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Also feel like that because Pope didn't exactly grow up being exposed to "normal kid friendly" programming growing up that once he and Reader have kids he kind of gets lost in Sesame Street...
He grew up watching nature documentaries and tv that was far too violent for someone as young as him.
So, he never really remembers watching cartoons that often. So, Saturday morning he's sitting up with his kids with juice and watching Tom and Jerry and Sesame Street...like the man is genuinely watching it and not in the way parents watch tv with their kids...the man is paying attention. His kids love it and Reader understands the reasons why.
Pope would totally want his kids to have as normal of a childhood as possible and in a lot of ways the normal simple parts of childhood feel healing for Pope. His innerchild gets to be soothed by Big Bird, legos, and playdough...
Jack Abbot getting insecure about his silver hair, crows feet, and his neck crinkles.
Reader finding him staring at himself a little too hard in the bathroom mirror examining all these signs of aging practically scowling.
Reader wrapping her arms around him from behind as he bemoans if she really wants to "date an old man like me. You aren't afraid people are gonna start thinking I'm your dad? I'm getting grayer and I swear my crows feet are getting more prominent. You're sure you don't want to trade me in for a younger model?"
Reader pressing her lips along his neck and pressing soft kisses along the lines on his face. She running her fingers through his curls. Reader pressing her lips along his jaw and the silver of his stubble.
Reader insisting that she is very sure that she wants to date the sweet funny guy who is being too harsh about his body right now. "be nice to the old man, he's my favorite person and I won't take the slander about him."
summary: When you've been feeling sick for a few weeks, Jack expects to face the worst. But a trip to the emergency room reveals something he never expected. And you have to face the fact you're there for each other in sickness and health... and everything between.
warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abbot being a widower, lots of uncertainty and anxiety, age gap (but reader is implied to be a bit older), talks about infertility/ trouble getting pregnant. let me know if I need to add anything!
notes: had this idea a few days ago and like the devious baby fever pilled gal I am and managed to bang it out in two evenings. thank you jack abbot for being my current muse.
Jack’s work shoes squeak against the linoleum floor, his heavy footsteps echoing down the empty hospital hall. He’s running, a layer of sweat already beading at his temple. The glass ambulance bay door hits the wall with a teeth chattering thud. Jack is almost suprised it didn't shatter with his thrust.
He pants, eyes scanning the hospital’s back lot, trying to find the ambulance he knew was on his way.
“Mr. Abbot, we have your wife here- she fainted in the grocer’s parking lot…”
Jack knew he shouldn't have left you. He'd had a feeling. The looming dread that had been creeping up on him the past couple of weeks.
You'd been feeling out of it for a while now. A lethargic and nauseating achiness you couldn't quite shake, no matter how much tylenol or herbal teas you’d tried.
You had played it off as nothing. Just a headache that came and went. An upset stomach due to the day old chinese food you’d eaten.
“It's fine, Jack. I’m just tired.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m okay. I’m here. You don't have to worry.”
But Jack worried.
He was always worrying.
He knew that little things sometimes added up to a bigger, meaner somethings. That if you missed the signs, you might catch it too late.
What exactly? Jack wasn't sure. He didn’t particularly want to find out.
But he sure as hell wasn't gonna let you blow it off now.
His heart pounds as the ambulance finally pulls into the bay, the emergency lights blaring an ugly red and orange. Jack bary registers the EMT saying hello to him, his eyes focused on your splayed out form, laying on the gurney.
“Hey baby,” he says, voice cracking slightly.
“Jack,” you look up at him blearily, your eyes hazy, a bandage already taped to your forehead. Jack is quick to come by your side as the EMT lowers the gurney, his hand running over the back of your hair.
“One of the bystanders said she hit her head going down. It's not too bad. Just needs some cleaning. Same for her legs,” the EMT says to Jack as she watches him carefully lift the bandage.
Jack lets out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and leading your gurney back into the Pitt.
“What the hell Jack. You just ran off-” Robby calls out, watching Jack come back in. He stops once he sees you, your scraped up knees and bandaged head, the confused expression on your face. “What happened?”
“She fainted. We’ll need to start her on an iv, get her fluids and run a couple of blood tests. Do you still feel dizzy?”
“I don’t… Jack, what’s going on?” You look up at Jack, confused, panic written across your face. Jack looks back at the EMT who shakes her head.
“She was having trouble remembering the fall. Only remembers her headache and feeling sick.”
Jack remembers how you had looked this morning. The purple bruises around your eyes and the wince you'd tried to hide when he said goodbye.
“I don't have to go in today. Shen can cover if Robby really needs him to.”
“Go Jack. They need you more than me.”
He should have known better.
Robby comes beside the railing of the gurney, helping to pull it into a trauma room. You look around, your chest beginning to rise and fall quicker as your eyes begin to clear of the confused fog.
“What’s going on?”
“Jack, stay with your wife.”
“I am with her,” he throws back at Robby, turning to grab the bag of fluids Princess was moving to hand him.
“No. Stay with her as Jack. Not Dr. Abbot,” Robby tosses back, gesturing to your wide and fearful eyes. Jack swallows thickly, torn.
Especially when you groan, turning towards Robby and vomiting off the side of the gurney railing.
Jack’s heart hurts, pounding heavily against his sternum. You were here. The one place he hated seeing you.
Jack knows he can help take care of you right now. Bandage you up and order labs. He can solve the mystery behind why you were suddenly so ill. Why you haven’t been feeling well lately.
He can handle that. Dr. Jack Abbot, night attending and army vet, can handle bad news.
But just Jack. Mr. Jack Abbot, loving husband and worried widower, cannot.
He can’t take another bad diagnosis.
Jack looks up at Robby who’s helping Princess clean up the vomit, and then back at you. And he makes a decision.
“Hey,” Jack says, pushing down the railing on his side of your gurney and sitting on the edge. “Hey, honey-” He takes your head in his hands, taking the damp cloth Robby hands him and helping to clean your face.
Jack sits with you, his scrub top abandoned, his hand clasped tightly over yours. He watches as the color slowly comes back into your face, helps you take a sip of juice when your hand trembles too much to hold the cup. He stays silent for it all, Robby cleaning and bandaging your scrapes, Perlah coming in to draw your blood, the hospital gown Princess helps you into. He watches it all with a wariness. An awful churning in his gut.
A fear gnawing away at him.
“Jack,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. He hums, glancing up at you from where he was sitting beside your gurney. “It’s going to be alright.”
“I know,” he whispers back. You hadn’t said much to each other. Mostly hushed whispers and clinging to each other's hand. Like raising your voices was too much for the already overstimulating hospital room.
