Summary: After a party for your husband goes wrong, his best friend Frankie helps you see you may have hit the wall in your marriage.
Pairing/WC/Tags: Frankie Morales / 4k / arguing, emotional abuse(??), implied infidelity, cheating spouse au (Frankie would never), emotional infidelity (?)
A/N: once again inspired by a tik tok from irisxedetz and Gracie Abrams song ‘Hit the Wall’ ao3 link below, chapter two out 7/20 🫶🏼
Chapter One: I’m not a problem you can solve
The house is full of people who are trying very hard not to notice that the birthday boy isn’t here.
You notice, though. You notice every single second that passes in your husbands absence.
The clock on the wall ticks, each minute stretching thinner and thinner as another guest looks toward the front door and then quickly looks away. Your husband’s mother has asked twice if he said he was running late, and friends have made jokes about him getting distracted. You’ve laughed every time, skirting around the embarrassment that is growing in your chest.
“He’s probably just caught up,” you say, forcing a smile as you pick up an empty glass from the coffee table. “You know how he gets.”
You move through the house like you’re trying to outrun the embarrassment. You refill drinks and offer more food, checking on people who don’t need checking on, and apologizing for things that aren’t your fault.
“I’m sorry, he should’ve been here by now,” you murmur. “I’m sure he’s on his way.”
You say it so many times it almost starts to sound like a prayer. Across the room, without your knowledge, Frankie watches you.
He’s leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand, surrounded by people who have known him for years, but his attention never really leaves you. He sees the way your shoulders tense when your phone lights up and it isn’t him, can see you keep making yourself smaller to make everyone else comfortable, and makes something in his chest twist.
Frankie knows his best friend. He knows the excuses, and the temper. He’s familiar with how he can make a room feel like it belongs to him even when he isn’t in it.
But seeing you like this is something different.
You’re his wife, you’re supposed to be loved, and cherished, not standing in your own kitchen, apologizing to a room full of people because your husband couldn’t be bothered to show up for his own birthday party.
Frankie takes a sip of his beer, jaw tightening. He shouldn’t think about it. He shouldn’t wonder what it would be like if it were him, if he were the one coming home to you. If he were the one who got to wake up next to you, make you coffee, hear about your day.
He shouldn’t consider any of that, but he does, and he hates himself for it.
Hours later, when the food has gone cold and the laughter has faded into awkward conversation, the front door finally opens, and your husband walks in. More like stumbles, the smell of alcohol reaching the room before he does.
Everyone is too busy gathering towards him that they don’t notice the way his shirt is rumbled, or the smear of lipgloss on his collar, but Frankie does. Your husband barely seems to see the room full of people staring at him.
“Sorry,” he says, dragging the word out. “Lost track of time.”
You force yourself to smile. “It’s okay.”
It isn’t, but you smile anyways, because that’s what you do. You smooth things over, making them easier to digest.
You walk over and quietly ask if he’s okay, and he brushes you off with a shrug before greeting his friends like he didn’t leave you alone to host his birthday party. You blink quickly, the lump in your throat that’s been stuck there for two hours growing, and you smile wider.
Later, when everyone finally starts leaving, Frankie stays behind. You don’t ask him to, don’t speak to him much as all, but still he helps. He gathers empty plates, stacks cups, and carries trash bags to the kitchen. It gives you a chance to breathe, to focus on other things than the shit show of a party, until your husband walks back into the room.
“You know, I don’t even know why you did all this.”
You pause, glancing at him from the sink, and Frankie looks up from the counter. You gingerly put the stack of plates into the basin and turn on the tap. “What?”
Your husband scoffs, tossing his keys onto the table. “I didn’t even want a party.”
Your lips twist and you squeeze the soap onto your hand, creating a lather. “I thought you’d like having everyone here.”
“Well, that was stupid.”
The words hit hard, and you nearly stumble as if they were physical. You swallow down the hurt, rubbing at a plate before setting it aside. “I was just trying to do something nice.”
“Yeah, well, you always do that.” He scoffs, loosening his tie. You can feel Frankie’s eyes on you and your cheeks become warm.
“Come on,” you say softly. “You’ve been drinking. Let’s just go to bed.”
Your husband laughs. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Please. Not tonight.”
“Not tonight?” he repeats. The frustration in his voice makes you flinch. “I spend one night out and suddenly I’m the bad guy?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, you never say anything.”
He grabs the beer bottle sitting on the counter and throws it. It’s a weak throw, but it shatters when it hits the wall beside you nonetheless. Your entire body jumps, and Frankie moves before he even thinks.
“Enough,” Frankie mutters. “Go upstairs. Been a long day.”
Your husband scoffs. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re really gonna lecture me in my own house?”
Frankie steps closer. “No. I’m telling you to go shower, sleep it off, and sober up before you make this worse.”
Your husband considers arguing, you can see it in his face, but then he sees Frankie’s expression, and he doesn’t. He disappears upstairs, leaving an unbearable silence.
You stare at the broken glass on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
Frankie’s head snaps toward you. “What?”
You shake your head and bend, picking up the shards with careful hands. You gather them in your palm and dump them in the trash, reaching for a broom. Frankie takes a few steps closer, and you avoid his line of sight. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“It’s fine,” you say automatically. “He didn’t mean it.”
The words come out so quickly that even you hear how practiced they sound. Frankie shakes his head, but frustration isn’t directed at you.
“He threw a bottle because he was mad.”
“He was drunk.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
The room suddenly feels too small. You sweep, collecting the last of the broken pieces and bend down for the dust pan. You throw them out then sigh, rubbing at the upcoming headache on the side of your temple. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
You don’t know how to explain years of slowly convincing yourself that this is normal. Love is supposed to hurt sometimes, and patience means swallowing everything.
Frankie takes a deep breath, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Are you even happy?”
The question knocks the air out of you. You face him with wide eyes, your lips parted. Frankie looks almost sorry for asking, but doesn’t take it back.
“You don’t have to answer me,” he says softly. “But I had to ask.”
You shake your head slowly, picking up a dish rag. “No.”
Frankie’s brows pull together. “No?”
You look away, folding your arms across yourself like you’re trying to hold everything in place. “I’m his wife. It’s my job. It’s my job to make things easier for him. To understand him, and know when he’s stressed, when he’s had a bad day, when I need to just… let something go,” You shrug, but there’s nothing casual about it. “If I can’t do that, then maybe I’m the problem.”
You go back to washing the dishes, the soap suds coming to your wrists. Frankie stares at you a beat before coming around you, and turning off the faucet. “What?”
You swallow. “If I’m unhappy, maybe it’s because I’m not doing enough. Maybe I’m not being a good enough wife.”
Frankie steps back, and lets out a brief, hollow laugh. “No. You’re so wrong.”
Your eyes lift to his. Frankie takes a step closer, his expression somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak, and you put your hands on your hips. “If I’m so wrong, then he wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t…go out like he does, or see her, or-“
You cut yourself off, realizing your mistake. Frankie’s eyes grow impossibly wide, and he reaches up to his head, gripping the edge of his cap. “So you know. About the cheating.”
