♡ Like a Moth to a Flame: Logan Howlett is a dangerous man; at least, that's what he wants you to think when he first meets you during your shift at Lucky's. However, he only seems to prove the opposite as he becomes a more constant presence in your life. After learning his true identity in a dark back alley, he's certain you want nothing to do with him. But against your better judgment, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
♡ Scotty Doesn’t Know: Scott Summers made two things clear for Logan when he first arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters: stay away from his girlfriend and don’t even look at his little sister. The former was easy. The latter, though? That one’s a little harder for Logan.
♡ When You Call My Name: Decades after the events of 1973, Logan finds himself drowning yet again at the bottom of the Potomac River. Luckily, you're there to help pull him out of his nightmare.
SAM WILSON
♡ Home Is Home: Tony Stark offers you the position of a lifetime, but it means you’ll have to move from the nation’s capital to upstate New York. When Sam gets the news at one of Tony’s penthouse parties, he has to decide if home is a place or a person.
♡ Love You, Miss You, Mean It: It’s been five years since you heard from Sam Wilson — the longest you’ve gone without speaking since you met him at sixteen years old. You've tried to move on, but six words still weigh heavy on your heart. You're certain you'll never hear those words again until you get a phone call from upstate New York.
♡ Platonic: Bucky has no idea how two people who have known each other for two decades can be so blind to their feelings for one another. At first, it was somewhat comical, the two of you dancing around your obvious attraction for one another, but Bucky has grown tired of pretending that your relationship is strictly platonic.
STAR WARS
CAPTAIN REX
🖉 In The Cold: Ferrix is a rocky, sparsely populated planet that shifts into a desolate tundra in the long winter months. In that barren wasteland, your greatest nightmare becomes a reality. After losing your squadron, you're demoted to Commander and reassigned to the 501st Battalion. In between missions after the departure of their former Commander, their next assignment comes from the Jedi Council: the 501st is needed to relieve the current squadron stationed on Ferrix. You fear that you won't be able to survive another battle in the cold, but your new Captain makes it his mission to keep you safe and warm.
JOD NA NAWOOD
♡ The Last Time: The last time you saw Jod Na Nawood, he was taking off with his crew in search of treasure — promising that this haul of credits could finally get you both out of this life for good. Years later, you’re still on Nevarro where he left you, but you’ve created a life free from the bounty hunter’s guild and backstabbing pirates. That is until Jod Na Nawood shows up on your doorstep with four small children asking for your help. Against your better judgment, you agree, but with a promise that this is the last time you let him in your door. It was only a matter of time before your seemingly neverending patience for the scoundrel found its end, but Jod decides to push his luck one last time.
OBI-WAN KENOBI
🖉 A Moment of Peace: Obi-Wan Kenobi gets word that Duchess Satine Kryze’s life is in danger, but the council is certain that the Senate will not allow him to give his assistance if asked. Accompanying your fellow Jedi Master on his rogue mission with the help of his former Padawan Anakin Skywalker and his padawan Ahsoka Tano, you and Obi-Wan have to come to terms with the consequences of the force bond you share while traversing the underworld of Mandalore in an attempt to protect the Duchess.
THE PITT
JACK ABBOT
♡ Do Not Disturb: Jack Abbot's relaxing day off takes a turn for the worse when he hears his phone ring. After all, his phone is on do not disturb and there's only one person that he's allowed to interrupt his peace — you. Even worse, your voice isn't the first thing he hears when he picks up.
THE WALKING DEAD
DARYL DIXON
🖉 Shane’s Girl: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you're forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.
♡ Sickness: You’ve got the sickness currently sweeping through the prison and your very worried boyfriend comes to visit you while you’re currently in the sick ward
MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE
ETHAN HUNT
♡ Need: When a solo mission you were on goes awry, your best friend will not rest until you return; however, little did he know that as he was waiting for you to return, you were going through hell. After you return, you are both suddenly aware of how much you need one another.
♡ Would You Do It Again?: Ethan answers the one question that’s been on Luther’s mind for the past couple of months: if he could go back and change things, would he still do everything the same knowing how things would end for the both of you in the end?
MISCELLANEOUS
AARON HOTCHNER
⋆ Too Good To Be True: You've found yourself spending more time with Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner after a mysterious figure begins following you home. After your stalker's arrest, you believe your freedom is too good to be true. Maybe Aaron should've listened.
JIM HOPPER
♡ The Duality of Jim Hopper: Ever since Joyce introduced you to the local chief of police, Jim Hopper, you’ve thought maybe this town is a little too small. You’re certain that there is no truth behind the rumors until you take one hell of a beating and Hopper wants answers.
JOHN WICK
🖉 Cursed: You are no stranger to loss. Grief is an old friend - a feeling that's settled deep within your bones. Maybe that's why you're the first person John Wick seeks out after Iosef Tarasov steals his car and kills his dog. Or maybe it's because you're the only person he can trust after finding himself thrust back into a world cursed by betrayal and violence.
KILLIAN JONES
🖉 Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee: You recently moved to Storybrooke and began working the morning shift at Granny’s diner. Meanwhile, Killian Jones has been working the night shift on the docks of Storybrooke for years. When his routine gets turned upside down, he begins to understand the simple joy brought by an early cup of coffee, as long as you’re the one pouring it.
LEONARD “BONES” MCCOY
⋆ Of Medicine and Mayhem: Maybe you should be thanking Jim Kirk for flirting with your roommate at a bar one night as it allowed you to meet his grumpy best friend, Leonard McCoy. But you’re pretty sure that’d only fuel his ego and that’s definitely not something you want to do.
~ Some Starfleet Academy drabbles about you, your mess of a roommate, everyone’s favorite homewrecker, and your favorite cranky medical student
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Summary: Jack Abbot's relaxing day off takes a turn for the worse when he hears his phone ring. After all, his phone is on do not disturb and there's only one person that he's allowed to interrupt his peace — you. Even worse, your voice isn't the first thing he hears when he picks up.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x nurse!reader
Warnings: f!reader, violence against healthcare workers, language, mentions of bodily harm, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries sustained at the workplace, use of the word 'assault', Jack Abbot's dead wife mentioned, description of a drunk driving accident, Frank Langdon catches some strays, use of the nickname 'sweetheart', use of the nickname 'slugger', no use of y/n, mutual pining, fluff, hurt/comfort
Word Count: 5.5k
Author's Note: Yo — so I'm still alive. I have been stuck in The Pitt for awhile now. This one has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a hot second. I also have a Robby fic sitting in there that I desperately need to finish. Those two men have truly bewitched me. Anyways, hope y'all are ready to be stuck in The Pitt with me for the time being. Hope you guys enjoy this one!
