"it's what we do, we're the bees that protect the hive"
@chaoticsoftiewrites
julia (she/her). 29. french.
enthusiastic fic reader, occasional writer. obsessed with cute lil animals, playlist-making and fictional male characters of beekeeping age. (this is a sideblog)
SUMMARY: the minute he steps into the ED, Jack can tell something is up. Sure, he's there on time rather than early but while it might be a recently formed habit when it comes to his job, it's pretty much old news by now. No, it's something else. He canât quite name it yet but it's there.
It's the stares following him from the doors of the ambulance bay to the lockers, the whispers that stop as he passes by the day shift team, the smug smirk on Dana's face.
He knows better than to ask her directly though. She'll come to him when she's good and ready. Chances are, it'll happen when he least expects it.
(or what happens when both shift teams realize Jack Abbot has a controversially young girlfriend who may or may not be Internet famous and universally loved in the city)
TAGS: established relationship, fluff and smut, oral s*x, jack abbot is a giver, reader-insert, no use of y/n for reader-insert, age difference, reader is jack abbot's controversially young girlfriend, social media, internet culture, reader is a youtuber/influencer
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Summary: Jack wants to meet your every need and he won't take no for an answer
Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, reader is STILL a big fat liar, hormones are a bitch (for Jack mostly)
WC: 514
a/n: I can't believe how much love I got on my first fic! You're all so amazing
Can be read as a standalone but is meant to be a sequel to Just Tired
~~~~~
You were sat on the bed scrolling on your phone absentmindedly when Jack walked in. You only looked up for a moment before returning to your screen.
Jack sat down on the other side, unhooking his prosthetic. âWhat's wrong?â
âNothing.â
âMhm. You've got that look on your face that says anyone who irritates you in the slightest should be in fear for their life.â He commented.
You turned and glared at him.
âSee? Right there. Hormone fueled murderous rage.â
A groan accompanied your eye roll. âSo by your logic, shouldn't you just shut up so you don't die?â
He chuckled. âWell, I've been told I have a death wish. Besides, if I've learned anything from your five months of pregnancy, it's that the murderous rage doesn't go away until whatever need you have is met. So, out with it.â
âJack, you just spent the whole day moving all of my stuff into your house and didn't let me lift a finger. You don't need to do anything else for me, okay? Just shut up and relax or whatever.â Your tone was a weird mix of grateful and fed up.
His arm suddenly wrapped across your chest as he buried his head into your neck. âOr, you could tell me why you look like you want to kill someone.â
You huffed. âI thought I was supposed to be the stubborn one in this relationship.â
âYou are. I'm the unrelenting one. Whoâs going to win tonight? Are you going to talk to me so I'll leave you alone or am I going to keep pushing until you kill me?â Jack kissed your neck a few times but you could tell he was hiding a smirk.
âGod, you're so fucking annoying. Why do I put up with you?â You quipped.
âBecause I'm cute.â He propped himself up on an elbow, looking into your gorgeously colored eyes he always found himself lost in. âY/N. What is it?â
You huffed. âJust a craving. But it's almost midnight. I'll survive until tomorrow.â
âBut I might not.â He muttered. âWhat's the craving?â
You finally gave in. âBoiled eggs with cilantro and crunchy peanut butter.â
Jack bit back a laugh. âYou hate cilantro. And you told me that if I ever bought crunchy peanut butter again you'd leave me.â
âYeah well, the baby likes them both apparently.â You grumbled.
He rolled over and hooked his prosthetic back on. âThe baby has good taste. Although maybe not those things together. That's questionable.â
âJack, where are you going?â You asked when he stood.
âTo make boiled eggs with cilantro and crunchy peanut butter, obviously.â
âThe stores are all closed.â You watched him swallow. âYou little fucker. You have crunchy peanut butter stashed in this house somewhere, don't you?â
He kissed you, then your baby bump. âYou're welcome.â
You shook your head as he walked away. You did put up with him because he was cute, but mostly because he was him.
Where else were you going to find a weirdo willing to hide peanut butter in his house just to make you happy?
⥠synopsis: due to seasonal depression, your own self-care, & accuracy at work both begin to suffer. unwilling to stand by while you're put through the wringer for the next few months until spring rolls around again, jack takes it upon himself to look after you in the meantime.
⥠content: caretaker!jack, d/s vibes (lil bit of dd/lg too), pining robby, jack braids your hair, makes you eat snacks, gives bath time, etc
⥠a/n: based on this request, ty!
You're not yourself today.
Well... You haven't been for awhile, truth be told. Change of the seasons, you think. Fall isn't terrible, but it nevertheless serves as the herald of the worst time of year: winter.
It brings about slick roads that you're terrified to drive on, power outages that cast people's homes into negative digits, an uptick in emergent cases because of car accidents and slipping on ice, snow that piles up on a driveway that exhausts you to shovel, everything dying or hibernating or migrating south to wait out the cold, and the Northern Hemisphere being bathed in darkness for the grand majority of each day.
Safe to say you absolutely despise it and plan to eventually marry rich so that you can one day get yourself a home in Key West that you'll winter in as soon as October rolls around every year.
A silly daydream, yes, but nevertheless a nice thought.
While Abbot gives his typical obnoxious pep talk about nightcrawlers and the wild west, you stand to the side while shifting on your feet and studying the electronic board aheadâits colorful fields filled to the brim, as always, with cases that never seem to cease in volume.
When the speech finally concludes, you jump slightly, then turn to walk away... Until Abbot calls for you.
You swing back around to him with a forced cheery smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes.
"You alright?" he asks while resting a calloused hand against your upper arm in concern.
You nod while glancing past him. "Yeah. Fine."
"Didn't join in tonight. Getting tired of your old man already?"
Your eyes flit back to his and you shake your head. "Just thinking about getting to waiting patients." Swerving around Jackânot wishing to give him an opportunity to dig any deeper than surface-levelâyou head in the direction of an occupied trauma bay.
In the middle of a debridement, a patient's local anesthetic wore offâsomething you were meant to be keeping in mind, as they were going to require further dosages as you worked to ensure that the site was kept good and numbed while you cleanedâand were made more than aware of that fact when they started howling in pain due to your negligence.
Gently pushed aside when Abbot came sprinting into the room, you stood idly by and sniffled quietly while your eyes filled with tears and apologies poured forth from your lips. "I'm so sorry," you'd whimpered while wiping at your cheeks and mentally berating yourself to get it together!
Once the patient was given a dosage of anesthesia and another resident was summoned to take over, Jack pulled you into an empty room to check in with you.
"Sweetheart, what has been going on with you?" he asks gently with crossed arms.
Wrapping your own around yourself, you shake your head in denial. "I just forgot by getting lost in what I was doing. I'm soâ" you clamp a hand over your mouth. "I'm so sorry."
Jack sighs, then takes a step forward and does something unexpected: he wraps his arms around you before tucking you beneath his chin and safely against his chest. "You look exhausted. Are you not sleeping well?"
You yawn and decide to give in. You screwed up, so he deserves explanation. Plus, you're too beat to try and worm your way out of this. "I think I have SAD."
You can't help but feel the least bit pitiable for it. You're surrounded by people with broken bones, burns, lacerations, and unidentified chest pain. Meanwhile, you're in a depressive mood because it's gotten cold outside.
He hums. "You taking anything for it?"
You shake your head. "I had a script for vitamin D once, but I don't feel like it made me any happier. Or any less stressed, for that matter."
Jack runs a hand up your back. "I thought you seemed off lately. I didn't know if it was something outside of here, or work itself."
Your eyes water. "All of it."
"Startin' to worry me. You're not taking breaks, you're taking on more cases than you can handleâ"
You pull away while wiping your tear-stricken cheeks with the sleeve of your undershirt. "I'll be fine."
Truth is, you had hoped that by overwhelming yourself here, your bouts of sadness would subside because you were more than occupied and didn't have time to think about anything else.
Jack makes to reach out to you, but you turn and head for the door. "I have patients to get to. I'll be more mindful from now on. I'm sorry, Dr. Abbot."
He watches with disappointment as the door clicks shut behind you.
You're standing idly by and observing Dr. Garcia perform an emergency thoracotomy on a patient with penetrating trauma when you end up having to squeeze your thighs together due to a suddenly straining bladder. Continually shifting your weight from one foot to the other in hope of relief does you little good, though.
Just another way you've been neglecting your own wellbeing lately: by not even bothering to use the restroom regularly.
Hopefully it doesn't result in a UTI. It'd just be another issue to add onto the already growing pile.
Abbot glances to you curiously and watches as you rotate your neck and squeeze your eyes shut before popping open again. Trailing his own lower, he notes the familiar little dance you seem to be doing and sighs.
This damn girl.
Discreetly, Jack silently crosses the room to reach you, then turns and leans in close. "Go to the restroom and relieve yourself."
You glance up to him and blink.
"Go potty, sweetheart," he mumbles before stepping away.
You turn and exit without anyone noticing.
The next time Jack takes note of your obvious self-neglect is when he's passing by the computer station just as you're making to stand, and you sway on your feet before thankfully catching yourself on a nearby counter.
Circling back around, he settles a hand on your hip and guides you in the direction of the employee lounge.
"What're youâ"
He stops just outside the door and slides his hands into his pockets while nodding toward the room's interior. "Go get a snack. I'm not going to have you passing out from hypoglycemia."
You roll your eyes, then open your mouth to insist that you're fine and will eat a Snickers later, until he crosses his arms and steps forward with an unwavering expression painted across his features. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?"
You stare blankly at him. "I'll be okay. I had a protein shake before I left the house. I'll have a granola bar later."
Jack grips your shoulders and spins you around while ushering you into the break room. "You're going to have a cup of Ramen, which you will finish every bite of, as well as a juice box, and only once both are on your stomach will I deem you fit to return to work."
A juice box? What, are you five?
"I really am fine," you insist.
He blocks the doorway. "Since you seem incapable of looking after yourself, I'm taking up the obligation instead."
You glance away in humiliation. "I'm not an invalid."
Jack sighs with remorse. "Honey, I didn't mean it like that. But you're worrying me sick. How can you expect to properly look after your patients if you're continually putting your own needs aside?"
Walking further into the room, you yank a container of Ramen off the counter. "I just have to get through to Spring. I'll be fine."
"That is months away," he counters. "So until then?"
You peel the lid off the thin cardboard bowl and toss it into the trash. "I eat my Ramen and drink my stupid juice box," you mumble while filling the container up to the designated line at the sink.
You're slurping up a mouthful of seasoned noodles when Robby waltzes into the lounge for a bottle of water before he clocks out.
Grabbing a cold one from the fridge, he looks at you with a sportive expression. "I'm sorry," he begins with a chuckle. "Are you having a snack in the middle of your shift?"
You narrow your eyes while chomping down on your noodlesâsending them sliding back into the bowl. "Jack made me."
He leans back against the fridge. "Jack made you?" Robby asks incredulously before nodding toward the table. "He make you drink the juice box, too?"
You sip at it, then mumble your response. "Yes."
He softens then, with only a slight, playful grin now upon his lips. "Are you alright?"
You shrug while stirring your noodles. "Just not myself lately."
Robby's tennis shoes squeak quietly against polished tile as he heads for the table you're seated at. Pulling out a chair, he seats himself across from you before leaning back. "Something happen?"
"SAD."
He sighs. "Are you taking anyâ"
You hang your head. "I swear you're both two halves of a whole."
"Guessing he asked the same thing?" he inquires while unscrewing the lid on his bottle.
You return to your noodles. "Yes."
"And?" he asks while leaning forward.
"No."
Robby shakes his head while sliding his clasped hands atop the table. "Do one of us need to write you a prescription?"
Now finished with your noodles, you go in for the juice box so you can finally get back to work. "I'll be fine."
"And how many times have you fed that line to my supposed 'other half'?"
You glance to him and sip the remaining dregs with a frown. Releasing the plastic straw, you reply quietly. "Couple times."
Robby leans back with a sigh and a hand planted atop his thigh. "Well, I suggest you take Dr. Abbot's advice and do a better job of looking after yourself going forward."
He rises, then comes to your side and rests a hand between your shoulder blades while looking down at you. "Otherwise, one of us will. And speaking for myself, I already have enough patients to worry about as it is. So do you."
You crumple the juice box before standing. "I will," you supplyâdesperate for them both to crawl off your back. "You don't need to worry, Robby," you finish while tossing the item into the trash.
Sliding a tender hand down the side of your neck, he purses his lips. "I hope not." He heads for the door. "Need to be able to look forward to seeing my favorite girl every night before I go home."
Robby turns the handle to finally head out. "Don't know what I'd do if she wasn't here for me to set eyes on."
You watch as he leaves, completely taken aback by his comment. But it nevertheless causes you to warm all the more toward him, now knowing he's so fond of you.
When you wake the next evening, it's with a renewed vow to yourself, your patients, and coworkers: you'll be making every effort going forward to do considerably better. More bathroom breaksâincluding stops for water afterwardâand you have a shopping bag full of nonperishable snacks you plan to lock away in a drawer at the computer station to munch on when you're charting.
Small efforts, but all good steps in the right direction.
Standing in your bathroom, cast in only the soft yellow glow of a nightlightâtoo early...or, rather, late for the glare of an overhead bulbâyou brush your teeth while doing your best to keep your eyes open.
And then a firm, heavy knock resounds from your front door. Your plastic toothbrush clattering from your hand and landing in the sink, you quickly swipe your phone from the porcelain countertop and when you check your outside camera, your jaw falls open.
"IsâIs everything okay? Did something happen at the hospital, or with Robby, orâ"
Abbot raises a brow while easing his way inside and over the threshold of your home while brushing past. "Robby always the first thing on your mind in the morning?"
You cross your arms while turning aroundâcurious as to the bag he holds. "No. You two just seem attached at the hip."
He blows a raspberry, then hands you the bagâwhich seems to have some heft to itâbefore bending at the waist with a groan to untie his shoes.
"What is this?" you ask while gently lifting the item.
"Breakfast," he replies. Tossing his shoes to the side, Jack stands upright while settling his hands against his back and lightly stretching.
"W-Why?"
He takes the bag again, then plants a palm against the small of your back. "Kitchen?"
You pad in that direction.
Once you've reached it, Jack reaches up and switches on the hood light atop the stoveâyou're thankful that he didn't go for the ugly hanging chandelier overhead instead, which you plan to replace when you finally have the fundsâbefore opening and closing cabinets in search of a plate.
"I can just eat it with my hands," you say while peeling the brown paper bag openânot that you even have an idea as to what's inside.
You assume some sort of sandwich or biscuit.
You've only just removed plastic utensils when he slides a plate in front of you and snatches the bag away. As he's pouring the contents of a steaming breakfast bowl onto it, you look at him. "How...How did you know where I live?"
He smirks, then steps away to throw away the now empty plastic container and bag.
"Wait," you blurt. "Did you look in my employee file?"
"Took down your cell, email, and home address," he retorts before glancing toward the hallway you emerged from but a few minutes earlier. "Bathroom this way?" he asks while pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
"Yes..." you reply with furrowed brows while watching him disappear around a corner.
Talk about making one's self at home...
Jack is satisfied to see you cleaning the plate in front of you while also sipping on the bottle of orange juice he purchased.
You bristle at the sound of his heavy, ambling footfalls, and open your mouth to begin hounding him with questions until you feel a brush suddenly being run through your hair.
You jerk in your seat and a forkful of scrambled eggs plop back onto the plate in front of you. "What're you doing?"
"Your hair. What's it feel like?"
You toss down the fork before spinning around. "Why're you doing this? TheâThe breakfast, and you having my information, and now trying toâ"
"I told you," he says while settling his hands on his hips. "I am taking up the mantle of your personal babysitter. At least until the seasons change." He shrugs. "Probably until well after, if I'm being honest." He circles his finger. "Turn back around."
"Butâ"
He leans in close while gripping the back of your chair. "Finish your breakfast, young lady. Now."
You gulp at his demanding tone, and ultimately do as you're told.
You raise a brow at the feel of him parting your hair before consistently running a finger through it and tightening as he goes. "Are you braiding my hair?" you ask between chews.
He hums in response.
"How do you know how?"
He snorts. "These hands can do more than just hold a scalpel." He happens to slide a finger down the back of your neck. "And braid hair, but that's a conversation for another time."
You remain silent while sipping at tangy OJ.
"There was a woman I served with. Hurlston was her name. Her daughter was only a few months old when she got deployed. Got into her mind that she needed to know how to do all these fancy hairstyles for whenever she got older. So, she ordered one of those big fuckin' Barbie doll heads and practiced on it constantly. Complicated shit.
"When there's down time in the Army, there's a few things you can do: read, write letters, watch movies, some plays games... She did hair. Sometimes, I watched when I got bored with a Tom Clancy novel. Learned how to do just a basic braid that way. French? Had her teach me that."
Your plate now being clean, you swirl your juice around to occupy your hands. "Why? Just...boredom?"
Jack shrugs while tying a band he found in your medicine cabinet around the end. "That. And...if I ever got married again, or had a daughter of my own, I figured it'd be something worth knowing how to do."
He squeezes your shoulders while taking the plate to slip into the dishwasher. "Finish your juice and then we're going once you're dressed."
Jack seems to be set on going the extra mile with this. Such as him not allowing you to so much as carry your own bag, and when you slide into the passenger seat...
"Ok, I can get my own seatbeltâ" you sigh with irritation as he clasps it into place anyway.
Placing one hand on your seat's headrest and his other forearm across your lap, Jack remains close while speaking. "I am only gonna say this once, so you need to listen."
You draw your knees inward and keep your eyes on his arm before finally meeting his gaze again.
"You need someone to look after you for the next few months. Sweetheart, I refuse to turn a blind eye when someone that I care deeply, deeply for is suffering in silence. All your 'I'm fines' are bull, and you know it. So, until the change in seasonsâhell, probably even past that, given where we stand, like I said earlierâyou can consider me glued to your side. That means giving you designated break times at work, ensuring you're eating three square meals a day, as well as snacks, bath time here at your home or mine, bedtimeâwhatever I need to do to ensure that you're being looked after the way you not only need to be, but deserve."
Your chin wobbles. "I'm not a child, Jack. I canâ"
"No, but if you need someone to father youâor...or just act like a surrogate husband when things get dark, then baby, that's what I'm here for. Alright? All the shit you're having trouble carrying right now? Put it on me. I can handle it. Okay? I am not losing you to depressionâseasonal or otherwise. Because, sure, right now maybe it's forgetting to eat or use the restroom, but what about when you don't have the energy to bathe, or the mental fortitude to get out of bed every evening?"
You sniffle while settling a palm atop the back of his hand. "Are you sure?"
He slides his hand out from beneath your own, and cups your cheek. "My purpose at work is obvious. Outside of it?" he swipes a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Honey, you're it. And I couldn't be more thrilled."
Jack sort of moves you into his home in the middle of the fall season. Nothing drastic like furniture, but he does have you pack up the basics: clothes, toiletries, hobbyist materials like your laptop, some books, a journal, and so on. And as your newly designated caretaker, he only thinks it fair that he pay your rent and utilities while you're away, since he's the reason for your sudden absence from your domicile.
He once makes a joke while giving you a bathâyes, something which most certainly sent you reeling the first time he drew one for youâthat if you give up your lease, then he won't have to worry about checking on dripping faucets once snow starts to fall.
In way of repayment, whenever you're both off, you try doing chores and general tidying up around his house while he watches TV or works on bullet reloading. Until your pacing and utterly inane babbling finally does Jack's nerves in...
After yanking you into his lap one afternoon in the living room and practically cradling you in his arms while threatening to shove his thumb in your mouth if you didn't calm the hell down, you finally got the message that you needed to sit and shut up for awhile.
Now, he gives you designated chores on a chart on the fridge for you to do a few times a week, so as to occupy you, and time set aside for you to talk your little heart out where he listens until you've run out of words. He adores talking with you, but God if you can't be a chatterbox at times when you get excited.
It honestly gets to a point that, when you're outside of the EDâwhich you're once again flourishing in because of Jack's consistent, precise directionâyou almost wholly turn your mind off and otherwise leave it in more capable, trusted hands because you feel so safe and taken care of with him.
Jack drives you home, bathes you, puts you in clean PJs, makes you dinner, and even tucks you in right next to him every morning.
He'd initially tried out the arrangement of giving you his bedâhe refused to listen to your protestations when you insisted it be the other way aroundâwhile he would sleep on the pullout couch, but it didn't last long because of his back.
Turned onto your side with Jack behind you, he runs a calloused palm beneath your camisole and up your back, trying to coax you to sleep. "Do you need a cup of warm milk?" he whispers.
You pop open a curious eye. "That actually sort of sounds disgusting."
He smirks. "I thought so, too, but figured it worth offering if you thought it'd help."
He tugs the hem of your camisole up to just below your breasts, then returns to massaging your back. "There's another tried and true method that usually helps get me to sleep."
You close your eyes again. "Hm?"
He grows quiet for a moment. "Be easier to get started on if you took your clothes off."
You sigh in irritation. "I don't think my attending is supposed to say things like that to me."
He chuckles. "I think that ship sailed when I appointed myself your caregiver, sweetheart."
Rolling onto your other side, you drag yourself closer, then burrow into the warmth his bare chest provides. "Goodnight."
Cupping the base of your skull, he tilts your head back and brushes a kiss over your lips. "Good morning."
You tangle your limbs around him before making to count up to a hundred in an attempt to finally drift off.
"Maybe we should move to Alaska," he mumbles. "Then there'd be no reason for this to ever end."
You shake your head while giggling. "Go to sleep."
Jack wraps his arms around you. "Sooner I get to see you again, the better."
Summary: You've had a crush on your attending Jack Abott and in a final effort to get over it, you go on a date but that makes it worse.
cw: Age gap mentioned/implied, pittlings mentioned. Unrequited Love with a twist. Pittlings mentioned, very sappy and cute
Part two to this
Word count: 5.3k (I got carried away)
A/N: Thank you all for your lovely comments, and I hope you love my loves that are just so stupid and madly in love. This is heartbreaking, but I promise it's worth it in the end!! Also, I listened to All Night by Beyonce while writing the last little bit of this, so if i would recommend doing that so you get the full effect.
You finally feel good enough to be back, getting over your nasty stomach bug, aka trying not to let your feelings about Jack consume you as they did before, it's your first shift back at PMTC.Â
The automatic doors slide open, and itâs like no time has passed at all.
Same antiseptic smell.
Same hum of monitors.
Same chaos simmering just beneath the surface.
You change into scrubs, tie your hair back, clip your badge, and for a second, you just stand there in the locker room, staring at your reflection.
You look⌠normal. That almost pisses you off.Â
Because you donât feel normal.
You feel like youâre walking into a place where everything changed, but no one else got the memo besides the people who knew you best.Â
And then you step onto the floor.Â
âLook who decided to rejoin society,â Trinity calls from the nurseâs station, not even looking up from the chart sheâs pretending to read.
Mel glances over, smirking. âAlive. Barely.â
Langdon gives you a subtle once-over. âColorâs back. Weâll take it.â
You roll your eyes, but itâs easy familiar. Comfortable.
âMiss me?â you shoot back.
âDebatable,â Trinity says. âWe had peace and quiet.â
Itâs effortless.
The rhythm picks up, almost immediately charts, consults, quick banter, controlled chaos. Your brain clicks back into place like it never left.
And for a moment, you think maybe you can do this as you get ready for rounds. Maybe you can be here⌠and be okay.
Until âHey.âThat voice.Low. Familiar. Right behind you.Â
Everything in your body betrays you at once.
You silently hoped and prayed that the floor would swallow you up so you didnât have to talk to him. Your shoulders tense. Your grip tightens around the chart in your hands.
You turn. And there he is . Jack Abbot, same as always. Wearing a tight black t-shirt, showing off his biceps, he looked good; he always does. Standing in front of you as if nothing happened. Like you didnât cry in front of him on a park bench and quietly fall apart.
âBack from the dead,â he says, tone light, but his eyes? Not light at all. They scan your face quickly, subtly, like heâs checking for something.
You force a small, professional smile. âSomething like that.â
âFeeling better?â he asks.
Itâs such a simple question. But it feels loaded. Because heâs not just asking about a stomach bug that he knows youâre lying about. Heâs asking are you okay after me?
You nod. âYeah. Just needed a couple of days.âÂ
Another pause. You both know youâre lying. But this is what he meant, isnât it?
We donât let this ruin what we do have.
âGood,â he says, but it comes out softer than he probably intended.
âWeâve got a trauma coming in massive MVC, lots of injuries,â Dana says as she hangs up the phone. âYouâre on with me,â he says, headed towards the ambulance bay with little room to interject and say no.Â
Getting traumas is where you feel grounded. To most people, that sounds insane, but this is your space. This is where nothing else matters.
