In The Wreckage | One Shot
Omg I love your jack Abbott writings! All of the written so well. So I have a request if theyre open.
Jack x nurse reader who had a fling but it ended soooo badly because emotions weren’t being regulated. This makes reader quit PTMC and work elsewhere when she finds out she’s pregnant. Never tells jack. Cut to a year or two later, and they manage to cross paths where jack realizes it’s his son/daughter, feelings get thrown out the bag, and they all lived happily ever after?
in the wreckage | one shot
Dr. Jack Abbot x ex!f!nurse!reader
Requested
Summary: It’s in the wreckage of what was that you find hope for what could be.
[ My Masterlist ]
Note: Thank you, anon! I struggled between giving him a son or daughter here, frankly because I really enjoyed both in my head. So like it has been in the past, it came down to a coin toss lol
Jack strikes me as both ‘“I walk you to your door and maybe kiss you goodnight on the second or third date” slow, intentional, traditional man and “if I don’t talk about my feelings, they don’t exist” longing, no title, all physical man’ so I float between them lol
Word Count: 3.1k (I blacked out)
Most of my works are 18+ for adult language and content.
Warnings: afab!reader, ex-situationship, implied age gap, foul language, hurt/comfort, mild references to smut, unplanned/surprise pregnancy, not telling jack about said pregnancy (reader being in the wrong oof), single mom!reader, hospital settings, medical inaccuracies, injuries relating to a car crash, angst with a happy ending, fluff
not beta read
It had started in the heat of the moment, neither of you being particularly careful with your feelings. The collection of lingering glances and secret smiles had brought it all to the surface until it was just the two of you after a bad shift. You had found comfort in each other that night, and several nights afterwards, lost in heat and an unspoken understanding of the horrors you faced each day.
Jack Abbot was a man of many complexities, though you thought that was what had sucked you in in the first place. The mysterious edge always left you wanting, always kept you guessing, and that just seemed like a recipe for disaster.
Perhaps because it had started on uncertain ground, always leaving you on the edge of your seat, left the relationship constantly feeling strained. What was worse was that neither of you called attention to it and simply let the insecurities fester. Simply never brought up what you were, or what you wanted to be, or got too personal to be vulnerable, though Jack had more of an affinity for that last one than you did.
You smiled at him less and less in the hallways of the Pitt, overwhelmed by the unknowing eating at your insides. You avoided him at work. He avoided your calls. Sooner or later, one of you always turned up at the other’s door. It became habitual, like a moth to a flame.
It only made your downfall so much worse.
—
You had wanted a clean break, and leaving the Pitt had been like leaving home. It had been necessary after that night with Jack, unable to look at him, let alone continue working with him. Not after what he said — not after you had asked for more and he had calmly, collectively, refused you. Like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t understand.
It had done more than just hurt and embarrassed you, it had burned.
Like everything had reached its crescendo before stopping cold. All the feelings buzzing around your chest had been too much in the aftermath, so you left. Just left.
The two little pink lines staring at you just a few weeks later were a bitter pill to swallow. A cruel cosmic joke reeling you back to the man you were trying to run away from — leaving a constant reminder of the downfall. Bile had risen in your throat, and you felt a petty feeling rise with it.
He didn’t need to be in your life. You could do it alone. Who said you had to tell him? Perhaps that was wrong of you, a bit too childish, but you were still angry. Still running.
As your belly swelled, your feelings started seeming less bitter and more sweet. You moved out of your crappy one-bedroom apartment and into a fresh start, committing to your choice. Committing to the child in your womb and the choices that had led you there.
There was a tiny part of you that wanted to reach out, let him know, but you grew embarrassed each time you stared at his contact. You did not want him to feel like you were trapping him after he had made it clear that nothing more could happen between you.
For months you struggled with your decision, trying to wrangle your worries and insecurities about being a single mother. All the work, all the money, all the stress it was going to bring you.
It all seemed to fade away when you held your son in your arms, so small and screaming, and yet your heart filled with joy. He was perfect, with tiny fingers and toes, small tufts of dark hair atop his head. His eyes gave you pause — as they were unmistakably Jack’s.
You cried without really knowing why. Joy, longing, loss, love, or something in between had boiled up and then boiled over. Jack should know, echoed quietly in the back of your mind, he should know he has a son.
It felt too late to say it. You had had months to say something, anything and chosen not to. It was too late.
Despite the hardships you faced as a new mom facing it alone, Daniel was loved fiercely and spoiled when you could manage it. Your friends and co-workers helped when they could, and never let the absence of a father grow when they could help fill the void. Even your old co-workers came to see you and your son, visiting with curiosity soaking their eyes.
If any of them caught on, they didn’t say anything.
—
It felt crazy to you that a year since your son had been born had passed so quickly, so fleetingly. You worked a lot to afford rent, food and childcare, but even still, it felt strange that a year had gone by without fanfare.
Your friend had been a lifesaver when she allowed you to use her backyard for his first birthday party. It would be a small affair, with only a handful of kids Daniel knew from daycare and a few of your friends and their kids. Perlah and Dana even stopped by, giving their well wishes from everyone.
When you ran out of ice for the coolers, you and one of your co-workers, Liam, offered to go get more at the corner store. You left Daniel in the caring hands of Dana and promised to be back in only a few minutes.
A few minutes turned into a few hours after you had been blindsided and t-boned by a car trying to run a red light. You felt hazy when the paramedics arrived, carefully trying to apply pressure to the gash on Liam’s leg.
When you were wheeled into PTMC, you felt a flood of panic. Hadn’t you asked to head to Alleghany East? Maybe it had only been in your head. You prayed to whatever was out there that you would only see Robby.
Fate had other plans, it seemed, as Jack was the one who had come to the ambulance doors to assess you.
He stared at you like he had seen a ghost before buckling down and getting to work. He checked your pupils and your vitals, muttering something about a concussion, before checking over the handful of cuts the glass had made when the windows broke.
You were stable, so they wheeled you back into an open room to wait for a head CT. Jack lingered in the doorway, before shooing away an intern who had come to clean your wounds.
“How’s my friend? Is he okay?”
Jack pulled the stool close to you, “He’s just a room over. Nasty laceration, concussion, but Robby’s taking care of him. He’ll be okay.”
You nodded and took a deep breath. You picked up your phone to call Dana.
“I shouldn’t be long.” You told her after explaining what had happened.
“I’ll be right there.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Like hell I don’t. Don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll take care of it.”
You sighed, “Thank you, Dana.”
Jack, who had silently been cleaning your wounds, spoke, “So…is it just me you don’t talk to anymore?”
You scrunched your eyebrows and looked at him quizzically, “Excuse me?”
Hazel eyes flicked up to meet yours.
“I thought you made it clear that was the last thing you wanted.” You said, tone hard, lips dipping into a frown.
Jack let out a long sigh. “It was a bad shift. Bad day. It doesn’t excuse what I said. I was running from it being something real, I’m sorry.” A long pause echoed. “But I’d like to try and at least be friends.”
Friends? It ached somewhere deep in your chest. You could not be friends. You had made that decision over a year before and decided against having him in your life at any capacity. You frowned at him, looking away from his face before you could crumble.
“I don’t think that’s wise.” You said quietly.
He nodded, pulling over the suture kit. That seemed to be the end of it.
You let him finish working while the silence washed over you, thick and guarded. Your thoughts felt cloudy, and your head hurt, your muscles ached, but doubt began to creep in.
Had you made the right decision? You wanted to believe so. With one foot constantly out the door, would he even make a good father? Had you waited too long to even consider telling him? You felt stuck in your head, going over all the what ifs until you felt queasy.
A knock sounded on the door, pulling you from your thoughts. Dana’s pleasant smile greeted you, but it was your son in her arms that made you flush with distress. You stared at her with wide eyes, heart picking up speed.
“Someone was worried.” She told you simply, but her eyes flickered to Jack.
Jack looked up at Dana, then at the boy in her arms. The toddler was tucked against her neck, leaning on her like he was trying to sleep. Jack schooled his features easily, though it looked like he was disappointed for just a fraction of a second, which sent you reeling.
“Should I have someone call your…boyfriend?” Jack asked tightly, looking back down at the stitch work.
“No boyfriend.” You frowned, but accepted your son from Dana eagerly. Did Jack think that you’d had a baby with someone else? Good. Good. That was for the best. Bile burned your throat.
“How’re you feeling, kid?”
“I’ll be fine, thank you. Can you call my parents? I’ll need help getting him home.”
“Of course, I’ll be just outside if you need anything else.” Dana said, eyes moving to Jack and then back to you.
Your cheeks heated and you held your son tightly to your chest. You rubbed his back and hummed softly, though it was more to comfort yourself than him. Maybe Jack would not notice, just finish his stitches and be on his way and you could go on pretending this had never happened.
Though, thinking Jack wouldn’t notice something was a fool’s game. Your son turned his head to look at him, blinking his tired hazel eyes at Jack. Like you had thought when you first saw them, they were like a mirror of each other.
Alarm raced through Jack’s features, eyes flickering from Daniel and back to you, eyebrows raised, breath caught. You stopped breathing, and your joints locked into place like you were bracing for it to all fall apart. He just stared at you.
“How old is he?”
“Jack—”
“How. Old. Is. He?”
“A year…today.” You said quietly. Meekly. Words cutting your throat like they had been glass.
It was simple enough to do the math, and his expression hardened. He stood, and the air shifted to something uncomfortable, uneasy, uncharted, unknown.
“Jack—wait—let me explain.”
“So I take it this is why everyone has been so secretive about why you left.”
“They didn’t know. No one knew.”
He gestured to where Dana stood in the hall.
“No one knew for certain.” You elaborated, trying to defend them. Perhaps you could handle him being mad at you, but not the family you had made in the Pitt. You had never told them, and they had never asked, though from how she had handed your son to you, it was clear Dana had known.
“You were never going to tell me.” It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.
Shame bubbled in your gut, low and searing, working its way upwards until tears formed. What you had been bracing for hit you like a punch to the chest — hurting more than that car had inflicted.
“I thought it was the right choice at the time.”
He scoffed and recoiled, his expression flinching between pain and anger.
“Jack—” you sighed, leveling your voice so you didn’t raise it. “—you told me I could never understand you, or the role you played here. That asking for any more from you was pointless…that it had all been a mistake and I needed to move on. I really couldn’t bear to work with you after that, so I left. I didn’t know I was pregnant yet. Was it wrong to keep it from you once I found out? …yes. But I was hurt.” You swallowed tightly, and wiped away your tears, annoyed they were forming.
He walked to the far wall away from you, then paced back toward you before repeating himself, hands on his hips. His expression broached closer to unreadable, which fueled your panic. With a long, heavy sigh, he stopped to lean against the wall. Never one to stray from eye contact, he found your eyes. Heavy, hard, reserved.
“I thought it was for the best. I didn’t want you to feel like I was trapping you, especially since it seemed like kids were the last thing on your list. I just wanted a clean break. I doubted my decision a lot—”
“And yet, you did nothing about it.”
You bit your lip. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I really messed up, I know that now. Time kept slipping away from me. I was still figuring out parenting — I still am — and to throw co-parenting into the mix? It felt like an impossible climb.”
“If you had never come here today…if Dana had never brought him in…you never would have said anything.”
More tears came as shame burned your face, “Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.”
Silences with Jack used to be comfortable, easy, as simple as breathing. The one now settling between you? It ached, it burned, it crushed.
“What’s his name?” Jack asked quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Daniel.”
You swore you saw his eyes grow glassy.
“I made the wrong decision, and I’ll own up to that.” You admitted quietly. “I can’t change what I did or didn’t do, and I’ll never be able to apologize enough for it. I just thought this…this would be easier. For everyone involved.”
“I’m involved now. Don’t fight me on that.”
“I won’t.” You vowed.
—
Trust was built back slowly, through long conversations and with actions followed through. It had been tense and awkward as your son grew to know Jack as his father, though he fell into the role like he was made for it. It only made the guilt over stealing a year of your son’s life from him hurt all over again.
The tension and burning guilt were the hardest thing for you two to overcome. While he never raised his voice, he would grow accusatory when he remembered how much he had lost out on. You would double down on the night you had left him behind — or perhaps it truly was him leaving you behind — and the words he had said to you.
Neither of you were particularly blameless, not really. The relationship that had been was not one formed on a solid foundation, so everything felt like new territory. The pull of will they, won’t they, as Princess had put it, constantly making you question where you stood.
You just wanted to focus on co-parenting effectively, and Jack just wanted to focus on making up for lost time. That felt easy enough.
But something from the past — from the wreckage of what you had been — lingered like some part of you and Jack was haunted. An echo of what should have been fizzled just below the surface.
On the first night you felt secure enough to leave Daniel at Jack’s apartment, you settled in his kitchen to clean up a bit of the mess from dinner. Jack’s guest room had been quickly converted to be a bedroom for his son, pulling together everything he needed without complaint.
Jack wandered back into the kitchen after settling Daniel down for the night. You hummed softly, and Jack leaned against the doorway without saying anything.
“I know this is hard for you.” Jack said, hands in his pockets. “Thank you for giving me tonight.”
You smiled even though a sadness lingered at leaving your son somewhere overnight that was not his home. But this would need to be his home, too, so you swallowed it.
“You two need some quality time,” after I ripped the beginning away from you. “You two will have fun tomorrow.”
“...I got an extra ticket, if you’d like to come with us.”
Hope bloomed, “You did?”
“I’d like to put the past behind us. Move forward together.” He said, eyes never leaving yours.
Forgiveness had come with your son’s echoing laughter and hues of blue shimmering against your skin, as light moved through the water. Daniel pointed up at the sharks in their tanks while Jack held him, watching in his own kind of excitement, a smile cracking against the corner of his mouth.
Jack had grabbed your hand without saying anything.
You intertwined your fingers and let out a long breath of relief.
—
Something like love had come in a flourish after Daniel’s first words: dada. It might have felt like a punch to the gut, another cosmic joke, if it hadn’t lit up Jack’s face in a smile you had never seen before. It warmed the ache in your chest and decided it was okay for Jack to have this first.
It felt like forgiving yourself.
You ended up staying the night, curling up against Jack’s chest while your son slept soundly in the next room. Neither of you wanted to rush what was blossoming between you, or jinx it. If you were going to go for it, you each deserved steady ground to stand on.
“You’re doing really well with him.” You whispered. “I was worried it would feel clunky or unnatural to have you around. But it works.”
He looked at you for a long time. “I don’t want to mess this up, too.”
You softened, “I think that’s what parenthood is. Messing up and trying to do better, every day.”
“Do you think relationships are the same?” He asked, low and deliberate.
“Yeah, I do.”
It felt like a confession.
He leaned down to kiss you, but paused just before his lips met yours. Your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wet your lips with your tongue.
“I like what we have. I don’t want to screw it up by trying to be something we’re not.” You said quietly, though you felt the pull of wanting to kiss him.
Co-parenting had been bleeding closer to a relationship for quite some time, but you had not wanted to be the one who spoiled it.
“I’m not going to run this time, not if you don’t.”
You swallowed, focusing on his eyes, “I’m here to stay.”
He captured your lips, pulling you flush against him, one hand going behind your head and the other settling on your hip. It was hesitant, but full of feeling, of all things left unsaid.
It felt like was a promise.
I hope you enjoyed, anon!
want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!
Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse @woodxtock @rachel2494
The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged @pastelbunnelby @jetjuliette @that-one-fangirl69
All content taglist: @nixandtonic
this inspired two tiny multis:
casual (coming soon) (Dr. Robby)
champagne problems (coming soon) (Dr. Abbot)
whoops
More Posts from M14mags and Others
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。BITE THE HAND — JACK ABBOT.
pairings: jack abbot x resident!reader
warnings: smut, hurt/comfort, angst, 18+ minors dni, age-gap implied-ish
summary: being casual with jack abbot was never going to be easy, and soon you realize that you've fallen for a man who's afraid of love
author's note: wow i went crazy writing this but this has been a week from hell so i made this to cope, hope you all enjoy! again, this is not proofread AND my requests are open
masterlist | read on ao3
wc: 5.4k
Jack Abbot was an enigma, a puzzle that you were desperate to solve. At first, you deluded yourself into thinking you could settle for pieces of him. That the stolen kisses, simmering looks, and dark rooms would be enough for you.
But it wasn't—of course it wasn't.
Because outside of the hospital, the list of people you saw consistently was small. And if you excluded the people you worked with, that left only one or two names. Somehow, Jack managed to snake his way to the top of the list.
It was the little things at first: asking you to get a drink after work. Slowly, but surely, it became a routine where you'd all meet in the park for a drink, and afterwards you and Jack continued the night at a nearby bar.
Then, it was walking you home after, lingering outside the front of your apartment building, and then your front door. It didn't take long for you to start inviting him in, offering a glass of water or a snack before he started his walk back. All these subtle moves felt like he was giving you the opportunity over and over again to turn him down.
You wouldn't because there wasn't a world where you said no to Jack Abbot.
There was a part of you that needed him, any part that he was willing to share.
So the first time he caged you between his arms against the wall, his breaths hard and heavy, you could've sworn your heart dropped into your stomach. Your legs turned into jelly, and if it wasn't for the wall's support, you absolutely would've slid to the ground.
"Are you sure?" He asked.
One last chance to say no, to save yourself from the rollercoaster seeing him would be.
"Yes," you said quietly, but not weakly. There was a beat, where the weight of your words hung in the air for the two of for the two of you to contend with.
And then his lips were on yours, and it felt like God himself was smiling down on you. Like the universe was finally rewarding you after every heartbreak, every sleepless night, every time you've ever felt unwanted. His hands found purchase in your hair, one sliding down to your waist and gripping it, pulling you closer to him in the process.
Your hands traveled up his neck, feeling the stubble on his jaws and cheek scrape against them as they cupped the sides of his face, bringing him impossibly closer to you. Your lips moved in sync, a dance that only you two knew, a rhythm that was in your blood. He pulled away slightly, staring at you through lidded eyes before dipping his head and sucking on your neck, biting that sweet spot just below your ear.
An involuntary moan slipped out before you could stop it, a sound that startled and embarrassed you, but seemed to only encourage Jack. He pressed his knee in-between your legs, spreading them apart so he could slot himself in between, his thigh pressing into your crotch.
"You like that?" He whispered, his voice low in your ear as you gripped his biceps, nails digging into them from the pressure. You nodded, your hips jerking and grinding down against his thigh. "Use your words for me."
"Keep going, please," the words tumbled out, leaving you breathless. Your hands went to the hem of his scrub top, fiddling with the hem before pulling it off him. He threw it somewhere behind him, not caring where it went.
For the first time since you've met him, you were seeing Jack come undone. He was finally losing that composure that he worked so hard to keep during all his shifts with you, finally letting you see the hold you've had on him for months now.
His hands dropped to the backs of your thighs before he whispered another command.
"Jump.
You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He walked backwards and turned, heading into deeper into your apartment about to cross a boundary he hadn't since meeting you.
"First door on the left," you directed him, before attacking his neck again in the same way he did you. You kissed up to his jaw before capturing his mouth into a kiss again.
The door creaked open distantly, and Jack walked you to the bed before gently lowering you onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss. His entire body moved to cover yours, his crotch grinding down against in yours in a way that made the both of you moan. You felt him undo the button to the long sleeve you were in, as you already changed out of your scrubs before leaving PTMC.