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
“Motherfucker!”
You angrily hit the coffee maker that has been causing the entire emergency department trouble for the majority of today’s shift. Langdon had watched you struggle earlier this morning before swooping in to fix the problem with a swift hit to the side of the machine and an off hand comment about having the ‘magic touch’. So, you imitate his actions now — hoping another dose of caffeine will help get you through the last couple hours of your shift. The machine stops its incessant beeping just as it had hours ago, but instead of brewing a fresh cup of mediocre coffee, the interactive screen goes completely black.
Great.
You squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath. If Jack were here, he’d miraculously show up beside you with a latte in hand. You don’t know how he does it, but the man just knows exactly what you need and when you need it — you’ve taken to calling it his ‘sixth sense’. In reality, that’s Jack — observant and steadfast.
You miss the night shift.
It’s not that you dislike the day shift. In fact, you happily accepted Dana’s request for your help covering for Donnie during his paternity leave. In Robby’s words: they needed another nurse practitioner on the day shift and there’s only one that he trusts. A part of you thinks that it was just flattery to get you to come to the light side, but deep down you know that Robby only knows how to speak honestly. Lena wasn’t necessarily happy to let her best help switch shifts for an extended period of time, but she also knows that the ED is a team — sure the staff is split between day shift and night shift, but things only run smoothly when the shifts help each other out.
Jack wasn’t too keen on the idea.
He couldn’t stop you of course — Lena is your supervisor, not him. But that didn’t stop him from voicing his concerns. Jack Abbot has always been protective of his nightcrawlers, but there was something verging on possessive in the way he told Robby that this is simply a temporary arrangement after he realized he couldn’t change your mind.
“Should I call Ahmad to escort the caffeine criminal off the premises or do you have a handle on the situation?”
Robby’s voice breaks through your thoughts. You let out a sigh before turning to face the day shift’s senior attending. His expression, usually threaded with deep exhaustion and stoicism, is teetering on the edge of playfulness while a small smile tugs at his lips.
“Y’know what, Robinavitch? We never had this problem when we had the old machine. Mr. Coffee only had three buttons and never betrayed me.”
Robby lets out a breath through his nose — not quite a laugh, but the closest he’ll get to one this late into his shift. Gloria had decided to get the department a fancy new coffee maker that makes individual cups instead of a full pot a few weeks ago to celebrate improved patient satisfaction scores. What was meant to be a gesture of goodwill from upstairs has become the staff’s worst nightmare.
“You sound like Jack.”
You roll your eyes, but you also know no one has been more upset about this change than the night shift’s senior attending. Robby has always brought his own coffee from home, but Jack has been relying on the emergency department’s supply of shitty coffee for the entirety of his career at PTMC. You’d asked him about it once when you first started working together and he’d revealed under fluorescent lights that there was something comforting about the way it reminded him of the coffee rations he’d receive during his deployments.
“Have you talked to Jack recently?”
Robby attempts to sound nonchalant; however, you know him better than that. You’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s worse than the night shift nurses. Always needing to be in the know about everything and everyone. He swears that it’s because he’s the senior attending, so it’s his responsibility to keep an eye and ear on all of his staff. But Jack isn’t like that. He’s always been reserved and professional during shifts, always keeping his staff at a distance so he doesn’t get too attached — everyone except for you. In between cups of coffee and rooftop conversations, you managed to slip through the cracks of that cool, steely exterior.
“We talk during handover, but that’s not exactly the same as working a twelve hour shift with someone. Why? Anything I should be concerned about?”
Robby’s lips pull into a tight smile at your response, but anxiety finds its place in your chest. During handoff about a week ago, Mateo had pulled you aside to ask if you had any idea what was going on with Jack. Your brow furrowed as Mateo filled you in about Jack’s sudden change in demeanor with his staff — the once calm and collected attending has been increasingly impatient and scattered. You’d reassured Mateo that it was probably just stress related since Jack hadn’t had a day off in months — and even then he spent his rare off-call moments volunteering as a SWAT medic. You figured that Jack had finally hit a wall and was running on fumes, but Robby’s words were now making you second your assumptions.
“Nothing of concern, just looking out for you and Jack.”
Robby has this tone that makes it seem like he knows more about your relationship with Jack Abbot than you do. You know about his history with the night shift’s senior attending physician, but Robby hasn’t been there for the close calls at three o’clock in the morning when Jack puts his complete trust in your hands without a second thought. He hasn’t been there for the nights that seem to drag on for days when it seems like the sun will never rise again. He hasn’t been there for the hushed conversations in stairwells when the night feels darkest and the only comfort to be found in PTMC is in each other’s presence.
It’s not a bond built on flirtation — God knows, Jack Abbot flirts with everyone. And does that make you a little jealous? Maybe. And were you hoping that the distance created due to being on day shift for a few weeks would help you create some boundaries with the man? Possibly. But here you are, still infuriatingly infatuated with a man you have absolutely no chance with.
“I can assure you there’s no Jack and I.”
“Mhm.”
That damn tone again. You want to smack that smug look right off of his stupid face, but before you get the chance to fire back a commotion outside abruptly ends your conversation. The two of you move in tandem, Robby holding the door to the break room open as you duck under his arm before surveying the scene. Your eyes immediately widen as you spot Langdon attempting to keep two infuriated men on their separate gurneys as they yell over each other. He meets your eyes before moving his gaze to Robby, relief flooding his features.
“A little help here?”
You and Robby share a brief, knowing look before dividing and conquering the situation. Robby steps in, wheeling one of the men away while you follow after Landgon who is moving with the other.
“What’s the story here?”
You have to shout over the man’s incessant yelling, but Langdon ducks his head down slightly as he navigates the gurney through the ED to hear you better in the chaos. From not too far away, you hear Robby yell for Whitaker to take over his unruly patient so he can go find Ahmad for back up. Langdon’s shoulder bumping into yours pulls your attention back to your own situation.
“Bar argument gone ugly.”
