Chapter Text
The first three times she visits your office, she has legitimate reasons.
The first, her student says she has a fever.
You're new at Abbott. It's your second day, in fact, and it's been quiet so far. Then a red-haired teacher strides through your door with a student at her heels. "Hey nurse, this is..." She does a doubletake when she sees you. "Oh, that's right, Pam retired."
You smile. "She did. I'm Nurse Y/N. How can I help?"
She puts her hand on her hip, eyeing you suspiciously. "You know, Pam was a real good nurse. Are you a good nurse too?"
"I am," you respond, holding your head up high.
She seems to accept that. "Well, this is Ayanna and she feels too hot," she says. "Thought I'd bring her here in case there's something going around."
You crouch toward the little girl. "Hi Ayanna, I'm here to take care of you. Let's get your temperature."
You whisper to the teacher, "I've got it from here."
--
On the second visit, her student has a headache.
"Morning, Nurse Y/N, Washington says his head hurts," teacher tells you. The first thing you notice is that she's remembered your name. You have trouble tearing your gaze from her intense green eyes.
Finally, you turn to the student and say, "Sorry to hear that, Washington. You can rest here with me."
Fifteen minutes later, you walk the visibly peppier second-grader back to the classroom. The teacher welcomes him warmly, then gives you a satisfied nod in response.
--
On the third visit, the teacher herself needs some nursing.
She staggers in, groaning, hands wrapped around her nose.
You rush to meet her, placing your hands on her shoulders. "Was this from that basketball game? You're my third staff member this morning!"
"Yeah," she answers gruffly. "Now can you make the pain go away?"
You lead her to the couch and walk to your mini freezer for an ice pack. "Here, let's apply this," you say, gently placing it on her nose, other hand briefly cupping the back of her head. "Is it too cold?"
"Nah, it's good," she says with relief, leaning back and closing her eyes, holding the ice against her face.
"I realize I don't even know your name," you say to her quietly, placing a hand on her arm.
She opens her eyes in surprise. "Oh. I'm Melissa. We need to stop meeting like this."
You chuckle. "Yeah. Maybe next time I see you, someone won't be in pain and in need of my services."
She closes her eyes again. You take the opportunity to admire the freckles on her nose and inhale her sweaty, sweet scent.
--
The fourth visit, she doesn't have a reason.
Midday about two weeks into your nursing tenure, Melissa pops in to your office. She looks to be in a good mood.
"Hey, nurse," she says warmly.
You get to your feet, concern spreading over your features. "Hi Melissa, what do you need?"
"Nothin'," she says with a smile, leaning against the doorframe. "No pain, just saying hi."
You smile back, noticing the perfect red of her lipstick and the way the light glints off her hair. "Well, that just made my day a lot better. You can say hi anytime you like."
You swear she blushes at your words, but before you can be sure, she turns and disappears.
--
Then there are the other visits over the next few weeks, each endearing her to you a little more.
"Hey," she says one morning, hovering at your door.
You look up. "Hey."
"So I made a ton of lasagna last night. In case you didn't bring lunch, I brought some leftovers in for you. It's in a container in the fridge with your name on it. If you don't want it, no proble.."
"Oh wow, that's so nice, Melissa. Thank you." You rise from your desk and walk toward her with your arms outstretched.
"It's not a big deal at all," she protests, but accepts your hug.
Her hair is soft against your cheek. After a few moments, she steps back. "Okay, then. Have a good lunch."
"I will now," you call warmly.
A few days later, she comes in to invite you to trivia night.
"Some of us go to trivia every week at the bar down the street," she explains. "You're welcome to join."
"Really? What night is it?"
"Wednesdays. If you're a smart cookie, you can even be on my team." She winks at you.
Your face falls. "Oh, I'd love to, but I have book club tonight. Maybe another week?"
"Yeah, for sure," she says, and heads out into the hallway.
Meanwhile you're still picturing her adorable wink, pondering how you can get her to do that again.
--
One day, before the students arrive, you drop by Melissa's classroom to say good morning.
She's taking off her coat and putting her bag in her desk.
"Good morning," you intone.
"Morning," she says, turning to face you. She's wearing her signature leather pants and a revealing low-cut pink shirt. She looks at you expectantly.
"Wow," you gulp. "You look... especially amazing today."
She scoffs. "This is an old shirt so I don't wear it much but...thanks. Really?"
"Yes, really. But I have a lot of work to do today, so please don't visit me," you say seriously. "I will be distracted out of my mind."
She snorts, then sobers when she realizes you're not joking.
"Have a good day, though," you say with a grin.
She gives you a long, thoughtful look as you leave.
--
You hear about her ankle injury before you actually see it. And then it's two days until she stops by to seek care.
She limps over to your couch, sits down gingerly, and swings both legs up.
"What happened to your ankle, Melissa?" you ask with concern.
"Eh, I took a tumble outside the school. I'm okay, though."
"It looks really painful...Can I remove your shoe and sock?"
"You can, but you might not be able to get 'em back on..." she warns with a wry grin.
You lean over to her right leg and begin to remove her shoe. She winces at your touch.
"I'm sorry." You remove her sock in small, gentle tugs, trying to be as careful as possible. "I'm going to rotate your ankle now. Tell me if anything hurts."
Under your fingertips her ankle is soft and warm. While you're nearly always able to remain professional, something about this woman challenges that. You simply want to lower your head and gently, sweetly kiss her ankle bone and every shadow of a bruise on her skin.
Her intake of breath brings you back to reality.
"Oh, did that hurt there?"
She nods.
"How about here?" You rotate her ankle the other direction.
"No, that's fine...and that's fine too."
"Okay." You lower her leg back to the couch. "This is overall good news. There's bruising and swelling, but I'm not seeing evidence of a break or other serious injury. Have you been icing and elevating it here and at home?"
"Yeah, when I can."
"Well, that's great. I think you're on your way to recovery."
"Does that mean I don't have to see the doctor?" she asks hopefully.
"I can't say for sure. But...here. Since tomorrow's Saturday, why don't you take my card?" You grab your business card from your desk, write your cell phone number on the back, and hand it to her. "Give me a call in the morning, no matter how it's feeling. If it's worse, I want to know. If it feels good, I want to know that too."
She takes the card but protests. "I don't want to bother you on the weekend, hon."
A thrill runs through you at her first use of the pet name. "Think of it like a house call," you say.
Melissa looks skeptical. "That's still a thing? This ain't 1950."
You laugh but don't rescind your offer. "I'm looking forward to hearing from you tomorrow."