[looking at people younger than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at people older than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at myself] its over
It's taken me a while to write this one out, but I was so overwhelmed with the lovely feedback on the first part of this Brendon Park imagine. Thank you all!
I hope you will enjoy this part now it's finally done.
Summary: (Y/n) comes to the ER with a minor injury and has to bring her boys along. Everything seems fine in her observation, but then she takes a turn for the worst. And Brendon wants to know who's responsible.
Enjoy.
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If it were someone else's mistake, Trinity would have been in the gossip chain along with everyone else, remarking how ignorant someone could be to give a patient the wrong blood type. She would pity the poor soul who had done such a mistake and knew that they would be lucky to salvage any tattered medical career after such a situation.
But she couldn't think straight knowing that this accusation was aimed at her. All she could do was stare up at Brendon with fear in her eyes and her teeth gnawing down on her lower lip to stop herself from making any kind of noise.
And when the ortho surgeon stepped closer, she visibly winced and fought a losing battle to hold her ground.
"Now get out of my sight and stay away from the patients before you end up killing one of them."
The bark of Brendon's voice made Trinity visibly wince and take a step back, and a dark, glowering part of him felt glee at seeing such a reaction. So she should be upset. She had fucked up, royally. Brendon wouldn't let her forget or get away with this mistake, and she should fear him and what mess he would rain down on her for this.
He knew deep down that if (Y/n) were here in the main floor of the ER, if she could see how vicious Brendon had just been, she would try and calm him down. She would tell him to stop, to not let that snarky, protective defence of bitter words and intimidation come to the surface.
But that was the whole point; (Y/n) wasn't here, she was back in one of those rooms, suffering and receiving treatment she didn't even need before she came to this ER. And that was down to one of the emergency medicine residents. Brendon couldn't let that go.
The tears he could see glistening in Trinity's eyes, the ones she was forcing back just like Brendon had pushed his tears to one side so he didn't frighten his boys or let alone down here see his vulnerability, those tears made his glee heighten.
At least she was remorseful, he would give her that.
He could see a wider crowd gathering round now, as if none of them had anything better to do than to stand and watch this scene unfold like it was one of their soap dramas they didn't want to miss.
Not that it mattered to Brendon at all, he'd had enough arguments all over this hospital, calling people incompetant, going against management when they tried to cut corners that could put patients in danger. Or when others tried to treat him as a push over or act as if they knew better than the years of experience Brendon had.
Before he could cut into Trinity any further or wait to hear any kind of excuse or response she might have, a familiar voice cut through the air.
"Park! We could use you back in here now."
Brendon spun on his heels, his head snapping to the right to look in the direction of (Y/n)'s room where he could see Robby stood. The attending was in the doorway, one foot over the threshold, his hand gripping the door frame while he reached hi other hand to wave Brendon towards him.
There was a displeased look in his eye that told Brendon he wasn't pleased his staff were being lectured by someone else, someone not strictly a part of their department, but Robby wasn't going to argue that right now. He wanted Brendon back in here.
The notion made Brendon's heart drop to the hollow pit of his stomach like it had been severed from his chest.
He gulped, visibly shivering as he turned on his heels and made a quick exit towards the room he had not long come from.
It didn't matter to him that he had left a crowd gathered near the nurse's station, a crowd of gaping mouths and dilated eyes with surprise written across their features. Nor did he care that Trinity was now stood there, beet red with glossy eyes and hands clenched into fists at his sides.
The only thing that mattered was (Y/n).
When Brendon came close, Robby took a step back into the room and gave the door a nudge to let the ortho surge inside, not wanting to be mowed down if he got in Brendon's path.
"What happened?" His voice held a gritty undertone and he had to stop himself from growling when he heard his wife crying.
The moment he was stood by the bed, Brendon's eyes widened when he found (Y/n)'s hands grasping for his arm which she yanked down towards her with a surprising strength. Her nails scratched down his skin as she pulled his arm towards her chest as if it were a comfort blanket she needed to feel close to.
"The inhibitors are making her sick, can you calm her down?"
None of them were going to be as good at calming (Y/n) down as Brendon was, and she was becoming distressed.
The shock, combined with the medication to prevent her organs from shutting down, were making (Y/n) sick. Brendon looked towards the small tray table beside the bed and realised there was a brown cardboard sick bucket on there. She had thrown up. Combined with the shock she had already been going into, the queasyness she felt was making (Y/n) writhe, unable to lay still when she felt so horrid and feeble and overwhelmed, all at once.
Being careful to weave around the wires monitoring (Y/n)'s heart and pulse rate, Brendon curved his right arm around her back and slowly sat her forward. Inclining her just enough so that he could slump down on the side of the bed and lean himself back against the pillow.
It was clear (Y/n) knew what he was doing because she mewled something incoherent and laid herself back against his chest with her head against his broad shoulder.
He let her keep hold of his left arm, cocooning it to her chest while his other arm curved around her waist. (Y/n) closed her eyes when she felt Brendon's lips against her temple
"Brendon…" Shudders tore through (Y/n)'s limbs until she was thrashing and jerking uncontrollably against his chest.
She closed her eyes tight, willing away the sickness that was dwelling in her stomach and rising in her chest. Whatever was flowing through that new IV they had given her was making her feel horrid. Had they slipped poison into her veins?
She latched tighter onto Brendon's arm until she was sure she was going to cut off his circulation and hurt him. But he only held her tighter in response.
"I'm here baby, I got you."
He soothed, peppering another kiss to her temple before he reached his hand up to carefully brush her hair from her face, pushing it back behind her ear. His fingertip glided across her cheek and his other hand curved over her hip, trying to hold her a bit tighter to stop her from writhing so much.
When (Y/n) began to whimper and Brendon felt the way her chest and stomach started to move and suck in, he acted fast. Reaching to his left to grab the paper bowl from the table he had nudged out of the way.
He held it in between them just in time for (Y/n) to drop her head down and throw up.
A pitiful moan left (Y/n)'s lips and she seemed to curl up smaller in Brendon's embrace, pushing herself back against his chest though she didn't know what she wanted him to do to make her feel better. Maybe sedate her so she could wake up when whatever was wrong with her had been sorted out and she was better.
"M'still cold." She uttered groggily, barely managing to get her eyes into focus as she grazed her cheek against his scrubs until she was staring up at Brendon.
Her words caused him to start rubbing his hand up and down her arm and he seemed to cocoon her tighter against him, trying to let his warmth reach her through his scrubs. He didn't want to pile her with blankets because she would undoubtedly get a fever, it was the shock that was making her feel the cold, but it should taper off soon. He hoped.
"We'll fix that baby, don't worry."
Brendon rested his cheek on top of (Y/n)'s head and kept his gaze adverted down, solely focused on (Y/n)'s writhing frame in his arms. He didn't want to look at Robby or Mel who were fluttering about the room, he didn't want their worried glances or sympathetic faces. He didn't want to have them watching him looking and feeling so vulnerable with his wife.
It didn't seem plausible that one mistake had led to all this chaos.
One mistake. One wrong blood bag or one label that wasn't checked; maybe the patient notes were overlooked and not checked properly. One error had led to such drastic consequences that could easily have turned fatal if the boys hadn't of alerted Brendon so swiftly. If it had been (Y/n) in this room on her own she could of passed out. No one would have known anything was wrong until her vitals dropped and the machines sounded. By then, it could hae been too late.
Brendon snapped out of his wallowing when he looked up as a shadow crossed (Y/n)'s body. His scrutinising gaze fell on Mel who stood at his side, gingerly holding out a damp flannel which she silently motioned towards (Y/n).
If (Y/n) had a headache, a cold compress might do her some good, even if she was feeling cold at the moment.
He said nothing, but a look crossed his face when he took the flannel which Mel took as gratification.
(Y/n) shivered in his arms and sucked in a sharp breath when the cold compress was placed over her temple near her eyes, but she didn't fight. She didn't try to take it off or push Brendon's hand away or tell him she didn't want it; the feeling was actually soothing to her aching temples.
"Hm?" Brendon's attention darted back to Mel when he realised she had said something, but his attention had been focused on (Y/n).
He narrowed his eyes, looking Mel up and down until he focused on the clear injection she was holding, ready to insert into the cannula in (Y/n)'s arm. She repeated the name of the anti-emetics she was holding and motioned towards (Y/n).
"To help her symptoms and sickness, then perhaps she can sleep for a while."
It took Brendon ten seconds to realise that Mel was waiting idly for permission to give the medication.
She and Robby were (Y/n)'s doctors now, they were clearly the ones who would be overseeing her care, since Brendon couldn't technically be the one to be giving her any treatment, as he was family. They had every right to tell Brendon what they were doing and what course of treatment they planned to take, so he knew and wouldn't panic.
But they didn't have to wait for his permission. Mel was waiting for him to agree, she was giving him that option, that sense of control so he would remain calm and know that nothing else was going to happen to (Y/n). Not while they were caring for her.
Appreciation flooded his face and made his eyes gloss over as he nodded, a softer look crossing his face which Mel wasn't used to seeing.
"There we go; at least Doctor King knows what she's doing." He murmured the words against (Y/n)'s temple, praying that the medication would help her sleep so she could rest and wake up feeling better rather than worse.
Mel took the words as a compliment, unable to stop a smile from dancing across her lips as she backed away towards the computer in the corner of the room. Hoping to type up her notes in here while she had the time and the peace, and to be on standby in case (Y/n) needed anything else.
"Are the boys okay?"
A smile hinted at Brendon's lips as he stretched out in the wooden-backed chair, raising his bulging arms above his head until one elbow clicked with a sickening snap.
His eyes focused on (Y/n) and the intent look on her face as she seemed to study him, more alert now that the medications were all fully in her system and she had adjusted to them.
She had taken a good two and a half hour nap and the shaking and sickness had finally died down. She wasn't feeling frozen cold either as if she had been trapped under a sheet of ice, which was a relief.
The way (Y/n) was laid on her side, with one hand tucked under her head and the other scrunched up in the blanket draped over her, made Brendon's heart swell. He couldn't help the smile that danced across his lips, nor the relief that lit up his eyes at finally seeing his wife getting a little better. (Y/n) was still on the road to recovery, but at least she was now going in the right direction.
"They're good, I spoke to mum while you were asleep. She took the boys home with her, I'll pick them up tomorrow and take them to school."
When (Y/n) had dozed off, Brendon had made a quick call to his mum just to make sure all the boys were okay. They'd each had a fright today. They were going to stay with his parents for the night and then in the morning, Brendon would pick them up and take Nate and Lewis to school and drop Reece off at nursery before he would come back here to be with (Y/n).
"How you feeling sweetheart?"
Sitting forward in his seat, Brendon reached a hand out to press the back of his hand against (Y/n)'s temple. She wasn't flushed anymore, though she still looked tired beyond belief and he knew she wasn't feeling quite like herself again yet.
Snagging the thermometer from behind the bed, he waited for (Y/n) to nod before he pressed it into her ear and took her temperature, which he made a note of on her chart.
While he had been waiting as she slept, he had been counting and monitoring her blood pressure which had finally started to lower. It was still slightly raised, but no longer in the danger zone with the numbers no longer flashing bright red with each reading.
"Warmer." (Y/n) murmured with a smile, noticing that while she had been asleep- or passed out, she didn't know which- Brendon had changed from his scrubs and gotten back into his normal attire of shirt and jeans. "Still queasy though."
"That's just the meds, they should wear off in a few more hours."
(Y/n)'s lips curved when she watched Brendon push up to his feet and move to perch down on the side of the bed. His hand moved to curl around her left hip, making sure not to touch her leg as he didn't want to touch or catch any of the various stitches in her leg.
When she had been asleep she had started to move. Brendon had been glad he'd been in the room when she did so he could gently roll her onto her right side. If she laid on her left side she would undoubtedly lay on her stitches and wake up to a numb leg or shooting pains up and down her leg.
He leant forward to kiss her cheek and (Y/n) hummed, leaning into the touch while she started to trace her finger along his thigh.
"Baby… what happened? Was- was it some bad meds?"
Her voice was quiet, almost casual, but there was a nervous undertone that made Brendon's heart leap.
(Y/n) didn't understand the situation, she couldn't remember exactly what went on earlier. Her mind was submerged in water, (Y/n) couldn't see things clearly and she couldn't quite recall much of what had been said to her either.
She recalled Brendon saying someone had made a mistake, but not what they had done or what had happened to her. And (Y/n) couldn't think of a lot of things thatt could have happened. She hadn't been here for that long and she didn't have any extensive treatment either.
She wondered if perhaps someone had given her the wrong medication, or a bad batch. It happened, expired meds not being thrown out and accidentally given to patients. (Y/n) assumed she hadn't had some kind of bad reaction to anything, because that wouldn't be someone's fault.
Her stomach rolled with panic when she watched Brendon's expression suddenly change before her. His features hardened like stone, but it was the darkness that draped across his eyes like a veil which made adrenaline course through her veins.
That was the kind of way Brendon looked when Nate told him someone had picked on him at school. It was how he looked when someone had upset the boys or when (Y/n) had been hassled at work by a colleague. The way he turned to stone, how he hardened like ice with that menacing urge to protect them, to do something to make things better, even if he knew that there wasn't much- if anything- in his power that he could do.
Panic bubbled up in (Y/n)'s chest and she tried to push up on her elbow, though her heart frollicked when Brendon's hands were suddenly around her and he helped ease her up the bed. Taking her weight for her and helping shift her around so she was sitting up now, not laid on one side.
When he sank back down on the bed next to her, his hand rested on her good thigh, but his eyes wouldn't look away from her left leg as if he could see her stitches through the blanket draped across her.
"You needed that transfusion, because of the blood loss from your cuts in your leg." He took a slow breath while his fingers tapped and danced over her skin. "Your blood type is B negative, but someone put you on a pint of A positive. You were going into shock when Nate came to find me."
Another bout of confusion washed over (Y/n) as her gaze drifted from Brendon, to look up at the pole resting near the head of the bed. The pole where an IV bag of fluids was hanging, and a blood bag that was drained and almost empty.
The wrong blood? How was that possible? Why did it happen? Was that a human error, or down to a machine or computer fault?
Her eyes slowly made their way back to Brendon who looked between her and the drained blood transfusion bag with an air of melancholy about him.
"That's the one you should have been put on in the first place. We gave you inhibitors, something to protect your liver and kidneys so the wrong blood didn't shred them and shut them down. You'll need to be on the antibiotics for a few days, to make sure you don't develop sepsis, since your body was attacking the bad blood cells."
Brendon couldn't quite believe it even as he explained it. The twenty-first century, and he was witnessing first-hand something that shouldn't be happening in this day and age. Of all the technology and equipment they had, and such an old-fashioned mistake had been made.
His eyes followed (Y/n)'s gaze, as she seemed to be looking past him now, and he realised, though he wasn't sure why, that she was looking at the computer in the corner of the room.
"Did… did you change it, on my file?"
"Baby, there was no error on your chart or personal file to correct. Santos made a big mistake, either she didn't check the blood bag or your file or she gave you one meant for someone else, but this is a fuck up."
Oh.
(Y/n) found herself staring down at her hands which were lightly trembling on her lap, but not from haemolytic shock this time.
She hadn't expected that.
Although she wasn't a doctor herself, (Y/n) was far from stupid. She was married to a surgeon, so she understood the kind of training, studying, expertise and learnt skills that it took to get into a job like this. (Y/n)'s first thought would never be that someone who went through such vigorous training, had made such a simple mistake.
She presumed there would have been an error on her file, a mistake in the system or the wrong blood bag handed out. She wouldn't have presumed that a resident in the ER would make the error themselves, an error that could have had dire consequences.
"What would of happened… if you didn't come down and help me?"
Part of Brendon didn't want to answer that, because he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to consider what might of occurred if he hadn't of been nearby, if the boys hadn't of been in here with (Y/n) to go and alert him.
He tried to steady his own breaths while (Y/n) reached out and laced their fingers together, clearly needing something to ground herself to.
"You'd of passed out when the shock got worse, your heart rate would drop and a resident would try to stop you from going into cardiac arrest… kidneys would have stopped an hour or two later, probably sepsis…" the words trailed off into dead silence because Brendon couldn't imagine the rest.
His heart shook and quaked behind his ribs when he looked up and saw tears trickling down (Y/n)'s face.
"Cardiac arrest, so I- I could of-" The words wouldn't come, but they stabbed at her heart and made her feel sick all over again.
She could have died.
When she felt Brendon lean closer, (Y/n) shakily looped her arms around his neck and pushed forward into his broad chest until her face was squashed up against his sternum. The smell of his cologne that was soaked into his shirt made her feel slightly better, it grounded her, gave her something to focus on other than the raging thoughts hounding her mind.
She tried not to grip him too tightly, but he seemed to hold her back just as fiercely. His hand cupped the back of her neck as if to keep her exactly where she was, huddled in his embrace as he tipped his head down and attached his lips to her neck.
It was hard to try and hold her breath and mellow out her erratic heart when all she could think about was what might have happened. What could easily have happened.
(Y/n) came here for deep cuts to her leg, for stitches and removal of glass shards from her skin. She should have been on observation after the stitches and then discharged within a few hours. Going into shock, being put on inhibitors and antibiotics and close monitoring for sepsis, that should never have been needed.
When she felt like she had calmed down somewhat, (Y/n) rose her head until her cheek was on Brendon's shoulder, her arms slackening around his neck so she could properly see him.
"What happens to her?"
Brendon bit the inside of his cheek, debating what kind of answer he wanted to give her. He wouldn't lie, he would never lie, but there was a difference between what should happen, and what he could ensure would happen.
"HR will look into it, talk to their insurance company to cover her fuck up. She'll be back on probation if they let her stay…but it all depends on if you let me talk to Theo upstairs."
Theo; Brendon's friend who works as a consultant lawyer for the hospital. Talking to him meant Brendon wanted a lawsuit, he wanted a proper complaint against that doctor, against the hospital, but he would need (Y/n)'s permission to do that and go ahead with it.
Shock tore through Brendon when he felt (Y/n) nodding into his shoulder and a quiet, almost inaudible "Okay," uttered into his neck.
She was giving him the go ahead, she was letting him do what he had been thinking about non-stop since he shouted at Trinity at the nurse's station.
He thought (Y/n) would say no, that she wouldn't want to go through with it because of the stress it would bring and the consequences Trinity would have to face. She wouldn't be getting away with anything, whether they brought a lawsuit against her or not.
But (Y/n) could have died, that had now been made clear, and there was a grave mistake that had been made and they knew the culprit. Brendon had to fix an error that should never have happened in the first place.
Nothing was going to change that or make it better, but this might give them a small sense of justice.
***
(Y/n)'s teeth chomped down on the inside of her cheek as her hand reached out for the back of the chair, using it as leverage to keep herself upright. She was glad Brendon wasn't here right now, or he would be finding her some crutches to use.
It was too hard to put all of her weight onto her left leg, with the amount of stitches she'd needed and the clipped artery, her thigh was swollen to almost double its size in various places. She was glad she was on painkillers as well as antibiotics, or she might not have been able to stand up at all.
Whilst she leaned on the back of the chair, (Y/n) took a moment to look herself up and down.
Brendon had brought her some clothes this morning after he'd been to collect the boys and take them to school. And he had the bright idea of putting a dress in the bag, so she wouldn't have to squeeze into a pair of leggings or jeans and aggravate her stitches.
A pair of Brendon's sleep shorts had been in the bag too, so (Y/n) had put them on underneath the dress. She knew she looked rather odd, but it stopped the dress from grazing the stitches or riding up. For the next two weeks she might have to lounge about in some of Brendon's clothes, which was going to make him very happy.
Not to mention that she couldn't get her stitches wet, which meant Brendon was going to have to help her get bathed with the stitches being in awkward places up and down her leg.
Pushing off from the chair, (Y/n) limped over to the bed and eased down, relieved to be sat back down again. As soon as Brendon came back with the discharge papers from Robby, he could take her home.
Last night and all of this morning had been spent on observation down here in the ER, since it was easier than trying to fight for a bed up on a ward. But (Y/n) wanted to go home now, she wanted to be back in her own environment, in her own bed and comfort and where she could relax and feel at ease.
And she wanted to be home with all her boys.
She smoothed her hand through her hair, catching her breath back while her other hand pulled at the hem of her dress to cover her leg. (Y/n) didn't want to see those vertical lines of stitches, some small, some extensive and swollen and angry looking, blotched across her skin.
A swell of hope flooded her chest when the door clicked, but as soon as she looked up, (Y/n) felt the need to be sick.
Panic overwhelmed her and she felt like she had suddenly been trapped in a bubble of heat.
It was her. The doctor who had treated (Y/n) when she first came to the ER yesterday with the boys.
She was the one who had made such a drastic mistake.
Her eyes scrutinised the other woman, watching how she knotted her fingers together anxiously until her knuckles were horribly white and tense and threatening to pop through the skin. She had seen so self-assured and capable yesterday, but now she looked meek and timid, even anxious, as she quietly closed the door behind her and turned to face (Y/n).
She couldn't meet (Y/n)'s eye, which was rather relieving as (Y/n) wasn't sure she would be able to hold eye contact with her either without pulling a face or becoming overwhelmed with irritation and rage.
"Hi, um, how are you feeling?"
(Y/n) wasn't sure what she had been expecting to hear, whether she thought the other girl would jump straight into an apology. Or start a spiel about how sorry she was, how it was a mistake, that it wasn't her fault and ramble into explanations and reasons. Whatever she presumed she might hear, that certainly wasn't what first came to mind.
She looked her up and down again as the doctor stood near the end of the bed, hands still knotted in front of her, keeping a safe distance as if she thought she might get punched if she came any closer.
"Queasy; sore. Ready to go home."
"I wanted to say I'm sorry; truly. Yesterday shouldn't have happened, I made a mistake and it damaged your health. I take responsibility for that."
(Y/n)'s brows rose in surprise, though her arms coiled towards her chest and her nails slowly, subconsciously began to rake up and down her exposed arms. She wasn't sure she wanted an apology, at least not right now.
She was taking responsibility for something that shouldn't of happened in the first place, and (Y/n) didn't know if this was genuine because she didn't know Trinity. She didn't know if this was something her boss or a lawyer had put her up to or if she was doing this to try and ensure (Y/n) didn't make a big deal out of what happened.
At least (Y/n) knew Brendon wouldn't have put her up to this, he wouldn't want her anywhere near (Y/n), let alone trying to talk to her and make apologies and excuses.
"You made a rare mistake… I'm not a doctor like you, or a surgeon like Brendon, but I know a few things. A haemolytic reaction is rare because you screen people's blood, you have types on file and labelled, sectioned bag types. What mistake did you make, did you not read my notes, not look at the blood bag you hooked up… what?"
Words spilled from (Y/n)'s mouth before she could stop herself, before she could ask Trinity to leave like she wanted her to, because she was still curious no matter how badly she wanted to escape a conversation like this.
She wasn't a doctor, she hadn't had medical training like everyone else here, but (Y/n) knew a few things. She had been there by Brendon's side during medical school, she watched him get his degree, then train and undergo residency to become a surgeon. Hell, (Y/n) quizzed him and went through flash cards and old test papers with him.
She understood that what happened to her was rare in this day and age because there were precautions that were in place. She wanted to know what Trinity had been doing, whether she was distracted, whether she got cocky and thought she didn't need to double check herself, whether it was the blood bag she overlooked or (Y/n)'s blood type on file.
She watched Trinity's upper lip curl and quiver as she looked to one side and took such a deep breath that her shoulders rose up near her ears.
"I th- I thought I checked it, the bag. Maybe I was thinking of another patient…"
Though she stayed silent, (Y/n) nodded. That was as good an answer as she was going to get, and she knew Trinity couldn't, probably wouldn't, admit to anything anyway as this conversation shouldn't even be happening. It could go against her if she admitted liability to anything.
"Is that all you came to say?"
(Y/n) didn't want her here. She didn't want a fight; that was what Brendon was for. Her husband, her protector who would fight this battle to the bitter end because that was who he was, he wouldn't back down for anything and he was fiercely protective over everyone in his family.
This was his battle to fight, (Y/n) didn't want to be arguing or talking or listening to pleas and explanations. She just wanted to go home.
"I wanted to know if…" Trinity found herself staring up at the ceiling as if for courage, because she couldn't seem to get the words out. "I'm being investigated for this, as I should be. But I- would you- would you put in a lawsuit, against me directl-"
"Get out."
Trinity's whole frame jumped from the floor and curse words flew past her lips as she turned on her heels to look behind her.
She hadn't heard the door open or the approaching sound of footsteps, but somehow, Brendon had appeared like a ghost. His bulky frame blocking the entire doorway, shoulders raised, hands clenched into fists, and such a menacing look on his face that Trinity felt faint from one look.
His presence gave Trinity a horrible bout of anxiety and torment, but just the sight of him was enough to have every nerve within (Y/n) calm down immediately.
She wouldn't have known how to answer Trinity's question if Brendon hadn't come in at just the right moment. Because even though (Y/n) was going through with the idea of a lawsuit, she wasn't sorting it out. That was down to Brendon, it was in his hands and he would sort it so (Y/n) didn't have to worry or get overwhelmed.
He had already contacted Theo for an urgent chat tomorrow to get the ball rolling as swiftly as possible.
"Park, I was just-"
"Not only should you be out of this ER to keep the patients safe, but you certainly shouldn't be anywhere near my wife after what you did." His boots thundered against the floor as he stalked closer to Trinity like a predator before clicking his fingers towards the door and barking "Out."
Heat rose to Trinity's cheeks and despite the defiant streak within her that told her to fight, to make a fuss and stand her ground and stay right where she was, she forced herself to move.
Her hands clasped into tightly bound fists at her sides rather than entwining in front of her and her eyes focused on the floor because she knew if she looked up at Brendon, she would say something she would swiftly come to regret.
Anger rolled through her as she bypassed him without a word, even though there were so many pent up things in her mind that she wanted to say, possibly even yell at him.
She stomped out into the hall, breathing in short puffs of air as heat frollicked across her skin that was starting to blotch red. She could feel her nails puncturing into the palm of her hands but before she could aim for the nurse's station, a rough hand grasped at her upper arm and spun her on her heels.
Her centre of balance shifted and she tripped over her feet, gasping and wrenching her arm back just as she realised it was Brendon trying to make her walk with him.
He had left the room. He was beckoning her to follow him. Trinity felt unable to do anything else, partly because she was curious as to what he wanted, since he had just kicked her out of his wife's room. And partly because there were so many things she wanted to say, and this would be her opportune moment to say them.
The corridor just by (Y/n)'s room was cramped but desolate and quiet enough for a conversation that no one else would be able to earwig into or hang onto every word spoken.
Trinity wasn't sure who was supposed to speak first, but it seemed that Brendon had taken the initiative because words were suddenly flying past his lips like a slap to Trinity's face.
"Do you really think it's wise to try and ask a patient if they're going to sue you? That might be misconstrude as you trying to talk her out of it."
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as she tried to gather her senses and come up with a snarky but honest remark. "I wanted to know if she would. Just because you want to, doesn't mean your wife will."
Brendon watched with narrowed eyes as Trinity reached behind her to stuff her hands into her back pockets. She seemed to sway her weight from her heels to her toes, unable to stand still or to look him in the eye. Her lips were pinched together and her hair was rather neatly tied back with no loose tendrils, suggesting she hadn't been rushing around the ER like everyone else.
"You think a lawsuit is unfair?"
His voice was oddly calm considering the kind of conversation they were having and his previous, harsh demanour back in (Y/n)'s room. But the way Brendon crossed his arms over his chest made him look awfully intimidating. It felt like Trinity was about to walk into a trap so she considered hehr next words carefully.
"I think HR will shred me enough, without you getting involved with a lawyer and causing a malpractice suit. I made a mistake Park, a- a lawsuit could finish me. Waste everything I've tried to do."
The way he nodded made it seem like he was actually contemplating her words, but Trinity felt like they had washed straight over his head.
She was already reported to HR, Robby didn't have a choice. She hadn't been allowed to treat any patients today and she was probably going to be suspended until they looked into what happened yesterday, she was only here to finish notes and wait for a meeting with Robby and Gloria from HR.
Trinity was going to be lucky to salvage a career from this mess and stay in the hospital, but if Brendon talked (Y/n) into a lawsuit, Trinity would have no chance. She would lose everything. What was the point? Wasn't she going to be punsiehd enough already?
"There are different kinds of mistakes, Santos. Giving a patient the wrong dosage, that's a simple mistake. Pulling glass from an artery and causing a mass haemorrhage, that's an even bigger mistake. But you didn't mis-label something or mess up your notes or give my wife the wrong medication. You gave her the wrong blood. Mistakes have consequences, and this one could have been fatal; that means your mistake warrants action."
There were degrees, different levels of mistakes that were made in hospitals and practices. Some mistakes were unavoidable, some were meagre, and it was why they had insurance and lawyers on retainer to deal with this and keep their doctors from being fired.
Whether this had been Brendon's wife or not, if he heard about it he would expect a lawsuit to be filed. This was a big fuck up, Trinity had made a big error and it needed to be corrected, and she needed to take full responsibility for it. That meant more than just apologising to (Y/n) and hoping it would all go away.
Brendon stepped forward when Trinity wouldn't look at him. His arms remained crossed over his broad chest and he looked down his nose at her through scrutinising, narrowed eyes.