He leaned back, giving you the space to sit up and pull your shirt over your head. When you could see again, he was staring at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn't place. If it were anyone else, you would've felt self-conscious, but for some reason, with him you didn't. He reached out, brushing the strap on your shoulder and tracing down to your forearm, before looking back at you.
"Are you sure?" He asked again. Another chance, another way out. You answered by climbing into his lap, grinding down on him and kissing him deeply, your breaths becoming one. He leaned until his back hit the mattress, keeping you securely on top of him. You felt his arms go around you, his hands fiddling with the clasp of your bra until it finally snapped free and you shrugged it off. You dropped to the left, rolling him back on top of you while staying connected through a kiss.
He began to kiss down your chest, kissing over the swell of your breast and swirling your nipple in his mouth. A shudder ran through you at the contact, your back arching off the mattress slightly and he pulled you closer to him, giving each one equal attention. He continued his trail of kisses down your stomach, stopping just before the button of your jeans.
You made quick work of undoing the button and zipper, letting Jack slide both your pants and underwear off you, finally leaving you bare in front of him. He kissed down your inner thigh all the way to your folds, and you felt him rub against them with his hand.
"Already so wet for me," he mused, before sliding one, then two in, pumping slowly. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, as if daring you to break eye contact first. Finally, he lowered himself to your clit, sucking and swirling as he worked his fingers in and out, the combination driving you over the edge. A coil began to tighten around your lower stomach, and as he quickened his pace and moved with brutal efficiency, you felt it snap and burst and a wave of ecstasy washed over you. He held you the entire way through, one hand wrapped around your thigh anchoring you to the bed.
When you finally came back down and stopped trembling, he rose from his knees and hovered over you again, a soft smile on his face. You reached out to touch his face, your thumb running over his lips as he lowered himself to you again, tasting yourself on his lips. You pulled away, leaning your forehead against his and breathing heavily as you undid the knot of his scrubs, helping him slide them off. He was in briefs, his bulge evident and throbbing as you cupped him them. He let out a low groan as one of your fingers hooked under the hem of the underwear, tugging at it slightly.
"I want it off," you said, and Jack obeyed. He stood, sliding down the briefs and his erection sprung free. He was hard already, precum beading at top and dripping down the side. You rose to your knees to meet him halfway, pulling him into a kiss as you wrapped your hand around him and pumped slowly.
He let out a breathy moan, one that went straight to your core. He was the first to pull away this time, leaning his forehead against yours as the two of you watched you work him slowly. When you moved to lower yourself he stopped, gripping onto your elbows.
"No?" You questioned, and he shook his head. He helped you back up before pushing you gently onto the bed again, moving to cover you with himself again.
"I'm all about you tonight," he said, positioning himself at your entrance. You felt the head prod against you, and you could've sworn you felt a shock. "Ready?"
"Yes."
He kissed you, this time sweet and soft in a way you would have never expected from him. When he finally sunk in you tensed, and he murmured encouraging words into your ear, telling you to relax and that he'd move slow. You listened, letting your body become more pliable as you moved with him, your bodies becoming one. After a few thrusts, he began to pick up the pace, lifting your thigh at an angle so he could get in deeper. When he started to hit that spot that always pushed you over the edge you gasped, throwing your arms around his neck pulling him down to you, your nails digging into his back.
"That's it, that's my girl," he said, continuing his brutal pace, "You're doing so good for me."
It was all too much, every feeling was overwhelming. You wanted more, you wanted all of him, you couldn't get enough. The coil began to tighten again, and this time when it snapped, you didn't hold back in the slightest. You muffled your cries with his shoulder, biting into it as you rode the wave of your second orgasm. His pace quickened until it peaked, his whole body shaking as you felt him reach his peak as well. When he came back down, his thrusts were sloppy until he finally pulled out.
He collapsed on the other side of you, both of you panting and not saying a word. You knew he'd be good, but you didn't expect it to be that good.
And that was the night that started it all, this push and pull between the two of you. Both of you had agreed to keep it private it from the rest of your coworkers, not wanting to be the newest piece of gossip that entertains them during the rare moments of peace in their shift. If Princess and Perlah caught a whiff of this, it'd be over.
"You're in a good mood today," Robby noted as you came out of a patients room after finishing your rounds.
"They finally fixed the leak in my apartment, today is a great day," you explained, giving him a half-truth. That leak was very annoying, and the drip-drip-drip sound was beginning to keep you up at night. Or at least it kept you up when Jack wasn't.
"Repairs always put a smile on my face too," he mused, "But never one that big."
He was gone before you could say anything, and you knitted your eyebrows in confusion. Everyone else behaved normally that day, except for Collins and Mohan, who eyed you a little suspiciously when the three of you had lunch in the lounge later that day. It wasn't until you overheard Princess and Perlah whispering behind you when you were doing a restock of supplies. When you turned to face them, they both stopped and simply smiled, waved, and disappeared immediately.
You got your answers when you cornered Whitaker on his way to make rounds.
"What do you know?"
"What?" He asked, looking more skittish than usual. His eyes scanned the surroundings, as if he was looking for an excuse to get out of this conversation. You blocked his path with your body, smiling in a way that was downright terrifying to him.
"Let me rephrase: what's everyone whispering about?"
He caved almost immediately.
"We're betting on you and Abbot," he rushed out. Your jaw dropped and you backed away, allowing him to take off before you could ask more questions.
How did anyone start to suspect? You wondered. It's not like the two of you were constantly together on shift. Hell, you rarely saw each other shift unless it was to congregate in a small group to chat before everything fell into chaos again. Your dynamic hadn't changed either: he was just as reserved with you as he was everyone else.
One time, you laughed at a joke he made along with everyone else, and out of reflex you touched his arm. As if you were a blazing fire, he immediately withdrew from you, clearing his throat and declaring that he needed to go catch up on charts. At the time, only Dana seemed to notice the way you retreated into yourself afterwards, and that you became slightly more withdrawn for the rest of the shift.
That incident led to another conversation between you and Jack, where you tried to force him to admit his feelings for you. Instead of admitting anything, he drew a boundary: that this needed to be casual, that you couldn't expect anything else from him. You were a bit taken aback at the time, but you didn't blame him. You had only been seeing each other for about three weeks at that point.
But now, it's been almost two months, and the lines are beginning to blur for you. He had slept over this morning, and was still in your bed when you left for the day shift. By now, he was probably awake and in your kitchen making breakfast.
Not very casual of you, you thought, walking back to the board to find a patient.
The breaking point for you didn't come for another week, when you were having an exceptionally terrible shift. You were a good doctor, in fact, you believed you would be great. But, having three patients code on you back to back is enough to make anyone feel like shit, especially when one of them was a long-time patient who you had known for a little over a year at this point.
You sat on the roof, legs dangling off the edge as you stared down at the busy street below. The cars whizzed by, but the pedestrians walked leisurely. It was nice to remind yourself that there was something out there, outside of PTMC, that made it all worth it. But recently, you had been struggling to remember what that thing is. It was hard for you to leave work at the door when you got home when it seemed to be your entire life. Truthfully, there was nothing for you outside of PTMC. All your friends were there.
Was that sad? Maybe. But you had never really minded that until right now, when you wanted nothing more than to take your mind off this shitty night.
"You're in my spot," a voice said from behind you, and your blood ran cold. He was the last person you wanted to speak to right now, especially not in this state.
"Go away," you grumbled, not turning to face him. His footsteps got closer, and you didn't have to look to know that his hands were in his pockets and he had a wide stance. Typical Jack.
"Well, I don't think I can do that. Not when you're half off the ledge. I'd be breaking my oath if I left you right now."
You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless, you got up to your feet, using the railing for support. You turned to face him, an irritated look on your face.
"Happy?"
"Ecstatic." The two of you stood there for a while, the railing separating you, daring the other to be the first to break the silence.
"Ellis said you were up here, tough shift for you," he explained, even though you didn't ask.
"Nice of her to notice," you mused. He chuckled, shifting his weight between both legs.
"It wasn't your—,"
"Fault? I know it wasn't, but it still feels that way. Besides, I don't want to talk about it."
Not with you, you added silently in your head.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Nothing, I want you to go back inside and let me have my roof-time. Alone." He feigned being hurt, but he didn't move. Just stared at you in the intense way he always does.
You didn't look away.
"I'm sorry, have I upset you? If I did, I'm—,"
"What do you think?" He genuinely looked puzzled, and you sighed. Men, they never learn, do they? "What the hell are we doing here?"
"I'm lost," he deadpanned, and you let out an exasperated sigh.
"With us! What is going on? One day, you can't get enough of me and you look at me like I've hung the moon and stars. The next, you act like I killed your cat and made you watch. I can't keep bouncing between these two extremes, it's too confusing." Especially not when the two of you are laying in bed, not even having done anything, but he's holding you so tight it's as if he's scared you're gonna disappear the minute he let's go.
"Y/N," he began, getting that look of pity in his eyes that you've always hated. Like he's realizing for the first time in his life that his actions have consequences, and now he has to take responsibility for them, "I'm sorry. I can't, you know I can't."
He reached for you but you backed away from his touch, narrowing your eyes at him.
"I don't know anything, Jack, because you don't tell me anything. You hold me, and everyone else, at an arm's length. You never let me in. You don't let anyone in. I guess this is my fault, right? You told me casual, and I said yes, and then I was stupid enough to fall for you," you spat, each word making you angrier and angrier.
"You're not stupid," he insisted, stepping closer but careful not to let his arm brush yours as he gripped the railing, "I've never felt this way about someone before. Never."
"And what exactly am I supposed to do with that? Know that you think I'm good enough to fuck, but not date? Thanks, but no thanks."
"I'm not saying that--,"
"Then what are you saying?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it, scared of himself saying words he knew he wouldn't be able to take back. You scoffed, shaking your head and cursing under your breath.
"I don't want to do this anymore," you said finally, swinging yourself under the railing and popping out on the other side, "I hope you're happy."
You rarely spoke or saw Jack for the next couple of weeks, strategically signing up for shifts that had minimal overlap with him. If anyone noticed, no one outright said anything to you, but you wouldn't expect them to. On the bright side, there seemed to be a lot less whispering going on whenever you happened to be alone.
So much for that bet, huh?
In all honesty, you had been sad at first. Sad was generous--you were a wreck in the beginning. But you were certain to not ever let it show at work. Once you got to PTMC, you left your baggage at the door, just like everyone else. You were your same bubbly self, making the same jokes and jabs with McKay and Mohan as if it were any other day. You even still went to the park afterwards, only sometimes drinking a beer to let off steam. Jack would be there as well, watching you with an intensity you refused to acknowledge. Still, you didn't change your behavior towards him, treating him with the indifference you'd treat any other colleague.
Because that's what you were now: colleagues. Not even friends, because your friends would never treat you the way he did.
"Hey, instead of the park some of us were thinking of going to a dive bar after, you in?" Mateo asked, falling into step beside you as you both headed to triage.
"Who's coming?"
"The usual, some people on the night shift took the day off today so they might make an appearance. Ellis, Shen, Abbot--Walsh is a hit or miss though." Your heart stuttered at the mention of Jack's name, but you kept your composure.
"Sounds good, I might be a little late though I have to go home first." Mateo smiled and nodded just as you pushed through the double doors, immediately greeted by the chaos of an ER waiting room. You both called out the names of different patients, ushering them inside efficiently before letting the doors shut behind you.
"I'm surprised he's coming," Samira said, cracking open a cider and sitting on your couch as you finished getting ready. You decided to take a quick shower after your shift once someone threw up you--twice. You passed by your vanity and paused, considering putting some light makeup on. Then you remembered you had no way of taking it off as you ran out of makeup wipes earlier that day, and had no way of taking it off when you came back.
"Who's coming? Whitaker?" Samira laughed, sipping at her cider before continuing.
"You know who I'm talking about, Abbot's coming." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"Why would that be weird? Doesn't he always?"
"Definitely not on his day off, when he could be resting or doing whatever it is he does in his free time." You shrugged, opening your fridge to grab a cider for yourself.
"Well, it's not like I care. Or I guess I can't let myself care. He couldn't be what I needed him to, and I can't wait around hoping that one day he'll wake up and be the person I believe he is. I'm too accomplished to wait around on a guy like that," you popped the tab before adding, "You and I both are."
Samira cheered to that and you both took large swigs of the can. You squeezed your eyes shut and made a face, forgetting how tart the citrus flavor usually was. You spent the rest of your two-person pregame debriefing about work and fun cases you got, and also set a deadline for the two of you to start booking flights for Montreal--the vacation you guys were supposed to take two months ago.
Once you guys finished one can, you started the short walk to Ray's. Your apartment was much closer than Mohan's, which is why the two of you decided to meet up first and head over together. It was a Wednesday night, so it was mostly empty. There were a few random strangers playing pool in the corner, one of them catching your eye and lingering for a little too long.
"There they are!" Samira pointed to what you recognized to be the back of Mateo's head, leading the two of you over there. McKay was the first to notice you two, sliding over to make space for you on her side of the booth. On the other side of her sat Collins, Whitaker, and Santos. Across from you was Samira, followed by Mateo, Javadi, Robby, and Jack. You nodded hello at them all, careful not to linger on Jack for too long.
"So, what are we drinking?" you asked, pretending to skim the menu even though you ordered the same thing every time.
"Let's do a round of Bold Rock," Jack answered, putting his menu down and looking straight at you, "First round's on me." The weight of his stare did something funny to your throat, a reaction you weren't expecting to have.
"You know me so well," you teased, playing it cool and refusing to be anything but levelheaded. Samira glanced at you, gauging your reaction, but you just smiled before turning and jumping into conversation. The nine of you ended up getting three rounds, with Collins being the voice of reason to talk you guys out of a fourth round. You pouted, but knew it was for the best: nothing was worse than working a day shift hungover.
About two hours later, everyone remaining was ready to leave. Javadi, Whitaker, Samira, and Santos all left slightly earlier, claiming that they needed to catch the next train or else they'd have to walk. You slid out of the booth and headed towards the bathroom, proud of yourself for not peeing every other minute considering how much you drank. You splashed a bit of water on your face, hoping to wake and sober you up.
When you stepped out of the bathroom, you bumped into a hard mass. The stranger apologized, and when you looked up, you realized it was the guy from the pool table.
"I was hoping I'd run into you tonight," he mused, leaning against the wall and flashing you a dimpled smile. He was cute: the shirt he was wearing hugged his chest and biceps in a very flattering way, his hair curled and styled strategically to frame his face. But still, you didn't want him.
"Thanks, but no thanks," you replied, moving to step around him. He blocked your path with his body, boxing you in between him and the wall.
"Come on, that's no way to treat a friendly stranger, is it?" The politeness drained out of your body, not wanting to let him waste another second of your time.
"Move or I scream," you said flatly. You had done it a million times before, and you weren't afraid to keep doing it.
"What?" he asked, mildly amused by your antics. Before he had the chance to say anything sleazy, you opened your mouth and let out a shrill shriek, one that had him jumping back with his hands up as if to prove his innocence. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I should be asking you that," you shoved past him, leaving the bathroom hallway to return to the main room of the bar. As you reached for the door, it swung open, revealing a panicked Jack, with the others close on his tail.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his breath beginning to even out now that he saw you in one piece.
"Peachy," you replied, stepping around him. He turned and followed you out, puzzled by your calm demeanor.
"Was that you screaming? What happened?" McKay asked immediately, Robby and Mateo flanking her on both sides. You shrugged, walking back to the booth to grab your purse and jacket.
"Nothing, just some asshole. They never seem to believe me when I say I'll scream," you laughed to yourself, reminiscing on all the times you had gone out with friends in college and came up with more and more absurd ways to get guys to stop flirting with you. "Seriously, I'm fine. But I'm getting tired now, so can we go please?"
Together, the group headed out of Ray's. Quickly, you all branched off, all of you living in different parts of Pittsburgh. Notably, Jack seemed to linger until it was just the two of you left.
"What are you doing?" you asked, knowing how this story went. How it seemed to always go.
"I'll walk you," he decided, starting in the direction of your apartment. It was easier to just follow him than waste your time arguing.
The walk back was silent, neither of you eager to be the first to speak. It was a comfortable silence, one that felt too familiar. You glanced over at Jack, but his eyes were trained on the sky as he looked deep in thought. When you rounded the corner and pulled up on your block, you half-expected his steps to slow, for him to watch from a distance as you entered the building.
But no, and just like he used to, he walked you all the way to the door.
"Can we talk?" he asked suddenly as you began to enter the gate code. Your hand dropped, not pressing the final key, and you turned to face him.
"Sure, let's talk." He looked past you, eyeing the door, then back at you.
"Do you want to go inside?"
"Nope, I'm good right here."
You needed to stand your ground. Besides, coming into your apartment was something you let friends do. Samira was a friend. McKay was a friend. Hell, even if Robby was a friend. But Jack lost that privilege.
He blew out a breath, taking his hands out of his pockets and looking up at you. In the entire time you've known him, this was the most vulnerable you've ever seen him look.
"I was scared of you," he admitted, "You were this brilliant, beautiful, bright thing in my life, and I felt like I didn't deserve you. You knew what you wanted and went for it, and I admired that about you. I still do. When we had that first conversation about what we were, I was in denial. I told myself that if we kept it casual, I wouldn't be at risk."
"At risk of what?"
"Losing you."
"Funny how that worked out," you mumbled grudgingly, still not entirely sure where he was going with this. Jack laughed quietly, looking down at his shoes, then back up at you with something shining in his eyes.
"Even now, you still don't falter. You are the strongest woman I have ever met, Y/N. You are also one of the smartest doctors I have ever worked beside, and you never failed to blow me away with every shift we worked together. "
Your breathing turned shallow, and you stood frozen on the doorstep. Jack took a few steps towards, stopping just before the first step.
"You scare me because I want to love you, and I don't know how. I have no idea how to be the man you want me to be, the one you deserve, the one you expect. I thought it was easier to give up altogether, but I was wrong, and I am so, deeply sorry for that Y/N. This past month without you made me realize how engrained in my life you were. I missed your texts, the way you'd always try new recipes that would fail and we'd have to order something for dinner, and how no matter what, you always showed up for the people depending on you. I think the world of you, Y/N, I really do. And I love you. I loved you during that first conversation, but just didn't know it. I loved you when I walked away from you on the roof, and I was scared of it. And I have loved and missed you every second since."
He paused briefly, searching your eyes for an answer. If it wasn't for the fact that you could hear your heart loudly thumping in your ears right now, you would've thought you'd died and gone to heaven.
"I want to be that man for you, Y/N, if you'll let me."
A moment passed, and then another, and another. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words died in your throat before you could get any out. So, you went for the next best thing.
You grabbed him by the collar and crashed your lips against his, one of your hands moving to the side of his neck and the other cradling his jaw. His hands snaked around your waist, somehow pulling you even closer. You were the one to pull away, resting your forehead against his.
"Yes," you answered, a little breathlessly at that. The corners of his mouth lifted, his hand going under your chin and tilting your head up so that he could look at you.
"Yes?" he repeated, still reeling from the shock of the moment. This time you nodded, and the smile spread like wildfire across his face. He pressed a kiss to your nose before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you both towards the front door.
"I'm not having sex with you tonight," you said, punching in the code to the door. Jack chuckled, pulling you in again.
