steam wafts up. A warm cup of tea placed alongside it, soothing and warm, just for you. 

While he leans upon his elbows, his own plate of food in his hands. 

In this moment now, beneath the dim lightening, hair wrapped up in a towel, as you're sat across from him. The image of softness. 

An absolute picture of homeliness. 

That was how your night carried on. Grinning and smiling, as you laughed together. 

Talking freely. 

The way Brendon would laugh. 

So genuine. 

Low and warm. 

The kind of laugh that made your chest tighten. 

So different the man everyone assumed him to be. So different from the standoffish surgeon, who kept everyone at arm’s length. 

Here he was, letting you into his home. 

Into his life. 

And you were more than ready to dive right into the deep end with him. So long as it meant more nights like this. 

Save for the cold plunge. 

You’d be perfectly content spending your evenings with Brendon like this. 

As you move to his couch, curling up in his arms. Head tucked against his chest, soothed by the gentle cadence of his beating heart. 

While he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

Your eyes drifting shut, gently closing. 

But not without catching the gentle sound of Brendon’s voice as he whispers so sweetly. 

“I love you”

Mumbling back as a smile curls at your lips, “Love you too”

Whilst you shuffle further into his hold, his arms tightening around you. 

If going home meant going home to you. To this. 

Then Brendon would gladly leave early. 

Just to enjoy having you in his embrace.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little fic, the final instalment of my domaystic 2026 writing journey ♥️ I just loved the idea of Brendon being so soft and considerate. (and sure a little fall in the water might be a little tropey - but I just loved this idea) as you two grow closer from this little mishap. Something a little homely developing between you both. Let me know what you thought. Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 Help yourself and check out my other Pitt Works on My Masterlist Here!