⭒ Jack Abbot ⭒ Part 02 ⭒ Part 03 ⭒ Part 04 ⭒ Part 05 ⭒ Part 06
⭒ Michael “Robby” Robinavitch ⭒ Part 02
⭒ Frank Langdon
⭒ Dennis Whitaker
𐙚 Multi/headcannons for multiple characters
⭒ Accidentally calling you his “Wife” | @therobbycuepitt
⭒ seeing reader wearing their scrubs | @lovebugism
⭒ 𝐎𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | @croigealai
𐙚 Dr. John Shen
⭒ Hospital Barbie | @wackapedia
When you were assigned to “oBsErVe OpErAtiOns” as part of a vaguely defined Strategic Initiatives role (read: nepotism), no one expects much, least of all, The Pitt’s freshest attending, Dr. John Shen, who’s too busy keeping patients alive and admins at bay.
⭒ Midnight Oil | @duskbornraven
You get hurt trying to check out the local hot doctor who visits your coffee shop. He winds up checking you out as well.
⭒ Work Crush, Pt. 2, Pt. 3 | @dontcurbyourenthusiasm
⭒ Let Her Know | @yougotthat-write
Does John Shen know how to deal with heartbreak?
⭒ Change Of Pace | @marvelous-slut
⭒ Meet The Father | @/marvelous-slut
⭒ Rest My Chemistry | @silens-oro
John really needs to keep his mouth shut on quiet nights
𐙚 Trinity Santos
⭒ Loathing | @/inlovewithquestionablecharacters
Your fellow intern Santos hates you….or does she?
⭒ BLOODY MESS - PART 1, part 2 | @/dreamingofagoodfic
a bar fight leads to trinity to treat jack abbott’s bloody-faced daughter (and maybe falls for her too…)
⭒ i care a lot | @gorgeys
it only took getting assaulted for you to find out trinity’s love language is violent acts of service
⭒ fix you up | @criminalyapping
⭒ mistaken identity | @/criminalyapping
⭒ accidents happen | @auroracalisto
making a fruit tray for your girlfriend goes really well, up until the moment you slip up and hurt yourself. under the impression it wasn’t really that bad, you get to the emergency room and, well, it’s the pitt. you’re lucky they had a bed open.
⭒ Blurb | @/auroracalisto
⭒ Bad Idea Right, Part 2, Part 3 | @thedilfydoctorshow
How was Trinity supposed to know that the cute vet student that saved her cat's life was her bosses daughter???
Robby's daughter!reader x Trinity Santos
⭒ Broken hand | @marvelslut16
Reader breaks her hand and meets the prettiest knight in shining armor doctor she has ever seen.
Pairing: John Shen x Reader, Frank Langdon x Reader
Warnings: Language, angst, yearning, light smut (insinuating sexual acts/situations), canon-typical medical situations, fem reader, love triangle tingz, right person/wrong time, flashbacks, drug addiction/recovery
Word Count: 7,000+
Find the previous part here! | Read on AO3 here!
John
“So, you’re a doctor?” It was yelled into his ear and John recoiled for a moment. The club wasn’t that loud but if things were spoken into people’s ears, it could be heard just fine. So when John had the question yelled at him, he put his arm around the brunette woman and pulled her to him. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear and he felt her shiver.
“Mhm,” John spoke softly, “I’m very good with my hands.”
The pretty woman turned to face John with a smirk on her lips. “Really? You wanna do an exam on me, doc?”
“Only if you need one.”
John leaned in for a kiss as the bass of the music got heavier. A hand was run through his hair and a sharp tug was made. It didn’t feel good as it wasn’t tugged at the roots, and his groan was misinterpreted as pleasure rather than pain. Lips were dragged down his neck and that’s when John saw Mateo.
Holding two drinks, Mateo gave John a look before handing him one of the drinks in John’s free hand. Mateo scooted into the booth on the other side of John and leaned over towards the Asian man, “Emery found a girl at the bar. I think Jesse went to the bathroom.”
John used the hand that was on the woman’s back to slightly push her shoulder back to get her to stop sucking on his neck. He could feel the stickiness of her gloss on his skin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before taking a sip of his drink.
John said, “I think Jesse said Samantha was coming. They’re together again, apparently.”
Mateo rolled his eyes, “How long do you think they’ll last this time?”
John could feel the woman’s hands trail across his chest. He shot her a quick smile before saying to Mateo, “Twenty bucks on a month.” Mateo shook his head as he swallowed a sip quickly. Mateo’s counter wager was two weeks tops. John lifted his drinks to Mateo’s and their glasses silently clinked together, solidifying their bet. John could see himself losing his money – the last time Jesse and Samantha were together, it lasted a week, but there were a few stints where they lasted months. The longest one being nine.
John set his drink on the booth table and gave a kiss to the woman. Their tongues tangled together and he could feel her moan into his mouth. He knew her name – just not at the moment. He knew he would remember it when it mattered.
The two of them were interrupted by Jesse sliding into the booth next to Mateo. “Drinks here are a fucking ripoff. I’m not paying twenty five bucks for a scotch.”
“Where’s Samantha?” Mateo asked. Jesse’s jaw clenched and he gestured that he didn’t know. “When are you going to let her go?”
Jesse turned his dirty look towards Mateo. “Fuck you.”
“C’mon,” John said, “you guys have been trying this shit for years. Why not give it a rest?”
Jesse’s gaze narrowed at John. “Rich coming from you.” Now it was John’s turn to make a gesture, one that said “what the fuck does that mean?” “You’ve been hooking up with the same girl for the past three years too.” John adjusted his arm around the woman next to him, seeing if she was paying attention to Jesse’s words. She was not. “If she called you right now, you’d run to her like the whipped bitch you are.”
John grabbed a napkin, crumpled it up quickly and chucked it at Jesse. It was futile and barely made it across the table. Mateo snorted into his drink. “Shut up,” John hissed at the two of them. “Besides, what we have is different.”
Jesse’s hands went up in surrender, a mocking look on his face. “When she finally starts fucking other people, you’re going to be so pissed off.” A finger was pointed at John.
“Who says she hasn’t been?” Mateo asked. John’s jaw was clenching now. “She lives in a different state, why wouldn’t she fuck other people?”
“You didn’t hear? She’s moving here.” Jesse said.
“Seriously?” Jesse nodded. John politely pushed Sophie off him – see he would remember! – and he took a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned his throat but he liked it. Sophie pulled her phone out of her clutch and the screen lit up her face. She kept her free hand on John’s thigh. “You’re fucked!” Mateo laughed and Jesse couldn’t help but grin at the teasing of John.
“I’m not fucked.” John said. “We are friends who happen to fuck. She doesn’t want a relationship and I don’t want a relationship. It’s what makes us so perfect for each other.”
“What happens if she does want a relationship?” John didn’t know who asked the question and he didn’t care. He waved a dismissive hand at them and looked out towards the rest of the club. He finally saw Emery Walsh in the crowd of the dancefloor. She had her arms around a blonde who was whispering into her ear. “Would it be with you?”
“I don’t want a relationship.”
“He’s mad.”
“Pissed.”
John rolled his eyes and leaned over to Sophie. He whispered an excuse to her which left her a bit confused and then annoyed as she slid out of the booth and off into the club. John did the same, sliding out from the booth while Jesse and Mateo called out for him to make him stay.
John loosened another button on his dress shirt, revealing a bit more of his chest as he made his way outside. He clapped one of the bouncers on the shoulder to let him know he was stepping out and then was hit with the cool night air. He rolled his shoulders and tried to unclench his jaw.
He didn’t want to be bothered by Mateo and Jesse’s words but he was. Sure, he liked what the two of you had together. He liked the casualness of it. He liked the fun the two of you had. He liked the openness of it all. But there were times when John was wide awake, lying next to you as you were fast asleep, where he felt something inside of him.
Something deep inside.
***
It had been eating away at him for a year now.
You had been in town again, but this time for only three days. It was a last minute trip to wrap some things up as someone in the Pittsburgh office had come down with some personal issues. They had to take the time off and you pushed yourself into sixth gear, learned about the project that was being done in record time and led it with precision perfectly.
Even though you were busy, you had called him on the second night to see if he wanted to come to your hotel room to order Thai food and watch stupid movies. It had been raining a lot in the city during that time, and John wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold rain that made people feel more romantic but nonetheless, he said yes and was over within the hour.
You had a second hotel robe waiting for him and even ordered the Thai so it was on the way. He asked what you had ordered and it was perfect. You ordered his Pad See Ew with a mix of beef and duck, as he didn’t really like chicken. A cup of Tom Kha Gai was also on his menu. He didn’t order it all the time, only when it was cold outside.
It wasn’t a lot to remember but that’s when the feeling sparked inside of him.
It happened again later that night as the two of you were curled up in the bed sheets, robes on, Thai food strategically spread around the two of you and the first Final Destination movie played on the flat screen. You winced away as one of the teens came to their deaths, and John chuckled at you. “Are you sure you wanna watch this while we eat dinner?”
“It’s not that gross–” you said but then was interrupted by another death and you made a noise of disgust. John laughed as you took another bite of noodles in practically the same breath. “It’s fun, John. Aren’t you having fun?”
Yes.
He didn’t say it out loud. He wanted to but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was scared but John would never admit it to anyone. He barely wanted to admit it to himself.
After dinner was digested and the third installment was playing quietly on the television, you had swung yourself over John’s lap and slid your arms around his neck. His hands found their familiar home on your waist, fingers digging into the cotton of the robe. “Thanks for stopping by on short notice.” You told him before pressing your lips to his. The kiss lingered and one of John’s hands went to splay across the small of your back, pressing you into him.
“Thanks for thinking of me,” he said quietly against your lips. You were a bit taller than him at the moment since you were sitting in his lap. He looked up at you, taking in the details of your face. The softness of your cheeks, the smoothness of your forehead. He saw the lightest of freckles that danced across your nose. Your plump lips were smiling.
“I always think of you, John.” He couldn’t help it, but he thought he could see something in your eyes. Something caring, something playful, something… god, John didn’t even want to think the word, let alone say it. You swiveled your hips and John’s grip tightened, helping you move against him through the various layers of fabric. Your lips went to his ear to lick at the shell of it, something that always made his body flash with heat.
He kind of felt light headed.
Your lips trailed from his ear and down his jaw. He had a small amount of stubble. While he didn’t grow a lot of facial hair, he usually didn’t shave on his off days. Plus you seemed to like the scratch of it against your skin. He felt your teeth as you bit down on the space where his neck and jaw meet. He couldn’t stop the groan that bubbled up from him.
John squeezed his eyes shut. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was nervous that you would fucking feel it. You went to swirl your hips around again but found John’s hands stilling you in place. You pulled away, a bit confused and looked over his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I think I ate too much.” He hoped you wouldn’t kick him out. He didn’t think you would but after he spoke, every time he was a dick to a one night stand came crashing back into his brain like the karma it was.
But you didn’t kick him out.
You gave him a small smile, kissed his lips again, and asked him to choose the movie. He chose the first movie he came across, barely paying attention to the title. After you had brought the leftovers to the kitchen in the other room, you snuck under the covers and cuddled against him.
John was happy to be laying down. He felt like if he were to stand up that his legs would give out and he would lose all sense of suaveness and level headedness he’s held onto all these years. After a while, he heard your soft breaths to let him know that you were sleeping. John slipped out of the bed and out of your hotel room quietly. He shot you a text, something about being asked to cover a shift last minute, and made his way back home. By the next time he saw you a few months later, John felt at equilibrium again. And when he apologized for slipping out in the middle of the night, you barely even registered it.
You simply didn’t… care.
***
John stepped further away from the entrance of the club as another club goer came out and lit a cigarette. The smoke made John’s nose wrinkle. “John!” He turned towards the voice that came from down the street. Walking towards him, he could see it was Samantha. She was wearing a black, short dress. It was sleeveless and showed off her tattooed arms. Her heels clacked against the sidewalk and she pulled John in for a hug. He hadn’t seen her since Jesse broke up with her the most recent time (about three months ago). “How’ve you been, hon?”
“Good, good,” he planted a kiss on her cheek. “What about you?”
She waved a hand, lips twisting up in a way that signaled she didn’t want to get into too much detail. “Same shit, different day.” She looked behind John towards the club entrance. “Jesse inside?”
“Yeah, yeah. He’s at a booth with Mateo. Emery’s in there somewhere too.”
“Damn,” Samantha laughed, “she beat you all again with scoring a fling for the night?”
John chuckled, “Like usual.”
“Are you going back inside?” Samantha asked him as she stepped around him. John gave a quick nod. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans and his tongue flicked over his bottom lip. He was trying not to ask Samantha but it ate away at him. When he called her name, she turned on her heel and waited.
“Does she, uh–” God, what the fuck, John, man the fuck up! “–does she see other people?”
Samantha’s hands clasped together in front of her and John could see her looking over his face. “If you like her John, you should just tell her.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Samantha shrugged, “Then ask her yourself. She’ll tell you. You know that.”
Yeah, John fucking knew that.
You
“Dad– dad!” You tried to scold over the small group of waiters that stood next to your table, small round cake in one of the younger waiter’s hands, all singing happy birthday off key and almost as equally embarrassed as you were in the moment. Your father sat across from you with a grin on his face and was clapping along off beat. “I told you not to!” You hissed over at him. He ignored you and when the chorus of singing died down, the few occupied tables around you clapped and you gave a tight lipped smile and thanked them all quietly.
Your dad grabbed the serving knife that was brought with the cake and sliced into it. “It’s not even my birthday.”
He tsked you, “They don’t really give out ‘congrats on the new job’ cakes, sweetie.” He slipped the first piece – a big one – onto one of the smaller serving plates and then slid it across the table towards you with a smile. You had officially left Chicago and you got to your father’s house the night before. You got to Indiana later than you wanted but regardless, your father waited up until you pulled into the driveway at 2:30AM.
It was now the next night and he was excited to bring you to Tony’s. He even made a reservation, despite not needing one. Tony’s wasn’t usually busy on Thursday nights and you were right.
Your dad cut another piece of cake for himself and then took a big bite. He gave a noise of approval, even though yellow cake wasn’t his favorite. It was yours obviously but on nights that he missed you the most, he would order a yellow cake from the local grocery store and eat it in almost one sitting.
“So, are you nervous?”
You took a sip of water before answering, “Maybe a little, but I think it’s exciting honestly.”
“I’m happy you’re out of Chicago.” He pointed his frosting covered fork at you then used it to take another bite for himself. You just rolled your eyes. You stopped arguing with him about Chicago after you came home for Christmas your junior year. You knew he would disapprove of your stomping groups for the next few years to come. You couldn’t blame it on him completely, it was just how he was raised. Small town, blue collared boomer men from Indiana didn’t really approve of the big, “dangerous” cities. You were just happy he actually let you go but the large scholarships and grants you got certainly softened the deal for him.
“Pittsburgh is nice though. I think you’ll like it.”
“I can come by in a few months.” He told you, “I can check out the apartment and really make it safe.”
“Of course, Dad.” You smiled over at him and a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. After your mother died when you were twelve, it was only you and your dad. It was tough to leave him for college and then stay over in Chicago for work, but it was necessary. You saw him work his ass off all these years to support you in any way, especially since your mom wasn’t around. He worked in construction, making his way from the bottom of the totem pole to a foreman. Every minute he worked was to make sure you lived in comfort and as much happiness as possible.
“You’ll never guess who I ran into when apartment hunting.” Your father made a noise, signaling for you to continue. He wouldn’t be able to name any names. He still thought your best friend was Wendy Toothaker from a few streets over. Wendy moved away to live with her mom in California after her parents got divorced in the sixth grade. “Do you remember Frank Langdon?”
Your father stopped mid chew. You could see him searching his brain for a man named Frank. “Someone from college?” He guessed.
You nodded, “Yeah, we met in Statistics sophomore year. He dated my roommate.”
“Aw, Abby,” your father cooed, “she was a nice girl – very polite. A bit timid, but still polite.” Abby had visited you during one of the spring breaks. She didn’t really want to go to Florida like usual college kids. Plus Frank was staying in Chicago to shadow doctors for a potential fellowship in Chicago. He decided against it after finding some other fellowships in Pennsylvania. You dad took another bite and mumbled around the food, “Are they still together?”
