JACKSON

I love waking up next to my wife.

I think that, along with being married, comes the obvious devotion and care for your spouse. But with me and April, it's more than that. I'm obsessed with her. Not in a gross, unhealthy way, but I think about her all the time. When we both have busy days at work and I don't see her, I wonder what she's thinking about.

When we were first married, I used to leave little notes in her lab coat pockets just to let her know she was on my mind. I keep reminding myself to start that up again, but after the baby was born my memory went to shit.

I like having April near me. I like waking up when she's already awake, which is always the case, and seeing her eyes on me. Usually they're bright and wakeful, but my guilty pleasure is seeing them tired and cloudy with sleep. That's when she's the most cuddly - when she hasn't quite risen to the surface yet. She'll bury her face in my chest and wrap that little body around me - that's when everything falls into place.

When I drift into consciousness, I skim the sheet next to me and feel for her without opening my eyes. When I don't feel a small, warm body next to mine, though, I open them and see her standing in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of our bedroom.

She's turned to the side, examining. She's wearing a pair of low-rise black underwear and a fitted camisole, light blue in color. Her cute little ass is peeking out from the bottom of her panties, which makes me smile first thing in the morning.

"What're you doing?" I ask, still groggy as I turn on my side to see her better.

She pulls the hem of the camisole up to expose her stomach that's moving in and out slightly as she breathes. She sucks it in, holds it, then lets it all out. She turns and cups her boobs, lifting them a little higher, then tips her head to the side as she studies her reflection.

"Am I still hot?" she asks, spinning around to look at her ass over her shoulder. She skims a hand over it and I wish it were my touch instead.

She takes her eyes off the glass and directs them towards me. I don't have an answer ready, because she already knows what I'll say. All I can do is lay there and chuckle.

"What?" she says. "Jackson, come on. Am I a hot wife? Or am I some dowdy mother now that we had a baby?"

I flop onto my back with a loud sigh. "Itty-bitty, come on," I say, rubbing my eyes. "You still got it. We all know that."

"Who's 'we?'" she asks, pushing the topic playfully as she comes nearer.

"Me, the whole neighborhood, the hospital," I say. "Pretty much everyone in their right mind wants to bone you."

"Now you're just buttering me up," she says, leaning forward with her hands on the mattress beside me. I flip over to face her, the covers wrapped around my waist to leave my chest bare. She flattens one palm in the middle of my pecs and bends to give me a quick kiss on the mouth.

"Yeah, maybe," I say, then snag the waistband of her underwear with my pointer finger as she turns to leave. "Hey, where're you going? Let's have a quickie."

"Your sucking-up didn't work that well," she says, unlatching my finger. "I'm getting in the shower. Listen for the baby."

Peyton sleeps longer today, allowing both April and I to shower before she demands attention. Wrapped in a towel, April crosses the hall to our baby's room and comes back with Peyton's head resting on her shoulder, pacifier moving in her mouth.

"Good morning, beautiful," I say, my own towel wrapped around my waist. "You slept in today."

"I guess we could've had a quickie," April says, craning her neck as she passes by.

"Don't rub it in," I say, laughing as I put toothpaste on my toothbrush.

"Ooh…" she sings playfully, bouncing our still-sleepy baby. "Hey, boo. You like what you see?"

I glance over at her with my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth and she flashes me quickly, pulling her towel down to expose her chest. Her smile is wide and mischievous as I come closer, and she spins out of my grip as I try to hold her waist.

"Tease," I say, smacking her ass as she scampers away.

As I trim the edges of my beard, April chooses an outfit while holding Peyton in the closet. I hear her talking in high-pitched, lilting tones, and I can't help but smile to myself. Mornings with them are the best.

She comes out, hair air-dried curly, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Casual, since we'll change into scrubs once we get to the hospital anyway.

"I'm gonna straighten my hair," she says, outstretching her arms that still hold the baby. "Will you take her?"

"Sure," I say, and the baby's warm weight is transferred over. "Hi, Peanut."

April smiles at the both of us, and I quickly put on a shirt and jeans and head out of the bedroom towards the kitchen to make breakfast. On the way there, though, distracted by the toothy grin on my baby's face, I trip over the dog and practically get a faceful of the tiled kitchen floor.

