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Dr. Night & Dr. Day — Chapter 2: Dr. Day (Langdon)

kat a/n: putting this out into the world tonight so that way when I'm coming back online some time late tomorrow from my first time flying I have some nice notifications to look at <3

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relationship: (eventual) abbot x gender-neutral! afab! reader x langdon, abbot x gender-neutral! afab! reader, langdon x gender-neutral! afab! reader

cws: gender-neutral! afab! reader, medical inaccuracies, reader is a charming idiot (affectionate), original female character as your best friend, reader has a cast on from a previous injury, alcohol, situationship with an implied age-gap, dog bites from an unvaccinated animal, stitches, mentions of sexual situations but no explicit smut in this part, post-divorce & post-rehab! Langdon, dorky! Langdon propaganda, wisdom teeth removal, someone takes a bad fall

summary: After spending ten months with Abbot, you think you've got it all figured out. Two trips to the ED later, you realize that you don't. You also realize that you're very attracted to the day shift doctor who's taken care of you and your friend. — 16.7k words!

It wasn't just one coffee date.

Truly, how could it be when Jack Abbot showed up in a sinfully-tight black shirt — you could tell he had muscles, even with the scrubs on, but good God, where was he hiding all of that? — and plain blue jeans that had your eyes feasting upon his body.

"Hey," You manage to prop yourself up by using one of the wooden chairs as a makeshift crutch, "glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Jack offers you a small smile that manages to outdo the sun that shines high in the sky, "Need a hand?"

"I'm good, I–" You pause, facing heating up rapidly when he places your hand on his toned forearm to help you walk to the counter, "–thank you."

"Are you managing by yourself?" Jack's eyes stay pointed towards you as you gaze up at the menu. "Has the cat burglar come back for round two?"

"Nope. I must've roughed him up good the first time." You lean against him, settling most of your weight against his body, "How's Nat? I'd come and see her, but I don't really do much traveling with this thing on."

You swing your casted foot around as proof of concept.

"She's… good, last I heard. The skin graft went really well."

"Good," You hum lightly, trying to not think of your friend's distress right now. Nat's healing in a hospital bed, and she's not going to die on you. "Nat's a fighter with a good heart… and she's exceptionally clumsy, which got her in that position in the first place."

"And you're not?" Jack challenges.

"I fell out of that window gracefully," You snort with laughter at your own joke, "I just didn't stick the landing."

"I–"

"–Aww," A female barista suddenly appears at the counter, cooing at the two of you, "how long have the two of you been married?"

Although you're hot in the face, you do take the opportunity to tease your date.

"Two years–"

As does Jack.

"–five years, this coming May–"

"–Jack!" You chuckle before you shake your head. "It's a… first date, believe it or not. I made a strong first impression, and I guess he wanted to come back for more."

"Cute." The girl hums without any more particular interest in the conversation. "What can I get you?"

You both give your orders to her, and you struggle to remove your wallet from your pants pocket — Holy shit, next Friday cannot come any sooner, so you can gain some sort of mobility and independence back when this cast is off of your fucking leg — and you only stop when you hear a soft beeping sound from the card reader in front of you.

"Jack," You softly whine as you admit defeat, "I could've gotten it. I can pay for overpriced coffee–"

"–I've got it," Jack softly murmurs as he gazes into your eyes, "I've got you."

Your fingers trail down his arm as you slowly trace small circles on the skin of his wrist, massaging the area as a small, hidden thanks.

The rest of the date went off without a hitch — well, these days you consider not falling on your face or swallowing your own tongue as a win — so maybe you're better off saying that the date was a success.

So much so that he wanted to see you again. And again. And again.

Brief text messages and quick phone calls became elongated paragraphs and hours going by before you hang up the phone because you want to spend as much time as possible talking to him. You two have such different schedules, so you treasure the time you can spend with Dr. Jack Abbot without accidentally throwing yourself out of the window or ending up in the emergency room because your best friend is as much of a klutz as you are.

Even when that time comes at two in the morning, and Jack's calling you because he needs to hear your voice.

You stir, as any reasonable person would, when your phone vibrates like the world is gonna end. Flipping the screen over on your nightstand before you temporarily blind yourself with the power of a thousand suns, you're able to make out Jack's name on your home screen. You drop the phone on your face as you answer, doing your best to hide the small noise of distress that you make from the temporary pain that comes along with your clumsiness.

"Hello?" You sleepily murmur, "Jack? Is something wrong?"

"Hey." One word is all Jack has to say. Three letters, one syllable. You can tell just by the inflection in his voice that something happened. Something bad happened. "Did I wake you?"

"I'm fine, Jack," You're quick to reassure him of your own safety in case that's the cause of his distress, "safely tucked into bed with no open windows or cats near me–"

"–coded someone around your age." He sounds haunted as he speaks. "They didn't make it."

"You wanna talk about it?" You sit up in bed, preparing for a longer conversation. "I know you can't tell me a lot, but maybe–"

"–I just wanted to hear your voice."

It's in this moment that you realize that, as he was trying to save this person's life, he probably saw you on that table instead of that poor soul who left this world far too soon. How hard it must've been, then, to let that patient go when there was no chance of resuscitation. Seeing your eyes closed, your body cold, your limbs unmoving as they wheeled not-you away to the visitation room.

"Jack," You try to sound as warm and comforting as possible, as if your voice can act as a verbal blanket that'll shield him from the pain and heartache he's feeling, "come over once your shift's done. We can talk about whatever is on your mind then, okay? Right now, your patients need you. You never know what dumbass might come through your doors after they messed with the wrong stray cat."

That, at least, gets him to laugh.

"Thanks." Simple, sweet, confident. That's your Jack. "Get some sleep."

"You first, Dr. Abbot." You say, far too aware of his poor sleeping habits.

"I'll sleep when I know you're safe." He whispers, and your heart races in response.

"And I thought I was the cheesy, hopeless romantic…" You chuckle to yourself. "Have a good night, Jack. Don't hesitate to call me again. I'm happy to talk to you. Your voice is the best thing to wake up to."

"Oh, I think you'd rather wake up and find out that you've won the lottery."

"Is it too late to change my answer?" You softly laugh. "I'm serious about you coming over, though. There's a key underneath the house mat. Let yourself in."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course I don't. Just don't bring the entire night shift with you," You crack a small smile, "I forgot to buy an extra party platter."

"Forget the party platter! I'm holding you to that fancy Italian dinner!" Dr. Ellis' voice echoes through your speakers, causing you to grin. "C'mon, Abbot, we need you in Trauma One. Casanova can wait until your shift's over."

"Go, Jack. I can hold down the fort here," You yawn loudly before you stretch your arms, "by going right back to sleep. I'll… see you later?"

"Yeah," Jack answers, "I'll see you later."

You fall asleep the moment you hang up the phone, only waking up when you feel the bed shift after someone sits down on the side of the bed.

"It's eight already?" You rub sleep out of your eyes as you reach for your bedroom lamp, but gentle fingers around your wrist guide your hand back to your side. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long enough," Jack huffs lightly as you scoot over, making room for him on your queen-sized bed as he carefully removes his prosthetic leg with a soft groan from his lips, "I can sleep on the couch–"

"–get your ass in bed," You grumble before you throw your covers open, "doctor's orders, or whatever the hell you people say."

"Alright, alright, if you're going to twist my arm about it," He pulls his shirt off before he climbs into bed next to you, "don't you–"

"–just called off." You throw your phone off of your bed, and it hits the wall with an unflattering thud that makes Jack chuckle. "My stomach just started hurting, all of a sudden."

"So we both have the day off?"

"Uh-huh," You nod, allowing your sleepy head to rest on his bare chest instead of a pillow, but you'd argue that the former was more comfortable anyway, "I'm supposed to gradually get back into normal activity with my leg, but Nat decided that she wanted to go shopping yesterday and… let's just say I won't be running any 5-K marathons anytime soon."

"Almost didn't recognize you without the cast." Jack's chest rumbles with gentle laughter, his lips brushing against the crown of your head as you cuddle closer to him.

"Whatever," You mumble, "You doing alright?"

"Better. It was a… rough night."

"I'm here for you," You place a hand over his heart before you meet his eyes, even in the darkness, "whenever you need me."

Lips pressed against flushed, tender flesh and fleeting caresses hidden under nighttime skies and dark, poorly-lit rooms. Small secrets and little jokes that would make you both crack a smile in the middle of the tensest situations. It's gentle, it's easy, and it's yours.

Even if everyone seems eager to have a piece of something that's still blooming and coming into fruition.

"You drink beer?" Jack seems pleasantly surprised about this new development as you crack open the lid.

"I used to be really into mixed drinks, but those got expensive and I became less of a wine snob when I couldn't afford the good stuff," You stare at the can in your hand fondly, "I remember when my dad snuck my brother and I beers when we were teenagers. They tasted fucking awful back then, but it was the gesture that really got to me, y'know?"

Your lips curl off to one side as you feel Jack stare at you — not in the doctor-analyzing-his-patient way, but in a way that gives you space to put your thoughts together and express them in an appropriate and healthy manner.

"Fuck, it's been years since we last spoke. I don't even know if they'd want to hear about my life anymore since I'm not going to be a doctor or a world-renowned violinist. I…" You trail off. "I mean, sure, it's not been the easiest path forward, but it's my life. I'm proud of what I came from, what I've overcome, and what I have to look forward to in the future."

"Amen to that," Jack gently taps his can to yours, "cheers."

"Cheers," You take a quick swig before you look around his space, "nice place. Did you clean up your bachelor pad just for me?"

"It's always clean," He argues, "I never know who's gonna drop by."

"So you're expecting someone else to come by?" You tease, hiding a flush behind the beer can that's clenched in your grasp as Jack steps closer to you.

"No. Just you."

Damn Jack Abbot and his ability to fluster you with the softest and simplest of words.

"Ah… I'm special to you, then?" You recover quickly, tossing another quip his way as you take a sip of alcohol for bravery rather than comfort or enjoyment.

