#flangst

He was still in his tactical gear, boots scuffed, knuckles split, lip blood red and raw from him biting it too much and helmet hanging from his fingertips. All he wanted was a goddamn shower and to find you curled up on the couch, half-asleep in one of his old shirts, perhaps waiting on him even when he clearly told you he didn‘t know when he would return with something playing low on the TV that you weren’t really watching.

But the apartment was silent. Still. Too still. He frowned.

“Baby?” he called, his voice hoarse. Nothing. Not even the sound of you rustling around in the tiny-ass kitchen that barely had space for both your bodies when he pressed you against the counter. “You here?”

No answer.

He dropped the helmet onto the couch with a dull thud, scanning the living room- small, lived-in, your touch on everything. Blanket thrown over the armrest. Mug on the coffee table. One of your socks under the edge of the couch. The place looked like you'd just stepped out for a second. But his gut told him otherwise.

Jason moved fast when he was worried. But now in your way-too-small apartment he was bumping into the walls. Bootsteps heavy as he checked the bedroom, the bathroom, the closet you both swore you'd clean out last week. Nothing. No bag missing. No note. No message on his phone, not that he’d had service the last two days. "Goddammit..." he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. The apartment barely fit him on a good day — hell, it barely fit both of you, and that was half the charm. But now it just felt... empty. Wrong. Where the fuck were you? He felt his heart start to race and his breaths start to leave him in short, quick, strong breaths that hurt. Before he could start ripping the walls off of your apartment because maybe-just maybe-you were hiding underneath them as a prank a new thought entered his messed up brain. Maybe joker got to you. Maybe Joker got to….you. And he swore to whatever entity above if joker got his hands on you he would tear Gotham from limb to limb until there were ashes left in place of this godforsaken city. His shaking hands fiddled with his phone to try and call Dick. Dick was still on patrol around the area maybe he could go out and search for you as Jason gets every weapon known and unknown to mankind to torture any of Joker‘s goons for information because any other explanation wouldn‘t make sense to him.

He has you. He has you. He has you.

And maybe you were already dead.

His phone fell from his trembling hands as he tried to pick it up again but his heart was beating too fast his hands were shaking too much snd they were too sweaty and everything just fucking hurt and why the fuck weren‘t you here? On his knees now his hands found his hair as he digged into the strands.

„Jay?“

His head snapped over his shoulder towards the door and there you stood. Key in hand and your eyebrows furrowed and not a fucking worry in sight about perhaps being captured by the Joker. If Jason couldn‘t breathe before right now he certainly couldn‘t.

His eyes glossed over and he parted his lips to speak but before he could even think of saying anything you quickly close the door behind you, mindful not to actually slam it shut, and stalk towards him as you land on your knees before him. His face contores into a small grimace as your knees scrape against the rough hard wood floor you had. Your nimble hands cradle his face and he can see your mouth moving but he can’t hear anything. His ears are ringing and everything around him was going in and out of focus. All he could actually focus on was you. Your thumbs brushed over the stubble on his jaw as you tried to get him to look at you- really look at you.

“Jay. Jay, baby? Baby, breathe. It‘s Okay.” Your voice cut through the white noise like a lifeline, soft but urgent and in a whisper, your fingers slipping into his hair replacing his rough ones that pulled at the strands just to ground him.

His lips trembled. You were warm. Solid. Alive. And he was going to throw up.

Jason surged forward, his arms wrapping around you so tight it knocked the air out of your lungs, but you didn’t care and you were quite sure that he didn‘t either. You held him just as tightly, if not more. He buried his face in your shoulder and breathed. In. Out. In again. It was messy, shaky, and uneven, but the scent of you was familiar, grounding and enough to make the world tilt back into focus. Slowly.

"I thought-" His voice cracked. “I thought he had you.”

You felt it then- the wet heat of tears hitting your skin. He had cried in front of you before. Many nights where his nightmares were just too real for him to bear alone. He would softly wake you up and you would hold him as he silently wept into you and you never judged him. Not him or his past. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his temple.

“I just went outside for a second,” you whispered. “We were out of coffee. You always want coffee when you get back from a job. I wanted to get you some but i forgot my wallet. Kinda glad i did right now“ a soft chuckle escapes you.

Jason shook his head against you, still holding on like letting go might undo you, might unmake you and all the fragile peace you brought into his chaos. “Didn’t see a message. Nothing. Place was too quiet. I-I thought…”

“I know.” You combed your fingers through his hair again, slow and soothing, like you’d done on the nights the nightmares were too loud. “You’ve been out there too long. Everything feels wrong when you come back.” You place your chin ontop of his head as you keep ranking through the back of his hair.

“It wasn’t just that,” he choked out. “I felt it. That...in my chest. The panic. I couldn’t breathe. You weren’t here. I thought it was like that time. I thought-fuck, I don’t even know what I thought, just that it was happening again. I was there again with him..”

In that warehouse.

With death.

You tightened your grip around him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jay,” you said. “You hear me? You could raze Gotham to the ground looking for me, and I’d still come home to you.” He laughed then, but it was hollow, cracked down the middle, his forehead pressing hard against the crook of your neck. “Don’t say that. You shouldn’t have to come home to this.”

You didn’t say anything for a beat. Just held him. Let him collapse without shame. Because you knew better than anyone that Jason Peter Todd was the strongest man known. But even steel buckles under enough pressure.

Eventually, you pulled back, hands moving to cup his face again. His eyes were bloodshot. His skin, pale. His lip, cracked. He looked wrecked. Destroyed. “C’mon,” you murmured gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He shook his head in a frenzy. “I don’t want to move.”

“We don’t have to go far,” you promised. “Just the bathroom. I’ll draw you a bath. And we can sit. That’s it. Just sit me and you.”

You guided him up slowly, carefully, mindful of how unsteady he was on his feet, when you realised you wouldn‘t get another answer out of him. His grip never left you — one hand tangled in the fabric of your hoodie, the other on your waist. Like if he let go, the floor might open up and swallow him whole and he would be back there.

In the bathroom, you flicked the lights on and turned the faucet. The water hissed into the tub, and the steam quickly filled the room. Jason stood behind you, leaning against the sink. You turned and reached for the hem of his suit. Only now did you realize that he still had it on.

He flinched.

“Hey.” Your voice was soft, coaxing. “It’s me.” Jason closed his eyes. Breathed in again.

Bruises, fresh and healing, littered his torso like a road map of violence. The jagged scar near his ribs, the one that never fully faded, was red around the edges. You didn’t ask if he’d reopened it. You already knew. He had this tendency when he got anxious that he would just sit and scratch away at all of his scars as if it would make them dissapear. He didn’t speak, not for a long while, until your fingers ghosted too gently over one of the deeper cuts.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured, eyes distant, fixed on the tile.

“You didn’t,” you said. “You won’t.”

“You say that like it’s a guarantee.”

You met his gaze. “You’re not the only one who fights to hold on, Jason. I may not be out there on rooftops or in back alleys, but I fight every day to be here. With you. You think I’d let some clown-faced asshole take that away from me? Take you away from me? I wasn‘t there the first time and i won‘t let it happen a second time.”

He let out a shaky breath, “I love you.”

The words didn’t tumble from him often. Not because he didn’t feel them, but because he felt them too much. Too deeply. Like they were fragile, and precious, and terrifying all at once.

You stepped closer and pressed your forehead to his.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “Now get in that tub before your muscles lock up like last time.” He groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

You helped him in and sat nearby, cross-legged on the bathroom floor. The bathwater lapped gently at the porcelain as Jason let himself sink deeper, the tension in his shoulders finally starting to bleed away.

A long silence stretched between you.

Then,

“You really went for coffee?”

You smiled. “Yeah. And those snacks you like.”

He blinked. “The spicy cheese ones?” You nodded. Jason tilted his head back and let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “I really do love you.” “You better. I’m the one who’s gonna be dealing with the tub drain full of your blood and war grime.”

He huffed. “Romantic.”

“Always.”

Afterward, wrapped in a towel and wearing the old hoodie of his you’d swiped years ago, Jason slumped onto the bed. You curled up beside him, throwing the blanket over both your legs.

Your head rested on his shoulder, and his arm wound around your waist, hand brushing against your side absently, like he still needed to reassure himself you were real. That you were there.

“I hate what this city does to me,” he said quietly.