Except tonight..Everything feels louder. Maybe itâs the fact that people involved in a car crash couldnât have been more than 25, around your age, or maybe it's the fact that your heart still aches for him.
Or maybe its His voice giving instructions or the way he moves beside you.Â
The quiet âniceâ under his breath when you anticipate a step before he says it.
You try to ignore it.
You do ignore it. UntilââGo ahead,â he says. And there it is.
That same tone. That same trust.Like the first time. Like the moment that started all of this.
You freeze for half a second, not long enough for anyone else to notice.
But he does. Of course he does.
âHey,â he says quietly, just for you. âYouâve got it.â Your chest tightens.
God, you hate that those words still work on you. But they do. You push through. Steady hands. Clean execution.Â
Because of course it is.
You finish up and send them up for surgery, youâre taking a moment to collect yourself⌠Heâs there. Silence again. But this time itâs different from the park.
You focus on the sink, the rhythm of water over your hands.
âYou didnât have to disappear,â he says suddenly.
You keep your eyes down. âI was sick,â you lie through your teeth again
He exhales, almost like a quiet yeah, okay.
âYou couldâve texted,â he adds. That makes you look at him. Because now youâre a little irritated.
âYou texted me,â you say. âI answered.â
âThatâs not the same.â A beat. And there it is, that one thing.
The thing that makes you feel insane.
Not the distance.Not the boundaries. But this, he wonât let you have himâŚbut he also wonât let you fully pull away.
You shake your head slightly, drying your hands. âI didnât realize there were rules to this.â
âThere arenât,â he says quickly.
âRight,â you reply, meeting his eyes now. âFeels like there are.â
He says nothing, just stares at you like he's trying to read your mind.Â
Nothing ended. But nothing is okay either. Now youâre back. Working side by side.
Acting normal.
While every interaction feels like walking a line that neither of you is willing to define, but neither of you can ignore.
"Jack, what do you want from me? "The words land harder than you expect. You didn't mean for it to come off in such a way, but you needed to know.
Suddenly, the space between you feels a lot smaller. Jack goes still. Like you just asked the one question heâs been actively avoiding.
For a second, he doesnât say anything, just looks at you, really looks at you, like heâs deciding how much truth you can handle⌠or how much heâs willing to give.
âWhat do Iââ he starts, then stops, dragging a hand over his jaw. âThatâs notââ
âIt is,â you cut in, not raising your voice, but thereâs something steady in it now. âBecause I feel like Iâm losing my mind.â
His expression shifts, less guarded, more⌠conflicted.
âYou donât get to tell me we canât do this,â you continue, gesturing lightly between you, âand then check on me, and notice when I pull away, andâ your voice tightens just slightly, âact as if it matters.â
âIt does matter,â he says immediately.
âThen what is it?â you press. âBecause I donât know how to be around you like this.â
He exhales slowly, like this is costing him something.
âI wantâŚâ he starts, then shakes his head, frustrated. âI want things I donât get to want.â
Your chest tightens.âThatâs not an answer.â
âItâs the only one Iâve got,â he says, a little sharper now, not at you, but at the situation. At himself.
You stare at him, searching. âDo you want me to just⌠turn it off? Pretend none of this is happening?â
âNo,â he says, softer now. âI donât want you to do anything that makes you smaller.â
Oh. âThen what do you want?â you ask again, quieter this time.
He holds your gaze, and this time, he doesnât look away.
âI want to keep working with you,â he says. âI want to be able to talk to you at 3 a.m. and not have it feel like Iâm crossing a line every time I do it.â
A beat.âAnd yeah,â he adds, voice lower now, âI want to make sure youâre okay.â
Your throat tightens. âThatâs not fair.â
âI know.â
âNo, like itâs actually not fair,â you say, shaking your head slightly. âBecause thatâs everything but the one thing I want.â
His jaw tightens. âI know,â he repeats, quieter.
You laugh softly, but thereâs no humor in it. âSo Iâm just supposed to stand here and⌠what? Be your almost?â
Jack looks like it physically hits him. âIâm not asking you to do that,â he says.
âArenât you?â you push. âBecause thatâs what it feels like.â
He doesnât have a quick response this time. Because there isnât one.
The truth is sitting right there between you and neither of you can reshape it into something easier.âI canât give you more,â he says finally.
There it is. Clear and unavoidable. You nod slowly, even though it stings.
âThen you donât get to ask for all the other parts either,â you say, your voice steady but softer now. âYou donât get to have me in every way thatâs easy for you and none of the ways that matter to me.â
That one lands. You see it. Because this time, he doesnât argue.
He just looks at you, conflicted, like he knows youâre right but doesnât know how to fix it.
Or worse, he knows he canât. Another long silence stretches between you.
Then, quieter, âI donât want to lose you,â he admits. Your chest aches.
âThen you shouldâve thought about that before you made me feel like this,â you say gently.
And for the first time, he doesnât try to explain it away or try to soften it.
He just stands there, looking at you like this is the consequence he knew was coming but hoped he could avoid.
But now itâs here. And neither of you can pretend it isnât anymore
âHeyââ he starts, but youâre already shaking your head, eyes glassy, voice tight with everything youâve been holding in.
âNo. Donât âheyâ me,â you say, breath unsteady. âIâm not asking for a lot. Iâm asking you to acknowledge that thisâ you gesture between you, hands trembling slightly, âis something. Because it is. And you know it is.â
He goes quiet again. That silence youâre starting to hate.
âI know you feel it,â you push, softer now but somehow more intense. âSo donât give me that same line about not wanting to lose me. If you donât want to lose me, then fight for me.â
That lands harder than anything else.
You see it in his jaw tightening, something flickering behind his eyes that looks a lot like conflict⌠or guilt.
âDo I not mean that much to you?â you ask, and this time your voice breaks. Thatâs the question he really doesnât want to answer.
âDonât,â he says quietly. Your stomach drops. âDonât what?â
âDonât twist it into that,â he replies, a little firmer now. âYou know thatâs not true.â
âThen what is true?â you fire back. âBecause from where Iâm standing, it feels like I care more than you do. It feels like Iâm the only one actually risking anything here.â
His head drops for a second, like heâs bracing himself.
âThatâs not fair,â he mutters. A hollow laugh escapes you. âNo, whatâs not fair is feeling like I have to beg you to give a shit about me.â
His head snaps back up, eyes locked on yours. âYou are not begging me to give a shit about you.â
âIt feels like it,â you say, quieter now, defeated more than angry. âIt feels like Iâm standing here asking you to just⌠want me out loud.â
Silence. God, the silence.Because he doesnât deny it.
He just stands there, breathing heavier now, like this is tearing at him too.
âYou think I donât care?â he says finally, voice low, almost strained. âYou think this is easy for me?â
âI donât know,â you admit, shaking your head. âBecause you wonât show me.â
Jack drags a hand down his face, pacing once like heâs trying to burn off the tension.
âIf this was just about what I feelââ he starts, then stops himself.âBut itâs not,â you finish quietly.
He looks at you. And this time, thereâs no hiding behind vague answers. âItâs not,â he confirms.
âYouâre a resident,â he continues. âIâm your attending. That aloneâ he exhales sharply, âthatâs enough to burn both of us if this goes wrong.â
âIâm not asking you to be reckless,â you say. âIâm asking you to be honest.â
âI am being honest,â he counters. âI want you. I care about you. But acting on that? Thatâs not just about us, itâs your career, your reputationâ
âMy choice,â you cut in. âNot entirely,â he shoots back. âNot when thereâs a power dynamic like this. Not when it could cost you more than you think.â
That gives you pause. Just for a second.
But itâs enough for him to keep going, voice quieter now.
âIâve already lived through losing someone I loved,â he says. âIâm not going to be the reason something like that happens to youâcareer, life, whatever version of loss it is.â
Your anger softens, just a little, but the ache is still there.
âSo instead,â you say, âyou just⌠keep me close enough to care, but far enough to protect yourself.âHe doesnât answer. Because he canât. Because youâre not wrong.
Your shoulders drop slightly, the fight draining out of you.âI donât need you to protect me from everything,â you say softly. âI need you to decide if Iâm worth choosing anyway.â
Jack looks at you like thatâs the question heâs been trying not to face this whole time. And the worst part?
You can see the answer forming, not because he doesnât feel it. But because heâs choosing not to act on it.
âI canât,â he says finally. Your heart cracks a little more, but this time, itâs cleaner.
Because at least now? You know.
You nod slowly, swallowing past the lump in your throat.âOkay,â you whisper.
âI'd like to be moved off nights.â The words land differently than everything else youâve said.
Jack goes still. For a second, itâs like he didnât expect that to be your next move.
âYou want off nights?â he repeats, slower this time, like heâs trying to process what that actually means. You nod, steady now. âYeah.â
âI think thatâs whatâs best,â you add. âFor both of us.â
A shift change means distance. Less overlap. Fewer 3 a.m. conversations. No more default proximity. No more easy access to each other.
Jack exhales, looking down for a second, like heâs weighing something.
âThatâs⌠a big change,â he says.
âIt is,â you agree. âBut I donât think I can do this otherwise.â
He looks back at you, eyes sharper now. âDo what?â
You meet his gaze. âPretend I donât feel anything. Pretend this is normal.â âItâs not fair to me,â you continue, softer now. âAnd itâs not fair to you either, if Iâm being honest.â
âHow is it not fair to me?â he asks.
âBecause eventually Iâm going to resent you,â you say plainly. âAnd I donât want to.â
Silence stretches between you.
âI meant what I said,â you add. âYou donât get to have the parts of me that are easy if you canât give me what I need.â
Jackâs jaw tightens slightly. He nods once, slowly.âOkay,â he says.
And thatâs⌠it. No argument. No pushback. Which almost makes it worse. Because you thought maybe heâd fight you on this.
That something in him would finally tip. But he doesnât. He just accepts it.
âIâll talk to scheduling,â you say, already stepping back slightly, putting space between you for the first time that actually feels intentional.
Jack watches you, something unreadable in his expression now. âThatâs what you want?â he asks. You hesitate. Because itâs not what you want. Itâs what you need.
âYes,â you say anyway.
Another pause.Then, quieter, âAlright.âYou nod once, like youâre sealing it.
âAlright.âAnd this time, when you walk away. He lets you.
8 months change more than you expected. Not in some dramatic, life-altering way.
Gradually.
The ache that used to sit heavy in your chest? Gone. Or at least softened into something you donât notice unless you go looking for it. You wake up without immediately thinking about him. You go entire shifts without wondering where he is, what heâs doing, who heâs with.
And when you do see Jack Abbot, it doesnât knock the air out of you anymore. Itâs almost disorienting the first time it happens.
He walks past you in the hallway, mid-conversation with someone from trauma, and your body doesnât betray you the way it used to. No spike in your pulse. No sudden tightness in your chest.
Day shift helps.
The pace is different. The light feels different. Your life feels⌠bigger somehow, not confined to those late-night hours where everything used to revolve around him.
Mel still checks in, less obviously now. Trinity makes the occasional comment but doesnât push. Langdon still annoys you into doing things outside of work, which, annoyingly, has helped.
You laugh more. Sleep like a normal person. Exist outside of that orbit.
You still hear about him, though. âAbbot was in a SWAT op this weekend, something insane.â
âHe stayed past shift again, typical.â âHe scrubbed in on a case he didnât even have to.â
Little reminders. And they donât gut you anymore. They just⌠pass through.
Every now and then, you catch yourself thinking about the park. About that conversation.
About how intense it all felt. And instead of spiraling, you just sit with it. Because now you can see it for what it was, real, yes.But also unsustainable.
One afternoon, you cross paths again. Not just a passing glance this time.
A real moment.
Heâs at the nurseâs station when you walk up, flipping through a chart. He looks up, sees you, and thereâs that flicker. Subtle, but still there.
âHey,â he says. Itâs simple. Easy. Not loaded the way it used to be.
âHey,â you reply, just as steady.
âHowâve you been?â he asks.
And this time? Itâs not a question that hurts.
âGood,â you say, and you actually mean it.
Something shifts in his expression then. Not disappointment exactly. Not relief either.
âGood,â he says quietly.
âWould you wanna get dinner and catch up?â he says softly. That line doesnât land the way it wouldâve two months ago. Back then, it wouldâve undone you.
You look at Jack Abbot for a second, really looking this time. Not through the haze of wanting him, not through the ache, just clearly.
He looks the same . But you donât feel the same.
Thereâs a small pause before you answer, not because youâre spiraling but because youâre choosing.
âI donât think thatâs a good idea,â you say gently.
You see the shift in his face, subtle, but there. He didnât expect that.
âJust dinner,â he adds, quieter. âNothing complicated.â
You exhale lightly, thenââOkay, sure, we can get dinner.â
You see it in the slight lift of his brows, the way his posture shifts like he wasnât sure what version of you he was going to get.
âYeah?â he repeats, just to be sure. You nod. âYeah. Butâ you add, holding his gaze, âthis is just dinner.â.
He studies you for a second, then nods. âJust dinner.â
Thereâs something steadier in his tone this time.
âOkay,â he says. âIâll text you?â âOkay.â âGood to see you,â he adds.
You let yourself smile, just a little. âYou too.â
Later that night, you sit on your bed, staring at your phone again, but this time it doesnât feel like itâs weighing a hundred pounds.
His message comes through.
Jack: Tomorrow night? 7?
You read it.
Think for a second.
You: 7 works.
You set your phone down, leaning back against your pillows. Your heart doesnât race. Your chest doesnât ache. But thereâs something there.
Dinner doesnât feel like a big, cinematic moment. Which is exactly why it does.
You almost cancel twice. Not because youâre spiraling but because part of you doesnât want to disturb the peace youâve built. The version of you that can walk past him without your chest tightening.
But you go anyway.
The place he picks is quiet. Dim lighting, nothing flashy. The kind of place that doesnât demand anything from you.
You spot him before he sees you, already seated, sleeves rolled up, looking⌠normal and handsome; he always looks handsome.
You walk over.âHey,â you say.
He looks up, and thereâs that flicker again
âHey.â A small smile. Easy.
Thereâs a beat where both of you are adjusting to this being here, across from each other, outside of the hospital, without the chaos to hide behind.
âSo,â he says, glancing at the menu, âhowâs days treating you?â
You let out a small breath, leaning back slightly. âBetter than I expected. I sleep like a normal person now, which is⌠new.â
He huffs a quiet laugh. âYeah, thatâll do it.â âAnd you?â you ask. âStill living at the hospital?â
âMore or less,â he shrugs. âSome things donât change.â
You nod. The conversation builds slowly.
Work stories. Trinity being Trinity. A patient that stuck with you. A case he couldnât quite let go of. And itâs⌠good. Itâs really good.Â
Familiar.
You fall into that rhythm you always had, the one that made everything feel effortless. You did miss him, despite all the shit that he put you through, or lack of.Â
The dinner goes well, and you guys fall into a small routine of getting dinner with each other every once in a while, nothing too serious, you guys decided to keep it casual, or whatever that looked like to the two of you, which meant nothing about it was casual.Â
A few weeks later, after that first dinner, you had a rough shift, and you donât even realize where youâre walking at first, just that your feet are moving, your brain is finally quiet. The air is cool, the city dimmed down into that late-night stillness you used to live in.
And then you see it.
The bench.
You almost laugh. Of course, itâs this bench. Of course, it comes full circle like that.
You hesitate for a secon,d then sit. Not because youâre unraveling like last time.
Just⌠remembering.
How everything changed here. How you broke open a part of yourself you didnât even know existed. How you walked away and actually somehow put yourself back together again.
You lean back slightly, exhaling, eyes drifting up to the sky.
And then
âHey.â
Your eyes close for a split second. Not because youâre panicking. Just becauseâŚOf course.
You turn your head. And there he is. Jack Abbot, same spot. Same voice.
But everything else? Different.
âYou follow me now?â you ask lightly.
Thereâs a hint of a smile in your voice, something that wouldâve been impossible before.
He huffs a quiet laugh. âWas already here.â You nod once, gesturing vaguely. âRight. Your bench.ââNot mine,â he says, stepping closer. âJust⌠familiar.â
âYeah,â you agree softly.
He doesnât sit right away. Just stands there, looking at you in a way thatâs steadier than before. Less conflicted. More⌠decided. You notice it immediately. Of course you do.
âEverything okay?â you ask, tilting your head slightly. Because something is different.
He exhales slowly, like heâs been holding this in for a while.
âI need to tell you something,â he says. You sit up a little straighter.
Not bracing. Just⌠present.âOkay.â
He finally sits, but not far away this time. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that itâs intentional.
âI meant it when I said I couldnât give you more,â he starts. Your stomach dips slightly, but you donât interrupt. Youâve learned that part.
âI wasnât lying,â he continues. âI just⌠wasnât being honest with myself.â You watch him carefully.
âI told myself it was about your career. The timing. The fact that I was your attending,â he says. âAnd yeah, that mattered.â
âBut it wasnât the whole truth.âYour chest tightens just slightly.
Because this is new.
âI was choosing what was safe,â he admits. âWhat was controlled. What didnât ask anything more from me than I was willing to give.â He glances at you then, holding your gaze.
âAnd you werenât asking for something unreasonable,â he adds quietly. âYou were asking me to show up.â
Because thatâs exactly what it was.
âI didnât,â he says. âAnd I lost you because of it.â You swallow, steady but not untouched.
âYou didn't lose me,â you say softly. âI just stopped waiting.â
He nods, like he understands the difference.âI know.âSilence settles, but itâs not heavy.
âI fixed what I could,â he continues after a moment. âIâm off your service. Requested it weeks ago. Iâm not your attending anymore.â
Your brows knit slightly. âYou did?â Yeah.â âNo weird dynamic. No grey area,â he says. âJust me. That changes things. And he knows it. Just himÂ
âIâm not asking you to go back to what we were,â he continues. âIâm asking for a real chance to be something else.â Your heart picks up, but not in that overwhelming, consuming way.
Just enough to remind you itâs there. âAnd if you say no,â he adds, steady, âIâll respect it.â
You study him. Really study him. Looking for hesitation. For the old patterns. For the part of him that used to hold back. You donât find it.
âWhat changed?â you ask quietly.
He lets out a small breath, almost like a laugh.
âYou stopped needing me,â he says.
That surprises you.
âI saw you,â he continues. âOn days. With your people. Laughing. Fine without me.â âAnd it made me realize I wasnât protecting anything. I was just⌠standing still while you moved on.â
Your chest softens, just a little.
âI donât want to stand still anymore,â he says. You look down at your hands for a second, then back at him.
âYou hurt me, Jack,â you say plainly.
âI know.â âAnd I meant what I said,â you continue. âIâm not doing that again.â
âI know,â he repeats.
âNo half-in, half-out?â
He shakes his head. âNot this time.â
You hold his gaze for a long moment. Not for the version of him you used to want but for the one standing in front of you now.
And he doesnât look away.
Your breath catches slightly, your chest tightening not with panic this time, but something softer. Something thatâs been building quietly under the surface.
You exhale.
âOkay,â you say. And your voice is steady, but your eyes give you away. Tears brim before you can stop them.
Not the sharp, breaking kind from before. These are different.
Jackâs expression shifts immediately, something in him softening the second he sees it.
âHeyâŚâ he says quietly, like heâs not sure if he should move closer or give you space.
You let out a small, shaky laugh, brushing under your eye. âIâm okay,â you whisper. âI justâ really needed you to mean it.â
âI do,â he says, no hesitation this time. âI mean it.â Another tear slips down, and this time he doesnât hesitate. His hand comes up, gentle, careful, like heâs still asking permission even now, brushing it away with his thumb.
âIâm not going to do this halfway,â he adds, quieter now. âNot with you.â Your lips press together as you nod, emotions sitting right at the surface.
You look at him, like really look at looking for an ounce of hesitation, and you donât find any, and you close the space in between you and wrap your arms around his neck and tuck into him, your face brushing his shoulder, his hand sliding up your back, holding you there like heâs anchoring himself just as much as you.
âIâve got you,â he murmurs softly, the words settling somewhere deep in your chest.
Youâre still wrapped around him, your arms looped behind his neck, your breath uneven against his shoulder.
And for a second, he just holds you.
Like heâs memorizing it. Like heâs grounding himself in the fact that this is real.
Then you feel it, the shift. Like he's got more to sayÂ
He pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still on you, like letting go isnât even an option anymore.
âWait,â he says softly. Your heart stutters.
Because his voice itâs different.
âDonât move, thereâs more,â he adds, almost like heâs afraid this moment might disappear if he doesnât say it right.
You donât. You couldnât if you tried.
His hands slide up slightly, framing your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like heâs making sure youâre really here.
âI need you to hear this,â he says. He finally lets go of everything heâs been holding in.
âI have been in love with you for longer than Iâll ever admit out loud,â he says, voice low but steady. âAnd I tried to bury it. I tried to convince myself it was a phase, that it was timing, that it was anything other than what it actually is.â
Your breath hitches.
âI told myself I was protecting you,â he continues, shaking his head slightly. âYour career, your future, your life. But that wasnât the truth.â
âI was protecting myself from how much I wanted you.â
His thumb brushes under your eye again, catching a tear before it falls.
âIâve lost people before,â he says quietly. âAnd somewhere along the way, I decided it was easier to just⌠not risk anything that could break me like that again.â
Your chest tightens.
âBut then you came into my life,â he says, his voice softening in a way that feels almost reverent. âAnd you didnât just matter, you changed everything. The way I think. The way I show up. The way I see⌠everything.â
He exhales, like this is the hardest part.
âAnd when you walked away when you stopped waiting for me,â his jaw tightens slightly, âthatâs when I realized I wasnât protecting anything.â
âI was losing you.â
Silence. The kind that feels full instead of empty.
âI donât want to lose you,â he says again, but this time, itâs not hesitant or conflicted. âAnd Iâm not going to stand here and pretend I can keep you halfway in my life and be okay with that.â
Your hands tighten slightly against him.
âI want all of it,â he says. âThe hard parts. The complicated parts. The parts that donât make sense yet.â
His forehead rests lightly against yours.
âI want you,â he finishes, softer now. âFully. Out loud. No more hiding.â
âIf loving you means risking everything Iâve been trying to protect⌠then Iâm done protecting it.â
Your breath breaks. Because thatâs it. Thatâs the thing you needed.
Just⌠him choosing you without fear.
You shake your head slightly, overwhelmed, tears falling freely now, but youâre smiling through them.
âYouâre so late,â you whisper, voice trembling.
He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh. âI know.â âBut Iâm here now.â
He presses his lips to yours, and everything else disappears. You melt into him, the kind of kiss that feels like relief, like coming home after being lost for too long. Your tears mix with his, warm against your cheeks, but this time they donât come from hurtâthey come from release. That ache that used to sit heavy in your chest is gone, replaced by something softer, steadier⌠something that feels like peace.
Like it was all worth it.
You pull back just enough to look at him, really look at him, the man who broke your heart and somehow still found his way back to it. Thereâs no hesitation in his eyes now. No distance. Just you.
A small, breathless laugh escapes you, shaking your head like you canât quite believe this is real.
âI love you, too⌠obviously,â you say, smiling through whatâs left of your tears.
He laughs softly against your lips before you kiss him again, slower this time, more certain. Your fingers intertwine with his like they were always meant to fit there, like they remember even when everything else tried to forget.
And for the first time in a long time, nothing feels complicated.
Just him. Just you.
And the quiet, undeniable feeling that this right here is where youâre meant to be.
WAHHHHH I love them, and they mean so much to me, actually! I hope you enjoyed part two!!! I thought about it being full of heartbreak, but they had to get together!!!
Summary: You've had a crush on your attending Jack Abott and in a final effort to get over it you go on a date but that makes it worse.
cw: Medical jargon(probs wrong but whatever) Age gap mentioned/implied, pittlings mentioned. Unrequited Love with a twist.
Part two here
A/N: Feedback is always welcome!! let me know your thoughts and a part two in in the works as we speak!
You had promised yourself you would give dating one last try, in an effort to get over your much older, hot, attending Jack Abbot. So here you were on a date with some random guy that you matched with on tinder that offered to take you out to dinner and grab a couple of drinks. Your date was a nice, good-looking guy, but it wasnât him.Â
Jack itched a very specific scratch for you that you didnât even know you had; maybe it was lying dormant until you started your residency at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. You and Jack had developed a friendship, being on the night shift, a nightcrawler if you will, and in turn, the friendship blossomed into something else for you, an insatiable crush.Â
Your date was talking about some work project that he was working on that he was really excited about, and you were half listening, your mind racing with thoughts of Dr. Abbot. You donât know why he consumed your thoughts so much; maybe it was because of the way he looked at you when he let you take the reins on a Thoracic Aortic Dissection Repair. He looked at you like you hung the stars in space and made every mountain and valley. He couldnât stop gushing about you to day siders.Â
âDid you hear what I said?â your date said, interrupting your daydreamingÂ
â No, Iâm sorry, I got a little distracted.â You give him a sincere smile and tell him to keep going.Â
He studies your face for a second like heâs trying to decide if youâre distracted or just not interested, and then he laughs it off.
