Brendon Park did not get the nickname ‘Park the Shark’ from playing nice with others. An Orthopod through and through, one would be remiss in thinking Brendon was a gentle soul. At least not in the walls of the PTMC. Unless you happened to be a certain R4 in the Pitt; which, thankfully for you, you just so happen to be that R4 he is unusually sweet on.
At one point, the betting board had a corner dedicated to defining yours and Brendon's relationship. Robby, King, and Whitaker had $50 on you just being the person who pissed him off the least. Perlah, Santos, and Langdon had $30 on you being in a friends with benefits situation with the shark. Princess, Abbot, and Ahmed had another $30 on you having some blackmail on him. And there was one name at the bottom, which had later been covered in post-its from another bet, that had $100 on you being married to each other (that bet had suffered days of ridicule, “Seriously, who bet on the shark being hitched to her? Married? You just love losing money huh?”).
Eventually, the corner had mostly been overridden with new bets, but your coworkers never did let the topic die down.
“Seriously, how did you tame the shark?” Santos asked, as she sat down for the third time in an hour, once again attempting to catch up on her charts, “And can you get him to stop glaring at me every time he comes down for a consult.”
You laugh, “I don’t know what you mean, Trin. Park isn’t that bad, he is quite nice when you get to know him.”
“He hasn’t spoken to me in a month!”
Spinning around in your chair, you try and look serious, “Did you deserve it?”
“I mean… yeah, but still!”
You spin back around to your own charting, “It can’t be that bad, have you tried just being nice to him first?”
“No. That only works for you, because you’re so.. Sunshiney.”
“Sunshiney?” you laugh as you stand up, hearing Robby calling you from South 15. “Anyway, if you focus more on your work rather than on Park, then maybe you wouldn’t be so behind on charting.”
Santos waves her hand at you as you walk away, “Yeah, yeah, whatever”
Still laughing, you barely notice the gurney coming your way, or the fact that the paramedic moving it doesn't notice you either. Not until it comes crashing into you at full force. Subsequently, as you crumpled down to the floor, the string of expletives you let out were definitely not becoming for a doctor.
“Oh you motherfu-”
The paramedic, only then looking up from their phone, “Oh shit, are you okay?” They said as they reached down to help you help. For once, you were actually grateful for someone new to be in your space, as they hooked their arms around you and tried to hoist you back up.
Unfortunately, that meant all the weight went back onto your ankle, which you realised was sitting at a very unnatural angle. Despite it not breaking the skin, (which you are very thankful for) You could see how the bone was sitting wrong, and the quickly forming purple bruising is just a cherry on top.
“Do I look-” You start, before collecting yourself, “No I am not, look can you get me back into that chair there.”
You had been pointing to the chair you had just occupied before Santos had appeared in front of you, quickly changing your weight to be leaning on her instead of the paramedic (who had taken to just standing around with their mouth gaping. Seriously, how is this the person who is called out in emergencies?)
Finally, with someone competent, you are moved to a free bed in North 4. And before you know it you had at least three doctors and one med student all around you. It was strange, being on this side of the ER.
“What happened here?” Robby asked, pulling on his gloves as he swarmed the room, "Weren't you meant to be helping me in South 15?”
You pointed at your very bruised and crooked ankle which was being poked by Whitaker “I was until Dopey crashed their gurney into me and turned my ankle into a third grader’s art project.”
“Dopey?”
“Paramedic” You pointed to the other side of the glass, where he was still playing on his phone. “Can you just give me some tylenol so I can get back to work.”
“Nope. This needs an Ortho consult, Santos, call Park down here. Tell him it’s urgent" Robby smiled, trying to be friendly. As he turned back to you, you realised the smile was all from pure happiness. “You know, you’re not as nice as you usually are today.”
“Try having your ankle rearranged by a moving pile of metal, Robinavitch.”
“Bite me.”
Just as Robby turned to reply with even more snark, the curtain was drawn back quickly, revealing a frantic looking Dr. Park. “What happened? What did you do?”
“Why’d you assume it's me?” You say, trying to deflect some of the attention on you away. Being the centre of attention has never been your strong suit.
Brendon just pointed at your ankle as he moved around the bed to assess it. After what seemed like forever (read two minutes), he finally lowered your ankle softly down onto the bed. “Bruised, badly. But you’ll live. Now are you going to tell me what happened baby?”
