#otter writes

Sometimes you forget your mother wasn't born with her nursing degree. It's easy to when you're watching her rush around the ER like it's more her home than the one you were raised in. You saw it for the first time one night in your early teens. You were on your way home from a volleyball tournament when the bus was t-boned and flipped. Stuck there for hours, you found yourself mesmerized by the way your mom ran from room to room to save lives as easily as she kissed your skinned knees. That was the day you decided to go into nursing. The world needed more of your mom, and you'd work your ass off to become her.

Sitting at the nurse's station at 5 am, you feel that goal is farther than ever. Nearly a month ago, one of the night shift nurses- Nyla- went on maternal leave. As the newest addition, you were stuck with the short end of the stick. Every night since felt like your own personal hell.

The ER is completely different at night. You're not sure even you mother could wrangle the chaos you're living through tonight. She could. She very easily could. But you're not her. So, stuck in the height of your first full moon shift- which everyone you talked to tonight had warned you about- you hide your head in your hands and try not to cry. Nursing school wasn't easy. The day shift wasn't easy. But, fuck if the night shift wasn't kicking your ass routinely.

Tonight, you've been puked on, peed on, bitten, screamed at, and nearly assaulted by a particularly angry patient in Room 6 when you told him he wouldn't be getting any more drugs. Not to mention the elbow you took to the collarbone while breaking up one of the fights that broke out in Chairs.

You've held your tongue at every turn. You'd been warned that nurses take on a level of abuse with every shift. It's a shitty truth none of you get to escape. Your mom wouldn't complain, so you don't. You just take five seconds to catch your breath and put some pressure against the stabbing pain behind your eyes.

There's a tap against your shoulder, a gentle rattle of pills against plastic. Looking up, you're surprised to see Jack Abbot standing over you, offering a bottle of Advil. In your hesitancy- because, why the hell is Jack Abbot singling you out to solve a problem you didn't, and weren't going to, tell him about- he shakes the bottle again. "Take it. I need you at your best or not at all."

"Uh, yeah," You finally reach out and take the bottle. "Thanks."

He barely nods, barely gives any sign that he even heard you at all. But he stands there, head titled as he watches you palm a few pills and chase them with (your third) cup of coffee. Figuring he's waiting for his bottle back, you start to hand it over when the ambulance bay doors open. You're already on your feet.

"Incoming!" A paramedic, Ziggy, shouts, running in a gurney. "Hit by a car."

Jack is jogging to meet them. "Evans!" He orders you to follow even though you already are.

"Male, early 40's, coded on the way in." Ziggy informs, handing the man over to you and Jack. "Got the driver coming right behind us."

"I can-"

"No." Jack's voice drowns out what was going to be your offer to help with the driver. "With me, Trauma 3."

You're too focused to let it surprise you, so you just nod and help him wheel your patient into the room. Before Jack is able to fully intubate the man, he crashes again.

"Evans, start CPR."

In your adrenaline, the world speeds up. The only thing keeping you grounded is Jack's voice and muscle memory.

"Give me a charge."

"Clear."

"Resume CPR."

"Switch."

"Try again!"

Jesse is who calls time of death. The man's ribs are shattered from Jack all but shoving you out of the way and starting his own compressions. And restarting. And restarting.

You wipe sweat from your forehead, heart still racing as you unplug the patient. "Was there... was there a wallet, or,"

A chain catches your eye. Dogtags lay at the base of your patient's neck and you suddenly understand why Jack had been so aggressive. You swallow the sudden lump in your throat and gently take the metal into your fingers.

"Raymond Orser." You read, daring to glance up. It's only you and Jack in the room now, his eyes are locked on Raymond's face, his breath heaving. You thought it was from the excursion, but you see now it's anger. You quickly read off the rest of his information and leave the room with your head hung.

You didn't know much about Jack, only having met him through get-togethers with Robby- he never came if Robby had to miss. Through the nurses, though, you knew he was ex-military. Some suspected he would still be in the Army if he'd never lost his leg. You quickly found yourself agreeing.

It's always tough to lose a patient, especially one you can relate to. So, as you begin gathering your things- you'd been working on Raymond for nearly two hours- you realize, you're worried about the usually stone-cold doctor. If you're feeling that pit off loss, of guilt and shame, you can't imagine what Jack is feeling. You're not sure you want to.

You see your mother coming in to take over as Charge Nurse. That pit quadruples in size, daring you swallow you.

She wouldn't have lost him.

If she'd been there, it would've been different.

The thoughts hit you suddenly and with a near physical force. You shake your head to push them away but all you do is make room for more, harsher things.

You weren’t good enough. That’s why he’s dead.

You got in the way.

Jack could’ve saved him if you weren’t there.

Your lungs refuse to take in any more air. You put a hand against the nearest wall to hold yourself up. With your other hand, you dig knuckles into your chest, trying to get your lungs and heart to cooperate. Ahead, you see your mom glancing around. You two have made a ritual of checking in before you leave every shift. This time, you’re not sure you can face her. No, you know you can’t.

She wouldn’t be acting like this.

She would have her shit together.

You throw yourself through the nearest door, panicked breaths echoing through the stairwell. “Fuck-“ You gasp, sticking your hands on your knees. You’re only a little surprised to find that you’re trembling. “Goddamnit, get it together, Evans.” Tears push through your tightly squeezed eyes.

Air. You need fresh air. You need to take in a breath that isn’t sharp with antiseptic.

Your feet are moving before you really make the decision. They take you rushing up the stairs flights and shoving through the roof’s access door. Harsh gasps make your lungs ache, the lack of any real air makes your head spin. You practically run to the railing, shaking hands grip around the top bar to keep yourself from toppling over. You need to see the ground, though. You need to see life moving at a distance from you, to be removed from it for just five minutes.