âItâs fine,â he says, taking a sip of his drink. âI was just saying my team finally got approval for the rollout. Itâs been, like⌠months of back and forth.â
You nod, leaning forward slightly, trying to re-engage. âThatâs actually really exciting. Congrats.â
And you mean it. You do. Heâs nice. Heâs attentive. He picked a good place, asked you thoughtful questions, remembered you said you liked spicy food, and made sure to order something youâd share.
On paper, this should be working.
But your brain betrays you again.
Because suddenly youâre not here anymore, youâre back under harsh OR lights, the hum of machines steady and grounding, your gloved hands steadier than they had any right to be. Jack standing just behind your shoulder, not hovering, not micromanaging⌠just there.
Not because you knew exactly what to do because of the training and studying for hours on end, but because he looked at you like you couldnât possibly fail.
You blink, snapping back to the present as your date shifts in his seat.
âSo, what got you into medicine?â he asks.
You open your mouth, but for a second, no words come out. Because the real answer sitting at the front of your mind isnât about childhood dreams or helping people.
Itâs about late nights. Controlled chaos. The adrenaline. The quiet, unspoken bond between people who choose to stay when everyone else goes home.
Itâs about him.
You force a small smile. âI guess⌠I like the intensity of it. The pressure. It feelsâ you pause, searching for a safer word, âworth it.â
He nods, impressed. âYeah, I could never. Iâd pass out.â
You laugh softly, but it fades quickly.
Thereâs a lull.
And in that silence, it hits you sharply and uncomfortably. Itâs been happening all night, you feel it, and you know he does too
Itâs not fair⌠especially not to him. Itâs rare that you find a man who isnât a total piece of shit.Â
Because heâs sitting across from you, fully here, fully trying⌠and youâre mentally somewhere else entirely, replaying the way Jack leans against the nurseâs station at 3 a.m., sleeves rolled up, eyes tired but locked in on you like youâre the only thing in the room that matters.
Your date clears his throat. âHey⌠can I be honest?â
You look up, caught.
âYeah. Of course.â
He gives a small, almost apologetic smile. âI feel like Iâm competing with something I canât see.â
Shit. You exhale quietly, your fingers tightening slightly around your glass.
Heâs not wrong.
And for the first time all night, you stop trying to fake it.
âI thinkâŚâ You start, then shake your head slightly. âI think you might be right.â
Thereâs no anger on his face, just a kind of understanding that almost makes it worse.
âIs it someone at work?â he asks gently.
You hesitate.
Then, barely above a whisper, âYeah.â
He nods slowly, like he expected that.
âDoes he know?â
You let out a small, humorless laugh. âI donât even know what there is to know.â
Because what do you call this?
A crush? That feels too small.
An attachment? Too clinical.
An ache? Closer.
You look down at the table, then back up at him, more present now than youâve been all night.
âIâm really sorry,â you say, and this time thereâs no autopilot, no polite script that you usually use when dates aren't going well, but this is different.âYou didnât deserve a half-there version of me.â
He gives a soft shrug. âHey⌠at least you showed up. That counts for something.â
You smile faintly, but your chest feels tight.
Because now youâre thinking about what happens next.
Not with him you already know that answer.
But with Jack.
Because walking away from this date isnât the hard part.
The hard part is going back into that hospital⌠back into those long nights⌠and pretending that the way he looks at you doesnât mean anything.
When it might mean everything.
The date wasnât far from your apartment, so you walked back home, taking the scenic route, which happened to pass by the park near the hospital. It was like your body went on autopilot, and somehow you ended up at the park, sitting on a bench that youâve sat on so many times after terrible shifts with Trinity, Whitaker, and Mel. You took a deep breath and sighed, looking up at the sky, trying to figure out what the hell was going on with you and why this crush was, letâs face it.. eating you alive. He was much older than you, and you knew that; you knew that he was married but had lost his wife, and you also knew that he spent his weekends doing SWAT. He was different from the men you knew, and maybe that was it, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. You sat there with your eyes closed and head back for a moment until you heard his voiceÂ
âYou alright, kid?â he asked. You jump at the sound of his voiceÂ
âHoly shit, you canât sneak up on people like that, Jack,â but yes, Iâm fineÂ
He lets out a chuckle at your reaction, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket like he didnât just completely knock the air out of your lungs.
âDidnât realize I was that stealthy,â he says, stepping closer to the bench. âOr that you were that deep in your head.â
You sit up a little straighter, heart still racing, not from being startled anymore, but because itâs him. Of course itâs him. Like the universe just decided to make things harder tonight.
âI wasnât,â you lie, brushing your hands together like that somehow resets you. âJust⌠needed some air.â
Jack tilts his head slightly, studying you in that way he always does, quiet, observant, like heâs reading everything youâre not saying.
âYou donât come out here for air,â he says simply. âYou come out here when somethingâs off.â
God.
You let out a small exhale, shaking your head. âDo you ever not analyze people?â
âOccupational hazard,â he replies, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Then, softer, âRough night?â
You hesitate.
You could brush it off. Keep it light. Keep it safe.
But something about the way heâs standing there close, but not too close, giving you space but not leaving makes the truth feel a little harder to swallow down.
âI was on a date,â you admit.
Thereâs a beat.
Itâs subtle, but you catch it in the way his shoulders stiffen just slightly, the almost imperceptible shift in his expression before he schools it back into something neutral.
âOh yeah?â he says, tone casual, but a little too measured. âHowâd it go?â
You let out a breath that turns into a soft, humorless laugh. âNot great.â
Jack nods once, like heâs processing that, but he doesnât say anything right away. He just moves, slowly lowering himself onto the other end of the bench, leaving enough space between you that it shouldnât feel like anythingâŚbut it does.
âGuy wasnât your type?â he asks.
You stare straight ahead at the dark outline of the park, hands clasped together in your lap.
âHe shouldâve been,â you say quietly. âNice. Funny. Actually listened when I talked. Like, objectively, no complaints.â
âBut?â Jack prompts.
You swallow.
âBut he wasnât you.â
The words are out before you can stop them.
Silence.
Heavy. Immediate. Loud.Â
You feel it the second it lands, your stomach dropping as reality catches up to your mouth.
You turn your head slightly, not enough to fully look at him, but enough to feel the shift in the air beside you.
âSorry,â you say quickly, a little breathless now. âThat justâcame out wrong, I didnât meanââ
âYeah,â Jack cuts in softly.
You finally look at him, and heâs not looking at you his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, jaw tight, like heâs trying to keep something contained.
âThatâs notâŚâ he exhales slowly, shaking his head once. âThatâs not something you get to say and then take back like it didnât mean anything.â
Your chest tightens.
âI know,â you whisper.
Another silence stretches between you, but this one feels different, charged, fragile, like one wrong word could snap it.
Jack runs a hand over the back of his neck, a familiar tell youâve seen a hundred times in the hospital when somethingâs weighing on him.
âYouâre not stupid,â he says finally. âYou know what this is.â
Itâs not a question.
You nod faintly, eyes dropping to your hands.
âYeah.â
âAnd you also know why itâs a problem.â
That one hurts more.
Because yeah, you do. An attending and resident fraternizing itâs an HR nightmare.Â
âYeah,â you repeat, quieter this time.
Thereâs a long pause before he speaks again, voice lower now, rougher around the edges.
âI care about you,â he says. âProbably more than I should.â
Your breath catches.
âBut thisââ he gestures vaguely between the two of you, not quite looking at you still, âthis isnât something I can just⌠let happen.â
You blink, trying to keep your composure, even though it feels like something inside you is unraveling, you feel tears building up, and you silently pray they donât fallÂ
âBecause you donât feel it?â you ask, barely above a whisper.
That gets his attention.
He turns his head then, finally looking at you, and that look?
Itâs worse than anything he couldâve said.
itâs not empty and Itâs not indifferent.
Itâs full.
âThatâs not the issue,â he says quietly.
And somehow, thatâs the most devastating answer of all.
The tears fall before you can even blink them away, Jackâs expression shifts the second the tears fall, whatever walls he was holding up crack just enough for something softer, more human to come through.
âHey,â he says quietly, immediately closing the distance between you, not crowding you, but close enough that you can feel his presence. âHey, donâtâdonât do that.â
But itâs already happening.
You wipe at your face, frustrated, embarrassed, trying to pull yourself back together. âIâm fine, I justââ your voice breaks, and you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. âI shouldnât have said any of that. Iâm sorry. Iâm just⌠Iâm a little tipsy, I should go.â
You move to stand, needing to escape this bench, this conversation, him but his hand gently wraps around your wrist.
Not tight. Not forceful. Just enough to stop you.
âDonât run,â Jack says softly.
God. What is his problem.
Thatâs what this is, isnât it? Running. From him, from yourself, from the fact that this isnât just some harmless crush you can laugh off with Trinity at 4 a.m.
You let out a small, broken laugh, still not looking at him. âIâm not running, Iâm saving whatâs left of my dignity.â
âThereâs nothing undignified about this,â he says immediately.
You finally look at him then, eyes glassy, voice raw. âCrying over someone I canât have? Feels pretty pathetic to me.â
His jaw tightens at that.
âItâs not pathetic,â he says, firmer now. âItâs human, you know that of all people you know that.â
You shake your head, pulling your wrist back gently, but you donât move away this time. You just⌠sit there, shoulders heavy.
âI knew this was stupid,â you whisper. âI knew nothing could happen. I know that. And it doesnât change anything.â
Jack exhales slowly, looking down for a second like heâs choosing his words carefully like he always does when it matters.
âYeah,â he admits. âThatâs usually how it works.â
That honesty makes your chest ache even more.
âI donât even know why itâs you,â you continue, voice trembling. âIâve dated people my age, people who are easier, people who are available. And then you justââ you let out a frustrated breath. âYou just exist and ruin it.â
That pulls the faintest, sad smile out of him.
âYeah,â he murmurs. âI tend to do that.â
You huff out a small, tearful laugh, but it fades quickly.
âI hate this,â you admit.
âI know.â
Silence settles again, but this time itâs quieter. Not as sharp. Just⌠heavy.
Jack leans forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees, looking out at the empty park.
âI lost my wife,â he says, not looking at you. âYou know that.â
You nod, throat tight. âI know.â
âI spent a long time thinking that part of my life was just⌠done,â he continues. âWork filled it. The chaos, the hours, the SWAT stuff, itâs easier than dealing with anything real.â
You glance at him, surprised by how much heâs giving you right now.
âAnd then you show up,â he says, finally looking at you again. âAnd youâreââ he pauses, searching. âYouâre brilliant. Youâre relentless. You donât back down when you should, and you care more than you let people see.â
Your breath catches.
âAnd it makes things complicated,â he finishes quietly.
There it is.
Not a rejection.
Not an admission.
Something worse....the in-between.
You swallow hard. âComplicated doesnât really feel fair.â
âNo,â he agrees. âItâs not.â
Another pause softer, âBut fair doesnât mean right.â
You look down at your hands again, voice barely there. âSo what now?â Jack watches you for a long moment, something conflicted in his eyes.
âWe go back to work,â he says finally. âWe keep doing what we do.â
Your chest tightens. âLike nothing happened?â
His expression falters just slightly. âLike⌠we donât let this ruin what we do have.â
And that hurts in a completely different way.
Because what do you have?Â
It isnât nothing. But itâs also not enough.
You nod slowly, even though it feels like agreeing to something thatâs going to break you a little more every day.
âOkay,â you whisper.
Jack studies you for a second longer, like he wants to say something else, like thereâs more sitting right behind his teeth, but instead, he just reaches out, gently brushing his thumb under your eye to catch a tear you missed.
The gesture is soft. Careful.
And somehow⌠worse than anything else.
âGet home safe,â he says quietly.
Not stay.
Not wait.
Just⌠go. And this time, when you stand up, he doesnât stop you
Several days go by, and you call in sick, unable to face Jack, and naturally, he texts you to make sure that you're doing okay, and you canât say you're not showing up to work because of him, so you lie because what else would you do?Â
The lie sits heavy the second you hit send.
âJust a stomach bug. Iâll be fine in a couple of days.â
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Then disappear.
Then come back again.
Jack: You sure? Need anything dropped off?
Your chest tightens, thumb hovering over the screen. Because thatâs the problem, isnât it?
He always shows up. Just⌠never in the way you actually need him to.
You: Iâm good, promise. Just gonna sleep it off.
This time, it takes longer.
Jack: Alright. Rest. Let me know if it gets worse.
Thatâs it.
No overstepping. No pushing.
No stay.
You toss your phone onto the bed like it burned you and roll over, staring at the wall. The dull ache in your chest flares again, sharper now, because itâs not just confusion anymore.
Its absence.
The next few days blur together in that weird, stagnant way where time moves but you donât.
Mel and Trinity show up like a storm unannounced, loud, carrying takeout, and zero patience for your isolation.
âAbsolutely not,â Trinity says, kicking your bedroom door open like she owns the place. âYou smell like sadness and poor decisions.â
âI do not, you start, but Mel cuts you off, already pulling your curtains open.
âYouâre spiraling,â she says simply. âWeâre intervening.â
You groan, burying your face deeper into your pillow. âIâm sick.â
âMhm,â Trinity hums. âSick of pining over your emotionally unavailable attending, maybe.â
You freeze.
Silence.
Then, muffled into the pillow, âI hate both of you.â
âWe know,â Mel says, not even slightly offended. âNow sit up.â
You donât want to.
But you do.
Because if you donât, theyâll drag you, and honestly, part of you knows you need it.
They donât push too hard. Donât make you relive it all in detail. Just enough teasing, and enough honesty to keep you from completely disappearing into your own head.
And then, of course, Langdon.
Because God forbid the universe gives you one calm variable.
âYou look like hell,â he says when you open the door, already holding two Penguins tickets like a bribe.
âWow,â you deadpan. âWhat a compelling invitation.â
âSidney Crosby is literally playing,â he counters. âAnd youâve been MIA for days. Iâm doing charity work at this point.â
You hesitate.
Because the idea of leaving your apartment feels⌠exhausting.
But staying feels worse.
âFine,â you sigh. âBut if I hate it, Iâm blaming you.â
âYou already blame me for things I didnât do,â he shrugs. âThis isnât new.â
The arena is loud.
Bright.
Alive in a way that feels almost jarring after days of quiet.
At first, youâre not really there, just going through the motions, reacting when Langdon nudges you, half-watching the game.
But slowly⌠it starts to work.
The noise drowns out your thoughts. The energy pulls you out of yourself just enough that you can breathe without it hurting so much.
âYouâre smiling,â Langdon points out at one point, smirking.
âDonât ruin it,â you shoot back, but thereâs no real bite behind it.
For the first time in days, the ache dulls.
Not gone.
Just⌠manageable.
Later that night, youâre back home, the quiet settling in again, but it feels different now.
Less suffocating.
You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone.
At his name.
At the thread of messages that are so painfully normal.
And that question creeps back in, louder now that youâre not drowning in your own thoughts:
What did he mean?
âWe donât let this ruin what we do have.â
Your stomach twists.
Because what you have with Jack is⌠everything and nothing at the same time.
AHHHHH I hope you enjoyed this, I had so much fun writing this and not going to lie it was a little painful at times but don't worry guys, it's gonna get so much better!!!
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is it too early to start thinking about/planning for kinktober???
if anyone in the pitt x reader community got a prompt list ready, please please please share, I need an outlet to work through all the dumb, horny ideas running through my mind
Summary:Â You wake up from surgery, unfamiliar with the man hovering over you. Your husband copes.
Word count:Â 2.2k
Warnings: Surgery/medical procedures, mention of death, hurt/comfort and cutie a little :)
a/n: I still cannot writeeeee 𼲠but I wrote this so please enjoy it's a fun trope <3 ily bye <3
Masterlist
~~
Jack was not used to being in waiting rooms. He was used to walking through them, maybe taking a glance to grab a family, but he was never the one waiting. He found that he didnât like it; the chairs were uncomfortable, and the magazines on the side tables were from 12 years ago, all fraying and discolored where othersâ hands had been. The light felt off as it filtered through tinted windows, and he could hear each personâs issues as they checked in for their own procedures. Jack leaned his elbow on the thin, wooden arm of his chair, hand over his mouth, and he waited in possibly the worst place on Earth.Â
You would be fine.Â
He told you you would be fine, and he believed that.Â
But Jack was also starting to believe that waiting rooms were intentional harbingers of doubt, and with each tick of the clock sitting above the receptionistâs desk, he felt himself spiralling into anxiety.Â
What if you werenât fine? What if you believed him, and then you died or there was a complication or several other things all aligned perfectly, and you were patient zero for some strange, unresolvable medical anomaly? It was all possible, even if the chances were slim, and waiting in this dismal room was making him consider it all. He wished he had gone into surgery. He wouldnât be going through any of this if he were a surgeon.Â
Jackâs knee had begun to shake when a nurse finally entered the waiting room and looked around. It was the same nurse who had assured him, several times, that they were aware of your allergies and would call him immediately if anything went wrong, so Jack shot up from his chair. He ignored the ache in his leg and brushed down the material of his jeans, and he walked over to her before she could even register who he was.Â
âHowâs she doing?â Jack greeted, hands pressed together to look casual, but he was anything but casual. His wife was lying in a hospital bed, and he wasnât there, and that was not casual.Â
Nurse Caroline, Jack had taken it upon himself to remember, gave him a soft smile. She still had a scrub cap on and didnât look stressed or nervous, but Jack was familiar with compartmentalizing in front of patientsâ families, and he was a patientâs family. He held his breath and tried to look casual again.Â
âSheâs doing just fine, Dr. Abbot. There was a minor complication with bleeding, but nothing we couldnât handle. Weâve been observing her for the past half hour, and sheâs responding well to the titration of meds. Starting to wake up, but sheâs pretty out of it. Donât be alarmed.âÂ
âWhat kind of complication?â Jack asked, right on the heels of nurse Caroline as she guided him through the maze of patient rooms. âSomething surgery-related or a predisposition?âÂ
Caroline hooked her chin over her shoulder. âIâll give you the full note in her discharge summary, how about that? You can review the entire procedure.âÂ
âNot sure I need to do that,â Jack muttered under his breath, though the thought comforted him. âJust a rundown would be fine.âÂ
âRight. And Iâm sure about a thousand follow-up questions after? I know how you doctors are.â She pointed at him with a teasing smile. âAnd I especially know how you are when weâre working on your wives. You can read the summary and bring any questions to her post-op in two weeks, capiche?âÂ
Jack grumbled something back, the sound left in the hall as he entered your room. And you looked⌠fine. About what he expected you to look like after surgery. He didnât particularly enjoy the bleary way you were staring up at the ceiling, your waning skin, or even that you were in a hospital bed at all, but those were all temporary things. He could pack away the comparisons to nightmares heâs had about you in the ED and lower his tone to a comforting decibel. You needed that more than you needed a panicky, nauseous husband.Â
âHey, baby,â Jack all but whispered, his hand coming to rest on the top of your head. He leaned down and tried to enter your line of sight. âHow you feeling?âÂ
You didnât answer right away, or even focus your gaze on him. Jackâs thumb rubbed along your forehead, and he looked up to Caroline in the corner of the room, her attention fixed on the computer. âHow long did you say sheâs been awake?âÂ
âOnly a few minutes,â nurse Caroline replied. âSome people just take a little longer to come out of it, as Iâm sure youâre aware.âÂ
âButââÂ
âJust give it a sec, Dr. Abbot. Before you freak out.âÂ
Jack noddedâto himself, as Caroline hadnât looked up from her computer onceâand furrowed his brow as he turned his gaze back down to you. He blinked as he realized you were already looking at him, a layer of relief resting atop his panic. He offered you a smile that radiated fondness and adjusted his hand on your head, brushing your hair back.Â
âThereâs my girl,â Jack quietly encouraged. âFeeling pretty crappy, huh?âÂ
You squinted and nodded, and Jack asked, âDo you have her on pain meds?â which nurse Caroline quickly affirmed. She seemed very well-versed in treating doctors and related categories, and Jack was subtly grateful for her nonchalance. He wondered if she was chosen specifically for the ED attendingâs case, and then stopped wondering as you started to speak.Â
âAre you my doctor?â you hoarsely asked, grimacing as you shifted on the bed.Â
Jackâs smile widened. âNot today. Tried to be, but they told me I donât have enough specialized training to remove a gallbladder.âÂ
âThey took my gallbladder?âÂ
âYeah, sweetheart. It was causing you more trouble than it was worth. Better to take it out.âÂ
You made a worried sound, your eyes hazy. âCan I live without my gallbladder? Can I have someone elseâs?â
Jack quietly chuckled to himself, his fingers continuing to draw shapes along your temples, your forehead, your jaw. âYou can live a perfectly healthy life without one. Iâll help you figure it all out, okay? Worst case scenario, Iâll find a way to give you mine.âÂ
You hummed, leaning into his touch, and Jack felt his chest warm. Everything was fine. You were uncomfortable and confused, but you were fine. He was about to ask Caroline more about your post-op appointment and when you could be discharged when you jolted against him. He snapped his gaze down to you instantly, assessing for anything that could have gone wrong. His hands went from caressing you to hovering an inch over your body, afraid to do more.Â
âWhat is it?â he pressed out.
But your wide eyes were not filled with pain. Instead, they were tracking the wedding band on Jackâs left hand, a hint of fear in your expression. âAre you married?â you whispered.Â
Instinctively, Jack rolled the ring in his fingers. He slowly replied, âYes,â and let caution simmer in the space between you. Somewhere behind him, Caroline had finally turned away from her computer, brows raised at the scene.Â
âOh my god,â you groaned, and Jack winced as you shoved your head back against the bed. âAnd to think I was being all⌠like that with you. How mortifying.â
âI donâtââÂ
âAnd you were being all⌠touchy. You have a wife.â You ran a hand over your face, your IV trailing alongside you and making Jack wince again as he worried for the tangled lines. âI am so embarrassed.âÂ
Jack didnât quite know what to say. You were very clearly still out of it, your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes looking lost, but all the usual tactics he would use to comfort you were not going to work. His adoring husband repertoire was effectively useless. Jack felt his heart break a little at the notion of being a stranger, but this was temporary. You likely wouldn't even remember it.Â
Jack swallowed, cleared his throat, and shoved his hands in his pockets because he couldnât just have them hanging. âHey, no need to be embarrassed. Iâm⌠uhâI do have a wife, butââÂ
âBut heâs your post-op nurse,â Caroline cut in from behind him. She threw him a look that said donât confuse her when sheâs coming off of anesthesia and rounded the other side of your bed. âThe touching is necessary. In fact, heâs also going to be your driver home. New service we have.âÂ
âOh,â you mumbled out, playing with your fingers in your lap. Jack felt his own hands twitch in his pockets at your slight pout. âSo everything is fine?âÂ
It took Jack a moment to realize you were looking at him. He sprang into action as he caught your expecting gaze. âOh, more than fine, sweetâuh, miss. Weâre going to get you home, and Iâll be back for more post-op care.âÂ
âBe back at my house?âÂ
âYeah. Iâll⌠be there a lot.âÂ
âLucky me,â you yawned. âBut not lucky wife.âÂ
Jack pressed his lips into a line to stave off the laugh. âMy wifeâs okay with it. She knows itâs part of the job.âÂ
Caroline had begun checking final vitals and milling about your bed. She removed your IV and scanned your hospital bracelet before returning to the computer. Jack watched each step carefully, hands still shoved into his pockets, and nodded when discharge paperwork was sent to his email. He didnât really need it, but he knew the procedure notes would be attached, so he would read every word as you slept. A quick check-in from the surgeon was the final key to going home, and Jack had carefully guided you into a wheelchair with hands that knew you better than he led on. You were half-asleep by the time you reached his truck.Â
âHey, wake up for me, baby. Gotta get you settled in.â
You squinted and grimaced, and Jack wished he could have just carried you in without the hassle, but the nurse said your stitches were in a delicate zone and you needed careful movement. You threw an arm over his shoulders, and Jack fought the urge to kiss your head as he buckled you into the seat. He didnât want to startle you. It took physical force to shut the door without touching you more.Â
He opted for a soft smile when your head rested against his passenger-side window, feeling jittery as he started the engine and backed out of the employee parking garage at the PTMC. You spoke again when you were a few miles away from home.Â
âYour wife must really love you,â you sleepily pointed out, eyes struggling to stay open. âIf you treat her like you treat your patients.âÂ
The lingering warmth in Jackâs chest made his heart skip a beat. He kept his eyes on the road. âI like to think I treat her just a little more special.âÂ
âReally love you, then.âÂ
âYeah, thatâs the hope,â Jack smiled to himself. âBut pretty sure I love her a whole lot more than that.âÂ
âThatâs nice, Nurse.âÂ
And when you got into the house just a couple of minutes later, your wedding pictures sprawled across the walls, Jackâs belongings mixed with yours, your jaw dropped, a starry-eyed gaze turning on your âpost-op nurse.âÂ
âAm I your wife?â you gaped.Â
Jack took the opportunity to finally touch you, bringing his hands from the clinical guidance around your shoulders to rest delicately around your waistâjust to help you walk inside. And maybe because it had only been a car ride, but he missed touching you like he was your husband. He smiled at you from over your shoulder.Â
âYeah, baby. We had a pretty fun wedding. Youâll remember it when you wake up.âÂ
âHo-ly shit,â you replied, stunned as Jack led you through the living room filled with your life together. âWhy didnât you tell me?â
Jack let his nose brush along your temple. âBetter to leave things simple when you wake up from a surgery. Wouldnât want to stress you out with big news.âÂ
âAre you actually a nurse?âÂ
âIâm a doctor.âÂ
âShit,â you repeated. Jack took on more of your weight as you started to fall forward.Â
âOkay, no more big news until youâre lying down,â Jack stressed, gently tucking your hair back as you approached the bed and struggled to sit down. You swayed slightly where he put you, and Jack crouched down to meet your dazed expression. âIâll tell you everything you want to know after you sleep some of this off. Promise.âÂ
âWhereâs my wedding ring?âÂ
He took your hand into his, kissing the empty space. âNo jewelry in surgery. Did you hear me? Sleep first, then information.âÂ
âAm I a doctor? I donât think I am. Do we have children?âÂ
âI love you so much.â Jack paused, tapping your cheek lightly. âItâs time to sleep.âÂ
âYouâll tell me everything when I wake up?âÂ
so I'm the middle of writing a angsty Jack x (ex)wife!reader thing and I had to do some alcohol-related Googling (for, you know, accuracy and realism) and then I remembered how I had to pay ten whole dollars for a fucking Heineken when I visited NY a couple of years back
so now I'm in the right mood to write some angsty, real petty shit in the name of bad beer but I still have no idea if the US got any equivalent to the shitty violet-flavoured vodka thing that my bestie and I pregame with before parties and nights out
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his wife ââ michael robinavitch
michael 'robby' robinavitch x wife!reader.
summary: robby doesnt advertise his marriage. so when his wife shows up at ED to discuss their son, safe to say the residents were shocked. now they wonder how the two of you met. this throws him back to when he was a ms3.
content warnings: reader and robby w/ 2 year age gap. thought to be 22 and robby 24 when met, around when he'd be a MS3. fluff. med school robby. lightly flirty young robby. lil mention of mature content so pls mdni 18+. reader is clinical psychologist/completeting masters to be one. lowkey implied fem reader shorter than robby. im short im sorry. he adores his wife like hard. two kids.
authors notes: lowkey med school au and robby who isn't as emotuonally consipated in the show. lowkey wanna do a few bits here and there about their life but not sure lol. inspired by this meme.
word count: 4079
Everyone was aware of the chain that hung around Robbyâs neck. It peeked from under his scrubs sometimes. Though, no one knew what might be on the chain. There might be nothing or there could be something. Either way, it was always tucked under his shirt.