You used your fork to pick up the leftover frosting on your plate and shrugged your shoulders. “I know she left with him to Pennsylvania after she graduated. He transferred to Penn State after finishing his pre-med.”
“Did you see her when you saw him?”
You shook your head. “No, it was just him. I got an apartment in the same building as him. You’ll probably see him when you visit.”
***
Your apartment was a mess. Boxes were piled up in every room. Your couch and recliner were wrapped up in bubble wrap. Your mattress sat on the floor in your bedroom, yearning for its bedframe to be put together. You knew it was silly to do so, but you turned up the heat. The apartment was chilly from months of not being occupied. You knew you would become so sweaty and warm once you got into the groove of unpacking.
You grabbed your box cutter and sliced open a box that was sitting on your kitchen island. You lifted something wrapped in bubble wrap, peeking inside to see what it was. Ah, it was a vase that your mother had made years ago. As you set it down onto the counter, your phone rang.
It took you a moment to find it in the mess, moving boxes to the side and knocking loose bubble wrap to the ground, but when you did find it, you answered it without looking at the name. “Hello?” You moved the phone away from your ear as your name was yelled loudly through it. “Jesus John, you’re gonna make me deaf.”
“I just saw your text. I’m happy your journey here was safe.” He sounded out of breath, and not because he was just longingly sing song-ing your name when you picked up his call. “What are you doing?”
“Obviously unpacking,” you said and you heard him take a deep breath. “What are you doing? It sounds like you’re having sex.”
“You of all people should know how I sound during sex.”
You held the phone between your ear and shoulder as you used your free hands to rummage through the box you just opened. “There’s plenty of stuff we haven’t done and I’m not one to yuck someone’s yum.” John mumbled for you to shut up. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find your fucking building.” You could now hear the cars that passed by him. It sounded like he crossed a road then changed his mind last minute and a horn blared. John cursed at it. “You said on Bailey Ave, yeah?”
“Mhm,” you pulled a wrapped up towel out from the box that was heavy with items. Inside were a handful of kitchen utensils – ladles, big spoons, spatulas. You turned around and yanked on a top drawer. The utensils hit the drawer with a dull crash and you shut it without further action. “Are you lost?”
“No, I’m not lost.”
“Cause that would be embarrassing.”
John swore again as another car horn blared at him. “People don’t know how to drive! Oh shit, wait, I think I found it. Am I here? Look outside!” You laughed at his ramblings as you made your way over to your bedroom. You pulled open the balcony doors and looked over the railing to the street below. “There she is!”
You waved to John below as he pointed up at you with a grin that you could see from all the way up on the balcony. He held something in his other arm. You couldn’t quite make it out. “I’ll buzz you up, hold on.” You tossed your cellphone onto your bed as you passed and practically skipped over to the kitchen again. You found the telecom by your front door that had the button to unlock the door below. It buzzed for a moment and then you waited.
You peeked through your peep hole every now and then, seeing if John had finally made it to your door. When you heard a knock, you grinned and pulled the door open. John was catching his breath on the other side and you noticed he held a couple pizzas and a tool bag. He had brought you lunch and was volunteering himself to help you unpack and put your shit together.
You took the pizzas from him and gave him a quick kiss of thanks. He lingered outside the door for a moment but seemed to shake himself from whatever was going on in his head and stepped into your apartment. His gaze bounced around, taking in the large amount of boxes that were littered around. “Pretty big place.” He said as he followed you out of the entryway and over towards the kitchen area. He placed his tool bag on the counter, next to the pizzas.
“What did you get?”
“One is cheese and the other is meat and veg.” You peeked under the cover of the first pizza, seeing that it was cheese and your mouth watered. But you swallowed it down when you felt John step behind you. His hands found your hips as he pressed his front to your back. “How was your road trip?” He lifted a hand to push your hair to one side. You felt his lips on your shoulder.
You leaned your neck to the opposite side he was kissing, giving him more space to plant kisses. “Mm– very good. The open road is very freeing.” John hummed against your skin. You pushed off the counter slightly in order to get enough room to turn to face John. His lips hit yours, the kiss deep and slow. You hummed this time, pulling away enough to speak. “Work first then play. Gotta put these muscles to work in a different way.”
John pouted at you and you leaned in to nip at it. “The sooner we finish the sooner we can have fun. Grab a slice or two first. You need to eat. Moving is stressful.”
You couldn’t argue with that. You popped open the pizza box and pulled a slice from it. The cheese stretched and you chased it with your mouth. You watched John grab the box cutter you set on the counter and started to cut the safety ties on your couch. They came off with a pop as the blade hit them and then fell to the floor. The bubble wrap squeaked as John tore it off like a kid on Christmas. He saw the open garbage bag nearby and stuffed the trash into it.
“How old is this couch?”
You held your hand over your mouth, hiding the food that was nestled in as you spoke, “It’s the couch my mom had in her studio. My dad made me take it from storage when I stopped by.”
You didn’t talk about your family a lot to John. Bits and pieces over the years. You would go back to Indiana for the major holidays. You had spoken about your dad to John. Small antidotes that would give the slightest peak into the relationship the two of you had. But when it came to your mom, it was in tiny bits of info. You didn’t like opening up to John like that. It’s not what your relationship was for – closeness.
***
Most of the boxes in your kitchen and living room were emptied out. Your bed frame was put together and so was your desk that was shoved into the smaller spare bedroom. You and John had found a place on the floor, on top of your large, abstract rug. Backs against the couch, you both stared at the television as it played a dumb, comedy movie. The two of you had finished off the cheese pizza hours ago and were working on the remaining slices of the meat and veg pizza.
You laughed at a joke, then took a bite of your slice. You tried not to choke on it as another laugh bubbled up from you. You looked over towards John and found him already looking your way. “Stop that,” you mumble at him.
“Stop what?”
“Judging me– it’s funny, okay.”
“I’m not judging you.”
“Oh, so you’re being a creep then?” You set your half eaten slice down into the almost empty pizza box that sat between the two of you. John didn’t smile or toss a joke back at you, not even a chuckle. It threw you off. “What’s up?”
You could see him thinking. His jaw seemed to clench and tighten as his eyes danced over your face. You could see them drifting from your eyes to your lips, over to your cheeks, even to your hair. Your brows furrowed. You repeated yourself.
John blinked and before you knew it, he had leaned over, giving a half hazard kick to the pizza box to get it out of his way as he twisted his body towards you. You felt one hand go to the back of your head to push you towards him and the other to your waist. He kind of tugged your body over to him and you were awkwardly sideways against him, lips pressed against his.
You were a bit taken aback, sure John was always forward with his advances and the two of you were very comfortable together sexually but this just felt… weird.
His lips seemed hesitant. They pressed against yours once, then twice, then after the third time, he held them there. Trying to push past this feeling that was building within you, you pressed your lips back to him, despite the uncomfortable twist in your spine, and your hands found places on his body – one on his shoulder and the other hooked into one of his belt loops.
With your eyes closed, you kissed John back slowly. Trying to build a fire within you, one that was sexual and hot and not whatever was going on now. Without a word between the two of you, John pulled you from your spot and adjusted you to straddle his lap. His large hands came to grasp your head on either side of your face and it seemed like he was trying to meld your body into his.
Your hands came to rest on his shoulders, and when broke apart from you to catch a big breath, you blinked down at him. “What’s up, John?” Your voice was quiet and even with the television being pretty loud, you knew John heard you since his lips pressed together. He was thinking. You leaned away from him, trying to get a better look at his face. He seemed pale, he seemed distant. Your right hand came to cup his cheek this time. Your eyes tried to search his but you couldn’t get a good read on them. “John?”
“Are you fucking other people?”
You blinked once, then twice. “Huh?” The question was out of left field and you needed a moment to process his words. His hands were planted on your hips now, seemingly grounding you to him. “Am I fucking other people?” You repeat back to him. He nods once. “Like in general or right now?”
“Are you fucking any one other than me?”
“There was a guy in Chicago I would see every now and then.” You shrug, thinking back to the past few months and then over the past year. “I go on dates and stuff.”
“So, I’m not the only one?”
You blink again. “At the moment, you are. I just moved to a new state.”
“But if you went somewhere else you would?”
“What?” You found yourself pushing against John’s shoulders, trying to free yourself from his body and his grasp. You felt his fingers dig in slightly to your hips before he finally let go. You scrambled to your feet and stood above him with a confused look. “What is going on?”
John’s hands balled up next to him and he let out a sigh. “I just– I’m just curious to know if you’re seeing other people and stuff.”
“No, you want to know if I’m fucking other people.”
“And if I was?”
“Why would you want to?” You were taken aback by the conversation that you found yourself in, and sat down on the couch, tucking your legs under you as you tried to get comfortable. “Are you worried that I’m not being safe or?”
John didn’t turn to look towards you. You saw him looking towards the television but you knew he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening across the screen. “I’m just curious to see if I’m the only one you’re seeing.” He said, “and apparently, I’m not.”
Your leg came out from under you and you pushed a foot into his shoulder. John looked over at you now and you said, “Are you also not fucking other people?” John’s jaw clenched, you saw it, you know you did. “I’m not. You’re still fucking other people.” A statement. “You’re mad at me for fucking other people but you’re also fucking other people?”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“But you are.”
“No–” it was quiet, quipped and John was getting to his feet. “I was just thinking since you’re here now for the foreseeable future– maybe, I don’t know, I’d just focus on… you.”
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.
Frank
“Yo,” Donnie Donahue tapped Frank on the shoulder. Frank didn’t look over at his colleague, but kept his eyes on the sutures he was doing. Mel King had even double checked with Frank to make sure he wanted to be assigned to it, but Frank just smiled at her. It was a menial task and while a year ago he would have been bored by it, today, he was more than happy to do it. “There’s some donuts in the break room. Better grab one before Dana trashes them all.”
Frank gives a quiet snort of amusement as he pulls the suture through the skin of his patient and then starts to tie the line. “Save me a Boston or something and I’ll be over.”
“Hurry!” Donnie hisses as he disappears behind the curtain. Frank gives a quick snip to the line and looks over his work. Sure, he’s a little rusty, but it still looks pretty clean and straight.
Frank looks up at his patient, an older man who goes by Roger. “Now, you’ll have to keep it clean and dry for a few days. If anything leaks, oozes, or the stitches start to come undone, come back and we can look it over and fix it. You’ll leave with some antibiotics and aftercare instructions – which I’ll grab in a moment.” Frank pulls off his gloves, tossing them casually into the bin and rests his hands on his thighs, looking over at the man.
Roger gives a half-assed nod and a groan of acknowledgement. “Be careful next time on the ice, Rog. See if you can bribe some neighborhood kids to shovel your steps.” Frank adds. Roger groans again, more annoyed sounding.
“Kids don’t do shit these days,” he grumbles before looking over at Frank, “Thank you, doc.” Frank gives Roger a tight lipped smile and slides past the curtain to head over to the area of the Hub with a tablet in his hand. He signs digitally onto it before dropping it into the stands with the others.
“You have about sixty seconds before I burn every donut in that room, hon,” Dana quips at him, not even bothering to look up from her clipboard. Her glasses sat down low on her nose and her lips were pursed together tightly in annoyance. Frank’s mouth ticked up and he leaned over the counter towards Dana.
“I can sneak you one and can hide you away for a few minutes if you want,” Frank whispered, although exaggerated and Dana’s eyes flicked up to Frank so fast that if Frank blinked, he would have missed it. “Free food is good food.”
“Not when it’s paid for in blood and low wages.”
Frank’s shoulders deflated and he gave a light slap to the counter as a goodbye and headed towards the break room.
Princess gave a hum of a hello as she shoved the rest of her jelly donut into her mouth, stepping around Frank to exit the break room. She looked towards where Dana was and then booked it in the opposite direction.
McKay was sitting at the small circular table and was swallowing a bite. Frank lifted the top of one of the donut boxes and saw one jelly with a sticky note laid on top of it labeled “FRANK”. Frank grinned.
“How’s your shift been?” He asked McKay as he grabbed a napkin from the pile on the table and pulled out the chair next to Cassie. She gave a single shoulder shrug and huffed her bangs out of her eyes before taking another bite. “Yeah?” Frank said, “Can’t be as bad as last week.” McKay gave a sad look of agreement. Last week a seven year old died after finding his dad’s loaded gun and dropping it when he heard his parents coming home. A bullet had bounced off a wall and lodged into the kid’s stomach, bouncing off bones and organs before it exited out his heart. McKay had been one of the primary doctors on it and it shook her pretty badly. She worked on the kid more than she should have – Robby physically pulling her off him as the kid started to code for the fourth time.
Cassie McKay had to debrief for about an hour, not without a phone call to her dad to speak to Harrison. He was as happy as could be, telling his mom about his day and asking when she’d be by to pick him up.
“How’s your shift?” She asked him, wiping her fingers of stickiness before grabbing her mug that sat next to her donut. She glanced over at him over the rim of her mug.
Frank picked up the donut and thought over his day so far. “Good… I think.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get used to being back again.” His tone wasn’t sad or disappointed. It was a matter of fact. Sure, he would be and sound nervous when he would bring it up to Thatcher later this week at their coffee meetup but right now, it was simply a sentence. He took a bite of his donut, jelly coming out to mush against his fingers and fell to the table. “Fuck–”
Cassie grabbed another napkin and quickly wiped the smear up. Maybe it was her motherly instincts and Frank mumbled a thank you as he tried to swallow. “How’s your sobriety going?”
Before his sobriety, Frank never considered Cassie McKay as anything but another colleague. Despite working the same shifts for the past few years, they never really clicked or crossed paths unless they happened to be on the same patient case or in the same room for an announcement.
Frank knew the basics of Cassie McKay. She was a mother and she loved being a mother. It was something that Frank found to be something mundane and uninteresting and whenever he found himself involved in small talk where he would bring up Abby, Cassie would ask if the two of them were thinking about starting a family.
During those conversations, flying high on his Benzos, Frank would give an exaggerated shrug and “We’ve talked about it but don’t think right now is the time.” Frank would give the same answer no matter who asked him about Abby and future kids – whether it was Robby, Dana, or his in-laws. Frank didn’t acknowledge it before his sobriety but during his divorce proceedings with Abby, came to terms with the fact that he didn’t just not want kids with Abby, but with anyone in general. He remembered Abby telling him that by their second wedding anniversary she had come to terms with his distaste for a family herself.
After Frank came back to PTMC, Cassie was someone he didn’t expect to greet him with open arms – not literally, of course – and treat him like a normal person, to treat him like Frank. She had given him a few shifts to adjust to being back and when they both ended up in the break room together like they were now, she had let him know that she was happy he was back and going forth with his journey of sobriety. That’s when Frank was told about her own journey with sobriety. He was so grateful for the conversation the two of them had, he called up Thatcher almost excitedly and told him that if Cassie was strong enough to do it, then he could too.
“A bit mundane at the moment.”
Cassie nodded with a smile, her eyes tight with proudness, “Those are the best moments. You spend so much time being sad or angry or disappointed and you wait for the big explosion of good until you realize that you don’t need a big happy explosion. You just need normalcy.”
“Exactly.” Frank grinned back at her before taking another bite of his donut.
***
The elevator dinged and the doors opened to his floor. The keys in his hand jingled quietly, not able to keep still. His other hand was in the pocket of his jeans and he passed your apartment door slowly. He wasn’t sure when you would move in. He never exchanged phone numbers with you and to be honest, he assumed he would run into you eventually.
But as he passed your door, he realized he never really ran into any of his other apartment neighbors. He swallowed the small nervous lump in his throat and moved towards his apartment near the end of the hall.
Frank stood at his door, keys still jingling in his hands. He peeked over his shoulder, under the visor of his Penguins cap and down the hall. “What if it’s the wrong number?” He tried to think back. His brain seemed to fog at the memory and he couldn’t remember if you said 405 or 403 or 401. He would get frustrated at his brain, cursing that it should be better at memory without the drugs running through him.
