This Summer • •

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Bridget and Dylan were a lot alike in some ways. Most notably was how they dealt with problems. Bridget baked her way through a recipe book and Dylan worked his way through whatever piece of furniture he was bringing back to life. Oh, they talked about it but after they’d figured it all out in their own heads. It was an interesting way to deal with things, but it was also their way. For Bridget, the baking helped her sift things around, as it were. The mindless work gave her the opportunity to figure out what was priority and what could wait until later. She didn’t really have anything like that to work through. It was mostly just her need to come to the realisation of her feelings and how long she’d had them; which hadn’t actually taken her as long as prepping the popovers to figure out. It was quite simple really.

Her lack of culinary knowledge was astounding considering the house Bridget grew up in. But it was true all the same; she couldn’t cook to save her life. If it weren’t for Dylan, she would eat take away a hell of a lot more than she did since she wasn’t all that fond of putting together even a sandwich. “Well, I wasn’t expecting miracles.” She said with a light laugh. These were baby steps after all. It wasn’t as though she was about to go cook a five course meal and have it all be perfect. The only thing she’d get right there would be the dessert course! And she was well aware of it; even if Dylan would have been pleased she’d tried her hand at it at least. That would have been a miracle. A miracle would also be if she managed to get through what she wanted to say to Dylan without stuttering or turning to the French language before three words past her lips! She had always been more comfortable with French, despite her love for English literature.

Bridget grinned but rolled her eyes all the same. “If you liked that then I’ll have three more for you in a couple minutes.” She said, grinning at the silliness of the conversation and her words especially. There was more than one meaning to them and she intended on using two choices within minutes of each other. “Hm?” She asked, looking up at him. “Of course everything’s okay. You just happen to be closer to the fridge and the jams.” She pointed out before pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder and stepping around him for the preserves in the fridge. “Strawberry, raspberry or peach? Maybe all three.” Bridget said more to herself than to Dylan. She never really knew what she wanted when it came to popovers until she had all her option set in front of it. “What are you feeling, love?” She asked, her head still in the fridge, digging out the peach jam that was further in the back then she remembered.

Tag || Dylan! <3
Words || 501
Clothes || Lovable Girlfriend
Music || I Want Crazy -- Hunter Hayes
Notes || <3

[dylan ellis griffin]

Dylan didn’t know where his fascination with fixing up old furniture came from. He had early memories of repairing things with his dad, but never anything to the extent that he did now. All he knew was that it helped him when times were tough and he needed to clear his head. Dylan had carried such heavy burdens ever since he was just a little boy, and that hadn’t changed. The only difference now was that he was responsible for the lives of others and not just himself. He needed the time alone, the peace to be with his power tools and semi-destroyed furniture to deal with all of that. If he didn’t have that then he highly suspected it would be his relationships with those he cared about that would suffer. Dylan prided himself on keeping things like his temper and emotions in check. He wasn’t one for snapping at his loved ones not even when he was stressed to the max. He liked to think it was because he locked himself on his balcony and dealt with woodwork until he was completely at ease and feeling like himself again.

His cooking abilities were practical, not quite a hobby. He had learnt his talents from his mother as a necessity. As a teenager, and the eldest, he had looked after his younger siblings whilst Clara worked. That had included cooking meals for them from time to time. It was a talent that had come in quite handy after he had moved away to live on his own at college. Plus, the years had come to teach him that women seemed to like a man who could cook. “There’s still hope for you yet.” Dylan teased, taking another bite into the breakfast. It was far too easy to spend mornings like this in Bridget’s company, laughing about things and teasing her with the Northern Irish banter she seemed to have been charmed by.

Furrowing his eyebrows slightly, Dylan smirked and wrapped his arms around Bridget. “Oh really? Well aren’t you full of surprises this morning?” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and then let her go to return to his breakfast. As much fun as the morning was, and could still turn out to be, Dylan had outpatients to see later in the day. He couldn’t allow himself to be side-tracked for too long. “Jams? This is all about the jams?” He asked, doubt creeping into his voice. Bridget seemed a little on edge for a couple of jars of jam. He watched her move, his curious expression still clouding his eyes and twisting into a smirk on his lips. “Peach.” He said half-heartedly, not really that concerned about his jam.

