Summary: When Ace visits Luffy, his eyes latch on to one of the crewmates. . . .
Song: Slow Down - Chase Atlantic
Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
The deck groaned under Ace’s weight as he stepped aboard the Thousand Sunny, but his grin faltered when he saw you—not Luffy—leaning against the mast, your fingers idly twisting the breeze into spirals that danced like invisible ribbons around your wrists. The air itself seemed to pulse in time with your breath, thick and electric, and for a heartbeat, Ace forgot why he’d come.
Luffy tackled him from behind, laughing, but Ace barely registered the impact. His gaze snagged on the way your lips parted—just slightly—as you exhaled, sending a gust skimming across his collarbones, warm and teasing.
"Who’s that?" he muttered, low enough that only his brother could hear.
Luffy’s grin widened, shark-like. "Ohhh, you noticed?" He wiggled his eyebrows, sticky with rice from whatever he’d been devouring. "Y/N can make the wind do anything." The way he said it—like a challenge—sent heat crawling up Ace’s neck.
Ace swallowed, tasting salt and something sharper. "Yeah?" He kept his voice casual, but his pulse wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all you. Your fingers twitched, and suddenly the air between you thickened, carrying the scent of his sweat, the faintest tang of gunpowder clinging to his skin.
Luffy moved on with the conversation, oblivious—or maybe not—babbling about some island with meat trees, but Ace wasn’t listening.
Your bare feet padded silently across the deck, the wood smooth under your toes, and you slipped into the shadow of the mast—just out of reach, just far enough to make Ace’s jaw tighten.
The air around you hummed with restrained energy, and the space where your body had been a moment ago still carried the ghost of your warmth, the scent of something wild and untamed.
Ace’s fingers curled into his palms, the roughness of his calluses catching against his skin. He exhaled sharply, watching as the wind you’d left behind curled around his wrist like a question, teasing the fine hairs there before dissipating. His pulse thrummed thickly in his throat, a drumbeat out of sync with the waves lapping at the hull.
Luffy tugged him toward the aquarium bar, oblivious, chattering about Franky’s latest upgrades—something about cola-powered cannonballs—but Ace’s attention snagged on every flicker of movement in his periphery, searching for the dip of your waist or the curve of your shoulder in the shifting sunlight.
The air tasted different where you’d stood—charged, like the moment before lightning cracks the sky open.
The galley door swung shut with a whisper of wind, deliberate, teasing. Ace caught the barest glimpse of your fingers curled around the frame before you vanished inside, leaving behind the faintest impression of your presence—warmth lingering in the spaces between molecules, your scent woven into the salt-stiff fabric of his shirt. His teeth clicked together.
Luffy tugged him toward the crow’s nest, oblivious to the way Ace’s pulse kicked against his ribs like a trapped bird. “And up there’s where Usopp watches for—”
Ace wasn’t listening. His gaze scraped over every shadow in the rigging, every shift of sailcloth, hunting for the barest ripple of disturbance in the air—your signature, your silent laugh. The wind carried nothing but salt and the chatter of the crew below, and the absence of you burned sharper than any presence.
Luffy’s elbow jabbed his ribs. "Ace! You’re not even looking!" He pouted, waving at the gleaming figurehead, but Ace barely registered the sunlight glinting off the lion’s mane.
His pulse thrummed in his fingertips, restless, and he flexed his hands against the ghost of your touch still clinging to his skin.
The galley door creaked again—just a fraction—and Ace’s breath caught. But it was only Sanji, balancing a tray of drinks with practiced ease, his cigarette smoke curling lazily upward.
The disappointment settled heavy in Ace’s gut, sour and unfamiliar. He exhaled through his nose, tasting the lingering trace of you—something floral and wild, like the wind after a storm.
His fingers twitched toward the empty space beside him, where the air still thrummed with the memory of your presence. The ship rolled gently beneath them, and Ace imagined he could feel the shift of your weight against the boards, the whisper of your breath threading through the rigging. His skin prickled, hyperaware of every stray current brushing his bare arms.
Luffy jabbed a finger at the mast, grinning. "See? It’s way taller than the Merry’s!" Ace nodded absently, his gaze darting past his brother’s shoulder to the darkened doorway of the women’s quarters—had that curtain just swayed?
The air there hung unnaturally still, thick as honey, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Behind him, Nami’s citrus perfume cut through the salt, sharp and bright, but it was the phantom brush of your breath against his nape that made his shoulders tense. He turned—too fast—and found only empty space, the deckboards warm where sunlight pooled.
The wind carried a snatch of your laughter from somewhere above, but when he craned his neck, the crow’s nest gaped empty, its ropes swaying like they’d just been touched.
Luffy dragged him belowdecks, crowing about the new cannon storage, but Ace’s knuckles grazed the wall as they passed, and the wood hummed under his touch—residual vibration, the echo of footsteps that weren’t his.
He inhaled deep, catching the barest hint of ozone tangled in the ship’s damp, and his pulse stuttered. Your scent. Close.
The laundry line snapped taut under your fingers, damp fabric swaying like sails in the sluggish afternoon air. You didn’t turn when the heat bloomed behind you—knew the exact cadence of his footsteps, the way the boards sighed under his weight.