He chewed at his cheek, face twisted in contemplation until he muttered a “fuck it” to himself and headed back down the hall. His hand gripped his keys tightly, the teeth of his apartment key cutting into the soft flesh of his palm. He winced as it dug into him but he liked it. It told him that what he was doing was real, in the moment.
He hesitated at the door that said 405 on it, peeking briefly down the hall at the other possible doors you could call your new home. Frank’s tongue swiped over his dry lips and he cleared his dry throat and without another thought, knocked on the door in front of him. He didn’t stand right there, he was a few steps away, so if you took a peek in the peephole, you would see his whole body.
His whole body? Frank felt a wave of self consciousness wash over him. He looked down at his attire, a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans were sported, along with a light jacket and his Penguins hat. He switched out his work sneakers for an older pair that were more rough around the edges and the tread was practically nonexistent. His outfit was something easy and casual to change in and out of for before and after work.
He ran his free hand down the front of his shirt, flattening out any noticeable wrinkles and hoped his hair didn’t look too awful if he happened to take off his hat.
His face broke out into a smile as the door was pulled open after he heard the soft click of a lock coming undone. “Frank?”
“Hey,” he said, “Sorry if you’re busy, but I uh, wanted to see if you had moved in yet.”
You held the door open with one hand as you leaned the opposite shoulder against the door frame and smiled back at him. “I’m unpacked for the most part!” The keys began to jingle softly in his hands. “I think it’s more decorating and determining what I’m missing or need now.”
“Great!”
You nod at him and seem to pause for a moment. “Once I get more settled, do you want to maybe catch up?” Frank’s shoulders seemed to relax at the offer and you looked at him with a hint of excitement but also nervousness.
“I would love that, actually.” Frank said, “I think that’s kind of why I came over.”
“Great!” You said back and gave him a grin. “Uh, here–” your arm dropped from the door and it started to fall back into place before it came into a small thud against your back. You dug into the pocket of your sweatpants and pulled out your phone. With a quick few taps, you handed the phone over to him. “Put your number in so we can keep in touch and settle on a time.”
Frank grabbed the phone and put in his information (not before checking about three times that he didn’t transpose a number) and gave the phone back. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
Pairing: John Shen x Reader, Frank Langdon x Reader
Warnings: Language, angst, yearning, light smut (insinuating sexual acts/situations), canon-typical medical situations, fem reader, love triangle tingz, right person/wrong time, flashbacks, College!Frank, Player!John
Summary: Is John Shen finally ready to settle down?
Did Frank Langdon choose the wrong girl all those years ago?
Are you able to make a choice?
Author's Note: Frank Langdon is #divorced and his kids do not exist. I like my boys sad and yearning. I have been writing this as new episodes come out so things may not be canon regarding Frank's rehab (I don't really care anyways)
Word Count: 8,000+
Read on AO3 here!
John
“You’re leaving in half an hour, where the hell did you get that?” Parker Ellis was quick with her words but very casual and teasing. She held a tablet in her hands, eyes searching over the scan results of her heavily bruised patient in South 12. Parker had money on at least two ribs being broken, but John was assuming one fracture.
John’s eyebrows furrowed in question as he slurped up the fresh iced coffee that was Doordashed to him five minutes ago. “Technology is a gift these days,” he mumbled around the straw.
Ignoring him, Parker held the tablet out in front of John’s gaze. “Two fractures, guess you were half right.”
“I still call that a win, baby.”
Parker Ellis walked away from him without another word. Despite John being a year ahead of Parker, there was never an air of superiority between them. They respected each other as colleagues but also talked their shit and kept the night shift on their toes with the confidence and nonchalance the two of them had.
John chewed on the end of his straw as he stared up at the board. Lena’s fingers were dancing across the keyboard and she looked up at John from over her glasses – something that every charge nurse seemed to do when nipping their doctors into gear. “I saw a couple of day shifters sneak in, so you should be able to sneak in that sprained ankle in North 2 and pass it off fast.”
John gave the nurse a two finger salute with his free hand and pivoted on his heel. He needed to do a drive by to the employee lounge to drop off his iced coffee. After he scooted around a nurse who was leaving as he was entering, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
Taking another quick gulp before setting the coffee down onto the table, he fished out his cellphone with his free hand. The screen lit up with notifications from the past few hours. There was a missed call from his mother and a voicemail to go with it, there were a few Instagram notifications which he would save for later. The notifications he focused on were his text messages. His group chat with his college friends was getting exciting. Some of them were going to go to Philly soon and they figured a get together would be in order. There was a text from Donnie Donahue about a show John suggested and Donnie had his opinions after the first few episodes. But the one text that caught his eye was from you.
YOU: I’m coming to town next week.
John instinctively bit down on his bottom lip.
JOHN: When?
He watched as the taunting little bubbles came and went. Then a second later, he got another text.
YOU: Next week.
JOHN: Tease.
YOU: You love it.
John let out a little chuckle and slid the phone back into his pocket. John felt a shiver of excitement roll down his spine and he knew it wasn’t the fresh iced coffee, no, he was excited because he hadn’t seen you in about six months. This was the longest stretch the two of you had gone without you coming to town. And while John certainly had his pick of Pittsburgh, he always had time, energy, and libido for you.
Now, the two of you weren’t together. It was actually something better, something that fit both of your schedules, wants and needs. The two of you were fuck buddies. You didn’t live in Pittsburgh – you didn’t even live in Pennsylvania. You were from Chicago and worked for a marketing firm. You and John were very similar when it came to your careers – both driven and wanting to become the best and you were confident in your work.
***
You had been assigned to your firm’s Pittsburgh office for a few weeks to work on a portfolio for a large fast food chain. You were just shy of becoming a junior advisor of your firm. Your boss had sent you out to prove yourself. And you did so, without a hitch.
To celebrate, after work, you and the rest of the portfolio team had decided to go bar hopping. You didn’t have to check out until the end of the weekend and you were going to use the business trip and hotel to your full advantage.
After hitting the third local spot of the night (a decently sized place called Rory’s) you and your colleagues were taking a round of shots at the bartop when John saw you from the other side of the room. Tucked away at a corner table with Jesse Van Horn, Emery Walsh, and Mateo Diaz, John lifted his half empty beer to his lips as he watched you throw your head back, swallowing the shot of vodka with one gulp and a wrinkle of your nose before a grin bloomed over your face. Jesse was talking about an upcoming underground rock show that was coming within the next few weeks and gauging the waters to see who would want to go with him.
Emery pursed her lips, “Watching a bunch of sweaty men jump and scream?”
“There are girls who like that kind of stuff you know.”
“Probably not the kind of girl I’m looking for then.”
Mateo gave a snort, which resulted in Jesse chucking a cashew at him. While Jesse and Emery went to bickering about the type of women the two of them preferred, Mateo caught John’s distracted gaze locked on something other than his friends. Following his eyeline, Mateo looked over his shoulder and scanned the room. “Is it the girl in the bachelorette sash?” Mateo pointed a finger at another girl, “Or the redhead that’s too overdressed for this type of place?”
Mateo quickly looked back and forth from John and to the rest of the establishment. He was trying to pinpoint whoever had John Shen’s attention because given John’s track record, it would be a good one.
“Oh, oh!” Mateo squinted one eye shut and followed his finger around like it was the crosshairs to a scope of a gun, looking for the prize winning buck (in this case, doe). “It's her, isn’t it?” Mateo’s finger landed on another woman and he even gave himself a nod of approval at his own detective work. Emery and Jesse had stopped their conversation, becoming intrigued in what Mateo was getting giddy over.
“The one in the leather jacket?” Jesse asked, then he downed the rest of his scotch. John Shen shook his head.
“That one’s for you.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“It’s her.” Emery said, almost like she was bored, when really, it was her “I’m right” voice. She stabbed the mint leaves deeper into the glass, mixing up the mojito even more. Mateo Diaz and Jesse Van Horn finally found you.
Your group was finally moving away from the bar. You had two drinks in your hand – a martini (extra dirty) and another shot, this one being tequila. You weaved past other warm bodies and much to John’s surprise, were heading towards him. John realized you were leading your pack to the empty table that was next to his. Mateo was taken aback by how quickly John moved – he took a swig of his beer before standing up from his chair and stepping towards the empty chair at the table next to them, it was the one that was closest to John and the grin that lit up his face almost hypnotized Mateo himself.
John pulled out the chair and cooly spoke, “Lemme help, your hands are full.” You looked up from under your lashes at the handsome Asian man and the corner of your mouth ticked up.
“Ah, a gentleman,” you say as you step by him and slide into the pulled out chair. You set the drinks down onto the sticky table and turn to thank him. John’s pearly whites never left his face as he quickly started to make small talk with you. It was a gift, truly. John didn’t know what gods he pleased or what fortune he found, but he had always had confidence and a cool head. It’s helped him in school, in work, and most importantly, in love (lust).
The rest of your group found their seats and sipped their drinks while conversing together. Jesse Van Horn caught the eye of your friend in the leather jacket and when he noticed her nose piercing and a tattooed arm peeking out from under her work blouse sleeve, he found himself grinning as well. Jesse dragged his chair over to your friend and sat down with a handshake. John pulled his own chair closer to yours and held up his beer to clink against your martini. After you introduced yourself, John did the same.
After a few shared rounds of shots between the two groups of friends, people started to shed away. Emery and Mateo left after the third shot of tequila — Emery’s face twisted in playful annoyance as she shouldered Mateo out the door and to a shared cab to make sure he made it home okay. Not too long after, a few of your colleagues made the trek back to the hotel, humming and laughing together as they were excited to have closed the deal as a team.
When it was you, John Shen, Jesse Van Horn and your closest colleague, Samantha, gathered around the alcohol soaked table and giggling together, John offered himself and Jesse up to escort the two of you back to the hotel. John, being as vigilant as ever, saw the quick glance you and Samantha exchanged. Jesse had missed it as he finished off his last scotch – it was brief and almost natural between the two of you. John could see the silent communication. He was used to it, it was something he did just about every day at his job.
The hotel was nice. It wasn’t the Ritz but it wasn’t a Motel 6. Something in between that subtly told anyone who worked for your company that they would take care of you if they sent you out on business. Samantha had dragged Jesse off to the second floor when the elevator gave a cheerful ding. John couldn’t stop the grin that plastered his face as Jesse tried his best to keep his long legs from tripping over themselves. Jesse gave a half assed wave to John and you as the doors closed again.
You had said you were on the fifth floor. The elevator lolled into movement and John leaned against the back wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “How much longer are you in town for?” He looked you over – you stood just an arms reach away, hands clasped around your dark brown clutch. He saw your lips purse together as you stared up at the row of numbers above the elevator doors. Slowly but surely, each circled number lit up with a soft ding.
Three.
“Checkout is Sunday morning.”
“Did you do everything you wanted while in the city?”
Your head turned slightly in his direction but you didn’t look at him. Your eyes were still glued to the numbers above.
“I’ve done everything I’ve needed to do for work.”
Four.
John pushed off the wall and closed the distance to stand next to you. His eyes flickered up to the numbers. His arm brushed yours slightly and the simple touch made his body grow warm. Keeping his eyes on the numbers above, he ducked down a bit to get level with your ear. His lips didn’t touch your ear but he heard the tiniest intake of a breath. “But what about for fun?”
Five.
It was rushed, sloppy, and the weight of your body against John’s made him groan, almost painfully. Your mouths smashed against each other, teeth digging into the flesh of lips and hands grabbed at anything they could. You found yourself tugging on John’s hair at the nape of his neck and his hands kneaded at your ass like it was his last job on earth.
Even though the door had opened and the elevator had dinged, the two of you stood in the middle of the elevator kissing, touching, squeezing, groping, and moaning for what felt like an eternity. John could feel his arousal growing in a record time and when you gave a particularly hard tug at his hair to tug his lips off your neck, John quickly lifted you up into his arms – which made you let out a yelp of surprise – and wrapped your legs around him. He stepped off the elevator and mumbled into your chest about a room number.
When you told him, he quickly started down a hallway but you gave his hair another tug and told him to go the other way. “Fuck me–” was all he could muster out before turning on his heels.
“I’m trying to–”
John Shen didn’t leave your hotel room until Saturday afternoon. The two of you had spent the past twenty four hours fucking on any surface in the hotel room, ordering room service, and sleeping in between your fucking and eating. He remembered sending a quick prayer to any god above for you to come back to Pittsburg when you had woken him up while having his dick in your mouth.
When he did leave, you were wrapped in the hotel robe and your eyes were tired. Not sleepy tired, but more of a blissful tired. You leaned against the door of your room and watched John as he pulled out his cellphone and quickly punched in his passcode. His clothes were wrinkled as hell and he had his jacket slung over his shoulder, his finger hooked onto it. He handed his cellphone to you with his other hand.
You had a lazy, closed lipped smile on your face as you typed your contact info in. “Lemme know when you’re in town again.” John slid the phone back into his pocket and then snaked an arm around your waist. The robe wasn’t the fanciest but still warm and soft enough. You pressed your lips to John’s and then snaked your tongue into his mouth. “Yeah, definitely let me know when you’re in town again.”
“Goodbye, John.” Was the last thing you said to him before winking and letting the door close in front of him with a soft click. You didn’t come back to town until the following Fall and now, three years later, John always knew that whenever you were in town, he would end up in between your legs one way or another.
You
“Who do you rent from?” Your voice echoed off the shower walls, mixing with the splashing of the water coming down on top of you. You lathered the shampoo in your hair and felt the bubbles grow as you continued to scrub. Your eyes flickered close as you stepped more directly under the water flow. “John?” You stilled for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as the water ran over your hair and face and down your damp body. The shower was warm, the steam rising and filling your lungs, warming you from the inside out.
“Yeah?” His voice was far away. You rinsed the rest of your hair out and wiped your eyes of water. You stepped towards the frosted door of the shower and cracked it open, peeking through to see into the large hotel bathroom. The cooler air of the bathroom hits your body, making your nipples harden from the chill. A shiver ran down your spine as your body and shower adjusted to the temperature mixture.
You blinked a few times to adjust to the harsher bathroom lights and saw John Shen padding his way towards the sink. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He rummaged through things on the counter, before finding what he was looking for – his toothbrush. You watched him as he untwisted the toothpaste cap. “Who do you rent from?”
“Uh–” he wracked his brain for a moment as he slid the toothbrush into his mouth and started to scrub. The bristle of his brush was hard to hear over your running shower but after he spit for the first time, he mumbled around the toothbrush, “Johnson Rental or something? Starts with a J– maybe Jenkinson. Yeah, I think it’s Jenkinson.” He spit again. “Why?” He looked over at you through the mirror. You saw his gaze drop slightly from your face and to your naked, wet body that was playing peekaboo with him through the sliver of the shower door.
You couldn’t stop the grin that took over your face. Your cheeks got warm with excitement. John turned around to face you directly, toothbrush still circling meticulously on his teeth. “I got offered a position over here.”
John’s eyes widened and he held the toothbrush in his mouth as his arms opened in excitement for you, “Oh my god!” He exclaimed around his toothbrush. “That’s fucking ama-thing!” John quickly spit again, clearing any toothpaste from his mouth and putting his toothbrush onto the counter again. He stood outside the shower and blatantly eyed at your body, now that he was closer. “When did you get it?”
“Last month,” you say, stepping away from the shower door and back under the water. Your body quickly warmed back up. John quickly pushed his sweatpants down and snaked into the shower behind you. You heard the door close and you turned to face him. He swore as the water hit him, too hot for his delicate skin. “A senior advisor is retiring over here and they offered the position to me and me only.” You had a bragging tone to your voice, but it was expected and appropriate for the situation. You were great at your job and you’ve spent the last three years getting familiar with the established clients in Pittsburgh and even gained more over the years. Not only that, but you spent plenty of time in Boston and New York and expanded those clients in those cities to advertise and open in Pittsburgh.
“When do you transition?”
“Two months.” John’s hands slid onto your waist, the water helping his hands wander to your backside or up your back in order to push you closer to him. “I’d like to get the apartment sooner than later so I’m settled in okay. Plus Lana doesn’t retire until two months after I move since she needs to transfer clients and accounts over to me.”
