warnings/notes: @thedamnqueenofhell claimed this square for my 9k celebration. Nothing beyond canon. Is short and sweet.
wc: 372
The distinctive sound of a shower running drew Ghostface down the hall. He moved quietly, placing each step carefully so as to not give himself away. The bathroom door was cracked open slightly and he carefully pushed it open further.
And there you were, standing under the spray humming a song that he couldn’t quite place. His head tilted as he licked his lips behind the mask before they curled into a sinister smile. You were so sexy. Soft. Perfect.
He toed off his shoes first, before stripping the robe and letting it pool on the floor. Last came the mask and Ghostface was replaced by Billy Loomis. The knife dropped to land on top of the pile. He padded forward on quiet feet and he clicked open the glass door.
You spun at the noise, startled, and let out a little scream. Billy grinned as you smacked his shoulder. “Don’t. Do. That.”
He grabbed you, pulling you into him as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. “You should be more aware of your surroundings. There’s a killer out there, you know.”
You twined your arms around his neck. “Yeah, well. My boyfriend would kick his ass.”
Suddenly, you pulled back from him, pushing at his shoulders when he tried to keep you close. “Why is there so much blood? Are you hurt?”
He shushed you and kissed your temple. “I’m fine. Just messy.”
You hummed and kissed his lips, pushing him backward as you did so, until his back hit the tile. He grunted before putting his full focus on your lips. Your skin. When you finally pulled away to breathe, he smirked as he looked you over. Bloody handprints covered wide expanses of your skin.
“You look good in red.”
You glanced down and your nose wrinkled. “Gross.”
That pulled a laugh from him, low and deep. “And what did you think was going to happen, princess? You should be ashamed of yourself. Making out with a killer. A real psycho at that.”
“Well, come on then, killer,” you said as you pulled him under the water. “Scrub yourself clean so we can head to bed and I can show you that an X rated relationship is so much better than PG13.”
synopsis: you are a temptation Carter finds impossible to resist
warnings/notes: a little steamy. part of my 9k celebration.
wc: 720
John Carter was going to hell.
Or maybe he was already there, he thought as he stepped into his office to find you leaning over his desk, luscious ass on full display. Carter licked his lips then shook his head, trying to dislodge the image that had suddenly taken up residence in his head.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice coming out raspy. He cleared his throat.
You straightened and looked over your shoulder in surprise. “Sorry, Professor Carter. I’m missing tests from two students in Bio 101. I thought maybe they were lost on your desk again.”
It was entirely possible. It was no secret that his desk was a black hole for assignments and tests. “I told you to call me John when we’re not in class,” he corrected you. And he absolutely should not have done so. Even if you are his TA, you shouldn’t call him by his first name. He didn’t care. He loved to hear it fall from your lips too much.
You grinned at him and nodded once. “Right. John. Sorry.”
He shook his head, fighting a smile of his own. God, why did he find everything you did so fucking adorable? “Alright, let’s sort this mess. I’ve misplaced an Anatomy paper as well.”
Now that you had his permission, you started sorting the papers that were stacked on his desk. He stepped around you to start on the other side.
“What would you do without me, Professor,” you teased as you handed over the missing paper.
His cock twitched at the title. “John. Please,” he said, voice cracking. Not that he thought that would be any better. You could probably call him literally anything and his dick would sit up and pay attention. Fucking hell.
Carter ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath, doing his best not to look at you. “Any luck on the tests?”
When you didn’t answer, he glanced up briefly before returning to his task. Then he stopped and did a double take. You had perched yourself on the edge of the desk while your gaze ran over every bit of him you could see. You bit your lip. “Can I ask you a question?”
He cleared his throat and put his attention back on the papers. “Of course.”
“Will you kiss me?”
He froze utterly and completely, fingers wrapped around the edge of the missing tests. He took a breath then another before his head snapped up to you. “I’m sorry?”
The corner of your lips lifted in a smirk as you stood and sashayed around the desk. There really was no other word for the way you swung your hips. His dark eyes followed every movement. Your fingers wrapped around his tie and tugged, turning hm toward you. “You don’t have to be sorry. Just kiss me.”
His fingers twitched with the desire to hold you, to pull you close until there wasn’t a breath of air between you. “We can’t.”
“Of course we can. It’s easy. You just pucker up and put your lips on mine.”
When he didn’t move, you sighed and released your hold on his tie. A flash of hurt crossed your face and you turned away from him. No, no, no. He couldn’t touch you, couldn’t cross that line, but he didn’t want to lose you.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” you muttered, voice barely audible. “I’ll just take the tests and go. I’ll have them on your desk in the morning.”
You plucked the papers from his grasp and headed toward your bag. His gaze followed you as you moved toward the door, not glancing back at him once. “No,” he said as you reached for the handle.
Your hand hovered over the knob as you glanced at him over your shoulder. “What?”
“Don’t…don’t go. Just…come home with me. We’ll pick up food on the way. You can grade the tests while I go through the papers.”
The silence stretched into uncomfortable territory. He shifted his weight, tension flowing from him when a smile curved your lips.
“Alright, professor. As long as you agree to return to our earlier conversation.”
Giving into every temptation he’d felt since the first moment you introduced yourself to him, he shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll be doing much talking.”
synopsis: You are Andrew's purpose and he is yours
notes/warnings: I kind of dig this one. @stuttermaple claimed this square for my 9k celebration. off page physical assault. i think that's about it.
wc: 1.1k
Ser Andrew was not a knight in your direct service. He could often be found lining one of the many halls of the palace, guarding against whatever mayhem might attempt to invade the walls.
When he wasn’t there, he was usually in the training yard. That was where you first noticed him. He was quiet. Stoic. He trained the younger guards with a ruthless efficiency that you knew may just save their lives someday. You found yourself in the training yard more and more often when Andrew was present.
He didn’t notice the first few times, paying no attention to another lady in the stands. The first time his gaze locked with yours, color flared up the back of his neck. He yanked his gaze away but it kept finding its way back to you. It took him more than a week to confront you, but even then, he wouldn’t look at you.
“You shouldn’t come to the training grounds,” he’d said, voice low even though he’d ensured no one was close enough to hear.
“Why not?”
He looked at you out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not proper.”
You merely hummed in acknowledgment before saying, “Propriety is what I say it is, and I think it only wise to make sure my knights are being trained properly.”
When he said nothing further, you turned and walked away.
The next day, you found him guarding your chamber door. “What are you doing here? You’re not in my service.”
“Ser Stuart is ill. He asked me to fill in.”
You studied him for a beat. “Very well. Come along.”
He followed you as you fulfilled your obligations for the day. It was late afternoon before he spoke. “Are you not going to watch the training?”
“Why would I do that when you’re right here with me?”
Andrew had no idea what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.
The next day he found himself permanently assigned as one of your personal guards. He quickly became used to following you around, staying silent and just watching. His quiet, observant nature was what made him perfect for the position.
Then came the day three months later when everything almost fell apart. Andrew stood outside the door of the study of your father’s advisor. You were meeting with the man inside. Andrew didn’t like leaving you alone with the other man, didn’t like the way he looked at you. But all were forbidden from entrance without the High Advisor’s express permission.
Tension sat heavy on Andrew’s shoulders, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. He was ready for a threat only he seemed to sense. A soft sound escaped the room and he turned his head in an attempt to hear more clearly. Nothing. Then you screamed his name.
The locked door posed little impediment to the knight separated from his charge. He slammed against it once. Twice. It gave way on the third. Andrew’s eyes raked the room, taking in the scene before him. The advisor held your wrist and had you pulled tightly against his chest. A scratch marred the man’s cheek. A defensive wound.
Fury filled Andrew as he registered your disheveled appearance and your obvious relief at his entrance. “Let her go,” Andrew snarled.
“Get out,” the advisor snarled. “Your mere presence in these chambers is an act of treason. I’ll have your head. Guard!”
Andrew ignored the man, his focus solely separating you from him. “Release her. Now.” He grasped the other man’s wrist in a bruising grip until he was forced to release you.
You stumbled backward, hand cradling your wrist. Your eyes found Andrew’s. “I’m okay.”
Like hell you were. He could see the lingering fear and he hated it. You were never afraid. You were confident and bold. Seeing you like this stoked that fire within him.
Andrew shifted his glare back to the advisor who once again yelled for guards. He pulled back an armored fist and struck the man right in the nose, hearing a satisfying crunch when he did so.
Soon hands were on him pulling him away, he let them force him to his knees as he kept his angry gaze on the man he wanted to kill. In that moment, if they released him, he just might.
“I want him dead. He invaded my rooms without permission and assaulted me,” the advisor snarled.
“We can’t just kill him on your say so,” Ser Stuart argued.
“You can and you will. I am second only to the king.”
“Excuse me?”
Andrew’s gaze shifted to you as he heard your voice, sweet despite the anger in it. You stepped forward, hands in fists at your sides as you stared down your father’s advisor. The man who had just tried to have Andrew killed, who had just attempted to place himself above you. You were stunning in your anger.
“Arrest Lord Nathaniel for assaulting a member of the royal family.” Everyone in the room froze as you tilted your head and took another step forward. “I believe that counts as treason, Lord Nathaniel. The penalty for which is death. And, unlike you, my word is enough for the sentence.”
Two of the men moved forward to seize the man. “You can’t do this. I am the king’s High Advisor. I order you to release me at once.”
Your hand came to rest on Andrew’s shoulder and he peered up at you. “Ser Andrew is under my personal protection. Any slight against him is a slight against the crown.”
He was released instantly and the other knights backed away with a bow of the head. When he tried to stand, you pressed on his shoulder to keep him in place.
“Place the High Advisor in a cell. I will explain things to my father.”
There was a flurry of “Yes, your highness” and suddenly the two of you were alone.
Your hand cupped Andrew’s cheek as you tilted his head for him to look at you.
He swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to do that. Place me under your protection, I mean. They would have let me go.”
Once royal protection was granted, it could only be rescinded with a decree. Andrew wasn’t worth all of that. Not for doing what he was born to do, protecting you.
“Thank you for coming to my aid.”
“I will always come when you call,” he said with no hesitation. “You are my purpose.”
Your lips curved in a radiant smile that had Andrew taking an unsteady breath. “And that is why you have my protection, Ser Andrew.”
He still didn’t understand. Not really. His brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Why? Because you are mine.”
And when you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss, everything was suddenly, perfectly clear.
warnings/notes: surprisingly nothing considering it's Negan. Part of my 9k celebration.
wc: 550
You had to keep running.
It was the only thought in your head as you swerved between trees in the darkness. You didn’t know who the men were that had invaded your camp but as soon as they killed Trevor, you weren’t staying around to find out. You’d been on the edge of the clearing and spun to race off into the trees. They’d shouted behind you, but you never slowed, jumping over the traps that had been set up to warn you of the walkers.
Apparently, the job had been half assed as the camp had been swarmed with no warning. Figured as it had been Trevor’s turn to check the perimeter. It’s probably what got his ass killed. You were armed with nothing but a hunting knife, not having time to grab anything other than what was on your person. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You wouldn’t be able to survive out here on your own for long. You knew that. But you also knew trusting the wrong people could get you killed. Then again there were worse fates than death.
Deciding you’d been running long enough, you slowed and listened for any sign you were being followed. Or that your escape had attracted any of the dead. You struggled to slow your breathing, unable to hear over the raspy sound. One minute passed. Then two. You huffed out a sigh of relief.
Once you’d oriented yourself, you headed in the direction where an old farm house stood. It wasn’t the best shelter, full of holes and easy access points, but it was better than staying in the open. You’d barely taken two steps when a figure stepped out from behind a tree.
You sucked in a breath and stumbled back, raising the knife.
“Easy, sweetheart,” the voice came, rich and rough.
At least it wasn’t a walker but you still took several more steps backward, trying to put some distance between yourself and this stranger.
He followed until he stood in a pool of moonlight. You ran your gaze over him quickly taking in the denim and leather and the barbwire wrapped bat on his shoulder. “Negan,” you said, voice barely carrying to him.
“We know each other?” he asked then he grinned and shook his head once. “No, I’d remember a pretty thing like you. I’ll just have to assume my reputation precedes me.”
It certainly did. The leader of the Saviors. Ruthless. Cruel at times. But you also knew, he didn’t tolerate rape. That you would at least have that modicum of protection.
He pulled a radio from his belt, eyes never leaving you. “I’ve caught our runaway. Rendezvous at the truck.”
He secured the radio and tilted his head as he looked you over again. “Well, are you going to come along peacefully or are you going to get frisky?”
You swallowed. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Now, why would I go and do something like that?”
“Your men killed Trevor without a word. What’s to say you won’t do the same to me?” Logically you knew if he wanted to kill you, he would have done so already, but nothing about the end of the world was logical.
His smile got impossibly wider. “Well, I guess you’re just going to have to trust me, darlin’.”
synopsis: Trinity and Dennis ask Jack about his wife
warnings/notes: Number eleven in the widow!jack ficlet series. As always, @tanely helped brainstorm. Listen, timelines are loose in this AU. things happen when they happen. so...yeah.
wc: 1.1k
Previous Series Masterlist
Trinity sat at the computer where she was supposed to be charting staring at Robby and Abbot across the room. “Hey, Crash,” she said as Victoria walked past with Dennis.
Victoria rolled her eyes but slowed to a stop. “What?”
“You did a rotation on night shift, right?”
Her and Dennis exchanged a look. “Yeah. Why?”
“What’s the deal with Abbot?” Trinity turned on her seat to face the other two.
“What do you mean?” Victoria’s gaze moved from Trinity to Abbot and back again.
“I mean,” Trinity drew the words out in annoyance, as if it should be obvious what she was getting at without her needing to explain. “He’s cool. SWAT, the leg, him and Robby are besties. Like, what’s his story?”
“Why do you care?” Victoria was so confused as to the point of this conversation.
Trinity shrugged one shoulder. “Thinking about going on nights for a while. It wouldn’t hurt to have an in with the attending.”
Victoria’s eyes went wide before she nodded once as if that made sense. “You should ask him about his wife. He loves talking about her. It’ll totally get you points.”
“He’s married?” Dennis asked.
She looked at him. “Yeah, didn’t you notice the ring?”
“Well, we haven’t really been around him much to be fair,” he said.
Trinity smiled. “Thanks for the solid, Crash.” She hopped to her feet and patted the younger woman on the shoulder as Abbot walked past them to head into the breakroom. “You’re coming with me, Huckleberry.”
“But—What? I was helping Vict—”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Victoria rushed to assure him, waving a hand through the air. “I’ll ask someone else.”
As she turned to hurry away, she hoped they hadn’t noticed the gleeful expression on her face.
When they hurried into the breakroom, they found the attending sitting at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. “H-hey, Dr. Abbot,” Dennis greeted.
“What’s up? Why are you here anyway?” Trinity added as she grabbed an energy drink from the fridge.
Jack looked between the two of them with a frown not saying anything. Finally, he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Morning admin meeting. Now, what do you want?”
