Twific Doctorward Contest

Title: Don't Look

Prompt #: 13

Pairing: Edward/Garrett

Genre: Romance

Summary: Edward Masen is just beginning his career when a charming nurse catches his attention. He'll be fine, as long as he keeps his eyes on his work.

Word Count: 2359

Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.


Eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. Just don't look at him and I'll be fine. Deep breath, Masen. Don't let him get to you.

"Thank you, Mr. Williams. That will be all." I keep my voice as stern as possible, fixing my eyes on the chart in my hand and not on his face. My heart speeds as those long fingers enter my field of vision, pointing out the test results as if I couldn't find them myself on the lab sheet.

"See, Dr. Masen, everything looks great! You did an amazing job, as usual." That voice. He knows exactly what he's doing to me. If I look up, I know he'll be wearing that cocky smirk that puts all the nurses into a swoon.

I take a steadying breath as I begin to look up. His fingers still hold my attention, and I have to suppress a shiver as I take in their long, slender beauty. He has such large hands, but he is as dexterous as any surgeon. I can't help but imagine how they would feel touching me, stroking me, entering me...

His toned, tan forearms are the next thing I see, disappearing under the pale blue scrubs that only enhance his raw masculinity. I want to trace those veins with my tongue, and I shake my head to pull my thoughts back in focus.

I pull the chart to my chest and nod in his direction, focusing somewhere over his left shoulder. If I meet those deep blue eyes I know I will be lost. No eye contact. "Thank you, Mr. Williams." My voice is gruff as I repeat the only words my brain can grasp, other than the much dirtier ones I'd rather say.

His hand burns through my lab coat as he grasps my arm with those damn fingers. I close my eyes and swallow painfully when I feel the sparse scruff of his beard against my jaw as he leans close to whisper to me. I'm fairly sure my heart stops when his full lips brush the shell of my ear. "It's Garrett, Dr. Masen. Call me Garrett."

I can't resist looking up as he walks away, and I'm mesmerized as his hands go into his pockets, pulling his thin pants tight against that firm ass. God, he's gorgeous. As if he feels my eyes on him, he turns and looks over his shoulder, throwing me a flirty wink before he continues about his duties.

I'm not sure how long I stand there, picturing his long, lean body and what he's hiding under those scrubs, but a soft hand on my shoulder brings me back to the present. Bella is looking up at me with knowing eyes, and I worry how many people saw our little not-so-innocent exchange.

My oldest friend slides her arm around my waist, giving me a gentle side-hug. My arm wraps around her shoulder automatically and I let her lead me to the break room for a much-needed coffee.

"I don't know why you insist on keeping him at arm's length." She jumps right into her lecture, not even giving the caffeine a chance to work. "We both know you want him."

She's right, of course. I do want him, need him, even. But it's just not that simple. I've only had this position for a few months and if it wasn't for Bella's husband, Carlisle, putting in a good word for me, the hospital would have never hired me straight out of my residency. I couldn't risk letting my personal feelings put my career in jeopardy.

I sink into a chair and wrap my hands around the steaming mug of mediocre brew. "It's not that simple, Bell. You know that."

Her small, talented fingers work their way into my hair and I preen under her soothing touch like the cat she likes to compare me to. She's told me she heard me purr before, but I'm fairly certain she's teasing me. I hope. Whatever, it feels amazing when she massages my scalp. Bella worked as a masseuse to put herself through med school, and I was always eager to volunteer for her practice sessions. She was an amazing roommate.

Bell and I grew up together in the same small town in Washington. Our parents were friends, and we have embarrassing pictures of us bathing together that I'm fairly certain we will never recover from. I know they were disappointed that we would never end up together, but Bella knew I liked boys I think before I did.

We still shared our first kisses, and we stayed "together" through high school to fend off the gossips. We had our sights set on the world outside our rainy little corner of the world, and she stayed by my side through it all.

She held my hand when I came out to my parents, and then to our closest friends. I waited until after graduation to make both our lives easier, but it turned out I had little to worry about. We had good friends, and better parents. They told me they loved me, and sent us off to college with their blessings.

Bella and I moved to Chicago that summer with big plans and even bigger dreams. We helped each other through our undergraduate studies, then medical school, then our residencies. We alternated playing wingman or significant other based on the situation, until I had to step back for good when she met Carlisle.

Dr. Cullen was a guest lecturer our first year of medical school, and I swear it was love at first sight for those two. She wore a permanent blush the entire time he was in our class, and he wasn't in much better shape. They've had a long courtship and are finally getting married in June. As usual, Bella was defying convention, and I have already been assigned the role of her best man.

"Come on, Eddie. I still think you're making things more difficult than they need to be. Your position here is secure, and you have more than proven yourself. Pediatric oncologists aren't exactly a dime a dozen, you know."

I look down to gauge her expression and find her deep brown eyes open and honest. I wonder how much of her certainty is based on her uncanny intuition, and how much is inside knowledge from our chief of surgery.

Before I can answer, I am paged to recovery to check on my latest patient, so I drop a kiss on Bella's forehead as I run out the door. She calls me back for the chart I'd forgotten, and I find myself laying my fingers where I knew his had been, just to feel that much closer to him.