John took a step forward which caused you to take a step backwards. Your back hit the chilly shower wall and you gasped, arching your body against John. He hummed to himself as he bent down to kiss you. “We have to celebrate first.” Slowly but surely, John’s lips went from your lips to your neck, into the divet of your collarbone, then down over the curve of your breasts. Soon enough, John was kneeling down, water splashing down onto him, practically waterboarding him, but he didn’t care. He was on a mission and you didn’t want to stop him. You threw one leg over his shoulder and when you felt his lips trail from your public bone and down to your clit, you knew it would be a long celebration.
***
You loved Chicago – the Windy City beneath your wings. But it was becoming old news. As you spent more time at Brooks & Muldoon Marketing, you knew that the senior advisory board of your Chicago office wasn’t changing anytime soon. The most senior member was still another ten years before retiring and you didn’t want to wait that long.
So when your boss Roger called you into his office one snowy afternoon, you didn’t expect a promotion to a different city. You were nervous at first when you didn’t know what city it would be. Sure, you spent time in the West coast and East coast offices, but you didn’t want to go South. Maybe it was the Northerner in you but you didn’t exactly flourish in the heat and humidity.
“How’s Pittsburgh sound?” He had asked you, half of his smile hidden by a burly moustache. You had obviously said yes, thanked him for the opportunity, and told him how much of a pleasure it was to work under his eye. You were definitely one of Roger’s favorites of the newer generation of hires, giving him some comfort in how the company would be handled when Roger’s generation finally decided to retire to their summer Florida homes permanently.
You had called your Father on the train ride home to tell him the good news. While he didn’t understand what your job was (blame that on being a blue collar man from Indiana) but congratulated you in equal excitement. Sure, you would be a bit farther away in Pennsylvania but he was happy about you finally being out of (“the dangerous”) city of Chicago (again, blame that on being a blue collar man from Indiana).
“Will you please visit before you leave? We can go out to Tony’s to celebrate, my treat.” Tony’s was the local Italian restaurant that was run by a third generation of Germans. Regardless, they knew how to mix up a good pasta dish. You had told him that you would visit on the drive over to Pittsburgh. You were going to rent a car to pack with your more personal items and make a weekend trip of it.
But now, you were in the streets of Pittsburgh looking up at a decently sized apartment building with squinted eyes to keep the sun from blinding you. A nicely kept woman in a dark grey pantsuit slid the key card into the front lobby door and ushered for you to come in. You followed her and saw the lobby area. Two elevators were to your left, along with a door that had a faded stairs sign. To the right were PO Boxes and a counter for a security guard to sit at. You did a double take at the teenage looking boy who sat in the rolling chair and was scrolling through his phone.
“As you saw, you need a key card to get into the building but the front desk is always staffed with security – one of the perks included in your rent.” The woman said, before leading you to one of the elevators. “There are two working elevators and stairs. Eight floors that offer a studio, one bed, two beds, or three beds. Three beds are the only ones that have two baths.” The door opened and the two of you stepped inside. She continued, “Rent includes water/sewage, trash pickup as there’s a dumpster out back, the security and PO Boxes, and is within walking distance of various shops and restaurants. My personal favorite is Rory’s around the corner.”
“I’m familiar,” you chuckle and she gives you a smile.
The door opens up to the fourth floor and she leads you down the hallway. “You said you wanted a two bedroom and this one may be what you’re looking for. There’s a mix of one bedroom and a three bedroom on this floor as well if you want to look at those after.” She pulled a key out of her pocket and slid it into the front door – Apt 405.
The apartment was nicer than you expected. It had a small entryway for coats and shoes and then opened up into the open concept kitchen and living room, a large island “separating” the two rooms. On your right was a small closet then another door that led to the smaller of the two rooms. “You said you worked in marketing?” She asked you. You gave a nod and she continued, “This could be a nice home office or if you want, a walk in closet. It’s what I did with mine.” She chuckled.
The two of you walked down further, passing the area of where to hang up a television and to the other door on the other side of it. “This is your bathroom. Big counter for space, walk in shower, small linen closet.” She pointed to the other side of the room to the other door. “Over there is the master. Large closet and enough space to fit a queen sized bed and dresser comfortably.”
You took your time looking through all the rooms. You saw the last tenant left the blinds behind and you were thankful for that. The kitchen sink had a slight drip but you were sure if you brought it up to your Father, he would tell you how to fix it. There was a slight chill in the air, the heating cut off since the apartment wasn’t being rented out. You were told you would have to pay for heat and electricity and any other amenities you wanted. The master bedroom was pretty big for your surprise. You were equally surprised by the small balcony that led out from the bedroom as well.
The air was crisp but still warmer than the air inside the apartment. You looked out, seeing that the view you would have was nice. It didn’t face the other apartment buildings around you but out into the street. There was a small park across the street and more buildings that filled up the rest of the view. “Oh, I forgot it had this!” The agent peeked her head out from the door. “So cute, isn’t it?”
“Very,” you said, turning to face her. “I will take it.”
The agent beamed with a smile and ushered you back in to go over final details. You would have to provide the first month’s rent and deposit when you sign, which you were fine with. She went over who were some local providers for internet and television, and whether or not you needed movers as well. She recommended one company over the other (turned out it was her brother’s) and let the front door shut behind you as the two of you stepped out into the hallway. “I would recommend changing the locks as well. We did get all the keys back for this lock but you can never be sure.”
“Oh, my dad would absolutely lose it if I didn’t change them.”
“All dads are the same, huh.”
As the two of you made your way down the hallway, another apartment door opened behind you. Your agent gave a polite smile as the man stepped by the two of you, mumbling an “excuse me” as he went. He was tall and lanky and a baseball cap donned the top of his head. A black back pack was strapped to him and chunky headphones were slung around his neck. He pressed the down button on the elevator. You and your agent stopped next to him and when you looked up to give your own polite smile, you blinked in surprise. “Oh my god– Frank?”
Frank
Frank’s life has been hell lately.
Busted for stealing drugs from his job. Finalizing his already tepid marriage with Abby (after she found out about the drug stealing and using). Going through his rehab program where he has to not only talk about his addiction but to acknowledge it. While he had been told that there were a lot more medical professionals than you would think who have struggled with addiction and then overcame the addiction and go back to practicing, Frank was… less than positive about it all.
Sure, he was making his way through his program well.
He was able to detox successfully – even though it sucked like a motherfucker.
He was able to have multiple conversations with Abby – one to tell her about his addiction and how he lost his job (temporarily), one to tell her that he will be moving out of their house (he needed to be closer to his sponsor anyway), and one to tell her that they should get a divorce (to which she agreed and surprisingly, both of them ended up laughing and smiling at the end).
He was able to take his mandated weekly drug tests without having a panic attack.
He was able to reach back out to some of his colleagues, friends, and family members that extended an olive branch when they heard the news about him – his father was worried as hell, offering to have Frank move to his house in Texas if he needed it; Donnie Donahue sent him memes and updated him on the juiciest of work gossip; and Dana would drop off a casserole or a plate of cookies every now and then with a smile and a hug.
Frank was getting through it.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Eventually, it had been a whole year. Frank had no idea where the time went but he stayed focused on other things. He worked out, he (tried to) read books, he studied and kept up with new found medical information to stay sharp and up to date.
His first day back was rough. He felt like he was walking on egg shells with everyone. He had a checklist to go through for apologies, moving from one person to the next in between traumas. He felt the distaste and distrust Robby had towards him. That alone made Frank’s mouth dry and his hands shake with anxiety.
His first day was the hardest one of his rehabilitation.
His first day made him want to find pills again.
His first day tested his new found restraint.
***
Frank ended every shift with a phone call to his sponsor. Sometimes barely making it out of the ambulance bay. Frank’s sponsor was an older man, a former doctor, named Dr. Daniel Thatcher. Dr. Thatcher’s choice of drug was Vicodin. It came into his life as his fifth year as a senior attending in the ED of Mass General. After a boating accident in Virginia Beach that ended with him being knocked unconscious against some rocks after being thrown from his boat, Dr. Thatcher dealt with the trauma of the situation poorly (obviously).
After about nine months of hiding his addiction, Dr. Thatcher had run out of his most recent stolen dosage of pills. He had gone about two and a half days before he snapped. It was the middle of his shift on May 13th when Dr. Thatcher punched his fellow attending – Dr. Chris Williams – for questioning his diagnosis on a patient who was involved in a car versus pedestrian accident. Dr. Daniel Thatcher knew he was in deep shit and needed to get things straightened out when security tackled him to the floor of the ED.
Much to the mercy of Dr. Williams, Thatcher didn’t spend any time in jail. Thatcher was spoken to by HR, the CEO and the President of Mass General, and various therapists and specialists who’ve dealt with medical professionals who got into addiction.
It took Daniel Thatcher three years to be completely clean as he relapsed twice in his journey. He didn’t go back to Mass General. He didn’t want to. Not just for his colleagues safety, but for his own. Instead, Daniel Thatcher decided to help those like him. He did a lot of work in his hometown of Boston before he moved to Pittsburgh two years ago.
“How was today, Frank?” Dr. Daniel Thatcher’s voice was gruff and he jumbled his words together like a true Massachusetts man. Sometimes, Frank didn’t know what he said. Especially on the days that Frank was really wound up with anxiety.
“Uh, I think it was good– I mean, there wasn’t a lot of awful stuff today. Nobody died. So, that’s good.” Thatcher hummed into the phone, waiting for Frank to spill whatever was sitting on his tongue. “I-It’s just, I feel like I’m outside of my body. Like I’m watching myself work from the outside and I’m screaming at myself what to do but I can’t hear myself and then someone will say the thing that I’m trying to say. Sometimes it’s kind of snide or annoyed, but s-sometimes it’s nice and understanding. Mel does it but she’s understanding.”
“Who doesn’t understand?”
Frank paused as he came to a crosswalk. He stared at the DON’T WALK that blinked at him from across the street. “Robby.”
“You have to start from the bottom with him. His trust with you is broken.”
“And if he never trusts me again?”
Thatcher was quiet for a moment. It made Frank annoyed. “That could happen, Frank. And unfortunately, that’s okay.”
Frank snorted. “I’m a good doctor.”
“And we always have to be better doctors.”
***
While Frank was scared for the days he had to go to work, he was terrified of his days off. He was usually stuck alone with his thoughts. Thatcher was sure to have a face to face at a coffee shop or to make sure Frank made it to a meeting or two during his days off, but in all the hours in between those activities, Frank was by himself.
Before their divorce was finalized, Abby found it a duty for herself to hang out with Frank. He did appreciate it but it also made him feel worse. He didn’t want to keep her around him when he didn’t offer anything for her anymore – no marriage, no love, no companionship that was worth something. He would get a text from her every now and then to confirm if something in the house was his and if he wanted to pick it up.
No matter what, Abby didn’t want to know where Frank lived. She would always have him come back to their previously shared home and have him grab his things and leave. Frank knew it was to help her untether herself from him. He felt like a dick, truly. They had been together since college and now, years later, almost a decade, Frank screwed up her life – wasted it away.
He wasn’t surprised when he saw the big FOR SALE sign on the property when he went to pick up another box of his shit. He stared at it until his eyes began to sting. He stared at it until a few tears slipped from his eyes and down his chin. He tugged his Penguins cap lower onto his head and walked away with his fists balled up so tight in his jacket pockets that the indents from his fingernails began to make his palms bleed. He decided to pick up his stuff another day.
He didn’t know where Abby would go. But he knew she would leave the city, maybe even the state. She had family in Virginia and Illinois. A fresh start would be good for her. Frank needed something good to happen to Abby. He prayed for it.
***
Frank grabbed the green juice from the fridge and closed it with a huff. Shaking up the bottle in his hand, he leaned against the kitchen counter and tried to think of something to keep himself busy. He didn’t want to go grocery shopping despite needing to. Knowing him, Frank would just order takeout again for the fourth night in a row. Frank never really liked cooking and even though he had the free time to learn, he still would rather not.
Frank uncapped the green juice and took a swig. Maybe he could go to the gym? His body seemed to have extra adrenaline in his body but Thatcher said it was Frank’s newly sober body.
Frank hated it.
Frank peeked at his watch. He wanted to go to the gym during a slower time. It was just past ten in the morning and for a Tuesday, it should be slow enough for him. Frank gathered his essentials into his backpack – gym towel, water bottle, a few granola bars, and the case for his headphones. He slid his phone into his gym shorts and slipped a gray hoodie on before stepping out of the apartment, green juice in hand.
The hallway lights always seemed to be brighter than his apartment ones and always made Frank’s eyes blink a few times to adjust. He passed the two women in the hallway as they made their way towards the elevator. He made it there quicker than them, his longer strides able to get him farther than more people.
“Oh my god– Frank?” He almost dropped his green juice. As of late, when his name was said, it was usually in disappointment or sadness. His eyes widened a bit and he looked towards the person who said his name. It sounded excited.
It was you.
The smile that came across his face was impossible to stop. “What the fuck?” It was natural. His arm reached out for you and pulled you into a hug. “How long has it been?” Your smile matched his and your arms eloped Frank just as willingly.
“I don’t know but it feels like forever.”
The two of you separated and Frank was able to get a better look at you as he slid his green juice into his hoodie pocket. You were older, but not in a bad way. In a mature way. Your hair was shorter, something more manageable he assumed. The last time Frank had seen you was the summer before he moved out to Pennsylvania for med school. You were staying at the University of Illinois to finish your marketing degree. Frank went there for pre-med.
“Jesus, it’s been a long time,” Frank said. The elevator dinged and the other woman that was with you excused herself from you and let you know that she would call to finalize details and to schedule a signing. You apologized for being distracted by Frank but she gave you a wave and a smile before stepping in. Frank and you watched the doors close and you were left to yourselves. “You getting a place here?” You nodded with a small smile.
“405 will be my new home.”
“Are you still in Chicago right now?”
You nodded. “Yeah, I got a job at Brooks & Muldoon after graduation. Been working for them ever since. I, uh, I’m transferring to their office here for a junior advisor position.”
Frank smiled, “That’s amazing. You’ve done good these years.”
You thanked him. “How did med school go? Are you a doctor?” Frank’s smile faltered a bit and hoped you hadn’t noticed. He grabbed the green juice from his pocket and started to fidget with it.
Frank nodded this time, “Y-yeah. I'm a fourth year resident right now.”
“What did you choose? I think you said you might try surgery before you left.” You chuckled. Frank mirrored your chuckle.
“No, no. Emergency medicine.” Your mouth went into a little circle as you ooh’ed at Frank. “Keeps me busy and on my toes.”
“You always liked fast paced environments. Your mind was always quick.” Frank dipped his head, hiding the wince that overtook his face. He let out a half-assed chuckle to distract you from how he truly felt about your comment.
***
Sure, Frank was always very high strung and rearing to go, especially in college. He remembered being in the new environment. Moving from rural Pennsylvania to a bustling city like Chicago didn’t scare Frank but it excited him. He had been yearning for a change in scenery his whole life.
His family were born and raised Pennsylvanians. Frank loved his hometown and his home state but this was a chance to spread his wings a bit and fly.
And he flew.
Frank spent his time in college juggling more than the academically required per semester classes but it also didn’t stop him from having a good time. He seemed to handle work and play with ease. Little did most people know, he had dipped into trying Adderall in his junior year.
He didn’t depend on it like he did with benzos. It was something he took before a big test or a party to relax his nerves. He was surprised how well he was able to handle his usage of it when he was in school. Maybe deep down, he figured it was why he thought he could handle his benzo addiction.
Frank met you around the same time he met Abby. It was still his sophomore year, the Spring semester had started and students were slowly waking up from their winter breaks that were full of family gatherings and holiday meals that could feed an entire third world country. Before the holiday break, Frank had run into Abby at a local college bar in the city that resulted in the two of them sharing a passionate kiss under mistletoe that was being floated around the bar on a fishing pole attached to an already drunk frat boy.
Numbers were exchanged between the two and they had spent the winter break texting and talking on the phone. Frank wasn’t sure if it was the holiday spirit that made him more attuned to potential love or if it was the fact that Frank was happily attracted to Abby when he first met her, but regardless, it was the start of their long run in each other’s lives.