The man laying on the gurney is bleeding profusely from lacerations on his forehead, but is cognescent enough to keep loudly threatening the other patient that came in with him. You manage to get a closer look at his wounds once Langdon locks the gurney in place and through the deep crimson you see little, semi-translucent pieces of debris. Your brow furrows as the light catches one of the pieces.
“Is that glass?”
Langdon nods before meeting your eyes with a crooked smile plastered on his face.
“Beer bottle to the head. Told you it got ugly.”
You let out a breath before gloving up with Langdon. As the two of you attempt to assess his injuries the man begins to fight you both off, pushing your hands away before either of you can start getting control of the bleeding. You pull back hoping to get the man’s attention so that Langdon can start giving him the care he needs.
“Sir, I’m gonna need you to calm down so that we can take a look at your injuries. Can you tell me your name?”
Finally, the man’s eyes land on you but they are filled with nothing but unbridled fury. You fight off the urge to take a step back from the situation and, instead, stand your ground.
“What I need is to get my hands on that son of a bitch who tried to fucking kill me. Can you help me with that?”
You raise both of your hands as the man fights off Langdon once again. He gives you an exasperated look as his shoulders slump in annoyance.
“I can not, this is a hospital not a fighting ring. What I can help you with is getting your bleeding under control and taking that glass out of your head before you get a nasty infection. How’s that sound?”
Your tone is stern but gentle as you attempt to talk the patient down. For a moment, his face softens in understanding and you almost let out a sigh of relief after having gotten through to him, but then Whitaker’s voice tears through the moment.
“I’ve got a runner, incoming!”
“Oh, shit.”
Langdon’s tone makes your heart rate spike, but before you get a chance to turn towards the commotion Whitaker’s very angry patient shoves you into the wall.
“We need some help in here! You good?”
Langdon’s worried eyes are locked on you as he tries to keep the two patients from tearing each other apart. Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact, but you had managed to stay on your feet which saved you from any additional trauma. After catching your breath, you leap in to help restrain the patient who just assaulted you.
“Sir, please. We need you to calm down!”
Your words fall on deaf ears as he continues to lunge at your patient who is now being held back by Langdon. What a fucking mess. You haven’t had a situation like this since last year’s Fourth of July night shift when two drunken men came into the E.D. after one of them practically eviscerated his buddy’s legs after shooting off a firework directly at him. Your eyes desperately meet Langdon’s, hoping he’s in the same boat as you, and he gives you a similar look of bewilderment.
“Whitaker! Ahmad! Anyone!”
Langdon’s voice is strained as the man in his arms struggles against his hold. You’re using all of your strength to pull Whitaker’s patient away from your own, but he’s got at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you. Keeping him restrained is taking all of your strength. Finally, Whitaker’s shoes squeak as he slides into the room.
“Woah, what can I do?”
Langdon gives him a ludicrous look before his eyes land on you.
“Give them a hand, will ya?”
Whitaker immediately jumps in to help you. You were hoping the additional body could help even the odds with these men; however, they seem to be getting more violent by the minute. The man in your grasp reels back and shoves Whitaker, who stumbles back. Now with only you holding him back, he takes this as a chance to take a swing on Langdon.
“Absolutely not!”
You grab his arm and pull back before he can land a punch. The man lets out a desperate, angry cry and swings his arm back hard. His elbow connects with your nose with a loud crack. The room explodes further than you thought was possible as you spit out the blood draining into your mouth due to the blow. The searing hot pain blooming across your face blinds your vision.
Fuck, that hurt.
You blink once, then twice — your eyes finally adjusting to the damage. Your patient has seemingly settled down enough to be left alone, while Langdon has your assailant in a chokehold as Whitaker tries to pin his arms behind his back.
“What the hell is going on in h—?”
Robby’s words die in his throat once his eyes land on you. His face twists into concern for a brief, fleeting moment before a dangerous rage washes over his hardened features.
“Knock it off before I knock you out.”
Robby’s voice is ice cold and it suddenly pauses the entire room. The only noise filling your ears is everyone’s heavy breathing. Robby lets everyone cool down for a moment before barking out orders.
“Ahmad, get this man out of here. Whitaker, take over the patient who didn’t attack one of our nurses. Langdon, with me.”
Everyone complies instantly and you let out a relieved sigh as the tension in the room finally dissipates. Robby makes his way to you in two large strides with Langdon behind him. He drops his head to meet your eyes which have regained their comforting warmth.
“How you doing, Slugger?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.”
Robby raises a brow as you spit more blood on to the floor, narrowly missing his sneaker. Langdon gives you a similar incredulous look. Obviously, your attempts to brush off their concern have fallen on deaf ears. Great. Two hours from shift change and now you’re a patient.
This day can’t get any worse.
Robby takes another step forward and carefully places a hand on your chin and gently tilts your head up toward the ceiling. You grimace immediately at the bright, fluorescent lights above you.
“You’ve got two black eyes, a broken nose, and you’re bleeding all over the floor. This isn’t nothing.”
His voice is surprisingly gentle and his features soften into a look you can only describe as brotherly concern. You sigh defeatedly, squeezing your eyes shut as the adrenaline in your body begins to subside giving way to an invasive and persistent shooting pain in your head. Robby’s hands find your shoulders — you aren’t sure if the physical contact is meant to provide you comfort or a precaution in case you pass out. Either way, you appreciate the way his delicate hold grounds you back into this moment.
“I’m going to have Langdon take you to an empty room and do a full exam. Okay?”
You open your eyes again and nod at his question. Robby’s posture relaxes slightly, obviously relieved that you didn’t stubbornly push back against his orders. He rubs your shoulders reassuringly for a moment before speaking again.
“We’re going to have to document all of this. Dana is dealing with a situation in chairs, but I’ll have her come find you when she’s done.”
You nod again, pursing your lips together into a straight line. You don’t love the idea of making a big deal out of this, but you also know that violence against health care professionals is at an all time high. The last thing this department needs is you trying to push this under the rug. Finally, Robby releases his hold on your shoulders and allows Langdon to step in.
Robby runs both his hands through his hair as he watches Langdon lead you towards a room at the back of the ED. He moves towards the hub in the center of the large room, gripping the countertop as he allows himself a moment to gather his thoughts. This is a nightmare. He needs to call Gloria about the situation that just happened. There’s a stack of paperwork that needs to be filled out. Someone has to alert the authorities. And worst of all, he needs to call Abbot.