"Yeah. I thought about redecorating the place for you." He says.

"Really?" You bite your bottom lip — a nervous habit that carried from adolescence into adulthood. "Didn't take you as a 'mood lighting' or 'accent piece' kinda guy."

"No," Jack's lips quirk upwards, curling up into a small smirk that makes your heart pound, "I couldn't afford that much bubble wrap–"

"–I'm not that clumsy, I swear!" You softly whine. "It was a one-time thing. I'm being careful around animals and heights. I've learned my lesson, Jack. The cast was enough of a punishment."

"How's your leg?" He asks — he always does when you broach the subject of your injury, the doctor in him can't help it — as his close proximity to you allows him to reach out to touch your leg, but he doesn't do much more than ghost his fingers over your left thigh. You wish he'd do more, though.

"Getting stronger every day. I can walk for long periods of time without stiffness or pain, so that's progress," Your eyes stay fixated on his fingers and how they twitch, yearning to touch your skin before they sink into the safety of his pockets, "thanks for the recommendation. I really like my physical therapist. She's nice and her place of business takes my insurance, which is like hitting the lottery."

"I knew you'd like her." Jack softly whispers as you shift closer to him, letting your chest brush against his as your mind hones in on the thought of kissing him over and over again. The bass drum clattering around in your heart agrees, your breath catching when his fingers curl around your forearm.

No one would believe you if you said you hadn't kissed Jack Abbot on the lips. Nat certainly didn't — "What do you mean you've slept in the same bed and you haven't kissed him yet?!? Aren't you skipping a few steps?" — but the opinion of your nosy best friend and her equally-nosy situationship, Kayla, mattered little to you. You were happy to go slow for once, moving past the rush of a first whirlwind romance and one-off hook-ups into something that felt more grounded and realistic.

You don't remember who made the first move, or if you both naturally leaned in towards each other, but your mouth meets his, and it's perfect. Not in the sparks-flying or bubbling-cauldron-of-overflowing-feelings way that made you rush into things that you didn't feel ready for, leaving you with the taste of lingering regret on your lips as your partner for the night turned away from you.

No, this is different. A good sort of different. A comfort that feels like curling up with a good book, a warm cup of tea, and a heated blanket on a chilly Midwestern day as you watch the snow fall past an open window. Jack's that comfort and safety for you to fall back on when all else is lost.

"Jack," His name is hot off your lips, breath still tickling his mouth as your eyes met his, "are you…?"

"Yeah," There's a brief pause as his gaze is fixated on your lips, "you?"

"Perfect." You murmur before you surrender to the all-encompassing gravitational pull that is Dr. Jack Abbot.

Your hands freely explore his broad shoulders, digits gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as his hands, delicately placed upon your hips, carefully back you into the counter before he pins you there. You kiss him like the world — your world, the perfect utopia where this never ends — depends on it, and Jack chases your lips with equal fervor that makes you feel wanted and cherished.

God, it's sweet and it's soft and it's gentle and it's—

RINGGGGGGG!

—over because someone's phone went off, causing you to sheepishly back away from him. Jack's phone is within reach, so you swipe it off of the counter once you realize that his phone was the cause of the disruption. You answer it for him, placing a hand on his chest in reassurance when he tries to reach for the phone.

"Hello?" You can't help but let a little annoyance slip into your voice. "Who is this?"

"Who is this?" The male on the other end of the line parrots your question with innate curiosity. "Who are you? "

"I asked you first." Defiance runs through your veins, causing Jack to chuckle as he traces small lines up and down your forearm.

"Dr. Michael Robinavitch–"

"–so you're Dr. Robby!" Your eyes light up when you realize who you're talking to. "Jack talks about you all of the time, I–"

"–Robby," You pout when Jack snatches the phone from your hand, "You need something? …No, I'm not putting them back on the… Really?"

He relents, allowing you to handle his phone once more as you talk to the Dr. Robby.

"So you're the one Abbot's been fawning over."

"Maybe," You shrug, pausing for a beat, "Does he talk about me?"

"No," Robby hums lightly, "not directly. But he does talk about this one particular person a lot–"

"–I don't know who you're referring to." You shoot back.

"I can see why he likes you." Robby chuckles as you raise an eyebrow.

"I don't know if we're at the liking stage yet," You place a hand over your mouth as Jack pulls you into his arms, trying your best not to squeal over the phone, "but I'll pass the message along."

"Take care of Jack, okay?" There's a soft sternness to the doctor's voice that, temporarily, throws you off-guard.

"I will," You whisper back, "take care of yourself, Dr. Robby."

"Hey–" Jack goes to get another word in after you hand his phone back to him, but he's hung up on before he gets a chance to speak, "–Good talk."

"So you talk about me at work, huh?" Your hands settle on his stomach as he set his phone on the counter. "God, it's so hard, being so popular in the Pitt–"

You're cut off with a kiss to the lips that brings a small smile to your face.

"–sorry about that," He seems genuinely apologetic until you spot a smirk forming on his face when he leans in to kiss you again, "where were we?"

Nat thought you were fucking with her when you came home that day all smiles, babbling about your first kiss-turned-makeout-session with Dr. Abbot until she realizes that you weren't.

"Five months of dates, two months of occasional sleepovers, and that was the first time you kissed?"

"I didn't want to rush things!"

"You really put the tortoise in the tortoise and the hare–"

"–and you really are a hare, since you and Kayla have been fucking like rabbits since you got your burn dressings off–"

"–you listen to us?!?"

"The walls are thin! Do you think I wanna know the intimate details of your sex life, Nat? There are certain things that should be between you, her, and your doctor that I now know about!"

You won't lie — you have thought about Jack Abbot in that way — but you were been waiting until the moment was right. Until you felt ready.

Sleepy, soft kisses are shared between you and Jack as your favorite TV show plays in the background — you'll rewatch the episode when you're alone and less tempted by the object of your desires. Your fingers can't help but trace and retrace the muscles on his body. If they're there for your eyes to enjoy, you might as well have some fun committing them to memory, right?

You're trying to keep your laughter tempered and your sweet confessions as quiet as possible, as to not wake Natalie, who is peacefully sleeping in the room next to yours because she has a big interview in the morning. You weren't planning on becoming roommates again, but her warm presence in your life as you recovered from your injuries made you realize how lonely you were in your tiny apartment in the middle of Pittsburgh. She didn't even have to nag you about it — she asked, and you immediately accepted.

Jack was happy to hear that you had someone to lean on, even if he worried that the two of you might catch the apartment building on fire in the process.

"I'm an adult," You murmur in-between kisses, "I can handle myself."

"I know you can," His eyes soften, hands slowly sneaking up your waist and daring to dive under the hem of your tank top, "I still worry, though."

"When don't you?" You try to crack a small joke before you catch his wrists before they disappear under your shirt, "Jack–"

"–Sorry," Jack thinks he's misread the room, kissing your forehead as he tries to withdraw his hands from your chest, "We don't have to."

"I want to, though. I want this." Suddenly emboldened, you climb into his lap before your legs straddle his. "I want you."

You frown when he removes one of his hands from your body, only to be a little flustered when he adjusts the strap of your tank top so it isn't tangled into knots.

"You want this?"

An out, if you'd like it.

You don't want that though. You don't want anything but to explore feelings and sensations that you've only been able to explore with your hand in the darkest, quietest parts of the night.

"Yes," You whisper as your fingers play with his gray, curly tufts of hair, "is that so hard to believe?"

"I want you too."

It's a quieter, softer admission than you expect from the confident yet slightly cocky doctor that you've come to adore. You treasure it, though. The intimacy of it all, knowing that you're one of the few people he lets himself be vulnerable with, even if it's for the briefest of moments. You yearn to be his comfort and quiet in the middle of a chaotic, stressful life due to his occupation.

Hesitations are thrown out of the nearest window as you reach for him, and those whispered confessions of adoration evolve into whimpers and moans as bodies press against each other in the most delightful and lustful of ways.

Ten months. It's hard to believe that it's been ten months since your life was flipped upside-down, when you literally flipped upside-down after you fell out of a window, but time really does fly when you have something to look forward to the end of every week. Whether it's a small outing that leads you back to Jack's place or your bedroom, you find yourself eager for Friday to come sooner, yet you never want the day to end when it arrives.

Saturday might be my new least favorite day of the week, dethroning Monday as—

"–Loverboy's up this early?" Nat pulls your attention from your phone as you've been scrolling through your previous messages with Jack.

"No, I'm just… thinking." You turn your phone off before she has a chance to peer over your shoulder and snoop in your private messages. "You're not a morning person, Nat. It's a Saturday–"

"–new year, new me," Nat shrugs before she places her arms on the chair, leaning on it for support, "so… you wanna tell me what you and Doctor Sexy–"

"–please stop with the nicknames. You can call him Jack, that's his name–"

"–fine," She rolls her eyes as she collapses on the couch parallel to you, moving a few magazines off of the glass coffee table before she props her feet onto it, "you and Jack talked about last night? Did you even do much talking?"

"We talked… a bit," Your face flushes as your fingers ghost the side of your neck, remembering how he pressed kiss after kiss to the column of your throat, "why are you asking? What do you wanna know?"

"Are you two dating yet?"

Ah, yes. The question Nat's been pestering you with for months.

"Umm…" Chewing on your bottom lip, you fidget with your phone case as you try to drum up a satisfactory answer, "well, not exactly."

"Why not?" Nat's concerned, leaning forward as she develops more interest in the conversation.

"God, are you my mother?" You joke to break up some of the tension in the room. "Listen, I don't wanna rush things. Casual is fine. Casual is good. Why do I have to label what we have? Maybe I'm tired of rushing into things and watching them fall apart in front of my eyes."

"Jeez, I didn't mean it like that," She murmurs, "I'm worried that he might be stringing you along."

"Nat, I appreciate the concern, but I'm good. We're good," You clarify, "I'm still trying to figure everything out with my career and my family. A formal relationship isn't my top priority. I don't want to give myself to someone else unless I can give all of myself to them, y'know?"