Jack’s knee is bouncing up and down anxiously. He couldn’t help it, his mind turning over the many diagnoses, the myriad of things that could be wrong with you. You gently wrangle your hand out of his iron grip, reaching over to rest it on his jostling knee. Jack stills at the feeling of your warm palm over the fabric of his scrub pants, swallowing. You smile.
“Whatever it is… we’ll be okay.”
"I know," Jack repeats again. But it's hard to really believe it.
He's been here once before. A hospital room just like this. The woman he loves loved sitting by his side. Slowly wasting away. And he didn’t even know it.
He sees the symptoms, too familiar and painful. The exhaustion and fatigue that wore you down. The migraines and brain fog, lethargicness and nausea that plagued you. He sees it and he knows. Whatever labs Robby is currently looking at holds a future he’s not sure he’s ready for.
You sigh, your hand moving upwards to run through his salt and pepper curls. They had already been mussed and messed up from his own hand raking through them. Jack sighs at the feeling, closing his eyes and leaning his head against your side. You hum, holding him close.
“I didn’t even get to do any shopping. I just… passed out in the parking lot.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jack mumbles into your gown. “I’ll order some groceries for delivery later.”
“I really wanted to get that new cream cheese to try. The one with the jalapenos.” You sigh. “Gosh, I wish they could just inject that into my iv. Maybe I’d perk up faster.”
Jack can’t help but crack a smile. You hum happily, still petting his hair.
“There he is.” Jack looks up at you, his mouth open to say something. To apologize for worrying. For being so scared.
But he doesn’t get a chance.
The door to your room opens, Robby’s familiar silhouette shadowing behind the curtain.
“Jack?”
Jack clears his throat. “Yeah?”
Robby peeks his head through the fabric.
“I’ve got the test results back.” He comes in and sits down on the stool by the foot of your bed with a grunt. You give Jack a nervous look, your hand finding his again. He takes it, squeezing gently. Grounding. Robby clears his throat.
“Well, your blood panels came back fine. No signs of infection or disease.”
“So…what is it? What’s wrong with her?” Jack asks, swallowing thickly. Robby looks down at the lab work in his hands, peering over the frames of his glasses at the two of you.
“Nothing.”
The word hits harder than Jack could have expected. Of all the things he had anticipated-
You frown, looking confused.
“Nothing,” you repeat, the question no louder than a breath of air. Robby smiles and nods.
“Well, nothing that won’t go away in nine months. Congratulations kids. You're gonna have a baby."
Both of you go very still. Your mouth falls open, Jack’s eyes practically bug out of his head. Robby sits there smugly, folding the lab results over.
“A…” Jack starts, trailing off as he leans forward. Surely he’d heard Robby wrong.
“I- a baby?” You ask, dumbstruck.
“Hmm.” Robby nods. “From what I can tell you’re roughly six weeks along. Of course, you’d need an ultrasound and larger blood panel to be able to tell more accurately.”
“Pregnant,” Jack breathes. His eyes dart around the room, finally meeting Robby’s. “But how?”
Robby raises an eyebrow.
“It’s a simple process. I don’t think I have to explain the exact mechanics on conceiving to you Jack-”
"No, I know- I mean how... I can't even...
"We aren't exactly prime candidates for conceiving," you finish for Jack.
He can feel your fingers wrap tighter around his hand, your shoulder brushing against his.
Robby gives you a look, his features softening. “I know. I know, I don’t know why. It happens. Sometimes fertility problems resolve themselves. No on can pinpoint why exactly. Could be hormonal changes, medication changes, reduced stress-”
You and Jack finally glance over at each other. He looks at you, eyes raking over your face, the glimmer of hope you were trying to hide. And it hits him.
The sabbatical, he thinks. The long overdue vacation he'd finally gotten around to taking.
Three months without either of you worrying about work or patients. Three months of just the two of you; long walks in the park, lazy mornings spent in bed. Decadent yet nutritious dinners and way too many trips to the ice cream shop down the street.
Leaving behind the worries of your every day.
The sabbatical he’d finally come back from not even a few weeks ago. Just before you had begun to get sick-
You're the first to smile. A small curve upwards, more nervous than anything.
"I'm pregnant."
Jack breathes heavily in his chair.
“You are,” Robby smiles. You take a shaky breath, unsure of what to say. “There’s quite a few things we’ll have to go over. I’m sure Jack knows this speech like the back of his hand, but it’s still customary…”
Jack is half listening as Robby goes on about the usual procedure. The prenatal vitamins you’ll need, the appointments you’ll have to set up. The safety precautions and symptoms and internal changes. The risks considering Jack was older and you weren’t very young yourself.
Jack is so far zoned out he doesn’t even realize you’re calling his name.
“Jack. Honey," you shake his shoulder, frowning. “Are you okay?”
Jack opens his mouth, looking between you and Robby. He glances once at your stomach. Hidden behind the hospital gown. Looking exactly like it had yesterday.
But it was different. There wasn’t some disease growing inside you. Some foreign thing making you sick and slowly sucking the life out of you.
There was a baby growing there. You were sick because you were making another life.
Jack is hit by the realization that for the next nine months, you were going to be going through all kinds of changes. All kinds of hurdles and milestones.
A baby.
Jack suddenly feels sick.
“I have to go,” he blurts, shaking your hand off of his shoulder and beelining out of the hospital room.
“Jack!” You call out, your voice raising with surprise.
“I just need some air!”
Jack doesn’t turn back. He can’t. He can’t let you see the utter terror written on his face.
He marches down the hall, ignoring the looks the nurses give him, the confusion Trinity and Mel share as he storms out down the crowded hallway and to the stairwell.
You find Jack outside. Not on the roof like you’d panicked he’d be.
Robby had come back, shaking his head, trying to calm your racing heart.
No. After finally convincing Robby to let you help him look, You find Jack sitting on one of the benches in the park across the way from PTMC. He’s sitting there, elbows braced against his knees, staring off into the distance.
You approach him carefully, blades of grass crunching beneath the slip on clogs the hospital provided. Your clothes feel cold against you, comforting and familiar after the scratchy hospital gown. You glance back at Robby who stands at the edge of the park. He nods, encouraging you to keep going.
As you get closer, you realize Jack’s not just staring off at nothing. You catch sight of his eyes, focused and glistening beneath the late afternoon light. You follow his sight line, watching a little family on the other side of the park. A broad shouldered man tossing a foam ball to a toddler girl, her mother laughing as her girl toddles about.
You watch Jack for a moment, staying out of his sight line. You don't have to try very hard to guess what he's thinking about. The sheer amount of worry and confusion he's feeling.