"You could have killed someone. I'm the husband, I shouldn't have had to play doctor and correct your fuck up. I shouldn't need to take bloods, stop a transfusion and give emergency medication- which isn't even my fucking department by the way- to correct your error that could have killed my wife."
"You think I don't know that?" Trinity snapped with eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and tears.
She knew it all too well. She knew Brendon had swooped in like a knight in shining armour to correct her mistake. She knew he had taken blood samples and sent them to the lab to have it in writing what error had been made. She knew he had stuck around, gave orders and oversaw (Y/n)'s care.
And she knew that none of that would have been necessary if she hadn't of made such a damning mistake. But Trinity was being punished for it, she was being investigated and there would be consequences.
"I think you don't see the big picture."
When he saw the look of confusion that draped over Trinity's eyes, Brendon stepped closer. His eyes darted towards (Y/n)'s room, his mind instantly flicking back to his wife and he pointed to the room to emphasise towards her.
"Think of the patient. She's a mother, she has three kids, and me; people who would have mourned her if you'd killed her. People who can't go on without her. She came in for stitches and a transfusion and she stayed on observation and preventative treatment she shouldn't have needed."
"You think a lawsuit will help or make that better? It will waste money and time, it won't make up for what I did or make (Y/n) better-"
"It will benefit more than just me." A dangerous look crossed Brendon's eyes as his words snapped like the jaws of a crocodile which caused Trinity's skin to bristle.
"I want this suit against you because then it sticks. For the rest of your career, you will have this hanging over your head, on public record for any patient to see. So they know they might not be able to trust you to care for them because if you're too busy, you could make a near fatal mistake. They can refuse treatment from someone who's been found incompetant before. Any potential employer can see a lawsuit too and choose not to have a liability working for them. This will make amends for what you've done by having you never forget this and making sure everyone else knows it too."
Apologising and wishing this to go away wasn't taking responsibility or owning her mistakes.
Brendon wanted this because it would do (Y/n) some justice and make everyone sleep better at night. Any patient could find out that if Trinity was their doctor, they might not be as safe as they thought.
Patients would have the right to refuse treatment from someone who had been found incompetant before and could likely be so again. Any future employer deserved to know that if they employed Trinity, they were taking on a liability. They were welcome to give her a second chance, Brendon understood that, but at least they would know what they were taking on. It wouldn't just be Doctor Santos, it would be the baggage of a near-fatal mistake she had caused.
This was the bigger picture. Consequences could last forever, they could have a ripple effect, and Trinity didn't get to escape that just because she was sorry.
Brendon stepped around her as if he were about to walk away from her, but he seemed to think better of it. He paused at her side, his arms now lowered down and no longer looking so intimidating or frightening. His voice was calm, but his words had the ability to chill Trinity right down to her core.
"This doesn't just go away because (Y/n) got better. She was lucky, you won't be."
***
The sound of the front door swinging open made a burst of adrenaline spark to life in (Y/n)'s stomach. Her head pressed back into the sofa and she tried to look behind her as multiple, rapid footsteps began to charge through the house.
The boys were home.
Anticipation swelled through her as she heard her boys shouting, squealing and calling her name. They made it seem like they hadn't seen her in a week, not just one day. But one day of being stuck in hospital felt like an entire lifetime.
The last time (Y/n) set her sights on her three boys was when they had been crying and wailing over her as they were ushered out of the ER room. (Y/n) wanted to erase that hazy memory from her mind and replace it with something better; with her boys rushing to see her and finding her safe and well at home, not writhing in agony in hospital.
"Mum, you're home!"
"Mum!"
"Mummy!"
A flurry of tears welled up in her eyes when all three of them came within her sights and suddenly launched themselves onto the sofa.
Nate and Lewis were first, scrambling up so one of them was on either side of her. Nate looped his arms around her neck, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck as he platered himself against the side of her chest. Lewis bound against her waist, his face nuzzled into her chest as he tucked his legs up to his tummy to squish himself as close to (Y/n) as possible.
Reece toddled into the room last, a huff of indignation leaving his lips when he realised both older brothers were already huddled beneath (Y/n)'s arms, leaving very little room for him.
So he clambered up onto (Y/n)'s lap instead. The edge of his knee caught on one of the stitches beneath the sleep shorts (Y/n) had on under her dress and she sank her teeth down into her tongue so sharply she tasted blood. But it stopped her from crying out in pain.
"Boys! Be careful with your mum." Brendon's sharp tone cut through the air just as (Y/n) parted her knees to the sides so Reece could sit in between her thighs rather than on them.
This way he was still close, but he wasn't touching or aggravating her stitches or the swelling on her leg.
The three year old glanced up at his dad with big glossy eyes before he nuzzled himself into (Y/n)'s stomach, arms around her so that she was contained from every angle by all three sons.
Brendon had warned them on the way home from school that they had to be careful around (Y/n). Her leg was stitched up and causing her pain and they couldn't be rough with or around her. For the next two weeks they were going to have to be careful when they wanted comfort and attention from (Y/n), and they would have to help her wherever they could.
"You better now?" Reece murmured softly and when he looked around the sofa, something caught his eye.
The toddler stood up in between (Y/n)'s thighs and reached behind her to grasp onto his slime-green fluffy blanket that was draped on the back of the sofa. With a swift pull, he dragged the blanket down so it fell over (Y/n)'s shoulders and near the back of her head.
He arranged it as best he could, pulling the edges down towards her chest so it was ruffled around her like some strange kind of shawl. But the thought and sentiment was endearing enough to have (Y/n)'s breaths come out in shallow puffs.
"Yeah, I feel a bit better now honey."
"Don't worry, we'll look after you." Nate kept his cheek buried against (Y/n)'s shoulder, his arms still around her neck as he kissed her cheek and leant a bit closer against her.
(Y/n) hoped none of them would notice the tears slowly trickling down her face as she curved her arms around them and pulled all her boys closer to her. Hoping that if she held them close enough to her heart, it would stop the organ from trying to break out of her ribs.
And when she felt a warm, solid pair of hands curve over the back of her shoulders, (Y/n) laid her head against the back of the sofa and blinked up through her tears. Brendon was stood behind the sofa, leaning oer with that look of utter devotion and warmth that he saved strictly for his family.
He bent down until he was able to press a soft kiss to (Y/n)'s warm temple, breathing against her kin and soaking in her wamrth and scent.
This was where she wanted to be, this was where she would get better. At home, with all four of her boys.
The next day, Gibbs brought you home. Or at least to the apartment you'd rented in Frisco.
It was, of course, smaller than his house, where he would have preferred to take you - HOME - but that would have to wait a few more days until your head was clear enough to fly safely.
He took such loving care of you, anticipating your every need before you even spoke. He was better than any nurse. It was funny on the one hand, but incredibly sweet on the other. The big, tough Leroy Jethro Gibbs was fussing over you like a mother hen.
He’d whip up whatever you were craving, and you spent hours just holding each other. Naturally, baby names were a big topic of conversation, too."
"What do you think of Gregory or William if it's a boy? And Carol or Gillian if it's a girl?"
Gibbs snorted. “As long as it’s NOT Tony, Anthony, or Jennifer…”
A brief silence followed. Then you looked at each other and burst out laughing. Fortunately, you still had a few months left to come up with the perfect names.
Silent and overjoyed, you lay in each other’s arms, simply savoring the fact that you were together. Jethro cherished it more than anything. He had held himself back from his love for you for far too long, believing it wasn't returned, and he was so happy to finally be able to shower you with it. And whenever he wrapped his arms around you, he felt like he never wanted to let go.
Meanwhile, the cause of the crash was officially investigated and confirmed. The helicopter crashed due to a bomb explosion, and you were thrown from the burning aircraft by its rotation, which saved your life.
The assassin has repeated his confession and is in custody, while Jenny has gone underground. A nationwide manhunt is now underway for her.
As so often in her past, she was careless, allowing the investigators to find evidence of her contract in her personal notes.
By chance, she learned from Ducky that you were pregnant and knew in that moment that she had lost Gibbs for good. She decided to eliminate you once and for all and hired a hitman. And if your children die with you… all the better.
Both you and Jethro were absolutely horrified. Neither of you had suspected Shepard of such cold-bloodedness and calculation.
But this realization brought a problem. A pretty big one, in fact. Namely, the question of where she was and what she intended to do. Because she was still dangerous and would continue to try.
Your injuries began to heal, but for safety reasons, you remained in Frisco for the time being.
Gibbs led the team and the ongoing investigation from there, all while continuing to nurse you back to health. It was going well - but he was far from happy about having to juggle the Director's duties on top of everything else. It was a job he wanted no part of.
He sat at his desk, muttering to himself in frustration, while you lay on the couch, practically doubled over with laughter. As "punishment," he gave you a thorough tickling. Your clear, ringing laughter finally broke through his foul mood, and he realized once again just how much he had missed that sound.
Two weeks later, you were feeling much better, so you decided to prepare a romantic dinner for the two of you. It was delicious, and after you both finished the dishes, Jethro went over to your CD player and put on "Hello" by Lionel Richie.
He knew you liked the song because you had sung it on his terrace a while back. Surprised and delighted, you looked at him as he walked over, smiled, and asked you to dance.
He took your hand in his, put his arm around your waist, and pulled you close. You danced in the dining room, entwined, and he hummed along to the melody.
Your head rested against his strong chest as you breathed in his scent - wood, soap, and unmistakably him. He rested his cheek on the crown of your head, fighting back tears. You both felt as if you were floating on air. Just like this. This was how it was meant to be. The two of you. Together against the rest of the world.
When he leaned back slightly, you looked up at him. In that same moment, his lips lowered onto yours. Gentle, tender, and soul-searching kisses... growing deeper and more passionate, until your longing to feel one another finally took hold.
He pressed himself against you, letting you feel his length and hardness. He devoured you with his kisses, which you returned with equal passion, moaning softly. But at that moment, the dining room wasn't the right place for this.
So, he swept you up into his arms and carried you like a bride into your bedroom, where you made love all through the night until dawn. Afterwards, you fell asleep wrapped tightly in each other's arms.
But there was a problem…you were divorced by now.
“Jethro…?” you whispered cautiously.
“I love hearing my name from you,” he replied, kissing you.
“Jethro…”
“Yes, my love?” He was nibbling on your neck, not really listening. But your next sentence changed everything:
“Where do we go from here? We’re divorced.”
(To be continued in Chapter 50.)
-------------------
Here you will find the other chapters of this story
Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba
slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers
Previous Chapter /Next Chapter
My legs gave out. I sank to the floor, my body wracked with a sob so violent it felt like it would tear me apart. I was alone, in the tomb of our life, surrounded by boxes labeled with his neat, final script. The ultrasound photo had fallen from his hand and lay face down on the dusty floorboards, a tiny, fragile dream I had brought here only to have it shattered. The apartment was silent, filled with nothing but the ghosts of what we almost had, and the sound of my own heart breaking.
I couldn’t stop.
The sobs kept coming—one after another, sharp and uncontrollable, dragging through my chest until it burned. My hands curled against the floor, nails scraping lightly into the wood as if I could hold onto something, anything, to keep myself from completely falling apart.
“Rafael…” His name broke out of me, barely more than a breath, but it echoed anyway. Too loud in the emptiness. Too final.
He wasn’t coming back. That was the worst part. Not the argument. Not the leaving. The certainty of it. My gaze shifted, unfocused, until it landed on the ultrasound photo still lying a few feet away. Face down. Forgotten. Left behind. A broken sound escaped me as I dragged myself toward it, every movement slow, heavy, like I was wading through something thick and suffocating. My fingers shook as I reached out, turning it over. There it was. Small. Grainy. Real. Alive. A fresh wave hit me—quieter this time, but deeper. The kind that didn’t rip through you, just settled in your chest and stayed there, heavy and unrelenting.
“We need you…” I whispered, my voice barely there. “I just need…”
My words dissolved into another sob. My hand pressed instinctively against my stomach, the gesture automatic now, protective even in the middle of breaking. Time blurred after that. I don’t know how long I stayed on the floor. Minutes. Hours. It all felt the same—stretched and distant and meaningless. The sobs slowed eventually, not because the pain lessened, but because my body simply couldn’t keep up. My chest ached. My throat was raw. My eyes burned. At some point, I curled in on myself, the ultrasound clutched tightly in my hand, pressed against my chest like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. The floor was cold beneath me. Unforgiving. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Exhaustion crept in slowly, heavy and inevitable, dragging at my limbs, dulling the sharp edges of everything until it all blurred together—grief, anger, love, loss. The last thing I remember was whispering his name again. Softer this time. Almost like a goodbye.
…
The sound of the door unlocking cut through the silence hours later.
“Y/N?”
Sonny’s voice. Distant at first. Then closer.
“Hey,are you here?”
Footsteps. Fast. Uneven.
“Jesus”
The word hit sharp, right above me. I felt hands on me before I fully woke, warm and grounding, pulling me gently up from where I’d been curled on the floor.
“Hey, hey… what happened?” Sonny’s voice was softer now, laced with panic he was trying to hide. My eyes fluttered open, disoriented, the world swimming back into focus in fragments. Light. Boxes. Him.
“Sonny…” My voice cracked immediately, the single word enough to break whatever fragile hold I had left.
“Oh, kid…” he breathed, pulling me fully into him, one hand cradling the back of my head as I collapsed against his chest. And just like that it all came back. Rafael leaving. A sob tore out of me, muffled against Sonny as I clutched at his shirt like I was afraid he might disappear too.
“I…he…” I couldn’t get it out. Couldn’t make the words line up into anything that made sense.
“It’s okay,” Sonny murmured, even though it clearly wasn’t. His grip tightened around me, steady and protective. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
But I shook my head against him, tears soaking into the fabric.
“No… no, I’m not…”
…
Sonny’s P.O.V
I didn’t sleep. Not even for a second. Y/N was curled up on the couch when I left, finally quiet after hours of crying, her body completely drained. One hand rested over her stomach even in sleep—protective, instinctive. Like some part of her already knew she couldn’t fall apart completely. Not anymore. He knew. That was the part that wouldn’t sit right. Rafael knew and he still left. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets as I walked into the squad room, jaw tight, already wound too tight for this hour of the morning. Olivia looked up the second I walked in.
“Sonny?”
“I need your help.”
No jokes. No small talk. No pretending this was anything but serious.
She stood immediately. “What happened?”
“Rafael,” I said. “Where is he?”
Her expression shifted—not guarded, not hiding anything. Just… confused.
“I don’t know,” she said.
I frowned. “What do you mean you don’t know? You talked to him.”
“Outside the courthouse,” she said. “He told me he was stepping down. That he was leaving New York.” A pause. “That’s it.”
“That’s it?” I repeated, disbelief creeping in. “He didn’t say where?”
She shook her head slowly. “No.”
That hit harder than I expected. Because that meant this wasn’t a plan. This was him… disappearing. I dragged a hand down my face, pacing once. “He knew, Liv.”
Her brow furrowed. “Knew what?”
“He knew about the baby,” I said, voice tight. “And he still walked out. Said he was doing it to protect her.”
Understanding flickered across her face. Not agreement—but recognition.
“That sounds like him,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, well, it’s wrong,” I snapped. “He doesn’t get to make that call for her. He doesn’t get to decide she’s better off without him and just vanish like that fixes anything.”
Olivia crossed her arms, studying me. “So what are you going to do?”
I met her gaze without hesitation.
“I’m gonna find him.”
A beat.
“You don’t even know where to start.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Sonny—”
“I’m not letting this be how it ends,” I said, sharper now. “Not for her. Not for that kid.”
Silence stretched between us. Then Olivia nodded once. Not approval—but understanding.
“If you find him,” she said, “what are you going to say?”
I let out a breath.
“The truth,” I said. “That running doesn’t make him noble. It just makes him gone.”
Back at the apartment, I grabbed my keys, already halfway out the door before my brain could catch up. Then I stopped. Turned back. Y/N was still asleep, curled into herself, like she’d folded around the pain to survive it. Tear tracks still marked her face, her breathing uneven even now. I walked over quietly, crouching beside her.
“Hey,” I murmured, even though I knew she wouldn’t hear me. “I’m gonna go find him, alright?”
My eyes dropped briefly to her stomach.
“He doesn’t get to walk away from this,” I added softly.
I hesitated, then gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“I’ll fix it,” I promised.
Even if I had no idea how yet.
…
Outside, the city was already waking up. People moving. Cars passing. Life going on. I stood on the sidewalk for a second, taking it all in. No leads. No plan. Just a name and a man who didn’t want to be found. I pulled out my phone, already scrolling—contacts, old cases, anyone who might know something, anything.
“Alright, counselor,” I muttered under my breath. “Let’s see how good you are at disappearing.”
Because one thing I knew for sure, no matter where Rafael had gone. I was going to find him.
…
Finding Rafael Barba turned into something close to an obsession.
At first, it was small things, calls between cases, messages sent to old contacts who owed me favours, late nights hunched over my phone while the city slept and Y/N rested in the next room. But when those leads dried up, when every “I haven’t heard from him” and “he’s off the grid” started to sound the same, it stopped being a side mission and became the mission. Weeks blurred into months. I dug through old case files, bar association records, court appearances in other states, anything that might leave a paper trail for a man who had spent his entire career knowing exactly how to disappear when he wanted to. And all the while, time kept moving forward whether any of us were ready for it or not.
Y/N changed in those months.
At first it was subtle, looser clothes, quieter mornings, a hand that lingered just a little too often over her stomach when she thought no one was looking. But by the time winter started bleeding into spring, there was nothing subtle about it anymore. She was six months along, her body undeniably carrying the proof of a future Rafael had walked away from. And still she never stopped loving him. I saw it in the way she’d pause when his name came up, in the way her eyes would drift sometimes like she was remembering something she didn’t want to forget. She never asked me to keep looking. Never pushed. But she didn’t have to. I knew.
So I kept going. And then, finally, I found something. It was buried in a routine search, one I’d done a dozen times before. A small-town court listing. Defence attorney. The name almost didn’t register at first, like my brain refused to believe it until I read it again.
Rafael Barba.
Iowa.
I stared at the screen for a long time, my heart kicking up in a way it hadn’t in months. Not New York. Not Miami. Not some big city where he could disappear in plain sight. Iowa. Quiet. Out of the way. Exactly the kind of place a man like Rafael would go to disappear from himself.
“Got you,” I muttered under my breath.
I didn’t tell Y/N right away. Not until I had everything confirmed. Not until I knew for certain this wasn’t another dead end. But when I did, when I walked into the apartment and told her. I saw it instantly. Hope. Sharp and terrifying and fragile all at once. We didn’t waste time. Packing was quick, almost mechanical, like if we slowed down too much we might lose the nerve to do it. I kept it simple, bags, essentials, making sure she was comfortable, making sure she didn’t push herself too hard even as I could see the adrenaline carrying her forward. By the time we stepped out the door, it felt like everything had narrowed down to one thing. Getting to him.
…
I found him in a courtroom. Of course I did. Standing at the defence table, sleeves rolled, tie slightly loosened, arguing a case with that same quiet intensity he always had. Like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t walked away from everything. From her. I stayed in the back, watching, arms crossed, jaw tight. Let him finish. Let him have his moment. But the second court adjourned.
“Counsellor.”
He froze. Just for a second. Then he turned. And yeah, there it was. Shock. Guilt. Something deeper, heavier, buried under months of running.
“Carisi,” he said, voice quieter than I’d ever heard it. “What are you doing here?”
I stepped closer, not giving him space to breathe. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”
He looked… different. Thinner. Tired in a way that sleep wouldn’t fix. Like whatever he’d been carrying, he hadn’t put it down once since he left.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“No,” I shot back. “You shouldn’t have left.”
That landed. He exhaled slowly, running a hand over the back of his neck. “If you’re here to tell me I made a mistake—”
“You didn’t make a mistake,” I cut in. “You made a mess.”
Silence. Heavy. Loaded.
“She needed you,” I continued, my voice dropping. “She still does.”
His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t what she needed.”
“That’s not your call.”
“It is when staying puts her at risk,” he snapped, something breaking through finally. “You think I don’t know what I am? What I did? I crossed a line I can’t uncross. I destroyed my career. My credibility. Everything I built. And you expect me to just, what, walk back into her life like that doesn’t matter?”
I stepped closer, my voice hard. “Yeah. I do. Because none of that matters to her as much as you do.”
That hit harder. I saw it in the way his expression cracked, just for a second.
“I wanted to call her,” he admitted quietly. “More times than I can count. I picked up the phone and put it back down again every time.” He swallowed. “I thought… I thought if I stayed away long enough, it would be easier for her to move on.”
I shook my head. “You don’t know her at all if you think that.”
He let out a hollow breath. “No,” he said. “I guess I don’t.”
A pause. Then, softer, more honest than anything he’d said yet. “I miss her.”
That wasn’t enough. Not yet. So I looked him dead in the eye and said the only thing left that mattered.
“She’s here.”
Everything in him stilled.
“…What?”
“She’s here, Rafael,” I repeated. “Six months pregnant. Tired. Heartbroken. Still in love with you.”
The colour drained from his face.
“You brought her here?” he asked, disbelief and something dangerously close to hope bleeding into his voice.
“I didn’t have to drag her,” I said. “She came because she wanted to.”
He shook his head slightly, overwhelmed. “After everything I…”
“She wants you back,” I cut in. “The question is are you finally done running?”
Silence stretched between us. Then, slowly, something shifted in him. Not fixed. Not healed. But decided.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I am.”
…
Y/N’s P.O.V
I was sitting in the car when I saw them. Sonny first, steady, familiar. And then Rafael. Everything in me stopped. My breath. My thoughts. My heartbeat. He looked the same and completely different all at once. Like time had passed over him but never quite settled. His eyes found mine instantly, like they’d been searching for me this whole time even when he didn’t realise it. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then the door opened. And he was there. Closer. Real.
“Y/N…” My name broke out of him like it had been waiting months to be said.
Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them. “You left,” I whispered, the words fragile but not weak.
“I know,” he said immediately, stepping closer but not touching me yet. “And I was wrong.”
That alone shattered something in my chest.
“I thought I was protecting you,” he continued, his voice shaking now. “But all I did was hurt you. I hurt us.”
My hand instinctively moved to my stomach, and his gaze followed. He froze. Emotion hit him all at once—raw, unguarded, overwhelming.
“I wanted to come back,” he said, voice breaking. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
I let out a tearful breath, shaking my head. “I never stopped wanting you.”
That was it. That was all it took. He closed the distance between us carefully, like I might disappear if he moved too fast, his hands hovering before finally settling—one at my side, the other hesitating just above my stomach.
“Can I?” he asked softly.
I nodded, tears falling freely now. His hand rested there, gentle, reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.
“I want this,” he said, looking back up at me, eyes full. “I want you. I want our family. If you’ll still have me.”
A small, broken laugh slipped out of me. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”
And then finally he kissed me. Soft at first. Careful. Like something fragile being put back together. And for the first time in months it didn’t feel like everything was falling apart.
…
Sonny’s P.O.V
The drive back felt longer. Quieter. Like everything I’d been running on for months had finally burned out, leaving nothing but the steady hum of the road and the weight of what I’d just done settling into my bones. I didn’t rush it. Didn’t push. For the first time in a long time, there wasn’t anything chasing me. Because I’d found him. And more importantly I’d left them together. I could still see it if I let myself think about it too hard. The way Rafael looked at her when he realised she was really there. The way Y/N didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back, even after everything he’d put her through. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t fixed. But it was real. And it was theirs. That was enough. More than enough.
…
Walking back into the city felt strange. Like stepping into a life that had kept moving without me but not in a bad way. Just… different. Slower. Lighter, somehow. The squad room looked the same as always. Desks. Papers. Noise. Olivia glanced up the second I walked in, her eyes scanning me quickly. Alone.
She stood. “Sonny.”
I gave her a small nod. “Liv.”
A beat passed between us.
“Did you find him?” she asked.
I let out a quiet breath, slipping my jacket off, draping it over the back of my chair like I hadn’t just crossed state lines chasing a man who didn’t want to be found.
“Yeah,” I said simply.
Her expression sharpened. “And?”
I met her eyes.
“They’re together.”
That was all I gave her.
But it was enough. I saw the tension leave her shoulders, just slightly. Relief.
“Are they okay?” she asked.
I considered that for a moment.
“They will be.”
It wasn’t a guarantee. But it was the truth.
Olivia studied me carefully, like she was trying to read everything I wasn’t saying. “Where are they?”
I shook my head once.
“Where they need to be,” I said.
Her brows lifted slightly not offended. Just acknowledging the boundary.
“You’re giving them space.”
“Yeah,” I said. “They’ve got a lot to figure out. They don’t need us hovering over it.”
“She’s safe?”
That one mattered more. I nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. She is.”
And for the first time since all of this started, I actually meant it.
…
Later that night, back at the apartment, the quiet didn’t feel as heavy. It was still there her things, her presence lingering in small ways—but it didn’t feel like something was missing anymore. It felt like something was… waiting. I moved through the space slowly, picking up where I’d left off days ago, setting things back into place without really thinking about it. On the coffee table, something caught my eye. A spare copy. The ultrasound photo. I must’ve printed it for me. Or maybe it was spare. I didn’t remember. Didn’t matter. I picked it up, staring down at the small, grainy image. Six months now. A whole future sitting right there in black and white. A slow breath left me as I set it back down carefully.
“Yeah,” I murmured to the empty room. “You’re gonna be alright.”
Because they would be. Not because it was easy. Not because everything was magically fixed. But because they’d chosen each other again. And that counted for something.
…
Back at work, things slipped into place easier than I expected. Cases. Paperwork. The rhythm of it all. People asked, of course.
Amanda cornered me near the coffee machine. “So? You just disappeared for days, we’re down an ADA and you’re not gonna explain that?”
I smirked slightly, grabbing a cup. “Took a trip.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, unimpressed. “And this trip wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain former ADA, would it?”
I shrugged. “You said it, not me.”
Finn chimed in from across the room, “That’s a yes.”
I just shook my head, taking a sip of coffee. Olivia watched it all quietly from her office, but she didn’t push. Didn’t ask again. She already had her answer.
…
That night, as I locked up and headed out, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Unknown number. I stared at it for a second before answering.
“Yeah?”
A pause.
“…Sonny.”
I smiled, just slightly.
“About time, counselor.”
There was a breath on the other end. Lighter than I’d heard in a long time.
“Thank you,” Rafael said.
I leaned back against the wall, looking out at the city lights.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Don’t screw it up again.”
A quiet huff of something that almost sounded like a laugh.
“I won’t.”
I believed him.
“Good,” I said. “Now go be where you’re supposed to be.”
Another pause.
“I am.”
The line went dead. I slipped my phone back into my pocket, pushing off the wall. Mission accomplished.
“Are YOU Y/N’s husband?” the woman asked, looking at Gibbs in astonishment.
“Yes, I am. And who are you?”
“I’m Rachel Thompson. A close friend of your wife.”
He offered her his uninjured hand, which she immediately took and shook.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Thompson.”
She laughed. “Ms. Thompson. I’m no longer married. But please call me Rachel.”
He smiled: “Nice to meet you, Rachel.”
There was a brief, awkward pause as she studied him. Then she cautiously spoke again.
“I’m so glad you came…but tell me…the way you just fought for your family…I honestly can’t imagine that you don’t love Y/N.”
Gibbs thought he must have misheard, he was so taken aback.
“How did you come up with something like that?”
She felt a little awkward, but knew she owed him an explanation.
"Y/N and I met at the airport in Washington, D.C., and became friends. She fled here to Frisco when she found out she was pregnant, because she thinks you don't love her."
Gibbs looked at her in silence, and a chill ran through him. How could you think such a thing about him? His heart belonged only to you - to you and the children you were carrying. He absolutely had to talk to you about this. As soon as possible, before you ran away again…which, strictly speaking, is actually HIS usual reaction. But not this time. No, this time he's running into life's complications with open arms - and is even looking forward to them.
When there was no outward reaction from him, Rachel cleared her throat, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“I’m sorry, I let it slip. You weren’t supposed to know she’s pregnant,” she said, worried by his reaction.
But he just laughed freely. “Don’t worry, a friend already told me, and I’m so happy about it. I couldn’t imagine better news!”
She looked at him in surprise at first, but then relief washed over her. Relief and joy for you, because she liked your husband immediately and thought you two made a wonderful couple. Maybe everything will turn out alright after all.
“Shall we visit her?” Gibbs asked, gesturing down the hall, but Rachel declined.
“You certainly have a lot to talk about. Give her my regards. I’ll stop by again tomorrow.”
Gibbs promised to let her know if anything changed regarding your condition in the meantime, and Rachel hugged him.
Then she walked away with a grin and drove home, knowing you would be well cared for.
She was certain that he truly loved you and would take good care of you, because she had seen it in his bright blue eyes. She was a little sorry that this sexy silver fox was already taken, but she genuinely wished you both happiness.
Meanwhile Gibbs finally set off to see you. With every step, his excitement grew. His heart raced, and his palms became sweaty. In a few seconds, he would finally be with you again. But how would you react when you saw him?
He reached your room, opened the door, and went inside. Silence. Only the beeping of the monitor could be heard, and your doctor was checking your vital signs.
When he saw Jethro, he smiled. "Everything's fine. She's still unconscious, but otherwise, she's doing well. We expect her to wake up soon."
With that, he left the room, leaving the two of you alone.
Gibbs slowly walked over to your bed. Inside him, conflicting emotions were raging—fear that you might never wake up, that you might not want to see him, and at the same time joy at finally being able to see you again and be by your side. He wished he could share these feelings with you, because his inner balance felt completely shaken. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, openly confess his love, and even start thinking about names for your future children together.