Hopefully, the asshole that assaulted you will be off the premises before the night shift attending rips through the emergency department. Not because he cares for the wellbeing of your assailant — more so that he doesn’t necessarily want to bail his best friend out of jail tonight. Robby sighs as he digs his phone out of his pocket. He finds Jack’s contact easily in his favorites and presses the speaker to his ear. To his surprise, the call immediately goes to voicemail. Robby knows that Jack has the day off; however, he’s always easy to reach — especially if you’re on shift. So, he dials the number again and presses the phone to his ear. But just like before, he is once again met with Jack’s voice apologizing for missing the call. That’s odd. His brow furrows, but before he can think about his friend’s odd behavior further he’s distracted by a concerned voice behind him.
“I heard about what happened. Dana’s almost done in chairs. How can I help?”
Robby turns to look at Perlah who is currently trying to catch her breath from her obvious sprint over to him.
“Do you know who their emergency contact is?”
If he can’t get ahold of Jack, he might as well let your other loved ones know what happened. Perlah side steps the attending and logs in to one of the computers on the other side of the counter. It only takes a couple seconds to pull up your digital file and a smile spreads across the nurse’s features as she spots the name listed.
“Abbot.”
Of course he is.
“I can’t get a hold of him.”
Perlah’s expression reflects his own confusion for a moment until she remembers a conversation she had with you in the break room earlier this morning.
“He’s gone fishing.”
Robby’s eyes shoot to his hairline as a laugh bubbles in his chest. He attempts to picture his friend in a boat by himself on the river with a fishing rod in his hand, but his mind cannot seem to compute that absolutely ludicrous concept.
“Abbot is fishing?”
“Apparently they convinced Abbot to actually take a day off, put his phone on do not disturb, and find a hobby that doesn’t involve getting shot at.”
Robby’s eyes drift to the room he watched Langdon escort you to as he attempts to wrap his head around the information he was just given. Jack Abbot is fishing on his rare day off because you asked him to find a hobby that doesn’t involve putting himself in harm’s way — and he listened. He wants to be impressed, but instead he’s just annoyed at the two of you — he’s fucking tired of watching the two of you dance around your feelings for one another. He looks down at his phone again, still confused at how his paranoid best friend could actually relax when he’s unreachable while you’re still on the clock.
Oh.
The realization hits him like a slap to the face and he looks up at Perlah who is still anxiously waiting for the attending to start barking out orders.
“Do you think you can manage to get their phone?”
Perlah frowns for a moment, confused by his question. And then her face lights up as she comes to the same realization as the attending standing in front of her. A smile pulls at her lips as she nods at Robby’s request.
“I think I can manage that.”
Jack Abbot enters the emergency department like a hurricane — his presence immediately disrupting the fragile peace they’ve managed to establish since your assault. Robby meets him at the door, stopping him before he can cause any unnecessary damage.
“Where is she?”
Robby frowns. Abbot’s voice is lacking its usual warmth — in its place is a fiery, impatient intensity.
“Let’s just cool down for a second. She’s alright — getting checked out by Langdon as we speak. Okay, Jack?”
Abbot’s brown eyes darken at Robby’s words. His posture stiffens and he’s suddenly aware that he’s no longer looking at his best friend. No, the man standing before him is a devoted soldier with one mission and God help anyone who gets in his way — he certainly isn’t dumb enough to stand between the two of you.
“Exam room 11.”
Abbot brushes past Robby without another word and marches toward the back of the emergency department. He finally feels like he can breathe again as he enters the doorway and watches Langdon press an icepack to your nose. You flinch away from him and Frank lets out an exasperated sigh.
“You are a horrible patient.”
“Well, you’re a horrible nurse. You have to be gentle.”
Abbot leans against the doorframe, his body relaxing now that he’s heard the sound of your voice. A smile pulls at the corners of his lips at your defiance. Eventually, Langdon pulls the icepack away from your face and his blood runs cold as he gets a look at your injuries. It takes every ounce of what’s left of his self control to stay put, instead of forcing Robby to let him know who did this to you.
“I’ve got it from here, Langdon. You can get back to work.”
Both of your heads snap towards the attending standing in the doorway, but Jack’s eyes never leave yours. He watches as your expression shifts from confusion to relief before taking a few steps into the small exam room.
“Hey, Abbot. I’m actually almost done here. The rest of the exam will only take a minute.”
Jack finally regards the other man in the room, but his demeanor shifts to annoyance as Langdon continues to occupy your personal space — as he watches another man’s fingers glide gently over your cheek while he’s standing right there. The sight makes him sick to his stomach as a pervasive, ugly feeling claws at his chest.
“Langdon. Out. Now.”
Langdon’s movements suddenly still and the room immediately feels too small for the three of you. Luckily, the resident does what Jack says and exits the room without sparing you a second glance. Jack’s cold demeanor melts as soon as he hears the door close behind Langdon.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Jack’s voice fills the room and you finally feel safe. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you hear his boots take careful, calculated footsteps move towards you. This is a dream — it must be. Jack’s fishing today, unreachable until after your shift ends. But then he’s standing in front of you, invading your personal space in a way that’s so undeniably him. You finally look up, meeting his piercing gaze and you swear his jaw ticks slightly as he takes in the full extent of your injuries.
“It looks worse than it is.”
It’s a lie, but all you want is to smooth out the worried creases on his forehead. Jack tilts his head slightly at your words — considering them for a moment. His hands move slowly allowing you time to pull away, but you let him cradle your face with a tenderness that feels misplaced in this environment. His thumb gently brushes under your eye, where deep purple bruising has made its temporary home, and you flinch away from his touch before he even makes it to the worst of your injuries. Jack pulls his hands away from you and you involuntarily frown — a smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he watches the way you chase his touch.
“Do me a favor?”
You nod at his question — not fully trusting your voice at this moment. Jack bows his head slightly, meeting you eye to eye. His gaze is a raging wildfire of emotions. It’s a stark contrast to his calm demeanor and steady hands.
“Don’t lie to me.”
You roll your eyes at this as he stands to his full height again. His hands find their way back to you again, settling on your knees as he begins assessing your injuries further. You lean in closer to him without even thinking about it — it’s like Jack Abbot is the sun and you’re simply a planet trapped in his orbit.
“How are you here?”
Jack’s brows knit together at your question, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. His thumb absentmindedly rubs gentle, grounding circles against your scrubs as his gaze trails over every visible wound on your face.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re supposed to be fishing.”