It’s your turn to scoff, and you roll your eyes. “Of course I know. I’m not stupid.”
“You’re right, you’re not. You are-“ He stops, like he catches himself. There’s a line he knows he shouldn’t cross, but he’s been watching you hurt yourself for years, and tonight he’s too tired to pretend he doesn’t see it anymore.
“You are…” he whispers, and his jaw tightens. “If it was me…”
Your brows knit together, and your hands drop to your sides. Frankie’s eyes flicker over your face, and for a second he looks almost startled by his own words.
“If it was me,” he repeats, his voice lower, “you’d be so goddamn happy you’d burst.”
You raise your brows, and open your mouth to reply but words allude you. You stare at one another, and Frankie looks like he’s been punched.
“Jesus.” He immediately shakes his head, stepping back. “No. No, I shouldn’t have-“ He drags a hand over his face, looking away. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t regret admitting it, but he regrets putting that weight on you. You close your mouth, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Frankie…”
“That wasn’t fair.” He looks back at you. It’s hard watching this.”
Your throat tightens. “Frankie, I appreciate you calming him, but-“
“No, listen,” he pleads, and he moves into your space. “It’s hard watching someone like you spend all your time trying to convince everyone else that you’re okay.”
You look down, blinking a few times. “I’m fine.”
Frankie almost laughs, and gestures to you. “There it is. That thing you do. You say you’re fine before anyone even asks.” Frankie looks toward the stairs where your husband disappeared. “He didn’t come home tonight because he was having drinks with someone else. He came home drunk. He embarrassed you in front of everyone. He threw something because he was angry. And somehow you’re standing here telling me it’s your fault.”
Your throat aches, and you try to inhale. “He’s my husband.”
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I need you to understand something,” you look up at him, and his close enough that you can see the faint freckles across his cheeks from his time in the sun. “You deserve someone who’s excited to come home to you. Someone who sees you throwing them a birthday party and thinks, ‘How did I get so lucky?’” Frankie swallows. “Not someone who makes you apologize for loving them.”
Somewhere deep down, buried under all the excuses and all the times you told yourself this was normal, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh, pressing a hand to your mouth. “It wasn’t always like this. At least I don’t think so.”
Frankie nods, and you see the realization settling in. His shoulders drop slightly, and he knows gone too far. Not because what he said wasn’t true, but because it was. He can see the truth sitting between you both, and he knows he’s standing too close to a line he has no right to cross.
He looks away, running a hand over his beard. “I should go.”
Your brows pull together. “You don’t-“
“No.” He shakes his head, tugs at his cap. “Not because of you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You stay quiet as he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair. He slides it on and gives you a small smile.
“I just…” He exhales, looking down at the floor. “I know myself.”
Frankie has always been steady, the calm one. The one who thinks before he speaks. Tonight hes been loose, has said things he’s kept buried, things he probably never intended to say out loud.
“I need to leave before I say something else I shouldn’t.”
The honesty of it makes your heart skip, and maybe that’s why you don’t stop him. You don’t ask him to stay. You don’t ask him to sit with you until you feel less alone. It would be too dangerous, too emotional. You know how easy it would be to let someone like Frankie become the person you run to, especially when your own husband has spent so long making you feel like you’re impossible to love and come home smelling like a perfume you don’t wear.
Frankie pauses at the front door, his hand resting on the handle. “Just remember you deserve so much more. Okay?” Your throat tightens. “You don’t have to put up with his shit.”
You don’t know what to say, don’t know what would be safe, so instead you give him a grateful smile.
Frankie holds your gaze for a second longer than he should, then he nods, and the door clicks shut behind him.
The house is quiet again, save for the roaring of your blood in your ears, and you are alone.
-
Later that night, you lie beside your sleeping husband. His back is turned toward you, his breathing deep and even, like nothing happened, like he didn’t spend another night proving exactly why Frankie looked at him the way he did.
You stare at the ceiling, your mind refusing to settle. Instead, it keeps replaying the kitchen.
Frankie’s voice.
The disbelief on his face when you blamed yourself.
You’re so wrong.
You swallow, fidgeting.
If it was me, you’d be so goddamn happy you’d burst.
You close your eyes. You can still hear the way he said it, not like he was trying to steal you away, but as if it was the simplest truth in the world. Like loving you would never have been a burden. Taking care of you would have been something he was grateful for.
Your chest aches. Frankie shouldn’t have said it, and you know you shouldn’t still be thinking about it.
It was nice though, someone looking at you with complete honesty, and not asking what you could do better. Someone looked at you and wondered why you were settling for less.
The room grows darker as sleep starts to pull at you.
And just before you drift off, one thought stays. The one thing Frankie said that you can’t seem to let go of.
TF ask: Santiago as a dom. Constantly making sure his partner has what they need, correcting behavior when needed, very devoted and loving but owns you 100%
Been wanting to do some nonsexual dominance for a while. Perfect!
Warnings: D/s dynamics but it's pretty gentle dom.
***
"Posture."
Santiago reminded you as he walked past the couch- the couch where you hunched over your phone playing Toon Blast for the last hour. You straighten up immediately, and when he walks back with a plate of food in hand, his free fingers skim up your spine.
"Good job, real good. Now put down your phone, it's time to eat."
You whine. "But can't I watch TV while I eat?"
Santi raises an eyebrow. "I cooked this delicious, nutricious food for you and you want to eat it half paying attention while watching trash reality TV?"
"No sir..." you mutter, eyes hitting the floor.
"Try that again." There's a warning in his tone, and you flick your eyes up to where he stands, face firm.
"No sir." You say more firm now, and give a smile.
Santi was right- the food was way better while eating, slow bites, he reminded you, and truly savoring the flavors. You didn't even register you were eating so many veggies and leafy greens, it was so good. Santi always knew how to take care of you. He was firm- deffinetly firm- but he was fair. he made you eat veggies, but he made them taste good so you didn't mind; he never made you eat green beans, because you hated them no matter what.
In return for your attention to his food, Santi gives his full attention as you ramble about your day, laughing to our anecdotes and asking questions that shows he was listening and remembering past stories from your coworkers.
"Water, baby." He reminds you, and you drink down the glass, beginning to feel full. He noticed you slowing down. "Are you done?"
You fidget a bit. "I'm full, but i don't want to waste it and it's not really enough for a full meal for leftovers... it's really good, i promise I just-"
But Santi puts up a hand. "Being full is your bodies signal. We listen to our bodies. I'll save the rest and make a salad to go with it for lunch tomorrow. That sound good?" he was already clearing your dishes. It wasn't really a question.
You smile, relaxing. "Yes sir, that sounds good."
"Good, now finish your water. It's hot out."