You could feel the ER freeze up outside of your room at Brendon's name. You had spent years trying to hide your relationship from your coworkers, and up until now you had been doing a pretty good job. Although Brendon never seemed to be a fan in playing along.
“I fought a gurney, and lost.”
“That was clever.”
“Thank you,” you tried to smile at him, but god did your ankle hurt. Almost as if he had read your mind, he passed Whitaker an order for Morphine for you. “Stay with me?”
Brendon shifted you slightly, so he could climb into the bed and pull you into him. “Of course I will, and when the med student comes back with your prescription, I’ll take you home.”
“You know, this is all they’ll talk about for like a month solid.”
“Let them know that you're my wife. It’ll stop the interns from flirting with you.” He said in a suspiciously loud tone. Waiting a moment, he then pressed a kiss into your hair, trying to block your view of Ahmed dejectedly getting out the winnings from the betting pool. “And it’ll stop that stupid betting pool.”
“You could’ve asked them to stop, you know, they’re pretty scared of you.”
“I could have.. Although then I couldn't have placed the bet of us being married.” With that, he gave you one more kiss before standing. “I’m going to collect my winnings, I'll be back baby. Don’t move.”
Sighing, you throw your head back onto the pillow, trying to muster up the energy to be mad at him. But you couldn't because you knew what type of man he was when you married him. Well that, and the fact you know you would manage to get at least half of those winnings off Brendon before the end of the day.
masterlist
@fluentmoviequoter
im so back baby! Lemme know if you want to be tagged in more PITT content
Hiii! Can I request a cryptic pregnancy with brendon. It's up to you if they're already married or not. Thanks xoxo
Cryptic | Brendon Park | The Pitt
Doctors liked to be in control. Pretty much every nurse can testify to that fact. For some doctors, that control was only needed in the workplace, and their personal lives were a mess (think Michael Rabinovitch), and others needed control in all aspects of their life, personal and professional. Surgeons tended to fall into the second category.
Brendon park definitively belonged in the second category.
His apartment was immaculate. His medical journals were organised alphabetically by author, and then chronologically if he had multiple editions. His wardrobe was organised by season, style, cut then colour. And his kitchen could make a chef cry. Everything had a place, and everything was how it should be.
At least until you moved in.
You were the second kind of doctor. Your work as a cardiothoracic surgeon was unmatched, and both your operating room and office were immaculately organised. Outside of the hospital was another story.
Your car had at least four jumpers, and three pairs of shoes in it. Your wardrobe was a series of clothes shoved onto hangers and into drawers, and your cupboard in the kitchen would also make a chef cry, although these would be tears of frustration.
But that didn't matter, because Brendon could live with that if it meant having you. Besides, the biggest thing Brendon, and most doctors, hated were surprises. Surprises meant not knowing what was around the corner, and if you had a surprise in surgery it never meant anything good.
Brendon didn't think there was anything that could be a good surprise.
Until today.
You had stayed home sick. Brendon had pretty much demanded it.
"No, baby. You are not going in today." he had said, feeling your forehead to see if you were running a fever. Thankfully you weren't. But your stomach pain, and the fact your dinner last night didn't look great, led him to his diagnosis of gastroenteritis. "You'll be feeling better tonight, I promise."
He kissed your forehead and then went to work. The first surprise came an hour later when you called him, begging him to come home because something was definitely wrong.
Brendon was usually a big believer in speed limits, but he made that twenty minute drive in only twelve. You never called him at work, and you had never sounded so distressed. Not when you broke you leg, or even the day when you lost three patients on your table. Never.
The house was sickeningly quiet when he came barrelling through the front door. When you were home, you were never quiet. Even when you were sick you always had the radio going, or the tv playing those awful sitcoms Brendon hated. Oh how he wished he heard one of those stupid shows right now.
"Baby?" He called, making his way quickly through the apartment. "Where are you?"
He heard a muffled cry from the bathroom and before he could even think, he was sprinting towards the sound. He swung the door open with much more force than needed, and probably splintered the wood, but that would be a problem for later.
Immediately, he was scanning you over. You looked hot, sweaty and dishevelled, as if you had ran a marathon. You were violently shaking, and he could see the blood dripping down your legs and onto the tile.
"Bren," You say, voice tired with something that Brendon can't place. He watches as you clutch the towel you were holding even tighter, "Baby."