Nobody questioned it, never really thought to. Heâs a private person. Residents donât ask about his personal life. But they get curious when he steps out to the ambulance bay sometimes, phone to ear.Â
Santos thinks that maybe heâs faking to take a break. Whitaker thinks he might be talking to a relative, parent or sibling. Javadi thinks ⌠Well, she isnât quite sure what to think. But she doesnât think its what Santos or Whitakerâs thinking.
So when a gorgeous woman strolled into the department, beelining towards the charge nurse with a smile, they were confused to say the least. You seemed to be friendly and familiar with Dana, greeting each other like old friends.Â
The med student and two residents share subtle looks, watching the interaction.Â
âIs my husband around?â You asked Dana, glancing around to see if he was nearby. It was never predictable where he might be. Itâs not uncommon for him to not answer his phone when he works and you donât blame him. Itâs understandable. But itâs rare for you to show up at the department, that usually means itâs important.
The three watching noticed your eyes wandering, quickly busying themselves. Santos and Javadi looked at the same computer, as if they were reading results together. While Whitaker fumbled with the chart heâd picked up. The two women look at him in disbelief and annoyance. Smooth.Â
âTrauma one. Heâs in a mood.â Dana pre warned you, giving you a knowing look. You werenât surprised by the fact, very aware how moody Robby can be when heâs stressed.Â
âNot surprising.â You huffed out a dry laugh. âWhen isnât he?â
âTrue that.â The charge nurse hiffs, knowing you'd understand more than anyone. But youâre able to diffuse him unlike anyone else.Â
âAlright if I hang around?â You asked, knowing the answer but much preferring to be sure instead of assuming.Â
âOf course.â Dana assured you, well aware you donât like to presume but instead hear directly. Everyday is different in the ED. âEverything okay?â
âYeah, just Levi.â You explained, not details but enough for her to understand that something had happened. Your son could get into his own mess these days, heâs 22 and at college, figuring out his life. Didnât mean he didnât avoid doing dumb shit.Â
Before Dana could respond, her mouth hanging open before shutting as a painstakingly familiar voice rang out.Â
âWhatâre you doing here?â You heard your husbandâs gruff voice, head turning as he wandered up beside you. He pressed a kiss to your head before his eyes returned to your face. Concern was etched across his features, worried that something was wrong. You didnât show up here without a reason.Â
Javadi tried to not look invested but she was, Robby was married? Santos and Whitaker thinking the same thing. And this woman is his wife? No way. That canât be right.Â
âYour son decided that getting drunk and running around campus was a good idea.â You informed him dryly. This is the second time you've talked about this. Not that you were angry but more annoyed. You had to leave work, because Robby couldnât, to go and get him from the police station by his campus. âNaked.â
âWhy is he always my son when he does something stupid?â Robby inquired in disbelief before shaking his head immediately. It was too early for this, barely 8:30am. âActually, donât answer that.â
He knew that if either of you had passed the doing something dumb gene, it was him. He had never done something quite like that but he was the more reckless between the two of you. He didnât need to have his workplace hear about some of the dumb things heâs done in his 20s.Â
Levi isn't a bad kid. Just tends to do dumb things.
Javadi, Whitaker and Santos all shared glances in utter shock. This man has a son? A kid? No way. They don't believe theyâd heard this correctly.Â
âAnyways. Heâs alright. But he called Jack who called me.â
âFuck.â Your husband signed, hanging his head low before looking back at you. âYou going to get him?â
He gave you a look that said you gonna go or⌠not to rush you out but instead to figure out why you were hanging around with your shared son behind local station bars.Â
âYeah.â You nodded, pausing before you explained absentmindedly. âLetting him sweat a bit.â
âYouâre evil.â He commented dryly.Â
âItâs why you married me.â You grinned.Â
He huffed a soft yet dry laugh. He wonât even deny it. Your nature was one of the many reasons heâd fallen inlove with you in the first place. He knows how incredible of a mother you are. Heâs cherished raising children with you. Heâd never seen you so soft and loving. He sometimes still found it hard to believe you had married and had kids with him.Â
But he was aware that you werenât going to let this stint slide.Â
âThatâs why youâre here?â He quizzed, almost a little amused, though pissed that his son had done something so stupid. This would be something you two would discuss with him later.Â
âPartially. But thought I'd tell you before Jack blabs at shiftchange.â You answered, not going to have spoken to him later about this. It was too important. And you knew Jack wouldâve let him know this evening. Better if it comes from you.Â
Jack has been a staple in your kids' lives since heâd met Robby years ago. When Robby had started working at PTMC as an attending, youâd been pregnant with your second child. When Jack had joined a few years later, your kids were 8 and 6 at the time. Heâd immediately grown attached, loving them like they were his own. They adored him, not having a day without him since (minus when heâd been in the army and deployed).Â
As much as he loves them, he made it clear he wouldnât keep things from you and Robby. Especially when itâs important. He loved them. But he loves you both too. All of you are like his family. He wasnât going to lie.Â
âGood thinking.â He nodded, appreciative youâd told him instead of letting him be blindsited later.Â
âIâll head out.â You said, wanting to get this whole thing sorted and just get back home. Not like youâd go back to the office. Thankfully your appointments were all via zoom today, it helped. âHopefully wonât take too long but iâll let you know.â
âAlright, thanks.â Robby replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It was something he always did when youâd separate for the day. âSee you after work.â
âI love you.â You said softly, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips.
âI love you, honey.â
You waved goodbye to him and Dana, turning back around and heading back to your car.Â
âYouâre married?â Santos blurted in disbelief, unable to keep it in. Whitaker nudged her with his elbow in panic, she should not have said that.Â
He looks over at her, pulling the chain out from under his undershirt. The chain dangled with a gold band hanging from it. His wedding ring. â26 years.âÂ
He doesnât hide heâs married. He just doesnât find himself needing to share that information unwarranted. He loves his wife and kids but he prefers to keep his family outside of the workplace. So if heâs not prompted, he doesn't talk about them.Â
âHow⌠when ⌠what?â Santos stammered, in disbelief heâs been married. To you. For 26 years.Â
âYou didnât know?â Langdon quizzed the three as he wandered to the desk, amused at their shocked expressions.
âDonât act like you didnât react the same way when you found out.â Dana mused, shooting Langdon a knowing look.Â
He canât even deny it. When he discovered his attendingâs long-lasting marriage, he was shocked. The man didnât seem emotionally capable. But must've been wrong. Heâs grown to know that over the last few years when heâd seen you two interact.Â
Robby is a man inlove.Â
âHowâd you meet?â Javadi mustered up the courage to ask, curious to hear how youâd met. Especially since youâd been married for so long.Â
Robby huffed a laugh at the memory, recalling the evening youâd met. It was forever seared into his memory.
1995.
Robby was out with a couple of his med school classmates for a rare night out between rotations. Being a MS3 was intense, going from classroom to real direct-contact work with patients.Â
The four of them were mostly sharing how their recent rotation had been. Theyâd all been put into different specialties. Paediatrics, orthopaedics, cardiology and gastroenterology.Â
He was mid laugh when his eyes glanced over the room, eyes locking on you. It felt like his breath had been pulled from his lungs.Â
You were out with friends for a monthly catch up. Since youâd both graduated and begun your careerâs, you rarely get to spend time together. The two of you made it a point to organise a once a month where youâre both free to catch up in person. Talking on the phone can only do so much for a friendship sometimes.Â
The two of you were chatting, discussing recent events in your lives. She was halfway through telling you about an incident at her new job.Â
âGod, can you believe it?â She said in disbelieving scoff. âI mean, who in their right mind thinks that itâs okay to show up drunk and deny the whole thing, it's just dumb to try and gaslight your boss.â
âThatâs so fucked. Please tell me he was fired. Or at least suspended.â You said in disgust, already hating whoever this guy was.
âI wish.â Your friend shook her head in annoyance. She went to take a sip of her drink, to realise it was empty. âBut I will say that I need another drink.â
âIâll get some.â You said as you stood up with a chuckle, grabbing your wallet. Though you gave her a playfully pointed look. âDonât venture anywhere.â
âNo promises.â she teased, though not really planning to go anywhere. She was the type to just wander away without prompt. But honestly, so are you. Sheâs just worse than you, especially when intoxicated.Â
You chuckled and rolled your eyes at the tease, but accepted it. It's normal for the two of you, the teasing. But you do hope she wonât venture far if she decides to.Â
You made your way to the bar, sliding up between a tall man and a woman, there being a gap. They werenât interacting so you took it as a safe spot to choose. It didnât take long for the bartender to make it to you, barely 30 seconds.
âWhat can I get for ya?â He asked, leaning forward slightly to make sure he could hear you. It wasnât too loud but to be safe.Â
âVodka lemonade and a vodka coke please.â You asked kindly, always making sure to be nice to staff. He nodded and got to making the drinks.
Robby glanced down at you when he heard the honeyed voice. Oh shit. Itâs you. He made an effort not to stare at you from a distance when heâd noticed you earlier. Heâs not shy but he respects youâd been with a friend and heâd been with his. He barely noticed the bartender heâs spoken to before, placing the beers heâd asked for in front of him.Â
âThanks.â He said to the guy but he made no effort to move. He glanced down at you again, at the same time your eyes had flickered up to him. You gave him a smile before looking back ahead of you, eyes seemingly glancing around behind the bar.Â
Robbyâs attention went back to the bartender as he dug out a few bills and handed them over. He gestured with his head towards you besides him. âHerâs too.â
The bartender nodded, not really having much of a thought as he put the money through, conversing with the other bartender for what youâd asked for to figure out the total cost.Â
Your head had snapped up towards him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Youâve had guys offer to buy you drinks, your friend too. Though never had been quite as forward as this.Â
âThatâs awfully nice of you.â You commented dryly, looking up at him. You were a little suspicious. But you can't help but think of how gorgeous he is. Itâs not actually fair. âWhatâs the catch?â
âNo catch.â He said honestly, offering you a grin that made your heart skip a beat. Fuck this guy.Â
âBut it got you talking to me.â He added a beat later, that breathtaking grin widening a smidge.Â
âAh, so that was your plan, huh?â
âNo, kinda just happened in the moment.â He said with a shrug, grin not faltering. It wasn't a total lie. He had been thinking about ways he could start a conversation with you. He normally can do without ease. But youâd made him throw away the idea of using shitty pickup lines.Â
âIn the moment.â You chuckled, a grin of your own forming. Somehow you could tell it wasnât a complete lie, but he wasnât telling the whole truth. For not, you wouldnât question it. As gorgeous as he is, you didnât plan on hanging around long. You had your friend to get back to.Â
âThat hard to believe?â He teased, having noted you seemed to be somewhat amused.Â
âNope, but you canât tell me you donât already have a list of pick-up lines ready to go.â You joked, but half-meaning it. He was unfairly attractive and youâre sure he knew it. No doubt he could easily get a girlâs attention.Â
The bartender placed your drinks in front of you. Thanking him, you turned back to the man youâd been interacting with.Â
âYou got me.â He chuckled, not going to deny it. âBut they donât seem like something youâd be interested inâ
âNow that's a line.â You laughed, grin turning into a genuine smile.Â
That smile? That nearly stopped his heart.Â
âMaybe it is.â He said with a light laugh, not denying but not having intended on it being that way. But really, anything to make sure you kept smiling like that. He leant his head slightly forward towards you, speaking in a conspiratorial murmur. âDid it work?â
âIâm not at liberty to answer that.â You chuckled, unwilling to admit that maybe it was. It might just be his pretty face. But you werenât immune.Â
âBesides, I have my friend to get back to.â You added, gesturing over to your friend. When your eyes landed on her, she seemed to be occupied with a guy. The two close together as they seemed in deep conversation. Good for her.
âAh, that's one of mine.â he chuckled, eyes having followed where youâd directed and seeing it was one of his friends with your friend. He hadnât quite anticipated his friend chatting with yours. But it certainly seemed to work in his favour here so he wonât complain.Â
âYeah?â You quizzed but werenât completely convinced he hadnât coordinated that.Â
âNot my doing. Promise." He chuckled, raising his hands in faux-defence, sensing you thought it may have been. He meant it, genuinely not having a single thing to do with the situation. But he thought of it as good luck.Â
Your eyes drifted back to him, eyebrows raised. You looked at him for a few beats before grabbing your friend's drink and one of his beers. âDonât move.â
He didnât say anything as you left him, and your own drink. Not a smart move but it hadnât even occurred to you in the moment. You made your way back to the table your friend was at, placing the drinks down in front of her and her guest. You subtly winked at her before you turned back and headed towards the drink and man youâd left.
As you slid back besides him, he felt elated. He hadnât felt this excited to just talk to a woman in well ⌠ever.Â
âGonna tell me your name or am i gonna have to guess?â
âMichael. But you can call me Robby.â
âI donât see how that correlates.â You mused, raising an eyebrow at him. You don't exactly see how those names worked together. Robby? You think Robert.Â
âRobinavitch.â he explained with a chuckle, eyes dazzling.Â
âAh, gotcha.â You nodded with another light chuckle. Last name. You told him your name in return.Â
He repeated your name, letting it roll off of his tongue. He liked it. It was your name after all.Â
The two of you converesed. You discussed your lives, work, study, friends, hobbies. You discovered he was a third year med student, just completing a rotation in cardiology. He mentioned he liked the idea of emergency, wanting to help people at the hardest point of their lives. You respected it, understood it even. You were hanging onto every word he spoke, enjoying the words rolling off his lips and interested in what he was saying. That hasnât happened in a long time.
He discovered you had graduated with a bachelor of psychology last year, now practising as such as you worked on completing your masters of clinical psychology. You explained how you want to conduct cognitive clinical assessments for patients who think they might have ADHD, autism and anything else that might support patients understand what is going on inside their brains. You didnât go into details but you had admitted youâd had your own struggles with mental health. That being a huge part of wanting to support others with theirs. You wanted to work in a few areas of psychology, he had gathered.Â
You two spoke for hours. Literally hours. About everything and nothing at the same time. You joked, had serious topics at hand and discussed absolutely anything either of you could think of.Â
You checked the time on the wall with a glance, realising it was nearing 12am. God, youâd been talking to him since about 9, knowing youâd been here since at least 8 when you and your friend had arrived. Neither of you even touched your drinks, both just sitting there useless.Â
âNot to cut this shortâŚâ You said with a light huff as you got up from the seat youâd been on. Eventually the two of you had drifted to an empty table, finding it more comfortable to be seated as you chatted. But he wouldâve happily stood there in discomfort if he got to hear your voice. Not that heâd admit that. â...but I should go, it's nearly 12.â
He looked at the clock as you spoke, eyes widening in surprise. It had been 3 hours? Thatâs how long heâd been talking to you. It felt like it had been 30 minutes. His eyes drifted back to you, not going to argue. He should probably find out if his friends are still here or not. Youâd both noticed yours and his friend leaving earlier, so you didnât need to worry about her being alone.Â
âYeah, it was great talking to you.â He said with a soft smile. He was disappointed you were leaving but he understood. And he wasnât going to make assumptions. Not with you. Other women he may have made some sort of line, getting them to go home with him or vice versa to never see them again the next day. But he didnât want to do that with you.Â
âYou too.â You replied with a smile of your own. âBye, Michael.â
âBye.â He smiled, his lips tugging wider at the use of his first name. Not his nickname. But his name. He watched as you waved and made your exit, eyes trailing you as you walking out the front door. He let out a small sigh, disappointed you were gone. He realised a moment later that he hadnât even asked for your number. The thought slipped. Likely to avoid the anxiety. He;d never been anxious to ask a girl for her number before.Â
Meanwhile, the cold air was a welcomed slap to the face from the heat of inside the bar. It was soothing. But you couldnât help the disappointment you felt. You had really begun to like him. Youâd spoken for hours. Not like youâd spilled your entire life story. But still, you thought something was there. Something you hadnât felt before. Not with your exes.Â
You became annoyed. Had he not felt that? Or did he? Either way, he didnât ask for any form of contact details for you.Â
With a huff, you turned back inside and marched towards him.Â
Robby was shocked when he saw your figure storming towards him. He had just stood up to go in search for his friends.Â
âOkay. We have something. Thereâs this ⌠this⌠I don't know ⌠spark. It's there.â You ranted, eyes wide as you looked up at him. You wished you could blame it on the alcohol because this was not something you did. But you couldnât help but blurt this at him. You can be embarrassed later. âWeâve been talking for hours. Literal hours. And you donât ask for my number? Seriously? What the fuck?!â
His eyes were wide in shock as you spoke before softening. He hadn't exactly anticipated you running back to tell him off. It was hot. A soft grin tugged at his lips at each word you said.Â
âWhat?â You asked him in annoyance, arms now crossed over your chest.Â
âIs it too late to ask for your number?â He questioned, a hint of tease mixed in the hope in his voice. He had wanted to ask but had been caught off guard by you leaving. He was nervous at the prospect. What if youâd said no? Thatâd have just about broken his heart.Â
âYouâre asking now?â You asked dryly. âBecause I yelled at you?â
âFirst, you didn't yell. You firmly stated your annoyance.â He corrected genuinely but firmly âsecond, i wanted to but i got nervous.â
âNervous?â you quizzed, not quite believing that. He hadnât been nervous the entire time youâd spoken to him. Not openly anyways.Â
âYeah. Nervous.â He admitted without shame. âBeautiful girl I've been talking to all night rejects me? That's nerve-wrecking.â
âEnough with the lines.â You responded dryly. He hadnât really given you lines but that didnât automatically exclude him from going to use them.Â
âNot a line. I'm serious.â Robby said, sincerity seeping through his voice. His eyes didnât leave yours. He wanted you to know he wasnât trying to be smooth. Just honest.Â
You stared at him for a few moments, debating if you could trust it. He sounded painfully sincere. You donât think you can fake this kind of honestly.Â
âStill want my number?â
Present.Â
âI love her.â Javadi rushed out immediately, then flushing with embarrassment as she realised she said that outloud. Her hand covered her mouth in shock at her own words.Â
Robby just chuckled, which surprised her and the two residents.Â
âSheâs incredible.â He commented fondly. His mind reeled with thoughts of you. Both from recent years and the early times of your relationship.Â
âCareful, youâre sounding human.â Dana joked, though she had grown fond of the dynamic between you and the attending. He was practically a different person with you. Your kids too.Â
âDonât let my daughter hear that, sheâll use it against me.â He joked back, having broken out of his thoughts and preferring the humour based dynamic in the workplace. He didnât need to be vulnerable here. Not about his family.
Before anyone could respond, he headed off. Intending to see a patient, check in to see how his residents are doing. But heâd instead slowed his moments and pulled out his phone, pulling up your text chain. Â
Husband <3: if he claims he was dared, youâre going to let me eat you out
Wife: if he says that heâs made a mistake and wonât do it again, youâll eat me out
Husband <3: deal
âIâm sorry ⌠DAUGHTER?!âÂ
He heard the disbelief of his resident, ignoring the question and instead pocketing his phone continuing on his day. Heâs the chief attending here. At home? Heâs just a man whoâs obsessed with his wife.
SUMMARY: âFuck me, this is just too painful,â Parker groans with a shake of her head.
Shen nods, the straw of his now room-temperature caramel latte secured between his front teeth. âCould've been worse if she'd gotten clocked in the nose.â
âI meant this whole courting thing Abbot is doing with all the goddamn Tupperwares,â she glances at her colleague with disbelief tinted with a blatant shade of judgement. âItâs been going on for so long the bet got voided. Voided, John.â
âYou're just mad because you put a fifty on them fucking within two weeks.â
âWell, excuse me for believing the man had more game than that. I just don't get straight men.â
(or the one about how cooking for you might just be Jack Abbot's love language)
TAGS: fluff, jack abbot has a crush, reader is oblivious, fem!reader, trigger warning for mentions/allusions to disordered eating, reader is a paramedic and a firefighter, no use of y/n for reader
Summary: When Dr. Robby returns from his extended sabbatical, he discovers that the girlfriend he thought would be waiting for him has a baby bump â and absolutely hates him for leaving.
Tags/Notes: established relationship, groveling and forgiveness, acts of service, nurse!reader, pregnant!reader, getting back together, ft. trinity as a menace and dennis as a cutie
Content: pregnancy, pregnant sex (fingering), shaving scene
A/N: im not good at math <3 sorry i haven't posted in three weeks lmao
Word Count: 14.3k
The sabbatical was supposed to be three months, but somewhere around Bar Harbor Robby decided he needed more time. For what he wasnât sure. But he knew he needed to stay far, far away from the Pitt for a little longer. With his position at the hospital safe, he stayed in New England through the end of the summer.
On his first day back, heâd been gone as long as the two of you were together. Six months. Six months without text messages or phone calls or, hell, postcards. Six months of feeling like Robby was a ghost in your life, something you had and lost that lingers around every corner. Six months of rebuilding your life after he disappeared from it.
You found out about Robbyâs sabbatical the same way everyone else did, during one of his evening speeches exactly two weeks before he was scheduled to leave. Two weeksâ notice for a relationship youâd honestly believed was headed toward an engagement ring in a few months. He didnât think to ask you, didnât think to check in, didnât even bother to tell you in the privacy of the home youâd basically moved into. Your life fell into brutal clarity in that moment: Robby was a huge part of your life, but you were a footnote in his.
He sent you a text five nights ago: Back in town. When can I see you?
You didnât answer.
You donât plan to.
The morning of September first, Jack hands off shift change seamlessly, like Robby had never left, and Robby finds his footing on the ED floor with a newness, a fluidity, a casual lightness on his shoulders that strikes everyone as foreign. A version of Robby with no tension in his shoulders and no sarcasm biting at his tongue might as well be a new doctor.