You do as he says, finishing your water and noticing that you felt full, but not overstuffed an uncomfortable. You were content and happy. Santi washed the dishes and you dried, and as you laughed when he put suds on your nose, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have him
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an: I agonized over this chapter. A lot. But I am finally satisfied with it! I hope everyone likes it! Thank you so much for reading, commenting, reblogging, and liking, it means everything to me.
Rating: Explicit, 18+ only
Chapter 7: Unraveled
Santiago stares at the test for a few moments, processing, before looking back at you, his shoulders slumping forward ever so slightly.
“Negative.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s negative.”
You look at the test for the longest time, the stark white test window giving you the answer you truthfully didn’t expect. Weeks of worry, stress, and uncertainty dissolve in an instant and relief floods your body. Your knees suddenly give out without any warning, but Santiago immediately catches you before you can fall.
“Whoa….hold on, Starshine. I’ve got you,” he wraps one arm firmly around your waist as he helps lower you slowly to the floor. He follows you down until you’re both sitting and rests his hand on yours—warm, steady, and sure.
“I'm not pregnant,” you state aloud, a ragged sigh of relief falling from between your lips as your head hangs low. The heavy weight sitting on your chest for days is completely gone and now you feel like you can breathe again.
“No. You aren’t,” Santiago confirms with a faint hint of something resting just under the surface that you can’t quite identify—something that disappears as quickly as it appeared.
“Are you okay?” You ask with hesitation as you study him, the question somehow feeling too heavy, but your concern overrides the thought. “This was a lot. All of it.”
“The more important question is are you?”
“I feel relieved,” you confess. “I think this is the best outcome. But, honestly, tell me…how are you?”
“I just…I really thought you were pregnant,” he says carefully, as if he is treading on emotional ground he has no right to. “I was shocked and, honestly, afraid at first. Then I had really started preparing for the possibility of it, but now you aren’t and…” he trails off with a hitch in his throat that he swallows down, and suddenly he can’t look you in the eyes anymore. “It’s a lot to process.”
You nod. “I get it. I thought I was too. It has been so much added stress and worry, an emotional roller-coaster, and…”
“No, you don’t,” he gently interrupts; in the dim light of the bathroom you can see a faint sheen of tears coating his hollowed brown eyes as his hand tightens slightly over yours. “Because this is more complicated than you know. It goes way beyond all of this.”
Your heart starts to thrum wildly in your chest. He doesn’t mean what you are thinking. He can’t.
“What…do you mean, Santi?” You pull back slightly, a chill running up the length of your spine as you ask the question you dread the answer to.
“All of this…the drunken hookup, everything that has happened since, the pregnancy scare….we have gotten closer during all of this. And all it has done is reinforce the fact that I’m in love with you,” he confesses, strained and exhausted, as he closes his eyes tightly. “Meanwhile, you’re in love with my brother.”
All of the air is instantly depleted from your lungs. You stare at him in shock, unable to form a single word.
Santiago is in love with you.
Every other thought in your mind immediately vanishes as you try—and fail— to process it.
“Fuck…I shouldn’t have said that. Why am I even saying this?” he quickly admonishes himself, running a hand through his hair and sighing heavily. He opens his eyes again but purposely avoids your gaze once more. “I know you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay. I mean that. I don’t want to lose our friendship.”
“H-how long…?” you ask, voice trembling.“Since the very beginning. Probably for as long as you’ve loved Frankie.”
“Y…you never told me…”
He crosses his legs on the tile floor and tilts his head back with a soft exhale. “I honestly didn’t plan to. I knew years ago…I’ve seen the way you look at Frankie. I knew that could never be me.”
That is what breaks you.
You let out a raw, guttural sob. It tears painfully through your throat, your heart aching. His words break something unexpected inside of you.
They hurt.
God, they hurt.
“I’m sorry,” you offer up pathetically, a platitude you hate yourself for, but you can’t find any other words. Truthfully, there simply aren’t any. “I’m so fucking sorry, Santi.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. You hear me?” He cups your face and rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll never stop loving you. But I will never stop being your friend, either. At the end of the day, I just want you to be happy.”
You can only nod, gazing into his eyes with raw torment.
“You love Frankie. Tell him.” He quickly blinks his tears away. “Don’t hold back anymore.”
After Santiago leaves, you take a much needed shower, scrubbing your bare skin harder than necessary. Your tears, mixing with the water, rain down your face as you struggle to process a night that was even harder than you thought it would be.
You stand slumped over at the bathroom sink afterward as you brush your teeth, glancing at the negative pregnancy test resting on the top of the trash, and you feel a sharp pain settle behind your ribs. You’re too emotionally exhausted to think about it and why it has made its presence known.
You collapse into bed, the springs protesting loudly underneath you as you cover yourself up. You glance over at your phone resting on the nightstand and reluctantly pick it up. You tap the screen and see a missed call.
“Fuck,” you mutter as you enter your passcode to unlock it, assuming your mom or maybe Sarah had called you. You open up your call log and your phone nearly slips out of your hand.
Frankie.
Frankie called you after weeks of silence, at the same time you were in the bathroom with the man he considers his brother, waiting to find out if your one drunken night together had gotten you pregnant.
You stare at his name for far too long, frozen in place, as you try to wrap your mind around his call—what was once the most common and routine thing between you now feels entirely foreign, lost in a sea of pain and confusion.
Should you call back? It’s almost midnight now, and he called you four hours ago.
After a few moments of hesitation, you dial his number. With your heart racing, you put the phone to your ear as it rings.
And rings.
And rings.
You pull the phone from your ear with a sigh before his voicemail can kick in, only to hear a soft, sleepy “Hello?” come through the receiver as you start to hang up.
Fuck, you have missed him.
“Frankie…hi. Sorry, did I wake you?” You ask with a tremble in your voice, holding your phone tightly in one hand as you stare up at the ceiling.
“Hey. Oh, hey. Hi,” you can hear faint rustling through the phone as he jerks up in bed and roughly clears his throat before turning his lamp on with a loud click.
“Um. You called me earlier…?”
There is a long stretch of silence, with the only sound existing between the lines being his barely audible breathing.
“Yeah, I…I was hoping we could talk.” He is fully alert now, but sounds quieter than he ever has before.
You swallow hard. Hearing his voice in your ear again feels like a beautiful torture; you want more, yet at the same time it is so painful you nearly hang up. It takes you a moment to find the words you’ve needed to say for weeks.
“Why now? After weeks of silence? Outside of that night at the bar, of course."
"I fucked up. I know I did.”
You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
“Is that all you’re going to say, Francisco?” You say coldly, an edge around your tone you make sure he hears. You hear a sharp intake of breath through the receiver when you use his full name.
“No. It’s not. But I…have a lot to say. And it’s a conversation that shouldn’t be over the phone. I was hoping I could come over tomorrow morning so we could talk…if you’re not busy…?”
God, the way he says it nearly unravels you for a moment. His voice is so gentle and hesitant.
“I’m not. How about ten?”
“I’ll be there,” he says eagerly, and you’re angry that your heart does a traitorous beat. You want to stay angry, but you can’t.
