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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months ago

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Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Summary: Frankie's been by your side through some of the hardest moments in your life. Three years have gone by, and now there's no one you want to see less when you find yourself at your lowest.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals, teenage Frankie's back at it again making it impossible for us to hate him!!

A/N: Hello, my name is Madeline and I am unable to stop writing gut wrenching angst and yearning. (Hi, Madeline). Maybe one of these days I'll stop sobbing like an idiot when I write, but I fear that day may not be coming any time soon

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

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You, Spring of 2006, Age 17

Most people say it’s the smell of hospitals they can’t stand. For you, it’s the noise. The constant chaos of voices, monitors, sirens, carts clattering as they roll across the never ending linoleum floor drives you insane. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still never silent. There’s always an ever present reminder looming in the distance to not get too comfortable. The inevitable fear that something could go wrong, and have you wishing that all you had to listen to was the ambiance of continual pandemonium.

That’s why it’s such a relief when you hear the quiet ping of your cell phone resting on the edge of your chair. It’s enough to drown out everything else for a little while.

Frankie :))))))

Hey where r u?

Game starts soon and I cant find u

Katie and Morgan said they havent seen u either

R u ok?

You

Yeah I’m ok.

Dad passed out and hit his head. Mom wasn’t home so I had to take him to the ER.

Called Coach K in the ambulance to tell her I won’t be there.

It’s times like these that it takes everything in you to remind yourself that missing big events to keep your dad alive is better than going to big events without him being here. But when you’re decked head to toe in your soccer uniform, sitting on the edge of your seat in a crowded emergency room instead of getting ready to start the last game of your senior year, it’s hard not to feel a little bitter about it.

You read back over Frankie’s texts as you wait for his response, doing the quick math in your brain before frantically typing back.

You

Wait, didn’t you have to work tonight? Are you at the field?

Frankie :))))))

Called off work weeks ago

U really think I would miss ur last game? Cmon Kenz

Guess its not a surprise anymore. Surprise! lol

You hope the nurse passing by doesn’t notice the way you’re grinning like an idiot at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing so wide it’ll hurt your cheeks. You re-read the last three texts over and over, your face growing warmer each time. You’re not sure why you’d expect anything less. It still never fails to make you feel like your heart is seconds away from bursting at the seams.

Of course he came.

So lost in your train of thought, you hadn’t seen a fourth text pop up across your screen, only the fifth text of “???” that preceded it.

Frankie :))))))

R u at memorial or westwood hospital?

???

You

Memorial. Why?

Frankie :))))))

Be there in 15

You

Frankie you don’t have to do that

Frankie :))))))

2 L8! Already leaving! See u soon!

The tears welling in your eyes were most definitely ones of relief, joy even, that Frankie cared enough to attempt to make it to a soccer game you weren’t even at, let alone forgo a night’s worth of pay to drive himself to the hospital to see you.

Your momentary excitement comes to a sudden stop as onslaught of bodies rush into your room to examine your dad. You’re quick to realize you’ve once again been caught up in a stampede where you’re nothing but another person in the way. An invisible presences that means nothing to anyone in this room. It makes the once blissful wetness welling in the corners of your eyes start to sting with a vengeance.

But you’ve come very quickly to learn that crying doesn’t help anyone, especially when you’re not the one dying.

You try not to let it hurt when your mom doesn’t even acknowledge the fact you’re sporting the jersey of the team you were supposed to start playing with twenty minutes ago, like you had brought your dad to the hospital in your uniform because that and your cleats were the easiest thing to throw on before you called 911. It’s even harder to try not to scream at the fact she barely pays your presence any mind, not even so much as a ‘thank you’ for getting your dad to the hospital in one piece. What’s the most painful is that you’re positive that she, or anyone else, even notices you’re gone when you slip out the door.

You’re here so often that the hospital staff don’t mind that you pace up and down the rows of the waiting room. Sure, they’ll be sending you a bill for the hole you’re burning through their carpet eventually, but that’s not today’s problem.

Right now, part of the reason for your frantic pacing is to cool off some steam so you don’t say something you’ll regret about your dad’s cancer having the audacity to ruin the most important soccer game of your life to date.

You’re also here so often, the hospital staff know Frankie. So much so, that your favorite receptionist, Cassandra, has more than definitely broken several hospital rules to let Frankie stick around long past visiting hours when you’ve needed it most. That’s why all she has to do is give you that look to break you from your vicious cycle of pacing to let you know when he’s arrived through the sliding glass doors of the front entrance.

Most times, he at least makes it a few steps inside before you notice him. Tonight, he’s barely halfway through the door before you’re wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug you have to muster. He pulls you in even tighter.

It’s then that the reality of it all starts to set in. Your best friend had to drive to meet you at the hospital because he’s the only one that remembers you have a soccer game tonight. Your dad is in a cyclical pattern of slowly dying that leaves you feeling like a terrible person for even wishing things were different. You’ve spent the past nine of your seventeen years of life only knowing a world that revolves around cancer. For nine years, you’ve never complained that this is the way your life has been. Tonight, you’ve decided that the weight of the world is un-fucking-fair.

Tonight, you’re not the one dying, but crying seems like the only reasonable thing left to do.

You should be embarrassed by how loud your sobs are, how quick the damn breaks once your body finally lets you give into the pain. These are the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the ones that make your chest hurt because you can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like some poor, lifeless fish, begging to be thrown back to the sea.

Frankie’s seen you cry before, but not like this. You should care about how your tears are staining the fabric of his t-shirt, how he’s the only thing keeping you standing while your body feels like it’s about to give out underneath you. You hadn’t said a word to each other before you’d collapsed in his arms in a sobbing heap, but right now you don’t care. You can’t.

You’re sure words are exchanged at some point as he practically carries you out to his truck, at least giving you the decency to finish crying without unwanted eyes in the waiting room glued to you, but right now, you can’t remember.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to get back to the point of being able to breathe at a semi-normal pace, but something tells you that Frankie will hold you for as long as you need him too, crying or not.

He gently strokes your back, his thumb tracing over the fabric of your jersey as it draws small circles over and over, a sweet and simple dance of his fingers that steadies you just enough to keep from flying away.

“It’s okay, Kenz. It’s okay.” It’s melodic the way Frankie coos it in your ear, like he’s trying to hush a fussy baby fighting sleep. It’ll take time, persistence and patience, but lucky for you, he’s got all three in spades. “I promise you’re okay. I’m here.”

“This fucking sucks.” It’s not elegant or graceful, but it’s the truth, and right now, it’s all your brain can process.

“I know it is, Kenzie. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life worrying that this is the last day I see him. I just want life to be normal. I just wanna go play my stupid fucking soccer game. It’s not fucking fair.” You ball your fists against Frankie’s chest, pounding into him like he’s the one responsible for your hurt and anger. He’s not the one you need to take it out on, but he’s all you have. You hope he knows it’s not his fault he’s become your emotional punching bag as he takes blow after blow, despite how weak your swings are. You’ve got no strength left to fight.

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, MacKenzie.”

He takes it all until you have nothing left to give. You’ve lost a game no one ever has a chance of winning. Defeat is the unwanted trophy life rewards you with, but Frankie stands at the podium with you. He’ll take the hits if it helps ease the blow.

“Will you be okay if I’m gone for five minutes? Just five, I promise, and then I’ll be right back.” His question catches you off guard, breaking you from your agitated state, nodding your head just enough to give him the permission he needs to race back through the doors of the hospital as you climb into his passenger seat.

His truck gives you the kind of familiarity the hospital doesn’t. It’s hard not to find irony in the fact you feel safer in his piece of junk car where the wheels could give out beneath you at any moment than you do in a building that is built for saving people’s lives. Maybe it’s because his truck is filled with the memories of moments in life that make you feel like things are going to be okay.

With the way Frankie’s breathing as he jumps into the driver’s seat, it’s hard to think he’s not back in less than two minutes, rather than five. He doesn’t say a word to you as he cranks the ignition, only a little prayer under his breath that now’s not a time his engine has chosen to give out on him. He doesn’t let you ask any questions until you’re already on the road.

“Frankie, what’s- Frankie what are you doing?”

He’s got that crazed kind of look in his eyes he gets when he’s hellbent on making something happen. He always likes to say that you’re the stubborn one. It makes you wonder the last time he’s taken a good, hard look at himself in the mirror.

“I’m taking you to your game.”

He says it so matter of factly, like his response to nearly kidnapping you out of the Memorial Hospital parking lot shouldn’t warrant any questions.

“What?! Frankie! I can’t just-”

“The doctor in the room said he’s stable and he probably won’t be conscious for the next few hours anyways. Your mom said it’s fine. I’m not letting you miss out on this. You deserve to get to play, Kenz.”

You’re not sure at that moment if you want to kiss him or slap him across the back of the head. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

“Frankie, I-”

“I’ll turn around and take you back if you want me to, but I don’t think you want me to turn around.”

God, maybe you do want to kiss him.

“I hate you, Francisco, I hope you know that.”

“I know. It’s okay, you play better when you’re angry, anyways.”

It’s always the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. The one he makes when he knows he’s right. It’s the same smirk he makes when he greets you after you’ve scored two goals to help your team win the last game of your high school career. The same one he gives you when he buys you ice cream to celebrate with two scoops of cookie dough instead of one, because you won’t stop laughing at his stupid joke about your big appetite for winning.

That night, you fall asleep on his couch, too tired to drive back to the hospital, too scared to sleep in your house alone. You’re not sure if you mean to doze off with your head resting against his thigh like some sort of makeshift pillow. It’s easiest just to blame it on the fact you’re too exhausted to get up. But as you close your eyes and drift to sleep, you’re almost sure that the only muscle Frankie dares to move is the one that pulls the line of his lips into that same smirk you’d rather die than live without.

You, Present

You’re shocked your initial response to seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in three years wasn’t immediately slamming your front door in his face and telling him to fuck off.

That’s what your body wanted you to do. For as badly as it did, your some part of your brain wouldn’t let you.

It’s probably the same, stupid part of your brain that won’t let you stop staring at him, either.

He looks good. Way better than you’d like him to. It doesn’t seem fair that he somehow manages to find a way to return home more handsome than when he left. It happens every damn time. You swear he does it on purpose. You don’t know how he could, but that’s what you tell yourself. It makes it easier to hate him.

“I didn’t know you were home.”

It’s probably the worst thing you could have said to break the awkward silence stewing between you, because you both know it’s a dirty lie. But at this point, you’re far past granting Frankie the privilege of being a part of the truth- you’ll give him your version of the truth that you want him to hear. You’re not letting him have the upper hand.

“Yeah. I uh- got home this morning.”

Good to know the best either of you could do was reduce your relationship down to nothing but lying. If that’s the game he wants to play, then so be it.

“Drive was good?”

“Yeah.” Lie. “You?”

“Fine.” Lie.

For as much as you know the lies hurt, it’s the curveball you hit him with next that you hope stings the worst.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.”

Because that was the truth. The way his face drops tells you the guilt ridden punch you’ve socked him with hits exactly where you want it to. You want the truth to hurt more. You want it to hurt just as bad as the way his truth hurt you.

“Of course I was gonna come.”

It’s a poor attempt at a swing back. He showed up with a knife at your gun fight. He knows well enough you won’t show him any mercy.

“Wouldn’t have been the first time you hadn’t shown up for something important, Frankie.”

“Your dad’s fucking dying MacKenzie, what makes you think I wouldn’t be here?”

“Well, he’s been dying for the past three years so I’m glad you’re deciding to show up when it’s convenient for you.”

That one shuts him up real fucking fast.

His jaw ticks as he takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky like there’s something written in the clouds that will give him instructions on what to say next. There’s not much he could say at this point that would shock you, but Frankie never ceases to be full of surprises, whether you like it or not.

“I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m sorry.”

That shuts you up even quicker.

It shuts you up because you know he’s not lying. The truth is buried in the way his voice breaks at the start of your name, the way the “K” trembles off his tongue and shakes in the back of his throat.

Your heart is mangled in your chest, hearing him say the two words you’d never thought you’d get and realizing you can’t accept it.

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Frankie.”

Neither of you are sure what to say. It’s tough to tell if the fight is over because Frankie’s stabbed you to death and you’ve unloaded every last bullet you had, or if you decided to put your weapons down and walk away before any casualties have occurred. While it’s hard to deny it’s the latter of the two options, at least the first one would have been the honorable way to go.

“Honey, is that Frankie at the door? Let him in, MacKenzie, don’t make him stand out there!”

If there’s one thing you can always count on your mom for, it's that she’ll never fail to have impeccable timing, for better or worse.

You don’t intend for the sigh you let out to be as loud as it is, but it certainly makes it clear to Frankie you aren’t happy about obliging to your mom’s request. You expect him to pass you like you don’t exist, entering your house to greet the two of the three family members who still care about him enough to not burn a hole through his chest every time they look at him, but he doesn’t. He waits for your okay, frozen on the porch until the subtle shrug of your shoulders signals you’ve given him the all clear to pass. He wants to know you’ll at least let him through unscathed for now.

You follow behind him as he enters your house, trying to ignore the fact you’re entranced by the dark brown curls that still tickle the nape of his neck as he walks, or how the width of his shoulders nearly stretch from one end of the door frame to the other. You’re starting to regret not letting him follow you in instead.

You nearly bump into him with how quick he is to freeze once he sees the state of your living room. In the past few weeks, it’s made a terrible transformation from the space you once knew to a makeshift hospital room. The hospice workers had crowded your house with beds, oxygen tanks, and a wheelchair your dad refuses to sit in, an endless puzzle of enough supplies to let your father die in his own home, rather than the cold, sterile wasteland of the nearest hospital.

You’d been able to ease yourself into your dad’s decline. You’d watched the months leading up to now as his body became weaker and sicker, reducing down to nothing but bones and deep, dark set eyes. You were a first hand witness to how cancer had greedily sucked every ounce of life he had left in him, taking and taking until he had nothing left to give.

Last time Frankie saw your dad he was in remission. He looked good, healthy, even. That was three years ago. Frankie would have never imagined barely being able to recognize the man that was the closest thing to a real father he’d ever get.

You want to scream at him that it’s his own damn fault he’s this shocked when he comes face to face with the shell of the man your dad used to be. But with the way you can practically see the guilt oozing out of Frankie with every step he takes towards the near lifeless body lying in the misplaced hospital bed in your living room, you can’t help but let your empathy get the best of you.

“Hi Frankie, how are you? It’s so good to see you, honey.”

Even though your mom knows you’re seconds away from wanting to dropkick Frankie off the face of the earth, there are few things she’ll ever let get in the way of her warm and welcoming demeanor.

Frankie’s still borderline speechless as your mom grabs the tray of cookies he’s been awkwardly toting before she embraces him, arms still glued to his sides like he’s too afraid to move. The way she’s got him in the hug gives him no choice but to stare at the unsettling image of your dad over her shoulder, barely strong enough to turn his head to see what all the fuss is about.