Once he has the ED machine churning on pace, Robby leans his elbows on the nurseâs station and scans the shift board. âAnd whereâs my favorite nurse this morning? Night shift?â
Dana barely spares him a glance as she processes the last of a stack of paperwork. Sheâd always disapproved of Robby pursuing you, so sheâs not exactly sympathetic when she tells him, âShe transferred months ago. Iâm sure the notice is in your email inbox if you ever get around to clearing that out.â
His mind spins at the idea of the Pitt without you â your steady hands, your shy smiles, your forgiving wit. âTransferred? Where? Why?â
âNot my business,â Dana replies with a shrug. She pushes a chart into his chest and says, âThey need you in exam six.â
As Robby takes the chart and looks over it with blank eyes that donât see a word, Princess stands up on her toes so she can meet Robbyâs eyes. With a knowing but curious gaze, she tells him quietly, âSheâs working at the hospitalâs satellite methadone clinic up the street now. Rumor is that she had an ugly breakup with someone at the hospital and wanted to get some distance.â
Robby sucks in a sharp breath. Holds it. Lets it out slow. His eyes focus to actually look at the chart and he mutters out, âThanks for the info.â
She adds, âSmart moneyâs on Frank, by the way, since they were always so close.â
Robby grits his teeth. âThey werenât that close.â
âWhatever you say, cap.â
The biggest thing Robby notices in his shift once heâs working closely with his doctors again is a change in the batch of residents he helped onboard last year. Theyâve gained confidence during his absence, which heâd expected, but thereâs something else. To put it briefly, thereâs a lot of scowling and itâs definitely in his direction. Even Whitaker, who used to glance up for his praise like a puppy, is now averting his eyes and keeping his sentences short, professional, unsmiling. The newest batch of students and interns is all polite deference and eager introductions, but the ones heâd come to know and care for and consider friends are acting like he stinks of BO and betrayal.
In the locker room preparing for his lunch break, he approaches Dana, trying to be casual about his tone, and asks, âWhatâs wrong with the kids, by the way? I have a sign that says âignore meâ on my back or something I didnât notice?â
She snickers, âMaybe theyâre just mad that daddy went to the gas station for milk and didnât come back for six months.â She gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and adds, âGive them some time; itâll take a minute for people to find their rhythm around you again.â
He nods slowly and swallows, hoping thatâs all this is. âRight, sure.â
The truth doesnât even occur to him: You had been their favorite person around the hospital, his abandonment had made you leave, and they arenât quite ready to forgive him for that.
â
Itâs almost your lunch break when a whole flood of people arrives at once. Youâre behind the check-in desk today and you canât help groaning to yourself. You have to pee, your stomach has been growling non-stop for an hour, and youâre desperate to put your feet up.
Youâre on autopilot as you check in patients, collect consent forms, and support doctors however you can without getting up from the desk. Youâd started modified work duty this month and itâs driving you nuts not being able to do the hands-on clinical work you love. With your eyes on your monitor, the next patient enters your peripheral vision and you tell him, âIâll be with you in just one moment.â
âNo worries, gorgeous.â
Your focus snaps.
Anger rises up like bile in your throat. Part of you wants to cry, part wants to run, part wants to scream. Ultimately, with so many wars raging inside of your body, your expression goes flat as you meet Robbyâs eyes. âYou pick up an opioid habit while you were screwing your way up and down the eastern seaboard?â
Robby almost laughs. Almost. He hadnât expected you to act so hostile â in his mind, youâre still the woman he loves, waiting patiently for his return home â and it pinches like frostbite. Voice soft and respectful, he offers, âI just wanted to stop by and see you.â
You set your jaw and cut back, âWell I didnât want to see you, but I forgot that my opinion doesnât affect your decisions.â
He sighs. âYouâre still mad at me.â
You turn back to your computer and finish up the file you need to before lunch. ââStillâ implies that eventually Iâll stop, which wonât be happening.â
âCâmon sweetheart, you canât-â
âDonât.â Your eyes flick up as you shake your head. âJust- just donât.â After closing out your computer and sighing heavily, you tell him bluntly, âYouâre officially eating into my lunch, so Iâm gonna ask you to leave or I can get security. Iâm happy either way.â
Robby presses, âLet me at least buy you lunch.â
You extend your hand and reply without emotion, âSure, give me $20 and Iâll happily spend it.â
Robby grits his teeth and digs his heels in. âPlease.â
Anxiety sparks in your chest as you realize he really isnât going to leave without talking to you alone first. Youâre going to have to stand up from behind the safety of the tall desk and half wall right in front of him. The moment was inevitable, but youâd hoped to at least be in control of it.
âFine. Buy me lunch.â Youâre almost laughing as you mutter, âLetâs see how this goes. Might as well do it in public.â
Then you get to your feet. You stretch your arms above your head, back tight from sitting all morning, and your navy scrub top rides up slightly.
Robbyâs next words are breathless and desperate. âYouâre pregnant.â
âGlad your eyes still work after six months of wind burn without your goddamn helmet.â
He swallows hard, barely hearing the malice in your voice now. âHow- how far along?â
âTake a fucking guess, Doctor,â you huff, shouldering your bag and walking around the nurseâs station. He moves to follow you, but you point at the âonly employees past this doorâ sign and give him a mock pout. âWait outside if you care so much.â
Robby debates for a second and says weakly, âItâs my lunch, too; I need to get back to the hospital.â
You give him a look that reeks of âthatâs what I thoughtâ and say, âThen get back to the hospital. Iâm immune to being left behind now.â
Itâs not your hatred that hurts. Itâs your apathy.
He sends you texts. You donât reply.
He leaves you voicemails. You donât listen.
After a few more days of silence, heâs got his head in his hands at the bar while Jack nurses a beer, pitying his sorry ass. Heâs been silent for two straight beers, clearly gathering the courage to tell him the good news. It takes Jack reminding him that this is his only night off for Robby to choke out, âSheâs pregnant. Very pregnant. Seven months, probably.â
âAh.â Jack studies his best friendâs face for a long time before settling on a simple, succinct, thorough, âFuck.â
Robby sucks in a long breath and lets it out slow. âYeah. Fuck.â
âAnd she doesnât want anything to do with you now.â Itâs not a question. Itâs the truth of the matter. Jack shakes his head and then gives Robby one of those pointed looks only a brother could get away with. âI donât blame her.â
Robby balks, âYou said I should go on the trip.â
âBut Iâm not your girlfriend.â
âAnd thank god for that.â
âYou didnât talk to her about leaving?â
âI didnât realize I needed her permission.â
âYou didnât. But you shouldâve wanted it.â Jack puts on that sage old friend voice and goes on, âYou told me before you left that sheâs the one. What the hell is wrong with you?â
âA lot. Thatâs why I had to go,â Robby replies, grappling with too much of himself. âLook, leaving was the right thing to do. I know that now more than ever. I figured a lot of shit out and I feel a hell of a lot better â about myself, my future, my life. But now? Now thereâs going to be a baby. My baby. Our baby.â Robby gently thumps his forehead on the bartop and groans, âThe whole time I was gone, I thought sheâd be waiting for me when I came home. Every step of the way, I figured- I figured sheâd still want me.â
âDelusions of grandeur,â Jack opines almost absently. Then he yanks Robby to sitting upright by the back of his hoodie. âSheâs so far out of your league youâd have to get drafted first just to be her water boy. Why the hell would you think that?â
âBecause she always waited for me,â Robby mutters, sounding so absolutely pathetic Jack debates recording it for blackmail down the road. âShe- she was always there. She always stayed.â
âAnd you repaid her by leaving.â
Robbyâs voice drops to an ashamed whisper. âI didnât realize she loved me enough to care that I left.â
âBut she did.â
âShe did.â Robby stares straight ahead, through Jack and through the walls and through the world until his eyes settle back on his relationship with you â the one good part of his life that had spiraled squarely out of his control. âShe was shining a light in my face, but I was too busy covering my own eyes to see her. Too deep in my own self-doubt and self-hatred to recognize what was right in front of me.â
âAlright, Socrates, pack it in.â Jack claps a hand on Robbyâs back and summarizes, âYou fucked it up and you need to fix it.â
âI fucked it up and I need to fix it,â Robby confirms. âBut how do I even begin to say sorry for something like that?â
âShe doesnât want you to say sorry,â Jack replies. Itâs effortless for him, this kind of thing. Robby is supremely jealous of how simple Jack makes it all sound. âShe doesnât want Robby the rich attractive attending anymore.â
âFlatterer.â
âShut up. Iâm saying sheâs spent the last six months thinking you were gone. While youâre god knows where, sheâs figuring out how to be a single mom on a nurseâs salary. So I know she doesnât want what you used to be for her.â
Jack pauses for long enough that Robby has to sigh and prod, âYouâre really gonna make me prompt you? Tell me what you think she wants.â
âShe wants a dad for her kid. A real dad, not a sperm donor. She doesnât want a boyfriend. She wants a husband. And a husband doesnât have to run away to figure his shit out. Show up for the baby and youâre showing up for her.â Jack finishes off his beer, slaps down a handful of cash, and tells him, âLetâs get a cab. I think you need to cry yourself to sleep to figure out your next move.â
At nine a few nights later, after his shift, Robby knocks on the door of the new address he definitely didnât steal from your personnel file. Itâs a small townhouse in an okay part of town, better than your previous shoebox, but itâs still nothing compared to his spacious home further out of the city. The place he always imagined raising his family in. The place where youâd taken up half his closet, half his bathroom counterspace, half his life. Half his heart, undeniably.
When Trinity Santos answers the door, Robby nearly falls on his ass. With a green face mask cracking on her skin and her eyes burning with anger, heâs never seen her looking so full of wrath. Which is saying something. âWhat are you doing here, Dr. Robby?â
His brows furrow as he explains, âI was trying to see my girlfriend, but I guess I got the wrong address somehow.â
Santos scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. âYou girlfriend? Pretty sure you forfeited that title when you ditched her like she didnât mean anything to you.â
âWoah, Jesus,â Robby chuckles, holding his hands up. âIs that the general consensus? Guess that explains all the hostility today.â
âNot hostile, just professional.â
âYou were definitely hostile.â
Trinity glares. âFile a complaint.â
She moves to shut the door, but he catches it with one large hand. âIs she here?â
Trinity continues to use her body to block him from entering. She knows heâd never do anything crazy like push her, but she wants to make her allegiance perfectly clear. âYup.â
âShe lives with you and Whitaker now?â
âYup. Saving money until the last minute.â
âGod.â Robby runs his hand over the back of his head. âCan I- Can I just come in and see her?â
Holding bitter eye contact, Trinity calls over her shoulder, âDo you want to see Robby?â
Your voice is immediate. Thereâs more hurt in it than heâd heard this morning, and something about that makes him feel hopeful. Like there might still be something for him to hold onto. âHeâs here?â
âAt the door.â
Robby listens as a chair squeaks across the floor and your footsteps recede toward a staircase. Away from him. Fainter now, you call, âGet rid of him.â
Trinity nods and turns back to her boss. âYou heard the woman. Go home.â
âFuck, fine. Itâs getting late anyway; she should sleep.â With a rough sigh, he reaches into his inner jacket pocket and hands her an envelope. âCan you give this to her at least?â
Santos snatches it from his hand and demands, âWhat is it?â
âItâs ten thousand dollars.â
She rolls her eyes. âFuck off, Robby.â
Without saying anything else, she slams the door in his face. Shaking her head, Trinity ascends the steps to the second floor, where all the bedrooms are, and knocks on your door. You answer with puffy, tear-swollen eyes. Right away, Trinity wraps you up in a hug and sighs, âHeâs the worst. Iâll kill him at work tomorrow.â
You laugh, sniffle, and shake your head. âNo need. I was going to have to deal with this eventually, right?â
âYeah, but it should be your choice on your terms, not him showing up unannounced.â You nod and pull back from the hug, swiping your cheeks one more time. Trinity holds up the envelope and says, âRobby wants me to give this to you. I can rip it up or hold onto it or-â
âIâll take it.â You smile softly at her and add, âThanks, Trin. You shouldnât have to deal with my drama.â
âYou deal with my gay soap opera with Yo,â she points out with a conspiratorial grin.
Your reply is interrupted by the sound of Dennis emerging from his bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Heâs been on the late-night shift the past couple weeks, slowly becoming nocturnal. âWhatâs going on?â
Trinity answers with malice lacing her tone, âRobby showed up.â
Dennis shakes his head. âBastard.â
âYou donât have to say that,â you reply with a laugh. âI know you want to go back to being his personal assistant as soon as possible.â
âTrinity would kill me,â he mutters.
She punches him on the arm. âAnd Iâd be right! We donât defend shitty men who-â
âRobbyâs not a shitty man; you know that,â he interrupts her. âHe handled leaving in a shitty way; that doesnât make him a shitty person.â
âYouâre too forgiving, Nebraska.â
âAnd youâre not forgiving enough.â
You sigh sharply, âAnd I need to go to sleep.â
âAt least open up the letter for us,â Trinity insists. âMy nosiness is absolutely screaming for the intel. I wonât be able to sleep without it.â
Ripping open the envelope, you sigh, âIâm sure itâs just some stupid saccharine guilt bomb designed to make me-â Your voice falls to the ground and melts through the floorboards. Thereâs a folded-up note wrapped around something much more interesting. You hold it up to Trinity and Dennis and breathlessly announce, âItâs a check for ten thousand dollars.â
âOh my god, I thought he was being a dick,â Trinity replies, her voice equally low and surprised, almost reverent â not for Robby but for the sheer amount of money. âWhy the hell would heâŚ?â
With shaking hands, you read the corresponding handwritten note to your roommates.
I donât know whether or not when youâll let me back into your life.
Thatâs up to you. I accept it. I respect that itâs your choice.
But Iâm not going to be a deadbeat dad. You know I canât do that. You know about my father. Iâm never going to become him. I hope you believe that.
So this isnât a bribe to take me back. I promise it isnât. Itâs not an apology. Iâm still working on that.
Itâs for our kid. For you as the mother of my child, not just the a woman I want need miss love care about. Nursery stuff, vitamins, doctorâs appointments, your favorite hot chocolate from Vinoâs, anything you need until theyâre born. Iâm not going to let you want for anything. If money is all youâll accept from me, then take every penny I have. Please.
I promise I wonât abandon the baby. I promise I will do whatever you need from me and more.
And I promise I love you. Both of you.
I hope youâll Please, let me prove it.
Love,
Sincerely,
Yours,
M.
All three of you hold your breath in the space that follows Robbyâs painstakingly scrawled words.
Then Dennis takes a long breath and urges, âSee? Heâs good. He cares. He wants to take care of you and the baby. You could do a hell of a lot worse.â
Trinity shakes her head and swallows hard. âShe could do a hell of a lot better, too. He still left.â
Dennis argues, âHe didnât know she was pregnant.â
You whisper, âDo I really want a man who would only stay because of a baby?â
Knowing far too much for his own good, Dennis touches your shoulder and presses, âDo you really want any man besides him?â
You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to breathe. âI need sleep. IâllâŚFuck. Iâll let you guys know whenever I figure out what the hell Iâm doing with my life.â
Trinity brushes your cheek with her thumb. âLove you, sunshine. Goodnight.â
You wish her goodnight and Dennis a good shift before retreating into your bedroom. You change into your pajamas, ignoring the tee of Robbyâs that still lives in your drawer, and curl up with your thoughts. In bed on your side, you rest your hand on your bump and wish the little life inside could tell you the right thing to do.
In his home across town, all Robby knows is that heâs never felt so much relief watching $10,000 leave his account.
In the morning, on your way out, the door thumps against something heavy on the stoop. A large plastic tote with a brown bag from your favorite cafe on top of it. You call over your shoulder for Trinity and she hauls the heavy box inside while you focus on the little bag of treats with a note card stapled to it. Inside the bag is your usual order that Robby always brought into the hospital for you in the mornings, the coffee replaced by a ginger tea but the bear claw looking as delectable as ever.
I figured you might want your things back from my place. Iâm sorry for being gone longer than you expected for not giving you a key in the first place for unintentionally stealing your stuff for coming by last night. I donât want to make anything worse. M.
Trinity reads the note over your shoulder and announces, âHeâs groveling.â
âWhat do you think I should do?â
âI think you should let him grovel.â
Biting the sweet fluffy pastry, you consider, âI donât want to be cruel. Iâm not going to keep his own baby from him.â
âOf course not. But thatâs not what weâre talking about. Do you want him? Not just as your co-parent or sperm donor or whatever. A husband. A real man. Do you want to be Mrs. Robby someday soon?â
âOf course I do,â you sigh, âbut I justâŚI donât trust him anymore. How could I?â
âIâm just saying,â she reasons with a shrug, âif his baseline grovel is 10k, I for one would love to see where he goes from there. Maybe youâll end up with a private plane or something.â
âRobbyâs got money, but he doesnât have that kind of money.â
âAs far as we know,â she replies with a snicker. âLook, at the end of the day, you have to decide if you can trust him, so I say you tell him exactly what you need and see if he can hack it. Be blunt with him about your expectations. He can worship the ground you walk on from here on out or he can spend the rest of his life signing child support checks and seeing his kid every other weekend.â
You laugh and polish off the bear claw. âYouâre a menace, Trinity Santos.â
âMy specialty.â She pours herself a coffee and collects her bag. âNow do you want a ride or are you grabbing the bus?â
âItâs a beautiful morning; I donât mind the bus.â
âMaybe Robby will get you a car.â
âYeah,â you snort, âmaybe.â
Right as your lunch break starts that afternoon, a delivery driver shows up by the staff entrance with an order bearing your name. After one of the other nurses calls you back, you take the heavy bag of absolutely heavenly-smelling Thai food and ask the driver, âIs this from Michael Robinavitch?â
âYeah, he said youâd be expecting it.â He checks the order on his phone and reads, âThe delivery instructions said âtell her I know for a fact she doesnât eat enough protein to be growing a whole new person.â Congratulations; he sounds like a nice dad.â
You shake your head and sigh. âYeah, he can be.â
And it goes on like that for the next five days before you decide what to do. Robby always orders you lunch. None of the following meals come with messages, though, just something carefully chosen for your tastes and needs. He even remembers the way you order things â extra lime on your pad thai, salsa verde instead of pico on your tacos, and any bonus dessert he can throw in â to the point where you wonder if people at the Pitt are helping him out, campaigning for the two of you to get back together.
Robby checks his phone way too many times that entire first week that heâs back. He keeps waiting for you to text, call, email, hell heâll even take a DM at this point. But you donât. Itâs agony. If nothing else, Trinityâs dagger-glare has dulled into more of a butter-knife-glare by Friday afternoon.
Then.
After he clocks out and heads to the parking lot, there you are. Leaning on his fucking motorcycle. Youâre a vision in the waning afternoon, sunlight catching your hair and brightening your eyes. You speak first: âCan we talk?â
âYes,â Robby answers too fast. âOf course we can. Do youâŚwant to go somewhere else?â
âNo. I donât.â You swallow hard and then nod to a nearby bench, sitting down before he does the same. With one hand on your belly, you train your eyes forward and tell him, âYou said in your note that you want to prove you love me. But I know you love me. Thatâs not the problem.â
Robby has to resist the urge to take your hands in his, to tilt your face toward him, to do anything that would ground your bodies together. âTell me.â
Confirming his every fear, you whisper, âI donât trust you enough to raise a child with you.â
Throat thick and limbs heavy, he rasps, âYou donât want me to be involved with my own kid?â
âOf course I want you to be in her life; thatâs not- thatâs not what I meant. But I donât know if I can trust you to be her dad â her momâs partner â and not just her biological father.â
The world tilts slightly.
Robbyâs breath catches in his throat.Â
Tears sting his eyes and he blinks them back. His voice trembles alongside his hands as he confirms, âItâs a girl?
You canât help the way that softens you. You can see the universe heâs building behind his eyes: Robby holding a pink-blanket bundle, Robby learning to braid hair, Robby being fiercely protective and achingly tender.
You want to share that life with him so badly that it hurts. To sit by his side at dance recitals and tell bedtime stories together and be real.
âYeah,â you settle for saying, intimately quiet, just for the two of you, âsheâs a girl.â
âWow. Holy shit. A girl. A little girl. Have you-â He clears his throat and swats a tear from his cheek. âHave you picked a name yet?â
You shake your head and admit, âI have some favorites, but it wouldnât feel right to choose by myself. Without you, I mean. Sheâs not just mine.â Robby lets the next few tears fall onto his scrub pants and you canât bear to watch. So you dig around in your purse and hand over the few ultrasound pictures youâd set aside, always hoping youâd be able to give them to him. One from each of your check-ups, a timeline from blob to baby. âHere. Yours to keep.â
Robby stares down at pure gold in his hands. He looks over each photo like a precious ancient text, smiling with those lovely wrinkles of his. After looking at the most recent one for a long time, he murmurs lovingly, âSheâs got your nose.â
You touch your pointer finger to the picture and reply, âAnd your huge feet.â
His eyes stay locked on the scan for another full minute; heâs too choked up to add anything else. Once heâs finally starting to recover from growing a new chamber of his heart so quickly, he tucks the photos into his backpack, slides onto the sidewalk in front of you like heâs about to propose, and gazes up at your face. âIâll do anything to be yours again.â
Biting your lower lip, you nod. Slow. Thinking. âI canât just pick up where we left off.â
âI donât expect you to. I donât want that.â He sits back onto the bench next to you, this time tilting his whole body towards yours. Creating space he begs you to fill. âI know we canât exactly start over, but I- I want to be new together. I want to fix what I broke.â
âOkay,â you whisper back, trying hard not to cry. Hormones and hope make a brutal cocktail. You sniffle hard and suggest, âTrinity told me you have the weekend off. Breakfast tomorrow? Well, brunch; the baby likes to sleep in.â
âAbsolutely. Anywhere you want, any time.â
Your eyes narrow. âThat fancy place you took me after the first time I slept over?â
âIâll pick you up at ten.â
You wince as the baby launches a foot into your ribcage. âSold.â
With those dumb beautiful wide cow eyes of his, Robby asks, âAre you okay?â
âYour daughterâs beating the shit out of me,â you groan. When he laughs, though, you soften even more. Tentative, you offer, âDo you want to feel?â
Robbyâs voice is ragged and desperate like youâve never heard it. Itâs heavy with love and with need and with hope. One word holds every dream heâs ever had. âPlease.â
You take his hand and guide it to the spot where the baby is currently dancing a samba, watching his tender, reverent expression every moment.
âHoly shit.â Robby laughs and grins at you while the baby nudges him over and over like sheâs saying hi. âThatâs the most amazing thing Iâve ever felt.â
You roll your eyes and try not to smile. âPlease; youâve felt a million babies kick.â
âBut this is-â He shakes his head and chuckles again at another flutter. âThis is different. Is she always this active?â
âIn the evening, yeah. Like she can tell Iâm done with work and itâs playtime.â You put your hand over his, nothing more than an instinct, and rub your thumb over his skin. âSheâs gonna terrorize us.â
âUsâ settles, warm and cozy, in the hearth of Robbyâs chest. He leans down and kisses your bump gently. âWouldnât have it any other way.â
Youâre halfway through the insanely decadent strawberries-and-cream crepes you ordered when you actually get up the confidence to break the charged silence between you and Robby. Heâd overly complimented your cozy but stylish enough ribbed knit dress and youâd noted his freshly trimmed beard making him look too handsome for you to think clearly. Then a healthy dose of small talk while you waited for food. Now silence.