"I wasn't expecting you too."
"Good. And you need to shower before getting in my bed, no outside clothes," you added, leading him down the hallway to your apartment.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, following you into your apartment once you unlocked it. He swung the door shut behind him as you kicked of your shoes.
"And I believe in second chances, but that's it. If you decide to pull away again, know--,"
"I won't," he reassured you, his fingers sliding into your belt loops and tugging you towards him, "I want you. Only you. All of you."
"I could get used to that," you thought aloud, earning a laugh from the both of you. You leaned into him, closing your eyes and basking in this moment that you thought would never happen.
-
please reblog, like, and comment <3
some of my favorite shawn hatosy tweets about his wife and why i refuse to settle for any less
my heart
Send Me An Angel (Dr Jack Abbot x NurseWife!OFC)
Summary: The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.
TW: 18+ content, canon typical content warnings apply, mentions of suicide and characters making light of suicide because that just how they deal, some smut, established relationship, age gap but barely mentioned (yet) , dark thoughts, angst, some fluff, nobody you love dies ... barely proofread or edited. Y'all I came out of fanfic retirement for this grumpy asshole because I love him (and Robby) so be gentle
~~~~~~~~
7:40am
Jack opened the door between the house and garage and immediately smelled breakfast cooking. He dropped his backpack by the washer and dryer and stripped his shirt off over his head. "Babe!" He dug through his bag for his scrub top and kicked out of his shoes. "I'm home!" He pulled his ID badge off his pocket, slipped his silicone wedding band back on, then took out his extra pen light, three pens he didn't remember taking and the knife out of his other poket before he dropped his pants, pulled off his socks and shoved the whole pile into the hamper labeled 'work' before he picked up his bag and headed inside.
"Clean up and come eat!" She called back from the kitchen.
"Yes ma'am!" He walked down the short hall and ducked through a door to the master bedroom. He dumped his bag on the floor by the closet and went straight for the shower where he spun the knob as hot as it would go. By the time he stepped out of his boxer briefs and stared at himself in the mirror for a minute steam was rolling over the doors.
The water burned but he didn't touch the knob. For a long moment he didn't move, just let the water run over his head while he held his breath as long as he could. Once his head began to swim, his pulse pounding in his ears and his chest tight he stepped back and took a deep breath. The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.
Once he scrubbed himself clean he put on a pair of sweats and a shirt to head out to the kitchen, which smelled like biscuits and homemade gravy. Sam was in front of the stove barefoot, in a pair of what must have been very short, shorts hiding under a baggy ARMY t-shirt he was pretty sure was his. She must have actually got off work on time.
He walked up behind her to wrap his arms around her, "Hey baby" Jack kissed the side of her neck and buried his face in her still damp hair so be could breathe in the smell of her eucalyptus shampoo and antibactial soap.
Her response was cut and dry as she stirred the contents of the pan, "Robby called."
"God damn it" He dropped his forehead down to her shoulder.
"Don't be mad, he's your best friend."
"Not right now he's not." Jack looked up and turned to lean his temple against the back of her head.
"You realize if you deep throat your pistol or yeet yourself off a building I don't get your benefits right?" She still hadn't looked at him.
"Yeet?"
She scoffed, "Avoidance. Nice. Yes, yeet, just a friendly reminder that I am, technically, younger than you and I could remarry if I had to."
He stroked over her ribcage, the material of the shirt well worn and smooth against the rough pad of his thumb. He kissed the crown of her head, "Do it for the money this time."
His wife leaned back into him with an annoyed sigh, "Please don't make me get married again, Jack."
After a long, deep breath Jack pressed another kiss to the back of her head, "I won't." A kiss to the side of her neck, longer and lingering this time. "You're makin' biscuits and gravy."
Finally, she turned around to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Thought it might make you feel a little better." On her tip toes she pressed her lips to his once, and then a second time.
Jack hummed appreciatively as he kissed her back. He let his grip loosen on her enough to slide his hands down over her waist and her hips. He coaxed another, longer kiss from her as he moved to slip his hands under her shirt. He pulled up abruptly and groaned into her mouth as he touched bare skin. "You're not wearin' anything under here."
With a smile she nipped at his bottom lip, "Thought it might make you feel a little better."
With something between a chuckle and a groan he pressed his forehead down into hers. He kissed her again, with more intent this time, as he reached over to turn the stove burner off with one hand. He made her giggle as he picked her up by the waist and set her on the counter. His voice was quiet, rough as he spoke, "You're the only thing that could."
Sam let out a long, shaky breath as she pulled him closer and kissed him harder. "Don't ever leave me Jack, not like that."
His only answer was to nod and claim her mouth with his once more and drag her hips tight to his own.
"Promise me." She mumbled against his lips, her fingers tugging at the waisband of his sweats.
"Promise." He moved his kisses to the soft spot at the hinge of her jaw, and then lower, down her neck to her clavicle. When he felt her tremble slightly he smoothed his hands up her thighs and then moaned into the side of her neck as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. The fingers of her other hand were buried in the curls at the back of his neck and for a split second he couldn't imagine a life, or lack there of, without this in it, without her in it.
"Jack…" Sam's voice was breathy as she tugged at those curls, drawing him back to the present moment.
He moved back to kiss her, "I'm right here baby," Jack swept his tongue through her mouth and tugged her impossibly closer, "I'm right here." His hand pulled hers away from him, even that brief touch, the couple of minutes he'd had her in his arms, and he was already hard as a rock. As her hands moved to tug and pull at his tshirt he actually cracked a smirk, just a twitch of his lips as more of the darkness slipped away. Jack did as she wanted and stripped his shirt off before he went back to shove his sweats down just low enough to pull himself free. "Ready?" He asked the question with his lips against her ear and she shivered and nodded into his shoulder.
All the years they'd been together, the thousands of times they'd fucked, made love, fooled around, and every fucking time he slid his cock home it knocked the fucking air out of his chest. Her pussy was tight, hot and wet, already quivering around him and he finally felt alive again. Sam wrapped her legs around him tight, locked him in place and he grinned.
"God you feel so good, always feels so good." Her words snapped him out of his head again and sent a jolt straight to the base of his spine.
Suddenly alive, happy even, Jack reached to take her face in his hands and tip her up to look at him as he began to move. One slow thrust after another he kept his brown eyes locked on hers so bright and sunny, even after hearing her husband had been standing on the edge of a roof less than an hour ago. She didn't look away from him, not until his hips were snapping into hers hard enough for her eyes to roll back in there head. Her mouth open, filthy sounds falling from her lips as her fingers clutched at his forearms. "Look at me."
Her eyes flew open, bright but unfocused, and she held his gaze once again.
"Good girl," He let her see him smile this time, really smiled for the first time since he got home, and then he kissed her. Deep and sloppy and he hoped it showed her he was okay. Her legs tightened around his hips and her hands began to scramble over his arms, shoulders, his back. Still with that same smile he fucked her harder, dropped one hand down to the small of her back to hold her tight. "Go ahead, go ahead baby. I'm right here, I'm right here." The position pressed her against him just right and the sensation of her clit rubbing against him and the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot deep in side her made her gasp.
"Oh shi…God, Jack, shit!" and then every muscle in her long, lean little body seized tight and her nails dug into the back of his neck. The little bit of pain and the sensation of her falling apart around him dragged him over the edge. That falling sensation he had craved with every bone in his body finally coming to a realization. Except at the bottom of this fall, the cold hard ground was replaced by the feel of his wife's lips against his neck, her fingers twisting and toying with his curls still damp from the shower, and her happy little moan as her body relaxed against him.
He couldn't look at her just yet, so he pressed his face to the crown of her head and breathed her in as he wrapped her up tight. He couldn't pull away from her, not yet, and he hummed appreciatively as he felt her arms and legs wrap tighter around him. Jack didn't really think about how long they had stayed there, his dick going soft inside her, the mess they made. Eventually he sniffed and breathed in deep and whispered, "I love you."
Samantha, the love of his life, smiled against his neck and pressed a kiss against his slowing pulse, "Love you too."
The ding of the oven timer startled them both and after a second they broke into soft chuckles. Jack stood up straight and dropped his head back between his shoulder blades, the darkness gone, grumbling as Sam's teeth nipped over his corotid. "Biscuits are gonna burn if you don't let me go."
He grumbled again, face back in it's normal scowl, "Only 'cause I'm starving." He bent down to kiss her a final time before he finally, slowly, stepped away from her. One hand still on her thigh as he reached for a paper towel to clean up the mess they'd made so they could eat breakfast and go to bed.
5:43pm
When he woke up later that afternoon Samantha was still sound asleep beside him, her back to him, bare because they'd gone to bed after breakfast and made love, softer a slower than in the kitchen that morning. He turned onto his back to look at the alarm clock. He could go ahead and get up.
"Go back to sleep." Her voice was soft and raspy, barely awake, like she was trying to fight it.
Jack smirked to himself as he twisted back to kiss the back of her head before he slipped out of bed for the bathroom. He'd never slept well, even before the Army, before Afghanistan and Iraq, even before med school or the switch to nightshifts. On his way back from taking a leak he stopped by the dresser and flipped the switch on the scanner. He'd go back to bed, because she was there, but he doubted he'd sleep. He would have to get up soon anyway. At first there was silence, then the radio chatter picked up.
Back in bed his wife grumbled and pulled the blanket up tighter as she turned towards him. "Sleep okay?"
Jack stretched, arms over his head, and grimaced as his bad shoulder popped, "Slept fine." He laid one arm out and she immediately moved to his side and tucked herself in, twisting her head so she could press a kiss to the scar under his clavicle. "Close your eyes," He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Go back to sleep." She didn't have to work tonight and he didn't want to ruin her night off. His own eyes slipped closed as he stroked his fingers up and down her arm. He focused on each of her breaths as they ghosted over his chest while he listened to the static and clicks as mics were keyed on and off, officers called in traffic stops, dispatch relayed reports from callers.
When he'd come back from his last deployment and they were finally able to live together longer than a few months at a time, Jack had been shocked how quiet everything was. Even in base housing, there was silence. Sam told him him he'd acclimate, he'd get used to it. She said she listened to podcasts, audiobooks, something to drown out the silence. No jets or C130s screaming ovehead and howling on the tarmac, no chop from blackhawks or chinooks at all hours of the night, no yelling, fighting or roughhousing on the other side of plywood walls.
He hadn't acclimated.
Audiobooks didn't help, he'd lay awake all night because he needed to know how it ended. Podcasts just annoyed him, even the true crime ones she seemed to favor and somehow was able to fall asleep to within the first ten minutes. It wasn't until they'd moved off base that she'd thought of it while they unpacked the den. Sam had pulled out the radio and charging dock, the one they had 'just in case', turning the knob to see if it still worked and it had. So, they'd listened as they unpacked. "Maybe this would help you sleep." She'd been right.
For a moment, with the radio chatter, the blackout curtains and her pressed close against him he thought he might fall back asleep.
A series of chirps followed by long, highpitched tone sounded through the room followed by, "Shots fired, shots fired! All units…" the unmistakable sounds of rifle rounds popped and crackled over the speaker, "Shots fired!" Screaming, distant and garbled. Louder pops, closer, the officers handgun as it rang out. He or a partner maybe as they returned fire. Bang, bang, pause, bang,bang, "We need units now, we have an active shooter at Pitt…" The thirty second emergency call cut short and then the radio chatter exploded with answering officers and dispatchers.
Jack had sat up straight, Sam did the same beside him. Together they listened. Sam combed one hand through her hair as they waited.
Pittfest.
"Jesus," Sam looked at her husband, "That'll go to you guys."
Jack was already out of bed and pulling on underwear, before Sam could finish her sentence.
Less than 10 minutes later Sam met him at the garage door wearing just a hoodie and holding a shaker bottle. "Take this." She shoved it at him as he grabbed his truck keys. "And call me. Anything, just call me."
Jack ignored the protein shake for the moment instead sinking his free hand into her mess of dirty blonde hair and pulling her into him for a kiss. When they finally pulled apart he looked her dead in the eyes. "I love you."
She didn't blink, didn't breath as she pressed a hand over the center of his chest, over his steady beating heart. "I love you."
Then he grabbed the protein shake, gave her one last kiss and climbed into his truck.
6:11pm
Jack wouldn't ever say it out loud, except maybe to Sam, but he lived for this. This, the blood, the gore, the fear and the chaos, the critical thinking all of it, this is what he'd been put to do. This was easy, this was routine. He felt alive.
"Where's Collins?"
"I need a chest tube!"
"How the hell are we out of chest tubes!"
"O pos! I need a bag of O pos over here!
"I need help with an airway!"
"Someone get me more O Neg!"
Robby appeared at his side as they worked together the slow the blood pouring out of an adomen. "Depot is running low."
Jack spared a quick glance around him, "Where are we on resupply?"
"Gloria says she's working on it."
"How long?"
Robby laughed in that self-deprecating way ER doctors specialize in, "Your guess is as good as mine. She says she's working on it."
"Fuck that." Jack mumbled as he stood up straight, "Bag him." He ripped his gloves off and dug his phone out of his pocket. God bless FirstNet, he had signal and when he hit send the call went through. "Yeah, I'm fine. Need a favor."
6:32pm
The Ambulance bay doors hissed open. Robby looked up, "Ohhh, you are the prettiest thing i've seen all day!"
Jack glanced to the side, "Back off Robinavitch, I saw her first."
Sam dodged gurneys as she approached. A duffle bag in each hand and a backpack. "I come bearing gifts!" She made a beeline for the nurses station and Dana.
"Sweetie, please tell me you didn't just pick the worst possible time for a visit?" Dana met her arms wide open.
The duffle bags dropped on the counter with a thud and Sam shrugged out of her backpack so she could return Dana's hug. "Courtesy of Pittsburg VA Medical Center." Sam unzipped one bag and then the other, "I've got chest tubes, I've got cath tubes, some of this tubing I'm not even sure what the fuck it's for, and as many bags and adapters as I could take. i've got CAT tourniquets, SOF turniquests, some surgical turniquets, hemostatic dressings, suture kits, a shit ton of gauze and tape. There's chest seals in that one and abdominal trauma kits if shit gets real western," She turned to Dana as she whipped her long ponytail up into a quick and well practiced bun, "and this," she dug in the pocket of her scrub pants and handed over a piece of paper, "Is a list of people ready and waiting to come if you need them."
For a second it looked like Dana might cry as she glanced down at the list of names and phone numbers written in all different handwriting, mismatched inks, marker, pencil. It looked like they'd all used whatever they had handy at the time. She looked up at Sam and smiled, "You're an angel. Have I told you lately that I love you?" She wrapped her up in another hug.
"Yes, but it never gets old." Sam squeezed her back. "Now, I slammed a Monster on the way here so put me to work."
Dana smiled, "Put those in behavioral, that's supply, then gown up and pick a body." she paused, "i'm glad you're here."
On her way by her husband he called out to Dana, "Tap her, she's O-Neg!"
Sam gave him a look, "What, am I just a blood bank to you?" She gave Robby a wink as she passed him.
Jack called after her, "Love you."
"You better!"
Jack and Robby exchanged a look over a patient, "She's still pissed about this morning. Thanks for that by the way."
"What are best friends for?"
With a scoff Jack stood up, "This one can go up. Bring me another red!" then turned back to Robby, "I don't have a best friend."
Robby laughed and got back to work.
Jack took a deep breath, stole a glance at his wife already helping Samira place an airway on a gunshot victim, and nodded to himself. He remembered why now. He remembered why he kept coming back. For the time being anyway.
3:58 am
The only reason Jack didn't jump, flinch or even move when he felt a hand rest on the back of his head was because he'd recognize that touch anywhere. He groaned, but did not look up from where he sat with his elbows braced on his knees and his head hanging low. Her fingers carded through his curls and she scratched her nails over his scalp in the way that he loved so fucking much. Blindly, with one hand, he grabbed the back of her knee and tugged her closer so he could rest his forehead against her stomach.
Long minutes passed while she played with his hair and he didn't realize the death grip he still had on the back of her leg until his fingers began to cramp. Jack relaxed his hold on her, but didn't let her go. DIdn't want to risk her stopping or stepping away.
"You want some of my coffee?" Her voice was so gentle, but loud in the darkness.
His gaze fell on her shoes, smeared with blood. He sat up straighter, tipped his head back to look at her. "Sure."
She handed him the cup of shitty, hospital coffee and he sipped it. Black. She must be exhausted.
"Hey," she moved her hand down to the back of his neck but continued to scratch her nails over his skin. When he met her gaze, she gave him a soft smile, "Think you should go check on Robby."
He took another sip of her coffee and rubbed his hand up and down the back ofher thigh, trying to ignore the feel of the dried, caked blood, "Where is he?"
Her pretty green eyes blinked and she nodded, fighting back tears. "GIve you one guess."
~The End ~
Hope y'all enjoyed. I love these two and have some back story that might see daylight soon so keep an eye out for that.
Also, if you saw the poll I posted yesterday you'll know that I have a second story idea that I'm working on that more focused on Jack and Robby and their not friends friendship, Sam Abbot features heavily in that one and spoiler, she has a cute nurse friend (reader) that she wants to set Robby up with!
✨Bleeding Knuckles ✨
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x YN "Fire" Gibbs
Summary: Rooster meets Gibbs' daughter at the boxing gym. She's ferocious, strong and she's a boxer, but she is in pain. And Rooster relates to it. Now he is here, and he won't let anything hurt you anymore., not even yourself.
Words: 940 (Blurb - Boxer!Reader and NCIS crossover)
Pls reblog if you like the idea, so that I know if ppl wants to know the whole angsty but fluff story behind my idea
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It all started with Bradley counting every time it hurt. This is what Carole had taught her son to help him cope with life's disillusion. Grievance, anger, mourning... Bradley had experienced them all, and they all left a scar deep within his soul. This is why he had started boxing - to evacuate all the negative and brutal turmoil his soul was undergoing. Since then, he kept boxing as a tradition but also as a way to work out during his free time. For sure, he worked a lot and could not go to the boxing gym as much as he wanted, but today Maverick granted him a leave. After weeks of harsh training, Rooster could relieve the stress that had accumulated within. Each blow against the punching bag felt like a sweet release.
One punch for the excruciating training.
One punch for Hangman, just because he is a dick.
One punch for his ex, who had just broken up with him weeks ago.
He was about to throw another punch at the poor hanging bag when the sound of a girl grunting in pain snapped him out of his thought. Rooster stopped and swept the room with his warm hazel eyes. There he saw her ... It was Leroy Gibbs' daughter - oh, he had only caught sight of her once, but he had found her so attractive that he could not forget her beautiful face.
The girl was hitting her punching ball as if her life depended on it. She was staring at it, her brows frowned, and her wet, shining lips were curled up as a wild feline hissing at his enemy. She threw a brutal punch, so brutal that the chain from which the punching bag was hanging produced a loud jiggling sound. No one quite noticed her, for the place was almost empty and the few men training here were packed together at the weight section, at the other end of the gym. Rooster took off his thick red boxing gloves, far too busy observing her to keep it up with his training. He ran one of his hands through his sweaty blonde curls, some of them sticking to his temples and forehead.
"Fuuuuuuck you!"
