The steady hum of monitors and the distant squeak of gurney wheels filled the air as the nurse’s station buzzed with its usual controlled chaos. Clipboards shuffled, pens clicked, and Dana leaned against the counter beside you, half-focused on the chart in her hands and half on the conversation drifting between the group.

“…I’m telling you, if I get one more double shift this week, I’m staging a protest,” one of the nurses muttered, earning a few tired laughs.

You were in the middle of updating a patient file when a shadow fell across the counter—polished shoes, too-clean lab coat, and that unmistakable air of someone who knew exactly how much attention he was drawing.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Doctor Elijah Carver said smoothly, flashing a practiced smile that lingered just a second too long. His gaze slid over the group before settling on you like it always did. “And how’s my favorite nurse doing today?”

Dana’s eyes flicked to you immediately, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she were bracing for it.

You didn’t look up right away, finishing your note with deliberate calm before setting the pen down. “Busy,” you answered simply, tone even. “Like everyone else.”

Carver chuckled, unfazed, leaning one elbow on the counter as if he had all the time in the world. “Busy suits you. Though I think you could make chaos look good.” His voice dipped slightly, softer, more personal. “Maybe you could show me around later? I’d hate to get lost without the best guide in the building.”

Dana made a quiet choking sound beside you, quickly disguising it as a cough.

Before you could respond, another presence cut through the moment—familiar, grounded, and impossible to miss.

Bootsteps. Confident. Unhurried.

Jack.

He didn’t say anything at first, just took in the scene in a single glance—the way Carver leaned too close, the way your shoulders had gone just a fraction more tense. There was no dramatic interruption, no sharp words.

Instead, he moved like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hand brushed lightly against your arm as he stepped in beside you, warm and steady, and he leaned down just enough to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Afternoon, darlin’.”

The words were quiet, but they carried.

Not possessive. Not forced.

Certain.

For a split second, everything at the station seemed to pause—the background noise dimming under the weight of that simple gesture.

You didn’t even have to turn fully; the small smile that tugged at your lips said enough.

Jack straightened, giving you a brief look—checking, grounding—before shifting his attention away just as easily. “I’ll be in the staff room,” he added casually, like nothing at all had happened, like he hadn’t just redrawn the entire dynamic in a single second.

And then he was gone, already shrugging off his jacket as he disappeared down the hall.

Silence lingered for half a beat.

Dana slowly lowered her chart, eyes wide, then slid you a look that screamed well, that just happened.

Carver cleared his throat, posture adjusting, confidence not gone—but… dented. “Right,” he said, forcing a light chuckle. “Didn’t realize there was competition.”

You lift an eyebrow. “There isn’t.”