“Evans?”

You whip around. A gasp would’ve escaped you if you weren’t already struggling for breath.

“Jesus, are you okay?” He’s walking over before you can beg him not to.

“Mhm,” You nod, the noise coming out shrill and almost pained. “No-“

His brows furrow as he frowns down at you. “Breathe with me.”

“I’m fine, I swear.” You force yourself to say, the words are broken and pathetic.

He clearly doesn’t buy it, very slowly coming forward. “Evans…” His hands grip your shoulders firmly. Firm despite you think he’s shaking, too. “Breathe. With me.”

You nod, cringing. “Okay. Okay.”

There’s several seconds of uneasy breathing until you’re able to see straight again. His hands fall from your shoulders, once he decides you’re settled. He gives you a nod.

“Thanks, um,” You gulp down the pain in your throat. “I’m sorry-“

He shakes his head. “No. No, you don’t apologize for being human.”

“Embarrassingly human.”

He huffs, half smiling. “What do you think I’m up here for?”

Your brows twitch as you finally look at him with tear-free eyes. The muscles in his jaw are working, his face a slightly angrier expression than usual. From the few things you know about Jack, he’s pissed.

“I… I don’t know.” You confess. “I didn’t figure you really ever needed a second.”

He gives you a sad, tired mouth twitch. “I needed a lot more than a second, kid.”

You sniffle. “Well, I’m sorry for interrupting.” He shakes his head but you ignore it. “I’ll just… head back down,”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, I don’t want to be in your hair-“

“Don’t leave on account of me.” He says quietly.

Now you have to ask, “You’re sure?” because Jack is possibly the last person you expected to be okay with showing his vulnerability.

“You aren’t ready to go back down there yet.”

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Kid.” He says, sternly. “Stay. I’m telling you to, okay?”

You nod, shocked into silence. He moves back to the railing, leaving you to slowly follow. You lean beside him, casting cautious glances in the silence. The silence that’s nearly suffocating you. But you’d already interrupted his breath of air, you didn’t need to push your luck any further. The city below you is just waking up and getting to work while you’re getting ready to crawl in bed and forget about the bustling beneath.

Beneath.

Beneath.

You know your mom is downstairs probably wondering where the hell you are. She hasn’t text you to ask, but you’re sure that will only last for a few more minutes. You hope no one tells her that you were in the room. It’s her job to know everything else, of course, but you can’t handle the pity she’ll surely offer if she knew. Raymond Orser isn’t the first person you’ve lost and he won’t be the last. Probably not even this week. So, why the hell, was he weighing on you so heavily?

“You know he served three tours?” Jack’s voice is rough and quiet.

“Um, no.”

He only nods down at his clasped hands as he wrings them together. “Three tours and not a single scratch…”

“We couldn’t have done…” You trail off. It’s the truth, you both know it. Still, you can’t bring yourself to really say it.

“Two hours, Evans. That’s how long we spent coding him.”

“I know.” You whisper, eyes watching tears well in his. “We worked as hard as we could.”

“He doesn’t have any family. Just a sister I already notified.”

You cringe. “I didn’t know that either.”

“I know.” He says quietly. “I… I, uh,” His hand slips into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. “I wrote something for them before I saw… and, uh-“ He clears his throat, fiddling gently with the paper. “Anyway.” He slips it back into its place. “I’m going to give it to Robby, and,” He swallows with a cringe. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, kid.”

“That’s okay.” You whisper. “Tell me anyway.”

He looks at you, sad eyes meeting yours for the first time in minutes. He doesn’t say anything, just stares into your -probably equally as worn- soul.

“I’m sure his sister will really appreciate whatever you said in that letter.”

He looks away before muttering, “Yeah."

Seeing how he looks almost pained to speak directly to you, you look away.

After a moment, he hangs his head with a heavy sigh before standing up from the railing. He turns to look fully down at you. You quickly turn to look up at him. "You did good tonight, kid. Don't let yourself think otherwise. Got it?"

You nod, having been repeating the same affirmations.

"I mean it." He pushes, leaning in over you slightly.

"I know."

"But you don't believe it."

Your jaw falls slack nearly an inch. You want to protest but words the right words fail you.

"Anyone else would've told me to call it." He says quietly, green eyes showing a vulnerability that makes your heart race. "You should've. But you didn't."

"I... didn't even think to."

He nods in a way that tells you he knows, has known the whole time. "You're good at this, Evans. You're made for it."

All expression falls from your face. Despite feeling like you're staring up at him dumbly, you can't pull on a facade of any kind. He's fully ripped you of all armor, leaving you completely exposed to the chilly morning air. And he knows it.

His eyes leave your eyes for only a moment to scan the rest of you. Your sagged shoulders, your affected breath as it rises and falls in your chest. "Nyla comes back in two weeks. You gonna go back onto the day shift?"

You blink, thankful for the question, for something you can make yourself react to. "That was my plan."

He steps closer, making your breath catch in your throat. "You probably should." He says lowly.

You try to figure out what to say to that. Try and fail. Because you aren't really sure what he's trying to say. So, that's what let out. "I don't understand... You just said," You let your voice trail off. Your brain is tired. Exhausted, really. It doesn't want to do any more work. And that's all Jack Abbot is. Something to make a brain flip over itself to figure out.

"I know. And I mean it. But I think it's best you go back to work under Robby."

Your brows furrow and you fall a step back to rebuild your defenses. "If-if you think that I can't handle-"

He shakes his head. "You did damn good work tonight." He steps closer than before. "And back there in Trauma 3? Kid... you made me feel something I did think I would again."

Your head spins. Your jaw falls slack for the uptenth time tonight.