You looked up. Jason frowned.

“How it makes you feel, Jay. How it makes you scared. That’s not weakness. That’s love. That’s being human.”

He was quiet again for a moment. “I couldn‘t stand living without you here. I think i would have gone mad.“ You shifted in his hold.

His eyes met yours.

“You don‘t have to worry about that.,” you said. “You came home, Jay. To me. And i will always be there for you..”

He leaned down and kissed you then. Soft. Barely there. But it lingered.

“Don’t ever disappear on me again,” he said against your lips. You pulled back just enough to smirk. “Only if you promise not to assume I’ve been Joker-napped every time I step out.”

Jason exhaled slowly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Can’t promise that.”

“I’ll settle for a text next time you’re off-grid.” “I’ll try,” he said. And for Jason Todd, try meant more than most people’s swear.

You both layed there for a long while, tangled in each other and the quiet aftermath of panic. And while the city outside still breathed with crime and chaos, in this tiny, too-small apartment, with your heartbeat steady against his side, Jason felt maybe for the first time in weeks that he wasn’t losing everything.

That maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to have something.

Your fingers tingled with the alcohol that flooded your veins as you dug them into the purse clutched against your stomach. While searching for your phone, you found your perfume bottle, an outdated and empty blister of the pill you'd stopped taking, and a lipstick you thought you'd lost a month ago, but no sign of your cellular device. Looking around frantically, your brows knitted together tightly, a string of slurred curses leaving your lips senselessly. Had you forgotten it in the club ? Had one of your friends picked it up by accident ? Worse yet, had it been stolen ?

"There you are !" you cheered, picking the phone from the damp asphalt and opening it like it held every secret to the universe. Looking through your contacts, you tugged the hem of your dress down, suddenly aware of the wind creeping up your skirt. You hummed a song you didn't recognize, skimming through an endless list of people you definitely shouldn't call for what might've been a few minutes or mere seconds – the fabric of time was one that frayed at the edges along with your consciousness – before settling on one and pressing the button. Considering the hour of morning, you were surprised to have your correspondent pick up after only two rings, or at least you would've been, had you been any less intoxicated.

Just as the panic started gnawing at your throat, something clattered to the ground between your legs.

"Hello ?" the voice rang from the other end of the line. You hummed through a smile at the sound of it, and she immediately understood what this was. Sighing, the woman continued, "Where are you ?"

Unfortunately for her, you were feeling rather uncooperative tonight, and so you blatantly ignored her question, "You know, I wish we could see the stars at night."

You practically heard her eyes roll as she replied, "Considering how drunk you sound, I doubt you'd be in any capacity for stargazing. Where are you ?"

A hum left your lips, and you traced mindless shapes on the asphalt with the toe of your shoe, "Do you ever think about how we're technically cousins ?"

The woman nearly choked on the other side, "Us ? What are you–"

Laughter erupted from you like bubbles from a shaken up bottle of soap, filling the night with an unabashed melody.

"Not us, idiot ! Ew !" you chirped brightly, "The stars ! Us and the stars !"

She muttered something you didn't quite catch before continuing, "How about we talk about this once you've told me where you are ?" she offered, and you'd swear you could see the way her eyes closed, the way her bitten nails had pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Hm," you sang, "does that mean I get to see you ?"

A moment passed, and you started to fear having hung up on accident as she replied, "Well, as soon as you tell me where you are, yes."

"Can I help you miss ?" a deep voice asked, decidedly not the low velvet you'd been sitting here waiting for.

The wait felt excruciating. You could feel your head spinning from the drinks, and the wet concrete of the sidewalk was starting to seep through your dress, damping your underwear. It was sticky, and uncomfortable, and you wished she'd just get there already. The night air had been a blessing when you'd stumbled out of the club, but you'd grown to curse its bite as you rubbed your arms helplessly.

The lamp-post you'd been sitting under had become a harbor for moths, and when one of them settled on your kneecap, you kept as still as your inebriated state would allow to keep it here. You wondered how such a small creature perceived you, all big eyes and smudged mascara as you stared at it in wonder. If it had a mind to think it, it would've deemed you insane in a second. Dangerous, at the very least. Monstrous at most. And yet, it stayed there, occasionally sweeping a paw over its head. You had just named it Juniper as it took flight, scared by the sudden shadow looming behind you.

You turned your head to find the man, standing right behind you, leaning over with his hands on his knees, looking down at you in a way that made you feel eight again. Your frown deepened.

"Nop'," you said curtly, "thanks, bye."

The man whose face you couldn't quite see chuckled, and you bit back the sudden desire to elbow him in the shins.

"Oh come on. You're clearly drunk, I can help you get home," he insisted, "my car's just down the street, I'll drive you."

"I'm waiting for someone." you turned back to face your knees, sighing at the conclusion that Juniper hadn't come back.

"Come on sweetheart, no boyfriend would leave such a pretty girl out in the cold for so long," he reached for your shoulder, but heels clicked to your left, and you didn't bother telling him off. Your guard dog would do it for you.

"Back off." her voice rang sharply, despite its low volume.

The man's hand froze, and he turned to find her dark eyes, seemingly unimpressed, "I'm helping her."

"She doesn't want your help."

He scoffed, "What do you know ?"

Arching a brow, her eyes flickered between your hunched figure and his face, "Well, she just told you so. I'd say that's a pretty good indicator."

You chuckled to yourself at her retort, and the man seemed to take offense, "Oh, so what, I'm supposed to leave the girl alone like that ?"

"Well, she told you she was waiting for someone, didn't she ?" she pressed a finger to the top of your head, and you lifted your chin to meet Emily's piercing gaze, "Didn't you darling ?"

You nodded, and the man scoffed again, – you supposed he had some respiratory problem, or maybe he was just a very scoffy asshole – and he argued again, "And I'm supposed to believe you're the boyfriend ?"

"I never said boyfriend," you hummed, "you did. You said boyfriend."

He kept on spouting nonsense, but the second Emily held her hand out, your mind automatically tuned him out. Curling your fingers around hers, you tried to pull yourself up, stumbling back until she pressed a steadying hand to your waist.

"You okay ?" she murmured, "You look like a newborn fawn."

"Stop laughing," you complained.

"No one's laughing sweetheart." she assured you sweetly, before guiding you with a palm to your lower back.

"Hey– Where the hell are you going ?" when neither Emily nor you deigned turn, he added, "fucking bitch."

Gallantly, she opened the car door and helped you settle into the passenger seat before walking back to the sidewalk, badge in hand.

"I'd suggest you refrain from calling an federal agent that– or any woman, for that matter."

The sight of her badge seemed to dissolve the rest of his audacity, retreating like a dog with its tail between its hind legs.

Eyes closed, you leaned back against the headrest as Emily rounded the car to the driver seat. You heard the door close as she settled in front of the wheel, and felt her fingers tilt your chin to face her before you opened your eyes again.

"How much did you drink ?" she asked softly, her gentle fingers holding your jaw as she examined the state of your pupils.

You simply shrugged, unsure of the exact quantity, before changing the subject, "He scared Juniper away."

Her brow arched, "Juniper ?"

You nodded against her light grip, "He scared her. Juniper the Moth. She was resting on my knee and he scared her away."

Her gaze turned tender, and she cocked her head in understanding, "Oh, I'm sorry darling. He wasn't very nice." you shook your head in agreement and leaned into her touch, letting your lashes flutter against your cheeks.

Her thumb grazed your heated skin, "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

She drew her hand back and you let out a quiet whine at the loss, before quickly becoming enthralled by the way the light of lamp posts drew lines in the darkness as she drove. The melody you'd been humming mindlessly found your lips again, filling the space around you.

"Is that Leia's theme ?"

"Hm?" you turned to her, gaze tracing the slope of her nose, her dark eyes and long lashes, her chapped lips… You would've spent hours watching her, were it not a little unnerving.

"What you're humming," she clarified, stealing a glance your way, "isn't it Leia's theme ? From star wars ?"

Brows knitting in contemplation, you went over the melody in your head, before snorting, "God, you're such a nerd–"

"It is, right ?" she grinned at the sound of your bright laughter, "Wait– How am I the nerd when you're the one drunkenly humming it ?"

"You recognized it ! I didn't !" you exclaimed, "That's your fault you know ? Making me watch those movies an ungodly amount of times–"

"You said you liked them !"

