"Baby, you are the finest paramedic working at Mercy Heights," Nurse Hammer effused as Peter filled out his run sheets. It had been a busy shift, so busy in fact that he hadn't been able to fill the paperwork out in the detail they needed while he was still on call. Now, at the end, he was staying late to get all the information down before a night of restless sleep erased the memory.
He chuckled, warming and blushing at her compliment. "Just doing my job, ma'am."
"Oh, don't you 'ma'am' me, honey. You've got it going on!" She grinned at him and Peter ducked his head, coloring even more. "And what are you doing still working? You've been off shift for a quarter hour now! You need to go home, have you some nice shut-eye."
Peter looked up at her then, making a brief grimace. "I wish," he grumbled.
She moved closer to lean against the counter right at his elbow. "You got someone at home giving you trouble? I could take care of them for you. I make house calls, you know."
She did, he knew, donating her time to a variety of charitable services when she was off-duty. He thought a lot of her. In answer, Peter shook his head slowly, sadly. "No, it's not that. I'm not seeing anyone. I just ... haven't been sleeping well."
Nurse Hammer regarded him quietly for a long moment. "Peter?" she said, her voice soft enough that his head jerked up at the difference. Her smile was the most beguiling thing he'd ever seen as she purred, "Come home with me. After I'm done with you, I promise you'll sleep like a baby."
"You're- you're," he stammered, "I thought you were working?"
She glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. "My shift ended twenty-two minutes ago. You're not the only one who stays until the job's done." She looked him over, hungry for him and very certain of what she wanted. Her tone made her simple statement into a lewd promise.
He looked at the clock as well, then down at the run sheet. He'd just finished the last one. Why the hell not? he asked himself, pulling the papers together and stuffing them into the basket for the morning clerk to process. Abigail Hammer was older, short, black, dumpy, and a delightful person he loved to be around, despite and perhaps because of her perpetual, teasing grumpy act. She might be grateful for his attention; he could be a hero. He turned to her, smiling, and gallantly offered her his arm. "Your place or mine?"