Frank remembered meeting you in his Statistics class. Frank had always been fine with numbers, nothing to write home about surely, but he could always make his math skills better. When the rumor started of a study group you were starting for fellow Stats students, Frank threw his number onto the sheet you put on the professor’s desk at the start of one of the lectures. Later that week, he got a text.
YOU: Stats study sesh in library study room #3 – 5PM!
When Frank showed up, you were sitting in the study room. It was decently sized with a large, flat, white table in the middle and various chairs set around it. A whiteboard was nailed to the wall behind you with a cup full of dying dry erase markers sitting on the crooked ledge underneath it.
You had your textbook laid out next to your notebook and various notecards, sticky notes, and a calculator in front of you. You looked up at him when he closed the door behind him. “Hi,” you smiled up at him. Frank found a seat next to you and dropped his bag onto the table with a soft thud.
“Hey, I’m uh, I’m Frank.” You quickly introduced yourself and moved your notebook to make room for him on the table, even though it was big enough. “Guess I’m early to the party.”
“Not as early as me.”
“Does it count if you’re the host?”
“It was my roommate’s idea actually,” you say, “she just didn’t want to be in charge.”
Frank unzipped his bag, digging through it for his matching textbook. “But you like to be in charge?” His tone was playful. The corner of your mouth ticked up in amusement but you flipped to the next page of your textbook. He saw you put a sticky note next to a formula he was sure he would have to remember.
“What’s your poison?” You asked him. Frank had finally settled his textbook, notebook and a pen onto the table. He dropped his backpack onto the carpeted ground. He gave you a look to explain yourself further. “Your major.”
“Ah,” he said, “pre-med.”
“Ah, a glutton for punishment.”
He looked over at you, amused as well. Your hair was tied back in a mess of a bun but a few strands were falling in your face. You pushed them back absentmindedly, then wrote something down on the sticky note you placed. “Your poison?”
You straightened in your seat and looked over at him. He saw your eyes flicker around his face and then down his torso. He felt a heat rise up his neck and start to settle behind his ears. When you locked eyes with him again, you told him you were there for marketing. “So you do like to be in charge.”
“When you’re good at something, why stop?”
Before Frank could quip back at you, both of your heads snapped over to the door that was opening. A few more fellow students came in with awkward smiles and waves and found a seat at the table. Frank recognized a couple of them from your shared class. He assumed the others were from other periods your professor had. Before the group really got into studying, your roommate finally made her way over to the study room.
“I am so so so sorry I’m late,” she said as she shut the door behind her. She had her bag slung over one shoulder and her textbook clutched to her chest. “Jaime said she would let me get out on time but Brad was late so guess who got fucked.”
Frank’s mouth dropped open a bit in surprise, and then he smiled over at your roommate. “Abby?”
Abby set her textbook onto the table on the other side of you and looked across the table to Frank. “Oh my god– Frank?”
“You’re Frank?”
Frank’s face fell into confusion, eyes squinting at your tone. “You’ve heard of me?”
“He’s cute, Abs.” Your tone was playful again, “Good job.” A blush crept up Abby’s neck, almost the same as Frank’s when he processed your compliment. Abby plopped down into the seat as she mumbled at you to shut the fuck up. You simply shrugged a shoulder at her, as if you silently asked her what you said was wrong in any way. Cute? Frank liked that. He liked that Abby thought he was cute. He also liked that you thought he was cute.
The study session went by quicker than Frank thought it would. And he actually understood more than he thought he would. Phone numbers were exchanged between people even more and another session was planned for early next week.
Frank slid the back pack on and lingered by the door. Abby and you were talking to yourselves as you packed up your various study items. You were still leaving with a lot of sticky notes and index cards despite giving a lot of them away to your fellow students – even Frank was given some sticky notes. They were green.
When you zipped your own bag up, your eyes flickered over to Frank. He quickly looked away and stepped further from the door. “I’ll see you at home,” he heard you say to Abby. Both of you came to the door and exited the study room. Abby smiled at Frank who mirrored her. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Frank.” Abby shushed you, her cheeks going pink again for the 12th time in the past hour and a half.
Frank chuckled and then waved a hand towards you as you left. Abby looked up at Frank, the height difference was finally noticeable to Frank. He had always been tall and lanky and while Abby wasn’t super short, there was still a difference in height between the two of them. Frank slid his hands in his pockets. “I know we’re still settling back into the groove of classes but uh, did you want to get food sometime?”
Abby’s eyes had a certain shine to them, excited that she had been asked. Frank remembered texting her when he got settled into his dorm after he got back from break. “I would love that.”
“I’ll call you then.” Frank said. The two of them lingered awkwardly together, like teenagers talking to their crushes for the first time. Frank wasn’t sure if she wanted a hug or even a kiss. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. Trying to plant a kiss on her seemed too forward. So Frank hugged her.
Frank and Abby did go to dinner. It was to a local sit down restaurant. Conversation was easy and the night ended with a kiss. The two of them would meet up after classes or study sessions for dinner dates and make out sessions. Over the weeks, classes got harder with more work to be done and study sessions seemed to be more intense as well. Frank would usually show up early, which would give him time with you. He didn’t know why, but he liked it.
One time when he walked in, he saw that your eyes were red. He wasn’t sure if it was from lack of sleep and the stress of college but when he saw you sniffle and wipe tears away with a balled up tissue, he knew it was something more.
“S-sorry,” he said quietly when you looked up at him from your seat. He held the door open, leaving him an escape if he needed it. “I can come back..”
You shook your head quickly and sniffled again, trying to keep the sadness that was inside of you from coming out, especially in front of Frank. “No, no, it’s fine.” Frank paused, thinking if he should take control of the situation and leave you alone. But Frank didn’t want to leave you alone.
Frank closed the door softly and then found his usual seat next to you. Even though Abby and him had been casually dating for the past month or so, the two of them didn’t change their seats in the study group. Each one sat on either side of you. Like they both wanted you between them.
Frank didn’t say anything as he took out his usual things. He peeked over at you every now and then, trying to see if he could decipher what was going on with you. Frank could briefly remember Abby mentioning you were casually seeing someone as well. Some frat dude who was pretty to look at but maybe lacking in personality.
“Are you okay?”
You coughed into your sleeve to clear your throat. Frank watched you clench the balled up tissue and your nose wrinkled. “Just a stupid boy.” Frank’s brows raised and he bobbed his head slightly, trying to find the right thing to say. “So fucking stupid.”
“We’re like that sometimes.” You chuckled and Frank was happy to make you laugh, even a little. “Whatever happened, I’m sure you had nothing to do with it. It was all him.”
“We weren’t even serious – it’s so stupid to even care.” Frank’s mouth twisted as you told him you on and off fling was hooking up with other girls. Mainly at parties that his frat would throw. It turns out you were more attached than him and when you found out that this kid lived in the next town over from you in Indiana, the attachment grew more. The two of you were able to keep each other occupied in between family gatherings and snowstorms. Now that you were both back at college, the sea got bigger and more fish were available to the frat boy.
You told Frank you were tired of the hookups at the moment and maybe wanted to find something more serious. Something that could blossom into a greater thing for the future, a life partner. Frank saw the sadness in you. Abby spoke of you and the frat boy sometimes. She didn’t see that relationship growing into anything more than a college fling. She also spoke of you having a high school boyfriend but that you were glad that ended. You were ready to move on and into the bigger world.
“You and Abby have something good.” That caught him off guard. His eyes were a bit wide and his jaw clenched, tongue flicking over his bottom lip. It was dry, along with his throat suddenly.
“Thank-” he cleared his throat, “thank you. I think we do too.” Frank and you locked eyes for a long moment. Frank’s heart thumping against his ribcage like a rabid dog. He liked Abby, he truly did. But there was always something hesitant between them. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but if he tried hard enough and long enough, he could shove whatever that something was deep down inside.
***
Frank and yourself had made your way into the elevator finally, conversing about what the two of you (mostly you) had been up to after all these years. Frank felt normal for once. After a whole year, this single interaction felt normal. You spoke to him like everyone else would before they knew about his addiction. You made a promise to get in touch with him once you were more settled into the city.
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Summary: Does John Shen know how to deal with heartbreak?
Author's Note: This is my first The Pitt piece - I was going to make it longer but I'm kind of stuck so if people like this, it may peer pressure me into writing the rest of it.
Read it on AO3 here!
“I heard he cheated.”
“Oh my god–”
“Yeah, I heard that too!”
The voices were hushed but sharp. A whisper that could make your ear bleed with how fast the words were thrown around. John Shen wasn’t listening to this particular conversation. He had already heard this theory from the PEDS floor when he went up to check on a child he had helped Abbot save from a drowning incident. Despite John being close by, the nurses that were huddled on the other side of The Hub didn’t stop their gossip.
Princess was in the small group – unsurprising, John thought – and peeked over at John past various shoulders. She ducked back down into the huddle, “I haven’t heard anything as to why they broke up,” she said, “but I did hear that she didn’t even talk to him before she left. He came home from a shift and everything of hers was gone.”
A redheaded woman clicked her tongue. She was a travel nurse from Ohio. “That means he cheated. Women don’t just up and leave like that over anything else.” John Shen sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and tried to focus on the computer screen in front of him. He was trying to find any information on a supplement that came from overseas. His patient stated that she was using it for weight loss and mental clarity, but with her high levels of mercury in her system, John doubted it would do anything for her.
“He’s a good guy,” Nurse Jesse hissed over the small group. He eyed the redhead before continuing his defense. “You don’t know him or her but their love is something real, something deep.” The redhead rolled her eyes. Princess looked up at Jesse expectantly, silently digging for anything new to add to the gossip mill. “He hasn’t talked about it.” He told her. “And he’s not going to tell anyone who works here because they’re all blabbermouths.”
“Shut up,” the Tagalog was quick and while Jesse didn’t know what Princess said, he could understand her face when she said it. He shook his head at the group before stepping away to help with an incoming patient.
John Shen didn’t even pretend to read the FDA article anymore. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat before looking towards the nurses. “I didn’t cheat. She didn’t cheat.” He said. Wide-eyed and startled, the nurses looked over at John. He continued, “I got home from a shift and she was gone. Her clothes, her lamp, her trinkets, her ugly cat.” John cleared his throat. He could feel the lump forming. He didn’t want to get emotional here. “People break up.”
The Ohio nurse took in John’s demeanor from over the lens of her readers. Her mouth was squished over to the right and she made a small, dissatisfied hum before pushing the glasses back up her nose and her feet started to move towards another doctor. Princess’s eyes were wide but she tried her best to give John a sympathetic look. She was sympathetic to John’s situation, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want to know all the juicy details.
A few other nurses that were huddled around, quietly dispersed as well. As much as they wanted to continue to ponder over what happened, it didn’t mean they wanted to do it with John himself. Princess stepped over to John, leaning onto the counter of The Hub. She rubbed her lips together, thinking of a way to ask him without sounding rude or harsh. “Did you guys have a big fight?” Her voice was respectful, but John still gritted his teeth. He shook his head once, stiffly. “Do you know where she is?”
John had a hand on the computer mouse, his fingers twitched. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “She sent me an email to let me know that she was safe and… fine.”
Princess’s brows rose up on her face. “Oh?” She said, “She didn’t say where she went?”
John shook his head again. “Probably New England, she has family in Mass.” Princess twiddled with her fingers for a moment, letting a silence fall between the two. John’s grip on the mouse in his hand tightened and he begged for Princess to be called away inside his head. He knew as soon as that information left his mouth, it would be spread throughout the whole hospital before his lunch break.
“Whatever happened, Dr. Shen,” Princess’s voice was quiet and she stuttered a bit, “I hope you’re able to heal.” John looked over at Princess, a bit taken aback, and gave her a closed lipped smile. “I really did think the two of you would get married.” After a beat, John simply gave a curt nod before getting up and heading towards the staff break room.
***
It barely took an hour before Princess gabbed to everyone about the new gossip she had acquired. And of course people took her word for it since it came directly from John himself. But even so, the rumors still lived as no one knew exactly why the two of you broke up. And at this point, John wouldn’t mind if he had to die being ideally one of the two people on this earth who knew.
The rest of his shift went by okay. Abbot seemed to be keeping an extra eye on him and Ellis didn’t give him as much shit as she usually did each shift. Every nurse that interacted with him seemed to do their job with a sad look on their face or with a side eye and pursed lips. John seemed to think that the public opinion on him at PTMC was pretty split down the middle. John was able to leave swiftly after handing off his cases to Mel King. Mel seemed to be a day or two behind on the hospital gossip, so she talked to him like normal. Something he was grateful for.
When he got home to his apartment, he dropped his bag onto the floor with a thud, kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the couch. His apartment seemed colder for the past few days. There were awkward and odd spots that were void of things. His couch used to have pillows on them. His shelves had more trinkets and picture frames scattered across them. Even his fridge had missing spots. An expensive cheese from New York used to sit on the top shelf. He thought it was gross but now he yearned to hear the crinkle of the paper wrapping and quiet hum of approval come from you as you always took a small nibble before cutting bigger pieces off for a sandwich or snack board.
He debated clicking on the TV for some white noise but instead ran a hand over his face, eyes squeezed shut as he let out a groan. “Fuck,” he muttered. He didn’t want to do it but he knew it was the only way to communicate with you now. It sent a bubble of frustration through his chest, knowing his number was blocked. He remembered calling and calling and calling. He remembered sending out texts that would only go unresponsive. He didn’t know what to do that night he came home and you were gone.
He remembered calling Jack Abbot, thinking that somewhere in his thick military skull, he would magically know how to track you down. He remembered Abbot on the phone with him, talking to him in short clipped responses, trying to get the most concise information from John.
“Are you sure she’s missing?”
“Of course I’m sure she’s fucking missing, Jack!” John yelled at Jack more than he should have but who could blame him, John was scared. “What if she’s fucking dead?”
Jack Abbot corrected John swiftly with a disagreeing click, “She’s not dead, John.” A moment of pause. “Are things missing?”
“Missing?” John stood in the middle of his hallway, confused that Jack would even ask that question. Jack rambled on the phone, if things looked like they were messed with, maybe it was a burglary. If things weren’t taken, then sure, she could have been taken. But if things were gone, especially in an organized fashion, maybe there was a more logical reason for it. John remembered Jack’s voice fading into a constant muffle of sound as his eyes finally focused for the first time since he had gotten home that night.
He saw his oak door. He saw the side table next to it. One that he had before he had met you, but you picked out the decorative bowl that sat atop of it at a thrift store in New Jersey. It would be the catcher for keys, wallets, spare money. All of which he saw as they were subconsciously dropped into the bowl by him when he came home that night. A built in habit that was akin to breathing now. He stepped towards it as he eyed the odd object in the bowl.
It was a lone key to the apartment. Not attached to a ring of any sorts and it looked cleaner almost, like it had been cleaned before being placed into its final resting place.
Your key.
Jack was yelling at John by now, making sure the young Asian man wasn’t spiraling. “John!” His name finally cut through to him and John let out a mumbled acknowledgement. “What’s up?”
John didn’t answer right away. His eyes went down from the bowl to the shoe rack. There were empty spaces in it. Where were your running shoes? The heels you only wore when you went to a fancy restaurant? What about your flip flops for the beach? All gone.
“John…”
As if he was a blind man finally being able to see for the first time in his life, he noticed them. He noticed them all. The missing throw on the recliner. The missing candles you liked to burn after a long day. The missing coffee mugs that you liked to get from places you would go – from amusement parks and big cities to a mom n’ pop convenience store in the middle of nowhere.
Everything that was yours was gone.
You were gone.
He remembered his phone buzzing in his hand. Jack Abbot had hung up on John and then called him again and again. John blinked a few times and then answered, “She left.” John had spent the rest of that night yelling, crying, cursing, and trying to contact you. It wasn’t until around 4am the next morning that he had gotten an email.
It lit up his phone screen and his face in a flash. Groaning and sore, John opened it through the sight of one of his eyes. He didn’t want to move his smushed up face from the warm pillow of his cold bed. Tapping through his phone like he was drunk, he finally focused on the words:
John–
I am safe. I am okay.