"Your family?" Nat, unfortunately, picks up that detail. "Are you talking to your parents again?"

"I am," You fold your arms over your chest, "I may have offhandedly mentioned to my brother that I was seeing someone, and he said something to my parents. We've had some… conversations after he gave them my phone number. Some good, some not-so-good."

"They want to visit." She guesses.

"They want to meet the guy I like and then, based on how much of a catch he is, make a judgment on whether I'm worthy of being their child again or not," You huff as your trigger finger turns your phone on and off repeatedly, "This whole thing has made me contemplate other parts of my life. I like my job, but maybe I'm better off applying to another company since I have entry-level work experience in my field. Somewhere that has cheaper costs of living and better health insurance."

"You want to leave Pittsburgh?" Nat pouts as she looks at you. "Forget that. You're leaving me?!?"

"Sorry, I guess our relationship is through. Now you and Kayla can be exclusive," Your lips curl into the smirk, "speaking of… are the two of you dating?"

"That's not important–"

"–Oh my God, you're getting on my case when you don't even have your shit figured out!" You feel justified in pointing an accusing finger at her. "You are such a fucking hypocrite!"

"We have had discussions about being more," Nat tries to defend herself, "unfortunately, they haven't gone anywhere."

"Whatever." You make a show of rolling your eyes, which causes your roommate to scoff.

"I'm only saying something because Kayla was sneaking out of my room when Dr. Abbot was leaving yours, and the two of them got to talking and…"

You're briefly entertained by the idea of your roommate's older situationship encountering your older situationship at six in the morning before you dig for more details about this conversation.

"What'd they talk about?"

"Stuff."

"You're a bitch." You hiss before you place your hands on your knees, preparing to stand. "You want eggs for breakfast?"

"Sure. Can you scramble them?" Her voice drifts into the background as you walk into the kitchen area. "Oh, can you put some cheese on top, too?"

"You can't eat eggs without cheese? Are you a child?"

"I'll tell you what they talked about if you do!"

Now that's an offer you can't refuse.

So, in the most unflattering of pajama pants that depicts your favorite animated character in a variety of facial expression and a ratty, old t-shirt that should probably be thrown in the garbage heap rather than your laundry basket, you make your roommate her special breakfast before you quickly throw something together for yourself.

"Hey," You, as menacingly as possible, shake a wooden spoon in the direction of Natalie's Pomeranian, Mr. Fluffles, who's somehow gotten free from his cage, "you are not supposed to be in the kitchen! Get out!"

That damn dog attempts to nip at your ankles, but he's got shitty aim and he ends up ramming his face into a lower cupboard door instead, causing you to cackle to yourself.

"You get the clumsiness honestly."

"Mr. Fluffles! Are they being mean to you?" You hear the sympathy — for a dog that aggravates and picks fights with you first, thanks for asking — in Nat's voice as she speaks. "C'mere, boy! I'll give you a piece of bacon if you stay put!"

"Do not reward that dog for his bad behavior, Nat!" You groan as you plate her meal first, then yours as Mr. Fluffles scampers off towards his owner, "He pulled a Houdini act and got out of his cage. He's gonna hurt someone — probably me again, knowing my luck. Natalie, what if he bites a mailman or a delivery driver instead of me? What then?"

"He won't. He's a very good boy, aren't you?" Nat gives the dog head scratches that he does not deserve as you set her food on her lap, and you growl at Mr. Fluffles after he does the same to you. "What are you doing? He's a dog! He wouldn't bark at you if you were nice to him!"

"Nice to him?!? That dog's," You spit a certain amount of vile at the mention of Nat's beloved pet, "been nothing but mean to me! He made me lose my footing the night I fell out of that window, remember?"

"And he hasn't done anything like that since, right?" Nat runs her long fingernails through the dog's fur, causing him to yawn. Mr. Fluffles is a spoiled bastard, in your honest opinion. "I think you're worried for no reason."

"And I think you're too calm about a dog that shouldn't even be in this apartment." You make a face at the dog when he bares his teeth at you when you take a seat in the living room once more. "Kayla's got it bad for you, 'cause I saw her chew out this young couple that tried to bring a Rottweiler into their apartment."

"Don't even talk to me about partner privileges! You have a personal doctor on call," She wiggles her eyebrows, "for all of your health needs. Physical, mental, sexual–"

"–and there you go again, making it weird–"

"–you always make it weird first! You told me and Kayla to keep it down–"

"–because I don't wanna know what you're doing with that strap, Nat–"

"–Leave me and my pink strap out of this."

"It's pink?" You gag before you can bring your fork to your mouth. "And it's yours?!? …Fuck, this is like college all over again, except I don't have another roommate to confide in this time."

"You and Alex, you used to…?" She looks a little betrayed by this realization. "Hey, I wasn't that bad!"

"Four girls in one night was your record." You recall a bet that you actually made a decent chunk of money from. "Alex took the under on the bet, I took the over. Should've seen their face when I ate Chinese takeout for a week on their dime."

"You bet on how many girls–" Nat takes a deep breath in, then out, "–I'm gonna pretend like I didn't hear that. And you are not one to talk about that shit. Sure, you and that piece of shit that you dated back then had sex, but I don't remember you moaning their name with the same intensity that you scream 'Jack, Jack, Jack-!'"

Nat stops her fake moaning when you throw one of your slippers at her face. She manages to catch it in her free hand before she offers it to Mr. Fluffles, who tears it to shreds once his teeth get a hold of the fabric.

"Maybe I will move if I get a job offer." You grumble as you tear into a piece of toast that's decorated with butter and your favorite spread. "At least I won't have to deal with a poorly-trained dog and a best friend who likes to snoop in my business–"

"–Kayla and Jack were talking about you this morning."

What?

"Tell me everything," You sober up, going from silly to serious in mere milliseconds, "now. No more bullshit, Nat."

"She didn't tell me everything," Nat confesses, "but I know enough. That man's got it bad for you, babes. He doesn't want to rush you into anything, but he asked Kayla if you were seeing anyone else on the side. Not in like a weird, possessive way or anything. She said he sounded… curious."

"He thinks I have a roster," You chuckle to yourself because that feels like an impossibility — Two guys liking you at once? What is this, a shitty Hallmark rom-com? — before a damning thought enters your mind. "Oh my God, he thinks I have a roster! Nat, what if he thinks I'm fucking with him, or I'm doing this for money–"

"–calm down. I don't think he meant it like that." Nat sees the lines of worry that race across your forehead. "Maybe he wanted to invite someone else into bed with you–"

"–and there you go, making it a sex thing–"

"–you made this entire conversation a sex thing first!" She yells before you set your plate down in slight frustration.

"It's too early to deal with your bullshit," You whine as you stand, carefully wiping any crumbs off of your shirt and into the wastebasket that's conveniently placed next to your seat, "I need caffeine."

"If you're taking orders, I'll take a mocha."

"No, I wasn't," You smile at your friend, not noticing how Mr. Fluffles jumps down from the couch and approaches your very biteable ankles, "but I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once–"

You howl in pain when that fucking dog bites down hard on the flesh of your ankle. It's not the playfully nibbles that you've come to expect from the Pomeranian; instead, this feels like a declaration of war. One that you are sorely underprepared for.

"Nat, getting your fucking dog off of me!" You try to pull him off of you by the back of his collar, but Mr. Fluffles will not let your poor ankle go. "Put the phone down and help me!"

"And miss recording this?" She snorts as you hop around like an idiot, trying to get that dog to stop using your lower limb like a chew toy without severely hurting the animal, "No way!"

It's all fun and games for her until one wrong move from that dog sends you crashing into the glass coffee table that's right in front of her.

"Oh shit!"

~

You knew it was bad when the registration clerk told you to quickly fill out your paperwork so you could be seen by a triage nurse as soon as possible.

You knew it was really bad when the triage nurse took one look at you, hissed in sympathetic pain, and then brought you a wheelchair so he could take you to an empty room in the back of the emergency department alongside your worrywart of a best friend.

"How are you doing? Is anything hurting? Should I call someone?"

"Nat, I'm fine," You're probably calmer than you should be, considering that you have multiple glass shards sticking out of your face, arms, and feet, not to mention that you have a nasty bite on your right ankle — at least your poor left leg gets a break, this time — that makes it hard to think straight, "A little banged-up, but I'll be alright. Didn't plan on going as a porcupine to your Halloween party, but I think I can make this work–"

"–this is not fucking funny!" She hisses at you as the nurse helps you get settled into your cot. "You could've died!"

"You were not this concerned when I fell out of a window!" You scrunch your nose at her, ignoring the look of concern that the nurse points in your direction. "I promise we're not regulars, Mateo."

"That's what they all say." Mateo chuckles to himself, a light smile on his face as he disposes of his gloves before he exits the curtained-off space. "Hold tight. I think I know just who to call."

"So, like… is it a requirement to be hot to work in this hospital?" Nat says her thoughts aloud, causing you to smack her arm with the hand that doesn't have a piece of glass sticking out of it. "Hey, I'm just making an observation here! The entire night shift was hot, that nurse was hot, the doctor that's gonna fix you up will also be hot–"

"–I don't see why Mateo…" The doctor in black scrubs that pulls back that curtain is taken aback when he spots the various bits of glass that are poking out of your skin, alongside the nurse that stands beside him, "Oh."

"Yeah, yeah," You grumble, "I'm not gonna be on the cover of Vogue any time soon–"

"–you wanna see a video?"

"Natalie!" You reprimand your friend, glaring at her when the nurse and doctor exchange intrigued looks.

"Let's get your friend fixed up first," He shines a bright light in your eyes before he moves his finger back and forth, and you track the movements of said digit perfectly, "My name is Dr. Langdon. Can you tell me–"

"–Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, the year is twenty twenty-six, and I don't wanna tell you who the president is because he's a piece of shit," You recite your name and address for Dr. Langdon as well, "anything else, or am I free to go, officer?"