"You need to leave because..." He takes a deep breath, eyes dropping from yours and landing on your parted lips. "If I do this..." Gently, almost hesitantly, his hands find your arms. He doesn't pull you closer, doesn't take another step. Just holds you there. "I don't think I'll be able to stop."

A heavy breath leaves you in your surprise. In no small corner of your mind did you ever think that this man was into you. You weren't sure that he even really liked you. And maybe he didn't. Maybe this was grief or guilt or both talking. "I-"

"Tell me to stop." His whispers a plea, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips again as he leans in slowly. Slowly enough to give you ample opportunity to pull away.

But you don't.

Your eyes fall shut and you let yourself lean into him. When his lips touch yours, he lets out a sigh that's something between frustration and relief. In an instant, his hands are slipped from your arms to your waist to pull you in. Even as his lips find yours again, again and hungrier this time, you hesitate to move your hands up to the back of his neck. A large part of you doesn't quite believe this is happening yet.

Not even as his tongue slips into your mouth, searching for your own.

You pull away only to breathe, your face hot. As you do, one of your hands slides down to rest on his chest. You can feel his heart is beating as hard as your own. You stare up at him, practically panting, completely shocked.

"What if... I didn't want to go back on the day shift?" You manage to ask.

He sighs, hands flexing on your waist. "That isn't a good idea, kid."

You half smile. "Neither is this."

"No," He admits. "Neither is this." Despite his words, his eyes seem to favor your puffy lips. His tongue flicks out to wet his own, and it's like he's begging you for more.

The roof's access door creaks loudly, making the two of you rip away from each other. Robby looks a little surprised to see you. "Jack." He greets cautiously. "Evans. Morning..."

You nod. "Morning, Robby. I was just... catching my breath." You force a smile and mumble a quick bye before all but running past Robby and through the access door.

Because Robby's his oldest friend, he doesn't feel bad cornering him to try to get some answers. After all, he is the man's elder and he did save his life once. Robby owes him and he never feels bad about collecting.

Tristan barely checks to see if they're alone before asking, "Did you know that the new doctor is an immortal?" No preamble. It wastes time and what's the point—you reach a certain age and you don't worry about pleasantries.

"Hello, to you too, Tristan. Did you have a good off season? I did…it was great to spend some time with my daughter?"

"Cut the crap, Robby—the new doctor's an immortal. And somehow he doesn't seem to know. Did you?"

Massey lets out a long sigh and Tristan feels like that's a bad sign—like he knew something but was holding it in. The next sentences don't help alleviate that sinking feeling. "No, but there were rumors. When I looked into him, some people were insisting that he died—but then he just got better."

"Of what? How did he die? When?" Tristan thinks he can be excused a few hysterics at this point. He built his life in a very specific way. It served him for more than 400 years and now it could be unraveling—excuse him for being a little overly dramatic.

"That's why I couldn't be sure. He had COVID really early in the pandemic—everything was crazy, no one really knew what was going on, so he died…or maybe he didn't." Massey shrugs like it's no big deal and maybe for a man who's known about immortals for more than forty years, it might not be a huge deal.

If this is true, if this is even possible, Dr. Max Bankman apparently died four years ago and then just got better. It happens—Tristan knows that better than most. But more than that, somehow, in the last four years, Bankman hasn't run into another immortal. Or maybe he's the world's luckiest man and has only ever run into immortals who are looking to keep to themselves—immortals like Tristan.

It’s senior year and they all hang out a lot now. And between the mall and movie nights and parties and lunch Karen can’t believe that no one has noticed that Regina looks like she could eat Janis every time she enters a room. And eat in the good way - not like decimate her social life - because (EXCITING!) Regina’s a Good PersonTM now.

She really doesn’t understand it because Regina is so obviously horny for literally everything Janis does but no one seems to notice except poor Karen.

Like, one time Janis slammed her lunch tray down at the table with the rest of them at lunch, swung her legs around and started immediately ranting about some jerk-ass in her art class (she’s taking one after school at the local community college). She’s truly fired up and Damian, Cady, and Gretchen are backing her up and calling this dude out for his shit with her. But as Janis gets more and more and more infuriated and riled up Regina gets more and more… flustered. Karen stares at her, confused at first, as to why Regina suddenly has color high in her cheeks and why her eyes are dilating or why she’s got the end of her pen in her mouth and is chewing at it slowly while making eyes at Janis. Then it clicks and Karen rolls her eyes. Of course.

And the one time they drag the girl to the mall and Regina gets free reign to dress Janis up in whatever she wants and she puts the girl in these striped dress pants and a dark plum low-cut crop top and yellow suspenders and when Janis exits the dressing room shuffling in her combat boots Karen thinks it’s completely obvious by the way that Regina’s looking at Janis that she needs to drag Cady and Gretchen out to go get some pretzels and look at the pretty fountains.

Regina whispers a thank-you in her ear later when they’re at dinner. Karen just smiles.

But then they start actively hooking up and it’s not just pining and being turned on.

Now it’s worse.

At one party Gretchen comes up to her and seems worried. “Karen! I haven’t seen Regina in thirty minutes, do you know where she is?” Karen smiles brightly. She saw Regina go upstairs a while ago (wearing her tightest pair of white jeans and a crop top and staring directly at Janis over her shoulder as she strutted up the stairs) and Janis followed her hungrily not even a minute later. They haven’t been back down soon. She was standing right next to Gretchen when it happened…

“Upstairs silly.”

Gretchen moves to go up the stairs and Karen grabs her by the wrist. “No no no don’t follow her!”

“Why not? Is she ok?”

“Yeah, she just probably wants to be alone.” Karen winks. Or she tries to.

“Ohhhhh. Gotcha,” Gretchen smiles, “who is it this time? Basketball hottie from three days ago?”

Karen stares at her blankly and walks away. She doesn’t understand her friends.