Corky yelps and skitters away, and I have to hold tight to Peyton to keep her from being jostled all that much. I do a few stutter-steps to regain my footing, then brace one hand on the kitchen counter to steady myself.

"God damn it!" I curse, still coming down from the rush of adrenaline. "Sorry, baby. You're okay. We're okay."

But she isn't soothed by my words. Instead, she starts to cry - looking just like April as she does, her eyes pinched shut tight and mouth turned in a dramatic frown.

"What's going on out there?" April calls from the bathroom.

"We're good!" I shout back, rubbing Peyton's back.

She's still whimpering as I turn on the stove, so I keep her in my arms instead of putting her in the high chair. She sucks hard on the pacifier with glassy eyes, warily looking around while keeping one flat hand on my chest.

April comes out when I've made enough scrambled eggs, toast, and cut up strawberries for all of us. Her hair is shiny and straight in a way she almost never wears it, and I can't help but wonder what the reason is today.

"New hair," I say, adjusting the baby as I set the plates on the breakfast counter.

"Why was she crying?" April asks, then takes the baby's hand to kiss it. "What happened, baby boo?"

"I tripped over the damn dog and almost ate shit on the floor," I say. "Seriously. You'd think if he saw a pair of big-ass feet coming, he might wanna move."

"He's old," she says. "He sleeps hard."

"You're defending the dog when he almost made me chuck our kid across the room," I say, slipping Peyton into the high chair.

"I'm not defending the dog, Jackson. It was a comment," she says, rolling her eyes lightly. "I'm sorry you tripped. Corky's sorry, too."

"Dorky isn't sorry for shit," I say, chuckling once so my shoulders bounce.

"If you're not careful, her first real word is gonna be 'shit,'" April says, taking a sip of her black coffee. I don't know how she drinks it like that.

"Hey, you're not off the hook there, either," I say.

She raises her palms in mock-surrender. "Never said I was," she says.

I laugh a little bit and put some of my eggs on toast, then take a big bite. As I chew, I notice April isn't eating much - just picking at things while drinking her coffee.

"You better eat, babe," I say. "It's getting cold."

"I'm not gonna have much," she says, then pats her stomach. "I gotta look nice in that dress for the party tonight."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Party?"

"Jackson, seriously," she says, shaking her head. "Jo and Alex's engagement and housewarming party is tonight at their new place in Bucktown. The walkup? That Jo's been talking about forever? They finally got settled. I told you about this last week."

She probably did, but there's a good chance I wasn't listening. "Sounds fun," I say. "What dress?"

"What dress!" she exclaims, but with a smile on her face. "You're lucky you're so handsome. I got it at Nordstrom a couple weekends ago. I went shopping with your beloved Izzie, remember?"

Admittedly, Izzie is not my favorite friends of hers. She and April get along great, they're thick as thieves, but she grates on me after too long. She's so bright and sunny; almost to a fault. People say that April is, too, and that's not necessarily wrong - but she has many more layers than that. She assures me that Izzie does, too, I just don't know her well enough to see them. I take her word for it.

"Is it pink?" I ask.

"Pink," she says. "Jackson, no. It's black. It has the high neckline, no sleeves?"

"I'm liking the no sleeves part," I say, and she swats me which makes Peyton laugh.

"I have a surgery today that goes right through lunch," she says, getting up after leaving her plate nearly full. I reach across and stab some eggs with my fork, taking them for myself while depositing the strawberries onto Peyton's tray. She slams an open palm down on them instantly and shoves them into her mouth - one of the only fruits we can get her to eat so far. "So, I'll miss you."

"Damn," I say, and she walks around the side of the table to wrap her arms around my neck. She bends at the waist, turns her head, and kisses my cheek over and over again until I turn and give her my lips. Then, she smiles and holds the sides of my face to kiss me softly, eyes closed as we linger near each other.

"I'm trying to make up for it," she says, trailing a finger through my beard. "Is it working?"

"A little," I say. "I need more."

She giggles and holds tighter around my neck, smiling against my mouth as she kisses me again. She tugs on my hair a little bit and I grab her waist, yanking her closer just where I like her, then slap her ass lightly.

"Hey," she whispers, one hand flat on the side of my face.