"Jesus," The nurse in the space with you grimaces as he holds Natalie's phone, presumably watching you face plant into the glass coffee table after Mr. Fluffles took a chunk out of your leg, "that dog did not show you any mercy, did he?"

"He never does," You lock eyes with Dr. Langdon, "don't get a Pomeranian. They're little hellions."

"If I get my kids another dog," He peeks over the male nurse's shoulder to glance at the world's most embarrassing video of you, "it won't be a Pomeranian. You have my word."

"Try a goldfish. They're low-maintenance." You suggest, and he hums in agreement as his eyes drift down to the bite mark on your leg.

"Your Pomeranian–"

"–Mr. Fluffles." Nat quickly corrects Dr. Langdon, who takes no issue with the stupid-ass name your roommate chose for her dog.

"Right, Mr. Fluffles." God, you can tell he's trying to not laugh at you. Fuck your life. "Is he caught up on his vaccinations?"

"I…" Natalie scratches the back of her head before steam blows out of your ears.

"Nat." You click your tongue in stark disapproval. "If you're gonna tell me that your dog isn't vaccinated against rabies, then you need to take a walk before I try to deck you."

"It slipped my mind–"

"–please go." It hurts to push Nat away, but you're pissed that you might be end up with some serious illness because of her forgetfulness. "Grab something from the cafeteria while I get stitched up, okay?"

"I'm sorry." Nat casts her eyes downwards, and you reach over with your good hand to offer her a comforting squeeze on her shoulder. "You sure you're gonna be alright down here, all by yourself?"

"I won't be by myself," You reassure her, "I've got Dr. Langdon and–"

"–Donnie," The nurse quickly introduces himself to you before he directs Nat to the cafeteria, "food's half-decent. Just… stay away from the tuna melts."

"Aye-aye," She salutes Donnie before she gives you two thumbs-up, "You got this!"

"Thanks, Nat." You murmur before she leaves your sight.

"You two are close." Dr. Langdon notes as he access the sole computer in the room, presumably bringing up your charts where he'll also get to see the little… accident you had ten months ago.

"Nat's my best friend. We met in college, actually. Roommates who could never kick the habit, I guess." You wrangle with a bit of guilt in your stomach, feeling terrible for pushing away someone that you'd consider to be like a sister to you. "She's helped me through a lot of stuff."

"Any friends or family we can call?" Donnie sanitizes his hands before he gloves up. "A partner, maybe–"

"–No." You cut him off — God, you don't even want to hear the lecture that is inevitably coming your way from Jack about this fiasco. "Just me and Nat. Closest family lives in Ohio, but… we don't get along."

"Was Natalie the only one taking care of you after you were laid up for surgery?" Dr. Langdon asks, causing you to panic ever-so-slightly.

Well, shit.

"Yeah, she was," You can't exactly dance around your relationship with Abbot, but you don't exactly want to reveal it to one of his co-workers, so you dabble in what you think is a fair middle ground, "but I had another friend help me out. He's a doctor who works nights–"

"–does he work here?"

"Nope." You lie through your teeth, and both men take you at face-value, thankfully. "He doesn't like to bring work home, so I don't ask, and he doesn't tell."

"Okay," Your doctor mumbles something to himself before he looks at you, "Any balance or mobility issues?"

"Besides a little dog who thinks my leg is his chew toy?" You snort with laughter, only wincing when you feel a piece of glass in your cheek move from the action. "Nah. My physical therapist cleared me after two months of bi-weekly sessions, and my brother checked my gait over Facetime to make sure I was healing well."

"Brother?" Donnie aims to distract with idle chatter as he reaches for your arm, carefully examining the multitude of glass shards that poke out of your skin.

"He's a senior resident at the University of Michigan Medical Center," You speak with a little bit of pride, "He worries about me and my younger sister, since he's older than us, but I don't think I can blame him after this. He always jokes that I was his first child, my younger sister was his second, and my niece is his third. I can't believe she's six months old already."

"They grow up fast. My daughter's nearly a year old." He grabs your injured hand next, inspecting the small glass shard that's embedded in your skin. "I'll use lidocaine to numb up the area before I stitch it up. Need anything for the pain?"

"My leg's killing me," You glance down at your ankle to see a much smaller flesh wound than you expect, "No morphine, if possible. I, uh… was a bit of a wreck last time, and I said some really stupid shit when I was drugged up."

"Morphine, huh?" Donnie then grins at you before he pats your shoulder. "Wait, are you the Casanova?"

Kill me now.

"Casanova?" Dr. Langdon slowly repeats, a handsome smile upon his face. "What's the story there?"

"When I came in for my compound fracture, I may have tried to pick up a few doctors and nurses while they were fixing me up," You shrug before another lie slips through your teeth, "struck out bad, but it doesn't hurt to try, right?"

"I don't know if you struck out," Donnie says, and you're deeply concerned about being exposed until he speaks next, "Lena seems to like you."

"She likes me because I tried to kiss her… which is not a thing that either of you have to worry about," You're stumbling over your words, trying to not look like an idiot while managing to do the opposite, "not that I wouldn't want to, because you both are very handsome, but I…"

You pinch the bridge of your nose, managing to stop your rambling.

"Maybe you should give me the morphine, so I sound like less of a fucking idiot." You reprimand yourself. "I'm usually charming and graceful, but I'm a little off my game today. Obviously."

"Don't knock yourself," Donnie tries to be supportive, "as long as you don't kick or bite me, we're good."

"Appreciate it," You murmur as the nurse slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. Langdon, "again, I am so sorry for running my mouth. I think I knocked the common sense out of my brain earlier."

"I've heard worse," Dr. Langdon briefly frowns before he takes a seat upon a nearby stool, hands reaching for but not yet touching your ankle, "May I?"

"Yes, please," You expect to feel pain as he lifts your ankle from the bedding, but his tender touch is anything but as he inspects your injury with his eyes, "So, do you have kids?"

"Two. A boy and a girl… and a goldendoodle that's heaps of trouble," He chuckles as he pokes at the wound, "are you thinking about having kids in the future?"

"Undecided. I mean, I wouldn't mind if someone I dated had kids, but I'm not sure about having some of my own," You sigh before immediately addressing your verbal blunder, "I swear, I don't mean for every sentence out of my mouth to sound like a pick-up line that's directed towards you–"

"–I don't mind."

I don't mind. As in, it's fine. As in… Dr. Langdon's okay with you being a complete and utter wreck as you try to navigate this conversation in the most painful way possible.

Your heart shouldn't skip a beat, but it does.

"Thanks." You run a hand through your hair as you try to shake off the flirtatious yet awkward vibe that's creeped into the room. "I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression of me. I'm not half-bad, especially when I'm not trying to do an impromptu cosplay of Sonic the Hedgehog."

"Is your family from Pennsylvania?" Dr. Langdon distracts you with idle chatter that does little to ease your mind as his fingers trace the shards of glass that creep up your arm.

"I don't have that Midwestern charm?" You joke before you give a serious answer. "We moved around a lot. My dad struggled to hold a steady job when we were young. We went where the money was."

"I bet your dad's proud to have three successful kids."

"He's certainly proud of two of them," You grumble, quickly switching the topic before he has the chance to question you about that response, "what about you? I bet you're the pride and joy of your family."

"We had some… rough patches, especially after the divorce," You swear you weren't looking at his left ring finger until this very moment, when you just happened to notice that there isn't a gold or silver band there, "but they try to be there for me. Even when I'm being an asshole."

Must be nice.

"It's important to have people like that in your life." You hum in agreement as he reaches for your cheek, pausing until you give him nonverbal consent with a nod of your head.

"Do you have someone like that?"

…Damn it.

"Family-wise?" You scrunch your nose before you slowly shake your head. "My brother's nice, and I speak to my sister on… occasion, but they don't know a lot about my day-to-day life. Nat's the only person I talk to about stuff like that."

"Good," Dr. Langdon hums, carefully turning your face while he, hopefully, does not notice the growing heat on your cheeks from the touch, "Well, my unprofessional advice is to go buy a lottery ticket."

"I got that lucky, huh?" You chuckle to yourself as you bite the inside of your cheek, scolding yourself for wanting to chase his fingers after they leave your face. "So, they're not too deep, and I didn't hit any major arteries?"

"Check and check," He stands, casually strolling over to the computer at the side of the space, "Does your brother practice emergency medicine?"

"A little out of left field, Dr. Langdon…" You can't help but smile when you catch his curious gaze with your eyes. "But, yes, he does. He was always quick on his feet, especially when he had me play nurse to my little sister's stuffed animals… I don't wanna talk about the ways I've had to stitch up some poor stuffed rabbit so my sister didn't freak out over it."

"Did he teach you about the differential–"

"–a systematic process to identify the cause of a patient's symptoms when multiple conditions cause the same symptoms," You repeat a textbook-like definition that your brother ingrained in your head as he studied for his degree, "I'm surprised I still know that. It's been years since he used me as a study guide."

"I'm impressed." Dr. Langdon comments, leaving you confused on his motives for this line of questioning.

"Why are you cold-calling me when I'm your patient, Dr. Langdon?" You flip the script by asking him something, instead. "I didn't go to med school. I don't know anything about being a doctor–"

"–course of treatment?"

"CBC and blood cultures for labs, Head CT to rule out any brain trauma, rabies and tetanus shots to be safe…" The answer spills out of you before you can pull it back, and you're quick to wag a finger at Dr. Langdon when he grins at you, "No, no, don't take me seriously. Everything I know about medicine is from my brother and Grey's Anatomy, I'm not that good–"

"–you might want to stitch yourself up before you start doing any of that, but we might make a doctor out of you someday…" He pauses for dramatic effect, "as long as we keep you out of doghouse."

"And you've got jokes." You sneer lightly. "Doctor by day, stage comedian by night. Is that how you paid your way through med school?"

"Maybe," Dr. Langdon pulls the curtain back as he keeps his eyes locked on you, "Can I count on you coming to one of my shows?"