But all of that had to wait. So he sat down by your bed, took your hand in his, and waited. The outside world, your jobs, Jenny, the assassin… none of it mattered. Only you and the children growing inside you mattered. His family.
While waiting, he gazed reverently at the small bump on your belly. Fascinated, he placed his hand on it and gently stroked it. You had created these two lives together. It seemed like a miracle to him. He was going to be a father again! A smile crept onto his face. Warm, soft, and full of pure happiness.
He was going to be a father. To the woman he loved so much. He kissed your belly lovingly and began talking to your children. He told them everything that came to mind, and he didn't care if they understood him. He just wanted them to hear his voice. To feel that he was there and would never leave.
But then the monitoring device sounded an alarm, because your blood pressure dropped.
(To be continued in Chapter 48.)
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Here you will find the other chapters of this story
Summary: You and Dean are used to sharing a bed, and you finally get a room with three beds.
Pairing: Dean x reader
contains: Dean flirting slightly, kinda fluff maybe, bed sharing, best friends to lovers, protective Dean, reverse there is only one bed trope, pining
WC: 654
The canvas of your duffle is scraping your shoulder painfully, slight red marks forming on your skin. The drive to John Creek was long. You had been cramped in Baby for seventeen hours, Dean too stubborn to let you drive for even fifteen minutes. He only let Sam drive when he told him that if he didn’t, Dean was going to crash his own car.
Sam goes to check in while you and Dean grab the bags out of the trunk. Dean takes over Sam’s bag as his eyes are stuck on the red mark on your shoulder. You just look at him with a crooked smile, shaking your head lightly.
The keys in Sam’s hand jingle as he signals to you that he secured you a room, and you notice he has a certain glint in his eyes, one that usually means trouble. “You’ll never believe what I just pulled off,” he beams as he opens the door to room 316.
The room had a deep red carpet, soft lighting and, one, two…
Three beds.
two singles and a queen.
Your shoulders slumped as you counted the beds. Usually, when you were on a hunt, you shared a bed with Dean, not in a sexual way, not at all. Although you wouldn’t mind that. You just had a huge crush on the guy, and you couldn’t help feeling safe with him near. It had gotten to the point where you slept better on a hunt than in your own room and your own comfortable mattress just because Dean wasn’t there. You just felt alone the whole night. And with Dean, you slept deeper, more soundly, and you even had fewer nightmares.
Dean had thrown his duffel on the queen-size bed as soon as he stepped inside the room, claiming it as his own without further conversation about the topic. What happened next, however, had you looking at him kind of confused, and when you looked around, you saw you weren’t the only one.
Dean tosses Sam's bag at one of the single bags before grabbing yours off of your shoulder and putting it next to his on the queens at the side furthest away from the door.
Sam has a stunned expression on his face, he does a double take before asking his brother the question you would like to know two. “What are you doing?”
Whereas Sam is asking the question in a very confused state, you can’t help but perk up a little.
Dean Winchester put your bag on his bed. And for once, it isn’t because you have to share, it is because he chose to.
Dean looks at his brother like he just asked the dumbest question he has ever heard in his life. “There is a monster out there who hunts for women with her exact description. I am not letting her out of my sight.” He says before he turns towards you apologetically. “Sorry, sweetheart, but this isn’t up for discussion.” And you can’t help but blush a little. Before you can answer, Sam seems to have decided it’s his job to defend your honor, something you don’t want or need him doing at all.
“What are you talking about? She’ll still be in the same room, and she can take care of herself.”
Dean turns towards his little brother, slightly annoyed now. “I said, no discussion.” Dean snars at Sam. Pointing at him like a mother who was completely done with the antics of her children.
“This is ridiculous.” He curses under his breath. You just smile at the younger Winchester, butterflies in your stomach. “It's okay, Sam, I don’t mind,” you say sweetly as you take a step closer to Dean who is looking you up and down. Sam lets out an annoyed breath as he turns around grabbing his toiletries out of his bag.
Dean looks at you. “Didn’t think you would.” He winks
I think this is so cute. I have an idea for a quick part 2 for this drabble. Anyone interested?
Summary: While the band is on tour, (Y/n) is worried that if she starts sleepwalking, she will be in an unfamiliar place and at risk. Ashton promises to keep watch over her during the night and make sure she's safe. Even if it causes some miscommunication with the band.
Enjoy.
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No point unpacking, really.
That was the thought that swirled around in (Y/n)'s head as she stared down at the keycard in her hand, flipping the plastic between her fingers the same as Ashton would do with his drumsticks.
She couldn't remember the last time she had unpacked her bags when staying in a hotel on tour, that was if they even stayed in a hotel. Sometimes they just ploughed through the night on the tour coach and slept there to make it easier and more effecient.
Leaving a bag open on the floor by the foot of the bed was usually (Y/n)'s style, easy to pick out her outfits and her toiletry bag and pack away ready for the next move. Living out of a suitcase for months at a time, that was their life when the five of them were on tour.
Her shoulder ached from the bag dangling off it and her other arm was stretched out behind her, dragging her case along, though (Y/n) was at the back of their little group.
The others were far ahead in front of her, looking from their keycards to the numbers on the walls to try and find their rooms.
There had been a few times in the past when they had all shared rooms, sometimes it had been easier or cost cutting in the early days. And a lot of the time they all liked to huddle together after a show and let their adrenaline highs run out together. Clearly they had gone up in the world since then.
"You good?"
(Y/n) looked up, somewhat startled as if she had just imagined Ashton's quiet whisper against the shell of her ear.
"Yeah, ready to actually be in a bed for once." That made him smile, and that smile was enough to ignite a wave of butterflies swarming through (Y/n)'s stomach.
She didn't quite know what it was about Ashton's smile or the way he bared his teeth when he grinned or looked particularly sarcastic or cheeky, but it sparked something within her. And (Y/n) had to think, to get her mind working to make sure her own smile didn't broaden too much and giveaway what she truly felt and thought.
They had agreed to wait to tell the rest of the band, to make sure that this was truly happening, truly something that made them happy and not a feeling that would fade and make things complicated within the band. The last thing (Y/n) and Ashton wanted was to try and see where this relationship would lead and have it end in flames and make it hard for all of them to work together.
"Okay, one two and three." Michael turned so abruptly and sharply that Ashton almost walked into him, barely skidding against the carpet to stop.
He pointed to the three rooms on the left side of the corridor before turning and looking between (Y/n) and Calum and gesturing across to the right. "I think you're both there. Least we're all on the same floor this time."
That was an upside. (Y/n) remembered when they had done a show in Vegas two years ago. The must have been twenty, if not more, floors to the hotel and all of them had a room on a different floor. And the keycards in that hotel which you had to use to get into the lift, only allowed you to go to your own floor. It had been a bit irritating and meant they all had to convene together in the lobby at reception.
When Ashton's elbow nudged into her waist and she heard him utter "Catch you in a bit," (Y/n) nodded.
Each of them dispursed to their rooms. They would get their things inside, maybe shower and freshen up, and then they would wander to another room and all group together. It was early enough that they could get some food together. Not like when they arrived close to midnight to a hotel and clambered straight into bed before leaving in the morning. This pit stop was a bit more relaxed than some of the others.
As per her usual routine, (Y/n) wheeled her case towards the bed and laid it out on the floor at the end of the bed.
There was a blue hue to the room that made her feel like she was under water, but the colour was relaxing and almost hypnotic. The view looked stunning too, high up enough that she felt level with the clouds and didn't have a view of other rooftops or windows from the buildings across the street.
She slumped down to her knees, shoulders sagging as a small sigh left her lips and she felt like she was deflating.
Sometimes when they were away, they each liked their own space. They spent ninety percent of their time together which made them all very close- (Y/n) and Ashton now closer than ever before- but they did like time to themselves.
But (Y/n) wasn't so keen on being on her own during the night. Not anymore.
She unzipped her case and flipped it open, riffling through to find her wash bag and see what outfit she wanted to wear tomorrow. To get it ready so she didn't have to rush or mess around in the morning.
She didn't like how her mood had turned sour the moment she stepped through that door. How quickly she had gone from being with the band to being on her own, a position that was fine until the sun started to set and the night crept in. Then, (Y/n) really hated to be left in solitude.
The fearsome path her mind began to take suddenly shifted when there was a quiet click.
Shudders crawled through her skin and she looked to the right just as a door opened. A door which (Y/n) hadn't paid any attention to when she walked in. It looked like it should have been a little closet, since there was only a small hanger in an alcove beside the door. But that was no closet or walk in wardrobe.
Her brows furrowed and her lips parted, unsure whether to break into a smile or a frown as Calum poked his head around the door.
He had a certain grin on his face and a child-like glimmer in his eyes as if he had just found a treasure map and knew where the rewards would be. His curls flopped over his temple, hiding his raised eyebrows from view as he stepped into (Y/n)'s room and pushed the door wide open as if revealing a magician's trick.
They had inter-connecting rooms.
There was a door leading from Calum's room into a very tiny space no more than three feet wide, which then led to the door into (Y/n)'s room that must have been left unlocked when the staff had cleaned the room. It was like a tunnel and (Y/n) could just picture herself as a child, wanting to roam through that door time and time again, pretending it was some kind of game or scene from a movie.
Perhaps the others had the same adjoining rooms across the hall. (Y/n) wondered if they had found this out or not; they weren't all as nosey as Calum when it came to new surroundings. And he had found that connecting door with lightning speed.
"Oh this is gonna be fun."
"Is that your way of saying you'll be sneaking in during the night? As I think that might be weird."
Her lips curved into a smile as she sank back on her heels and moved her hands down to hold onto her thighs. She was only messing around and Calum knew it. She didn't mind if he wanted to randomly appear for a chat or to get her when they would join the others to grab something to eat. And if she didn't want him using that door, all she had to do was click the lock on it and Calum would be stuck in that little cupboard-like space with nowhere to go.
"It was a joke." He rolled his eyes before hie boysterous expression suddenly became serious and somber. "Are you sleeping better now? Or are you still moving about?"
(Y/n) pursed her lips and looked down at her lap for a moment. The whole band knew about it, she hadn't hid it from them, but that didn't mean she wasn't embarrassed about it.
She had started to sleepwalk this past year.
It was intermitant, random, came and went in phases and it could get worse if (Y/n) was stressed. Sometimes she just got out of bed and moved about the room, she hadn't known she was doing it until an ex told her he found her pacing the bedroom in a daze before climbing back into bed like nothing had happened.
(Y/n) had woken up in the kitchen at home once, just sitting at the table with an empty cup in front of her.
Last month when they started this tour, Luke had come out of his hotel room one night and got the shock of his life when he saw (Y/n) stood in the corridor in her pyjamas. She had managed to get out of her hotel room and just froze, waiting in the corridor with a strange look in her eyes and being completely unresponsive.
"I woke up in a chair the other night," she made a weak motion towards the chair seated beneath the window. "But I haven't actually left the room since that hotel in LA."
In the last hotel they stayed at, (Y/n) had woken up with bruises on her legs and found herself sitting in the chair in her hotel room while her duffle bag had been strung out on the floor. She had tripped over it and presumably knocked into the little coffee table.
"Maybe we could keep these doors unlocked, if I hear you walking around I can check you're not about to leave the room. If you walk out the room without your keycard you won't get back in."
It had crossed (Y/n)'s mind. It was all she thought about when they approached their overnight stops. Staying on the tour bus wasn't comfortable or easy for any of them, but it felt safer for (Y/n). She couldn't physically go anywhere, if she started walking about one of the guys would notice and just keep watch over her until she laid back down or woke up.
A hotel felt more dangerous, there was more risk of (Y/n) wandering off and if she got out of her room without her keycard, she couldn't get herself back in. If she got in the lift somehow she would end up wandering far or getting into a bad situation and if she went to the stairwell and fell, there would be a catastrophe.
Ashton had asked at their last hotel if one of them could have a spare keycard for (Y/n)'s room so if she did wander and lock herself out, one of them could get her safely back in her room. It might be an idea to do that tonight too.
With a deep breath, (Y/n) nodded and tried to hide the panic from her face, not wanting Calum to see how much she had already been overthinking this.
"You'll listen out for me?" The last thing she wanted was to be a burden and keep Calum awake or make him worry over her or think he had to babysit her.
But if she did get up and wander, at least if he heard her moving late at night, he could poke his head through the door and check she was alright and not about to leave the room in a daze.
"Course."
"Thanks."
She didn't want to go to sleep. Her eyes were begging to close, her mind was pounding and aching and willing her to shut down and go to sleep. Every limb in her body was weighed down like bars of gold, but (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to let it happen.
What if she started to sleepwalk here?
Staying in hotels made her nervous. Sometimes staying in her own home made her nervous because she was just as likely to walk out the house there as she was here. But here it was different, it was a foreign place, somewhere she didn't know well with people who didn't actually know her, even if they recognised her at all.
The last thing (Y/n) wanted was to fall asleep and wander out of this room where she wouldn't be safe.
This was an unfamiliar setting. (Y/n) had become accustomed to waking up with bumps and bruises from bashing into furniture she hadn't known or remembered was there. From falling over her suitcase or catching the corner of the wall or whacking a chair or desk.
She didn't want to keep imagining all the bad possibilities, but she couldn't stop herself. Wondering what would happen if she found herself sleepwalking out in that corridor and if she got into the lift. What would happen if someone was out there late at night and saw her?
Would they help her? Would it be a creep she bumped? If she ran into the wrong sort of person she could end up in a horribly bad situation with no knowledge and no way to defend herself or get out of it.
All these thoughts raged through her mind until she tossed the covers to one side and an exasperated sigh.
Lying here panicking wasn't going to do her any good, and (Y/n) didn't want to go to sleep and hope for the best.
Not when there was another way around this.
The carpet was cold against her feet when she stood up, feeling adrenaline coursing through her veins keeping her wide awake despite the headache forming behind her eyes from a need to rest, an unconscious desire to sleep. She grabbed the keycard from the side table next to the lamp and treaded carefully to the door, despite knowing there was no one else in the room she was at risk of disturbing or waking up.
With her arms bound around her middle, (Y/n) crept to the door and opened it as quietly as possible, again unsure why she was trying to be stealth when she was the only one in the room. It wasn't like she was trying to break out of the room or about to do something illegal or bad.
Her eyes scanned the brightly lit corridor and she closed the door behind her before aiming left and crossing over towards the room parallel to hers.
Her knuckles knocked rather timidly on the door that she was surprised if he would even be able to hear her or not.
A rather bright, if confused smile, greeted her when Ashton opened the door. He looked tired, but not as if she had just pulled him out of his sleep and dragged him out of bed.
One hand was tangled in his hair that was a bird's nest of curls sticking out in all directions, needing a good combing through. His other hand was tapping on the doorframe, always tapping, always jittery and alert, even when he was drained and sleepy like this.
Without a word, Ashton stepped back into the room and pulled the door open wider, beckoning (Y/n) inside.
His eyes followed her as she entered the room and his teeth flashed in a grin as he closed the door and trailed after her. He loved how at ease she was around him, not just as a band mate, but as something more, as someone more special. She walked right in and perched on the end of the bed with that expression like the world had just righted itself simply because Ashton was now around her.
"Are you okay?"
It couldn't have been more than an hour or two since he last saw her when the group said goodnight after getting something to eat and each of them parted to their separate rooms. He had just been looking at the reels Calum had sent him ten or fifteen minutes ago.
It didn't matter that they were in rooms right across from one another, they were still messaging as if they were half a world away.
"Couldn't sleep." (Y/n) uttered quietly, an air of defeat in her voice as she curled her hands into the disgruntled covers and tapped her toes against the floor, keeping herself propped up on the end of the bed.
Her head turned to the left, eyes locked onto Ashton and following him as he walked around the bed and flopped down beside her. He sat with his legs crossed beneath him, his hands perched on his knees and his body inclined forwards towards her like he was about to topple over or fall asleep sitting upright.
"Couldn't, or wouldn't?" There was almost a playful warning in his voice as he arched a brow at her.
He wasn't blind, nor was he ignorant. He knew there was a difference between (Y/n) not feeling able to fall asleep, and not allowing herself to. He knew how nervous she could get about sleeping in a strange place with her nowfound sleepwalking condition and he rightfully understood that.
He waited patiently as she looked down at her thighs and let out a sigh before she found the words to answer him.
"I don't wanna start wandering in a strange place… if I can't get back in my room or someone finds me…"
The implications were clear and all too overwhelming. Ashton understood that. He didn't like the thought of (Y/n) wandering the corridors either and none of them being any the wiser. If a stranger found her they could take advantage, hurt her, try and get her to go somewhere with them. In her state (Y/n) could be compliant and blissfully unaware and that made it dangerous.
Not to mention the simple danger of her falling over in an unfamiliar room or hurting herself or wandering and then trying to get back into the wrong room because she didn't know where she was or what she was doing when she was sleep walking around the hotel.
(Y/n) found it hard to catch her breath when Ashton looked at her with that smile that was so soft he looked as if his features were about to melt. When he circled his arm around her waist, (Y/n) waited him with widening eyes as he nudged and pulled on her waist until she had no choice but to flop on her back against the covers.
She found herself curling her hands around his arm before she really knew what she was doing, and her teeth flashed in a smile when he tucked his face into the crook of her neck.
"Then you just stay here with me, problem solved."
"You'll wake up, if I start moving around?" Her voice was quiet enough that Ashton almost misheard her. She knew he wasn't always a light sleeper; they all had to learn and develop different sleep habits and patterns when on tour. They had to sleep with background noise, especially on the tour coach.
He might sleep more soundly when in a hotel that almost felt like being back at home. Ashton might not wake at the smallest sound, he could easily stay blissfully unaware in his sleep if (Y/n) got up out of the bed and moved around the room or even left the room.
But this knowledge didn't seem to affect him in the slightest.
He lifted his head until he was leant up on his right elbow, hovering over her so he could swoop down and steal a kiss from her lips. Something he hadn't been able to do in hours since they had been surrounded by the band all day and all evening, and none of the band knew about their relationship yet.
(Y/n) found it hard not to smile against his mouth and she brought her hand up from his arm to cradle his jaw as he stole all the air locked away in her lungs. Just when her heard started to cloud over and she felt that familiar tug in her chest, the need to break for air, Ashton was pushing up from his elbow and clambering off the bed without another word.
She stayed where she was, laid out in the middle of the bed, though her head did tilt to the right, cheek pressing against the soft duvet as she followed him with her eyes until he disappeared behind the wall. He was either aiming for the bathroom or the door.
She heard the sound of a lock clicking, and then the chink of metal that rung out through the air. He had pulled the chain across the door as well. But when she heard Ashton huff and a few thumps echoed through the air, her eyes narrowed and her lips quirked in confusion. What was he doing?
It took her about ten seconds to figure out what he had been moving when he walked back around the corner, back into her sights again and made his way towards the bed.
He had put his suitcase in front of the door. If (Y/n) got up during the night and somehow Ashton was oblivious to it, he would definitely hear her if she tried to get out of the room. She would have to move his case away from the door, undo the chain and twist the lock all to get out. He would hear one of those three things and be up like a shot to stop her and follow her around the room until she either woke up on her own or went back to sleep beside him.
The fact that he had taken such precautions without being asked, and that he seemed more than happy to do so and didn't think this was an inconvenience, made (Y/n)'s heart soar and become lighter than air in her chest.
Ashton turned the bedside lamp off before he laid on his side and scooted under the covers, which he held up so (Y/n) could wriggle in and do the same.
Within two seconds his arm was looped over her waist, one leg was hooked over hers, pressing between her thighs as if he were about to clamber over and lay directly on top of her. And his face was back tucked into the crook of her neck with his lips ghosting over her throat leaving little kisses in his wake.
"I'll hear you. You can sleep soundly in here, if you start wandering I'll watch over you, I promise."
He would do anything he could to make (Y/n) feel safe in here, with him. If she wanted to be in his room every night in each hotel they stayed in on this tour, that was perfectly fine with him. If she wanted him to stay awake until she fell asleep and to wake up every hour to check on her, then he would do that too. If (Y/n) wanted Ashton wrapped around her like a blanket or laid on top of her to keep her calm and make her feel safe and protected, he was more than willing to oblige.
Anything he could do to make her feel better, safer, happier and content, then he would do it.
"Thank you." Her head turned to press a kiss against the top of his head before her hands reached up to lock around his arm. Her fingers feathered over his skin, tracing the edges of the tattoos she had committed to memory.
Already, (Y/n) could feel her mind settling down, her body relaxing and losing tension until it felt like she was melting and moulding into the mattress like she was sinking through a cloud.
She was safe here; she might get a proper night's rest, with Ashton beside her.
***
A groan scratched past Ashton's lips and rumbled against the back of his throat that felt as dry and brittle as sandpaper.
He couldn't figure out how to move his limbs, they felt like stone, weighed down and engulfed in the bed that seemed to have moulded around his frame, unwilling to let him go.
The effort to slide his arm from beneath the pillow and run his hand up and down his face was horrid and he found himself trembling.
This was what happened when they had late nights, early mornings and stressful days with all their energy being burnt up almost every night with each different show they performed. But this was their lives and they weren't willing to change any aspect of it. And at least he had woken up in a comfortable bed, not on a sofa or a thin little crib in the tour bus.
Flopping his hand from his temple, he stretched out towards the bedside table and reached for his phone that was there somewhere. He knew it was, because he could hear it vibrating. Someone was phoning him.
He took a brief second to work out where he was and what was happening and why he felt like he was laid on hot coals, sweating out his body weight in water.
There was someone laid beside him. There was a head on his chest pressing down on his collar bone until it ached. There was am arm strewn over his torso and the touch of feather-light fingers against his side that was now starting to tickle and create beautiful butterflies beneath his skin.
There was a soft chest rising and falling, pressing against his side and adding their body heat to his.
He couldn't quite diminish the smile that spread across his lips when he looked down at (Y/n) cuddled up into his side. She had slept through the night; she hadn't gotten up to wander about, Ashton would of known.
Lifting his head from the pillow, he tilted his face down until he could press a warm kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo while he managed to grab his phone that had finally stopped ringing and vibrating on the table.
His eyes squinted to come into focus as he lifted the screen up above his face. Why was Luke ringing him when his room was right next door?
The knocking at the door came next and brought about another wave of confusion that had Ashton groaning. It had to be one of the band, probably Luke if he had tried to call him up and ask for something.
With another kiss to the top of (Y/n)'s head, Ashton carefully wriggled out from beneath her grip, shuffling to the left until his feet were on the floor and he could push up to his full height. He straightened up, arms stretching above his head, phone still in hand, and feet shivering against the cold floor after being wrapped up in the warmth of (Y/n) and the bed.
He padded across the room until he was in the little hall that led to the bathroom and the door.
With a huff and his nose twitching, Ashton leant forward and grabbed the suitcase he forgot he had put there as a barrier, a defence against (Y/n)'s sleepwalking habit. He shuffled and kicked the case until it was back in the alcove beneath the small rail for hanging clothes.
He made quick work of the chain and the lock, hoping Luke wouldn't hear and think he was take precautions against some crazed person or fan trying to break into his room at night.
He was right, it was Luke standing on the other side of the door. He was in a 5SOS shirt and a pair of shorts, his raven black hair looking rather tamed for once, though his expression was anything but calm.
Ashton took a second to blink into focus again against the bright lights in the hall. He didn't bother looking himself up and down or think to feel embarrassed at the fact that he was stood at the door in nothing but his underwear. This wasn't exactly a foreign sight, he had gotten changed in front of the band before, he took his shirt off quite a lot on stage when the lights and the exhersion got too much and he started to sweat buckets.
"You're ringing me from the hall, what the fuck?" He drawled, narrowing one eye when he looked around Luke and realised that Calum too was stood in the hall. Although he couldn't see any sign of Michael.
"We've got a problem."
Ashton took a quick glance at his phone to check the time before he scoffed. "At six in the morning, yeah we do. What's up?"
They didn't have to be up for another two hours, all they had to do was shove their cases back on the bus after breakfast and head to the venue to get set up, sound checked and ready for the show tonight. There was no need for any of them to be awake this early in the morning.
"(Y/n)'s been sleepwalking again."
For a split second, Ashton thought he was having some kind of waking dream or out of body experience. He blinked once, twice, then a third time as he stood leaning against the door, his hand tightening around the handle until his knuckles had turned white.
That wasn't right, and he knew that for an absolute fact. He had just untangled himself from her limbs and kissed her head. She had been sound asleep before Ashton scrambled out of bed to open the door. She hadn't gone wandering off or sleepwalking, at least not last night.
"Wh-"
"She was worried last night about sleepwalking and leaving her room, we have adjoining rooms. I haven't heard anything all night and I just knocked on the door and went in and she isn't there."
The worry plastered across Calum's face instantly made Ashton's stomach churn with guilt and regret.
He hadn't even thought about their adjoining rooms that Calum had mentioned last night when they all went to get something to eat. Luke and Michael had connecting doors as well, though they hadn't bothered to use theirs and just kept them locked.
If Ashton were just a bandmate to (Y/n), if there was no relationship between them and they had inter-connecting rooms, he would have done the same. He would have checked in on her, listened out for her to make sure she was safe, especially if he knew she was worrying about her condition and if it would flare up.
It didn't cross his mind last night to think that Calum wouldn't have known (Y/n) might come to Ashton's room if she didn't want to be alone during the night, if she wanted some reassurance. None of them knew (Y/n) and Ashton were dating; they wouldn't think to assume she was actually in here with him.
Calum's lips were pinched together and he kept looking between his phone and the hall as if he expected (Y/n) to magically appear and calm down his raging worries. He was in a red and black checkered pair of shorts and a matching black shirt, loungewear that he would likely wear around the house on days when he wasn't busy. But he kept pulling at the collar of the shirt like his panic was physically strangling him.
When he caught Ashton's eye, he continued his rambling explanations.
"Her bed isn't made, everything's still there, she's clearly gone somewhere and no one's seen her. Michael's gone down to reception to ask for security."
His worries were backed up by evidence. When he looked in her room, Calum saw the bed wasn't made, the covers strewn about like she had just gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom. Her suitcase was on the floor by the foot of the bed, still open with her clothes for the day prepped and ready on top. Even her phone was there along with her shoes and jacket.
She wouldn't leave the room in her pyjamas without her shoes or coat and the bed wasn't made, a habit (Y/n) had wherever they were, wherever they went.
"Dude come on we gotta go start searching." Stepping forward, Luke twatted the back of his hand against Ashton's shoulder to try and beckon him out of the room. Or at least prompt him to go and put some more clothes on so he could help them look for their fifth bandmate.
He glanced down at his phone, scrolling through to try and find Michael's contact to see if he'd had any luck downstairs, but when Luke lifted his head, his brows narrowed and the muscle over his cheekbone twitched as he took in Ashton's expression.
He looked something between shell-shocked and ashamed. He was chewing on his lower lip, now fully awake and alert and Luke could hear his hand tapping against the door handle which he hadn't been doing a moment ago.
And he watched as Ashton's free hand that was gripping his phone, reached up behind him to drag through his hair and ruffle his curls. An anxious habit he'd been doing since Luke furst met him.
"I- I think she's alright." He uttered quietly, trying to pick his words with care, although that earned him an utterly confused yet devastated look from Calum and a dark curl of Luke's lips.
"You seriously don't care?"
Ashton's shoulders straightened up like a ruler had been pressed against them and his spine clicked loudly into place. The previous look was washed away, replaced with darkening eyes and lips parting to bare his teeth. He didn't take that comment lightly nor kindly.
What kind of question was that to ask him? How long had they known each other? Since when would this be something that Ashton didn't care about? He cared about her more than the rest of them, in his own way.
With a sigh, Ashton stepped back and opened the door wider, though neither of them bothered to step inside. Not until Ashton beckoned his hand behind him towards the room.
"I know she's alright… she's here with me."
That was all it took for Luke to push past him, nudging Ashton back towards his suitcase stuffed in the alcove so he could speed into the room and take a look for himself. Why was (Y/n) here? Had she woken up after sleep walking and come here for help and reassurance? Had she gotten lost? Had Ashton found her? Did she lock herself out of her room again?
It didn't quite seem real. Luke stood there, eyes still narrowed until he could barely see, nose curled and lips parted as he stared at (Y/n) like she was an alien he didn't recognise.
There she was, sat up in the middle of the bed in her pyjamas with the covers strewn over her legs, her hair knotted and askew and her eyes bleak from exhaustion and having only just woken up.
"And what's going on here?"
(Y/n) cringed at the accusing tone to Luke's voice and how she couldn't make out that air of humour that usually hung in statements like that. Was he angry with her? What were they mad about? Why was he looking at her like that?
Her eyes fell to Ashton as he trudged back into the room, stood with his back near the tv and one arm over his chest while the other hand beckoned out in (Y/n)'s direction.
"She didn't want to be alone, in case she started sleepwalking like you two clearly presumed, so she stayed with me."
"In the same bed?" Luke deadpanned as he turned sharply to look behind him at Ashton, whilst pointing to the spot in the bed that Ashton had clearly just vacated. "I knew it. I knew something was up with you two."
He pointed an accusing finger between them while his expression changed from utter shock and disbelief to an almost victorious smile at having been proved right. He thought they were acting differently recently, the way their gazes seemed to linger, how they talked as if there was a completely different conversation happening between them or inside jokes they had that the rest of them weren't in on. He knew it.