“Goodnight.” You can’t help the way your voice softens, the same way it always would with him.
“Night.”
You quickly hang up and, as you close your eyes, wonder what he will say…and what you will say.
It’s far too early on Saturday morning when you’re startled awake by the sound of knocking on your door. You sit up, blinking through the disorientation and haze, as your brain tries to process the transition from deep sleep to waking.
Three soft, familiar raps right in the center of the wood break through the confusion clouding your mind with sharp clarity.
Frankie.
You look over at the clock and see it is only eight. He’s two hours early.
You throw your legs over the side of your bed and quickly stand up, wrapping a robe around you, before padding down the hall to the front door and unlocking the deadbolt. You stop, pausing for a moment, as you grab the handle. You take a deep, steadying breath in before you turn it to open the door.
But your breath hitches and your heart nearly stops when your eyes meet his.
“Hi, Biscuit,” Frankie’s exhaustion is clear in his voice and face. “I know I’m early…but I couldn’t wait any longer. Is it okay if I come in?” He holds an iced mocha in one hand, with extra chocolate drizzle, as if it’s a peace offering to make up for weeks of silence.
You nod, swallowing hard, as you step aside and he walks inside. He sits down on the couch in his usual spot—a sight that, after his long absence, leaves your chest feeling too tight. You watch him tentatively set the mocha on the end table before shutting the door and following behind him, sitting on the opposite side of him and keeping your distance.
“We need to talk,” he says measuredly, gesturing with an open palm between the two of you. “About…everything.”
“Yes, we do,” you agree, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let’s start with you leaving that Wednesday and seemingly cutting me out of your life.”
Frankie looks at you, his deep brown eyes filled with remorse and hurt. The bags under his eyes are a darker, more bruised purple than the last time you saw him and you are positive he has barely slept since that night. He is disheveled, his clothes are baggier, and he carries a look of devastation written in every fine line on his face.
“I knew….you were going to tell me about you and Santiago. And I just…couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t stand to hear the words. I panicked,” Frankie sinks into the couch, fully depleted and despondent.
“Me and Santi…?” Your brows furrow as you give him a look of confusion. “Frankie…”
“He is my brother, and you’re my best friend. Knowing you were in love with him, dating him..it was too fucking much,” he swallows hard, his voice choking up. “But I was wrong, Biscuit. Santiago is a great guy, and I can’t be selfish. He will treat you right…give you what you need and deserve. Better than anyone else could….”
You stare at him in utter disbelief. He didn’t call you his sister to reject the confession of your feelings as you had assumed. Instead, this entire time, he thought you were going to confess that you were in love with Santiago. The revelation leaves you light-headed.
“Wait…Frankie, stop.” You reach out and grab his hands, holding them gently in yours as your thumbs stroke over his knuckles to ground him. “There is nothing going on with Santiago and I. We aren’t together.”
Frankie stares at you, a mixture of shock and relief warring for dominance on his face.
“You….you guys aren’t together…?” He shakes his head, as if trying to make sense of it all. “But…I thought…? Wait…then what were you going to tell me when I was leaving?”
You look down at your hands as they hold onto his and your movements still. You were brave that day as he stood on your porch, finally ready to tell him the truth. You had thought this entire time that Frankie didn’t love you back and you had been grieving that in your mind. You had thought you had gotten pregnant with Santiago’s baby and that there was a real possibility that the future you had dreamed of with Frankie was gone forever. But now? There is hope again, for the first time in weeks. You could confess your feelings and Frankie might reciprocate. Maybe the future you had been grieving wasn’t gone after all.
You could tell him. Right now, as he looks at you, waiting.
So why are you hesitating?
‘You love Frankie. Tell him.’
‘Don’t hold back anymore.’
Santiago’s words of encouragement ring in your ears, but you can’t do it. And you don’t know why.
“I….don’t remember,” the lie rolls pathetically off your tongue and you pull your hands back from his. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Frankie’s jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He doesn’t push for the real answer, even though he obviously knows that isn’t the truth. He lets you have the lie.
You watch him, your stomach flipping uncomfortably as you close your hands into tight fists, so tight your nails dig into your palms.
“This feels…awkward,” you whisper, your heart breaking.
Things had never been awkward with Frankie before. But right now? It all is. Every bit of it. You don’t know how to talk to him. You don’t know how to sit next to him. Hell, you don’t even know how to breathe around him. You had imagined this exact scenario these past few weeks, naively thinking things could fall back into their old, familiar rhythm. You realize immediately that it can’t. Right now you are holding onto so many things Frankie is unaware of. He has no idea of the absolute torment you have been through, the secret you are carrying that gives you more and more guilt with every passing day.
“A little bit, yeah,” Frankie admits, sitting upright. “But this was all just a misunderstanding.”
“Why did it bother you?” You blurt out. “You said all of this was because you thought Santiago and I were together….but why would it matter if we were?”
“I…don’t know. You’re my best friend. He is my brother. You guys getting together….” He shifts uncomfortably. “It…felt too weird. For all of us, not just me.”
“That’s really it…?”
He nods.
“Why did you say I was your sister? You have never said that to me before.”
“I figured the two of you dating would change our friendship. Those few days I stayed here, I realized that wasn’t an appropriate thing to do with you guys being together. I was being too intrusive, especially that day Santiago came by, and not respecting your relationship. I handled the whole thing like a fucking idiot, I know.”
“What about that night at the bar?”
“When I saw you and Santiago together, I felt…replaced.”
“Replaced…?”
“Yeah. Like I was already losing my place in your life, and seeing you two so close felt like I had completely lost it.”
“That is so fucking stupid. You know that, right?”
Frankie laughs, that same husky laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and your heart skips a beat.
“You’re right. Still always calling me out on my shit,” he grins. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“Of course I can. So we can go back to being friends now, right?” The words are frail and small, carrying a silent weight from weeks of emotions that Frankie is unaware of.
“Of course. I’m sorry for…everything.” He rubs a calloused hand over the lower half of his face before dropping it onto his lap. “I’m not going to make excuses. I was fucking stupid and an asshole. But it’s been hell without you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Biscuit.”
You give him a sad smile. “I’ve missed you too, Frankie.”
Sunday afternoon is exceptionally warm, more so than usual as you sit on a bench at the park with Sarah.
“So how is everything going on the IVF front?”
“Well,” Sarah lets out a grunt as she pulls her legs up and underneath her, sitting cross-legged. “We had our in-depth consultation on Thursday.”
“I’m not really familiar with the process,” you admit, watching someone throw a Frisbee for their dog on the grassy hill across from the sidewalk in front of you. “What does that entail?”
“Mostly the mundane, routine stuff. Medical history, a thorough consultation, blood work, and an ultrasound. In a few weeks, I should be starting hormone injections.”
Your eyes light up. “That’s so exciting!”
“And a little nerve-wracking. But there’s a chance, this time next year, I could actually be pregnant.”