You felt it yourself. The whiplash of expecting the worst outcome only to learn you were carrying something wonderful. There was still the nervousness of what the future would look like.
The schedules that would need rearranging, the house child proofed, your office room cleared out in space for another little person. Doctors appointments and ultrasound photos taped to the fridge, onesies and books and diapers tucked away in a closet.
In spite of the excitement you felt, the confused yet exhilarating feeling of knowing you were going to be a mother, you were scared.
There was a whole person you'd have to take care of. You'd have to grow and birth. You weren't exactly a spry chicken. Neither was Jack. And there were more risks and complications that came with that.
On top of all the things that came with pregnancy.
You might not be dying from some malady. But pregnancy was no small thing either.
You finally take a step forward, placing your hand gently on Jack’s shoulder. He snaps out of his stupor, back straightening, a panic written in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be up-”
“I’m okay.” He frowns. You point to the space beside him on the bench. “Can I sit?”
Jack nods, scooting over a bit. You sit. Jack wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand; being closer now, you can see they’re red rimmed and glassy. He doesn’t look at you. Not at first.
But he’s the first to open his mouth again.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run out if there. That was a dick move."
You swallow against the thick lump in your throat, trying to keep the well of anger rising at bay. It wasn’t hard to. The fear and anxiety laid bare in Jack’s voice. The thoughts he tried so hard to hide from you unveiled.
You nod. “Yeah. It kinda was."
He takes a breath, reaching out to hold your hand. You take it, his thumb brushing along the ridge of your knuckles.
"I just... this whole time I was worried I was going to lose you. I kept thinking about all the ways I’d have to watch you die. All the treatments or surgeries…” he chuckles dryly. “I was so worried about you. And now all I’m thinking about is how we’re going to have a kid walking down the aisle in a cap and gown when I’m 70.”
You sigh, the breeze a gentle comfort as it blows against your cheeks.
“That's all you’re thinking about? College already?” You give his hand a small, loving squeeze. Teasing. A clearing amidst the stormy turmoil you both had been worrying over.
“Well,” he shrugs slowly. “You know, between wondering if the pregnancy will hold. Or birth. Or what elementary school drop offs will look like and dinners and the house and my crazy schedule-”
“I know. I know, it’s a lot.”
Jack nods. “It is… and I’m scared.”
You look at him. Your heart aches with the pure sincerity written on his face. Jack was never one to hide his feelings. But he rarely gave them away easily. Not like this.
Truth written in the glassy mist of his eyes, the worry carried in the tightness of his hand around yours.
“I know,” you nod. “I know it’s not going to be easy. Robby explained the risks.”
The long list of complications and genetic disorders and risky side effects run through your mind. You hadn’t known just how fragile pregnancy became the older you got. It was just never something that had crossed your mind. To think or worry about. But now…
You continue.
“I know this wasn’t what we had planned, Jack. Us. Having kids… and I know you may not want- may not think we can do this. But I don’t think this is such a bad thing.”
Jack’s eyes widen, his frown deepening.
“What, woah. No I don’t want you thinking that. I don’t- I don’t think that.”
“Really?” You take a deep breath, hopeful. Jack finally smiles. A small and gentle quirk of his mouth.
“Really. And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I just… I didn’t think that I could have one.”
“A baby?” You clarify. He nods.
“I told you about what happened in the army. With my leg and, well, everything else. And you told me having kids wasn’t exactly going to be easy for you.” It’s your turn to nod.
Between Jack’s injury and age, your genetics and seemingly lackluster fertility, a baby had just never been a part of your plan. And you were fine with it. Life was crazy enough as it was.
“I know. But here we are.”
Jack nods, looking out into the park again. He’s watching the small family again, eyes glued to the man as he hoists his giggling daughter into his arms.
“Here we are,” he mumbles.
“We don’t have to figure everything out right now Jack. There’s still time.”
“Seven months and two weeks,” he huffs. You chuckle.
Robby makes Jack leave the hospital early with you.
Although Jack would use the term ‘make’ loosely, considering he had already decided he wasn’t staying the moment he saw you in the ambulance’s hull. You’re cleared to leave not long after Robby drags the both of you back into the ED, making sure to stop by the pharmacy to pick up your new prescriptions.
The prenatal vitamins and nausea medication sit among Jack’s own clutter of meds on the kitchen counter. Jack told you not to worry about groceries or the car still at the store. He’d take care of all of it in the morning.
For now, he just wanted to clean away the sterile smell of the hospital lingering on both of your clothes and get to bed.
He’s grateful, for once, that you're exhausted enough to fall asleep the minute your head hits the pillow. You’re breathing softly beneath the sheets before Jack can even pull his prosthetic off, your hand lain out on his side, like you still wanted him to hold it unconsciously.
But sleep doesn’t come for him. Jack lays awake for a long while.
The moonlight casts wispy shadows along the wall and he watches them, thinking. He plays with his wedding ring, twirling it between his fingers with mesmerizing ease.
Not the ring you'd slipped onto his left hand years ago, the dark amber band that still glistens on his ring finger. Jack plays with the wedding ring he wore a long time ago, still a young man figuring things out. From his first marriage. His first wife.
It wasn't often he pulled the ring out. Sometimes it hurt too much to even look at it; to think about and remember her. Jack fiddles with the ring now, holding it against his lips as if he could whisper all his worries into it.
The worries which still rested in the side of his ribs, changed but there all the same. Jack can’t help but think of all the things he never got to do with her. The future they’d planned cut short by an illness he couldn’t cure. Maybe it’s why he felt so scared now.
This unplanned thing laid out before him. Far out of his control.
Jack tosses and turns, his mind reeling with memories and thoughts about the future. He quietly gets up, setting the ring on his nightstand and fitting his prosthetic back on. He slips out of your bedroom, making sure you were still settled before wandering down the hall.
He’d always wanted to be a father. That wasn’t the problem. Hearing that you were pregnant had resurfaced those feelings like they’d never been buried. The idea of having a mini him, with matching curls and crooked smile. Or a mini you, with your bright eyes and pretty nose.
The problem was that desire had been locked away for a very long time. After he got injured in the army. After he became a widow. Even after he met you. Jack had begun to accept that being someone’s parent was just not in the cards he’d been dealt. But now…
Jack stands in the living room, staring around the dark room. He moves quietly, picking up a random glass and setting it in the kitchen, moving the tossed couch pillows back into their designated places. He can’t sit still when he tries. The air suffocating inside in spite of the cooling system blowing gently.
Jack ends up sitting outside on the back porch, his head in his hands.
What would she have thought? After all this time.
A baby.
