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Things were finally starting to go well for Javadi, really well, in a way that felt almost suspicious, like life was waiting for the right moment to yank the rug out from under her. Work at the hospital had been steady, even rewarding. And when things with her mom used to get overwhelming, when the criticism piled too high or the expectations tightened around her like a vise, she’d escape to Santos and Whitaker’s place. They always opened the door without hesitation, ushering her inside with blankets, snacks, and the kind of gentle teasing that made her feel like she wasn’t a burden. They tried everything to make her feel better, and most of the time, it worked.
But she hadn’t needed that escape in a while. Things with her mom had… shifted. Softened. Her mother wasn’t as strict or overbearing lately, and the change had been so gradual that Javadi didn’t notice it at first. It was in the small things, the way her mom didn’t hover over her shoulder when she was with a patient. And then, shockingly, there were the moments when her mom actually told her she was proud of her. Not in a dramatic, emotional way, but in passing, like it was simply true. Like it had always been true.
For the first time in a long time, everything felt good.
Everything was going well.
Which, of course, meant something had to go wrong.
It happened on a Tuesday morning, the kind of morning where she’d woken up early enough to make coffee and even pack a lunch. She’d been humming to herself as she drove, windows cracked just enough to let in the cool air. She was halfway to the hospital when her car sputtered, jerked, and then gave a long, pitiful wheeze before rolling to a stop on the shoulder.
The dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree.
“No, no, no,” she muttered, smacking the steering wheel. “Not today.”
But the car didn’t care about her schedule or her good streak or the fragile peace she’d built with her mother. It just sat there, dead, the same car her mother was currently paying for, the same car her mother had told her, repeatedly, to take good care of.
It wasn’t exactly her fault. She didn’t know what happened. She wasn’t reckless with it. She wasn’t irresponsible. But none of that mattered, because she could already hear her mother’s voice in her head, sharp and disappointed, lecturing her about responsibility and adulthood and how money doesn’t grow on trees.
She knew she was going to get a mouthful, and the worst part was that she didn’t deserve it. She was responsible. She’d been trying so hard. But after this, she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince her mother otherwise.
Her stomach twisted. She needed to call someone, someone who wouldn’t make her feel worse. Someone who would help her breath again.
She called Santos.
The moment Santos picked up, Javadi launched into the story, pacing beside her dead car as trucks roared past on the highway.
When she finished, Santos let out a sympathetic hiss. “Well… this is super unfortunate. You do know, Crash is just supposed to be a nickname, right?”
Javadi rolled her eyes and groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “This seriously can’t be happening.”
“It doesn’t look that bad,” Santos said, already slipping into her calm, practical tone. “I’m sure you can get it fixed for under five hundred.”
“Five hundred is still five hundred,” Javadi muttered.
“I know. But it could be worse. And I can give you a lift to work until then.”
That part. Santos's offering help without hesitation made something warm bloom in her chest. Javadi was grateful, deeply grateful, but the gratitude didn’t ease the knot of dread tightening in her stomach. Because no matter how manageable the repair might be, no matter how supported she was by her friends, none of it changed the looming problem.
Her mother.
Her mother, whom she would disappoint again. Her mother, who would see this as proof that Javadi wasn’t ready, wasn’t careful, wasn’t responsible enough. Her mother, who had only recently started looking at her with something other than frustration.
“She can’t find out about this,” Javadi said suddenly, the words spilling out before she could stop them.
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Who?” Santos asked, even though she already knew.
“My mom.”
Javadi leaned against the car, closing her eyes. She could picture the conversation already, the tightness in her mother’s jaw, the sigh, the lecture. She could picture the disappointment, the way it would erase all the progress they’d made. It didn’t matter that the car had broken down through no fault of her own. It didn’t matter that she’d been doing everything right.
Santos exhaled softly, the kind of sound that meant she was choosing her words carefully. “Okay. Then she won’t find out. Not right now, at least.”
Javadi opened her eyes. “You really think we can keep this from her?”
“I think,” Santos said, “that you’re allowed to handle things on your own without reporting every detail to your mom. You’re an adult. Cars break down. It happens.”
“Not to her,” Javadi said bitterly. “She never lets anything break.”
“That’s not true,” Santos replied gently. “She probably just hides it better.”
Javadi didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to.
“Look,” Santos continued, “let’s get the car towed. I’ll pick you up. We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
Javadi nodded, even though Santos couldn’t see her. “Okay.”