“That’s so amazing to think about,” you smile, the thought of your best friend finally realizing her dream of motherhood giving you the most joy you have felt in weeks. “You know I will be here for you, every step of the way.”
“I know. You always have been,” she says warmly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out.”
“Okay,” Sarah gives your hand a pat. “Give me an update on Frankie, your best friend who is definitely not in love with you. You said he came by yesterday. I gotta know everything.”
“Well, he stopped by to apologize,” you begin.
“Good,” she pipes up. “Because he was acting like an idiot.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “He said he thought I was in love with Santiago, and that we were dating. That’s why he called me his sister, too. He said he thought our friendship would change, and he wasn’t being respectful of my ‘relationship’ with Santiago.”
“Okay…okay, wait…” Sarah turns on the park bench to fully face you, her blue eyes wide in surprise. “Frankie comes by and tells you the reason he dicked off like the asswipe he is, is all because he thought you and Santiago were dating and in love?! THAT is what he thought you were going to confess to? I fucking knew it!”
“Yeah,” you lean back, sliding the straw up and down in your iced tea, and nod absent-mindedly. “Apparently so.”
“That’s quite a leap he jumped to, there,” she snorts. “Plus, you know what they say about when you assume…”
You give her a faint grin as you run a hand through your hair.
“Well…wow…” She lets out a huff of disbelieving laughter, before quickly trailing off as she notices how distant you look. Her posture turns rigid. “Wait…so did you tell Frankie the truth?”
“No. I didn’t.”
Sarah’s brows furrow and her nose crinkles. “Why not? Everything is fine now, the misunderstanding is over…”
“Because there’s more…” you hesitate for a moment, glancing around you. “Santiago was at my place the night before.”
Sarah’s eyes narrow as she studies you. “Why…?”
“Um…I kind of left out an important detail about all of this.” Your voice drops to a whisper as you realize you can’t hold it back anymore. “The crazy night at the bar, when I drank too much and Frankie stayed after? Santiago and I…hooked up.”
“What?!” she hisses. “Are you serious??”
“Yes. We were both crazy drunk and don’t remember it. I woke up naked in his bed.”
“Are you sure? If you were both that drunk…?”
You wince. “There was…physical evidence.”
“Oh, fuck,” Sarah slides over on the bench to get closer. “So, you definitely had sex. Why was Santiago at your place Friday night..?”
A sudden look of realization washes over her face and she gasps.
“O..oh…my God. Are you pregnant?! You have been sick lately…”
“No, no,” you interrupt. “I thought I was. But I’m not. He stayed with me when I took the test.”
“That’s good, right? That would have made things a lot more complicated.”
“It actually already got more complicated. Santiago told me he is in love with me.”
The revelation strikes Sarah like a bombshell; her mouth falls open, parting in shock as she stares at you in utter disbelief. “Whoa…” Her voice drops, uncharacteristically quiet. “Whoa….”
You nod as you lean forward and look at the dirt underneath your feet. You grind a small rock back and forth underneath the tip of your shoe, swallowing your emotions down before they have a chance to suffocate you.
Sarah studies you intently. “Do you have feelings for him, too?”
You arrive later than planned, having stayed over at work an hour longer than you meant to.
As you turn your car off, there is a sudden knocking on your window, startling you. You look over to see Frankie grinning and waving.
“Frankie!” You laugh as you get out of the car. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry!” He says sheepishly, backing up to give you space. “I was excited we got here at the same time, and that I wasn’t the only one running late.”
“I’m glad we can walk in together. You know how crazy it gets in there.”
Frankie nods as he steps in line and walks with you through the parking lot. The awkwardness you had worried about lingering has vanished, but the guilt and conflicting feelings sit steadily under your ribs.
"I got you,” he says, hesitantly reaching out with his hand hovering over your lower back before pausing. “Is…this okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
He rests his large palm over your lower back, the heat radiating through your shirt. A slight shudder runs up the length of your spine at the contact.
“Are you cold, Biscuit?” He asks, looking down at you with concern. “I keep one of my flight jackets in the truck, I can go get it…”
“No, no,” you shake your head. “I’m good. But thank you, Cat.”
Frankie’s eyes light up and a wide smile breaks across his face. “I missed that more than you know. More than you could ever know.”
“I did too,” you admit softly, pressing your shoulder into his in desperation for more physical contact that isn’t complicated.
As you walk into the arena, the thick, acrid haze of cigarette smoke clouding the air, combined with the overwhelming smell of beer mixed with sweat, causes your throat to turn dry.
“God, it smells worse than usual,” you groan, covering your mouth and coughing.
“It does,” he agrees with a chuckle as he looks around, adjusting the cap of his hat.
The referee climbs into the ring, and anticipatory cheers from the drunken crowd immediately fill the air.
“There they are!” Frankie says loudly as he leans in closer to your ear so you can hear him, his voice barely above drowning under all of the noise. He points to a row of chairs over on the opposite side of the ring, up against the concrete wall, as you start walking over. His hand never leaves your back.
Tom and Will are engrossed in conversation, Will pointing animatedly at the ring as Tom takes a swig of his beer.
Santiago glances over, and your eyes meet his.
You suddenly stop dead in your tracks, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowns out the crowd and everything else around you.
“Biscuit? What’s wrong?”
Frankie’s words snap you out of your daze.
“Uh…n-nothing. It’s just really hot in here,” you murmur as you stop at the empty seat next to Santiago and he looks over at Frankie.
“Hey, Fish,” he says casually, before his voice drops an octave and his gaze meets yours again. “Hey, Starshine.”
Frankie’s hand involuntarily tightens on your back, and you can see Santiago’s eyes drift down. He sees it, but pretends not to.
“Hi, Pope. Good to see you,” he says light-heartedly, but you can hear the slight strain woven under the surface of his tone he is trying to hide.
You give him an acknowledging nod as you sit down next to him, and Frankie takes the seat next to you.
“We thought you guys weren’t coming!” Will calls out, leaning over.
“Are you kidding? Like I’d miss one of Benny’s fights,” you shout over the roar of the crowd as the referee announces Ben’s opponent before he comes out and climbs into the ring.
“Yeah, we wouldn’t miss it!” Frankie leans over you and takes a beer from Tom’s outstretched hand.
“Want one?” Tom asks, squinting as he leans in closer to hear you.
“No, thanks. I'm good.”
With a nod he turns his attention back to the ring.
You sit back in the chair, your posture rigid, as one shoulder presses against Santiago’s and the other against Frankie’s.
This isn’t remotely uncomfortable. Not at all.
“You hanging in there? Everything getting back to normal?” Santiago asks quietly as he leans over and glances from Frankie to you.
“I…think so, yeah. Are you good?” You are careful to not rouse suspicion as you look over at Santiago.
“I’m okay. No worries,” he says, wholly unconvincing as he glances between you and Frankie.
You feel like you should say something else. You want to. But you can’t bring yourself to.