After licking a bit of vanilla cream from the corner of your mouth, you rush out, âI want you to audition to be my husband.â
One side of Robbyâs lip ticks up into a cute, amused smirk. âShall I prepare a monologue or a musical number? Will there be a dance portion?â
You hum teasingly, âThereâll be whatever I want; thatâs the whole point.â
âThis has Trinity Santos written all over it.â
You shrug and relent, âShe may have had a hand in the concept.â
His fork wavers in the air. âShould I fear for my life?â
âNo more than you usually do around her,â you giggle, just a bit, and Robby feels part of himself taking flight at the proof of any lightness left between the two of you. Then you go on seriously (so seriously it wraps back around to adorable for him), âFor the next two weeks, Iâm going to tell you what I need from you and youâre going to do it as soon as you can. Every time. I want to be the most needy, most demanding, most pregnant person in the entire world. If you can survive that, you can apologize. Give me a real, thoughtful apology and Iâll accept.â
Right away, Robby nods and confirms, âConsider it done.â
You raise a challenging eyebrow. âThat easy?â
He puffs up his chest a bit. âIâm an emergency room doctor; I think I can handle a few midnight craving runs.â
âIs that so?â
âIâm 100% confident.â
âGreat. Love that.â You sip your drink, gaze at him over the rim, and then tell him with the most vindictive smile you can manage, âThe first thing I want you to do is sell the motorcycle.â
That night, Robbyâs phone rings with a call from you for the first time in six months. It wakes him from a dead sleep, but heâs been craving your custom ringtone so much that he still manages to answer within less than a second. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he slurs out, âHi, mama.â
âHey, Michael.â He can clearly picture you sitting cross-legged on your bed with a menacing smile as you ask, âCan you bring me a tub of that cake batter ice cream I like? The one with the blue frosting swirl and rainbow sprinkles and the actual chunks of pound cake.â
Robby puts you on speaker so he can sit up, stretch his arms, and hit the lights. As he tugs on whatever clothes he runs into, he clarifies, âYou mean the one they sell at that kitschy 24-hour diner roadside attraction thing off the highway out in Bridgeville?â
âThat would be the one.â Sounding downright wistful, you tell him, âIâve been craving it my whole pregnancy, but I felt bad asking Trinity to do nearly an hour of driving to scratch the itch.â
Robby frowns as he fumbles through tying his shoes. âYou still donât have a car?â
âIâm living with Dennis and Trinity to save money so I can get one by the time the baby needs to go to daycare,â you tell him softly, trying not to let it sound like an invitation. You swallow hard and repeat firmly, âIce cream. One hour.â
He smiles to himself as he picks up his car keys. âSee you soon.â
Before Robby opens the door to the garage, his phone pings with a text. Itâs Whitaker, for some reason.
Good luck on your first mission. Her feet are killing her extra today, by the way.
With a grateful little smile, Robby grabs a tube of the cocoa butter lotion youâd put him onto back when you were together and tucks it conspiratorially in his pocket.
Noted. Thanks for the tip.
Dennis shoots off two more texts before Robby gets to driving.
Iâm rooting for you.
If you could also grab me some of those real rootbeers in the dark bottles they sell there that would be great.
Robby rolls his eyes and starts the car. It takes almost exactly one hour to make his way to the neighboring town, stand in line at the Cracker-Barrel-esque diner shop, and head over to your place. Itâs quiet this time of night in your neighborhood, so quiet that he doesnât even have to knock. You answer the door in a crop top that sits on top of your bump and gray sweatpants that hang low beneath it, rolled up around your ankles. Youâre visibly exhausted and need a shower and youâve never been more beautiful.
Then you glance over his shoulder at the car still idling by the curb and your mouth falls open in shock.
âMichael David Robinavitch,â you say breathlessly, hopping down onto the stoop to get a better look, âis that a minivan?â
âBrand new Chrysler Pacifica,â he confirms, following you over and slapping his hand on the hood like itâs a sports car. âMost safety and security features in its class. Ainât she a beaut?â
With a shy smile, you confirm, âYou got rid of the motorcycle?â
Robby shrugs modestly. âNot very practical when you have kids.â
âKids. Plural.â
He cuts you a look thatâs all cocky and loving. âYeah. Plural.â Then, before you can stop buffering and come up with a response, he slides open the side door of the van and removes his spoils. Hoisting heavy reusable bags, Robby announces, âTwo gallons of ice cream as ordered. Hopefully thatâll last you until after my next shift.â
You squeal and grab one of the bags from him, practically skipping back into the house. You leave the front door open and Robby hesitantly takes it as an invitation to join you inside, lingering in the doorway as you beeline to the kitchen, scoop yourself a hearty bowl, and put the rest away in the freezer. You pause, turn to Robby, and check, âYou want some?â
Robby carefully steps the rest of the way into the living room and closes the door behind him. âI think all that sugar and fat would give me a heart attack even faster than the stress.â
You sigh and flop down on the couch, lifting your feet onto the coffee table and settling the bowl on your stomach. âTry telling that to your daughter; all she wants is sugar and fat.â
âThus why I keep sending you balanced meals to eat.â
âThank you for that, by the way,â you lilt gently, smiling around the spoon as you indulge in the ice cream. You close your eyes and throw your head back, moaning, âFuck, this is so good. Are you sure you donât want any?â
âIâm happier watching you eat it,â he chuckles as he memorizes your pleased expression. Itâs the first time heâs seen you so content and not on the verge of yelling at him since heâs been back. âIs there anything else I can do for you tonight?â
âYeah, actually,â you tell him as you try to get comfortable, adjusting pillows around your limbs, âI want to hear about your trip.â
Robbyâs brows go up; he genuinely hadnât expected you to want to talk to him at all. âReally?â
âYup.â You pat the couch next to you. âPrincess kept calling it your midlife crisis fuck-a-thon, so I want to hear about all your exploits.â
Robby tilts his head to the side and says plainly, quietly, urgently, âI didnât have sex with anyone while I was gone.â
You try to ignore the way that knowledge makes you breathless, focusing on creating perfectly balanced bites of ice cream. âYou didnât?â
âOf course not.â He shrugs, joins you on the couch, and says sheepishly, âI thought I had my girl waiting for me when I got back.â
âGirls donât wait for men who donât even text while theyâre gone,â you murmur back, sounding more pathetic than youâd wanted.
âI know. I was really screwed up before I left because of everything with the shooting and with Langdon and I- I didnât see anything clearly. Couldnât.â Without making anything of it, Robby shifts your bare feet into his lap and starts to rub the arch of one with his thumbs, deep and perfect. He gives you a cheeky look and adds, âBut someone Iâm trying to impress told me that I had to earn the opportunity to apologize, so I wonât get into all that yet.â
You give him a pointed look. âAny particular reason youâre rubbing my feet?â
He shrugs innocently and reasons, âYouâre pregnant; Iâm sure theyâre killing you all the time.â
âItâs just interesting timing,â you muse, âconsidering I was complaining about needing a foot massage to Whitaker right before he left for his shift and you just so happened to bring him that weird Pennsylvania root beer heâs been wanting.â
âA man has to have some secrets,â he murmurs. Then he removes all pretense and rucks up the legs of your sweats, takes the lotion from his pocket, and really gets down to business. While he works tension from your feet and ankles and calves, Robby tells you honestly, âAll I really did on my trip was think.â
You tease, âSounds horrible.â
âIt was, a lot of the time.â Robby takes the empty bowl from your hands and sets it on the coffee table, promising to wash it before he leaves, and insists you just relax under the expert working of his hands. âI didnât go because I needed a vacation. I needed toâŚreset. I watched a lot of sunsets in beautiful places, wrote in my journal twice a day, tried to get eight full hours of sleep every night.â
Your mouth falls open. âYou wrote in a journal?â
âStill do,â he replies, sounding a little impressed with himself. âIt helps me think. Helps me view my thoughts more rationally â see how stupid they can get, how untrue â when I can read them on the page instead of just repeating them over and over in my mind.â
âThatâs really good,â you sigh, head on the cushion and eyes closed. Heâs not sure if youâre talking about the journaling or the foot massage or both. Frankly, he doesnât care. Just getting to hear your sounds of simple pleasure is enough. Interlocking your hands over your bump, you sleepily prod, âTell me about all the beautiful sunsets, then.â
Robby knows youâre about two minutes from falling asleep, but he happily obliges regardless. He talks about the rolling Appalachians that separate Pittsburgh from the East Coast, the light over the Atlantic early in the morning, the busy cities and empty back roads alike. He talks about the old man he sat with for three hours in a coffee shop listening to him glow about his late wife. He talks about the beach where he saw a family playing and finally felt at peace about Heatherâs miscarriage years ago. He talks about the synagogue in New York City where he went just to feel connected to some peace but a rabbi sought him out from the sea of faces and said the Tefilat Haderech over him. He recites the lines he remembers.
âŚlead us in peace and direct our steps in peace, and guide us in peace, and support us in peace, and cause us to reach our destination in life, joy, and peaceâŚgrant me grace, kindness, and mercyâŚbestow upon us abundant kindnessâŚ
After a while, he hears you softly snoring, but he doesnât stop. Instead he touches your exposed belly, gently working the lotion over your stretch marks, and soothes, âSomeday Iâll take you all the beautiful places Iâve seen. Youâre going to have the most perfect life I can give you. You and your mom and me.â
Coming in quietly after her shift, Trinity walks into the living room, takes in the scene in front of her, and grins unabashedly. Big bad attending Dr. Robby waiting on you hand and foot just like she told you he should. Grabbing a late snack, she chuckles and praises, âNow this is what I like to see, Rob.â
Robby whispers back, âBe quiet. Sheâs out like a light.â
âYou were just talking to her.â
He corrects, âI was talking to the baby. Mom might be asleep, but my little girl is up and kicking in there listening to my stories.â
She gives him a slap on the back as she walks by. âYouâll bore her to sleep soon enough, gramps.â
Robbyâs eating leftovers in bed the next time you call on him. He pauses the TV and picks up the call. âMichael Robinavitch personal assistant service, how may I help you?â
You groan, âI want to shave my legs and I canât reach anymore.â
He chuckles quietly and hastens to eat the last few bites of his dinner. âSounds like something I can handle. Do I need to pick up anything to enhance your experience? Chocolate?â
Your voice perks up just a little. âTwix. Several.â
âYes, maâam.â
âAnd a blue raspberry slushee if you get the Twix at a 7/11.â
âI think I can manage that.â
Half an hour later, youâre in the bath sipping on a Big Gulp and wearing a bikini â much to Robbyâs eye-rolling amusement, you insisted he had to earn even non-sexual nudity â while Robby lathers up your legs with your fancy moisturizing gel. You donât miss the way he takes the time to massage the knots from your calves with those deliciously large hands. God, you missed his hands.
âYouâve got a real jungle going down here,â Robby tuts as he starts in above your ankles, working his way over your skin methodically and thoroughly, his glasses sitting low on his nose as if heâs prepping a surgical field. If this is a measure of how much he cares for you, then heâs not going to miss a single hair. âGonna need a weed wacker for those shins.â
You glare at him. âI will send that razor straight through your hand, Michael.â
âIâm just saying you couldâve asked me a week ago.â
âI didnât have any reason to shave my legs a week ago.â
âBut you do now?â He raises a suspicious eyebrow. âHot date?â
âWith the OBGYN, yup. Sheâs a real hunk.â
He gives you a very pointed look at that. âDo you want me to trim your bush?â
âMichael!â
âI know you prefer to keep the topiary neat and the ground below smooth.â
âI will not hesitate to splash you.â
Robby just laughs. As he rinses off the razor and touches up some areas â he even shaves your big toes without saying a word, the gentleman â he sighs and lets his voice go low and honest. âThat was a sincere offer. Iâm not trying to get off on your personal maintenance, I promise. You always told me you felt uncomfortable when things got a little unruly.â
Sounding far too flirty for Robbyâs sanity, you reply, âAnd you always told me you like unruly.â
âBut itâs your body,â he replies. Earnest. Insistent. âIâm not going to push it, but itâs on the table if you change your mind. I want to do anything that will make being pregnant more comfortable for you. I know being up in the stirrups every few weeks canât exactly be fun.â
After a moment, you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard above the gentle movement of the bath water. âYouâre making it really hard to stay mad at you.â
His eyes drift up to yours. You both hold the eye contact for so long that, for some reason, tears sting at your waterline. His golden brown irises are too familiar, too warm, too full of love youâre afraid to accept and afraid to lose. Finally he says, âI want you to be mad at me until you donât need to be anymore.â
You scoff, âYou want me to be mad at you?â
He swallows hard and amends, âI want you to feel everything you need to feel. I can take it.â
And you want to kiss him.
You hate him â and you want to kiss him. So you sigh and say, âOkay.â
âOkay?â
Untying the sides of your bikini bottoms, you confirm, âLetâs trim the bush.â
He makes a show of patting his pockets before announcing, âCrap, I think I left my pruning shears at home.â
You smile and roll your eyes, grateful for his levity and the effortless way he makes you feel safe in his presence. You slip the rest of the way out of the bikini, wring it out, and hand him the sopping fabric. He hangs it over the sink and returns to his place by your side.
As he cleans off the razor again, Robby assures you, âTell me if you want me to stop. Itâs okay if you change your mind any time. You know as well as I do that the OBGYN wonât care what your vulva looks like.â
You snicker, âI know. Get to it, doc.â
Robby chuckles, sinks his hands into the water, and guides your legs apart just enough to give him access. When his fingertips graze your labia, he hisses in a needy breath at the familiar feel of your soft lips. Then he curses softly, shaking his head with a laugh. âSorry, sorry. Reflexive reaction. Nothing short of professionalism from here on out.â
You laugh, âItâs okay. Glad to know someone still finds me remotely attractive even though I feel like a beached whale.â
âYouâve never been more attractive,â he says quietly. Quickly. But he doesnât let it hang. He gives a sharp soldierâs nod and gets to work, using his precise doctorâs fingertips to guide his motions. âYou know, the last time I did this, it was because a woman had superglue in her pubes. Gluing her shut.â
You wince. âJesus fuck. How does something like that even happen?â
He shrugs. âFreak sex accident, Iâm assuming. Thatâs half the job.â Then he furrows his brow and drags his fingers up your innermost thigh, cleaning up the edges. âAlright, no more jokes, Iâve gotta focus when Iâm relying on touch.â
You roll your eyes. âYes, sir.â
You close your eyes and lean your head back on the bath pillow Robby ordered to be delivered to your place a few nights ago. In the low light with a backdrop of soothing water sounds, you relax easily; Michaelâs touch could never be unfamiliar to you. He uses the fingers of one hand to guide the other, methodically following his own touch along your labia, down near your entrance, up towards your clit. You try to control your breathing as his confident motions start to work some neglected parts of your brain. When he gently pushes against your mons to make the skin straighter and easier to shave, the heel of his hand rests against your clit and you can barely think. Heâs not doing it on purpose â that much is clear from how heâs got his tongue slightly out in focus, attuned only to what heâs doing â but itâs working you up nonetheless.
Your shaky voice breaks through the silence. âMichael?â
Totally concentrated on the task at hand, he slows his hands and offers, âHm?â
Like a guilty child, you admit, âYouâre turning me on.â
Right away, he withdraws his hands from under the water and moves away from the tub. âShit, Iâm sorry. I swear I wasnât trying to do any-â
âNo, itâs- itâs okay,â you assure quickly. âI just havenât been able to, um, do anything about, ah, that particular sort of thing for the last two-ish months. Iâm a littleâŚpent up. I didnât want to, like, start moaning or something on accident.â
Robby hesitates. Thereâs a war in his eyes. You watch his adamâs apple bob as he swallows hard, trying not to think about anything at all. His cheeks turn red the way you always teased him for and he opens his mouth to talk. Closes it again. Repeats that a few times.
Ultimately, he doesnât say a thing, just waits for you to lead.
You love him for not offering, for not cracking a joke, for not deflecting. He just creates space for you, leaning against your counter and keeping his eyes on your face. The man in front of you is the same Robby youâve adored for years and claimed as yours for months, but heâs different, too. Thereâs a calm to him you havenât seen before. When Robby used to touch you, it was hot and claiming and craving and yearning. You felt his desperation in every kiss. This man is waiting. Deferent.
For the first time, youâre in charge. You get to decide.
So you decide.
Gently, certain but sheepish, you ask, âWould you mind, um, helping me out with that?â
His voice is strangled and his face is contorted into something akin to agony. âAre you sure?â
âI donât want to change anything with where weâre at right now,â you clarify, speaking slow, like youâre worried about a nervous cat darting, âbut I could really use some relief on that front. If that- if that wouldnât be too weird.â
âWeird?â Robby laughs and rubs the back of his neck. âNo, it wouldnât be weird.â
âWhat would it be, then?â
He takes in a shaky breath and replies, âIt wouldnât have to be something.â Sitting down by the tub again, he says, âI said Iâd do anything to make you comfortable. Anything.â He lets his hand once again drift below the water, looking at you like itâs a challenge. âIâm not a chicken about fingering a girl when she needs some help.â As his thumb ghosts over your clit, you gasp and stifle the ensuing moan with the back of your hand. Suppressing a self-satisfied smirk, Robby reminds you, âJust tell me if you want me to stop. This isnât about me.â
You nod eagerly and tilt your hips forward to give him better access. Robby shakes his head a bit; you were always so greedy for him to touch you and it doesnât seem like thatâs changed. Robby uses the pad of his thumb to work your clit, keeping firm contact as he rubs it in small circles, not too fast but not teasing, either. Your need is obvious in the fast rising and falling of your chest, the twitching in your thighs, the way you bite your lower lip and pinch your eyes shut. He treats this like what it is: Relief.
When he can tell youâre wanting more â letting out those soft and desperate little moans he always replays when he jerks off â he dips his other hand between your legs and feels between your lips. Youâre wet and begging and heâs not going to deny you for even a second. With the water not letting anything get particularly lubricated, Robby keeps his fingers seated inside of you, curling them instead of thrusting. Your pretty lips fall open in a pleased âoâ and Robbyâs borderline dizzy from how good it feels to get you off again. Heâs not sure if itâs the pregnancy or the desperation but you feel downright swollen with lust, hot and plush and like he could spend the rest of his life keeping you knocked up and-
Woah, asshole.
Calm down.
He takes a deep breath of his own, matching one of yours, and focuses back on you and not on his achingly hard cock straining for freedom from his sweats. As he massages your g-spot way too effortlessly, the palm of his other hand pulls the hood of your clit back slightly, just enough to light your nerves on fire from the intensity of his touch. Heat rises in your cheeks, your chest, your thighs. Robby knows how to work a long, hard orgasm out of you. He never rushes. He matches the curls of his fingers with his thumb on your clit and doesnât stop, doesnât slow, doesnât race. He lets you feel every singular sparking second until youâre tightening up around him, your toes curling, your thighs clamping around his hand, your back arching as much as itâll allow.
All Robby gives himself permission to say as you cum around his fingers is a soft, loving, âThere you go. Thatâs it.â
When your pussy finally starts to release him, only faint fluttery aftershocks remaining, Robby pulls out of you, resists the urge to lick his fingers, and wipes his hands dry. He shuts his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath before he can bear to look at you. The sweat on your brow, the blown darkness of your pupils, the slight swell from biting your lower lip. Youâre too beautiful for him to cope with. Robby gazes at you only as long as he can handle before averting his eyes.Â
To distract himself from the goddess bathing below him, Robby absently strokes your oversized towel hanging on the nearby rack and offers, âReady to get out? Iâll help you up.â
Still breathless, you stare up at Robby in surprise. He didnât kiss you, didnât ask for any pleasure in exchange, only gave you what you needed, what you asked for. Pure, unadulterated respect. For your body, your boundaries, your desires. Thatâs so much sexier than the desperate love the two of you used to make between agonized sheets. âThat would be good. Thank you.â
Robby pulls the stopper on the tub and extends his strong hands for you. Your eyes lock together as you stand with a groan. As he wraps you up in the towel, he holds your shoulders a moment and says urgently, earnestly, âAnything. Any time.â
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
In the morning, Robbyâs securing his sleeves with his nicest cufflinks when you call him exactly when heâd expected. He may have snooped on your calendar â it was hanging on your wall as he helped you into bed, sue him â and saw that your OGBYN appointment this morning is, in fact, your third trimester anatomy scan at 9:00am. He knew as soon as he saw it that you were going to ask him to come at the last minute, so heâd asked Jack to stay a few hours late and heâd do the same at night.
He picks up the phone, trying not to sound to pleased with himself. âWhat can I do for you, oh glorious mother of my child?â
âLaying it on thick already,â you tease. He can hear you talking around your toothbrush and the image makes him smile as he smooths out his charcoal gray blazer and applies a few dabs of cologne. âWould you mind coming to my ultrasound with me today? Trinity was supposed to drive me but I guess she canât now.â
Robby grins from ear to ear when he catches you in the blatant lie. Trinityâs working a double, which of course Robby would know as her supervisor. You were never planning on asking anyone else. Tucking that knowledge away in a secret place in his heart, Robby nudges, âDo you need a ride or am I invited in?â
âItâs your baby, dumbass,â you reply, the words half-formed now as you floss. After you rinse and spit again, you tell him more seriously, âI want you there.â
âYou do?â
Thereâs a beat of silence where heâs worried heâs pushed too far. But then you say, âYeah, I do. I wish you couldâve been there for the first few.â
With a deep breath, he replies, âMe too. Iâd give anything to go back and-â He takes another deep breath and shakes his head at himself. âIâll be there to pick you up in a few, okay?â
âSee you soon, Michael.â
âLo- See you, sweetheart.â
When you see Robby leaning against that goddamn minivan, you nearly jump his bones. Heâs wearing slim-cut jeans that make his thighs look like tree trunks, his white button-down is undone just enough to show off some chest hair, and heâs got on a fucking blazer. A blazer. The bastard. When did he start putting mousse in his hair to make it soâŚtousled? Touchable. You can just imagine grabbing it while you ride him into oblivion.
Robby canât suppress the very similar thoughts heâs having at seeing your outfit. Youâre wearing a tea-length floral skirt with a slouchy, oversized sweater half-tucked into it. You look so comfy. Something about how soft and domestic you look as you approach him with your lace-hemmed socks and your oversized travel mug of tea is driving him crazy. He sees his whole life walking toward him with a sleepy smile on her lips.
Trying not to gawk too hard, you eye him up and down and say, âMichael, you look-â sexy as all fuck â-very handsome.â
He puffs up his chest. âGotta look good; itâs my first time seeing my baby girl. I need to make a solid first impression.â
You roll your eyes, grinning as Robby pulls open the front door. âShe canât see you through my organs, babe.â
You donât notice the word slipping out, so Robby doesnât call attention to it. He just makes sure youâre buckled in and then sits on your other side with a glow in his gut. Then he reaches into his messenger bag in the backseat and hands over a king-sized Twix before starting the car and heading toward the hospital.
As you greedily open the wrapper, you hum, âWhat happened to Mr. Balanced Meal With Lots of Protein?â
âMr. Balanced Meal With Lots of Protein knows youâre having your favorite burger with bacon and an egg on it from your favorite dive for lunch, on me,â he replies, glancing at you knowingly over the tops of his too-sexy sunglasses. âThrow in a side of sweet potato fries and Iâm pretty sure science says that balances out a chocolate bar or two.â
You give a mock-salute with the half-eaten Twix. âWhatever you say, doctor.â
When Robby parks in his reserved spot near the ED, you both seem to realize the same thing at the same time. Robby stiffens up in his seat and offers, âIâm sorry; I wasnât thinking. I can, ah, drop you off at the main entrance and meet you inside?â
You turn to him with one of those soft, shy smiles that made his heart stammer every time he looked your way when you started in the Pitt. âItâs okay. Really. I mean, youâre gonna be on paternity leave in at most ten weeks, so itâs not exactly a secret, right?â
âFair point,â he concedes. âYou know theyâre gonna make it a whole thing, right?â
âOf course I do.â
âThere might even be cake by the time weâre done.â
âGod forbid.â
âAlright, fuck it.â Robby kills the engine and then walks around to your side of the van, helping you get your footing. âLetâs announce our lovechild to the world.â
âThey probably already know; Trinity isnât the most tight-lipped person,â you reason as he guides you with a large hand on the small of your back. It feels too protective and grounding for you to even pretend to protest.
âJack didnât know until I told him.â
âBecause heâs such a notorious gossip.â
Robby canât even respond because, as soon as youâre through the staff entrance, Danaâs staring straight forward at the two of you. Without moving her eyes from your stomach, she beelines your direction and gasps. After wrapping you up in a a warm hug, she looks you over and, disbelieving, mutters, âHoly hell, you are extremely pregnant.â
âNot extremely,â you balk as if itâs a ridiculous idea, â30 weeks.â
Dana seems to notice Robbyâs presence and she narrows her eyes suspiciously, running the numbers in her head. âThirty weeks, eh? Is that a new Robinavitch sheâs growing?â
You absolutely beam when Robby blushes like a middle schooler. He confirms, âYeah, that would be my little girl.â
âA girl!â Dana hugs both of you again and then looks at you seriously. âThis one treating you like you deserve? Groveling profusely?â
âYes, mom.â
âGood. As he should.â
Robby cuts in gently, âWeâve got an appointment upstairs, so we need to try to get through the floor to the elevator without too many interruptions.â
âYeah, good fuckinâ luck with that,â Dana laughs as she gestures to the buzzing crowd gathering around the nurseâs station to get a look at you and Robby. âHave fun, lovebirds.â
Your cheeks are burning hot, so you poke Robby in the side and murmur, âCan you do one of your magical Dr. Robby speeches to make them go away? I donât do well with public interrogations.â
âYour wish is my command,â he assures you quietly, pressing a kiss to your temple. In the nerves of the moment, you want to turn and nuzzle your face into the comfort of his broad chest.