His face scrunches at your words, but he doesn’t stop his careful assessment of your condition.
“I got a call.”
“Your phone was on do not disturb — you were unreachable.”
“To everyone other than you.”
Your breath catches in your chest at his words. He says it nonchalantly, but the significance of that statement lands harder than the elbow you took to the face. You’re the only person that Jack would let interrupt his day off. Hell, you’re the only reason he took a day off to begin with.
“But how… Perlah.”
Jack’s head tilts as he watches you put the pieces together. Not too long after Langdon got you into the exam room, Perlah found the two of you. She helped Langdon with the exam for a few minutes before cursing that her phone had died before she made an important call. You had offered her your own, thinking nothing of the interaction. But now you understand exactly what transpired when Perlah left with your cell.
“Yeah, scared me half to death when it wasn’t your voice on the other end.”
Your frown deepens at that. You can only imagine the fear that clawed its way back into Jack’s chest — can only imagine the unwanted memories it brought up. Your eyes glance down at his left hand, where a silver wedding band permanently resides. You remember the morning on the roof when Jack finally told you about his late wife after a particularly difficult shift. The two of you had lost a young woman whose vehicle had been struck by a drunk driver. You watched Jack go above and beyond for the woman in a way you’d never seen before. And you noticed the way his entire demeanor shifted once he had to call it after an hour of compressions. Jack slipped out of the ED the moment that the day shift showed up and you followed after once you completed handoff. You found Jack on the edge of the roof — not surprising on any other day, but a concerning visual after what you just witnessed that night. He knew you’d find him — you always do. And as you took your usual place, leaning your elbows against the railing right behind him, he finally opened up about the worst day he’s ever experienced. You listened as he told you about how his wife was in an accident. How she was dead on impact and EMS found her phone on the scene. How Jack was her only emergency contact. How he despises that the last time his wife called him he never even got to hear her voice. How he knows he’s your emergency contact. How his heart can’t go through that again.
“I’m sorry, Jack. The last thing I wanted was for you to worry about me on your day off.”
Jack’s brow furrows at your words.
“Sweetheart, all I do when I’m not with you is worry.”
You both let that sentence linger in the room for a few moments. Jack continues to trace shapes into your shrubs as you attempt to calm your nerves as you realize how intimate this conversation feels. Finally, Jack breaks the silence.
“Can you just come back to the night shift so I can stop freaking out every time my phone rings throughout the day?”
You almost smile at that.
“Donnie comes back in two weeks.”
You mean for that to be comforting; however, this only makes Jack’s body stiffen in response. His head drops as he lets out a long sigh.
“Two weeks is too long.”
“You’re not my boss, Jack.”
Jack pulls his hands away and you watch as he runs them through his short, grey curls. He looks exhausted — and you suddenly feel guilty that his relaxing day off has turned into this.
“You’re right, but sweetheart, I can’t do this without you anymore.”
A part of you wants to throttle him because of that nickname and how easily it falls off his lips — how it’ll only feel right when it’s his voice saying it to you.
“Do what?”
Jack looks at you and his face twists into confusion as he realizes your question is genuine.
“Get through the fucking night.”
A beat passes. You desperately want to just say yes. It’s what you want isn’t it? Returning to the night shift — returning to him. But that’s also the problem. What is this? You thought your switch to day shift would give you some sort of explanation, but your time away has only made you more confused. Would it actually just be easier if the two of you only saw each other during handoff? No domestic moments between cups of coffee, no more mornings spent side-by-side on the rooftop, no more stolen, fleeting touches as he passes you on your way to the hub. You know what you are to Robby — to everyone on day shift. It’s simple. But with Jack — it’s never been simple and maybe that’s the problem.
“What if I want to stay on the day shift?”
Jack recoils like you just threw a punch at him. Guilt claws up your throat as you watch his face fall. It’s a lie — you know that it is. You love everything about the night shift, but you also don’t know how much longer you can keep playing this game with Jack before you simply fall apart.
“Why would you want that?”
“Because at least I know where I stand with everyone here.”
Jack’s brow furrows — you hate that it’s cute. That everything about him draws you in.
“You don’t know where you stand with me?”
You shake your head and he scoffs — the sound is surprisingly cold. He looks at you, brow pinched into a scowl. And then he realizes that you’re serious. Your expression is nothing but unashamed honesty and his head cocks to the side at that. Do you really think he’s been stringing you along this entire time? That this has all been meaningless flirtation? That you mean nothing to him?
He takes a step forward, slotting himself between your knees. Your breath catches as he reaches up and gently cradles your face. His touch is different than before — all professionalism has been cast aside and is now replaced with his overwhelming adoration. Without thinking your fingers grab the hem of his black t-shirt. He smiles as he feels you nervously pick at a loose stitch before he ducks his head and his lips finally meet your own. Your grip on his t-shirt tightens as he moves his hands through your hair. Now this is a dream. The kiss is soft and restrained — you know he’s holding back due to your injuries. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. Jack pulls away too soon for your liking, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he places his forehead against yours.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been yours since the minute you walked through the fucking door.”
You bite your lip as you attempt to hold back the giddy grin that begs to spread itself across your face.
“You never said anything.”
Jack pulls away at that, not far — just enough to get a good look at you. The look on his face is incredulous — like it’s absurd you don’t know that his entire life revolves around you at this point.
“I thought I made myself abundantly clear.”
You laugh at that and Jack steals a kiss from your lips just because he can.
“I take it Robby gave you the rest of the day off?”
You nod, smiling as you feel Jack thread his fingers through yours.
“He told me to go home after Langdon finished my exam — who you should apologize to.”
Jack’s jaw clenches slightly as his brow furrows.
“Him being here was unnecessary.”
You watch him for a moment, trying to understand what happened between the two men that never seemed to have any sort of animosity prior to today. And then your hand tightens around Jack’s as you realize what happened.
“You were jealous.”
Jack rolls his eyes.
“I have no reason to be jealous.”
You raise a brow at his statement. He’s not wrong — he has no reason to be jealous of Frank Langdon, but you know the resident somehow got under his skin. He may be able to maintain his facade of nonchalance to the rest of his staff, but you see right through him.
“What makes you so confident?”
“Because Langdon isn’t the one taking you home right now, is he?”