You growled, louder. The violence with which your first hit the bag was so ferocious that the skin on your knuckles -already damaged by one full hour of enraged boxing- broke open. Bradley thought you would stop beating that poor punching bag now that you wounded yourself, but you kept hitting it again and again. Blinded by a destructive rage, your body seemed desensitized to pain. Self-control broke down, you were a wild fire.
If at first the pilot had been intrigued and amused by your determination, he grew worried. Rooster easily recognized the sparkle of hatred that was shining in your teary and infuriated eyes, for he had the same look years ago. He clenched his jaw as he noticed you smearing your blood all over the punching ball with your wounded knuckles - he was torn between conflicting feelings. Somehow, your problems were your business, not his. His life was already busy enough and, to be true, he had his own mishaps to deal with. But, his inner voice reminded him of the time he had been like her - lost, filled with rage and sadness. He would have loved someone to take care of him. Or just someone to tell him that everything will be fine, at least. Rooster sighed and walked towards you.
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"
You hissed through your teeth. Sweat burning your eyes, blood dripping from your hands, you growled again and punched the bag with all your remaining strength, the movement directly coming from your whole shoulder. Yet, your knuckles never met the smooth surface of the bag, for someone had grabbed your elbow and forced you to stop. Surprised, you turned and glared at the man who was holding your arm firmly.
"Hey, calm down girl." Bradley's deep voice was candy-coated with an indescribable softness. It was the first pet name that came to his head
"Leave me alone!" You hissed again, showing your teeth.
"I know you are angry but you are bleeding."
His words pulled you out of your blinding hatred. You blinked several times, chasing away the beads of sweat that had formed on your eyelashes. Then, your eyes looked where Rooster's irises of honey pools were staring at. Red and warm blood was oozing from slits on each of your knuckles. As soon as your brain realized it was your hand, an unpleasant tingling pain blossomed at their spot. You winced, then looked at the tall blonde and curly man that was in front of you. Rooster gently released your arm.
"Nevermind." You chased away his hand with a hasty movement and turned around, back to him. You really did not want to talk at the moment.
Rooster hesitated: should he leave you? He shook his head. Something had attracted him, something that he had seen in your eyes. Your pain and his were similar. This sole observation was enough to convince him he was taking the right decision. No matter what happened, he would be there for you.
"Are you sure you're good?"
Six words.
One deep yet caring voice.
It was all it took for tears of anger to overflow.
Rooster gently pressed one of his large, warm, and calloused hands on your shoulder. Looking at you with concern, the pilot's fingers closed around your clavicle to anchor his presence. He was there, and he wanted you to feel it.
"There, it's okay."
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Don't ask me what I'm doing. Can't be productive today so I wanted to write a little blurb with reader as an angry brawler girl, a good boxer, and Gibb's daughter.
Gravity Part One
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader
Notes: Welcome back to another accidental two-parter. Not beta-read.
Rating: M
Length: 5.6K
Warnings: Yearning (a frickin lot); slow burn; coworkers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff; canon-typical medical chat; fluff; POV switches a couple of times; Reader is roommates with Ellis; Jack 'Prolonged Eye Contact' Abbot
Summary: Abbot didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se. But the nerves that had welled around him during your first few weeks at the Pitt had never really gone away. If you were hard-pressed to examine and classify your feelings, you would (grudgingly) sort them into the mild to moderately romantic category. You blamed him for that entirely.
It wasn't fair, of course. He was handsome, knowledgeable, charming when he wanted to be. He was an amazing physician, an excellent teacher. And it wasn't his fault you had a bit of competency kink. Abbot had never made you feel anything but valued—and nervous.
Besides, it was embarrassing to admit that you had a crush on a man that you’d hardly looked in the eye for the last few years.
It started when she was an intern.
Jack was fully aware of his tendency toward strong eye contact. It helped him make sure he was fully getting a point across when he was guiding residents in the ER—so long as their focus wasn't meant to be elsewhere.
He managed to meet her eye fully exactly twice—and maybe it was odd, but Jack could remember both times clear as day.
The first one was her first day at the Pitt, when she’d shook his hand, introduced herself with a nervous tremor in her voice. Her palm had been a little sweaty, and cold, but her eyes had held his.
The second had been a week or so later, the first time she’d lost a patient. He’d clapped her on the shoulder, reassured her that there was nothing more she could’ve done. He’d tacked on, “Don’t let it happen again,” and he’d been kidding—but she had balked, ducked her head, apologized, and hurried away.
She had rarely met his eye since then.
At first, he’d figured that she was shy, and that she’d grow out of it. Then, he’d thought that maybe she was more reserved at work—some people simply kept their personal and professional lives separate.
But those notions had been disproven time and time and time again: when she palled around with her fellow residents; when she watched and communicated with Walsh attentively; when the senior resident that was clearly hitting on her leaned just a little too close for Jack’s liking in the staff room.
She hadn’t backed down from a single one, hardly batted a damn eyelash.
But any time she spotted Jack, her eyes would lower or dart away—to the floor, to her hands, to a chart, to the sandwich cart, to a counter.
Now, Jack was not a man to take these things personally, but after all these years, it stuck in his craw. He didn’t think about it most days, had learned to take it in stride, found ways to work with it. It had never caused a hold up during a procedure, or in the event of an emergency. She was always active in communicating with him, she just…Never looked at him.
“You’re going to burn a hole through her head.”
Jack hadn’t realized he was staring until Lena said so. He glanced toward the nurse, eyed her knowing smile, and redirected his focus to the computer in front of him.
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
Lena snorted, turning back to the desk as someone approached to ask her a question.
Jack only half-listened, unable to help his eyes drifting toward her again. She was hunched over her own computer, and seemed to be fighting back a smile at something Shen was saying. Another comment or two from Shen, and then her chin was tipping up, a bright smile on her lips as she held Shen’s eye.
Jack huffed a soft laugh through his nose at the sound of Shen’s cackling laugh, and it was like watching ripples in a pond—her head tipped, her brow furrowed, and her eyes darted in Jack’s direction. The smile flattened when she caught him looking, her focus lowering to her keyboard as she hurriedly straightened. She seemed to point to the charge board, mutter something, and turned on her heel, striding away with purpose.
Jack couldn’t help a swell of petty disappointment. What the hell was that? There was no way she’d heard him laugh. It was like she’d sensed a disturbance in the force. Jack shook his head, trying to refocus on the chart.
Did she panic because he had been smiling? Had he been staring at her as long as Lena implied? Did he look like some dirty old man?
Jack pushed off of the desk, eyeing the charge board with purpose. Whatever it was that made her skitter away like that—well. He’d forget it by tomorrow.
--
“Hey. You headed in?”
You glanced back, doing a double-take at the site of Ellis standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Uh—Yeah, just packin’ a few snacks. You need anything?”
“I got something to ask you.”
“Sure, what’s up?” You turned to face her, folding your arms expectantly. In the entire time you and Ellis had been roommates, you’d never seen her look concerned like this—and she usually didn’t bother trying to be delicate when broaching a difficult subject.
“Parker, what is it?” You pressed.
“Is something going on between you and Abbot?”
Your brow furrowed, mouth falling open as if to answer—but what the hell kind of question was that?
“Excuse me?”
“You and Abbot, what’s going on?”
“There’s nothing going on.”
“You sure?”
“I think I’d know if something was happening between us, El. Where the hell did this come from, anyway?”
“Shen said the two of you were weird yesterday, that Abbot looked at you and you bolted. And—” She shrugged, “You kinda always seem like that. Did something happen?”
“Nothing happened yesterday! I realized I needed to go check on a patient, I’d just gotten their results back.”
“And all the other times?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ellis gave you a long look before she relented, holding her hands up in surrender with a mutter of, “Alright.”
“Great.”
“If you insist—”
“I do insist.”
“But you know what they say about people who protest too much.”
“Cap it, Hamlet. You on tonight?”
“Yep,” Ellis nodded.
“See you in there.”
“If you wanna wait, I’ll drive you.”
“Nah, it’s okay,” You shifted your bag onto your shoulder. “The walk is good for me.”
“We’re gonna be on our feet for the next twelve hours.”
“I like a warm-up,” You insisted. “See you in there.”
Slow and steady, that was how you left the apartment—even steps, a measured pocket-pat-down at the door to make sure you had your phone, keys, wallet, ID badge…And then you were out the door.
Out the door, and down the stairs, and cursing under your breath as you stepped out onto the street. Where the hell did Ellis get off, asking something like that? Implying that something could be going on between you and Abbot? You hardly spoke to the guy. Hell—you felt like you barely said more than two words to the man that didn’t have anything to do with work. The implication that the two of you had something going on was categorically insane—and it twisted your gut up in a knot.
The closer you got to the Pitt, the worse the feeling got, until it was bordering on nausea. You stopped a block away, drawing in a deep breath and puffing it out between your lips, trying to shake yourself of the feeling. Damnit, why’d you let Ellis get in your head that way?
You drew in another steadying breath as you started forward again, trying to shake the nerves out of your hands. This shift was going to be fine—as seamless as the ones before it.
--
“You doin’ okay?”
It was a fair question asked by the last person you wanted to hear it from. The shift had been hell. Patient after patient seemed to have some hitch. You were slower to respond when Abbot asked you questions, prompted you. It was only made worse by the feeling of Ellis and Shen watching every goddamn interaction.
Now, the test results were back for the patient you were least looking forward to seeing. The patient herself was sweet, but you were getting nowhere with her overbearing husband answering nearly every question for her.
You pushed yourself to straighten up.
“Fine,” You insisted flatly. “Thanks.” You straightened fully, hesitating as you heard him take a step away. “Actually—”
It was out of your mouth before you could stop it. You saw Abbot go still in your periphery, and your hands flexed around the iPad in your hands.
“I’m having trouble getting answers from a patient—a woman with a head injury. She said she slipped and whacked it, but based on where the cut is...I don't think it's possible. And her husband’s an overbearing ass. I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”
“Abusive?”
“I think so. Could you run interference?”
“Sure. You have one of those pens, one of the—”
“I always keep a couple in my pocket.”
--
She steeled herself before she went into the examination bay. Jack had seen her do it time and time again when she could. He wondered how it steadied her, savored the way that she closed her eyes for a split-second, drew in a deep breath, and then slapped a smile on before pulling the curtain back.
"How are we doing in here?"
Her chipper tone did nothing to reveal the concern that she'd shared with him moments ago. Abbot followed close behind, taking in the young woman laying in a hospital gown on the bed, and the man standing just beside her at the head. Abbot took another step toward the bed, then stopped as the woman seemed seemed to shrink back, attempting to make herself smaller.
"She's fine." The man's voice was gruff in his insistence, his hand curled into a fist just by his wife's head. Abbot's eyes skated across the bruises and scrapes to the knuckles there, his own hands wringing behind his back as he took another step closer.
Jack saw her glance back toward him before she gestured, "Dr. Abbot, this is Nick and Amanda Alpers. Mr. and Mrs. Alpers, this is Dr. Abbot. He's the ER's foremost expert on head injuries." An easy fib, and it seemed to be a necessary one.
"Aren't you all trained on the same shit?" Nick grumbled. Abbot took a couple of steps closer, taking in the slight matting of hair on the wife's head, the dark clotting of blood.
"We all have our own experiences that inform how we practice," Abbot passed easily, taking one more step. "Mrs. Alpers, would it be alright if I examined the—"
"It's just a scrape, really!" The insistence was hurried, and left the poor woman in a squeak. Abbot forced a small smile, giving a conceding nod.
"May I examine the scrape?" He conceded.
Amanda's eyes seemed to dart to Nick for permission, and only after a hefty sigh did Nick wave Abbot closer.
He couldn't help but note the way his fellow doctor rounded the bed, caught on the slight flurry of her questions as he gloved up.
"Are you feeling any pressure?" He asked, gently parting the hair to get a better look at the bloody, raised bump on her head.
"N-no. No more than usual—I mean! No more than anyone ever usually feels," Amanda hurried to answer. Abbot's eyes lifted to the doctor on the opposite side of the bed just in time to see her fingers tightening around her iPad.
"Any sensitivity to light, sound...?" Abbot went on, drawing his penlight out of his pocket and shining it from one eye to the next.
"Nn-nn."
"Hm."
"If that's all, can we go?" Nick groused. "Already been a waste of a night."
Abbot straightened, sizing Nick up. He waited for his fellow physician to say something, but—Nothing. He looked at her, certain she was eyeing the chart, but realized immediately that it was a mistake. Her eyes were right on his, widening pointedly as they darted to the creep beside her. Abbot cleared his throat, doing his best to focus on the patient—though he knew he'd be tucking that look away for himself.
"Nick, can I have a word?" He asked, gesturing toward the nurse's station.
"What for?"
Abbot pushed a short breath out through his nose as he rounded the bed, taking even steps so as not to raise the brute's hackles.
"There are some things that I'd like to discuss with you. Things that, you know," He nodded, "Women shouldn't hear."
Watching understanding wash over Nick's face made his stomach turn. It was a wonder the man had brought his wife to the ER at all if that was the attitude he held.
"We won't go far?" Nick pressed, though he was already moving.
"No, no," Jack insisted, following him out, "Just a few feet." He gave her one last look, and a quick nod before tugging the observation curtain closed behind them.
--
The knot that had formed in your stomach only tightened, but it wasn’t for your own nerves or panic anymore. You didn't like letting her go, hated seeing her leave with him. Abbot came to a stop beside you, and for a moment, the two of you just watched Nick steer Amanda out of the ER.
"What'd you say to him?" You asked.
"Distracted him with football."
"I didn't know you watched."
“Sometimes. She take the pen?” He asked.
“...Yeah.”
“It’s a start.”
“Might be too little, too late.”
“She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“You think so?”
“Sure.”
“...I gave her my number, too.”
You saw Abbot’s head turn toward you, and you froze, biting the inside of your cheek.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” It should’ve been more of a scold, but you could’ve sworn his tone was tinged with admiration.
“I know.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t.” You turned away from Abbot. “Thanks again for distracting him.”
“...No problem. Will you tell me if she calls?”
“Yeah,” You nodded, turning to look at the board. “Hope she does—and soon.”
“Was that all that was bothering you?”
“What?”
“You seemed a little off earlier. Just making sure everything’s okay.”
Well, Abbot always was the observant type. It was one of the things that made him such a good doctor. You shouldn’t have been offended by his question, but in that moment, his concern was as unwelcome as Ellis probing had been just a few hours before.
“Just one of those days—nights,” You corrected, “You know.”
“Take a couple minutes, get some air.”
“I’m alright.” And before you could stop yourself, you gave him a grateful smile before turning away. In truth, you weren't entirely sure where you were headed to—you’re more distracted by the fact that you’d met the guy’s eye more in the last twenty minutes than you probably had in the last two years.
--
“Here.”
“Thanks,” You took your beer as Ellis set it down and settled into the seat across from you. “John on his way?”
“Yeah,” She nodded, “And uh…Don’t kill me, but he’s bringing someone.”
You frowned, shaking your head as you waited for her to explain. Ellis didn’t elaborate, merely tipped her brows up. It only took a second for you to put the pieces together, and you groaned, sliding down in your chair as nerves flooded your stomach.
“Parker—”
“It’s just a coincidence!” She took in your unimpressed glare, corrected, “Mostly a coincidence. We always ask, he almost never says yes. It’s as hard to talk him into coming out as it is to talk you into it. Besides, it’ll help!”
“There’s nothing here that needs helping.”
“It’s slowing things down—”
“When has it ever slowed anything down?”
“Last few shifts, he’s waited for you to look at him when you answer and nothing. It’s making shit weird. We leave that messy personal bull for the day shift.”
“I’m not—This isn’t messy, it’s just—”
“You barely look at the guy. We all notice it.”
“He’s so big on frickin’ eye contact, like,” You glanced around the bar, “It’s intimidating.”
“Intimidating?”
“Yeah.”
“Intimidating.”
“Yes! I barely even like making eye contact with you, but I live with you, so it’s mostly unavoidable.”
“You love it.”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t want to be adopted by the meanest lesbian in the ER?”
“I thought that was Garcia.”
“No, she’s the meanest lesbian in surgery.”
Ellis’ smile widened before she perked up, waving at someone behind you before she leaned in just a touch.
“Just be yourself, be cool.”
“Pick one.”
“You know, I bet he thinks you hate him.”
“What?” You hissed, “Why would he think that? And—Why would he give a shit, plenty of people hate their boss. Not that I hate him, I don’t, just—”
“Hey!” Shen’s voice cut over your nervous chatter, and you couldn’t stop your knee-jerk reaction of turning to look at him—and spotting Abbot just a couple of steps behind. Shen patted you on the shoulder, settling down beside you as Abbot rounded the table. Your eyes glued to your beer instinctively as he shrugged out of his jacket, sitting down beside Ellis. And you thought you’d just managed to be subtle enough—until both Shen and Ellis kicked you lightly under the table. It took everything in you not to kick back, instead lifting your head to meet Abbot’s eye, plastering a small smile on your lips.
“Hi.”
“Hello.” There was a little lean to his lo, a friendly tease that you felt like you hadn’t earned. And there was eye contact—heavy, steady eye contact as he folded his arms on the table. You tried to ignore the traitorous little flip in your stomach as you hurriedly lowered your eyes to the table, picking your beer up and taking a swig to try and drown the flurrying butterflies.
“We miss anything good?” Shen plied. Ellis shook her head.
“We were just talking about renewing our lease.”
“I forgot you two were roommates,” Abbot commented. Ellis must’ve told him, and you couldn’t fathom why he’d remember.
“What’s the verdict?” Shen asked.
“We’re gonna stick,” You reported as you looked at him. “Rent is going up, but, like, barely…Barely.”
“And the location is too good,” Ellis tacked on. “Half an hour to the Pitt walking, fifteen minutes by car—utilities don’t suck, either.”
“Decent space,” You added, “And allows dogs—if this one goes through with getting a dog.”
“I’m still in research and development.”
“Aren’t you allergic?” Shen nudged your arm.
“Yeah, but not deathly. And if she picks a breed that doesn’t shed much and has a low can f 1 gene—”
“I want to adopt from a shelter—”
“So I’ll probably be moving out as soon as that happens,” You teased, “Because god knows she’ll wind up with a mutt.”
“And sublet?”
“Sure, John. You can move into my room, I’ll move into your place. Even trade.”
“I don’t know about that—”
“Better rent, better location.”
“You won’t mind being further from the Pitt?”
“Nah,” You shrugged, “I like a long walk.”
“Sure does,” Ellis rolled her eyes, “I don’t know anyone that spends more time just wandering around on their days off.”
“Is it a crime to enjoy being outside when the sun is up?”
“You ever think of switching to day shift?”
Abbot’s question caught you off-guard—it was like you’d fallen into such an easy rhythm with Ellis and Shen that you'd almost managed to forget that he was there. Your fingers tightened around your beer as you forced yourself to meet Abbot’s eye again.
“Not once.”
It was the truth, and it made Abbot’s smile widen in a way that felt dangerously vindicating. Unnerving quiet wrapped around your shared gaze, and Ellis clearing her throat was what finally snapped you out of looking at him.
“So, hey,” Shen jumped in, “Did I tell you guys about my latest acquisition?”
“Jesus fucking christ,” You muttered over Ellis’ low whistle.
“Another ebay war?” She asked.