Ace’s shadow stretched long across the deck, his breath a slow, deliberate thing against your shoulder blades. The sun had baked the cotton warm, but his nearness scorched hotter, the air between you wavering like mirage.
Your fingers twitched; the wind coiled lazy around the hanging shirts, wicking moisture from the fibers with a whisper. Ace’s shirt fluttered against his chest, sleeves brushing his forearms—close enough to tease the fine hairs there, not close enough to touch.
You exhaled, slow, and the breeze carried the scent of him back to you—woodsmoke and sea salt, the stubborn tang of gunpowder clinging to his skin. His fingers flexed at his sides, knuckles brushing the hem of his own damn shirt where it hung, still damp, between you.
Behind you, Ace swallowed audibly, his throat clicking. The laundry line creaked as you stepped away, your bare feet silent on the sun-warmed deck.
The wind curled playful around his wrists, tugging at his sleeves like it wanted to pull him closer—or maybe that was just you. You didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. The air itself trembled with the weight of his gaze, hot as a brand between your shoulder blades.
Luffy’s voice shattered the moment like a cannonball through glass. "Ace! Sanji made meat-flavored cotton candy!" He barreled across the deck, arms waving, and Ace barely had time to brace before his brother collided with him, sending them both stumbling into the rigging.
The ropes groaned under their weight, and Ace’s elbow knocked against the mast—pain flared bright up his arm, but his eyes stayed locked on you, on the way your lips curved as you turned, finally, to watch.
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of sugar and meat, the sharp tang of Luffy’s excitement. But beneath it all—beneath the salt and the sun and the ship’s creaking bones—Ace could still smell you. Wild. Close. Gone.
Dinner was quickly served, and Ace sat opposite you. The table between you was laden with Sanji’s latest feast—glazed ribs dripping honey, towers of buttered rolls, skewers of seared meat glistening under the galley’s warm light—but Ace barely registered the spread.
His fingers tightened around his fork, the metal groaning under his grip, as you leaned back in your chair, deliberately slow, your bare foot brushing his calf under the table. The contact was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a current up his spine, sharp as a lightning strike.
You didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension, the breeze from the open porthole carrying the scent of your skin—something floral and dangerous, like night-blooming jasmine tangled with gunpowder.
Your fingers traced idle patterns on your glass, condensation beading and rolling down your knuckles as Ace’s jaw worked, his throat bobbing with each swallow.
The crew’s laughter blurred into white noise, the clatter of cutlery distant, muted, as if the world had narrowed to the space where your knee now pressed against his, deliberate and unyielding.
Ace’s breath hitched. The fork in his hand bent, the tines curling inward like claws. You finally met his gaze, your lips quirking as you took a slow sip of wine, the red staining your mouth—a challenge, a provocation.
The air around you shimmered, charged with the weight of his attention, the way his pupils dilated, swallowing the firelight whole. You exhaled, and the candle between you guttered, the flame bending toward him like it couldn’t resist the pull of his heat.
Across the table, Nami’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with amusement. “Ace, you’re not eating.” His gaze snapped to her, but his fingers twitched toward you, drawn like a compass needle to true north.
You leaned back, breaking contact, and the air rushed back between you, cool and taunting. The candle flared back to life, casting shadows that danced across his collarbones, the hollow of his throat.
You smiled, small and private, as Ace’s knuckles whitened around his ruined fork. The game wasn’t over. It had barely begun.
The crew dispersed like scattered embers—Chopper yawning into Usopp’s shoulder, Sanji humming as he stacked plates—but Ace lingered, his pulse a slow, heavy thing beneath his skin.
You slipped away without a word, the sway of your hips deliberate, the hem of your skirt brushing the back of your thighs. The doorway swallowed you whole, but the air in your wake clung to him, thick with the memory of your knee pressing into his, the phantom heat of your breath against his jaw. His shirt stuck to his shoulders, damp with something other than sweat.
Your door clicked shut behind him, the sound final, a punctuation mark. Ace exhaled, rough, and the hinges groaned under his palm—not a push, not yet, just the weight of his hesitation.
The scent of you here was richer, deeper: salt and the bitter tang of ink from the maps strewn across your bed, the oil you used to sharpen your knives lingering on your fingertips.
You turned, slow, your back to the porthole, moonlight carving silver along the curve of your neck. “Lost, Fire Fist?” The words curled, smoke-light, around the space between you.
Ace’s throat worked. The air in the room shifted, pressurized, as he stepped forward—one pace, two—until the heat of him pressed against you, close enough to feel the shudder of your breath against his chest. Your fingers found his wrist, tracing the pulse there, erratic as a storm-tossed ship.
His skin burned under your touch, the embers in his veins flaring with each brush of your thumb. "Not lost," he murmured, the words rough, smoke-roughened. "Just following the wind."
Your laugh was low, deliberate, as you pressed your palm flat against his sternum. The fabric of his shirt scorched under your fingers, threads curling from the heat radiating off him.