But I cannot do this anymore.
I am sorry.
The thing that really grinded his gears was the “SENT FROM IPHONE” at the end of it. He read the email more times than he could have counted. He didn’t remember reading something over and over and over again since he was in Pre-Med. So eager to become a doctor and save people. So eager to be looked at as impressive and attractive. So eager to live his life to the fullest as a bachelor but he threw that all away during his second year of residency. He threw it all away for you.
Now as he sat on his couch a week after the night you left, he thumbed at his phone, finding the email. He tapped on the reply button and let out a breath. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he wanted to say something. He had a right to be upset. How could you just walk away without even talking to him about it? How could you pack up all your shit and not turn back without a glance? How could you leave him for one… small… mistake?
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John repeated the word like a mantra, like a spell. It seemed to calm him as his thumbs began to dance across his phone keyboard like they were possessed. He couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to.
I wish we could have talked before you left.
I wish we could have said goodbye.
I wish I could fix it all.
I wish I could kiss you.
I wish I could touch you.
I love you.
I’m sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry
***
“All I’m saying is that if you want her back, then go and get her.” Nurse Donnie said, “You know where her family lives. Didn’t you visit them last summer? Somewhere on the Cape? If you go there and explain that you need to just talk to her, maybe they’ll reach out to her and you know, let her know?” John didn’t even bother looking over at the talkative nurse. Donnie was a buddy of his, they would hit up the local bars together after a shift and when John first started his residency, they would go and hunt for women together. Something to bring home, something to brag about to each other.
John tried his best to read the names of patients on the board above his head but each one looked like gibberish. He’d been on shift for about four hours and each new hour was more painful than the last. None of the patients that were on the brink of death made a recovery. Every case from the Emergency waiting room seemed to be a brand new illness or problem and John had to do cross referencing and research and get second and third opinions on just about everything.
“I don’t think she would appreciate me harassing her parents.”
Donnie made a face. “They love you, yeah?” Donnie paused for an answer but just continued when he didn’t get one. “You’re not a bad man, John. There was just a… misunderstanding… or something.”
John Shen let out a chuckle, one bare of humor. “Yeah, a misunderstanding.” Donnie quieted down. He shuffled in his spot and adjusted the tablet in his hands more than a few times.
“Bro,” Donnie’s voice was quieter, and he spoke slowly, so he wouldn’t spook John off. “John– what happened?”
John finally looked over at Donnie Donahue. John thought about it, for a split second he considered telling Donnie right then and there, but instead, John gave Donnie a pat on the shoulder that ended in a squeeze. John told Donnie without any words to just let it go.
***
While on his lunch, John stood hunched over the railing that protected him from falling to his death below. He held half of a sandwich in his hand, chewing slowly as he watched the life in the night slowly drift to an occasional car or person finding their way on the dimly lit streets.
John didn’t bother to look to see who pushed their way onto the roof as the door made a loud crank of noise and a soft slam as it fell back into place. John took another bite of his sandwich. The bread was making his throat dry but he didn’t want to bend down to grab his energy drink that sat on the ledge beside his foot.
Jack Abbot was quiet as he found himself a spot next to John. Jack made himself comfortable. With his boxy lunchbox slung over his shoulder, Jack set it onto the concrete between him and John and started to dig through it. John could hear the crinkle of plastic and the pop of a soda can. Jack took a swig of his soda and then placed it next to his lunchbox. Then he made himself comfortable against the railing, copying John’s position, looking out into the Pittsburgh night. Jack unwrapped his own sandwich and took a bite. Both men stood there on the roof and chewed.
“Thank you,” John cleared his throat after swallowing another bite of his food. Jack looked over at him with a raised eyebrow in question. “For not telling people… about…”
Jack waved his free hand at John. “It’s not my business to tell.” Jack said, “Why would I try and make you more miserable than you already are?”
“I’m not miserable.”
Jack snorted. Jack took a big bite of his sandwich, muffled more chuckles that were trying to bubble up. “I’ve been through breakups, boy – you are miserable.” John finished his sandwich and crumbled the suran wrap in his hand, balling it up in his palm and giving it a squeeze. Of course he was miserable! How could he not be? John Shen saw you as the love of his life.
“She left. And it was my fault.”
Jack looked over at John, a sad look on his face. “Are you sure?” Now it was John’s turn to snort. He nodded a few times, biting down on his bottom lip in annoyance with himself. Jack Abbot’s voice was soft, quiet. He said each word as if not to scare John off, like a hurt animal. “How do you know?”
John’s fists balled up tightly, knuckles protruding under the skin. “Because I’m a fucking idiot!” John’s voice did get louder than he thought it would be.
“John,” Jack said, “You didn’t cheat, right?”
Jack felt a wave of relief when John shook his head quickly. John could feel his eyes begin to burn as that familiar feeling started to rise within him. One that was so frustrated with himself. One that echoed over and over and over that he was the stupidest man on this planet, worthless of everything, worthless of you. “I told her that I didn’t see– fuck!” The trash in John’s hand found itself dropping to his feet as he used his hands to try and wipe the stray tears that slid down his face. “I fucking told her that I didn’t see myself marrying her.” John sniffled as he wiped a few more tears away. “Do you remember that trip we took to Chicago last month?” John didn’t look over to see if Jack nodded, he knew he did. Jack told him about an underground pizza joint that looked like trash but would be the best Chicago style pizza John and you would ever have. Dr. Robby had disagreed with Jack’s choice, and promptly launched into a lecture about where all the good pizza was for whatever vibe you were looking for.
“We mainly went over there for a wedding – her best friend from college. It was a beautiful wedding. We had an amazing time and it was one of the best weeks of my life.” The tears slowly stopped the more John spoke. “She would make small comments here and there. You know, she liked the cake. It was gigantic, probably about five tiers. But she went on about how she would prefer a simple one tiered cake for the bridal party and such and then have cake for the guests be from, like, sheet cakes or something.”
“She loved the lights that were all over the reception area. Like tiny little fairy lights. They had a photo booth that we used and got fun pictures from. She would say that she liked that idea and would have to keep it in mind. I mean, it was just throughout the night, she would go on about what she liked and what she didn’t like about things. Like she was making a list or something.” John let out a groan and hid his face in his hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We came back from Chicago and I got back into the groove of work and so did she–” John did prefer his night shifts, but would switch it up every few months so he could have some nights with you. Your job was an office nine to five for an accounting firm. It was good money and you actually loved math and crunching numbers all day. John would tease you for being a bigger nerd than him. “–and one day when I got home from a shift, she was in the living room with a few friends. They were laughing and gossiping and drinking some wine. They had a movie on and some magazines thrown about. I didn’t see what the magazines were for at first but they were excited to see me and stuff. After a refill of their wine and a glass of my own, I grabbed a magazine to thumb through as they talked about some girl drama,” John took in a deep breath through his nose and then blew the hot air out of his mouth. It was cold on the roof, but a light sweater could handle it.
“It was a wedding magazine. I didn’t think anything of it at first, kind of weird but then I put that one down on the coffee table and saw the others. So many and some other regular catalogs. I found out later that they were typically used to find gifts for gift registries.” John said, “I didn’t say anything at the time. I downed the rest of my glass and then excused myself from the girls. I laid on our bed for what felt like hours. I knew none of these friends that were over weren’t in relationships, let alone getting married. The math checked out, you know? She was looking at wedding magazines and catalogs and all this shit because she was expecting me to propose.”
John finally looked over at Jack Abbot. John’s eyes were red from his tears but as Jack looked into them, he saw that John was regretful… disappointed. “We got into bed later that night and I asked her what the occasion was. She didn’t say anything specific, of course. So I bit the bullet and asked her if she was expecting me to propose. She seemed surprised, I think.” John looked away from Jack and towards the moon that was hiding between the clouds of the dark sky. “She was quiet. For a while.” John did another humorless snort. “I think I knew I fucked up with that question. Of course she was expecting me to propose. We were coming up on our four year anniversary at the end of the year. Her brother got married last year, then her college best friend. I think a few people in her office recently got engaged as well. Just a lot of marriages and I guess, she was feeling the heat.”
John winced at his own words. “Not her, me.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He didn’t even give a hum of acknowledgement in between John’s rambling. He didn’t want to shut down John’s process right now. Jack knew it was the first time John was telling someone about the situation. Jack ate his sandwich, slow bite after slow bite.
“She asked me instead if I felt like I was going to propose.” John’s fists started to ball up again. The frustration towards himself boiling up inside of him. “I told her it wasn’t something I’ve been thinking about. She seemed more angry than sad when I said that.” John’s teeth started to grit. “She asked me what she saw for our future and I said I didn’t know. Can you believe that?” He asked Jack indirectly. “I told her I didn’t fucking know. I guess in my stupid mind we were to stay this perfect boyfriend and girlfriend thing. We would live forever in my apartment and just be as is. Which isn’t a bad thing, obviously. But she wanted more. She wanted to be–” John’s voice cracked and his fists unclenched to grab ahold of the railing. “She wanted to be my wife. She wanted to be my fucking wife.”
***
John hadn’t heard anything from the PTMC gossip mill in a few days. Like before, he was sure that Jack wouldn’t say anything after his roof top confessional but there was always that doubt deep inside of him. The cowardly part. The same one that didn’t see how important marriage was – how important being married to him was.
While he still heard the occasional mutterings about people’s theories of his relationship, it wasn’t as bad as before. He found himself becoming more relaxed at work again. He was more talkative, less guarded, and would give out the occasional quip every now and then. John and Parker Ellis would spend a whole shift going back and forth like they usually would and Parker was ecstatic about that! She didn’t let it show on her face or show it out loud in case it would spook John but she was ecstatic.
John hadn’t heard anything from you.
He tried to keep his mind off of it but he found himself checking his email and tapping on the thread to read the message he’s read a thousand times by now and to nitpick his own email back to you. He thought about sending another one. One more clearer, professional. But he felt like if he did open up a fresh email to send, it would end up the same as the other – in a ramble of how sorry he was and how much he missed you.
He had tried to check your social media accounts over the past few weeks. Your Instagram had him blocked. And when he asked Donnie Donahue very discreetly to check your account, he was informed by the nurse that your account had gone private. It didn’t stop the nurse from requesting to follow you. John might have punched Donnie in the shoulder for doing that.
Your Facebook, that you kept mainly to keep in touch with family and some long distance friends, was still up. You hadn’t unfriended or blocked him on that yet (which he was thankful for) but you didn’t use it as much. John took the opportunity to check your mother’s profile. She was a heavy Facebook poster, something all mothers seemed to be, like it was built inside of them. Sometimes he wondered if you were a mom, would you be the same…
When he found the profile, the stress in his shoulders released as he found her still his friend. He wasn’t sure if she would outwardly unfriend him, a part of him wondered if she even knew how. John started to scroll down the feed mindlessly, trying to get anything about you. John knew your mom loved you dearly. She always begged for you to move closer to the Cape but John’s career was going to keep him in Pittsburgh and you had no problem with that.
God, you were always so supportive of him.
Your older brother lived closer to your parents. Him and his newlywed wife bought a home just north of Boston. Your brother worked as an architect in the city and his wife was a pediatric nurse at Mass General. It was something you and your brother laughed about the first Thanksgiving you all spent together a few years ago. You both had a type – medical professionals in tight scrubs.
He remembered a few months before they left for Chicago that your brother and his wife were finally expecting their first child. You were so excited. You were going to be an aunt and John was going to be an uncle! And John couldn’t lie, he was excited to be that. He would get to enjoy the cuteness of a baby without having to deal with the mess. He would get to enjoy the fun of a toddler without having to deal with the mess. He would get to enjoy the adventures of a kid without having to deal with the mess.
On his phone, he came across a picture your mother had uploaded. It was your brother and his expecting wife in their kitchen, hands on the bump of her stomach, smiles on their faces. It was recent, at least within the last week. John didn’t like the photo. He didn’t want to have your mother be notified of his lurking.
Scrolling more, he came across different posts from your mom. She posted a photo of a squirrel that would rob her bird food from the feeder in her garden. It was the fattest squirrel ever to exist. John remembered when you told him that squirrel had been there for years – ever since your junior year of high school. John didn’t believe you but he didn’t know the lifespan of squirrels so he would let it slide without protest.
Your mother posted about a nice dinner she had with your father. A new place had opened up on the Cape and it specialized in – who would have guessed! – seafood. A bit on the pricey side, which John was sure your father probably didn’t appreciate but it was something he always had to be okay with since he was the reason they lived in Cape Cod anyway, and you know you’re going to spend money to be there. Plus they were year rounders, even at their age! While most of their neighbors were seasonal campers from across the country or snowbirds who would fly down to Florida once it got below eighty degrees, your parents were diehard New Englanders. John was sure it was why you hated going any farther than Virginia.
John skimmed and scrolled past more posts that weren’t important to him. God, your mother liked to gab! He was almost too fast for one in particular but quickly backtracked and saw a picture that would make his heart rate thump hard through his chest.
There was a picture. The sun was rising up over the water, peeking up through the clouds. Orange, red, pink across the sky. Truly beautiful. And while he couldn’t see your face, he knew it was you. He knew it was one of the chairs on your parents’ front porch. It was a big porch with lots of outside furniture. There were two big Adirondack chairs where your mom and dad would sit out for a cup of coffee in the morning and a glass of wine in the evening.
Your mom had taken the picture through the screen door that looked out to the porch. You were sitting in the chair, legs up under you, big sweater on. You held a mug to your lips. It was large, almost comically so. John knew you loved to use it for hot cocoa in the winters.
You were looking towards the sun.
John didn’t know why but he felt like it was taken the morning after you left. The morning you sent him the email saying you were safe. John felt a sickness in his stomach. He knew you wouldn’t keep this from your parents. Besides John himself, your family was your rock. You were all so close to each other.
For the caption, your mother simply put: MY GIRL IS HOME
***
So John knew where you were.
You were at your parents’ house.
It made sense but now that he knew for sure, it kept eating away at him. You still hadn’t reached back out to him at all. He checked every free moment he had. He lingered on your mother’s Facebook, seeing if maybe she had put a new update about you. But so far, it was only the one. He would look at it unblinking, until his eyes were burning and he physically couldn’t stop them from blinking.
More days passed, then some more weeks. Eventually, it had been officially three months since you had left John. Each month that went by, he seemed to be more and more of a shell. He knew what to do, what to say, where to go, but there wasn’t a spark anymore. No twinkle in his eyes. Less and less quick banter and funny jokes. John was finally starting to realize that this breakup may truly be the end of the two of you. Sure, he wasn’t expecting a second chance if he had gotten a moment to speak with you since you left but he certainly wanted closure.
Dana would pester him more, looking up at the handsome Asian man from behind her readers, mouth slightly crooked with a pout and eyebrows pressed together. She would give John a pat on the back or a longer hug if he came in looking just a little too sad for her liking. While Dr. Robby tried to keep his nose out of it, he was sure to let John know that he was always available to talk to. John appreciated that. While Jack Abbot was his go-to for advice, he did respect Dr. Robby’s opinions and life experiences.
Mel King had finally been updated on John’s love life. She had heard the news when dropping in on a conversation between Trinity Santos and Dennis Whitaker. She was taken aback by the news, just like everyone else had over the past few months. But Mel felt bad for not acknowledging John’s pain and sadness. When she told John of this, he chuckled. Mel King was now even more confused. “You’ve treated me the same no matter what and I appreciated it.”
“Oh.” Mel gave a small tight lipped smile, nervous but kind of happy. “How have you been, uh, lately?”
“Shitty, to be honest.”
“Oh.” Mel’s face twisted as she took in that information. Mel’s mouth fell open as she was trying to find something to say but thankfully on her part, an ambulance came rushing into the bay and soon enough, doctors and nurses were scrambling around.
John decided to spring into action, and rushed over to the paramedics who were wheeling in a woman on a gurney. She was practically rolling around onto it, uncomfortable from the pain in her body. John noticed the swollenness of her stomach – she was pregnant. “What do you got?” John said.
The woman paramedic was quick in her words, “Thirty five year old woman, was in her hotel room when her water broke. Her husband’s on the way in. Just shy of thirty six weeks.”
