First Choice | PG13 | Nurse Jackie
Title: First Choice
Prompt: Five times O'Hara replaced Jackie with Zoey
Fandom: O’Hara/Zoey, Nurse Jackie
Requested by: doesnt_go_away
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1343
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: It’s been ages since I’ve written for this fandom, but this has been sitting in my WIP folder for months. I hope I managed to stay in character. Let me know what you think!
-
I.
“Angela, come here.”
The young nurse, whose name was most definitely not Angela, abruptly stopped and walked backwards until she was standing in the doorway of Eleanor O’Hara’s office. “It’s, um, Zoey,” she reminded. At the sight of O’Hara’s smirk she knew she was being teased.
“Darling, which of these shoes looks better with this skirt?” O’Hara asked, rounding her desk to stand before the nurse.
Zoey tried not to gawk. O’Hara was wearing a black skirt with a deep red blouse that draped and clung in all the right places. She looked pretty awesome (and rich) and she stared several seconds too long at her cleavage before looking at her shoes. On her left foot was a red shoe, the same color as the blouse. It had a high stiletto heel and a pointed toe. On her right was a black shoe with a rounded peep toe.
“Um. Well, they’re both great shoes…” Zoey said, stalling as best she could. She was sort of hopeless when it came to this super girly stuff; she was more of a jeans and crocs girl.
“I know that,” O’Hara replied with an exasperated sigh. “Which looks better?”
The doctor stood sideways, allowing Zoey to see each shoe individually. She also turned around completely and Zoey saw that the sole of the right shoe was red. She liked that. She also liked the way both shoes defined the woman’s calves.
“Well?”
Zoey started, not realizing she had been staring at O’Hara’s ass. “Oh. Right. Um…you know, Jackie might be a better person to ask…”
“I’m not asking Jackie, am I?”
Zoey tried not to blush. “I’d have to go with the red ones then.”
O’Hara grinned. “Good choice.” She toed off the black shoe and Zoey tried not to gawk at how careless the doctor was being with something that cost as much as her monthly rent. Her fingers twitched and she resisted the compulsion to pick them up and put them aside.
The doctor smiled and pinched Zoey’s cheek on the way out.
II.
Eleanor didn’t often allow herself to succumb to thoughts of her mother. During each rare occurrence, she became emotional and weepy and preferred to inhale enough nicotine until she’d successfully dried up whatever tears threatened to fall.
She was totally unprepared to see an incoming patient who resembled her mother so much that she actually lost her breath. When the woman was wheeled into the trauma room that Coop was covering, O’Hara shivered as though she’d seen a ghost.
And then it happened: the tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She was out of cigarettes. She needed something-anything-to get her through this moment of weakness.
She bypassed Jackie at the nurse’s station, though she could have easily snagged her for a few moments of friendly distraction. She kept walking until she reached the hallway. Off to the side, Zoey sat alone on a bench, oblivious in her cherry scrubs, lining up gummy bears along her palm. A bemused smile crossed O’Hara’s lips and she took the empty spot beside the nurse, amused by the young woman’s abrupt stammer.
O’Hara simply took a green gummy bear from Zoey’s palm and chewed it carefully, listening to Zoey’s logic behind eating the colors in a specific order, and felt her weary sadness drift away.
III.
O’Hara blinked sleepily at the clock as its harsh red numbers declared that it was three in the morning, wishing that she could fall asleep. Under normal circumstances alcohol made her tired, but given that she mixed her tequila with whatever pill she was given at the club, she was somehow wide awake.
She considered putting on the television and instead reached for her cell phone, scrolling through various contacts. She paused over Jackie’s number, remembering that she had that night’s shift, but continued on until she finally selected Zoey’s number.
O’Hara noted with irritation that it took three rings for Zoey to pick up and mumble a garbled hello.
“Tell me a story,” O’Hara demanded, leaning her head over the edge of the bed. The rush of blood to her face made her dizzy.
“Doctor O-“ A yawn. “How was the club?”
“Dreadful. Tell me a story.”
“Like from my day? Or a fairytale? Or-“
“Make a decision, Angela.”
There was a tired giggle before full-fledged laughter.
“Care to share the joke?”
Zoey continued to chuckle. “I just imagined Jackie dressed up as Maleficent. Horned hat thing and all.”
O’Hara snorted. “Does that make me the dragon?”
“Nah. You’re too much of a princess.”
O’Hara wondered if there was a jibe in Zoey’s assessment but decided to let it go. “My sentiments exactly. And where do you fit into this fairytale?”
“I’m not really heroine material but maybe…I don’t know, maybe I’d be like the trusty sidekick. You know, funny and a little dorky.”
“A little?”
“And I’d-hey!”
O’Hara smiled, feeling her body slowly beginning to unwind. “On with the story, my furry steed.”
IV.