“H-hi, Mrs. Anderson. I’m okay. It’s good to see you, too.”

“Is that my Frank the Tank? C’mere, kiddo. I was hopin’ I’d get to see you.”

The past few weeks have made you shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Never once did you expect the thing that would make you cry the hardest out of everything you’d been through was hearing the long lost excitement in your dad’s voice upon Frankie’s return.

It’s childish, the way you storm upstairs and slam your bedroom door behind you without a word, heat seething through your veins at the way your dad was so quick to forgive, welcoming Frankie back into his home like a day hadn’t passed, like he had been there right alongside him every step of the way through his descent. Your blood boils at the fact your father can’t be bothered to remember that Frankie had been nowhere to be found for three fucking years. Not a text, not a call, not even a “Frankie says hi!” through his mother four doors down.

You can deal with the embarrassment of throwing a full blown temper tantrum later, but that’s more tolerable than spending another second in the same room as Frankie.

“Well,” your dad huffs, his face grimaced with sarcasm as he looks back and forth between your mom, Frankie, and the empty presence you’d left behind, “that went well.”

“Sorry about that, she’s um-”

“She’s fine. Just stubborn.” Your dad grumbles, cutting off your mom with the best attempt he can make to raise his arm from the bed and wave her off.

“No, I uh- it’s fine, I just- I should probably get going, don’t wanna take um- take up too much of your time.” Frankie’s heart sinks in the uncomfortable silence, quietly cursing himself for the mess he’s made.

“It’s what, 8 o’clock in the morning? You got a bingo game at the senior center you need to get to, young man?”

“No, I just-”

“Perfect, no is the only word I needed to hear.” Your dad weakly smiles, gently patting the edge of the bed for Frankie to join him.

Your heart winces hearing the heavy footsteps a floor below you from your bedroom, knowing the direction they’re heading is only further into your house and not back out the front door where you’d prefer him to be.

Thank goodness your dad has lost the ability to speak loud enough for you to hear the words that follow the thumps of Frankie’s feet.

“Frankie, I’ve lived a very happy life. There are few things about it I’d change. But you know just as well as me that my daughter is the one who so lovingly inherited my stubbornness. Lucky for me, God knows I’m stubborn enough not to die until you and her figure this out. Unlucky for the both of you, that my time for stubbornness is starting to run thin.”

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@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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Late Bloomer 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

You are as ever painfully early. It's a habit that often leaves you wandering or hovering awkwardly. You check your watch as you come up to the steps of the century-old building. You are in dread of your physics class but it turns out that all the easy electives fill up fast.

Before you can start the ascent, there's a scuff of steps from the other side. The breadth of the stairs nearly spans a third of the grand facade. You glance over as a young man with a messenger bag rushes up the first few steps only to trip and sprawl over the concrete stairs with an oomph. Without hesitation, you rush over as he groans and clatters back to the bottom.

"Oh my gosh, are you alright?" You scoop up the phone that flew from his hand, seemingly the cause of his accident.

He grunts and struggles to turn himself over, clutching his chest as he can't even get a word out. You know exactly what's happened. You rub his back through his burgundy jacket and give a gentle lat.

"Ah, you're fine, honey, you just got the wind knocked out of ya."

He nods and gulps, a spiral of his reddish brown hair falling down his forehead. His dark eyes meet yours, their panicked sheen softening as his lips tremble in an attempt at a smile.

"Thanks," he rasps at last.

You pull your arm back and offer him your phone.

"That was quite the tumble," you stand straight and extend your hand. He takes it and hauls himself up.

"Yeah, this dang thing," he wiggles his cell and tucks it away in his jacket, "always getting me in trouble."

You smile nervously and your eyes drift down as he favours one leg. There's a red splotch growing on his khakis. You pop your brows up in concern.

"Er, think you got yourself good." You point and he looks down.

"God! I knew I shouldn't have worn these ones. I told May, dark colours!"

"Baking soda, maybe a bit of club soda," you assure him. "I got bandaids in my bag."

"You-- do?" He's surprised.

"Can never be too prepared," you smile. "Um, I guess..

We're in the way."

You glance around as you sense bodies heading up the steps, a few glancing your way.

"Uh, yeah, why don't we head inside," he takes a ginger step. "Uh, typical. My first day."

"It'll get better," you say.

"Hm, yeah, I guess it already has," he grins at you before he turns back up the steps.

"You need help?" You ask.

"No, no, I'm not a total disaster," he chuckles. "So," he clears his throat as you catch up to him, "what do you teach?"

"Oh," you repress a strike of embarrassment. Of course he would assume you're a professor, or a TA at the very least. It's obvious you have a few years on him and most of your classmates. "I'm a student."

"Nice," he nods, "wait, oh, gee, I didn't mean to imply-- ah, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine. It's my second year. First year all the freshmen called me mom," you shake your head. "But that might be the bandaids in my bag."

"Maybe," he stops and squints, "right..." he points his finger around as he thinks, "this way."

You let him guide you. You don't need to be in class for another half hour. You follow him up to the second floor. That's where your class will be. Convenient.

When he stops at a door and digs around in his pocket, your heart drops. You look up at the room number as he takes out a set of keys and unlocks the door. You chew on your dismay.

He lets you in ahead of him. You wait patiently and he heads up to the podium. He leans on the table next to it as he unhooks his bag from over his shoulder. He sighs and peers down at his knee.

The pulls up the fabric and hisses. You approach as you sift through your bag. He bends his leg as he looks at the scrape. It's not that bad.

You take out the little pack of alcohol wipe from the little emergency pouch. How many times have you played mother hen to drunk coeds? You're prepared for it all.

"Wow, you got everything in that magic bag," he teases.

You squat down and wipe the blood away. As you peel the bandaid wrapper away, you scoff, "I'm a pack horse. Utterly terrified of forgetting anything important."

You cover the cut and run your fingers across the bandage to make sure it sticks. He winces.

"Sorry," you apologise as you stand and crumple up the wipe and wrapper.

You search around for the garbage and toss the waste. You fish again in your bag and take out your sanitizer. You squirt it onto your palm and drop it back through the open zipper. Your rub your hands together as he pulls his pantleg back down.

"Well, since you got my blood on your hands, I guess you should get a name too," he chuckles, "I'm Peter. Er, Professor Parker. Still getting used to that."

He offers his hand and you shake it, "Olive."

"Olive. Pretty. Er, interesting. Oh no," he pulls back, "I went through sensitivity training. Can I say that?"

"It's fine, professor. I'm not overly fond of the name myself," you shrug.

"Right, well," he bends his arm and tugs up his sleeve to check his apple watch. "I hope I didn't make you late."

"Well, actually, funny story," you scratch the side of your neck, "I'm enrolled in Physics 2."

He tilts his head and his lips part on disbelief, "you're joking."

"Nah, it's not exactly my favourite subject but I'll do my best," you say, "but er, if you need to get set up, I can wait in the hall."

"What? No. You're early. Make sure you get the best seat," he insists. "I will say the front row is where you wanna be but I was a student not too long ago and I won't be insulted if you sit in the back."

You laugh, "well, you know, I'm a late bloomer and these ears aren't so good." You kid, "front row's fine with me."

His grin lingers, awkwardly as his forehead lines and he tries to come up with a response. You smile, "I'll go sit down."

You give a little wave and go to find a seat. You settle in with your bag in your lap and slid out your notebook and the box of fresh pens. You tried your laptop for notes but you just find your eyes hurt from the blue light.

You tuck your bag under your seat and unfold the small desk from the arm rest. As you peel back the cover of your notebook, your ears tingle. You glance over as Peter-- Professor Parker, peeks at you. You give a tense smile and pull out a pen, putting your focus back to your notebook.

At least if you do crappy, you might be able to charm yourself into at least a passing grade.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #spider-man #captain america #avengers #au #bad professors #mcu #marvel #late bloomer

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shmaptainwrites · 11 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x single mom!Reader

SUMMARY — James moves into a new apartment and finds a new friend in his neighbour across the hall

WARNINGS — mild descriptions of blood and injury, hospitals/hospitalization, a little angst and hurt comfort

NOTE — Guys this was supposed to be out Monday, I am so sorry, life is just not life-ing (ie. its midterm season) so enjoy this being posted as I am fighting for my life in cell bio. Also this has only been minorly edited by me so if there's any weird wording ot typos I apologize in advance

If no one had told you someone was moving into the apartment across the hall from you, you probably would have gone months without noticing anyone in there. You weren’t sure if your schedules were just not in sync or maybe he never really left his place. Regardless, it took at least two months before you met your new neighbour.

When you did, it was a coincidence. You were leaving and he was coming back home.

You both paused and stared at each other for a moment before rushing to introduce yourselves, only to accidentally talk over each other.

After you both stopped, he motioned for you to go first. You gave him your name and made a stupid comment about how you hadn’t met until now. Maybe it wasn’t stupid because he laughed, or maybe he was just being nice.

“I’m James,” he said. “And about not seeing me, well it probably doesn’t help that I leave at the crack of dawn and usually come back late.”

“Oh, let me guess, doctor?” you asked and he nodded. “It was either that or day-shift stripper so I figured my odds were pretty good.”

That made him laugh again and you smiled.

“I hope you rest well before your next shift. Unfortunately, I have to head out. Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you around,” he gave you a small three-fingered wave which you returned before jogging down the stairs.

You didn’t think you’d have much reason to see him again, but accidents do happen.

You knew sometimes you’d have the tendency to be a bit clumsy, but this was beyond that. Dropping your knife down next to the half cut vegetables, you looked around for something to wrap your hand in to stop the bleeding.

You thought about your options, you could call an ambulance and pay the ridiculous fee, you could drive yourself to the ER and risk getting into an accident, or you could knock on your neighbour’s door and hope he was home.

You sprung for option three, seeing as it was most immediate.

Opening your door, barely even bothering to close it behind you, you knocked on James’ door, praying that he was home and would be able to help.

It seemed as though your prayers were answered because you heard the lock click and the door open to a very confused looking James.

“I am so sorry to bother you,” you started, “but I was making dinner and the knife slipped-,”

“You cut yourself,” he filled in the blanks himself and you nodded, biting down on your tongue from the pain. “Come in, let me see if I can get you sorted.”

He opened his door wider and you stepped into his apartment, an identical layout to yours, but differing in decor and furniture.

He pulled back a chair at his small dining table for you to sit at and went to another room to grab something.

He came back with a first aid kit and sat down in the chair next to you, opening the kit and grabbing a few things he knew he would need before pulling back the towel you had wrapped your hand in and examining the cut.

“Wow, this is really deep,” he remarked. “You must be in a lot of pain.”

“Yeah, trying really hard not to pay attention to it right now,” you nodded through gritted teeth.

“Look, I don’t have a lot of stuff with me, but I think this lidocaine numbing spray should help a bit, but it will sting first,” he warned you and you nodded.

He used the spray and you winced, but just as he said the pain slowly dissipated and soon all you could feel was a dull ache. He started by cleaning the wound and flushing it with some water and alcohol.

“So what were you cooking?” he asked.

“Trying to make just some chicken and potatoes, but of course my hand and the knife decide to slip at the same time,” you sighed.

He pulled out a needle and some surgical thread next, determining what the best way to stitch you up was.

“Do this often?” you asked.

“Unfortunately for you, no I don’t,” he shook his head. “I work in oncology so I have to think a little harder about my stitching.”

“As long as it’s free, take all the time you need,” you joked.

“Oh, no one told you, my rate is 500$ a minute, I take cash or cheque,” he teased right back and you chuckled a bit.

“How about I do you a favour when you need it and we call it even?” you asked and he nodded his head.

“Seems equivalent. Alright, you’re gonna feel a light pinch,” he said and saw your face contort in discomfort and he quickly apologized.

He tried to do the stitching as quickly as possible, and then covered it up with gauze and tape to make sure the stitches were protected.

“You should probably come by again tomorrow so I can take a look and make sure everything’s okay and it isn’t infected,” he said. “I should be back around six.”

“Sure, thanks again for this. It’s handy having a doctor next door,” you smiled. “Now I should probably go and clean all the blood off my counters and order something to eat.”

“Hey, why don’t you just have a plate of food here before you go back?” James suggested. “I made extra.”

“You sure? You already stitched me up and now you want me to eat your food?”

“It’ll be nice company,” he assured you. “Unless you have someone you need to get back to.”

“No, it’s just me right now,” you nodded. “I’ll stay, the blood can wait.”

James served you a plate of the food he had made before grabbing his half-eaten dinner and joining you again at the dining room table.

“So, um, you know what I do for work first hand now,” James started. “What about yourself?”

“I like to say I’m a constant student of the world’s universal language,” you smiled to yourself, “but people don’t really know what I mean by that so usually stick to saying I’m a professor of mathematics.”

“Wow,” James looked impressed. “You don’t really look like a math professor. All of mine were a little…crazy. I never would have guessed.”

“Unfortunately not everyone can have Einstein’s hair,” you joked and James laughed.

“Do you teach at Princeton then?” he asked and you nodded. “What a coincidence. I work at the teaching hospital.”

“Oh, you must know Lisa then,” you grinned. “She’s a good friend of mine.”

James nodded, “Such a small world.”

“You’re telling me.”

You continued to eat dinner and chat about various things, most pertaining to the school or your mutual connection through Lisa. By the end of the evening, when you wished him a good night and went back over to your apartment, a part of you was happy your hand would give you an excuse to see your neighbour once more.

—

James stared blankly at his fridge wondering how he’d managed to go this long without buying any groceries. He could just eat out and put off shopping for another day, but he had time off and he probably should take advantage of it.

Without much more thought, he grabbed his house key and his coat, deciding to go to the grocery store just down the street, it would be a nice walk in the afternoon sun. When he opened his door, he saw you standing outside with a few empty grocery bags in hand.

“You heading down to the store?” he asked and you nodded with a smile.

“You too?”

“I don’t have the hardware,” he pointed to your bags. “But the fridge is empty, so yeah, I figured it was about time to do a grocery run. How’s your hand doing?”

“A lot better than last week. Thanks for asking,” you looked down at your bandaged palm. “Excited to be able to take this off.”

Just as James was about to say goodbye and wish you a good rest of your afternoon, your door opened and a young girl stepped out.

“Mom, I can’t do up my zipper, it keeps getting stuck,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me give you a hand with that,” you bent down and put the grocery bags to the side, helping her out with the finicky zipper. “Maybe we need to get you a new jacket, this one’s starting to get a bit tight, huh?”

The girl nodded and thanked you for your help by giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Mom, who’s that?” she pointed to James and you chuckled a little.

“I was just about to introduce you two,” you said. “Nadia, this is James, James this is Nadia. My daughter.”

“Nice to meet you, Nadia,” James waved and she waved back.

“Are you friends with my mom?” she asked.

“I-I think so,” James nodded.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” you agreed.

“If he’s your friend can he come over for dinner tonight?” Nadia asked.

You looked in between your daughter and James once a few times before saying,

“You know, I think it’s his day off, I’m not too sure if he had plans already.”