"I do ! That doesn't mean I want to watch them once a month !" your smile never faltering, you watched as her expression transformed into a sort of cute frown.

"You never said anything," she mumbled, and your hand shot up to caress her cheek before you could think better of it, not that your inebriated brain would've allowed it anyway.

"Because it made you happy, I never minded," your grin softened, knuckles brushing against her cheekbone. She stilled slightly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, daring another glance at you, a very dangerous mistake. You were looking at her like that again. Like you did before, before her job got too much, before the Star Wars re-watch & cuddle sessions turned into brewing coffee at three AM in her empty apartment, in a useless attempt to keep yourself awake until she came home.

"Angel," she hummed, knuckles brushing your cheek, "we're there"

You were looking at her like that again, and she wished she hadn't felt such relief at the sight, because if she hadn't, there would've been nothing that the reminder of your drunkenness could crush to pieces. Her eyes fled back to the road, and her jaw tensed, which seemed enough of a sign for your hand to fall back into your lap. The rest of the ride was spent in silence, save for your occasional slightly off-key humming.

Emily pulled the car to a stop in your building's parking lot, and when she turned to you, she realized why the ride had been so silent. Your head was lolled against the window, lips parted, eyes closed in blissful slumber. A sigh escaped her, but she couldn't help the warmth that settled behind her ribs as she gently leaned over to undo your seat belt. Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, she called your name softly, which only made you curl up in your seat some more.

A sleepy groan escaped you, and you mumbled something she couldn't make out, hands tucked under your jaw. She caressed your hair, gently guiding your head away from the window.

"Come on, you'll be in your bed in no time. You just need to fight sleep for a few more minutes."

"Carry me…" she heard you mutter as your head fell to her shoulder.

The demand made her chuckle, and she replied softly, "As much as I'd love to, I think you overestimate my abilities baby."

You murmured something about her being a strong FBI agent, and she bit back her laughter.

"I can't carry you for that long sweetheart. Especially not up the stairs," you groaned in protest, "I know, I know, but you're gonna have to get up."

"But my feet hurt…" you whined, and she glanced down at your heels. Who went to the club in stilettos ? You, apparently. She would've offered to switch shoes, but she was in heels as well, and you didn't even wear the same size.

"We'll take your shoes off in the lobby then. I'll help you, you'll lean on me, and when we're at your place I'll clean you up, alright ?"

You mumbled in reluctant agreement, pulling away from Emily and pulling at the door handle.

"Wait–" she got out of the car, rounding it to get to your side. There, she opened the door and held out a hand, a gesture you rewarded with a playful and slightly unbalanced bow.

One of her arms wrapped around your waist, steadying your stumbling form as you leaned against her as instructed. Your head lolled against her shoulder, and you tried to keep up with her strides as you walked toward the building. As the door closed behind them, you tilted more of your weight against her side, standing on one foot you reached behind you to slip off one of your heels. Of course, that was a lot to ask of your drunken balance, and when the foot you'd been standing on twisted at the ankle, Emily was quick to tighten her hold on your waist.

"Ow," you complained, and she led you to sit on the stairs, kneeling in front of you to slip the other shoe off of your foot, "my knight in shining armor," you grinned as she examined your ankle.

With an amused breath, she pulled you to your feet, shoes hooked to her fingers, and you headed up the stairs at the rate of an elderly couple. At your door, you turned to her like you expected her to do something, only to be met with her gaze already on you.

"What ?" she asked.

"You what !"

"What do you mean I what ? You have the keys idiot !"

You scoffed, bringing a hand to your chest in disbelief, "Excuse me, I'm the idiot ?–"

"Oh for god's sake–" she rolled her eyes and lifted your purse from your hip, diving a hand in and pulling out your keys.

"Idiot" she whispered with a smile as you huffed. Opening the door, she led you inside and you stumbled over to the couch, dropping onto it like a dead weight. Emily put your shoes into your shoes rack and walked over to the bathroom, making you crane your neck as your eyes followed her curiously.

"Em ?" you called out, and she peered out of the bathroom with your disinfectant and a small pouch of band aid.

"For your feet," she offered, joining your side and sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

"Oh" you managed quietly as she gently settled your calf over her lap. Silence settled like a blanket over the both of you as she tended to the angry red burn on your Achilles' heel. Her touch was tender, dabbing a cotton over the small wound, before covering it with a colorful band-aid. She did the same with your other heel, and once she was done, she simply looked up at you, your leg still swung over her lap as her thumb traced circles against your ankle.

For a few moments, you just looked at each other, and your sobering mind prayed you weren't as visibly flustered as the heat of your face indicated. Emily showed no sign of amusement, watching you with this quiet awe only she could muster. Once upon a time, you'd compared her eyes to black holes, pulling you in in a way you were helpless to. Once upon a time suddenly felt much closer than it should've been.

"Would you call me like you did again ?" you heard yourself say, voice hushed.

She tilted her head slightly, "What do you mean ?"

"Earlier, you called me by the nicknames you did before," you explained, vulnerability flowing out of you in waves, "can you use those again ?"

A soft sigh escaped her, and the look she gave you made it clear that she hadn't noticed her own usage of the terms of endearments, and that using them on purpose felt cruel to both of you.

"Please," you insisted in a breathe, "just this time. Just tonight."

When she stood from the table, your foot falling back to the carpet, your hands tightened on the edge of the couch cushions, "Please Emily. I just– I want to feel normal again, just for a moment, I just want–" you bit your lip when your voice cracked, the sound making her turn toward you. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but her poker-face had never been that good when it came to you.

"I just want to feel like I'm yours again. Just tonight." you finished, barely loud enough to qualify as a whisper.

For a moment, it seemed like she'd been punched in the stomach. When she recovered, all she could manage was a small, "You're drunk."

"I know" you countered, lifting yourself off the couch, trying to will your center of gravity to stop shifting, "I know, and I'm– I'm not asking you for anything I can't– for anything that you couldn't give. I just want to pretend. I just want to feel that safety again. I mean, hell– You clearly didn't even notice you were doing it earlier–"

"It's not a good idea–"

"God, Emily, I'm not asking you to fuck me, I'm asking you to just– just address me like you did before we became–" you gestured at the space between your bodies, "–whatever this is !"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes shutting like you'd imagined she'd done when you'd called her earlier, and a distant, less inebriated part of your brain feared you'd gone too far.

"Fine." she huffed, "It's not like you'll remember any of this tomorrow."

You sighed in relief, before swaying over to the kitchen.

"I hope you're going to get some water," she frowned slightly as you passed, "and not a peach beer from the fridge."

You raised your hands in surrender, "Honestly, I don't think it would matter much considering."

You felt the air she brought with her as she walked over to you, "Well, water would help. Beer wouldn't," she hesitated half a second before adding, "sweetheart."

A snort escaped you, "Smooth," earning you a pinch at the waist.

"Shut up. It's weird when it's on purpose." extending an arm to the overhead cupboard, she pulled out two glasses, one sporting a pattern of daisies, and the other blueberries. Once both glasses were filled with water, she handed the daisy one to you, leaning against the counter. You joined her side, nursing the glass between your palms.

"So," she hummed, "what were you doing out ?"

You took a sip of water, "A friend got a promotion. We were celebrating."

"You're not usually one for clubs," she noted.

"I wanted to try. It was fun. Well, less so when they either went home or left with some guy they'd met there."

"Is that why you were on the sidewalk ?"

You nodded, looking down at your sparkly dress. The straps were digging uncomfortably into your shoulders, the hem of the skirt constantly hiking up your mid-thigh.

"What's this dress ?"

"Hm ?"

Emily brushed a thumb over the fabric covering your back, "I've never seen it. And it's not exactly the type of thing you usually wear."

You huffed, "Am I not allowed to try new stuff ?"

"Not saying that. And you look beautiful," she said calmly, "I was just wondering."

Heat crept up your neck, "Oh. Thanks," you whispered, "a friend convinced me to buy it."

"And how do you feel about it ?"

You looked down again, hesitating a moment. It was a nice dress, a little shorter than what you were used to.

"It's a little uncomfortable. It keeps–" you pulled the hem down again to illustrate, "but I mean– it's nice. I don't hate it."

The woman hummed, bringing her glass to her lips, before speaking again, "Well, I meant it. You look beautiful. You always do."