Dennis started to stutter out an excuse but Trinity talked over the top of him. “We were wondering about your wife, is all.”
“My wife.” Jack’s voice was rough, low. His gaze darted between the two of them. “Would you like to hear about my leg next? Why don’t we just rehash all of my trauma?”
Dennis’ eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open slightly. Oh no. Shit.
Trinity sat at the table. “Yes, actually. What happened?”
Jack turned his head slowly to look at the resident, an unimpressed expression on his face. “Robby crashed his fuckass motorcycle with me on the back. They had to amputate.”
Her mouth opened and closed before she said, “Oh.” She glanced at Dennis who stood behind Abbot shaking his head and mouthing the word No. “So, what about your wife then?”
“My wife was the most remarkable woman. I have never and will never love anyone like her. I will love her and only her for the rest of my life.”
Trinity swallowed hard. “What happened to her?”
Jack blinked once. Twice. “Robby crashed his fuckass motorcycle with her on the back. She didn’t make it.” His tone was flat, emotionless.
Trinty physically recoiled ever so slightly. “Listen, I’m sorry if—”
This time it was Dennis cutting her off, just as the breakroom door opened. “Dr. Abbot, we are so sorry. We didn’t mean to bring up any trauma or whatever. Seriously, we were just trying to get to know you.”
“What’s going on in here?” Robby asked.
“We were just asking Abbot about his wife,” Trinity said as she stood.
Robby narrowed his gaze. “And what did Jack have to say about the Mrs.?”
“Just about how much he loved her. It was very sweet really,” Dennis hurried to say before pushing Trinity out of the room.
“I think Crash set us up,” she said once they’d reached the hub.
“Ya think?” Dennis asked, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
“Good for her.”
Dennis just shook his head as he watched his roommate leave to check on a patient. He glanced back to the closed door of the breakroom before walking off himself. Whatever had happened to Dr. Abbot’s wife, he obviously still loved her deeply. Dennis could only hope he’d find a relationship like that someday.
Roughly an hour later, Dennis was heading back toward the hub when he saw you standing next to Robby. He briefly considered introducing himself knowing you were the other night shift attending. His gaze caught on Abbot making his way to you, bag over his shoulder. And his eyes glued to your ass.
Dennis frowned. Hadn’t the man just been extoling his wife’s virtues and now here he is staring at yours? Dennis was oddly offended on Mrs. Abbot’s behalf. He walked over to where the older man was making no effort to hide his obvious leering and stood beside him, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I thought you’d never love anyone like you loved your wife.”
Jack huffed a humorless laugh. “You got that right, kid.”
“Then what is this?”
“This is me appreciating what’s right in front of me.”
“Are you staring at my ass again?” you asked, not even glancing over your shoulder.
“I told you if you don’t want me staring at it, you shouldn’t put it in front of me,” Jack said.
Dennis curled his lip. Abbot was disgusting. He’d actually felt sorry for him and now—The thought cut off abruptly as Abbot wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple.
Robby shook his head. “Whitaker, have you two met?”
“No.” Dennis stepped forward as Robby introduced you.
He finished with, “Also known as Mrs. Abbot.”
“Oh.” Dennis processed what he’d just been told. “Oh!”
Jack just grinned as you elbowed him in the side. “What did you do this time?”
“Why do you always think I did something?”
You stared at him without saying anything.
Finally, he said, “Okay. Fair.”
“I don’t…I’m so confused,” Dennis said with a helpless look at Robby.
Robby put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll get used to it.
Dennis wasn't sure about that. What he did know was that he had no intention of letting Trinity in on the information anytime soon.
synopsis: You meet a very special wolf on the night of the full moon
notes/warnings: An AU where supernatural beings are known and accepted. This is so floofy. If you guys like it I'm totally up for at least a part two. Inspired by an ask from @crazyunsexycool about werewolf Robby finding his mate while in wolf form.
wc: 3.6k
The bench was old, worn, comfortable. The park was empty save for you, most people reluctant to be out during a full moon. Despite the relative safety, old superstitions ran deep. You were more than content to have the whole place to yourself. The moon was bright and revitalizing. You tipped your face up as you enjoyed the sensation of the moon humming through you like a current. It buzzed along your bones and pricked your skin.
As a witch you had an intimate relationship with the phases of the moon. Some good for one thing, others for another. But the full moon was your favorite. It was when you recharged your batteries so to speak. When you felt at peace with the world.
The night was quiet, the noises of the city fading into the background. The breeze carried a chill and you shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket to keep them warm. Then you felt it. A presence intruding on the perimeter you’d set in your mind. Behind you, moving closer. A steady, silent approach. But no sense of danger came with it.
You didn’t look right away. If magic had taught you anything, it was patience. You sat perfectly still, tracking the movement until a huff of breath came from directly behind the bench. Only then did you turn.
The wolf was enormous, easily twice the size of any natural animal. His coat was dark with flecks of gray scattered throughout. His shoulders were broad and muscled, his head massive. He stared for a moment before moving around the bench to stand in front of you. His ears were forward, his tail low and swinging in a slow, measured rhythm. Not aggressive. Not even cautious. If you had to pinpoint the behavior, you’d call it attentive.
You kept your hands in your lap now instead of your pockets and watched him. He stood close enough you could feel the heat radiating off of him, could smell the clean, wild scent of him. He held your gaze. His eyes were dark brown, almost black in the moonlight and full of awareness and assessment that told you this was no mere animal. There was no threat, simply…recognition.
You stared at one another for one beat, then two. Then he lowered his head and laid the full weight of it in your lap. He was solid, warm. The whine that accompanied the action was a low, plaintive sound that vibrated through you. He watched you with those soft brown eyes. Waiting.
Your hands hovered for a moment before sinking in the thick fur. In that second, you felt something slide into place inside of you with a deep, instinctive knowing. You shifted your hold and began to scratch behind his ears.
He exhaled, a full body release that softened every line of his body. His weight settled more firmly against your legs, his eyes half closing. As your attention continued, he made a small satisfied noise in the back of his throat. His eyes held a human quality in them that was unmistakable. Intelligence and a focus that didn’t belong on anything living solely on instinct.
He had been looking for you, you were almost certain. He’d crossed the park with a single-minded determination and had found you sitting on the bench. Then he’d put his head in your lap like he was coming home.
You knew what this was. Felt it the moment you touched him and the universe suddenly seemed right, complete. You tilted your head. “You’re my mate.”
The wolf lifted his head from your lap. For a moment he just looked at you, his dark eyes steady and intent. And then he whined again, louder this time, with a hint of desperation that wasn’t there before. Before you had time to attempt to figure out what he wanted, he lowered his muzzle and closed his teeth around your wrist.
Your breath caught. His jaws were enormous, capable of crushing bone. But his teeth didn’t press, settling against you with extraordinary gentleness. The pressure was so light it was almost absent. It was just the faint weight of his mouth and the light scrape of a canine against your pulse. Then he tugged.
Not hard. Just enough to say come with me.
“Okay, okay,” you said as you stood.
He released you immediately, leaving not a mark behind. He turned away from the bench and took three steps before he stopped and looked over his shoulder, those dark eyes finding yours. Checking.
You followed.
He led you out of the park and into the city. He moved with purpose, keeping a steady pace that had you taking wide strides to match it. Every half-block or so he would glance back, making sure you were still there. Still following. At crosswalks he paused, waiting for the light even when the street was empty. His nose constantly twitched as he picked up scents from the air. He stopped at lampposts and fire hydrants, sniffing, tracing whatever trail led him on.
You walked past closed storefronts with their security gates pulled down, past a bar with sound spilling from inside. A man stood just past the door nodded at you as you passed, did a double-take at the wolf, then shrugged and went back to his cigarette.
The wolf led you through blocks you didn’t know, turning corners and leading you down questionable alleyways, though you didn’t fear. Between your own abilities and your wolf tour guide, you figured you were safe enough. Then, suddenly, the hospital rose into the night sky in front of you.
Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. The building was massive. The wolf led you around to the ambulance bay. He stopped at the edge of the pavement, right where driveway turns to walkway and turned to you.
The he shoved his head hard against your hip. The push was insistent, not rough as he nudged you toward the glass doors of the ambulance bay. You put a hand flat on top of his head. “Do you know someone here?”
He let out a frustrated whine and shoved harder. His entire weight leaned into your hip now, steering you toward the doors.
“We can’t just walk into the hospital. I’m pretty sure there are rules about wolves roaming the halls.”
The wolf sat down and stared up at you. His dark eyes were unblinking. You looked down at him. He looked up at you. The standoff lasted a good minute.
“Fine,” you said, finally.
You walked up to the doors and they slid open. A man in black scrubs with a Dunkin cup in one hand glanced over at the sound. He frowned as he saw you standing there. He moved closer. “Can I help you?”
You pointed at your companion, who was still sitting on the concrete right where you’d left him, watching the exchange with what you would have sworn was amusement.
“Does anyone here belong to him?” you asked.
The man’s brows raised and he grinned as he looked at the wolf. “This is fantastic. Just hold on one second.” And with that, the man who never introduced himself disappeared into the halls of the hospital.
You turned back to the wolf. He was still watching you, his tail wagging in slow arcs.
“Well, that was not helpful in the least.”
He blinked at you and you could have sworn he was laughing.
A low concrete wall ran along the edge of the ambulance bay, keeping the minimal landscaping at bay. You settled onto it, the cold seeping through your jeans and the wolf was there before you even fully found your balance. His head dropped into your lap with the certainty of a creature that had decided your lap belonged to him now. You didn’t question it as one hand found the soft fur under his chin and began to scratch.
A low, rumbling vibration of contentment came from him. One of his massive paws joined his head in your lap. You scratched under his chin and waited. The night had grown colder and the warmth of the wolf against your legs was welcome. “Would you like to see a trick?” you asked after a moment.
His ears flicked forward and his gaze met yours. You held out the hand that wasn’t occupied with running through his fur and produced a small ball of blue light you ran over fingers and back again. His tail wagged enthusiastically as he huffed out a breath. High praise, you were sure.
The door slid open and a man in scrubs stepped outside. His gaze found you and you waved a hand through the air to dismiss the light. He took in the scene before him. You on the wall, the enormous wolf with his head in your lap, your hand scratching under the chin before occasionally drifting up to get the spot behind his ears. His face split into a grin wide enough to show teeth and crinkle the skin by his eyes. The laugh that came from him was part surprise and part pure delight.
He walked over to stand in front of you and the wolf lifted his head from your lap just enough to look at the man who reached out and ruffled the fur between his ears with a casual affection.
“Hey, brother,” he said to the wolf. Then he looked at you, still grinning and extended a hand. “Jack Abbot. Night shift attending.” You shook his hand and he said, “Might I ask who you are and how you know our friend here?”
You told him your name before you explained everything. The park. The moon. The wolf finding you on that bench and declaring you were his in the most fundamental way possible. Then you explained about the bond between the two of you.
Jack’s grin grew impossibly wider with every sentence. By the time you finished, he was practically vibrating, his eyes bright with something that looked suspiciously like triumph.
“He led you here?” Jack asked. “Just…follow me human, we’re going to the hospital?”
“Basically.”
Jack looked the wolf. The wolf looked back at Jack and you could have sworn they were silently communicating about something. “This is incredible,” Jack said, and he wasn’t talking to you. He was talking to the wolf who lowered his head back into your lap with what could only be described as smug satisfaction. “Absolutely incredible. I’ve been working with this man for years and I never—” He stopped, shook his head, and the grin came back full force. “Never mind. This is perfect. This is absolutely perfect.”
He watched you for another moment before leaning forward and dropping his voice. “So, you up for a little fun?”
The wolf in your lap made a small curious sound, his ears flicking forward.
Jack’s grin didn’t waver as he waited for your answer. The anticipation on his face was infectious and entirely terrifying.
Robby walked through the doors of the ED at ten the next morning, three hours into day shift as was the routine when he was scheduled the night after a full moon. Jack always covering the extra time without complaint. Robby was exhausted as he always was after a run, but he felt oddly invigorated.
Jack was at the nurses’ station, sitting as he typed at the computer. He looked up as Robby dropped his bag beside him and a grin spread across his face.
“Morning,” Robby said with a lifted brow. “You seem in oddly good spirits. How was the shift?”
Jack’s grin didn’t budge as he shrugged one shoulder. “Same as always. Nothing remarkable.” He paused, his head tilting slightly, the amusement in his expression increasing. “How was your run?”
Robby ran a hand through his hair, feeling the residual stiffness in his shoulders, the soreness in his muscles that came from a night spent as something other than human. “Good. Really good, I think.”
He remembered fragments. The park. A rabbit. Moving through the city. The feeling of something pressing, urgent. He tapped his temple with one finger. “Nothing. The usual black hole. But I feel like…something happened. Something important but I can’t fucking place it.”
Jack’s mouth twitched, his eyes crinkling at the corners as that grin somehow got wider. He reached out and clapped Robby on the shoulder. “Langdon’s been holding down the fort. Have a fantastic day, brother. I’m out.” Jack grabbed the bag that Robby hadn’t noticed at his feet and headed toward the doors without a backward glance.
Robby frowned after him. That was…odd. Jack Abbot was many things. Subtle was not one of them. Whatever had that expression on his face was something he was savoring and Robby was almost certain it was going to somehow bite him in the ass.
You arrived at PTMC just before noon, checking in at the front and giving your name before being let through. A blonde glanced up as you moved through the chaos toward the central hub. “Dana?” you asked, making an educated guess based on what Jack had told you.
Her gaze flicked over you from head to toe and one side of her mouth curled up as she said your name. With a nod, you confirmed your identity and she smiled wide. “Jack filled me in, said you’re here as part of Gloria’s new initiative to increase the presence of magical healing in the hospital, right?”
You nodded again. It was Jack’s idea. The program was real enough and you actually were a witch trained in healing magic. He’d submitted your name himself this morning and texted you when he got approval. The best cover stories were the most truthful ones, after all.
Jack convinced you to spend a day with Robby as a human before telling him who you were to him. Something about driving his best friend crazy before letting him in on the secret. He’d seemed so giddy at the idea you’d agreed without much argument. It was unlikely Robby would remember anything about the night before, anyway. Getting to know him this way seemed infinitely preferable to just showing up with a wave and saying, “Hey, I’m your mate. How are you doing?”
Robby stood in North Four with a med student and a third-year resident, watching as the student conducted a neuro exam. His arms were crossed over his chest as he observed. The resident was correcting a small error the student had made when Robby’s spine straightened.
A scent drifted to him. Warm and layered and completely out of place in an emergency department. Something rich and complex that smelled like rain, the earth and a note he couldn’t name but that pulled at him all the same.
His chin lifted and his nostrils flared. His focus narrowed to a single point, that scent and the direction it had come from. “Finish the assessment. Let me know if you have any questions,” he announced to the room in general.
He didn’t wait for a response. He was already moving, following the scent through the department before he had fully processed what he was doing. The scent led him past staff and countless patients until finally, there you were.