James shoved his hand in his pockets and asked,

“And what if I don’t have plans?”

You bit back a small smile, “Then I would say, do you want to come get groceries and have dinner with us tonight?”

“I’d love to.”

“Nice,” Nadia grinned. “That means we get dessert.”

You scoffed and looked down at your daughter, “Is that what this was all about?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders innocently and you shook your head, locking the door behind you and beginning to walk down the stairs, Nadia leading the way and James at your side.

“You never mentioned you had a daughter,” James said quietly while you walked down the sidewalk, Nadia running ahead to press the button for the crosswalk.

“Never came up,” you shrugged. “She was with her dad both times you saw me before.”

“She’s cute,” James said simply. “Looks a lot like her mom.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, trying to ignore the warm feeling rising up in your cheeks.

You watched as Nadia came running back up to you both and tapped James on the arm.

“Do you like apple crumble and ice cream?” she asked.

“I do,” James nodded. “I used to make it with my mom when I was around your age.”

“My mom makes it with me too,” Nadia grinned. “Can we have that for dessert tonight?”

“Sure, if they have the granny smith apples, if not maybe we can make a peach cobbler instead,” you suggested and Nadia agreed, taking your hand and dragging you towards the store so you could get the ingredients faster.

You and James did your shopping in parallel and would both send Nadia on small quests to retrieve some things you needed to keep her busy.

“You’re pretty good with kids,” you commented after he had told Nadia about her next ‘top secret mission’.

“Comes a bit with the job,” he said, sifting through the peppers on the produce stand to find a few good ones. “It’s nice to be reminded every once in a while that not all kids are going through treatment.”

“I don’t know how you’d be able to see that every day,” you shook your head and sighed. “I would be a wreck if Nadia was in the hospital.”

“Well, let’s hope that never happens.”

“James! I got the berries!” Nadia came speeding back and handed him the basket of strawberries before taking a moment to catch her breath.

“Wow, that was fast,” he grinned. “Come on, I think it’s about time we go pay for all this stuff.”

You weren’t sure whether it was slight of hand or if James had an in with the cashier, but he managed to pay for the groceries, insisting it was just paying for dinner, so to even it out you slipped 50$ to the cashier to pay for his things.

“It’s not really letting me pay for dinner if you just pay for my stuff too,” he teased you as you walked home.

“If you’re really that set on paying me back you can come help me and Nadia cook. Maybe make sure I don’t cut my hand again,” you waved your bandaged hand in the air.

“Alright,” he conceded. “I’ll be over as soon as I drop these off.”

When you got home, you and Nadia quickly cleared up a few of her toys from the living room and a few minutes later, as expected, James’ knock echoed through the apartment. Nadia beat you to the door and grabbed James’ hand, bringing him to the kitchen and shutting the door behind them.

“Since you know how to make the crumble you can wash and peel the apples,” Nadia instructed.

“Is this okay with mom?” James asked.

“I’ve tried your cooking before, it’s okay with me,” you nodded. “Nadia, hon, do you want to help with the salad? Like I taught you?”

She nodded her head and went to wash her hands quickly before standing up on a stool so she could reach the counter and cut the vegetables.

“Be very careful with the knife, okay? Don’t make the same mistake mom did otherwise James is gonna start asking for our medical insurance,” you teased and Nadia gave you the classic,

“I know, I know. I’ve done this like a million times.”

“Well, let’s make it a million and one without accidents,” James added and you mouthed a thank you to him.

Nadia was chopping away and bossing all of you around like she was head chef at a restaurant, all the while interrogating James about his work at the hospital and how he ended up in the apartment across the hall.

“Where did you live before?” she asked.

“Uh, kind of close to where your mom works,” he said. “In a house with a nice apple tree in the front yard.”

“So why did you move to an apartment then?”

James chuckled. “Good question. I um, I used to be married, but I’m not anymore so I decided to move somewhere different.”

“Like mom and dad,” Nadia nodded her head in understanding.

“Yeah, a bit like your mom and dad, I guess,” he agreed. “Do you like it in this building?”

“Yeah,” Nadia nodded. “And mom cooks better than dad, but don’t tell him that.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” James winked and finished mixing the apples with cinnamon, sugar, and a few other spices and ingredients.

Dinner was ready within the next hour and dessert followed soon after, much to Nadia’s excitement.

“Okay, moment of truth,” James sucked some air through his teeth as he served Nadia a plate with some ice cream on the side.

She dug into it and put on her best thinking face before giving a big thumbs up and a smile.

“Phew,” James sat back down in his seat and Nadia giggled at his exaggeration. He finished serving you and himself before putting the ice cream back in your freezer so it wouldn’t melt.

“So, did you enjoy your day off?” you asked.

“More than I was expecting to,” he nodded. “Thank you guys for having me over.”

“Maybe you can come again next time I’m back with mom?” Nadia suggested. “Can we have dinner with James?”

“I mean, if he wants to I have no objection,” you agreed with her.

“I’ll mark it in my calendar.”

Nadia quietly celebrated and said something about having dessert every time and you gave her a warning look that only encouraged her to continue to be cheeky.

Dessert was followed by a sugar rush, and crash and while Nadia snored on the couch you were saying goodbye to James and thanking him for spending the day.

“She really likes you,” you looked over at your sleeping daughter on the couch.

“Feeling’s mutual,” he smiled softly.

“You know, if you ever want company or a friend, my door’s always open,” you told him. “Even if it’s just someone to sit in silence with you at the end of a long day.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“And I’m sorry about your divorce,” you said. “If I can say one thing it’s just that it gets better. Eventually.”

He nodded his head and gave you a sad smile.

“Helps when you have a friend who understands,” he patted your arm and wished you goodnight walking across the hall and disappearing behind the door.

—

The couch was your favourite place to grade assignments and midterms. Final exams needed something a little more substantial considering how long they’d take when you didn’t have a teaching assistant helping you.

You didn’t know how many cups of coffee you’d gone through when you heard the knock on your door.

“It’s James,” you heard through the other side. “A little birdy told me you were stuck grading all day.”

“Come in,” you called back and he opened the unlocked door and slipped inside, coming to join you on the couch.

“I brought you a pick me up but I see that may send you into cardiac arrest,” he looked over at your many mugs littering the table.

“I have a weird thing about making coffee in the same cup,” you shook your head. “And I will take that,” you grabbed the to-go mug out of his hands, taking a sip of the piping hot drink. “God, sometimes when I’m writing these tests I forget I have to grade them too.”

James chuckled and looked over at the papers laid out on the coffee table.

“Why don’t you take a short break. No one expects you to get all the exams back the day after midterms,” he said.

“Yeah, but my TA expects me to grade all the long proofs so that they can do their part and grade the short answer stuff,” you sighed. “But you’re right I should take a break before I start taking marks off for using a weird letter as a variable, or something more complicated than that, I don’t know I can barely think straight anymore.”

James took the coffee and midterm out of your hands, putting them on the table, letting you lean back further into the couch and close your eyes for two seconds.

“Is Nadia with her dad?” he asked.

“Yeah, visiting her grandparents,” you nodded. “I hope they don’t fill her head with too much nonsense.”

James looked at you a little confused so you explained further, “They hated me, don’t know why. Maybe because they expected Mike to have a stay at home wife, but after we graduated I wanted more.”

“So you went to get your master’s and doctorate,” James filled in and you nodded.

“They thought I was trying to make their son look stupid, but they grossly overestimated my motives,” you chuckled humourlessly. “I’m just really nerdy and like math. I wanted to learn more so I did.”

“And what did your ex think?” he asked.

“Mike…he’s an interesting guy,” you shrugged. “I don’t think he’s a bad person, he was just a bad husband for me. He’s a decent dad, he’s there for Nadia, but he wasn’t there for me when I needed him to be.” you shared. “What about you? What went wrong there?”

“The first time or the second?” he asked with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No kids I’m guessing,” you said and he shook his head.

“First time, I was working two jobs to keep us afloat while she was at an unpaid internship. We both had terrible communication skills, and shouldn't have been married in the first place. The second time, I think I screwed that one up.”

He ran a hand through his hair before letting both his hands rest in his lap.

“Marriage is hard as hell,” you sighed. “I mean I wasn’t much of a picnic for Mike either.”

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better,” he assured you. “Although I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I’m serious. A marriage goes two ways and yeah sure, one person can screw up bigger than the other, but it’s not that one person is perfect and the other isn’t,” you said.

James pursed his lips and leaned forward, his arms resting against his legs. He wished it was that simple.

“Okay, my goal was not to bring down the mood,” James finally said. “This was supposed to be a fun work break.”

“I hate to tell you you’re failing miserably at the fun part,” you teased.

“Alright, then tell me why you decided to study math, of all the things you could have learnt about, why did math speak to you the most?”

“Katherine Johnson,” you said and yawned, rubbing your eyes. “I read about her in some random book in the library and I realized that numbers are what make everything in the world work. If she could send a rocket ship to space using math, then she had a superpower and I wanted a taste of it.”

“Did you get a taste of it?”

“Did my master’s degree research while jointly working with NASA, so yeah, I did,” you nodded with a smile. “And unfortunately, I have to use that superpower to finish grading these. You can stay if you want, I don’t mind.”

James looked at his watch and sighed,

“I have a meeting scheduled with the hospital board tomorrow morning. I should probably go get some sleep. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

You patted his leg and assured him you’d be in bed within the next few hours whether you liked it or not. Your body probably wouldn’t let you stay up any longer.

James gave your hand a gentle squeeze and said goodnight, showing himself out.

—

The sound of the phone ringing echoed through the house and you called for Nadia to pick it up, busy washing dishes. When she didn’t respond, you sighed to yourself and quickly turned off the water, wiping your hands and going to pick the phone up yourself.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s James.”

“James, what’s up? Aren’t you still at work?” you asked, looking over at the clock.

“That’s actually what I’m calling about, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make dinner this week,” he said. “Something’s come up and I’m going to be here late.”

“Oh that’s too bad. We’ll just have to reschedule,” you assured him.

“Can you put Nadia on the line? I wanted to apologize to her myself.”

“Sure,” you chuckled and called Nadia again. She came out of her room, rubbing her eyes and you told her James was on the phone asking for her. She took the phone from you and said hello, talking to James for a short while. You could see she was disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to make it, but you heard him promise to make it up to her with a movie night one weekend instead.

“Bye James,” she said and nodded her head in response to something he said before hanging up. “He says bye to you too.”

“Thanks honey,” you patted her back. “Are you feeling okay?” you asked. “You’re looking a little tired.”

“I feel tired,” she confirmed. “Can I go take a nap?”

“Sure,” you rubbed her back. “Do you want me to come and stay with you?”

“I’m okay right now,” she yawned.

You nodded your head and watched her make her way back to her bedroom. That evening you had a quiet dinner, deciding maybe to make soup in case Nadia was coming down with something. She didn’t have much of an appetite, only eating half of her bowl before beginning to cough, one of those deep chest coughs that made you feel a little worried.

You quickly got her changed in her pyjamas and had her sleep in your bed for the night so you could keep a close eye on her.

Your instincts that something was wrong ended up being right, as Nadia woke up with a continuing cough in the middle of the night and she felt hot to the touch.

“Nadia, honey are you going to be okay here for two minutes? I’m gonna go see if I can get some help,” you said and she nodded her head while continuing to cough.

Quickly, you ran over to James’ place and knocked on the door, an arm wrapped around your stomach while you chewed on your fingernails.

James opened the door wearing a college t-shirt and sweatpants, immediately taking in your concerned features and asking what was wrong.

“Nadia got sick and I think she’s getting worse,” you bit your tongue. “I’m so sorry to wake you up, but could you come check on her for me?”

“Of course,” James nodded, placing a hand on your back as he stepped out of his apartment, closing the door behind him and walking back to yours.

You led him over to your room where Nadia was laying down and he took a seat next to her on the bed and placed his hand on her arm, letting her know he was there.

“James?” she coughed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he gave her a soft smile. “I heard you weren’t feeling too good.”

She nodded her head.

“Is it okay if I do a quick check up to see what’s wrong?” he asked and she nodded again, letting him help her sit up.

He first touched her forehead with the back of his hand to feel her temperature and then placed his ear to her chest to listen to her breathing.

“Thanks, Nadia, you can lay back down now while I talk to your mom, okay? Try and stay on your side, it'll help with the cough.”

James motioned for you to follow him just outside of the room so he could tell you what he thought was going on.

“I think she’s caught some kind of bug that’s causing pneumonia,” he said. “Her breathing didn’t sound too great so I think it’s a safe bet to take her to the hospital, but I’d say you still have time to pack a bag with a few things and I can get Nadia ready and drive you guys.”

“James, you don’t have to do that,” you shook your head. “I already woke you up and-,”

“I insist,” he said. “You walk with me into that ER and I’m allowed to boss around the nurses and call the best doctor in pediatrics.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head and took a shaky deep breath. “She’s gonna be okay, r-right?”

“They’ll give her an antiviral or antibiotic and keep her for a few nights to make sure it doesn’t get worse and before you know it she’ll be good as new.”

You chewed on your lip and went to go pack a bag with a few of your things and Nadia’s while James helped Nadia get out of bed and into some shoes and a warm jacket with a hat so the cold air didn’t bite at her.

“Are you coming with us?” Nadia asked James after a string of coughs.

“Sure am,” he nodded. “I’m gonna drive and your mom’s gonna sit in the back with you.”

“Why do we have to go to the hospital?” she asked.

“Well, sometimes when we get sick at night that’s the fastest way to see a doctor and get the right medicine to get better,” James explained, opening his arms up for Nadia to climb into them to he could carry her to the car just as you had come out with a packed duffle bag.

“We can take your car,” you said. “I’ll find my way back tomorrow to get mine.”

James nodded his head and quickly went into his place to grab his keys and lock the door behind him.

He drove as fast as he could while still being within the speed limit, keeping an eye on his rearview mirror, seeing Nadia huddled up into your side.

“Mom, my chest hurts,” Nadia blinked back a few tears.

“Hold on, hon, we’re almost there,” you squeezed onto her a little tighter.

James pulled into the ER parking lot and grabbed Nadia while you got your things, walking into the hospital together.

“Dr. Wilson, what are you doing here?” one of the nurses asked, confused.

“I’ve got a young girl, seven-years-old with pneumonia symptoms, we should get her on oxygen, do a test for bacterial and viral infections, and get a chest x-ray as soon as possible. And call Dr. Herberts, tell her I’m calling in my favour,” he instructed while placing Nadia down on one of the beds. “Nadia, this is my friend Alice,” he motioned to one of the nurses, “She’s gonna be with you while we figure out what’s going on.”

“What about you?” she asked while James grabbed the oxygen mask from one of the nurses.

“Your mom and I need to deal with a few other things before we can come be with you, but I promise Alice is going to take really good care of you. She’s really nice.”

“Promise you’ll come?” she asked and James stuck out his pinky for her to link with her own.