When Janis and Regina come downstairs a while later, both completely mussed and unable to take their eyes off of each other for long. They leave together within the hour. Gretchen sees them and pales. She swings around and looks at Karen. Karen just shrugs and goes back to dancing with Damian.

Damian knows because of course he does. Janis had told him the second it happened and she’d sworn him to secrecy. But he’s trying to push it along because he’s tired of Cady and Aaron and Kevin (who’s friends with them now) not getting it.

“Regina is that paint in your hair? I thought you dropped art…” He says one day at lunch, picking at some pink paint in Regina’s hair. She slaps his hand away and glares at Janis.

Aaron looks between them for like four minutes, agape until he whispers “No fucking way.” And then leaves.

That night all of them are hanging out at Damian’s watching movies. Cady leans over and whispers to him. “What was with you at lunch today?”

Aaron stares at her. “You really don’t know?”

“No!”

Aaron looks over his shoulder where, in the loveseat in the corner Janis and Regina are tangled up and Janis is whispering into Regina’s ear. Regina’s hand is gripping the arm of the loveseat with such fervor that Aaron blushes and spins back around.

Cady follows his glance and pales. She goes to stand up and Aaron pulls her down.

“What the fuck are you doing, babe?”

“Well it looks like they’re probably arguing, do you see how frustrated Regina looks?” Cady’s innocent concern is cute but Aaron is flabbergasted.

“She’s not that kind of frustrated, babe.”

When Cady gets it her mouth hits the floor and stays there for a while.

Regina and Janis leave after the second movie and Cady tries really hard to not think about that.

Kevin walks in on them furiously making out in the art studio. He’d gone in to ask Janis how the design for the mathlete t-shirts was going. He walks in the door and then right back out.

He runs into Karen in the hall.

“Did you know Janis was getting it on with the Queen Bee? Like damn, that girl got game.”

Karen just giggles. “Of course I did, silly math-jock.”

Kevin just gives her a fist bump and goes on his way.

Karen skips off to find Gretchen and realizes how long it will take the rest of the school to figure this out if her own friends didn’t get it until like five months in.

She waves at a very mussed Regina as she exits the art studio.

“Hey, Regina! Hope you had fun with Janis.”

You've been working at PTMH on the night shift for a few months now. It's chaotic and emotionally draining most nights, but you've quickly grown to love it. Your shift attending, Dr. Shen, and charge nurse, Bridget Young, are good leaders who aren't afraid to believe in their newbie hires. It's a nice change of pace from the intense scrutiny you've hailed from.

Maybe that's why you lock on Dr. Jack Abbot. He's all rough edges and intense stares. The differences between working by his side and Shen's is palpable. It's in the air from the second Abbot steps into the room. He accepts no mistakes, guides in quiet, rare encouragements while Shen glides around the room, cracks jokes mid-procedure, and thanks his nurses before leaving the rooms. It's impossible not to let yourself wonder what made Jack Abbot so... severe.

Since your first week, he's caught your attention. Partly in the way his presence alone commands it, partly because of the way you swear you feel his eyes on you several times a night. After your first month, if he needed a nurse, he called for you. You don't remember ever introducing yourself to him, you were used to doctors not caring about trivial things like their nurse's names, so you just didn't bother until it came up naturally. With him, it never did. Just your name shouted evenly mid-rounds.

If you had to mark the moment you started feeling things for the doctor, it would have to be during one of the first times he'd called for your help. The way he spoke, the way he said your name- and not the calls, the moments he'd look up from across a patient and give you an order or thank you, always making sure to say your name- it makes you shutter every time. But you're always quick to remind yourself that it's all too common to find coworkers attractive, especially in high stress jobs like this. By the time you clock out, it doesn't mean anything. It can't.

So, then why does it sting when you catch him looking up at Dr. Mohan with that boyish grin that you've gotten so used to receiving? The sting grows into a burn as it happens again. And again.

You're forced to watch as they become the team you and him had been. You don't think you did anything wrong. You hadn't lost a patient or mixed-up treatment plans, and you always followed his orders to the letter. You're a nurse, it's your job. And you're damn good at your job. Which, you thought he saw. You thought he saw you. Respected you, maybe even favored you. But you decide that's certainly over now.

Deciding he's just another fuckboy with a medical degree- there were a. lot. in both your medical school and first nursing position- and move on. You distance yourself, staying close to Shen and Ellis so that when Abbot does call for you, you're always busy. When you do get pulled into a room with him, you keep your head down. Especially when Mohan is present. It's hard to stomach the way he praises her, walks her through every procedure.

You've never been an envious person. Live and let live. You've never let something like someone's attention shifting affect you before. So, for the life of you, you can't understand why it is now. It especially shouldn't bother you now. You're out of school, you're a nurse in one of the top hospitals around, you're happy with where you are in life. Why the hell would you let the lack of a man's attention get to you now that you're thriving?

You're walking away from a patient room, stomach churning from having to listen to Abbot commend Mohan for yet another procedure; from having to watch him smile down at her with something you refuse to name for your own sanity. Quick steps bring you into the break room. Slamming things around, you make yourself a cup of coffee. Your skin is crawling with bother, with trying to understand it. It's childish and embarrassing and-

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

You jump, not having heard him come in. You blink wide-eyed at him. He must've been just behind you the entire pouting march in here.

He rests with his back against the door, blocking it either to keep you in or others out. Or both. His hands rest behind him, head cocked slightly as his eyes bore down into you. His brows tick up, telling you to answer him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble and turn back to stir creamer into your coffee.

"Bullshit." He doesn't say it with any venom. Just blunt observation. Before, you'd liked it. Now it was kind of annoying.

You scoff quietly, shaking your head down at your emotional support caffeine.