You stood beside Dana, one hip leaning against the counter. You were saying something while Dana listened intently.
Robby stopped when he was maybe fifteen feet from you. Close enough his eyes registered little details about your appearance, about the way you held your hands. Close enough that the scent swamped him.
He knew you.
The certainty was bone deep and inexplicable. He had never seen you before in his life, yet every instinct he possessed insisted that he knew you as well as he knew his own name. There was no memory attached to the recognition, just the raw, incontrovertible fact that he knew you.
Dana glanced over and saw him standing there. Her eyebrow lifted along with the corner of her lips. “Robby.” He stepped closer and she introduced you by a name that meant nothing to him. “She’s part of Gloria’s new program. Here to observe only today.”
You turned to fully face him and your eyes met. “Hi.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Hi.”
He was still trying to figure this out, this familiarity, this pull when you lifted your left hand. A flick of your fingers and a small ball of blue light appeared. You let it run over your fingers and back again before another flick had it vanishing from sight. It was the kind of thing a witch did without thinking, the magical equivalent of clicking a pen.
For a moment, Robby was completely lost to you. A feeling of security that he didn’t understand at all flowed through him. He was all the more certain that he knew you. That you were important. This was driving him insane.
Realizing that he’d been staring in silence for far too long, he cleared his throat. “I should…Patients. I have patients.”
He made himself turn around. Made himself walk through the halls and find another resident to observe, another med student with a question. Anything he could focus on besides you.
He failed miserably.
For the rest of the afternoon, he found reasons to be wherever you were. When you were at the hub, he appeared with a question for Dana he already knew the answer to. Each time, his eyes found you, watching you make notes or talk to some of the staff. He slowed his pace as he passed a bay where you were holding the hand of a small fae child that was awaiting the arrival of her parents. When you were in the break room, he had a sudden need for coffee despite the four cups he’d already had that day. When work pulled him away, he immediately sought you out when he finished, needing to know where you were and if you were safe.
The department continued around the two of you. Traumas came in. Labs were ordered. Consults were called for. Students were taught. And through it all, that scent pulled at him. It was mouth watering and maddeningly familiar. But every moment spent in your presence brought him no closer to understanding.
Jack arrived ten minutes before his shift was due to start. The rest of the night shift was filtering in as well, day shift starting their handoffs. He found Robby at the hub, a tablet laying on the counter in front of him that he was absolutely ignoring. In fact, he hadn’t looked at it in ten minutes. He leaned against he counter, arms crossed as he watched you talk with one of the nurses, hands moving. Perlah was laughing and you were smiling, the expression making Robby’s chest feel tight.
Jack stopped beside him. He looked at you, then to Robby and back to you. Then he laughed, the sound drawing Robby’s attention away from his staring. “You are so far gone,” Jack said. He still had that stupid grin on his face.
Robby shook his head and huffed in irritation. “I can’t focus. I feel like I know her from somewhere. I’ve been like this all day. It doesn’t make any sense.” He ran a hand over his beard, smoothing it down. “I should introduce the two of you. Maybe you can place her.”
Jack’s grin turned smug. “Oh, I already met her. You introduced us.”
Robby turned to look at him, the movement slow and deliberate. His body orienting with the same focused intent his wolf used when tracking a scent. “What?”
“Last night.” Jack leaned against the counter, mirroring Robby’s posture. “Found her in the ambulance bay just before midnight. Sitting on the wall with a very large wolf’s head in her lap.”
Robby went perfectly, utterly still.
“She was scratching under his chin, behind his ears. Like she’d known him for years. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. And he was letting her. Head right there in her lap, eyes half-closed, making these little content noises. You know the ones.” His voice had dropped to a lower register, almost gentle though the mischief was still present.
Robby knew the sounds he was referring to, the satisfied rumbling sounds his wolf made at his happiest. When he felt safe.
“He led her all the way here from some park downtown. Said he put his head in her lap then whined at her until she got up and followed him here.” Jack paused, searching his friend’s face. “He brought her right to the doors and then sat down until she got Shen’s attention. He got me and there you have it.”
Robby’s mouth had gone dry. The pieces assembled themselves in his head with a slow certainty. The scent that had pulled him across the department, the recognition with no context.
“I’d only go to someone like that if…” he trailed off, the words hanging there for a beat before he said, “Oh.”
His gaze shifted back to where your conversation with Perlah had been joined by Princess. A warmth settled over him as he realized the scent he had been chasing all day had been following him first. From a park through the city under a full moon to the feet of his best friend.
You looked up, your eyes meeting across an emergency department filled with a scent he could finally, definitively name. Your gaze flicked to Jack and back to Robby and you smiled, warm and welcoming.
notes/warnings: nothing really. still angsty. Robby sees his girl. oh, and a bar fight I guess.
wc: 3.3k
Series Masterlist
Chapter Seventeen - Lovesick
i know since i've been gone
you've got your life to live
so you should live it, baby
to you i still belong
Robby ran a hand down his face, exhausted to his core. Twelve-hour shifts spent trying to save lives while his own fell apart were taking their toll. Things were always more chaotic at shift change. More people. More clamor as they hurried to get last minute tasks completed or stepped into ongoing cases, trying to make the change over as smooth as possible. He was so fucking ready to go home.
Jack stepped through the doors of the ambulance bay, ready to start his shift. Robby watched him and felt that familiar surge of affection tempered with regret. He still had Jack. Somehow, improbably, impossibly, he still had Jack. The man had taken him back into his bed and his life despite Robby’s cruelty and idiocy. Robby didn’t deserve it. He knew that.
They finished handoff in under ten minutes. Robby gathered his things and headed for the doors. Jack followed. That was…unusual. Typically, he jumped right into his shift but tonight, he fell into step beside Robby, hands in his pockets.
The air outside was cool as he caught Robby’s elbow and pulled him off to the side and out of the way.
“She met me for breakfast this morning.”
“Did you tell her?” Robby’s voice came out rough, broken. “About how sorry I am? That I’ve started seeing Gemmill again? That I’m…Jesus, Jack, did you tell her I’m falling apart without her?”
Jack crossed his arms over his chest and nodded once. “I told her.”
“And?”
“She was going to walk out until I promised to stop talking about you.”
Robby stared at him. “What?”
“She says you have to make the effort on your own, without me being in the middle.” Jack’s voice was quiet, steady. “I won’t risk losing her, Mike. Not even for you.”
Robby felt something inside of him just collapse. A slow, inward crumpling of the little bit of hope he’d held that Jack could help him fix this. He dragged a hand over his beard. His hand was shaking and he stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie.
“So, what do I do, Jack? How do I fix this?” The question came out small, pleading. He’d fucked up, lost his way, and he needed Jack to help him find the way out.
Jack huffed out a breath. “Well, first you need to quit trying to buy her affections.”
Pure white-hot panic shot through Robby. “I’m not…that’s not what I’m doing. Is that what she thinks I’m doing?”
Jack nodded. “You accused her of using us for our money and now you’re…well, you’re using our money to try to get her to forgive you. That’s not going to work, babe.”
“I just need her to talk to me,” Robby said, the words sounding pathetic even to his own ears. Pathetic but true.
Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, try something else, because that’s not working.”
Then he was gone, heading back into the depths of the Pitt, leaving Robby alone in the ambulance bay. He walked home in the dark, and he didn’t cry. He was too tired for tears. He was tired and alone and the silence in his head was louder than any trauma bay had ever been.
A knock came at four in the afternoon when you were working on a spreadsheet for your grandfather’s foundation. You paused, saved and set your laptop aside. You knew what it was before you opened the door. Another delivery with no communication, no heart behind it. You sighed.
When you opened the door, you were surprised to be met with a wrapped bouquet on the doorstep rather than a careful display. It was the kind of arrangement that looked like someone had had gone into a field and picked whatever was in bloom. They were beautiful in an unrefined way, nothing like the formal bouquets that preceded them. You carried them into the kitchen, setting them on the counter while you filled a vase with water.
The note was tucked between two stems, folded in half. Your fingers found it as you started to arrange the flowers. Robby’s handwriting was unmistakable, a hurried slanting script that always looked like he’d been rushed through whatever he was writing.
I’m sorry.
Two words. Nothing else.
But it was enough to cause the slightest lift of the corner of your mouth. He was learning. The flowers had a personal touch finally and he’d written a note. A stupid, short note but it was a start. You set the note on the counter beside the vase and went back to work.
The next day, the knock came around lunch time. A teenager handed you a delivery of soup from the deli near the hospital that Robby favored. You opened it and inhaled the aroma of your favorite offering from there. You ate it standing at the counter, spoon scraping the bottom of the container. When you went to throw the bag away, you found the note in the bottom.
I miss you.
You set it with the first note and went on about your day.
The third delivery arrived the following afternoon. Pastries from your favorite bakery. Three of your favorite treats nestled inside the bag. This note contained only one word. Please.
You rolled your eyes and set the note with the others. The anger had burned itself out. The pain less sharp than it had been. You’d cried it away on your couch. Shouted it into your pillow. Let it run through you until there was nothing left but remnants. Jack had told you Robby was back in therapy. You’d turned the information over in your head for days. It changed the shape of things. Just a bit. Enough for you to acknowledge that he was aware that what he’d done was inexcusable. And that he was attempting to make certain it never happened again.
Understanding didn’t mean forgiveness. It was merely the first step toward a conversation you weren’t ready to have just yet.
Notes accumulated on your counter. I’m sorry. I miss you. Please. I’m thinking of you. I was wrong. Short. Unpolished. All written by Robby’s own hand. You’d read them all precisely once before adding them to the pile on the counter and returning to whatever task you’d been working at when they arrived. You appreciated the thought behind every bouquet, every meal, every cup of coffee. But thought wasn’t enough.
Not responding had nothing to do with punishment. It was about respecting yourself. You loved him. God, you loved that stupid, broken, beautiful man. But you loved yourself enough to wait for something real. The brief notes weren’t it. The flowers weren’t it. The rent most definitely wasn’t it. You were waiting for words that hadn’t come yet. The words that acknowledged not just that he was sorry but why. The understanding of what he’d done and how fundamentally it had hurt you. Of the damage he had done. You needed something deeper than a couple of words tucked amongst the flower stems.
He had broken you. He’d taken away the trust you had, the feeling of safety and security. The home you had with him and Jack. Until he recognized all of that, there was no room for him in your life.
The Luck of the Draw hummed with activity even on a Tuesday night. Sam’s endeavor was a success and you couldn’t be prouder of him. The customers had only increased since your livestream of Chelsea’s humiliation. Word spread fast that the owner was your bestie and he was enjoying the rewards. He’d begged you to pick up a few shifts until he could get another permanent bartender on board.
You moved behind the bar with the ease of many long nights working in the same spot, reaching for bottles without really looking. You mixed drinks and carried on conversations with the customers. Sam worked beside you, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he shook a cocktail vigorously.
“Take it easy, Reynolds.”
“Gotta put on a show for the ladies.”
You blinked at him. “No one is impressed by you shaking the hell out of a whiskey sour.”
Sam shrugged. “A man can dream.”
“Idiot,” you said, affectionately. All of your best friends were idiots, but they were your idiots.
The door opened and you glanced up only to freeze for a beat as your gaze landed on Robby.
He was still in his clothes from the hospital. His beard had gotten a little longer, or maybe he just hadn’t groomed it. You usually did it for him. He looked tired. No, he looked like a man who hadn’t properly slept in weeks. He took a seat on a stool at the far end of the bar, as far from you as he could, and set his elbows on the polished wood. Your eyes met his. One second, then two. And then you looked away and didn’t look back.
Sam’s gaze flicked from Robby to you and back again. His back straightened and you recognized that flash of protective instinct he’d carried for you since high school. The one that had gotten him suspended when he punched your junior prom date for trying to feel you up. He moved to you and leaned in.
“You want him gone?”
You shook your head. “No, it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“It’s fine, Sam.” You poured two fingers of whiskey and handed it to him. “That’ll be his order.”
Sam studied you for a beat, then nodded and went to deliver the drink without a word to Robby. And you worked. You opened beers and made drinks and laughed at bad jokes from the regulars. Through it all you felt the weight of Robby’s eyes on you. You knew without turning exactly how he was sitting. Elbows on the bar, one hand around the glass he wasn’t drinking from while he watched you move through your world.
An hour passed, the customers changed out. Robby’s drink was still mostly full, he’d barely sipped at it. He’d just sat there, watching you. When he finally stood, you didn’t turn. You heard the stool slide back, watched from the corner of your eye as he left too much money on the bar top. Your gaze followed him as he left and you sighed as tension flowed from your shoulders.
As you were walking home just after midnight, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You waited until you got to your building to check it.
I’m sorry. I just needed to see you. I miss you. I love you.
You stared at the words as you rode the elevator up, too tired for the stairs. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard before you typed a response.
Laying in the bed that was too big without you or Jack, Robby stared at the ceiling. His phone vibrated on his chest and he grabbed it, fingers fumbling in his hurry.
I miss you too
His mouth curved just slightly. He read it again. And again. Elation rose in his chest. This was the first contact he’d had from you and it wasn’t telling him to fuck off.
But he was just as aware of what you didn’t say. Not I love you too. Not I forgive you. Just I miss you too. But it was a start. An opening he wasn’t going to mar with what wasn’t said.
He sent a message to Jack asking him to call if he had a minute.
The phone rang almost immediately. “What’s up?” Jack greeted when Robby answered.
“I went to the bar. I needed to see her.” He needed Jack to know but he worried the other man would be angry.
Jack’s voice was completely normal however when he asked, “Did you speak to her?”
Robby shook his head though Jack couldn’t see it. “No. I just…watched. Sent her a message after I left.”
“And what did you say?”
“That I’m sorry and that I miss her and love her.” The words were rough around the edges. “She told me she missed me too.”
“That’s good. She didn’t shut you down, not completely.”
Robby swallowed the lump in his throat. “Do you think she still loves me? She didn’t say it.”
“I know she does.” Jack’s voice was quiet. “But I’m pretty sure you haven’t earned her saying it yet, baby.”
There was a long stretch of silence. “Yeah. Thank you, Jack. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Get some sleep.”
Robby disconnected the call and looked at your message one more time before putting the phone on the nightstand. He went back to staring at the ceiling, hot tears leaking from his eyes.
He was back the next time you worked. Same stool, same tired eyes and hunched shoulders. Another glass of whiskey sat in front of him barely touched. He watched you for an hour before shuffling out the door to go home to an empty house. When he left, your phone buzzed with another message.
I miss you. I love you. I’m so fucking sorry.
This time you didn’t respond.
The third night, Sam came over, leaning against the counter beside you. “Should I be concerned that he always seems to know when you’re here?” He tilted his head toward Robby who was sitting in his usual spot, staring into his untouched drink. “He’s not stalking you, is he?”
That pulled a laugh from you. “Pretty sure he has more important things to do with his time.” You shrugged. “I shared my location with him and Jack months ago. Never changed it.”
Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just. It’s a very easy thing to fix. Couple of seconds on your phone and no more sharing if you were so inclined.”
You huffed in annoyance. “Well, I’m not so inclined so drop it.”
He raised his hands and backed away. “Understood.”
Robby had been sitting there for forty minutes, looking more forlorn than the last time he’d been in. You set down the glass you’d been drying, squared your shoulders and walked the length of the bar. He didn’t see you coming at first, staring at his drink, one finger tracing the lines of the glass. And then he did.
His head came up. His face changed. The tired lines around his eyes smoothed. His mouth opened, just slightly, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Finally, he settled on, “Hi.” His voice was rough and he cleared his throat. “Hi.”
“You have to stop this, Robby.” He flinched at the name. You kept your voice low so only he could hear you. “You can’t keep coming here. Watching me. It’s…I miss you and this is too hard on me. Do you understand that?”
He nodded once, quick. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…” He stopped, swallowed. “It’s the only way I can see you.”
You started to turn away. His hand came down to rest on yours where it sat on the bar top. His palm was warm, his skin dry and rough from the endless amount of sanitizer he used all day long. You looked at his hand on yours and then up to his face.
“I’m off tomorrow. Let me take you out to breakfast. Or lunch. Coffee. I just want to talk to you. Please.” The words spilled from his lips like he was incapable of holding them back, desperate to be heard.
You studied him. The gray in his beard. The shadows under his eyes. The desperate hope in his gaze. You could feel your resolve cracking, not because of the flowers or the notes or the rent money, but because of this. Because of the man sitting in front of you asking for a conversation, his hand on yours like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
“I’ll think about you,” you finally said. “I’ll let you know.”
He nodded. Didn’t push. Didn’t say another word. His hand left yours, the absence leaving you cold. He stood, dropped too much cash on the bar as usual and walked out, pausing at the door to look back once. With a nod he stepped outside, the door swinging shut behind him.
A couple of hours after Robby left, you were moving constantly, serving a steady flow of customers. You didn’t see the fight start. One minute a table by the dancefloor was just a table. Four guys drinking and laughing about whatever. The next, there was shouting, the scrape of chairs and the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. A pint glass shattered on the floor in a spray of amber liquid and sharp edges.
“Hey!” Sam’s voice cut through the noise. “Knock it off!”
The two men, both large and at least slightly drunk, shoved each other, chest to chest, voices raised. You couldn’t make out the words, but you supposed it didn’t really matter. Another man soon joined the fray and then another. One of the tables fell over with a crash and people moved out of the way. Some headed for the door, others just the edges of the room.
Sam vaulted the bar in one smooth motion. “Stay put!” he yelled in your direction without looking back.
You ignored him completely, moving out from behind the bar intent on bringing up the lights and shutting down the music. The brawl spilled sideways as four guys became five which became seven as a couple of the regulars jumped in to help Sam break it up. You reached the switches and cut the music while you brought the lights up to full intensity. As you turned to check on the chaos behind you, a bottle arched through the air from somewhere in the melee.
You saw it coming. You registered it was going to hit you and you should get the hell out of the way. Unfortunately, your body was about half a second behind. The bottle hit you square on the head, just at the edge of your hairline above your left eyebrow. The crack was immediate and stunning, a sound you felt more than heard, followed by a sharp flare of pain that radiated out from the point of impact. “Motherfucker,” you shouted as your vision blurred.
Hands grasped your arm and tugged you back behind the bar. Kira, one of the waitresses, pressed a folded bar towel against the wound. Her hold was firm, insistent. “Hold this. Press. Hard. I’m gonna help Sam clear the bar.”
You did as she said. The towel was immediately warm and wet against your skin. Fuck. You could feel blood running down the side of your face.
On the floor, Sam had one of the fighters in a headlock and was dragging him toward the door. Two of the regulars followed behind with two other assholes. The remaining customers were closing tabs and gathering their things before heading for the exit. It took less than ten minutes for the bar to clear after that until it was just you, Sam and Kira left with the broken glass on the floor and the blood running from your head.
Sam came straight to you once the last patron was out the door. His face was flushed and he was disheveled from the fight. His hands were steady as he lifted the towel from your forehead.
His expression did the talking. His mouth tightened and his eyes shone with worry. “Sorry, beautiful,” he said, pressing the towel back firmly. His thumb brushed your cheek, wiping away a streak of blood. “Looks like a trip to see your boyfriend at the hospital.”
You tipped your head back with a groan. Well, shit.
synopsis: Charlie just wants some undisturbed time with his girl
warnings/notes: part of my 9k celebration. just fluff really.
wc: ~700
No one would call Charlie Reid kind.
And they certainly wouldn’t call him loving.
Except when it came to you.
Charlie met you at some dinner he was dragged to by the commissioner. You were a friend of the mayor. To be honest he hadn’t heard much beyond your name when you were introduced, far too enraptured by your presence to pay attention. But he certainly made up for that later.
He asked you out for a dinner date before the end of the night. Before the end of that date, he’d already secured another, and so on and so forth. Now, it was nearly two years later and you wore his ring and carried his name.
Things had been busy in and out of the station lately and he hadn’t had the time to spend with you as he wished. It had been weeks since he’d been able to take you on anything resembling a date. So, he’d told you he was all yours for the night, to pick where you wanted to go and he’d make it happen.
You’d texted him midday. Got it handled baby. Text when you’re on the way.
He frowned at that, wanting to take care of you. To treat you. But he’d said it was your choice so he’d kept his mouth shut and followed instructions.
When he arrived home, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand, he found you curled up on the couch in your comfortable clothes. You stood to greet him with a wide smile. “Hey, baby. Those for me?”
“Of course,” he said before pressing his lips to yours. “You don’t look ready to go anywhere.”
You twined your arms around his neck. “That’s because we are staying right here where I don’t have to share you with anyone. Dinner was delivered about five minutes ago. I will dish it up. All I need you to do is get comfortable and light the fire.”
He studied your face, making sure this was what you really wanted. Realizing it was, he smiled. “Sounds perfect.” He kissed you again before pulling back and handing you your flowers. “Better get those in water, sweetheart.”
Fifteen minutes later found the two of you curled up together on the couch while you ate your dinner, flames crackling in the fireplace and an old movie on the TV. Charlie leaned over and pressed a kiss to your head. “I wanted to take you out and treat you tonight, but this is so much better. My girl’s so smart.”
You shot him a grin that quickly faded when his phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and frowned. He’d made it abundantly clear to everyone he was not to be disturbed for anything short of an apocalypse. He answered. “What part of ‘do not bother me’ was unclear in the communication I sent out?”
There was a beat of silence. “I’m sorry, sir. I just—”
“Has there been an officer involved shooting?”
“No, sir.”
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to hang up. Then you are going to send out a new department wide communication that states Deputy Chief Reid’s phone is off until sometime tomorrow. If there is an emergency, send a car to the house. And it better be a fucking goddamned emergency. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The answer was so quiet, Charlie barely heard it.
“Good.” And then Charlie did precisely what he said he would. He hung up and turned off the phone. He left the burner on as he rarely got calls that weren’t emergencies on it anyway.
He dropped the phone on the table and kissed your head, before digging back into his meal. After a moment, he realized you were still just sitting there looking at him. “What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t have to do that, Charlie,” you said, but you had that soft look you got when he’d done something that pleased you greatly.
“Sure I did,” he responded instantly, kissing you gently. “My baby wants a quiet night at home with her man, that’s what she’d going to get.”
synopsis: Clint's been too busy to see you, so you take matters into your own hands.
warnings/notes: @bloodink94 claimed this square for my 9k celebration. This takes place in The Light in my Darkness universe between the last chapter and epilogue. There are spoilers for the series here but you can enjoy without having read the series.
wc: 700
Clint Barton was an unhappy man.
He had spent the past three weeks working overtime on a new project launch in conjunction with Nick Fury and Tony Stark. He’d barely gotten to spend any time with you and it was driving him insane. Texts and phone calls weren’t cutting it. You were attending classes and preparing for the wedding, he should be helping you not mired down in paperwork and financials.
He sighed and dropped his head into his hands. There was a knock at his open office door. “What?” he said without looking up.
“You doing okay there, Clint?” Natasha asked.
“Peachy. What do you want?”
“Don’t get touchy. I was just asking,” she insisted as she moved closer.
Clint crossed his arms on the desk and rested his chin on top of them to look at her. “You remember when everybody hated me because I never got to see my girl and I turned into an asshole?”
“Technically you didn’t get to see her because you broke up with her, but yes.”
He just stared at her for a beat. “Really?”
She simply gave him a sweet smile in response.
He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Yeah, well, I’m about to become an asshole again. I’ve barely had any time to spend with her.”
Natasha grimaced before smoothing her features.
“What?” Clint asked, instantly suspicious.
“You have a meeting in forty-five minutes.”
This could not be happening. He was going to scream. He thought he might have actually been able to get out of here on time for once. “How important?”
“Very. One of the investors Fury wants on board is in town only for the night. Wants to meet with you,” she said. At least she looked mildly apologetic about it.
Clint stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair where he’d draped it earlier. “Where?”
“His hotel. Dinner in his suite. I already gave the details to Scott and I’ll send the room number to your phone.” She walked with him to the elevator.
“Great. Fantastic. So looking forward to this,” he said as they waited. “I’m going to need to buy out half the flower shop for my girl at this rate.”
“As if you wouldn’t do that anyway.” Natasha gave him a wave as the elevator doors closed between them.
Clint arrived at the hotel early but didn’t particularly care. Hopefully it just meant he could finish early as well. He made his way to the presidential suite on the top floor. When he arrived, he found the door open with a note that instructed him to come on in. He took the note off the door and stepped inside.
A table was set for dinner near the large window that showcased the city. A room service cart sat nearby and…was that champagne chilling on the table? The lights were dimmed and candles illuminated the room. This seemed very intimate for an investor meeting. After double checking the information Natasha had sent him, Clint called out a timid, “Hello?”
He heard the click of a lock and spun back to the door to find you smiling at him. “You’re early,” you said with a smile.
His gaze ran the length of you, taking in the dress he’d never seen before. You were wearing the necklace he’d bought you for your first event together and your feet were bare. “And you’re stunning.”
Your smile widened as you closed the distance between you. “Hi,” you said when you came to a stop in front of him, hands finding the lapels of his jacket.
His smile mirrored your own. “Hi.” His hands settled on your hips as he gave you a quick kiss. “What is this?”
“This is me conspiring with your best friend to get you all to myself for 36 hours or so.”
“Is that so?” His grip shifted as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you into him. His lips traced a trail starting just beneath your ear and running the length of your neck.
You hummed in agreement as your arms looped around his neck. “Happy?”
He pulled back to look at you. “Beautiful, this is the best meeting I’ve had in weeks.”
synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differe.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
synopsis: The cautionary tale of one Damien Richards. Or, what really happened in October of 1963.
warnings/notes: nothing beyond canon. You do get to find out why you hate Chester Danforth so much (beyond the obvious)
wc: 3.1k
Previous Series Masterlist
Interlude #3: Karma's a Bitch, Boy
karma's a bitch, boy, today's the day
say it once, let it stay
karma's a bitch, boy, no delay
what you fed it, that's what it ate
There had been others before Titus, obviously. After all, you were very old and your patron wasn’t exactly one to demand celibacy. But none of them stuck. None of them even came close. Except for one.
Damien Richards. The eldest son of the head of the high council.
He was old money. Entitled. Pompas. But never with you. No, with you he was elegant, refined, polite. He opened your doors, smiled at your jokes. Told you he believed women should be able to have any career they wished and that of course, he didn’t expect you to change. You were perfect for him just as you were.
You met him during routine business at one of his father’s companies, neither of them having any idea of your connection with Mr. Le Bail. That had been the point.
Damien had literally run into you in the lobby, an encounter—he told you later—that he had arranged, not sure how else to get your attention but desperately needing to talk to you. He’d pulled out all the stops, wining and dining you at all the best places. Whisking you away for weekend trips in various exotic locations.
None of it impressed you. How could it? But still you stayed. Continued to see him. Let him romance you. Perhaps, he was just that charming. Or perhaps, you were just that lonely.
You kept your true self hidden. Gave no indication you were anything but a wealthy heiress. Didn’t hint at your connection with Le Bail. You met his family, all smiles and warm welcomes. You didn’t trust it for a minute.
Sol joined you for dinner one night eight months into the relationship.
“He asked you to marry him.” It was a statement not a question.
You weren’t surprised they knew. You pursed your lips as you leaned back in your chair and sipped your wine. “He did.”
“You made him forget.” Amusement flashed in your oldest friend’s eyes. “Care to tell me why?”
“Because I’m not certain that he’s my choice.”
Sol arched a brow. “Then why waste your time with him?”
“I am not wasting my time,” you said and huffed with annoyance. “There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right. He’s hiding something.”
He hummed in agreement. “I’m certain he is. Is this why he knows literally nothing about you?” The knowing tone in his voice irritated you. Smug bastard.
You ran a hand down your face before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. You rarely smoked unless it was to irritate others but this situation called for it. “I want a companion, Sol. Someone that sees me for who I am and still wants to wake up with me every morning for the rest of our lives. I’m not certain Damien Richards is up to the task.”
Sol stood, smoothing out his jacket as he did so. “Our benefactor suggests you pay your would be fiancé a visit. Tonight.”
Oh.
Well, that couldn’t mean anything good.
Rather than announce your presence by arriving via the front door, you appeared in the corner of Damien’s bedroom. He didn’t notice your entrance, too wrapped up in the redhead currently sucking his cock. Or maybe it was the blonde whose tits he was fondling. You weren’t hurt. You were angry, which answered any lingering questions you had about your feelings for the vermin.
You tilted your head and observed for a beat longer before snapping your fingers. The two women exploded in a satisfying rain of blood. The crimson liquid coated your ex’s naked form, drenching the bed around him. Blood dripped from his face and he sucked in a surprised breath before he screamed. When he continued to scream, pausing only to breathe, you snapped your fingers to keep the sound contained to the room.
The Lawyer appeared in the doorway, book in hand, as he surveyed the room in front of him. His gaze found you, taking a moment to assess your well-being. Apparently realizing you weren’t emotionally compromised, he turned back to face the bed. “Unfortunate.”
You hummed in agreement and moved to stand beside him. Damien quit screaming as he tracked the movement. His brow furrowed as he saw you beside The Lawyer looking like you belonged there.
“What do you wish to do? He is leaving the matter to your discretion,” Sol said.
“Is he now?” you asked, pleased but not entirely surprised. There were benefits to being the devil’s favorite.
“Yes. The family knew. They intended to have you sign over your assets and be rid of you whether there was a hunt or not. Though they were hoping for the hunt.” His voice was even, bored, as he explained the treachery of the Richards family.
You couldn’t blame them, you supposed. They were part of a devil worshipping cult and had no idea who you really were, but you didn’t care. And evidently neither did Mr. Le Bail. They would have been in for a rather nasty surprise on your wedding night had they attempted to sacrifice you. Well, you wouldn’t want to disappoint.
