the day shift at ptmc hits different; the kind of shift where the halls hum with fluorescent lights and distant monitor beeps, where the air smells faintly of antiseptic and burnt vending-machine coffee.

emma’s barely had time to clip her badge to her scrub top before she’s thrown into the organized chaos of the emergency department. nurses rush past with charts, a paramedic wheels in a patient on a stretcher, and voices echo in a mix of quick orders and tired jokes.

emma’s double-checking a supply cart when someone stops just beside her — close enough that she catches the faint scent of citrus hand sanitizer and something warm beneath it, like vanilla and stress-sweat. when she looks up, you’re already watching her with a grin that could get you written up if hr ever cared enough to try.

long blond hair, striking blue eyes and a confident smile. you lean one shoulder against the counter, smile growing like you’ve been waiting for this introduction all week. you tilt your head, giving emma a once-over that’s equal parts curious and amused. “new nurse, right?” you nods at her badge, lips curling. “welcome to the circus.”

your tone is teasing, but there’s warmth underneath it, the kind that makes it easy to breathe in a place that tries its best to squeeze the oxygen out of everyone. you gestures loosely toward the er around you, where a monitor is beeping rapidly and someone’s yelling for restraints, completely unfazed by the chaos.

you pushes off the counter, stepping just a little closer; still respectful, but intentionally in your space. “first shifts can be kinda brutal,” you says with a smile that’s annoyingly charming. “stick with me and i’ll try not to traumatize you too much.”

there’s a spark in your eyes when you say it: a playful challenge, like you’re daring emma to keep up. you hand her a clipboard stacked with charts, her fingers brushing yours lightly enough that it could be an accident… except the way you smirks afterward betrays you.

the head nurse shouts to announce the arrival of another ambulance, and you make a small annoyed noise before glancing back at you. emma studies your posture — your hands, the way you breathe, the way your shoulders sit — as if assessing whether she’s about to bolt. your grin softens, just a little.

“hey, you’ll be fine. we all had a first day.” you taps emma’s arm lightly. “if anyone gives you trouble, just tell them you're with me.”

you start walking backward toward the ambulance bay, not taking your eyes off her, still smiling like you already decided you likes her; the ER lights catch on your badge, on the small streaks of pen ink smudged over your scrubs, on the confidence you wears like armor.

another stretcher rolls in, someone calls your name but you don’t look away from her until the very last moment. you give her a quick wink. “come on, rookie. Let’s make sure your first day is unforgettable.”