the waiting room was too bright and too quiet in that strange way that made everything feel a little unreal.

you gave the receptionist a small smile and checked in, then followed the direction down the hallway to the room they’d told you to wait in.

joe was already there, sitting half-upright in the chair with a blanket over his lap and a wad of gauze tucked clumsily between his teeth. his eyes were glassy in that unmistakable way that meant the medication had already started to win.

the moment he saw you, his whole face changed.

his eyebrows shot up like he wanted to say your name, like he had something urgent and important and very possibly ridiculous to tell you, but all that came out was a muffled, airy sound around the gauze.

he frowned at his own mouth, then tried again, squinting at you with complete seriousness.

you stared at him for a second, then laughed.

not meanly, never meanly, but there was something so unbearably sweet about the way he was trying so hard to communicate through the fog, with his cheeks still a little swollen and his hair flattened on one side from the chair.

he narrowed his eyes at you as if he was offended by your amusement, but it was impossible to take him seriously when he looked like that.

“hi” you said softly, crossing the room and stopping beside him.

he made another determined sound, then pointed at you with slow, clumsy emphasis, like he was making a very clear and important point. whatever it was, the gauze and the meds made it impossible to understand.

“i know, baby” you said, still smiling.

he nodded once, solemn as anything, then he patted the chair beside him, offering you the space like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you sat immediately and before you even had a chance to settle, he reached for your hand.

his fingers were a little unsteady, warm and loose around yours, but the grip itself was so sure it made your chest ache a little. he just held on, thumb resting against the side of your hand like he needed the contact to remind himself where he was. you squeezed back, and he turned his head toward you with a slow, stunned kind of affection on his face, like he’d just remembered you were real.

his gaze kept drifting to your face, then away, then back again. every few seconds his mouth moved like he was trying to say something else, but he only managed a few slurred sounds and a little frustrated huff.

you leaned closer. “what is it?”

he frowned, then pointed at you again, then at himself, then at you a second time, looking deeply satisfied with whatever message he thought he was sending.

“i agree,” you told him. “absolutely no questions.”

he blinked at you for a moment, then a slow smile pulled at his mouth. even drugged and swollen and a little helpless, he still looked so absurdly happy to see you that it made you feel warm all the way through.

the dentist came back in not long after, checking his mouth and replacing the gauze with a smaller piece so he could talk a little more easily. joe watched the whole process with exaggerated seriousness, then immediately tried to say something the second the dentist stepped away.

“you’re… so…” he began, then paused, brow furrowing as if the rest of the sentence had slipped straight through his fingers.

you waited, expecting him to struggle with it.

instead he looked at you with the most sincere expression you’d ever seen on him and said, “pretty.”

your face heated instantly, and you laughed again, ducking your head. “joe.”

“no,” he insisted, with all the gravity in the world. “you are.”

his eyes were a little unfocused, but the sincerity was so clear it almost undid you. there was no teasing in it, just the simple, unfiltered fact that he thought you were beautiful and had apparently decided now was the perfect time to tell you.

the nurse returned to help him out to the car, and that was when he became fully committed to embarrassing both of you.

he was wheeled down the hallway in a chair, still blinking slowly and leaning a little too heavily into the backrest, while you walked beside him trying not to smile too obviously.

every person he passed got the same solemn announcement in a slightly slurred voice.

“this is my girlfriend.”

the first time it happened, you froze, then looked at him in disbelief. he was beaming up at the ceiling like he’d just made the most important statement of his life.

the nurse laughed. “she is?”

joe turned his head as far as he could manage and looked at you with intense pride. “yeah.”

you covered your mouth with your free hand, shoulders shaking. “you do not need to tell every single person.”

but he just kept going.

“girlfriend” he told the man holding the elevator door.

“girlfriend” he said again, to the woman at the desk.

“mine” he added at one point, and your face went hot all over again.

you had to keep looking away because every time you met his eyes he smiled at you and seemed utterly unconcerned with how ridiculous he was being. it was impossible not to laugh. e

ven the nurse seemed amused, though she tried very hard to keep a professional expression as she helped him outside.

by the time you got to the car, joe had settled into a kind of affectionate loop. his body was still sluggish and half melted from the meds, but his attention never really wandered from you.

you helped him buckle in, carefully adjusting the seatbelt while he watched your hands like they were doing something fascinating.

once you got in the driver’s seat and started pulling out of the lot, he turned toward the window with wide, curious eyes.

“what’s that?” he asked, pointing at a stop sign like he’d never seen one before in his life.

you glanced over. “a stop sign.”

he looked at it for a long second. “why is it red?”