“They wished for a hunt. We should give them one.”
“Quite,” he agreed. “He’ll do nicely.”
“M-Me? You’re going to hunt me? You can’t do this. Do you have any idea who I am? I rule the world. I’ll have your head, you stupid—” Damien shouted, stopping only when you waved a hand, knocking him unconscious.
“And the rest of the family?” The Lawyer asked.
“Well, we do need a reason for the hunt.” Your tone was indifferent, matter of fact.
“Are you certain? Nathaniel Richards holds the high seat.” His tone matched yours almost exactly. One would have thought you were discussing the weather as opposed to the destruction of an entire bloodline.
“They knew what he was up to. They should have known I wasn’t to be trifled with regardless of who they thought I was.” You sighed. “Though I suppose I should ask permission for this one.”
He shook his head once. “Your discretion for all of them, he said.”
“Oh.” You blinked once in surprise before smiling and rubbing your hands together. “In that case, blood or fire?”
He tilted his head to the side in thought. “Fire would be easier to explain.”
You snapped your fingers again and screams drifted to you from deeper in the house. Those in public would find themselves with combustion issues of their own later in the day. Unlike Le Bail, you preferred less questions, all things considered.
You grabbed Damien’s wrist and the three of you disappeared.
The Danforths agreed to host the hunt with no questions. After all, their property was extensive and they were loyal enough to do as The Lawyer asked with no stipulations.
Once the families had gathered, you sat in the corner while Sol stood in front of them, prepared to reveal why they had been called.
“Who is she?” Chester Danforth asked, his father telling him to be silent almost immediately after.
You turned your head to look at him. When you just continued to stare, he fidgeted in his seat and turned his attention back to the front.
“As everyone is here, we can now begin,” The Lawyer said.
“What about Richards?” Harold Wilkinson said with a sneer. “Or are we not waiting for the High Seat?”
“The Richards family violated their contract. You will be hunting the remaining member. Whoever kills him, wins the seat.”
There was a stunned silence before everyone started speaking at once, drowning each other out. Sol held up his hand and they immediately fell quiet.
“We will follow the rules of a traditional hunt. If for any reason the eldest member of the family becomes incapacitated, the next in line will enter the field. Etcetera, etcetera. Any questions?”
“How did they violate their contract?” Wilkinson asked.
Sol met your gaze ever so briefly, the edges of his lips lifting slightly. “They conspired against one of his favored.”
There was a beat of silence before Le Domas asked, “Who are we hunting?”
“Damien Richards, the eldest son.”
“And if he lasts until dawn?” Chester asked.
Sol opened his mouth to answer but you beat him to it.
“He won’t.”
Your friends eyes sparked with mirth. “My…associate will be on the field. Do try not to injure her.”
“She’s not one of the families. What are the consequences if we do?” Chester. Again. Well, he was a curious thing, wasn’t he?
“She’ll get rather cross.”
Your lips curled into a smirk as you stood. “If you’ll excuse me. I have prey to prepare.”
Damien lasted longer than you thought he would, but you couldn’t say that you were disappointed. It was just that much longer for him to live in fear. The fact you kept appearing and disappearing from his line of sight wasn’t helping his paranoia. This was the most fun you’d had in ages.
You’d also had the opportunity to watch Chester Danforth ambush his father and take the chance to be rid of him. He left the field only long enough to sign the book then he was back.
“I like him,” Le Bail whispered in your ear.
“You would.”
A low chuckle was the only response.
You had appeared before Damien, taunting him again, when white hot pain lanced through your abdomen. Your hand pressed against your sudden injury and came back soaked red with blood.
Chester Danforth stepped into the clearing, moving his weapon from you to Damien. “He’s my kill. Not yours. Mine.” And then he placed a bullet between the other man’s eyes.
Chester Danforth had just won the high seat.
“You shot me,” you said finally, your tone a mixture of disbelief and fury.
“And yet, you’re still standing. I didn’t anticipate that.” He turned his ancient weapon in your direction again.
You snarled and flames danced in your eyes. “Take your prey or die with him, Chester Danforth. We’ve had one hunt. We can always have another.”
He backed away from you so fast that he tripped over his own feet. His eyes never left you as his hands scrabbled for purchase on his prize. Stayed locked on you as he dragged the larger man from the trees and into the open where his kill could be proclaimed.
“Asshole,” you muttered only to hear that low chuckle again. “Oh, fuck you, too.”
“My father shot you?” Titus asked in stunned disbelief.
The two of you were laying in bed in your hut on the water. You curled into Titus’ side, head on his chest while your fingers traced absent shapes on his skin. His arms were wrapped around you while he pressed the occasional kiss to your head.
“He did.”
He pulled back slightly to look down at you. “Where? Show me,” he demanded, frantic as if you’d just been shot rather than merely recounting the tale.
You rolled to the side and pointed at the unblemished flesh where the injury had been. Titus ran his fingers gently across your skin. “Nothing.”
You shook your head and returned to your original position. “There wouldn’t be. It healed almost instantly.”
Titus knew that weapon. Knew the damage it could do. His sister had been using it for most of their lives. It should have torn your insides to shreds. Not for the first time, he thanked Mr. Le Bail for his blessings when it came to you.
“And he didn’t remember you because…”
You shrugged. “Le Bail protects his own. None of them remembered me once the hunt was completed.”
His hand found yours and he linked your fingers together. His mind raced as he thought of everything you had told him. Of the trip the two of you were taking at the end of the week. Of the box hidden in the back of his drawer.
“Marry me.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. This was not how he intended to ask you. He had a plan.
You jerked back to look at him, eyes running over his face. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“Is this because I scared the shit out of your father?”
He laughed and patted your back with his free hand. “Let me up, princess.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname that had been Sol’s suggestion, telling Titus only “It’s fitting.”
You moved back, gaze never leaving him as he rolled out of the bed and headed to the dresser. He opened the second drawer down on his side and moved the clothes aside to retrieve the small velvet box tucked in the back corner.
He returned to the bed and sat with one leg folded, the other hanging off the side. Opening the box, he took out the ring and held it out to you. You plucked it from his fingers and examined it before looking back to him, a question in your eyes.
“I had a plan involving more clothing and me on one knee, but I don’t want to wait any longer.” If he was being honest, he’d admit it was a visceral reaction to hearing that you’d been shot with a weapon that should have killed you. “Say yes. Please.”
You hesitated just long enough that he started to panic. Then a wide grin covered your face and you slid the ring onto your finger. “It would be my honor to be your wife, Titus.”
He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours as he laid on top of you. Your laughter filled the air.
The decision was made to deliver the news to Chester in person. Titus had suggested a phone call. Maybe after the wedding. You’d insisted on the in person meeting with that little smile that said you knew more than you were letting on. So, the two of you headed to Rhode Island and the main family estate. Ursula was also in residence. Fantastic.
Once the two of you had placed your things in Titus’ room, he was ready to head to his father’s office. He just wanted this conversation out of the way. He linked his fingers with yours to pull you toward the door but you stopped him.
“You should do this on your own,” you told him as you patted his chest.
He blinked once. Twice. You were the one that insisted on this and now you were abandoning him to deal with his family on his own? “No.”
You smiled before kissing the corner of his mouth. “You’ll be fine. Trust me?”
“Always.” And because he did, he left you behind and made his way to his father’s study. He entered without knocking as he’d been expected since he stepped foot on the property. “Father. Ursula.”
“Titus. What are you doing here with that woman?” His father sat behind his desk, Ursula standing beside him with her hands clasped in front of her.
“That woman is my fiancée,” Titus answered with a small smile.
“Excuse me?” Fury threaded through his father’s words.
“My fiancée. The future Mrs. Danforth. So on and so forth.”
Chester slammed his fist onto the desk. Ursula startled and took a step away from him. “I won’t have it.”
“I’m afraid that’s not up to you. The union has already been approved by Mr. Le Bail.” At least that’s what you told him. And it wasn’t as if Chester could call up the devil and ask.
His father stood and Ursula stepped around the desk to put more distance between them. She was rarely the target of their father’s rage but she was smart enough to stay the fuck out of the way.
“I won’t stand for this defiance,” his father said. “I am the head of the council. I will contact The Lawyer and see that this engagement is dissolved at once.”
Titus stared at him for a moment and then he laughed. The sound was quiet at first, more of a chuckle than anything but quickly grew. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, father. You have no idea what happens to those that get in her way.”
“Is that a threat?” Ursula snapped, taking Chester’s side as always.
Titus cut off his laughter and turned his gaze to her. “If needs be.”
She raised her arm to slap him as she had so many times before. Titus didn’t move to stop her but a voice coming from the chair in the corner of the room that had been empty moments before did.
“Don’t.” Your voice was ice cold, and Titus would swear that the temperature in the room dropped with it.
Ursula’s confused expression quickly morphed into fear when she shifted her gaze to find you sitting in the chair, legs crossed.
“How did you get in here? Who do you think—”
“Father.” Ursula’s voice held a barely detectable tremor as she moved back to stand beside him. “Perhaps we should simply congratulate Titus on his forthcoming nuptials.”
Ah. Ursula had been the one to talk to the others then, the families that you’d visited. The ones who had seen their own glimpses of who you were.
You moved to stand beside Titus, cigarette hanging from your lips. He pulled out a lighter and offered you the flame. You stared at Chester as you lit the end. And, for just a moment, his father looked horrified and Titus knew you’d shown him a flash of your true nature. The next moment his father shook it off, obviously convincing himself the flames in your eyes were merely a reflection from the lighter.
You took a deep pull of your cigarette and blew out the smoke before speaking. “By all means, call The Lawyer. I’m sure he has a few things to clarify for you.”
Titus’ lips twitched before he gave into a smile at the sight of his terrified sister and furious father. This went better than he could have hoped. He took your free hand in his and headed for the door. “We’re only here for the night, father. We’ll take dinner in our room.”
When you stepped into the hall, Titus spun you and pressed your back against the wall as he leaned into you. His lips brushed yours as he spoke. “I love you, princess. I should have known you’d have my back.”
You smiled against his mouth. “You’re mine now, Titus. You’ll never be alone again.”
The two of you were still kissing when Ursula stepped into the hall five minutes later.
Clint Barton doesn’t go on dates. He makes arrangements. Everything is clearly stipulated from the beginning so there are no surprises, no messy emotions and no heartbreak. Just sign on the dotted line and he’ll provide everything you need.
A business major with an artist’s soul, you switch schools. When you do, your family cuts you off completely. You’re used to taking care of yourself but it still hurts. With your future in question, you put your head down and work your ass off to make your dreams come true. Unfortunately, they seem to stay frustratingly out of reach.
Until your best friend’s dad comes to you with a proposition. Be his beck and call girl, his date for the myriad social functions he must attend and he’ll pay for everything. School, books, art supplies, and even an apartment of your very own. In return he wants your companionship, your faithfulness and your discretion.
You should feel cheap but how can you when he treats you like a queen?
warnings/notes: Absolute fluff. Part of my 9k celebration.
wc: 640
It took Brett far longer than he would ever admit to ask you out. You owned a little coffee shop just down the street from the station and he was a goner the first time he saw you smile. You’d had him stuttering with your sweet “Here you go, chief. Hope you like it,” as you handed over his order. The guys he was with hadn’t let him forget it for weeks.
He kept coming in, ordering his coffee and trying all the baked goods you made. He’d had to step up his workout routine to burn off the extra calories, but it was worth it, if for no other reason than he got to see you.
Unfortunately for his ego, it was you that made the first move, writing your number on his coffee cup one day when he was in a rush. He didn’t even notice it until a couple of hours later. He’d called you that evening and asked you out for his next day off. You’d agreed immediately. When he got off the phone, he’d placed another call setting up what he hoped would be a first date you’d never forget.
Brett picked you up early, both of you used to those early morning hours. When he pulled up in front of a large private home, you turned to him in obvious confusion. “What are we doing here?”
He smiled wide in anticipation of the surprise he had in store for you. “You’ll see. Stay put,” he told you as he climbed out of his truck. He went around to your side to open your door, offering you a hand to help you out.
You gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you.”
When you started for the front door, Brett took your hand in his to lead you around the side of the house. Once you arrived at the gate, he told you to close your eyes.
You just looked at him for a moment before sighing and doing as instructed. He opened the gate before lacing his fingers with yours to lead you through. He led you a few steps further before releasing your hand. “Okay. Open.”
The gasp you gave when you opened your eyes had him smiling again. His gaze never left you as you turned in a slow circle to take in the beauty around you. The house was owned by an old friend of his who had the most amazing garden Brett had ever seen. Flowers in every color of the rainbow sat amongst lush greenery, lining walkways that all met at a gazebo in the center where Brett had already set up breakfast before he came to pick you up.
“This is amazing.” Your voice was soft, your appreciation clear.
“I hoped you’d like it.”
You faced him then. “Like it? This is incredible. What is this place?”
“Belongs to an old friend of mine. He’s letting us borrow it,” he said with a little shrug.
“For how long?”
He stepped closer to you, liking the shy little smile that curved your lips at his proximity. “For as long as we want.” He laced his fingers with yours again and lifted your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. “I’ll give you the tour later, but first, breakfast. Don’t want it to get cold. Well, colder.”
You closed the small distance remaining between the two of you. Brett swallowed hard as his eyes traced the lines of your face, looking for some indication of what you were up to.
“You know, this looks like the perfect place for a first kiss.” Your voice was breathy and he swore he could feel your pulse racing where your wrists touched.
The corner of his lips twitched. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”
Michael Robinavitch x Chronic Pain!Reader x Jack Abbot
synopsis: Your boyfriends are drowning in an understaffed ED while you drown in a pain flare
warnings/Notes: discussions of chronic pain and migraines as well as treatment. everyone's journey with chronic pain is their own. Flangst, my favorite. This is much longer than i intended.
wc: 5.4k
You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in three days, which was a feat really when you considered you had two of them and you all lived in the same house.
Flu season was a bitch for patients and doctors alike. You knew that. They were covering shifts for sick colleagues so you tried not to complain, tried not to add to their burden. But sometimes, just sometimes, you felt like you could disappear and they wouldn’t even notice. They hadn’t even sought you out to say hello or goodbye or thanks for the food. It was hard not to take it personally. Especially when you’d been in a pain flare for days and hadn’t felt like doing half of things you had been.
You sat on the edge of your bed and scrolled through the texts on your phone. You’d noticed their responses to your texts getting shorter if they weren’t being ignored completely. As you scrolled you realized you were always the one that initiated the conversation, always sent the first message. Maybe you were just annoying them.
All of you had your own rooms, but you were used to them climbing into bed with you or dragging you into their rooms to sleep with them. Jack hadn’t been getting home until midmorning and Robby was closer to midnight some nights. You were already at work in the home office by the time Jack arrived home but he hadn’t popped his head in to say hello once. Hadn’t found you to say goodbye. You’d tried to stay up for Robby one night and woke up on the couch shivering in the chill at the two in the morning, telling you he hadn’t even noticed. A quick glance in his room showed him passed out in his bed. You could have crawled in with him, with either of them, but you weren’t certain they wanted you to anymore.