"Careful," you whispered, watching his pupils swallow the moonlight whole. "Winds change direction without warning." The air between you thickened, tasting of salt and the ozone-sharp promise of lightning, and Ace’s fingers dug into the wood of the doorframe, splinters catching in his skin.
You stepped back, letting the breeze coil around him like a living thing—tightening just enough to make his ribs expand against the pressure before dissolving into nothing.
His breath hissed between his teeth, but you were already turning away, the hem of your skirt whispering against the floorboards. The porthole rattled as you passed it, a gust of wind slamming it shut with finality.
Ace’s reflection warped in the glass, his jaw clenched tight around words that wouldn’t come.
The bunk creaked as you sat, rolling a knife between your fingers—the blade catching moonlight in jagged shards. You didn’t look up as Ace’s shadow stretched across the floor, didn’t acknowledge the way his knuckles whitened around the doorframe.
"You’re persistent," you mused, testing the edge of the blade against your thumb. A bead of blood welled, stark against your skin, and the air in the room shuddered as Ace’s control snapped.
He moved like wildfire—sudden, consuming—one hand closing around your wrist, the other pinning the knife to the wall with a thud that vibrated up your arm. His breath scorched your cheek, uneven, his chest heaving against yours like a caged thing.
"Persistent?" His voice was gravel, smoke, the embers of a dying fire. "You’ve been playing with me since I stepped on this damn ship."
You exhaled, slow, and the candle by the bedside guttered out, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint glow of Ace’s tattoos—embers in the night. His grip tightened, calluses rough against your pulse, but you didn’t pull away.
Instead, you leaned in, close enough to taste the salt on his lips, close enough to feel the hitch in his breath when your knee brushed his thigh. "Playing?" You let the word curl, languid, around the space between you. "Or waiting for you to catch up?"
The knife clattered to the floor as Ace’s mouth crashed into yours, all heat and hunger, his teeth catching your lip hard enough to draw blood. The taste of iron bloomed between you, sharp and metallic, and you laughed into the kiss—a challenge, a surrender—as the wind outside howled, rattling the porthole like it wanted in.
His hands burned paths down your sides, igniting every inch of skin they touched, and you arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer, deeper, until the line between his fire and your storm blurred into something neither of you could control.
Ace groaned when you bit down on his tongue, the sound rough and raw, and his grip tightened on your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises.
The air between you crackled, charged with the weight of everything unsaid, and you broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Still think I’m playing?" against his mouth.
His answering growl vibrated through you, low and possessive, and you grinned as he shoved you back onto the bed, his body following yours like a collapsing star.
The mattress dipped under his weight, the sheets tangling around your legs as Ace’s mouth found the pulse point beneath your jaw, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin there.
You gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair as the wind outside surged, sending papers fluttering off the desk in a whirl of motion. His hands were everywhere—kneading, gripping, claiming—and you arched into him, your back bowing off the bed as his lips traced a burning path down your throat.
Ace’s breath hitched when your nails raked down his back, leaving red trails in their wake, and he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his pupils blown wide with want.
The air between you thrummed with tension, thick and heady, and you smirked, dragging a thumb over his swollen lower lip.
"Fire Fist," you murmured, your voice rough with amusement, "looks like you finally caught up."
His answering grin was feral, all teeth and hunger, and then his mouth was on yours again, his hands mapping your body like he was memorizing every curve, every scar, every shuddering breath. . . .
It's a little short because I'm a responsible girl studying for her finals (playing games all day)
summary: Leon left on his last mission and you waited patiently home, until you got a call from Grace, saying that he's badly injured and you should visit the hospital as soon as you can.
warnings: injury (no shit), swearing, hospital, I don't really know how any meds or coma works, near-death situations, a bit of fluff and even more angst, but I tried my best to keep it funny
It was supposed to be his last day.
But not like this. He was supposed to come home to you, healthy and steady on his feet. You two were supposed to go on his hard earned vacation, somewhere quiet where you could both rest, finally together after so many days of waiting.
Instead, you got a call. It was late at night, around 2AM when an unknown number called you. Normally you wouldn't pick up, but you were half-asleep and totally out of it, not to mention that your intuition spiked your worry immediately.
You heard a woman's voice on the other line, shaky and tired, unknown. At first you thought this could be a mistake, until she asked if you were Leon's wife. You were already terrified when she told you not to panic, but when she asked you to drive to the hospital as soon as you could, you were devastated.
You didn't even think before getting up and rushing to the car.
A major head injury. She told you how it happened, but you were too shaken up to understand any of it. From what you caught, he got shot, but somehow the bullet missed enough for him to be only unconscious. The woman introduced herself as Grace, told you that she worked with him and explained to you everything that happened, in detail.
You didn't know what to think. You spent hours sitting by his hospital bed, even though the nurses tried to drag you out of there multiple times. You tried to collect your thoughts, understand the situation, but you just couldn't get it. He got himself into a reckless situation as always, and now you were also finding out about an infection he never cared to mention to you? Was that what he planned all along, to just disappear on this mission and never come back? Now that you were thinking about it, there was something about the way he said goodbye to you on the way out.