Frankie gives a sideways glance as Santiago talks quietly to you but ultimately says nothing. You know he is remembering your conversation from Saturday morning and using it for security, a comforting reminder that he was wrong about you and Santiago.
You try to swallow down the sickening guilt that threatens to claw its way out of your throat. It is stuck in your chest, instead, in what you think is now a permanent home.
“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing six foot three and weighing in at 195 pounds, I bring you Ben Miller!”
At the announcement of Ben’s arrival, another loud and chaotic eruption of cheers drowns out the thoughts in your head for a few moments of respite.
“Let’s go, Benny!” Tom cheers over the red solo cup in his hand as he takes another swig.
“Benny, take it easy! Nice and slow!” Will instructs his younger brother as he stands up and approaches the corner of the cage, his fingers slipping between the iron slats and wrapping around them.
“Yeah, Benny!!” Frankie hollers, cupping one hand over the side of his mouth as Ben and his opponent touch gloves.
“Go get him, Benny!!” Santiago shouts encouragingly as they move to opposite sides of the arena, holding their hands up.
“You got this, Benny!” You lean forward, calling out before another wave of cheers rumbles through.
“And here we go!”
The bell rings to start the match, and as you lean back in your seat, you can feel both Frankie and Santiago’s eyes on you.
The usual Friday nights at the bar have finally resumed, much to your relief.
The chatter is relaxed and easy-going as you celebrate Ben’s victory from Monday with another round, with everyone but Frankie drinking. Santiago’s eyes meet yours across the table, and you feel your stomach immediately knot with feelings you still don’t understand. This should be getting less complicated, but it isn’t. You talk, smile, and laugh, but you are too distracted to be fully present and engaged tonight.
You grab another beer and take a swig. Frankie, sitting next to you, abruptly stops laughing at a joke Will just shared that you didn’t hear. He looks over at you.
“You okay, Biscuit?” He lowers his voice so no one else can hear, resting a hand over yours.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond too quickly before taking another drink, giving him a smile.
“I’ll take you home tonight, okay?”
“Thanks, Cat.”
You feel a bit of relief as you watch Frankie and Santiago talk and laugh, but the guilt continues to gnaw at you, unrelenting and unbearable.
What if they all knew?
The thought runs on a loop that you can’t break, taunting you.
Frankie doesn’t turn on the radio like he usually does, looking lost in thought, and you start to spiral.
He doesn’t know. He can’t know. So why is he so quiet all of a sudden? Things were getting better. What changed?
“Can we talk?” Frankie asks as he pulls into the parking spot in front of your apartment, killing the engine as he unbuckles his seat belt to turn and look at you.
“Of course,” you unbuckle yours and turn to face him.
“I’m glad…” he pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath, “that we talked things out last weekend.”
“Me too,” you agree, but Frankie shakes his head slightly.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you…”
He’s nervous, you can tell. His hands tremble slightly in his lap and he runs his hand through his tousled curls.
“Cat, you can tell me anything. You know that,” you reassure him, reaching out to place a hand on his.
“I can’t…do this,” he says quietly through a heavy exhale.
You search his eyes worriedly. “Do what, Frankie?”
“This…us…” He gestures his free hand to both of you. “I can’t be your friend anymore.”
Your heart feels like it instantly shatters in your chest and you can’t take in a breath.
“Y-you don’t want to be friends anymore..? Why?” You say in quiet shock, your voice suddenly thin and barely audible.
“Because for seven years, I’ve been your best friend, always at your side. I’ve sat in silence…in agony…every day, slowly dying inside because I’m in love with you. And I can’t pretend anymore that I’m not,” he confesses, the words he has been desperate to say to you finally spilling out from behind the lips you have always dreamed of kissing.
“I love the way your eyes light up like the sun when you excitedly tell me about a new book you’re reading, and you get distracted halfway through. I love the way you let out that high-pitched hum when your coffee is just right. I love the way your hair falls down over your shoulder when you tilt your head as you read out loud. I love the way you see the best in everyone. You’re the smartest, kindest, and funniest person I have ever known. Through everything…every laugh, every tear. Every movie, every party, every bar night. It’s always been you. You’re on my mind the minute I wake up, and you are what I see when I close my eyes to sleep every night. You are every dream I have ever had. Whenever we aren’t together, I feel empty. Every time I look at you, I see a future I never thought a man like me could have, one I never thought I’d deserve. But, God…I want all of it with you.”
You stare at him wide-eyed, lips parted, completely speechless. Your heart hammers against your ribs in an unsteady rhythm of panic and happiness in tandem. You have dreamed of this moment all of this time; now it is really happening. He loves you.
Frankie loves you.
Tears fall like rain down your face and you choke back a sob.
“I love you too, Frankie. God, I've always loved you. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long…”
A wave of pure relief washes over him and he lets out a shaky laugh, his gaze soft as he gently cups your face with both hands, leaning in closer before you can finish.
It is the moment you have always dreamed of, but it is all wrong.
The guilt. Oh, God, the guilt.
You can’t take it.
“Frankie,” you whisper hoarsely, his lips mere inches from yours, his breath warm on your face as your tears slip between the webbing of his thumb and index finger. “Santiago and I had sex.”
Frankie freezes, his eyes widening as he stares at you.
I need help finding a series I read a while ago. It was the triple frontier guys. The reader moved next door to Frankie and his little girl. They would all hang out at Frankie's and she would help babysit his little girl. It was a slow burn with reader and Frankie.
Summary: Here it is! For the fans of Switching to channel 2 written by the awesome @autumnleaves1991-blog whom I helped her with . Which y'all have to read ( for the ones that haven't) She came up with the idea what if the pitt was cross over some how. This is what we came up with
Now here is the plot . Few days after Pope left the reader(doc) looking at her email messages sees a familiar name, Jack Abbot. Story is filled with flashbacks.
The heart is a fragile thing. Especially when's is broken into a million pieces.Tears flow like water. Thank God for Benny for being here to comfort you since Pope left no explanation nada! Work was supposed to help! It didn't numb the pain. Memories from his surgery to countless times of him coming by. Something that doesn't need to be invading your mind. On this day would be the first time going back to work. Benny hasn't left your side. Hold you close to him. Breathing his scent ,and sweat from being at the gym when he received the text:
He left me! Left a dear John text!
That was three days ago! Work even called to see if you was okay. Wasn't ready to return until there was major trauma and hardly any available help. Benny urged you to at least go to help. He would be happy to take you even hanging around if there was any need to. Got up to clean up looking into the mirror seeing a reflection of yourself. Puffy , red eyes, hair clinging to your face. Taking a breath,” Okay, let's do this.”
The hospital is buzzing with chaos. Patients in the hallways are nothing unusual . Benny stays in your office not before hugging you,” You got this.” Nod as you disappear into the hallway. To do what needs to be done.
Hours later you return to your empty office. Benny left to get something to eat according to a note on the desk . What happened next set things in motion. All started by going onto your laptop to check emails. One caught your eye:
Jack Abbot!