Jack’s not even sure he should begin to want this. To let himself hope. There was so much uncertainty with a later in life pregnancy, of an older parent conceiving a child. The constant what ifs and complications. So much to worry about.
Jack sighs, running a hand through his mussed curls as he realizes how tired he is. Of feeling on edge. Of never feeling like he could settle. The worry of something bad happening again. Of being all alone-
A noise sounds from the bushes running along the fence.
Leaves rustle softly, twigs crunching beneath something weighty. Jack looks up, brows furrowing. He squints, standing and flipping on the porch light to illuminate the dark backyard. The rustling sounds again, and Jack inches closer.
He pauses. And then he lets out a disbelieving laugh, instantly quieting himself.
The rabbit which had ducked back into the foliage at the sound of his voice peeks it’s head out again in the new silence. Her nose twitching, beady black eyes staring straight into Jack. He lets out a breath, in awe of the rare sight. He knew there were plenty of rabbits that lived around the neighborhood. He often saw where they burrowed through your garden or ate certain plants. But actually seeing one was rarer.
Of all the nights…
He goes still when the rabbit moves. Inching slowly out of the bush. She turns back, snuffling softly and moving forward again. A baby in tow.
Now, Jack was not a very superstitious man. At least, not by nature. He laughed when Ellis chastised him for saying the “q” word in the ED, rolled his eyes when Joy and Nazely talked about karma.
But if life had taught Jack anything, it was to never ignore the signs.
He watches the pair of rabbits hop through the backyard, eyes following their path until they squeeze through the cracked boards of the fence, disappearing into the night. Jack lets out a slow and much needed exhale, the cool air of the night finally feeling fresh.
New.
Second chances that don't always happen every day.
Baby rabbit.
Baby Abbot.
He liked the sound of that. And maybe, this time, there wouldn’t be so much to worry about. Not with you by his side.
"Jaack!" You call out from the kicthen, where you're putting the first few bags of groceries away.
"Yeah?" Jack's voice echoes down the hall, the sound of more paper bags rustling.
"Did you get- never mind!" You grin as you find the tub of cream cheese you'd been dying to get your hands on, practically tearing the package open and digging in. You let out a satisfied hum as you eat a spoonful of the spicy spread, nodding in satisfaction.
Jack enters the kitchen, arms full of groceries, an amused look on his face.
"As good as you'd hoped it'd be?" You hum again.
"Better. I think your child already has great taste in cuisine."
Jack stills for a fraction of a second, then smiles. He sets down the bags and moves over by your side, pressing a kiss to your forehead, carefully around the tender cut still hidden by a bandage.
"Yeah they do."
You both put away the food and various household items you'd needed to stock up on. Trash bags and pasta, that lavender creamer you loved and Jack's protein bars he always carried in his scrub pockets.
You munch on a bagel- properly toasted and spread with your cream cheese because Jack insisted on at least being civilized about your cravings- going through the last bag. The bag crinkles as you feel around inside; you frown as your hand comes into contact with something soft. Fluffy. You peer inside.
A little stuffed bunny peers back at you. You stare at it for a moment, and then you laugh.
"Jack?"
"What?" He asks, folding the towel he'd just used to wash his hands. You smile, holding up the bunny. His ears go pink and he gives you a bashful grin.
"I just thought... well I thought it might be cute for the baby. You know, rabbits are thought to be good luck charms or something."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Contains: f and m orgasm, p in v, fingering, angst, misunderstanding, forgiveness, cute romance, Jack being super sweet to make it all better, brief military mention
--🩷--
Dana let out a low whistle as you walked into the department. You had been standing outside the entrance to the ER for twenty minutes, and it was cold. Jack was working a rare day shift, and you'd made plans to go out that evening for dinner after shift change. It was going to be a cute date night, a lowkey, hushed restaurant with good whisky and plush, leather booths. You'd looked at the menu ahead of time (obviously) and already knew which dessert you were having.
You'd dressed up nice, ready for him - a classy but low cut black dress, then nice earrings he had bought you for your birthday, and some strappy high shoes. You'd tonged your hair into loose curls and enjoyed putting on some soft make up and perfume.
You wouldn't say waiting outside had killed the vibe necessarily... but it had it in a chokehold.
Jack was often late, supervising another important case he couldn't bear to leave. You understood this when you started dating a year ago, it came with the territory of being such an attentive attending. Sometimes you couldn't help but wish things were a little different, that you fell asleep inside Jack's warm arms, rather than hugging his cold pillow, but you understood the competing priorities in his life.
'Daaaaaamn,' Dana looked at you over her glasses. 'He's gonna eat you like a snack.'
'If he ever ends his shift,' you laughed, looking round the department for him and not seeing him.
Dana checked her watch the shot a look at Primcess that she intended for you to miss, and you pretended that you had.
'Think he's just with a patient, doll,' Dana smiled brightly at you. 'I'll just go get him.'
Before you can read into it, Robby sidled up to you at the Nurse's desk.
'Here comes trouble,' he grinned, looking you up and down. 'Dr Abbot, eat your heart out.'
You laughed, self-consciously adjusting your bag.
'Whaddup, Robby?'
'He taking you somewhere nice tonight?' Robby asked, shuffling papers.
'Eventually, yeah.' You pulled a withering face at him in good humour.
''s gotta be done,' he held his hands up in mock surrender.
Dana reappeared, a strained smile on her face.
'He'll be out in a minute.'
'Still in Trauma 2?' Robby mumbled to her, out of the corner of his mouth.
'Mhmm.'
'What's going on in Trauma 2?' You asked, peering down the corridor. You couldn't see anyone in there.
'Catching up with an old friend,' Robby answered smoothly. 'A coworker from back in the military.'
'Aww,' you said, gratefully sinking into the office chair Dana pushed towards you. 'That's cute.'
'Mhmm,' Robby rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor. 'Well, duty calls.' He slipped off the desk counter and began to tiptoenaway.
'Coward,' Dana half-shouted to his back. Robby flipped her the finger.
'You stick with me, doll.' Dana smiled kindly. 'Watch me work my magic. I have them all dancing like marionettes.'
--🩷--
It had been a further twenty minutes. Dana was outside, smoking a cigarette, so you took the chance to go and visit Jack yourself - to wave at him through the window and jokingly hold up your wrist and tap on your watch.
Your heels clicked on the floor as you reached the bay. The door was slightly ajar, and you felt a thrill as you heard Jack's low, rumbling voice. You couldn't make out what he was saying but his voice had that rough quality you loved when he was tired.
'... it's not the same without you,' a female voice came clear through the gap in the door.
The words confused you, and you stopped still. As ashamed as you were for listening through the door to a patient's confidential conversation, this sounded too confidential.