• • •

TAGGED! Bridget Cameron Delaynee
WORDS! 461!
OUTFIT! Drained Doctor!
LYRICS! Waiting - - - Jamie Campbell Bower
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Bridget wasn’t exactly a romantic. She loved the little things about a relationship, how she and Dylan fit each other into their lives so seamlessly it was as if they had belonged there already and they were just waiting for each other to figure it out. Bridget understood that Dylan would be cancelling more dates than he would find time for and Bridget was okay with that because he also knew if he needed her, she would be there waiting with pastries, because she could barely cook. They made a good, if slightly dysfunctional couple. One practically lived at the hospital and the other was terrified of the sterile walls. But despite that, they were making things work between them and Bridget was even starting to visit the hospital. Well, she’d only gone inside once so far but she’d been to the building and waited outside a few times now; baby steps. Bridget didn’t know if she’d ever get to a place where she would be comfortable just waltzing in to visit Dylan on any given day but even stepping on the property was a big deal with the blonde professor.

“Don’t count on it. It’s bacon not a four course meal, which by the way you won’t be getting any time soon.” Bridget said with a laugh. She was never going to be some top chef, she would probably be lucky if she mastered one dish but she tried. And when Dylan teased her like that, she knew she was doing something right. A meal would never be perfect if it was made by her, she wasn’t that girl who thought she was some amazing cook; she wasn’t even remotely good at it. She managed to burn water for pasta but hearing Dylan laugh at her attempts put a smile on her face and made the difficult tasks worth it all. She could make the most extravagant desserts, just like her mother, but unlike the older blonde, Bridget couldn’t whip up the courses before the final one with ease. Her mother joked it was because she was a mom that she was able to put a meal on the table. Her father wasn’t always home and even when he was, he could barely put together a box of mac and cheese. She was more like her father than anyone gave credit to, including the family.

“Mhm. Breakfast is served.” She said ticking off the three words she used. They weren’t the only ones she had been planning on using but she couldn’t quite find the right way to say those other three. She didn’t want to come right out and say them. She had studied her ass off in a major that made the written word seem to beautiful and eloquent and yet, here she was, unable to form a simple sentence without over thinking the whole situation. Dylan didn’t lie. He might talk in his sleep and be stubborn from time to time, but he had yet to lie to her; which meant that he meant the words he’d said to her the night before, even if he didn’t remember uttering them. The problem was reminding him subtly. She didn’t do anything subtle and that was the problem Bee was having. “No this is actually about my boyfriend telling me he loves me in his sleep and not remembering it in the morning and trying to be a little less blunt about saying I love him too but so far my head has been swimming through all the poetry I know which is rather useless if you think about it since none of it really says how I feel specifically and we both know my poetry is terrible so there goes that option not that I’m the type to be spouting poetry about anything at all really but especially love and affection. I’m not a total romantic, especially after the string of mistakes littering my past not to mention that actually sounds more like something a guy would do. I suppose that’s a bit ironic considering men are supposed to be the ones who can’t communicate their feelings and women are supposed to have a handle on theirs. You’d think women would be the ones spouting poems and such, not the other way around. And I'm rambling." She said finally catching herself and shutting her mouth. She didn’t know at which point she switched to French, or if she did at all, though it was her go to whenever she went on a ramble of any kind. Her students had to call out to her to remind her they were in an English class and her native language wasn’t as easily received. At least she could say she’d said all she needed to after she’d put the jars on the counter, even if she couldn’t look him in the eye now.

Tag || Dylan! <3
Words || 813
Clothes || Lovable Girlfriend
Music || I Want Crazy -- Hunter Hayes
Notes || <3

[dylan ellis griffin]

Dylan thrived in romantic situations almost as well as he thrived in the hospital. He enjoyed being a romantic. He liked spoiling the people he cared about with home cooked meals and surprises. He wasn’t a dreamer like most romantics, but he would call himself a lover rather than a fighter any day of the week. The little things mattered most of all to him, they made a relationship unique and special. Without that then there was nothing to celebrate. He had seen it with his parents, and then now with his mother and step-father. It was how he could see the differences between the two, accept one from the other when his younger brother was struggling to understand that their mother couldn’t be alone forever. If their father had taught them anything before fate had snatched him from them far too early it was that life was far too long and dark to live it without love. Dylan wasn’t going to argue with that, not after what his own personal experiences of life had shown him so far.