He moves towards you, trying to take the towel away so he can get a proper look at you, but you only clutched it towards you tighter.
"Bren," you try again, forcing your voice to be a little clearer. "I had a baby."
"What?"
Instead of responding, you shift the towel slightly, so Brendon could have a better look inside, only to be met with a copy of his eyes looking back up at him.
He sets his weight down softly next to you, wrapping one arm around you and another around his new-born.
"A baby? I didn't- I didn't know you were- Did you know?" He asks, fighting to form a full sentence. Despite all his fancy degrees, and his years of helping patients, he couldn't comprehend how this could have happened.
Yes he knew about cryptic pregnancies, but to have his own child born that way, it was hard to grasp. You both had missed out on so much, no ob/gyn appointments, no finding out the gender, no baby shopping, no decorating the nursery. You had missed all of it.
Although, looking at the little eyes and tiny nose of his baby, he couldn't bring himself to mind it at all. Many of his colleagues told him about how the world changes when you become a parent, and Brendon didn't believe it. He didn't so change, and he didn't do surprises. Up until now, his life had been entirely in his control.
He had known he was a father for less than two minutes, and yet he couldn't imagine it any other way.
"Come on, baby," he said, pulling away slightly so he could fish his phone out of his scrubs pocket. "I'm going to call an ambulance, and get you both up the hospital. Get you checked out."
You just nod, thankful that you did not need to think for yourself right now. After all the events from today, you were more than happy to relinquish control to Brendon. And Brendon was happy to take it.
Brendon park request grumpy x grumpy? I think it would be so cuteee like black cat x Doberman
Idiots | Brendon Park | The Pitt
God, why could you just not have an easy shift. Just one easy shift, surely that isn't too much to ask. Or maybe it was considering the chaos that is the Emergency Department at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. It was definitely too much to ask considering the idiocy of some of the people you work with.
For some reason, despite most of your colleagues making it through med school, and becoming fully fledged doctors in a residency programme, they decided it was today of all days that they would forget all the basics and bother you with all the dumb questions.
Currently, it was the new med student, Ogilvie, bothering you. “... so if you could go and fix the blood pressure machine, that would be gre-”
Without looking up, you raised your hand slightly, cutting Ogilvie’s words off before he could continue. “No.”
“No? What do you mean no, it needs to be fixed so I practice my observation procedures more.”
“Firstly, no is a complete sentence.” You click out of the chart you were editing, before turning in your chair to face the man (if you could call him that, manchild would be more fitting). “Secondly, I am an attending, your attending if I am correct. Why should I stop what I am doing, which is frankly more important to anything you are spending your time on, to go and fix a machine you broke?”
“Because it needs to be fixed, and you know how to do it. You're meant to be teaching me here!”
You turn back to your computer, “And i’m teaching you google is free. Go bother someone else with your questions.” You wave your hand to dismiss him, before opening up your charts again. You had hoped that he would have gone away after that, but it seems like today none of your hopes are coming true
“Robby also said-”
“I don’t care what Robby said, you can fix a machine yourself. You’re an adult, no?” You keep your back to him as you continue to type. “If Robby has a problem he can take it up with me himself.”
“Robby said for you to take over in South 15. Something about an ortho case.”
“Are you working this case?”
“No.”
“Good,” You once again closed the unfinished charts, before shoving yourself up and past Ogilvie, “I’ll do it then.”
Making your way over to south 15, you catch Ogilvie going back to report his conversation to Robby, probably mentioning your less than kind response, but after watching the man’s bedside manner, and his unwavering need to be right, you really couldn’t muster up the energy to care too much. Because, even you, who can barely tolerate your colleagues most days, can figure out how to have decent bedside manner and have an impeccable patient satisfaction score.
As you walk into the room, you introduce yourself before checking their vitals. “Looks all good to me, so,” You look down at their chart, “...Danny, what brought you in here today?”
Before the patient could respond, Brendon decided to cut in. “Could it be the protruding tibia?”
“It most certainly is Ma’am,”
“And how did you do that?”
“I fell off my bike coming down I-376 and yeah… my leg bone is not meant to be like that.
Brendon tries not to laugh, especially as you make eye contact with you. “Yeah, the ‘leg bone’ definitely is not meant to be like that.”
“I’m so sorry if this is inappropriate,” Danny says, still looking at you,” But this might be the painless talking. You are such a good nurse, and you're really pretty. Could I maybe take you out after this?”