Thankfully, the doctors managed to save him. He had to be kept under strong medication and observation, but he'd survive. They warned you he could be a little... out of it. Memory loss, disorientation, dizziness, that sort of thing. You just didn't know it would be this bad.
The beeping sound in the room was steady as you sat on a nearby chair, trying your best to read a book. You had to busy yourself with something, though nothing seemed to work on your nerves at the moment. You were still trying your best to understand, but a part of you was scared that the doctors only said he was alright to spare you the pain. It's been only four days, but you were starting to think he might not wake up at all. People here laid unconscious for months, and you couldn't imagine waiting so long in uncrrtaitny. You believed in him, though. He was strong, he would make it.
As you flipped the page, you heard a small shift. You didn't pay attention to it, your eyes flickering to the curtains that were moving from the soft wind. It was probably just that. The room would be awfully pretty right now if it wasn't for all that machinery keeping him intact. The morning light gave it a soft, pretty glow. You didn't want to look at it, though. The mere thought made you nauseous.
"Grace...?" You heard a quiet, raspy voice, which made you almost drop your book. Your head snapped up to see him stirring under the covers, one eye shut tight while the other tried to open up, closing immediately at the sunlight.
You rushed to his side, hands shaky as you moved the curtains, closing them up halfway. You could see he was struggling to open his eyes, probably completely blinded after being out for so long. You sat down on the edge of the bed, arms quickly shooting out to keep him laying there.
"No, not Grace. Grace is safe at home." You shook your head with a small chuckle. "Don't sit up, you shouldn't be moving too much..." You said as quietly as you could, even though you wanted to scream in happiness right now. There was your husband; looking tired as hell and definitely a little drowsy, but also definitely alive.
"Then..." He started, frowning as he opened one eye again, as if testing if the light would sting him once again. Then he blinked once, twice, before opening them up fully. "What happened? Where am I?"
"The hospital." You answered, ignoring the sting in your chest as you said it out loud. "You had an accident... do you remember anything?"
You wanted to explain everything to him. You wanted to tell him everything you knew, wanted to tell him how much you missed him and how happy you are to see him functioning again... even if not fully. Unfortunately, the doctors warned you that he shouldn't remember everything at once. He should take his time and remember bit by bit, especially since the mention of Zeno or getting shot might bring back bad memories and send him into a panic mode... which could only make the injury worse.
"An accident..." He repeated, brows furrowing again as he took a look around the room, taking everything in. The machinery, the medication, the whiteness of the walls that bore into his eyes and made him want to puke his guts out. "So I'm... not dead."
"No, you're not. Thank God." You said, reaching out to move his hair out of his face.
He looked at you again, first at your hand, then your face. He had a confused look in his eyes, but nothing could've prepared you for his next words.
"So, you're not an angel." He stated blankly, drowning deeper. "Who are you, then? A nurse?"
The question caught you off guard.
He couldn't seriously forget about you, could he?
"Leon..." You started, not sure what to say. This was... well, a lot to take in. You'd have to tell him he was married, which would probably confuse him and lead to many more questions. Much more information that you weren't supposed to give, not until there was a doctor around to check up on him.
"Seriously, who are you? How do you know my name?" He said, bringing a hand to the back of his head, touching the patched up area. You quickly swatted it away, making him frown. God, he was like a child... "I think I would remember a pretty thing like you. You look familiar, though, so I'm guessing not a nurse."
The room fell quiet, and he got visibly more confused when he got no answer.
"What?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm... gonna go call the doctor. Stay still, okay? Don't try to get up." You settled for a pat on a shoulder, not wanting to startle him with a kiss or anything of the sort. It would be better if he remembered on his own.
"Hey, no. Where do you think you're going?" He called out as you got up, trying to reach for you, but his hand dropped to his side quickly, feeling a sharp sting. "What the fuck is this thing?" He frowned at something attached to his forearm, letting out a scowl as he laid his head back against the pillow.
You were already out the door. He couldn't tell what the hell was going on, but he didn't like it. Was this some kind of Umbrella facility? Did they keep him here by force? You didn't look like one of them, though. You looked like you were genuinely happy and excited to see him wake up. He just couldn't place why. Even thinking too much hurt right now, and he gave up on trying to figure it out. Maybe a coworker, or a friend... either way, you were someone close.
After a few minutes you entered the room again with a doctor and two nurses. They immediately rushed to his side, one checking the vitals monitors while the other took off and refilled the drip. He watched everything with a frown, listening in to the quiet conversation of you and the doctor, signing some papers. Shouldn't he be doing that himself?
"Please sign here, Mrs. Kennedy." The doctor spoke, handing you the papers. You picked up the files and pen with shaky hands, scribbling something down.
Mrs. Kennedy.
That would explain everything. The way you rushed to his side so quickly when he spoke up, the way you looked at him, the way you brushed his hair like you were aching to touch his face.
He was annoyed. He had those memories right in front of him, felt like he was about to remember, but he couldn't. He tried everything, focusing on the day he proposed, maybe the wedding later... but nothing seemed to work.