(Y/n) dropped her gaze down to her hands that had started to mess with the cover and tangle it around her hands until it snagged on the few rings clad on her fingers and served as a good distraction. That was, until Calum spoke and his wods caught her attention again.
"We had adjoining rooms, you would have been safe with me watching out for you." He sounded genuinely hurt and (Y/n) winced, feeling her heart splinter at the fear she must have unintentionally caused.
"You literally just thought she was out walking the street in a daze." Ashton butted in, arms still crossed over his bare chest as he looked around his room which had somehow become the meeting ground for their band.
(Y/n) might well have been safe in her room with that adjoining door leading into Calum's room. But he did just prove that if (Y/n) had been quiet in leaving her room, he wouldn't have been any the wiser. He thought she had managed to sneak out without him hearing and it had caused this much panic already. Clearly being in here with Ashton was an effective way to calm (Y/n) down and stop the threat of her wandering and being alone in such a state.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd come check on me in the morning… though that was sweet. I just… do you know how freaky it is, to know I can unlock a door and just venture off in my sleep? You might not have heard me, I just wanted to feel safe."
It completely slipped her mind last night that Calum might come and peek his head around the door in the morning to check on her. She assumed he might just sleep in like the rest of them and then she could sneak back into her room without him ever knowing she had disappeared into Ashton's room during the night.
But it was frightening to think that while she was in a dreaming state, while part of her mind was unconscious, the other part of her mind could easily get her up out of bed, find the keys and work out how to unlock a door and venture out into the world. She could do that without knowing it. In a strange hotel she could still walk right out that door when her body eventually found it.
It wasn't full-proof that Calum would of heard her if this happened, and (Y/n) wanted to feel safe while she was in a foreign place that she didn't know surrounded by strangers.
Her hands continued to toy and mess with the sheets until she caught Ashton moving out the corner of her eye. He advanced towards the bed and slumped back down into his place next to her, both legs stretched out in front of him and his upper body reclined against the pillows. He was still exhausted, he had been woken up in an unnecessary panic.
He stretched his right arm out behind (Y/n) until his hand curled around her waist and he gently tugged until she leant into his side with her head on his shoulder.
With a groan, Calum stepped forward and flopped onto the end of the bed on his stomach, meshing his cheek into the covers. Now that the panic was over, he could use a rest.
"Fine, I guess that makes sense, just- just tell me next time, please? That you're sleeping with my best friend and you're gonna stay safe in his room."
A small blush tainted Ashton's face and crept down his neck while he reached his foot out to nudge Calum's shoulder. They probably should have told the band before now, but at least everything was out in the open and cleared up now. No need for a mass panic situation to break out.
With a tired smile, Luke seemed to nod in agreement before he looked down at his phone. "I need to call Michael."
"Why?" (Y/n) lifted her head, suddenly realising that the last member of their band wasn't actually in the room with him. Why couldn't Luke just cross the hall and go tell Michael what had happened? He didn't have to phone him, surely.
Luke raised a brow as if she had just asked him something stupid like why did he need to breathe, before a smirk began to overtake his features.
"Because he's down at reception probably organising a search party. For you. And you're here in Ash's bed."
Ashton audibly gulped and turned to bury his face in the pillow while his arm tightened around (Y/n), pulling her a bit tighter against his chest. Michael was the only one still freaking out. The one who would be telling the hotel staff that someone in their group was prone to sleep walking and they suspected she had walked off during the night. They would be lucky if he hadn't managed to call the police yet.
The bed creaked when Luke jumped onto the other side, wedging himself in between Calum's horizontal frame and (Y/n) who was sat leaning up against the headboard.
"Hey, hey you can come back up, we found her. And you're never gonna guess where."
When Gibbs tumbled out of the NCIS building, he felt like he was going crazy. What more did he have to endure? This couldn't be happening! Why always him?
His destination was clear: the office in San Francisco. And from there, to you. He didn't know what awaited him, but he knew he had to be with you.
He floored the gas pedal and drove home to pack a few things. But fate seemed to have other plans for him. Because when he arrived, the inspector from the court was standing at the door.
"Oh my God, Agent Gibbs! What do YOU look like?! What happened?" the woman exclaimed in horror when she saw how distraught and disheveled he was.
He just stared at her. His gaze spoke of pure terror and excruciating pain. There was a darkness in his eyes that revealed the abyss he was facing. Only a protective instinct prevented his tormented soul from being irrevocably darkened.
"Are you alright? Can I help you?" the woman asked anxiously.
Gibbs shook his head and said,
"No one can help me. Except with an immediate special flight to Frisco."
"That can be arranged," she replied firmly, "but first tell me what happened."
"My wife is on a business trip in San Francisco, and her helicopter crashed. I absolutely must get to her. She's pregnant, and I don't know how she is or if she's still alive."
Equally horrified and thrilled, Elaine clutched her heart. "A baby!!! How wonderful!!!! But oh my God!!! The poor Sweetheart and you poor man!!! Is there anything I can do to help? Just a minute, I've got it! I'll call my nephew right away. He's a pilot and has the day off. He'll take you there immediately."
She picked up her cell phone, dialed, and held it to her ear: "Tom, you have to fly a client to San Francisco immediately. His pregnant wife was in a plane crash. I'll cover the costs."
She waited a moment, then hung up and turned to Gibbs: "He's leaving right away. Pack a few things for the two of you and go to the airport. He'll be waiting for you there with a business jet."
Jethro looked at her incredulously: "And what about the checks?"
She laughed: "Oh, forget about them. I saw how much you two love each other during my first visit, and now you're even going to be parents!!! I'm so happy for you both and wish you all the best! Officially, there's no further interest in pursuing this matter, so we probably won't see each other again. But I would be very happy if you could let me know how your wife is doing and whether it's a boy or a girl."
She hesitated. Then she hugged him, shouted, "All the best!!!", got into her car, and drove off.
Gibbs watched her go and shook his head. "A strange woman..." he muttered.
Then he remembered her nephew and did as he was told. He ran into the house, packed a few things for the two of you, and immediately drove to the airport - where, much to his surprise, a business jet was indeed parked, and the pilot was pacing back and forth in front of it as if waiting for someone.
Jethro ran up to the man.
"Are you Agent Gibbs, and do you urgently need to get to Frisco?" he asked.
"Yes, your aunt called for me."
The pilot nodded and extended his hand. "My name is Tom. Please get in so we can leave immediately."
Gibbs nodded, they both got in, and a few minutes later, they were airborne and on their way to you.
The pilot and the plane were giving it their all, but it still takes a few hours to get to the other side of the country. Their passenger was growing increasingly restless, but they were flying as fast as they could. The engines were running at full power, and both Tom and Gibbs were desperately hoping they would arrive in time and that you would still be alive.
Jethro was on the verge of going crazy because he couldn't get there fast enough. But he couldn't change it. So he tried to distract himself by thinking about Mrs. Roberts. She had made a small mistake. It wasn't a plane, but a chopper. But that was beside the point, because he was incredibly grateful for her help.
Her words echoed in his mind: "I saw right away how much you two loved each other," she had said. Was there perhaps still hope that you loved him as much as he loved you? Was there still hope for a future together with your child as a family? Nothing was more important to him, and his mind and heart clung to that thought.
While the two were on their way to you, the rescue teams had also arrived at the burning helicopter. The fire department extinguished the blaze, and the paramedics and emergency physicians searched for survivors. But they found only charred bodies. All the occupants were dead, and the hope for a miracle died.
Then, suddenly, a scream shattered the silence of this devastating realization. It was one of the paramedics, and he was audibly agitated: “Come here!!! Hurry!! I’ve found a survivor!!!”
(To be continued in Chapter 45.)
----------------------
Here you will find the other chapters of this story
When four adults are trapped in my cabin, a blizzard is raging outside, and Dr. Mallard is at the top of his game, things can only go wrong.
"...and at that very moment," Mallard said enthusiastically, swirling his teacup, "it turned out that the supposed duchess was actually an opera singer from Prague!"
Pride laughed loudly.
Fornell grumbled something unintelligible.
And I stared into my coffee.
The storm had completely snowed us in. No one could get in, no one could get out. So we were stuck here.
Me, Pride, Fornell, Mallard...
and you.
You were sitting on the sofa, a few feet away, listening to Mallard's stories and smiling every now and then. Occasionally you asked a question or chuckled softly.
And every time you laughed, I was painfully aware of how much I enjoyed looking at you.
Unfortunately, my three so-called friends noticed this too.
Pride suddenly leaned back and studied me with a grin.
I knew that grin, and it wasn't a good sign.
"You know, Gibbs," he said slowly, "I've just noticed something."
I didn't even look up.
"Keep it to yourself."
This caught Fornell's attention, and he sat up.
"Wait a minute."
Mallard enthusiastically put down his cup.
"Oh, how exciting."
I closed my eyes briefly.
"I already regret sitting here."
Pride grinned broadly.
"You're staring at her."
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are," Fornell said dryly.
"That's right," Mallard added.
I finally lifted my head and glared at all three of them.
"You guys are impossible."
Luckily, you hadn't noticed, because Ducky had just engaged you in a conversation about old seafaring tales, and you were listening intently.
Perfect. I was relieved, because you didn't realize I was about to become the target of a collective assault.
Pride persisted and crossed his arms.
"You've got a crush on her."
I looked at him.
Slowly. Very slowly.
"Do you want to die, Pride?"
Fornell grinned.
"Oh, he's definitely got a crush on her."
Mallard interrupted his story and nodded with the composure of a professor.
"The body language is clear."
I rubbed my forehead.
"You three clearly have too much free time."
Pride leaned forward.
"When do you kiss her?"
"Never."
"Liar."
"Pride."
"Gibbs."
Fornell patted the table with a grin.
"You're in a bad mood because we're right."
"I'm in a bad mood because you're talking."
Ducky smiled warmly.
"My dear Jethro, romantic feelings are nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed."
"But you're hiding."
I glanced over at you.
You had just laughed at something Mallard had said.
And I cursed inwardly. Because, as always, your laughter gave me goosebumps.
Fornell followed my gaze and grinned broadly.
"Oh, he's got that look."
"What look?" Pride asked.
"The 'I'd like to kiss her, but I don't' look."
I stood up abruptly.
"I'll get some wood."
Pride grinned even wider.
"Escape."
"No," I said dryly. "Survival strategy."
You looked up, concerned, as I headed toward the door.
"Are you okay?"
"Just get some wood."
You put down your cup and stood up, too.
"I'll come with you."
Of course. Of course you came with me.
Out on the porch, it was quiet. The storm had subsided somewhat, and the snow was now falling gently.
I started stacking logs, and you folded your arms and looked at me.
"You're in a bad mood."
"I'm always in a bad mood."
"A little more so today than usual."
"Those three are annoying."
You chuckled softly.
"They always are, actually."
"True."
I continued stacking wood while you watched me.
Then you said cautiously, "They like you."
"Unfortunately."
"And they enjoy teasing you."
"Oh, yes."
My snort made you smile.
"But I think they mean well."
I sighed.
"Unfortunately, that too."
You moved a little closer.
"Then why are you in such a bad mood?"
I paused.
That was the moment.
The moment I had wanted to avoid.
I mustered all my courage and looked at you.
"Because they're talking about you."
You blinked.
"About me?"
I nodded.
"What are they saying?"
I hesitated for a moment.
Then I just said it.
"That I have a crush on you."
You looked at me, surprised. Very surprised.
"Oh."
"Yes."
A few seconds passed, and it continued to snow.
Then you asked quietly, "And... are they right?"
I looked at you.
"Unfortunately, yes."
You smiled. A warm, soft smile that made my heart race.
"Why unfortunately?"
I shrugged slightly.
"Because I had no idea how to tell you."
You took another step closer, so we were now standing very close together.
"The problem can be solved."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes."
You looked straight into my eyes.
"You could just kiss me."
Well. That was a convincing argument.
I pulled you closer and kissed you. At first, very gently. It was just a brief contact between our lips.
Then I grew bolder and kissed you longer and deeper. I poured all the unspoken feelings into that kiss and let you feel how I felt about you.
And when we broke apart, you grinned.
"That took a while."
"I'm thorough."
At that moment, the door opened behind us.
"AH!" Mallard exclaimed triumphantly.
Pride grinned, and Fornell folded his arms in satisfaction.
"I told you so."
I groaned.
"You were eavesdropping."
Fornell shrugged.
"Thin door."
Later, we all sat outside around the campfire.
The storm had passed, and Ducky was telling stories again.
Pride was still grinning, and Fornell muttered something about his work being done.
You sat next to me and snuggled up close.
Arm in arm, we enjoyed our newfound togetherness as I pressed a soft kiss to your hair.
Of course, this didn't go unnoticed, and Pride looked over at us.
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: landos girlfriend hears some comments about her being made and lando notices after his win
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: swearing, reader being chubby, insecurities, fluff, happy ending
𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2k
𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 is probably the most important race for Lando and you being here for him and making everything so much easier and he had told you that.
The two of you have been dating for about 2 years but only recently made it public at the Monaco grand prix a couple of months ago.
Lando loves having your relationship out to the public now, he loves showing you off, he loves holding your hand, kissing you and hugging you out in public, but for you it's hard.
You're basically a nobody, you aren't famous, not a actor or a model, you're just you and that's why Lando fell for you in the first place.
The two of you met back in Australia 3 years ago. You two were both at a random cafe where Lando accidentally spilled his coffee all over you and was so apologetic he gave you his shirt off his back and the two of you have been inseparable since.
The day came for you to meet all the WAGs and got along with Lilly and Alexandra straight away, the others didn't know what to think of you at first.
So now you're standing in the bathroom in the Paddock just washing your hands and fixing your lipgloss when a couple of the women walk in.
They quietly greet you and you give them a smile before walking out and starting to head over to Lando to wish him lucky before the race but you realise you left your lipgloss in the bathroom. As you go to walk back in you hear the women talking inside.
"If i was dating her i would be embarrassed"
"How much do you think she weighs?"
"Lando deserves so much better"
You forgot about your lipgloss and walk away quickly and go into a quiet corner away from everyone trying to take in a couple of breaths to stop yourself from crying.
"Hey baby, there you are" Lando says with a smile "You okay?"
"I'm good" you say nodding your head with a smile "You ready?"
"Always baby" Lando says pulling you into a hug "Thank you for being here"
"Of course, Lan. Wouldn't miss your home race for anything else" you say hugging him back even tighter
"Even if Harry Styles announced a random concert on the same day?" Lando asks pulling away to look at your face
"Know your limits" you say giving him a look
"Hey, (y/n)" Lilly says coming up to you with a smile "Can i talk to you for a sec?"
"I gotta go" Lando says rubbing your back a little bit "Wanna see you after the race, right on the track"
"Okay, i'll be there" you say smiling as he leans in and kisses you "Good luck"
"Don't need any when you're here" Lando says and kisses you again "I love you, baby"
"I love you too"
"I can't get over how cute you guys are" Lilly says smiling at you as Lando walks away
"Please, you can't talk" you say making the two of you laugh "What did you want to talk about?"
"I found your lipgloss in the bathroom" she says handing it to you "You left pretty quickly before i could catch up"
"Oh, thank you" you say putting it in your bag "Yeah, sorry i, um-"
"Heard what they said" Lilly says making you eyes snap to her "I was in one of the stalls and heard them"
"Yeah..." you trail off not knowing what to say
"None of it is true" Lilly says making you look down "God, you're so stunning and Lando is the luckiest guy here to have you. He's said it to Oscar and i himself"
"We had a conversation at the start of our relationship about this, i was so insecure about my weight but he doesn't care, never did, always said there is just more for him to love" you say taking in a breath trying to keep the tears away "But deep down i always had this voice saying that kind of stuff, maybe he doesn't actually like me, maybe, maybe, maybe"
"He's never once thought about that" Lilly says and you give her a look "He's never said anything to Oscar, and you know how they tell each other basically everything"
"I know, two peas in a pod they are" you say making yourself laugh "I know he's never said anything like that or that he's using me for money or fame, i don't have either of them"
"He's with you cause he truly, deeply loves you, he says it all the time when you aren't around" Lilly says smiling at you "Those other women are just clearly jealous. Jealous that they don't have a happy and new relationship like the two of you"
"I just wish people would stop commenting on my weight" you say shaking your head "Cause i know, and im happy with the way i look"
"As you should be, because you are perfect and no one should let you think otherwise" Lilly says grabbing your hand "Come on, let's go watch out boys race"
The rain was coming down hard when the race started but it was all in Landos hands when you watched him speed past the finish line on the last lap winning the British Grand Prix.
Tears are falling down your cheeks as you have your hands over your mouth not believing he just won his home race.
Everyone that works for Mclaren starts to run down and you follow them with Landos parents right behind you.
You and Cisca have your arms around each other while you laugh and cry together watching as Lando pulls up in front of the group and he jumps up ontop of his car and cheers.
"He's gonna want to see you first" Cisca says making you pull away to look at her
"Over his mum? No way" you say with a chuckle and she nods her head to Lando
You look to your boyfriend and see he is staring straight at you and he waves you over to him and Cisca pushes you a little with a smile on his face.
Everyone moves a little making a small path for you and you quickly make your way over to Lando where he is running straight into your arms.
"I'm so proud of you" you say with your arms around his neck
"We did it baby" Lando says still with his helmet on
"Even with the rain" you say pulling back and pushing his visor up to look at Landos eyes which are full with tears "You made it your own"
"I couldn't of done it without you" Lando says and starts to take off his hamlet and someone grabs it off of him "God i never knew how much i needed you at races until now"
You don't know what to say only you grab onto Landos cheeks and pull him down into a kiss which he gladly kisses you back and grabs onto your waist tighter and pulls you closer to him.
"I love you, i love you so much thank you for being here" Lando says into the kiss and kisses you more
"I love you more my winner" you say making him smile
You tried to stay close to Lando after that, watching all his interviews and the podium. Soon after everything has calmed down he went to go have a shower and get changed while you waited for him.
As Lando comes out with his bag, he smiles when he sees you waiting for him and pulls you into another hug making you smile.
"Let's head home" Lando says keeping his arm around your shoulders
"You don't want to go out and celebrate?" you ask him as the two of you begin walking
"No" Lando says shaking his head "I want to order in and spend the night in bed with you"
"You sure?" you ask with a laugh
"Positive" he smiles at you
"Okay"
The two of you grabbed some take away on your way back and you quickly had a shower and got into more comfortable clothes before the two of you picked and movie to watch and made yourselves comfortable on the lounge and started eating.
The movie is almost over when Lando notices your haven't eaten almost none of your dinner making him confused as you haven't eaten a lot all day.
"Baby?" Lando says making you look at him "You've hardly eaten"
"Oh, just not the hungry i guess" you say with a shrug and turn back to the tv
"But-" Lando pause the movie "-you've hardly eaten anything all day"
"I have eaten" you say looking at him confused
"Breakfast, and that was more then 10 hours ago" Lando says sitting up more "What's going on? You sick?" he asks feeling for forehead
"I'm not sick" you say with a small laugh "I'm fine"
"What's wrong?" Lando asks again making you sigh
"I eat too much" you say making Lando look at you confused "I'm too big"
"Too big?" Lando asks like he's the one getting hurt "What does that mean?"
"I heard some women today saying that i'm overweight and that you should be embarrassed to be seen with me and that you deserve better" you say looking down at your hands
"Are you serious? Who the fuck would say that?" Lando asks getting angry "No tell me, who said that?"
"Lan, it's okay" you say grabbing his arm to stop him from texting
"It's not okay! They insulted you, insulted my girl and they think it's okay" Lando says standing up
"But it's true" you say following him
"What?" Lando asks looking to you "You think they were right?"
"Well-"
"No!" Lando snaps "God, if anything i don't deserve you. You literally dropped everything just to come to every race for the rest of the year with me. You left your whole life, your family, your friends and your job for me" he says stepping closer to you "You are my dream girl, the best thing that has ever happend to me"
"Lan, i just..." you stop talking not sure what to say
"I don't care what your body looks like, you are literally perfect to me, every inch of you is perfect and beautiful and i couldn't be more happy and proud that you're mine so please don't let whatever they said get into your head" Lando says cupping your cheeks as you have tears in your eyes "I love you with my whole heart"
"God, i actually don't deserve you" you say wrapping your arms around his waist and putting your head into his neck "I love you so much"
"You deserve the world and i don't care what anyone says" Lando says kissing your head "Now eat your damn food" he says making you laugh
"Okay"
But Lando didn’t let go of you, he kept you in his arms and you stayed in his with your own arms wrapped around his waist still while your head fits perfectly under his chin and you can still feel the kiss on top of your head.
“Come to the office immediately. Something’s happened,” Jenny said in a funereal tone that made Gibbs’ blood run cold.
As if in slow motion, he snapped his phone shut and then slowly looked at Ducky, who was growing restless.
“Jethro? What’s wrong? What happened?”
Gibbs just shook his head.
“I don’t know. But I have to get to the office right now.”
As fast as he could, Gibbs ran upstairs, changed his clothes, and then drove to the office. He sped so fast that the medic had difficulty keeping up.
He parked and ran into the NCIS building. But this time, he didn’t take the elevator. He ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. But he couldn't go fast enough, because his gut feeling warned him not to slow down. Because he had an incredibly strong feeling he was going to be late. And he couldn't let that happen.
So he stormed past the secretary into the director's office, while Ducky followed at a distance, remaining in the anteroom. He would have loved to follow him to offer his support. But he sensed this was a private conversation.
"Jethro..." She looked at him and calmly folded her hands on the desk.
Gibbs, on the other hand, was very agitated. He fixed her with his analytical gaze, the one she had seen in so many interrogations. But there was something else in it too... worry. Deep worry. For you.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a rough voice, slightly out of breath.
"Sit down, Jethro," she instructed him matter-of-factly. But that only fueled his agitation and concern.
"I don't want to sit down. I want to know what's wrong!" He raised his voice, and his gaze became fiery. His entire body stiffened as his anger grew. Whatever she had to say was nothing good. And that clearly left her completely unmoved.
Her recent behavior had already significantly diminished his respect for her, but this was a new low, and his contempt for her continued to grow. However, he was surprised to discover something else. More precisely, a feeling. A new sensation concerning her.
Because what he felt was indifference. He didn't care what she thought or felt. Any fond memories of their time together in Paris faded into the past.
This person sitting before him was his superior - and nothing more.
He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his anger and brace himself for something he certainly didn't want to hear.
"What happened?" he asked tersely.
Jenny cleared her throat, straightened her back, and looked him firmly in the eyes.
"There was a helicopter crash near Frisco," she stated matter-of-factly, watching him. But he showed no reaction. At least, not visibly. Because his heart clenched with a terrible premonition.
Then she continued.
"It was a Navy chopper returning to our office from a mission. We don't yet know if anyone survived."
Another pause.
"Jethro...Y/N was in the helicopter." She spoke softly, watching him. How would he react? She braced herself as best she could. Because ultimately, you could never predict how he would react to anything.
But he did nothing. He just stood there, staring at her.
"Gibbs, do you understand?" she asked cautiously when he still didn't move.
But he remained silent. He was utterly shocked, and for him, the world had stopped turning. Suddenly, silence fell within him. Absolute, deadly silence, and everything around him faded away. He was no longer aware of anything.
He tried to understand, but everything inside him resisted. It was impossible that he had lost you. He wouldn't accept it. No, he would never accept it.
Then a storm broke loose inside him, the likes of which the world had never seen. He had to be with you. He had to be with BOTH OF YOU. No matter what it cost. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.
He had to be with you and try to help you, otherwise he would never be able to look in the mirror again for all his self-reproach. Horror, anger, worry, and despair raged within him in equal measure.
"Gibbs... there's no word from Y/N," Jen continued, unperturbed and unmoved.
He somehow got the impression that she was even enjoying it… tormenting him as punishment for choosing him over her. But she had no idea how extremely dangerous her life was. Because right now he was capable of anything, since he was in a state of extreme emotional distress. And with every passing minute, he became more dangerous.
Then he turned toward the door. “I have to go.”
“Stop! Where are you going? You’re staying here!”
she shouted, jumping up from her chair.
Angrily, he whirled around: “I’m going to my wife, where I belong!”
Jenny snorted condescendingly.
“Don’t be such a baby. You can always divorce her soon.”
He looked at her with such a cold stare that she should have frozen instantly.
"You won't ruin our lives. One wrong move and I'll destroy you. Get out of here before I lose it."
"You'll do anything to protect that little bitch, won't you?"
"Yes, I'd give my life for them both. And don't you ever dare call my wife that again."
With that, he stormed out of the office and ran past Ducky toward the exit. Anyone who dared to stop him wouldn't live to see tomorrow. That was certain.
At the same time, Shepard stood at her desk, wondering. He said "them both"... apparently, he was on the verge of losing his mind.
(To be continued in Chapter 44.)
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Here you will find the other chapters of this story
The tension that had been simmering for months—the stolen glances in the bullpen, the brush of fingers over cold coffee, and the heavy, unsaid promises—finally reached its boiling point.
It was late, the kind of hour where the rest of Chicago seemed to hold its breath. The door to Hank’s house hadn't even fully clicked shut before he had you pressed against it. The heavy oak was cool against your back, a sharp contrast to the sudden, radiating heat of his body.
The Release
There was no more "Sergeant" and "Officer." There was only the raw, desperate need of two people who lived every day on the edge of a knife. Hank’s hands, usually so controlled, were frantic as they cupped your face. His kiss wasn't a question; it was a claim, tasting of the whiskey he’d had earlier and the sheer hunger he’d been suppressing.
"I've been thinking about this since the briefing," he growled against your lips, his voice a vibration you felt deep in your chest. "Watching you walk across that room... it nearly broke me."
He didn't wait. His hands slid down, hooking under your thighs to lift you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as if there weren't enough air in the room. He carried you toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss, his movements powerful and certain.
The Heat
When he dropped you onto the bed, the moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting long, rhythmic shadows across his shoulders. He stripped off his shirt, revealing the rugged, scarred landscape of a man who had survived everything the city could throw at him.
When he moved over you, the weight of him was grounding—a solid, physical reminder that you were both alive. His hands were everywhere, tracing the line of your hip, the curve of your waist, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
"Hank," you breathed, his name a broken plea as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"I've got you," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. "Right here. I’ve got you."
The slow burn had turned into an inferno. Every touch was fueled by the months of restraint, the danger of their jobs, and the quiet realization that they belonged to each other. When he finally moved into you, it wasn't just physical; it was an anchoring. He moved with a slow, deliberate intensity, his eyes locked onto yours, forcing you to see him—all of him—without the badge, without the armor.
The Aftermath
Hours later, the room was quiet, the only sound the steady, synchronized rhythm of your breathing. The sheets were a tangled mess around your legs. Hank was on his side, his arm draped heavily over your waist, pulling you back against his chest.
He pressed a lingering, soft kiss to the back of your shoulder, his rough stubble grazing your skin.
"You okay?" he whispered, his voice more sandpaper-dry than usual.
"Yeah," you murmured, turning in his arms to face him. In the dim light, the hardness in his face had softened into something resembling peace. "More than okay."
He pulled the quilt up around you both, tucking you into the curve of his body. For once, the city of Chicago and all its monsters felt a million miles away.
The morning air at the 21st District was always thick with the scent of burnt coffee and floor wax, but today, there was an added charge in the atmosphere.
You walked into the bullpen ten minutes after Hank. You had tried your best to look "Standard Issue"—hair back, vest tight, eyes focused—but there was a looseness in your stride that wasn't there forty-eight hours ago. A quiet, hummed confidence.
The Tell-Tale Signs
Hank was in his office with the door open, leaning over his desk. He looked the same as always, but as you walked past to your desk, his head lifted. For a split second, his gaze caught yours. It wasn't the sharp, tactical assessment of a Sergeant. It was heavy, dark, and possessive—a look that remembered exactly how you felt in the moonlight.
He gave a single, slow nod before returning to his files, but the damage was done.
Atwater, who was leaning against the breakroom door, lowered his coffee mug slowly. He looked at you, then at Hank’s office, then back to you. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
"Morning," Kevin said, his voice dropping into a register that was far too smooth for 8:00 AM.
"Morning, Kev," you replied, opening your laptop.
"You look... refreshed," he noted. "Like you finally got that 'rest' everyone’s been talking about."
The Bullpen Interrogation
It didn't take long for the rest of the unit to catch the frequency. Jay Halstead was pinning a photo to the whiteboard, but he kept glancing at Hank.
"Sarge is in a weirdly good mood," Jay muttered, loud enough for only the inner circle to hear. "He didn't even yell at the courier for the late lab results. He just... thanked him."
"He thanked him?" Adam Ruzek popped up from behind his monitor, eyes wide. "That’s it. We’ve been compromised. The real Voight has been replaced by a pod person."
Ruzek’s eyes swung to you. He took in the way you were biting back a smile, the way you were carefully avoiding looking at the glass-walled office. He looked at your neck, where the collar of your shirt sat just high enough to hide what you knew was a faint, fading mark from the night before.
"Oh," Ruzek breathed, his eyes lunch-plate wide. "Oh, man. No way."
"Ruzek, get back to work," you snapped, though there was no real heat in it.
The Sergeant’s Final Word
Hank stepped out of his office, his boots thudding rhythmically on the hardwood. The bullpen went instantly silent, the air vibrating with the team's collective curiosity.
He stopped right in the center of the room, his hands on his hips. He looked around at each of them—Atwater’s smirk, Ruzek’s stunned expression, Jay’s quiet realization.