You heard a thump and Brendon tossed the chart onto the chair beside him. Despite the anger on his face, he managed to keep a cool, calm tone. “No you may not. You are a patient, you cannot ask out your doctor.” He moved to make eye contact with the patient. “And you definitely don't want to ask out the wife of the other doctor who is about to operate on your open fracture.”
“Danny, someone will be in to prep you for surgery shortly. Dr Park and I will see you in the operating theatre.”
You turn and walk away, not having to look behind you to know that Brendon was following you. As you leave South 15 and turn into an empty corridor, you find yourself starting to smile for the first time today.
“You didn’t have to be so harsh, Bren.”
He huffed, “Don’t lie, you enjoyed it.”
“I did,” you say, leaning into his side, “But I am going to enjoy being out of the ED more. Everyone here has been so stupid today. I cannot bear their idiocy anymore, especially that Ogilvie. You know he asked me to fix a blood pressure machine he broke so he could practice more.”
“That’s what you get with med students.” Brendon pressed a kiss into your hair, before taking your hand into his and walking up the stairs. “Besides, this surgery is going to take at least a couple of hours, your shift will be done by then.”
“It better be, I’m leaving either way.”
“I know you will, baby.”
---
I'm not sure what i think about this one, feedback is appriacted
I'm dying for more brendon Park fics🤧🤧 Can I please request where they are just having a soft and relaxing day with the kids and people from the hospital found out that brendon have baby sharks
Fairies | Brendon Park | The Pitt
These were the days Brendon lived for.
Because contrary to popular belief, Brendon Park’s life did not revolve around the hospital. Nor did it revolve around his admittedly rather large ego when it came to orthopedic surgery, though, with his impeccable track record and outstanding patient satisfaction scores, he’d argue he had every right to be a little arrogant at work.
No. His life revolved around his family.
You and Brendon had met in med school. While he found his passion in orthopedics and you in emergency cardiovascular surgery, the two of you grew together through sleepless nights, impossible exams, and brutal shifts, eventually marrying during your intern year.
Nine months later, Isla was born.
A few years after that came her little sister, Edith.
And ever since, nothing compared to leaving behind the bright lights of PTMC and coming home to find all three of his girls bundled together on the sofa, waiting for him to walk through the door. Tonight was one of those nights.
The second he shut the door behind him, Isla came barreling off the sofa and towards her dad. Brendon barely had time to drop his keys into the bowl before he had his eldest daughter in his arms.
“Hi Baby,” Brendon said, carrying the little girl back through to the living room. He unceremoniously dropped her down on the sofa and flashed her a cheeky smile. “How are my girls doing today?”
“Good,” You responded, baby Edith in hand. “Edith is nearly done with her bottle. Dinner has been ordered, and we are just waiting for you to start the movie.”
“We’re watching Fairies!” Isla squealed. The Tinkerbell movie had been in constant rotation for the girl for the last four months, so much so she would refuse to watch anything else.
Brendon kissed her on the forehead, moving to give you one as he sat down behind Isla on the sofa. “Fairies? Again?”
“Yay fairies!”
You smile at him, “Fairies it is.”
Instead of responding, Brendon grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and hit play, allowing the opening credits to roll. Despite how many times Isla had insisted they watch fairies all together as a family (57, not that Brendon was counting), he did not mind one bit as long as it made his girl happy. There wasn’t much Brendon wouldn’t do to keep his daughter smiling.
It was just as he had begun to get settled in properly did he hear the thunk thunk thunk of someone knocking on the front door. By the time you had moved your head to look at the door, Brendon had already shot up and started making his way towards the door.
You had expected it to be the Chinese takeaway delivery, but instead of the goth teenager who usually delivers from the Chinese place, it was Dr Robinavaitch from work. You quickly turn your head back towards the movie, and pretend to be as engrossed as Isla, as dealing with work was not on your bucket list right now; and from Brendon’s sharp tone, you could guess it wasn’t on his either.
“What do you want, Robinavitch,” Brendon said, trying to keep his voice low.
“You have my work badges.” Robby said, trying to peer into the apartment, only to have his view blocked by Brendon.
“Why would I have them?” Brendon almost sneered.
Robby sighed, “I had a patient with severe vomiting, I didn’t want to get completely covered so I asked Whitaker to put my fleece on my bag, and to tuck my Badges into the front pocket. Turns out we have identical bags.”