Then Robby claps loud a few times until the handful of free doctors and nurses gather up, including a deeply amused Jack, Trinity, and Whitaker. He announces in his Big Serious Attending voice, âAlright guys, a handful of things to stop-slash-start the rumor mill. One: Yes, Iâm wearing a blazer; pictures are $45 a pop. Two: Yes, your former APRN is heavily pregnant. Three: Yes, it is my baby. Four: Iâm in a period of repentance to regain her favor after being an ass for the last six months, but weâre figuring it out. Finally: The buy-in for the due date betting pool starts at $25; Iâm not skimping out on my firstborn. Any follow-up questions can be directed to the admirable godmother Dr. Trinity Santos. Got it?â
Whitaker gives a charming little whoop and starts off the clapping, joined quickly by everyone else. As Robby accepts a handful of congratulations, Jack pulls you into a strong hug and looks you in the eyes, serious and stern as ever. Thereâs an undeniable warmth in the twitch of his lips, though, as he tells you, âHeâs got you, kid. I know he does. He loves you to death and he knows he fucked up.â
You squeeze his bicep gently. âThanks, Dr. Abbot.â
âNo problem.â Then he points at your bump and adds, âThatâs Uncle Jackie to you, miss.â
You blink back hormonal tears as you laugh. âUncle Jackie, huh?â
He grins and boasts, âI was born to be an irresponsible but lovable bad influence uncle. That girl is gonna have the biggest and most annoying family of doctors and nurses.â
The baby gives you a swift kick in the bladder like she heard him say it. You place your hand over the ginger spot and smile. âYeah, she will. Weâre lucky.â
And suddenly so much love washes through your body youâre not sure you can hold it all. When you watch Robby absolutely glowing talking about becoming a dad, you know this is right. Heâs the right man for you. For her. Youâre swept up into the collection of hugs and congratulations, too, but you canât stop watching Robbyâs smile lines. The way he checks in with you every time he laughs. The way heâs looking at you not like a girlfriend or a baby mama but like the sun of his solar system.
Robby tucks you under his arm easily and calls, âAlright, alright, we have an ultrasound to get to, people, letâs back off the pregnant lady. You all have lives to save and baby shower gifts to buy.â
You giggle under your breath as he leads you to the elevator. âBaby shower gifts. Please.â
âWhat? You donât want a shower?â
âI just donât know who would put it together; I donât really have the time.â
Robby scoffs, âAs if either of us could physically stop the nurses from throwing one now that the catâs out of the bag.â
âGood point,â you concede, trying to suppress the smile that wonât stop threatening your cheeks.
Maybe itâs just luck or maybe itâs the presence of one of the hospitalâs more important doctors standing behind you, but youâre in the exam room with Robby holding your hand within a few minutes of checking in. The OB attending, Dr. Montgomery, arrives shortly after your vitals are taken.
Sheâs borderline glaring after she greets you and extends a hand to Robby. âDr. Robinavitch, good to see you back at the hospital after so long away.â
âGood to be back,â he replies carefully, shaking her hand. âIâm guessing youâve been given a harsh but fair view of me the past few months.â
âThat would be an accurate assessment, doctor.â
Robby does that thing where he kind of hunches his broad shoulder to seem smaller and more approachable. Itâs what he does when heâs hiding from Gloria or talking to a little old lady with chlamydia. He insists, âCall me Michael, please.â
âWeâll see.â
You snicker, âAddie, I promise heâs putting the work in.â
âFine. Claws away while we say hi to baby girl.â Dr. Montgomery preps the ultrasound station as you get your clothes tucked out of the way. As she applies the warmed gel and manuevers the wand, she tells you, mostly addressing Robby since he wasnât there for the other appointments, âShe was a little small at our last scan, so Iâm gonna take a few extra measurements to track her progress.â
Robby nods slowly and stares at the back of the ultrasound monitor like he can see through it and gather information. âHas there been anything else on the scans I need to know about?â
You gaze up at him while Dr. Montgomery takes her notes. âNope, sheâs been a total champ. Iâm the problem between the two of us.â
Robby strokes your hair with his other hand; you can tell itâs more to soothe himself than you, so you let him. âWhat does that mean?â
You lean into his touch unconsciously and reply, âIâm just anemic; I passed out early on. Thatâs how I found out I was pregnant in the first place.â
Guilt skewers Robby like an ice pick. âYouâre taking iron now?â
You roll your eyes. âAnd eating spinach and letting handsome baby daddies buy me burgers.â
Robbyâs ensuing smile is cute and proud. Dr. Montgomery looks up from the ultrasound and happily announces, âBaby girlâs growth has gotten much better since your last vosot. Sheâs no longer small for her gestational age and is now firmly average. Good work, mom. Have you been adding more protein and healthy fats to your diet like I suggested?â
When Robby opens his mouth to speak, you narrow your eyes at him an say, âMichael Robinavitch I will strangle you right now with my bare hands if you say âI told you so.ââ
He chuckles and gives your hand a squeeze. âI would never. Iâm just glad to hear our girlâs healthy â and not a bowling ball. I was 11 pounds.â
You cringe at the thought. âLucky she takes after me on that front.â
So softly it sounds more like a prayer, Robby asks, âCan we see her now?â
Flipping the monitor around with a smile, Dr. Montgomery replies, âYeah, of course. Thereâs her side profile; sheâs perfectly posed for us. Iâll turn on the doppler, too.â
Robby leans forward and looks at the screen. Something cracks open in his chest as the babyâs heartbeat fills the room, whooshing fast and steady. He lets out a tiny, barely audible whimper. Your eyes fly up to his and you see the tears flooding down his pink cheeks as he gazes at his daughter wriggling around on the monitor.
You squeeze his hand and he gasps a tiny bit like he just remembered youâre there. âIsnât she beautiful?â
âSheâs perfect,â he breathes softly. Then he presses his lips to the top of your head and takes a trembling breath. Even his softest whisper trembles. âHow could I ever leave you? I canât believe I let myself miss this. Youâre so fucking perfect. So strong. I love you so much.â
Tears thicken your throat as you lean up to press your forehead to his, sniffling out, âMikey.â
He starts to cry in earnest, then, and you reach up to hold him. Your arms tangle together and your tears stain each otherâs shoulders and thereâs nothing but future in the places where your bodies touch.
Things get easier between you and Robby after that. You find yourself asking him for more and more trivial things just to see him and hear his voice. Your phone calls turn from a few sentences to a few minutes to an hour or more if you catch each other at a good time. He takes you shopping for baby clothes and even pretends to have an opinion about different fabrics when you ask. He stocks up on diapers, helps with your labor go bag, and does absolutely everything in his power to take the mental load off your shoulders.
From that new closeness, a quiet tension emerges. As you reach week 32 of your pregnancy, the shared knowledge of your needing to move hangs over you both, unspoken but omnipresent. Robby hasnât pushed the issue yet, but you know itâs going to reach a tipping point.
That day comes during the worst rainstorm of the year one gloomy day in October. Itâs your day off, so youâre treating yourself to a shopping spree when the rain starts. The forecast had only been for a light drizzle, so you were comfortable leaving the apartment in something cozy with an umbrella and rain boots. But the light drizzle turned torrential while you were inside a baby boutique on the other side of town.
Meanwhile, the heavy, dark, oppressive thunderstorm has the ED swamped. All the attendings are on staff to handle the onslaught of car accidents, falls, and asthma attacks. As heâs supervising Mohanâs work on an elderly womanâs obliterated tibia, his phone vibrates in his pocket.
While closing another line of sutures, Samira asks over her shoulder, âIs that mama?â
Robby slips his phone out just long enough to check. âShit, yes, it is. She wouldnât call me during weather like this if it wasnât important. Do you mind if I-â
Mohan chuckles, âI think Mrs. Frost and I have this handled. Go save your woman from her aching feet or lack of chocolate bars.â
Robby gives the patient an apologetic smile and excuses himself. He ducks around the nearest quiet-ish corner where the hospitalâs chaos lowers to a dull roar and manages to pick up right before it goes to voicemail. âHey, sweetheart, whatâs going on?â
He can hear you crying on the other side, the sound barely coming through the rain. âCan you come pick me up?â
Robby half-jogs toward the locker room, already stripping off his trauma gown and dodging questions from his fellow doctors as he goes. âWhere are you?â
âA bus stop in East Liberty,â you sniffle out. âThe buses are all delayed because of the weather and I tried to get ahold of Trinity but she didnât pick up and Iâm soaking wet and freezing and I canât-â
âBreathe for me, honey. Itâs okay. Iâve got you.â Robby can hear the shivering and the tears and the panic in your voice and his gut clenches up in pain. He spares a glance outside and sees that the rain is still a deluge, the clouds dark and murky above and the ground shiny and slick with oil leeching out below. Lightning strikes and thunder claps. âWhich bus stop?â
As you tell him, he dumps his trauma gown, rummages through his things, and grabs his keys and his gym bag, which at least has a towel and some dry clothes. âIâll be there in ten minutes, okay? Is there somewhere warm and dry you can wait for me?â
âI- I donât know. Iâm all frazzled,â you admit. He can feel your reluctance to tell him, but you canât stop it from spilling out through the crackling rain. âThere was this guy who wouldnât leave me alone, asking all these gross questions about my boyfriend or whatever and I just ran to the closest public spot I could find.â
Anger flares in Robbyâs chest. He scribbles out a note and hands it to Dana as he passes the nurseâs station, barely pausing to see her reaction â just long enough to see her annoyed but supportive nod â before he shoves out of the door into the rain. âAre you alone now? Are you safe?â
âIâm okay, just- just kinda scared and tired and- and-â
âBreathe, baby, breathe. Iâm getting in the car right now.â
A few beats pass with nothing but the rain in Robbyâs ears. Then your meek, nervous voice: âWould you stay on the phone with me?â
âOf course.â He guns the engine and peels out of the parking lot, careful but quick. âIâm right here with you. Just keep talking and the timeâll pass. Tell me about what you were doing. Shopping for something fun?â
âYeah, I was.â You sniffle again and try to smile. âI bought this, um, this handmade baby wrap carrier thing. Itâs really soft and, like, this quilted fabric that I think would be really comfy for her.â
âYou gonna teach me how to baby wear like all the hip dads are doing?â
âDefinitely.â You actually let out a small laugh as you tell him, âThe whole âbig man carrying babyâ thing is very sexy. Iâm sure itâll help you pick up chicks at the grocery store.â
Robby snorts. âYou know perfectly well there are only two chicks Iâm interested in picking up the rest of my life.
âRest of your life, huh?â
âIf theyâll have me.â He makes a turn and spots you huddling beneath a leaky bus stop shelter. âAlright, Iâm only a minute away now, but I might be late because I have to stop and offer the most gorgeous woman Iâve ever seen a ride, okay? Sheâs soaking wet and very pregnant and dressed inappropriately for the weather.â Robby pulls up to the curb and pushes your door open as he hangs up the phone. âHey, stranger, can I give you a lift?â
You slide into the car next to him, your eyes puffy from crying and your hair disastrous from the rain. As you buckle in, you pout and observe, âYou turned on the seat warmers for me.â
âI also brought you a threadbare towel and a hoodie; Iâm a real gentleman,â he replies as he opens up his gym bag in the backseat and hands them off.
Gratefully toweling off your hair and tucking yourself under the hoodie, you smile and nudge him. âYeah, actually, you are.â
Robby gives your knee a quick squeeze and pulls the car into traffic, heading back toward the highway. You gradually begin to feel like a person instead of a pregnant popsicle.
Teeth still chattering a bit, you manage to get out, âIâm sorry for interrupting you at work; Iâm sure things are swamped there.â
Despite the fact that his phoneâs been ringing non-stop since he left, Robby replies earnestly, âNothingâs more important to me than your safety.â He swallows hard and apologizes for himself, âIâm sorry for calling you baby on the phone; I wasnât thinking. I heard you upset and I just went on autopilot.â
You tell him softly, âItâs okay, Michael.â
âIs it?â
âYeah, it really is,â you murmur back. âYou missed the exit, by the way.â
Robby shakes his head. âIâm taking you back to my place; you need a warm bath and a hot meal and to sleep for twelve hours uninterrupted in a king size bed.â
You avert your eyes and admit, âThat sounds really nice, Mikey.â
âI like hearing you call me that again,â he says gently. âThank you.â
âThank me by ordering me some orange chicken while I take a bubble bath.â
Robby chuckles, âYes, maâam.â
As soon as Robby has you inside, heâs helping you strip your exhausted, pruny body and drawing you a silky bath. As he collects some of his old comfy clothes for you to wear from his closet, you call out from the tub, âWould you actually make that matzo ball soup that you made when you gave me mono?â
âI did not give you mono,â he laughs, âbut I will absolutely make you some nourishing comfort food.â
He can hear the teasing eye roll in your voice as you call back, âYou had mono. You made out with me. I then had mono. Who the hell do you think I got it from?â
âAlright, whatever.â Robby sets down the clothes on the counter and points at you seriously. âDonât you dare try to get out of that tub without my help, missy. Iâll be back once Iâve got the soup boiling.â
You smile at him fondly and bat your eyelashes. âYes, sir.â
âDonât play dirty with me.â
âI would never.â You sink deeper into the bubbles and sigh contentedly, âIâm more than happy to stay in here and turn myself into a little matzo ball.â
He leans down and kisses the top of your head. âGood girl.â
âNow whoâs playing dirty?â
âI would never.â
Robby slips out of the bathroom and you justâŚrelax. While Robby takes care of you. While he waits on you.
God.
God.
Between the bubbles and the bergamot bath oil, the tension and nerves leave. The sound of the storm outside becomes white noise. From downstairs, the smell of rich schmaltzy chicken broth wafts into your nose and you feel settled. Held. By the time Robby returns to the bathroom, you know, deep down in your bones, that youâve forgiven him.
Robby helps you out of the tub and wraps you up in a fluffy robe he mustâve been warming in the dryer for you. Then he grabs a tube of lotion, sits down on the bed, and gestures for you to join him. While he tends to your feet and legs, he pleads with you, âMove in here, sweetheart, please. I canât- I canât function not knowing if youâre okay. Not knowing where the babyâs going to be sleeping and not knowing if I can be there for her and for you and-â
âMichael.â Itâs a whisper, a tender one at that. âI donât want to feel like Iâm trying to fit into your life.â
âI donât want to make you feel that way; I swear.â He kisses your hand a few times and then takes a deep breath. âIâd like to apologize now. If youâd let me.â
You nod slowly and try to ignore the tears that rise to your waterline. âIâm ready. Go ahead.â
âThank you.â After a deep breath, Robby starts, âLook, Iâm not going to apologize for leaving. I needed to leave. I needed to-â He gestures wide and begging as he searches for the right words. âI needed to grow up. I know Iâm a little old for that, but I think itâs the closest thing to true. Iâm sorry I told you instead of talking it through. Iâm sorry I went radio silent. But honestly?âÂ
Suddenly he reaches out and cups your cheek in his large hand. His palm is warm and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. With his thumb stroking your skin, he finishes, âWhat Iâm the most sorry for is that I didnât ask you to come with me. Every sunset, every motel mattress, every wide open highway wouldâve been so much better if I shared them with you.â
He presses his forehead to yours and murmurs, âI swear Iâll spend every single one with you from now on. Iâll be there for every birthday, every Chrismukkah, every fucking thing you want me at. Nothing has ever or will ever matter to me more than being your husband. The father of our children. So tell me what you want. Tell me every single thing you want for you and for me and for the baby and youâll have it. Because I love you more than my stupid bike and more than my career and more than everything Iâve ever had. You are everything now.â
The air sparks like the lightning outside. For a full minute, itâs you and itâs Robby and itâs the storm.
Then you lean forward. You hold Robbyâs face with both hands and search his golden brown eyes. His heart pounds in his ears. His lungs are tight and screaming.
And you kiss him.
Itâs slow, so gentle, and heâs holding his breath. Then reality seems to settle softly on his shoulders and he smiles against your lips, slides his hands onto your waist, thumbs affectionate on your bump, and kisses you back. When you pull away only slightly, you inform him, âI want a house with a yard. One that I get a say in. Further from the city. I want a safe, sensible family car for myself. No black interior. Light brown. I want a big fat diamond ring. Four carats minimum. I want sex at least three times a week. Six orgasms for me as a baseline. And I want a husband who works at most 50 hours.â
Robby gazes at you with watery eyes. âOkay.â
You smack him on the chest and laugh, ââOkayâ? I was trying to be unreasonable, Michael!â
âWell Iâm being serious. Letâs move to the suburbs and have a huge wedding and fuck whenever you want. Iâve got savings to get us through as long as we need. Iâll start my own practice, slow down, buy a grill, join the PTA, the whole nine yards.â
You roll your eyes and scoff, âDonât be ridiculous.â
âIâm not,â he assures seriously. âIf youâre taking me back and making me a dad, you can be a hell of a lot more unreasonable than asking me to put my family first.â
âFine.â You cross your arms over your chest and try not to grin. âI want a puppy.â
Robby grips his heart like youâve stabbed him. âIf you really want one â when the babyâs old enough that I wonât have a panic attack having a dog around her.â
âDeal.â You rest your forearms on his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. âI want you to mow the lawn shirtless on Saturday mornings.â
He melts under your touch and smiles. âOkay.â
You lean in closer, a smile of your own breaking out. âAnd I want my own craft room in the house.â
Glancing down at your lips, he promises once again, âOkay.â
âI want a hot tub.â
âOkay.â
âAnd a soaking tub.â
âOkay.â
âManicures every other week. A tropical vacation every summer. Two more babies in the next ten years.â
âOkay, okay-â he kisses you again, soft and warm and unhurried â-very okay.â
Your hand slides down his chest and toys with the hem of his tee. You watch his stomach twitch and his chest gasp upwards as you purr, âAnd I want you to fuck me. Right now.â
Robbyâs lips return to yours. Urgent now. He pulls you into his lap and drags kisses up your neck, tasting your clean skin and your pulse beneath him. His breath is hot and his every touch â slipping the robe from your shoulders, lazing his fingers along your arms, kissing the shell of your ear â is an act of worship. At last, he murmurs against your lips, âOkay.â
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summary: Sometimes love shows up wrapped in a hospital blanket.
warnings/content: post season 2, BABY JANE DOE! past situationship/friends with benefits, second chance romance, semi-public sex, angst, everyone needs a hug
a/n: this felt like a goddamn exorcism, enjoy my pain; heart divider by me
He hadnât booty called you in years, and you hadnât seen him in a few months. Things were busy - for him, not so much you. You were better off, he never was. He would always go away and come back like a cat with a bird in his mouth.
So when his ID came up on your phone screen, you half expected he butt-dialed you. It was the night of July 5th, and you were taking it easy, sipping a beer on your couch as you watched TV.Â
There were new things to watch, but this was an old episode of The Sopranos, and you were only half listening. You picked up your phone beside you and answered.
âHello?â
You knew you sounded tentative, but Robby was not.
âHey. I know itâs been a while.â
âYeah,â you murmured. You paused your TV.Â
âI need you to come by my place, but you canât tell anyone about it, ever.â
When you and Robby used to hook up, it was an open secret, you felt. You frowned in confusion, alone in your living room.
âOkay.â
âI mean it, you canât tell anyone about this.â
âAre you okay?â you asked, partly because he hadnât asked about you, and partly because you could hear how serious he was.
He wasnât tiptoeing around bringing you over for a quickie and a catchup. You hadnât hoped for that. In the last year heâd cooled off a lot, and you hadnât pursued. It was better that way, you figured.Â
âRobby,â you prompted, when he didnât answer.Â
You suspected he muted his phone. You cleared your throat, checking the time on your phone.Â
âIâll be there in a bit. Hold on.â
You threw on some shoes, picked up your keys and grabbed your purse on your way out. The night air was stifling, and you began to sweat the second you slipped into your car and readied yourself to leave.Â
Whatever Robbyâs crisis was, you wondered why he chose you to call. As you drove, your thoughts drifted to the past, as they always did when it came to Robby.
In no time, you were pulling up to his house. There was no sign of his motorcycle, only confusing you more. You wasted no time, walking to his front door, ringing the doorbell.
From within, you heard Robby call out that it was open. You let yourself in, looking around his hallway. Nothing unusual.Â
His grandmotherâs menorah sat where it always had on the mantelpiece. You walked through to the living room, and then froze.
âIs that a baby?â
He turned for you to have a better look. He held a swaddled newborn.Â
âNah, itâs a cat,â he retorted.Â
You stepped forward, tossing your bag aside. The baby looked alert, unlike Robby. His eyes were creased more than usual, his hair sticking up a bit.Â
âSheâs from the hospital,â he murmured, as you approached, fingers lifted to stroke the babyâs cheek. âBaby Jane Doe. She got left in a bathroom yesterday morning.â
âThey canât find the mom?â you asked, and Robby shook his head.
âNot so far.â
âWerenât you leaving yesterday?â you asked, and he glanced at you. âDana told me, last time we spoke. I hadnât seen you, like you saidâŚâ
You didnât mean it as a dig, and you hoped he knew that. He looked down at the baby again.
âI⌠changed my mind. At least until Monday. And my buddy Dukeâs having surgery soonââ
âWhat?â you asked, having met Duke in passing. âIs he okay?â
Robby didnât elaborate, shaking his head grimly. You didnât press.Â
âWhat do you need?â you murmured.Â
âI have to pee,â he whispered, handing the baby off.Â
âYou⌠havenât peed?â you said, and he shook his head.
âI havenât wanted to put her down much today,â he said, stepping away.Â
As he retreated, you looked down at the baby, watching her watch you. She was light and somehow heavier than you expected. She smelt of the hospital, because of the blanket swaddling her. You held her to your chest.Â
âWhereâd you come from, little one?â you murmured.
Baby Jane Doe gave a little coo and you stroked her back.
âItâs okay, heâll be back soonâŚâ
Robby reappeared shortly, breathing a sigh of relief.Â
âThank you. I have to go get my bike, I left it at PTMC,â he said, hurrying around. He patted his pants for his keys, his wallet. âI got an Uber here yesterday, after the first guy cancelled. He didnât want to drive us here without a carseatâŚâ
âMakes sense,â you murmured. âIs that why you called me, to borrow my car?â
He paused, blinking at you. âUh, yeah.â
âOkay,â you said, nodding, and he nodded back at you.
He got your keys from your bag and he took a deep breath.
âI will be back. Sheâs due for a bottle. Formulaâs in the kitchen.â
You nodded. He came over, looking down at the baby.
âIâll see you soon.â
He softened entirely in her presence. You stared at him, then glanced away. As he left, you went into the kitchen with Baby Jane Doe and made a bottle for her.Â
It wasnât easy to do one handed, but you got there eventually. As she drank, you sat on Robbyâs couch. The TV wasnât on.Â
The house wasnât messy, like he truly had intended to leave for his soul quest or whatever Dana called it. Sabbatical.Â
You changed Baby Jane Doe, then swaddled her again. She began to drift off, and you sat in silence with her, wondering.Â
What if Robby wasnât coming back?Â
You didnât know why you feared that - if only for a brief moment. He wouldnât have brought the baby home, only to ditch you with her. Surely not.Â
He lacked commitment but he wasnât cruel, you knew that all too well.Â
Still, you bit your lip as you waited, starting to become concerned. You heard the motorbike coming down the street and glanced at the doorway, expectant, trying not to seem relieved when Robby appeared.
âIâm sorry, I had to make sure no-one saw me,â he said.
âRobby, what the fuck is going on?â you blurted.Â
The baby didnât flinch, but Robby stilled, as if caught, as if coming back to himself.
âYou donât see me for months - and itâs not like we left things on good terms-â
âI know that,â he cut in, which only made your incredulity rise.
âAnd now you demand I come over, keep it secret that you have a babyâ and what now? I go home and pretend this never happened?â
His face slackened. âI called you because youâre not there anymore. At the Pitt. You donâtâŚâ
He rolled his eyes, which were suddenly glassy. Your chest ached at the sight.Â
âRobby.â
âYou donât notice if I do something like this.â
âThatâs bullshit,â you retorted. âI notice. You just donât have to see me every day.â
âRight,â he admitted. âAnd you left.â
You always suspected he held that against you, leaving PTMC. He of all people knew the toll that place had on the people that worked there. Heâd never said it outright that he was mad at you about it, but you never felt as if you were forgiven.
âRobby, I wanted to kill myself,â you said, and he nodded.Â
-
You were a nurse. COVID was the worst time of your life, and in the aftermath was when Robby and you started to fool around more and more.
It wasnât cute. It was a means to an end a lot of the time, a stress relief exercise that never felt like enough. It didnât make it any easier for Robby to be around, because Adamson was gone and nothing on Earth could fix that.
You had seen so much death that eventually you had to get out, before you drove into a tree or stole medication to overdose. The ideas had been endless, a comfort at times, but the plan was never fully formed.Â
-
âWhere is she sleeping?â you asked, and Robby nodded towards the hallway.Â
âMy bed,â he said. âI set up some pillows and blankets.â
You got up from the couch, leading the way. The last time you were here, youâd left with tears streaming down your face.Â
You saw the setup - a cocooned little area in the middle of his bed, and you took her over to place her gently, breath held.