The car was towed back to Santo’s place because there was absolutely no way Javadi was going to leave it in front of her house for her mother to see. The thought alone made her stomach twist. Her mother would take one look at the broken-down car and immediately launch into a lecture about responsibility, about preparedness, about how “things like this wouldn’t happen if you listened to me.” And Javadi simply did not have the emotional bandwidth for that today. Not after the tentative peace, she and her mother had only recently begun to rebuild.
So the car went to Santo’s. Out of sight, out of her mother’s line of fire, and hopefully out of her own mind for the rest of her shift.
She tried to calm down. I tried to breathe. I tried to pretend everything was fine.
Everything was not fine.
But she couldn’t think about it. She couldn’t. She had work to do, and the last thing she needed was people asking about her behavior or giving her that look, half concern, half judgment, that made her feel like she was unraveling in public.
She was checking a patient’s vitals when she realized she’d been squeezing the blood pressure cuff too tightly.
“Hey! You’re squeezing a little too hard.” The man yanked his arm away from her grasp, glaring. “Hello? How old are you anyway? Do you even know what you’re doing?”
Fuck.
Javadi blinked, her mind scrambling to catch up. She hadn’t meant to zone out. She wasn’t even sure when she’d drifted off. One moment she was wrapping the cuff around his arm, and the next she was spiraling through thoughts of car repairs, her mother’s disappointment, and the way her chest tightened every time she thought about money.
She stumbled over her words, heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Is everything alright in here?” a voice asked from behind her.
McKay.
Of course, it was McKay.
Javadi tensed instantly as the older woman stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The touch was light, professional, but it still sent a jolt through her body. McKay was older, wiser, and composed in a way Javadi could only dream of being. And attractive. Unfairly attractive. It sucked, truly sucked, that she was also her mentor in a sense, because if McKay ever knew the thoughts Javadi had about her, the fantasies she tried so hard to shove down, the older woman would probably faint. Or worse, she’d look at her differently.
And now McKay was touching her shoulder. Actively touching her.
Javadi cleared her throat, trying to sound normal. “Everything is fine.”
McKay’s brows lifted slightly. “Are you sure? You seem a little stressed.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, too quickly. “Besides, I was just checking his blood pressure, and he’s fine.”
“I don’t feel fine,” the patient interjected.
“You are,” she snapped, irritation slipping through before she could stop it.
Before the man could respond again, McKay stepped in smoothly, her voice calm but firm. “Vic, you should get some water. I can finish up here.”
The shoulder touch. The nickname. All things that could be completely platonic should be platonic, but sue a girl for feeling a little delusional about it. McKay smiled at her, soft and reassuring, and Javadi felt her knees weaken just a little. She nodded, grateful for the out, and let McKay guide her out of the room and toward the break room.
It had been four hours since she arrived, and her day hadn’t gotten any better.
She took a sip from her water bottle and paced back and forth, trying to shake off the tension coiling in her chest. She felt all over the place, stress from her car, irritation from the patient, and the butterflies McKay always, always gave her. It was too much. Everything was too much.
If there was ever a time she wanted to curl up into a hole and die, it would be now.
A few moments later, McKay entered the break room. “Vadi, seriously, is everything okay?”
Javadi turned to face her. The concern on McKay’s face, real, genuine concern, made something inside her crack open. She wanted to tell her everything. She wanted to spill every fear, every frustration, every stupid thought she’d been holding in. She wanted to be honest for once instead of pretending she had everything under control.
“Honestly,” she said quietly, “no.”
McKay stepped closer, her expression softening. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”
Sweetheart.
Javadi’s heart stuttered. She knew McKay used endearments casually, with everyone, but it still hit her like a punch to the chest.
She sighed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Okay, well, on my way to work, my car stopped working. Completely. I had to call Santos, who’s offering to help with rides, which is great, but I still wish I had a working car. So we towed it to her place, and we’re going to deal with it later, I guess, but that’s not even a big problem. The issue is that I think things are starting to go well with me and my mom, and this one accident is big enough to ruin that completely, and I don’t have time for that because I really want her to be proud of me. And on top of that, Santos thinks it’ll probably be around five hundred dollars to get my car fixed, and I can’t ask my mom for that, and that patient really fucking sucked.”
She finally breathed.
McKay watched her intently, not interrupting, not rushing her, just listening. When she finished, McKay nodded and stepped closer, placing a hand on her back. The touch was warm, steady, comforting in a way that made Javadi want to melt into her.
“That does seem like a lot,” McKay said softly. “And I’m very sorry all of that happened. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can help you with?”
Never stop touching me, Javadi thought helplessly. But she shook her head. “No, but thank you. It’s just part of being an adult, I guess.”
McKay tilted her head. “I can fix it.”
“What?”
“Your car,” she clarified. “I can fix it for you.”
“You know how to fix cars?”