Chuckling, Dylan nodded his head in understanding. “That’s fine. Call me possessive, I kind of prefer myself to be in control of the meals.” He joked. He enjoyed being the kitchen and having the time to prepare a meal from scratch. Dylan hated the cardboard taste of microwavable meals almost as much as he hated catching the flu. Both things left him feeling irritable and with a stomach ache. Sure, he could whip up a quick meal in twenty minutes at the end of a long day, but there were few things more satisfying than having the time to really put in the effort to put together a three course meal. Whenever Dylan got the chance he tried to make it happen. He liked surprising Bridget with them and it made him feel relaxed and good to actually find the time to spend in his wondrous kitchen. Hell, the size of the kitchen was one of the main reasons he had been so sold on the apartment when he had first seen the place! The kitchen, and the balcony had really made him choose this place over the other one he had been considering putting a deposit down on. Now Dylan was seriously glad he had made that choice. If he hadn’t then he would never have met Bridget, and then he would never be as happy as he was now.

Dylan was about to take a seat at the kitchen table when Bridget started speaking. At first he blinked at her. He had no memory of saying those three words the night before, but then his head had been in such a horrible state that he was surprised he could even remember moving towards the bedroom in the first place. However, as Bridget continued to ramble, Dylan’s blinking turned into a smirk. He stopped paying attention shortly after she switched to French, his ability to translate not kicking in since his thoughts were heading elsewhere. There was more to the story Bridget was telling him; his side of the story. Chuckling, he stepped forward and placed his hand over Bridget’s tugging her away from the counter and turning her to make her look at him. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” He confessed quietly, a small smile still on his face. “I’ve been saying I love you every night we’ve spent together since about the sixth week we were dating. I didn’t want to spook you by saying it too early, and I wanted to wait for the perfect moment. The perfect moment, by the way, wasn’t supposed to be as I was passing out from a migraine.” He told her honestly, pausing to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “You were always asleep. The most you ever did was one time you snorted a little. I’d come home from a late shift, and you’d fallen asleep with the lamp on and Nicholas Nickleby still open.” He revealed, sharing just one of the many stories he could recall surrounding his midnight confessions of his feelings.

• • •

TAGGED! Bridget Cameron Delaynee
WORDS! 697!
OUTFIT! Drained Doctor!
LYRICS! Waiting - - - Jamie Campbell Bower
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Bridget was much better suited to standing in front of a classroom full of students, lecturing on Poe, Tolstoy and Dickens than she was for next to anything else. The only thing she was better at was baking and as much as she loved her mother, she was already too much like the older woman. She didn’t need to add making a living at baking; even if her friends teased she was the next Martha Stewart; pre jail time. She loved to bake but she didn’t think she could make a career of it; she didn’t want to fall out of love with it and she knew without a doubt that she would. It might not have been immediately but it would have happened eventually. Baking was the blonde’s escape. It was how she coped with overwhelming emotions and troubles. Working her way through her cookbook was how she managed to work through everything. She needed that escape and it wouldn’t be an escape anymore if she turned another passion into a career choice.

“You can keep the meals forever. I burned the water last time I made pasta for myself.” She pointed out with a shake of her head. Even if she had a house full of kids, she would still be useless when it came to anything more difficult than a sandwich and maybe opening a can of soup, which would probably kill her mother and Dylan if she’d mentioned that. And she was perfectly okay with that. She and Dylan had a system and Bridget liked that system. It meant she didn't have to make a meal unless he was working really late or pulling an overnight shift and he came home nearly every night to something sweet baking in the oven. She was quite content letting Dylan do all the cooking so long as he stayed away from her pastries and sweet dessert recipes. And to think all of this happened purely by luck. If she’d decided Los Angeles or Miami would have been better than New York, or if she’d gone with the first apartment she’d looked at, though she never would have in her life anyway, she wouldn’t have met Dylan so quickly.