Blast from the past. Past filled with discovery on a personal level. Close your eyes to remember that particular moment .
A few days ago you completed basic training. Thought it was hard,nothing would compareYou arrived at the hospital along with other young ,and maybe older students. You are ready! Standing attention when a tall man with a military haircut knows he's the one in charge. Cleared his throat,” Okay, let's be clear! This isn't a time to relax and shit ! Today is where you will be put to the test to see who's gonna stay ,or who goes. I have trained lots of young ,eager ,and some of them are in top ranked positions today. In a few weeks I'll be selecting a few of you to be a part of the Delta Force. Seeing some pretty faces here. Not gonna lie. You won't make it by just looks alone. With that being said. Time to hit the classroom.” When he said that last part he was looking at me. Wonder why. I'm just a Tomboy . Nerdish one . Dresses are not your thing. Jeans and tees that's you. Hate to be called pretty. That irks you to no end. You are here to serve and protect. Not to hook up with officers.
The next few weeks were like your teacher said. Hard . Always in the hospital ,and hardly any time to relax. Today? It was unusual. Much needed RandR while everyone in yourbarracks went to party . You? in a quiet place under a shaded spot reading the same book you started during basic training. Getting lost in it until hearing,” You know there's a movie ya know. “ Not missing a beat,” the book is better. “ What he did next sent chills up your spine. Sits next to me. Rather close. Heart pounding. Put your book down,” Thought you might be ya know hanging out with other officers,Mr. Abbot instead of hanging out with your students. “ He laughs,” Not my thing . Unless I have to,but I rather hang out with the smartest student I ever encountered in my years in the service. Especially one that speaks fluent Spanish. Love how you cussed your roommate in Spanish. Classic.” Blushed,” Really? She had it coming ya know. As for the company? Don't mind at all . Far cry from the constant teasing,and shit. I'm mature at a young age. Don't follow the crowd. I'm me.” Jack nods,” Can see that. How…” Thought was interrupted by one of the doctors. Practically out of breath,” Got a major situation. All hands on deck. I need to round up as much help as possible. “ Jack gets up while rubbing his hands on his worn out jeans,” Ya got it Owen. I'll see who I can scrounge up.” Oh it's gonna be fun to see who would show up. You got up to pack your backpack nodding,” You know I'll help. Besides, you always say that we are always on call. “ Smiling as both of you head towards the hospital,but first we head towards the bar. Where most of your classmates were drunk as a scunk. No use to patients . Not until he lets out a loud whistle,” Code trauge. Means get your asses back to the hospital. Meaning any of you interns that aren't drinking that is. Now move it! “ Oh that loud voice didn't sit well with the others.
The moment the rest of you arrived at the ER. Mass hysteria. Soldiers in the hallways bandaged up. While some were not injured. Jack turns to you,” no time to change. Just jump in where you can. If you get in a jam? Come and find me. “ Nod as you go to put your backpack down see two familiar faces. Benny and Will Miller. Childhood friends. You and Benny are the same age. Only a few months older . Will looked after both of you. Like an older brother should. Hugging both of them,” What happened? Are y'all ok?” Benny nods,” We’re fine Snickers. Just training exercise went wrong. Whoever prepared the course didn't follow protocol. By the looks of your attire? You are what? Day off?” Old tee shirt of Benny's and biker shorts and Birkenstock? Rolled your eyes as you walked down the hall,” Duh! No more calling me snickers ,or I'll tell everyone here that knows both of you your nicknames!” About to reach the lockers when Jack exits the trauma room,” Need some help. Possible gunshot to the chest.A need some extra set of hands.” Nod,but not noticed his perfect tan skin. Followed by a few more scars . Maybe old. Followed by back, curly hair. Telling yourself to focus! Luckily the bullet went through. Can't have him in anymore pain. Getting to work on patching him up,and placing him in a room. This went on for hours until it was already dark outside. Making your rounds until you enter the soldier’s room to check his vitals. Sitting next to him seeing his face for the first time. Beautiful face. Long lashes touching his cheeks. So handsome. Couldn't stop staring at him. Continue to jot down his vitals when you hear him moan. Placing clipboard on the nightstand taking his hand,” Easy, you're fine. Gonna be sore awhile. Just rest.” Squeezed your hand ,and whispered,” Look like an angel. My savior “ Don't know if it was the meds talking ,or him actually being awake made you smile.
“ He's one lucky son of a bitch. “
Looked behind you was Jack leaning against the doorway arms crossed,” You did good. Accessing the wound. Good call on the other soldier too. It's late, let me walk you back to your barracks.” Realizing it was really late, your tummy was growling. He too already realized going over to help you up,” How about we go to get something to eat? The cafeteria is still open. How about a messy sandwich?” Couldn't stay no. Taking another glimpse at the handsome soldier. Felt something that you never felt before. Strange sensation . No more like attraction maybe.
After getting some much needed food and drink both of them find a table that is not littered with stuff. You noticed Jack trying to steal one of your pickles. Like Benny does. Rolled your eyes,” if you know what's good for you. Better not try again. Might …. Ya know loose a finger. “ Acting like he was getting scared . Continue to munch on his chips,” You owe me a story ya know. Ya know? The nickname. If you don't tell me? Might just…” Roll your eyes. There's no way out of this. After taking a long sip of water. While taking a deep breath,” My best friend Benny called me that when we were kids. By the way I would buy a Snickers bar every time we would go to our favorite hangout. To this day I can't even look at them. Okay, your turn. What's yours pal?” Oh you can see Jack trying to stall a bit. Tried to play it cool until his friend Owen showed up,” It's dr. House . Ya know as in the show? Due to his smart assed attitude . Don't let him speak in a British accent it's fucking terrible!!” Laughing until you thought it was time to rest ,but something in the back of your mind that you should check on the handsome soldier you treated. Something about him that's so magnetic yet intriguing. Turn the corner to see your two childhood friends. Benny asleep in the uncomfortable chair snoring softly. Will hugs you close,” Oh it's good to hug you kiddo. How are things? Hope you're not getting into any kind of trouble. Meaning the Benny kind “ Rolled your eyes,” Nope, just some interns I met are wee bit jealous of my nerdyness ,and not being feminine. What about you? How are you?” Will about to answer when the sounds of the monitor beeping loudly. Pope moaning.You Noticed something not right. Yelled ,” Will go to the cafeteria. Find Dr. Abbot. Tell him code blue! “
Will ran at top speed towards the cafeteria looking like a doctor's hangout laughing until he cleared his no dry throat,” Sorry for the inconvenience,but I'm looking for a DR Abbot.” Jack stands up,” That's me soldier. Who needs me?” Will told him about the situation,and you need him. Both of them run as fast as their feet can muster. Until reaching the room, seeing you cutting the gown, “ He's in distress. Need an Or stat!” Benny looks at you with fear in his blue eyes. Nod,” Don't worry, none . He's in good hands!” Looking back you never saw him so scared in a long time. Maybe once when you were a teen playing hockey scratched your shoulder on a sharp side of the goal. He felt bad. Now you and Jack rushed to the OR to see what happened.