McKay nodded. “I’ve fixed a few, and I know my way around a car. Besides, I’m very good with my hands.”
Javadi took a sip of water at the exact wrong moment and nearly choked. She coughed, eyes watering, and McKay reached out instinctively, steadying her with a hand on her arm.
“You’d really help me?” Javadi asked once she could breathe again.
“Of course,” McKay said. “Always. If I can take some stress off your back, I’m willing to do that.”
Javadi nodded slowly. “Okay. Wow. Um, how fast can we do it?”
“I’m off tomorrow, and so are you,” McKay said. “So how about you tow your car to my place, and we can meet up around five?”
“Oh. That fast?”
“You need a car, don’t you? Without your mother knowing you’re without one?”
She couldn’t argue with that. “Okay. Tomorrow at five.”
McKay gave her a big smile and rubbed her back one more time. “Alright. Duty calls.”
She left the break room, and Javadi sank into a chair, her mind spinning.
Everything that had just happened replayed in her head: McKay’s concern, her touch, her offer to help, the way she said sweetheart, the way she said she was good with her hands.
Javadi pressed her palms to her face and groaned.
Tomorrow at five.
“She offered to fix your car? Like you’re going to her place tomorrow, and she’s going to fix your car?” Santos repeated, dragging out every syllable like she was narrating a scandal. Javadi rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt.
“It’s not like that,” she muttered. “She’s just being helpful. I need this.”
“You need something else as well.”
Samira appeared behind them, like she’d been summoned by chaos itself. “You need to get laid.”
Santos immediately high‑fived her. “See? Someone gets it.”
Javadi stared at them, unimpressed. “How long were you listening for?”
“Long enough for my point to stand,” Samira said, completely unbothered.
“Look,” Santos added, shrugging like she was discussing the weather, “you need serious stress relief, and sex can give you that.”
This entire conversation was giving Javadi a headache. A full‑blown headache. She was not going to sleep with her mentor. That would be ridiculous. Completely unhinged.
… Right?
But then again, McKay was attractive. And single. And competent. And confident. And, oh god, twice her age. Javadi felt her brain short‑circuiting. She needed to stop thinking about this altogether. McKay didn’t think about her like that anyway. And even if she did, there were HR rules. So many HR rules. Enough to bury her career six feet under.
“You’re thinking about it, Crash, aren’t you?” Santos asked, smirking.
“No,” Javadi said too quickly, too defensively, too everything.
“Right,” Santos said, clearly not believing a word.
“If it makes you feel better,” Samira chimed in, “we’ve all thought about Dr. Bangs.”
Javadi blinked. “Dr. Bangs?”
Samira grinned. “McKay. You know, perfect hair, perfect everything. Bangs that could cut glass.”
Santos nodded solemnly. “Like a lot of thought. A concerning amount.”
Javadi did not like the way that made her feel. Something sharp twisted in her chest. It wasn’t okay to think about someone like that, especially someone who wasn’t her. Was she jealous? That was ridiculous. Samira was older, had known McKay longer, probably had a better chance, and—
Nope. No. Absolutely not. She was not going down that mental road.
Samira was about to say something else before Santos stopped her.
“Stop it,” Santos said, smirking. “You’re going to make her cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Javadi snapped. “I don’t care. You can think about her however you want. She’s, she’s no one’s property.”
“Bet you wish that weren’t true,” Santos muttered under her breath.
Javadi inhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm down. She had patients to help, charts to update, and tasks to complete. She did not have time to engage in a conversation that made her brain feel like it was melting.
“I’m going to get back to work,” she said tightly. “You two should do the same.”
As she walked away, she could hear them laughing about something, probably her. She ignored it. Or tried to. The sound followed her down the hallway.
She rounded the corner and froze.
McKay was walking toward her.
And for some deeply embarrassing reason, Javadi’s feet carried her in the opposite direction before she could stop herself.
“Tough shift yesterday, right?” McKay called out as Javadi approached her house.
Javadi nodded, though the gesture felt too small for the storm inside her. The conversation from yesterday had replayed in her mind all night, looping like a song she couldn’t shut off. Every teasing comment from Santos, every knowing look from Samira, every accidental moment of eye contact with McKay, it all piled up until she couldn’t tell if she was spiraling or simply waking up to something she’d been ignoring.
And now here McKay was, standing in front of her in jeans and a white tank top, hair pulled back, chain glinting at her collarbone like it had been placed there specifically to ruin her life. God, she was so fucking hot.
Javadi prayed the cold air would hide the heat rising in her cheeks. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, hoping she looked normal. Or at least functional.
