Send the Dispatch (Dispatch x fem!reader)

Chapter 8: Crossroads

"Well, if I'm going on break, I actually want to stop by the hospital first, check in on the guy I helped out yesterday," you say, trying to sound casual, though there is a subtle undertone of concern threading through your words.

Her smile is soft, quiet, yet somehow full of warmth. She has always admired that part of you, the way you care, how your concern for others never feels performative or forced. "Oh... alright," she says, voice gentle. "Have a good visit, then."

Still foggy from sleep, a little wobbly on your feet, and unable to resist your mischievous streak, you tilt your head and let a playful grin creep across your face. Your eyes sparkle with teasing mischief as your voice takes on a sing-song tune. "Thanks, sugar mommy."

Time slows.

Her smile falters just a fraction, her eyes widening ever so slightly. A faint blush rises across her cheeks, creeping up to the bridge of her nose. Her lips part as if she wants to say something-

Anything

-but all that escapes is a small, squeak. She shakes her head lightly, trying to reclaim her composure, though the warmth in her eyes betrays her amusement and something softer, more intimate.

You step into the hallway, acting casual, like nothing just happened. But the second your feet hit the polished floor, your brain finally slaps your words into focus.

"Oh god..." You mutter under your breath, pressing your palms to your forehead as if sheer force could rewind time.

And then it hits you.

Your eyes widen. You stagger slightly, half-laughing, half-panicking, imagining her pacing back and forth in her office, muttering to herself, "Sugar... mommy...? Who even says that?!" The mental image makes you snort despite yourself, a little choked laugh escaping.

"Yep... that's probably another HR violation..." You groan, talking to the empty hallway as if it's your only confidant, hands still clutching your head as they can magically undo the words from existence.

Your steps echo embarrassingly loud over the carpet as you move forward, each one a reminder of your blunder. Somewhere behind you, you can almost still hear her laughter, soft and teasing. It lingers in your mind, both haunting and endearing, and suddenly, you realise, you will never live down that "sugar mommy" comment.

And somehow, even as your cheeks burn hotter than the midday sun streaming through the hallway windows, you cannot help but feel a little... giddy.

---

You reach the hospital, the automatic doors parting with a soft whoosh as the cool air greets you. The sudden shift, from the warm, cluttered comfort of her office to the sterile brightness of the lobby, makes you blink a few times, as if waking up all over again.

Your footsteps echo faintly against the polished floor as you approach the reception desk. The fluorescent lights above hum like they're thinking too loudly.

"Hi," you say, voice gentler than usual. "I'm here to check on the man who came in yesterday, brought in from the downtown incident."

The receptionist looks up and notices it was you, and offers a polite smile, "You are good to go, his grandmother mentioned, the person who saved his life."

You cough slightly, embarrassed and unsure how to respond to that, just returning a polite nod.

When the elevator doors slide open, you step inside, alone with your reflection in the mirrored wall, dishevelled hair, faint exhaustion under your eyes, and the lingering ghost of embarrassment still burning in your cheeks from earlier.