She didnât stir, and you looked at Robby.
âWhere are you sleeping?âÂ
âIâm not really,â he murmured, watching the baby from the doorway.Â
âSo I probably shouldnât have let you drive,â you said, and he nodded.
There wasnât a hint of sheepishness.
âProbably not.â
You walked back out, sitting on the couch together, a distinct space between you as you drew your legs in.
âI called you because you understand the importance of having a life,â he said, his words feeling sudden.Â
Your eyes met.Â
âOut of survival.â
âI had my sabbatical figured out,â he said. âAnd⌠I was about to jump on my bike and just ride and ride andâŚâ
You let him speak, your breath held.
His eyes fluttered and he grimaced.Â
âThen I went to see her one last time, and I⌠couldnât leave her there, I didnât want her to be alone.â
You swallowed. âWhat's your plan?â
âI figured she'd stay until Monday. And then we'll see about emergency foster care.â
Wasnât that already what he was doing? You nodded regardless, looking away. It was late. You couldnât shake the feeling that something was off, Robby wasnât okay. Youâd seen him like this before.
âI should get my car,â you murmured.
âIâll pay for it,â Robby said. âYour taxi. Or Uber. Do people take taxis anymore?â
âSometimes,â you said, brow lifting. âEither way, Iâm not staying the night.â
You watched as something passed over his face, maybe a memory. It was better for you to be direct than play games. You were too old for that shit anymore.
ââCourse,â he murmured.Â
He looked away, scratching his head.Â
âIâll see you in the morning, check on you both,â you said, making a move to leave.
You gathered your things, glancing over your shoulder at him.
âTry to sleep,â you said, even though you both knew he wouldnât.
-
You came back several hours later, arms full of carry bags. He let you in, Baby Jane Doe in his arms.Â
She was fast asleep, full of formula. Robbyâs eyes travelled over you and your haul.
âYour fridge was emptyâŚâ
He followed you into the kitchen, automatically defensive.
âI was meant to be gone-â
âI know,â you threw back, opening a carton of eggs you placed on his counter. âEither way, you needed food.â
âIâll pay you back-â
âShut up,â you said quietly, cracking an egg.Â
You made scrambled eggs with a couple helpings of toast, offering him a plateful. He devoured it eagerly, having handed you the baby.Â
You cuddled her to your chest. Once he was done, you nodded at the doorway.
âGo sleep.â
âThank you,â he said softly, rising from his chair.Â
You ignored how your stomach flipped. You knew this was what made Robby easy to be friends with. He could be kind. But you were keeping him further away from you than usual. You needed boundaries this time, physical space, too.
Baby Jane Doe was easy to be around, too. She was a chill baby, from your experience. Not that you had any of your own, but over the years youâd known sick and distraught rugrats, and she couldnât be further from that. Robby mentioned her being a little sick, but her cold had all but evaporated.Â
A little more than an hour went by until Robby came back, looking rumpled. He noticed the bags on the floor by the couch and frowned.Â
He lifted up a striped onesie, its limbs teeny weeny and irresistible when you saw it at the store.
âWhatâŚ?â
âShe needs more clean clothes,â you retorted. âI donât know what your laundry situation is like these days.â
âItâs fine, thanks,â he said. âIâm not totally pathetic.â
You recalled him throwing on whatever was clean and making it work. The same favorite work pants, the same belt. You loved that belt, how it sounded when he undid it, how heâd gasp when you did him the favor, unable to keep the excitement inside.
âNot totally,â you said. You shifted, rubbing the babyâs back. âShe needs it, Robby.â
âYeahâŚâ
You lapsed into silence, and it was surprisingly-not-so-surprisingly easy. You used to do this for hours, for years. Some part of you thought maybe this would be hard, but it wasnât.
It was so tempting, all of it. So familiar, even with a baby in your arms, which had never been part of the plan, if there ever was a plan with you two.
âAre you seeing anyone?â
You stared at him. âRobbyâŚâ
âYouâre right, thatâs not my business anymore-â
âIâm not,â you cut in, and he shut his mouth. âBut youâre right, itâs not your business who Iâm sleeping with anymore.â
âI didnât say anything about sex.â
âWhat is the difference, Robby?â you said, with a roll of your eyes. âWhat is the difference?â
âThatâs fair,â he said.
-
The lack of boundaries between you often led to fooling around at work, one way or another. It wasnât unsanitary, but certainly an HR issue that thankfully had never come to fruition.
On a particular shift, heâd been grumpy and you talked back, having had enough of him taking his emotions out on you. Dana had called him out for less, so it being you for once meant heâd really pissed you off.Â
He followed you into the hallway, lowering his voice to a hiss.
âHey, you canât talk to me like that in front of a patient-â
âAnd you canât, either!â you snapped back, wrenching your arm out of his grip. âDonât follow me.â
He did anyway, because you knew he would, you were stalking off to the on-call room.Â
âYou need to cool down-â
He shut the door behind him, and you whirled around, glaring.
âIâm not the one whoâs had their head up their ass all day, Dr. Robinavich-â
He cut you off with a kiss, hand searching blindly for the light switch. The room darkened instantly and you moaned, his tongue invading your mouth.
He backed you into the wall and spun you around.Â
âYâknow what I think?â he whispered, and his hands were on your hips, shoving your scrubs down to your knees along with your underwear.Â
âWhat?â you mumbled, trying to be annoyed still.Â
âI think you need my dick inside you every once in a while to calm downâŚâ
It felt like the air was punched out of you a second later when he followed through with his cock stuffing your cunt, your teeth grit from the force of him.Â
âRobbyâŚâ
He pulled you way back by the neck, kissing your forehead. He set a punishing rhythm.Â
âRobby, donât stop,â you moaned.Â
You wanted it messy and chaotic, you wanted every ugly part of him and then some. You wanted to be full of his come all day, a secret buried inside you. You wanted to stink of him. You wanted to remember every sound he made, and every pulse of his cock when he lost all control.
âI love fucking you so much,â he panted, sounding a little delirious.
âFuck- fuckââ
Later, he apologized for how rough he was, only to have to blush and say you liked it a lot, and then he really had no idea what to do with himself.Â
-
You went for a walk with Robby and Baby Jane Doe. He held her, her eyes taking in the world.Â
You knew babies of her age couldnât see that far, but the sounds and colors would still amaze her. You watched her marvel at it all; the neighborsâ yards, the mailboxes. The sky and the trees and the passing cars.
Everything so ordinary but all so new and wonderful.Â
âSheâs loving this,â you said, and Robby smiled.
You walked until you got to a playground and sat on a bench.
âThings are already upside down,â he said, and you nodded.
It was like your conversations were converging, nothing quite finished.Â
âWhitaker was gonna housesit, I told him about needing to stay for DukeâŚâ
Robby shook his head.Â
âNothing is ever set in stone, you know that,â you said, and he nodded.
He looked beyond exhausted, the kind of tired you recognized in yourself. You bit your lip.
âRobby, itâs gonna be okay.â
With his thousand yard stare, you could only hope for a nod, but instead he started talking and you knew he couldnât stop himself even if he tried.Â
âI wasnât easy to be around on the 4th. Iâve been dealing with⌠my own shit, and I canât just walk away from it for three months. But I canât stay.â
He looked at Baby Jane Doe whose hand curled around his finger, squeezing.Â
âMy mom left me. When I was a kid.â
Your heart sank, everything suddenly coming together. Whenever you spoke of family, he only ever mentioned his grandparents. You assumed all his family was dead.
âIâm sorry I never knew that,â you said.Â
Robby pressed on. âI was eight. I donât⌠People donât know that. They donât have to.â
Your eyes stung. âGod, thatâs so lonely.â
He gave a short, wet chuckle. âUh, yeah. It is.â
You reached for his hand the baby wasnât holding and squeezed hard. You sniffed.
âRobby, Iâm sorry I left. I didnât want to, but I had to. And you have to forgive me.â
He glanced at you, frowning. âOf course. God, I was never angry with you. Sometimes I wished I went with you.â
You didnât know how to take that. A part of you revelled at the significance you had. You also knew that you were a mess then, genuinely a danger to yourself.
âYou already decided, didnât you? On the 4th.â
âYeah,â he rasped.
âAnd youâve decided now, too, huh?â
He looked at the baby, nodding again. He sniffled.
I'm not jealous ââ jack abbot
jack abbot x social worker!reader.
summary: the thing between you and jack is unoffical, but you're practically together. you just aren't ready for a real relationship yet. that is until you see the new dayshift fellow hanging off of him. not that you're jealous. he's not your boyfriend. but you don't like it. does he?
content warnings: mention of HLHS (hypoplastic left heart syndrome). lowkey jealous reader. lil angst. fluff. bad writing lol. lowkey implied fem reader. unimplied age gap, late 20s/early50s.
authors notes: first fic since my wattpad days. pls be nice im trying again, hope you like it! inspired by @/creativewritingpromptsforwriting no. #668. and so many thanks to bee for her support @geminiwritten ily queen.
word count: 3277
As a paediatric social worker, there are times where patients or frequent flyers, as theyâre sometimes called by their regular physicians, make their way to emergency. Often enough, youâll get a call to come and visit them, doctor or family request.Â
Which is the case right now. Youâve just been called down to see a family youâve built rapport with over the last couple years. The child is three with hospital anxiety, with so many admissions across his life due to his HLHS (hypoplastic left heart syndrome). His parents are always anxious too, which is more than understandable.Â
Youâd been chatting with them for a good ten minutes now. Though you decided to give the family some time to talk, taking notice they were overwhelmed and needed some space. You bid them farewell, promising to check in later.Â
You exited the room, closing the door behind you gently, not to startle the child. Taking a few steps, you noticed the new fellow particularly close to your unofficial partner. Youâd heard about a new emergency fellow being hired but since emergency isnât technically your department, you hadnât met her yet.Â
You studied the scene for a moment, debating if you should worry about it or not. Their bodies were turned to face each other, laughing for whatever reason. A pit formed in your stomach, a mix of nerves tangling like a web.Â
Jack had informed you that heâd be here earlier than normal, picking up additional hours before his shift since theyâd needed the hands earlier. So seeing him wasnât a shock. But the scene youâd been subjected to was. The new dayshift fellow was standing closer than youâd appreciate.Â
It didn't help that she was gorgeous. Soft brown doe-eyes sparkling tracing traced Jackâs face as he spoke. Matching chestnut brown hair pulled up into a ponty-tail, dimpled-smile widened at whatever he was saying.Â
You subtly watched as she gently placed her hand on his arm, your fingers tightening slightly on your notebook. He subtly moved out of her reach, creating a bit more space between them. Smart move, you thought as your fingers loosened their grip. Not that you have a claim, per se.Â
Snapping out of your momentary stare, you made your way towards Mohan, whoâs taking care of your patient. She was at the opposite end of the nurses station from where they were was.Â
âHey, Samira.â You said, capturing her attention as you slid up beside her. She looked over at you with a smile from the computer screen, diverting her attention from her charting. âEvan, bed 6, HLHS kid? Just spoke with him and his parents. Theyâre okay. Anxious. But theyâre used to the routine.â
âTheyâll likely ask for cardiology to come down. I did tell them I'm not sure when theyâll be available but I thought itâd let you know.â You continued, wanting and needing her to know about the conversation youâd just had with them. Especially since itâll be afterhours shortly, where consultation wait times are longer. âThereâs no risk of escalation but they might get stressed and argumentative. Thatâs what usually happens when theyâre anxious.â
She nodded as you spoke, taking in what you were saying. Sheâs more empathetic than most doctors. You think itâs a good quality.Â
âAwesome. Thank you.â She replied with a thankful smile, relieved that theyâre somewhat alright. âI was a bit worried, you know? Hospital visits canât get much easier.â
âYeah, itâs hard. I donât know if the anxiety ever goes away.â You sighed softly, having had many patients over the years with chronic illnesses. Always breaks your heart. âBut theyâre doing the best they can.â
âThey are.â Mohan agreed softly, feeling for the family.Â
There was a beat of silence and your eyes flickered over the department, eventually landing on Jack again. The fellow had respected the distance heâd made before but she was still batting her eyelashes at him. He either seemed to be ignoring it or not paying attention, just continuing the conversation.Â
âIs there anything else you need while I'm here?â You questioned, quickly looking back at Mohan, tapping your fingers against the bench.Â
âNo, donât think so.â She informed you, though picked up on the slight shift in demeanour. Her eyes glanced over to where you had been looking. Her head tilted slightly as she looked at you, a curious glint in her eyes.Â
âWhat?â You asked, eyebrows slightly raised at the look she gave you. Your fingers halt their movements. She just raised her eyebrows at you in return, the corner of her lips quirk up.
âDonât give me that look.â You scoff quietly, though held no heat. You have an idea of what sheâs thinking.Â
âNo look.â She defended, raising her hands in faux-defence. She grinned, leaning her forearms on the bench and leant closer to you. âYou donât have to glare at them.â
âI wasnât glaring.â You narrowed your eyes at her, albeit playfully. Okay, maybe you were kinda glaring. But you hadnât intended on doing it outloud. Just in your mind.Â
âTell that to your eyes.â She grinned, amused by your attempt to deny it. It was subtle but she caught your glare. Her eyes flickered across the station, studying the scene like you had earlier.Â
âYouâve got nothing to worry about.â Mohan assured you softly, eyes back on you. She gave you a soft smile and nudged your shoulder gently. âHe absolutely adores you.â
You softly chuckled, eyes flicking to your hands and back to her. You knew she was right. Logically, anyways. He adored you as much you as you adored him. But that doesnât ease the pit in your stomach.Â
âDoesnât mean I want another woman flirting with him.â You murmured, as if speaking any louder would reveal your insecurities. Technically youâre not in a relationship. Itâs known across the department, the thing between you and Jack.Â
âThatâs fair.â She said softly, nodding gently in understanding. Sheâd likely feel the same if she were in your shoes. Before she could say anything else, she noticed movements out of the corner of her eye. Her head snapped to see Jack heading towards the two of you with the fellow trailing close behind him as he spoke.
You noticed that he was heading in your direction, gently nudging Mohan to signal they were on their way. You couldnât hear what he was saying until heâd reached you and you heard your name.
Your head turned, seeing the two now besides Mohan since she was on the side closer to where they had previously been. You gave a tense smile as Jack continued.
âSheâs one of the peds social workers from upstairs.â Jack informed the new fellow, introducing your role to her. She hadnât met you, so it makes sense. You have a small wave, which grants you a smile from her.Â
His eyes flickered back to you, lips flitting into a softer smile. Some tension released in your shoulders at his smile, your own smile softening. One soft smile from him and youâre putty. Thatâs either pathetic or painfully sweet.Â
âOur new fellow, Catherine.â He nodded towards the woman, introducing her to you. Our should not have made you jealous. Itâs not night shift so technically sheâd be Robbyâs fellow. Not that youâre going to voice that. You donât want to come off as jealous. Even if you might be.Â
âNice to meet you. Iâm not down here very often.â You noted keeping your voice light, eyes flickering between the two. Itâs true, itâs rare youâre down here. Not that youâre entirely sure the information was relevant.Â
âYou too. Social workers are great.â Catherine commented, not seemingly very invested in the topic. She was trying to be nice, youâre sure of it. Her attention was still focused on Jack.Â
You nodded in acknowledgment, not having a response for her. Not every doctor finds social workers important. Most here do, which is fortunate.Â
âOne of your kids here?â Jack queried, tilting his head slightly. Heâd picked up on the hint of tension in your demeanour. It was barely noticeable, no one wouldâve really picked up on it, but he knows you too well.
âYeah.â You confirmed with a small nod, letting that be the reason why your demeanour was slightly off. You figured heâd have noticed it. It was almost annoying how well he could read you. âCardiac kid, Mohanâs got it covered.âÂ
You gestured towards the woman besides you, aiming for the attention to be off of you. Though, she opted to take that as her chance to leave.Â
âIâll actually go check on them now.â Mohan decided, giving the three of you a smile. Her eyes landed on you before she wandered off, gaze slightly apologetic but relieved. Your eyes followed her in betrayal as she practically scampered away. Traitor.
Your attention was then brought back to the remaining two doctors. Great. You cleared your throat awkwardly, ready to run away.Â
âBusy?â You asked, albeit awkwardly. Jack noticed but thankfully opted not to say anything. The question was intended for him but the fellow took her chance to speak.Â
âYeah. Dr Abbotâs been really helpful in showing me around.â She beamed, almost giddy that she was able to talk about him. Not like heâs right there or anything.Â
âI bet he's a great guy, great doctor.â You replied with a nod, a hint of fondness in your voice. One she didnât pick up on as she began to ramble about a trauma sheâd been in with him earlier.
Jack paid no mind as his eyes remained focused on you, winking playfully. To which you softly chuckled to yourself, directing a small grin at him.
ââŚI mean, you shouldâve seen it.â She continued her story, a little too joyful for your liking. Youâre not possessive or anything but she seemed a little too proud to have been so close to him, more than in a professional sense.Â
âHeâs the best doctor Iâve worked with in a long time.â She practically purred, a smile a little too flirty directed at him.Â
He noticed it, his eyes moving over to you with raised eyebrows, silently asking if youâd heard that too. His eyes filled with disbelief and amused audacity. She may not have known about the unoffical thing between you two but still.
Internally, you were seething. You have no real claim to be upset. You know that. But that didnât mean it was particularly professional to flirt like that with an attending. Especially when new to the staff.Â
âI should go write my notes.â You opted, tapping the table with your hand, giving Jack an awkward smile. âIâll see you before I leave.âÂ
Before he could reply, you directed yourself towards the elevator, steps a little faster than required. His eyes followed you, concern dancing in his irises. He excused himself from the fellow, who he left standing at the station rather confused, as he caught up to you.Â
âYou okay?â He murmured, hand gently grazing your elbow. You jolted, having been lost in thought.Â
âShit, donât sneak up like that.â You breathed, hand over your heart in relief. Your steps halted as you turned to face him.Â
âReally, you alright?â He questioned again, softer this time. Normally he wouldâve teased you for being in your own little world, as you referred to it. Not this time. He knew you were bothered.Â
âYeah, Iâm good.â You assured him with a tense smile, though softened when you noticed the genuine concern in his eyes. You let out a small sigh as you took hold of one of his larger hands in your smaller one. âBeen a long day.â
Youâre not lying, it has been a long day. Working with sick kids and their families daily can be draining. But you werenât about to admit how much that situation had irritated you.Â
His fingers wrapped around yours, bringing your conjoined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. He knew there was something else but he knew pushing it would only make you shut down unless youâre ready to talk.Â
You looked at him for a few moments before glancing over at the fellow, seeing her awkwardly look busy, as if trying to avoid looking over here. Likely waiting for him to come back. His eyes didnât leave your face.Â
âI donât like how friendly she was with you.â You reluctantly murmured, putting it nicely as your eyes turned back to him. Youâre trying to communicate better, having difficulties in the past. âI know itâs stupid and I have no right butâŚâ
âItâs not stupid.â He cut you off gently. He understands why it wouldâve bothered you. It wouldâve bothered him if the roles were reversed. âI donât want you to be bothered by it but I get why you are.â
From his perspective, it was a poor attempt at flirting. Heâd brushed her off earlier but she hadnât taken the hint. Heâll make it clear that heâs not interested, remind her that this is a hospital and heâs her attending. Well, Robbyâs but same concept applies.Â
âYou have nothing to be worried or jealous about.â He reassured you softly, thumb running across the skin of your hand. âI only have eyes for you.âÂ
âIâm not jealousâ You denied immediately, letting out a quiet scoff as if the notion was ridiculous.Â
He grinned, your usual self peeking through from behind your displeasure.Â
âI think you may have been.â He mused a little pleased. He canât deny being a little amused by your denial. He hadnât seen you get jealous before. Stroked his ego that you found him worth getting jealous over.Â
âI was not.â You murmured with an eyeroll, albeit with no heat. Though, you picked up on his pleased tone and narrowed your eyebrows at him. âYou sound happy about that.âÂ
âWhat can I say?â He said with a quiet chuckle, not looking away from you. He was pleased with this jealousy of yours. Even if you wouldnât admit it. Now heâs not alone in it, aware that you are as worried as about someone else catching your attention as he is for you. âYou? Jealous about a fellow talking to me? Itâs cute.â
âCute?â You scoffed, as if it was offensive he thought your denied jealousy was cute.Â
He hummed and nodded in agreement, moving his free hand to gently rest on your waist, subtly pulling you slightly closer. You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him pull you closer. Your free hand moved to rest on his bulging bicep.Â
Your anxieties have eased a bit, the knot in your stomach beginning to untangle. He was genuinely unphased by the flirting, more worried about how you felt about the whole thing. God, the feelings you had for this man were unreal.Â
Your mind raced with all the reasons you had postponed being in a proper relationship with him. You openly admitted you werenât ready for a relationship yet, the last one you had leaving a sour taste. He was okay with that. He didnât ask or expect anything of you. Heâs been nothing but authentic with you.Â
The two of you begun to spend time outside of work. If you're on call overnight sometimes you see him. Youâd talk, laugh, even have serious conversations. A few months of this and you know youâre screwed.Â
âWhat⌠what would you say, if iâŚâ You trailed off, letting the silence linger for a moment. He didnât interrupt, just patiently waited with his gaze unflinching on you.Â
âGod, why is it so hard to say this?â You mumbled to yourself, softly chuckling, shaking your head before looking back at him again. Before you could psyche yourself out, you blurted the words. âWhat if I'm ready to try the relationship thing. For real?â
A bright smile graced his lips as you spoke, heart leaping in his chest. Heâd been silently hoping you would say that. He wouldn't have pressured you, willing to take things at your pace. But heâd still been yearning to hear those words from your lips.Â
âIâd say that Iâm very pleased to hear that..â He said softly, bringing up his hand thatâd been holding yours up to rest gently on your cheek. â...and Iâd ask if I could officially call you my girlfriend.âÂ
Your heart stuttered at the tender look in his eyes, the gentleness in his touch compared to the rough callouses of his hand. Your lips quirked up in a soft smile as you nodded. âYou can.â
âWonderful.â He murmured, his smile softening. His thumb gently caressed the skin of your cheek as you leant into his touch. âIf it's okay with you, I'm gonna kiss you now.â
âYeah, I'm okay with that.â You murmured with a soft chuckle, not even caring that itâs in the middle of the emergency department. With that, he leant forward and pressed a soft lingering kiss to your lips, which you happily returned.Â
When you pulled back, he ran a thumb across your cheek. You just observed you for a few moments before you spoke softly, lightly teasing. âPromise youâll tell her to stop flirting now?â
âAbsoloutly.â He assured softly, his grin softening to a gentle smile. He shouldâve rejected her sooner and made it clear he wasnât interested. He was going to do it anyway. âPromise.âÂ
âGood. I donât wanna have to do it for you.â You threatened teasingly, shoulders dropping slightly in relief.Â
âDonât worry, you wonât.â He teased. âShe and anyone else will know that your wonderful boyfriend is taken.âÂ
"You're always acting like I'm so in love with you." You scoffed softly, secretly feeling a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.Â
"Aren't you?" He teased, raising his eyebrows at you. He leant his head forward slightly, grinning at you like heâd win the lottery.Â
âYouâre annoying.â You said dryly, though the small smile tugging at your lips gave away your lack of annoyance. If you weren't already, youâd be in love with him soon enough.Â
âI could be much more annoying.â He teasingly murmured, almost like a playful threat.Â
âDonât I know it.â You scoffed softly, though a small smile tugged at your lips. He can be such a menace sometimes. Yet, you somehow love it about him.Â
âWrite your notes and go home.â He chuckled, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. âYouâve been here long enough.âÂ
âYeah, yeah. I will.â You murmured, giving him a soft smile. Your shift had technically ended 40 minutes ago. But you couldn't resist teasing him. âEnjoy the next twelve hours, work while I'll be resting from the confines of my bed.âÂ
âDonât remind me.â He said with a playful groan. âCan I come with you instead?â
You hummed in faux-thought for a moment before shaking your head in amusement. âDonât think so. As much as I'd love to say yes, Shen might not be happy you left him alone to deal with this mess.â
âWorth a shot.â He joked with a faux-disappointed sigh. âBut don't forget to let me know when you leave.â
âI wonât.â You said in a matching gentle murmur, giving his muscled arm a squeeze. You knew he wanted to know that you were safe. He always wanted to make sure youâre okay. It always warms your heart.
With that, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, forgoing professionalism once again. Then you smiled before making your way towards the elevator, your original destination. God, you loved that man.
He turned to watch you walk away. A tender smile tugging at his lips. He loved you so much.Â