“Not a war, an easy buy,” Shen insisted, “You know, for—”
“Yeah, your shank bank, we remember,” You insisted, smile pulling wide as both Abbot and Ellis’ laughter catches from that side of the table. “That weird-ass collection of antique medical equipment—fucking medical history nerd.”
“I keep them as a display!”
“Must really get ‘em going on a date night. Nothing hotter to a woman than rusty scalpels,” You batted back, nudging Shen’s shoulder with yours. You didn’t mean to catch Abbot’s eye on your way back to looking at Ellis again. And this look didn’t hold for as long as the one before it—but it was just long enough to reawaken the butterflies, even as Shen insisted,
“This one isn’t even rusty!”
--
As you turned in for the night, Ellis teased you, insisted, “See, it wasn’t that bad.”
You didn’t argue, because she wasn't wrong—it wasn’t the worst way to spend an afternoon out. But it was…Different.
Your aversion to Dr. Abbot’s attention had started your first week at the Pitt, when he’d stuck close during an intubation. He hadn’t been breathing down your neck, but his steady focus had made you so damn nervous. You were used to your attendings being just a little scattered, torn in six different directions. And other matters had vied for Abbot’s attention, sure, but he hadn’t heeded them until the patient was in the clear.
You’d started to avoid his gaze after that, and it had just become second nature. Avoiding eye contact turned into avoiding him during the quiet moments of your shifts, which turned into a patient-treatment-only conversational focus. Abbot consulted on your cases, made recommendations, listened to your rationalizations.
When he did insist on meeting your eye, you gave him just a long enough look to show that you’d heard him, but never anything more. You’d avoided palling around with him, even though you palled around with your fellow residents, and with other attendings—but you were comfortable with them.
And Abbot didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se. But the nerves that had welled around him during your first few weeks at the Pitt had never really gone away. If you were hard-pressed to examine and classify your feelings, you would (grudgingly) sort them into the mild to moderately romantic category. You blamed him for that entirely.
It wasn't fair, of course. He was handsome, knowledgeable, charming when he wanted to be. He was an amazing physician, an excellent teacher. And it wasn't his fault you had a bit of competency kink. Abbot had never made you feel anything but valued—and nervous.
Besides, it was embarrassing to admit that you had a crush on a man that you’d hardly looked in the eye for the last few years.
You could understand how Abbot may’ve thought you didn’t like him—if he really thought that. But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who needed everyone to like him. It probably helped, sure, but you were positive that your countenance had never caused a slow-down or a hitch in the ER, no matter what Ellis said. You were just focused—and since when was that a bad thing?
Either way, today had been kinda…okay. You’d made nice with Abbot, made eye contact multiple times without Ellis or Shen kicking you in the shins again. Whatever wound up happening, you’d tried, and they couldn’t take that away from you, right?
You settled in bed, letting your eyes slip closed, drawing in a deep breath to relax yourself.
For all your initial irritation, Ellis was right—it wasn’t that bad.
But it didn’t stop Abbot’s warm gaze from lingering behind your eyelids when you closed them, and it couldn’t keep the mirthful roll of his chuckle from playing through your mind as you tried to drift off.
--
You decided to make it a little experiment, approach it as something that you could train yourself out of. Seeing him over drinks had laid the groundwork—and you had managed to look at him twice a few shifts ago, hadn’t you?
You went into your next shift determined to look Abbot in the eye three times.
You only managed it once when you passed him by the board—a glance and a small wave.
The smile that he returned flustered you so much that you nearly walked into the sandwich cart, and it scared you out of looking at him for the rest of the night. As a matter of fact, it scared you out of it the next shift, and the one after that.
You talked yourself out of the whole foolish endeavor. You’d managed to work with Abbot perfectly well before, why change things now? Especially when looking at him seemed to awaken something girlish and fluttering inside of you—and you couldn’t afford to be girlish and fluttering at work.
--
She was doing it again.
Jack had thought they had turned a corner after Shen and Ellis had invited them all out together, but things seemed to be moving in reverse. It had gone beyond sticking in his craw—it was almost nagging at him now, and worse now that he knew what the full force of her focus was like. It was easy to brush off before, but these days Jack was hard-pressed to admit that he felt something in him wilt whenever she avoided his eye.
She was making a meal of it now, focused stalwartly as she instructed Javadi on setting a bone. He’d seen her head tip in his direction a couple of times, but she’d always given her head a little shake before refocusing. Was the shake for Javadi? For him?
“...You didn’t hear me, did you,” Ellis asked, forcing him to refocus. He had heard her—and he could feign that his silence had been fueled by contemplation. He turned away from the treatment bay, arms folded across his chest.
“See if the OR can take Mr. Tosches yet," He instructed. "I don’t want him down here too long. You follow up with the raccoon kid?”
“That’s my next stop.”
“Perfect, thanks.”
“Sure—Hey, are you coming by this weekend?”
That weekend. He’d been dodging giving Ellis an answer for the last couple of weeks. She’d invited him to the last four get-togethers at the apartment, but he’d never made it to one, either because he was working, or because he just wasn’t in the mood to socialize.
He wasn’t sure he was in the mood now, but…A fleeting smile flashed through his mind. They’d seemed to come easier to her when they were away from the hospital. And his therapist had been nagging him about leaving the house more…
“Yeah,” He nodded. “Yeah, I can make it.”
Ellis didn’t cover her surprise well, but her, “kay, sweet. I’ll text you the address," Told him that she was just as surprised by his answer as he was.
Abbot nodded, casting another glance toward the treatment bay before turning away fully. It was just an experiment, he told himself. He would see if her smiles for him came easier outside of work, or not at all.
If it was not at all, he’d let it go, once and for all.
--
“Is there any coffee?”
The question made you freeze in front of your cabinet. Your eyes darted through its contents, but you didn’t take in a damn thing. He was in your kitchen. He never came to these things, why the hell did he come to this one?
“Uh—” You turned, looking around your kitchen as though you’d never been there before. “It’s um—Yeah. Right there. It might not be hot, though. I can turn the pot back on.”
“I’ve got it.”
“You're on shift tonight?”
“Mhm.”
You nodded, turning back to the cabinet. Hell, what did you open it for? Goddamn, but you came in here looking for something—You huffed, shoving the cabinet door closed as you scrubbed your hand across your forehead. He wasn’t allowed to do this, he wasn’t allowed to make you feel this out of sorts in your own damn kitchen.
“Everything alright?”
“You know, I feel like half the time you talk to me, you’re asking if I’m okay.” It was out of your mouth before you could stop it, and embarrassment sprang up the second it did. “I should, um—You need a mug, don’t you,” You muttered, turning to the other cabinet, and glancing back toward the living room when you heard a swell of laughter. Damnit, but Ellis sent you into the kitchen for what? Napkins? Napkins would be in the cabinet.
“Well forgive me for being concerned when one of my best residents seems to spend half of her shifts avoiding me.”
You whirled around, too stunned to do anything but meet Jack’s eye. The steady contact seemed to catch the both of you off-guard. Your mouth worked wordlessly for a moment as your mind reeled. What the hell could you say to that? Well—what would you say if you were talking to Ellis or Shen?
“...Just one of your best residents?”
Abbot’s brows lifted, his lips quirk with a smile, and your stomach filled with that girlish fluttering again.
“You’re certainly not avoiding me now.”
You press your mouth together, gaze instinctively dropping to the floor.
“I don’t avoid you at work, either. I’m just—” You turned back to the cabinet, reaching into it for a mug. “I’m focused when I'm at the Pitt.”
“Seem to be focused right now, too.”
“Do you want a mug for your coffee or not?”
“Oh, that old excuse.”
“Fine, drink it from the pot. That’s Parker’s machine, anyway. She’ll kill you.”
“She wouldn’t. We’re short-staffed as it is.”
“Well, that’s true.” You crossed the kitchen, holding the mug out. And, though you knew the answer, you asked, “Do you need milk or sugar?”
“No.”
“Alright.” You turned, reaching for the cabinet by the coffee machine. Maybe it was something in there.
“...You don’t really think I avoid you," You plied, unable to stop yourself.
“Certainly avoid looking at me.”
“Focused.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re fine to look at.”
“Oh?”
“Good—Good to—” No, nothing in that cabinet. Check the next one. At least, you needed to get a few feet away from Abbot before you said anything else stupid. “You’re fine.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
“...Look at me.”
It was so firm that you went still in front of your cabinet again, hands on the knobs, doors half-open as your heart leaps into your throat.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re not at work, you can’t need to be that focused. If I’m so fine to look at, look at me.”
Your fingers flexed around the knobs, palms growing sweaty.
“Ellis asked me to grab something for her and you’ve already distracted me enough.”
“Is that so.”
“You can be very distracting sometimes.” For fucksake. What was it about being alone with this man that had your head so horribly scrambled?
“I suddenly feel like I oughta apologize,” He commented.
“I feel like you’re making fun of me.”
“A little.”
You scoffed out a laugh, your nerves only worsening when you heard Jack take a few steps closer, saw him lower his coffee onto the counter beside you.
“It won’t take long,” He reassured, raising his hand to close one of the cabinet doors. “One quick look.”
You drew in a deep breath, planting your hand on the counter and turning to face Jack with wide eyes. You were prepared to stare at him pointedly—but you faltered at the look on his face. His eyes were softer than they had any right being. They searched your expression, sweeping over your nose, across your cheeks, to your lips, and up again—as if he was seeing you for the first time.
“...See?” He murmured. “This isn’t so bad.”
You struggled to swallow, throat dry; your face was flooding with heat. If this was a cartoon, you were certain that your heart would be beating out of your chest.
“No,” You finally managed, shaking your head a little, unable to tear your eyes from his, “No, it isn’t.”
Jack’s smile widened as he leaned against the counter a touch, fingers skimming against yours. And you knew that you ought to look away, go ask Ellis what she sent you into the damn kitchen for in the first place, but you couldn't bring yourself to move.
“You just gonna keep staring at me, Jack?” You murmured. His brows jumped slightly at the use of his first name, lips quirking with a smirk.
“You’re staring, too.”
“Making up for apparently avoiding you.”
“Very kind of you.”
“Do what I can.”
Maybe it was better that he was looking at your face, anyway—if he looked down, he might see the goosebumps sweeping up your arm from the gentle sweep of his fingertips against yours. It felt pathetic to get so worked up from such a simple touch. Goddamn, did he look at everyone like this? Did everyone feel like this when he looked at them? There was no way—if it was, nothing would ever get done at the Pitt.
“Hey, did you find the Triscuits?”
Ellis bottle snapped you out of the trance-like stare, and you whirled away from Jack like he was trying to set you on fire. The Triscuits, son of a bitch, that was what you were sent to look for.
“I just—I just saw them,” You fumbled, pulling the cabinet open again.
“My fault,” Abbot spoke up. “I asked for some coffee.”
“You’re on tonight?” Ellis frowned, and you were relieved to hear her come deeper into the kitchen. “I thought you were taking the day.”
“We had two call outs. Matter of fact, I should get going.”
You glanced doggedly back toward Jack, watching him pick his mug up and take a deep swig. You busied yourself with poking through the drawer beneath the cupboard, vaguely catching Abbot saying his goodbyes to Ellis in the background. Jeez, did the Trisuits fucking evaporate?
You glanced toward the mug as Jack set it down in the sink, and, against your better judgement, met Jack’s eye when he turned to look at you.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“Sure,” You nodded. “Have a good shift.”
“Good luck finding those, uh…” He glanced toward Ellis. “Triscuits?”
“Uh-huh,” She nodded. “Thanks for coming, man.”
“Have a good night.”
You listened to his retreating footsteps, marked the opening and closing of the door…And tried not to die from complete mortification when Ellis tapped your shoulder, then pointed out the box of Triscuits where it was sitting on the counter.
Tag list:
@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ;
@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ;
@millllenniawrites ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ;
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; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @artsymaddie
@winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989
𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠
summary: jack abbot really needs to stop overhearing conversations that he's not a part of.
author's note: here it is!! my first ever jack abbot fic ♡ thank you to everyone who has been reading the little paragraphs so far! hope you all like it!
word count: 9.7k
warnings/tags: virgin, fourth year med student reader and attending jack. age gap relationship. loss of virginity, oral sex, lots and lots of praise kink <3 normal hospital lingo and descriptions of procedures.
jack abbot knows better than to listen to the nurses gossiping. he does—because listening to them never leads to anything good. if he’s caught eavesdropping, he gets dragged in. loses money that was never meant to be spent on the bets—and seriously, the employees of this hospital have a gambling problem.
other times he hears things he really wish he hadn’t heard. it’s just not relevant to him, he doesn’t want to know things about people that he’s not meant to know. maybe it’s a military thing, but he can’t really explain it. maybe jack is just used to keeping secrets and minding his own business.
and the last thing that jack really doesn’t like about overhearing gossip is that sometimes, rarely and reserved only for special information, it gets trapped in his brain and becomes the only thing he thinks about for the rest of the shift.
this is one of those times.
he knows better—that’s what keeps coursing through his mind when he stands on the opposite side of the nurse’s station at central. keep his ears shut, eyes down, because the last time he was standing here unarmed, he learned about a pregnant technician upstairs and the married surgeon who was the father. information that he did not, does not, want to know. nor did he want to learn about the surgeon’s wife who was a nurse in the pediatric ward, or the technician’s boyfriend who is on a work trip in florida.
he thinks that was child’s play compared to this conversation.
when jack glances up, he sees you on the other side of the desk, leaning forward on your elbows, smiling and laughing with the nurses.
you’re a fourth year—he should let you smile and laugh while you can. you’re in that perfect, peaceful transition period between your audition rotations ending and finding out where you’re going for residency. it’s supposed to be an enjoyable time—there’s no exam prep waiting for you at home, no stressful surgery rotation coming up next week.
jack didn’t know too much about you—you’d mostly been on the day shift for the duration of your rotation. that was normal, keeping all the students together when the majority of the doctors were there too. made it a little easier to manage.
you were a little different though. just a little. you’d specially asked to try out the night shift for the rest of the time you’d be at the hospital. it’s not the weirdest request they’d ever heard, but just unusual. fourth years cherish sleeping and spending time with family and boyfriends and organizing their life before being thrown head-first into intern year.
(at least, that’s what jack thinks you’d cherish. the little he knows about you has been transferred from robby and a comment from the residents every now and then. all good things, and when he’d told you the night shift was your chance to prove all the good things he’d heard about you, you had beamed at him.
a smile so bright he had lost his train of thought and had to walk back to what he’d even said to begin with. he tries not to think about it when he sees you smiling like that to your patients or the nurses, like you are now. but it’s not the same one, he can tell. the one you smiled at him had been a little different, something in your eyes had lit up too, you had stood up straighter, like a current had made its way through you at the compliment. or something like that.)
and you had definitely been proving yourself. jack had learned maybe last week that you had applied emergency medicine. it made sense then, why you wanted to try out night shift, since first year interns eventually do night float. it was just practice for the future. which was great, and very exciting for you, but just not what he had expected.
you were just so… happy. patient. you had seemed disappointed on your first day to learn that most of the emergency docs only wore black scrubs. you made up for it in other ways—a pink stethoscope, colored pens, a badge reel with a little cartoon on it.
even looking at you now, fiddling with the pulley on your badge, listening intently to whatever the nurse was telling you, and then smiling in that reassuring way that he’s seen you do, you look like you shouldn’t be here. he briefly considers finding that surgeon’s wife, the pediatric nurse, to take you up there for a couple of hours. jack doesn’t think you would want to come back down, but, well, what does he know about you?
certainly not much. even if he had noticed the way you are with your patients—filled with an abundance of caring, a melodic tune to your voice, trying your hardest to comfort, repair, heal. he had seen you fetch cups of water and sandwiches yourself, not wanting to bother nurses. every sentence had a please and thank you attached. it didn’t take long for you to win over the patients. then the nurses. then the residents, and the attendings.
it seemed that your goal was to win over all the attendings.
jack is still staring at you. but you’re so focused on your conversation with the nurse that you don’t even notice. and he has to stop before someone else notices, forcing himself to look down at the chart in front of him, trying to remember why he’d even come over here in the first place.
and that’s when he hears it.
“-but i would have never guessed. you’re so pretty!” the nurse says, and he knows she is talking about you, because, well, who else would she be talking about?
you are pretty, as unprofessional as the thought feels even entering his head. you’re very pretty, and the way you talk to everyone like they’re the most important person in the world to you only makes you prettier.
jack almost clears his throat, before realizing that he is, in fact, eavesdropping. he can’t interrupt a conversation he’s not even a part of. and much to his chagrin, realizing that he is terrible at this, he tunes back into your conversation.
“yeah, but it’s not about that,” you say, and you sound a little different. like you’re flushed. the words come out hesitantly, quietly. “it’s about... finding the right guy, right? i didn’t want to rush it and then regret it.”
he hears the nurse laugh, and you laugh a little too, followed by a little groan. “i guess it is embarrassing,” you continue, before stopping, interrupted by the nurse. jack looks up briefly—you’ve got your head resting on your forearms, leaning down against the counter. he keeps looking until you bring it back up.
“no, it’s a good thing. especially in hospitals. keep your legs closed otherwise you’ll end up like that pregnant tech upstairs-”
“but that’s so horrible. his poor wife works here. and she has a boyfriend, how do you do that-”
he keeps listening, his own face a little flushed. he both wants to and absolutely does not want to hear the rest of your conversation, but even through the fog, he thinks about how your only reaction to that bit of circulating gossip was how bad you feel for the wife. his heart beats a little faster.
“well don’t worry about that, you won’t have to deal with it as long as you stay a virgin-” you and the nurse laugh, and the phone starts ringing, and the charge nurse answers.
she calls out, yelling for dr. abbot, and so lost in his thoughts—in your thoughts—he doesn’t even hear his own name being called for a couple of car accidents that were incoming. when he turns back to look, you’re already gone.
he needs to shake off whatever you’ve just done to him. his feet automatically take him to the trauma bay, gearing up for whatever is coming, but when he gets there, you’re standing there, waiting. a yellow gown already on you, gloves pulled. and in your hands, another gown and set of gloves—extra large, he can tell from the color. the ones that he wears.
“dr. abbot,” you say, handing both items to him. “i heard from bridget, is it okay if i assist?”
“yeah, sure, kid-” he thinks for a moment that he hasn’t felt this way in a long time. and how the hell is one tiny piece of gossip enough to have his head spinning like he’s some teenage boy? how does that work, when he’s never cared about workplace rumors or any of the other hundreds of medical students he’s worked with before?
you beam up at him again, saying thank you. eager to prove your worth like always. you disappear behind him, and jack is confused for half a second before he feels your fingers on the skin of his neck—briefly, just another half of a second. you’re tying the gown for him.
how is that you’re this kind, this pretty, and you’ve never had someone to take care of you the way you take care of everyone else? that can’t be right. that can’t be fair.
oh god.
jack wants to tie the back of yours, thinks that maybe twenty years ago he’d be a lot quicker on his feet to do what he wants with the information he’s just learned. but instead he hears the ambulance sirens pull up, and he sees the back of your head while you rush out to meet them, and he actually, for the first time in years, has to force his feet to move.
you were so close behind him, he could smell it. not perfume, that would wear off quickly with how much they run around. it was your soap and your shampoo. clean and sweet and something like strawberries lingering in the air after you’ve taken off.
but he’s stood next to you before—how is it that this is the first time he’s noticed?
half way outside, you turn around, realizing jack’s not right behind you.