To prove his point, Robby turned to show the bag resting on his shoulders. Brendon rolled his eyes as he went to grab his rucksack as quickly as possible. In his haste, Brendon forgot to shut the door to stop Robby from seeing inside of your home. Instead, he got a direct view of you sitting with your daughters. Even with you back turned to him, Robby recognised you, seeing as you spent most of your working career in the Pitt with him.
“Oh… Uh I didn’t know that you two knew each other." Robby said when Brendon came back with the bag.
“Find what you want. Quickly,” Brendon didn’t waste time shoving the back towards the other doctor, “Besides, we have the same last name. What did you expect?”
Robby didn’t get the time to respond to Brendon’s question before he was interrupted by Isla making her way over to the door and clinging to Brendon’s leg.
“Who’s this?” Robby asked, squatting down to the toddler’s height, “I’m Robby, what’s your name?”
Isla shied away from him, attempting to hide behind her dad’s leg. She didn’t last very long before she ran back to you, whimpering about stranger danger. Both you and Brendon had to stifle your laughs at that.
“That’s Isla.” Brendon said, watching his daughter toddle back over to you with soft eyes. That softness lasted all of five seconds before he turned back to Robby “Got you badge yet? Good. Now I have a plan and you need to go.”
It was no Brendon’s turn to not give Robby the time to talk as he practically slammed the door shut in his face before making his own way back to the sofa.
“You know that all of the hospital will know about us by tomorrow.” You smiled at Brendon. You had wanted to tell your coworker about your wonderful husband and adorable kids for years now, but Brendon had wanted to keep work and personal life separate. As much as you respected that, you were very happy to have the cat out of the bag.
“Please, Robinavitch is too scared to say anything”
Just as Brendon said that, your phone Buzzed.
Message From Dr J Abbot: You have kids? With park the shark? And you didn’t say anything?
You held the phone up so he could see the message. Brendon threw his head back onto the edge of the sofa. Still smiling, you toss your phone onto the coffee table and lean into Brendon's side. Instinctively, his arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.
And despite all the fanfare of the last fifteen minutes, Brendon wouldn’t trade it for the world. After all it was days like these that Brendon truly lived for
Ive never requested anything ever so idk if this is right but id love to read about a very bubbly and bratty reader (who's aesthetic is like pink and princess vibe) x park the shark like maybe the are secretly married or secretly dating who knows you can pick 🫶🏼🫶🏼😩
Princess | Brendon Park | The Pitt
The Emergency Department was not a happy place. It was full of hurt, discomfort, and death. Most days something tragic happens, from a baby being abandoned to hearing a family go through the worst day of their lives. Despite all the bad, there was always good as well.
You, unlike most of your coworkers, tried to see the good in everyone. As an emergency paediatric doctor, you saw people come into the ED on some of their worst days, and you knew that you just got the worst of the emotions flung at you. Deep down, you knew that a lot of these people were good, hardworking people. And holding onto that thought kept you going most days.
Today wasn’t most days.
Sitting down at the nurses station, you let your head drop down onto the desk with a solid thud. It was only 4pm, and yet you were ready for the day to be over. It had been rough all day. You had lost a patient only half an hour into your shift, and another had thrown up on your new shoes (although you couldn't be too mad at that one, the kid was rather apologetic). Worst of all, you had an absolute idiot assigned to you, a med student called Oglivie.
Ogilvie had decided to take matters into his own hands, and give a kid tylenol without consulting you, or the child’s chart, otherwise he would have learnt about the child’s allergies. Thankfully, the parents were very switched on to the treatments given, and had practically slapped the medication from Ogilvie's hand. Watching the shock on his face had certainly been a highlight of the shift.
“Come on, come on,” You heard Robby from behind you, before feeling a soft thunk hit your head, “You’ve got a new patient in room four. Boy vs Bike. I already started the intake for you.”
You launch yourself up and out of the chair, trying to boost your energy up again. All of that lasted two sessions before you saw the coffee in Robby’s hands. Quickly, you plucked it up, “I'll swap you coffee for Ogilvie. Enjoy!”
You made you way out of the nurses station and towards the patient room before Robby could argue back to you, not like you felt like listening to any of Robby’s bullshit today. Shutting the door behind you, you make your way over to the little girl on the hospital bed with a clearly broken arm.