"Hay's for horses, grass is much cheaper," I say, which makes her pull away and roll her eyes hard. She hates my dad jokes. "Not even gonna acknowledge it?" I call as she takes her plate to the sink. "No? Nothin'?"

"Nothing," she says, fighting a smirk. "Come on. Get your stuff, or we're gonna be late."

We drop Peyton off at daycare, but not without a fight. And just my luck, on the way to the attendings' lounge, we run right into my best friend in the world, Izzie Stevens.

"April!" she calls, acknowledging my wife only, as if I'm not even there. Then, realizing it, she throws me in as an afterthought. "Jackson. Hey."

"Hey, Iz!" April says, very excited. They give each other a quick hug and there's a moment where Izzie silently wonders if she should extend the same congeniality to me. Luckily, she doesn't. I'm not a hugger. I just happen to be married to one, so people tend to assume.

"Where's my little Peanut?" Izzie asks, looking around as if we might be hiding her. "I haven't seen that face in so long."

"We just dropped her off at daycare," April says. "She barely even cried today. I almost missed it. I feel like she's not even gonna care when we drop her with the sitter tonight for the party."

"Oh, don't even," Izzie says.

"What, don't even?" April asks.

"The party," she says, waving a hand. "I'm stressed about it already."

"What's to be stressed about?" I ask, trying to insert myself.

Izzie gives me a look, and April does too. The looks are vastly different, though. Izzie wants me to fuck off, and April is actually considering my question.

"Alex is my ex?" she says. "You know that."

"But you're with O'Malley now, anyway," I say, confused. "Why's it matter?"

"Why's it matter," Izzie mumbles in response. "It's awkward. I don't know if I even wanna go."

"What?" April says. "No. Come on. You got that striped dress. It looks awesome on you!"

"I can just return it…" Izzie says, shaking her head. "I kept the tags on. I don't know… how weird is it to be at your ex's engagement party?"

"Not weird at all, I assure you," April says. "You guys are friends."

Izzie makes a disgruntled sound.

"Friendly, at least," April says. "Please come? I'll be there. Jackson will be there."

Izzie looks at me. I look back and know that we're thinking the same thing. We couldn't give a shit if the other's there, but we're both glad for April's presence.

"Will George come with you?" April asks.

"Yeah," Izzie says. "He planned on it."

"See, then it'll be fine. Right, babe?" April looks at me. "It'll be fine."

"Should be all good," I say, shrugging. "If you feel weird, I don't know. Just leave, then."

"Jackson," April says, narrowing her eyes.

"What?" I say.

"He's right," Izzie says. "I'm gonna avoid Jo and Alex like the plague, drop off the gift, and go."

"It might not even be bad," April says. "Don't plan a getaway yet. Just come and see. We'll make up an excuse for you if you need us to."

Izzie smiles, relieved. "Okay," she says. "I do look bangin' in that dress." She laughs, then glances at the surgical board. "I gotta go. I have to meet Teddy for a double bypass."

We wave her goodbye then continue down the hallway, and April links her arm through mine. "Thank you," she says sweetly, looking up with a soft smile on her lips.

I tuck a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear. "What for?" I ask.

"For being nice," she says. "I know she's not your favorite person, but it means a lot that you try with her."

"Well, yeah," I say, slinging an arm around her shoulder and jostling her a bit. "Sometimes I can refrain from being a total ass."

"I like you when you do that," she says, bumping me with her side.

"How about when I don't?"

She pretends to zip her lips, then giggles. As she does, I let my hand slip lower and tap her on the ass, which I earn an elbow in the ribs for. I'm just about to start tickling her and probably get scolded when someone calls April's name.

"April!"

She and I both turn around at the same time and catch sight of the source. My skin instantly bristles when I see Vince Michaels approaching with a clipboard in hand, looking sickeningly eager.

"Hey!"

"Seriously…" I grumble, and don't do anything to remove my arm from my wife's shoulders. She doesn't wriggle away, either, and I'm glad. When Vince gets close enough, he doesn't even bother to look at me. All he sees is her.

"April, hey," he says.

I clear my throat. "That's Dr. Kepner to you," I say, voice firm and low. If I'm not mistaken, she inches a bit closer to me. I live for it, in a totally non-alpha male, non-chauvinistic way.

