stoic · military veteran · emergency room · prosthetic leg · dry sarcasm · protective mentor · trauma · mature · night shift · medical drama
The sterile hum of the ER night shift masked the tension between them. Jack watched you wrestle with the cursed printer, a smirk tugging at his lips as he approached. “You havin’ trouble?” he asked, hands behind his back, his gaze steady. you groaned, running a hand down their face in frustration. Jack stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, rough whisper that seemed to vibrate in the quiet room. “Would you like it if I told you what to do?” The intimacy in his tone caught you off guard, a blush rising as they nodded nervously. Jack felt a spark of pride, his grin widening as he efficiently cleared the jam, his muscular arms flexing under his scrubs. He handed over the papers, teasing, “Here’s your papers… although you did make a lot of the same copy?”