“Swear it,” he nodded. “Now can you put this on for me?” he asked, showing her the oxygen mask. “It’s going to help you breathe.”

She nodded her head and let James slip the mask over her head before the nurses wheeled her off to get the tests done.

James turned around and saw you finishing giving your information to one of the attendants and she was about to inform you where to go wait, but James motioned that he had it covered and she nodded.

Your exhaustion and worry had become all muddled together and you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore, covering your mouth with your hand while James came and wrapped you in his arms.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he assured you. “You did the right thing.”

You nodded your head and reciprocated the hug, burying your face in his shoulder to hide your tears from the onlookers.

After a few more moments, you pulled away and James quickly helped you wipe away your tears with the heel of his palm before wrapping his arm around you and leading you to radiology where Nadia would be getting her chest x-ray done.

He sat with you in the waiting room chairs until they brought Nadia out and told you that you could follow them to her room in the pediatrics ward.

By the time you got there and were settled with Nadia, James looked at the clock and noticed his shift would be starting in around an hour.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you said, quietly, gently brushing your fingers against Nadia’s cheek.

“Of course I did,” James smiled. “I pinky promised.”

Nadia looked up at you and nodded, making you chuckle.

“Nadi, can James go home so he can get ready for work?” you asked.

“I’ll come back and see you later after you’ve rested,” he assured her, “But nobody's gonna believe I’m a doctor dressed in these PJs.”

Nadia giggled, “You can go. Mom says you work here so you have to come back.”

“Bingo,” James snapped and gave her a thumbs up. “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

He bent down and pressed a small kiss to her forehead, wishing her to get better before reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. His signal to you that everything would be okay.

You pressed your lips together, knowing you were on the verge of tears again, but begged them not to leave your eyes. Instead, you watched misty eyed as this man who you didn’t even know only months ago cared for you and your daughter without question. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and so you let yourself soak in it for as long as it lasted.

—

After James had left, you called your ex and explained to him what had happened and he came to join you and Nadia at the hospital. The morning passed without much eventfulness and the doctor and nurses came to periodically check on Nadia, adjusting her medication and seeing if her symptoms were changing.

You left her with her father so that you could grab a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, barely having gotten a wink of sleep last night. When you returned, you couldn’t see Mike in the room with her, assuming he’d just made a run to the washroom, but instead you saw James sitting on the side of her bed talking to her.

He was dressed in his white coat, his hair a little scruffy and messy like it normally was. It looked like he was playing some sort of game with her because you could hear laughter and teasing through the glass walls and you decided to give them a minute alone together.

“Who’s that?” you could hear Mike’s voice ask as he walked up next to you.

“Dr. Wilson,” you said absentmindedly, smiling to yourself while Nadia laughed at James’ defeat in a thumb war.

“Acting more like a candy-striper than a doctor,” Mike muttered.

You continued to watch as Nadia pointed to the IV in her hand and James examined it for a moment, explaining something to her before pressing a gentle kiss to the affected area and telling her that he unfortunately had to leave, but he’d come again later and see her. Nadia pulled him in for a hug and they exchanged cute kisses on the cheek. At least it was cute to you, but to Mike who had no idea what was going on they looked a little suspicious.

“What the hell is he doing with my daughter?” he asked you, pushing past to try and give him a piece of his mind.

“Mike, wait!” you ran up to him, but he wouldn’t stop. “Mike, would you stop and listen to me for a minute!”

He stopped and turned to look at you, “You have an explanation for this?”

“Yes, I do,” you scoffed. “He’s my neighbour. He drove Nadia and I here last night. Just lay off. He’s a friend.”

Mike didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he listened and as James came out of Nadia’s room he pushed past him to go be with his daughter.

You rolled your eyes at his actions while James came to stand with you.

“I take it that’s Mike,” he said and you nodded your head with a chuckle. “Nadia looks a lot better.”

“Yeah, doctor’s said they want to keep her under observation one or two more days just to make sure everything is all okay and then they’ll send us home with some antivirals since they don’t think it was caused by a bacterial infection,” you explained.

“And how are you?” he asked and you took a deep breath, prompting him to reach for your hand that was by your side.

“I’m tired, I’m worried, I have to deal with Mike, I just…” you shook your head. “I’m happy you’re here.”

He gave you a half smile and brushed his thumb across your knuckles.

“You need anything and you call my pager. I’ll be right over,” he insisted. “And if you need a moment alone you can sit on the couch in my office.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

His hand slipped out of yours as he walked away. You were just about to go back into the room with Nadia before you felt someone tap on your shoulder.

When you turned around you saw Lisa there with a small teddy bear in her hand from the gift shop.

“Hey,” you smiled and wrapped her in a hug.

“How’s Nadia? Wilson told me you had to bring her here last night.” she asked.

“She’s doing okay, a lot better than yesterday,” you shared with your friend.

“Will she be fine in there with Mike for a bit if I steal you?” she asked and you nodded your head. “Let me go in and say hi and give her this then we can walk.”

You went in with her and gave a kiss to Nadia whispering to her that you were going to go for a walk, but would be back soon.

“Mike,” Lisa gave him a curt nod which he returned before she turned her attention to Nadia, the expression on her face changing from one of neutrality to a smile while she handed her the gift and assured her she was gonna get better so fast and be out of the hospital in no time.

“I’m just gonna take your mom to make sure she gets something to eat so she can keep taking care of you. Does that sound good?” Lisa asked and Nadia agreed.

“James said you’d do that.”

“Oh, did he now,” Lisa placed her hands on her hips. “I’ll have to have a little chat with him later. You know I am his boss,” she winked and Nadia giggled.

You stepped out of the hospital room and once you were a bit of a distance away Lisa looked over to you.

“What was all that about right before I came?” she asked. “With Wilson?”

“James? Oh he was just checking in on me and Nadi,” you shook your head. “It was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Lisa raised her brows and you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not in high school. It was a rough night and he was there for it. That’s all.”

“And what did Mike think about that?” Lisa asked.

“He wasn’t impressed,” you sighed. “But he doesn’t really know how much time we’re spending together and he doesn’t need to because he’s not in charge of me.”

“He is half in charge of Nadia though,” Lisa said, making a fair point. “Just be open enough with him that it won’t be a headache when it comes to her.”

You nodded your head, and didn’t argue with Lisa when she offered to buy you something for breakfast.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

“Last night, dinner,” you sighed, Lisa took the coffee out of your hands saying you shouldn’t be drinking the caffeine on an empty stomach and you chuckled a little at her motherly attitude.

You sat down at one of the tables and began to eat with her lightly chatting about a few things that had happened since you had last seen each other.

“You know, if anyone gives you trouble you can just call me,” she said.

“Is that an abuse of your power as Dean?” you asked, with a slight air of teasing in your voice.

“Not really,” she shrugged. “I’m just trying to make sure the patients here get the best care possible.”

“Especially when that patient is your unofficial niece,” you winked and she kicked you lightly under the table.

When you finished eating, Lisa walked you back to Nadia’s room before going to the clinic. Nadia was sleeping now and Mike was reading a magazine in the chair next to her bed.

“Thanks for staying with her,” you said. “I hadn’t eaten since last night.”

“No problem,” he said without looking up from the book.

You took a deep breath and sat down on the chair on the opposite side of Nadia’s bed, twiddling your thumbs.

“She talked a lot about Dr. Wilson,” he said, finally breaking the silence, putting the magazine off to the side.

“Yeah, she likes him a lot,” you nodded.

“Do you like him a lot?” he asked.

You shook your head at his question, “Mike does it matter what I feel? We’re not married anymore. I can understand your concern for Nadia, but I can tell you with certainty that he’s shown us nothing but kindness.”

Mike looked at you for a moment with a piercing stare before backing off and leaning back in his chair, opening the magazine once again.

—

You rarely liked the idea of being away from Nadia, but tonight you were feeling grateful she was at her dad’s place. The furnace had broken in your apartment and the only thing warming it was a small space heater you had in your room that was doing a job it was not built to do.

You were huddled under blankets wearing a hoodie and two pairs of pants, still feeling the cold air cut through somehow. You were just about to give up any hope of sleep when you heard a quiet knock at your door and curiously you made your way there, grabbing your housecoat as an extra layer.

When you looked through the peephole you saw James on the other side, just as bundled as you so you quickly opened the door, wondering if he was in a similar circumstance to you.

“Hey, I-I’m sorry were you asleep?” he asked and you shook your head. “My furnace broke and it’s absolutely freezing in my place, can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

“Talk about coincidence, mine’s broken too,” you chuckled. “I do have a space heater in my room, it’s not much but it’s better.”

“I-I wouldn’t want to-,”

“James, we're both freezing our asses off. Come inside.”

He didn’t argue with you and followed you over to your room. When you got there, you both stared at the bed like maybe something would change to make the situation less awkward and when it didn’t you took the lead, climbing into one side and getting under the covers.

James looked a little nervous, but he followed your lead, getting in on the other side.

It felt weird to talk so you both stayed silent, turning your backs to the centre of the bed and trying to focus on curling up to stay warm.

Unfortunately for you, you could feel your body start to move the blood away from your extremities in order to keep your core warm. It came with light shivering and some chattering of your teeth that you desperately tried to stop until you felt a hand on your arm.

“Turn around,” James said and you listened, maneuvering yourself so you were facing him, your bodies just a few inches apart. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you fully into him, letting his legs tangle with yours.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears while he brought your hands up to his chest, holding them in his slightly warmer ones, using a bit of friction to help them regain their heat.

“Better?” he asked and you silently nodded your head. “Good.”

Eventually you had regained enough heat that your body felt well enough to let you fall asleep and you could feel your eyes slowly begin to close as your head rested against James’ chest. He made sure you had enough room to breathe, but kept a tight hold on you until sleep came for him too.

—

“You slept with him?”

“I did not sleep with him,” you emphasized, pacing your office. “I slept with him. In the same bed. Together.”

“And you are freaking out about this, why?” Lisa asked.

“Because you don’t sleep in the same bed as your neighbours, Lisa!” you insisted. “But we did, a-and I was cold and he held me and…I liked it,” you finished in a whisper.

“What’s stopping you then?” she asked. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor-,”

“He’s divorced.”

“You’re divorced,” Lisa countered.

“Exactly,” you nodded. “He’s divorced twice. I’m divorced with a kid. That makes things… complicated.”

“Are you trying to stop Nadia from getting hurt, or are you trying to find an excuse to stop yourself because you’re too scared to see where this goes?” she asked you and you sighed.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “How can I tell that everything won’t just fall apart if I do something?”

“You can’t,” Lisa stood up and put a hand on your arm. “Just try to trust your gut, that’s all you can do in situations like this.”

“My gut is telling me to kiss him and run away,” you shook your head and Lisa nodded,

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that.”

“I’ll figure it out though, right. Eventually.”

Lisa didn’t say anything, simply giving you a hug, knowing deep down you knew what the right thing to do was and like you said, eventually, you’d come to the same conclusion.

—

Hearing the knock at your door, Nadia bounced off the couch and raced to open it, knowing what was awaiting her on the other side.

James leaned into the doorway when Nadia swung the door open and said,

“What night is it again?”

“Movie night!” Nadia cheered and jumped into his arms, her eyes growing wide when she saw the assortment of treats he was holding.

“It’s not a movie night without snacks,” he said and Nadia agreed with him. You came up towards them and snatched away two of the bags of candy.

“She just got a hundred percent clean bill of health from her pediatrician, you really wanna go and mess that up with all this candy?” you asked.

“Come on, I’m a doctor, I know what I’m doing,” James assured. “We’ll be reasonable, right Nadia?”

The young girl nodded her head and swore on her allowance that she wouldn’t eat all the candy. Hesitantly, you handed the bags back and gave them a skeptical look while they walked over to the couch to get things started.

You finished what you were doing in the kitchen and brought over a bowl of popcorn with you smiling to yourself when you saw Nadia sitting in James’ lap and telling him how to use the remote for your TV. You placed the bowl on the table and went to change into something a little more comfortable for the evening, hoping that by the time you came out they had picked something to watch.

When you stepped out of your room, now wearing a sweater and some flannel pyjama pants, Nadia informed you they were just about to start the movie.

“Come sit, quick mom,” she patted the spot next to her and James and you slipped in next to them, noticing how James wrapped his arm around you, bringing you in a little closer. You didn’t fight the close proximity and instead leaned into it more, resting your head against his shoulder.

Nadia had already leaned back against his chest, her eyes fixed on the screen and her hand shoved inside one of the bags of candy James had brought. The top of her head was just resting against the side of James’ chin and when you looked up at him he was glancing down at Nadia, a small smile on his lips. He looked content.

You could have stayed like that all night, just watching them, but you knew sooner or later you’d have to pay attention to the movie before they started asking questions.

Around halfway through the movie, James tapped your arm and you looked up at him, seeing him point to Nadia with his eyes, who was now fast asleep on him.

You chuckled quietly, sitting up a little straighter and saying,

“I can move her to her bedroom. You don’t have to stay for the rest of the movie.”

“Actually, I’m kind of invested,” James admitted. “But I will take you up on the moving her option, I’ve had to go pee since like the second musical number and she’s really squeezing my bladder.”

You bit back a laugh and shook your head, pausing the movie and standing up so you could genty lift Nadia off of James’ lap and carry her over to her bedroom, tucking her under the covers and placing a kiss to her forehead before going back out to the living room.

James was in the washroom still so you went and made yourself and him a mug of tea. When he came out, he joined you in the kitchen watching as you poured the hot water into the two colourful mugs with math puns on them.

“You take anything in your tea?” you asked.

“No, do you?”

“A little sugar,” you nodded and he offered to grab it for you, opening the cupboard in front of you and placing a hand on your back moving you slightly out of the way so he could take out the box of sugar cubes. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact and you hoped he didn’t hear it, instead masking your desire with small talk.

“I thought you had a sweet tooth,” you said. “It would explain all the candy.”

“I have a bit of a sweet tooth sometimes,” he admitted.

“I think Nadia enables you,” you grabbed your mug and passed James his.

“Oh she definitely does,” he nodded his head, taking a sip of the steaming hot drink before walking back to the couch with you.

You fell back into the same positions you were before, pressing play and continuing to watch the movie. After a few things progressed in the plot you spoke up asking,

“You think this movie’s going to have a happily ever after?”

“Sure, it’s a kid’s movie,” James nodded and looked down at you. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “It’s stupid.”

James rubbed your arm, coaxing you to look back up at him again.

“You were thinking about something, what was it?”

“It’s just the happy endings don’t always happen,” you said. “I don’t know if I should let Nadi live in a world of fairytales or destroy all her hope of the future.”

“Maybe life isn’t all bells and whistles when it comes to love,” James started. “But we win with other things. I mean look at you, you’ve got an amazing daughter and you’re doing something you love with your life, isn’t that its own kind of happily ever after?”

“I guess it is,” you nodded.

“And you know, your life isn’t over. Who’s to say love is out of the picture?”