'Don't you miss what we had?'
A cold sweat washed over you and your mouth suddenly went dry. Your heart was hammering out of your chest.
There was a moment of silence.
'Sometimes.' Jack replied.
What? Sometimes? Sometimes he missed what who had?
'It's hard not to think about.' The woman's voice was soft, gentle, tentative.
'I try not to,' Jack replied.
'Can you really manage that?'
'.... No. Especially not when I'm trying to sleep.'
What the hell? You felt like you were going to be sick.
When he was in bed with you, he was thinking about this woman?
'It could be like old times.'
'Fuck no,' Jack laughed.
'Okay... it could be like new, better times,' the woman's voice conceded.
'Look, it was a long time ago, and I've moved on.' You could tell this was Jack's polite attempt at wrapping up the conversation. You heard him stand.
'One drink,' the woman wheedled.
Fuck's sake!
'Maybe... Maybe one drink. Next time I have a free night.'
What? You felt like you might pass out.
'Here... is... my number,' crawled the voice of someone concentrating.
You'd heard enough. You backed away then semi-jogged, as fast as your heels would allow, back to the Nurse's station.
Dana looked at your face. 'You okay there, kid?'
'Yeah,' you swallowed thickly, engaging in a very solemn staring match with a stapler and trying to blink the tears away.
Robby walks past without stopping, throwing you a vague double thumbs up.
'Hey,' you hear, in that low, rough murmur.
You look up and see Jack standing over the counter. He leans his arms across it, tanned and corded forearms resting lightly on the top, large hands clasped together. His chest and bicep muscles strained under his black tee. Jack's salt and pepper curls were mussed from his hand running through them in stress. His twinkly hazel eyes look tired, the crinkles around them more pronounced and dark.
Your insides melted.
'You look... wow. You look beautiful,' Jack's voice dropped. He leaned over the counter to give you a kiss. You performed an awkward half-stand, pressing your lips against him. His soft lips were surrounded by scratchy grey stubble, and he smelled like antiseptic, negroni aftershave and fresh sweat. 'Mmm,' he sighed against you, briefly resting his forehead against yours.
Echoes of his words crawled inside your mind, louder than his contented sigh. You jerked backwards and sat back down. A brief look of surprise passed through Jack's eyes, characteristically controlled, measured, stoic. Jack recovered and resumed his steeled face, although his jaw gave a slight twitch.
Beside you, Dana pretended to be really interested in her computer screen.
'Are you ready to go?' Jack asked, standing fully.
'Are you ready to go?' You asked, fighting to keep the wobble out of your voice.
Jack's brow furrowed in confusion.
'Yeah,' he replied. 'I'm sorry I kept you waiting, babe. I'm so sorry. I was just finishing up with a patient.'
'Okay.'
You didn't want to get into it here. You didn't want to get into it at all. If you could just push it down far enough, it could be like it never happened.
But it did.
--🩷--
The dark restaraunt was cosy. You were sat in plush armchairs, light jazz playing quietly from somewhere, the small candle on the table the only light.
It danced soft, yellow light across Jack's face as he looked at the menu. His foot reached out under the table to gently press against yours. You returned the pressure.
'Do you know what you want?' Jack asked in that low, rough voice.
You.
For you to not have said those words.
For you to not have taken her number.
For you to have come outside on time.
'The chicken, I think.'
You were the chicken, not telling him what you felt. How could you? You didn't want to know the answer.
'They have the chocolate lava cake you like,' Jack looked up at you with his sideways smile. You returned a faint smile back, but you weren't hungry. You still felt sick with anxiety.
You'd been cheated on before, but never by someone you loved as much as Jack. The idea of him missing someone, thinking about them, calling them...
'Are you still with me?' Jack asked, clearly concerned.
'Yeah,' you managed weakly.
Jack ran his hand through his curls and rubbed the back of his head. His black shirt gave a waft of his aftershave, and you felt a swell of want deep inside. It was confusing.
'I am really sorry I was late.' Jack looked at you with such tenderness and sincerity that you had to look away.
''sfine,' you attempted a smile.
Jack's frown deepened before transitioning into a low, gruff murmur.
'You look so beautiful.' The adoration in his eyes was painfully obvious.
'Thank you,' you whispered.
--🩷--
Jack had his arm round you, leading you to his car. You hesitated, pausing the walk.
'I'm really tired and I need to be up super early. I might just crash at mine tonight.'
'What?' Jack looked bewildered. 'No, stay at mine. I don't mind you waking me up.' He gave you bedroom eyes. 'I actually enjoy it when you do.'
Heat bloomed in your stomach again.
'I want to see this dress on my bedroom floor.' Jack toyed with the zip.
'Honestly,' you shook your head, taking his arm from around your shoulders.
Hurt passed through his hazel eyes.
'Baby,' Jack actually looked upset. 'Don't do this. Come home with me.'
You felt yourself being convinced. Was it really that easy for him?
'Okay,' you nodded, letting yourself be backed up against his truck.
Jack pressed lightly into you. It was gentle enough that you knew you could leave, but hard enough you knew that he wanted you.
'Mmm,' he hummed again, taking his hand and pushing one of your soft curls behind your ear.
His large fingers traced along your jaw and held you there. You took in a big breath and held it. Jack leant in, looking deep into your eyes. You wanted him to kiss you. You needed him to kiss you.
But he dipped his head, giving you soft kisses just underneath your ear, along your neck, along your jaw.
You felt yourself melting under him. His soft lips and his long, scratchy stubble the perfect combination to make you wet... and Jack knew it.
He finally, finally, reached your mouth. Jack paused there, lips inches from yours. A gentle sound came from somewhere in the back of your throat and you caved, leaning forwards into him to close the gap.
You gave in, reaching forwards slowly to kiss him, just as Jack knew you would.
Jack continued to cradle your face, giving you deep, so deep, gentle kisses. Fire burned in your stomach now; he had lit the match.
'Come home with me, baby.'
Jack murmured, lips still pressed against yours, barely breaking the kiss. Your mouth absorbed the words.
'Okay,' you replied, more confident this time, your arms wrapping around his neck.
'Okay?' Jack asked, smiling against your mouth.
'Okay.'
--🩷--
You sat on Jack's bed, waiting patiently for him to use the bathroom. His phone on the nightstand pinged and the screen lit up.
Your head snapped sideways to look at it.
Don't. Don't. Don't.
You did.
You picked it up and pressed the wake button.
It's Adele 🥰 See you Saturday then? Xx
Your heart dropped.
You heard Jack coming out of the bathroom so you quickly sat up and looked at your book.
