cherry_rain7
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Robby looks over his shoulder at him, and to Jack’s relief and pleasure, he’s smiling. Robby says, “You’re being sweet tonight. What brought that on?” His voice is low and pleased, it makes Jack shiver involuntarily.
Jack flirts, “Maybe I just missed you.” He revels in that. There was a time when even flirting with Robby like this was unthinkable, unspeakable, and now he considers it small potatoes. But not really, though, because every little smile, kiss, tease, flirt with Robby still gives him butterflies, still makes him wonder how in the hell he got this lucky.
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Hangman has nightmares.
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“Jake,” he says, his voice coming out raspier than he’d intended. Jake’s head snaps up, his eyes round. Bradley realizes, as if from a distance, that it’s the first time he’s called Jake by his first name in years. “You look good.”
Jake scoffs. It comes out thick, like something is caught in his throat. “Of course I do, I’m not the one with two cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a sprained ankle.”
[Or: three conversations in the med bay, and two out of it.]
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Aaron, like everything else in life, isn't that lucky. Andrew is there.
or, Andrew and Aaron cuddling because I decided there weren't enough fanfics of omega Aaron hugging his brother.
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The emergency department breathes down Dennis’s neck in hot, rattling bursts.
It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. Shouldn’t have him sweating through his third pair of scrubs, shouldn’t have his head aching so fiercely. He’s used to it, after all. The urgency with which everyone works, the sorrow that clings to the ceiling tiles, the hospital soaking up grief in greedy pulls like a sponge absorbing water. And it never seems to leave— that grief. Just retreats to the background as white noise. As static.
or
Dennis has a meltdown at work. Robby, fearing the worst, calls in reinforcements.