Zoey did a double take when O’Hara summoned her, pausing for ten seconds too long as the gurney was wheeled past her with the doctor in tow. Jackie nudged her hard in the ribs and Zoey squeaked, rushing after them. In three days she’d seen nothing more than influenza and a thrilling case of Chlamydia, but that was it. Now, she was the lead nurse on what appeared to be two stab wounds to the stomach of a woman no older than herself.
Her mind whirred with questions (Why did O’Hara pick her to assist when Jackie was free? Why was this girl stabbed? Why weren’t her hands shaking like they usually did?) that she pushed aside, dutifully following every one of the doctor’s orders. She even surprised them both by taking the initiative to book the OR.
It all happened so quickly that Zoey was nearly breathless when the patient was brought to the operating room. Her heart raced and she thought for a minute or two that it might actually climb out of her throat and run screaming through the ER. She looked around the empty trauma room, at the blood on the floor and the dirtied smock covering her Winnie the Pooh scrubs. She finally had a critical patient and managed to maybe even help save her life. She was given a chance to prove herself and she didn’t screw it up.
Zoey hoped that O’Hara and Jackie would both be proud.
V.
Zoey closed the curtain around the bed of the man who had just fallen into a morphine-induced sleep and nearly jumped to see Dr. O’Hara watching her when she turned around. “Jeez Louise!” She clamped a hand to her rapidly thrumming heart.
O’Hara smiled wryly. “Dinner?”
Zoey’s eyes drifted towards the nurse’s station, where Jackie was reading a chart and chewing on a granola bar. “Um…”
“Yes or no? I’ve only got forty-five minutes.”
“Yes!” Zoey quickly replied, following the doctor’s quick pace. She kept her head down as she passed Jackie, fearing the older nurse’s scalding commentary. When none came, Zoey furrowed her eyebrows.
O’Hara hailed a cab and, as one of the yellow cars slowed to a stop in front of them, she caught Zoey’s confused expression. “What is it?”
“Isn’t, um…why isn’t…” She sighed, tilting her head as she peered directly at the doctor. “Are you fighting with Jackie?”
O’Hara’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Why ever would you ask that?”
“She’s usually your dinner date unless you two are fighting or busy or something…and she’s not busy so I thought…”
“Jackie and I are fine.”
“Okay. Good. It would be bad-“
“Don’t worry about Jackie and I. That’s none of your business.”
Zoey blushed furiously with embarrassment.
“I asked you because I wanted your company. That is your business.” O’Hara told the driver the name of a restaurant a few blocks away. “Focus on that.”
The young nurse’s cheeks flamed hotly. Worrying about Jackie was now the very last thing on her mind.
----
Prompt: Five times O'Hara replaced Jackie with Zoey
Fandom: O’Hara/Zoey, Nurse Jackie
Requested by: doesnt_go_away
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1343
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: It’s been ages since I’ve written for this fandom, but this has been sitting in my WIP folder for months. I hope I managed to stay in character. Let me know what you think!
-
I.
“Angela, come here.”
The young nurse, whose name was most definitely not Angela, abruptly stopped and walked backwards until she was standing in the doorway of Eleanor O’Hara’s office. “It’s, um, Zoey,” she reminded. At the sight of O’Hara’s smirk she knew she was being teased.
“Darling, which of these shoes looks better with this skirt?” O’Hara asked, rounding her desk to stand before the nurse.
Zoey tried not to gawk. O’Hara was wearing a black skirt with a deep red blouse that draped and clung in all the right places. She looked pretty awesome (and rich) and she stared several seconds too long at her cleavage before looking at her shoes. On her left foot was a red shoe, the same color as the blouse. It had a high stiletto heel and a pointed toe. On her right was a black shoe with a rounded peep toe.
“Um. Well, they’re both great shoes…” Zoey said, stalling as best she could. She was sort of hopeless when it came to this super girly stuff; she was more of a jeans and crocs girl.
“I know that,” O’Hara replied with an exasperated sigh. “Which looks better?”
The doctor stood sideways, allowing Zoey to see each shoe individually. She also turned around completely and Zoey saw that the sole of the right shoe was red. She liked that. She also liked the way both shoes defined the woman’s calves.
“Well?”
Zoey started, not realizing she had been staring at O’Hara’s ass. “Oh. Right. Um…you know, Jackie might be a better person to ask…”
“I’m not asking Jackie, am I?”
Zoey tried not to blush. “I’d have to go with the red ones then.”
O’Hara grinned. “Good choice.” She toed off the black shoe and Zoey tried not to gawk at how careless the doctor was being with something that cost as much as her monthly rent. Her fingers twitched and she resisted the compulsion to pick them up and put them aside.
The doctor smiled and pinched Zoey’s cheek on the way out.
II.
Eleanor didn’t often allow herself to succumb to thoughts of her mother. During each rare occurrence, she became emotional and weepy and preferred to inhale enough nicotine until she’d successfully dried up whatever tears threatened to fall.
She was totally unprepared to see an incoming patient who resembled her mother so much that she actually lost her breath. When the woman was wheeled into the trauma room that Coop was covering, O’Hara shivered as though she’d seen a ghost.