The last time you’d seen them, Robby had just seemed irritated that you were in his space and Jack hadn’t listened to a word you said before saying “That’s nice, sweetheart. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
So, you decided to stop. Stop messaging them first, stop seeking them out at home, just stop. The days passed and they didn’t seem to notice. You continued taking care of them for a few days, leaving food to make sure they ate, washing their scrubs, etc. You knew these back to back shifts were hard on them but you were hurting mentally and physically and just so, so tired. You knew you should talk to them, make them see you, but you didn’t want to burden them with anything else.
So, you called your best friend and packed your things, biting back your tears as you walked out the door.
Jack was the first to notice that something was wrong.
He came home just after ten from an extended shift. The house was quiet but that wasn’t out of the norm as you shut yourself up in your office to work. He opened the microwave and frowned at finding it empty. You always left them something, worried they wouldn’t eat unless you fed them. He checked the fridge only to find it devoid of a meal as well. Maybe you were annoyed that he hadn’t eaten the meals the last couple of days, grabbing something at work to combat the hollow feeling in his stomach during his long shifts. He grabbed a protein shake, too tired to do anything else.
As he headed for his bedroom, he paused outside your office, hesitating, wanting to see you, wondering if perhaps you hadn’t been up to cooking today. When your condition flared, you didn’t feel like doing much of anything. But if that was the case, you were more likely to be curled up on the couch. He sighed and eventually moved on without knocking. He didn’t want to bother you just to say hello and goodnight. After a shower, he had just enough energy left to collapse into his bed and crash, far too exhausted to realize it was Saturday and you shouldn’t be working at all.
When he woke a few hours later, he went looking for you, wanting to apologize for not eating the meals you’d undoubtedly left him. Besides, he just missed you. These long shifts were killing him. You didn’t answer his gentle knock at your office or bedroom doors. A glance in the garage showed your car was gone. He looked in the kitchen to find no note. He frowned. None of this was like you. He glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. He couldn’t worry about it now. Half an hour later found him standing by the hub talking to Robby.
“I’m telling you man, something’s not right,” Jack said.
Robby huffed. “Why because she didn’t make you breakfast? Maybe she just forgot.”
“Okay, but she didn’t leave a note. She always leaves a note. She knows we worry.”
Dana looked between them as they talked wondering how two incredibly intelligent men could be so fucking stupid. You’d been in her guestroom for two days now and they were just noticing something was up? No wonder you left their asses. Idiots. She made a sound of disgust.
Both men’s heads snapped in her direction. “What?” they asked in unison.
She arched one brow and pursed her lips. “Nothing. Don’t mind me.”
Robby and Jack turned to look at one another and reassess. Dana was your best friend. If she was pissed off at them, that meant you were as well. Shit. “Okay, well what did she say the last time you talked to her?”
“I think she told me to have a good shift,” Jack said with a frown, pulling out his phone. That had been five days ago and he’d responded with a terse thanx. “Uh, Mike, when’s the last time she texted you?”
He pulled out his phone to find much the same scenario as Jack. You usually texted them multiple times a day just to let them know you were thinking of them. “Oh.”
Jack raked his hand through his hair. “Okay, okay. Did anything seem off when you saw her?”
Robby shook his head. “I’ve been too tired when I get home to do anything but shower and crawl in bed. My bed. Figured she’d come to my room if she wanted.”
Jack’s brain short circuited and he froze. “Michael, when is the last time you physically laid eyes on our girlfriend?”
Robby sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I don’t know. Earlier this week? I’ve just been so fried I haven’t been seeking her out. What about you? What’s she been like with you?”
“I haven’t seen her either.” His voice was quiet, worried.
Robby’s gaze sharpened. “Like since when?”
Jack bowed his head as he thought. “Jesus. It’s been a week. At least. She sat at the table with me while I ate but I was too tired to even process what she was saying. I didn’t stress about it because I figured she had you.”
“And I was the same way. Fuck.” Robby’s eyes went wide and he pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “Fuck!”
Dana hummed in acknowledgment of their idiocy.
Jack turned to her immediately. “She’s obviously said something to you. What did she say? How mad is she?”
She glanced over the top of her glasses, entirely unimpressed. “Since when has that ever worked with me, Jack Abbot? You want to know how mad she is, try talking to her. If she’ll listen. I’m going home. You two better get your shit together.”
Handoff with Lena complete, Dana grabbed her things and headed out the door without looking back, Robby and Jack’s eyes trailing her as she went.
“Oh, our girl must be furious,” Robby muttered.
“Yeah,” Jack agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Robby left his shift when he was supposed to for the first time in two weeks. This matter with you was more pressing. Your car was still gone. He knocked at your office out of habit as he opened the door. Everything you needed for work was gone. Shit. His footsteps carried him quickly down the hall. He threw open the door to your bedroom to find a neatly made bed. Your suitcase and a large amount of your clothes were missing.
Robby pulled out his phone, nearly dropping it in his haste. He called Jack who answered immediately. “Is she home?”
“She’s gone, Jack.” Robby’s voice broke on the words. “Her office is empty. Half of her clothes are gone.”
“Shit,” Jack said. “Trauma’s coming in. See if you can reach her.”
Robby tried to call first. You sent the call to voicemail three times before he gave up.
Next, he sent you a text. Baby please pick up the phone. I want to talk to you. I need to make sure you’re alright.
I’m fine, came not even a minute later.
He heaved a sigh of relief. At least you responded. I don’t think you are. Please talk to me.
You haven’t cared if you talked to me in weeks. Why should now be any different?
God, you always knew exactly what to say to make your point in the sharpest way possible. Please. He didn’t know what else to say.
I moved out two days ago. You didn’t even notice.
Two days? That can’t be true surely. Jesus. He knew you well enough to know that he and Jack had been horribly wrong. You weren’t pissed. You were hurt. That was so much worse. They’d hurt you. They were going to lose you and they’d deserve it.
I don’t know what I can say to that. There’s no excuse for it. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so much.
Okay. Goodnight Michael.
No, no, no. That couldn’t be your response. This couldn’t be the end of everything. What the fuck had they done?
Baby please. Just meet us at least. Let us sit down and talk about this. Please.
The two of you will never have the time for that. I can say yes but it will never happen so why bother. I’m done talking.
Please talk to me.
Please don’t leave us.
I love you.
Just give us a chance
All four messages were left on read.
Jack tried next.
Robby hadn’t told him how things had gone until handoff, not wanting Jack to dwell on it all night. While part of him understood Robby’s reasoning, the rest of him was pissed off. If he’d known, maybe he could have gotten you to respond. It wasn’t logical, you weren’t any more likely to talk to him than Robby but Jack couldn’t just give up.
He sent the first text as he walked to the truck.
Honey I am so sorry. Please talk to us.
He tossed his phone on the passenger seat. When he pulled in the drive, he was disappointed to find no response.
I love you. I miss you.
He took a shower to scrub the day away. When he got out, he found that you had responded to his texts with a link. He clicked on it and was taken to a local housekeeping service that did cleaning and laundry. His brows snapped together and a muscle twitched in his jaw.
What’s that?
Figured that’s what you were missing. You can probably find someone to make meals for you too. Or doordash.
Jack scowled. What the fuck? I don’t give a shit about any of that. I miss you. I want you. Not some fucking maid service. Why would you think that?
Are you telling me that you didn’t notice stuff wasn’t getting done before you noticed you hadn’t seen me? It’s been days Jack. Days.
Look I know things haven’t been ideal lately. Mike and I have both been working more than we should have. We just have to get through this and then things will go back to normal.
I don’t want normal.
What?
When was the last time either of you texted me first? Took me on a date? It was a long time before the flu.
Jack frantically scrolled through his texts knowing you had to be wrong. The two of you talked all the time. Another message from you came through.
You just got off shift. You should get some sleep. Goodbye Jack.
Jesus fucking Christ. Now he understood what Robby had been talking about. You were talking like this was over. He wasn’t ready for this to be done. Didn’t think he would ever be.
I’m fine Honey. I’m worried about you and hating myself for fucking this up.
I can’t do this anymore Jack. Not right now.
He tried to text you two more times before switching to phone calls. The third time he called he went straight to voicemail. He raked a hand through his hair and tossed his phone on the bed before dropping back to lay flat. He pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes. How the fuck were they going to fix this?
Two days passed of them trying to call or text and getting no further response from you. They’d managed to learn from Dana that you were staying with her and were ‘doing just fine. Now fuck off’. Jack and Robby stood at the hub just before seven going over the schedule, trying to figure out who would be willing to shift around so they could head over to Dana’s together to beg for forgiveness.
Dana hurried through the bay doors and made her way straight to them. Both of them turned at her unusual behavior. “What’s up with you?” Robby asked.
“I need you both to behave like fucking adults or I’ll get Gloria down here,” she snapped.
Jack’s brows shot up. “Who pissed in your cornflakes?”
“Stow it, Abbot.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes scanning the department. “Whitaker, grab a chair. Patient being dropped off in the bay.”
Both men straightened at that. “Dana,” Robby said drawing out the word.
She pursed her lips and sighed. “She’s been in a flare for days. Meds triggered an intractable migraine. Neuro told her to come here.”
“Is she okay?” Robby asked then immediately said, “Don’t answer that. Stupid question.”
“How long?” Jack asked already heading for the doors.
She huffed out a breath knowing they weren’t going to like the answer. “Three days.”
Jack stopped and turned back. “Three fucking days? And she’s just now coming in?”
“I can’t imagine why she would be hesitant.” Dana rolled her eyes as she moved past him to meet Whitaker at the door.
“What’s open, Lena?” she called over her shoulder.
“Five is all yours.”
Robby and Jack froze as you were wheeled inside. You had an icepack pressed over your eyes, the elbow of the hand holding it resting on the arm of the chair. You were curled in on yourself and had an empty bucket in your lap. Dana shot them a look as she pushed you past them and into your room.
As much as they wanted to invade the room, to check on you themselves, they waited. Dana emerged nearly twenty minutes later. “I’ve got her in a gown and got an IV started for fluids. She’s checked in and waiting for a doctor. She said you can come in.”
They stepped forward and she held up a hand. “Don’t upset her or I’ll kick your ass.”
Entering the room quietly, their eyes immediately fell on you. You were curled on your side, icepack still laying on your head. They split, each one taking a different side of the bed. Jack sat on a stool and wheeled it to your side, clasping your hand in his. You sucked in a breath at the contact and immediately started to sob.
Robby had pulled a chair up on your other side, placing a heavy hand on your back. “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”
Jack touched the icepack to find it warm. He moved it aside so he could see your eyes. He wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Why are you crying, honey?”
“It hurts.” You practically whimpered the words. “It hurts so bad. Nothing is helping.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said.
Before he could say anything else, Dana came back into the room hands full. She sat the tray full of medication aside and hung a bag of saline to run into your IV. “Doc Reynolds sent in the order for a cocktail.”
“What’s he giving her?” Robby asked as he put on his glasses and headed over to the computer.
Dana ignored him and started filling syringes with meds.
“Well?” Jack asked.
Robby glanced over with a frown. “Toradol, Reglan, Zomig, and Decadron.”
“Jesus.” Jack watched Dana inject the drugs into your IV. “Must be particularly stubborn, huh?”
Another tear ran down your face in answer.
Dana glanced at Robby. “You working or calling someone in?”
Robby ran a hand down his face. “Shit. Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”
She nodded and moved to the computer to make her notes.
Robby went back to your side and kissed your temple. “I’ll be back, sweetheart. Just let me get things settled out there.”
“I need to do handoff,” Jack said, looking between you and Robby.
You turned away from him, careful not to tangle your IV. “I’m fine. Just go.”
The pain in your voice pierced through him. “Honey—”
“Go!” you yelled then winced.
Dana’s gaze snapped over to Jack. “You heard her. Out.”
When he hesitated, she said, “Now.”
“We’ll be back,” he said at the door, turning back to look at you. Dana had her hand resting on the side of your face, talking to you in a low tone. He sighed and left the room, sliding the door shut behind him.
“I feel like we just failed a test,” Robby said, voice tired.
“Yeah.”
You didn’t want to be a bitch, to be unreasonable. You knew your temper was shorter because of your migraine, because of the pain that you had been drowning in for days. The truth was you’d been in a flare for two weeks at this point. You’d been careful with your meds but eventually they’d caused the headache you’d had since you left their house. Stress undoubtedly playing a large part in both the flare and the migraine. You’d only admitted to it three days ago. If Dana knew you were going on five days, she’d beat your ass.
But you’d told the neuro the truth. He’d told you if the cocktail didn’t work, they’d have to admit you for stronger meds. You knew that of course, this wasn’t your first trip to the hospital for a stubborn migraine, but you hated it. All you’d wanted from the beginning was to curl up with one of your men and let them take care of you.
You missed them and they always seemed to make everything better. Well, they used to. It’s why you’d told Dana they could come into the room. You’d hoped they’d choose you. Take care of you. Prioritize you. But once again the Pitt won.
It wasn’t rational. They needed to do their jobs. They were attending physicians. Lives literally hung in the balance. But you didn’t want to be rational. You were tired of always being understanding. Of always letting yourself take a back seat. You were tired of always being the second choice.
Your heart ached when you thought about how long it took for them to even notice you were gone. They didn’t need you. Didn’t want you. Not really. You’d been crippled with pain for days and they hadn’t known, hadn’t cared. Had never once asked how you were doing. Dana had told you that you could stay as long as you wanted but you knew you were wearing out your welcome. No one wants a permanent houseguest.
You wondered how much money was in your savings. You didn’t check the balance often as you were afraid you’d spend it, so you left it and just added to it when you could. You’d need enough for a deposit and first and last month’s rent. Jesus, you hated apartment hunting. Hated apartments. You’d gotten used to the quiet neighborhood where you lived now. You didn’t want to think about it right now, it certainly wasn’t helping your headache.
Your head had that floaty feeling that told you the meds were working. Your thoughts were a little slow and time passed in weird increments but you were still aware.
Dana popped back in after almost an hour had passed. “How you doing, doll?”
“It’s definitely better, but it still hurts.”
She pulled you up on the computer. “Instructions here for another round. After that…”
“Yeah, I know.”
She patted your leg. “I’m going to get you some more fluids and something to drink. Need anything else?”
“Another icepack?”
“Sure. I can do that.” Her gaze ran over you as she crossed her arms over her chest. “They’ve stationed themselves in the hallway, you know.”
You frowned at her. You’d assumed they were working. Hell, Jack might have gone home for all you knew. “What?”
“I told them they couldn’t come back in, not after they made you cry.”
“They didn’t. I was crying because it hurt.”
She hummed in agreement. “And then you were crying because they told you they had to go back to work.”
“That’s not their fault.”
“It is. If they didn’t keep picking this place over you, you would be more understanding when they didn’t have a choice. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset. They fucked up.” She sighed. “But they love you. And you miss them. That’s okay too.”