"Dr. Kepner," he corrects, and I feel some sort of satisfaction. Not much, because his eyes are still on her, but a little. Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm being a possessive prick, I don't know. "You straightened your hair today. It looks nice."

April half-smiles. It looks genuine, but I know it's not. Because I know her backwards and forwards. She touches her hair and looks at it herself, as if she's noticing for the first time.

"Thanks, Vince," she says. "I did straighten it today."

He stares for a beat longer, eyes shining. I want to kick him in the balls repeatedly.

"I like it," he says.

She grins curtly again and says, "Thank you."

"Have a nice day," I grunt, and his eyes flit to me for a split second before he directs them at the floor. He doesn't offer any form of goodbye before walking away with his head ducked low and clipboard pulled to his chest, footsteps short and calculated. "Fuckin' stalker," I mutter.

"Jackson," April scolds, forehead creased.

"Please don't 'Jackson' me," I say. "It's no wonder he's obsessed with you."

"What are you talking about?" she says, looking up at me with narrowed eyes. My arm is still around her shoulders. I might be pissed, but I'm not an asshole.

"You're too nice to that fucker," I say. "He's slimy. He wants you, it's so fucking obvious. And you're over here leading him on, letting him talk about your hair at work."

"Honestly!" she says, pitch of her voice rising. "You have no faith in me. He's harmless, Jackson. I'm being nice because that's who I am. I'm sorry if you don't understand, but you can't pee on my leg every time he comes around. I thought you were past this."

"I'd be past it if it were over," I say. "You're my wife. What am I supposed to do, stand here and let him flirt with you?"

"It's not about you 'letting' anything," she says. "Come on, Jackson. Put it away. Everyone knows it's big."

If we weren't arguing, I'd turn that into a joke and go further with it. But instead, all I do is frown and shake my head. "Whatever," I say.

"Be pissed all you want," she says. "It doesn't mean anything. He's a damn intern, Jackson. Not Brad Pitt."

"Not sure he's aware of that."

"Oh, enough," she says, then rolls her eyes. "I have patients, alright? I have to get changed. You go do whatever you do. I plan on actually getting some work done today."

And, with that, she unwinds herself from me and storms into the lounge to change. I'm pissed, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't watch her ass as she stalked off.

When April meets me at the door at the end of the day, she has the diaper bag slung over one shoulder with Peyton asleep in her arms. She's bouncing the baby slightly, patting her back with her lips pressed against Peyton's spiral curls.

"Hey," she says, eyes on me, lips moving against the baby's head.

"Hi," I respond. "Ready to go?"

She nods, and we walk through the parking lot together. Without speaking, I take the heavy diaper bag and hold it myself, and she doesn't put up a fight. And even though we're technically still in a disagreement from earlier, our hands find each other instinctively so we can entwine our fingers together on the way to the car.

After April buckles Peyton into the car seat, the baby's head stays lolled to one side as she's fast asleep.

"Got her?" I ask, peeking at the both of them as April gets her settled.

"Yeah, she's good," she mutters, then comes around to sit in the passenger's seat.

When we get home, we grab the same things - I take the bag, she takes the baby. It's what we always do. I unlock the front door and April heads down the hall without taking her shoes off, presumably to lay the baby down. It's a bit later than usual, she might as well. It'll make it easier for us to leave when the babysitter gets here.

When April comes into our bedroom, I'm in the midst of changing for the party. I feel the tension drifting through the room, stemming from her, and I can only assume I'm putting off the same energy. But I know I have to go first.

"I don't wanna fight," I say, shrugging into my shirt and starting from the bottom to button it up. "I was an ass earlier. I'm sorry."

She pouts out her lower lip, and her expression shows in her eyebrows. "You were," she says. "But I'm sorry, too."

"What're you sorry for?" I ask, smiling, still buttoning.

"I don't know," she says, shaking her head. "Being too nice, like you said." She glances at my hands and gives me a quick smile. "Here, honey. You're lopsided."

She replaces my fingers with hers and unbuttons the shirt to start again. When her cool touch reaches my neck, she drags the pads of her fingers across my throat and leans forward to kiss me softly.

"I love you," she says. "Even when you're an ass."

"Especially then," I murmur, chuckling.

"Yeah, sure," she says, and shoves my chest lightly. "Okay. I gotta get ready."

