Emergency Medical Dad

LX: october, present

this is obscenely long. enjoy

JESSIE

My eyes still hurt from crying when I blink awake a few hours later to bright sunlight over Chicago, Jorgen's arm around me, his head above mine, body warm as a furnace next to me.

The sunlight is touching his stretched out arm, brushing across the soft aged edges of his tattoos, his big hand relaxed and slightly curled in, long fingers touching the edge of the hotel sheet.

It's a gentle way to wake up, warm and kind and in his arms. The hotel bed isn't exactly comfortable and the sheets don't really smell like home but he feels like exactly where I need to be, all limbs and slow breathing, a honey sort of smell wrapping me up.

I shift my head, hoping that I'm not cutting off his circulation from my position laid across the crook of his bicep into his chest. He doesn't react much to it other than to pull me tighter into his body, letting me feel his chest expand against my back.

The sun is gorgeous, for some reason the hotel windows are catching it just perfect to send it scattering across the room, lighting up everything and making it very apparent that we might've overslept just a little.

"Jess," he breathes against the top of my head, startling me just a slight bit. "Is your arm long enough to nab my phone off the bedside table?"

"Maybe," I roll a little forward but am stopped by him tightening his arm, keeping me tight to him.

"If you have to move, forget it."

I frown and catch the corner of my thumbnail on the black case, dragging it toward me, then dropping it into my hand, "no, got it."

"What time do you have to be at work this morning?"

I breathe out, "nine."

"Cool," he mutters, using his thumbprint to get into his phone, then opening a text chat labeled Nico Callahagn. The last conversation was a few days ago regarding when they were going to the gym. He blearily tries to type something, sliding his thumb and eventually giving up trying to slide type to just hit individual letters after it corrects something wrong several times.

JORGEN: not coming to morning stuff until 9:00

JORGEN: bernie will know why

He then opens the clock and turns on an alarm for 8:20 and tosses it back on the counter, giving us a full hour.

"Back to sleep," he mumbles against my hair. "We both need it."

I make a little noise, half thanking him, half blearily rolling over, cocooning down in the darkness between his chest and the duvet cover, slipping back asleep with his smell flooding my sinuses like pure comfort.

He seems to relax when he thinks I'm asleep again, tucking me tighter and settling his head down into the pillow a little better.

"I love you," he whispers, almost as if he isn't expecting me to hear it.

It's so quiet I almost don't hear it, but I do, and it... it makes my chest pang just the right way.

An hour later, the alarm shakes us awake again, his body shifting next to mine to reach over me and turn it off, one hand under my waist, one now placed lazily by the side of my head, his hair falling from behind his ears, leaning over me.

"Good morning," he mumbles, eyes flickering over my expression, body still hovering over mine.

"Good morning," I swallow, reaching up around the back of his neck to tuck away the tag from his shirt, close enough that I feel his breath washing over my cheek. Is he going to kiss me? His eyelashes are incredibly long this close, this early in the morning, the sun shining just perfect in the window to dust them in light.