Another tear ran down your cheek.
“Do you want me to send them in?” Her voice had taken on that mom tone of hers that always made you feel comforted.
“Yes, please.”
She nodded once and patted your leg again. She stepped past the curtain and out the door. You heard her say, “I’m getting another bag of fluids. She needs water and an icepack. I’ll let you deliver them. Don’t upset her.” Then she shut the door.
Jack appeared first, cup of water with a straw in hand. “Just chilled. Don’t want to shock your system.”
“Thanks.” You licked your lips before leaning forward to take a sip. You hadn’t realized how dry your mouth was until then.
He sat it on the table when you finished, his hazel eyes running over you. His hands gripped the railing. “How are you feeling? You look better.”
“Still hurts but it’s better. Dana’s bringing me more drugs in a bit.”
Before he could respond, Robby came into the room. “Hey, sweetheart. One icepack as requested.” He snapped it to activate it and kneaded it before handing it over. You pressed it to the back of your neck with a sigh.
“Here,” he said and folded your pillow so it would keep the icepack pressed where you wanted without you having to hold it. Your eyes closed in relief.
“Where are you at on the pain scale?” Robby asked as his fingers found your pulse on your wrist.
You huffed out a breath without opening your eyes. “Already have a doctor, Robinavitch. If you’re going to stay, you can’t doctor me.”
You could feel him wanting to argue without looking at him. Could practically feel it vibrating under his skin.
“Okay,” he said instead, hand shifting to lay on yours instead.
You opened one eye to look at him in disbelief.
A small laugh fell from his lips and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Honey, I would do about anything you asked to keep you talking to me.”
You hummed and closed your eye. They settled to either side of you, each of them holding one of your hands. Jack kissed the back of the one he held, then Robby kissed the inside of your wrist on the other. Your lips twitched in amusement.
“You can talk. I meant it when I said I was feeling better. Another dose should kill it completely.”
“I’m going to lecture about one thing, then I’ll shut up,” Jack said.
You cracked your eyes to look at him.
“I don’t care how upset you are with us, you don’t wait three days to come to the hospital when you’re hurting like this.”
Your nose wrinkled before you could stop it. Damn it.
Robby’s gaze immediately narrowed. “How long?”
“It started before I even left the house.”
“What?” Jack snapped, the sharpness in his tone making you wince. “Sorry, sorry,” he immediately apologized, rubbing your hand with his thumb.
“Your doctor know that?” Robby asked.
“Yes.”
You could tell there was so much he wanted to say but he simply nodded once and said, “Okay.”
“I kinda like the you that’s trying to stay in my good graces,” you said. Guilt flashed through his eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for your words. They’d earned them.
Dana came in and hung another bag of saline. Jack slid out of the way so she could give you the next dose of meds. She looked between the men when neither of them said anything before looking to you in question.
You grinned. “I told them they couldn’t doctor if they wanted to stay.”
She laughed. “Good for you,” she said before putting them out of their misery. “Same meds as last time. If it works, she can go home under supervision. If not, she’s heading upstairs.”
“Thanks, Dana,” Jack said, voice rough with worry.
She gave you a nod and left.
“Don’t you guys need to go back to work?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.
“Nope.” Robby leaned back in his chair, hand still on yours. “We put in for some of our PTO.”
“And Gloria’s just going to let you do that?”
“She doesn’t have a choice. Told her to get some temps in if she needed,” Robby said. “Neither one of us uses our time. Plus, we’re way over the hours we were supposed to be working the last two weeks.”
Your eyelids began to feel heavy as the new meds swamped your system.
“Hey, open your eyes, baby,” Jack said.
You blinked at him.
“This round working? Can we take you home?”
“Yeah, Jack. Take me home.”
You weren’t certain how much time passed before you became aware of your surroundings again. As you blinked away the slumber, you realized you were in Robby’s bed. Huh. At least you weren’t in the hospital. Seeing a glass of water waiting for you on the nightstand, you pushed yourself up on your elbow. You were halfway done downing it when the door opened slightly, Robby’s head popping into the gap. His concerned expression melted into a relieved smile. “Hey, you’re awake.”
You didn’t answer as you finished your water. You felt so dehydrated which was stupid considering how much fluid they’d given you at the hospital. Robby stepped into the room tapping on his phone which he slid back into his pocket when he saw you’d finished the water. He took the cup from you and set it aside. His fingers instantly found your wrist but he paused, “Can I doctor you for a second?”
“Sure,” you said, a smile teasing your lips.
He’d just finished checking your pulse when Jack stepped into the room. His gaze ran over you, assessing before giving you a bright smile. “Hey, baby. How you feeling?”
“Better. Much better.”
“Good.” He held a fresh glass of water out to you. “Mike said you were thirsty.”
“Thank you.” You took a drink then set the glass on the table. Your attention shifted to Robby who sat on the edge of the bed, fingers still on your wrist. “Will I live, doc?”
He nodded his head but didn’t look at you.
You tilted your head with a frown. “Michael, are you okay?”
“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet, broken. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Your brow furrowed as Jack sighed. “I thought we were going to give her a chance to get her bearings before we got into this.”
Robby sniffed, finally releasing his hold on you only to wipe the moisture from his eyes. “Sorry.”
“Let me go to the bathroom,” you said and Robby hopped up, offering you a hand to help you out. “We’ll talk when I get back.”
You took your time in the other room, taking the chance to wash your face and feel a bit more human. Despite the obvious pain fatigue, you looked better than you had in days. Finally, you took a breath and stepped back into the bedroom. Both men stopped talking as you opened the door and stood from where they’d been sitting on the edge of the bed.
Robby cleared his throat after Jack nudged him. “I’m, uh, sorry about before. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. “I’d rather get the conversation out of the way if it’s all the same to you.”
“Oh, thank god,” Jack said, shoulders dropping as tension flowed from him.
You pressed your lips together to keep from snorting a laugh at the incredulous look Robby gave him. He muttered under his breath while he shook his head. He took your hand and led you over to the chair that sat in the corner of the room. “Sit. We have a couple of questions and then several things to say.”
Your gaze moved between the two of them. “Did you practice this or something?”
“Well, you were asleep for almost twenty-two hours,” Jack said.
You were only slightly surprised by that information. The meds always knocked you out. Usually not quite that long but you’d expected it. Jack sat on the edge of the bed in front of you while Robby stayed standing.
“First, Dana said you were in a flare before the headache. How long?” Jack asked.
You sighed, knowing they weren’t going to like the answer. “A couple of weeks.”
“Jesus, sweetheart. Why didn’t you say anything?” Robby said.
“What was I supposed to say? Hey, I know you’re incredibly busy at the hospital right now and barely have time to sleep but could you take care of me?”
“Yes,” Jack said without hesitation. He slid forward on the bed a bit. “That’s exactly what you should have done.”
You rolled your eyes. “Be serious, Jack.”
“I am.”
His tone was so sincere you could do nothing but look at him.
“I don’t know when you started believing that you were less important than us or our jobs, but you are not. And we’re so incredibly sorry for anything we’ve done that made you feel that way,” Robby said.
Hot tears rolled down your face before you could stop them. He swooped in immediately making hushing sounds as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby. You’ll get another headache.”
You sucked in a breath and tried to regulate your emotions. “I know.”
“Listen,” Jack said. “Mike and I have talked about this. We don’t want to start over. We all have to much history for that. But we do want to prove to you that you’re still our priority if you’ll let us.”
You thought about it for a moment. You loved these men. Yes, they’d hurt you, but there was reason you’d fallen in love with them in the first place. Maybe you all just needed a reminder of what that was. Finally, you nodded. “I’d like that very much.”
And prove themselves they did. They cut their hours, focused on making your relationship a priority. As Robby said, the three of you were hopefully going to be together long after they retired. It wasn’t long before your relationship was stronger than it ever had been. To the point that, though you maintained your own rooms on the off chance you needed the space, you all slept in Robby’s king-sized bed most of the time, whether he was home or not.
And the next time you had a flare that lasted for longer than a couple of days, they took turns taking care of you the way you always did for them. They loved you, and they never let you doubt that again.
synopsis: Robby starts his apology. Jack learns to keep his mouth shut. your family sucks.
notes/warnings: our girl's going through it still. sorry about that. the groveling begins but Robby's still a little stupid.
wc: 3.1k
Series Masterlist
Chapter Sixteen - Feelin' Myself
wish you luck, won't slow down
i'm coming for my piece of the crown
that man's tough, here's my sound
if you don't like it, then i'm telling you now
You were half-asleep on the couch, the glow from the TV the only light in the room. Your phone buzzed on the table, pulling you fully awake. Jack’s name flashed on the screen and you answered with a smile, your heart doing that traitorous little leap it always seemed to do when he called. “Hey,” you answered, trying not to sound like you’d been dozing. He always felt bad when he woke you up. You shifted on the couch so you were upright and pulled the blanket across your lap after you pulled your legs onto the cushion with you.
“Hey, sweet girl.” His voice was gentle as always, soft. “How are you doing?”
You stared unseeing at the TV. “I’m okay.”
It was the same answer you always gave him. The same lie you told him and yourself every day. Your pain had dulled into something more manageable, but your life was still disrupted, too damaged for you to feel happy with it.
“I was calling because I wanted to see you. Maybe have you over for dinner tomorrow night? I can make your favorite.”
Your grip tightened on the phone as you considered the invitation. “At the house?” you finally asked.
“Yeah.”
“And will Robby be there?”
The silence stretched for a beat, then he said, “That’s the idea.”
“No.” The word came out sharp, irritated.
“No?” He managed to sound almost offended.
“Did I stutter?” You immediately regretted snapping and took a deep breath. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not upset with you. You did nothing wrong. I’m glad you went home and you and Robby made up. But if he wants to fix this, he has to fix it. Not you.”
You could picture him running a hand through his curls, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as he considered his response. “I’m just trying to—”
“Make things easier for him?” you finished for him, though you were positive that wasn’t what he was about to say. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You try to fix things. It’s one of the many things I love about you. But this actually has nothing to do with you. Something you made very clear when you went home. I accepted that and you need to as well. I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle. If it’s too much, don’t feel like you owe me anything.” The words caught in your throat. “I need to go.”
“Wait—”
You ended the call before he could say anything else and dropped the phone into your lap. You turned off the TV, plunging the room into near-darkness, the only light in the room filtering in from the kitchen. The phone buzzed in your lap. You glanced down to see a text from Jack. I love you. We both do. You didn’t bother responding.
You tried to force your mind to think about anything but Jack telling you he was going home. But Robby’s angry face the last time you’d seen him. But your thoughts kept circling back. What else could you do when your whole world had collapsed but remember the end?
You’d gotten your revenge on Chelsea and her minions, publicly calling them out, making sure everyone knew what they had done. The boys had insisted on celebrating, so you’d sat at Sam’s bar and smiled and laughed at the appropriate moments. But it had all felt hollow. Because at the end of the day, you still went home to an empty apartment. Still woke up in the middle of the night reaching for someone that wasn’t there.
You weren’t angry at Jack for going home. For choosing his partner that he’d been with for years, that knew him more intimately than you could ever hope to. Not really. But sometimes, just sometimes, you wish he’d chosen to stay here with you. That you had been worth even a second’s hesitation on his part. Maybe it was time to just move on from it all.
Robby sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, head bowed as Jack paced the length of the living room. The call had gone as badly as Robby had feared it might. The silence that followed was thick with tension.
“This is all my fault,” he said finally, dragging a hand down his face. “Sit down, Jack. You’re going to hurt your leg.”
Jack stopped pacing and dropped into one of the chairs. “I shouldn’t have pushed her. We should have known she’d react like this.”
“It’s not your fault. She’s mad at me,” Robby insisted. “I’m the one who fucked up.”
“I knew she wasn’t ready. I just…” Jack sighed. “I miss her, man. I miss the three of us together. I thought if we could just get you two in the same room maybe you could start working things out.”
Robby leaned back. “I know. I was hoping for the same thing. What if I’ve lost her, Jack? What if she never forgives me?”
Jack was quiet for a long moment. “She loves you. I know she does. But what you did…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“I know. I know how bad it is.” Robby closed his eyes, shame washing over him. “I hurt her so badly. I hurt both of you because I was too terrified she would hurt me first.”
“Yeah, you did. But you want to fix it. You’re trying to fix it. That counts for something.”
Robby turned his head to face him. “Not enough, apparently. So, what do I do now if she won’t come over for dinner?”
“You need to show her you’re serious. That you’re willing to put in the work. Hell, we both do at this point. I’m pretty sure she’s no happier with me at the moment,” Jack said.
“So what? Flowers? Candy? Hell, I’ll buy her fucking pony at this point if you think it would help.” The words came out more bitter than Robby had intended.
Jack rolled his eyes. “No ponies. No animals period while we’re on the topic. Gestures. Things that show you’re thinking about her, that you listen to her. The kind of things she always does for us without being asked.” He leaned forward to make sure his partner was really listening. “She loves making people feel seen. That’s why what you did hurt so much. You made her feel invisible. Like everything she thought you knew about her was wrong.”
Robby swallowed hard. He had reduced you to the worst possible version of yourself based on nothing but his own insecurities. “Where do I start?” His voice was little more than a whisper.
“You start with little things. Show her you’re paying attention. That you’re thinking about her. That you’re trying to be better.”
“And then what?” Robby was desperate for a map, instructions that might get him back to where he’d been before he threw it all away.
Jack shrugged. “Then you hope it’s enough to get her to give you the chance to do the big things.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then you keep trying.”
The knock came just after eight in the morning. You were already up and drinking your second cup of coffee. Sleep had been restless as of late, and you’d rolled out of bed just after five when it became clear you weren’t getting anymore rest. You grabbed Jack’s hoodie draped over the back of a chair and slid it on as you headed for the door. Through the peephole, you saw a delivery person holding a large bouquet of flowers. Your heart did that traitorous leap again as you opened the door.
The woman said your name and once you’d confirmed, handed over a massive arrangement of spring flowers. The scent of lilacs invaded your senses. “For you.”
“Thanks,” you managed, taking the flowers from her. “Just a second, let me get you a tip.”
She waved you off with a smile. “Already taken care of. Have a nice day.”
You stood in the doorway for a moment, arms full of flowers. You set the bouquet on the counter and searched for a card amongst the blooms. The only thing you found listed only your name and address, no greeting, no message. No apology. You snapped a picture and sent it to Jack. You or Robby?
Mike. Mine will be there later.
You rolled your eyes and set your phone on the counter beside the vase. The flowers were gorgeous, no question, but they meant nothing. Not really. A generic arrangement he could have ordered by calling almost any flower shop in town. A phone call where he’d evidently provided your name, address and his credit card number but couldn’t be bothered with a message.
You received another smaller arrangement of tea roses from Jack that afternoon. Peach and pink along with a lovely message apologizing for the dinner invitation. All of it signed off with an I love you, Jack. You sent a simple thank you text as your gaze turned once more to the arrangement from Robby. You sighed and wandered into the living room to get some work done.
