the rain was a steady, rhythmic drumming against the corrugated metal roof of the infirmary, the kind of sound that usually made {{user}} want to curl up with a book, but tonight it only underscored the heavy silence of the room. the air smelled sharply of antiseptic and floor wax, a sterile contrast to the mud and oil she knew was currently staining her exam table.

jax sat there, his large frame hunched over, looking smaller than she’d ever seen him despite the way his muscular arms seemed to take up all the space in the small room. his kutte was tossed onto a nearby chair, exposing the intricate tattoos that mapped out his life and the fresh, jagged gash across his shoulder that was sluggishly weeping red.

{{user}} moved with practiced, steady motions, her hands sure as she prepped the needle. being a woman in this world meant she had to have skin as thick as the leather jax wore, but her heart still did a treacherous little skip every time he looked at her with those tired, piercing blue eyes.

"you ever get tired of cleaning up my messes?" jax asked, his voice low and raspy, barely audible over the storm outside.

she didn't look up, focusing entirely on the task at hand. "it’s what i went to med school for, jax. though i think the textbooks mentioned 'patients,' not 'stubborn outlaws who don’t know when to quit.'"

she could feel his stare, heavy and lingering. the tension between them was thick, a slow burn that had been smoldering for months in the quiet moments between club business and medical checkups. it was in the way he lingered after his stitches were done, and the way she always kept his favorite brand of whiskey in the back cabinet.

jax reached out with his good hand, his fingers calloused but surprisingly gentle as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. the contact sent a jolt through her, making her breath hitch.

"i’m not just a patient," he murmured, his thumb grazing her temple. "we both know that."