"Hey." He pushes off the door and crosses the room quickly. "I asked what happened to you."

Feeling him looming over you, every muscle in your body tenses. You turn; he's standing so close you can smell the hint of his cologne left over from the start of the shift. "Why do you think something happened to me?" You ask with a moue.

His usual frown deepens, there's a slight crease in his brows. "Don't do that." He says lowly. You think there's an underlying hurt in his tone. Quickly, you tell yourself it's not hurt, because that's ridiculous. But there's definitely something there you haven't heard before.

"Do what?" You have to glance away, his eye contact making you feel like you're falling into yourself.

A sigh comes from his nose. "You really think I haven't noticed the way you're avoiding me?"

Your expression drops. You didn't think he'd really go through with confronting you- saying he did notice in the first place, which you'd doubted. That being said, you've imagined having this conversation a hundred times. Your shampoo and conditioner bottles at home really got the worst of what you've been wanting to say. But with him right there, staring into you, you fall speechless.

His jaw flexes. "I want to know." He pushes.

The lump in your throat feels choking. "There's nothing to-"

"No." He moves closer, making you feel boxed in against the counter. "Tell me."

"I didn't think you'd notice." You admit, because that's a little easier than "You're right I'm completely jealous of how you're treating Mohan even if she's great and totally deserves it."

He leans back with a near scoff and crosses his arms. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, who's bullshitting who know?" You blurt, face heating instantly. No matter how confrontational you are in your everyday, this is different. You can't just smart off to someone as high up as Abbot. You could easily be blacklisted, even if you didn't think he would do anything like that.

He blinks, not expecting it, either. "I'm not here to fight with you."

"Then what are you here for?" You ask, making sure your tone has gentled.

"I was getting worried about you." He confesses, making you blink now.

You almost scoff, if out of nothing else but surprise. "Worried?"

"Come on," His brows furrow, not letting you play dumb. "We work well together. We make a damn good team. Now every time I need you, you're with Shen. I don't know what I said so I need you to just tell me already."

You're chewing on the inside of your cheek. This isn't a professional conversation, in fact, it's very much a fire-able one. "You didn't."

"Then why?" He comes closer again, making your breath hitch with his proximity. "Because..." for the first time, you see him hesitate. "Because it's killing me."

Your mouth nearly falls open. You sink back against the counter, wanting to be smaller, wanting to be anywhere else. "I- it's..." You cringe. Between the scent of him enveloping you, his eyes setting your body on fire, and your frustrations finally having a chance to escape, you don't have a choice anymore. "It's Dr. Mohan."

His face gives way to confusion and he falls a step back. "Mohan?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "It's childish, and stupid, and... not really something I'm proud of." You don't look at him. You can't. But at least you're starting to feel lighter. "I don't know, maybe I'm delusional but I thought there was something building between us. Something quiet and probably nothing that would ever see the light of day. But now you look at her like you were looking at me, talk to her like you were talking to me. And, look, I get it. Samira is a few years older than me, a doctor. She's beautiful and arguably smarter than me and-"

He takes you by the shoulders suddenly, surprising you into silence. "Stop." He almost whispers. "Just... stop for a second, okay?"

You practically gulp. The chance to get all of this off your chance had you rambling dumbly, letting everything out at once.

He readjusts his grip, fingers pressing into the skin just beneath your scrub sleeves. He shakes his head. "There is... nothing happening between me and Mohan."

"But-"

"Nothing." He says more firmly, eyes forcing you to believe his sincerity. He lets his hands fall back to his sides. "I'm mentoring her. That's it."

You chew your lip, feeling utterly ashamed. Your face burns.

"That is... not what I'm doing when I call you to assist."

"No?"

The faintest hint of a smile pulls at his lips. "Hell no. I want you in the room with me because you're damn good at what you do. Because I admire how you work. I like having you by my side." His gaze falls over you, a complete up-and-down. "Even if you distract the hell out of me." He smirks down at you, making your face burn even hotter.

Not waiting for a response to come from your frozen shock, he goes for the door. He pauses to look back at you, his expression something almost boyish. "I'll be looking for you out there." And he's gone.

You swear you don't breathe again until the door shuts behind him. Your knees dare to wobble, and your head is nearly spinning. Never did you expect for the building thing between you to be considered at all. And certainly not midshift. Part of you isn't completely sure aren't just dreaming.

You chug your coffee and force yourself to go out after him because you do have patients to attend even if you want to sit and think over every detail of what just happened. It's minutes before you hear him call for you. Biting back a smile, you rush into the room. He makes sure to catch your eyes, giving you a second up-and-down quickly before giving out your orders.

For a team like KorTac, things rarely go wrong. A company made up of the world’s most ruthless killers, there’s not much more dangerous than you lot when given an objective. Still, you’re a team made of human beings. So, when someone fails to notice the team is being trailed, and when someone gets himself shot- things tend to go to hell rather quickly. The entire mission had to be abandoned. Shouting from Konig’s office reached every corner back at base. While Aksel was being patched up, Konig had to deal with higher ups and their scolding. Everyone quickly scattered their own rooms to spare themselves from his wrath.

Except for you, of course. You have a habit of stress snacking, and after a fail like that, you’re riddled with it. Not interested in any of the reserve you keep in your barrack, you’re poking around the kitchen when Konig’s office door slams, signaling his departure. Peeking behind a pint of ice cream, you watch him stomp into the living room. He’s muttering hateful curses in German, spitting it all out too fast for you to quite catch every word. He all but throws himself onto the couch with a frustrated huff. You doubt he even knows you’re there.

His arms are crossed as he just glares ahead at nothing. The leg he hasn’t flopped across the couch is bouncing frantically. You can see his teeth grinding despite your distance. It’s hard to see him like this. Konig is hot-headed, sure, but he’s a very calm man. Watching his stress all but steam off of his tense shoulders, you decide you have to say something. You quickly steal one last spoonful of ice cream before putting it up and heading over to the couch.