You were looking up at him and wondered how he could hit the nail on the head so accurately, like he could read your mind.

Right now, love was pretty clearly in the picture and it was sitting right in front of you.

You could feel yourself reach out your hand, gently brushing your fingertips against his cheek.

“And what if I’m not brave enough to go after it?” you whispered, feeling your heartbeat mixed with his and his shaky exhale that came with your touch.

“Then maybe,” his thumb and forefinger came to hold your chin up, his face inching closer to yours. “Maybe it can meet you halfway.”

You could feel your eyes flutter shut and his lips just barely ghost against yours when you heard a sound coming from Nadia’s bedroom and the spell was broken.

You both opened your eyes and after a moment you pulled away, just before Nadia opened the door to her room.

“Why was I in my room?” she asked.

You were still too stunned to speak, your mind racing at the idea that you were just about to kiss James, and he was going to kiss you back. You felt like a teenager, not knowing what to say or how to act.

Luckily, James was a little more composed than you and explained to Nadia that she had fallen asleep and that you both didn’t want to wake her.

“Is the movie over?” she asked and you all looked at the screen, seeing the end credits rolling.

“Yeah, it is, sorry sweetheart,” James apologized. “Can I make it up to you and read you a story before you go back to bed?”

“Sure,” Nadia agreed.

“Go brush your teeth first,” you instructed. “I’ll tuck you in once James is done reading.”

Nadia went off to the washroom and before James could say anything you stood up and grabbed a few of the dirty dishes, taking them to the kitchen to clean up. You couldn’t talk about what had just happened, not now at least, not when it was still so fresh.

You focused only on the dishes and cleaning the kitchen while James read Nadia her story before wishing her goodnight with a kiss on her forehead and waving goodbye to you and thanking you for the tea.

When the door closed behind him you let out a small breath that you had been holding and went to tuck Nadia into bed.

“Mom, are you okay?” Nadia asked, sensing your far off look.

“I’m fine,” you assured her with a forced smile. “Rest up, I have to take you to your dad’s place tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she yawned. “Night, mom.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

You kissed her on the cheek and stood up, going over to your room and sitting on the edge of the bed. You brushed your fingers against your own lips, closing your eyes you could still feel James pressed up against you, but you pushed it away.

Clearly, you still weren’t brave enough. Not yet.

—

The following weeks were awkward to say the least. You began spending more time in your office when Nadia was with her dad, just for another excuse to avoid James in the hallway.

He hadn’t made too much effort to reach out, you assumed to give you your space. You knew if you told Lisa she would just say you were overthinking things, but you couldn’t get out of your head, even if you wanted to.

You felt like you were going to stay in this crippling state of indecision forever, but you couldn’t keep it up, not when Nadia would ask questions, you needed to come up with something or someone needed to come up with something for you.

You arrived home late from campus today, this time with the legitimate excuse of grading finals. After the long hours of marking that had pushed you to extreme tedium and boredom you just wanted to curl up on the couch with a good book or something that would stimulate your brain.

Before you went to your room to get changed, you heard a knock at your door. Checking the time you wondered who it could be. It wasn’t often you had visitors past 9PM, that was unless it was James.

When you checked through the peephole, you could see James standing outside your door, waiting for a moment before knocking again.

“Come on, I know you’re in there,” he said. “Please, just let me in.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, unlocking the door and opening it, allowing him to step inside.

“Is Nadia at her dad’s place?” he asked while you were shutting the door.

“Yeah,” you nodded, still facing the wood door. “She’s at her-,”

You didn’t have a chance to finish your sentence before James turned you around, taking your face in his hands and pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You stumbled back until you were pressed against the door, your eyes now closed while you pulled him closer to you. You let yourself run your fingers through your hair like you’d dreamt of doing the night you almost kissed, his hands moving from your face down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You could feel your heart beating throughout every cell in your body, so loud it almost blocked out your thoughts. Almost.

You paused for a moment, holding James’ face in your hands and pulling away. Your lips felt swollen from the force with which he had kissed you and you wanted nothing more than to do it again, but you had to ask.

“Is our history going to make this complicated?”

“It’ll be complicated if we make it complicated,” he snuck past your defenses and stole another kiss, shorter, softer. “I want this. You. I want quiet nights just the two of us; loud nights with Nadia; breakfast in the early morning; lunches in your office; dinner together like this makeshift family we’ve created. I just…I want you and everything that comes with it.”

You smiled at his words, bringing him in close to you again for another kiss, this time long and slow like you were dragging out every moment of the future you had together.

When James pulled away from you, your hands fell from his face, travelling down his arms until they were in his. You looked over at him, blinking a few times until began to pull you towards your bedroom, a small smile coming across your face.

James sat down on the edge of your mattress and you stood in front of him. His hands were still in yours, looking up into your eyes. You let your hands come back up to his hair, scratching against his scalp. You smiled when his eyes closed and he hummed at the feeling of your touch.

His hands came back to hold your waist and he brought you closer, his thumb rubbing circles around your skin.

You bent down and pressed another soft kiss to his lips, causing his eyes to flutter open when you pulled away.

“What do you want to do?” you asked, fixing his hair you had messed up just earlier.

“I want to lay down here, and hold you,” he leaned back and pulled you on top of himself, sharing another kiss with you. “And I want to fall asleep knowing you’re in my arms.”

You smiled and nodded your head, whispering a quiet ‘okay’ while you adjusted yourselves to be more in the centre of the mattress.

And just like before, James pulled you close into him, but this time you didn’t let yourself feel taken aback or nervous, you leaned into his touch, savoured when you felt his lips pressed against your hairline, sighed when you felt his hands slip under your shirt to trace mindless shapes on your back.

No equation or formula would be able to describe what you were feeling and it made you realize that maybe math wasn’t the world’s universal language after all.

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #dr wilson #dr wilson x reader #dr wilson x you #house md #house md x reader #hate crimes md #house md fanfiction #house fanfiction #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson fanfic #james wilson fic #lisa cuddy

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papriikau · 4 months ago

Text

I miss us sometimes

JAMES WILSON x FEM!READER

SUMMARY You and James Wilson hadn't spoken since your divorce. You still care for him after all this time, but choose to avoid him to avoid getting hurt. But when a family emergency forces you to reconnect with your ex-husband, you struggle with your feelings for each other.

WARNINGS sex mentioned, nothing too bad.

NOTES I started this and half way realized I didn't know where I wanted to go with it so the last half is kinda rushed, but its still cute.

It had been 5 years since you had spoken to James Wilson. Once the divorce had been finalized, that was the end of it. For James, he had already gone through two divorces before you, but it had only been your first. You truly were enamored by him; he was 6 years older and he seemed like he had it all together when the two of you met, but that facade slowly faded away after only 3 years of marriage.

You avoided the hospital he worked at whenever a hospital visit was required, that was until last night. You received a phone call that your mom had a stroke and was taken to Princeton-Plainsboro hospital. Obviously your need to avoid James was a lot less important than your mom, so you drove over to the hospital.

“Dad what's happening?” you ask your father and the doctor he was talking with informs you that she's in the ER and all you can do is wait. And that’s what you do, you wait around until you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

“Good evening House,” you say tiredly.

“Here for a conjugal visit? I can call Wilson down,”

“Please don’t, I'd rather not know I’m here,”

“Too late. Wilson! I didn’t know you ordered a stripper,” House yells out as your ex-husband walks into the room. You curl up in the chair you’re in, hiding your face in your hands. He walks over and House promptly takes his leave.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he says awkwardly, as if he isn’t sure what to say to his ex-wife he hasn’t seen in 5 years. You sit up and take a big breath in. You're not in the best state at the moment, bags under your eyes, messy bed head and pajama pants and a sweater.

“My mom had a stroke, what about you, what are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh, how's she uh- how's she doing?” James asks, ignoring the stupid question you asked.

“I don’t know, I just got here and no ones told me anything yet,”

“Give me a moment,” he walks off, and you watch as he talks to some of the other doctors for a couple of minutes before returning to you.

“Did they say anything?”

“She's stable, they have been moving her to her own room soon, but they'd like to keep her overnight to monitor her,” he informs. You're glad he is keeping this interaction fairly professional, you don’t know how you’d act if he started trying to talk about your personal life. The two of you stay silent for a while. You intend to keep it that way, but knowing James, he's bound to start a conversation about something.

“Do you still work at the University?” he asks.

“Yeah, I was promoted to department head four years ago,” you play with your nails awkwardly.

“I have to get back to work but maybe we could catch up over lunch some time?” he offers. You look up and he has a kind but nervous smile on his face, looking down at you.

“I don’t know if this is the best time to be asking me out to lunch,” you say slowly. He winces and runs a hand down his face.

“Right, I'll see you around then,” he says, an embarrassed haze over his expression. You nod, letting him get back to whatever he was doing. Not long after your mom was moved into her own room where you could be with her. Considering it had been the middle of the night when you received the call, you were tired and ended up falling asleep.

It wasn’t until afternoon that you saw James again. You had called in and canceled your classes for the day so you could be next to your mom. Your dad had gone home to grab a few things and your mom was asleep in the hospital bed, when you hear small knocks on the door. You turn and see James in the doorway. You wipe the sleep from your eyes and stand up.

“How's she doing?” he asks.

“Doctors said she’s gonna be fine, she should be discharged tomorrow morning,” you nod, keeping your eyes on the floor, not wanting to look at him.

“That's good, how are you doing?”

“I think I’m doing alright, just worried about mom,” James got close to your parents when you were together. They had grown fond of him and when you cut contact, they were devastated but decided to do so as well to support you.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Not since last night,”

“Why don't I buy you lunch,” he offers.

"You don’t have to do that, I’ll probably get something when dad gets back, I don't want to leave mom, so,” you ramble a little bit. You blink a ew times, trying to clear your head. Talking to him again brings you back to being 24, flirting with the cute doctor at the Oncology seminar.

“We can just go to the cafeteria and bring it back here, how about that?” He offers a kind smile. God he still had it.

You think for a moment before hesitantly nodding, “okay.”

He takes you out to the cafeteria, suddenly self-conscious of your state, “House is working on a case right now so he won't be bothering us,” James calms your nerves a little.

“Thank god, don't get me wrong he's great, but not really,” you let out a quiet laugh.

“Tell me about it,” he rolls his eyes playfully. You walk through the cafeteria and grab some food, your appetite hasn’t quite come back yet so you only grab enough to hold you over. James, being the gentleman he is, pays for your lunch and walks you back to your moms room. She’s still sleeping, but your dad is back so you go sit next to him. James gives him a polite nod and exchanges brief pleasantries before leaving, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly before stepping out.

James checks in again before he leaves his shift, and the next morning, your mom is discharged. Your dad helps her into the car, telling him to take her home and that you’d be over soon after. They drive away and then you go back inside of the hospital, working up some nerves, deciding at the door that maybe you don't actually want to do it, but you push through the nerves and turn back around.

Three knocks on the office door and James peeks his head out, opening it all the way when he sees it’s you. “Hey, how's your mom?”

“She just got discharged, dads are taking her home now,” You nod nervously.

“That's good, is there anything I can do?” he asks, curious as to why you're knocking on his office, very clearly searching him out.

“Are you free Saturday? Around noon?” you say, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater. “You asked me to lunch and I thought I’d take you up on that offer,” He stares for a moment, not sure what to do, but nods his head unconsciously.

“Yes, absolutely,” he clears his throat and invites you into his office. “Where uh- where do you want to go?” he asks.

“How about that lunch place we always went to, the one down the street from our old house?” you suggested, not sure if you should have suggested such a staple in your relationship.

“Okay, Saturday at noon, I'll meet you there,” he agrees and you offer him a smile before leaving the hospital.

—

James taps his foot nervously, looking at his watch. You're running 20 minutes late, and James was about to leave when the bell on the door jingles and he looks up to see you.

“I’m so sorry, I had to come into work today to mark papers,” you apologize, internally cringing at your own lateness.

“You're okay,” he says, remembering the days he came home late or missed date night because of work, he is fine excusing 20 minutes. For two hours the both of you hang out in the restaurant, just talking and catching up on the last 5 years.

For the longest time when you thought of James you thought about the reasons he pissed you off, or what got on your nerves, the reasons you got divorced, but talking to him after all this time makes you remember a lot of the reasons that you married him in the first place. It feels natural talking to him, it feels good talking to him and you hate it.

You hate that you feel good around him.

The lunch date ends and you both go your separate ways, promising to do it again sometimes. You exchange numbers and the next week try to make plans, but busy schedules get in the way and the two of you aren't able to pick a day and then it dies out quickly, and you go back to not speaking.

—

You're sitting on your couch, watching a movie when the phone rings, it's late at night so you're not sure who could be calling.

“Hello?” you say into the phone.

“Hey, can I ask a really big favor?” James says from the other end. You look at the clock to see it’s 11pm.

“What is it?”

“I don’t have my car right now, or my wallet and I missed the bus and I don’t know who else to call so-” you cut him off.

“You're at the hospital?”

“Yes,”

“Can you wait 40 minutes?” you sigh.

“If your busy then I can ask someone for money for a cab,”

“Okay, I’ll leave now,” you hang up the phone before he can argue and get in the car, throwing on a jacket and some shoes before leaving. It starts to rain and when you pull up in front of the hospital, you flash your headlights and James runs out, covering his head with his jacket.

“I didn’t know you lived so far away, I could have-” you cut him off again.

“It’s no problem,” you yawn, not looking forward to the drive home. He thanks you and directs you to his apartment, which is 20 minutes in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” he says and offers you a warm smile.

“No problem,” you wipe your eyes and yawn. “Maybe call me earlier than 11 next time,” you laugh tiredly.

“I’ll make sure to,” he gets out of the car, thanking you again and heading inside. You sit in the car, trying to wake yourself up before driving an hour home. You turn the car back on and as you put the car in drive, James knocks on the window, his jacket over his head, you put down the window a little, not wanting to get your car seat too wet.

“What’d you forget?” you start looking around the passenger's seat.

“I forgot you,” he laughs.

“What?” you narrow your eyes.

“You shouldn’t drive while you're that tired, stay the night,” he offers and a red haze covers your cheeks.

“I don’t know if that's the best idea,”

“Sleep on my couch, please,” You think for a minute before shutting the car off again, quickly getting out and running with him to the front door. You walk over to his apartment and he opens the door, letting you in. He shakes off his jacket and hangs it up. You stand there awkwardly, your eyes watching him roll up the sleeves of his shirt, unable to take your eyes off him.

God this was a mistake.

I'll grab you some blankets, get comfortable and make yourself at home.” That simple, and commonly used phrasing comes off very different to you, and he felt it too. He swiftly exited into his bedroom while you sat on the couch, your hands in your lap, looking around at the books littered around, coffee stains on the table, and of course a few pieces you remember as being in your shared home. You remember picking out the couch cushions with him the night he proposed.