Air seemed scarce all of a sudden, and so you inhaled deeply, cheeks burning. She always had that ability to compliment you like it was nothing. Like she was stating irrefutable facts and expecting you to just accept them as such. It drove you crazy before, and evidently, it still did.

"We should get you cleaned up before you go to bed," she pointed out, setting the glass on the counter.

"Cleaned up ?"

Her only response was to gently turn your chin as her eyes roamed over the makeup you'd forgotten about.

"You really need to invest in waterproof mascara, darling."

The term left her mouth so naturally that you wondered if she'd noticed it had, and the sound of it made butterflies swirl around in your stomach.

She strutted off to the bathroom, putting the band-aids and disinfectant back in their place, and you followed, still buzzed from the alcohol.

"So pretty," you whispered as she tenderly wiped the mascara off of your cheeks.

Closing the toilet seat, she gestured to it, "Sit" she simply said, the command soft as velvet from her tongue. You sat.

She turned around to gather what you needed to clean off your makeup, while you watched your toes from your seat. When she faced you again, slotting herself between your knees, you looked up at her, your eyes betraying every bit of the adoration you felt.

Her lips curved, ears flushing so imperceptibly that, hadn't you known her so intimately, you might not have noticed.

"Thank you baby," she passed the damp washcloth over your lips, before lifting it, "close your eyes," you complied, and felt the cloth wipe over your eyelids.

"Done," she brushed strands of hair from your forehead, "let's get you to bed."

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the dim light coming from the doorway, but Emily navigated the space like she'd never left it. She gathered pajamas from your wardrobe, and you pulled the covers aside, settling on the edge of the mattress.

"I'll step out," she said, handing you your clothes.

"No– I uh, I need your help," twisting on the mattress, you showed your back to her. The issue was suddenly clear as her eyes found the zipper. Carefully, she pulled it down until the straps of your dress pooled down your shoulders.

"There," she didn't move. You didn't ask her to. Instead, you peeled the dress off, baring your back for her to unclasp your bra, before pulling the oversized shirt onto your shoulders.

Once you were done, Emily picked up the dress and bra, draping them over the backrest of a chair before heading toward the door, "Rest, it might help with the headache you'll inevitably get from this."

"Em–" you whined softly, making her pause on her way to the front door, "Stay ?"

You watched as her head dropped forward in defeat, as if she'd been dreading the word.

"Sweetheart–"

"Please ?"

She scoffed, "You can't just say please and expect me to fold–"

"Emily," you insisted, "please"

A heavy sigh left her, and like she didn't even believe what she'd just said, she turned back to your room and joined you on the bed.

"Nothing happens." she stated.

"I missed you," your soft voice slurring was enough of a clue toward your imminent slumber. She pressed a kiss to your hairline and held you closer.

"That's not what I'm asking," you whispered before snuggling close to her. Once the initial shock had passed, her arms wrapped around you. The hold was light at first, only tightening once a shaky breath left her.

You closed your eyes and melted against her, the warmth a cocoon around your frame. The quiet settled like snow over them, her nose pressed into your hair, hand splayed over your back. For a moment, everything was okay again. She was yours and you were hers. She was here, not on a plane to god knows where, and you were in her arms. For a moment that's all there was.

"Me too," she whispered, "Goodnight darling."

From your breathing, you'd fallen asleep before she'd even finished talking. Still, she held you, breathing you in with absolutely no intention of letting go.

It was finally the night of the release of your boyfriend's fourth studio album. Harry Styles' ‘Kiss All The Time. Disco Occasionally.’ Or Kissco, as the fans had so lovingly dubbed it. Release night was the concert. One night only. That's where you were now. In the VIP tent of the Manchester show. Kissco, the way it’s never been done before nor will be done after.

It was a whirlwind of emotions for everyone involved. Naturally, the most for Harry. You knew how much love he had put in this record. It seeped through every song. It being received well meant a lot to him.

You were so unbelievably proud of him.

Now, as you stood in the tent, you were joyed beyond anything.

But something lingered in the back of your mind no matter how hard you pushed it down.

It had happened a few days ago. The day wasn't anything special. No omens lurked in undertones and overtones to tell you what would happen that day. You and Harry had been talking. About work. About the album. About your days. It was light. It was safe. Unassuming. The conversation had randomly shifted to your future. It wasn't like you hadn't thought about it. You had. It just scared you every time you did.

You had been together for a bit over two years. Settling had always scared you. It wasn't that you were disloyal or non-committal but it just scared you that settling gave your partner the power to leave you whenever they wanted. Leave a life you built together. What if one day they realised they didn't like you anymore? Or you weren't as exciting anymore? Or you'd gotten repetitive and boring? Falling out of love is something your partner can't help. No one does anything wrong. So what do you do when that happens?

It was a fear you had harboured since you were younger. Getting in the way of a lot of relationships. With Harry, you started questioning your own philosophy. He made you want to settle down and that scared you. But the fear of commitment was so deeply and indelibly ingrained in your being that when the conversation came up, you got defensive and he got hurt.

You still didn't know what to say to him. You didn't want to say anything till you were sure of what you wanted to say. There was simply too much on the line. Maybe that fact gave you the answer, didn't it?

And when Harry came on stage, you pushed those thoughts further down. It was a fever dream from then. One song after the next. You'd heard a few at the piano when he first thought of them, unpolished in his Voice Notes app, the first time in the studio and the released studio version while a few he had kept a surprise.

When Harry settled at the piano, the lights dimming, the crowd seemed to feel how intimate it had gotten before he'd even played a chord.

Tell me your fears I've turned back the clocks, it's that time of year

At first you listened, already loving it. Then you really listened.

The lyrics corroborated your situation at the time. Made it feel like he was laying his feelings bare for you to see.

but I'm scared if we're both right Does that mean we're not aligned?

By the time he finished that line, your welled-up tears had already started their descent. He seemed to be letting you know he knew your fears were valid. Both of you had something valid to say. But if it was contradictory, were you really right for each other?

Just for tonight, let's go hangover chasing And I'll talk your ear off about why it's safe,

His next words came as a sharper knife to heart, more blood gushing under the guise of tears. (wattpad line stawp)

as I Fumble my words and fall flat on my face through the truth Just say the word and we'll take up the test where we Flirt with the bad ones and skip all the rest, but we See out the night with your head on my chest, me and you

There's only me and you

As far as you had pushed down the thoughts, they sprang back twice as hard. The tears streamed faster. Maybe... Maybe that's all you both have to do right now- see out the night- what if you put too much pressure too soon on something beautiful that you ruined it? You didn't have to know what to do 10 years from today.

Now I see your tears on account of my wants and now it appears That I'm feeling guilty and worried, dear That you think that I might not want you here

Your breath stumbled.

Does all of this seem to be bringing us closer or am I back-seating your life? Judging while you drive

Just for tonight, let's go hangover chasing And I'll talk your ear off about why it's safe, as I Fumble my words and fall flat on my face through the truth Just say the word and we'll take up the test where we Flirt with the bad ones and skip all the rest, but we See out the night with your head on my chest, me and you There's only me and you

As the orchestra started, your sobs racked deeper without you meaning to. Maybe he was all you needed. What if you let your fear come in the way of being with him? He was worth it, wasn't he? Everything was, with him- someone you love saying something bad about you, paparazzi bombarding you everywhere when you were together, arguing with each other, hearing people have hurtful opinions on something that's not theirs- it was all okay as long as at the end of the day you were with him.

It was all okay if at the end of the day it was you and him crying about a movie and him making you laugh, joking the way you never would with anyone else, being the truest versions of yourselves and trusting each other with your fears and your worries and your truth.

The fear of losing him forever was bigger than any other fear. Standing there now, everyone around you swaying and crying, holding up their phones with flashlights, some of them crying, the darkness providing a place to feel without being judged, the orchestra flowing through the air and Harry. The reason everyone felt this all. Your boyfriend. The man you loved.

It's only me and you.

And you were almost sure his eyes flicked to your side. When the lights dimmed further, you took a shaky breath. The catharsis had left you breathless and all you could think was that with him, forever felt.. easy.

Then you were escorted backstage to his dressing room where you waited.

When the door finally swung open, you threw your arms around him. Before you even realised the tears started once again.

At first, he didn't say anything. Then wiped your tears, cupping your face, "what's wrong, my love?" he asked in the softest voice.