'Is your book good?' Jack asked, coming over to the bed on his crutches.
'Oh... yeah, definitely my kinda thing.'
'You know it's upside down, right?'
Shit.
'All the best novels are written upside down.'
'Is that so?' Jack smirked, sinking down onto the mattress next to you. He let out a long groan, the kind of groan where you've been tired since you woke up and are finally resting.
You stared forwards. If you looked at him, you'd cry. All of a sudden you didn't know what to do with your hands.
'Baby.' Jack put his hand on your knee. 'Baby, look at me.'
You turned to face him and wished that you hadn't. Jack's scruffy hair, smelling like his fresh shower, his tired face and the look in his eyes he only reserves for you. When there's no monitors beeping, no one's bleeding out, no one is shouting for him to be the calming, strong presence he brings to the chaos.
'Are you with me?' He asked, pulling you into a hug. Being pressed against his chest made your heart skip a beat. 'I had a really nice time on date night tonight.'
'Me too,' you whispered.
You could feel the steady beating of his heart behind the heat of his body against your back as he curls around you. Jack's hand, which at first had tugged you closer by your waist, travelled down your leg to your calf, raising goosebumps on your skin. The ascent was much slower, deliberate; his fingertips skimming the back of your thigh and dragging it closer and over his hip. Jack's hand started to reach to grab your butt cheek.
It took everything in you not to reach for him. You almost did. But then you remembered.
'I am super tired,' you tried to shrug off Jack's advances, despite the burning hunger in his darkened eyes.
You were very wet but very confused.
'Okay babe,' Jack smiled faintly. It wasn't that he'd ever want you to do something you weren't fully consenting to and enthusiastic about. It was that he could read you so well and he knew you were upset about something, he just wasn't sure what.
You settled against his chest, closing your eyes, as Jack turned off the lamp.
'Night baby. I love you.'
'I love you.'
--🩷--
You hadn't been over to Jack's apartment in three days. Three looong days. It felt like forever.
It was now Friday.
Jack had sent flowers on Wednesday morning - a dozen red roses. He was the classic gentleman. You had put them in a vase in the window and regarded them with the focus of a surgeon. They didn't tell you the answers you sought.
You were concerned they were guilty flowers.
Jack had invited you to his apartment Wednesday night, and last night, but you couldn't face it. Seeing him would mean talking to him.
The longer you went without seeing him, the easier it was to steel yourself.
You had made a lot of sacrifices for this relationship. You'd had your heartbroken broken before, and could objectively survive it again.
You were seated in your favourite chair, pretending to read again. Your phone pinged.
Are you home?
Yeah, why?
Do you want to come over?
I can't, sorry.
Ok x
You sighed and put your phone down. One day. One day until Jack's night off and meeting Adele.
The doorbell rang. You padded over, conscious you were only in your thin tank and sleep shorts. You hid the majority of your body behind the door.
Jack stood in the doorway, an easy smile on his face. He was wearing a cammo top and black cargos. You took a sharp inhale of breath.
Every time you saw Jack, every time, made you fall that much more in love with him.
'Hi,' Jack's eyes crinkled into a smile.
'Hi.' You couldn't hide your surprise as Jack's eyes burned into yours.
'I thought you might want some company?'
You hesitate, unsure. You don't have a reason to say you can't see him - he's already here.
Jack hovers outside your door. '... would you prefer I didn't come in?'
He's suddenly unsure and nervous at your hesitancy. The spontaneous romantic gesture had faded in his mind to what quite literally could be described as forced entry.
'No, of course,' you step back, letting him in.
Jack walks into the living room, trying not to give away his casual sweep of the apartment. Was he... checking if you were alone?
'I'm just finishing this lame cooking show before an early night.' You gesture vaguely at your tv and comfy couch, covered with a rumpled blanket. You surreptiously edge chocolate wrappers under the table with a slippered foot. Jack does you the kindness of pretending not to notice.
'Tell me to go.' Jack's rough voice is low as he doesn't follow your lead when you sit down, instead looking at you. Looking into you. His usual calm, controlled presence has an edge tonight.
'No, of course not.' You pat the sofa next to you.
Before you go to bed, and in the unsaid assumption Jack is staying, his fingers linger against yours as he cuddles you from behind.
You try to ignore the insistent bulge against your back. 'I'm sorry,' Jack murmurs, but his hand runs across your waist all the same. His thick fingers splay against your stomach, large enough to cover most of you.
'Jack,' you sigh, feeling your resistance melting as he kisses your neck, slow, and starving. The kisses are noisy and wet, and you melt. Jack's scratchy stubble against your cheek made you structurally unsound.
This wasn't the plan. This wasn't the plan at all.
Jack only had to look at you and you were ready. A goner... soaking wet.
Somehow you find yourself lying on your back as Jack's hand works down your panties. It's as if it can go unacknowledged if it's underneath your panties. Hidden by material. It's not really happening, it doesn't really count, if your panties are still on. You thought maybe you'd seen that on a bumper sticker somewhere.
Then your tummy was coiling tight, and your back was arching. Fuck. If you come then it's definitely going to count.
Jack is whispering, 'Oh good girl. That's it. Give it to me,' in that rough voice of his and now you're cumming all over his fingers and he's sucking them clean. Then he's lying above you, leaning on his forearms, and then somehow he's inside you. Jack's attentive and selfless, his hand between where you join, kissing your open mouth, swallowing your moans. When he finally comes inside you, it's with a relieved groan.
Now you're cuddled together and you almost, almost, forget. But you watch the clock on your nightstand tick over to 00:00 and then all of a sudden it was Saturday.
--🩷--
You don't know why you just can't ask. Jack's stood against your kitchen counter, as easily as he would if it were his own, scrolling on his phone. His hair is mussed from sleep and he is wearing those glasses as he reads an article. You regard him with wonder and sadness. You can't burn this sight in your mind if he's leaving.
You make some sort of excuse as to why you can't spend the day together. It killed you to say it but you couldn't bear to watch him get ready to go out to meet Adele.
--🩷--
Robby.
Brother.
I need help.
I know. I would ask your therapist for a full refund.
Ha-ha.
I think I broke my girlfriend.
With the giant heat you're packing?
Among other things.
She seems really sad.
Ask her?
I have. She says she's fine.
Then maybe she's fine?
She's not. I know she's not.
Can you ask her?
Fuck no, don't involve me in your doomed romance.
Maybe she's realising you work long, nocturnal hours and are emotionally unavailable?
...
Brother?
Yeah. Maybe.
--🩷--
Jack called around 7pm.
'Hi babe. Just wondering if I could come round later?'
'I thought you were busy this evening?'