“Here,” he says, another memory in his arms. He handed you the blanket and you couldn’t help but just look up at him. “Everything alright?” he tilts his head.

“I think so, thanks for letting me stay,” you recover quickly.

“Your welcome,” he says and sits in the arm chair, leaning back in it. “Sorry if this is weird,” he says after a moment of silence.

“It is a little,” you say, looking down at the blanket.

“Well it's not like we're strangers,”

“We kind of are,”

“We know each other,” he says.

“We used to know each other,” you correct. He runs a hand down his face, letting it fall into his lap.

“It has been a while hasn’t it,” he sighs, looking over at you, wanting you to look up at him too. You could have him if you wanted. He invited you back into his place, he had to know there was even the smallest possibility that could happen, but you knew it would be too hard to leave if you did sleep with him. You have to remind yourself how shitty he had been close to the end of your marriage; he was negligent and never home, and when you were in a state of vulnerability and needed someone, he wasn’t there to help you.

But God the sex was good.

“I’ll let you rest,” he nods and heads to his own room. You let your head fall into your hands. How could you be so stupid, you didn’t fight for him back then, and you're still too much of a coward to do it now.

Eventually, sleep overtook you and you woke up to James sitting in his kitchen, sipping a coffee. “Morning,” you rub your head tiredly, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Sleep well?” he asks

“Good enough,” you get up and stretch, “mind if I have some?” You point to the coffee pot.

“I can’t drink a pot on my own,” he laughs and you laugh with him, search through a few cabinets until you find a mug pouring yourself some.

“Not sure how I’m going to explain to my boyfriend I spent the night at my ex-husband's place,”

“You have a boyfriend?” he says, the slightest bit of outrage in his voice,

“No,” you smile coyly into your mug. He rolls his eyes.

“Any luck in that department?”

“Not really, I’ve been focused on work,” you shrug. He says the same thing.” You were my first like, real relationship,” he can't say the same.

The two of you sit in silence for a little while before you break it once again.

“Being divorced sucks,” you admit, sipping on your coffee.

“Tell me about it,” he sighs. The both of you finish drinking your coffee in silence. It's not that you don't know what to say, you just have nothing else to say.

“I should be heading out, I got some things to do today,” you put the mug in his sink.

“Thanks again for last night, if I had known you lived so far away I would have found another way,”

“I’m glad you called me,”

“Really?” he tilts his head.

“I miss us sometimes,” you look up at him, a bit of a shocked, awkward expression on his face.

“Only sometimes?” He takes a minute to respond.

“Only sometimes,” you repeat, silence filling the air once again. “Maybe we could get dinner tomorrow?”

“Uh- yea, I'd love that,” he stutters, his cheeks dusted with a bit of pink. You love when he gets flustered.

You smile, heading for the front door, “I’ll pick you up at 7.” “It's a date,” he takes a step forward, deciding to not get any closer.

“It’s a date,” you repeat before slipping out and into your car. It takes you a moment to recover; the butterflies in your stomach impeding your ability to think straight. Eventually you make the drive home, thinking about your date with your ex-husband.

—

“So who’s the unlucky girl,” House bursts into Wilsons office.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Wilson deflects.

“So there is a girl?” House concludes.

“There’s no girl,”

“Then who was this from?” House shows him a little sticky note you wrote him. Wilson furrows his brow.

“You ate my lunch?” he accuses.

“Who is it,”

“No one! I’m not seeing anyone!”

“Liar!” House accuses. That's when there's a knock on Wilson's office. House, being the one standing, opens to the door, only to find you standing there with two coffee cups.

“Am I interrupting something?” You ask and watch as House looks between you and Wilson.

“You’re dating your ex-wife?!” House says overly loudly. You wince, walk into the office and shut the door.

“Good to see you too Greg,” you say, forcing yourself to be polite before making your way over to James and sit on his desk, ignoring House.“ Thought you could use some coffee,”

“You didn’t happen to bring lunch did you?” James rolls his eyes.

“No, we could go out real quick, on me,” you offer.

“Anything to get out of here.” he stands up and gives you a kiss before leading you out of his office, his hand on your back.

“Am I invited?” House calls out after, to which you both just roll your eyes.

“Where do you want to go?” you ask, leaving the hospital.

“How about our usual lunch spot?” James suggests.

“Aren’t you tired of that spot?”

“Not one bit,” he looks over at you with loving eyes and grabs your free hand with his. You both lean in for a quick kiss, then go to lunch.

#fanfiction #house md #dr wilson #wilson #james wilson #x reader #wilson fanfiction #james wilson x reader #dr wilson x reader #laukethauntings fic

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winniethewife · 4 months ago

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I laugh like me again, she laughs like you (Moon Knight System x F!reader)

Warnings: Presumed!dead character, Reader romantically involved with Jake, Marc and Steven are featured, Mother!reader, Single mom, Angst,

Words: 634

She would never expected to have to do this alone. Just as she thought she wouldn’t do many other things alone. Witnessing her Daughters first steps, Her daughters first doctors appointment, the first time she got really sick, the first time she made a friend, her first move, all the way to London. She wasn’t expecting to be alone for her child’s first…everything. And now as she drives down the street she looks at the little girl with dark curls and brown eyes sitting in her booster seat as she looked out the window eagerly.

“Celesia?” She called her daughter’s name and the little girl looked over at her, the gaze in the rearview mirror reminded her so much of the girl’s father.

Jake Lockley was a rascal, but he loved her, and for some reason she loved him back. Despite the complications, Despite Marc living his life how he wished, taking her Jake wherever that was, with whoever that was. She had managed to form a friendship with Marc, which didn’t make it any easier, because she started to care a whole lot, a bad habit of hers. At some point they moved in together, a lovely thing to have with Jake, an interesting time with Marc. So when Marc teamed up with Bushman, she had advised against it. It seemed like a really bad idea, it wasn’t that she just wanted to keep Jake with her, it wasn’t the fact that she would have to find another roommate, she was genuinely worried about Marc. So of course when Marc had already been too stubborn and had shipped off, It was time to get a positive pregnancy test, because the universe finds that shit funny.

“Yes Mommy?” Her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present.

“You ready for your first day at school?” She asked, trying to sound excited. The little girl nodded enthusiastically, giving her mom two thumbs up. Which she glanced in the mirror. “Remember baby, I can’t look at you when I’m driving so I need you to use your words.” She reminded the eager five year old.

“Right, Sorry Mommy. I am really excited! I can’t wait to make friends and learn things and-” The young girl continued to ramble, causing her mother to smile warmly. So many things reminded her of Jake, and Marc.

She sat tears streaming down her face as she read over the letter, all that was found of Marc Spector was some of his belongings in a bloodied temple in egypt, presumed dead, and seeing as everyone else on the expedition was dead that was a good assumption. But she was three months pregnant and currently trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do without her best friend and the father of her baby who, unfortunately in this case, inhabit the same body. She wasn’t sure how the hell she was supposed to do all this alone. Where to even start. But she didn’t have a choice now.

The whole day she kept checking her phone during work, just in case she missed a call from the school or a message from Celesia’s teacher, but there was nothing. At the end of the day she rushed to pick her up from school, and then they went to the store after. As the two of them puzzled over which kind of sweets to buy that week, she was surprised when a man ran into her.

“Oh, Sorry! That was entirely my fault there. So sorry.” The voice was too familiar, wrong accent, right voice.

“Jake?” She turned to look at the man, messy head of curls, Dark Brown eyes. The man looked confused. “Marc?’ She asked, maybe too hopeful.

“Sorry, Er I’m Steven, With a V.”

Masterlist

Taglist; : @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

A/N: Middle of the night angst? Happens more often than you think.

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #x reader #moon knight x reader #jake lockely x reader #marc spector x reader #Angst #spotify #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #Spotify

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kamotecue · 1 year ago

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from strangers to friends—friends into lovers (and now we’re strangers again) ✬ m. leon

pairing: mapi leon x reader

summary: you were the center-back’s first love, yet you couldn’t really act upon it. how could you, a royal and a commoner?

you felt someone wrap their tiny hand around the pinky of your finger, it was astrid—you’re only daughter the heiress to the swedish throne. a soft smile was worn upon your face, as you heard her hum to one of your favorite songs.

you looked beside her only to see her twin brother, andres who followed suit—carrying a small bag, his sister’s to be exact. she had always been a fan of sweets, something she had gotten from you. her brother however, preferred something sour—but was never one to deny a treat from his sister.

“du gillade aldrig riktigt att ta pauser, mamma. [you never really liked taking breaks, mom.]” andres commented, as you chuckled. they were right—ever since the tragedy that happened to the swedish monarch, you were held up in the office.

but you always managed to have time for the mischievous duo. they’d love to play pranks on you, you would never get mad but instead have a laugh about it.

“jag kanske inte gillar att ta pauser, men om det är med er två—skulle jag ta en paus när som helst. [i may not like taking breaks, but if it’s with the two of you—i’d take a break anytime.]” you chuckled as andres gave you a small hum, clearly satisfied with your answer.

“kan jag spela på stranden, mamma? [can i play on the beach, mom?]” you heard andres asked, as you gave him a soft look before nodding.

he cheered brightly before rushing, the assigned bodyguard followed suit—ensuring his safety as you snickered.

“var försiktig! [be careful!]” he looked back before giving you a nod. you looked down to see astrid looking at her brother with a soft look—the best duo you’ve ever known.

“mamma, kan vi få glass? [mom, can we have ice cream?]” you gave her a hum, clearly thinking about it before giving her a small yes.

you gave a small nod to a bodyguard, as he returned it, heading to the beach to catch up to your son. you were in disbelief of what was yet to come, memories that you desperately tried so hard to hide.

meanwhile, on the beach a small child was walking around—finding the perfect place to build a sand castle. the two bodyguards were always five steps behind, but it was enough to catch attention from people they passed by.

but a soft oof was heard as andres had accidentally bumped into someone, sending him to the sand. isak, his personal guard’s eyes widens as he rushed forward kneeling on the sand—as he analyzed the young heir.

“är du okej, din höghet? [are you okay, your highness?]” isak’s soft voice was heard, as andres gave him a small nod. he helped the prince up, carefully dusting off the sand that resided in his hair.

“tack, isak. [thank you, isak.]” a lopsided grin was shown on the prince’s face, but a thankful expression was noticeable.

andres looked up to see a woman with a concerned look, but he had noticed the tattoo that was written on her neck—looks can be deceiving.

“are you alright?” she asked, her voice was soft yet filled with concern. but the young prince looked a bit gobsmacked.

“it’s you—you’re the one my mother talks about.” the swedish prince spoke in english, as isak hummed at the prince’s words. mapi looked at him in confusion, slightly tilting her head.

but with a slight pat on the back from her club teammate, frido gave him a formal bow—recognizing him from afar.

“ers höghet, jag ber om ursäkt för min vän. vi spelade fotboll och hon gick för att hämta bollen. [your highness, i apologize for my friend. we were playing football and she went to grab the ball.]” mapi who looked confused, yet flabbergasted at the swedish words clearly not understanding a thing.

the prince just hummed before giving frido a soft smile.

“det är okej, det var ingen skada. [it’s alright, there’s no harm.] however, it’s nice to finally meet you—maria leon.” the prince gave the spanish center back a soft smile, as frido hummed in confusion.

“how do you know me?” mapi asked, slowly pointing to herself as her attention was quickly brought somewhere else.

“broder, vad har du gjort nu? [brother, what have you done now?]” astrid slowly approached the scene followed by a pair of body guards as well. her pink dress stood out as the bodyguards wore suits, yet it fitted the future queen.

frido’s eyes widened a bit, as she gave the crown princess a formal bow—also pulling mapi in a bowing gesture. the barca players had watched from afar, not knowing if they should join or simply watch from afar in amusement.

“i would hear stories about you from my mother, y/n l/n. además, es imposible no conocer al central del barça. [furthermore, it’s impossible not to know the barça center back.]” mapi’s eyes widened at the mention of her first love—while frido looked absolutely stunned at the prince’s fluent spanish.

“jag tror inte att mamma skulle vara nöjd med det. [i don’t think mom would be happy with that.]” astrid said, as andres hummed at her sister’s words.

“pido disculpas por mi hermano gemelo, soy astrid l/n, es cierto que nuestra madre ha hablado de ti. [i apologize for my twin brother, i’m astrid l/n—but it’s true that our mother has talked about you.]” astrid said, holding her hand out—mapi softly shook it, still stunned by the fact that she met the children of her first love.

it was a sudden goodbye after all, you and mapi were childhood friends—almost turned into lovers. the reasons that she has yet to know.

“vi måste gå små, jag fick ett viktigt samtal. [we have to go little ones, i had an important call.]” your voice rang from afar, as you had gazed to where your children were. mapi’s eyes had interlocked with yours, as yours widened with realization.

frido had done a formal bow, it was her queen after all. yet you were shell shocked at the whole thing. little did you know, this wasn’t the last time that you’ll meet again.

#mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #espwnt x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

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avonne-writes · 6 months ago

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sweetest of the sunflowers

Fandom: Masters of the Air

Pairing: Buck/Bucky

Rating, word count: T, 4k

Summary: John takes care of Gale after his wisdom teeth surgery. (young vets au)

A/N: This is my gift to the amazing, sweet @bcolfanfic in the HBO War Summer Exchange organized by @hbowardaily (thank you for all your work!). My prompt was hurt/comfort with Buck and Bucky, preferably in the young vets au. Mollie, I hope you'll like what I came up with, I tried to do your lovely au justice. Happy exchange day, dear 💕

Link to the AO3 post

Bucky taps his right foot against the ugly brown-gray vinyl of the waiting room's floor, trying to focus. Goosebumps skitter down his arms, but he doesn’t know if it’s from the cold air blasting from the dental clinic's AC to combat the summer heat or if it’s a symptom of his mounting anxiety. Somewhere behind the door he has been staring at for the better half of an hour, Gale is getting his wisdom teeth pulled out under general anesthesia. He’s unconscious, at their mercy. What if something goes wrong? What if they measured the drugs incorrectly and he never wakes up? What if there are complications and he wakes up in excruciating pain? Bucky bounces his knee and digs the fingers of his right hand into the back of his left in a white-knuckled grip. The faux-leather chair creaks under him, barely containing his bulk.

When his ears pick up on the blare of an approaching ambulance, his head snaps up like a hypervigilant dog’s. It’s not coming here, the rational part of his mind reasons. Everything is okay with Gale. No complications, just a clean, routine surgery, and he’ll be back to normal in a few days. But the sound of the siren keeps getting louder. It’s impossible to ignore it. Bucky’s pounding heartbeat plays a cresting drum solo to accompany it. His mind jumps back to that dreadful night when he tried to end it all. How the ambulance sped with him through those dark Wyoming roads, the long hours when he could barely tell if he was dead or alive, and whether life was the better option out of the two. The most fretful sleep he has ever had.

He remembers how Gale followed him with the car all the way there in the middle of the night. Seven hours. What if Bucky has to do the same for him? What if something happened in there, behind that dark door, and the ambulance is coming to take Gale and rush him to the ER?