It's not until you fully sit down beside his stretched leg that he even notices your presence. Big blue eyes focus on your face. You can't see the expression beneath his mask, but you know he's pouting under there.

"You alright?" You ask, hand grazing his knee.

He hums, then nods. His mind is far from here, likely mulling over every excruciating detail of the mission.

You frown. "Talk to me, Ko."

"Mir geht's gut, Maus." He mumbles, looking away.

"You're not fine." You say softly, slowly leaning forward to pull his arms apart from their tight cross.

He lets his hands rest in his lap, tired eyes boring into you. He's completely letting you take control, something so rare for him. This only screams how much this is affecting him louder.

"Need to talk about it?" You ask, letting your hand gently run up and down his knee.

He huffs and has to look away. You can see his jaw working, his teeth grinding beneath the mask. "Just... stupid bosses. They don't understand."

You nod along, fingers absentmindedly kneading at his tense muscles.

"Everyone got out alive. What else can they ask for?" He throws a hand out annoyedly. "What else, when they give us bad information?" He scoffs bitterly. "As if they could do better than me..."

You can't help but to smile. Even when in the depths of stresses, he's still so cocky. "They couldn't. No one could." You affirm him sweetly, knowing he needs the little boost despite how little he'll show it.

"Das ist alles bullshit, Maus." He glowers down at you.

"It is." You have to agree, mostly because it is all bullshit. "And you're handling it all the best you can."

He grumbles to himself, shaking his head at the situation.

It's so easy for him to get drawn up into himself like this. He'll withdraw, then snap at everyone and anything that dares to exist around him for weeks. Or, at least, until the next mission goes off well. Not exactly wanting to deal with it, you -not quite realizing it- let your hand move further up his thigh.

He doesn't notice at first, going on about the call that has him so upset. You're practically in his lap- literally. You were just about to uncross your legs to wrap around his waist when he stops. Cold eyes scan you.

"What are you doing, Maus?" He asks, suspicious.

"Hm? Nothing." You smile innocently. "Keep talking, Lowe."

He's statue-still for several seconds. You're sure a brow is raised, maybe his lips are curled into the beginnings of a smirk. "Well... then I told Majka-"

You move fully into his lap mid-sentence. As if on instinct, he shifts his hips so you can sit more comfortably, more flush with his core. You nod, humming and pretending to listen.

"Maus." He stops, large hands on your hips. "What are you doing here?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, there's no question now.

You shrug, feigning ignorance. "Just... listening. Helping you get things off your chest." You roll your hips once, he lets out a small grunt at once.

"Off my chest, huh?" His hands dip lower, gripping your ass through your thin pajamas. A low, growly breath leaves him as he lets his eyes trail down your body.

"Mhm." You smile, beginning a continuous motion with your hips. Quickly, you feel his thick bulge pressing up against your core. "Tell me what else is bothering you." You say, caressing his jaw.

"You are playing a dangerous game, Maus." He warns, eyes filled with something very different from the earlier frustration.

"No games here. Just want to help you out."

He lets out a low hum, shifting so he can grind back up into you. "So brave, kleine Maus. Out in the open."

You chuckle. "No one's coming out of their rooms until morning."

A breath leaves his noise, something that's almost a huff of pride knowing he's scared an entire team of soldiers to their beds. "And you think this will make all my troubles go away?"

"I think it's worth a shot." You grin and lean in to place a kiss on the mouth of his mask. Before you can even go in for a second, he rips the fabric away to shove his tongue roughly down your throat.

Panting against each other, a hand leaves your ass and slips down the front of your waistband. He growls as he makes contact with your bare mound. "No underwear? Tapferes kleines Mäuschen." A thick finger pad swipes up your damp folds.

Sighing into the feeling, you grind against his hand. "I might've been planning this since we got back." You mumble against tongue and teeth. You feel him smirk in response before bringing his other hand to the back of your head to put himself deeper into your mouth. To claim every inch of it.

He readjusts, shoving his thumb against your clit and plunging a large finger in your hole to make you gasp. "Careful," He grins, leaning back enough to watch the look on your face. "We should still be very quiet, Maus."

You nod, clamping teeth down on your bottom lip. But he shakes his head. "None of that." He pulls you in for more heady kisses. "Give it to me."

You pant into his nipping mouth, letting out all the little whines he's making come out of you.

He hums in approval. "Gut. Sher gut, Maus."

By the time his second finger slides inside your slickness, his every breath comes out with a grunt of his own. You can feel his arousal pressing into your ass. Precum has already soaked through his pants.

He pulls away his mouth and hand together, leaving you feeling very suddenly empty. "Hosen." He demands, already tugging at your pajamas. You rip at his belt, at his button and zipper. Easily, he springs free, thick cock sways in the air, glistening with precum.

On instinct, you duck but he grunts and pulls your head up. "No." He pants. "I want your mouth for something else. Sitzen."

You gulp, knowing you aren't completely loosened enough for his monstrous size. Normally, he'd make you finish at least once before plunging himself inside of you. You understood today is different, though. He needs the same kind of relief you need after a day of dealing with terrible, misogynistic trainees.

So you line yourself up with his slick head, ever so slightly sliding down. He takes your mouth again before you can let out the strangled whine. Another one quickly follows as his fingers find your clit again, working with enough pressure to make you dizzy. He goes at you until you don't notice the sickening way he's filled your pussy.

Once you've managed to take all of him- there are tears pricking your eyes- he ruts upward with a grunt, letting his head kiss your cervix. You gasp, your own hips jerking in response.