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just a little PSA that i will absolutely still be loving and defending michael robby robinavitch till my last breath no matter what nasty, unflattering, harmful reaction he will inevitably have towards whomever tries to help him in the next two episodes. he is in crisis and deserves compassion even when he lashes out because of his self hatred.
and to everyone who relates to robby and has had/is having similar struggles to his in their real lives, i love you too <3 and please remember to be kind to yourself!! especially when those people become even more hateful in the next few weeks 🫶
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Yo marvel fanfic community, pls sound off with your Tony Stark fic recs (preferably x reader). Pls no dadcest or dad's best friend fics. Not to yuck anyone's yum, I just have my own preferences -- I don't want him to be my dad, I just want to fuck that old man in a consensual kinda way.
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Summary: Tony Stark offers you the position of a lifetime, but it means you'll have to move from the nation's capital to upstate New York. When Sam gets the news at one of Tony's penthouse parties, he has to decide if home is a place or a person.
Pairing: Sam Wilson x gn!reader
Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, takes place during the party at the beginning of Age of Ultron, mentions of CA:TWS, Reader and Sam being two oblivious idiots in love, alcohol consumption, no use of y/n, use of the nickname 'honey'
Word Count: 4k
Sam watches as Steve sinks his last ball into the pocket before turning to give him that signature, star-spangled grin. He rolls his eyes at the sight. A part of him really thought he stood a chance this time against Steve, but he should have known he was bound to lose after Steve sank two striped balls immediately after breaking. Still, the game was neck and neck until Sam scratched, giving Steve an easy shot. Now, all that’s standing in the way of Captain America and victory is the 8-ball.
“You getting nervous, Wilson?”
Sam’s hand clenches tighter around the whiskey glass he’s holding. He knows that the jab is playful, but he’s also painfully aware of the crowd gathered around the large pool table — and how they’re all staring at Steve in awe. A part of him has gotten used to the gawking. After all, they’re not staring at him — no one is ever staring at him. But the smug look on Steve’s face as he looks around at the small crowd infuriates him. Sam’s a competitive man, and he might have made a mistake befriending Steve Rogers since he seems to be the only person in the world incapable of failing.
“Just hit the damn ball, Cap.”
Steve laughs before hitting the cue ball, and Sam watches with bated breath as it pushes the 8-ball gracefully into the pocket. Sam sighs as Steve extends his hand out toward him. He begrudgingly takes his wallet out and slaps a twenty-dollar bill into his palm. Sam takes a long swig of his whiskey before addressing Steve.
“I’m gonna beat you at something one of these days.”
“You better. I’m getting tired of taking your money.”
Sam rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. When he first met Steve, he was almost painfully polite. So, it’s relieving to hear his playful banter. It makes him sound less like the legend that is Captain America and more like the man that is Steve Rogers. Steve clamps a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the pool table.
“C’mon, I’ve got a lot to catch you up on.”
Sam lets Steve lead him away from the crowded party, walking up the stairs to an overlook. He listens intently as Steve recounts the mission to acquire Loki’s scepter from Hydra’s hands. His brow furrows as Steve describes the two enhanced individuals they met while in the field.
“Sounds like a hell of a fight; sorry, I missed it.”
Steve gives him a knowing look before responding. He knows that Sam would have fought by his side. After all, he’s a soldier to his core. Steve thinks that may be why the two of them clicked quickly — there’s an inherent understanding between them — a constant baseline of duty and loyalty.
“If I had known it was going to be a firefight, I absolutely would have called you.”
Sam scoffs before finishing the last of his whiskey.
“No, I'm not actually sorry. I'm just trying to sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing person’s case. Avenging is your world, and your world is crazy.”
“Be it ever so humble.”
They stand side-by-side for a few minutes, simply watching the party beneath them. Sam would have laughed his ass off if someone told him he’d be keeping Captain America company at one of Tony Stark’s famous parties two years ago. But here he is — standing beside his friend.
“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?”
“I don't think I can afford a place in Brooklyn.”
Sam laughs at this, but he offers him an understanding look. D.C. is no better. Even though he’s spent far less time in the city since being tasked with finding Captain America’s childhood friend turned assassin, he couldn’t dream of leaving. He looks forward to returning home whenever he’s gone. He always yearns to see his boys at the V.A., grab a cup of coffee at his favorite downtown joint, and sleep in his own bed.
“Well, home is home. You know?”
Sam’s eyes find you in the crowd, and he can’t help but smile as he watches you double over in laughter over something Rhodey says. If he’s completely honest, no matter where his search takes him — no matter what beautiful country he finds himself in — he always returns to D.C. because of you. Steve follows his friend’s gaze, and a knowing smile spreads across his face.
“Speaking of home, when will you make that official?”
Sam glances over at Steve in confusion. Steve simply raises a brow and nudges his head in your direction. Sam glances your way again before rolling his eyes. God, he wishes he hadn’t finished his drink.
“They’re technically your date.”
Sam meant to brush off the question, but his response had a bite that wasn’t intended. Steve notices immediately. He sighs, raking a hand through his blonde locks.
It’s not like that.
Not that he hasn’t thought about it before. You were his doctor during his recovery after his fight with Bucky on the helicarrier and his fall into the Potomac River. There was something almost intimate about how you helped piece him back together. And Steve told himself that he’d ask you on a proper date after he was released from your care — even if it was just to thank you for your endless warmth in an overwhelmingly sterile environment — but then he noticed how Sam looked at you during one of his visits and he gave Sam the only piece of advice he knows: don’t wait forever.
“The only reason I asked them is because you weren’t even supposed to be stateside. You know that.”
Sam knows this. He does. But he can’t help but feel inferior as you interact with everyone at this party. He isn’t a genius, he isn’t a super soldier, and he certainly isn’t a god. During his time in the military, he was the guy they sent in when no one else could get the job done. But he’s painfully aware, as he stands in a room full of actual superheroes, that he’s just a man. He’s not anything special.
“I know, man. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Steve understands. Of course, he understands. He wasn’t always Captain America. He remembers being that little kid from Brooklyn who had everything to prove and nothing to lose. Steve saw that part of himself in Sam when they first met: how he still found a way to serve at home through the Department of Veterans Affairs, how eager he was to follow Captain America into a battle that wasn’t his to fight, and how he dropped everything to find a man who tried to kill him just because Steve asked for his help. Sam Wilson is a good man — maybe the best he’s ever met — but he shares Steve’s oblivious nature. One of these days, he’ll wake up and realize he does have something to lose — you.