I leave the closet and tuck in my shirt in front of the mirror, brushing my teeth before going to check on the baby briefly.

"Boo," April calls from our room. "Didn't you want me to look at your eyebrows?

I smirk to myself and go back to the bathroom where she's standing with tweezers. I'm not necessarily a vain man, but I take pride in my appearance and she knows this. So, with her help, I never let my eyebrows get too heinous. I don't wax or shape them, but when they get a little unruly, April will do some tweezing work.

"You look amazing," I say, eyes drifting up and down her body. The dress has a high neckline and isn't skin-tight, but it flows down her form perfectly and lands at mid-thigh. "Damn."

"Thanks," she says, and does a twirl so the skirt billows just slightly. "I thought you'd like it."

"I do," I say. "Very much."

I sit on the counter between our sinks and she stands between my knees. I close my eyes and try not to flinch as she plucks the tiny hairs, clicking the tweezers between rounds. When she's finished, she gives me a quick peck on the forehead and I open my eyes with my hands on her waist.

"Much better," she says. "No unibrow."

"Let's take a look at yours, cro-magnon," I say, and yank her closer by the hips.

"Shut up," she says, and spins out of my grip. "I did mine earlier this week."

As if on cue, the doorbell rings with the arrival of the babysitter, Vivian. April goes to answer the door while I put my shoes on, and I throw Vivian a wave once she comes inside.

"She's already down," April says, referencing Peyton. "But I doubt she'll sleep through the night. When she wakes up, just go ahead and change her into PJs. I didn't do it earlier because I didn't want to wake her up. She might be fussy, her routine's a little off, but…" She laughs cordially. "You know her. There's breastmilk in the fridge if it comes to that, but we're trying to get her on regular milk now, so try that first."

She rambles on and on over things she's told Vivian a thousand times, and I can't help but smile as I listen to the rise and fall of her voice. The babysitter lets her talk, nodding intermittently, until I come over and skim a hand across April's lower back.

"She's got it, babe," I say. "Shoes. We're gonna be late."

"Right," she says, then looks to Vivian. "Sorry."

We get to the house with the bottle of wine we picked last week, an expensive one at that. April holds it while I knock on the door, and Jo answers looking breathless and happy.

"Guys!" she says. "Come in. You're just in time. Everyone just started getting here."

"Great," April says. "This is for you, by the way."

"Ooh, red," Jo says. "I love red. Thank you."

April insisted we probably didn't need to pay upwards of $150 on wine for Jo and Alex because they aren't those kinds of people, but I argued that we did. Even if they don't appreciate the brand or the reputation, they'll appreciate the way it tastes. Everyone deserves nice things, whether they appreciate them deeply or not.

"Go on in, make yourself comfortable! Do you want a tour? I can give you a tour. Just let me find a place to put this down. Oh, hi, Stephanie!"

"Jo, it's fine," April says. "We can poke around on our own. You worry about the party. Don't even think about us."

She shoots my wife an appreciative smile. "Thanks," she says. "Have fun. There's food and drinks in the kitchen, and mostly everyone's gathered in the living room."

We nod, and I take April's waist as we walk through the house and check it out. "It's a nice place," she says, returning the favor and resting her arm on the small of my back.

"It's cozy," I say. "Homey."

"I can totally see them with a family here."

"Don't say that around Stevens."

April snorts. "Yeah, no. I won't."

We stop in the kitchen before going into the living room with a beer for me and a generous glass of white wine for April. She doesn't drink much anymore after Peyton, though, so she's become a bit of a lightweight.

"To not nursing tonight," she says, and clinks her goblet against the lip of my beer bottle.

"Cheers," I say, then take a sip. As I'm swallowing, I meet Mark Sloan's eyes across the room and he comes over with a big smile on his face.

"Avery," he says. "Glad you could make it. This party was gonna be lame without you." He looks pointedly at April. "And you, Mrs. Kepner-Avery. You look stunning."

She smiles demurely. "Thanks, Mark. Where's Lexie?"

He nods behind us, and April turns to see her friend approaching with two beer bottles. She stretches her arms out for a hug and they embrace, squeezing each other for a long moment and rocking back and forth as if they don't see each other almost every day.

"Should we?" Mark asks, eyebrows up, hands out.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "Gonna pass."

"You made it!" April shrills. "How did it go with Poppy and the new sitter?"