"Maybe," You respond rather coyly before you notice two nurses curiously peering into your room, "Hi, umm… can I help you?"

"So you're Casanova…" One of the female nurses watches as you and Langdon avoid each other's gazes, "I heard you were involved in a bet with the night shift."

"Not on purpose," You begin to explain, "but I–"

"–how much for you to kiss Pretty Boy on 'accident'?"

If there was a word stronger than mortifying, that'd describe how you feel right now. You fear that Dr. Langdon may be feeling the same way, but he laughs to himself and wears a strong smile — damn your heart for rapidly beating against your ribcage — at her teasing.

"Alright, Perlah, Princess, show's over," Donnie quickly approaches and shuts the curtains as he holds a suture kit and a roll of bandages in his hands, "Sorry about them."

"Don't apologize unless you're going to put me out of my misery." You warn before you look towards your doctor for the last time. "It was nice to meet you, Dr. Langdon. And, again, I am so fucking sorry for everything–"

"–It was nice to meet you too." He lingers, for perhaps a little longer than what's considered friendly, before he ducks out of the room.

Donnie watches Dr. Langdon exit before he turns back to you.

"You two get along well–"

"–don't play matchmaker. I deal with enough of that shit from Natalie," You let Donnie place the back of your hand on the guardrail of the bed as you speak, "She likes to joke that I've never met a stranger, but I've met plenty of strange people over the years. Including her."

"Pinprick and a little burning," He injects a local anesthetic into the wound on your hand, "A minute or two, and you'll be numbed up."

"Can I watch?" Intrigued, you lean forward as Donnie prepares the suture. "The Padawan will not interrupt the Jedi Master, I swear."

"May the Force be with us."

You light up, like a kid on Christmas Day, when he catches your reference. Of course, most people do know Star Wars, but you lost faith in anyone else matching your nerdiness when Natalie fell asleep during the open credits of A New Hope. She claimed to be interested, as she only saw bits and pieces of the Star Wars movies when she was younger, but that was quickly proven to be false.

Maybe I should make her watch those movies with me while I'm recovering from this injury… and, if she's really up for a challenge, we can watch the Lord of the Rings movies next.

You exchange idle, nerdy conversation with Donnie as he patches you up, starting with your hand after he cleans and bandages the injury on your ankle. You haven't had anyone to discuss such things with since your college days, so it's nice to have someone to talk to about your favorite animated film of the year before you switch topics and debate with Marvel superhero would be the best first date.

Donnie claims that you picked Daredevil because Charlie Cox is hot. You argue that anyone donning the mask of Daredevil is automatically hot in your books… but Charlie Cox being easy on the eyes certainly doesn't hurt.

Sooner than you'd like, he clears you after doing some handiwork that not even your brother, the prodigal son of prodigal sons, could manage on your arms, face, and feet. Soon after, you're sent up to get a CT, where you meet a very familiar CT technologist who isn't too happy to see you back up in his domain. He's quick on his feet, talking you through a procedure he's does a hundred times a day, if not more, and you're sent back down to the emergency department in record time.

Afterwards, you're rolled towards your room, where Natalie anxiously waits for you. You feel a bit guilty for your earlier treatment of her, so an apology exits your mouth the moment you're alone with her.

"Nat, I'm–"

"–I think you looked better with the glass shards in your face," She throws a taunt that sounds like it's from your repertoire at you, "really fits the edgy vibe you're usually going for."

No apology for you, Nat. Not today.

"Fuck off," You roll your eyes before you rest your hand on top of hers, "How was the hospital food?"

"Curiosity killed the cat," She rubs her stomach as she grimaces, "Donnie was right. Do not get the tuna melt."

"Just desserts," You smile victoriously, "and, I've decided on your punishment."

"Punishment?" She echoes while pointing to herself. "My punishment? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"You're binge-watching–"

"–don't you say it–"

"–all of the Star Wars movies when I get out of the hospital."

"But they're so boring," Nat complains with a shrill tone, "you never pick a good movie! And don't get me started on your TV show picks — those are even worse!"

"Riverdale is peak television if you don't take it seriously!" You argue.

"That is not how you define good TV," Nat groans, pulling at the skin of her face with her free hand, "why'd I have to get stuck with the roommate who binge-watches Ninjago for fun once a year–"

"–God forbid I like an animated TV show, I guess–"

"—You have the weirdest taste in everything, I swear." She chews on her bottom lip before she brings up an old memory. "Remember when I set you up with that cute guy in our Chem class, and you fumbled because you brought him to the McKinley Presidential Library and Museum on a first date?"

"He said he liked history!" You squawk back before Nat easily picks through your defense.

"He said he liked history because he wanted to sleep with you, not go on a guided tour through some old dead guy's house."

"I thought it was fun." You mumble. "Besides, what was I supposed to do? Take him to Chili's?"

"Yes!"

"But dinner dates aren't my style. They're expensive and some guys are weird about paying for dinner. You do it, they get offended. They do it," You sigh, rolling your eyes as you remember a particularly bad date, "they expect you to… put out."

You and Nat make a similar noise of disgust at that one.

"Thank God I'm a lesbian." She chuckles to herself. "Hear me out, though — taking some guy to a historical museum is not a cute first date idea!"

"It can be!" You're gonna die on this hill, and so is Nat, because she ropes the first person to walk your way into the argument.

…And it's Dr. Langdon. Great.

"Dr. Langdon!" Your friend is far too cheerful as she waves him over. "We need you to settle a debate—"

"—there's no debate, really," You're immediately apologetic towards Dr. Langdon, "since I'm right—"

"—bullshit." Nat rolls her eyes. "Anyways, do you think that a museum is a good first date idea?"

"It depends on who you're asking out." Dr. Langdon shrugs as a smirk settles on Nat's face.

"That's such a boring answer. Fine. If someone," Subtle is not your best friend's strong suit as she looks right at you, "were to ask you on a date, and they told you that they're gonna take you to a museum, would you accept?"

"Yeah," You feel relief at his answer before he glances at you, "I would, but I grew up going to the Fort Pitt Museum with my parents every summer. I'm more of a history nut than your average doctor."

You and Natalie have completely different responses to his statement.

"That's so cool!"

"Oh my God, you two are so uncool!"

"Maybe you're the uncool one, Nat," You meet Dr. Langdon's eyes, despite the heavy flush on your face, "you're outnumbered, two-to-one."

"That's so not fair," She whines when the doctor nods his head in silent agreement with you, "Not you too!"

"Three-to-one," Donnie fist bumps Dr. Langdon after he hands the latter a tablet, "you've been overruled."

"Suck it." You whisper under your breath before Nat lightly punches your shoulder.

"Bitch–"

"–Jackass–"

"–your head CT looks good." Dr. Langdon interrupts, spinning the tablet around so you can look at the imaging of the brain.

"That's sick," Nat leans in to get a closer look, "there's less empty space than I expected–"

"–you are such a–" You cut yourself off, sneering in disapproval instead of cussing, "–Am I cleared for takeoff?"

"Almost, Space Ranger. Donnie's going to get you caught up on your vaccines first." Dr. Langdon teasingly says. "You got big plans?"

"Do you?" You've managed to gain back some semblance of your usual persona, throwing him and the nurse off-guard as they exchange looks.

Donnie smiles in amusement as Dr. Langdon chuckles and shakes his head, brown hair sweeping across his blue eyes.

"Keep an eye on the bite on your ankle. If there's any signs of infection, come back and see me."

You can't help but pick apart his phrasing. Come back and see him. Not 'come back to the hospital, where any doctor can treat you'. Just him.

"I will, Dr. Langdon. I promise." You whisper, completely forgetting about the other two people in the room.

"Langdon's fine." Dr. Langdon — no, just Langdon — corrects you before he walks away, leaving you in a little bit of shock and awe.

You don't need to look over at Nat in order to picture the shit-eating grin on her face.

"We're dropping the honorifics now, are we?"

"Shut up, Natalie!"

~

After all of that embarrassment, you thought that you were in for a relaxing, calm afternoon where you could lick your physical and emotional wounds — the latter being much worse than the former because you really fumbled the ball in that hospital room — in privacy.

Unfortunately, you didn't think much of Nat sending a quick text to someone before she took off towards your shared apartment, until you arrived home to see none other than Jack Abbot waiting for you.

"You little snitch!"

"Jack asked me to contact him if you needed him but refused to call," Nat smiles to herself. "He knows you a little too well."

"It wasn't an emergency–" You try to justify your actions, but you lose steam when Jack's eyebrows furrow as he folds his arms over his chest. "–you're right. I should've called. The whole thing was so embarrassing, since Nat's dog caused me to trip–"

"–I heard," He whispers, a gentle pause ruminating through the air until he grins at you, "I guess you can cross dog whisperer off of your resume."

"Jesus Christ, Jack, I thought you were mad at me," You exhale in relief, applying the smallest amount of pressure possible to the ankle with the puncture wounds in it as you walk over to him, "thank you for coming over."

"Of course," One of his hands go to your waist to support you as he uses the fingers on his other hand to trace the stitches and scars that litter your arm and hand, only stopping once he gets to your cheek, "Looks good."

"The stitches or me?" You joke before you sigh. "I really hope you're talking about the stitches, 'cause I feel like shit."

"You look like a million bucks!" Nat tries to be encouraging, but you quickly shoot her down.

"I look like a one-dollar bill that's been through the washer one too many times," You chuckle at your own joke before you peel Jack's hand off of your face, meeting his strong, worried gaze with your own, "I'm fine, Jack. Really. The day shift took good care of me."

"Robby?"

"Nope!" Nat cheerfully answers as Jack leads you to the couch, carefully avoiding the shattered glass so there's not a repeat emergency room trip within twenty-fours, "Langdon. Well, he's Dr. Langdon to me, but–"

She shuts up with a pointed glare from you, quietly claiming a corner seat as you and Jack take up the couch. You, as to not disturb his prosthetic, carefully place your leg on his lap before he rolls up the cuff of your pants to get a better look at your ankle.

