Terms of the Trade
Short Description: A night shift in the ER archives room, 27 year old nurse and 50 year old doctor Jack Abbott. You're trying to stay focused and professional, but Jack has other plans. Drawn to you, he gets a thrill out of quietly testing your limits and patience using his authority, experience, and better if it is in the smallest, quietest room in the ER, the archive room. To see just how far he can push the tension before you give in.
The night shift in the ER was always unpredictable, but tonight, the real heat wasn't just in the trauma bays, it was trapped inside the quietest room in the hospital, archive room.
You sat at the heavy wooden desk, trying desperately to focus on the endless stack of triage charts. At your age, you were fast, sharp, and usually kept your composure. But having Jack Abbott standing across the room was making that nearly impossible.
Jack at his age, had two decades of experience, unlike you and an unshakeable presence that commanded every room he walked into. The twenty three year gap between you two wasn't just a detail, it was an electric line drawn down the center of the room. And tonight, Jack was deliberately using every inch of his authority to cross it. He was drawn to your cleverness, but even more than that, he got a quiet, undeniable thrill out of pushing your buttons and watching you try to stay professional under his gaze.
"You're staying late, y/n," Jack said, his deep voice cutting easily through the hum of the fluorescent lights.
You didn't look up immediately, though your pulse immediately spiked at the gravel in his tone. "Some of us actually care about keeping the ER records organized, Jack. Someone has to do it while you're busy looming."
A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He loved that mouthy streak in you. It made breaking down your professional defense so much more satisfying.
He closed the distance between you, stepping up to the edge of the desk. He leaned back against the wood, folding his large arms across his chest and looming over you with calculated intent. From this angle, looking up at him felt entirely natural and entirely engineered on his part to remind you of the dynamic he loved playing with.
"Organization is important," Jack murmured, his tone smooth, commanding every ounce of your attention. "But so is knowing when to step back and let someone with a bit more experience take over."
He reached out, his warm fingers pressing firmly down on the edge of the chart you were holding. He didn't pull it away, he simply pinned it in place, asserting control with minimal effort.
"I can handle a few charts, Jack," you said, holding his dark gaze, though your breath hitched as he leaned a fraction closer.
"I don't doubt your capability," Jack replied softly. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate line along the paper's edge, brushing dangerously close to your knuckles. "You're a brilliant nurse. But capability without guidance leads to mistakes. And down here... I set the pace."
The unspoken rule hung heavy in the quiet room. Jack leaned into the thrill of it, using his age, his senior status, and the isolated setting to see just how far he could push the tension before you yielded.
"So," Jack continued, his voice dropping an octave as he casually plucked the folder from your hands and tossed it onto the desk behind him, "are we going to spend the rest of the night arguing over who's running this shift, or are you going to let me remind you?"
You swallowed hard, your sharp witted defiance wavering under the heat in his eyes. "And what does being reminded look like?"
Jack reached out, his large hand sliding firmly around the back of your neck. His thumb rested against your jawline, tilting your head up until looking away was impossible. His touch was steady, possessive, and entirely authoritative.
"Simple," he whispered against your skin, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. "You stop fighting me, you follow my lead, and you don't test my patience for the rest of the night. Understood?"
"Understood," you breathed, completely caught in his orbit.
Jack let out a low, approving hum. His thumb gave your jaw one last lingering stroke before he stepped back, leaving you breathless and entirely under his command.
"Good. Let's finish the shift."