They talked for a while, small talk, easy talk, the kind of conversation that made Javadi feel both comfortable and wildly on edge. When the tow truck finally arrived with her car, they walked over together, and McKay immediately got to work.
Javadi watched her circle the car with practiced ease, assessing, diagnosing, moving with a confidence that made something in her chest tighten. She moved like she knew exactly what she was doing, because she did. And that only made her hotter. Did she mention that already? Because she was definitely thinking about it again.
“It’s honestly not that bad,” McKay said, crouching to inspect something under the hood. She glanced up with a reassuring smile. “I can definitely fix it today.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Javadi breathed. “I owe you everything.”
“Everything?” McKay teased, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t be so dramatic about it, sweetie. It’s okay. I’m glad I’m doing this for you.”
Sweetie. There it was again. Casual. Harmless. Made something in her lower half burn
“I really want to do something,” Javadi insisted. “Money? I don’t know anything that shows you how grateful I am.”
McKay paused, thinking. Then she nodded toward the house. “Okay. After I fix your car, come inside and help me put together this bookshelf for my kid’s room.”
“Seriously? That’s what you want?”
“Do you have anything else in mind?” McKay asked, tone light, but eyes sharp with amusement.
Oh, quite a few, actually.
“Building a bookshelf, it is,” Javadi said, smiling despite herself.
For most of the time McKay worked on the car, Javadi hovered nearby, pretending to be helpful but mostly just… watching. And McKay seemed to notice. More than once, she glanced over her shoulder as if checking whether Javadi was still there, or maybe making sure she was watching.
Especially when she lifted the hem of her tank top to wipe sweat from her forehead, revealing the edge of her sports bra. The movement was casual, practical, but it felt like slow motion to Javadi. Her brain short‑circuited. Her heart stuttered. She had to look away before she embarrassed herself.
She’d almost call this flirting.
If she knew what flirting actually looked like.
“Alright, let’s test this.”
McKay slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and for a terrifying second, nothing happened. She tried again. And again.
On the fourth try, the engine sputtered, coughed, then roared to life.
Javadi let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
When McKay stepped out of the car, Javadi didn’t even think; she ran to her and wrapped her arms around her in a tight, grateful hug.
“Tada,” McKay murmured, pulling back with a grin. “Told you. Very good with my hands.”
Javadi felt her face heat. “I didn’t doubt you. Seriously… thank you. Maybe now I can actually breathe for once.”
“You’re welcome,” McKay said lightly. “Now, about that bookshelf.”
“Right.”
Javadi turned off her car and allowed herself a small, private smile. One problem down.
She followed McKay into the house, and the moment she stepped inside, something in her chest loosened. It was lived‑in, warm, and imperfect in the most comforting way. Scrubs draped over a chair. A few toys scattered across the floor, Harrison’s, obviously. A faint scent of lavender and coffee.
It felt like a home.
“Want something to drink?” McKay called from the kitchen.
Javadi nodded and sat on the couch, unsure where to put her hands, her feet, her entire body. Everything felt too big and too small at the same time.
“Your house is amazing,” she said, raising her voice so it carried.
“Thank you.” McKay returned with two beers, handing one over before settling beside her, close enough that Javadi could feel the warmth radiating from her.
“So,” Javadi said, trying to sound casual, “when do we get started?”
“I thought we could talk for a while,” McKay said. “You know… relax.”
“Oh.” The word came out thin, breathy. Her nerves lit up like sparks under her skin. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the fact that McKay was sitting close enough that their knees almost brushed.
Whatever it was, Javadi found herself inching away without meaning to.
“What?” McKay asked, amusement tugging at her mouth. “Why are you being so shy?”
“I’m not,” Javadi lied. “I’m just… drinking a beer with my coworker. It’s a little unfamiliar.”
“Ah.” McKay tilted her head. “Maybe if you were honest about how you felt, you’d feel less awkward.”
“Honest?”
“Mhm.” She leaned in slightly, not enough to be inappropriate, but enough that Javadi felt the shift in the air. “About yourself. About me.”
Javadi’s brain short‑circuited. “About you? What—what are you talking about?”
“Victoria,” McKay said softly.
The sound of her full name pulled Javadi’s gaze up like a magnet. Their eyes met for the first time since the conversation started, and something unspoken passed between them.
“Yeah?” Javadi whispered.
“There’s no bookshelf,” McKay said, voice calm but carrying a weight that made Javadi’s pulse jump.
“Oh.” Her throat felt tight. “Then… why am I here?”
McKay didn’t look away. “Do you want to leave?”
Javadi shook her head. “No.”