“dr. abbot?” you question, taking half a step towards him, the opposite direction.
“yeah, coming,” jack answers and he follows you outside.
-
the mvc’s weren’t in the worst shape jack’s ever seen, but still bad enough that he needed to snap out of it. he doesn’t even want to think about how bad the rumor mill would be if word got out that he lost a patient because he couldn’t stop staring at the twenty-something medical student. (though it is hard to stop staring. how the hell did robby ever work with collins? how did he get anything done?)
it’s not like jack is going to find out. you are strictly off limits.
he tries to do what he always does—asks you questions. how many milligrams should you give the patient? what are the three things you should be the most worried about? the patient’s got a broken wrist from trying to brace for the impact but that’s the least of your worries, so how do you deal with it for now?
the first one gets stable pretty quickly. the second one is where there’s more concern. he comes in, ellis saying something about the patient’s crashing and there’s a big piece of debris jammed in his chest.
jack goes in there and he spares a glance at you. the intensity of the situation is enough to make you a little flushed, even though you’ve done an emergency rotation during third year and two auditions already this year. but it’s a good thing—you take every case as seriously as though it’s your first. worry about each patient like they’re your own family, like each step is your responsibility.
he calls you over, asks you what medications you would give if you had to intubate.
“uh, etomidate a-and rocuronium?” it comes out like a question, like you’re still a little uncertain, even though you’re right, like you don’t believe in yourself enough to say confidently.
he’ll have to change that. help you work on that. he can think of it now—maybe you would learn best if you had some kind of a reward system. you seem like the kind of girl who would benefit from that. maybe if he asked the questions from between your thighs and your reward was—
“dr. abbot?” the sound of your voice snaps him out of it.
“yeah. good. very good,” jack says, and he turns his head just slightly, just so he can see you beam again. “you heard the doctor. let’s get prepped for the intubation.” you move out of the way for ellis to come in, when he stops you. “no, you’re going to be doing it.”
you pause, uncertain eyes staring up at your attending.
“a-are you sure? don’t you think you should-”
“i think you’re perfectly competent to intubate.” “you guys got this,” ellis says, taking her stethoscope around her neck and heading out. the nurse tells you that they’re all set up. you hear the blare of the heart monitor, another nurse reading off the vitals, all the way to the pulse-ox that’s too low.
“i’ll be here the whole time,” jack says, and you really, really wish he hadn’t said that. he’s close to you, handing you the laryngoscope.
in moments like these, you realize why you were always meant to do this. you pick up the scope, carefully lowering it into the mouth and the top of the patient’s throat.
“don’t make any sudden movements. you don’t want to break his teeth,” jack instructs, his voice a gentle guide. you do know how to intubate, you must have done it a hundred times on the dummy in the skills lab. but you’ll never get over how different it is when it’s a real patient, how scared you get even when you shouldn’t be, because the doctor should never be scared like that.
but then you hear dr. abbot’s voice again. quiet, maybe even quiet enough that the other people in the room can’t hear.
“i-i don’t see the cords-”
“take a breath. use your hand to extend the neck, get it straighter.” you listen to his instructions, hands moving by themselves to comply. “try again.” you’re looking down, and the nurses are looking at the video, and jack is looking at you. “past the epiglottis.” you push the tube a little further. “past the larynx.” a little further. “and cords.”
you take a breath like you’ve never taken one before. the capnometer turns yellow and you finish out the steps, the rest feeling like muscle memory before handing it over to the nurse. the patient’s going up to surgery, but you make it outside the trauma room taking deep breaths to ground yourself.
“you okay?” dr. abbot asks from somewhere behind you.
you turn to see him taking off the gown and gloves, the ones you had handed him. maybe you’d never noticed it before, but he’s got freckles over his forearms. maybe he spent a lot of time in the sun as a kid. when you don’t reply, thoughts trapped in your head and words not forming, he speaks again.
“come here,” and he guides you to the empty corner between the trauma room and the hallway. his hand hovers over the small of your back as he leads you there.
you’re going crazy—there’s no way you could feel his body heat through your scrubs. and yet the sensation lingers. he faces you, and you look up, blinking quickly. you don’t think you’ve ever been close enough to dr. abbot to see the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, or how the hair along his temples is more salt than pepper. his eyes bore into yours, and you stare up, forgetting the reason that you had even needed to speak to him.
“are you sure you’re okay, kid?” he asks again, and you nod quickly.
“yes. yes, i’m sorry, dr. abbot.” you turn to look at the trauma room, looking at the nurses hovering over the patient you had just intubated. when you turn back to look at your attending, you realize he’s staring, just like how you were staring.
“what are you apologizing for?”
“i-i forgot the steps. you-you had to talk me through it. i should have known,” you try to explain, though words and sentences become harder to form with each passing moment.
“you’ve done how many of those, now? a handful? less than ten?” you nod. “you don’t have to be perfect here. you just have to try. and keep going, which you did.” you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “good job, doctor. you saved the patient.”
“thank you dr. abbot.” you smile, beaming again, just not in the way you usually do. you’re still not that proud of yourself, jack can tell.
the voice in the back of your head tells you that you should have been better, faster, more confident. you can’t imagine that ellis or shen or even your attending had been this hesitant as a medical student.
“it’ll come with time, you know. no one’s perfect when they start out.”
“did i say that out loud?” you question seriously, confusion spread all over your pretty features.
“no.”
you’re so stupid—but maybe being so close to your serious, yet growing kinder by the millisecond attending was getting to you. the attending that you really want to impress, for reasons still unbeknownst to you. you want him to like you, to take you seriously, to think that you’d be a great candidate for their intern class starting in july.
and then you lose your train of thought, staring at his eyes. it’s been too long, people are going to wonder where the two of you went.
but his eyes aren’t actually brown, like you thought. they’re hazel.
“yeah,” he says, with a laugh. “they are.”
your own eyes go wide like coins, and then you run straight to central to find a patient to preoccupy you from the embarrassment that is seeping out of you, leaving jack abbot laughing to himself in the empty corner between the trauma room and the hallway.
the rest of your night shift is surprisingly uneventful. you had heard it was a bit calmer, but you didn’t expect such a drastic difference. but maybe it was just one of those nights. ellis wouldn’t let shen say the actual word, but you were all thinking it. it was kind of quiet tonight.
and normally, jack appreciates a quiet night. it’s like a little peace offering from god, akin to a slap on the back and a ‘thanks for your service’. he needs one every now and then, it’s the way only way to make sure for certain that he doesn’t end up on the roof a step closer than the last time.
though, staring at you from across the emergency room, watching you drink from your colorful water bottle and smile at shen and ellis, thanking them for their help while you work on notes, is certainly another way to make sure that jack abbot doesn’t think about that roof.
it’s only three in the morning though. there’s always time for the night to get worse. they’ve got four hours left, and he knows you’re off tomorrow.
well, he knows that he’s off. and then he took a peak at the schedule in one of his many free minutes tonight to see where you’ll be. he hopes the answer is at home, sleeping and eating and letting your body recover from the damage night shift does to your circadian rhythm.
(he needs to cut it out. attendings have no business wondering what their bright eyed and bushy tailed fourth years are doing on their days off.)
but god if it doesn’t plague him—the fact that unlike what he thought, there’s no boyfriend waiting for you at home. no one to hear about your stressful day at work, the intubation that you did—perfectly, just with a little help from your overbearing attending, all the patients that you helped, and the great impression you made on the night shift. how he sees you answer every nurse carrying a question from patient with all your energy, even in the middle of the night. how you fill up a cup of ice chips for the patient waiting to go up to surgery, comforting them while knowing it’ll be sunlight outside when they’re finally taken up.
and then he sees you sit down, taking a breath like you need to remind yourself to breathe sometimes.
it’s just a little bit wrong. whatever he’s thinking, before he’s even thought it, it’s wrong. but how is it that you have all these things to be proud of, and no one at home to be proud of you? jack can sense it in the way that your smile grows every time you find out someone has something kind to say about you. every good job and well done is catalogued somewhere in your mind, and you wait ceaselessly for the next one, like an addiction.
jack would spoil you, he thinks, for other people. for other men. he would praise you. he would tell you how perfect you are so many times that you wouldn’t be able to forget, that you would never doubt yourself again. that’s what you need waiting for you at home—the thing that can make it all better.
and as wrong as it is, he knows he could do it for you.
you look around the room and find hazel eyes staring right at you. your heart thuds in your chest.
you smile at dr. abbot, and then look back down your notes. a minute later, you look up again, and he’s still looking. smiling. and now you can’t look away either. you had heard about the eye contact thing from other residents, it’s just a habit, they had said. you try not to flatter yourself that your attending is looking at you like he knows everything about you, including the things you don’t say out loud.
why does he have to be so nice to you? why does he have to laugh and smile even when you’re making an idiot of yourself? you should go up and apologize for that bit about the hazel eyes, though you think you might collapse into a puddle and melt into the ground if you have to bring it up again.
but you’re on for six more night shifts before the audition ends, and you ranked ptmc pretty high on your list—which may have been a mistake if you can’t stand in the presence of one of your attendings without turning into a flustered mess.
he hasn’t even done anything besides be nice to you. of course it’s that easy to unnerve you. you keep looking, watching the nurse who stopped to ask dr. abbot a question, how jack turns to talk to him, making eye contact that you were just at the receiving end of.
when the nurse walks away, jack turns back, looks right at you again. you can feel your face heat up like you just ran a mile. is this one of those things that’ll go away when you’re not a virgin anymore? that’s a heavy question for three-thirty in the morning.
here’s another one—how is every person in this hospital not in love with him?
you fluster and turn, breaking eye contact and keeping your head firmly staring at the computer screen. he laughs to himself again, walking off to check on a patient from earlier. the next time your eyes look up, they automatically go to the counter where jack was. you turn back and finish your notes.
“hey,” shen says, sliding into the empty seat next to you a while later. he opens the drawer under the desk, lifting up papers and pulling out a packet of goldfish from underneath. “forget what all these other people told you. your first rule is eat when you can.” you smile at that.
“noted. that’s a good hiding spot. inconspicuous.”
“that’s the goal. don’t tell the day shifters. it’ll be empty in an hour.”
“i won’t. promise.”
“is your mvc still waiting for surgery?”
“i think so, yeah,” you sit up a little straighter. you have this fear that you’ve done something wrong, that it’ll all be revealed in time.
“don’t worry, that’s normal this time of the night. i’d go check on him like once an hour and report to abbot. just because it’s-well, i’m not gonna say it.”
“right. got it. will do.” you get up, feet stumbling a little. it is pretty late. your watch says four-thirty, but you’re not tired. you’re just anxious.
you make your way to the patient’s room, the nurse filling you in on the updates in the last hour. there’s not many, thank god. you stare at the pulse-ox on the monitor for way too long, going over and checking to see that he is, in fact, still breathing. it’s silly. you know it is.
the nurse says she’ll be right back, and you look at the chart for another minute or so, trying to formulate the words you’re going to say to dr. abbot now so you don’t have to form them on the spot—god only knows how that might go.
you turn to head out, looking at the notes on the tablet in your hand, when you run into a brick wall.
“oh my god-” you almost drop the ipad, clutching onto it while it nearly tumbles out of your grip. jesus, how tired were you? walking into walls? but then the wall brings a hand to your shoulder, and that voice that’s been haunting your thoughts all night speaks.
and for what can only be the hundredth time that night, dr. abbot asks you if you’re okay.
you stare up at him.
“you okay, kid?”
“yes. i’m so sorry, dr. abbot. i was coming to find you.”
“i figured. how’s your patient?”
“stable. waiting for surgery. i-i… nevermind.”
“you what?” he asks, gently taking the ipad from your hand and reading. he uses one hand to wipe his eyes, like he can take away the tiredness that way, and then runs a hand through his hair. you put your trembling fingers to your sides. he brings his eyes up from the screen to look at you. you really wish he wouldn’t.
“i was just making sure he was still breathing.”
dr. abbot smiles at you. you smile back, but it’s half-hearted. your chest is thudding so loudly you can hear it in your ears. but his smile fades when he catches a glimpse of your shaking fingers.
“have you eaten today?”
“i had some coffee. and some water.”
“the patient looks great. he’ll be fine. let’s get you something to eat.”
you shut your eyes tightly, but your brain is so tired you don’t even know what you’re thinking. you’ll have to get better at this if you want to keep working here someday.
mindlessly, you follow dr. abbot.
“between five and seven is the hardest part of the shift,” he says, opening up another drawer, different from shen’s. he hands you a protein bar. “and too much coffee is a bad thing. we don’t want your hands shaking if you need to put in a chest tube or thirty sutures at six am, do we?”
you shake your head, taking the protein bar from his hand. your fingers brush for all of two seconds. jack feels like he just touched a live wire.
“eat,” he says, and you listen. “you’re doing good, you know. it’s not supposed to be easy.”
“thank you,” you say, though your mouth is full. you lift your hand to cover, because even though it’s five am, you cannot embarrass yourself any further. “sorry about the hazel eyes thing.”
jack laughs and you smile. he has a really nice laugh, the kind that can make you calm down and forget what was bothering you all night. it really is a wonder that everyone here isn’t in love with him. you don’t even know how much longer you’ll be able to last.
“that’s okay. you’re tired.”
“everyone’s tired,” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter. “i think i’m just going crazy.”
“yeah, why’s that?”
“because i can’t stop thinking about you.”
well. looks like that’s about how long you were able to last.
you put the protein bar down on the counter. hands trembling again, mouth dropped open.
“dr. abbot, i am so sorry-” the words come out in a shaky breath, but when you look at him, when he finally moves his gaze back to your eyes, like he’s been doing all night, you see that he’s not mad. he’s not even upset.
“that’s okay-”
“no, no that is so not okay,” you blubber, words and sentences becoming harder to find by the second. “i am so sorry. that is so unprofessional.”
“well, i-”
“b-but it’s not like it’s just my fault, you’re being so nice-”
“it’s not anyone’s fault, kid, it doesn’t work like that-” “if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours,” you say, unsure of where you’re finding these words. “you keep staring at me. what am i supposed to do?”
“have you tried looking away?” he quips, and you laugh at that. jack thinks for a moment that it’s a really beautiful sound. he doesn’t get to hear it often enough. maybe he can change that.
“am i?” you ask, after a small silence. “going crazy?”
“no. you’re not,” he replies.
“oh. that’s good, at least.”
the two of you stay like that for a moment, shoulder to shoulder against the counter, your protein bar long forgotten. jack’s looking at you and you’re looking anywhere but him.
“dr. abbot?” you say, but before he can answer, there’s a phone going off. he hears it in the distance—mvc, truck driver, incoming, five minutes out.
“come on,” he says, doing that thing again, guiding you but not really. even if anyone noticed through the haze of five am, he finds that he doesn’t really care right now. you wear the same flustered, confused, guilty expression until he ties the gown behind you this time, which makes you a smile.
a real one this time.
“what do you think about breakfast?” jack asks, snapping on his gloves and heading outside to meet the ambulance.
“i like breakfast,” you answer, not nearly as hesitantly as you thought you would.
“great. i’m of the belief you should always eat breakfast after night shift. there’s a place down the street.”
“do they have french toast?”
“i’m sure they do. you like sweet things?” and you can’t believe the conversation is still going, the paramedics are opening up the doors in front of you. you turn to jack, nodding to answer his question. “makes sense. alright, what’d we have?”
mouth still open, you follow him out to the bay.
-
an hour later, both of the drivers from the accident are stable. you’re yawning at central, saying goodbye to the nurse you were chatting with earlier, and without even looking, you know jack is looking at you.
you’re too tired to be anxious. all you want is to go to breakfast with him and figure out what the hell happens after breakfast post night-shift with your attending who knows that you can’t stop thinking about him.
he brings over a cup of coffee for you. you look up quizzically.
“i thought you said no more coffee?”
“it’s decaf. but you need something to get you to breakfast, right?”
“shouldn’t i have a coffee at breakfast?”
“no, because then you won’t be able to sleep after.” the way he talks, you believe everything he says. you smile at him. someone from the other side of the room calls him over.
“i’ll, uh, be right back.”
“dr. abbot?” you say, right before he leaves.
“yeah?” “thank you for the coffee.”
the last hour drags. particularly, six to six-thirty. the second half of the hour, the day crew rolls in slowly, one by one. the day shift counterparts take over patients and beds, get their debriefs. you follow around behind the residents, inform the other medical student about what you had done throughout the evening.
and around seven-fifteen, you pull on your jacket, grab your backpack, and wait for jack. you don’t know who else has left yet, who else might see you two together, but you don’t really care.
you walk to the breakfast place together, your eyes stuck anywhere but on your attending, and now it feels weird, because you can’t get his name to come out of your mouth. the idea of saying jack rather than dr. abbot feels inherently wrong.
the place he takes you to is quaint. it smells of espresso and bacon, and you smile brightly at the waitress when you order a latte, not decaf.
“what did i tell you, huh?” jack asks, and you bring yourself to finally look back at the hazel eyes that started this whole thing.
“i never said i was sleeping after this.”
in hindsight, the coffee was a great idea. the food would have made you sleepy, and you would have missed out going back home with jack. he lives in a nice brownstone, much nicer than your tiny apartment.
it also gave you just enough nerve to ask jack if he wanted to try your french toast. to hold his hand on the walk back. to lean against his chest while he opens the door.
“i can still walk you home, y’know,” he says, but you shake your head, watching him get his keys out.
“unless you want to meet my roommate, i don’t think that’s a good idea.” and inside jack abbot’s apartment is everything you had been imagining for the last twelve hours. shelves filled with records, big windows, a couch that looks tantalizingly comfortable. but you have ulterior motives today.
you keep looking around, perusing through his records while he takes a seat on the couch. you inspect with a tilted head, warmth spreading through your chest and radiating out at his music taste. such an old man, you think briefly, looking back at him sitting on the couch in his civilian clothes. your old man.
you pick one out, the first album that’s familiar to you, and bring it over jack on the couch. you sit next to him, thighs touching, resting your head on his shoulder.
“are you gonna put on music?” he laughs, and you can feel his chest vibrate with the noise. this close, you can feel his heartbeat if you place your head just right. every word that he says, you can hear the rumble first. it’s so soothing, you’d fall asleep if you weren’t so wound up.
“how are you not tired?” he questions, and you look up at him.
“i had a latte, remember. you had coffee too. how are you still tired?” you go silent for a moment, trying and failing to conceal a laugh.
“don’t even say it,” jack says, and he’s laughing too.
“i didn’t say anything.”
“you’re thinking it.”
“i’m not tired enough anymore to believe that you can actually read my thoughts.”
“i can’t read your thoughts.”
“that’s a lie-”
“no, promise. i can’t. i can just tell.”
“how is that possible?”
“you want me to teach you?” you prop yourself up, leaning against his forearm while you do it. his skin is warm, and somehow despite everything you two went through the last twelve hours, he still smells good.
“if you’re not too tired, old man.” jack shuts his eyes, groaning. you laugh again, biting your cheek, wondering what he’ll say when—
he opens his eyes.