Hours passed and both of you were tired as hell. Not knowing it's already morning. Tired , sweaty ,and oh so gross! Leaning against the wall your breathing was an erratic feeling of dread for not finding the other bullet fragment sooner. Second surgery wasn't necessary. Jack too felt the same thing you did. Marvaled how you helped him with both knowledge and care. Perfect quality of a medic. Now? He sees a young woman that is scared. Went over to hug you. Something he hasn't done to his students in years . Arms around you,and surprised to have yours around him practically clinging. Voice in your ear,” You did good. Try not to worry. We got it out . Guess the last medic didn't find it. Now.. you really need some much needed rest. See you in 48 hours. Do not worry about me. I'll do the same. Besides, Owen is teaching today. That would scare the others to do better.” How you want to stay like this,but like he said. You need to rest. Both of you part ways. Slowly walking down the hallway you see another familiar face. Will . Still wearing yesterday's clothes. Like you tired as hell. Knowing he too has to get back to work. Bout to say something when things turned black.
Don't know what happened,but you woke up late in the afternoon,or was it evening. Feel a warm blanket placed on top of you. Still sleepy ,but yet you needed to wake up. Sure enough Benny is the first person you see. Rolling your eyes,” Let me guess? One of my friends came to my rescue yet again. Wanna say thank you.” Benny grinning like a cat while sitting down again,” It was Willy boy darlin. Wanna add? Need to take care of yourself. Don't run on fumes. That being said? Now get . Ya got that hospital smell!” Rolling your eyes as you got to leave,but not before throwing something at him,” Ya should heed your own advice buddy. Heard you missed the roll call..” He was right though . The smell is right. Went to shower not just to freshen up,but also to think about what happened. Arms around your teacher . How strong he felt Safe was the word ,but something you never felt before. Noticed that a fantasy was forming. Maybe a dream of yours. Being with someone older than you? Thought makes you feel your core become wet with desire.
The very next day was back to normal. First thing first rounds. Checking on the patients. Lucky you get to check on your favorite one. Finally at last he's sitting up. Eyes open today while checking his vitals he took your hand to kiss it,” You are my angel. Soft skin I never have touched in so long “ Hard not to focus. So handsome, older ,but something about him made you want to do anything to make sure he would be able to leave the hospital soon. By the looks of things soon. Now you know his name, Santiago Garcia. After telling you your name he smiled when you got ready to leave he said,” Hope to see you soon sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? No one ever called you that. Okay, your dad and Grandpa,but not another man. Made you smile brightly. Jack noticed right away when he passed you in the hallway. Wanted to give his usual response,but the look on his face says it all. Pissed. Looks like something happened while you were out.
After rounds everyone stands at attention to listen to what Abbot has to say,” Lets get this out in the open. Upon my absence yesterday I had to hear from Dr.Owen about some childish gossip,and some major screw up! Let's be adults about this! This isn't high fucking school ! This is the real fucking world! Four of you nearly killed a patient that came in with a stomach problem that was a ruptured appendix! Took upon yourselves not to call an attending that was on duty that's why they are for ! Also… it's none of your business on why I wasn't available,or for one of your own. I know who loves to gossip. That group would be in triage until further notice. As for the rest of the few hard working interns. Today we head out for some gun training. Lesson that's required. Since it has been awhile since basic training since you have picked up a gun. Lastly, by the end of the day. I'll make my final decision on delta force. If any of you get a summons from the general’s office? You know why. Did I mention that there were three spots available? Oh my bad. Now move it !”
Nice to be outside rather inside the hospital for a change. True it has been awhile since completing gun training. You? Nothing new since living in the country most of your life. Reason why the targets were dead center. Jack noticed that. Teased after the lesson,” Try to out do your teacher? I'm hurt. Crushed ego isn't easy to live up to, you know.” Made you laugh after placing the pistol back in the case,” Sorry teach. I didn't tell you that I grew up around guns. Staple in the country you know. At least I didn't accidentally shoot someone's hand. That's another story for another time.” That remark got his curiosity peaked big time. He knows how to get information from you. Getting used to that look. Both of you walked towards the bus ,” It so happened when I was young. Accidentally shot my older cousin in the hand while he was cleaning his BB gun. Which stayed in his hand until years later he had to get it removed.” Jack smiles. That story made his day.
After changing back into scrubs. Checking the board to see what's on. Typical stuff, bruises , cuts even someone needs a tetanus shot. About to see a patient when one of the male interns handed an envelope. Means one thing. Moment of truth. Did you get into Delta?
Soon the answer to that question would be answered . Jack along with the general escorts you to a large building. Shaking like a leaf Jack whisperer,” I know you're nervous. Just remember. This is what you were meant to do. So proud to walk you to your destiny.” That what happened introduced you to the group. The general cleared his throat,” Okay gentlemen. I want to introduce you to your new medic. Make her feel welcome.” It wasn't until you walked over to see other than your best friends!
Brothers rushed over very quickly to hug you close.Look over your shoulder to hear that deep voice,” Welcome sweetheart.” Santiago Garcia standing there smiling. Both of you were staring at one another not knowing what would happen next. Not before you yell,” You knew what squad I'll be with this whole time Abbot?” Shook his head as he started to leave,” Not a clue . Make me proud!”
Sounds from the hospital woke you up from your dream. Opening one eye to see Benny holding up two brown bags,” Dinner has arrived. Thought you might want your favorite comfort food. Whatcha reading that made you fall asleep?” Sitting next to him on the hospital bed. Taking a deep breath,” Job offer. I need to get away.”
Somehow Benny knew this would happen. Knows you inside and out. The hurt of it all after all you did for Pope! Helping him heal from the next surgery,and this is how he repays you? He would do that too if he was in your situation. Would support you in every way.
Soon you gave your notice. Follow by answering the email which results in an interview the following week. Then arrive at your new job ready for anything. Seeing how hectic it was! Nothing you can't handle. Approaching the nurse station, you see an older woman frantically trying to organize the board. Not until you see a familiar face. Jack Abbot. Older,but nothing has changed except for some grey hair. Listening to telling others what needs to be done. Dana,head nurse cleared her throat,” Okay, Abbot, forgot to tell you earlier since this hectic incident has happened. Welcome your new nurse. From what I hear that she's what your nightcrawlers need. My work here is done.has been great. Now clear the fucking boards!”
That moment the two of you stood there. Speechless. All he wanted to do was say something,but his fellow doctor, Robbie, beat him to it,” Take both of you know each other” Oh has no idea. Jack cleared his throat “ She's the student I told you about. One of the brightest interns I ever taught. Your loss ,but nightcrawlers gain man.” You stood there listening to this and reminded you of Benny and Pope would mouth off. Jack turns around to see something was wrong. Cleared his throat,” Come on, time to show you around,and meanwhile. Tell me what is going on. “