“Hi,” you smile, introducing yourself and you pull on your latex gloves, and sit on the small rolling stool by the bed, “I’m the pediatric doctor here, which means I work with kiddos like you. So I heard you had a little run in with a bike, hmm?”
The kid, Amy, smiles back at you. She went to wave, only to lower her arm again when she remembered how much it hurts. “Yeah! I hurt my arm, Mummy said it was broken.”
The arm was very misshapen, you didn’t need an X-ray to tell you that. But you tapped in an order for imaging anyway, just to see how badly the bone was broken, and you knew that Ortho would want to see it as well; so you paged them to come down as well.
“Your mummy sounds like a really smart person,” You smile again, beginning to gently feel her arm. “You did a good job bringing her in today. It doesn't seem like it is anything other than a broken bone, but I'm having Orthopedics come down and have a look anyway. Once they clear it, you will most likely need a cast and a sling, but that's about it.”
“What’s a cast?” Amy says, looking down at her arm before looking back at you.
“It’s like a really hard glove which will keep your arm safe whilst it heals. You can even pick the colour you want!” You beam at the girl, before removing your gloves and tossing them into the bin.
“What colour would you want? Can it be glittery?”
“I would want a pink one; pink is my favourite colour,” You laugh, pointing the pink Stethoscope around your neck, before down to your pink trainers. “I don’t think they do glittery casts though, but I can draw some flowers on it before I leave if you want? And the sharpies I have are glittery.”
“Really?”
Before you could answer, the door opened and closed as Brendon entered the room. “What do we have here?”
“Dr Park, this is Amy. She lost a battle with her bike and now has a broken arm. We were just talking about what colour she will want.”
Gently, Brendon touched your back as he moved around him to have a look at Amy’s arm. It took him a lot less time to come to the same conclusion as you. “It's broken, and will need an X-ray. Although I think I can reset it without surgery. You’ll just need a cast for about six to ten weeks.”
“Cool.” Amy smiled up at you. “I want pink, me and Dr..”
You say your name again, before prompting the girl to continue
Amy continues on “.were talking about cast colours, she said that there aren't glittery ones. Which sucks, but she said she will draw flowers onto it in a glitter pen!”
Brendon smiles at the girl and her parents before excusing you both. The second you’re outside of the patient’s room, he grabs your hand before dragging you around the corner, away from the prying eyes of your coworkers.
“Hey, Princess,” He says the second you are alone, “How are you feeling now. I saw your text, you still feeling down.”
You avoid his eyes, “Yeah.. just a down day. Although it is so much better now you’re here.”
“Now you know how I feel when I see you.”
“Ew, that’s so sappy.” You fake gag, before drawing back and finally looking at your husband, “Anyway, I brought in brownies, they're in the break room. You should get one before they’re gone, and before people get suspicious and come looking for us.”
Brendon laughs, “And why aren't we telling everyone we’re married again.”
“Because I don’t want to be associated with your miserableness of course. It would ruin my forever perky image. I worked very hard for it.”
Brendon just shakes his head at you, before stealing a kiss and wandering back out into the hospital. Although you couldnt find yourself missing him too much, as you know you would have him to yourself later on.
Self Serving, arrogant, asshole of a man | Brendon Park | The Pitt
Brendon Park is an asshole.
A self serving, arrogant, asshole of a man who does not care about anyone but himself. He does what he wants, when he wants, and has little regard for the effect on other people. As long as he is happy, who cares what other people think.
Except for you. Brendon had been nothing but generous and kind to you. Listening to you moan about your manchild of a partner for weeks on end, offering advice and comfort when needed, but more often than not, he was just there when you needed him. You had never thought that you would be on the receiving end of Brendon’s assholeness.
Until now.
You had woken up to banging coming from the living room of your apartment (which was far too small for two people, but that is a topic Brendon had planned to address at a later date). It was only when you shuffled through did you find your boyfriend, Matt, packing his things away.
“What are you doing?” You had said, moving to try and stop him from packing his stuff. Looking down into the box, you noticed how it wasn’t all his stuff. “Why are my vinyls in this box?”
He huffed, snatching the box away from you. “I’m leaving you, you couldn’t even have a ball to break up with me yourself. Besides, I can do much better than you, you’re just some assistant. I can get with models if I want too.”
“I’m a resident doctor…” You has started, but that wasn’t the point you were getting at. “I have no idea what you me- Can you please stop packing away my stuff, those are my salt and pepper shakers!”