“i was gonna go easy on you, kid. but you’re in for it now.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
“promise?”
jack makes another noise—something in between a groan and a sigh. and then before you can think about it again, he takes your face in between both hands and kisses you.
and you’ve been kissed before. not well, but you know what it’s supposed to be like. after a date once you think, a date that had been pretty mediocre. you felt a spark a hundred times stronger in the last couple hours with jack than any date you’ve been on in your life.
at least—you thought you knew what being kissed was supposed to be like. as it turns out, while kissing jack, you realize that you didn’t know shit.
the way he kisses you leaves your lungs void of any air. he doesn’t pull away, not once, and you don’t either. you don’t want him to pull away, you think you might die if he does. he moves his hands slightly, one on your cheek and the other on the back of your head, holding you in place, firmly, gently. and he kisses you like he wants you to forget what being kissed is like, as though you should have no memory besides this one.
your hands rope themselves on his arms, hard muscles tense under your touch. you move them up and down, brain so empty after the night you’ve had that you don’t know how to signal to him that you want him to take his shirt off. so you pull on his short sleeves and feel his bicep strain against your palm until you give up. you’d rather go at his pace than make any decisions at all, and somehow, you know that jack abbot won’t let you make a single decision, not if you don’t want to. he’ll decide everything, he’ll know what’s right for you, just like he has all night.
your hands finally leave his arm and wander to his hair, fingers working their way through the salt and pepper that you’ve been admiring for so many hours. his curls are messy, and you’ve ruined them, you’re sure, but you can’t stop.
you don’t know how long it’s been since either of you came up for air, but then you hear the record drop to the ground and you pull away quickly, turning your head to see where it went.
jack doesn’t stop kissing you. his mouth is hot and his touch is lava, moving to your cheek and your jaw and then down the column of your neck.
the moans you’ve been singing into his mouth are now out in the air, noises sweet like honey coming back to his ears.
“y-your record, i-i dropped it,” you get the sentence out in gasps. jack has his mouth over the place where your carotid pulses. he sucks hard on the skin there and your eyes shut instantly, the record leaving your mind as quickly as it had come in. he makes his way back through your cheek, back to your mouth.
and you could almost die at the sight—jack abbot, lips red and swollen, darkened eyes looking at you like he’s going to make you pay for that ‘old man’ comment, though you can hardly remember what you had even said.
this time you lean back in to kiss him again, and he lets you control the pace for all of thirty seconds. you kiss him until your lips hurt, until your tongue is tired—but then again, so is every part of your body. but it doesn’t matter, not when you’re so close to getting what it is that you want.
you don’t actually know how you got to his bedroom. you would have been content on that couch, or on the rug on the floor. against the door or on the countertop in the kitchen, but you guess you’ll have time for all of those things one day.
there’s black out curtains in jack’s bedroom. they’re not shut all the way, so you look around while he stands in front of you, pulling off his shirt in one motion. your eyes are big, heart thudding while you take it in. his room is simple, just like you had imagined. the sheets are soft under your skin and everything smells good, like linen and sandalwood. you bring your gaze back, bringing a hand up to touch his chest, like you need to make sure that he’s really in front of you.
jack takes his hand and puts it on top of the one you’re touching him with, pinning it above your head while he hovers over you. you bring the other one up voluntarily, letting him clasp it down, while he leans in to kiss you again. you keep moaning, not sure of how loud you’re being and not entirely sure if you care anymore.
and then he stops. pulls away from the kiss, unpins your hands. you whine in frustration, shut eyes opening quickly to meet his.
“you sure about this, hm?” he asks, bringing his lips to your jaw again. he hovers there too, not pressing down enough for it to be a real kiss. you can feel his stubble rubbing against you.
“i’m sure,” you whisper back, eyes shutting again. jack’s hands roam down, wandering over your waistband.
“there’s no going back,” he says, just as quietly as you had.
“jack, please—” and for the first time that morning, you hear dr. abbot break.
“oh fuck. say my name again, angel,” and you comply, repeating the syllable once, and then twice. it tastes weird on your tongue—like you’d get in trouble for saying it.
the thought makes you laugh. you keep giggling, unable to stop. you hear jack breathe into your neck, laughing with you.
“what’s so funny, hm?” he brings himself back over you, noses almost touching. you look straight into hazel eyes, bringing your hand to his cheek, running your fingers over the short hairs there.
“a couple hours ago i was calling you doctor abbot. now i’m in your bed.”
“you want me to stop, baby? i can. we can just go to sleep,” and you shake your head quickly.
“no, please don’t stop.”
“well, since you asked so politely.” he starts again, kisses up and down your neck, hands pulling off your bottoms. his fingers tease over the hem of your shirt and you raise your arms so he can pull that off too. his eyes rake over your entire body and unlike what you’d imagined, you don’t feel the need to hide. you don’t want to cover yourself up, or feel embarrassed, or anything else. you want jack abbot to keep looking at you like he’s looking now, like he can’t believe what’s in front of him. you can’t believe it either.
and somehow, this is even funnier. now you’re naked in front of your attending, the very one who has been making your heart race since you met him during your third year rotation. you laugh again, before clasping a hand over your mouth.
“i think you might be a little too tired for this,” he says, and you regret your laughter right now.
“no, no, i want this. i’ve been waiting so long for this,” the last part comes out as a whisper. you tilt your head up, pressing in for another kiss. jack’s hands—hot like every other part of him—roam the bare skin of your hips and waist, all the way up to your ribcage and then back down.
“yeah? how long?” he asks. his kisses go lower now, down your neck, onto your collarbone. he goes down to the smooth skin above your breasts, between them. everywhere except where you need him. you can feel the anticipation thrumming under your skin. “i asked you a question.” he pulls away, waiting for his answer.
“s-since i met you.”
“i think it’s been longer than that, hasn’t it?”
you look at him confused, but then the bastard actually smirks at you. and suddenly you’re back to ten o’clock last night, when the nurse was telling you to keep you legs closed—sorry, couldn’t help myself—and you saw someone in the corner of your eye but you didn’t want to be rude and look away, but when you left for the incoming trauma, you had seen—
“you dick-” you yell, sitting up in jack’s soft sheets. “you heard that whole conversation?” jack’s laughing and you start laughing too, taking one of his pillows and smacking it across his chest.
“not-” you get him with the pillow again and he grabs it, wrestling it out of your hands. you realize how much stronger he is than you for a split second in that moment. “not the entire thing. just the important bits.”
“well at least now i don’t have to figure out how to tell you,” you reply sheepishly, feeling particularly vulnerable. you bring your knees in to your chest, watching jack in front of you with big eyes. “do you feel weird about it?”
“weird about what, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, placing one of his warm hands on your knee and rubbing the skin there.
“the virgin thing. do you not-”
“hey,” he says, and with so much caring behind his voice that you feel whatever’s left—if there even was any—of your resolve break. “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. we can shower and go to sleep. i can take you home. whatever you want. and we can pick up where we left off when you’re ready.”
“yeah?” you ask.
“yeah.”
you move back towards him, shutting your eyes and leaning in for another kiss. this time you crawl into his lap, feeling his hands roaming all over your body again. you can feel him under you—rock hard, pulsing, incredibly hot even through his pants. your hips move on their own while your hands fiddle with the tie before he takes over, undoing it for you. you hear jack groaning in your ear, and you’re positive that you’re wet enough to leave a wet mark on him. the noise is so exhilarating to you that you have to stop yourself from doing whatever it takes to get more out of him.
jack keeps one huge hand on your back, keeping you steady while he kisses you. you lock your arms around his neck, not letting go incase he tries to pull away. he flips you over in one motion—you on your back, and him hovering over you.
you don’t like this nearly as much—you want it back, the insanely rough pleasure of grinding yourself down on him. you whine again, but he murmurs one word in your ear over and over again—patience.
you’ve waited this long. you think you can be patient a little while longer.
jack goes back to whatever was on his long list of things he wants to do to you. he starts with pinning your hands down, locking you in place so you don’t flail around too much. he starts at your chest, his hot mouth working down to your nipple. he takes one in his mouth and you arch up off the bed, making saccharine noises that no one besides him has ever gotten to hear. that no one besides him will ever get to hear.
“jack, jack,” you say his name over and over again, like you’re worried he’ll disappear if you don’t. your body reacts just like he thought you would, only taking what you’re giving, waiting patiently for more.
“you’re being so good, sweetheart,” and he thinks the words alone are enough to make you come. he switches over to your other nipple, and he hears you curse, the swear ripping from your mouth.
and he hasn’t even touched your cunt yet. but he knows already that he’s going to drag this out, that he’s going to make sure you can never forget it. that he’ll spent the rest of his life trying to top this moment, give you something to compare to forever.
hot kisses down your stomach while your chest heaves. he watches from his position between your thighs, hands reaching out to play with your tits while he finally does what he’s been thinking about since that trauma yesterday night.
he moves your hands for you, putting them to work, making you tease your nipples while he spreads open your legs further.
he stares up again, watching you comply with his instructions wordlessly, being such a good girl without even needing to be told. he needs to tell you, but he doesn’t want you to come until you’re coming on his tongue.
without waiting, jack licks the length of your pussy and makes your entire body tense up, back rising off the bed again. he uses one hand on your stomach to keep you pinned down, to make sure you keep taking whatever he gives you. he can’t talk like this, but he’ll talk you through it when he makes you come all over his dick.
that’s what he’s thinking about while he starts to stretch you out. one finger, then two. your cunt is soaking wet, leaking down and making a mess of your thighs and his sheets and his face. he teases your clit more than he should, but how can he not? when you thrash so hard that you’d fall if he wasn’t holding you down? when you have no choice but to take it, to lay back and feel jack’s tongue on the most sensitive part of your body, the part that no one but him has ever gotten to touch?
two fingers become three, stretching you out for him while he sucks on your clit hard, finally giving you what you’ve been begging for.
one of your hands makes its way down to his hair, pulling on it while the other stays on your breast—you want to have both in jack’s hair but you can’t just ignore what he told you to do.
you don’t know what the punishment would be, even though you’re sure you’d enjoy it. but that’s going to be saved for another day.
right now, you were so close to cumming, so close that you could feel yourself hurtling over the edge, and then you pull on jack’s hair harder than you meant to and he moans around you.
it’s something entirely different—the vibration from his mouth and the fact that he’s moaning while he does this to you, and whatever the combination is, you feel it split you apart. the electric current that you felt earlier when you brushed hands with jack is nothing compared to this, lightening coursing through every part of your body, head to toe, inside and out. the white hot tension in your stomach snapping makes you cry out against jack’s pillows, toes curling while he keeps going all the way through it. you can hear him, and it only makes you cum harder, encouraging you, telling you how good you’re doing, how good you’ve been all this time. the only thing you can hear after it stops is your own heart inside your ribcage, bursting like it’s going to come out.
you let go of jack’s hair, bringing your exhausted hand to his shoulder instead. he comes up to where you are, meeting your eyes and leaning in for a kiss that leaves you breathless and thoughtless all over again.
“thank you, jack,” you whisper, too tired to say it any louder. jack laughs against your skin.
“you tired, sweetheart?” the answer is yes and no at the time, but you shake your head. you move closer to him, bringing your hand to his boxers, palming him. you can tell he’s big—big in the way that’s going to hurt, big in the way that his fingers can’t compare. big like you’re going to have trouble walking tomorrow.
“please, jack?” you say, and honest to god, how is he supposed to say no to that? even in your post-orgasmic state, tired as you can be, every muscle probably screaming at you to let you sleep, you’re so sweet in your request, so polite. just like always. he can’t say no to you even if he wanted to.
jack positions himself on top of you. this is it—what you’ve been waiting for. the result of one harmless conversation half a day ago.
jack brings your knees to your chest, and you loop your arms around them, holding yourself in place. his arms cage you in, and you look up, meeting hazel eyes. and even though you should probably be nervous, you’re not, not at all. because you know jack will take care of you.
he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making your eyes shut.
“you ready, kid?” the nickname makes your heart flutter. you open your eyes, nodding again. “take a deep breath for me,” jack says, and you comply. and when he pushes inside of you, you swear everything in your body stops working for a second.
every thought leaves your head, every muscle goes lax. your eyes rolls back, mouth dropping open. there is nothing left to think about, nothing to feel except jack abbot inside of you.
“breathe for me,” he instructs, and you have to remind yourself to listen to him, that he knows what you need in this moment. jack abbot knows everything about you—even the things you don’t know.
you hear him—groaning and whispering things that you’re sure would make you pass out if you were in a state of mind that could understand him, but you’re not. so you wait for his kiss, take another breath, and feel him push inside of you all the way.
“jack,” you cry out, toes curling and head spinning. “jack, jack, jack-”
“i know, i know,” he says, and gives you another kiss. “you’re doing—fuck, you’re doing perfect.” he pulls out and thrusts back in, and the stretch is enough to make you cry out again. he’s going slowly for you but you don’t know how to tell him that you need more, that you might die if you don’t get more. but then again, you don’t have to tell him anything.
he picks up the pace, eyes stuck to where he’s filling you up. he can’t stop watching, seeing inch after inch disappear inside you, like you were made for him, because fuck, you were. your hands claw at his back and you pull on his neck to kiss you again, and when he does, you moan into his mouth. but he can’t just let you take it like this, he needs to tell you, all the things he’s been wanting to say.
he pulls away from your mouth and you make another noise, upset. he smooths down your hair and kisses your forehead, working down to your temple and then your cheek and to your ear.
“you’re being so good for me,” those six words that you love hearing so much make your entire body tighten up, including your cunt. you pulse around him as he pauses for a minute, taking in how you react to it. you moan against his skin, crying out when he resumes.
“so perfect for me. you’re taking me so well, baby. like you were made for it.” another moan, more crying. but he knows—knows there’s something else still.
you had once thought your first time might be gentle, candles and flowers. you don’t think you would trade jack abbot and his bedroom and his half-pulled black out curtains for anything in this world.
he keeps fucking you, brutally and deliberately, each thrust telling you something different. you squeal out his name like it’s the only word you know. but it’s when he starts speaking again, when you clench down against him, pulsing so tightly, that he knows he’s figured it out.
“good girl,” jack says, and you have to press your mouth against his arm to stop from screaming out loud. “you’re doing so good, so perfect. my good girl, aren’t you?”
“j-jack, jack, jack, i’m gonna-”
“come on, angel. come for me. i want you to come around me. can you do that for me?” you can’t answer, though it’s on the tip of your tongue, and then it happens again—the lightening, white hot, running through you. even stronger than the first one—it rips through you. jack’s in your ear and you can understand him this time—good girl. so perfect. you did amazing.
you don’t think you can feel your legs. your eyes want to flutter shut but you still feel the aftershocks each time jack thrusts inside of you—and when you open your eyes to stare up at him, you lean up, silently asking for a kiss.
he complies, pressing his lips against you. you don’t let go, keeping it going, until you whisper against his lips.
“thank you doctor abbot,” and that seems to be the last straw for him. you wish you could engrain it into your brain forever, how jack sounds when he cums. you’ve been listening to him all morning but this, this was different. a real moan, wrangled from the back of his throat, from his chest. as good as he’s made you feel, now you get to help him, your cunt clenching around him while he finishes. you press back for another kiss, and jack deepens it, until he pulls out.
you suddenly feel so empty.
he collapses next to you, ushering you onto his sweaty skin. you’re sure that you’re drenched too, and you can feel the back of your head where hairs have stuck to your neck.
you find jack’s hand, holding onto it like letting go might make all of this disappear. he presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers rubbing the skin of the dorsum of your hand.
“you okay?” he asks again, and you nod against his chest. glancing up for a moment, you catch hazel eyes looking at you already.
“are you okay?” he gives you another kiss to your forehead.
“you need to get some sleep.”
“i’m not tired,” you lie.
“yes you are. why do you keep thinking you can lie to me?” he asks, still staring into your eyes. you want to look away but you don’t think you can. you lay down against him, so you don’t have to look away.
“i’m not lying.” you take a pause, take a breath. “do i still have to call you dr. abbot at work tomorrow?” jack laughs. you can feel the vibration on his chest. it makes you smile.
“close your eyes, kid. i promise we’ll talk about everything in the morning.”
“jack?”
“yes?”
“you wanna go again?”
♡
possessive - jack abbot
a/n: so i have this scenario in my head but idk if i love it or hate it, it’s up to you at this point 😭 sorry for any misspellings, english is not my first language
pairing: jack abbot x f!pediatrician!reader
summary: jack abbot is a possessive man and we love that
warnings: dr abbot being hot, myrna being inconvenient as always, medical inaccuracies, let me know if i missed something (gif not mine i just find it here)
Possessive is a word referred to ownership or a relationship of belonging between one thing and another.
Is the state of having, owning, or controlling something.
Jack Abbot was a possessive man.
Not an inconvenient possessive man. He was subtle. One hand at the end of your back. Picking you up at the end of your shift when he isn’t working. Talking to you with the softest voice. Sharing coffee or a granola bar he had in his pocket for you. The glances to other men when you’re walking by.
He had nothing to fear with you. You sleep and wake up with him every day. He knew exactly how to show someone that you belonged to him without saying a word. He hasn't put a ring on your finger and yet everybody in the ED understands you’re his girl and nobody was crazy to question him.
It was supposed to be your day off. You already made plans with Emery and Parker to go out for dinner and have some drinks like you do every month. That’s your way of gossiping and keeping the bond stronger, especially working at male dominated fields. Keeping the girls together makes the job easier and better. You were even planning to invite Samara to the next dinner.
The best thing about the trio was initially to piss Jack off and because you worked so well together and a friendship naturally bloomed - and thank god it did. The funniest, dirtiest and best conversations came out so easily between you that it was impossible to keep track of the actual dialogue topic when you combined.
Unfortunately your phone vibrated in your purse during dinner with a message from Robby letting you know there was an emergency of a child that fell and the parents were asking for you. These things were pretty normal in your routine when you work with pediatrics emergencies. In less than fifteen minutes you were walking towards the ED entrance like you weren't just discussing panties over drinks.
Worst part of it? You had no time to change your clothes. So you were standing at the nursing station with the most expensive Valentino dress you own, brand new shoes and your favorite coat to protect you from the cold.
The scrubs were a protocol when you’re working and you were not. You hated to work without them and hated even more that your backup scrubs were not in your car. Jack must’ve taken them to wash and didn’t put them back.
Jack didn’t see you coming and he had no idea of the dress you chose for your girls night. Bridget was already laughing when you entered, holding you something to cover up until you have to leave again. She quickly took your overcoat and gave you a white coat, which helped a little but not too much because of your heels clicking at the floor.
“Wow doc, didn’t know you could look that hot.” You heard Garcia teased and shook your head laughing. “You should show up like this more often, as an experiment of course.”
“I appreciate your words Yoyo. Maybe next time I'll show up with your favorite color.” She blew you a kiss and walked away laughing.
“He’s going to need to be sedated when he hears you’re in his ED looking like this” Robby chuckled when he found at the nursing station. “Sorry I've called you, they insisted on being you. They are barely letting Mel work there.’
“It’s fine, Robby. I don’t like my day off anyway.” You winked and went straight to the room they were in.
The child parents came running to you the moment you entered their plain sight. Dr. King was accompanying them before you arrived, describing the situation in detail and how she dealt with them. And for her face you knew how those parents weren’t easy to deal with.