The next morning started the same way, with a knock on the door and a delivery. Breakfast this time. You texted on and off with Jack and had a brief call with him before he started his shift.
Another morning and another knock. This time, when you opened the door, you were surprised to find your landlord. He handed you a piece of paper. “Here.”
You glanced at the paper and frowned. “What is this?”
“Rent’s paid. Three months.”
You blinked, certain you’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your rent. It’s been paid in full for the next three months.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh obviously already done with the conversation.
“By who?” you asked, though you were certain you already knew the answer.
He leaned forward and tapped the paper in your hand. “Says right there. M. Robinavitch.” You tried not to cringe as he horribly butchered the pronunciation of Robby’s name. “The boyfriend, right?”
“Not the boyfriend,” you corrected automatically. “Thanks for letting me know.”
He nodded but was already on his way down the hall. You closed your door and leaned against it, mind racing. “Michael Robinavitch, you’re a fucking idiot.” You grabbed your keys and headed out, pushing the thought from your mind. An apology delivered via money order wasn’t an apology at all.
In the days that followed, you continued to talk with Jack both by call and text. He didn’t mention Robby again, instead simply checking in, asking how you were, filling each other in on your days. Robby, by contrast, remained silent. No calls, no texts. Just more flowers and gifts that never seemed to quit coming. A first edition of your favorite book. A bottle of an expensive whiskey you’d mentioned loving the taste of. A scarf in your favorite color. You accepted them all, used them even. But you didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t acknowledge the gifts in any way. It wasn’t out of spite or anger, not anymore. It was simpler than that. You were waiting. Waiting for the one thing you hadn’t received yet. A sincere apology.
A week after the flowers had arrived, a small package was delivered to your door. It was wrapped in plain brown paper with no shipping label, just your name written across the front in Robby’s distinctive handwriting. You took it inside, staring at it before curiosity won out. You tore open the paper to find a small box. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet was a silver chain with a small caduceus symbol.
You lifted it carefully, the metal cool against your fingers. It was beautiful, delicate. Simple but elegant and exactly the kind of thing you liked to wear every day. He certainly knew your taste. It was the kind of gift that showed thought, that acknowledged who you were and what mattered to you. You closed the lid and set the box on the shelf beside your tattoo fund jar that you kept for some reason despite no longer having a need for it. You left the gift there without another glance.
A knock sounded late afternoon of the next day. You’d gotten used to the pattern by now. A knock followed by a delivery with no note. You opened the door without checking the peephole first. Instead of a delivery person, you found a man in a suit holding a manilla envelope. He read your name off the front.
“That’s me,” you confirmed.
He handed you the envelope. No sooner had your fingers closed around it then he snapped a picture with his phone. “Consider yourself served. Have a nice day.”
He didn’t even give you a chance to respond before he turned and walked away. You closed the door and tore into the envelope, having a suspicion of what was inside and you were correct. Your family was suing you for what they felt was their due from your grandfather’s estate. They were alleging undue influence and diminished capacity claiming pops hadn’t been in his right mind when he changed his will to leave everything to you.
Your eyebrow ticked ever higher as you read through the papers. They were claiming you had isolated your grandfather from the rest of the family. That you’d manipulated him into changing the will. That you’d taken advantage of an elderly man’s confusion for your own gain.
Fucking assholes. You headed to the corner where you kept your printer/scanner and fed the papers into it. You called Max as you watched the document feed through the machine. He answered on the third ring.
“As anticipated, I’ve been served. They’re contesting the will.”
There was a moment of silence before he sighed. “I see. They’re stupider than I thought. Was there anything surprising in the filing?”
“Not that I could see. I’m scanning it to send to you as we speak.”
“Good. I’ll read over it and get back to you. Like I said, this is nothing to be concerned about. There were provisions in place for all of this. Your grandfather was thorough.” After a beat, he added, “I am sorry for this, though. You deserve better.”
You hummed in acknowledgement. “The universe seems to disagree with you at the moment. I’ll get this sent to you in just a bit. Thanks, Max.”
Your phone rang just after ten that night, Jack’s name lighting up the screen. You didn’t hesitate to answer, knowing he was at work and likely wouldn’t have long to talk. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself, sweetheart. How are you doing?” His voice was warm, though he sounded tired.
“I’m okay. Just a lot going on.” You had no intention of sharing any details about your grandfather’s estate. Not when they were still unaware you’d even inherited it.
Someone called his name in the background. “Just a minute,” he said before returning his attention to you. “Listen, I just have a second but I was wondering if you wanted to meet for breakfast tomorrow after my shift.”
“Just us?” you asked.
“Yeah. Just me and my girl.”
“Seven thirty at the usual place?” you asked, not even thinking of declining. You’d missed him.
“Sounds great. See you then.”
The diner looked the same as always, not that you’d expected anything different. You’d arrived a little early, content to get in an extra cup of coffee. You just taken the first sip of your second cup when Jack walked in. He’d stripped his scrub top leaving him in cargos and his t-shirt. He looked tired but his face broke into a wide smile when his gaze landed on you.
He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before sliding into the booth across from you, reaching for the menu. How he didn’t have it memorized by now, you had no idea. “Sorry I’m late. Got held up.”
“You’re like five minutes late. I got here early,” you told him.
He nodded, gaze flicking over you, taking you in. “You look tired.”
You huffed a humorless laugh. “Well, I’ve been sleeping like shit so…”
The waitress appeared and took your orders before disappearing once more.
Jack leaned forward slightly. “I miss you.”
Your fingers tightened around your mug. “I miss you too. Both of you, if I’m being honest.”
Something flashed in Jack’s eyes. Hope maybe, or relief. “Mike’s trying. The gifts, the rent, he’s doing everything he can think of to show you he’s sorry.”
You sighed and pushed your mug away from you. This is what you’d been afraid of when you accepted his invitation. It’s why you hadn’t pushed to see him sooner. “No, Jack. He’s trying to buy me. He called me a whore because I took things from you and then slept with you. He’s not going to get me back by spending his money.”
You stood, grabbing your bag from the seat beside you. You stopped at his side of the table and leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, deliberate embrace. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, a flush creeping across his cheeks.
“I love you, Jack.” Your voice was steady despite the tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. “But this isn’t fair to you. Maybe we should just put all of this on hold for a while.”
You turned to leave but his hand shot out, catching your wrist. His thumb moved in a slow circle against the inside of it, his touch gentle but insistent.
“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Please don’t do that. I’ll shut up about Mike.”
You looked at his hand on your wrist then back to his face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
His grip didn’t loosen. “Then stay.”
You hesitated before nodding once. “Scoot.”
He hastily slid over, still holding onto your wrist, not letting go until you settled in the seat beside him. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about him. I asked because I wanted to see you. Because I’ve missed you. Every day without you feels wrong.”
The honesty in his voice had you swallowing a lump in your throat. “I’ve missed you, too. So much.”
His hand moved up to the side of your face as he turned your head to look at him. His thumb traced your cheek. “I don’t care what’s going on with you and Mike. I don’t care if you never speak to him again. You’re stuck with me, sweet girl. Whether you like it or not.”
synopsis: the men arrive at the bar to find you in their favorite shirt (which is any shirt as long as it's theirs)
warnings/notes: just flirty fluff. @happyendingarentreal claimed this square for my 9k celebration.
wc: 700
Jack and Robby had agreed to a rare night out with some of their coworkers. It was Trinity’s birthday and she had begged them to come. “Just for one drink then I’ll shut up,” she’d sworn. When they’d finally conceded, she’d grinned and ran off to tell you the good news.
You were the reason they’d said yes in the first place. They cared about Trinity and were happy to celebrate with her, but they knew you were going to be there. They’d feel better if they were there to keep an eye on you. Plus, it was a rare night where Jack was off and Robby didn’t have to work the next day. They wanted to spend it with you.
When the night came, Jack had offered to drive you but you’d insisted that you were getting ready with Trinity and you’d see them there. You promised you’d go home with them at the end of the night though. It was a small consolation. Where else would you go? You lived with them.
They arrived after Robby’s shift. You and Trinity were both off and you’d arrived a couple of hours ago according to your earlier text. Jack’s eyes scanned the crowd looking for you as they moved toward the bar to get a drink. He found Trinity, then Dennis and a few other familiar faces but where were you? Suddenly, Robby grabbed tightly onto Jack’s arm.
“What?” he asked, slightly alarmed by his boyfriend’s behavior. When he didn’t respond, Jack followed his gaze to you and he understood the reaction immediately. You looked beautiful as always, dressed in a pair of jeans that fit you like a second skin and a plain white shirt. It was the shirt that had drool all but running down Robby’s chin.
You had raided Robby’s side of the closet and stolen one of his dress shirts. Several of the top buttons were undone and you’d tied it off at the waist to show a sliver of skin. You were lucky Robby didn’t have a coronary when he saw you. They both had a thing about seeing you in their clothes and you knew it.
They made their way to where you stood at the bar. Robby placed his hand on your back as he stepped into your space. You leaned into him instinctively and smiled up at him. “Hi, baby.” You turned your head to smile at Jack as well. “Hi handsome.”
He made a show of taking you in from head to toe and licked his lips. “You’re playing dirty, honey.”
You gave him an innocent look neither of them bought for a moment. Robby giving a soft laugh at the gesture. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said.
“Sure, you don’t, sweetheart,” Robby said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t believe you at all. “You ready to go home?”
Your expression shifted to genuine surprise. “But you just got here. You told Trin you’d have a drink.”
In unison, they reached past you to grab one of the shots you’d undoubtedly ordered for the others. They downed them, placing the empty glasses back on the bar. “One drink, as promised.”
You laughed and shook your head. “That doesn’t count. Don’t you want to hang out for a while?”
Jack pressed against one side while Robby moved closer on the other. “We can stay as long as you want, honey,” Jack said before dropping his voice. “But in half an hour we’re going to have you in nothing but that shirt. We can do that at home or…”
Your eyes went wide as you looked between them. “I’m gonna go say goodbye. Garcia just got here anyway. Trin won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“Good girl.” Jack pulled some money from his wallet and handed it to you. “Tell them to buy a couple of rounds on us.”
You pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks before hurrying back to your friends. “You think that was too much?” Robby asked as they watched you say your farewells.
Jack huffed a laugh. “Our girl loves it.”
And if the other man still had any doubt, Jack was certain the beaming smile on your face as you made your way back to them chased it away.
synopsis: Flynn meets someone unexpected when he attempts to gather an artifact.
warnings/notes: @rpsocsandcanonohmy claimed this square for my 9k celebration. reader has a name that she used to be called by but you use your name now. This kind of developed a mind of its own. First time writing Flynn. Hope I nailed him. Enjoy!
wc: ~1k
“A lasso that forces people to tell the truth?” Flynn Carsen said as he walked through the Library trailing behind Judson.
“That’s…That’s what I said.” Judson nodded to emphasize his words.
“Like Wonder Woman?” It was more of a statement than a question.
He hummed in agreement. “That is where they got the idea, yes.” He pulled a book from the shelf and flipped through the pages to find the entry he wanted before handing it over to Flynn.
He skimmed through the pages, taking in all the relevant information before looking back to Judson. “And we think the lasso is where?”
“Montana.”
Carsen blinked before shrugging and handing the book back to Judson. “Montana it is.”
As he turned to leave, he came face to face with Charlene standing far too close. He jerked back slightly. “Charlene.”
“Flynn.” She handed him a cowboy hat. “For your trip. Keep your receipts.”
He mouthed the last three words along with her and watched her go. When he looked over his shoulder to say something to Judson, he found the man gone as well. “Figures.”
The Montana sun had been punishing and Flynn found himself oddly grateful for the hat that Charlene had given him. At least it protected his face from the worst of it. But now it was night and he was approaching a campfire that was burning quietly in the middle of nowhere. All of his investigation had led him to one woman. You. He’d followed you out here and sincerely hoped he could get the rope off you without much fuss.
He approached slowly, watching his footing to make as little noise as possible. You were sitting with your back against a boulder, dressed head to toe in white with arms crossed over your chest and hat low over your face. You were sleeping. On one side of you sat a lamp glowing softly, which was odd considering the fire. And on the other, less than three feet from you, was the lasso. The faint sheen of it was unmistakable and Flynn wondered what had taken them so long to find it. Where had it been all this time?
If he played his cards right, he could grab it and go with you none the wiser.
Once he moved close enough that his goal was in reach, your voice stopped him. “It’s not nice to take that which doesn’t belong to you, Flynn Carsen.”
Well, that certainly stopped him short. “Do we know each other?”
You pushed the hat back on your head and faced him. Your eyes ran over him from head to toe. “I know you, Librarian. And I believe you know me as well.”
You were stunning. And Flynn was absolutely certain he did not know you. Yours was a face he wouldn’t forget. Couldn’t if he tried. You smiled at what he was certain was his obvious confusion. You rose to your feet effortlessly. Flynn’s brow furrowed as he tilted his head and looked you over. There was not a speck of dust on your white clothing despite your previous position.
You weren’t human. At least not entirely. Oh, this was fascinating. A smile crossed his face before he could stop it. You secured the lasso on your waist and picked up your lantern. “Who are you?” he asked, tone clear that he meant what as much as who.
You gave him an amused smile and for the briefest moment the image of you flickered. You stood in front of him in a flowing white dress, lantern replaced by torch, cowboy hat replaced by a laurel wreath. And suddenly, he knew precisely who you were.
“Veritas,” he breathed the name, in absolute awe of being in your presence. The Roman goddess of truth.
“I haven’t been called that for a very long time. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Flynn Carsen.”
He ran a hand over his mouth then put his hands on his hips as he laughed in disbelief. “Yeah. Yes. I mean, this is amazing. It’s an honor.” He laughed again. “I can’t believe you’re here right now.”
“Well, it wouldn’t make much sense for me to lure you here then leave, would it?”
Flynn did not like the word lure. His smile fell and he cleared his throat. “And why would you wish to see me specifically?”
Your smile turned sharp. “I need an escort to the Library. Judson and I have some…unfinished business.”
“I…yeah, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” What could you possibly want with Judson? And why didn’t you just come to New York? You were a goddess. Surely you knew where the Library was.
“I will bring no harm to him. You have my word.”
He squinted as he tilted his head trying to figure you out. “Why do you need me?”
“Judson hid the Library from me after he stole my scroll.” You sighed and your clothes shifted from all white to a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. The etherealness that surrounded you shifted to something more sedate with the change. “My powers are limited without it. I simply want it returned to me.”
Flynn considered what to do. It was too late to call, they never answered when he called after six pm. It was more than possible your scroll had been collected at some point in history, though it was interesting you were naming Judson specifically. There must have been a reason they took it and then hid the Library from you.
But you were a goddess. The goddess of truth at that. Time ticked by as you watched Flynn contemplate his options in silence. He had no idea what he was going to do about you. For once, he was at a complete loss. Finally, he suggested you get some sleep. Perhaps things would be clearer in the morning.