"Cleaned and bandaged," Your face flushes as his fingers brush against the wrapping, "plus I'm up-to-date on my shots in case Mr. Fluffles was carrying any diseases in-between those grubby little teeth of his–"

"–my dog is not diseased, he's just–" Nat frantically looks around for said hellish creature before she runs out of the room, "Mr. Fluffles! Where are you, buddy?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"It's been a long fucking day already, and it's only…" You check your phone, blinking in rapid disbelief at the time displayed on the home screen, "two in the afternoon."

Jack doesn't answer, his eyes still fixated on that injury of yours — he can't possibly be blaming himself for this, right?

Oh God, what if he is? You certainly don't blame anyone but yourself for your brief trip to Glass-Shards-In-Your-Skin City — well, maybe you do blame Nat for owning that damn dog and not making sure he's up-to-date on his shots — but Jack would be the last person you'd pin this on. He wasn't even here when the shitstorm went down, why would he—

Your eyes go back down to your phone, where you see the unread message from Jack at the top of your notifications. The one you may or may not have been ignoring for ages.

Why don't you come and stay with me for a few days?

A yes or no question. That's really what it was, but it sent your mind spiraling. If you did accept, would he ask you to move in after those few days were up? What were a few days, anyways?

Or, more horrifyingly, you're worried about losing what you have. The easy, simple relationship that exists without names. If you took one of those formal relationship steps, you'd have to name what you and Jack are, and that scares you.

It's not like you're scared of commitment; rather, you're scared of someone not committing to you. What if they don't like you when they truly get to know you? Your parents didn't (and still don't, based on the sparse conversations you've had with them) like the parts of you that weren't pristine, perfect, and well-planned. Ex-lover after ex-lover left because you weren't what they thought you were — what if Jack did the same?

You're thinking too hard about this. A few days isn't forever. You're still young, still deciding what you want to do with the rest of your life. Hell, you don't even know if you want to stay in Pittsburgh if you get a really good job offer from one of the companies that you've been applying to.

But then, Jack's eyes snap up to yours, and any thoughts of leaving this city exit your mind. Perhaps you could find something better in this city, and you could stay and explore deeper feelings with someone that you've formed a genuine, real connection with.

Yeah, that does sound nice.

"I'm sorry that I haven't responded to you," You murmur as guilt squeezes your guarded heart, "I've been… thinking about what you asked me."

"And?"

An open-ended question from Jack, delivered softly and without a trace of guilt-tripping. He wants you to live with him, but only if you want that too.

"A few days away from that troublemaker couldn't hurt," You play coy, but your true feelings spill from your lips right afterwards, "My answer is yes. I'd really like to stay with you, Jack, if the offer's still open."

The skin around his eyes crinkles as he flashes you a familiar, handsome smile that still makes your heart race, all of these months later.

"I think I can manage to squeeze you into my timetable."

It was different — a nice sort of different, compared to the day-to-day chaos and shenanigans that came with being roommates with your best friend — to stay with Jack for a few days. You didn't have to worry about a damn dog chewing up your favorite pair of shoes, or Natalie waking you up at the crack of dawn because she thought that her favorite blouse got mixed up with your laundry, somehow.

(It didn't, and she bought you a large, fancy latte from your favorite coffee shop as an apology.)

Quiet. Serene. Comfortable. That's what this was. Waking up when your alarm goes off, and not a second before, to the scent of something delicious wafting into Jack's bedroom from the kitchen was heavenly. Especially when you were presented with the sight of none other than Dr. Jack Abbot in a plain-colored t-shirt that you swore was one size too small.

If you didn't wake up starving, you would've had him for breakfast, instead.

Although you're tempted to ignore your own hunger for a more insatiable beast stirring inside of you, you chose to temporarily settle those thoughts by wrapping your arms around his stomach. You placed your mouth against Jack's shoulder for a quick kiss to the area, and your lips curled into a smile when his thumb strokes a patch of skin on your forearm.

"Good morning," You gazed at Jack after he turned his head to look at what you were doing, "or good afternoon, good evening, good night…"

You buried your head in his shoulder to stifle a tiny yawn before you felt him peck the top of your head.

"Good morning," Jack gently smiled as he took in your messy hair and crumpled pajamas, "you slept well."

"How do you know?" You pulled your head away from his body as you wiped the sleep from your eyes.

"You look like you lost a fight with my bedsheets."

"Aren't you charming this morning?" You hummed lightly, fixing your hair and clothes so you look halfway presentable before you peeled yourself off of Jack. "I bet I'd look great as a runaway model, even in my pajamas. How was your shift?"

"Same as usual," Jack sighed, "Although, there weren't any vigilantes who tried to save the city of Pittsburgh from cat burglars or tiny dogs."

"You're lucky," You wore a sheepish grin as he turned to face you, "I hear those patients are lots of trouble."

"Trust me," His hand went to your cheek, "I know. I have professional and personal experience with one."

"Hopefully you don't bring them all home with you…" You murmured before you pressed your lips to his, savoring a sweet morning kiss before you started your day, "You didn't have to make breakfast, Jack, I could've–"

"–I wanted to." It was hard not to bend to his will when he was this close to you. "You're leaving tomorrow."

"I'm thinking about leaving tomorrow," You corrected him, "Nat's still working on the adoption paperwork for Mr. Fluffles. He's supposed to be picked up by his new family tomorrow, but… I think she's gonna have some trouble letting him go."

"She's having second thoughts?"

"No, that dog was just… special to her," You explained, "Nat grew up in a large family, and while we were college roommates, we always shared an apartment with at least one other person. She's always been more comfortable in a group setting than by herself. …Nat really struggled to live by herself until she saw an advertisement on a street lamp for one pesky Pomeranian that was more trouble than he was worth."

You pinched the bridge of your nose with two fingers as your other hand settled on your hip.

"It wasn't my idea to get rid of him. I would've been happy if she bought him a new cage to sleep in since he, somehow, got out of the other one."

Jack chuckled.

"Sounds like Houdini was reborn as a dog."

"That's what I said!" You were quite pleased that he agreed with you, until you remembered that this would be the last time you'd get this small, sweet, stolen moments with Jack. After this, you'd be back to impromptu sleepovers after sex and weekly dates that didn't satisfy your soul.

What if I didn’t leave permanently? I could make a split living situation work.

"Jack," You spoke his name with tenderness, waiting for his gaze to meet yours, "I'd like to stay with you on the weekends, if that's okay with you. I know you have to work those nights on occasion, but it'd be nice to see each other for a few hours a week, at least."

Because I love you were the unsaid words at the end of that sentence.

"I'd like that," He paused, "You don't mind–?"

"–The nonexistent mess and clutter? The fact that I get to spend what little free time I have with you?" You shook your head, a teasing smile splayed on your lips, "You know I like being around you, right?"

"You do?" He was playing around with you, but you swore you saw genuine surprise on his face when you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Yup. That's my big secret. I have a massive crush on the attending who works the night shift at the Pitt. Don't tell him, though."

"Shen won't hear a word from me–"

"–Jack!"

You've quickly discovered that you do like this arrangement. You get to spend your weeknights binge-watching TV and joking around with your best friend, and then you get metaphorically swept off of your feet at the week's end by Jack. Maybe it's not always the most romantic scene, especially when he picks up an extra shift or two despite his already-terrible sleep schedule, but you like waking up next to Jack when you’ve had a rough week. His presence alone, even with the absence of his voice, is enough to draw you back to the safety and security of sleep.

This is great. Everything's great.

…Except that Natalie and Kayla — because just one of them isn't enough, apparently — keep bringing up Langdon.

Dr. Langdon. You've really gotta get that through your head. Sure, he asked you to call him by his last name only, but that was probably meant as a friendly gesture, right?

You're starting to get deja-vu to ten months ago, but you refuse to acknowledge that feeling. If you ignore it, it'll go away… hopefully.

Besides, there was no extended emergency room stay for you to get to know Langdon — Dr. Langdon — in. A once-and-done trip to the emergency room, where your tongue tied itself in knots and refused to cooperate with you.

He's one of those people you meet once and never again, there's no need to—

"Okay, I know this can only be answered on the theoretical level for one of them," Nat swirls the wine around in her glass as you reach for the bottle to refill yours, "but who's the better kisser?"

You unscrew the lid of the half-empty bottle, and, to the surprise of your roommate and her landlord-turned-lover, you take a swig straight from the bottom.

"Gross–"

"–Damn, Nat, that was gonna be my answer to your question." You roll your eyes. "Why do you two care? Neither of you like men!"

"You're awfully defensive over what should be an easy answer." Nat points out, and you pray that the flush on your face is due to the alcohol you're consuming. "It should be Jack."

"Or, they're thinking about Dr. Pretty Boy." Kayla places her face in her hand as she glances up at you. "His hands wandering all over their body as they–"

"–Stop!" You half-shriek, half-whine before you take a long drink from the wine bottle. "Don't you two have to be up early?"

"I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed at nine, and I'm not supposed to eat anything past midnight. I'll be fine." Nat reassures you. "You're deflecting. You've been thinking about Dr. Langdon, haven't you?"

"…No?"

Could I possibly sound any less convincing?

"And I'm the Queen of England–"

"–you two fucking suck." Your elbows hit the kitchen counter top as you wave the metaphorical white flag. "Okay, fine, you win. I've been thinking about Langdon because you two keep bringing him up."

"You don't stop us when we do." Kayla smirks when you try to stutter out a defense.

"I… That's not… No, wait a minute!" Your lips twist off to the side as you attempt to gain control over your fleeting thoughts. "There is no thing here. You and Nat are making something out of nothing. I met him once, and as long as Natalie doesn't plan on throwing herself down any stairs during the daylight hours, we're fine!"

…Karma is a silly, silly thing.