"You're my wife." He spoke out loud, hoping that would help at least a bit. He remembered only little pieces, not moments in general. He did remember the warmth of your arms after a long day, the coziness of eating warm meals together, the feeling of deep conversations on the couch late at night... but why couldn't he remember you? "Fucking hell, that's my wife?"
His words made your eyes widen and the paperwork was already long forgotten. The monitors started beeping a little faster, and you flashed a panicked look at the doctor. Was that too much for him? Would he strain himself? You didn't want to hurt him further, you didn't want to overwhelm him with unnecessary explanations and only confuse him further...
But when you saw the doctor nod and say something about leaving the two of you alone, you immediately rushed to his side. The nurses left a few seconds later, having checked everything when you were signing the papers.
"Do you remember?" You asked shortly, reaching out to slip your hand in his.
"Not really," He started, and you had to do your best to hide the disappointment. "I... remember what everyday life feels with you. But I don't know who you are."
The silence between you felt heavy. You brushed your thumb over his hand, trying to comfort him, to coax something out of his little damaged brain, but even now, in the quiet of the room, he didn't seem to recall anything.
"I'm an idiot." He finally broke the silence, laying his head back down on the pillow with a groan. "Forgot my own wife. Husband of the year. Were those papers you were signing needed for divorce?"
"Don't even say that." You swatted his shoulder and he let out a raspy laugh, staring at you deeply, like he was trying to read something out of your face. Like maybe this would make him remember. "You're not an idiot, and definitely not a bad husband. You're just overloaded with medication, but it'll pass."
You said that like you were trying to reassure both of you, not only him.
And maybe you were.
"So... how long have we been married?" He asked, forming random questions in his head that might work somehow. Maybe it was like a puzzle? Maybe he'd have to bring the pieces together somehow?
"Three years."
"Three years?" He said, looking genuinely surprised. "Three years with an angel like you and I forgot? Jesus..."
"Guess I'm not worth remembering." You said with a roll of your eyes, but you had a petty smile on your face. Of course you were aware that he loved you, he cared for you, and it was only the medication. You were sure if you'd ask about anything about his work, his colleagues, the police academy... he wouldn't even know the answer either.
"Don't say that. I have eyes, and I can see that you're worth remembering, sweetheart." The nickname made your heart melt. "Hm. 8th of May, 2021. What's that date?"
He could see your eyes lighting up a little at the question.
"We got engaged that day." You answered, subconsciously giving his hand a little squeeze, as if motivating him to go further, even though the worry was still there.
He reached up and rubbed his temple, closing his eyes with a small grunt. "Engaged." He repeated after you, giving you a small nod.
Silence, again. You decided to give him time. He looked like his mind was working full force, a small grunt or groan here and there as he sat there, unmoving. Normally it would be almost funny, like sometimes when he walked into the room and forgot what he came there for. But now, seeing him struggle like this...
"Y/N." He suddenly practically yelled as he opened up his eyes and looked at you, now his hand squeezing yours. "Your name, it's Y/N. Right? I got right?"
You tried your best to tame your own reaction, even though he could already see you tensing up at the name. "Um, no." You said with an exaggerated frown. "Who's Y/N?"
"Don't bullshit me. I don't have anyone on the side, if that's what you're implying." He spoke snd you snorted, making him smile. "You think you're so funny, huh? Making fun of my suffering. I'll remember that, Y/N."
You couldn't wait anymore. You leaned in, pressing a small kiss to his forehead which he closed his eyes at. He hummed, looking lik he's been waiting for this for days. And maybe he was, considering he missed you as hell when he was on the mission.
"I'm remembering. Slowly." He said, nodding to himself as he opened his eyes and looked at you again. "Though, maybe I will ask for another kiss, just in case it will help me remember better?"
"Oh, really? You're learning by senses now?" You teased before leaning in, kissing him properly this time. When your lips met, it wasn't hungry or heated, it was longing. It was like a relief, after so many hours of sitting here by the hospital bed, praying that he'd wake up soon.
"Definitely helped." He smiled as you pulled away, wrapping an arm around your lower back. "Come here, lay down with me. And tell me everything. I'll remember. I promise."
Jack Abbott x Reader: Jack forgets his keys and asks you to drop them off during a busy shift. Dana breaks several hospital rules in order for you to cover for a very special patient….
(OR Jack forgets his keys, and when you go to deliver them, Dana asks you to babysit Baby Jane Doe)
Romance, Husband and Wife Abbott, broody Jack and Reader, mentions of being unable to have kids, flirty, sarcasm, fluff
You cleared away the dishes from dinner despite Jack’s insistence on doing it. You quickly shut down his argument with the fact that if he kept pestering you over cleaning up instead of him doing it, then he was going to make himself late for his night shift (and would subsequently have to deal with a pissed off Robby and Dana).
Jack gave in, grabbed his coat, rucksack, lunch bag which you had packed with snacks and leftovers for his break, gave you a long lingering kiss, and went out the front door.
The man had only been gone about half an hour before his name showed up on your phone.
Forgot my keys, work is chaos, don’t have time to come back home, can you drop them off please baby - J
Sure enough, you turned around from your seat on the couch and saw up on the dining table Jack’s keys. Sighing and shaking your head, you got up, retrieved the keys and replied back.