“Thirty five weeks and three days– fuck!” The woman groaned through gritted teeth and rolled on the gurney more. The other paramedic on the call held the gurney steady until the woman steadied. John didn’t know when Jack Abbot showed up next to him but Jack got clarification on the woman’s vitals. They weren’t bad but they weren’t great.
It wasn’t until they got the patient over to a room and off of the ambulance gurney until John noticed it was your sister in law. “Jesus– Monica?” She groaned and peeked over at the person calling her name with one eye. Her hands were holding her stomach and she let out a chuckle.
“Oh, this is going to be fun!” Monica had a sheet over her legs, her feet were in stirrups, making it easier for the doctors and nurses to get a better look at her nether regions while they tried to deliver her premature baby. Jack Abbot sat at the end of Monica’s bed and peeked around the sheet to John. Jack hoped this wasn’t some past hookup situation. The last time one of those happened, it ended up with scalpels being thrown and a call to security. It was a few months before John had met you but Jack remembered it clear as day.
Nurse Perlah was on the other side of the gurney, rambling off Monica’s vitals. Blood pressure was high but that was expected with her current condition. Perlah then started on getting vitals of the baby. Monica let out another long groan and then in the next moment, Jack stood at the end of the gurney and locked eyes with Monica.
Jack said her name calmly, “You’re going to have the baby. It’s coming now and we’re going to have to deliver it, okay?”
Monica started to shake her head, “No, no, no, we have to wait for my husband. He’s coming, I promise–” Another contraction broke through her body and her sentence transformed into a scream. “He’s early,” Monica’s hands rubbed at her stomach. Her body felt like it was on fire. “Is he going to be okay?”
“We can’t know that for sure until we get him out.” John piped up. The doctor he knew himself to be broke through and he joined Jack down by her legs. John paused before lifting up the sheet that covered Monica. “Mon, if you are not comfortable with this, please, tell me. I will not be offended.”
Monica let out another groan, but it didn’t seem directed at John. “Yeah, yeah, I don’t care, John, really– ohmygod!”
“Get her situated for pushing. I want her ready for her next contraction!” Jack Abbot said and the room and everyone in it seemed to shift gears.
“John–” He peeked over at Monica at the call of his name. “Have you seen Christopher yet?” John shook his head but it went unnoticed as Monica’s eyes squeezed shut. Jack worked her through her contraction and then when she opened her eyes again, a few tears fell from them. “Please, call him.” John nodded and stepped away from her and over to her purse that was placed to the side by a paramedic. He rummaged through her bag until he found the phone. Monica groaned out the pass code as another contraction started up.
It felt like an out of body experience, really. He found Monica’s contacts and then started to scroll. He didn’t know whether to look for Christopher’s name in them or maybe something stupid like “baby daddy” or “handsome”. Like a reflex, he found a familiar name and pressed the phone to his ear.
While chaos was surrounding John, nurses moved to grab different things, words came out of Jack’s mouth, guiding Monica through childbirth, OB finally made their way downstairs just as the head popped out. Somehow, all the commotion around him came to a halt and all he heard was the trill of the line, once…twice…three times, and then, “Mon? What did you forget?”
John’s mouth was dry. His lungs started to burn, begging for new oxygen to be sucked into them, but he couldn’t. He had frankly forgotten how to breathe.
“Monica?” After the moment of silence on the line, the noise finally started to make its way to you on the other side. “Hey, hey! Monica, are you okay?”
“Uh,” John’s fingers tightened on the phone. He felt faint. “She’s f-fine, the baby’s coming… she’s just looking for Christopher.”
Silence.
John’s heart was in a steady thump. One that could be looked at as him being calm, cool, and collected, but in actuality, he was simply having an out of body experience. He knew once this phone call was over, he would have to go somewhere fast. The break room, a rest room, a closet – somewhere! – so that he didn’t break down in the worst way possible in front of all of his friends and colleagues.
A scream from Monica seemed to break the silence.
“She’s at PTMC?”
“Yes.”
You sighed. Not of relief really, kind of like, annoyance, maybe? “She’s okay?”
“Yes.” John repeated. “The baby’s head is out, maybe another contraction or two and it will be out.”
“I’ll get a hold of Christopher.” You said. Your voice wasn’t angry or sad. It was neutral. “Please take care of her, John.” He heard you take a deep breath. “We’ll be over as quickly as possible.”
"this is DEFINITELY written by AI, I can tell because it uses the writing quirks that AI uses (because it was trained on real people who write with those quirks)"
I am big AI naysayer but I think making it into the latest of a series of unprovable accusations that you can use to harass anyone who annoys you slightly for any reason is literally the worst way to push back against its encroachment into our spaces
#the only AI quirk I believe is the use of the em dash (—)#just because it’s a pain to properly type out and real people really don’t use it that often
hey so. not meaning to pick on you for this, but:
there are various types of word processors or other text inputs which will automatically convert -- to —, meaning its difficulty in being typed out is irrelevant
there are a lot of people on tumblr, including in the notes of this thread, who have actively said that they use the emdash in their writing
the whole point of LLMs is that they train on real people's writing; they are not just randomly picking characters from the US-ASCII charset to include; AI would not generate text with emdashes if its training base did not also include writings by real people that used them
this is exactly the sort of thing I'm saying is a problem. people saying that they think they can tell that something is an "AI quirk" because "real people" don't use it, because their personal experience does not encompass its usage
Oui(ji) Had One Hell of a Party (Rafael Barba x Reader)
Word Count: 2,758
Warnings: Ouiji board, spirits, demons, language, alcohol consumption, dumb costumes for all yo faves lmao
Summary: You and Rafael host a Halloween party and it takes a demonic turn.
Author’s Note: This was started probably almost 3 years ago (big oof). I've lost the writing bug so I'm posting what was written and promptly unfinished, lol. Apologies but I still hope you enjoy!
Read on AO3 here!
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Rafael Barba wouldn’t call himself a superstitious person.
He didn’t believe in ghouls, ghosts, and monsters in the typical way that small children would. He was an A.D.A. for Manhattan so he obviously came across fellow humans who did gruesome and unforgivable things, but when you had pulled out that stupid ten dollar Ouiji board that you had bought at the stupid Halloween store, Rafael may had sent a quick prayer up to whichever Lord was occupying the skies above him at that very moment.
His Catholic upbringing was trying to pound its way out of him and it made him down the rest of his scotch in one swallow before stepping over to his bar area to pour himself another drink. The low hum of your Halloween playlist mixed with the chatter of Rafael’s friends from the courthouse and your friends from the 16th precinct.
You sat on your living room floor, hunched over your coffee table, setting up the toy that would allow you to talk to those who had passed on. Sonny shifted on his feet as he stood next to Rafael. Remembering that Sonny was raised very Catholic as well, Rafael figured that this was making Sonny feel stupid for being uncomfortable with a children’s toy just as much as him.
The sound of your hands connecting together in a singular clap made Rafael’s grip tighten around his glass. He looked over at you and saw the “spooky” smile you were trying to give to everyone. The party had died down in the past couple of hours. Olivia Benson and Nick Amaro had gone home because of their kids. Fin Tutuola had gone home because “Halloween is whack! I don’t even like candy.” The rest of the guests had filed out after them in the passing hours.
Now, Sonny Carisi, Amanda Rollins, Rita Calhoun, and Trevor Langan were scattered around the living room. Sonny was next to Rafael, both of the boys standing farthest away from the direct line to demons. Sonny started to get so nervous that his fake mustache for his Sonny Bono costume wouldn’t stick to his upper lip. His counterpart and designated Cher was Amanda. She sat on the floor on the opposite side of you at the coffee table. She held the planchette in her hand, looking at the object with a smirk. Her long brunette wig was tossed to the side next to her.
Rita Calhoun downed another orange Jell-O shot before falling back onto the couch behind Amanda with a sigh. She pulled her long and obnoxious Devil tail from under her and held it in her fingers as she watched you read the directions for the Ouija board. Her Devil horns were slightly crooked on her head but she didn’t seem to notice or care.
Trevor Langan had ditched his obnoxious black cape twenty minutes into the party. He ditched the phony plastic fangs even sooner. His hair was quaffed upwards and if it wasn’t for the dark liner around his eyes and the fake blood on the corner of his mouth, he would look like he was ready for a day at work with his dress shirt, black slacks, and polished shoes.
Rafael would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a bit authoritative in his twenty dollar policeman costume, but he mainly did it to see the annoyed reactions of the 16th precinct detectives. Fin Tutuola had quipped, “Your badge is so cute and tiny, Barba. You got a fake gun too?” Nick Amaro had rolled his eyes so hard at the fellow Latino man that you thought they would roll right out of his pretty little head. Despite you being a fellow 16th precinct detective, you happily supported your boyfriend with finding the policeman outfit that fit his body in all the right places.
Trevor had rolled his eyes when you suggested pulling out the Ouija board but didn’t outwardly object to it like Sonny had. Trevor made his way over to Rafael and Sonny, grabbing a deep red Jell-O shot. He shot it back and then chuckled at Sonny’s uneasy face. But Trevor didn’t miss the uneasiness that was coming from Rafael.
“Scared boys?” The defense lawyer asked with a grin. Sonny scowled over at Langan.
“Shut up,” Sonny muttered. Feeling hot, Sonny pulled the brunette wig off his head. “I just don’t think we should mess with Lucifer and his minions.” Sonny’s Adam apple bobbed. “If Ma finds out about this, she’ll have the church exorcize me.”
Trevor stifled his snort with his hand. “It’s a kids game, Carisi. The box says ages six and up.”
Sonny grumbled under his breath before making his way over to the couch and plopping down next to Rita with a sigh. Rita pouted over at the detective, reaching up and pinching his pink cheek. “Don’t worry Sonny, the Devil is already here and she’s feeling pretty tipsy.” Sonny let out a nervous laugh before leaning out of Rita’s grip and rubbing his sore cheek.
Trevor’s attention was drawn back to the quiet prosecutor next to him. Rafael felt Trevor’s gaze as he lifted his newly poured drink to his lips.
One gulp. Two gulps. Three gulps.
Trevor leaned towards Rafael, “What are you so scared of Barba?” Rafael shot a look over to Trevor.
“There’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Exactly.” Trevor slapped a hand onto Rafael’s shoulder and pushed him over towards the coffee table.
Looking up from the directions, you smiled at Rafael as he was ushered into the living room by Trevor. The pair of fake handcuffs that hung off Rafael’s belt jingled when Trevor’s large hands pushed Rafael down next to you. Rafael swore under his breath in Spanish to the man before Trevor went and perched himself onto the arm of the couch next to Sonny.
“I think we have it set up,” you say over to your boyfriend. Rafael nods subtlety before catching the gaze of Amanda sitting across from him. She watched Rafael from under her lashes and the corner of her mouth twitched up. Looking more head on at the two of you, she slid the planchette onto the board.
The intricate piece of wood was shaped in a triangle with rounded edges. In the center, a small dome of glass made it easy to see whatever was under the planchette when it would be slid around the board.
Rafael wouldn’t tell you — or anyone in the room for that matter — that he did not and would not touch that thing willingly. You grabbed the planchette and placed it in the middle of the board. The intricate letters and numbers were bold and taunting. Rafael swallowed the jumble of nerves trying to push their way up his throat.
He jumped slightly when you touched his arm to motion him to place his fingers next to yours. Taking a moment too long, Trevor cupped a hand around one corner of his mouth and boomed, “Scared of some ghosts, Barba?” Rafael shot another look over to Langan before you grabbed his hands.
Your hands brought comfort to him. They were warm as you guided his fingers over to the planchette and when you lightly knocked your shoulder into his, you whispered out, “Don’t be scared, hon. I’ll protect you,” your left eye dropped down into a wink and while Rafael rolled his own at your retort, it did make him more relaxed.
You motioned for Amanda to do the same. She reached out both of her pointer and middle fingers and found a spot on one of the planchette sides. Amanda spoke quietly, “What should we ask first?”
Carisi’s mouth twisted as he bit down on the inside of his cheek. Rita let out a loud hum, twirling the end of her tail in her hand. “Don’t you have to ask if there’s anyone here in the first place?”
“Yeah, let’s see what we’re cooking with,” Trevor jumped in. He was able to reach over to the side table to grab another Jello-O shot, passing one over the top of Carisi’s head over to Rita who grinned devilishly.
You let out a shaky breath — which threw off Rafael for a split second — and said, “Is there a spirit with us?” While a silence fell over the group, waiting for something, Sonny’s lips moved quickly and quietly as he mouthed a prayer.
You spoke again, more firmly, “Is there anyone who would like to speak with us today?” Amanda’s eyes went from the planchette, to you, to Rafael, back to you, and then back to the planchette. Rafael’s fingers twitched on the planchette, wanting to bring them back close to him, to his body. Or even to intertwine with your own fingers.
Despite the mellow hum of your playlist, there was a long and still silence between everyone in the room. Rita had stilled her tail twirling. Trevor’s mouth straightened into a thin line, eyebrow arched up. Sonny’s hands were clasped together in between his thighs. Amanda had squared her shoulders and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck trickle. Rafael’s mouth opened to say something — he wasn’t sure what he was going to say — but then he felt it in his fingers.
Rafael’s eyes are hard and locked onto the planchette. His fingers twitched as he felt the piece of wood slightly move diagonally away from him and over to the corner of the board where an intricately drawn YES was. When the word made itself at home under the glass dome in the middle of the planchette, Carisi’s voice was shaking, “That’s not funny Amanda,” the Brooklyn man scolded his coworker.
A noise came from Amanda in regards to Sonny’s accusation and when Rafael’s looked over at you under his lashes, you were already looking over at Amanda with a furrowed brow. Amanda felt your gaze on her and when she finally looked up from the planchette, she rolled her eyes, “Fine…fine.” Her hands lifted up in surrender and she scrunched her nose.
“See, nothing to be scared of Sonny,” Trevor snickered, fingers coming to pinch the top of Sonny’s ear. Sonny shouldered the brunette away, brows furrowed in annoyance and mouth lopsided into a frown.
“Bite me, Langan.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Carisi,” Trevor shot back just before shooting back another Jello shot. This one was green.
Rafael was silently thanking Amanda from across the table. Hands brought back close to his being, Rafael let out the breath he was holding. He shivered when you scolded Amanda, “Gimme your fingers and don’t joke about, Amanda.”
Amanda let out a huff of air at your tone. “Alright, okay. Calm down.”
Amanda reached out her fingers again and settled them onto her designated spot on the planchette. You copied her and when Rafael didn’t follow suit, you and Amanda looked over at the lawyer. Rafael felt the room shift over to his attention. He felt stuffy in his cheap police uniform. Glancing over at you, he caught your eyes and he silently pleaded.
You didn’t react for a moment until finally, you silently let him off the hook with the smooth transition of reeling in Langan to put his money where his mouth is. Rafael got up from his spot, maybe a bit too quickly, and went over to where Langan was previously heckling from on the couch. Rafael’s legs were jelly and he was happy to plop down onto the couch, grabbing a Jello shot. He swallowed it down too fast to even acknowledge the color of it.
Trevor Langan dramatically rolled his eyes when you beckon him to substitute in for the demon summoning. But he gladly strolled his way over and sat down next to you on the floor. You had to scooch over a bit to make room for Trevor’s long legs and overall more lankier body. He rubbed his hands together and gave a grin before planting his fingers onto the planchette. “Let’s get this show on the road, ladies!”
Amanda and you exchanged looks before your fingers found their spots. The room went quiet again. Nobody noticed it, but the music had stopped in the middle of a song. Rita found herself needing to rest her eyes as playing with a Ouiji board doesn’t really help overly drunk people stay awake. Her head rested against the shoulder of a rigid Carisi. He didn’t seem to notice the extra weight on him.
“I’ll ask the questions this time since cops aren’t too good with questioning suspects,” Trevor quipped. Amanda glared over at the lawyer. You ignored Trevor and shifted your gaze over to the board. “Hello spirits, demons, and devils–” Rita mumbled out a noise of acknowledgement, eyes still closed, snuggling more into Carisi’s shoulder. Carisi fought the urge to shrug her off because he didn’t want to be rude but he wasn’t in a particular cuddly mood. Trevor continued, “Are you here with us?”