"If anyone has something they want to say," Hank rasped, his voice carrying that familiar, dangerous edge, "say it now. Otherwise, get your files together. We’re hitting the warehouse at ten."
The team scrambled. Keyboards clicked furiously. Papers shuffled.
Hank walked past your desk on his way to the stairs. He didn't stop, but as he passed, he let the back of his hand brush against your shoulder—a brief, electric contact that said everything.
"Nice shirt," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "It suits you."
He kept walking, leaving you breathless and the rest of the team whispering in his wake. The slow burn was over; the fire was officially out of control.
Made this one a little longer. Please tell me if you prefer it longer or like the previous parts?
Summary: Robby has been arguing with Gloria about extra security for the ER staff. They are exposed to violence almost every day and some patients pose a risk; like the one currently stalking Robby's wife.
Enjoy.
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Three hours.
That was how long (Y/n) had been on shift today; in three measly little hours, she had lost a patient, and a young one at that. Not one of the many who rolled in from the care homes when the staff changed over and they woke the residents.
It was usually (Y/n) who got those patients, Dana said it was because she had that trustworthy face. The elderly patients seemed to listen and settle for (Y/n) more than anyone else on the day shift.
And over the past few months, those had been the kind of patients and cases that (Y/n) spend all of her shifts caring for. The simple tasks, the triage patients and initial assessments. Trauma patients had become few and rare for (Y/n) since becoming pregnant.
She couldn't help move patients from gurneys onto beds or have patients lean on her for support to stand and walk. She couldn't move the beds or partake in traumas that would be considered 'strenuous' for her. (Y/n) didn't realise just how many things in their daily jobs were considered a risk until Robby had to put her on restricted duties.
Most shifts (Y/n) wished there was more that she could do around the ER, but this morning she'd done everything within her power, but it hadn't been enough.
The cold wind felt soothing against her burning skin and (Y/n) tilted her head back, seeking out the sunlight as if it would help lift her spirits.
Her hands rose to cup her face, resisting the urge to dig her nails into her skin as she rubbed at her eyes and willed the tears to disappear. One tear made its way down her cheek and absorbed into her palm as she breathed deeply and tried to pluck up her composure to go back inside.
(Y/n) didn't want to be out of sight for too long. For one it would worry Robby if he couldn't see her around and wondered where she was, and two, they were always busy, she needed to do her share and help.
Taking a break had made her feel slightly better, even if the solitude out here had made her thoughts a little too loud and allowed her to go over everything she had done and what she might have done better. Forcing herself to continue straight to the next patient after a loss was never a good idea, so (Y/n) had forced herself outside for a breather.
(Y/n) hated it when she could feel that little timer in the back of her mind counting down until she could go home, but right now it was ticking away so loudly she gritted her teeth. Nine more hours that would stretch and feel like nine more days until she could go home and hide under the covers, wanting to forget this day ever happened.
Her hands lowered from her face and she stretched her arms out in front of her as she pushed off the wall.
But when a sudden movement caught her attention, followed by a weak call of her name, (Y/n) cringed and a wave of dread crept into her stomach. Maybe taking a break hadn't been the best idea after all.
"(Y/n)! Are you okay?" That chirpy although slightly whining voice was enough to make (Y/n) want to cry.
Was this fate that he happened to be out here at the exact time (Y/n) was taking a breather? If she hadn't of been outside, would he have tried to make his way into the ER through the ambulance entrance (Y/n) was now standing beside? Was he even here to see her specifically, or did he actually have an ailment this time?
(Y/n) didn't want to find out. She didn't want to deal with Jared today. She'd seen enough of him over the last few months to last a lifetime.
When she first started out in healthcare, she didn't really think much to it when they were always told to be careful, that patients could get attached. (Y/n) wasn't overly friendly by any means, but she knew a kind smile and an understanding ear went a long way with the patients. If they felt understood and listened to and like they were important and not just time wasters or an inconvenience, they felt a lot better. It was human decency.
That hadn't had the desired effect when it came to Jared. For some unknown reason, he had attached himself to (Y/n).
"Damn. No, not today." (Y/n) uttered the words beneath her breath and shook her head as she turned sharply on her heels. She wasn't ready to have a fight with him and fend him off.
If she got back inside the ER then she would be surrounded by colleagues and she could collar security and get them to keep him out of here. They couldn't have people like Jared hanging around the ER just for the sake of it. Especially not to try and torment and follow one of their staff.
She tried to pick up her pace, her left hand scaling the wall as she tried to move as fast as she could without breaking into a run. Running while thirty weeks pregnant wouldn't be a good idea and it felt near impossible. Nor did (Y/n) want to work herself up into a state by doing that or cause a mass panic in the ER.
She needed to find Robby.
(Y/n) couldn't count the times she had wandered up to Robby these last few weeks and had to tell him that Jared was back. Again. Having to ask Robby to get rid of him felt like such a mean thing to do, and (Y/n) hated to have to drag Robby into it when he was not only her husband but the attending, he had patients to care for as well and paperwork to oversee. But she needed his help.
The smell of antiseptic and bleach flooded her nostrils as soon as she walked through the double doors and a wave of nausea pulled at her stomach. Usually she felt nose blind to the sterile cleaning agents down here, but now she felt hyper aware of them and unsettled by it each time.
She didn't dare turn around and see whether or not Jared had dared to rush into the ER behind her. Part of (Y/n) hoped that he wouldn't, but the other part of her just knew that he was dumb enough to try it.
And when a calloused hand curled around her wrist, a jostle ran through her system and her stomach lurched into her throat.
"I've been looking for you."
Of course he had. He sounded so upbeat, so pleasant as if following (Y/n) and constantly trying to hound her and grab at her was a normal behaviour. He certainly didn't seem to think he was doing anything wrong when he did this.
"Let go."
(Y/n) didn't have the energy to tell him to get out of here, to try and argue and debate this with him and make him understand, because he never did. Being blunt with him didn't even make much of a difference because he either ignored her or acted like she was playing a game.
She pulled her arm back towards her chest, trying to cautiously ease her wrist from his grip, but it only made Jared take a step closer to her.
When his other hand reached out to try and wrangle for her hip, (Y/n) stepped back and pressed her hand against his chest to keep him at arms length. As much as she could anyway, with her other wrist snared in his grip.
"Mateo," Nerves burst to life in (Y/n)'s chest and her pleading eyes locked with her fellow nurse when he walked by.
She watched Mateo pause in his stride, looking like he was aiming for the main desk until she collared him. It took one look for Mateo to roll his eyes when he caught sight of Jared. A sigh parted his lips and he squared his shoulders, bracing himself as he turned in their direction and made a quick advance towards them.
"Hey Jared, what did we tell you? You have an emergency, you go round to the waiting room, not back here."
There was such a serene calmness to Mateo's voice but it opposed the stern look on his face. And when he glance down and saw Jared's tight grip on (Y/n), he reached forward.
A power struggle happened between the three of them; (Y/n) stepped back and tried pulling her arm along with her. Jared tried to step closer to her and yank her wrist back towards him. And Mateo held onto Jared's arm and fought until he managed to uncurl Jared's fingers and nudge him backwards.
This wasn't the first time that Jared had caused a scene. He'd been brought into the ER but then refused anyone's help, demanding (Y/n) be the one to treat him. He was constantly fighting his way to get back here and worm his way around the staff until he found (Y/n).
They'd all lost count of the times they had to tell him to leave, escort him out and hold him back so he couldn't get close to (Y/n). It was almost a routine, and that made it so much worse for all of them.
"But- hey, no where are you going?" It was clear Jared wasn't going to engage Mateo in conversation, whether it was polite or not.
His rabid eyes followed (Y/n) with growing urgency when she backed away and as soon as Mateo nodded at her- a signal that he was fine to deal with this- (Y/n) turned and quickened her pace again. She would go and find Robby, let him know that their 'friend' was back again.
When she looked across towards the break room, (Y/n) caught sight of Ahmed. She did her best not to cringe as she weakly pointed behind her towards Mateo; he could use some extra help getting rid of Jared.
That little motion was all Ahmed needed to steam past (Y/n), a coffee in one hand and his other hand braced near his belt like he was about to grab a weapon to utilise. She hated how everyone knew exactly who Jared was and the kind of trouble he caused. She hated that he had been here often enough that everyone was familiar with him and had to deal with him.
But like Robby said, if (Y/n) tried to calm Jared down and get him to leave, it would only increase his attachment to her. She had to stay away from the situation and everyone else would step in and handle it. They all knew this dance far too well.
"Do I have to kick you out of here again?" Ahmed spoke lightly like he was making a joke with an old friend, but they all knew he would escort Jared out of here kicking and screaming if that was necessary.
"I'm here for (Y/n), to make sure she's okay."
"Mrs Robinavitch is perfectly fine, and I'm sure she wants to get back to work. Now off you go."
(Y/n) could still hear them as she crossed the ER floor, looking round with rising panic until her eyes finally locked on Robby. The sound of his gloves being ripped from his hands created a snap that echoed off the walls like a whip had been cracked.
She made a beeline towards him, realising a fraction of a second too late that her rather distressed expression had jostled him.
Worry lines creased his temple and his nose wrinkled as he reached out for (Y/n) the moment she was within reach.
"What's wrong?"
His hands were around her in an instant, one finding her elbow to bring her closer while the other curled around her hip. He angled his head to the right to try and look down at (Y/n), eyes narrowed with worry as he looked her up and down, trying to assess why she was looking at him like that.
He had been there when (Y/n) lost her patient this morning and they'd exchanged a few words before (Y/n) excused herself. He figured she'd gone to take a break or to go get a drink and be on her own for a little while. And something told him her panicked expression wasn't to do with the patient she had lost.
"Do you feel okay?" Rambling thoughts raced through Robby's mind and he tried to sort through them, eyes unwavering in their focus on (Y/n). He didn't care if anyone was looking in their direction at the intimacy they displayed.
(Y/n) shook her head, hands raising to hold onto Robby's forearms and squeeze through the dark green jacket he rarely took off these days.
"He's back again." Her head inclined to the right but she didn't dare break away from Robby to look and see whether Mateo and Ahmed had managed to get Jared out the ER or not. From the noises she could hear behind her, she figured they hadn't quite managed it yet.
She watched the anxiety in Robby's eyes morph into anger and his head shot up again, eyes scouring his emergency room until he found who he always dreaded to see.
"He's here? For fuck's sake." His voice was nothing but a dark grumble and he absentmindedly started to nudge (Y/n) to the side, as if trying to keep her out of sight.
When Jared first started asking for (Y/n), Robby had been calm and composed. He'd explained that wasn't how it worked, that if Jared needed medical attention he would have any professional available, he couldn't pick and choose. When it became a frequent event, Robby slowly started to lose his composure.
'I'm here to look after (Y/n).'
'I assure you I can look after my wife just fine, you don't need to watch over her.'
That was usually how their conversations had gone, until Jared got to the point where he would snap at anyone and stopped conversing and listening to them, resorting to lashing out, hitting, whacking and fighting to get his way into the ER to see (Y/n).
Robby couldn't count the times he had helped security drag Jared from the ER, how many times he had quickly grabbed (Y/n) and guided her into the break room or sent her out of the ER so Jared wouldn't see her and would think she wasn't at work so he would leave.
He'd been to Gloria twice to tell her to do something because there was little the police could do at this point and Robby wouldn't allow (Y/n) to get hurt for the police to take it seriously. But HR didn't seem to be pulling their weight and doing anything about it either.
A disgruntled sound rumbled through Robby's chest and his hands gave a light squeeze to (Y/n)'s arm and hip before he looked back down at her.
"Go up to the ICU and see how many beds they have free up there." The razor sharp edge to his voice had softened just slightly; that kind of tone he reserved solely for (Y/n) and nobody else.
"No, Robby, I- I can go do triage for a bit."
(Y/n) knew he was suggesting she leave the ER because he was trying to keep her safe and out of Jared's way. But she could easily hide out in the waiting area and help with triage, at least until lunch. That would keep her out of the way and away from here so Jared couldn't keep trying to find her.
"No, I want you out of the ER on a secure ward where he can't wander in. If you go to triage he's just gonna run round to the waiting room. Honey in the nicest possible way, I want you out of here."
There was no debating with Robby on this, if his stern expression wasn't enough, his mellow voice had thickened and had no room for change. This wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.
If he let (Y/n) go to triage she would be in and out of the waiting area and if Jared decided to go round there, he would catch sight of her and possibly be able to grab her again. But if (Y/n) went up to the ICU, people had to be buzzed into those wards. She could get anywhere in the hospital with her badge, but Jared couldn't. He wouldn't be able to follow her up there.
She could have a break and check how many people Robby could discharge up to the ICU. Then she was still working but she was safe and secure and Robby wouldn't have to worry.
(Y/n) uttered a quiet "Okay," because giving in was the only option, and she knew Robby was just trying to protect her.
When Robby leant forward and pecked her temple, (Y/n) relished in the touch and suddenly felt brisk and cold when his hands left her sides and he strode away in the direction of the growing chaos.
She tried to walk forwards, to aim for the lift at the back of the ER so she could head upstairs, but (Y/n) couldn't help sneaking a glance over her shoulder as she went. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Robby, watching the brisk way he walked, his tense shoulders that were pulled up high making him look even taller than usual. His broad frame outlined in the bright illuminating lights, hands clenched into fists at his sides and his shoes thumping against the floor enough to break the tiles.
He was a man on a mission and (Y/n) suddenly felt bad for Jared. But he had to know that he was only going to get told to leave and the more he fought, the worse it would be. Jared knew he was always grating on Robby's last nerve which was frayed to ribbons by now.
Robby took a deep breath as he approached the three of them. He could see Dana out the corner of his eye, looking to see whether or not she should intervene and help or not. And a few of the nurses were now angling to see who it was, but many of them decided to keep a distance when they realised it was Jared. He had become a normality around here, for all the wrong reasons.
He told himself to remain calm, getting angry wasn't going to work and he was the chief of medicine, shouting at problematic people wouldn't do him any good; especially not with Gloria.
If he wanted her to take this matter seriously, he had to show her that being calm and collected did nothing to stop this issue with Jared.
Just as Robby approached them, he held down a groan when he realised Mateo was stepping back and Donny was taking his place to help Ahmed. So it was going to be like this. Donny was usually the one who ended up dealing with Jared, he was swift enough to avoid most punches and he was quick at getting Jared out of here. Most of the time.
"If Mrs Robinavitch wanted to see you she would have stuck around. Off you trot."
All of them knew the drill. If Jared was asking for (Y/n), the staff were to refer to her as Mrs Robinavitch. It didn't usually work, but it was a method to try and get Jared to understand that she was a nurse here, not his personal friend. The more they emphasised this, the more they could try and get it through to him.
They didn't want Jared being this informal and personal with (Y/n) because that didn't do any good. His attachment was growing and his actions were getting more drastic the more they tried to keep (Y/n) from him.
When Jared tried to turn around, despite Donny and Ahmed having one of his arms each in their grip, he suddenly found Robby's hand pressing against the centre of his chest. Keeping him pushed back so he couldn't try and advance any further into the emergency room. He was already too far over the line by being through those doors.
"Alright Jared, we're not doing this again. You need to get out of my ER before I get the police involved."
When Robby started walking forwards, subsequently pushing Jared back, the others took the hint and began to drag him towards the exit. They heaved his weight between them, which wasn't too bad since he was a rather short and scrawny man. His heels dragged along the floor and he writhed from side to side in their arms, a loud screech leaving his lips the more he was pushed back.
He was always enraged when he saw Robby. When he found out Robby was (Y/n)'s husband, he had tried to punch Robby in a jealous rage. Ever since then, he hated to interact or even look at Robby, but every time Jared came here, Robby was there.
He supervised any minimal care that Jared needed and then followed until he was escorted out. Making sure Jared knew that the only Robinavitch he was going to see and deal with, would be Robby, not (Y/n).
When Jared tried to thrust his feet out and kick Robby, he simply lifted his foot and batted Jared's leg out of his way. He had the right mind to reach down and grab Jared's feet so they could carry him out of here like a drunk man leaving a bar, but that would really cause a scene and infuriate him. Robby didn't fancy a broken rib or busted nose.
"This is an emergency room! I have an emergency-"
"No, my wife isn't your emergency and as you've seen, she's completely fine. Thank you for your concern, now you can go."
The four of them finally reached the doors and they picked up the pace, heaving Jared past the ambulance bay until he was on the pavement a good few feet away from the doors.
It was clear that he was going to fight, but at least now that he was outside, Ahmed could go back to watch the doors and he wouldn't get back inside without one Hell of a fight.
Reaching into his back pocket, Robby pulled out his phone and before any of them could ask what he was doing, he leant forward and snapped a picture of Jared. It was a rather disgruntled one, but the likeness was there and the picture didn't have to be photogenic.
"What was that for? (Y/n)?"
That brought a smile to Robby's lips as he scrolled down and pressed send on the photo.
"Oh no, that's for Darren on security in the waiting area. So he knows not to let you past the metal detector today, and Ahmed here won't let you back through the ambulance bay. If you have a real emergency, you'll have to go to a different hospital."
A hint of glee lit up Robby's chest when he watched Jared's face fall and his jaw drop down like it had become unhinged.
They had security all around the hospital, for both staff and patient's safety, and before anyone could get to the reception desk in the waiting room, they had to go through a metal detector where security were positioned. Now they had a picture of Jared, and Robby would mark his file too so he couldn't get into the building for twenty four hours.
It was up to Gloria from then on to make sure this situation was dealt with, but for today, Jared wouldn't be able to get inside the hospital and therefore, (Y/n) was safe.
"Now I suggest you leave my wife alone so I don't have to get the police involved."
***
A yawn escaped past (Y/n)'s lips as she lolled her head against her palm, resisting the urge to close her eyes because she knew that would only increase her tiredness, not wash it away.
She took a deep breath, moving her free hand down to brush across her bump while she looked around. For once, the ER didn't look like it was fit to burst; there weren't patients lying around on gurneys in corridors, waiting for beds to become available.
They seemed to be on top of things for the time being, controlling patients and keeping them moving and rooms freed up faster than usual.
With tired eyes, (Y/n) pushed off the nurse's station and began to walk down the hall. She would see how full the waiting room was and try to lend a hand with triage. Maybe her shift would start to go a bit quicker if she got to see a few more patients and swiftly discharge them.
Her steps faltered when the doors ahead of her that led out of the ER suddenly burst open. It felt like a whirlwind had swept into the ER and (Y/n) paused, feeling a bubbling swell of anxiety in her chest when she caught sight of her husband.
Robby looked like he was on the war path.
That calm aura he usually had around him when he was at work seemed to have faded since (Y/n) saw him before her last patient. There was that dark look in his eyes and the little twitch beneath his eye like his composure was straining.
It was clear by the way Robby walked that something was up. His shoulders were high and tense, his hands were so tense on his Ipad that he was about to crack the screen. And each breath he took was seething through gritted teeth.
It didn't take long to realise what had gotten Robby so riled up, because as he stormed down towards the desk, another figure appeared behind him.
Gloria.
Oh dear. She had the magical ability to rile Robby up with simply one look in his direction. Following after him like she was meant she was trying her best to drag him into a conversation that Robby obviously didn't want to have. Riling him up wasn't the best idea because Gloria never had enough counter arguments to hold her end, but by flat out refusing Robby, she won every battle. She held all the cards and refused to play the game fairly.
Part of (Y/n) felt like she should intervene, that she should drag Robby away under some pretence to get him out of that conversation he clearly wasn't happy with. But she had a feeling Gloria would just follow along. It might be easier to leave Robby to his own battles and just get on with her work.
She almost made it past Robby, but without looking up from his Ipad, he reached a free hand out and curled it around her arm, turning her in his direction so she couldn't walk past him.
"Where are you heading?"
"Triage… everything okay?"
"I'll send Javadi to triage, you're staying back here."
(Y/n)'s stomach twisted and she felt the baby send a rough kick to her bladder at the thought of why Robby would want her to stay back here. She didn't want to voice her suspicions and she didn't dare broach the subject when Robby was clearly pre-occupied already.
She nodded while Robby's hand shifted from her arm to glide down her back, rubbing soothingly across her lower back. (Y/n) walked back towards the nurse's station that she had just left, mainly because she was stood at Robby's side and didn't want to break away from this contact just yet.
"Can you sign off on room three while you're here?" She uttered softly, letting her head rest against his arm for a few brief seconds while she picked up her chart and held it out towards Robby.
"Sure."
The chart was barely in Robby's hand before a shrill voice cut through the air and had shivers coursing down his spine.
"Robby, we're not finished. The budgets-"
"Oh don't go giving me that lecture about budgets and improvements. You know what would improve things down here, more security for one."
His tone was curt and he lolled his head back, closing his eyes for a few seconds to try and keep his calm and compose himself.
He really didn't want to be having this conversation, not when he was never taken seriously. If Gloria would actually sit down with Robby and go through everything, if she would accept his comments and his suggestions, then he would gladly talk about things. But she didn't. Gloria didn't try and make a change, she didn't work on what Robby told her and how he thought they could improve things. All he got was shut down and told to do things a different way.
Ignore patients. Keep them waiting in the waiting room. Set them in the hallway for hours and leave them there. Deliver the best possible care with the lowest possible funding and make it work.
Robby scrawled his signature on the chart and held it back out to (Y/n), making sure his back was to Gloria so she could see that he wasn't going to let her down-talk him in his own department.
He caught a few people looking out the corner of his eye, a few heads turning in their direction, eyes peering over charts to see what was going on and whether a fight was going to break out.
"You know we can't do that-"
"Can't or won't?" Turning his head back in Gloria's direction, Robby rose a brow as a dark smile filtered across his lips, causing his cheeks to crease beneath the scruff of his beard.
She couldn't answer that honestly without making all of the staff down here hate her. The way she pinched her mouth and planted her hands on her hips showed that she wasn't happy about being upsmarted in front of the employees who already disliked her and how she managed things.
Robby wasn't naive, he knew that Gloria had enough funding to stretch and get them some extra security down here. And he had given her more than enough reasons for her to do it, to show that it was necessary.
Setting down the Ipad in his hand, Robby turned his body towards Gloria, his hand finding his hip while he caught Dana out the corner of his eye, giving him a certain look as she passed behind Gloria.
"You wanna explain to everyone why you dismissed my proposal for more security down here with the extra funding you received? Do you wanna tell them why they can't feel safe coming to work, risking abuse and harassment?"
He motioned one hand towards the staff that were listening in and stopping to watch around.
If Gloria wasn't going to leave him or this conversation alone, then she could have an audience and explain to everyone what her reasoning was. She could make them all understand rather than Robby having to relay her nuisance points to his staff.
"Robby, now isn't the time for that."
The look she gave him made Robby's blood boil, it was as if he was a naughty school child who had done something wrong and she was trying to show him up in front of everyone and simultaneously shut him down.
She was the one pushing this conversation, not him. She was the one arguing with him and yet she couldn't keep this conversation going.
"Oh, or maybe you'd like to tell me why (Y/n)'s stalker patient still hasn't been dealt with yet. This is the fourth time I've told you to do something about it."
She couldn't get away that easily, and Robby wanted this dealt with if she was going to push it. When Jared first started to ask for (Y/n) and become a problem, Robby had mentioned it. But Jared hadn't done anything that warranted Gloria's time or her getting involved.
When he started to lash out at staff when he couldn't see (Y/n), Robby went back to her again. He stressed that Jared was becoming a danger to all their staff, and that he didn't want this patient posing a threat to (Y/n) when she was pregnant. She had to be safeguarded in these situations. But Gloria had done nothing.
When he grabbed (Y/n), and then when he started waiting around for her to finish her shifts, Robby went back again and again.
He was sick of going to Gloria and demanding she do something to be told there was nothing she could do, this wasn't the kind of situation that would escalate any further, or it was a problem for the ER to deal with, not her and HR.
"And I told you I'm working on it-"
"He's sat in the waiting room right now Gloria!" Anger burst to life in Robby's veins as he waved a frantic hand out in the direction of the waiting area. "Why don't you go deal with it now? Because he's gonna stay in there until the shift change at seven, where he'll pretend to have a seizure right on time to get back here so he can 'walk my wife home.' Make yourself useful if you're here and deal with him."
The presence of (Y/n)'s hand on his upper back made Robby's skin tingle and he shivered beneath her touch, leaning back just a little so he was towards her touch.
If she wanted to work on it then she could go out and see Jared right now, because Robby was sick of it.
He had just been in the waiting room and he almost lashed out when he saw Jared sitting there. He was waiting idly, patiently, with a fake injury that even the receptionist had fought hard to roll her eyes at. She let him sit there, but his name was at the very bottom of the list and would stay there until shift change.
But Robby had seen Jared's antics before. He had seen Jared start to cough, pretend to choke or faint or even fake a seizure right before seven o'clock. Because he knew he would get through into the ER and then he could try and find (Y/n) and latch onto her.
He tried to walk her out of the ER, follow her and Robby to the car, saying he wanted to protect her and walk her home. And maybe he did want to walk her home, maybe he did delude himself into believing he was like a guardian angel for her, but it wasn't right and this attachment certainly wasn't safe.
Robby hated it. He hated how obsessed Jared was with (Y/n) and how he constantly told her he would keep her safe, she was better off with him. He didn't know her. He understood she was married, she was happy, she was even pregnant, and none of that stopped him or seemed to put him off.
For a split second, Robby thought he had won that argument, he thought Gloria was going to stay silent and outdone and that she would walk away and leave this conversation be.
He turned back towards the desk, reaching for his Ipad again while he felt (Y/n)'s hand on his arm, rubbing soothing circles as she leant into his side to try and calm him down.
"Walk her home, that's not much of a threat Robby."
(Y/n) flinched.
She couldn't help it, her body flinched towards Robby and her forehead pressed into his arm to hide her expression. Not much of a threat? Did they have a threat level now, a tolerance and baseline that a patient had to cross before they did anything?
Of course Gloria would say that, and it was fine for her to think that because she only heard snippets and saw this as a problem on paper. She wasn't down here in the Pitt. She didn't see the way Jared would fight every colleague until he could see (Y/n). She didn't see him grab at her, cling to her, try and kiss her and prevent her from leaving the room. She never saw him hang around after shift to try and reach out for (Y/n) and try to follow her home.
If she weren't with Robby (Y/n) would have been asking a colleague by now to walk her home because it was frightening to have an unhinged patient trying to follow her and find out where she lived.
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and realised it was Dana, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as if giving her some support. Gloria might not understand, but the rest of them did.
Her body tensed when Robby suddenly lurched forward, stopping a foot away from Gloria when (Y/n) clung to his arm and pulled him back towards her. She couldn't pull him very far, but she held onto him just enough that he didn't do something he would regret or intimidate Gloria too much and tip her over the edge.
"Really?" It looked as if Robby were smiling at her, but his expression was entirely cynical while his arms folded over his tense chest. Hands digging into his biceps and gripping until he felt like he was holding himself under control.
His lips rolled together, pressing into a thin, straight line as he turned his head and looked around his staff until his eyes locked on a certain person.
"Donny, what did he do when you told him he couldn't see (Y/n) last month?"
The man in question took a deep breath, looking at the desk rather than at Gloria who seemed unamused and rather irritated that the staff were being brought into this conversation.
"He punched me."
With a nod of his head, Robby looked over at Perla instead. "And Perla, what happened when you tried to send him home?"
"He tried to cut me with my suture scissors."
As Robby expected, Gloria wouldn't look at any of them. She wouldn't keep eye contact, she wouldn't say anything, she simply pursed her lips and sighed through gritted teeth.
They were being threatened by a patient, they were all at risk and yes, one patient might not be such a hazard and could be controlled, but that wasn't the point. One patient was causing hassle that they shouldn't have to deal with. This was one example of what they had to put up with. Let alone the other patients who punched and lashed out at the wait times or the treatment they had or when they didn't get the diagnosis, answers or treatment they wanted.
All of them working in the Pitt were constantly being put on edge, being threatened, hurt and scared. More security around here would keep them safe, it would prevent incidents and stop things like this from happening. And if Gloria got her head in gear and got a way to ban Jared from this hospital and got the police involved, then that would be one major issue out the way.
Robby took that one extra step closer until he could look down at Gloria properly, but the anger was already fading from his eyes and becoming replaced with disappointment.
He wasn't going to shout at her, he wasn't going to lash out or scream like he wanted to. He would tell her how this was and what would happen if she didn't do something. That was all he could ever do; warn and advise, that was the only kind of power he held in these situations.
"Now I don't care that he's punched and kicked me on at least three different occasions when I escorted him out, but I care that he's harassing and harming my staff. Not to mention trying to follow, grope and nearly attack my pregnant wife. So I think dealing with him now might be better than you ending up with a lawsuit if he does anything worse. Don't you?"
He could feel (Y/n)'s hand on his arm and when she pressed a soft, subtle kiss to the back of his shoulder, the tension was already melting from her skin.
He turned his back on Gloria again, hoping that this time the conversation would end here. Especially now that they had an audience watching their every move, waiting for the next insult to blow.
"Everyone back to work; show's over." He waved a hand in the air like he was casting a magic spell and a small bubble of relief swelled in his chest when everyone listened to him. That wasn't always a thing down here, sometimes his words went in one ear and straight out the other.
All he wanted was a little help. He just wanted Gloria to do her job, to keep his staff and his wife safe.
