The doorbell rang through Shepard’s apartment. He lived in a newly constructed building on the top floor, with some really nice views of the Hollywood Hills that surrounded him. It wasn’t big in space, but it was definitely big in character. He had a little bit of an eclectic taste when it came to furnishings, using old but well-kept hand-me-downs alongside brand new and much more modern pieces. Like the classic leather couch his parents had given him next to a Ferrari red side table that was held up by a small white marble column. The photos he had hung were all taken by himself, and may not have exactly been National Geographic cover worthy, but definitely went with the flow of the apartment. He had a huge black and white shot of the canals in Venice Beach hanging above the couch, adding some depth to the living room without using the typical Ikea-bought cityscape shots. He always thought that if medical school hadn’t worked out, he would have really enjoyed life as a photographer. He liked learning about cameras and different photographic techniques in his spare time, and he always loved a good golden hour; when the light was perfect and the photos were guaranteed to come out as showstoppers.

Shepard walked toward the door, pushing his sneakers to the side. Another knock. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” He unlocked the door and opened, revealing a smiling Betty holding two pints of ice cream and a bottle of wine.

“Hurry, I think the goods are melting.”

“Come on in,” Shepard said, grabbing the bottle of wine so that Betty could free up a hand. She kicked off her sandals and hurried to the kitchen, where she popped the pints into the refrigerator. She turned around, smiling, still wearing her scrubs, her curly hair drawn up into a ponytail. “Tell me everything.”

Shepard laughed, not even sure where to start the story.

* * *

“I can’t believe you were locked inside of an elevator,” Betty said, digging her spoon into the confetti-covered ice cream. They had decided to crack them open while the ice cream was still soft, moving to the living room where they sat on the couch. “With the doctor of your dreams,” Betty continued, a smirk playing on her face, “Did he ask you to bend over and cough?”

“Yes,” Shepard deadpanned. “I had him perform an entire physical in there, actually.”

“Well,” Betty said, waving her spoon in the air, “at least no one can ever accuse you two of being inefficient. Might as well get checked while you’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Priorities.”

“Exactly.”

Shepard laughed before digging into his own pint of ice cream. Instead of birthday cake, he went for the mint pistachio flavor. He loved how it tasted like those little chocolates hotels sometimes leave on the pillow. The ones in the green wrappers that were way more addicting than they had any right to be.

“You know I found his Instagram account, right?” Betty was waving her phone in the air, biting her lip mischievously.

“You did? How?”

“I’ve got my ways.” Betty shrugged. “I know how to hack into the mainframe and pull up the entire NSA directory.”

“Yeah, ok, and I know how to conjure up a patronus.”

Betty laughed at that. “He showed up on my ‘recommended friends’ list or whatever the hell they call that. We probably have a few mutual friends, I’m sure the nurses all follow him. His page is the definition of a thirst trap.”

“What’s on it?” Shepard quickly put his hands up. “Not that I’m all that interested in it.”

“Mhmm,” Betty said, smiling as she tossed her phone across the couch, Shepard catching it midair. Nick’s page was already open, and wow, was Betty right. Nick wasn’t only good at saving lives. The man was great at taking photos. They were all effortlessly sexy, too. Like the one of him and his daughter, playing together on the floor, his face wearing a huge smile, his butt looking very nice with him laying on the floor the way he was. And then another photo of him coming out of a pool, dripping wet and smirking like he was told he was auditioning for a Bond movie.

“Don’t get any drool on my phone. I know it’s waterproof now, but still, that’s gross.”

Shepard stuck his tongue out and motioned that he was going to lick the screen. Betty snatched her phone back, smiling as she closed Nick’s page. Shepard had memorized the username for… well, for research purposes obviously.

“Seriously, though,” Betty said. “What happened in the elevator?”

Shepard already felt himself going pink in the cheeks. Betty wasn’t one to let the details slip her by. Her eyebrows shot up, her quick mind already putting two and two together. “You hooked up with him.” She said it like she had uncovered the answer to one of those popular true crime documentaries.

Shepard couldn’t deny it. Physically, he just couldn’t do anything about it. He was a terrible liar. Even if he wanted to hide it, he would have given it away through one of his many tells, all of which Betty already knew by heart. So, he just spilled it: “Yeah, things got hot in there.”

“Get it!” Betty almost dropped her pint of ice cream. “Oh, shoot,” she said, managing to catch it before it landed on her lap. They were sitting in Shepard’s living room, on his parents’ old leather couch. Even if it had fallen, leather and hardwood floors would have made cleaning up ice cream a breeze.

“I didn’t announce a pregnancy, calm down.”