You’re making breakfast tomorrow morning to apologize x
--
You parked up a block or so away from the hospital and made your way over to the entrance to the emergency room. Before even stepping foot inside the building, you could hear the noise and busy commotion coming from within.
The waiting room was jam-packed with people, and you did your best to not step on any toes as you sheepishly made your way over to the reception, trying to avoid scathing glares from waiting patients who -to them- you were seemingly cutting ahead.
“Hey hon, looking for Jack?” Lupe said from her chair beyond the plate of glass as you got close and waved a ‘hey Lupe’ at her.
“Yeah, idiot forgot his keys.” You answered, rolling your eyes at the ordeal. “Would you give them to him?”
“Oh sure thing hon, just-“
“Lupe, in here, I need you! Chart system has gone wacko and I need someone to watch over our little guest in the visitor’s room.” Dana suddenly exclaimed as she swung around the doorway behind Lupe, waving for her to follow.
“Dana I can’t, we’re swamped out here tonight!” Lupe protested, gesturing to the masses sitting, standing and hunched, all complaining in the waiting room beyond the reception desk.
“Just ten minutes, please, I got Robby on a knife edge, hand over to night shift has been stalled because of the charting fuck up, McKay is baby-sitting Santos and Mohan, and I can’t find Ellis or Diaz anywhere.” Dana huffed as she finally came back up for air.
“I can’t, I’m still waiting for cover so I can go on my break that should have happened thirty minutes ago.” Lupe said as she motioned as politely as she could for you to move to the side to get at the patient waiting behind you.
“Oh, sorry” You meekly smiled at the old man glowering at you for standing in his way.
“Jesus Christ I’m gonna pass out and it’s only eight thirty.” Dana remarked as she rolled her eyes and looked around behind her for a free body.
“Jack wasn’t kidding when he said it was chaos in here.” You nodded as you took in the bustling atmosphere of the waiting room. “Listen, I know you guys are swamped here, but can someone just take Jack’s keys and I’ll get outta your hair?”
Dana looked at you, then did a double take, eyeing Jack’s keys, then you.
“Actually…that’s perfect.” Dana said, looking right at you, as if a lightbulb had just switched on in her head.
“What?” You asked, looking from Dana to an equally confused Lupe who was juggling the old man’s paperwork.
“You’re perfect hon. Oh dear god you are perfect! Hot damn! Wait there!” Dana suddenly exclaimed with a loud singular clap before she sprinted back out of the reception office.
You and Lupe exchanged looks, but before either of you could question what had just happened, Dana practically burst through the double doors to the waiting room and made a b-line for you.
“Come on come on, I need you my little angel.” Dana quickly said as she grabbed your hand and practically hauled you through the double doors.
“D-Dana what are you doing?” You frowned as Dana continued to lead you through the busy ER.
Immediately you were hit with the familiar smell that came off Jack after shifts; the sterile, clean hospital smell that he always insisted on showering off before getting close to you, and one that you recognised when doing his laundry. There was also the slightly not so pleasant, yet faint, coppery smell of blood and body in the air, attributed to several patients laying out on beds with particularly grizzly injuries.
Don’t look
Don’t look
Don’t look
“D-Dana I…Dana I can’t be in here.” You said, averting your eyes to look down at Dana’s trainers as she continued to lead you through the chaos of patients being moved around, doctors shouting and using language that was lost on you, machines beeping and patients groaning and crying out in discomfort.
Don’t look you’ll puke
Don’t look you’ll puke
Don’t look you’ll puke
“For the next ten minutes you are.” Dana corrected over her shoulder to you as she marched you through the ER.
Christ Jack how the hell do you do this? You thought as you attempted to keep up with Dana, eagerly pulling at you to follow her.
“I need you to do something important for me.” Dana said, ignoring your paling demeanour. “I’ll cut to the chase; we got an unattended baby in the visitor’s room that needs just ten minutes of supervision. Just ten, then one of the junior doctors will take over once I get the charting system straightened out.”
“A baby?” You winced. “Dana no, no – I’ve already broken maybe ten rules just by coming in here! I’m not a doctor or staff! I can’t be left alone with a baby! I just stopped by to give Jack his keys!” You exclaimed frantically.
“And you can give them to him! I’ll go tell him you’re here, and whilst you wait, you can keep an eye on Baby Jane Doe.” Dana reasoned as she pushed you towards the visitor’s room.
“Baby Jane who?” You frowned in confusion.
“Baby Jane Doe; got no parents or guardians, left unattended – Jane Doe.” Dana briefly clarified. “Look, we’re jammed in here, Robby is on the war path, I got staff trying to figure out a charting system that’s crappin it’s pants right now. I got day staff who are chomping at my hand to be relieved so night shift can take over.” Dana halted and rubbed her forehead in exhaustion.
“I need all hands-on deck, and whilst I’m usually not in the habit of trusting non-medical staff, particularly with this sort of thing - I know you and I know you will be fine for ten little minutes whilst I quickly iron out this god forsaken chart system.”