"I'm so proud of you," you whispered.

"Thank you, sweetheart, it was amazing," he smiled softly, still looking at you like he was waiting for your answer.

"I just- I'm sorry," you choked out

"What are you sorry for, darling?"

"I love you. I really do. And I'm sorry for our argument. I just- I realised that I just need you, right? It doesn't matter if we're in New York or in London, and it doesn't matter if no one approves of us, or if we start getting old and wrinkly or if the world starts hating us tomorrow or if we live somewhere with bad electricity or if we argue in the grocery store and I just what I'm trying to say is- none of it matters. None of it matters as long as at the end of the day we come home to each other. If at the end of the day we still write stupid songs on your guitar, if we still laugh at old, over-cracked jokes, if we fall asleep talking and wake and were still there. If maybe in the future, there's more than two of us. I want it all with you, Harry. And I'm so sorry I took so long to realise it. And we don't have to get engaged or married or anything at all right now I just had to tell you."

He just kissed you. And when he pulled back he looked more certain than he ever had. His eyes glassy but the widest grin on his face.

(how do I end this)

author's note: Something i thought of when i read this and cried lmao. I don't usually write for real people cause i imagine it makes them incredibly uncomfortable and you have a lot of space to mischaracterise them but I wanted to try something new. so harry styles please dont hate me im so sorry.

A sense of calm would overcome the city. 

As most would go home, relax before tucking into bed. 

While they fell soundly asleep. 

Comforted by the midnight skies. 

There were those who were wide eyed. As vigilant as owls in the night. 

And some of those included the very people who’d come in dragging their feet, fuelled by obscene amounts of caffeine balanced healthily with adrenaline. 

Getting prepared for whatever the night brought to them. 

Outside on the midnight streets of Pittsburgh it was, for the most part, calm. 

That was. 

Until you stepped foot into the ER. 

A place where calm and chaos worked hand in hand. Teetering on the edge of a breakdown. 

It was here in the ER of PTMC that you thrived. 

Hair pulled back, cleared from your face. 

A light dab of concealer under your eyes to at least attempt to correct the darkening bags beneath them. To bring a little life back to your face. 

Your routine included drowning yourself with coffee. 

Swallowing a few vitamins to supplement your lack of sunlight.

Your bag, always filled to the brim with snacks just waiting for you to grab them in between the rush of patients. 

You had learnt early on that there was never time to sit down and enjoy a full meal. 

So to get ahead of any hangry habits you’d come to supplement it with snacks.

From granola bars, to home baked muffins, to containers of fruit and even little lollies to provide an energy boost. 

You had something for every craving.

And you had started to stock a few things that weren’t particularly for you…

Having worked alongside those of the night. 

You had officially a night crawler. Where your nights began to start with a little chant and pep talk. 

A little strange, a little wacky. 

But you wouldn’t change it for a minute.

You had grown to be thick as thieves.

Learning from those who had been in the field longer than you. 

From the nurses and your fellow doctors. 

There was a lot to learn. 

And a lot of fun to be had.

Listening to the stories that Lena had up her sleeve. 

Joining Ellis as she teases Shen. 

Becoming part of the ongoing bet trying to figure out just what mysterious caffeine concoction Shen was sipping on today. 

You had become one with the bunch of misfits that consisted of the night shift. Those who simply ticked different from those of the day. 

You simply clicked. 

Especially with a certain Attending. 

It had started off so simple. 

So small. 

Just one night where you had noticed Jack hadn’t had a single thing to eat. 

So you did what any nice person would with too much food on hand. 

You shoved a granola bar into his hand before walking off before he could give it back. 

By the second time it was merely a coincidence.

And by the fifth time, it was a habit, as you had slid him a granola bar, whilst he had sat in the staff lounge for just a moment.

Jack had asked, glancing down at the snack before meeting your eye with a glint in his eyes, “You trying to fatten me up?”

You had simply shrugged, trying to keep yourself busy by fixing up a new pot of coffee for everyone, “Someone has to ensure our attending physician doesn’t pass out halfway through a trauma.”

“I’m touched,” he quipped. 

Only for you to retort, “Don’t be. You’re a liability.”

And then he smiled. Despite the dry delivery of your words. 

His lips curled up into a smile. 

And that smile had become a problem…

A very specific problem. 

It was through this little habit that you picked up on what he liked. 

What he enjoyed. 

How he had a penchant for the bars with more nuts than fruit. 

With more tartness than sweetness. 

That he hated coconut. 

You had noticed how he especially loved those granola bars with chunks of dark chocolate melded with the tangy sweetness of goji berries. 

And Jack. 

Well Jack had begun to notice how you drank your coffee. 

He had somehow started appearing with the exact tea you liked on the nights where you looked especially tired. 

And. 

He had begun to learn precisely how to make you laugh even in the middle of a disaster. 

It wasn’t as though either of you had meant for whatever this was to happen. 

It just had. 

In between charting. 

In between codes. 

Between the quiet moments at 4 in the morning when the waiting room finally settled. 

The friendship had unfolded naturally. 

Then slowly. 

Dangerously…

It shifted. 

Yes. 

It had seemed you both grew to share a bond. 

All through the small moments of the night. 

Until soon your friendship blurred. 

Testing the waters with each passing joke. 

With each off handed remark. 

The tension between you both was known amongst those who worked the night.

It was seen. It was noticed. 

But never commented on. 

Simply left to simmer in the background of the ER. As though it had always existed. 

Even in the midst of a trauma. 

You’d be muttering some joke to Jack that’d make him chuckle. That would make his heart race. 

That would make him lightly tease you back with even a simple remark such as, “You know, most people don’t insult their supervising attendings,” he’d muse. 

Whilst you’d retort flashing him a grin, “Well, most supervising attendings don’t rely on their med students to make sure they eat” 

To which he’d snort. 

Making him send you that smile that would cause you to feel flushed. 

…

It was no wonder. 

That on the day you had rushed in hours earlier than your shift was meant to start. 

Pulled into work during the Pittfest shooting. 

Bumping into Jack while you waltz into the ER. 

“You ok?” he had asked, sending you a cursory glance. Checking to make sure you were fine. 

Nodding, “Yeah,” a little breathless from the jog you had taken from your car, “Feeling like shit though, I was meant to be there today but I gave my ticket away–”

He stopped you short, grasping your arms, with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t ever feel bad for that. You didn’t know this was going to happen–”

Biting your lip, you frown. 

“But–if I was there I could’ve been more help–”

He cuts you off, “–Or you could’ve ended up as one of the patients I’d be seeing today,” adding once more with a firmer tone, “And I don’t ever want to see you like that.”

You sigh, letting your shoulders drop. 

Before nodding from his words. 

Glancing up at him to meet his eyes, “For the record, I wouldn’t want to have you as my patient either”

You continue to walk side by side with him. 

Separated as Robby comes up to greet Jack. 

Whilst you called out to Jack, with a teasing lilt to your voice adding, “–You’d complain too much”

He chuckled from your words, waving you away. 

Robby only lifting a brow as he sends a glance between the two of you. 

“Shut up,” Jack grumbled.

While Robby shook his head with a laugh under his breath, “I didn't say anything”

“You didn’t have to it’s written all over your face”

“That’s rich coming from you—“

Jack cuts him off, “That’s enough of you—we’ve got an emergency to wrangle”

Dropping his bag from his shoulder to go through the plan of attack with Robby.

But what neither you nor Jack could’ve expected.

Was how a new med student would further entangle the mess of feelings you had found yourselves in…

…

Dennis was having a rough day. 

A few too many scrub changes.

The death of a patient.

With a nickname that had unfortunately stuck.

And well…

Now pittfest.

It was truly the cherry on top of the already fuck up of a day. 

But Dennis was an optimist at heart.

At least he liked to think so.

Always reaching for a silver lining…

And.

It seemed today.

One of those silver linings.

Was meeting you. 

He had watched you move with ease. Shoulders pushed back, head held high, determination in your eyes.

Sharp and on point.

Softened ever so slightly as your colleagues closest to you make you crack a smile.

You were probably around the same age as him. 

And yet. 

The way you carried yourself, felt light years ahead of him.

It was inspiring.

If not a little concerning to see just how calm you were beneath the pressure of the work. 

It was during this shift where you had caught Dennis’ eye.