Betty cracked up at that. “I feel like you just did, though. I’ve been waiting on the edge of my seat for weeks now, wanting this to happen. It’s like you just walked out of the bathroom with a smiley face on your pee-stick!”

“Pee-stick, huh? Is that the terminology you use with patients?”

“Obviously,” Betty said, digging her spoon into the ice cream. “I say, ‘mam, can you please go to the wee-wee room and do number one on this pee-pee stick, pweaty pwease?’”

Now it was Shepard’s turn to crack up. He was glad Betty had come over because if she hadn’t, he knew he would have stayed up all night obsessing over what had happened in the elevator and what it meant. They still hadn’t talked about anything serious, but Shepard wasn’t going to deny that what happened in the elevator wasn’t just a random hookup. It felt like more than that. Something that definitely needed to be continued, but also something that was cementing them together. The way Nick looked into his eyes, there was something there. Something powerful. It felt meant to be. Shepard wasn’t exactly the type to believe in “meant to be”, but he just couldn’t deny it. He had never felt it, either. Not with Rick, not with the few random hookups he’d had, not with anyone.

“Ok, so back to your elevator rendezvous. Did you guy’s touch pee-pees?” Betty could barely keep a straight face by the time she finished her question.

“Please stop,” Shepard said, practically choking on a laugh. “No. Dicks did not touch.”

“Whoa, that word sounds so aggressive now.”

“Ok, fine. No ‘cocks’ touched. Better?” Shepard was smiling as he took another bite of his mint pistachio ice cream.

“Yes, much,” Betty said, smiling, sarcasm coloring her tone. “So no cocks touched, then. What did you do in there? Play Monopoly?”

Shepard laughed, dropping his head as he felt a blush coming on. “Let’s just say Nick would definitely pass an oral exam.”

Betty nodded her head, eyebrow arched. “You dirty, dirty dog.” She playfully punched Shepard’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. Did he bring up that time you called him ‘really hot’ in the hospital halls?”

Shepard snorted at that. “No. What a mess. Of course I’d say it right as he’s walking out of the break room.”

“I may or may not have heard him coming from behind the door.”

“So you knew he was about to walk out?”

“It was either him or Ralph from Radiology, and I was really hoping it wasn’t Ralph.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Shepard said, laughing along with his friend. He was once again glad he had her around to distract him from replaying his elevator rendezvous over and over again. He would have spent the night playing with his dick, and with the way Nick had him, he was a little scared he’d get one of those “it’s been four hours you should probably see someone about this” kind of boner. “I’m glad it wasn’t Radiology Ralph either.” Shepard shook his shoulders. “He always does that weird breathing thing whenever he’s talking to me. Like he’s trying really hard to smell me without being obvious about it. Except… it’s definitely obvious.”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t do that with me, so it’s clearly not an obstructed airway issue.”

Shepard chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “I can’t believe how crazy this has all been. And I haven’t even told you the best part yet.”

“You mean there’s something better than getting oral from the man of your dreams?!” Betty sounded genuinely shocked.

“Yes. The possibility of it happening again.”

“You’re seeing him again?” Betty’s eyes were wide. “Please tell me you’re both taking the stairs wherever you go.”

“Yeah, we have a date. He asked me right when we got out of the elevator.”

“Holy shit, way to bury the lead!” Betty was all smiles. She knew how badly Shepard wanted to connect with someone. A blow job was all well and good, but now there was the potential for so much more.

The doorbell rang just then. Shepard lived in a one-bedroom apartment and wasn’t really used to random visitors, especially not at eight-thirty at night. Maybe if he had roommates, he would have figured it was for one of them, but the doorbell ringing that late at his place felt weird. He looked at Betty, who didn’t seem to be as jumpy. “Expecting anyone?” she asked, not looking away from the television.

“Nope,” Shepard said, playing it cool. He didn’t want to freak Betty out for no reason. Maybe it was just one of his neighbors. He lived next to a friendly gay couple that always liked to point out how “they didn’t own their husky, their husky owned them”. On his other side was another couple who looked like they were fresh out of college and were always reminded the husky owners that they were allergic to all animals.

More knocks. Harder now. Shepard stepped to the door, holding his phone in his hand, ready to call the cops. A face peered back at him through the peephole. One he instantly recognized.

Oh, shit.

“It’s Rick,” he said in a hushed voice. Betty immediately sat up on the couch, setting aside her ice cream on the coffee table.

“Now? Here? What does he want?”

“I don’t know,” Shepard said, shaking his head. “Do I open?”

Sharp knocks punctuated his question.

“Uhmm,” Betty was scratching her head. Neither of them knew what to do and Rick was only knocking harder and harder.

Shit.