'I was, but I think I'll cancel.'
Guilt struck you.
'Maybe we could go for dinner?'
You desperately wanted to say yes.
'I was gonna stay in with a takea-'
The doorbell rang.
'Hang on, there's someone at the door.'
You hold your phone in an outstretched arm as you answer the door.
'Thai for Dr Abbot?'
You were confused.
You told the delivery guy to wait a second then put your phone back to your ear. 'Jack, there's a delivery man here for you? Did you order to the wrong house?'
'No - right house. It's your favourite. I thought you might not wa-... have time for dinner.'
Your heart gave a pang.
'It's already paid for so you need to take it in before it goes cold.'
You smile gratefully at the delivery driver and close the door.
'You didn't need to do that,' you said softly.
'I know,' Jack's reply was just as soft.
You laughed when you looked inside. 'There's way too much food in here!'
'I know.' You could hear movement and keys jingling in the background. 'My favourite is in there too.'
--🩷--
Jack arrives, at the door with that tired set of his jaw but pure adoration in his eyes. 'Baby,' he murmurs, sinking down on the sofa with a sigh and turning to face you. He takes your hand in his. 'Please tell me what I've done wrong. Please.'
Suddenly you're overwhelmed and can't keep it in any longer. The product of too many sleepless nights and biting your nails down to the quick.
'I heard you.' You've hidden your head into his neck so you don't have to look at his face. Jack's neck is warm and scratchy from his stubble. He smells like cedarwood and citrus, his detergent that half your clothes have been washed in, and just Jack. The combination brings you to your knees everytime, sometimes quite literally, but right now it's all just steadying your heart beat. Feeling his low pulse against your lips helped to ground you.
'You heard me what?' Jack's low, rough voice is quiet, confused, but he doesn't make you look at him. He wanted you to feel safe by respecting your boundaries.
'At the hospital.' You couldn't believe the words were falling from your mouth. You tried to suck them back in, especially when met with Jack's silence, but you had to keep going. 'I heard you with... with Adele.'
Jack shifted slightly underneath you, an uncomfortable stiffening. 'If you're going to leave me, just tell me. Just tell me now, please, Jack. I can't. I can't-'
Jack brings your head to face him with two fingers. 'Baby,' he breathed. Jack's hand moved to hold yours, immediately drowning it in his thick fingers. He scrunched them on your palm until you opened your fingers, letting him intertwine his with yours.
'That's not what you thought it was.' Jack's smile was kind and his eyes were soft. 'I used to serve with her. She was asking if I missed having such a tight-knit group of friends. The soldiers from Pittsburgh make sure they keep in touch.'
You blinked as you absorbed his words. Your eyes flicked over his tired face, his warm eyes, his comforting body language. Jack's hair was mussed from running his hands through it so many times, rubbing the back of his neck, stressed from trying to understand.
You took a second. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. Jack was giving you the space to work it through. Your gaze ran over his graying hair from so many years spent surviving. The dusting of freckles across his forearm, which ended in his hand supportively holding yours.The warm body heat you weren't going to lose.
'Oh, Jack.' You breathed, and started to tear up.
'Hey, no, no, no. None of that.' Jack shushes you in a low voice, peppering your face in kisses instead of just wiping them away. 'I'm here. It's okay.'
'I'm just sad that you had a painful reminder of how brave you were, and how much grief it caused you.' Your eyes ran over his face. 'I'm sorry I ruined your evening.'
'You didn't ruin my evening,' Jack gave you an easy smile. 'I'm here with you. The best kind of evening. '
You felt butterflies and a selfish rush of relief. 'You still have time to go.' You stood. 'I'll drive you. Which bar is it?'
Jack laughed and put his arms around your waist. He pulled you down until you were sitting straddled on him. His crinkled eyes looked deep into yours with an intense want, giving you bedroom eyes and a small twitch of a sideways smile. 'I'm not going anywhere.'
Jack had perfect access to your neck now. Making it up to you came in the form of teasing you and insane from want. It worked the first time.
He ran his lips slowly from your shoulder to your jaw. He didn't touch you, just a whisper of breath against your neck. 'Physically or emotionally.'
You let out the breath you had been holding for days, and then sharply inhaled it back as he ghosted along your jaw, from your ear towards your mouth. He still wasn't touching you.
'Say you understand that I love you endlessly and would never hurt you.'
You let out a soft sound as Jack's lips paused near yours. His face was so much closer now, inches from yours. You could see the gold flecks in his eyes.
He paused there, waiting. Teasing you. Jack closed the gap even further. You could feel him breathing against your mouth, the longer strands of stubble brushing against your lips.
You stifled a moan.
'Say you understand.' Jack's voice was deeper, sharper, controlled. His eyes steeled a little. 'Say it.'
'I-I understand.'
Jack's eyes changed and he moved even closer, his lips almost, almost, touching yours now.
He slightly tilted his head to the side and stared directly into your eyes with a burning intensity.
'Good girl.'
Then Jack was kissing you; hungry and desperate. He let out a soft moan of relief from somewhere in the back of his throat and you swallowed it whole.
You leant forwards, pushing against him but not pushing him backwards. Your hands were around his shoulders, against his chest, in his hair.
Jack held you tightly against him, one hand around your waist pulling you even closer where your hips met his lower stomach. His other hand was playing with your hair, before bunching it in his fist and pulling your head back slightly.
It didn't hurt as much as send a quick, pained thrill straight down between your legs. Jack moaned, goal achieved, and ran his teeth against your collarbone.
'Jack,' you breathed. It was all you could say. 'Jack...JackJackJack.'
'I'm here baby,' Jack murmured against your skin, before licking a thick stripe from between your breasts to your clavicle.
You gave a sharp inhale as Jack pulled your sleep tank over your head. 'You won't be needing this.' He planted soft kisses with enough suction and teeth to leave deliberate marks all over your chest.
You couldn't wait any longer. You unbuckled his jeans and opened the fly, where his straining cock was desperate to be freed. When you lifted him out, it sprang up and slapped softly against his stomach.
'Fuuuuck,' you breathed.
'Exactly. Do that. Do it now.'
Jack was pulling your shorts to the side. He didn't even bother to shimmy his jeans down even a little. They remained fully on, with just his cock waving out. The desperation didn't have time for shimmying.
'I need to fuck you now.' Jack's voice was rough. 'I can't wait any longer.'
This broke you. You lined yourself up with him, feeling it pulse against your hole. You were already soaking wet, and smearing it across his head.
'Oh baby,' Jack breathed, 'and I didn't even touch you.'
His hands moved to your hips and he tightened his grip on you.
'Is that all it takes?'
