summary: Sleepy has an okay shift and paints the town red! not really
Halfway into your shift, you're sitting alone in the break room. The morning hadn't been too taxing on your part. Preparing patients for surgery, preforming blood draws, filling out discharge papers.
What better way to spend the rare time you have than with a-
Looking up from the mess in front of you, Trinity and Javadi stood at the other end of the break room table, seemingly to escape today with their own lunch.
And a messy one at that. The fillings inside was spilling out from between a fluffy hoagie roll, a dribble of italian dressing running down the length of your pinky finger.
"With lettuce and tomatoes? Is that chicken-"
Javadi had managed to swipe a piece of cucumber that was about to fall on the paper bag beneath.
"What makes you think I bought it?"
Trinity gives you a 'bitch, you better be joking' look before lightly scoffing. "Sleepy, I love you. But be so for real, you're shit at cooking. When was the last time you touched a cutting board?"
"Didn't you burn the paper of an instant noodles cup last week?"
"Is that why our microwave smells funny?"
Ok, maybe they had a point. Setting down the half eaten sandwhich, you go to reach for napkins. "Jack made it for me."
The two woman exchanged looks before turning their attention back to you.
"So what you're telling me," Trinity slides into the unoccupied chair next you, nudging your shoulder and raising an eyebrow. "is that Abbot came in on his off day to bring you lunch?"
The question lands like a poorly timed grenade as you attempt to hide the heat spreading to your face, Javadi taking your moment of vulnerability to steal a bite of your food.
"... can you tell your malewife no peppers next time?"
The slowness of your shift didn't last long. Of course it didn't, you worked in a fucking hospital. At two, it was a patient that vomited on you. Around four, you had one of the residents yell at you because there was no rooms avaliable at the time. And what better way to end the day off than to prepare someones daughter in the hospital's viewing room.
Yeah, that last one definitely took a hit to your psyche.
Which is how you ended up here, aimlessly wandering the streets of Pittsburgh.
The post-shift haze hit hard tonight. Sure, you could've gone to the roof of the hospital to decompress, but it seemed pointless without a particular nightshift attending being there to help carry your burdens.
Of course there was Robby, but the last time he had joined you up there, the conversation could you even call it that if he was the only one talking? ended with an awkward side hug and an accidental "thanks, dad" from your mouth. neither of you have brought it up since
It was different with Jack. How he would offer comfort through his dark sense of humor "I saw you drinking a redbull earlier, you gonna test out those wings up here?"
When he stays close, close enough to feel his body heat but not enough to feel overwhelmed by his presence. (Sometimes, his hand would brush against yours atop the railing. Neither of you pull away.)
When he'd call you by your name, your real name and not just some stupid nickname that gets tossed around in the Pitt. (His voice drops low and quiet when he breathes it, in a tone that blurs the lines of your "professional" relationship and jumpstarts something inside you that you're too afraid to question)
Whipping your hanging head up straight, the sight of Grant catches you off guard. Oh, your feet led you to the front of his restaurant. Go figure.
"You never came back. To North & Vine."
The look Grant shoots has you immediately rolling back on your half-assed apology, regret and a hint of shame rippling off of you. "Shit, that came out wrong. I'm sorry. Work has been hectic, and I don't really have the green to be eating out-"
"Who said anything about spending money?" That has you tilting your head, confusion written all over your face.
He cards a hand through his silver curls, a crooked smile forming on his lips. "Shit, I thought it was because the food was bad-"
"No- no, it wasn't! It was genuinely one of the best meals I've had in ages!" You weren't giving him line a when you texted Grant that night. Heck, his restaurant was the only place you had in mind while thinking about dinner with Jack.
The throw up that stained the front of your scrubs should've given it away. Grant looks just as disheveled with oil splotches and smears across his white apron.
He doesn't respond for a moment before shaking his head, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat. "Right, c'mon." Before you could protest, his hand finds its place on the small of your back while leading you into North & Vine.
an: this could've been two separate chapters, but I was eager lol 🫶 enjoy
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