Bridget liked to think they were meant to know each other and would have stumbled across each other somehow. Dogs meant walks and walks usually meant the park so it could have happened, them meeting there. But having just a hallway separating them was a much nicer way for their story to start. Still she wished this part of their story wasn’t happening quite like it was. Not that she wanted flowers and chocolate, she didn’t. Bee liked the romantic things but her version of perfect would have been them curled up on the couch together with Dylan watching some show or a movie he’d been wanting to see and her with her nose in one of her favourite books. Still, she was embarrassed. Not because she’d basically just thrown her feelings at Dylan in a rant, there was nothing new about Bridget letting slip how she really felt in a rant but that she had ranted at all. She tried to keep her more heated rants to the classroom, where there were at least half a class full of likeminded people when she started and in a room full of likeminded people when she was through.

She was expecting Dylan to say something or do something, hug her or tell her she was being silly for ranting like that. Instead of doing that, he turned her around. She wasn’t ready to look at him, her cheeks bright red but she did anyway, stubborn as she was and listened to what he had to say. Her blush darkened significantly but she didn’t look away, again that stubborn streak showing itself. A smile spread across her face, her eyes brightening with mischief as she wrapped her arms around Dylan’s waist. “I don’t scare that easily, after how many months daydreaming, you thought six weeks would be rushing things?” She asked softly, reaching up on the tips of her toes to kiss Dylan. “I love you, my stubborn, sexy doctor. And anyway we got here would have been perfect, well anyway we’re both conscious.” She teased playfully.

Tag || dylan ellis griffin! <3
Words || 714
Clothes || Lovable Girlfriend
Music || I Want Crazy -- Hunter Hayes
Notes || <3

[dylan ellis griffin]

Dylan didn’t have a clue what he would be doing if he wasn’t a doctor. It wasn’t a thought that had ever occurred to him. He had only ever had this dream for his career and he had worked damn hard to ensure that it was where he wound up when he grew up. There hadn’t been room for an option two or a safety net. It was this or nothing, and Dylan had been committed enough throughout school to make sure that he got what he wanted out of his career when the time came around. He still had many years to go before he would even think about retirement, and he still had many more dreams to tick off before he would be happy about hanging up his stethoscope, but he was as determined now as he was when he was younger about making those things happen, too. When Dylan truly wanted something there was nothing that could get in his way. His life so far had proven that.

“So, I’ll keep breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the brain surgery. You can have the desserts, deal with the parents, and the class full of bookish college kids. Deal?” He asked with a cheeky grin, sliding his fingers through his messy hair, pushing the short locks back from his bright eyes. Dylan didn’t mind cooking one bit. Even after a ludicrously long shift at the hospital he liked coming home to whip up something to eat. Even if it was only something simple, the task itself was soothing, sort of therapeutic, and helped the young neurologist unwind at the end of a tiring day. It brought him back to reality and snatched him away from the sterile walls where he worked. Dylan knew it was important to not always bring the job home with him. He knew it wasn’t always possible to leave it behind, but he did his best to switch off, and cooking was one of the simpler ways he could do that.

Dylan didn’t like to think that fate had a plan for everyone. Life had thrown him one too many curveballs for that. He could accept that perhaps Lady Destiny had a hand in some things, but he thought that people made their own decisions in life and were responsible for many of the things that happened to them. He could see it in those patients who were giving up their fights, in those who might have been terminal but who were still pushing to defy the odds. For that reason he couldn’t sit back and say that he was destined to meet Bridget, but rather he had met Bridget because he had chosen an apartment with a balcony over one with a view of Central Park. Grinning, Dylan tightened his hold on the stunning blonde and pulled her closer. “Maybe, but we jumped in at the deep end. There aren’t many women who wouldn’t start drowning with how fast we moved.” He pointed out, though Dylan didn’t regret any of it. His relationship with Bridget felt as though it was a long time coming, and when it finally did happen it was like he could finally truly relax around her and stop worrying about restraining himself. “And I am never going to apologise for wanting to spoil you. Although feel free to call me sexy any time you want.” He said with a wink, picking her up off the ground to kiss her deeply, smirking against her lips.