“I know, Sam. You want another drink?”
Sam nods immediately, desperately wanting a reason to leave this increasingly awkward conversation behind. He follows Steve to the open bar at the center of the party. Before he can get the bartender’s attention, Thor slides onto the barstool on the other side of Steve. He pulls a mysterious bottle of liquor from his jacket and raises a brow at the man sitting beside him. Steve, without speaking, just reaches behind the counter and grabs two whiskey glasses. Sam watches as Thor pours a generous amount of the mysterious liquid into the two glasses. The two men clink their drinks together before downing them. Sam’s brow furrows as Steve shivers in response. From what he’s heard, the super soldier serum has made it impossible for Steve to feel the effects of alcohol. But before he can ask what they’re drinking, you steal the words out of his mouth as you lean against the bar beside Thor with Natasha behind you.
“What are you drinking, big guy?”
Thor’s smile brightens extraordinarily as your voice graces the conversation. The god throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side. You giggle at his actions, and Sam’s entire demeanor immediately stiffens — his back going ramrod straight.
“My lovely doctor — it is good to see you! This is the finest Asgardian Ale I could get my hands on.”
The jealousy coursing through Sam’s veins makes him feel sick to his stomach. He turns away from the interaction and attempts yet again to get another drink — hoping another glass of whiskey will drown the guilt clawing its way up his throat. Sam Wilson has never been a jealous man. Ever since he could remember, he had a confidence that made it easy for him to talk to those he considered attractive. Part of it was that he always knew that his interactions with others were always momentary. He never had the capability to hold down anything long-term during his time in the Air Force, so he saw every flirty interaction at the gym and every drink bought for him at the bar as temporary pleasures. But then he met you. And suddenly his feelings were no longer fleeting. Home is home — and you made yours in every corner of his mind, deep within his bones.
“Might want to pour another glass or two since we’re celebrating tonight, right?”
Natasha nudges you playfully with her elbow, and Sam’s brow furrows at the interaction.
“Oh no, Natasha. See this, this was aged for a thousand years, in the barrels built from the wreck of Grunhel's fleet, it was not meant for mortal men or women.”
Natasha rolls her eyes at the Asgardian and diverts her attention to Steve.
“Rogers, could you get us a couple of drinks here?”
Steve laughs before getting up to wander further down the bar. He manages to grab the bartender’s attention without even trying, and Sam’s jaw clenches at this. Even though he knows that it isn’t his intent, Steve’s presence manages to make Sam feel like the smallest man in the room right now. That’s part of the reason that he’s never worked up the courage to properly confess his feelings to you. The two of you were immediately thrust into the world of super-soldiers, assassins, and gods after meeting. And somewhere along the way, Sam began to feel inadequate for your attention. Before Sam falls further down the rabbit hole of self-deprecation, Steve manages to pull him out by lightly grabbing his shoulder, and a smile graces Sam’s features as Steve wordlessly hands him a glass of whiskey. After Steve hands you and Natasha drinks of your own, Sam finally asks the question that’s been gnawing at him since the start of this conversation.
“So, what are we celebrating?”
“Oh, uhm… it’s nothing.”
Sam’s brow furrows further as your expression immediately shifts into panic. Your eyes widen slightly, and your hands desperately grasp the fruity drink Steve just slid your way. There’s nothing that Sam wants more than to reach over and simply take your hands in his, but unfortunately, both Steve and Thor stand between the two of you. Before Sam can question your sudden change in mood, Natasha steps in to explain.
“I’m pretty sure a job offer from Tony Stark as the head of medical staff at the new Avengers compound upstate is a little bit more than nothing.”
Steve and Thor immediately start congratulating you on the new position, but your attention is still focused solely on Sam, who silently digests the information. You wish he would say something, anything — but he just stares into his whiskey as everyone else breaks out into lively conversation. Tony had offered you the position a few weeks ago, and Natasha was the first person you told. But that’s only because Sam was across the world working on Steve’s missing persons case. You had managed to talk to him a couple of times over the past month, but this was information you wanted to tell him in person, and you had no idea he would be at this party until early this evening, when Steve came to pick you up at your hotel.
“Okay, guys. I haven’t even accepted the offer.”
You attempt to lighten the shifting mood between you and Sam, but it doesn’t help the pit forming in your stomach. Finally, Sam looks up at you — like you’re the only person in this crowded room — and it knocks all the air out of your lungs.
“You should.”
His tone is matter-of-fact — like it was the simplest answer in the world. But it’s not that easy. Accepting the offer means picking up your life and leaving D.C. — and leaving D.C. means leaving Sam. Sure, you would see him at events like this and on the rare occasion that one of you could sneak away from work for the weekend, but ultimately, you know that accepting this position means ending whatever this unspoken thing is between the two of you before either of you could even label it. No more late nights after your shift, when you were pleasantly surprised to see Sam peacefully snoring on your couch after unlocking the door to your quaint apartment. No more coffee runs to the V.A. on your rare day off, just because you were having a bad day and needed to see Sam’s bright smile. No more impromptu movie and take-out nights, no more grocery runs, no more late-night drinks at the pub you frequent together. Your life would drastically change, and you don’t know where Sam’s place in it would be anymore. The thought terrifies you.
“Sam…”
Sam shakes his head before downing the rest of his whiskey and placing the glass on the bartop with a little more force than necessary.
“I’m going to get some air.”
You watch as Sam stands up and moves through the crowd, towards the nearly abandoned balcony. An apology tumbles off your lips as you immediately leave your conversation with Natasha, Steve, and Thor to follow after him. A shiver runs down your spine as you slide open the oversized glass door. It’s an uncharacteristically cool summer night in New York City, so as the sun went down, partygoers began making their way indoors to continue their night in the warmth of Tony Stark’s penthouse apartment. You’re just thankful for the privacy as you take a moment to watch Sam, who has his back turned to you, and based on the way his muscles flex against the fabric of his navy jacket, you’re certain that he has a white-knuckle grip on the railing. A soft sigh escapes you at the realization that the conversation you’ve been putting off is happening right now, whether you like it or not.
“What’s going on, Sam?”