Your breakup was bad for both of you. Very bad. And the worries of your friends and colleagues grew more and more.
You became quieter and more depressed every day, and Jethro grew more aggressive with each passing day.
It was more than obvious that something was very wrong and that you were both in great emotional pain. Even those around you suffered with you, because it pained them deeply to have to stand by helplessly as you slowly but surely fell apart and destroyed yourselves.
Each of you tried to get the other out of your mind, but it was impossible. You thought about each other almost every second. Missed each other. Longed for each other with every fiber of your being.
For days, the divorce papers and your ring lay on the workbench. Jethro couldn't bring himself to look at them or remove them. But as the pain became unbearable, he tore up the papers, attached your ring to a chain, and put it on. That way, you were always with him.
He refused to give up hope for a future together and resolved to fly to you immediately after your undercover mission. As soon as he sees you, he won't waste any time confessing his feelings and proposing marriage for real.
And since he was determined to stay married to you, he still wore his wedding ring. He didn't even consider taking it off, because it kept him connected to you. And he would fight for you until you were a couple again. Giving up wasn't an option.
His heart, his body, everything he was and everything he would ever be, longed for you. It cried out and yearned for you. But you weren't there. Consequently, his mood worsened. He started yelling at and berating everyone around him for every little thing, so everyone avoided him as much as possible.
But no one was angry with him, because they knew… he was suffering terribly. Even more than in all the years before. They suffered with him, but no one had the power to help. And having to watch him get worse and worse was almost even worse and more agonizing.
But he wasn't the only one suffering. Because you weren't doing any better. You missed him just as much as he missed you, and you couldn't stop thinking about him too. Each time, you thought you had no tears left. And yet, they quietly trickled down your cheeks.
At night, lying alone in bed, you thought about the divorce papers and how Jethro had probably countersigned them, and that meant you were officially divorced. So it was over. That thought alone was destructive, but the sight of your empty finger was devastating.
Thankfully, Allison was there for you in your despair. You shared a deep friendship with her since your flight together. She, too, had once lost her true love and still suffered from it. Now you helped each other as best you could, because your mission meant you could only talk on the phone.
This went on for two months. You did your job as best you could and talked to Allison every day when despair overwhelmed you.
Gibbs also tried to distract himself, but it didn't help. He could think of nothing but you. Where you were and whether you were okay. The little time he slept, he dreamed only of you and woke up with tears streaming down his face. So he worked even harder and slept even less, unable to bear the thought of not being with you and only seeing you in his dreams.
Little by little, he became increasingly unpredictable, aggressive, and irritable. And all colleagues and friends knew: He was slowly but surely destroying himself.
They could only watch helplessly until, in a last, desperate attempt, they turned to Mallard and begged him for help.
Ducky had already tried to talk to his old friend several times - but he blocked and ignored him.
Gibbs knew the Coroner was right in what he was saying. But he didn't want to hear it, as his words cut into his heart like a red-hot knife and threatened to destroy him completely.
Ducky sighed, because he didn't believe another attempt would succeed, but agreed to try one last time.
So he drove to Gibbs's house and found him - as so often before - in his basement, working on a boat.
Standing there he watched his friend and finally cleared his throat, but the investigator ignored him.
"Jethro…" he began, but again received no answer. He already knew that, because this had been going on for two long months, and Gibbs was withdrawing further and further into himself.
Ducky was nearly about to leave, but there was something he had to tell him before he gave up and threw his life away…the results of your test.
“Jethro, I need to talk to you.”
“Not now.”
Gibbs’ voice was more than dismissive, but Ducky persisted, looking intently at him. He HAD to tell him.
“Yes. Now. It’s important.”
Mallard’s tone made Jethro sit up and take notice. He hesitated, but finally gave in and listened. And what he learned from his old friend changed his world. He regained hope for a reconciliation with you - and more.
But then his phone rang. Director Shepard was on the other end of the line, and the tone of her voice was ominous. With the typical tone used to inform someone of the death of a loved one, she said:
“Come to the office immediately. Something has happened.”
(To be continued in Chapter 43.)
------------------------
Here you will find the other chapters of this story
Warnings: age gap (30/61), fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, maria is about ten years younger than tommy in this, joel is so in love, that's it i think
word count: 4.1k
A/N: it's been too fucking long since i posted this story but here it is. Sorry it took me so long, i hope you still like it. also not proofread as per usual
dividers by @/bbyg4rlhelps
Joel didn't like running late to work. He was a pretty punctual person who enjoyed an early start so he didn't have to stay at the job site until late at night. So when on Monday at 9 AM he still hadn't made it to work, Tommy got a little worried.
Tommy leaned against his truck, his tool box resting next to his feet as he wondered where his brother could be. He was sure he wouldn’t just bail on him, Joel always let him know if he was gonna miss a day of work. Just as he was about to dial Joel’s number, his truck came into the site, parking next to his.
“Joel! You're late.” Tommy announced as Joel got out of his truck.
Joel gave a small nod as he got out of truck and grabbed is stuff. “I know, I know. I have a clock too.”
They started walking towards the half-framed house they and some guys from their company were working on.
Joel had only meant to spend Saturday night at your place and then go back home on Sunday, but when you asked him to spend another night he couldn't say no and he probably would’ve stayed longer if he didn't need to go to the job site with Tommy and you didn't have to go to the office.
“Did something happen?
Joel could feel Tommy's eyes on him, assessing like he was trying to figure something out. Joel looked lighter, he didn't carry that usual frown he had in his face most mornings. His body wasn't tense like he was bracing for something.
Tommy narrowed his eyes. “Where were you?”
Joel sighed but figured there was no use in lying to his brother, who could always tell when he was. Besides it was time to tell his brother how serious things had become between you two. He felt more confident about it now, having left behind that feeling that if he talked about it too much he would jinx it and you would run away.
“I spent the weekend at her place.” Joel admitted. “Remember the girl I met at the zoo? The one you told me to take to that restaurant you and Maria like.”
Tommy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? You went radio silent about her after that. I figured she bailed when she realised you're grumpy.”
Joel huffed. “Well, she hasn't. And things are great between us.”
“Yeah?” Tommy asked, putting down his tool box again. “And how is she? Must be pretty tough if she can put up with you.”
“She’s wonderful, Tommy.” Joel said softly, glancing at the open lot before turning to Tommy again. “She’s beautiful, smart, patient and she's funny too. She lets me talk about Sarah all I want and doesn’t push when there’s something I'm not ready to share yet or says anything when I repeat the same story over and over again. Her and her little girl make me happy.”
Tommy’s expression softened, a fond smile on his lips. He'd seen his brother at the absolute lowest. The night Sarah died he remembers going to the hospital to pick hi up and seeing him cry like a lost little kid. He was never the same after that but it brought Tommy some comfort to know he was opening his heart to love again. “Damn, never thought I’d hear you talk like that about anyone like that.”
“Didn’t think I would either.”
Silence fell between them for a few seconds until Tommy asked, “You love her?”
“Yes.” Joel didn't even hesitate, he had pondered over it during the weekend and while you slept next to him he came to the conclusion that did. “I haven't told her yet, but I will. Soon.”
Tommy walked over to him and patted his shoulder. “Well, I'm happy for you, brother.”
They got to work shortly after their talk. Tommy used the times where they weren't lifting anything heavy or where they weren't doing anything that required focus to ask a little more about your and Joel’s relationship.
“You should bring her around this Saturday.” Tommy said, halfway through the day when they stopped for water. “Her Sarah is around the same age as Benji, right? They can play together.”
Joel twisted the cap off his water, nodding. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”
Joel could already picture it- you getting along with his family, talking to his nephew, Sarah and Benji chasing each other around the backyard. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow."
“Joel! Hurry up!” Sarah exclaimed as Joel finished tying her skates.
Joel had made it a habit to come to Sarah's lessons with you so that you didn't have to spend an hour and a half by yourself sitting on the stands.
“Almost there, honey. Don' t want you trippin’ on your laces” Joel said, double knotting the laces. “There you go.” He took her hands to help her stand.
Joel straightened with a quiet groan, watching Sarah wobble across the rubber mat until she reached the ice. You could hear her skates scrapping the ice as she skated towards the center of the rink, where the coach was gathering all the kids.
You and Joel watched her with a proud smile. She had improved so much, during her first lessons she was constantly holding onto the walls and looking like a baby deer that hadn't learned how to walk yet.
The benched creaked slightly as Joel’s weight settled next to you. His hand found yours quickly, fingers intertwining as he brought your hand to his lips, kissing it gently.
You smiled and leaned your body against his. “How was work?”
“Busy. We still have a bunch of stuff to finish but it’ll look good in the end.” Joel’s eyes stayed on the rink as he answered, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I told Tommy more about you- well, that was yesterday- but he was still talking about it today.”
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Really? And what did he say?”
Joel turned his head towards you. “That you must be pretty tough if you put up with me. And that he’s happy for me.”
You smiled, about to answer when Joel added, “He invited the three of us to go to his house on Saturday.”
Warm stirred in your chest. Joel looked a bit nervous telling you this, like you’d ever say no to meeting his family. From the stories you got from him, Tommy seemed like a good man. Just like Joel, he was the typical southern gentleman, kind but fiercely protective of those who he loves.
“Sounds perfect.”
“I'll pick you up.”
“Or…” You trailed off, squeezing his hand. “You can come home with us on Friday and simply stay over. I like waking up with you.”
“Do you or do you just want me there because I cook you dinner?”
You chuckled. “Both.”
You and Joel turned your eyes back on the rink, watching Sarah glide across the ice. She followed her instructor's directions, attempting to do a spin that ended with her landing on the ice with a soft thud.
Joel was out of his seat instantly, but you tugged him down by the sleeve of his flannel. “Sit down. She’s fine, Joel. She didn’t hit her head or anything.”
“But she fell.” Joel sat down again hesitantly, eyes focused on Sarah who was pushing herself off the ice with her gloved hands.
You laughed softly, seeing him so worried over a small fall made your heart burst. “And now she’s up. She’s not as fragile as she looks.”
“Still. I don’t like seeing her fall.”
You kissed his cheek.”You’re such a worried dad.” You said it without thinking and then immediately caught yourself. “I- I mean because you worry like she’s yours. Not because I want you to be her dad.”
Joel stopped you gently. “Hey. It 's okay. You didn't say anything wrong.”
“Yeah. I know. I just don't want to pressure you into that role. I know she has a dad and even if it's complicated and you care about her-” You continued rambling.
“I know you’d never pressured me into anything.” He reassured you, caressing your hand with his thumb. “And I know I ain’t her father but I meant it when I said I'm always gonna be here if you two need me and that means being there if she ever needs something close to a dad. So you’re right. I am a worried dad.”
“Besides with the dad she has… It's the same as not having one.” He added, muttering through his teeth.
You huffed out a laugh. “You really hate the man, huh?”
“He ain’t no man.”
Sarah tried spinning a few more times, getting it right by the fourth time. It was a bit wobbly, but you and Joel clapped like she had won the olympics.
On Saturday morning, you woke up to the feeling of Joel's lips on your neck. You groaned, glancing at the clock Joel had put in your beside table with one eye. 7:30.
“What are you doing? It's too early…” You complained, voice groggy with sleep. “Your brother doesn't live that far away.”
“I know.” He kissed your collarbone, hands coming up to touch your waist under the shirt you wore to sleep. “I just thought that we could wake up early and shower together before Sarah woke up.”
You seemed more alert at that, making Joel grin against your skin. “Mmmm… I like how that sounds.”
You cupped Joel's face in your hands, lifting it up to bring his lips to yours. You kissed him lazyly, hands tangling on his messy curls. His morning wood pressed against your thigh, making you sigh into his mouth.
“Let 's go or I'm not letting you leave this bed.” Joel whispered against your lips.
Warm water cascaded over your bodies as Joel's mouth devoured yours. His body kept you pressed against the cool shower tile.
“You're gonna have to keep quiet, sweetheart. Think you can do that?” Joel drew tight circles on your clit with his thumb.
“Yes…” You whispered, voice turning a little shaky as he brought two of his fingers to your entrance. You hooked your leg on his hip, giving him better access to your pussy.
He lowered his head, attacking his mouth to your nipple and sucking as he finally pushed his fingers into you.
Joel's tongue swirled around your nipple, making your back arch of the wall. If there was something about Joel it was that he was obsessed with your boobs. He took every chance to touch or squeeze them.
“So tight.” He mumbled, switching his mouth to your other nipple, his fingers moved in and out of you slowly, hitting your sweet spot with every stroke. “Been having you for months now and I still have to prep you to take me.”
His words made you shudder. You gripped his bicep, nails leaving half-moon shapes on his skin. Your breathing was heavy against his neck, quiet whimpers were muffled against him.
He worked you open with his fingers, curling them in a way that made your knees buckle, the palm of his fingers kept rubbing your clit, quickly bringing you to the verge of your orgasm.
Your whimpers grew louder, but Joel was quick to shush you. “Sh, sh, baby. I know you can do it. Be a good girl for me and keep quiet or I'll stop.”
You came around his fingers with a silent scream, your nails digging deeper into Joel’s arm and making him hiss. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, your arousal drenching his fingers but quickly being washed away by the shower.
Joel kissed you again, his mouth practically devouring you. He grabbed his cock by the base, pumping it a few times before pressing the head against your entrance.
He whined into the kiss as his cock finally settled inside you. The stretch burned, just like it always did, but Joel helped you get used to it by toying with your overstimulated clit.
“Fuck, Joel.” You cried quietly, your hands switching places to scratch his back now.
“Always so pretty when you take my cock.” Joel rolled his hips, his tip kissing your cervix every time he went in and out of your war, wet heat. “Fucking made for this–made for me.”
You moaned quietly, throwing your head back against the tile wall. The steam from the shower and Joel's big hands grabbing your hips as he drilled his cock deep into you had you dizzy.
“‘s so big, Joel.” You cried quietly against his ear, your nails leaving red marks in its wake.
“I know, I know, baby.” He cooed, pulling back almost all the way before slamming back into you. “But you take it so well, even when I'm all the way up here.” He took your hand, pressing it on your lower stomach, where you could see his cock bulging under your skin.
“Want you to fill me up.” Joel’s eyes widened at your words. Even though you had started birth control after your first time sleeping together, most of the time you still used a condom and when you didn’t he always pulled out at the last minute.
The shock wore off quickly from Joel’s mind, the coil in his stomach tightening at the thought of your pussy dripping his cum. “You want that? Wanna feel me stuff your pretty little pussy up?”
You didn’t even answer before Joel started driving his hips into you faster. His hand went back to toying with your clit to help bring you to another orgasm.
You came at the same time.
Your pussy squeezed his cock as he released rope after rope of warm, pearly cum inside you. Joel groaned against your neck, wrapping his arms around you as he lazily fucked his cum into you with his softening cock.
“You okay?” He asked, his forehead touching yours.
You gave a small nod. “Yeah… That was…”
He brushed his nose against your neck, pressing a loving kiss in it. “We should shower. I don't even know what time it is.”
After pulling out, Joel made sure to hold you so you wouldn't fall due to your shaking legs. He was always attentive after sex, you took turns watching the other’s hair and body, stealing kisses here and then while he whispered sweet nothings to you.
When you got out of the shower, he wrapped your hair with a towel and your body with your robe. He put a towel on his hips and watched you start doing your skincare.
“You want me to go wake Sarah up and get started on breakfast while you put your lotions and stuff?”
You hummed. “Sure. Just come here for a second.” You beckoned him closer, bringing his face down to yours so you could put some moisturizer on his face. “There. Now you can go."
“Shouldn’t we knock?” You asked as Joel reached for the door knob of Tommy’s house. You held a homemade tiramisu in your hands, the one you brought despite Joel telling you over and over again that you didn’t need to bring anything.
“It’s my brother’s house. He doesn’t knock when he goes to my house so I don’t either.” Joel pushed the door open, letting you in first. He took Sarah’s hand, holding it gently in his grasp as he closed the door again.
“Tommy! We’re here!”
From what you assumed was the kitchen you heard the sound of a chair scraping and a kid’s excited yell.
“Uncle grumpy!” Benji came barreling through the corner and launched himself against Joel’s leg.
Joel chuckled and without letting go of Sarah’s hand, he ruffled his hair affectionately. “Hey there, kiddo.”
Tommy and Maria appeared next, Tommy wiping his hands on a dish towel.
“Hi. It’s so nice to finally meet all of you.” You spoke first, your lips curling into a soft smile.
Maria smiled back, pulling you into a quick hug. “We’re so happy you’re here. We’ve been dying to meet you since Joel told Tommy he met you.”
“Hi.” Sarah waved her free hand at the two adults in front of her. “I’m Sarah.”
“We’ve been told.” Answered Tommy, crouching down so that he could be at her level and look less intimidated, although Sarah didn’t seem to be the type of kid who got shy. “I’m Tommy.”
“I’m Maria. You look adorable, sweetheart.”
You had put Sarah in a short jean overall that had a Snoopy embroidered in the chest with a light pink shirt under it and some sneakers.Cute but still comfortable for her to play and run around. Her hair was up in two pigtail braids that had been done by Joel.
“Thanks. Joel did my hair.”
“I’m Benji.” The little boy spoke last. He seemed to be a little more shy than your girl, he had returned to his father’s side after hugging Joel and he was now tightly holding onto his sleeve.
“Hi, honey.” You said softly, crouching down a little.
“You know what, Benji? Why don't we go and show Sarah the swing I got you in the backyard? You can take turns there.” Joel offered.
Benji looked up at his dad, who just nodded. “Go on, buddy. I promise she won't bite you.”
Joel followed them outside, and Tommy was right after him, mumbling something about how he needed to check on the grill and make sure nothing was burning.
“Let 's put this away.” Maria took the tray off your hands and led you to the kitchen where she put it in the refrigerator.
“You have a lovely house.” You complemented, glancing around at the wooden cabinets and all the drawings and magnets on the fridge. “You need help with anything?”
Maria shook her head. “No. We already took care of everything but thank you.”
Tommy and Maria had gone all out. Tommy grilled a piece of brisket and some ribs that were so tender you didn't even need to use a knife to cut it, warm bread, roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes that were currently being passed around the table.
“So, how you’d two meet?” You asked, putting down your glass of wine after having taken a sip. “Joel never told me.”
Tommy’s face lit up at the opportunity to talk about his wife. “We met at this little bar downtown seven years ago. I kept looking at her, she kept looking at me so I walked over and bought her a drink.”
“I wasn’t looking for anything serious, thought that maybe I was getting too old to settle down and I liked my freedom, but she changed everything.” Tommy grabbed Maria's hand for a second, giving it a squeeze. “All of a sudden I was making dinner plans and buying flowers.”
“He proposed a little after a year.” Maria prompted in. “We were going to start trying for a baby after the wedding. Tommy was already fifty-one and I was pushing forty so we knew the sooner we started the better.”
“But weeks after she started getting morning sickness and nine months later we got this little guy here.” Tommy finished the story with a warm look in his eyes, ruffling his son's hair.
“Oh my god. That's so sweet.” You breathed, smiling.
Tommy looked down at his son proudly. “Timing wasn't what we planned but it worked out fine.”
“Tell me about it.” You looked at Sarah, who was sitting next to Joel while she ate and talked about made up stories and about what they were going to play after lunch with Benji. Her confident and talkative personality seemed to be rubbing on him.
“I wanted to wait until at least twenty-eight for my first kid. Plan got there three years later.” You laughed lightly.
“Well, to unexpected things.” Tommy raised his glass. “And to the new additions to our family."
After lunch, the kids had gone back to playing as soon as they got told they could.
“I'll go watch them.” Joel said, pressing a short kiss to your lips before getting up to go after them.
Maria excused herself to the bathroom, leaving you alone with Tommy on the table.
From your seat you could see Joel helping Sarah into the swing set. Benji stood next to him, his small hands gripping the rope as Joel showed him how to gently push Sarah.
Tommy watched them with you, the way Sarah giggled and how Joel was always making sure she was okay.
“Joel's just wrapped around her finger, huh?” Tommy teased.
You laughed softly. “Yeah. They’re a dynamic duo by now. She has him participating in tea parties and wearing tiaras.” You lowered your voice a little. “Don’t tell him I told you but he let her put make up on him the other day.”
Tommy chuckled, taking a swig from his beard.”Man, he’s gone.”
You watched them quietly for a few moments until Tommy spoke again. “But it 's good. I’m happy Joel has you and that you agreed to come here today.”
You turned your head to him as he continued, “I don’t know how much he’s told you but what happened to Sarah almost kills him. She was his whole world, you know?” You nodded. “I never thought I’d get to see him this happy again and it's all because of you and that little girl so thank you.”
His words hit you deep.
You swallowed, glancing back at Joel. He had moved to stand in front of Sarah, who was giggling as she swung back and forth. His voice rang out through the backyard. “Alright, baby girl. You can jump and I’ll catch you.”
Sarah let go of the ropes, hopping to where Joel was. He caught her easily, steadying her with one hand under her legs and another splayed across her back. She broke into a fit of giggles again as Joel spun her once before setting her down.
Benji looked at the scene with eyes wide from excitement. “My turn!”
“He’s given us just as much.” You said softly. “To be honest, more.”
“I hate oversharing,” You added with a self-conscious smile. “But I felt like I was drowning sometimes.I love Sarah to death but doing everything alone was exhausting.”
Tommy listened without interrupting.
“Her dad’s barely in the picture anymore. He always cancels at the last minute or makes these big promises that he doesn't care about keeping. And who's there to pick up the pieces?” You asked rhetorically. “I can’t tell you how heartbreaking it is to watch your own kid cry and ask why her daddy doesn’t visit her anymore.”
“I can’t even imagine doing that to a kid.”
“I was scared to date at first. I knew that most guys wouldn't want the package deal, but your brother,” Your eyes drifted back to Joel, who was now catching Benji in his arms as he jumped off the swing. “He cares about her as much as he cares about me.”
“Looks like you two both found what you needed.” Tommy smiled at you.
It was dark when the three of you got home.
The entire afternoon had been a blur of conversation and the laughter of the two kids running around and making up stories while they played. They seemed to have become great friends in the span of a few hours, they even hugged before you left.
Sarah was exhausted of course, didn’t even want to eat dinner so you just gave her a quick bath and got her into her pajamas. Joel helped you put her to bed, holding her in his arms while you moved the bedsheets so you could put her under them.
You tip toed through the rest of your night routine until you sank down on the bed, both of you letting out a sigh as the warm, comfortable mattress hit your backs. You curled your body against his, draping a leg over his lap and an arm across his stomach.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead.
“I had a great time today.” You whispered into his chest.
“Yeah?” Joel asked, fingers drawing circles on your shoulders.
“Your brother and Maria are really nice. And Benji is such a cute kid.”
“I really liked seeing you with them.” Joel confessed, looking down at you with nothing but warmth in his eyes. “You fit right in. They loved you.”
“And I know I haven’t said it yet but I love you too.” Joel continued, cutting you off from answering. “I love you.” He repeated, more firmly this time. “I love you so much.”
You shifted your head to look up at him fully, your heart suddenly picking up a slightly faster pace.
You cradled the side of his face, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb. You smiled at him, closing the gap between you until your lips were against his. “I love you too.”
Thank you so much for reading. I hope you liked it and please consider reblogging, commenting or sending an ask if you liked this or if you want to be added into the taglist.
₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ ㅤsummary. heavy with the weight of a job you never had any passion for, you decided to open the envelope your grandfather gave you after shoving it in your office drawer for years. suddenly, you’re living in a small obscure town in the middle of nowhere getting more than what you signed up for.
content. town doctor!bucky barnes x fem!farmer!reader , mutual pining , bucky’s got a big fat crush on u , miscommunication , your vegetables grow really fast but let’s just ignore that , jealousy , mdni (18+) , outdoor sex , dom!bucky , unprotected p in v , marking/biting , pet names (baby, sweetheart, doll, city girl) , almost getting caught
word count. 14k
from lia. here's my little present in celebration of hitting 5(00) followers, i love every single one of u sm! this is incredibly self-indulgent but oh well. on a side note, literally in all of my stardew saves i only romance harvey (except for that one time i deliberately romanced shane for his blue chickens) bc he's....he's my man... this is also just a tiny bit proofread!
to live in the city was the only answer that stayed constant whenever someone asked about your future. whether you become a firefighter or a police officer, you had to become one that’s from the city. you were no different from other suburban children whose dream was to get out of the rural area you lived in to go to hustling and bustling new york city.
when it was time for you to make a decision that would effectively cement you into one profession for the rest of your career—you’ve already answered every occupation there is. five-year old you wanted to become a teacher, to guide and give equal opportunities for everyone—everything is rooted in education, after all.
at the age of ten you’ve dropped that ideology the moment you saw a doctor rush in from the er and into the back of an ambulance in a speed unlike any you’ve seen—and you decided you wanted to be like him, too.
you’ve stuck to that answer until you were about sixteen, then you decided you wanted to become a photographer who has her own studio at an apartment in brooklyn—and for the most part that’s what you truly planned on pursuing, but practicality had other plans.
your knuckles were beginning to sting after forcing it open as you typed away on your computer, hunched over the keyboard like a shrimp. you’ve already drank god knows how many red bulls but you were nowhere near done with heaps of paperwork and presentations you have to catch up on.
this isn’t where you imagined yourself to be. you were in a big city, sure—and you’ve got a somewhat high paying job—but this isn’t the version of your lifelong dream you wanted to spend the rest of your career in. this isn’t the situation you’d want little you to see whenever the ghost of her decides to come visit you in your dreams tonight.
your parents have always given you the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be, whatever career choice appealed to you the most—whether it be a mortician or a snake milker, your parents were always behind you on every decision you made.
but practicality over passion loomed above your head like a stormy cloud that won’t leave, and now you’re stuck finishing numbers your co-worker should’ve done weeks ago—though it seems like you’re the only one responsible around here—and you’ve got a bunch of other deadlines to chase after, like a fish chasing for the bait stuck in a never ending sea. at least fishes are free to swim around as they please and not get stuck in a suffocating cubicle.
letting out another heavy sigh, your fingers wrapped around the cool surface of the canned beverage shoved in the corner of your desk before taking a hefty gulp. if you were going to suffer and wallow in your decisions, the least you could do was to keep yourself energized. as your fingers hovered over the daunting keys that stared back at you in what you like to imagine the same tired expression as yours, you heard someone call your name from somewhere behind you.
“hey! we’re gonna be heading out for dinner, you wanna tag along?” trisha, the first person you’ve ever talked to since joining the company and, admittedly, your only friend around these parts, was already halfway through the glass exit of the office, blazer in one arm and another co-worker holding tightly against the other, when she invited you to join her. she looked at you expectantly, a kind smile playing on her lips.
she had always made an effort to keep you included in things—no matter how big or small—she made sure to invite you or tag you along with whatever she’s got going, as long as the both of you were free. you could tell it was one of the only things left that’s keeping her tethered down to earth, lest she goes insane. and honestly, you weren’t far off from that too.
a part of you desperately wanted to clock out earlier than you usually do and not stay overtime to let yourself indulge in a little treat and eat out somewhere good—maybe chinese takeout or thai— and give yourself the rest you desperately need. but, you didn’t really feel like getting into any form of conversation right now, you needed to finish this spreadsheet.
you mirrored back a warm smile of your own, “sorry, i’ve got a lot to catch up on. maybe tomorrow?"
“aww, alright. don’t work yourself too hard!” she waved, before peeking her head out from the exit one last time, “or do, go get that bag, girl.”
with an exasperated sigh and your head in your hands, just as quick as she momentarily pulled you out of work, you were face to face with the daunting, glowing screen of your monitor.
your eyes felt heavier the second you lifted them up to read the numerics and alphabets on the screen, that dreadful weight heavying the already awful pressure resting on your shoulders. the job you currently have was thoroughly, and utterly draining out the life out of you—and you’re sure no amount of ibuprofen can pull you out of this one.
in a fit of pent up rage finally surfacing up and out onto the tips of your fingers, you tried to drink your woes away with another sip of the caffeinated drink beside you. instead, the can slipped from the pads of your palm and spilled onto the desk, dripping its contents down on the drawers and the floor below.
cursing lowly to yourself, you pushed the wheels of your office chair backwards—the tires screeching softly against the waxed floor. you plucked a piece or two from the tissue box on your desk to start drying up the mess you made, and just when you were about to begin wiping the floor clean, the drawer on the bottom slipped open, revealing the contents that hid within it.
amidst the dozens of haphazardly arranged random colored folders and extra stapler bullets, was the letter your grandfather gave you a few years back, sat comfortably in silence.
visions of your memories of him rekindled in your head, back to when you visited him on weekends in that sweet quaint town he used to live in, and the last words he said to you on his deathbed as he handed you the letter you were currently ogling at like it was something otherworldly.