"Shh, shh, little Mause. We have to be quiet remember?" He coos before biting your lower lip and slamming his hips up.

The noise that leaves you is nothing short of a desperate cry. One he quickly muffles with his tongue down your throat. His hands seize your hips and you know exactly what's coming. You hold your breath to swallow the sloppy moans you'd let out at any other night. He handles you like you weigh nothing, using you as nothing more than a fleshlight as he bullies into you.

When you can't hold your breath anymore, you muffle your desperate mewls against his shoulder.

"Fucking beautiful, Mause." He growls, nipping from your jaw to your collarbone and back again. "Knew exactly what I needed."

You're sobbing into his shirt before his breath hitches and his hips stutter. He takes all the strength left in him to slam you down onto his cock while he growls, "My. Perfect. Fucking. Maus." You feel him spill out into you, coating your walls and even spilling out onto his pubes.

He stops, panting as he lets his large hands travel up your waist, to caress your tits, and then settle on your teary face. He thumbs wipe gently. "Much better..." He sighs. "And so quiet for me." He gives your chin a squeeze with his thumb and forefinger. "Should I take you to bed and show you how much I appreciate what you've done for me?" He asks, rolling his hips.

Despite the gentle motion, your breath still hitches. Your pussy throbs between the way it's being filled- and the way it's just finished being abused- and the thought of how he'll give you his thanks. You nod before leaning in and kissing him again. This time is less feverish, less teeth, but still full of want. He stands and walks you to his room, all with his cock twitching deliciously inside you.

Tags: @konigswaifu

Carmen and Jack were brought together through accidents. Through loss. She'd been hit by a drunk driver, resulting in severe nerve damage in her left shoulder and arm. They met in the waiting room of their physical therapy office. For weeks, they shared glances and casual conversation and "Have fun"s. It took Carmen making the first move for anything to happen. Offering to make him a cup of coffee while they waited, she quickly scrawled her phone number in sharpie. He was still in the parking lot after his appointment when he called her. She told the story at their wedding.

You, and especially not either of them, ever expected for that story to be mentioned in a eulogy. At least, not so soon. Far too soon.

You watched your best friend live on top of the world for six, almost seven years. You'd never seen her so happy as when she met Jack. Every day after, a smile was always on her face. Even the days he forgot he wasn't still overseas, even the days her arm ached to the point she couldn't lift it. They stood strong through medications and breakdowns and some of the worst the world could throw at them.

In the end, though, he had to face the worst alone. She had a stroke. It was sudden and horrible and completely unexpected. Only during the autopsy, it was discovered that her heart had just stopped. She was raised by her paternal aunt and uncle was never warned to be worried about potential heart conditions because it was inherited from her mother's side.

Her sister- biologically, her cousin- made the calls. She said Jack "just couldn't." Horrified, heartbroken, you were left with one thing you never thought you'd have to do: Go to the bank and open the secret deposit box Carmen opened years before. It was the only secret she kept from Jack. One she made you swear to only ever unearth once she was dead.

You'd laughed at the time. But you weren't laughing as you walked into the bank after the funeral. And you certainly weren't laughing once you opened the box.

Inside was a single envelope. Knowing better than to open it in public, you thanked the teller who walked you into the room and went home. You cracked open a bottle of wine and sat on your couch before finally ripping into the paper. There, in the prettiest handwriting you knew, laid words that you feared might make your own heart stop.

Lovie,

My best friend, my sister. If you're reading this, I have passed on. It's my hope that you are reading this when you've already turned old and gray. It's my hope that we grew this way together. But I am a realistic woman and, at the end of every day, I know that people die whether they've lived what we deem as "long enough" or not. If this has happened to me, I have one last thing to ask of you.

I've always felt that I'll go before Jack. He'd joke that it's his luck, but you know I've always trusted my gut on these things. Like when we were in college and I woke up just knowing my grandmother had just died. Assuming my gut has not let me down, I've left you and Jack behind. Feel free to hurl curses at my grave as you've always promised to if I dared do this.

There's no two people I love more in this world than the two of you. And that is why I know that there is no two people that will need each other more than now. I'm writing this after driving home from admitting Jack into a treatment facility for what I pray is the last time. I'm sure I'll tell you all about it in the morning since this all happened so late.

All of that to say, I need you to take care of him. He can't be alone. And, as much as you like to pretend to, you don't deserve to be. He needs someone to fix, to care for. And you need a shoulder to cry on. It's both of your natures. There is no one I trust to pick your pieces up than him. And there is no one I trust to hold him together more than you. For all the love I hold for you both, please. Please, please, take care of each other. Take care of him for me, and I know he will take care of you. I hate that I can no longer do it myself.

With all of the love in the world from the other half of your soul,

Carmen

It took days before you could really get off the couch. Your entire world had ended with her passing, and now she was asking promises from beyond the grave.

At first, you ignored her. It was easy to lose yourself in your grief, in your pain. "Fuck Jack, I knew her longer. Loved her longer." You'd bitterly thought more than once. Though, those thoughts only ever surfaced after several bottles in.

And then the guilt kicked in. If you were suffering, then Jack would be too. He'd be suffering and she had begged you to not let that happen now that she's left him as your responsibility. "Like a fucking dog." The bottles had made you think.

So you stopped by the apartment. You helped him clean up, helped him cook when he was too tired (too depressed) to do it himself. It pulled you from your own dark world slowly, despite still crying yourself to sleep virtually every night. It took weeks for him to stop outright protesting your presence, and months for him to start finding comfort in it all.

You cry in each other's arms, you crash on each other's couches after drinking too much, you pick each other's pieces up bit by bit and try to glue them back in place. There's no closeness he can bring to replace the hole in your soul Carmen left behind, as your sure is mutual, but he helps. By just being there, letting you show up- and eventually showing up for you- he does.