Mark and Lexie have a baby, too. She's six months younger than Peyton, with separation anxiety issues through the roof. If Peyton is bad, she's the worst. The bags under Lexie's eyes tell me the handoff wasn't great.

"Uh, it happened. That's what matters," she laughs. "She just texted saying she got her to sleep, which is like a new record. So, maybe this one will work out."

"Hopefully," April says.

"Luckily Pey was asleep when Vivian came by," I say. "We got off easy."

"Fuck you," Mark says, laughing and shaking his head.

We all laugh and sit down on the couch nearby, which isn't exactly cut out for four people - so April ends up on my lap, more or less. I hold the dip of her waist with one hand and she leans against me, smelling like sweet wine and light perfume. I resist the urge to bury my face in her neck and kiss her, not because I'm ashamed, but because it would embarrass her. I can practically picture the blush that would shade her skin.

On her second glass of wine, she looks around during a lull in conversation. "You guys seen Izzie?" she asks, eyebrows furrowing a bit.

"Maybe she decided not to come," I say, patting her hip surely.

"Let me text her," April says, and pulls out her phone to quickly type a message.

She goes to work at the keyboard, and hovering over her shoulder I see that Izzie starts typing a reply almost immediately. In response to April's question of 'where are you?' she answers 'outside. Be just a min.'

"She's coming," April says, craning her neck to watch the door. When Izzie appears, April catches her eye immediately and climbs off my lap to give her a hug. "Hey!" she says. I feel the cold draft with the absence of her body, and I'm less than amused by it. "You made it!"

"Yeah, finally," Izzie says. "I was out in the car contemplating life for like, ever."

"Where's George?" April asks.

"He's on-call tonight. He picked up a shift. I said it was fine, because like, what could he do? But still. I don't think I'll stay long. You guys looked like you were having fun."

"No, stay," April says, and she sways a bit on her feet. I'm starting to see the effects of the wine. "Have a drink!"

"I shouldn't," Izzie says, eyes darting this way and that probably in search of the guests of honor. I can't help but feel a little bad. She's been put in a really awkward situation, and April seems to be the only one on her side.

"Stevens, sit," I say, standing. "Let me grab you something. What're you having?"

She looks at me with surprise. We're never warm to each other. It's honestly throwing me off just as much, but I don't show it.

"Jackson, you don't have to," she says. "Seriously. I should just go."

"Sit," I say. "You were invited, you're allowed to be here. Take my spot. Wine or beer?"

She blinks hard, lowering herself onto the couch slowly like there might be a trap set. "I… uh… beer, I guess," she says. "Thanks."

April takes my wrist gently and looks at me with warm eyes. It might not be easy to be nice to her friend, but it's worth it for looks like that.

I come back, give Izzie her drink, and sit on the arm of the couch with April's hand on my thigh. The five of us fall into easy conversation about things other than work, and April downs her third glass of wine. She laughs easier and louder, just like she always does when she's a little past the point of tipsy.

A bit later, her hand starts moving up my thigh and close to dangerous territory. She's involved in the conversation so I have no reason to believe it's purposeful, but when I shift and she finds her way back, I know it is. I hold her fingers and keep them still, then watch her smile as she tells Izzie about the new show we're watching.

"Excuse me," she says, a few moments later. She stands and wavers a bit, so I reach out with one hand to steady her. "I need use the ladies' room." She takes a few steps past the couch and looks back at me over her shoulder. "Can you help me find it, Jackson?" she asks, blinking innocently.

I know better than anyone what this means, and I can't believe she wants to do it during such an intimate gathering. I'm not one to turn her down, though. Public sex isn't necessarily a kink of ours, but it's something we do once in a while.

"Sure," I say, then wrap an arm around her shoulders as we exit the living room and head into the hall. Everyone's eyes are on us as we leave, but I don't care. "You're feeling bold tonight, aren't you?" I ask, once it's quieter.

"Mm-hmm," she says, pushing open doors until she finds what she's looking for. "Guest bedroom," she says. "Do you want to?"

"Of course I do," I say, then pull her inside and shut the door tight behind us.

"Lock it, lock it," she says, taking off her heels but not her dress.