You go to bed, in two minds about two men, cursing your best friend and her girlfriend-but-not-yet-girlfriend for bringing up Dr. Langdon once more. Sure, he's handsome and charming and dorky (but not dorkier than you) and exactly the type of guy you'd go up to at a bar if you were too drunk to think about the high possibility that he'd reject you to your face and—

I need to chill the fuck out. Immediately.

Tossing and turning doesn't stop you from getting a few hours of sleep, and you pull yourself from your bed to wish Nat good luck before she goes off for her wisdom teeth removal. She made you promise not to record her if she said something stupid, but would you really be her best friend if you didn't memorialize such an occasion?

If Nat truly said or did something that bad, and not just a slip of the tongue, you'd delete it… or, you'd keep it hidden in your phone's storage as future blackmail. She kept that video of you smashing your face into her glass coffee table so she could show it to everyone, including Jack, who then shared that video with the entire night shift.

You appreciated the little glass bear figurine from Ellis a little less than the bundle of roses that she gave you the first time, considering that the gift came with a note that said: 'Make sure to keep this away from dogs and floors, Casanova.'

You'd have thought it was funny if you didn't get a glass coffee mug from Dr. Shen, a glass rose from Lena, and a miniature glass Christmas ornament in the shape of a glass table — where the fuck would you find that, anyway? — from Dr. Walsh.

Oh, they're all hilarious. I bet they coordinated this.

Because of all that, your roommate can deal with a five-second video of her drooling in exchange for the humiliation that your recent trip to the ER caused you.

God, Langdon probably thinks I'm an idiot—

Nope. No, no, no, you have to stop thinking about that attractive doctor who may, or may not, have been flirting with you.

…Jury's still out on that one.

You hear a small knock on the front door, and you yell that the door's unlocked before someone storms into the apartment all of a sudden.

"Wheeeeeeeee!" Nat excitedly flaps her arms as if they're wings before she attempts to speak with a mouth full of gauze. "I'm trying to fly!"

"Keep going, bud," You grab your phone as you stand in the doorway that leads from your room to the mutual living space in the apartment, "you're gonna be TikTok famous–"

"–do not encourage her." Kayla groans as she holds a pamphlet of care instructions in her hands. "She already tried to jump out of my car, and I had to physically restrain her before she threw herself down the stairs. Were you this bad when you got your wisdom teeth removed?"

"Umm," You chew on your bottom lip, trying your best not to explode with laughter as your friend collapses on the couch face-first, "No, but I don't really remember anything. Everyone said I was really tired, and that I slept through most of the day until the anesthetic wore off."

"Great." Kayla taps her black stiletto heel against the ground twice before her gaze snaps over to you. "Listen, I know I said I would take care of her–"

"–Kayla, don't you dare–"

"–Something came up." She's rather curt as she pulls her coat tighter around her shoulders. "A tenant dispute. I'd much rather be here, but I have to settle this. I'll be back in a few hours. Make sure she's still breathing by then."

"Breathing? That's a low bar," You pause, realizing that Natalie's not laying on the couch, "Nat?"

You quickly spin around before you spy your best friend trying to open a window. The window that you took an unfortunate nosedive out off months ago.

"Natalie!" You take off at a speed unknown to man, wrapping your arms around her waist before you wrangle her back towards the couch. "You don't wanna do that. Trust me. Not a pleasant experience."

"But I could fly!" She whines as you throw a few blankets on top of her, if only to prevent her from trying to take flight again.

"Why don't you go to sleep and see if you can fly in your dreams, huh?" You pat Nat's shoulders reassuringly until she falls asleep the moment her head hits the pillow. "Jesus Christ. Is this what I'm in for all day?"

"Yup," Kayla offers you a sympathetic salute before she closes the front door of the apartment, "See you later."

"Wait, you didn't give me that–" You sigh deeply when the door shuts before you can get your full sentence out. "–pamphlet."

You run a nervous hand through your hair, unsure of what to do until Nat moans in pain.

"Right, right, uh…" You cycle through sparse memories of getting your wisdom teeth removed nearly ten years ago. Ice packs and medication for pain and swelling, and soft, cool, liquid foods for twenty-four to four-eighty hours. Okay, this will be easy. You've got this! "Gimme a second. I'll be right back."

You rush into the kitchen, grabbing a spare ice pack that you wrap in a dish towel before you offer it to your roommate.

"Better?" You softly ask, and she slowly nods, seemingly drifting back off to sleep with less pain.

I should probably check if we have any Jello or pudding for her to eat. If not, I'll have to have someone deliver some to the apartment because I don't trust her to be on her own right now.

And to think that you took today off because you had a little vacation time to burn up.

A 'vacation day', my ass.

Thankfully, you do have a small box of instant vanilla pudding that will hopefully get you through the next few hours, and then you can force Kayla to go get some more as a punishment for dumping Nat onto you suddenly.

Your mind wanders as you grab the necessary ingredients and tools — cold milk, a medium-sized mixing bowl, a spatula to stir with — and you can't help but be disappointed that you're stuck babysitting your friend all day.

I was going to try and sneak over to Jack's place as a nice surprise, but apparently life has other plans for me. Maybe I can hand Natalie over if Kayla's tenant dispute doesn't last too long?

Fuck, who am I kidding? I'm gonna be here all day.

Once the mixture turns a solid white color, you set the bowl into an empty spot into your shared fridge and— Shit, someone really should throw out those old leftovers.

Well, since you have nothing better to do, you accidentally spend thirty minutes reorganizing the fridge exactly as you would like it while you throw out any expired or moldy foods.

Thirty minutes would be nothing on a day that your best friend isn't heavily medicated from oral surgery. Perhaps she would've joined you after she mocked you for being so specific about where everything went.

You only think to check on her when you place one of her Tupperware contains, marked with a N and a heart drawn in black Sharpie on the lid, on the bottom shelf of the fridge.

Shit, Nat!

"Nat?" You shut the fridge door before you peer over the couch once you enter the living room and — surprise, surprise — she's not there.

And, more concerningly, your front door is open.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

"Natalie!" You sprint out of that door, running up and down the hall before you throw open the door to the staircase that leads down to the first floor, or up to the third or four floors. Your mouth hangs open, limbs tightening as you spot her at the bottom of the flight of stairs, curled up in the fetal position. "Natalie!"

"I'm good!" She holds a thumb up in the air as you do your best to not join her by not falling down the stairs and landing on your ass beside her. "My, uh… depth perception is a little off."

"You promise you didn't try to fly down the stairs?" You ask, and you place a hand on her chest when she tries to get up. "You shouldn't move. Fuck, Natalie, I have to call an ambulance–"

"–where's Kayla?" Nat seems genuinely hurt that Kayla isn't the one by her side at this moment.

"She had to take care of something, but I've got you, Nat." Your hands shake as tears poke at your eyes. "God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to take that much time up, but I saw something that needed to get done, and you know how laser-focused I get on shit like that–"

"–it's not your fault," She murmurs as she adjusts the gauze in her mouth, "Hey, does this mean that we could see Dr. Langdon in the emergency department since it's early?"

"Of all the things to think of," You grumble, "Maybe. I don't know, it might be his day off. Who knows. Let's get you to the hospital first, okay?"

"Okay," She nods in agreement before she flashes you a wicked grin, "I was so fucking with you and Kayla when I pretended to be a bird. 'Can't believe you guys bought that shit."

"Awww, I thought it was real," You pout before a hand lingers on the pants pocket that holds your phone, "I even got a video of it."

Nat slaps your leg with her right arm before she winces in pain.

"You are a fucking asshole!"

~

"What am I gonna do with you, huh?" You joke as you switch out the gauze in Natalie's mouth. "You better hope that you didn't break anything."

"You didn't have to call an ambulance," She whines as sirens wail from a few blocks away, "I don't feel any pain–"

"–that's call adrenaline. You landed on your side, right?" You wait for Nat to nod before she continues. "You could've hurt your wrist, your shoulder, your leg–"

"–you worry too much." Nat places a hand on the back of her head, twisting her face into an expression of discomfort and pain. "I think I might've hit my head. The lights hurt my eyes."

"Then shut 'em." You quietly say. "You can't fall asleep, though. You have to stay awake, even if you feel really, really tired–"

"–I want you to come with me," Nat suddenly grabs your hand, gripping it tightly, "I don't wanna be alone. I'm scared."

"That's the anesthesia talking. You are fucking fearless," You do your best to distract your friend with some light-hearted chatter, "Nat, you came up to me first. I'm not from Pittsburgh, and I didn't know anyone in our freshman class. It would've taken me months to build the confidence to ask someone to go for coffee, and you invited me out five minutes after we met."

"I take pity on the ugly little ducklings of the world." She jokes. "To be honest, I thought you were kinda uncool since you had a bunch of nerdy pins on your backpack–"

"–hey, they're cool to me!" You argue back. "I can't go with you, Nat, but I'll be right behind the ambulance the whole time. Just like I was when you got those bad burns on your body."

"Can you bring Kayla with you?"

"I'll… try, but no promises." You step away from Nat when you hear a pair of paramedics charging up the stairs. "I'll go grab my keys. You're gonna be fine."

"Thank you," She murmurs before she calls out to you once you're at the top of the stairs, "I love you!"

"Love you too," You holler back before you mutter additional commentary under your breath, "but you are a pain in my ass sometimes."

By the time you change into presentable clothes, grab something quick for a late breakfast, and then grab your car keys from the foyer, the paramedics have cleared Nat out of the stairway. You watch your step as you descend down the stairs because the last thing you need at the moment is to be in the hospital at the same time as your roommate.

You start your car, sending a quick text to Kayla to alert her of the situation before you pull out of the parking lot.

It's kinda shameful that you know the fastest way to the hospital, down to which stoplights go from red to green the fastest, but this niche knowledge comes in hand for the two clumsiest people in the world.

I used to refuse that title, but it's true. I am a klutz at heart.

You're trying to think positive thoughts about Natalie, but your radio refuses to join in as the local DJ plays Highway to Hell, Don't Fear the Reaper, and Another One Bites the Dust back-to-back-to-back.