Rafael felt a coldness in the apartment. He noticed the lack of music as the group stayed quiet. Sonny felt his neck get prickly, the hair standing up and a shiver rolled up his back. If Rita was more sober, she probably could have felt it.
“Spir—“ Trevor’s voice started but it was cut off by a yelp from someone as the room went dark, the snap of electricity confirming so.
“Oh, Mother Theresa!” Sonny’s voice was sharp and trembling. Rita let out a hum in question before opening her eyes. The air was rigid and cold. Rafael was quick to jump onto his feet in one swift motion. You blinked quickly, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Slowly but surely, you were able to make out shapes in the room. You were about to call out to Rafael when there was a sharp shriek. It started out high in its caliber but then it morphed into something gruesome and growling.
“What the fuck–” That was Trevor. Then a small light shone in the middle of the room, like a little slice of heaven from above. Rafael’s blood ran cold. Carisi stood abruptly, stumbling over his large feet towards Rafael. Rita curled her legs up onto your couch, hugging the back of the furniture, as if she was using it to ground herself not only physically, but mentally.
Trevor’s hand shook, making the light shive as it shined over onto the blonde detective. You couldn’t believe your eyes. You were sure nobody in the room could.
Across from you, on the other side of your thifted coffee table that took you thirty minutes to convince Rafael to get with you, was Detective Amanda Rollins possessed by something. All of her fingers were bent harshly and weirdly, each one of them touching the planchette in some way. Her shoulders were stiff, but her chin was lifted slightly, mouth slightly agape as she moaned and groaned inhumanely.
Her hair seemed electric. The ends of her blonde strands were lifting at the ends very slightly, strands engulfing around her head. The part that made your eyes water and your heart pound heavily were her eyes. They were wide open and black.
“A-amanda.. This i-isn’t funny!”
Sonny’s voice seemed to shake to the same rhythm as Trevor Langan’s hand. You heard the lawyer mutter more curses under his breath as he stood. Rita was able to swing her legs over the back of the couch and her feet stepped softly towards the front door of your apartment. She paused when Amanda let out another shriek that morphed into a muffled, pained groan.
In the dull phone flashlight, Amanda’s head began to turn, peeking over her shoulder at Sonny. Sonny backed up towards Rafael more, shivering as the two men touched. Sonny’s hand grabbed Rafael’s wrist tightly. “Amanda?” The voice was crackly and harsh, like Amanda had spent her last thirty years smoking two packs a day straight. Her teeth snapped together and her tongue swiped over her lips. She let out a giggle. “Amanda’s not here to play, Dominick.”
Oui(ji) Had One Hell of a Party (Rafael Barba x Reader)
Word Count: 2,758
Warnings: Ouiji board, spirits, demons, language, alcohol consumption, dumb costumes for all yo faves lmao
Summary: You and Rafael host a Halloween party and it takes a demonic turn.
Author’s Note: This was started probably almost 3 years ago (big oof). I've lost the writing bug so I'm posting what was written and promptly unfinished, lol. Apologies but I still hope you enjoy!
Read on AO3 here!
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Rafael Barba wouldn’t call himself a superstitious person.
He didn’t believe in ghouls, ghosts, and monsters in the typical way that small children would. He was an A.D.A. for Manhattan so he obviously came across fellow humans who did gruesome and unforgivable things, but when you had pulled out that stupid ten dollar Ouiji board that you had bought at the stupid Halloween store, Rafael may had sent a quick prayer up to whichever Lord was occupying the skies above him at that very moment.
His Catholic upbringing was trying to pound its way out of him and it made him down the rest of his scotch in one swallow before stepping over to his bar area to pour himself another drink. The low hum of your Halloween playlist mixed with the chatter of Rafael’s friends from the courthouse and your friends from the 16th precinct.
You sat on your living room floor, hunched over your coffee table, setting up the toy that would allow you to talk to those who had passed on. Sonny shifted on his feet as he stood next to Rafael. Remembering that Sonny was raised very Catholic as well, Rafael figured that this was making Sonny feel stupid for being uncomfortable with a children’s toy just as much as him.
The sound of your hands connecting together in a singular clap made Rafael’s grip tighten around his glass. He looked over at you and saw the “spooky” smile you were trying to give to everyone. The party had died down in the past couple of hours. Olivia Benson and Nick Amaro had gone home because of their kids. Fin Tutuola had gone home because “Halloween is whack! I don’t even like candy.” The rest of the guests had filed out after them in the passing hours.
Now, Sonny Carisi, Amanda Rollins, Rita Calhoun, and Trevor Langan were scattered around the living room. Sonny was next to Rafael, both of the boys standing farthest away from the direct line to demons. Sonny started to get so nervous that his fake mustache for his Sonny Bono costume wouldn’t stick to his upper lip. His counterpart and designated Cher was Amanda. She sat on the floor on the opposite side of you at the coffee table. She held the planchette in her hand, looking at the object with a smirk. Her long brunette wig was tossed to the side next to her.
Rita Calhoun downed another orange Jell-O shot before falling back onto the couch behind Amanda with a sigh. She pulled her long and obnoxious Devil tail from under her and held it in her fingers as she watched you read the directions for the Ouija board. Her Devil horns were slightly crooked on her head but she didn’t seem to notice or care.
Trevor Langan had ditched his obnoxious black cape twenty minutes into the party. He ditched the phony plastic fangs even sooner. His hair was quaffed upwards and if it wasn’t for the dark liner around his eyes and the fake blood on the corner of his mouth, he would look like he was ready for a day at work with his dress shirt, black slacks, and polished shoes.
Rafael would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a bit authoritative in his twenty dollar policeman costume, but he mainly did it to see the annoyed reactions of the 16th precinct detectives. Fin Tutuola had quipped, “Your badge is so cute and tiny, Barba. You got a fake gun too?” Nick Amaro had rolled his eyes so hard at the fellow Latino man that you thought they would roll right out of his pretty little head. Despite you being a fellow 16th precinct detective, you happily supported your boyfriend with finding the policeman outfit that fit his body in all the right places.
Trevor had rolled his eyes when you suggested pulling out the Ouija board but didn’t outwardly object to it like Sonny had. Trevor made his way over to Rafael and Sonny, grabbing a deep red Jell-O shot. He shot it back and then chuckled at Sonny’s uneasy face. But Trevor didn’t miss the uneasiness that was coming from Rafael.
“Scared boys?” The defense lawyer asked with a grin. Sonny scowled over at Langan.
“Shut up,” Sonny muttered. Feeling hot, Sonny pulled the brunette wig off his head. “I just don’t think we should mess with Lucifer and his minions.” Sonny’s Adam apple bobbed. “If Ma finds out about this, she’ll have the church exorcize me.”
Trevor stifled his snort with his hand. “It’s a kids game, Carisi. The box says ages six and up.”
Sonny grumbled under his breath before making his way over to the couch and plopping down next to Rita with a sigh. Rita pouted over at the detective, reaching up and pinching his pink cheek. “Don’t worry Sonny, the Devil is already here and she’s feeling pretty tipsy.” Sonny let out a nervous laugh before leaning out of Rita’s grip and rubbing his sore cheek.
Trevor’s attention was drawn back to the quiet prosecutor next to him. Rafael felt Trevor’s gaze as he lifted his newly poured drink to his lips.
One gulp. Two gulps. Three gulps.
Trevor leaned towards Rafael, “What are you so scared of Barba?” Rafael shot a look over to Trevor.
“There’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Exactly.” Trevor slapped a hand onto Rafael’s shoulder and pushed him over towards the coffee table.
Looking up from the directions, you smiled at Rafael as he was ushered into the living room by Trevor. The pair of fake handcuffs that hung off Rafael’s belt jingled when Trevor’s large hands pushed Rafael down next to you. Rafael swore under his breath in Spanish to the man before Trevor went and perched himself onto the arm of the couch next to Sonny.
“I think we have it set up,” you say over to your boyfriend. Rafael nods subtlety before catching the gaze of Amanda sitting across from him. She watched Rafael from under her lashes and the corner of her mouth twitched up. Looking more head on at the two of you, she slid the planchette onto the board.
The intricate piece of wood was shaped in a triangle with rounded edges. In the center, a small dome of glass made it easy to see whatever was under the planchette when it would be slid around the board.
Rafael wouldn’t tell you — or anyone in the room for that matter — that he did not and would not touch that thing willingly. You grabbed the planchette and placed it in the middle of the board. The intricate letters and numbers were bold and taunting. Rafael swallowed the jumble of nerves trying to push their way up his throat.
He jumped slightly when you touched his arm to motion him to place his fingers next to yours. Taking a moment too long, Trevor cupped a hand around one corner of his mouth and boomed, “Scared of some ghosts, Barba?” Rafael shot another look over to Langan before you grabbed his hands.
Your hands brought comfort to him. They were warm as you guided his fingers over to the planchette and when you lightly knocked your shoulder into his, you whispered out, “Don’t be scared, hon. I’ll protect you,” your left eye dropped down into a wink and while Rafael rolled his own at your retort, it did make him more relaxed.
You motioned for Amanda to do the same. She reached out both of her pointer and middle fingers and found a spot on one of the planchette sides. Amanda spoke quietly, “What should we ask first?”
Carisi’s mouth twisted as he bit down on the inside of his cheek. Rita let out a loud hum, twirling the end of her tail in her hand. “Don’t you have to ask if there’s anyone here in the first place?”
“Yeah, let’s see what we’re cooking with,” Trevor jumped in. He was able to reach over to the side table to grab another Jello-O shot, passing one over the top of Carisi’s head over to Rita who grinned devilishly.
You let out a shaky breath — which threw off Rafael for a split second — and said, “Is there a spirit with us?” While a silence fell over the group, waiting for something, Sonny’s lips moved quickly and quietly as he mouthed a prayer.
You spoke again, more firmly, “Is there anyone who would like to speak with us today?” Amanda’s eyes went from the planchette, to you, to Rafael, back to you, and then back to the planchette. Rafael’s fingers twitched on the planchette, wanting to bring them back close to him, to his body. Or even to intertwine with your own fingers.
Despite the mellow hum of your playlist, there was a long and still silence between everyone in the room. Rita had stilled her tail twirling. Trevor’s mouth straightened into a thin line, eyebrow arched up. Sonny’s hands were clasped together in between his thighs. Amanda had squared her shoulders and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck trickle. Rafael’s mouth opened to say something — he wasn’t sure what he was going to say — but then he felt it in his fingers.
Rafael’s eyes are hard and locked onto the planchette. His fingers twitched as he felt the piece of wood slightly move diagonally away from him and over to the corner of the board where an intricately drawn YES was. When the word made itself at home under the glass dome in the middle of the planchette, Carisi’s voice was shaking, “That’s not funny Amanda,” the Brooklyn man scolded his coworker.
A noise came from Amanda in regards to Sonny’s accusation and when Rafael’s looked over at you under his lashes, you were already looking over at Amanda with a furrowed brow. Amanda felt your gaze on her and when she finally looked up from the planchette, she rolled her eyes, “Fine…fine.” Her hands lifted up in surrender and she scrunched her nose.
“See, nothing to be scared of Sonny,” Trevor snickered, fingers coming to pinch the top of Sonny’s ear. Sonny shouldered the brunette away, brows furrowed in annoyance and mouth lopsided into a frown.
“Bite me, Langan.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Carisi,” Trevor shot back just before shooting back another Jello shot. This one was green.
Rafael was silently thanking Amanda from across the table. Hands brought back close to his being, Rafael let out the breath he was holding. He shivered when you scolded Amanda, “Gimme your fingers and don’t joke about, Amanda.”
Amanda let out a huff of air at your tone. “Alright, okay. Calm down.”
Amanda reached out her fingers again and settled them onto her designated spot on the planchette. You copied her and when Rafael didn’t follow suit, you and Amanda looked over at the lawyer. Rafael felt the room shift over to his attention. He felt stuffy in his cheap police uniform. Glancing over at you, he caught your eyes and he silently pleaded.
You didn’t react for a moment until finally, you silently let him off the hook with the smooth transition of reeling in Langan to put his money where his mouth is. Rafael got up from his spot, maybe a bit too quickly, and went over to where Langan was previously heckling from on the couch. Rafael’s legs were jelly and he was happy to plop down onto the couch, grabbing a Jello shot. He swallowed it down too fast to even acknowledge the color of it.
Trevor Langan dramatically rolled his eyes when you beckon him to substitute in for the demon summoning. But he gladly strolled his way over and sat down next to you on the floor. You had to scooch over a bit to make room for Trevor’s long legs and overall more lankier body. He rubbed his hands together and gave a grin before planting his fingers onto the planchette. “Let’s get this show on the road, ladies!”
Amanda and you exchanged looks before your fingers found their spots. The room went quiet again. Nobody noticed it, but the music had stopped in the middle of a song. Rita found herself needing to rest her eyes as playing with a Ouiji board doesn’t really help overly drunk people stay awake. Her head rested against the shoulder of a rigid Carisi. He didn’t seem to notice the extra weight on him.
“I’ll ask the questions this time since cops aren’t too good with questioning suspects,” Trevor quipped. Amanda glared over at the lawyer. You ignored Trevor and shifted your gaze over to the board. “Hello spirits, demons, and devils–” Rita mumbled out a noise of acknowledgement, eyes still closed, snuggling more into Carisi’s shoulder. Carisi fought the urge to shrug her off because he didn’t want to be rude but he wasn’t in a particular cuddly mood. Trevor continued, “Are you here with us?”
Rafael felt a coldness in the apartment. He noticed the lack of music as the group stayed quiet. Sonny felt his neck get prickly, the hair standing up and a shiver rolled up his back. If Rita was more sober, she probably could have felt it.
“Spir—“ Trevor’s voice started but it was cut off by a yelp from someone as the room went dark, the snap of electricity confirming so.
“Oh, Mother Theresa!” Sonny’s voice was sharp and trembling. Rita let out a hum in question before opening her eyes. The air was rigid and cold. Rafael was quick to jump onto his feet in one swift motion. You blinked quickly, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness.
Slowly but surely, you were able to make out shapes in the room. You were about to call out to Rafael when there was a sharp shriek. It started out high in its caliber but then it morphed into something gruesome and growling.
“What the fuck–” That was Trevor. Then a small light shone in the middle of the room, like a little slice of heaven from above. Rafael’s blood ran cold. Carisi stood abruptly, stumbling over his large feet towards Rafael. Rita curled her legs up onto your couch, hugging the back of the furniture, as if she was using it to ground herself not only physically, but mentally.
Trevor’s hand shook, making the light shive as it shined over onto the blonde detective. You couldn’t believe your eyes. You were sure nobody in the room could.
Across from you, on the other side of your thifted coffee table that took you thirty minutes to convince Rafael to get with you, was Detective Amanda Rollins possessed by something. All of her fingers were bent harshly and weirdly, each one of them touching the planchette in some way. Her shoulders were stiff, but her chin was lifted slightly, mouth slightly agape as she moaned and groaned inhumanely.
Her hair seemed electric. The ends of her blonde strands were lifting at the ends very slightly, strands engulfing around her head. The part that made your eyes water and your heart pound heavily were her eyes. They were wide open and black.
“A-amanda.. This i-isn’t funny!”
Sonny’s voice seemed to shake to the same rhythm as Trevor Langan’s hand. You heard the lawyer mutter more curses under his breath as he stood. Rita was able to swing her legs over the back of the couch and her feet stepped softly towards the front door of your apartment. She paused when Amanda let out another shriek that morphed into a muffled, pained groan.
In the dull phone flashlight, Amanda’s head began to turn, peeking over her shoulder at Sonny. Sonny backed up towards Rafael more, shivering as the two men touched. Sonny’s hand grabbed Rafael’s wrist tightly. “Amanda?” The voice was crackly and harsh, like Amanda had spent her last thirty years smoking two packs a day straight. Her teeth snapped together and her tongue swiped over her lips. She let out a giggle. “Amanda’s not here to play, Dominick.”
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