A surge of want flooded through you and you sank down. Jack made a sound like he'd been suckerpunched.
You started to move your hips, and Jack helped push you down onto him with each dip.
'Oh, fuck.' Jack breathed, losing it.
The sound of him falling apart underneath you gave you a warmth of affection and a newfound confidence in yourself.
Your stomach pulled as you rode him, feeling every vein as you tugged upwards.
'Use me,' Jack whispered. 'Look at me.'
You met his eyes. Big mistake.
Jack hissed as he felt your pussy clench around him.
'Take what you need,' his voice was rough but desperate, 'because I'm not gonna last much longer.'
You bent your head to watch Jack's thick cock disappearing inside of you and pulling back out. He was so large you didn't know how it fit inside you.
'I know, baby, I know.' Jack's fingers on your hips pressed down harder. 'Eyes on me.'
You were rough now, angling yourself so the head of his cock was pushing against that gummy spot deep inside you that you couldn't reach with your fingers you.
You couldn't control your cries, loud and semi-pornographic.
Your stomach pulled even tighter.
'Good girl... oh good fucking girl.'
Jack's right hand left your hips and reached down between you.
The way he stared into your eyes, so close to yours, the hazel ablaze, was rocketing you into the sky.
'Use me,' Jack coached, maintaining eye contact as he started to circle your clit with practised movements.
You groaned and tipped your head back.
'Eyes.' Jack growled, and you shot back to look at him.
You couldn't control your moans now, losing your breath, and Jack's fingers quickened their pace. It was becoming difficult for Jack to maintain a rhythm. Your pussy was so wet, his fingers were sliding and helplessly trying to rub you in sloppy movements.
'Such a pretty pussy... such a pretty girl.' Jack was still looking straight at you. He was moving his head closer again.
'You're taking me so well.' You clenched around him and his eyes widened a little for a second. He audibly swallowed and clenched his jaw. His obvious restraint was becoming more and more difficult to maintain. It was simple biology with the way your warm, wet cunt was tugging against him. The power to control when he would cum inside you was not going to last much longer.
'Shit, you're so tight around me. Are you gonna cum, baby?' Jack moved closer still. 'Are you going to cum all over my cock like a good fucking girl?'
Then his filthy mouth was on you, wet and smashing against yours. All licking tongues and panting into each other's mouths.
'I'm going to cum,' you cried, 'oh I'm going to fucking cum.'
'Theeeere you go.. good girl... let it all out,' Jack coaxed you as you slammed down mercilessly on him, your wetness gushing over his cock and running down onto his barely unzipped jeans.
Jack waited for you to ride the few last waves, still soaking down onto his jeans, before he was roughly pounding up into you.
He made a soft, groaning sound and his hips stuttered sloppily. You felt him spilling deep inside you, the warmth of his cum hugging the walls of your cunt. The head of his cock was still pushed against your cervix, sputtering spray after spray into it.
When Jack finally came down, he pulled you closer to kiss you. This one was soft and deep... tender. He held you there as he softened inside you.
Jack held you by your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently across it. 'Are we okay?'
You laughed, still breathing hard. 'More than okay.'
'Did I make up for it?'
'Fuck yes... but if you want to go, there's still time, I'll get my keys.'
sammy bryant headcanon: walk with me. i refuse to believe that man wasn't pulling, and every time he was approached by a pretty girl, he immediately thought they were hoping to get to ben via sammy introduction. he's just oblivious to the fact that anyone would want him. the reason he ended up with tammi was because he sought her out of his own volition. he was a lovestruck puppy but he's just always been oblivious to girls wanting him. he just thought very low of himself
making sammy the type to chalk it up to 'ah, she's not looking to talk to me, she wants pretty boy sherman,' and he takes his leave the minute he's done introducing the two. finding another part of the bar to post up, every move a girl makes on him goes right over his head, despite the fact that he's approached several times within a few hours. the man can't pick up on ANYTHING. you could drop to your knees in front of this man, and he's bending down to help you up, thinking you must've fallen.
because what do you mean TAMMI was the best he could do?? the same man who was willing to max out his cards for a camera for his wife's hobby?? THE SAME MAN WHO BOUGHT THE SAME PAINT FOR BOTH HIS AND EX'S HOUSE FOR THE BABY ROOM–
i need to calm down... everything's fine, im an adult.
authors note: i didn’t proof read this! wrote this on a walk :p
—
thinking about how the apartment is dark and quiet when sammy got home.
okay, he deserved that.
the fight had been his fault.. well not entirely…maybe, but enough! it was enough that he'd spent the entire drive home replaying it.
it was enough that he decided on stopping for her favorite hot chocolate on the way back and it was certainly enough that he'd already rehearsed three different apologies.
but the problem is that all three disappeared when he walked into the living room. because she's there, curled up on the couch.
she’s asleep like she was waiting for him to come back home. or at least she had been.
her favorite blanket is tangled around her much shorter legs. and shes now wearing one of his hoodies— it hangs off her frame, sleeves swallowing her hands. the tv in the living room is still playing some movie she never got to finish.
he sighs, standing over her, and suddenly all at once the fight feels very small.
stupid.
he shouldn’t have said those words.
he shouldn’t have left.
her cheeks are still a little pink like she cried after. he decided to leave and gain some distance. he thought he was doing what was right.
it all just twists at something deep in his chest.
"fuck," he mutters.
he made her cry.
he did this.
quietly, he set his keys and the to-go cup down on the island before he crosses the room.
she doesn't stir when he kneels beside the couch. she's exhausted, he can tell because she pobably stayed awake longer than she meant to.
waiting for him even after everything that they said.
sammy brushes a strand of hair away from her face, the movement is gentle and he almost hesitates.
he whispers her name, "i'm sorry, babygirl.” he’s so quiet she doesn’t hear.
but maybe that's why he's brave enough to say them.
"i'm sorry." he coos.
his thumb strokes her cheek once.. twice and the familiar softness immediately grounds him as she shifts slightly under his touch.
a sleepy little frown appearing.
then, without opening her eyes, she leans toward his hand instinctively like she always does.
and sammy… he nearly loses it right there, because even angry, and hurt, and after a fight she's still reaching for him.
he closes his eyes eyes briefly before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead which causes his lips to linger as he breaths in her faint vanilla scented perfume.
when he pulls back, his voice is rough. "let's get you to bed."
and before he can move, her small fingers catch the sleeve of his shirt. her eyes open slowly, heavy with sleep and a little confused but of course she knows it’s him who is home.
"s-sammy?"
his heart cracks. “yeah, baby."
she swallows like she’s holding in tears, “you came back."
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