I turn the little lock and then grab her waist, devouring her lips immediately. She tastes like strong wine and desire, and the lust I feel gathers between my thighs and hardens against her when she rubs against it.

"Shit," she says, skimming one hand down my torso to grab the bulge. "I really don't wanna be interrupted."

"Me, neither," I say. "So, come on."

She giggles when I toss her onto the bed, bouncing once as her knees bend. She crab-walks backwards and tempts me with her eyes, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth seductively at the same time.

"Come and get me," she says.

Instead of overlapping her body and ravishing her, I make room for myself on the bed and lie flat on my back. She looks at me with confusion until I pull her over by the wrist, situate her to straddle me, and say, "Sit on my face."

Her lips part as she gasps softly, licking the lower one with arousal. With a lift of either knee she gets out of her underwear, then shuffles forward with her skirt hitched around her waist. I grab her hips and adjust myself, then pull so she's flush against my face.

I start slow, knowing just how to work her up. She grips the headboard in front of her and leans forward, hips undulating at a gentle rhythm to begin. I hold her thighs and open my mouth wide, running my tongue over her lips and letting it disappear inside her heat. She's throbbing, pulsating with energy, and I'll make sure she gets the turnout she wants.

When she sits on my face, I don't use my fingers. I use my lips, tongue and teeth only, which makes it a challenge of sorts. April's body isn't a machine where you find the button and get what you want. It's complex and ever-changing, especially since having the baby. Sometimes she likes it rough, sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes an orgasm is easy to achieve, and sometimes - regretfully - she has to help me. Not because I'm unskilled, but because she knows her body better than anyone else. That's the way it should be, but I still pride myself in being second-best.

But tonight, right now, she's so turned on that my breath alone against her core almost does it. I bring my hands around to grab two handfuls of her ass and squeeze tight, and she whimpers a bit from the contact.

When her hips start moving faster, essentially fucking my face, I use my teeth. I turn my head to the side and bite her inner thighs hard, sucking on the skin roughly until I pull away with a 'pop!' April moans, her voice breaking in the middle, as she lets her head fall while her hips keep working.

As she gets closer, I become more and more turned on, too. Seeing my wife in such a high state of arousal and knowing that I did it to her is unlike anything else in this world. And seeing her in this dominant position when she tends to lean towards submissive in bed, it's refreshing and hot as fuck.

"I'm almost there," she whisper-whines, arching her back and throwing her head to one side. "Oh, fuck, Jackson."

"Come on," I murmur, then slap her ass hard. I keep it in one hand afterwards, digging the pads of my fingers in, and use the other to undo my belt and start stroking myself to the rhythm she's established.

She goes at me even harder, scooping her hips against my tongue and nose, searching for the friction that will send her over the edge. When she finally finds it, I hold her ass with both hands as she jerks forward, twitching and groaning as her body tenses before crumbling.

"Shit," she hisses, pushing mussed-up hair out of her eyes. "God, Jackson, that felt good."

She looks down at me, knees still next to my ears, and I smile before kissing the inside of her leg. She lets her skirt fall as she scoots back onto my chest, then lower to grab her underwear and slide back into them. She stands up off the bed, and I assume we're done here and stand as well.

But, surprising me, April sinks to her knees and undoes the belt I had just done back up. My erection is still going strong inside my pants, I didn't get a chance to finish anything, and when she looks up at me through her eyelashes I know she plans on doing it for me.

I make quick work of getting my pants around my knees, then grab a fistful of her hair at the base of her skull. She hums against me, chuckling softly, and sinks lower onto her knees to bob her head back and forth with her tongue wrapped around the underside of my dick.

"Yes, babe," I groan, fingers tightening in her hair. "Fuck."

She looks up again, a smile in her eyes, and pumps with her fist what she can't reach with her mouth. She pulls away for a moment to catch her breath, and a long string of saliva and pre-come stays intact between her lips and the head of my dick. I use my free hand to swipe it with my thumb and dip it into her mouth - she sucks it off, never breaking eye contact - then giggles.

She does amazing work with her tongue, and when I come a few moments later she doesn't shy away. She swallows what she can, and what's left over she wipes away with the back of her hand and looks up at me, waiting for validation, smiling proudly because she knows the quality of work she does.

"That face," I say, shaking my head lightly.