“open this envelope whenever you feel the weight of the world dragging you down.”
you pursed your lips, hands reaching down still smelling of red bull, and the tight air around the office started to wrap around the space of your cubicle specifically.
suddenly the buzzing of the air conditioner was too loud, the clacking of keyboards from your co-workers who decided to stay behind just like you were louder than you remember, and the light still radiating in front of you glared anticipatingly.
the contents of the letter was a mystery to you, hell, you surprised even yourself for holding off on opening it for this long. you didn’t find any need to be curious about what’s inside for a long time, since the world used to spin around under your feet before atlas suddenly decided to transfer its weight to you.
in a sudden change of events, the letter now rested in your grasp like it would be the answer to all of your problems. and a part of you silently prayed that it would—prayed that the almighty stars up above will finally give you something that could bring flavor to your stale world and make you feel alive again. you’ve been feeling tired and empty, even without acknowledging it yourself—and you already knew you have been for a long, long time.
the envelope’s flap crackled as you flipped it wide with shaky hands, and the first sight of your late grandfather’s handwriting brought you a wave of nostalgia. like the paper in your hands was the most valuable thing ever, you lifted it out from its sleeve carefully, hesitance coursing through you.
another piece of paper fell onto your lap as you held the letter, your deadlines and spreadsheets long forgotten. it was the deed to your grandfather’s piece of land and the title to his farmhouse in the country. you couldn’t stop the startled gasp that left you, because sure, you expected a message from your grandfather, but you surely didn’t expect for him to include the deed to his property.
“oh my god.” slowly, your eyes continued to widen, both in shock and overflowing gratitude, before tears began welling up in the corners of your eyes—threatening to spill and roll down your cheeks. your heart clenching at the thought of your grandfather caring for you this much definitely reduced you to a sobbing mess right here in your office cubicle.
the sound of your computer’s motherboard whirred in the background as you read the message written like a founding fathers', eyes sharper than ever and mouth going impossibly dry.
my dearest granddaughter,
when we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change. i want you to remember to never let life become a burden to you, it is not a problem you immediately ned to have an answer to, it is meant to be enjoyed and celebrated. never give up, you are a strong-minded girl, just like your mother.
i’ve enclosed in this letter the deed to my place, my pride and joy: the family farm. it’s located in pinefall valley on the southern coast. it’s the perfect place to start a new life. whenever you are ready, the place will be there waiting for you with open arms.
this was my most precious gift of all, your grandmother insisted i leave it in your hands instead of letting it rot away in the hands of others, and now it’s yours. i know you’ll honor the family name, my girl. best of luck.
love, grandpa
being the cautious person that you were, you weren’t sure if this was the right choice to be made. you’ve spent a good chunk of your life nursing the dream of finally living in a big city—and now here you were, complaining about it just seconds ago like it was a ball and chain attached to your ankle, pulling you further and further down the pit you’ve willingly jumped into.
with an unsteady exhale, you pressed your eyes closed and basked in the office air one last time—unwilling to give yourself the time to dwell on your decision—because you knew the second you start rethinking, you’re bound to start reconsidering things and before you know it you’ll be back at square one.
you breathed in through your nose and shut your eyes to clear your head—this is it. you needed this. you need a fresh, clean start. and if you’re gonna find that in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, then so be it.
on a rainy early sunday morning, you left brooklyn with a hole right in the middle of your chest. as much as this city brought you most of your problems and made you impossibly homesick on some days, it was still the dream, and dreams are a hard thing to forget—especially when they come true.
you weren’t only forfeiting an apartment and a job in exchange of living a new life—you were leaving behind everything you’ve worked so hard for for the past years leading up to now. it’s definitely a lot to be dropping, even with a hefty resignation payout. and you didn’t even have the chance to bid trisha a proper farewell—you hoped she could forgive you.
the bus was empty when you stepped inside. aside from the hooded guy situated at the far end of the vehicle, it was only you and the conductor exchanging glances and smiles before you decided on which corner you were going to sit and spend your next five hours on.
you guessed it wasn’t anyone’s interest to visit a small town that’s probably not even on the map, its name reeked of old-fashion—rugged around the edges. given how there wasn’t anyone lining up to visit the place, the place has probably been forgotten by time. hadn't it been for the fact that your grandparents lived there, you would’ve never managed to find the small town of stonefield even if you were with the greatest pioneer in the world.
as you expected, the sights on the way were nothing short of breathtaking. it felt refreshing to finally see the world outside of the four walls you’ve gotten so used to seeing—from the trees to the dozens of lakes you’ve passed by and admired from behind the bus’ windows—your life was beginning to breathe back in color, number by number.
it was beginning to feel very much like a hallmark movie. you—a career-focused woman from the city moves to a quaint small town, but you’re yet to meet a charming local who would swift you off your feet.
despite the feeling of anxiety ebbing at your chest—you could feel excitement slowly bubble up in the bottom of your chest, this could either be the worst or best decision of your life, and you’re beginning to feel confident that it’s going to be the latter.
you arrived at pinefall valley at around three in the afternoon—the wind gently blew against your warm cheeks as you clutched the handle of your suitcase nervously. you picked up your phone to look at the map you pre-downloaded before getting on the bus because despite being nervous about ditching your city life for a much calmer provincial one, you were also very nervous about getting lost and eventually ending up on television.
creepily enough, you didn’t pass by anyone on your way to your grandfather’s farm—you don’t remember this place having a large population anyway, but it was still unnerving to see the lack of people at this time of day. shrugging off the unsettling feeling from your shoulders, you pocketed your phone the moment the rocky and gravel filled roads began to fee familiar to you. as the old worn-down keys jingled inside the knob and the door swung open—you breathed in the air only the countryside could offer.
on the front porch sat boxes that contained some of your stuff that probably arrived the day before by the moving company, and you let the sight before you sink in as you stepped foot on the property. it was left the same way as you remembered—with a few unfamiliar things here and there, of course. there were a few baby photos of you hung up on the wall, a hopefully working sink and kitchen counter, a refrigerator, a television, a furnace, and a cozy bedroom that housed a queen-sized bed.
“this is gonna be a lot of work.” you murmured to yourself, already mentally taking note of all the things that could use some rework.
the place wasn’t the biggest one out there, but it was home. it still sang of a life that was once alive and breathing—and you were determined to bring it back to its former glory.
the first week in a new town didn’t bring you anything eventful. you haven’t gotten around meeting the townsfolk and all the wonders stonefield has to offer, and you’ve mostly cooped up working on your farm.
your days were primarily filled with you clearing out the enormous plot of land that could probably house four other homes just like the one you were currently living in. how rich exactly are your grandparents? there was an abandoned greenhouse to the left of your home. it needs a lot of renovation and a ton of money, but you figured if harvesting crops was your main source of income, it would probably be a good thing to invest on while you still have the funds to do so.
clearing out rocks and grass patches was never something you’ve ever considered doing in your entire career, everything felt new to you. however, strangely enough, you couldn’t find it in you to stop. it brought comfort to you in ways your previous office job couldn’t offer, it didn’t matter if it left you boneless on your bed at the end of the day.
while cleaning, you’ve also discovered a cave filled with fruit bats along with a shortcut that you aren’t too sure where it leads to yet somewhere between the road to the greenhouse and your home. the place wasn’t just big, it was full of mysteries, too. hopefully the bats won’t be too much trouble, though.
the rooster from the neighboring barn has long since cawed into the ripe morning air, signalling that the sun has risen and it’s time for another day filled with cleaning up the land. but after a particularly rough day yesterday, you wanted to stay in bed for another hour or two, you’re now your own boss—a little sleeping in wouldn’t set you back too much.
but as you rolled over to the other side of the bed, blankets comfortably wrapped around you like it too didn’t want to let you go—three loud consecutive knocks pounded on your door.
knock! knock! knock!
with a tired groan, you rubbed your eyes and slipped on your slippers to make your way towards the door. who could possibly want to visit you at this hour? but a better question is; why would there be someone knocking at your door? you never left the farm even once, and you haven’t introduced yourself to anyone, is this how tight-knit communities are?
you hastily swung the door open, your messy hair and untidy appearance the last thing on your mind.
standing in front of you, was an elderly man, maybe late fifties or early sixties, and his head was slightly balding. he wore a kind smile on his lips and held a basket in his hands, and upon seeing you, his mouth stretched into an even wider grin.
“g’mornin’! i didn’t disturb you or anythin’, did i?”
you scrambled your still sleepy brain for a response, “n-no! not at all sir. i was just about to get ready for the day!”
“i see,” with a chuckle, the man nodded in understanding. “let me introduce myself. i’m the mayor of stonefield; everyone here calls me arthur. word's gotten ‘round a new face has made its way to town and is now living in the abandoned farmhouse. i had to come see it for m’self!”
you tipped your head up in understanding, “if that's the case then yes, that’s me! i’ve never gotten the time to roam around town just yet—so i don’t really know anyone right now.” you sheepishly explained, hands twiddling the side of your pajamas, “the farm’s been taking up most of my time since moving in.”
it's true. you've been cooped up in the property for the vast majority of your first week in stonefield, the closest you've gotten to leaving the place was walking near the edge of the fence that bordered between your farm and the outside to take out the trash—and even then, you've only managed to see a few people pass by.
he let out another hearty laugh before continuing, “oh well, it’s nice to have someone finally take care of this place, the previous owner who lived here was a good friend o’mine.”
“you were friends with my grandfather?”
mayor arthur’s eyes seemed to widen at that, he looked like he was about to drop the basket in his hands. “you’re norman’s granddaughter? oh how fast you’ve grown! last time i saw you, you were no taller than my hips! if i knew it was you who was moving in, i would’ve arranged for a proper welcome.”
you laughed, chest warming at the sight of seeing your grandfather’s friend still alive and kicking. you couldn’t remember who he is—you were very small when you met mayor arthur, after all—yet it was still comforting to see a face that once appreciated your grandfather the same way you did.
“anywho, i jus’ wanted to give you this small welcoming gift. it’s a few packets of tomato seeds and a scented candle. s’not much, but i’m sure it’ll remove the smell of dust in the air.”
“thank you! i appreciate it, i promise i’ll be sure to check the town out as soon as i could.” you kindly smiled, taking the basket from his hands.
“alright, i’ll leave you to it, then. have a good day!”
the wooden floorboards of the porch rattled underneath his leather boots with each step he took further down the stairs—allowing you to breathe out a sigh of relief. you figured you should get ready to begin another day of cleaning, and getting a gift from the mayor certainly was an unexpected way to start your morning.
back in the city, you usually woke up at around five in the morning to let yourself get ready for about an hour, after which you’ll find yourself something to eat from your painfully bland pantry—however if you are in a hurry you grab whatever’s the first thing you see on the streets on the way to your office—before getting ready a second time, by fixing your hair and makeup.
you leave your apartment at seven and arrive at the office at quarter till eight—a full thirty minutes early before your shift starts. for the entirety of the morning, all you can hear are the distinct clicking sounds of keys and whirring of printing machines—and maybe you’ll catch wind of the occasional gossip from your co-workers, but that’s a post-meeting exclusive rather than a daily occurrence.
after lunchtime activities are no different, except for the fact that you’re working on reports and proofreading haphazardly-made documents. you stress on about missing meeting notes until evening, and by then you’re too tired to eat anything decent, so you grab chinese takeout on the way back home.
now, all your eyes can see until the far distance are rocks, trees, shrubs, and more trees. it’s certainly a culture shock to be going from seeing computer screens on a daily basis to staring at rocks for more than an hour or two, but you like to think it’s a good change.
you’re in love with the idea of planting your own produce and eating the fruitions of your labor, and maybe you could share them with your future-friends-slash-neighbors, and you could all share and appreciate the fruits and vegetables you’re going to work so hard on tending to.
wiping the sweat rolling down your glistening forehead, you shoved the gardening shears you found inside the shed beside the farmhouse down to the ground to let your freehand dangle freely. you’ve managed to clear up enough space to plant the seeds mayor arthur gifted you this morning—it was already around ten in the morning and the next thing on your agenda is visiting the town as promised.
right after ridding yourself of your gardening clothes, you padded into town feeling slightly nervous about the environment you’re about to walk into. you’re no stranger to people’s judgments, and usually, they don’t bother you at all—but given the circumstances and how you’re fresh out of a job from the city—you’re slightly restless about what everyone in town would about a girl who had it all and traded it for the south coast life.
the general goods store was bigger than you thought, there were racks of produce in one corner, a handful of gardening supplies in the other, and a bunch of necessities and snacks were in the other surrounding shelves. you made a beeline for the seedling packets sitting right next to the leafy greens and started looking for squash and corn seeds, since they were vegetables in season right now as per the seasonal produce guide by snap-ed you’ve graciously educated yourself on beforehand.
“good morning.”
a sultry voice suddenly pulled you out of your reading on the back of the packets, causing you to let out an involuntary squeak in surprise. because you’ve been so engrossed—you didn’t notice the man in a turtle neck standing by the vegetable rack. he greeted you with a warm smile and a hand still holding a cabbage.
“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” he carefully apologized, “i wasn’t sure how to approach you, but it’s nice to see the face everyone’s been talking about.”
nervously, your eyes drifted down to your feet before going back to his face. “wh-what do you mean?”
“it’s not everyday someone moves into town. so word about a city girl moving in spread fast.” the man turned to fully face you, face still holding that warm smile.
only then did you notice just how much he was towering over you—he looked like he was well over six feet. his auburn hair was combed over professionally, and his biceps were still visible even under all that fabric. he wore an endearing grin to match his pretty cerulean irises that put the blue skies above to shame, he was handsome. hallmark movie it is, then.
“i’m bucky, i work at the local clinic right next to this store.”
“o-oh! i do remember passing by a clinic, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” you replied, biting back the nervous laughter you would’ve let out and possibly embarrass yourself with. you gave him a small but kind smile back along with your name, now fidgeting the packaging of the seeds in between your fingers.
“how are you finding the town so far?”
"it's—it's nice... i haven't gotten around seeing the whole place, i mean i'm in the middle of doing that right now. but so far everything's really lovely and cozy. i really like it."
"so you haven't gotten a tour?" bucky's face almost looked pleased upon hearing those words come from you, before his lips dropped into a tiny frown. "i'd love to show you around, but you know—duty calls. i've got a home visit this afternoon with the elderly couple down the road, mrs. donovan. a lovely lady with an even charming husband." he punctuated his words in a tone you could only describe as teasing, and you couldn't keep the laughter that bubbled up from your chest.
bucky, looking very pleased with himself, leaned onto the vegetable rack with confidence. watching you with eyes that were nothing short of mesmerized.
suddenly, an equally burly and muscular man appeared from around one of the shelves, presumably the owner of the store. his hair glimmered blonde from the light that came in from the store's windows, giving his head an almost ethereal crown of locks.
"buck! quit loitering by my brussel sprouts and get your ass—oh my! it's the new girl!" he cut himself off from scolding bucky, voice sounding like an overworked parent who doesn’t have any time to deal with his teenager’s bullshit right now.
"sorry, i thought he was doing something else.” the blonde apologized, turning his head to squint at bucky accusingly. “is my friend over here giving you a hard time shopping? don't worry, i'll kick him out for you."
the brunette clicked his tongue, "steve, is this how you treat the town doctor?"
steve, or at least that’s what bucky called him, elbowed him right in his side, causing the doctor to recoil in faux pain.
"wow, a new face 's in town and you're already giving her a bad first impression. i was just trying to tell her about all the very lovely people we have ‘ere, y’see she's not that familiar with the area."
steve rolled his eyes, ignoring his best friend's teasing to continue looking at you. almost as if he was trying to memories every feature on your face. "oh, and you'd just love it if you could show her around, won’t you?"
"actually, while i would love to do just that, i've got an appointment with esther. which you would know if you even tried to listen to our conversation. and for the record, i wasn't loitering. i was about to buy these cabbages."
“sure you were.”
bucky lightly shoved steve’s shoulders, keeping the atmosphere light with his oh-so charming personality. “get back behind the counter, rogers. you shouldn't butt into other people's very private and very personal discussions, you know.”
steve gave him a flat look before retreating back to where he once stood, muttering a small whatever with annoyance evident on his face. as you watched him retreat to his post, bucky looked back at you with the same grin he’s been giving you since you first uttered a word to him.
“i’ll be the first to head out, city girl. i lost track of time and i’ve got abouuut—five minutes to walk to mrs. donovan’s house before our appointment starts.” he exclaimed, all most disappointedly. “it was nice talking to you.”
city girl. for no apparent reason, you felt your stomach do somersaults at the nickname. you’ve just met the guy and somehow he’s already making you feel things that causes your cheeks to redden. in embarrassment or endearment—you’ve yet to see.
tentatively, you pulled the hem of your shirt down to try and rid yourself of the feeling of butterflies in your stomach, the sound of his voice echoing in your head and etching itself onto the ridges of your brain. “what about your cabbages?”
“i just said that so he’d get off my back, but i’ll buy one of these soon.”
your laughter echoed inside the store one last time as his lips stretched into another smile, your cheeks were beginning to ache with how much you’ve been enjoying yourself in his company, no matter how short lived it was.
“it was nice talking to you too, bucky. i’ll see you around.”
“definitely.”
with a smile, your eyes followed his frame as he began to widen the distance between the two of you snd ounded a shelf to make his way towards the door. he gave you one last glance before his hands pushed the doors to the store open, and you watched his back disappear as the distance between you two grew. and just like that, the store went back to its quiet state from a few minutes ago.
you walked up to the register with a small skip in your step this time, one hand holding the seed packets and some fertilizers in the other.
“find everything you need?” steve asked, his hands busy with handling all the stuff you bought. “i hope my friend back there wasn’t too much trouble.”
“yup! and no, not at all. he’s actually very nice.”
“that’s what they all say, wait until you see him when there’s one slice of pizza left.” he joked, pulling out a paper bag from underneath the counter. “a rabid animal, that one.”
“you guys are close?”
“we live in a small town, everyone here’s close with each other.” he teased, “but i get what you mean. we’ve been friends since diapers, bucky’s basically a brother to me. that’ll be 19.99.”
steve watched you reached into your pocket to pull out your wallet, hands flat on the counter and a curious glint in his eyes. he wondered what could’ve possibly caused a city girl like you to move down to a town as hidden as stonefield—but he figured he should hold off on the questions for now.
“oh! i never got to properly introduce myself. my name’s steve rogers. but steve’s just fine. i’m the owner of this establishment.”
you gave him your name in return as you handed the exact amount, hands holding the paper bag in your arms like you were cradling a baby, “it’s nice to meet you, steve. i think i’ll be seeing you often.” you joked, head slightly nodding towards the array of fertilizers and gardening tools.
steve laughed and nodded politely as you turned around to walk toward the exit of the place. you realized the tension you felt since the first moment you took a step into the store was long gone, now replaced with a feeling of relief and comfort. you were surprised with how quickly you were growing accustomed to the new environment, but it’s no surprise since everyone has been nothing but kind to you.
you craned your head to look behind you before pushing the doors wide, grinning politely. “thank you for the fertilizers!”
steve lifted his sturdy hand into the air to wave you off, “come back soon!”
the fresh stonefield air wafted against your face the second you stepped out into the open. you figured you could take a quick stroll around town and take a peak at the beach downtown since you could vaguely make out memories of you fishing there with your grandfather when you were young.
the streets were no longer empty when you started walking along the cemented path, children were now playing amongst themselves in the playground that was situation in the middle of the town. and there were a few people sitting atop benches talking amongst themselves. the trees were quietly dancing along with the breeze—and you could distinctly make out the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline the further you walked into town.
eventually, the smell of saltwater invaded your senses as you stumbled across a beach with pristine white sand. the sun blared, heating everything in its wake as its rays of sunlight illuminated every space under its watchful vision—your skin welcomed the warmth the big star in the sky ever so graciously gave it, making the harbor sitting by the ocean towards your left the only thing that could offer you shade.
your feet collided against the grains of sand resting beneath the soles of your sandals, warming the calluses and skins in between. you don’t remember the last time you’ve been to the beach on your own accord—you’ve never had the chance to.
it somehow felt weird to be in somewhere so mundane and presumptive yet foreign at the same time. you’ll have to come back here on a different day to properly bask in the beautiful waters this town has been keeping hidden from the world—free of the horrors and corruption you hope it would never experience.
upon closer inspection, the harbor turned out to be a fish shop. you were craving some fresh fish, since your palette has been nothing but leftover stock of food from your previous grocery shopping back in the city—it was only natural you’d want something else for a dish.
the bell sang in the air the second you opened the door; the deck's decrepit timber material squeaked with each step you took. the shack felt like it was derelict and had deteriorated from all the years it had watched gone by; the place could probably be a family heir loom at this point—yet simultaneously it looked as sturdy as ever.
you meticulously trudged inside the shop with the paper bag still in hand, gazing at all the paintings of the ocean hung up on the wall, along with the replicas of certain fish decorated across it as well.
there wasn't anyone manning the counter when you arrived, and upon your arrival, someone was yet to appear behind it. you lightly tapped on the bell that sat right beside the register and the cup of fishhooks, hoping to find someone to talk to and happily buy fish from.
apart from the sounds of waves kissing the sand like a ritual it has known since the beginning of time and the squawking of seagulls from somewhere around the dock—you could almost hear a pin drop with how quiet things are.
you were about to turn around and come back some other time before a girl clad in jeans and a shirt emerged from the back door, dusting off the fabric of her top with hasty fingers.
"hi! sorry for the wait, haul just came in. you're in luck—today's fish is fresh from the sea!"
the lady seemed like she was about to tell you more about today's catch but upon closing in against the counter, after getting a good look at your face—her eyebrows furrowed in thought and her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to recognize you.
she hummed, the sound causing you to straighten your back. "i haven't seen that face before, you must be the new girl everyone's been fussing about."
they really weren't exaggerating when they say this place doesn't get that many visitors.
“i’ve been getting that a lot.” you awkwardly laughed, fixating your view on one of the framed sardines sitting idly beside the fishing rods.
“it’s such a pleasure to meet you! welcome to town! my name’s sarah wilson, i would shake your hand right now but i figured you wouldn’t be too fond of the smell afterwards.” sarah chuckled, continuing her endeavors of cleaning her shirt that seemed to have a speck of some sort on it. “so, what can i do for you today, miss?”
you pointed towards the crate of groupers towards her right, a wave of saltine wind gushing through the open windows of the fish shop clashed against your cheeks as you spoke. "can i get three pounds of those?"
"certainly! let me go wrap it up for you."
you left the store with the smell of fish still smothered on the tip of your nose, yet somehow it mixed in just right with the briny wind of the beach.
because you were new in town, sarah gave you a discount for the bag of groupers you bought. without even knowing your name, she's already found her way through your heart with a price too good to be true for three pounds of fish. and with a lighter heart than when you first came into town, you strode away from the dock grinning to yourself—excited for your future visits to the wilson fish shop.
you're fitting in just right with the community. you realized after a few months that you’ve spent less time counting the days until you lose the feeling of missing the city and more time tending to your crops like they were your mission in life—and they might as well be.
after what months of pondering about your direction in life, you were at a place where you believed you are truly happy with yourself. your sense of belonging was finally becoming, piece by piece.
it was another fresh start of the month, and by now your face has already been memorized by the locals with how often you've been leaving your farm compared to when you first got here. you are, after all, their new source of farm-to-table fresh vegetables.
your routine consisted of waking up before the sun rises to clean up the leftover debris by the green house, to watering and tending the crops, to clearing out some more area of the farm. you finish at around twelve pm, and by then you go and visit the town to talk and interact with all the lovely townsfolk.
you've gone from acquaintances to close friends with sarah who runs the fish shop with her brother, sam—who happens to own the saloon—and wanda who owns the ranch down the block from your farm. you've also met natasha, who you've come to find out is the local carpenter and owns a home hardware store just behind your farm.
steve's also grown accustomed to your face after seeing you almost weed out all of his fertilizers within a month, and you've grown quite a bond with the store manager over rising produce demand.
much to your dismay, however, you've run into bucky less times compared to them. only seeing him whenever both your schedules permit you two to do so—but you figured it comes with the job of being the town doctor and the town’s self proclaimed greatest farmer.
but still, on the occasional event you run into him down the street on the way to the store or the library, you always made sure to give him a warm smile and wave at him to which he waves back at you in return.
bucky, on the other hand, has interacted with you exactly fifteen times in the past months, including checkups. he’s been counting every moment—and not in the creepy way—he ran into you and you’ll flash him that pretty smile of yours he’s always somehow itching to see.
normally, bucky’s got his cool always in check—his nerves calm and his hands steady. but lately, like a boy with his first crush, he has to chew his lip every time you spoke to him to stop himself from stuttering out a reply back.
he could physically feel his cheeks warm up and the tip of his nose go red at each time you compliment his clothes for the day. whenever his stethoscope draws close to your chest to hear the thumping of your heart, his own organs roars loud in his ears and he ends up hearing his own rhythmic beating in the process.
he’s found himself walking into steve’s store more times than he needs to in hopes of catching a glimpse of you around the vegetable section. and maybe he’s been going down to wanda’s ranch to “check out the cows” because suddenly he’s very invested in whatever the chickens and barn animals are up to, and maybe he’s caught himself borrowing books at the library despite having the exact same copies of it back at the clinic just to gamble on the idea of you being there at the same time as him.
underneath the collected facade he’s put on is a man whose cheeks turn pink at the thought of you.
if only his schedule would allow it, he’d visit you on your farm and bother you with whatever’s on his mind at the moment. but for now, all he could do was wallow in his feelings at the saloon—his hand clutching an almost half empty mug of coffee—and the person lucky enough to be the audience of bucky’s misery was none other than sam.
“you gotta face this head on man." sam pushed, wiping a glass. "how about you try visiting her farm. y’know, bring her some of those dishes you've been making for us. the fastest way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach, barnes.”
bucky took a sip of his coffee with a sour expression, eyes glued somewhere between the barrels of rum behind the bartender in front of him.
“i don’t know, what if she finds it weird?”
sam scoffed, “now where did all that charm you’ve been boasting about back at steve’s go?”
“i just—i want to do this right... she gets along with everybody pretty well, and i want her to be the same with me.”
“steve told me you two get along just fine.”
bucky chuckled lowly, his arms folding onto the table with. “i go all red in the face with just a quick glance from her. it’s like my body’s reacting before i could even think about what to say.”
his thumb circled the rim of his mug as he pursed his lips, his eyes carefully traced the ripples of the brown liquid inside the ceramic before continuing. “y’think i got a shot at taking her to the flower dance next month?”
sam, too focused on mixing up the cocktail order from another client, only lifted his eyes to gaze behind bucky, head not moving an inch “yeah i do. but why don’t you go ask her yourself?” he smirked.
bucky felt his feet run cold the second he heard footsteps approaching the bar counter, heart racing at speeds he's absolutely sure cannot be healthy. he looked at sam one more time who mouthed go get 'er, tiger before focusing on the drink in his hands like it wasn't almost empty and you weren't approaching the bar counter.
he straightened his slumping shoulders the second your fingers landed on the surface, face now plastered with a lazy grin. "well if it isn't my favorite city girl."
you raised an eyebrow, "you know any other city girls?"
"no, jus' you. but you're still my favorite."
you laughed as you slid into the stool beside his, "it’s nice seeing you here!" you cheerfully greeted, instantly lighting up the room with your presence—or at least in bucky’s mind that’s exactly what you did. in the corner of his eye, he can see sam's smirk grow into a playful grin before hurriedly turning around to tend to another customer. "do you come here often?"
“gotta let loose somehow.” he replied, bouncing his left foot up and down to try and quell the sudden spike of adrenaline his heart’s been pumping out the second he laid eyes on you. sam’s never gonna let him hear the end of this—so he’s giving his all to put on the charming front he’s carefully curated.
“tell me about it. as much as i love my grandfather’s farm, it’s really a pain in the ass to maintain.”
“i’ve been told the place has been looking better than ever.” bucky replied smoothly. in all actuality, no one told him that. he’s noticed it himself each time he purposefully passed by your farm on one of his morning jogs. steve teased him for suddenly taking a different route from his normal one, but the doctor kept on insisting he’s always been going down that path.
he’s even caught you working away at the farm—your back facing him, knees flush to the ground and your cheeks stained with dirt. hands pulling apart the weeds on the ground with vigor as sweat dripped down to your clothes.
bucky thanked that the sun was nowhere near out when he witnessed the sight before him, the lack of light obscured his face from being seen. he felt a deep admiration for how hardworking you were. and by the end of the jog, his brain was already replaying the image of you over and over again.
“really?” you lit up instantly, “it’s good to know that i’ve at least got some amount of progress after breaking my back for months.”
you gave sam an order of sliders and a side of mozarella sticks before continuing your conversation. after declining an offer for a drink, you turned your focus back at bucky, who was giving you a look that spent your nerves in a frenzy.
“if you don’t mind me asking, what brought you here to little ol’ stonefield?”
you shrugged your shoulders with a smile, “wasn’t a big fan of the life i was living back at the city. i tried convincing myself that living in new york with a nine-to-five job was the dream i’ve always wanted.”
bucky sat in silence, attentively listening to you talk about the life you used to live back then.
“and then i—rummaged through my office drawer one day and i found a letter from my grandfather. it had the deed to the farm and i just…booked it and ran all the way here.“
“you look a lot happier than you did the first time you moved here.”
“really?” you teased, arm coming up to rest your chin on the palm of your hand. “did my medical records tell you that?”
bucky matched the smug look on your face with one of his own, almost as if you were challenging him to a contest of sorts.
“would you actually believe me if i said yes?”
“no way.” you laughed, hand slowly approaching the plate of sliders sam placed in front of you in between your conversation with bucky. “i’m curious, by the way, where did you study medicine? is there a college nearby?”
“i studied at columbia.”