“Good.” McKay leaned in and kissed her. It was soft at first, like she was seeing what Javadi would do. She didn’t kiss back right away, stunned. Feeling a little crazy before, she let herself have this. She needed this, and god, did it feel good. The kissing turned more intense, with Javadi falling into her lap and McKay’s tongue finding its way through her mouth. She moaned at the feeling. This is her first time truly swapping spit with someone. Sure, she’s kissed people, but this was a whole different story.
McKay broke apart first. “You sure about this? Because I want you baby, but I need to make sure you want it too.”
Javadi nodded fast and needy.
“Use your words, baby.”
“I want you,” she responded, her voice slightly rough, like just the kissing was ruining her.
McKay helped her out of her shirt. “Look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful, Vadi”
She blushed. This was the most anyone has ever seen of her. She didn’t know what to do with her hands or with herself. This was all uncharted territory. “I’m a Virgin,” she admitted
“Okay, I’m okay with that if you are.”
“I am.”
In one movement, McKay unclipped her bra, and Javadi gasped as the cold air hit her skin. “So beautiful,” McKay repeated. “Can I?”
She nodded, and within seconds, McKay’s lips were sucking on one of her nipples, and the other was being palmed by her hand. “Do you like this?”
She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. “Yes. It feels so good.”
“You want to be good for me?”
“Fuck.” she muttered. “I want to be good for you.”
McKay smiled into the kiss. Kissing her a lot harder this time. All of this made the ache between her legs so much more present. She’s never felt this way before, and she never wanted this feeling to stop. She didn’t know if she wanted to be kissed or for her mouth to go back to her breast.
“I want to taste you.” McKay pulled back, looking into her eyes for an answer. “Would you like that?”
she forgot that was also an option.
“Please.”
McKay got onto her knees and helped Javadi out of her pants. She could tell just how soaked she was by just looking at her underwear. “Fuck, you really need this.” That was the understatement of the year. She felt her through her panties, which caused Javadi to jolt from the pleasure.
McKay smirked before pulling them off her completely and inhaling her smell. “So good, baby, and all for me.” She moved her face closer to where she knew the girl wanted her before diving into her wetness. She licked between her slit, getting everything she could before finding her clit and licking it that hard. Javadi was moaning so loud she felt like she was on the set of a low-budget porn video. Her body literally felt on fire, and she really wished she had a camera because the sight of Cassie McKay between her legs was everything.
“You taste so good. You’re so fucking good, baby.” McKay repeated like a mantra, most of it went past Javadi’s fighting hard to keep her eyes open. She felt McKay lick at her hard as she sucked on her clit. She could feel how close she was. She knew she wouldn’t last long. She never did with herself.
“McKay…” she said weakly.
“You close? Are you getting there?” She pulled back slightly, still licking her, but less roughly.
She nodded. “I’m going to come.”
McKay picked up the pace after that. Before she felt Javadi tense up and clench around her tongue, she felt her release come through her body, and licked up her arousal like a dog who’s been deprived of water. The sigh of McKay drinking her orgasm made her cum even harder.
McKay pulled back, and her face was wet with herself. It was fucking perfect. She pulled her up and kissed her, tasting herself on her lips. “You are everything.” McKay smiled big.
She pulled back from the kiss. “You think you can go again? Preferably, with my fingers?”
“Yes, please.” Before she could think about what it would feel like to really lose her virginity, one finger was already entering inside of her.
She let out a guttural moan. McKay smiled at that, clearly pleased with herself. Her chain was dangling in front of her face, and to her, that just made this whole experience hotter. Another finger entered her, and she was being pumped into, with both of them curling inside of her and hitting a spot she didn’t know existed.
Her breathing was all over the place, and she was becoming more and more sensitive as she felt herself being fucked.
“I want you to come all over my fingers, can you do that, pretty girl? Can you do that for me?”
Pretty girl. She’s so unfair. But before she knew it, she was coming a second time right on her fingers as McKay fucked her through it until she was completely milked out.
“Fuck.”
McKay pulled herself out and sucked on her own fingers. “You did so well for me.”
“Do you do this with everyone whose car you fixed?” Javadi asked, still breathing hard.
“Just the pretty ones.” McKay smiled. Her breath was evening out.
“I’m going to grab you a change of clothes. Do you need anything else?” McKay stood up from the couch, watching Javadi, who was facing the ceiling like she was seeing stars, which only made the smirk on McKay's face grow.
“Just the clothes will do.” she finally responded. McKay walked off into what Javadi presumed was her bedroom.
She reached for her phone and found Santos's contact.
“You won’t believe what just happened?”
Santos replied. “If it’s not you getting laid, I don’t really care.”
“Well…”
Santos responded in a matter of seconds. “Oh my fucking god.”