Through all the time you spend together, he begins to heal parts of you you'd never planned to confront. You see him start to genuinely smile again while you finally shed off layers of the past you've been hiding beneath for years.

It's late- early, actually. Nearly 1 AM.

Not that it matters, though. You've taken the next day off work, knowing you'd be useless even if you just stayed in bed and slept a full twenty-four hours. Today is the day Carmen died a year ago. A year that's felt like forty.

You had almost been reckless, with this day. You'd thought about calling an ex- even that dick Evan who had a girlfriend and a child the entire time you were together because at least he was a good lay- and drowning yourself in a cloud of drunken lust.

But then you'd talked to Jack, and he spoke so gentle on the phone. He told you to "Make it a good day. For her." That was enough to sober you. So, you made the entire day revolve around her, just as it should be. You ordered breakfast from her favorite restaurant and ate it at her grave, leaving behind her favorite flowers. You walked around her favorite stores and even bought a sweater you know she would have grabbed for. While you cooked her preferred pasta dish, one of her favorite movies played. More than once, you'd text to check in on Jack.

Now, you're eating a pint of ice cream you actually quite dislike while another movie she loved plays. Through mouthfuls, you mutter along the dialogue- something she did that used to drive you wild. Your phone rings, making your heart drop. It had been doing that all day, as if your body was ready to receive that call again. This time, it's not Olivia's name but Jack's.

Swallowing both ice cream and that terrible feeling, you answer it.

"Hello." You greet kindly, knowing this can't end well.

There's almost too much background noise as he clears his throat. "Hey."

"Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Everything's great." He says, and now you catch the slur to his speech.

"Jack, where are you?"

"Downtown..." He answers with some hesitation. "At Murray's. They took my keys."

You sigh. There was no way this day was going to end well for him. You're just glad he only got drunk, that this call isn't something much more serious.

"I can be there in, like, twenty minutes." You're already standing up.

"Thanks. This uh, this... Thanks." He says gruffly.

"Yeah. Just sit tight okay?"

The bar- one you recognize too well from wild, stag-hunting nights- is practically empty when you walk in. Jack is slumped over the bar, sitting four seats away from another man. He's still in his scrubs from work and you have to wonder why the hell he didn't call off today. You wave over the bartender, pointing to the pile of a man you're here to pick up. He scoffs as he grabs Jack's keys. Tossing them, he says, "Good luck." You bite back something snarky because, at least he didn't let him drive.

You step over to him and place a hand on his back. He grunts in response, barely looking up. "Hey, you ready?" You ask, trying to catch his bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, hey." He sits up as he finally recognizes you. "Nice sweater."

"Hey." You smile thinly. "Let's go."

He nods. "Yeah, okay. I think that's best." He gets up slowly, like he has to make each limb move individually.

You sling a heavy arm around your shoulders. "Your place or mine?" You joke, having to use more strength than you expected to keep him upright and walking.

He lets out a breath, you think it was supposed to be a laugh. "Your pick, sunshine." He grumbles.

You roll your eyes and help him stumble out to the parking lot. He virtually collapses into your passenger seat.

"Buckle." You mutter, securing yourself into the drivers.

He says something that's too quiet and too slurred to understand so you let it slide. As you pull out of the parking lot though, he asks, "No music?" like it offends him.

"Had other things on my mind." You glance at him, seeing he's curled half-sideways.

He grunts in what you guess is protest and paws at the radio until he finds some old rock song, then cranks the audio. Using the steering wheel, you lower it by a notch every few seconds to not be complained at while still saving your car's speakers. He's staring out the window, already distracted from the song.

As easily as driving home, you go to his place. Turning off the car is what makes him turn and look at you.

"Sorry." He says quietly.

You shake your head. "Let's just get you in bed, okay?"

Helping him up to his apartment, he apologizes a dozen more times. You kindly remind him that "this is what I'm here for" and "it's okay, I promise."

You make it to the living room couch before you have to dump his all-but dead weight. He lands with a grunt, easily shifting to lay his full length across the cushions. Wordlessly, you get him Advil, a bottle of water, and the bathroom trashcan. You pull the blanket from the back of the couch and lay it across him.

He groans softly. "Hey," A hand comes out, just barely grabbing your wrist before you pull away. "Thank you-"

"Jack, stop talking." You say softly.

"No, no." He shakes his head and moves to sit up on an elbow. "Really. You've always been here. I never asked you to before tonight, but you showed up every time I needed you. Even when I didn't know I did."

You bite your lip, feeling the too-familiar sting of tears. "You don't have to thank me-"

"I do." He nods, too hard. "I do. I was awful to you there in the beginning. I-I- you should've told me to go to hell."

The night feels like it's crashing down on you at once, making your knees buckle until your butt hits the coffee table. "I wouldn't have-"

"You're too good." He goes on, blinking heavily. You doubt he's actually waiting for any input at all. "Too... too good. Just like Carmy."

You cringe. "Jack, please don't." There's been a million drunken conversations about her over the last year, of course. But not tonight, you just can't do tonight.

He sits up, the blanket falling away. "You're right." He sighs. "I'm s-"

"Don't apologize again." You say, more firm than you've been with him all night. "I'm..."

I'm only doing what Carmen asked me to. You hesitate because, well... that's not the complete truth, is it? You could've just called him an Uber, you'd though about it even. But thinking of Jack stumbling his way back into his and Carmen's place alone, probably winding up on the kitchen floor, made your heart twist.

"I'm doing this because I want to." You say softly.

After a second, he nods. Slowly, he lays back down. "For what it's worth." He mumbles, almost incomprehensibly. "I'm really glad you stuck around."

Fighting a sniffle, you smile softly. "Me too, Jackie. Now try to sleep."