Nervous sweat gathers under Bucky's arms, soaking into his short-sleeved shirt. After they’d called Gale in for his surgery, he went down a rabbit hole of Reddit posts and articles describing the most horrifying wisdom teeth surgery outcomes until he felt like he was going to throw up. He was itching for a smoke - or better yet, a drink, since he has a flask hidden in the glove compartment of the car - but he held himself back. Gale needs him to be at full capacity today. He’s determined to stay firmly planted in his seat until they call for him to take Gale home.

His leg continues jiggling in agitation until the ambulance comes into view through the wide windows of the clinic. Bucky clenches his teeth, but it just speeds down the road in a plume of dust, its destination unknown. It wasn’t coming to the dental clinic.

Never even blinking, he keeps staring at the window in utter stillness for a long moment before he finally relaxes. When he sinks back in his chair and looks around the room, several pairs of eyes flicker away. The flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck, especially when he spots a teary-eyed kid with trembling lips clinging to his mom. Fuck, Croz was right not to let him babysit in the state he's in. He’s not fit to be around children. Not fit to be around anyone, he thinks with a dark tone. He’s in public, completely sober, and still, he can’t get a grip on himself and ended up scaring a child, who must have already been in need of comfort because dentists are freakin’ scary. What would Bucky’s episodes do to a kid of his own? No, he can’t subject anyone to that. He can’t even bring himself to think about it. It’s more than enough to see how badly it affects Gale, and Gale is a grown-ass man who sticks around out of his own volition. Before he could even consider parenthood, he needs to get better first.

“Don’t worry, dear.” The elderly woman sitting next to him tells him gently and pats the back of Bucky’s linked hands. “They’re the best around here. They’ll sort your teeth out before you know it. You won’t feel a thing.”

Bucky clears his throat and croaks out a thanks, glancing around and finding strangers turning away again as they get startled by him looking back. He knows his ears must be bright red. I’m a veteran, he wants to tell them. The shit I’ve seen doesn’t go away just like that. But what kind of an excuse is that? By all means, he should have already recovered. He’s not the one whose leg - He shuts that thought down before he could spiral deeper into it. This is neither the place, nor the time. Gale depends on him. He had tried to postpone his own surgery because of Bucky’s issues until his sister found out about it and had a tense talk with both of them. What does that say about Bucky as a husband? It’s high time for him to step up and show Gale that he’s there for Gale too, not just the other way around. He can’t let him down by causing a scene or freaking out.

Besides, it’s nice not to be “the crazy vet” for once. Now, he’s just the hulking guy with the dentist phobia. Marginally better.

He spins his wedding band around his finger to distract himself. He wants to text Curt just to have someone tell him he’s an idiot to worry and nothing’s gonna happen, but he holds himself back. His incessant unhinged texts and calls are enough of a burden already. He’ll manage this on his own for as long as he can.

Suddenly, the door swings open and the peppy assistant steps out, smiling as she calls for “Mr. Egan.”

Bucky goes deaf and blind from nerves for a split second before he stands up, wipes his clammy palms on his thighs and makes his shaky legs carry him to follow after the woman. She smiles at him warmly as if she hasn’t noticed.

“Did -” Bucky clears his throat again once they're inside. He struggles with the words, feeling awkward. This place is nothing like the psych ward, but clinical environments will probably never fail to unsettle him. “Did it go all right?”

“Yes, everything went well. All impacted teeth have been removed without any complications.” She directs her cheerful expression at him again as they walk past the operatory. “Mr. Cleven is just through here, in our recovery room.”

She gestures at the second door they’re approaching. “He’ll be a bit dazed and confused, and he might not be in control of what he says, but remember that this is perfectly normal after anesthesia. Try to reassure him and keep him calm. He needs to stay in the recovery room for at least thirty minutes, then the doctor’s going to check if everything is all right, and whether Mr. Cleven is able to stand and walk on his own.” Her reassuring smile never wavers, and her persistence pays off - Bucky feels the worst of his anxiety drain from his body. “If all is well, he’ll be discharged and you can take him home.”

Bucky nods, feeling slightly dazed himself. He already knew what to expect, but he doesn’t know what the reality of that is going to look like. Gale was so anxious about this part beforehand, and it’s easy to understand why. Helplessness and loss of control would be scary to anyone, but to Gale? It’s a nightmare. He was so scared of it that he refused his sister’s offer to be here in Bucky’s place. I’m not letting anyone else see me like that, John, he said when Bucky tried to discuss whether that would have been the better idea instead. Bucky can only hope that he can provide him enough support.

He exchanges a few more words and a quiet thanks with the assistant, then pushes the door handle hesitantly.

The room is specifically designed to be a calming space for recovery after procedures requiring anesthesia. It’s quiet, the walls are painted in warm beiges and browns, and the lights are much dimmer than the harsh neon of the operatory. There’s a small cot in one corner and several padded chairs scattered around. Opposite, close to a door with a bathroom sign, a comfy-looking brown recliner armchair takes up the space. That’s where Bucky finds Gale sitting with his feet propped up and his hands limp on the armrests as though the staff arranged him like that themselves. Gale watches him silently, with hooded blue eyes that match his t-shirt and a displeased downward curve of his mouth that makes him look like a cat. There’s gauze sticking out between his lips, but otherwise, he looks fine.

Bucky feels like the sharp inhale of relief he takes is the first one since he saw Gale walk inside.

“Hi sweetheart.” He says gently as he pads over to Gale and pulls up a chair on Gale’s right side. He doesn’t know why he lowers his voice. It’s not as if speaking louder would hurt Gale. He feels ridiculous for it, but it’s instinctive. He hopes Gale doesn’t mind. With a sigh, he sits down and takes Gale’s hand.

Gale pulls it away sluggishly. “Don’t touch me.”

Bucky’s heart freezes in his chest at those slurred words. Is Gale angry with him? Or is he in pain, maybe? How can Bucky make it better? “I’m sorry. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

At a snail’s pace, Gale turns his head to direct his hazy gaze at the door. “You’re handsome but I have a husband, you know.” He mumbles, barely able to get the words out clear enough to be understood. “I’m not a widower.”

The way Bucky’s heart sinks leaves him lightheaded. He has seen a lot of videos about people saying weird things after sedation and he laughed heartily at them all. But there’s nothing funny about this. Nothing. Not being recognized wounds already, but it’s Gale’s second sentence that leaves him truly speechless with guilt and grief. It sounded like Gale was trying to reassure himself that he does, indeed, still have a husband. That the bullet went into the wall, and Bucky to the psych ward instead of the cemetery. There’s nothing funny about hearing Gale unintentionally admit that he thought he might become a widower.

“I know.” Bucky tells him, trying not to get overwhelmed. “I know, darling. It’s me. I’m your husband.”

Gale frowns at the door and blinks slowly, not turning back to Bucky. “My husband is a soldier. A soldier… Your’re in jeans.”

It takes a second for Bucky to make sense of the logic of Gale’s jumbled thoughts and realize that he expected someone in uniform. He’s not sure how to argue with that, so he just bites his lip and reaches for Gale’s hand again. He remembers not to touch only at the last moment, so his hand is left hanging awkwardly on the armrest. Gale’s head tilts as he looks down at it. Slowly, he touches Bucky’s ring with a fingertip and tries to spin it on Bucky’s finger, but his strength leaves him after a moment and he lets his hand drop into Bucky’s open palm. Bucky shifts to hold it properly. This time, Gale doesn’t protest.

“Gale, look at me, sweetheart. It’s me, John. Bucky.”

Gale’s pale blue eyes find his, blink a few times, then Gale’s lips split into a loopy smile that Bucky finds adorable despite the gauze sticking out of his mouth.

“John!” Gale exclaims, startling Bucky with the volume. “I missed you!”

Despite the fact that he’s still reeling from the reminder that he almost left Gale forever, Bucky can’t help but smile back. “I missed you too. How are you feeling?”

Gale gives him a stricken look and wetness wells up in his eyes. He tries to reach for his own face but seems to decide that he doesn’t have the strength to do it after all and lets his free hand drop back in his lap. “They took all my teeth.” He sniffles.

“No, they didn’t. Don’t worry, they’re still there.”

“They took them!” Gale insists, waving with his arm. He drops his head back against the chair, closes his eyes and makes a crying sound. “I have no teeth and you won’t love me anymore.”

Rationally, Bucky knows that he and Gale are going to laugh at some of the things Gale is saying right now, once Gale is back to himself, but he still feels his heart ache from how vulnerable Gale is like this. What if Bucky couldn't be here? What if the bullet hadn’t gone into the wall, but hit its target instead? Bucky’s guilt intensifies until he can barely take it. He pulls Gale’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “Do you trust me?”

Gale looks up at him with watery eyes. “Yes.”

“I would still love you without teeth, Gale. But they didn’t take all your teeth, I promise. Only your wisdom teeth.”

“You still love me?” The words stumble wetly from Gale’s mouth. He ignores the rest of what Bucky told him.

“Of course I love you.” Bucky smiles and presses another kiss to Gale’s hand, to which Gale’s reaction is patting at Bucky’s mouth clumsily. He rubs at Bucky’s moustache, seemingly fascinated by those short whiskers of hair. He looks lost in his delirious thoughts. Bucky lets him - he doesn’t think he could deny Gale anything now, so overcome he is with fondness.

“I wanted a bunny.” Gale says mournfully. His articulation is getting better, but his eyes are still unfocused and he clearly doesn’t have any of his filters working. “For my birthday. A black bunny. Not white because white bunnies have red eyes.”

Bucky can’t help it, he snorts a laugh. Gale snickers along with him, completely out of it. Gently, Bucky pulls Gale’s hand away and holds it in his own. “This year?” Probably not, but it’s a hilarious thought nonetheless.

Gale doesn’t answer. He stares at Bucky, narrows his eyes, then widens them in a look of wonder and glances around the room. His head tilts in a way that suggests he can barely hold it up. “Whoa, can we get one of these chairs?”

A frown pulls at Bucky’s eyebrows. “Which ones?”

“The blue ones.” Gale says, pointing shakily at the corner of the room that’s set up for children. There’s a low table with sheets of paper and crayons scattered on it, and around it, a few plastic kid chairs.

Bucky stifles another laugh. “Those are for kids, baby. I know you keep saying I’m a big child, but I don’t think that could hold my weight.”

Gale hums. It stretches out so long that it’s like a growl, as if he enjoys the vibration of his own voice and doesn’t want to stop until he runs out of breath. “‘s for our kid.”

Bucky’s smile falls. “Our kid?”

They haven’t talked about that since Bucky’s… Since the worst night of his life. It was clear as day that they couldn’t bring another soul into the mess he caused with his fucked-up mental health. Gale never mentioned it, never even hinted at it since that night. The longing is still there in his eyes whenever he sees Bucky play with children, but this is the first time that Bucky heard it from his mouth that he wants a kid. That he still wants it, after everything.

“I think they’d like it, it’s - it’s -” Gale doesn’t finish his thought out loud, but jumps straight to the next. “You’d be a wonderful dad. The best dad. I’ve thought it all out.” He nods to himself. “The best dad.”

For the second time since he entered the room, Bucky’s heart contracts painfully. “I'm not fit to be a dad, Gale. Not now.”

Gale makes a sudden, wide gesture of frustration and hits Bucky’s arm by accident, but it’s too weak to hurt. “Told you I’d thought it all out.” He mumbles something unintelligible, then drops his head back against the chair. “You take good care of your plants. The plants love you, John. They’re beautiful.” He takes a deep breath and sighs as if settling down to sleep. “I love you too.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, so he just swipes his thumb back and forth over the back of Gale’s hand and goes for humor. “And you’re beautiful. I think I see a pattern there.”

“Yes, I’m beautiful.” Gale smiles, as if anything Bucky told him now was a universal truth. "You’re not allowed to kiss me."

Bucky bites back a grin. He may not be allowed but it sounds like Gale certainly wants him to break that rule. "Why not?"

"Dangerous." Gale pouts and touches his own lips. Before he could stick his fingers in his mouth to explore what must be a weird sensation of numbness in there, Bucky grabs his wrist and pulls it away.

"How about a kiss on the cheek, hm?" He shakes Gale’s hands playfully. He knows he shouldn't French kiss Gale for 24 hours after surgery, but that doesn’t mean that everything is off the table. "I think that’s allowed."

After a moment of contemplative silence, Gale gives him an uncoordinated nod. "Only if you keep it a secret."

"Deal." Bucky chuckles and presses a kiss to Gale’s cheek, where it curves like an apple whenever Gale smiles wide.

“Can we go home now?” He hears Gale ask when he pulls back.

He glances at the clock on the wall. “We need to stay here for a few more minutes. Just until you feel better.”

“Oh, okay.” Gale says, then, immediately after, “I feel better.”

“You need to be able to walk first.”

Gale’s eyes snap open and he starts wrestling with gravity to pull himself up and out of the chair. “I can walk.”

Bucky tries to nudge him back down. “Don’t be impatient. We’re not running anywhere, are we?”

“I’m running.” Gale declares with all the determination and none of the muscle control needed for a normal gait. He pushes himself to the edge of the armchair, which already proves to be a struggle, then he turns sideways instead of tilting the recliner back into its default position. “I’m good at it.”

“Easy, easy.” Bucky stands up and places his hands on Gale’s shoulders lightly. An amused smile plays around his lips. “Why don’t you stay put, just for a little while more? Hm?”

A small, frustrated grunt escapes Gale’s lips as he tries to push himself up. “I can do it.”

“Gale, sit your ass down.”

The forlorn look on Gale’s face makes Bucky’s smile widen in fondness.

Gale glares at him, profoundly annoyed. “I can walk. I could do a cartwheel. I just don’t want to.”

“Sure you could.”

“I’m the best at cartwheels. The best. Better than you. I practiced in our backyard.”

“Our backyard?”

“I don’t know.” Gale huffs, then shakes his head. “Practiced after school.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning. It must have been primary or middle school then. He imagines a wildly blond ten-year-old falling all over himself in the grass, stubborn to get it right. “Did you wanna impress someone?”

Gale hums in agreement, then hugs Bucky around the waist with his trembling arms. He pushes his forehead against Bucky’s stomach. “John, I wanna go home.”

“Shh.” Bucky soothes him, stroking his hair. When he puts a hand on each of Gale’s arms, Gale goes completely limp. He lets Bucky hold him up. “I’ll take you home in no time.”

“Can we go to Subway first?” Gale’s voice is muffled in his shirt. It’s not terribly slurred anymore, but it isn’t clear and measured either. “Like a date? Like a Bagram date. Can you take me back to Bagram? I wanna flirt with you.”

Bucky laughs softly and rocks them back and forth in place. He doesn’t like to think of Bagram, but the memories of their Subway dates remain bright, happy spots like a string of fairy lights in the clusterfuck of darkness the rest of it became. He makes a mental note to take Gale out on a date once he’s allowed to eat solid food again. “You don’t need to go back to Bagram to flirt with me.”