You and Dana exchanged looks, and immediately you felt your resolve give way to her stressed demeanour. With a heavy sigh, you shook your head. “Fine. Ten minutes.” You gave in and allowed Dana to smile thankfully at you. “But if you get fired for this, you only have yourself to blame.” You muttered, earning you a tired chuckle from Dana.
“Thank you honey, I’ll buy you a round next time we all go out.” Dana exhaled deeply in relief before she reached for the door handle to the visitor’s room.
It was dim inside, not entirely dark, but just enough to not disturb the little bundle in the corner of the room. As Dana went over to look into the little cot, you shrugged off your jacket and draped it over one of the vacant chairs.
“Sound asleep.” Dana whispered, trying to reassure you.
“Let’s hope she stays that way.” You mumbled pessimistically, but smiled at Dana nonetheless. This wasn’t her fault, not really, and to be honest if Dana truly needed help, you would be more than happy to give it.
“M’sorry for asking this of you, but my hands are tied.” Dana apologized. “When I see Jack, I’ll tell him to swing in.” Dana said as she walked back over to you.
“And tell him he’s lucky to have me.” You grumbled quietly.
“We’re all lucky to have you.” Dana said with a smirk. “Ten minutes. There’s formula on the countertop.” She gestured beside the cot with a wink before ducking out of the room, a brief influx of noise from the busy outside ER filled the room before it went back into silence.
You turned your attention back to the little cot, and slowly approached, curious to peer inside and take a look at all the fuss.
A tiny, sleepy, pink face peered out from the blankets, swaddled up tight inside, the baby’s small rosy lips parted as she snoozed soundly. Your features softened at the sight of her, a complete polar opposite of calm serenity compared to the manic chaos that lay only a few feet outside the visitor’s room.
Several moments passed by, relatively undisturbed as you paced slowly around the room, mindful to keep your steps light and slow. Eventually you settled into the vacant armchair adjacent to the cot, and rested for a moment or two.
That was until you heard a small grumble of discomfort coming from the cot. You got up from your chair and saw the baby’s face beginning to turn and screw up with unease. At the sound of her first whine, you instinctively reached down into the cot to retrieve the baby.
“Hey…hey little lady.” You whispered as you carefully scooped up the unhappy little one. “It’s alright, it’s all okay.” You hummed as you adjusted the baby in your arms to properly cradle her.
You didn’t have much in the way of experience with children, other than the odd cousin, nieces and nephews, but you knew what would work best to bring some sort of relief to the upset bundle in your arms. The baby squeaked out her crocodile tears, and you continued to coo and rub at her little back, patting at her.
“Shhh…shhh…it’s okay…I’m here.” You whispered, bouncing a little at the knees to lull the baby back down into a sense of comfort from her disturbed sleep. “Just ten minutes…and you’ll be in good hands again.” You muttered as you looked over the little human curling up into you.
Ten minutes
Just ten minutes
--
(thirty minutes later)
“That should be fixed.” Mel said with a chipper tone with Jack looming over her shoulder.
“Thank christ for that.” Jack grumbled with relief. “Alright everybody listen up, charting system is back online and ironed out! Make sure you have all your patients and keep em organised. Day shift can finally hand over, thank you for your patience. If I have to do this again, I will quit on the spot.” he threatened and sighed as his focus turned to the computer in front of him.
“Hey, did Dana get someone to watch over the baby in the visitor’s room?” Mohan asked curiously as she retrieved her charts from the desk. “There’s still nothing up on the board…surely Dana wouldn’t have left a baby unattended?”
Jack frowned and turned to look up at the charting board which was now back in order, where sure enough there was the room number and patient name, but no attending. A small wick of panic began inside of Jack, and he exchanged a brief look between Mohan to where Dana was now helping Robby and Ellis with another patient.
“Dana!” Jack shouted over. “Any attending for Baby Jane Doe?” he asked with his hands out to the sides in a questioning manner.
Immediately, he saw a look of realisation dawning on Dana, as if she had forgotten something and was now figuring it out. Jack didn’t wait for Dana to explain what from across the room, instead he quickly left the desk area and marched over to the visitor’s room, whereupon entering he took two steps before he froze. His eyes widened, head turned a fraction as he saw you, sitting with the baby.
“Close the door.” You quietly hissed, frowning at the sudden intrusion.
Jack did as told, and carefully closed over the door to the room before slowly approaching you. The baby was on the cusp of sleeping, her tiny eyes lulling closed every once in a while.
“I didn’t know you worked here.” Jack whispered as he lifted a seat over to sit down in front of you. “You take up a part time shift in the maternity ward without tellin me?” He smirked wryly.
“I expect my wage by the end of the day.” You replied with a quirked brow. “Dana roped me into this. She also promised it would only be ten minutes…that was over half an hour ago.”
“Oh baby…oh sweetheart, I am so sorry.” Jack shook his head, planting his hands on either-side of your knees and bowing his head a little in shame “I didn’t mean for you to get tossed into all this. Next time I’ll duct tape my stupid keys to my chin” Jack added, earning him a bitter chuckle from you which made him smile through the embarrassment.
