Deciding to join the others after the shift to the bar had seemed harmless at first. After weeks of brutal overnight rotations, overcrowded trauma rooms, and barely enough sleep to think straight, everyone had needed the break until the drinks kept coming.

By the end of the night Cassie ended up half-carrying you as she complained the entire way to her car, though there was no real anger behind it despite that she guided you carefully into the passenger seat and shut the door before walking around to the driver’s side. The city lights blurred together outside the window as you drifted in and out of awareness during the drive home. Every sharp turn or sudden stop sent you leaning sideways, and each time Cassie steadied you with a hand against your chest.

At one point you mumbled, barely coherent, “You’re warm.”

Cassie rolled her eyes “You’re so drunk.”

When she finally parked outside your apartment building, getting you upstairs became another challenge entirely. She searched through your pockets for your keys while you leaned heavily against the side of the car with your eyes half closed, looking seconds away from collapsing.

By the time she unlocked your apartment door and managed to drag you inside, your stomach had already turned. You barely made it three steps into the apartment before getting sick across the front of your shirt and partly onto her sleeve.

Cassie froze in disbelief before groaning loudly. “Oh, come on.”

You muttered something that sounded vaguely apologetic but she shook it off.

After forcing you into the bathroom, she peeled the ruined shirt off you before tossing her own into the washing machine with it, both of you shirtless now. The apartment stayed quiet except for the hum of the machine and the sound of running water while she remained beside you through the worst of it, pushing a cup of water into your hands whenever you stopped long enough to breathe.

She knew the layout of your apartment almost as well as you did by now. Between overnight shifts, emergency calls, and the countless times Harrison had stayed there while she worked late.

Eventually, after making you take ibuprofen and forcing you to drink what felt like an impossible amount of water, she guided you into bed.

When you woke later, the room was dim except for the warm light glowing from the lamp near the dresser. Your headache still lingered heavily behind your eyes, but at least the room had stopped spinning.

You rolled onto your back, rubbing a hand across your forehead.

Cassie stood in the doorway watching you quietly.

The amber light framed her silhouette as she leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed loosely over her chest, dark hair slightly messy from the long night. Her eyes stayed fixed on you.

You looked wrecked.

You were sprawled across the sheets in nothing but dark shorts, skin still warm and flushed from the alcohol, blankets tangled low around your waist. The soft bedside lighting stretched shadows across your body, catching the sharp lines of your shoulders and chest while your hair sat completely disheveled from sleep but despite the exhaustion written all over your face, there was still something unfairly attractive about the sight of you half awake in the low light.

Cassie shook her head trying to focus again.

“I keep telling you not to drink so much,” she said, resting her head lightly against the doorway as she watched you grumble.

“And I never listen,” you mumbled back, rubbing at your eyes.

“No. No, you don’t.” Her voice quiet. “Which is surprising, considering you’re usually good at listening.”

She shifted against the doorway eyes scanning your body again before whispering “Or does not listening to me outside of work get you going?”