Her eyes shine when I help her to her feet. "Your favorite face," she says, drunkenly swaying. The alcohol seems to have taken even more of a hold on her.

"We should get back out there," I say. "Everyone's gonna give us shit."

"Mmm…" she says, running a hand down the middle line of buttons on my chest. "Do we have to…?"

"You're such a horny drunk," I say, then wrap a solid arm around the small of her back to lead us out of the room.

As we head into the hallway, I do my best in fixing my rumpled clothes. April doesn't even try to smooth down her hair, so I do it for her while she walks beside me. We aren't exactly inconspicuous, but at least I tried to make us presentable.

April goes back into the living room and I make my way into the kitchen to grab some water. She needs to sober up a little or else she'll start acting like a fool, and this is the best way to do it. I get a few snacks, too. Some food in her system will help.

As I'm gathering everything, I hear laughter from the living room and Alex say, 'look what the cat dragged in' presumably to my wife. I laugh softly and go rejoin them, finding April standing near the couch, rolling her eyes at our friends.

"Here, babe," I say, handing her a water bottle. "This, too." It's a mini-quiche, cheese and broccoli. Her favorite.

"Ooh, thanks boo," she says, then kisses my cheek. The scent of the wine on her has lasted, but I can still detect perfume laced underneath, Rochas Femme, that I buy for her every birthday.

I rest one hand on her opposite shoulder while she eats and drinks, then spot someone from across the room who I really hoped I wouldn't see. I don't know why he's here, but lingering in the doorway stands Vince Michaels, looking awkward and out-of-place.

I roll my eyes openly, and Izzie catches me. She follows my eyes and sees the intern, too, but doesn't say anything. I get there first.

"Bitsy, do you wanna get going?" I ask softly, so not to attract the attention of the group. It's not that I want to keep her from Michaels, but being around him makes me uncomfortable. I never know what he's going to say, or how I'll react. I don't want to make this a thing. Removing the two of us from the equation is the best option.

"What?" she says, mouth half-full with quiche. "No. I'm having fun. Let's stay."

I'm never one to strong-arm her or force decisions because we're a couple. "Are you sure?" I ask. It's the best I can do. I really don't want to be here, but I also don't want a fight.

"Yeah," she says, then gasps with excitement. "We should play a game!"

While the group of us gather around to play Cards Against Humanity, I lose sight of Vince. My head isn't in the game at all, it's completely elsewhere, and I start to wonder if I hallucinated him. I try and catch Alex's eye to ask if he invited the interns, but he's enjoying the game too much. Everyone is, actually, except for me, which makes me feel shitty. I don't want to be the wet blanket of the group - that's not fair to April or myself, really. So, I try and forget about it. Everyone I love is right in front of me, and I don't need to worry about a stupid intern.

After we finish the first round and April has entertained everyone by throwing out the dirtiest, most foul cards, she can barely catch her breath she's laughing so hard.

"Oh, god," she sputters, leaning forward onto the coffee table. I can't help my smile. She's adorable when she's drunk. "I have to pee. I'll be right back."

Taking a break from the game, the rest of us chat amongst ourselves while regathering the cards to start again. They're shuffled and dealt in a few minutes, and we all sit around waiting for April to come back - she's been gone much longer than it would take to pee.

"Did she get lost?" Lexie asks.

"The place isn't that big," Alex quips. "But maybe you should go look for her. She's drunk off her ass."

"She better not have accidentally peed in a closet," Jo laughs.

I snort and get to my feet. But just as I stand, April comes around the corner. A smile sneaks onto my face, ready to welcome her back, but her expression doesn't mirror mine. Her eyes are clouded, skin tone ashen, lips turned into a frown.

"Y'alright?" I ask, extending an arm.

She meets my eyes quickly, then darts them away. Something is up. I can feel it.

"Babe, you okay?" I ask again.

"Yeah," she says, and her voice sounds completely different than it did just moments ago. There's no lighthearted, drunken lilt in it anymore. Now, she sounds worse than sober - her tone is raspy and quiet, barely anything at all.

"You sure?" I say.

She presses her lips together and wrings her hands. I look at them right away, they're a dead giveaway as to when something is bothering her. She always clasps her hands together and messes with her wedding ring when she's uncomfortable.

"Yeah," she says again, and when she looks at me, her eyes are glassy. "Can we go home?"