“S’not so bad. Rather be in here with this one than out there.” You said, nodding towards the door and the chaos out-with it. “I dunno how you manage it, I nearly puked and passed out when Dana hauled me in.” You shook your head in disbelief.
“You get used to it” Jack shrugged. He couldn’t help but feel his heart squeeze at the way your kept your eyes trained on the baby, how delicately you fixed her blankets and little sleep cap.
“Seems you’ve made a friend.” Jack mused as he looked down at the baby, his rough index finger softly ghosting across the little girl’s chin.
That was when you caught it. That particular expression Jack only used for puppies and nieces and nephews. You knew it all too well, and how dangerous it was.
“Don’t.” You quietly yet firmly stated.
“What?” Jack said, looking up at you innocently.
“You’re getting broody.” You warned.
“No I’m not.” Jack argued. “I do not get broody.”
“Yes you do, and yes you are. I know you are, because I can already feel myself getting broody and it’s only been half an hour with her in my arms.” You reasoned. “I dread to think how you feel, you’re a softy when it comes to kids. New borns especially.” You remarked with a quirked brow.
“Am not.” Jack said, his husky voice rousing the baby a little, freezing both yourself and Jack as you waited for her to settle again. “I am not.” Jack said, light and practically wordless as not to upset the baby in your arms.
You sighed and kept a watchful gaze over the little one, your thumb briefly brushing against her tiny forehead and sparse hairs. Jack hated to admit it, but you were right; it was hard for him to not love the idea of you and him with a baby, and the current scenario was only fuelling the matter further. How gentle and tenderly you looked, how his imagination ran away with the image of you loving a baby together and raising it together.
“Where will she go?” You asked, breaking Jack’s train of thought.
“Well, usually after she gets a few urine and blood tests done, and everything comes back in the clear, she’ll be taken in by a foster care program organized by the hospital .” Jack explained, reaching to tuck the baby up a little more into her pink blanket.
“And then what?” You asked. “You guys…just let her go?” You sighed, poorly trying to hide your sad tone.
“Pretty much. Once all the tests are done, we’re no longer required.” Jack nodded, his tender hazel eyes moving from the baby up to you.
“Oh.” You simply said, though Jack could already tell it was weighing heavy on your heart.
“Hey, she’ll be fine.” Jack reassured, his hands reaching out to the sides of your legs and patting you gently. “She’s young, cute, she’ll be snapped up and looked after.”
“Yeah…yeah she will.” You nodded, fending off the stinging feeling of tears as they threatened to gather.
Jack bit his lower lip, contemplating the thought in his head and sighing deeply.
“She is…also available for kinship adoption. Doctors and nurses are eligible.” Jack threw out, his heart picking up a little as he looked from the baby and at you. “We could-“
“No.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I appreciate what you’re doing Jack, but no. M’just…just emotional. Babys do that…puppies too.” You added, much to Jack’s amusement. “Besides…at our age…taking on a newborn?.” You chuckled bitterly. “Unwise.”
“You make us sound wrinkly and senile.” Jack huffed a smile at you.
“You know what I mean” You shook your head and looked back down at the baby. “She needs a young couple, solid and ready, not two fortysomethings taking her in on a whim just because they got misty eyed.”
Jack looked at you and the way your face remained soft with a hint of a smile, all the while watching over the little girl. He looked past your features and to your temple where only a few months ago you had announced the first few gray hairs beginning to crop up at the roots of your scalp. It was a hard truth, but it stood regardless that you and Jack had found one another at an age where certain things just weren’t viable anymore, children namely. That ship had sailed, and both of you were simply content in being aunt and uncle to your family members.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a kick ass Mom.” Jack shrugged.
“You’d be a nightmare as a Dad.” You quirked a brow.
“I beg your pardon?” Jack said with mock offence.
“And as a girl Dad? Forget it, you’d have her locked away until she was forty.” You pressed with a smirk.
“More like fifty.” Jack shrugged, unable to hide his grin as you lightly chuckled at his antics.
Jack continued to look you over. “Hey, look at me.” He said.
You did so, admiring Jack as he angled himself to lean forward over the baby and kiss you, his hand cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb from side to side against your skin.
“I love you.” You said, peppering your mouth with little kisses. “I’d be lost without you. Besides, we wouldn’t have time to look after a baby with how much you spend saving my ass.”
“At the very least you’d be without your keys.” You playfully whispered, kissing Jack once more, as you managed to fish out his keys from your jean pocket and hand them over to him.
“Completely and utterly lost.” Jack agreed with a smirk as he took the keys. “Lemme find someone to take over so you can finally get out of this place.” He said as he turned around and walked to the door.
“Take your time. I’m in no rush over here.” You said as you looked back down at the baby.
Quite the picture…Jack took in the scene before him one last time.
"Now who's super broody." Jack muttered playfully as he opened the door.
"Remember you're making breakfast." You said snidely, trying to maintain a quiet enough tone to not disturb the baby.
"I'll see you in the morning." Jack nodded, kissed at you and closed over the door to not let any further noise in as he set out to look for someone to take over babysitting duties for you.