“I’m flirting with you now.” Gale says automatically, and tightens his arms around Bucky’s waist. “I think it’s working.”

Bucky grins and pushes a hand under the collar of Gale’s shirt to stroke his back the way Gale likes it. “Yeah? What gave me away?”

As he turns his head sideways, Bucky can see that Gale’s eyes are closed, and he’s smiling. “Just a gut feeling.” Gale hums contemplatively. “And Curt says so too.”

“Curt, huh?”

“Curt loves you too.”

Golden warmth spreads through Bucky’s chest. It’s strange that marriage can feel like this sometimes. Affection so deep that it wounds. “Makes sense, since he claims to be a pretty boy.”

Gale giggles.

They stay embracing like that until Gale’s dentist comes back to check if he can be discharged.

~♡~

On the way home, in the familiar safety of their car, Gale gets even chattier than before. He narrates the entire drive, happy and relaxed, and sings along to the Fleetwood Mac songs Bucky put in his playlist. It’s only when Bucky turns the car onto their driveway that he quiets down. He doesn’t say anything when they stop, not even when Bucky gives him a reassuring smile. He stays silent even as Bucky climbs out of the car, circles around to his side and unbuckles his seatbelt. However, as Bucky helps him out of his seat, his limbs start trembling again.

At first, Bucky thinks it's muscle weakness, but when he loops Gale’s arm around his shoulders to walk him inside, Gale’s steps are steadier than he expected. He guides Gale into the bedroom and helps him lie down under the covers, but still, Gale doesn’t stop shaking. He’s very lethargic now, but when Bucky sits on the mattress beside him and runs a hand through his blond hair, his lips curl into a faint smile.

“Do you need anything?” Bucky asks quietly.

Gale gives him a tired look. “I'm cold.”

“Oh.” Bucky wants to slap himself for not considering that. He roots around in their closet until he finds Gale’s JSTOR sweater, then helps Gale into it, one arm at a time. He wishes Gale had told him sooner or that he’d realized what the shaking meant, but he can’t do anything about that now.

When he tries to tuck the blanket around Gale again, Gale pulls at his arm until Bucky lies down too, spooning Gale from behind. Speckles of marigold-yellow light sneak in through the half-drawn blinds. Some of them dance on the books lying on Gale’s nightstand, sparks of magic on the colourful covers. Bucky feels himself relax just looking at it.

“You’d be the best dad.” Gale repeats. His breathing slows down. “Told you.”

“All right.”

“I'm so tired.”

Bucky presses a kiss to the back of Gale's neck and breathes in his sweet scent, the smell of home. “Go to sleep.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why not?”

It takes Gale so long to reply that Bucky thinks he has fallen asleep. But eventually, he mumbles something into his pillow. “I'm scared.”

“Don’t be.” Bucky tells him softly and strokes his arm, then his side before wrapping his arm around his waist again. He slots his body as close to Gale's as possible to cradle him in warmth and comfort. “I'm here.”

Gale tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

Bucky squeezes back. “I promise. I’ll be here when you wake up, baby.”

Safe in his arms, Gale finally falls asleep.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #young vets au #hbowarsummer24 #my writing

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ash-whimsicalfanfic · 1 year ago

Note

Hope things are going well for you!

Could you do a Gibbs x y/n where there son falls at home and gets a broken arm and y/n feels horrible/guilty that she let it happen under her watch. He meets them at the ER where the son refuses to let him go and y/n won't meet his eye. On the way home he holds her hand and convinces there son that his cast is cool and he can ask others to sign it. When they get home he goes to play. Gibbs finds y/n crying asks him "why am I such a bad parent"

Bad Mom?

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2461

Warnings: Mild language, blood, injury, gore, angst…

A/N: Hopefully, this is okay! I really enjoyed writing this! Sorry it took so long for me to get this done! Xx

You hum softly as you continue working on the salad to go with dinner. Jethro would be home a little later, but you always make sure he comes home to a nice, relaxing dinner.

Your guys’ son, Maddox Leroy Gibbs, was upstairs playing with his newest birthday gift. Jethro had got him a wood-carving kit and now Maddox couldn't keep his hands off it.

All of a sudden, you heard thumps before the most pained scream you've ever heard. You dropped the glass bowl of salad, ignoring the glass shattering on the ground as you race towards the crying.

There was Maddox laid on the ground, cradling his arm. You fall to your knees beside him and gently grab him.

"Baby, hey, I need you to tell me what happened. What hurts?" You ask softly.

"M-My arm!" He wails.

You gently pull his hand away as your stomach flips and your throat tightens seeing blood and bone. He screams, wailing louder.

"Look away." You demand as you stand, picking him up as you grab the keys and your phone on the way out.

You barely were able to lock the door as you run out towards your car. You get him in the booster seat, grabbing the first aid kit and quickly taping gals over it loosely so he wouldn't be able to see it.

You hurry to the drivers side, starting to drive the way that Jethro drives. You open your phone with shaky hands and dial his number. It rings and rings until it says his mailbox was full. You throw the phone down in the seat next to you as your shaky hands grip the wheel tighter as you break every driving law to make it to the hospital.

You were out of your car, running to his side of the car as you swung the door open, picking him up and running inside. Immediately nurses flank you, having you place him on a gurney before your told to move your car.

You felt irritated, but you also understood. You quickly move you car before finding your way inside. You weren't allowed to go in the room with him as they had an officer on the way to question you. You knew they thought this was some abuse case, but it wasn't. You grab your phone dialing his number again and you kept dialing until he finally answered.

"Hon, I'm in the middle of a case right now." He says irritated.

"J-Jethro, h-he fell down the stairs and he hurt his arm really bad. T-They won't let me see him! They have an officer coming to question me because they think this an a-abuse case!" You sob into the phone, ignoring the nurses who gave you the stink-eye.

"Hon, I'm on my way. Do not answer any questions. Tell them your waiting on me." He says sternly.

Before you could say anything, he had hung up. You let your head fall into your hands as you cry harder.

"I want my mom!" He wails and you stand as you rush towards him.

"Ma'am, you can't see him until you've been questioned and cleared." A nurse snaps, pushing at you.

"He's my son! I'd never hurt him! Let me see him!" You snap, trying to push through towards your son.

"Mommy!" He wails.

"It's okay, baby! Daddy's on his way!" You say as tears fall down your cheeks and big burly security guards push you back towards the little sitting area in the hallway.

They cuff your hands behind your back and make you sit as you refused to leave. You looked at the ground, your head racing as terrible thoughts went through your head.

Jethro parks his car hastily, getting out of the car as his team followed him in. He tried to get them to stay and work on the case, but they refused. Maddox was their nephew and they'd do anything for the kid.

Jethro walks in, his eyes finding you. For a brief moment, he felt relief until he saw the cuffs on your wrists.

"Take the cuffs off her, now." He barks, striding towards you.

"Sir—now!" He interrupts.

The security guard fumbles with the keys as he roughly pulls you up before Jethro pinned him against the wall. Tony grabs the keys off the floor, undoing the cuffs on your wrists.

"Don't you ever put your hands on my wife like that again." He warns.

"Hey sweet cheeks, your okay." Tony murmurs as he hugs you.

"They won't let me see him." You mumble numbly into his chest.

"They will once Gibbs is through with them." He teases and you couldn't help the small shaky smile.

"Hon, come on." Jethro says.

You walk towards him, keeping your eyes casted to the floor. His arm wraps around your waist protectively as he walks towards the desk.

"Where is my son?" He demands.

"S-She needs to be questioned." The nurse says weakly.

"My wife wouldn't ever lay a hand on our son. He fell down the stairs, kids have accidents all the time. Let me see our damn son." He snaps.

"O-Of course, right this way sir." She says and starts to lead us towards the room he was in.

You hesitate and hang back towards the doorway as Jethro heads towards Maddox who was sat up in the bed with a light blue cast on his arm.

“Daddy!” He exclaims, throwing himself towards Jethro who chuckles and catches him.

You catch sight of stitches across his eyebrows and you let a shaky breath out.

“Careful buddy, you can take someone out with that thing.” Jethro teases which makes Maddox giggle.

“I don’t really like it. It’s going to stop me from being able to do my wood carvings.” He pouts.

“I think it’s a really cool cast. You can have people sign it even! And you can take a break from the wood carving, son. I’ll get you some more while you got the cast on so we can let the supplies build up.” He says.

“Okay! Uncle Tony, will you sign my cast?” He asks.

“Of course! I even so happen to have a sharpie on me!” He exclaims with a childish grin.

Your heart aches and you sit down as you watch Maddox with soft and sad eyes. Jethro was in the corner of the room, on the phone with director as he kept an eye on Maddox as well.

You look away from Maddox and at the floor when a nurse walks in. She looks at you as if you had the plague, in which Maddox notices and frowns.

“Why are you looking at my mommy that way?” He snaps.

The nurse was taken aback as you look up alarmed. You stand, walking over to the bed and reach a shaky hand out to brush his hair away from his eyes. You leave a kiss on his head.

“It’s okay, baby.�� You murmur.

He looks at you confused. He was a smart child for his age. He definitely had his fathers profiling skills, that’s for sure. He looks back at the nurse, his eye narrowing as he latches onto you, hugging you tightly. Jethro was grinning in the corner as your lips part in surprise.

“Ma’am, we still have to follow protocol.” The nurse says in which your heart shatters.

“Protocol? Mommy, what’s she talking about?” He asks, looking up at you with Jethro’s blue eyes.

“It’s nothing, baby. Mommy will be back, I promise.” You murmur.

“No. I’ll be back, buddy. Mommy will stay with you.” Jethro says.

You watch confused as he leaves with the timid nurse. Tony throws an arm over your shoulder and smiles.

“Trust me, boss will handle it. Your a good mom, don’t let them tell you otherwise.” He says.

“Are they saying your a bad mommy?” Maddox asks confused.

“I-I, no…they just have to follow protocols they put in place to keep people safe.” You explain slowly.

Thankfully, Jethro was back quickly and even somehow managed to get his prescriptions whilst filling out the discharge papers. Jethro sent the team back in the work car and was going to drive you and Maddox home. Tony offered to drive Jethro’s car home, but you settled on taking Jethro to work tomorrow as you felt guilty for calling him from work early.

Maddox was asleep in the backseat, and you were focused on the building and other structures out your window. Jethro kept glancing over, sensing you weren’t okay. He grabs your hands and squeezes it gently.

“Sorry I snapped at you on the phone earlier today, hon. I don’t want you to think you can’t call me. For now on, I’ll answer immediately if I’m not out in the field.” He promises.

“Jethro, I’m not upset you didn’t answer or that you snapped at me. I know your working on a case right now.” You say softly.

“Then what has you upset?” He asks as he pulls into the driveway.

“Nothing.” You lie, getting out of the car.

“I’ll get him. You get the door opened.” He says.

You nod, heading towards the door and unlocking it. You are greeted with blood on the ground and you immediately grab your cleaning caddy from the closet and start cleaning it up. Jethro walks in, holding Maddox. He frowns seeing your shaky hands scrub at the puddle of blood.

“Hon, I got that. Let me go put him in bed and then I’ll clean that up.” He says.

“No, it’s okay. I got it. Here, you go on up and I’ll finish this up.” You say quietly.

You move just enough so he can get up the stairs. He gets to the third or fourth step before looking back down at you concerned. His eyes find your bruised wrists and his frown deepens. He turns, focusing on getting Maddox up to bed.

“Daddy.” Maddox mumbles sleepily.

“Yes, buddy?” He asks softly, tucking him in.

“Why did the doctors think mommy is a bad mommy?” He asks.

“Because they are a bunch of knuckleheads and don’t know what a good mommy you have. Don’t worry about it, buddy.” He says.

“Daddy?” He whispers as he starts to fall back to sleep.

“Yes?” He asks.

“Can mommy give me a little brother or sister?” He asks.

“I…I mean, I’ll talk to mommy and see what she wants to do, but she loves you so much. I think she’s happy with just you.” He murmurs.

Little did Maddox know, Jethro was scared to have another one. He was scared to have Maddox after what happened with Shannon and Kelly. He barely let you in and then finding out you were pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. You loved kids and you want a whole damn school bus of kids.

Maddox goes to say something, but it was little mumbles before he was softly snoring. Jethro chuckles, brushing his hair out of his forehead before leaning down and kissing his head.

He heads downstairs to see the blood cleaned up. He goes to the kitchen where he heard you. You were sweeping up the salad and broken bowl into a pan.

“What happened?” He asks, taking the dust pan to hold it.

“When I heard Maddox scream, I just dropped the bowl and ran for him.” You mumble quietly.

“Hon, go take a bath and relax. I’ll finish the clean up. I promise you that Maddox is okay.” He says.

You hesitate, but with a stern look from him, you nod slowly. You head up the stairs, starting your bath. He finishes up the floor before he cleans up what would have been dinner. He does dishes and takes the trash out before deciding to check on both Maddox and you. He checks on Maddox first to see him sleeping.

He nears the bathroom before slowing his steps as he hears your muffled crying. He walks in and sees your face buried in your knees, suds covering your bits from view.

“Hon, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asks, kneeling by the tub.

“Why am I such a bad mom?” You sob.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” He asks.

“He’s hurt because of me, Jethro. Those nurses had every right to look at me like that. I’m a terrible mom. There was blood, everywhere and the bone was sticking out. His screams…gosh his screams were so loud. I didn’t even notice he cut his eyebrow until I saw the stitches.” You sob.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. He’s a kid and kids have accidents. Maddox loves to run throughout the house and we could tell him until we were blue in the face not to run in the house. He slipped and fell. It wasn’t your fault. You know how many times I got hurt as a kid? A lot. We can’t protect him from everything as much as we wish we could. Things like this will teach him why we tell him not to run in the house or why not to go outside barefoot. We can only do so much. Your an amazing mom. He knows so.” He murmurs, rubbing your back.

“I can’t even look at him. I feel terrible. It’s all my fault.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault and you know that. He knows that and I know that. He knows your a good mom. He told me when he woke up briefly because he caught onto the way the nurses were treating you. He actually wants another siblings. He told me.” He says, sighing as he plops on the ground.

Your head flies up, your eyes wide as you look at him. You reach a hand out and grab his hand, rubbing it gently.

“You know we don’t have to. I know how scary it was when you found out I was pregnant with Maddox. I am perfectly content with Maddox and you.” You say softly.

“I think I might want another one. Maybe we’ll get a little girl this time.” He murmurs.

“Really?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah.” He says with a soft smile.

“Your such an amazing dad, Jethro. Maddox absolutely loves you. He always tells me that he wants to be an NCIS agent just like you.” You say with a soft smile.

“And your such an amazing mom. He tells me all the time. He also tells me how much he loves you and how much he wants to make you proud. Whether it be cleaning up his toys or helping with the groceries. He loves you and he idolizes you so much.” He murmurs.

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