From the moment you performed a rapid sequence intubation once you were certain it was necessary, without a moment's hesitation. To the time you were elbow deep hands clamping down against a woman’s side, hands drenched in her blood. Working fluidly with Jack as you saved her life. 

With steady hands.

A gentle approach to those understandably breaking down from the events.

You were a force to be reckoned with.

And well.

You had set Dennis’ heart into motion.

As the days wore on. 

Dennis always hoped to at least say hi, ask how you were whenever he came in for the day whilst you ended your shift fatigue in your eyes.

Or he’d give you a heads up from the events of the day during hand overs, a little bit of advice on certain patients. 

Lingering just a few more moments than was necessary.

And his new roommate, Santos, was more than aware of Dennis’ growing affections.

With a smug grin sent his way and a wiggle of her brow whenever she saw him with you. 

It left him burning from embarrassment.

Waving her off.

Dismissing her teased.

Denying her accusations.

…No matter how true they may be…

He wasn’t about to admit that aloud…

Instead hyper focused on all the ways it would never become anything.

Focused on the way you had seemed to visibly brighten whenever Jack arrived. 

Dennis wasn’t a jealous man by any means.

But there was something about the way you both interacted that had made his stomach twist and churn.

He had no right to be jealous.

No right to feel this way.

But he couldn’t help it.

As he watched you from afar, laughing brightly whilst Jack grinned at you.

The way your hand lightly shoved at him. 

Friendly.

Playful.

Dennis could only sigh. 

…There was no way that you and Jack weren’t an item. 

And it was hard to argue with that thought.

Because from the way you and Jack behaved it would honestly have any sane person start waving down HR to report a new relationship.

“Why the long face Whitaker?” Cassie asked. Absentmindedly going through her notes. More than ready to go home. 

“Hm?”

She looks at him once more, “You just look a little lost in thought—anything you want to talk about?” 

She asked in the way that makes one feel the truth bubble out of them without them knowing it.

Santos sidles up to them with a glint in her eye.

“Huckleberry has a crush on a certain night owl,” She tilts her head slightly towards where you stand.

As Cassie opens her mouth in an oh.

Her eyes flicked over to see you. 

Watching while you slip a granola bar to Jack with a knowing look. He offers you a grateful smile. 

How easy it seemed for the two of you. 

Standing just a little too close.

Just a bit. 

Cassie had worked here long enough, had known you between passing shifts, and the times you’d stay to work a double or cover someone else. 

She had grown to know you. 

She also knew that there was a simmering tension between you and Jack. 

“No I don’t,” Dennis denied, “It doesn’t matter–”

Cassie only pats his back, with a tight smile, “You never know what might happen. Now c’mon, lets get through the handoffs and go home–”

Dennis' eyes linger on you for just a moment. 

Watching as Samira comes up to you. 

You turn to her, a flicker of concern in your eyes while you take her in properly. 

“Don’t know what you guys did, but when we left this morning it was nice and calm–and now this?” You try to ease the air, joking with her. 

“What, you don’t want a piece of this action?” Samira teases you, “Join the day crew?” 

Jack quirks a brow, “Are you trying to steal my med student?” 

Samira and you send him a shared look while your retort, “Oh I’m yours now, am I?” 

He almost choked from your words. Before regaining his composure, waving your words off. 

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t miss the night,” he replied with a grin, before walking off as Robby catches his attention. 

With a small shake of your head, you turn to face Samira, softening while you take in her appearance. 

The look of sparking adrenaline coursing through. A look you recognised all too well, “You should go home Sami”

She goes to argue, shaking her head, “I’m good, I can help you guys for the night–I feel great”

You place a hand on her arm, “But sooner or later you’re going to crash, and well I’d rather not deal with that mid consult”

Her shoulders droop. A reluctant nod. 

You watch as the day shifters shuffle out of the ER. 

While your eye followed a certain farm boy while he walked away side by side with Santos. 

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why. 

Or how exactly. 

But Dennis had intrigued you. 

The first time you really noticed Dennis Whitaker, he was tripping over his own feet trying to keep up with a trauma in the midst of Pittfest.

The second time, he was kneeling beside a frightened little girl, letting her place cartoon bandages all over his gloved hands because she refused to let anyone else touch her until ‘the cowboy doctor’ stayed.

The third time...

You realized you'd been looking for him.

You watched as the day shift shuffled out of the ER.

Exhaustion etched into their expressions.

Santos was animatedly recounting something that had happened near the end of the shift, hands moving wildly as Dennis laughed beside her.

Your gaze lingered. Intrigued by him. 

His patient nature. 

His compassion.

His gentleness. 

You'd spent so long surrounded by strong personalities in emergency medicine. People who barked orders and charged headfirst into chaos.

Dennis moved differently.

He listened.

He crouched down to eye level with patients.

He remembered names.

He spoke softly to family members delivering impossible news.

There was strength in that too.

A different kind.

And maybe that was why your attention followed him as he disappeared through the sliding doors.

He had caught your eye. 

With a strange desire brewing, one that longed for you to get to know him. 

Get to know more than what the brief overlap allowed. 

That opportunity came a few weeks later. 

When you had been shifted to the day. A temporary arrangement whilst you helped cover someone for the week. 

A week.

Had bled into two…

And somehow...

You and Dennis fell into step.

Had developed a friendship with him. 

Dennis was dorky.

Endearingly so.

You discovered this when he launched into an enthusiastic explanation about different types of tractors after someone mentioned growing up on a farm, "...and obviously combines are important too–"

Only for you to interrupt, "You know this much about farming equipment?"

Dennis stopped.

Blinked.

His ears turned pink.

"I grew up on a farm."

"Right."

A beat.

"...I also really like tractors."

Your lips twitched, "Dennis."

His voice pitched a little higher, "They're interesting, they do important work."

You laughed. The sound bursting free before you could stop it. Loud and bright, unstifled. 

Dennis ducked his head, smiling sheepishly. 

And your heart squeezed.

Oh.

How he made your heart race…

It wasn't immediate.

The shift.

The change. 

Because even while you grew closer to Dennis...

Your heart still tugged whenever you caught sight of Jack during overlapping shifts. The familiar brush of his hand passing paperwork.

The easy teasing.

The comfortable rhythm you'd built together.

And Jack...

Jack noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Even once you were moved back to the nights, falling back into the rhythm you had curated together. 

There was something different. 

He noticed the way Dennis sought you out. 

He noticed the way your laughter came easier around him. 

He noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you caught sight of Dennis. .

He noticed that while you were with Dennis there seemed to be a bubble formed around you both…

Jack had seen enough love stories to recognize the beginning of one.

Even when it wasn't his.

[ ALTERNATIVE ENDING WITH JACK FOUND HERE! CONTINUE READING FOR ENDING WITH DENNIS WHITAKER 💗]

Maybe there we loved each other right And we were happy together Maybe in that life we did all the things we said we would But we got this one instead

Even if Jack wished what he had with you was something more. 

Even if his heart raced when you stood beside him. 

Even if you soothed his soul with just a simple smile. 

You weren’t his to want. 

After months of teetering on the edge. It had come crashing to the forefront. In the cold twilight hours. 

You had stumbled into the stairwell. 

Arms clasping around yourself. 

Breaths ragged. 

Choked. 

Eyes blurring as the tears build. 

You slump onto the stairs. 

Cold beneath you, as the sound of the door opening echoes into the room. 

Your eyes trained down to trace the patterns along the floor. Searching for anything to distract your mind. To think about anything but what had just happened. 

A patient you'd fought hard for had died.

The loss, sitting heavy in your chest.

Your heart races. 

Pounding loudly in your ears. 

Deafening. 

But then. 

You feel someone sit beside you. A grounding presence. 

Simply there. 

Eyes flickering over you catch a glimpse of the familiar boots. The familiar cargo pants…

Neither of you spoke immediately.

He simply sat beside you.

Close enough to remind you that you weren't alone.

Eventually…He broke the silence, "You did everything you could."

You laughed bitterly, "Didn't feel like enough."

"It rarely does," Jack's voice softened. Years of experience, of too many people lost on his watch, in times where there was nothing he could do. Jack understood this all too well. 

Silence settled.

Comfortable.

Painful.

Honest.

"I hate this part," you whispered. Voice croaking as you sniffled, rubbing at your eyes. 

"The caring?"

"The losing."

Jack nodded. His shoulder brushed yours, "I know."