~oOoOo~

After my shift is over, I find myself lingering in the locker room a bit longer than necessary. I'd only seen Garrett from a distance the rest of the day, and I have to admit that I miss him. How pathetic is that? I can't say more than two words to the man, but I miss our little interactions when we're apart.

Bella and Carlisle invited me over for dinner, but I am feeling like I need something a little stronger than red wine, so I decide to hit the clubs. I go home and shower, trying to relax my mind as well as my body, and then slip on some dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

My hair is easy, just a bit of gel and let it do its thing. I slip on my favorite black wrist cuff and heavy boots—I always do my best to hide my occupation when I'm out trolling for a hook-up. I learned early on that the annoying little twinks would latch on to the first hint of power, and they were the absolute last thing I wanted.

I heat up some leftover pasta that Bella put in my fridge, and find myself wondering if Garrett likes to cook. I picture him in my kitchen, shirtless, and I'm surprised by how much I wish my little fantasy could be true.

I don't like to admit it often, but I have been lonely since Bella moved out. In a way we were like a couple—comfortable, set in our ways—and I definitely miss her company. At the same time, I yearn for more. I want a true partner, someone to share every aspect of my life with, including intimacy.

Thinking of Garrett and intimacy is not the brightest idea, and I reach down to adjust myself as I bring my food to the table with a can of beer, smiling at how offended Bella would be by the pairing.

The food is delicious, of course, and I rinse my plate off before putting it in the dishwasher. I don't plan on bringing anyone home with me tonight, but it's always nice to be prepared.

Once my teeth are brushed, I spritz on some cologne and grab my phone to head out the door. I take the elevator down to the lobby where I hail a cab and direct the driver to my favorite club. It's still early, but the crowd looks promising as I make my way inside.

I wave to a few boys I recognize—dodging a few I don't want to know—and slowly make my way to the bar. I want to dance tonight, but the shy, geeky boy inside me needs a little liquid courage first. I scowl at the bartender when he calls me Eddie, but there's no heat behind it. Paul and I have been friends since I moved out here at eighteen. I know he'll watch my back, and he knows I'll tip well. We have a good system.

"Where's your little kitten tonight?" Paul still has a not-so-little crush on Bella, but she's never encouraged him in all the years she's known him. I feel bad for him, but he's a good-looking guy—one I wouldn't turn down if he decided to swing my way—so I know he'll find someone.

"She and Carlisle both worked late, so I didn't want to ask her to come along. I think I'm going to dance and see what kind of luck I can find tonight," I tell him as I throw back the two shots of whiskey he set out for me as usual. That should be enough to get me moving toward the dance floor at least.

"I think you'll find something you like—we've got several new faces here tonight. Make sure you're careful there." And there's his protective older brother side coming out. I don't mind too much; I know he's just looking out for me.

Nodding absently, I slide off my stool and head toward the growing sea of writhing, sweaty bodies. I can practically feel the strain of the day melting off as I begin to lose myself in the throbbing bass. I dance and grind, moving from partner to partner without really seeing them until I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end.

His voice reaches me just before his hands grasp my hips, pulling me back against his firm body. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me, Dr. Masen?" That voice growls low in my ear.

I freeze instantly, sure I must be dreaming. How much did I have to drink? I chance a look down and see those gorgeous fingers that star in my dreams. He grips me tightly, not allowing me to move an inch, and my eyes follow the pointer finger of his left hand as it drifts up enough to tease the skin above my waistband where my shirt has ridden up as I danced.

When his skin touches mine I can't hold back a moan as my eyes roll back in pleasure. "Dr. Masen…" His voice is teasing, sing-song, as he lowers his head to rest his chin on my shoulder. His scent fills my senses and I give in and lean back, willingly surrendering to this impossible fantasy.

"Garrett," I half-whisper, half-moan as presses his cock against my ass, finally joining us from hip to head. My left hand reached up to tangle in his gorgeous brown hair—almost without my permission—while my right hand covers his on my hip. If this is a dream, I am never waking up.

I have no idea how long we move together, lost in our own world while surrounded by a crowd of strangers. He is constantly moving– his right hand has moved under my shirt, tracing my abs in a sensuously teasing manner. His mouth travels freely from ear, down my neck, and back again.

I am floating in a dream state until his strong arms gently turn me. Out of sheer habit I keep my face lowered, focused on the line of buttons in his sleek silver shirt. His cologne is stronger now and I can't stop myself from leaning closer until our chests are touching. He chuckles when I breathe deeply, and I feel my ears heat in response.

Those fingers are under my chin—pressing softly, insistently—and I feel my knees buckle when he murmurs my name. "Edward."

I know what he wants, what he's always wanted, but I'm terrified. If I look at him there's no turning back. I've held myself back but if I give in then everything will change. "Edward, please."

His left arm snakes around my waist, pulling me even closer. I feel my face tilt up without my permission, drawn by the force of his magnetic gaze. I drink in his face, starting with those soft pink lips, up the straight line of his nose to those blue eyes I've been terrified to meet.

"Oh!" My breath leaves me in an instant. He's looking at me so tenderly, so vulnerable in his obvious desire, that I do the only logical thing. I lean up to press my lips to his, effectively sealing my fate.

Eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. But lovely. Oh, so lovely…


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