“Dr (Y/L/N), this is Jamie, 10 month old, previously healthy, fell from the crib around 9 p.m.. According to the mother, he tried to pull himself up using the crib rails, lost his balance, and fell over the side of the crib, landing directly on the floor. He cried immediately for about fifteen minutes, with no loss of consciousness and no vomiting. The mother noted only mild bruises in the right frontotemporal region, with no other signs of trauma. He remained active, fed normally, and showed no changes in consciousness or behavior. “ You heard Mel's words with attention while examining the child.
“You ordered any exams, doctor King?” She nodded and passed you the chart to look at.”
“A CT, x-ray and some labs just to make sure everything is perfectly fine.” You nodded, shaking your head.
“Excellent.” You smiled at her and turned your attention to the parents.
“Does he cry when he moves? Has he had any seizures? Allergies or something we need to know?” They kept denying. “Why don’t you bring him early? It’s almost one in the morning.” The parents kept their silence and you shrugged your shoulders, looking at them. “Alright then. Doctor King will accompany you to the CT and the x-ray.”
Something you loved about yourself was the way you’re pretty centered and rigid about your job, especially working around and with children. Fighting with parents? You do every shift. Making the little ones laugh? You did it too. You were tough and nice but at the same time the children absolutely loved you. The most common thing to see was you holding a child mid shift and laughing about it with the nurses.
He was waiting for you at the nursing station. Coffee in hand. Jaws tighten when his eyes land on you. Eyebrows raised while he analyzed your shoes. You leaned closer to him, enough to look professional and only a little mischievous so he could smell your new perfume - the one he bought you.
“Hi there, doctor Abbot.” You touched his arm and smiled, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. “Peds emergency, they have to call the best.”
“This is not workplace clothing.” His hand reached yours, quickly brushing your finger.
“I had a nice time at dinner, thanks for asking, by the way.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll go home when his exams are finished. I won’t even leave this spot.” You sit in the vague chair and cross your arms.
“Nice coat, actually.” Dr. Jack Abbot. It was his coat. “You should work with this more often since you don’t want to change your last name.”
Before you can even replied you heard Myrna screaming at the other side of the room.
“Nice ass, MacDreamy.” She pointed at you.
“Been working out lately, Myrna. Do you like it?” You teased her and she giggled.
“Watch out or I’ll steal your girl, Abbot. I killed a man before and I can do it again.”
When you turned to look at Jack again, he was serious. His forehead was tense and his knuckles white from holding his coffee mug. His hair was a little messy and there was some blood in his scrubs.
Hot. Really hot.
He didn’t care when your friends, female friends, flirted with you because he knew you flirted back joking. He respected your boundaries and you respected him too. You still find it pretty amusing how he gets all possessive over small things, lucky you he didn’t see the dress you were wearing underneath the white coat.
Vintage Valentino, sheer black chiffon, off-the-shoulder neckline with the fabric draped down the arms, creating a dramatic, sophisticated look. At the bust, a large central bow, asymmetrical and flowing skirt, with soft, layered fabric and a high front slit that reveals the left leg. Jack never complained or talked badly about your clothing, he actually enjoyed seeing you wearing the clothes you liked - he enjoyed taking off more. He describes being an extension of your personality.
“Want to talk about that dress?” He lifted up the white coat a little. “Showing legs and neck like crazy, hm?”
“Nope, we’re not doing this here. You’re working.”
“Why not? I thought you like showing off a little too much.” He crossed his arms and you sigh.
“Oh my God, is this foreplay?” His eyes locked on yours. “Fuck it, I’m into it.”
“Just stay here until the boy it’s back.” He stared at you for a few seconds and you tried to control your smile.
“Are you jealous, Abbot?” You heard Shen comment and buried your face in your hands. He just gave him the nastiest look you’ve ever seen in your life and you can tell he already gave you some looks at you in the bedroom.
The exams took a while to get ready and when they returned to the emergency room, you met them again holding a tablet to explain the situation to them. Immediately the little boy was already in your arms, resting his head over your shoulder.
“The CT and the x-ray both came normal, no injury or other systemic trauma. He’s safe and sound. If you notice something is different, bring him immediately.” You hold his little hand and smile brightly. “You’re lucky to be here today, Jamie.”
The parents asked a few questions about the exams and the therapy you chose for him and after they left you stayed inside the empty room for a while before you left to grab the rest of your stuff.
Jack was talking something with Robby when you approached them, taking off the white coat that belonged to your man and putting on your warm and cozy overcoat. His eyes went straight to your almost bare chest, he had to scan the room pretty quickly for perverts watching you. One drunk guy screamed that he wanted you to talk to him, Myrna said something about your ass again and this time Mel came in complementing your legs.
“You should be grateful you weren’t there when Emery and Parker saw me, you probably be in jail now.” He helped you close the buttons of your coat.
“Remind me to put a goddamn ring on your finger.” He whispered closer to you, making you burst out laughing.
“What a romantic proposal. I’m really emotional.” Jack rolled his eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear.
“I already heard some jerks talking about you and I didn’t appreciate their tone.” You passed your arms around his shoulder - ignoring the PDA rule you established for work.
“Yeah, I’m still sleeping in your bed tho.” He agreed, laughing softly. “Gotta go now. Emery is waiting for me at Five Guys and I could kill for a burger now.”
“Be careful, beautiful.”
“Try to go home in one piece.” You squeezed his shoulder and winked before walking away.
When you arrived for your next shift there was a big diamond on your finger and the biggest smirk on Jack's face when people started to talk about it.
i am obsessed with jack yapping to robby so he feels a bit better so could i req a scenario of jack and reader having a nasty argument and reader gets overwhelmed af so she gets some fresh air and he follows soon after and just yaps ur ear off and tries to land some jokes cos hes a loser #please ❤️ i love ur work
"bc he's a loser" LMAO (thankyouu!!)
Don’t Walk Away From Me|Pairing: Jack Abbott x Reader
The door slammed behind you harder than you meant. Not that it mattered.
Your hands were shaking as you leaned on the rusted railing of the hospital's back steps, the chill of Pittsburgh air cutting through your scrubs like paper. You just needed a second. A breath. A break from—
"Okay, wow." Jack’s voice followed seconds later. "So we’re slamming doors now? Cool. Was just wondering where we landed on the maturity scale today."
You didn’t turn around.
"I needed air, Jack. That’s all."
"Right. And you had to get it dramatically. Like mid-argument Broadway walk-off level dramatic."
You clenched your jaw, the tears building against your will. “I’m not doing this right now.”
"No, no, you don’t get to ‘not do this.’ You stormed out after basically accusing me of—what? Caring too much? Being too involved? Forgive me for giving a shit, sweetheart."
"Jack," you snapped, whipping around, "you talk over me constantly when you're mad. You bulldoze every feeling I have until I’m so spun around I start questioning if I’m even making sense."
You looked up at him—storm in your eyes, chaos in your chest. “I needed one thing today. One ounce of support, and instead I got that—whatever that was in there.”
Jack blinked. The words landed harder than you expected. He stepped back, rubbed a hand down his face, then sighed, soft.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I deserved that.”
Silence.
He shifted awkwardly. You knew he wasn’t good at this. Processing feelings that weren’t neatly filed under ‘sarcasm’ or ‘making dumb jokes to defuse tension.’ But he tried. Always tried.
“I’m… not good at being wrong,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Or scared. Especially not both at the same time.”
He glanced over at you, squinting in the streetlight glow.
“But for the record,” he added with a smirk, “I was mostly mad because you looked me in the eye and told me you didn’t need me. That was rude. And honestly? False. You definitely need me. I keep this operation charming.”
You laughed—more like a watery scoff—but he grinned like he’d just won an award.
“There it is,” he said, stepping closer. “The laugh. God, I missed that. Felt like I was arguing with a robot version of you in there. Kind of scary.”
“You’re such an idiot.”
He nodded solemnly. “Certified. But I’m your idiot, and I’m trying here, okay?”
You shook your head, but you didn’t move when he came close. He didn’t touch you, not yet, just stood there breathing beside you, both of you watching your breath cloud in the cold.
After a beat, he nudged you with his elbow. “Want me to sing you a sad song about it? I can do jazz hands.”
“I will push you down these stairs.”
“Romance isn’t dead,” he whispered, mock wounded.
You cracked a smile. Just barely.
And then Jack finally reached for your hand—tentatively, reverently—and laced his fingers with yours.
“I love you,” he said, quiet this time. “Even when we’re fighting. Especially then, actually, because you’re mean as hell when you’re angry and I find it wildly hot. Just FYI.”
You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hand back. “You’re exhausting.”
“Yep. But you keep coming back. Guess that means we’re stuck.”
You leaned into his shoulder. “Guess so.”
And for the first time that day, you finally breathed.
Three
Note: This has been an idea for a lot of characters and it just...really fits Jack I think. There is also a version coming for Robby.
Warnings: Angst, Fem!Reader, regular trauma related violence, gun violence, death, established relationship, no beta.
Summary: You and Jack have your own silent way to communicate the love you have for each other which comes in handy after you're injured at Pitt Fest.
It was subtle the way that it started, a way for Jack and yourself to say 'I love you' without saying it. As the only ward clerk allowed at Central, because you were the only truly trusted one, you had grown close to Jack, ensuring that orders, be it medication or imaging, or even admissions, were entered correctly into the Epic system for the night shift team, taking some of the load off of the nurses and at the same time, making sure that all records were accurate, particularly for the billing side of things, lest Gloria have an aneurysm if something was missed that could have been billed for. Day shift had an equivalent of you, but they were new and not as trusted. It was not uncommon for Robby to stay late just to ask you to ensure that his final orders for the night were followed.
Because of this a relationship with Jack grew, the stoic, former soldier, but still a soldier at heart, cracking a small smile here and there. You would bring him coffee to start the night (while also being the official brewer of coffee for the staff lounge), ground him when he lost patients, and eventually you found yourself grabbing breakfast with him most mornings. About 6 months into the job, Jesse collects his winnings on the running bet of when you would finally admit that you were together. There was no big revelation. One night, you were both off (somehow you just happened to be on the same shift schedule as Jack, something that was not lost on you) sitting in the living room of your small apartment watching movies. You were always at your place and not his because yours was 'homey' according to him. You had been leaning on the arm of the couch, legs covered by a blanket and his head in your lap, your fingers carding through his greying hair.
You had looked down at him to find him staring at you. "My lease is up in a month, I have to decide if I'm signing again or not." You had mumbled. The corner of his mouth quirked, "Yeah?" You simply nodded. "You should move into my place, add some personality, and no rent." He had replied. "You think so? Your room or the spare?" You asked with a raised brow.
"Mine of course."
You moved in ten days later and never left. One year later, you were married. That was three years ago.
—
The first 'I love you' came after the anniversary of his wife's death, after you'd lived with him three months. He had understandably had a bad day, thankfully it was not a workday for him and he could take it easy. He saw his therapist, showed up back at home and cornered you in the kitchen where you had been preparing dinner for the two of you. Backing you into the counter, he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead and holding you close before whispering a soft "I love you." You're not ashamed to say you cried a little before telling him that you did in fact love him too.
At work, you kept things professional. Anyone not new, knew that you were together, knew that you lived in the same house and knew that Jack was incredibly protective, but they also knew that they were the ultimate professionals, with only subtle changes. If he was hanging out by your workstation, asking you to add orders, a hand would be on your shoulder, or your waist if he was sitting, and if they were really paying attention...they would see the three soft taps or squeezes that you would leave on one another. Always three. Your silent way of saying I love you. It was integrated into everyday life, even at home when watching TV.
Dana had witnessed it once as she was coming into work one morning. The shift had been hard, four patients had been lost, and one had been only a couple of months old. Jack had retreated to the lounge, attempting to escape everything without heading to the roof, he didn't think that he was at that point yet. You had followed closely, standing in front of him, trying to ground him with soft words. Dana had walked in to put her lunch in the fridge as you'd raised a hand to his chest, tapping three times on his chest just over his heart. He'd pulled you close then, arms wrapping around you, tapping your hip three times in response as you stood quietly. Dana had decided that her lunch could go in the fridge later.
—
The morning of Pitt Fest, you were excited. Both you and Jack had the night off, Jack wouldn't be going, but he'd gotten yourself and your best friends passes for your anniversary. You were dead tired but chugged a can of Monster while packing another for the road. After getting yourself ready you kissed him goodbye, gave him three quick taps on the chest and made your way out the door where Christy and Samantha were waiting for you in Christy's car. Jack showered and went to bed for the day. 30 minutes after leaving you were coffeed up, energized and ready to party. Jack was out cold, his police scanner on for white noise in the background. Every so often you sent Jack a text, knowing he'd have it on do not disturb unless it was a phone call from yourself or the hospital. You sent updates, photos and videos. Jack finally started responding around 3:30 pm, finally giving up on sleep after briefly waking at 2. A simple thumbs up emoji was sent in response to everything you had sent. You sent back a heart, chugged another Monster and went back to the music, running into Jake and his girlfriend Leah briefly around 4.
It was just after 5:30 when things went sideways. You and your friends were close to the stage, listening to a lesser-known local band, but one that you knew well when you heard the first pops of what you thought were firecrackers...they could have been pyrotechnics, but this band didn't have the budget for that. Your head tilted, the band didn't stop so everything had to be, okay? Right?
Wrong, you were so very wrong. One moment you had turned to Christy, intending to ask if she'd heard the pops, and the next thing you knew your face was covered in blood and half of Christy's was...no longer there. Screams erupted as you dropped to the ground, grabbing Samantha by the hand and pulling her flat. Some people were running, some were taking cover, but you knew you couldn't stay where you were.
"What the actual fuck?!" You heard Samantha say. "What the fuck is happening? Y/N. We have to get Christy; we can't leave Christy!" Samantha was panicking, so were you, but working in the Emergency Department had trained you to stay calm, or as calm as you could, but this was different. You shook your head. "We can't help Christy." You said, pulling Samantha with you as you carefully maneuvered closer to the stage, intending to go under it for cover, staying low as you went.
"What the fuck do you mean we can't help Christy?" You sighed, turning slightly but not stopping as people dropped around you. You didn't speak again until yourself and Samantha were under the stage, others following your example. You turned to fully look at Samantha, pale, her eyes wide, clear signs of shock. "Sammy, I need you to focus. Christy is dead, okay, very, very dead." The fact that your best friend since childhood was gone had set in but you couldn't let yourself fall apart, you could do that later when you were safe at home in Jack's arms.
You quickly realized that you couldn't stay where you were, despite being covered from above, the sides of the stage were open, and it would be easy to shoot underneath it. You crawled to the other side of the stage, slowly, listening as the gunshots continued, getting closer and closer to the stage. Every so often you looked behind you to make sure Samantha was still following, she was. When you got to the edge of the stage you realized that there was a new problem. The closest exit was the entrance to the venue...which was on the other side of the field. The rest of the area was contained with a chain-link fence, you could climb it, but that would leave you exposed. No matter what you did, to get out you needed to leave your cover and make a run for it. Taking a deep breath, you pulled your phone from your pocket, shooting off a quick text to Jack, not having time to call him.
Shooter at Pitt Fest. I'm trying. I love you.
—
Jack had been staring at the ceiling, having not moved from the bed, when the police scanner went off. 'All units, multiple reports of shots fired at Pitt Fest, unknown number of suspects, unknown number of casualties.'
For a moment Jack's heart stopped and his blood froze. You were there. You and your friends. You, who had begged him to come along but he hadn't wanted any part of the crowds, noise and well...all of it. You were there. He was not. He shook it off, and steeled himself, slipping into combat mode, grabbing his phone and his go bag before rushing to his truck. He checked his phone to see if you'd messaged him, you hadn't, and he hesitated over the call button, only stopping because he knew your phone would not be on silent and a ringing phone could make you a target. He was out of the driveway barrelling towards PTMC in less than two minutes.
30 minutes later he received your text, he was elbow deep in a patient trying to save them.
—
Mel was taking half a second to breathe in the ambulance bay, ready for her next patient with Shen, seemingly unflappable, by her side as the next load of cars came in. As the SUV pulled to a screeching halt in front of her, Shen was by her side, swinging the door open as a Samantha immediately jumped out, blood all over her and pressing her sweater into your chest. Mel had no idea who you were, it was her first day, she just needed to triage you and get you inside, Shen however, froze. Mel noticed and her eyes widened. "No, I don't like that face. Dr. Shen?"
Shen quickly assessed you. "Fuck, she's a red..." He turned to Mel. "Help me get her in there and do NOT let Abbot have this one." Mel cocked her head to the side. "Why can't Dr. Abbot have her?"
Shen took a breath. "She works here; she's one of us. Most importantly? She's his wife."
He did not stop Samantha from following.
—
Jack had barely looked up when Shen came in with the next victim, he was busy with his own patient, it registered in his brain that the patient was being handed off to Robby, which meant they were in good hands. It was Robby shouting "fuck" that got his attention. His head lifted and when he looked at Robby, the older man was doing chest compressions, but his eyes were on Jack. Jack felt a pit settle in his gut, and then he spotted Samantha. He knew. Immediately he turned to Mohan. "Take over, now!"
Heart hammering in his chest he didn't give Mohan a moment to argue before he was rushing over to Robby, Samantha spotting him and wrapping her arms around him for a second. "I-I'm s-sorry Jack. Its m-my fault, s-she was covering m-me when she was hit...Christy's dead. Fuck, I'm sorry." Samantha was spiralling, internally so was he, he could only hear the blood in his ears. No man's land. You were hit in no man's land.
Robby wouldn't let him help, couldn't let him help. Not just for ethical reasons but if you died and Jack was working on you, well...Jack wouldn't survive that. Jack likely wouldn't survive either way, but at least if it was Robby, Jack wouldn't hate himself. Not as much. Jack watched as they were able to stabilize you just enough to send you off to surgery, Jack following close behind with Robby hot on his heels. They stopped the gurney at the OR doors, just long enough for Jack to lean down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand squeezing yours three times, even though you couldn't respond.
"Don't you fucking leave me, I can't go through this again."
Jack went back to work with the promise from Garcia that as soon as there was an update, he would have it. This was a MASH unit and there was no time to stop.
—
It's hours later when the darkness starts to fade from your consciousness. You're on your back, and part of you panics when you realize that the discomfort in your throat is from being intubated, the instinct to fight the machine helping you breathe running rampant. You reached up, grabbing for the offending tube and ignoring the pain you were suddenly feeling. You barely register the scrapping of a chair being moved as a shadow moved into your view, grabbing for your hand to stop you.
"Hey! Hey, no, none of that baby, you need that right now." You froze, unable to fight the strong grip he had on you. Your eyes focused, and there was your Jack, staring down at you, looking exhausted and like he'd aged about 30 years. His hair looked like he hadn't stopped running his hands through it. He leaned over you, letting go of your hand when he realized that you were relaxing a bit, his hand moving to tuck some of your hair out of your face and behind your ear.
"You're okay, scared the fuck out of me, but you're okay." His voice was gruff, tired and soft all the same time, cracking a bit near the end like he was holding back tears. "My therapist is going to have a field day." He said with a bitter chuckle.
You reached up as best you could, tracing your fingers over his face wearily. You felt the tears fall before you could stop them, and brought your hand to his chest, just over his heart and tapped him three times. You watched Jack's lip tremble a bit as he reached for your hand, clearing his throat.
"I know." He squeezed your hand gently three times.
I love you.
-
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