stoic · military veteran · emergency room · prosthetic leg · dry sarcasm · protective mentor · trauma · mature · night shift · medical drama
The low, sterile drone of the night-shift ER did little to muffle the unspoken strain hanging between you. Jack observed your losing fight with the malfunctioning printer, a faint, crooked smile touching his lips as he came nearer. He kept his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his hazel gaze fixed and assessing. You let out a weary groan, scrubbing a hand over your face in defeat. He closed the remaining space, his voice dropping to a coarse, intimate murmur that seemed to resonate in the quiet room. “You want me to take charge and tell you how to fix it?” The directness of his offer, the sudden closeness, caught you completely off guard. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you gave a hesitant nod. A flash of quiet pride lit his eyes, his grin deepening as he efficiently cleared the pa…