You turned toward him.

Really looked at him.

At the tired lines around his eyes.

The sadness he'd carried long before you'd met him.

The kindness he'd extended regardless.

Your hand found his.

His fingers curled instinctively around yours.

And suddenly–

Fuck it. 

You leaned in.

Tentative.

Hesitant.

Giving him every opportunity to stop you.

He didn't.

Jack met you halfway.

The kiss was soft. Achingly gentle. Whilst his lips brush against yours. Years of restraint condensed into one fleeting moment.

And for a few beautiful seconds...

He allowed himself to pretend.

To pretend that this was ok. 

That this could last. 

That this could be something. 

But then reality settled into his mind. 

Pulling away.

An ache behind his eyes, as they meet yours. Those beautiful hazel eyes that normally elicit a bloom of warmth in your chest, now leaves you breaking. 

Lips pulled thin. 

Your eyes flutter, while you almost lean to follow him. Only for his hands to gently grip your arms, maintaining the distance. 

“We can’t–”

Confusion flooding through you, "Jack?"

He pressed his forehead briefly against yours.

Eyes closed.

He sighs, "You deserve better."

"Don't."

"You do,” he says. 

"Jack–” A strangled cry threatens to crack through. 

"You're young."

"I know how old I am,” you remark. A small grin on your face that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

A watery laugh escaped him, while he reasons, "You have your whole life ahead of you."

"And?"

"And I'm..." His voice caught, lodged in his throat before continuing, straining while he looked away, "I've already lived through so much."

You reached for him, "I don't care." Your head still leant against his. 

"But I do."

His eyes lifted to meet yours.

Raw.

Honest.

"I think part of loving someone is wanting them to have things you can't give them."

Your heart splintered, while you whispered, "You don't know what I want."

"Maybe not,” Jack smiled sadly. His hand cupped your cheek, "But I know you deserve someone who can give you all those firsts."

He swallowed.

Jack wasn’t a selfish man by any means. 

But right now it killed him to be unselfish.

Taking everything within him to say this. 

As much as it pained him. As much as it broke his wounded heart. 

He had no right to love you. 

"You deserve the uncomplicated version of love."

"And what if I don't want uncomplicated?" You pleaded. 

Jack's expression broke.

He softly kissed your cheek. As though you were made of glass. Lingering for a moment, whilst you savoured the sweetness. 

"Then maybe in another life.”

The words nearly undid you.

His hand slipped away leaning back as he stood. 

Clearing his throat, trying to drown the cracking of his voice, “Besides…” His voice softened, "I think that farm boy might like you."

"Dennis?" You look up at him. 

Jack huffed a laugh. Even if it broke him. He knew this to be true, "Who else?"

"I really do wish things could be different."

Your throat tightened.

"So do I," He says, with a small smile, pained. As he whispers once more, “So do I” 

And even as your heart cries. 

As it twists and tightens. 

You can’t bring yourself to fight him. Can’t bring yourself to argue with him. 

Not because he wasn’t worth the fight. Not because you didn’t love him. 

But because you respected him. 

Because you understood. 

There was truth behind his words…

A truth you couldn’t fully deny. 

From that evening on. 

You had begun to drift apart. 

Not dramatically. 

Not cruelly. 

Just slowly. 

Quietly.

The way sunsets surrendered to the evening. The way the night made way for the dawn. 

Gradually.

Inevitably.

Becoming as different as day and night.

You still handed him granola bars. 

He still bought you coffee. 

Until it eventually stopped…The habits changed. 

Those jokes you used to share, the ones that could be misconstrued as flirting. 

Now laid silent upon your tongue. 

The brushing of touches that bordered the line between friendship and something more. 

No longer occurred. Careful when passing items to one another. 

And while this distance grew. 

Jack watched in the snippets of overlapping shifts.

Where you and Dennis grew closer and closer. 

Until soon the inevitable happened. 

You had transferred to the dayshift. 

No fuss over the switch. 

Waved off as wanting to fix your sleep schedule. 

But Jack knew. 

Jack knew it was because of him. 

When he’d walk into the ER ready to take on the hand offs. You still shared a chat with him, still smiled with him. But you maintained an air of formality. 

That bridge you once built together now left abandoned. 

Jack had heard the whispers throughout the ER. How the gossip took on a life of its own. Passed from the day to the night. 

The quiet mutterings of speculation around you and Dennis. 

How a nurse had caught sight of you and Dennis sitting side by side in the breakroom.

Dennis offering you half of his fries.

To the stories of you stealing his hoodie when the ER got too cold.

How it was undeniable that Dennis’ smile widened whenever you entered a room.

Before long there was an ongoing bet unfurling. All trying to guess, just when you and Dennis were going to get together…

And everyone knew it was only a matter of time.

…

It wasn’t easy. 

It wasn’t quick. 

But overtime, your own feelings changed.

Your heart stopped racing whenever Jack brushed against you. The warmth in your chest when he smiled softened. Transforming into something gentler.

Admiration.

Fondness.

No longer burning with longing.

No longer aching from the thought of almost. 

Replaced instead by the feelings Dennis inspired.

Excitement.

Comfort.

Joy.

The anticipation of building something together.

Until soon. 

Early one morning. Just as the day shifters had begun filtering in. You stood by the hub, going over notes with Ellis. 

Dennis had appeared before you. 

"...I got your usual,” Handing you a coffee, with a little pastry alongside it. Your exact order. 

You accepted it automatically. Sweetly greeting him, "Thanks." 

A small gesture. 

That had elicited such a bright smile from you. 

"You and Huckleberry are disgusting," Santos muttered, leaning against the desk. Sharing a side eye look with Ellis, as they peered at you both. 

"...Excuse me?" You arched a brow. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed–” She doubles down, “The overly cute things you’ve been doing for each other”

You frowned, brows knitting together. Feigning confusion. 

While Dennis’ lips curved down.

"...What?"

"It’s obvious, tell them Ellis,” Santos nudges her. 

Ellis arches a brow, as she looks between you both, “Clearly you've apparently been dating for months and didn't tell anyone"

The ER collectively froze.

"...Months?" Robby echoed.

Dennis' ears turned bright red, murmuring in defense, "We've only been officially dating for a few weeks."

"Oh my God," Santos cried. "You admitted it!"

Chaos erupted.

Congratulations.

Cheering.

Ahmed came through to divvy out the bets. 

Someone wolf-whistled. And you’re pretty sure it was Mateo, who sent you a teasing grin. A handful of cash in his hand, being neatly tucked into his pocket. 

Dennis looked mortified.

You laughed, bright and happy.

And across the ER...

Jack looked up.

His heart stuttered.

Then settled.

Because there you were. Beaming. Glowing.

Dennis' hand brushing yours.

So young.

So in love.

It was what he hoped would happen for you.

And then your eyes lifted to meet his. Meeting them from across the department. And it was like everything faded away. 

As though it was just you and him. 

Holding his gaze for a moment. Not pulling away from it. 

It was there in that glance. A thousand words could be found. 

There wasn't pity there.

Nothing like that.

Only a small sadness.

The acknowledgment of something beautiful left unexplored.

Jack nodded toward you. 

Offering his best smile. Concealing the way his heart cracked just a little. 

You returned it.

Warm.

Fond.

As your lips curled up, eyes softened. 

Before turning back toward Dennis.

As though you were turning away from the moon and into the light of the sun. Turning towards an opportunity of love that would help you grow. Instead of make you fade into the darkness…

And somehow...

Jack found himself relieved.

He could stop chasing.

Chasing after something that had never truly been his to begin with.

He saw you both.

Dennis gazing at you as though you'd hung the moon.

Jack had known that kind of love once.

Had shared it with his wife.

Some of the happiest memories of his life.

And perhaps...

That was enough.

To know you'd get the chance too.

A clasp of a hand onto his shoulder, breaks his daze. 

Turning to face Robby. 

“How’re you holding up?”

“All good, brother. All good,” Jack nodded. 

“Really?” Robby asked once more, trying to search his eyes for something more. 

“Yes,” Jack affirms. Certainty flooding through him. 

“Ok–I just. I just know that you and her uh–well it was obvious that you and Y/N seemed to have a thing going on a few months ago…” Robby broached the subject carefully. 