• • •

TAGGED! Bridget Cameron Delaynee
WORDS! 589!
OUTFIT! Drained Doctor!
LYRICS! Waiting - - - Jamie Campbell Bower
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Bridget had been lucky growing up, she’d known exactly what she wanted to be when she grew up and she knew where she didn’t want to be. Las Vegas wasn’t the place Bridget had wanted to spend the rest of her days. It was an interesting place to grow up and a great place to visit but for Bridget, it wasn’t the place she wanted to settle down. Thankfully, her parents understood Bridget’s feelings and hadn’t pushed her to stay when she’d told them she was moving away. Like every child growing up, she always said she would move away. She and three friends had all decided growing up that they would move away and get a place together. Of course, that was also before even high school came about. After that, one moved to California, one ran off to school Florida and two of them had stayed close to home. And of the pair of them, only Bridget had left Nevada.

And without the move, Bridget wouldn’t have found the cute apartment she had, she wouldn’t have met Dylan and their relationship would never have progressed to where they were now. “Why do I get dealing with the parents? Shouldn’t that be a shared burden? Thought I wouldn’t catch that, didn’t you?” She asked, shaking her head. She would happily give Dylan what he’d asked for but she refused to deal with both sets of parents on her own. She could do a lot but her own parents drove her mental; she couldn’t add Dylan’s parents to that mix, she really would go insane; especially if what Dylan said about his mom asking constantly about grandbabies was true. She would end up yelling something about babies just to appease her and then regret it the second the words left her lips. She could only imagine what would happen if they actually were expecting! Bridget’s head hurt just thinking about it all.

Bridget hadn’t really wanted to blurt out all that she had but being smooth about it all just hadn’t been in the cards for her. And admittedly, if she hadn’t been thinking about Dylan’s sleepy confession, she probably wouldn’t have been on edge and she wouldn’t have blurted it out. Her own confession had fallen on deaf ears the night before so she had wanted to say something clever and cheeky. And that just didn’t happen. “I am not some dime a dozen girl, thank you very much.” She said, adding just a touch of annoyance to hide the amusement in her voice. Sure, they moved rather quickly but Bridget didn’t regret a second of it. They could stop walking on eggshells around each other, censoring this and that just so things didn’t cross a line. “I think I’ll reserve that for special occasions.” Bridget teased, laughing against Dylan’s lips when he picked her up. Finally feeling free, Bridget held on tighter to Dylan, returning his kiss.

Tag || dylan ellis griffin! <3
Words || 489
Clothes || Lovable Girlfriend
Music || I Want Crazy -- Hunter Hayes
Notes || <3

[dylan ellis griffin]

It had never really occurred to Dylan that he might move back to Belfast. His family had been in New York since he was fourteen and he was going to stay close by, so heading back home had never even fluttered into his mind for even a moment since then. He knew there were plenty of fantastic hospitals back there where he would be honoured to work, but he had never felt the urge to head back to the Emerald Isle, even if he would always call it his true home, and probably live out the rest of his life with the hint of his accent. His future was in New York City, and Dylan had known that since he had moved there when he was still a teenager. It might have been a big, terrifying move right on the back on his recovery from a brain tumour, but it was something he didn’t look back on with bad memories. It was actually the chance he needed to really push himself to get on with his life. It probably also helped that there were no kids who knew what he had been through unless he chose to share it with them. It meant he could just act like every other teenager out there without the weird looks or questions and given how tough the teenage years were to begin with, it was probably better to be spared all of that for once.

Dylan smirked for a second and then turned to her with an arched eyebrow. “It’s technically your parents and my mam. Justin isn’t a bother and you know it.” His step-father had pretty much kept out of Dylan’s life since Dylan was practically a grown man by the time he had married Clara. There was no animosity between them, but they acted more like friends than anything close to a father and son, which was how Dylan had expressly told Justin he wanted it to be when Justin had proposed to his mother. “Since you have the majority there, it’s only fair you take most of the burden.” He said casually, like it all made perfect sense to him. His own father, Sean, was long gone, sadly, but Dylan never forgot the man and made a trip to the cemetery at least twice in the month to lay some flowers and pay his respects to the man who taught him almost everything he knew about life today. It was his private time, alone with his dad to just reflect on everything that was happening and to think about the man who had been snatched away long before he deserved to be.