You switch radio stations when the first few notes of Knockin' on Heaven's Door plays.

I'm almost there, Nat. Hold on!

Your parking job in the hospital parking lot would most definitely cause you to fail your driver's license exam, but you can't be bothered to give a shit as you're (barely) in-between both lines and you have more important things to attend to at the moment.

It takes you an excruciating long time — twenty minutes, if the clock in the hospital waiting room is correct — to talk to someone about where Nat's located. You feel like you're speaking inconsequential, inaudible words to the hospital clerk in the emergency department, but she manages to gather your friend's name through your panicked, shaky voice.

"Central Fifteen, waiting for a head CT if you wanna go back and see her." The front clerk's calm voice helps you calm down, even as you're nervously wringing your hands.

"I would, thank you." You nod rapidly before she presses a small button on her desk, opening up the double doors that lead into the emergency department.

It is packed in here during the day, with beds taking up the hallways alongside the busy nurses and doctors that are treating patients or charting when they're not treating patients. With all of the buzz, you're able to slip through relatively unnoticed until a nurse by the name of Vivi stops you and asks if you need some assistance.

"I'm looking for Central Fifteen?" You ask, and you're immediately grateful when she points at a door a few feet ahead of you. "Thank you, I really–"

"–do I know you?"

"Huh?" Your head snaps to the left, and you meet the eyes of a man that you've only seen pictures of in Jack's phone. The one, the only, Dr. Micheal Robinavitch is standing behind the central desk while he looks right at you.

"Your voice sounds familiar."

And, as the cherry on top, he recognizes your voice from a singular phone call that happened months ago.

Fuck me.

"No, but I get that a lot. There's a famous radio personality who sounds a lot like me," You lie through your teeth as he narrows his eyes at you, "I'm here to visit a friend who's having a really bad day, so if you'll excuse me…"

You practically sprint towards your friend's room, not waiting to see if Dr. Robby chases after you to poke through your flimsy defense. You assumed that Jack didn't mention anything about you to the day shift attending, and you certainly did not want to be the one to open that can of worms with him. Especially not today of all days.

Taking a hard right, you nearly dive into Nat's room, but you hesitate once you see the doctor that's at her bedside.

And, of course, it can't be any other doctor in this fucking hospital. It has to be Langdon, doesn't it?

Dr. Langdon.

"They're super cool," Nat appears to be in good spirits as she, with a sling on her right arm, chats with the doctor, "We fight and tease each other a lot, but I can't imagine anyone else being my best friend and my roommate."

You grin like an idiot since she has yet to notice your presence at the door. Sure, Nat can feel like a sister that you didn't ask for — one that steals your leftovers, accidentally turns your white shirts pink by washing them with unlike colors, and wreaks absolute chaos on your dating life for personal entertainment — but you can't imagine a world where she's not your best friend and closest confidante.

"And…" Nat leans closer, placing her hand on the railing of the bed, "I think they have a thing for you."

Perhaps you can imagine a world without Natalie. One where you strangle her to death for embarrassing you over and over again. She may possibly be the world's worst wingwoman, except when she gets third-degree burns all over her body and causes you to cross paths with a doctor that you never thought you'd see again.

And here we are, yet again…

"Natalie." You speak in a tone that you've heard her dad use when he's mad mad at her, and her head immediately snaps in your direction.

"Hey!" She waves at you, despite the deadpan expression you give her in return, and you're only motivated to move when Dr. Langdon flashes you that smile, a smile that has occupied more time in your thoughts than you'd like to say. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't say anything embarrassing about you! It was all good things. Right, Dr. Langdon?"

"Yeah, yeah, all good things," His eyes don't leave yours as you dare to walk into the room, "Natalie told me that you went to Fort Pitt Museum on Thursday?"

"I did. I figured it was about time I visited some local museums, " You smile fondly as you remember dragging Natalie through all of the exhibits, "Thanks for the recommendation."

It wasn't a recommendation. You couldn't get Langdon out of your mind, so you thought this would help.

…It did not.

"You're welcome, I…" Dr. Langdon pauses for a moment, "Really, I should be thanking you. My kids loved the Hoover-Price Planetarium."

…Pause.

He said the Hoover-Price Planetarium, as in the planetarium inside of McKinley Presidential Library and Museum. As in the Presidential Library that you told him about on what you would consider as one of the most embarrassing days of your life, where you thought you royally screwed up his first impression of you.

Dr. Langdon — Fuck, who are you kidding, you should just call him Langdon at this point — took your off-handed mention of a place you visited once over five years ago as a positive, glowing review, so he took his kids there.

Holy shit. Maybe you weren't that much of a wreck after all.

He might've been flirting with me, too. …Oh God, am I that oblivious?

"They did?" You feel a bit of nervous crawl into your voice. "Good. I'm glad. …Did you?"

Silence. The world melts away, and the beeping of hospital monitors and the busyness of doctors rushing back and forth slips into the background.

Langdon's looking right at you, blue eyes slicing through your anatomy.

You're not looking away.

"I did. It was… nice." He struggles to land on the right word as you brush past him, fingers aching to touch his before you resist the urge of such improper conduct… while the door to Natalie's room is wide open. "I'm always looking for new places to take–"

"–there's two more presidential libraries in Ohio." You interrupt him, casually taking your place on the other side of the bed, opposite of Langdon. "Harding's is nice, but I'd love the chance to see the Rutherford B. Hayes Presidential Center since it's one of the first few presidential libraries that were ever built. It's a shame that it's so far away, though."

"A three and a half hour drive isn't that bad."

Your breath catches at his words.

"You looked into it?"

"Well, I thought it might be a good idea to take Tanner and Penny to the other two…" Langdon trails off, smiling earnestly, "plus, I wanted to brush up on my presidential history, in case you came back around."

In case you came back around.

He wanted you to come back around, and, selfishly, you might've been looking for a reason to come back around, too.

You sneakily pinch the back of your hand. Unsurprisingly, it hurts.

You are not making this shit up as a part of some weird fever dream.

At a loss for words, your mouth hangs slightly open as you try to think of something to say.

Words fail you, at the moment.

Your nosy best friend does not.

"You've got to be kidding me. That was the layup of the century," Nat reaches over and lightly smacks the back of Langdon's hand, causing you to chuckle lightly, "and that was the fumble of the century. I told you they would like a cute museum date–"

"–hey, no setting me up on random dates until you're feeling better." You scold your best friend, who rolls her eyes in return. "I hope you kept the embarrassing stories to a minimum."

"Those cost money," She sticks her nose up at you, "I wouldn't sell you out for free."

"…Thanks? I guess?" You shake your head before your eyes meet Langdon's once more, and your heart skips a beat when you realize that he has yet to look away from you. God, is it getting hot in here or what? "How's she doing? Anything broken or—"

"–sprained shoulder and a lot of bruises, but we're doing a Head CT to cover our bases." Langdon glances at Nat. "She's lucky. A fall like that could've caused some serious internal damage."

"I lived, and I have a fun story to tell when I play Two Truths and a Lie," She winks in the most dramatic fashion possible, "I'll be taking the elevator for a while, though. No more stairs for me!"

"You do know that people get hurt on elevators too–"

"–La, la, la, not listening!" Nat tunes you out, perking up slightly when a couple of nurses come into the room to take her up for her scan. "I'll see you lovebirds soon! I better hear about your first date plans when I come back, or else!"

"Uh-huh." You breathe in, then out before one final tease comes out of your mouth. "I still have that video of you from earlier!"

The last thing you see before she disappears behind a wall is her flipping you off with a middle finger raised proudly into the air, causing the nurses and doctors that pass by her to laugh under their breaths.

"Nat's something, ain't she?" You rub your forehead with one of your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward as you don't have Natalie as a physical buffer between you and Langdon anymore. It's weird, but not a bad sort of weird. "She enjoys putting me in awkward situations and watching me suffer. It's almost like a game to her. I'm so sorry–"

"–don't apologize." He's a bit more stern as he addresses you. "I asked Natalie about you first."

He asked Nat about me?

You're gonna throw up from nervous excitement.

"You asked about me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Langdon says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You made a good first impression."

"I had a glass shard in my cheek–"

"–that wasn't the first thing I saw when I looked at you." He quietly admits.

You can't possibly take the sincerity in his voice — he has to be fucking with you, he must be — so you crack another joke.

"Right, right, I forgot about the one in my hand–"

"–I'm being serious." Langdon deadpans, and you immediately shut your mouth so you can listen to him. "You have a way of putting everyone at ease the moment they meet you. It's impressive."

"Careful, Langdon," You warn him, lightly kicking your foot into the air as to release some of the nervous energy that's wound up in your body, "It almost sounds like you're flirting with me."

"Almost?" He wears a small grin. "I must be out of touch, then."

This is actually happening. Oh my God.

"Ah," You chew on your bottom lip, enjoying the warm flush that rests on your cheeks, "Y'know, if you're free next week, we could take a trip to Ohio and visit the presidential library that's in Fremont. It'd be nice to have some company for such a long drive."

"Thursday?"

Langdon's serious, as are you.

"I can make that work." Your eyes widen when you see Kayla at the door of Nat's room. "Come on in, Kayla. You're not interrupting."

"I'm not?" She seems confused as you walk past Langdon, slipping through the space between Kayla and the doorframe so you can enter the hallway in the emergency department. "I can wait outside if you're–"

"–Nah. I said my piece. Langdon can tell you everything about Nat." You pull out your phone, immediately marking yourself as unavailable next Thursday for personal reasons. "Call me when you're headed back to the apartment."

"Wait," You turn on your heel to face Langdon after you hear him speak, "I don't have your number."

Kayla's eyebrows jump up to the ceiling before they land back on her face as you softly shrug in response.

"Nat's got it." You grin like an idiot at the thought of going out with him. "I'll see you on Thursday, right?"

"Yeah," Your excitement seems to be shared by Langdon as he answers you, "I'll see you then."

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