Only for Jack to shake his head, “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You must’ve been dreaming” 

And truly. It was Jack who was the one who was dreaming. Dreaming that he could’ve had a chance…

Easier to deny it, than admit a loss that wasn’t his to win…

Robby snorted, muttering out, “Sure” 

Before his words level with something a little more serious, “Well, I’m here if you need”

“Which I won’t” 

“But if you do–I’m here”

“Thanks,” Jack answers, appreciating Robby’s words. 

“Anytime, man. Anytime.”

And truthfully. 

Jack was ok. 

Or at the very least, he would be. 

Time would eventually pass. He understood that he would one day move on. And little by little the ache would fade. 

You were my friend, my love and now a stranger. But you will always be my favorite memory. In this life.

Jack had taught you patience.

Had shown you the beauty of understanding even in silence.

He'd taught you that love could grow from dependability.

From consistency.

From choosing each other every day.

And you'd always carry that with you.

Even if you weren't carrying him.

Because loving Jack had changed you.

Just as losing him had.

But choosing Dennis...

That was something else entirely.

It wasn't settling.

It wasn't second best.

It wasn't replacing one love with another.

It was simply different.

Choosing Dennis meant choosing laughter over uncertainty. Meant finding comfort in dorky tractor facts and gentle smiles.

Meant discovering that love didn't always arrive like lightning.

Sometimes...

It arrived with steady hands.

Warm coffee.

A shy grin.

And a farm boy who looked at you as though you were the most extraordinary thing he'd ever seen.

And maybe...

That kind of love deserved choosing too.

Dennis reached for your hand as you walked through the ER. His fingers intertwining with yours. So effortlessly gentle. 

As though it were the most natural thing in the world. 

He glanced down at you, catching you gaze up at him, while his brows furrow slightly. 

"What?" You ask. 

His eyes scan the dip in your brow, the small way you caught your lip between your teeth, he stated, "You've got your thinking face on."

You laughed, you elbow him lightly, "I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"Oh?" you arched a brow at him, “How’d you figure?”

Dennis squeezed your hand, "Your eyebrows do this little thing."

You stared "...My eyebrows do this little thing–what thing?."

“This thing–ugh, I don’t know how to explain it but–” He grinned, "I think it's cute."

Your heart stumbled.

Then raced.

Not from uncertainty.

Not from longing.

But from the certainty blooming quietly within you.

You squeezed his hand back, you admitted softly"So maybe I was thinking..."

While your hand slipped from his, starting to walk while he trailed beside you. 

"I knew it,” he smiled at you, curiosity blooming in his beautiful eyes that felt bright and radiant as daylight itself, “What about?"

"I think I like you, farm boy."

Dennis nearly stumbled into a wall, "You think?"

His smile wide, and dopey eyed. 

You smiled, holding back your giggles, whilst you nod, "I know."

“Well I think I really like you too,” he said warmly. Making your heart bloom. And as his face lit up with wonder and happiness...

You realized something important.

Loving Jack had taught you what you deserved.

Choosing Dennis had taught you not to be afraid to accept it.

Leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek before sending him a little wave while you get started for the day. 

His eyes trail after you, admiring the way his jacket envelops you so cosily. A sense of knowing that it was you his heart was beating for.  

You that he was undoubtedly falling in love with.

And well. 

You couldn’t deny how the word love was simply on the tip of your tongue. 

Waiting to be said to him…

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. This was so bittersweet to write, and just ugh, made my heart ache 😩 but I loved writing it. And well, yup! sorry to the Abbot girlies...I went with endgame Dennis (I might do an alt ending version but idk) explore the alternate ending here!! The green quotes in-between is from this TikTok (I don't even have TikTok I literally found this on reddit), it was just so profound and perfect for this. (Just know I totally picture that you were the one to patch up Jack while he was shirtless...I just couldn't make it fit into this...but lets leave that as a happy thought for the almost couple) Let me know what you thought ✨ Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 If you want more Jack Abbot check out my series below! Who Would've Thought series here💖 Sugar, Butter, Flour series 🥧 I Know You're Hurting series Before You Ask...It Was A Shark 🦈 For a Dennis Whitaker centric series check out Tread Lightly Or check out my overall Pitt Masterlist here

“Just try,” Dustin had asked you for the millionth time, revelling in your discomfort and struggling to say it without sounding pained. 

“I…love…you.”

Dustin laughed, and so did you. At least a little. “See? Why the hell can’t you say it?”

You shrugged, clearing the table. “I just…don’t say it all that often.”

“It’s her love language,” Max cut in. “She doesn’t say it, she shows it.”

“See?” You pointed out. “Thank you, Max.”

But, stuck in the upside down, surrounded by locked doors and melting goo that had finally hardened, you’d told him. 

“Henderson- Dustin,” Steve’s voice broke. “He’s…he’s gonna think something’s happened to us. He can’t-”

“Steve?” You reached for him, pulling him to face you. “Steve? Look at me. Deep breaths. Dustin will be okay. We’ll be okay. They’ll find us.”

Steve shook his head, slowly slipping into a panic attack. This hadn’t been the first you’d calmed him down from over the last couple of years. The first one had been at the start of your friendship just as he started working at the video store with Robin. 

“N-no, he’s gonna think-” Steve’s hands were shaking as he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stop the tears. His breathing sounded wheezy. “He’s gonna think-”

“That we’re lying somewhere, okay?” You held his hands in yours before reaching up and pulling him down to your level until his forehead was against your own. “Close your eyes and try to follow my breathing. You need to calm down, Steve. Just breathe with me?”

“O-okay. Okay.” 

Steve tried, and for a moment he calmed, but you could still feel the tension in his shoulders and the fear in his heart. “Dustin,” you said. “Will come and find us. The others that got caught in it, it stopped half way up their bodies. Which isn’t really the image I want to give you right now but my point is that Dustin is a smart kid and he’ll know we’re probably just stuck somewhere.”

“I should have seen what he was going through. I should have-”

You shook your head, standing on your toes to reach further up. “No, Steve. What’s in the past is in the past. And, he probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. He’s grieving, and so is everyone else. But, when he finds us, no doubt he’ll hug you as tight as he can and you two will be right back to normal, okay?”

You tried to smile through the pain. “I just know it.”

Steve took a couple of deep breaths. “You’re shaking, too.”

You nodded. “I’ll be okay.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Simply, he held onto your waist a little tighter. If you could be his anchor to reality, he could be yours. You were both alive and you’d find your way out of it all together. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

In the quiet, you moved your head back a little to look at him. His gaze met yours. 

“I love you.”

Steve felt a breath of fresh air hit his lungs and he didn’t know whether to try and catch it in his throat or breathe it right back to you. His eyes scanned your face a couple of times in shock, hoping he hadn’t just imagined what you’d said. 

“I love you,” you told him again, reassuring his silent fear. 

Then he smiled. 

Lifting a hand to your cheek, he held your face in his hand as if it was the most precious thing in his whole world. “You love me?”

You nodded. “Figured I might as well say something now before-”

Steve smiled. “I love you, too.” 

Quickly, he pulled you in for a long kiss which, more than likely, would have continued if it hadn’t been for the crashing sounds coming against the wooden door. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Jonathan apologised before both you and Steve headed for the exit together. 

Steve hopped out first, quickly turning around to help you out of the jagged hole Jonathan had managed to break into the door. 

“Watch your head.”

“I’ve got it.”

The minute Steve let you go and turned around to face the others, Dustin knocked the wind out of him by practically rugby tackling him into a hug. 

“Buddy?”

“I thought you were gone for…” 

“I know,” Steve nodded. “We did, too. But we’re safe.”

As Steve laid a hand on the back of Dustin’s head, holding him in a comforting hug, you smiled. 

Steve could already hear your I told you so. 

Thankfully, facing your doom in the Upside Down wasn’t the only time you would tell Steve that you loved him. 

And for a girl that found it difficult to say those three little words outloud, they came pretty easy when Steve was the one on the receiving end of them. 

There was the Upside Down, then back at the radio station where there was a small make-out session that followed whilst being surrounded by the record wall. There was when you were zipping up his jacket before Dustin pulled him away to find him a weapon, after he was pulled back onto the tower, when you all made it back home after the military had finally let you go. 

You’d been let go at different times, but the minute you walked up the path to Robin’s house, Steve was already running out of the front door and engulfing you in a tight hug. 

At any opportunity, you told Steve you loved him. And he did the same with you.