Makin' Me Love You by rivieraviews
Title from Maroon 5's One More Night. Also here on AO3: /works/1116734! Enjoy :)
She didn't fall in love with him all at once – it came to her slowly. She started smiling every time he made a joke, and her belly did the craziest gymnastics moves every time he touched her, and all the while she was with Matthew, she waited for Jackson to put his hand down, say, "no." Take her back.
The wedding is probably a cry for help, or something. She doesn't want to marry Matthew, she isn't ready to marry Jackson, she just knows that this it. She gets this, or she goes home, and watches Dirty Dancing alone, in her empty apartment, for the rest of her life. She gets this, or she gets to cry over her medical degree every day and regret it, because what she thought was going to be enough isn't enough anymore.
She knows she's going to make it, she's going to get through this. And she'll be back for her shift next week, and she's going to be okay. But other days, she wonders if she really will get through this, because it's really fucking hard to pretend you love a guy you don't really love and to pretend you don't love a guy you really do love.
One day, maybe three days before the wedding, a guy comes running through the ER doors, sneakers squeaking, slipping on his own blood, with a broken nose and blood dripping down his shirt. He's only sixteen, maybe seventeen, young enough to complain when April tells him she's going to have to call his parents. He cries when Jackson attempts tries to reset his nose, and when they ask him how to he broke it, he just says, "for a girl." It comes out a little muffled, a little nasally, so she could've heard wrong, but there's a goofy smile somewhere so she probably heard right. It makes her feel lighthearted, because this kid's nose is probably going to be crooked for the rest of his life, and he's still smiling, and the girl isn't even with him.
The day after that, a little girl's nail falls off (or gets pulled off, she doesn't really remember) and of course, she has to get the nurse to page Plastics, because that's how it goes, that's routine, and then they do page Plastics, and Jackson walks into the Trauma Center like he owns the place (which – okay. He kind of does). It's stupid that he's even here, they don't even need him here, like, April's no plastic surgeon, but she prides herself on her sutures. And he's just – man, he's just – he's there, and he's doing that dumb flexy-muscle thing, and that dumb side-smirk thing, and man.
She doesn't want to think about their first night together (she really doesn't) because she's standing in the Trauma Center, where it smells like antiseptic and blood and their secret is still theirs. She doesn't want to think about their first night together because she can remember it so clearly, she could relive it if she wanted to. She could relive their first time, their second, their third, fifth, ninth, eleventh time if she wanted to. And man, she wants to. She wants to feel his weight on top on hers, his sweat under her nails when she grabs his sides, when he mumbles, "fuck," against her neck, and then, after, when he smiles shyly at her, a little brash, a little unsure, eyes bright and beautiful and wide like she's always known them to be.
She's standing in the Trauma Center, blushing, wondering when someone's going to ask her if she's okay, because she's as purple as a beetroot, trying desperately not to pull Jackson into the closest closed space, because, God, she wants him.
And then, suddenly, it's the day of the wedding, and she doesn't know what she's going to do because her sisters are here, and her father is here, and her mother is here, and Jackson, Jackson is here in his stupid blue tie, holding hands with a girl who isn't her, and it's so stupid that she's even jealous, because she's thirty-one, she's getting married, and everyone is here. She can't quit on them.
So she walks down the aisle, after two of her bridesmaids (who aren't her sisters), with her father, and she smiles, because this time she's going to do it right. She's going to have a ring, and then she's going to get married. She's going to make Jesus proud this time.
Now she's standing next to Matthew, and the priest is saying things – love and religion, and she's got a headache, she's confused, and then the priest's stopped talking, and everyone has turned around to look at something, and she turns around too, and Jackson is standing up, twiddling his thumbs, making jerky movements, and his eyes can't focus on one thing, and she can feel her breath hitch but then – then, he sits down.
She doesn't feel disappointed, exactly, just surprised. This isn't the kind of thing that happens to April. Sure, she's daydreamed about it, in high school, then maybe in university for a while – med-school sweetheart Duckie has an overnight transformation and turns into pageant queen Swan, and then everyone falls in love with her. But they were just dreams, everyone has dreams, they're just dreams. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?
"I love you. I always have. I love everything about you – even the things I don't like, I love. And I want you with me. I love you and I think that you love me, too." He almost stutters, almost. But of course he doesn't, he's an Avery.
She doesn't want to turn around again, she's afraid he'll sit down, and then she'll be left with her sisters, and their naivety (the kind that comes with living in a small town for your whole life, the kind that comes with marrying your high school boyfriend).
But then he says, "do you?" and this time he stutters, and it's the guy leaning on his elbow, in her bed at that hotel the night before the boards, leaning towards her, asking her if she wants him to leave, stuttering.
She has to turn around, it's just a reflex. She hears his voice, she leans towards it. She sees his face, his shaking hands, his wide, wide eyes. He's frightened of her answer, and she wants to say, "I do." But she can't get the words out.
Instead, she gasps.