“Yeah, well, I use them so I should get them. It’s the least I deserve after your side piece came here, threatening me and all.”
It was almost laughable, the way Matt was storming around the apartment. He looked like a child threatening to run away from home for the seventh time. He snatched a few more of your vinyls of the bookshelf, glaring at you as you removed them from his boxes.
“Seriously, I have no idea what you mean. Can’t we talk about this?”
“No.” He grabbed the box, now significantly lighter without your stuff in it, “Go sleep with your new asshole boyfriend instead. You’ll be grovelling for me in no time.”
And with that, Matt stormed out of the apartment, or at least tried to make an attempt to; it was closer to an angry stumble than anything else. As upset as you were, not even you could deny the relief you had, knowing he was gone and certainly not your problem, even if he did manage to make away with your salt and pepper shakers.
Although that did leave you with one final problem, who is this supposed asshole boyfriend you had never heard off before. It certainly wasn’t Robby, despite Matt and Robby not getting on the only time they met, Robby was your boss and he wouldn't cross that line, would he? Abbot definitely would take matters into his own hands if he really wanted too, but he would tell you beforehand. There was nobody else you could think of who would intervene in your life like that, especially those who would be mistaken for a boyfriend.
Unless…
“That asshole!” you gasped, as you lunged across the sofa for your phone, dialing Brendon’s number. If you had been calmer, you would have noticed the time and probably decided three am was not the best time for this call. But after the last twenty minutes you had, you were not calm and you certainly did not care about respecting boundaries.
It was only on the final ring did Brendon answer, his voice heavy and groggy with sleep. “What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“Stop caring about me; I’m mad at you! What the hell did you say to Matt?”
You could hear Brendon’s bed sheets rustle, you could clearly picture him sitting up in bed, trying to focus on the conversation more. “Nothing that wasn’t true. Why, what did he do this time?”
“He left me.”
The phone was silent for a moment.
“Good.” You could hear the amusement in Brendon’s voice, “The man can listen afterall.”
“You broke us up! Why the hell would you do that, Bren, you had no right. You’re such a self serving, arrogant, asshole of a man!”
The phone crackled slightly. “Big words for three in the morning, Princess, besides why are you mad? Are you upset I broke you two up - or are you upset that you didn’t do it yourself? Face it, baby, you were miserable. I just had the balls to do something about it.”
“You had no right, Brendon.”
“I couldn’t sit and watch the woman I love ruin herself trying to get some dumbass to love her back. Not when I’ve wanted you for years. So yeah, call me an asshole, I’d do it again”
It was your turn to go silent. His words ringing through your mind, going a mile a minute. He loves you. Brendon loves you. After years of you silently watching him, not letting yourself want him, and he loves you.
“You what?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Princess, you heard me. I love you.” He said, tone as gentle as he has always been with you. “Now are you still mad at me, or can I take you out sometime.”
You choke back a laugh, still trying to process everything. “You can just ask me out like that.”
“Why not? You were right, I am a self serving asshole. And I want you, so I’m going to everything I can to get you. So can I take you to dinner?”
As much as you wanted to mention that you also called him an asshole, it didn’t feel too appropriate. You sigh. “I can’t really say no, can I?”
“Not after I’ve just done you a massive favour, I’ll pick you up at 8 O’Clock tonight. I would say wear something pretty, but you would look stunning in everything.” You could hear Brendon’s smile in his words. “I mean it though, I do love you.”
“I love you too, Bren.” You smile as the words come out. “But if you ever pull this shit again, I swear to god.”
“I won't. There won't be any need, I’ll be the last boyfriend, and then the only husband, you’ll ever have. But that’s a later conversation, right now you need to sleep. Sleep well.”
Before you could respond, Brendon had already ended the call. Slowly, you lower your phone from your ear again. The red flashing of the clock on the bookshelf showed it was just before four am.
In one evening, Brendon had gone from your kind and considerate best friend, to the man you might just possibly spend the rest of your life with. Thank god Brendon had decided to be self serving, arrogant, asshole of a man this evening.
Going out for drinks with the rest of the er and getting wasted and the top contact is Park the Shark but it says something like Sharkie💙. They get to see the tough guy all soft. Idk if that might be too much info. If it you can take some out. 😁
Drunk | Brendon Park | The Pitt
It had been a good evening. A very good, alcohol induced evening.