Sam immediately turns to face you. His features soften as he studies you leaning against Tony’s floor-to-ceiling windows. How he wishes this night had gone differently — how he wishes that he was able to do this right. If he hadn’t been across the world earlier this week, he’d have been the one to ask you to be his date — not Steve. When he picked you up, he’d compliment your outfit before opening your car door, just like his Mama taught him. He’d have bought you a drink, asked you to dance, and maybe, if it felt right, he would have found himself on this balcony with you under much different circumstances. But tonight wasn’t a perfect night. Sam spent all day transferring from flight to flight just to make sure he made it to this party — to make sure he made it to you. And instead of celebrating an incredible career achievement, he retreated because he knew he’d lost his shot with you — he waited too long. He should have taken Steve’s advice a long time ago, but he was afraid it would ruin your friendship; however, now, standing here, he’s terrified that he’ll regret not telling you sooner for the rest of his life.
“Hey, I’m sorry. We should be in there celebrating. I’m being stupid out here—”
A sudden gust of wind causes Sam to stop in his tracks as he watches you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to trap the little heat left in your body. Without a second thought, Sam takes off his jacket and moves to wrap it around your shoulders, seemingly unbothered by the chill in his red, short-sleeve polo. His hands linger on your arms for a moment longer than necessary, and you're grateful for the warmth that both his jacket and natural body heat provide.
“C’mon, let’s get you inside. We should get back to the party.”
You stop Sam as he moves towards the door, grabbing his hand before he steps out of your reach. Sam’s hand involuntarily tightens around yours as he turns back to face you again. Concern etches deep into his features as he studies your face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to go back in there.”
Sam shakes his head ludicrously.
“You should be in there celebrating with our friends.”
You sigh as you let go of his hand. Sam frowns deeply, his body immediately yearning for your touch the minute he lost contact. But he doesn’t reach out again — he lets you take the lead.
“I don’t know if I’m going to take the job.”
Sam’s concern quickly turns into surprise at the revelation, and you understand why. Anyone else in your position would have accepted the job the minute Tony offered it to them, but you’ve been putting off the decision for almost a month now. Tony has been blowing up your phone for the last week, and you were going to blow off this party until Steve mentioned that Sam had flown in for it.
“What are you talking about? Tony Stark asked you to head the new medical team for the Avengers! You’d be crazy not to take it.”
You scoff at his words before turning away from him. This time you find yourself leaning against the railing, watching vehicles and pedestrians pass by below you.
“Yeah, well, don’t worry, Sam, I do feel crazy.”
Crazy and stupid.
Maybe you’ve gotten this all wrong — misread signals and developed unreciprocated feelings. Maybe it’s always been just friendship between you and Sam. Afterall, it’s been a year, and Sam hasn’t made a move. You blamed it on his mission for Steve — figured that once he managed to find Bucky and could stay in one place for more than a couple of days at a time, that the two of you could finally define this. But maybe there’s nothing to define.
Sam sighs before moving to stand beside you. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you frown that you don’t find comfort in his touch, but instead more confusion.
“That came out wrong. You’re not crazy. Just talk to me. What’s stopping you?”
You finally look at Sam, and his eyes search yours as he desperately tries to understand what’s going through your mind. A humorless laugh almost escapes you at the sight. He really couldn’t be more oblivious. You feel like it’s obvious — everyone else has noticed. Natasha is always making jokes about the two of you looking longingly at each other. Steve makes sure to keep you updated on Sam when he’s unable to communicate with you. Hell, even Tony asked if Sam would be coming with you when he offered you the job. Everyone has picked up on the fact that you fell in love with Sam Wilson, except for the man himself.
“You.”
Sam takes an unsteady step back. The word feels like a punch to the gut — it takes the air right out of his lungs.
“What?”
“Taking the job means leaving D.C. and leaving D.C. means leaving you.”
Sam shakes his head at this.
“That’s not true. We’ll still see each other — you’re moving to Upstate New York, not Area 51.”
You roll your eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood.
“Six hours away is a lot different than six blocks, Sam.”
Your gaze drops to the floor. Sam frowns at this, knowing you have a point. Hell, that’s the reason he came out here, right? But as the words leave your mouth, he can’t help but think of how absurd they are. Who cares if you’re moving to New York? Tony Stark could’ve asked you to head up a medical team in the Arctic tundra for all he cares. It wouldn’t have mattered — there isn’t anywhere in the world he wouldn’t follow you.
“What if I move to New York?”
Your head shoots up at Sam’s offer. This is definitely not how you thought this conversation would go. You can’t ask him to do that — it’s selfish. His whole life is there. You would never ask him to give up his position at the V.A. that he’s worked his ass off to achieve, or the small house outside of city limits that he’s practically renovated from the ground up.
“But D.C. is your home.”
Sam closes the distance he made between the two of you. He’s barely an inch away. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, and he’s looking at you with a newfound understanding.
“No, it’s not.”
“What do you mean?”
Finally, Sam reaches out again and takes your hand. His touch feels electric.
“D.C. was only home because you were there.”
Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes begin to water. His brows knit together, and his hands immediately come up to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
You shake your head as a breathy laugh rises in your chest.
“They’re happy tears. I promise.”
Sam laughs along with you, cradling your face delicately until your tears have dried up. Deciding that the two of you have waited long enough, you reach up and grab onto the collar of his polo before pulling him down to you. As your lips meet his, everything just feels right. This moment right here with Sam feels safe and warm — it feels like home.
Sam’s hands slide down your body until they find your waist. He backs you up against the railing and pulls you flush against his chest. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as he leaves a trail of slow, tender kisses down the column of your throat. For a moment, it’s just you and Sam at this party. That is, until you break away to catch your breath and realize the two of you have created quite a scene. You groan and bury your face into Sam’s chest. He laughs in response and wraps his arms around you protectively.
“I take it people noticed?”
You nod into his chest, and Sam turns his head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. Most of the partygoers were too busy with their own escapades to notice the two of you on the balcony, but then he locks eyes with Steve and Natasha, who raise their glasses towards him proudly. Sam rolls his eyes at this — there are simply too many eyes here for his liking.
“You want to get out of here?”
As you look up at him, Sam notices that your eyes drift toward where Steve is sitting. Guilt momentarily washes over your features. Sam knows that you feel bad leaving Steve, but this time, jealousy doesn’t claw at his chest. Because he knows that even though you might have come here with Steve, he’s going to be the man that takes you home.
“C’mon, we can say goodbye to them on the way.”
The smile you give him is brighter than any light in the New York skyline — the skyline that’s soon going to be his new home because wherever you are is home to him.
