parker hears the curtain drawing back. she groans as she lifts up her eye mask, squinting at the intruder, though she already knows the only person it could be. she makes a point to stare at you for a second too long, as if to say really?, but moves to the end side of the bed regardless.
you hop onto the bed next to her with a heavy sigh, closing your eyes. parker looks over you – you're out of scrubs, wearing the same jumper and jeans you wore when you both clocked in yesterday evening, but still pulling on your stethoscope around your neck, badge attached to your waist.
"i was supposed to take a nap, you know," she says, trying her best to sound stern. definitely not slightly relieved at the sight of you.
"don't you have your depo, like... now?" you reply, still not opening your eyes.
"i had solid 20 minutes before you barged in."
"who naps for 20 minutes?" you turn to look at her incredulously. "in any case, dana's hunting for beds. she was about to get you any minute now."
you lay back and close your eyes again. she's looking at you for a moment longer, taking note of your appearance, before laying back herself.
"what happened to your scrubs?"
you take a deep breath and exhale. you know she wants to tease, but you try to keep your dignity.
"ran out... been a long shift."
parker fights a smile, even though she knows you can't see her. when parker clocked out this morning, you had already changed twice – a friday night out alcohol poisoning, a poor kid with gastroenteritis. you had taken it like a champ both times. she knew you weren't really as nonchalant about getting vomit on you as you wanted everyone to think, especially the patients. happens all the time, really, you always say, with the kindest smile on your face as you wipe off as much as you can. it doesn't, but the patients don't have to know that, do they? it's silly how it makes parker's chest tighten a little – that you care so much about not making others feel small, that parker notices what you don't say out loud.
it doesn't change the fact that she would have loved seeing your face as you scurry around the department for new scrubs, again.
"you want me to get you some?"
"fuck, no," you scoff. "i'm getting the fuck out of here. just waiting for my younglings to finish their charts," you say, almost sounding fond. she assumes it's the effect of leaving your place of work after a shift and a half that makes you sound so serene, and that some hours ago you were looking at your younglings like a drill sergeant.
you're both quiet for some time. you turn to look at her, but she looks composed as always.
"you nervous?"
parker sighs. the truth of the matter is, she's really not. the word deposition would imply it, but she knows neither her, nor mel did anything wrong. you know it, too. in fact, sometimes you seemed more upset than parker herself. upset at the antivaxxer parents, upset at the system. upset that innocent doctors who save lives have to be berated in such a way so that the rich get richer, the poor, poorer. it doesn't help, of course, getting upset. but you do anyway. it's how you care, parker figured a long time ago.
"we didn't do anything wrong. and anyway, that's what it's about the least."
you let it sit for a moment. you want to hold her hand, but think maybe you're not there yet. sometimes, it feels like you two share a specific wavelength on which you understand each other so effortlessly. other times, you feel like maybe you're making it up in your head.
"text me when it's over."
parker knows you're looking at her, but doesn't feel like she can look back at you. it's a line you two dance around a lot – when you grab breakfast after shift, when one catches the other getting some air, or when you stay over. giving intimacy and letting it sit there, because neither is confident enough to take it further. still, appreciating it for what it is. there's comfort and care in that, too.
she looks at you instead of answering. you avert your eyes to somewhere vaguely in her direction, and she does the same. you sigh again and lean your head against her shoulder. you wish you could stay here like this forever – away from the noise, bunking in a bed too small for the both of you. not that you would ever say it out loud. she would make fun of you for the rest of your life.
she wouldn't, but you don't know that. parker's much softer on the inside than you give her credit for, she thinks. then again, god forbid you ever know the extent of her feelings. it scares her sometimes, how much she wants to say yes to your invite for some coffee when she drops you off after work, despite it being 9 am and your bedtime. how much she wants to come up to your tiny apartment full of life, pet your silly cat, drink the coffee you make her, sleep cuddled up with you in your bed. wake up when it's already dark outside and cook lunch, swaying to some music in your kitchen. smooth out the grumpy creases on your forehead. kiss you when you go for a smoke on a rare night out with your coworkers. hold you when work gets too much. being held by you when work gets too much. be with you.
but for now, you both linger in the space between. there's something thrilling in that, too. the will we, won't we of it all.
"term for an ambiguously worded news headline, 12 letters."
it was that point in the early hours of the morning when the emergency department slowed down. it doesn't happen often, it never lasts long, and god forbid you dare put a name on this occurrence. still, it came greatly appreciated by all who got to witness it.
john was hunched over one of the computers at the central hub, squinting at the screen and swivelling on his chair. he pondered over the latest, freshly released new york times crossword puzzle clue for a moment, hummed, and turned to you.
you were sitting in a chair next to him, staring at a chart on your ipad. with every passing moment it was starting to look less like a chart and more like a word salad as you were reaching hour 20 of your double shift. the space above your eyes felt heavy, your body sore from the short nap you managed to take in an exam room some time ago. it would be a grave understatement to say you were truly ready to go home and enjoy your next 24 hours off.
you raise your head to find john still looking at you, waiting for your guess. frankly, you don't think you even managed to process whatever it was he had said. you look at him helplessly.
"dude... i really don't know."
john hums again and turns back to his screen.
you let out a heavy sigh and look back to your chart. you close you eyes and try to summon all the remaining concentration you have left from the red bull you had at 9 pm, but a knock breaks your focus.
it's parker. you see it for a fraction of a second and then it's all but gone – you realise she looks tired, too. she doesn't let it show, usually. she probably doesn't mean to show it now either, you think, but you notice anyway. she leans over the counter and nods at you.
"hey, i got an extra ticket for that game today, you free? we could grab dinner after."
your eyebrows shot to your forehead. your nonchalant defence system must be malfunctioning due to sheer exhaustion because words seem to be stuck in your throat.
"y-yeah... sure. of course," you say, straightening in your chair. you try to put on a smile that looks polite and excited, but not too desperate. you don't think it's working. "sounds good."
"cool. i'll come pick you up," she says and nods. she clears her throat and looks around the station. "did the labs get back on exam 4?"
"uhh... yeah," you put you elbow on the desk and rub your forehead. "vivi was looking for you a minute ago."
"cool. thanks" she taps the counter once – winks at you, you think in your haze – and walks away.
you watch her leave and fade into the hallway. you can feel your consciousness storming back in because suddenly you're too aware of the heat that had spread from your cheeks, to your ears, and all over your chest. you reach with cold hands around your neck to cool down when you hear laughter from the chair next to you.
"dude... what the hell was that?"
you straighten your spine and look up to see a smirking john chewing on a straw.
"what?"
"are you okay? you look a little..." he says, pointing to his face. you reckon he thinks he's very good at feigning the expression of a seriously concerned friend.
"john, stop."
he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. one could say he was positively beaming. "why is she asking you to a game? and since when do you go to baseball games?"
"since parker ellis asked me. got any more smartass questions?"
"do you even know who's playing?"
"oh, fuck off, shen."
"no, seriously, dude. i think these doubles are taking a toll on you. your game... it's not looking good, man."
"i have work to do," you say as you get up and start walking. where to, you're not sure yet. you swear you can hear him snort behind you.