“what!” the words came out louder than intended, your hands racing upwards to cover your mouth in mild embarrassment. “what!” you repeated, a lot quieter this time. “i used to live in new york! why’d you choose to work here instead of—you know—there?”
bucky hummed in thought, resting his forearms on the furniture in front of him. "this town is near and dear to my heart. i can roam the entire world for the rest of my life, but i'll always find myself coming back here. you can take a man out of stonefield but not stonefield out the man." he remarked, "so, i figured i'd just practice medicine here."
you took a bite out of your slider, "i can see why you feel that way, this place is great. the last time i felt this happy and free was back in freshman year.”
the atmosphere surrounding the two of you began to shift as subtly leaned in closer—you would’ve missed it if you blinked—but it was there. as if he was subconsciously gravitating towards you like it was the most natural thing that occurred to him.
“you must’ve had a lot of fun back then, city girl.” bucky’s head tutted towards one of the barrels of rum sitting behind sam, playful grin still lingering on his face. “you drink?”
it was a dangerous game to be participating in—you knew you get a bit much when you go drinking, and it especially doesn’t help the fact that you’ve got a not-so little crush on the man comfortably next to you. but you’ll allow yourself to let loose just this once—you’re now getting the chance to spend time with the man you’ve seen the least since moving despite wanting the opposite. and to top it off, who are you to pass on the opportunity of drinking with a man as pretty as him?
“i haven’t found the time to drink lately.” you murmured somewhat bashfully, taking another bite out of your slider.
“‘s that so?” bucky took a hold of the glass sam placed in front of him with that lazy charming smirk. dauntingly, he moved his weight from one arm to the other, almost inclining back on a non-existent wall behind him—looking all suave and laid-back—an almost convincing ploy to cover how his heart was drumming like crazy right now. “let me change that.”
you hesitantly pursed your lips in deep thought, a small hum vibrating through your throat. saturday nights are meant to be enjoyed, you reasoned. letting out a huff, you nodded your head in agreement with a grin. veggie deliveries will have to wait ‘til monday, then.
the walk to the wanda’s ranch was one of the short periods of time where you truly got to think. while yes, you like to daydream while rummaging through the soils of your garden to keep your brain busy was what you usually do—long walks were something you appreciated on a different level. as the leaves of the trees shuffled and your feet crunched against the gravel, you’d stare at the sky and think about whatever’s been bugging you, no matter how long ago or recent it was.
as you rounded a corner that brought you closer to your destination, sam’s words ricocheted in the back of your mind. while visiting sarah to buy your week’s worth of fish this morning–and to deliver some leeks and green beans she ordered–her brother offhandedly mentioned something about the freshness of your vegetables going great with bucky’s cooking.
“bucky can cook?”
“yeah. he’s like our personal nutritionist. always insisting on preparing us healthy meals whenever he gets the chance to. and ever since you started supplying steve with those vegetables of yours, it’s like he never wants to stop anymore.”
“huh.”
it checks out, you suppose. he takes care of people’s health for a living, it only makes sense he enjoys creating delicious and nutritious food for the people he cares for. hearing sam say those words did send a small jolt of pride in the pit of your chest, and you did spend all morning while watering the crops thinking about it like a hopeless romantic.
you couldn’t stop the giddy smile from forming, face contorted in excitement and your cheeks slightly duster pink. the only ones to witness your look of love sickness on you were the mushrooms and carrots sleeping deep underground—who were by now probably sick of hearing you fuss about the man working at the clinic.
come to think of it, you’ve also been running into him more often at the store. you were now steve’s new supplier of produce (you lived far closer than any of his previous ones, and they were of better quality too) and on occasions you buy fertilizers—which was very frequent, you’ve always, without fail, ran into bucky. and you’d stay at the general store longer than you had anticipated, but gladly so.
you’ve even gone out of your way to give him some vegetables yourself, more so as an excuse to his face, after sharing that eventful night with him at the bar. since then, you’ve increasingly grown closer to the town doctor to the point that appointments were one of the things you looked forward to the most.
you remember him visiting you at the farm one quiet afternoon the day after—to your surprise, he went out of his way to check on you. you were busying yourself as always clearing out the land, when out of nowhere a tall man with broad shoulders showed up with food in his hands.
“shouldn’t you be resting?”
your heart practically leaped out of your chest as the voice coming from behind you boomed, making you drop your shovel in surprise.
“christ, you scared the shit out of me. aren’t doctors supposed to treat heart attacks and not induce them?” you held a gloved hand against your thundering chest.
bucky let out a laugh as he closed the distance between the two of you. he dressed like he just clocked out of work—his long sleeves were rolled up until his elbows and his necktie was hanging loosely against the buttons on the fabric. his right hand was pocketed while the other held a plastic bag.
“sorry, thought you could hear my footsteps.” he watched you dust yourself off the ground, eyes squinted.
bucky, overcome with concern—and slightly overwhelmed with the desperation to see you again–decided to visit you the morning after your abrupt drinking session with him at the saloon.
he only drank a decent amount, being not too fond of drinking too much, and while you did drink as much as him, maybe even a bit less, your steps were wobbly and uneven while your voice slurred the moment your feet clashed against the floorboards of the saloon, and bucky graciously took you back home with his hand warming your back and your drunken ramblings in his ear.
it was a miracle, really, that you managed to keep your feelings for the guy closed and tucked away into one of the corners of your heart–effectively saving you from the embarrassment you’re bound to face the day after not just from bucky, but probably from sam too.
“whatcha got there?” you asked, tilting your head to the side to get a better glance at the contents of the paper bag he was carrying around in curiosity.
he lifted it up to grant you a better look, whatever was inside was contained in a brown box–so you still had zero clue about what’s inside.
“food. i thought you would’ve taken the day off so i brought you something to eat.” his head steered towards the direction of where you were previously crouched at, hat over your head and your fingers through the ground. “but i guess not even alcohol can keep a girl away from her farm.”
“damn right. these carrots are my babies.” you glanced towards your front porch, fingers already pulling off the leather material encasing them. “would you like to go inside? we can share whatever you brought.”
“what about your babies?”
“i was about done, anyway.” you shrugged, already heading towards the farmhouse. “come on, it’s hot out here.”
needless to say—your growing adoration for him sowed deeper that day.
your knuckles clattered against the oak surface of wanda’s ranch, the basket of potatoes sat bolstered in their sack against your chest, your gloved hands holding the material with extra care.
not long after, the door jarred open to reveal your friend wanda—who was in similar clothing as you.
“good morning, city girl.” she teased, lips curling into a grin, “i see you’ve brought my potatoes! i can’t wait to try out this new recipe i saw on tv. thanks babe.”
she expressed her gratitude and took the sack from you, “do you have anyone in mind to be your partner for the flower dance?” wanda queried, leaning against the door frame and her voice teasing and her eyes had mischief written all over it.
you gave her a pointed look—you know that she knew who you want to go to the event with, you’ve been mouthing off his name behind closed doors for weeks now. rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and stood tall. “i dunno. i might not even go.”
“we all know you’ll be there, girl.”
“we don’t know that.”
now it was her turn to roll her eyes. you both knew you’ll be there despite your incessant attempts of saying otherwise.
shaking her head, she held the handle to the door and looked at you apologetically, “i’d love to stay longer and chat, but i gotta get back to work, the cows won’t milk themselves.”
chuckling, you nodded in understanding and bid farewell—wanda waved you off before promptly going back to milking the cows with how loud they were howling inside the barn.
on your way back home, you heard a pair of elderly ladies sitting on the bench chattering about. now, it was absolutely none of your business to be eavesdropping whatever they were talking about. but with how loud they were talking about said business, you can’t possibly put all the blame on yourself.
you slightly tilted your head forward towards their direction—your steps decelerated as much as you can without looking like a weirdo.
“i saw bucky looking at flowers this morning, who do you think it’s for?” one elderly woman exclaimed, crossing her legs and her hand flailed in the air.
the other responded, “the flower dance is just around the corner, isn’t it? maybe he’ll finally ask natasha out!”
your heart sank. six feet under—maybe twice more than that. just as fast as your heart dropped down like it was held dozens of meters up in the sky, you were hit with the whirlwind of emotions that came along with it.
your feet slowed into a halt, hidden somewhere behind a tree near the old pair, but still far enough for you to go unnoticed. you already heard a lot more than you should’ve—unfortunately—might as well listen to what else they have to say and most likely crush your hopes from shattered to fine powder.
“i’ve always loved them together! they make such a cute couple!”
the lady with her legs crossed shook her head, a scowl evident on her face. “i wonder what took him this long! it was pretty obvious from the get go it was gonna be her, he could’ve asked her out ages ago!”
you left the second you the other old woman retaliated something in return, mumbling about timing and busy lives, not caring about whatever else they have to say. or rather, you couldn’t bear to hear what more they have to say, your heart was already heavy as it is.
the rest of the walk back home was a blur, and you no longer had the energy to install the water sprinklers you got from steve earlier this week–they’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. for now, you’re going to drown your misery with sitcoms and ice cream.
you didn’t feel foolish at all for liking a man like bucky, but a part of you did feel silly for feeling so defeated and disheartened just from hearing gossip. you began recounting each of your interactions with bucky that included natasha–and your mind came up with the definitive answer that the flowers were meant for her. they’ve known each other longer than you have, they’ve got a bunch of things in common, they’re basically meant for each other.
plopping down onto the comfortable sheets atop your bed, you let out a blood-curdling muffled scream into the mattress, heart still lodged into the streets where you heard the world-destroying news from their throats.
you were now armed with a new goal—get over your witless crush on bucky before the flower dance so you wouldn’t have to try and survive the pain of seeing him dance with another girl.
bucky didn’t know what to do. to be frank, he was completely losing it on steve’s couch. steve was sitting on a chair adjacent to the settee bucky was crying his heart out on (not really, but steve definitely sees it that way), and it seemed like steve was going to be the psychiatrist for bucky today.
“i used to talk to her about seven times a week. now it’s gone down to one, even zero! i feel like i made that one scenario up in my head to cope, so i think i didn’t see her all week.” bucky complained, gaze glued onto the ceiling light of steve’s living room.
it’s all that’s been on bucky’s mind recently. he checks on patients’ vitals a tad longer than usual with how his head is at a different place—he hasn’t been able to walk on the streets peacefully with the amount of times he thought he saw your face that day, only for him to turn around and see that it wasn’t you.
and on the rare instance that it was you—you’d immediately duck your head and speedwalk out of whatever establishment the both of you were in. he chalked the first occurrence on bad luck, as well as the second time. but by the third—he was fully convinced that you were ignoring him.
he’s already racked his head on all sides trying to figure out what he had done for you to avoid him like he’s the plague, but bucky always circled to the conclusion that he had done nothing wrong, leaving him perplexed.
“you’ve been counting?” the blonde’s eyebrows raised in concern, slightly taken aback by what he heard.
“subconsciously,” bucky defended, “i cherish every moment i get to see her. it’s practically part of my routine. but now, i didn’t see her once—not on the streets, your store, by the dock, it’s like she’s completely disappeared.”
“and the problem is…?”
bucky’s blue sorry eyes shifted onto steve, “i’m supposed to ask her out to the flower dance, stevie. i already asked esther to save me some peonies.” his dragged his hands down his face, covering the flesh with his rigid fingers.
his friend sat with his nose stuck between the pages of an art magazine, mindlessly flipping through each entry as he listened to the town doctor lavish in his feelings. “what stupid thing did you do this time, buck?”
“nothing!” he shot up from the couch, looking borderline unhinged. “i-i don’t think i did anything…i just—” bucky groaned, planting himself back onto the soft cushions.
there were too many words in his chest and not enough courage to let them out. too many parts of him that had quietly started to expect you. with eyes full of longing and a few too many limbs craving for your presence, the words that ached to run free died on bucky’s tongue. he felt powerless—utterly crushed, even. but he couldn’t do anything but wait for you to come around again. because doctors don’t show up to checkups unless asked for.
“i miss her.”
the days breezed by, and as fast as spring rolled around, the day of the flower dance came. you entered the secluded venue with your arm linked around sarah’s—eyes unintentionally scanning the area to look for the auburn haired man—to avoid him, of course.
although it was your first flower dance, you knew this wouldn’t be your last. the place, though hidden in greenery, was absolutely breathtaking. the trees hid just enough of the sky and the sun’s light peeked through them like spotlights. the cool air kissed weaved through your hair as you stepped inside, all while waving at a few townsfolk.
you were wearing an all-white dress with flowers decorated onto your hair. the dress belonged to wanda—she was kind enough to lend you the garment for the time being since it was your first time attending the annual event and you had no available white dress, you didn’t really have to prepare since you were already wearing the stress of moving in and fixing the farm.
wanda already went ahead of you, eager to go to the festival early with vision. you still had no idea who you wanted to ask to dance with—so you decided to head towards the food table for the mean time.
there were an array of dishes on display—from barbecue to dozens of seafood dishes—you set your sights, along with your stomach, on enjoying the free food the town had to offer.
as your hand carried an empty paper plate, a large warm hand cupped your shoulder. you jumped in your skin while your heart fell through your ass at the thought of whose face you’d be seeing when you turn around—it made you want to not turn around.
before you could further debate on looking back, the voice the hand belonged to cut through your thoughts.
“lovely seeing you here.”
thank god. it was steve, you’ve never felt so refreshed when that wave of relief washed over you.
“that’s a very beautiful dress! looks good on you.”
giggling, you turned your full attention to him. “thanks, steve.”
he was dressed nicely—clothed in all white and a ranunculus placed in his breast pocket. he didn’t look half bad.
“who’s your partner for the dance?” you questioned, subtly trying to look around to see if you could catch a glimpse of bucky—because if steve was here, he’s bound to be in the same place as well.
steve shrugged, coming forward to stand beside you and serve himself a cup of fruit punch. “i don’t plan on dancing.”
“what!” you shrieked, before covering your mouth and lowering your voice to a more respectable tone. “you aren’t serious. you’re wearing such a nice suit, you can’t let it go to waste!”
“no one’s asked me to dance with them yet, so i guess…i don’t really plan on participating in the dance. i’m okay with watching.”
no one’s asked him to dance?! a man that fine cannot be wasted and cast aside as a bystander!
with a look of seriousness suddenly replacing the smile on your face, an expression that steve could only slightly describe as terrifying, “dance with me, then.” you offered.
steve, shocked at what he was hearing, couldn’t help the confused sound he le out. “what? but didn’t he ask you to be—“
“who asked me to be their what?”
“nevermind.” steve shook his head, maybe bucky didn’t go through with his plan of asking you out, since here you are—standing alone and loitering around the food table. besides, you’re a close friend of his—and the festival was about begin, it wouldn’t hurt to dance with you when you asked him to.
and he figured bucky needed a little push to grow his confidence.
“alright, i’ll dance with you.”
steve craned his head in all directions in search of his best friend, bucky insisted he went on ahead to the festival but he is nowhere to be seen.
“alright, everyone!” mayor arthur’s voice boomed through the speakers, “to all of those ready and plan on participating in the dance, please step towards the middle with your partner!” he instructed, clearly excited to get things going.
“that’s our cue!” you cheered, grabbing steve by the hand and pulling him to where the others are gathered.
you stood in front of each other beside wanda and vision, who gave you a teasing look to which you tried waving off.
“i see you’ve already found your partner.”
“wanda! shhh, i’m only doing this for fun!” you scolded, voice barely above a whisper.
you rolled your eyes and focused your attention back to steve, a nervous look now on your face. “okay, so i know i asked you to this dance, but i have no idea how to dance.”
steve laughed at that, genuine and sincere. “it’s alright, just follow my lead.”
and as the music began and rang through the forest—bucky could feel his chest tighten and his fist tremble with how hard he was clutching it.
okay, maybe he didn’t really have the right to feel this way. he wasn’t able to ask you out since he didn’t see you the entire week before the flower dance—yet it still sent a pang of sadness and worst of all jealousy through his heart at the sight of you dancing with steve.
you looked like you were having a lot of fun. despite stepping on steve’s and your own foot more times than a normal person was capable of—you were laughing to your heart’s content. and bucky wasn’t fond of the thought that it should be him making you this happy.
all he could do was watch at a distance and fix his tie to hide the look of hurt spread across his face.
“steve i am so so sorry!” you laughed, stepping over his foot again. “i genuinely have no idea what i’m doing.”
the blonde holding your hands breathed out a hearty laughter, amused at your antics. “at least you’re having fun, that makes up for looking like an idiot.”
“rude. but i’ll let it slide, rogers.”
his fingers gently guided your body to twirl around his, your dress flowing along with the air and the flowers made your smile glowing brighter with each step.
the crowd cheered as the song subsided, and your feet were starting to go numb with how much it has collided into steve’s that noon.
you excused yourself from steve with a giggle—claiming that you need to use the restroom and to take a breather—your heart beating relentlessly with joy from having so much fun. you made a beeline towards the small area quite a few steps away from the venue, but before you could make it any further away, a hand clasped your arm—making you stop and let out a small screech.
thinking it was steve, you quickly turned around to tell him off for scaring you the second time.
“steve can you please stop ambushing me from behind—“
no. it wasn’t steve. no, it wasn’t wanda or sarah either. to your absolute terror and surprise, it was bucky.
“oh.” was all you could say, your throat suddenly running dry at the sight of the man in front of you.
maybe it was the side of you that was so deprived of him talking—but boy, did he look good.
his hair was combed over, and he wore a suit similar to steve’s—but it looked so much better on bucky. his steel blue irises stared into yours, and he was angelic—with the rays of the sun shining against his back—it almost looked like he had a halo.
he had a defeated look on his face, like he was desperate to see you. the second you turned around, the grip on his hand tightened as he murmured your name, the tone of his voice dangerously low.
“where’ve you been…?” he chuntered, grip persistent. “i haven’t seen you in two weeks.”
“i was just—busy with the farm.” you broke eye contact to look at your feet, unable to bear the look on his face because you know your resolve would crack if you stared a second longer. “can you- um…i—”
“you can at least give me a better answer than that. i know you’ve been ignoring me.”
you’ve been caught redhanded. and being the stubborn person you are, you held your gaze on the ground—heart starting to ache at the confrontation happening. in all honesty, you didn’t know what to tell him. you couldn’t give him the true, foolish reason as to why you’ve been circumventing away from him to an unreasonable degree.
“b-but it’s true, i have been busy.” you didn’t know if you were trying to convince bucky or yourself with how meek you were speaking, like the mere thought of raising your voice would cause your throat to close up and the dam that kept your feelings at bay to burst open.
bucky pursed his lips, his hold on you loosening but still intact, like he was deathly afraid you would disappear the second he’d let you go. “look at me when you say that.” he pressed, voice dripping with desperation.
“do you know how—how crushing it was for you to suddenly just… stop talking to me all of a sudden?”
head still lowered down like a dejected puppy, all you could do was shift your weight from one foot to the other.
“i—i thought i was doing things right, and then you just- just treated me like we’re strangers again, like it all meant nothing. i spent so many nights thinking and thinking about what i did wrong.”
bucky stepped closer, the tip of his shoes almost touching yours, you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. hesitantly, you built up the courage to look into his eyes—a decision you’ve come to regret after seeing the face of absolute devastation and sadness in them—like the act of you avoiding him was physically painful.
“and then i saw you dancing with steve, what’s up with that?”
“wh-what do you care? the people i dance with are none of your business.”
in complete contrast to the conversation, bucky’s lips were hovering against yours. you didn’t make any effort to stop it because truthfully, you couldn’t find it in you to do so. you couldn’t lie to yourself that you didn’t like the feeling of his chest flush against yours. all your hard work of trying to forget about him dissipated into thin air the second his hands curled on your waist.
you don’t know who leaned in first, but it took you a second to realize his lips were already molding into yours, accompanied by a rough calloused hand grazing your cheek. his tongue pushing past your lips—feverish and wet and sloppy—and you could feel the jealousy practically oozing on it as it danced with yours—the intrusion causing you to let out a soft gasp bucky gladly swallowed.
your hands grasped his neck to deepen the kiss, your own desperation growing clearer. you couldn’t think straight about how good it felt to finally feel his lips on yours—like it was something you didn’t admit you’ve been needing for a long, long time.
bucky broke off the kiss to admire you—how pink your lips have gotten, swollen from all the kissing and your eyes—pupils blown, half-lidded and full of devotion. “tell me you want this.”
you swallowed a breath caught in your throat, hips bucking against nothing in desperation as your cunt pulsed with pure need. “i-i wan’ you bucky— fuck please-“
you reached for the zipper of his slacks, eager and needy and wanting more.
he flipped you to face the bark of the tree, heavy hands coming to still your jittery hips desperately trying to relieve the ache in your cunt. he lifted your dress high enough to reveal the wet spot on the fabric of your pantie, and ran two fingers over it—causing you to yelp in response.
“please—bucky- i need you so bad—“
you heard the rattling of a belt clinging loose, and the thick head of his cock pressing against the entrance of your warmth, sliding it against your folds but not quite pushing in just to tease you.
you groaned in frustration, hands scraping on the rough surface of the tree, “bucky— please put it in—“ you whined pathetically, wiggling your hips to try and entice him to end your suffering.
“so impatient, city girl.” bucky murmured condescendingly, palm coming to run across your lower back before settling on your side, “alright, since you asked so nicely.”
bucky began to shove the tip of his cock to intrude into you, deliciously slow—he wanted to savor the feeling of being in your warm, welcoming walls before he completely ruins you for anyone else.
“fuck!” you whined, hands bracing against the tree while your hips pushed back to grind against his. “bucky—oh my god-”
“you’re so fucking tight.” bucky hissed, already falling apart just from being inside of you.
slowly, he began to pull out inch by inch, before pushing back inside all in one swift thrust. bucky had to quickly clamp a hand on your mouth to stop the loud wanton moan from echoing into the forest.
“gotta be quiet, baby.” he leaned over closer to you, sheathing himself to the hilt inside of you—breath fanning over your ear and his hips burrowing impossibly deeper into your leaking pussy—your back bowing in the process.
wet, pornographic slapping filled the space in between the air and the bushes. his cock, thick and pulsing, began to drill into you repeatedly and you could feel your eyes go bleary and your knees give up at the sudden speed he decided to pick up at. if it weren’t for his large hand muffling the obscene sounds you were letting out—not squeezing or gripping, just strong enough to keep your sounds to himself—you would’ve been caught by anyone unlucky enough to be in these parts of the woods.
the leaves shook with each drag of his cock—sending a jolt of electricity up your spine as the knot in your belly slowly building up. he felt like he was splitting you open—your hands were scrambling behind him to find purchase as he continued to plow into your cunt, juices messily dripping down your legs.
before you could ask for more, his thumb began to rub tight circles over your clit—swollen and throbbing—causing your hips to jerk back against him. he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck before sucking on that particular sensitive part of your skin, leaving red and purple marks in its wake.
“feel good, sweetheart? y’think steve can make you feel this good?” he moaned, still sucking on your neck like he couldn’t get enough of you, “keep quiet, doll.”
you changed his name like a prayer behind the skin of his fingers, biting your lip harsh enough to draw blood, the pleasure sowing itself deep into your abdomen and running up from your toes and through your entire body almost too much to handle—the coil in your stomach threatening to snap. you can feel how soaked you are, your slick was practically drenching your abandoned underwear bunched up around your ankles.
his hands were harsh against your skin, clenching hard enough to leave bruises in its wake—you’re sure to look like you got beaten in an alley but only in specific places after this.
bucky could feel you getting close with how tight you’ve been clamping on his thick cock, pushing him closer and closer to sweet release, he rocked his hips with much more fervor and intensity—and you screamed at the change of pace—he pulled you back onto him as if to say you can’t run away from it.
his sweat stricken forehead pressed into your temple, “mine.” thrusting particularly harder into you, he bit down on the space between your neck and shoulder—a loud wanton moan ripped through your throat before you could stop it, fingers desperately clutching on the large hands that enveloped your waist.
you felt yourself cum before you even realize it, gushing and coating your already damp thighs in your juices leaving your body shaking while he painted your walls white with a groan of his own—his cum slowly began to trickle down your plush, now limp and numb thighs.
bucky slowly began to pull out all the while rubbing slow, comforting circles on your bruised hips and soaked thighs.
suddenly it struck you—now hit with the clarity of post-orgasm, you quickly clambered to collect your bearings, leaving bucky with a confused expression and struggling to catch up with you as he hurriedly tucked his cock back in his pants.
“woah woah, are you sure you can walk right now—?”
you sputtered, “i-im— this was a mistake i shouldn’t’ve-“
he flashed you a look of disbelief, “a mistake? we just—“
“what if natasha noticed we’re both missing. i don’t want to cause any drama—“
bucky held up a hand to stop your rambling, brows furrowed and his head in a doozy. “wait, natasha? what does she have to do with all of this?”
“um,” you felt like a small child being asked by her parents to explain something they probably wouldn’t understand, all you needed to do was to twiddle your thumbs and you’d get the part. “aren’t you-? isn’t she your—you know…don’t you like her?”
“what?”
“i overheard some old people talk about you buying her flowers and the flower dance was coming soon so i thought—i thought—“
before you could continue mumbling about even further, bucky cut you off with a loud, obnoxious laughter that left him clutching his stomach in pain.
“wh-what’s so funny—“
“is that why you’ve been ignoring me? you thought those flowers were for her?”
“i mean, aren’t they-“
“they were meant for you, city girl.” he shook his head with exasperatedly, “i was planning on asking you out to the flower dance, but you went ahead and ignored me for days on end. i ended up not going through with the plan when i saw you dancing with steve.”
“oh.”
“yeah ‘oh.’ i thought i made it pretty clear i liked you.”
“they were talking about how you were taking too long and that probably meant you’ve already liked her for a long time! so i just thought you were being—you know—nice.”
annoyingly enough, he let out another laugh. now suddenly feeling stupid, you stretched your arms forward to try and hide your face into the crook of his neck.
you were about to roll your eyes and complain about missing the food when all of a sudden bucky rushed to press his hand over your mouth once more.
“wait. shhh, someone’s there.”
the words shut you up instantly, simmering your breathing down to barely audible to try and listen for whatever bucky heard that caused him to hush you up.
“hello?” someone called out from behind the trees, “is someone there?”
bucky held a finger against his lips and gripped your hips tighter, and you had to stop yourself from letting a giggle bubble up from your chest.
as the footsteps began to fade out, you and bucky both simultaneously let out a shared laugh at the thought of almost getting caught by some poor townsfolk.
bucky leaned against the tree trunk he was previously railing you on, “we should um—probably get back.”
you nodded in agreement, “yeah i’m starving-“
“and you’re dancing with me this time.”
@ chipotleburritobowl. do not steal i will scissor you
The undercover night at the casino had sparked a new rhythm between you. The secrecy was still there, but the weight of it had changed from a burden to a shared language.
The Silent Protection
It was one of those Chicago winters that bit straight through to the bone. The heater in your apartment had given out at 2:00 AM, and you were huddled under three blankets when you heard a heavy, rhythmic knock at the door.
You opened it to find Hank standing there, his face half-hidden by a scarf, carrying a portable space heater in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other.
"I saw the utility report for this block," he said, stepping in without waiting for an invite. He didn't say I was worried about you. He didn't have to. He just started setting up the heater, his large hands surprisingly deft with the wiring.
Once the room began to glow orange with warmth, he sat on the edge of your bed, watching you. "You’re stubborn," he murmured, pulling you toward him until your head rested on his shoulder. "You could have called."
"I didn't want to wake you," you whispered.
"I'm always awake," he replied, his hand moving in slow, grounding circles on your back. "Call next time. For anything."
The Badge and the Heart
A week later, the District was in chaos. A high-profile witness had gone missing, and the brass was breathing down Hank’s neck. You were in the breakroom, staring at a map, when you felt him come up behind you.
The room was empty for exactly sixty seconds.
He didn't say a word. He just leaned in, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep, ragged breath. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated exhaustion. For those few seconds, he wasn't the "Sarge" or the "Enforcer." He was just a man seeking anchor in a storm.
"Thirty seconds," he muttered against your skin.
"Take a minute, Hank," you replied, reaching back to squeeze his hand.
When he pulled away, the mask was back on—the steel was back in his eyes—but he caught your gaze and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible wink before heading back into the bullpen to bark orders. That one second of vulnerability was yours alone, a private fuel that kept both of you going through the eighteen-hour shift.
The Midnight Drive
Sometimes, when the city felt too loud and the cases too heavy, he’d pull the SUV up to the curb as you were leaving the District.
"Get in," he’d say.
You’d drive for hours. No destination, just the rhythmic hum of tires on the pavement and the flickering yellow of streetlights. He’d drive with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the center console, waiting for you to bridge the gap.
When you finally slipped your hand into his, he’d tighten his grip. These were the moments where the "burn" felt like a steady, glowing hearth.
"I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?" he asked during one of these drives, his voice low and gravelly.
"The day I joined Intelligence?"
"No," he said, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Two years before that. You were a beat cop handling a domestic on 47th. You were outmatched, outnumbered, and you didn't back down an inch. I stayed in my car for ten minutes just watching you. I knew then."
"Knew what?"
He pulled the car over by the lakefront, the dark water of Lake Michigan churning under the moon. He turned to look at you, his expression more peaceful than you’d ever seen it.
"Knew I was eventually going to have to find a way to keep you," he said. "Took me long enough, didn't it?"
This story is going to be more than 10 chapters long. Smut is going to be entering very soon, so I will include warnings at the beginning for anyone who doesn't like that kind of stuff.
Thank you for the support 🙏 ❤️
P.S. if you would like to see a fanfic with a specific tv show character (or characters) from Chicago PD, MED, FIRE; Law and Order SVU, Organized Crime; 911; THE PITT; Criminal Minds, PLEASE COMMENT OR SEND A MESSAGE.
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