“I am well aware of that, thank you very much.” Dylan said with a cheeky smile, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. He had always though Bridget different from the rest of the women in New York, even when he had been dating around and she was still just his neighbour who would occasionally pop over for dinner and a bottle of wine. Still, after everything life had thrown at him he wasn’t a guy to work at snail’s pace. He could be patient for a woman of course, but he made it clear when he was interested and he didn’t tip-toe around his feelings like so many people did. If he hadn’t had manners beaten into him as a child he would probably be something of an ass about it now, but thankfully his parents had raised a decent man in their eldest son. Reluctantly setting Bridget back on her feet, Dylan let go of his girlfriend and took a slight step backwards. “As much as I’d love to stand here all day doing this, I have clinic this afternoon, and those patients need reassuring that they’re fit and healthy.” He had been in their shoes once. He knew that every tiny headache could turn a sane person into a raging hypochondriac after the things these people had been through. Dylan was their calming voice through the madness and the man who had the answers for them. They came first even when a day of playing hooky was tempting.

• • •

TAGGED! Bridget Cameron Delaynee
WORDS! 702!
OUTFIT! Drained Doctor!
LYRICS! Waiting - - - Jamie Campbell Bower
NOTES! <3 <3 <3

[Bridget Cameron Delaynee]

Leaving Nevada had always been in Bridget’s plans. And she hadn’t looked back when she got the chance to go. It had been harder living so far away from her parents for the first time ever than it had been leaving Las Vegas in her rear-view mirror. She hadn’t wasted money on a dorm or even an off campus apartment when she lived close enough to drive. It hadn’t seemed like an intelligent use for her savings. So instead, she saved that for when she would leave her hometown in the dust. And who would have thought that all that money she’d saved by not staying on campus would afford her an incredible New York apartment. She certainly hadn’t had her hopes that high but was thankful for the money her parents and grandparents swore up and down they didn’t give her.

Bridget let Dylan give her his explanation on how things with their families would work, smirking to herself. There was no way in hell, whether she had the majority or not, she was going to be taking the brunt of that. “You think you’re being so clever. I don’t think so buddy. Equal share of that nut house, thank you. A PhD in Neurology beats one in English Literature.” If only that also meant he had to take the bigger share of that situation, too. It didn’t actually have anything to do with their hypothetical talk but she had a few points still up her sleeve should Dylan decide to question her. She might have both of her parents to deal with but her father would always have warring emotions; stuck between wanting his daughter to be happy and wanting her to live in a convent somewhere far, far away from men. Her mother would just ignore her and talk with Mrs Griffin, whether Bridget was there for the conversation or not. In all honesty, Bridget wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Dylan’s mom had already told them she’d been in contact with the crazy woman Bridget loved to death.

“Good. Remember that the next time you think you need to wait or give me space.” She said lightly. Bridget had never been one to keep her emotions to herself for long. The cork was as tightly kept for her and she honestly thought that was a good thing. At least for her. She could keep things to herself when she needed to but things like this? Like telling Dylan about the night before and how she felt about him? Well, she had just been impressed she’d kept that lid on it as long as she had! It was in fact a minor miracle Bridget hadn’t just blurted out “I love you” to Dylan back in Belfast! Or shortly afterwards. She wasn’t one for rushing things, preferring to take things on a slower course but with Dylan things were different. They both knew it so what was the point in taking things slow? There wasn’t one and once Bridget had her mind made up, it would be easier to bring back the dead.

Disappointed Dylan stepped back, Bridget frowned. She understood why but she also wanted to just steal the day away with him again. “Right. Of course. Go eat Wilbur and popovers.” She said, shooing him off towards the table, expecting Dylan to take his plate of bacon and the plate of popovers with him. She snatched up the bottles of jams and utensils for each of them before grabbing her coffee and curling up in the chair closest to Dylan to pick at a couple of the popovers she’d made.

Tag || dylan ellis griffin! <3
Words || 650
Clothes || Lovable Girlfriend
Music || I Want Crazy -- Hunter Hayes
Notes || <3