Trinity had insisted on a girls night out, with you, King, McKay and Javardi. Cassie had Harrison, and Javadi had- well you didn't know what her excuse was, but it must have been good for Trinity not to push the subject too much.
But a trio for girls night had been a bit too small for Santos’s liking, hence why Whitaker, Robby, and somehow Abbot and Shen from the nightshift all ended up in a dive bar two streets over from the PTMC.
The night had started well, Shen and Mel were killing it at karaoke, Robby and Abbot seemed to be having some form of lovers quarrel. Normally you would want to know what was going on between the two of them, but right now your focus was on the fifth? Maybe a sixth shot in front of you.
It was as you were contemplating if a seventh shot of tequelia was a smart idea (it is not, you are scheduled to work tomorrow morning, although with the state of you, the hangover may cause you to take a sick day), you thump your head down onto the bartop. “I want to go home.”
“Whyy,” Trinity whines, trying to pick your head up, as if that could bring all your energy back. “We’re having fun, me and you are gonna sing.”
“I want my bed, and my dog, and my dog in my bed with my Bren-”
“You can have your bed later,” Trinity draws out the word, shaking you slightly, “We can ding and have another drink now!”
“Noo,” You whine, picking your phone out of your pocket. “Do you wanna come for a sleepover, I need to know.”
“Sleepover where? Your place is tiny.” Trinity takes another shot, already eyeing up yours.
Sliding over your drink, you open your contacts and show Trinity the top result. Someone names ‘Sharkie 🦈’ You hit dial, ignoring the tone as you continue talking.
“Bren will come and get us and we can have a sleepover in our bed with our dog and Bren will drive us home and-” You take a breath as the phone call connects, “Hi baby!”
“Hi! What’s wrong?” Trinity heard his muffled reply. She swotted at you until you dragged yourself and the phone closer so she could hear too over the karaoke party behind you. “I thought you weren’t going to be home till midnight?”
“I wanna come home,” you slur, the image of your cozy bed and your comfy fiance in your mind. “Can I come home? Can Trinity have a sleep over?”
“Not tonight sweetheart, but I'll come get you, I’ll be there in five minutes,” Park said before he hung up the phone. Trinity tried to slip the phone back into your pocket, only to give up half way, and slip it into her own and make a mental note to give it back to you tomorrow.
If she was sober, Trinity would have thought longer about asking about Park. But she wasn’t sober, and she didn’t think it through at all, “Why the hell is Park the Shark your top contact? He is so- so bitey”
You look up at him, ignoring the way the room was spinning “Bitey?”
Trinity nods at that, as if the word ‘bitey’ explained it all.
“He’s not bitey,” You slurred, wobbling up to stand and put your coat on, “He’s so soft and lovely and squishy and lovely.”
“You said lovely twice.”
“He’s double-y lovely. No triple-y lovely”
Trinity just hummed as she tried to stand herself. She was proud that she only stumbled into the bar once, “Come on, I want to see the Shark be not sharky.”
Somehow, the two of you manage to get out of the bar, and into the front parking lot in one piece (mostly drunken confidence, although a little of it must have been pure dumb luck) just in time to see Brendon pull up in front of you in the Mercedes. The same one he had tried to gift to you last week when your old corolla had died a very slow death.
Quickly, he is out of the drivers side and by you, hooking an arm around your shoulders. “Oh you are very drunk,”
You look up at him, as you allow your body weight to be supported by him, “I’m not drunk, I'm just trip-”
“Tipsy.”
“That’s the one.”
“Okay, baby, whatever you say.” He smiles, pressing a kiss into your hair, before turning back to Santos, all softness from his voice gone. “I’m assuming you’re going to find your way home with somebody else?”
“Huckleberry and I will go together, we live just there” She had tried to point in the direction of her apartment, but it ended up just being a gesture somewhere north of here. Happy that you were safe, she turned around to head back into the bar, forgetting even to say goodbye.
Satisfied that she was safe and had some way home, Brendon turned back to you and helped you into the front passenger seat, before clicking your seatbelt into place before you. “Let’s get you home, hmm.”
Just as he goes to pull away, you grab his arm, keeping him in place, “Thank you baby, you're the bestest.”
He presses another kiss to your forehead, before moving round to the driver's side, and pulling out of the parking lot. “I know baby, but you’re better.”