And then it happened: the tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. She was out of cigarettes. She needed something-anything-to get her through this moment of weakness.
She bypassed Jackie at the nurse’s station, though she could have easily snagged her for a few moments of friendly distraction. She kept walking until she reached the hallway. Off to the side, Zoey sat alone on a bench, oblivious in her cherry scrubs, lining up gummy bears along her palm. A bemused smile crossed O’Hara’s lips and she took the empty spot beside the nurse, amused by the young woman’s abrupt stammer.
O’Hara simply took a green gummy bear from Zoey’s palm and chewed it carefully, listening to Zoey’s logic behind eating the colors in a specific order, and felt her weary sadness drift away.
III.
O’Hara blinked sleepily at the clock as its harsh red numbers declared that it was three in the morning, wishing that she could fall asleep. Under normal circumstances alcohol made her tired, but given that she mixed her tequila with whatever pill she was given at the club, she was somehow wide awake.
She considered putting on the television and instead reached for her cell phone, scrolling through various contacts. She paused over Jackie’s number, remembering that she had that night’s shift, but continued on until she finally selected Zoey’s number.
O’Hara noted with irritation that it took three rings for Zoey to pick up and mumble a garbled hello.
“Tell me a story,” O’Hara demanded, leaning her head over the edge of the bed. The rush of blood to her face made her dizzy.
“Doctor O-“ A yawn. “How was the club?”
“Dreadful. Tell me a story.”
“Like from my day? Or a fairytale? Or-“
“Make a decision, Angela.”
There was a tired giggle before full-fledged laughter.
“Care to share the joke?”
Zoey continued to chuckle. “I just imagined Jackie dressed up as Maleficent. Horned hat thing and all.”
O’Hara snorted. “Does that make me the dragon?”
“Nah. You’re too much of a princess.”
O’Hara wondered if there was a jibe in Zoey’s assessment but decided to let it go. “My sentiments exactly. And where do you fit into this fairytale?”
“I’m not really heroine material but maybe…I don’t know, maybe I’d be like the trusty sidekick. You know, funny and a little dorky.”
“A little?”
“And I’d-hey!”
O’Hara smiled, feeling her body slowly beginning to unwind. “On with the story, my furry steed.”
IV.
Zoey did a double take when O’Hara summoned her, pausing for ten seconds too long as the gurney was wheeled past her with the doctor in tow. Jackie nudged her hard in the ribs and Zoey squeaked, rushing after them. In three days she’d seen nothing more than influenza and a thrilling case of Chlamydia, but that was it. Now, she was the lead nurse on what appeared to be two stab wounds to the stomach of a woman no older than herself.
Her mind whirred with questions (Why did O’Hara pick her to assist when Jackie was free? Why was this girl stabbed? Why weren’t her hands shaking like they usually did?) that she pushed aside, dutifully following every one of the doctor’s orders. She even surprised them both by taking the initiative to book the OR.
It all happened so quickly that Zoey was nearly breathless when the patient was brought to the operating room. Her heart raced and she thought for a minute or two that it might actually climb out of her throat and run screaming through the ER. She looked around the empty trauma room, at the blood on the floor and the dirtied smock covering her Winnie the Pooh scrubs. She finally had a critical patient and managed to maybe even help save her life. She was given a chance to prove herself and she didn’t screw it up.
Zoey hoped that O’Hara and Jackie would both be proud.
V.
Zoey closed the curtain around the bed of the man who had just fallen into a morphine-induced sleep and nearly jumped to see Dr. O’Hara watching her when she turned around. “Jeez Louise!” She clamped a hand to her rapidly thrumming heart.
O’Hara smiled wryly. “Dinner?”
Zoey’s eyes drifted towards the nurse’s station, where Jackie was reading a chart and chewing on a granola bar. “Um…”
“Yes or no? I’ve only got forty-five minutes.”
“Yes!” Zoey quickly replied, following the doctor’s quick pace. She kept her head down as she passed Jackie, fearing the older nurse’s scalding commentary. When none came, Zoey furrowed her eyebrows.
O’Hara hailed a cab and, as one of the yellow cars slowed to a stop in front of them, she caught Zoey’s confused expression. “What is it?”
“Isn’t, um…why isn’t…” She sighed, tilting her head as she peered directly at the doctor. “Are you fighting with Jackie?”
O’Hara’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Why ever would you ask that?”
“She’s usually your dinner date unless you two are fighting or busy or something…and she’s not busy so I thought…”
“Jackie and I are fine.”
“Okay. Good. It would be bad-“
“Don’t worry about Jackie and I. That’s none of your business.”
Zoey blushed furiously with embarrassment.
“I asked you because I wanted your company. That is your business.” O’Hara told the driver the name of a restaurant a few blocks away. “Focus on that.”
The young nurse’s cheeks flamed hotly. Worrying about Jackie was now the very last thing on her mind.
----