“so people stop.”

he nodded thoughtfully, as though this answered some deep mystery. then, after another pause “that’s smart.”

you bit your lip to keep from laughing too hard. “yeah”

he turned to look at the buildings sliding past the window as you drove. “is that place new?”

“no, that's the pharmacy baby”

“oh, nice.”

every few seconds he’d decide he had a brand-new question for you.

why are there so many wires on the poles?

where do clouds go at night?

do you think that dog in the yard was a good dog?

why do traffic lights have yellow?

what does “yield” mean again?

each question came with that same wide, earnest concentration, like he genuinely believed you knew the answer to everything.

and every few minutes, because apparently he had no ability to remain silent, he would turn to you and say something completely unnecessary and devastatingly sweet.

“you’re so pretty” he murmured, watching you change lanes.

you laughed under your breath. “you already said that.”

“yeah,” he said, as if that was not only true but important. “still true.”

you glanced over and saw the little blush creeping up his cheeks, probably from the medication and probably from the fact that you were smiling at him like he’d hung the moon.

so you smiled even more.

“you’re cute” you told him.

his head tipped back against the seat. “no, you are.”

“joe.”

“i mean it,” he said, and then, after a beat, quieter and even more sincere, “really pretty.”

you shook your head, grinning. “you're very brave right now, saying all this.”

he looked genuinely confused for a second. “why?”

“because you’re going to remember none of it.”

that seemed to amuse him rather than worry him. he leaned his head toward the window and smiled to himself for a moment, still holding your hand whenever the lights changed and you reached back to rest it against his thigh for a second. it was strange, driving home with him like that, because he was so ridiculously sweet it almost didn’t feel real.

by the time you got home, he was tired enough that the questions slowed and the compliments became softer, mumbled little things he seemed only half-aware of saying. you got him inside carefully, helped him settle on the couch with a blanket, and then, because you both deserved it after the day you’d had, you went to get ice cream.

he looked at the bowl in his hands like it was a gift from the heavens. his eyes were still a little heavy, but when he took the first bite, he made a pleased little noise and perked up.

“this is good” he mumbled.

“that’s cause it’s ice cream” you said.

he looked at you seriously over the rim of his spoon. “i can’t believe you’re mine.”

the words landed so softly it almost hurt.

you stopped with your own spoon halfway to your mouth and looked at him. his cheeks were pink again, his hair still a mess, his lips still a little numb from the surgery, and he was staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe any of this.

you smiled and leaned closer. “yeah, i am, baby.”

the blush deepened immediately. he ducked his head, smiling into his ice cream like he couldn’t help it.

you watched him for a second, then reached over and brushed your fingers lightly against his wrist. he turned his hand over and let your fingers slide into his, still grinning to himself like he’d gotten away with something.

later, he slept for hours. he was out so completely that you had to check on him twice just to make sure he was actually breathing.

when he finally woke up, the first thing he did was blink at you in confusion, then immediately start asking what day it was and whether he had said anything weird.

you told him everything.

as you talked, his expression shifted from confusion to horror to disbelief, and then finally to a helpless, incredulous smile.

“no,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “i did not say that.”

“you did,” you said, laughing. “many times.”

he stared at you, then covered his mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking with embarrassed laughter. “oh my god.”

you nodded, delighted. “you also called me pretty approximately seventy times.”

he groaned, but he was smiling too hard to be convincing. “i hate that.”

“you do not.”

“i do when you’re telling me about it.”

you leaned in and kissed his cheek, soft and quick. “you were cute.”

that made him go quiet.

when he looked back at you, all the lingering embarrassment had melted into something gentler, something full and grateful. he reached for you without thinking, pulling you closer until your head rested against his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you with sleepy familiarity.

“thank you,” he said after a moment, his voice lower now, more like himself. “for looking after me.”

you tilted your head up to look at him. “always.”

his hand found yours again, squeezing once, carefully this time. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, slow and tender, then settled back against the couch with a contented sigh like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

“still think you’re pretty” he mumbled.

you laughed softly into his shoulder. “still think you’re adorable.”

he made a sound somewhere between a protest and a laugh, then kissed your forehead again as if that settled the argument.

and when he held you a little tighter, half-asleep and warm and fully himself again, you could still almost hear the echo of his loopy voice from earlier, calling you his girlfriend like it was the simplest truth in the world.

because, apparently, even under anesthesia, joe keery knew exactly what he had.

and by the way he was smiling with his eyes closed, you had a feeling he knew it now too.

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