gardeniatiless

pairings: jack abbot x resident!reader

summary: you call out sick to go out with your friends (and to maybe get your mind off someone) when an accident leads you right back to work... and jack.

wc: 4k

a/n: hellooo!! this is my first work EVER (not counting harry potter wattpad stories from 2021). anyway i hope you enjoy <3

Fuck.

Of course, this happened to you. Why wouldn’t it? This was karma at its absolute finest. Your friends had asked you to join them for a girls' night out at the local bar. You couldn’t remember the last time you had gotten wasted with your friends, so you decided to indulge yourself.

You called out of work and used a sick day in order to be there. You spent almost two hours searching for your favorite pair of jeans that hugged your ass just right to go with your new tiny red top, and an additional hour on top of that doing your makeup perfectly.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t hoping to leave with someone; it had been far too long since you had been with anyone, and you were getting a little desperate. 

While truthful, that was the corporate answer. The reason you gave when someone asked you what you were looking for tonight.

The real answer would entail a massive crush harboured over a certain salt and pepper-haired attending, whom you knew was completely and utterly beyond your reach, but that didn’t stop your heart from fluttering whenever Dr. Abbot stood by you, or heat gathering in your core whenever he looked at you.

Lately, it hasn’t been feeling so out of reach. It started with the unnecessary touching. A hand on your waist, gently moving you if you happened to be in his way. The pads of his calloused fingers pressed into the small of your back whilst he was guiding you through a procedure.

Next came his words. He was constantly praising you, saying your name when it didn’t need to be said, and stuff of that nature. He had maintained the professionalism of referring to you as “Doctor”, but the way he said your last name had to violate some kind of HR rule.

Lastly, you swore Dr. Abbot always seemed to be looking at you. Of course, it makes sense why you would be looking at him, but it’s gotten to a point that you can feel his eyes on you before you have to turn around and confirm it for yourself. You felt vulnerable in a way you never have when he looks at you, and in these moments, you swear that he can see right through you.

All this was driving you up the wall, and you left every shift reeling from this questionably one-sided tension. No one even seemed to notice. No one has asked you about this, or even brought it up at all, which leads you to believe that all this is in your head, and the unnatural sleep schedule your work gives you is making you insane.

All this leads back to the purpose of your night. If you didn’t get some kind of release from all of the… whatever it is. You were going to explode. And that could not happen. You were positive it was just lust, that’s why you were crushing hard on Dr. Abbot. If you spent the night with someone else, anyone else, you would be cured.

And it almost worked. You knocked back shot after shot and flirted hard when a random guy from the bar decided to bite. He was cute; sharp jaw, broad shoulders, nice smile. He was no Jack Abbot, you thought, but quickly banished that thought from your mind. That was literally the whole point of tonight, after all.

You were walking, albeit stumbling, with him towards his car, leaning basically all your weight on him, when the inevitable happened. The heel of your shoe caught in a crack of the sidewalk, causing you to hit the sidewalk. You tried to reassure him you were fine, but as you tried to get up and start walking again, the heel in your shoe completely gave out, making you fall again. This fall was somehow worse, feeling an immediate sharp pain in your ankle along with small cuts on your arm.

The man you were with, to his credit, didn’t freak out. He told you not to panic, and he would take you to the nearest emergency room. Unfortunately, that had just the opposite effect. Even though you were drunk and a little delirious, thanks to the immense throbbing in your ankle, you still had enough sense to understand where he meant.

That leads to now. The harsh, blinding lights of the hospital make you wince as you hobble into the central room of the Pitt, essentially being held upright by a strong hand on your waist.

“Holy shit.”

You turn to see Shen and Ellis coming over to see you, Shen chewing on the straw of his coffee, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

“What the hell happened to you?” Ellis asks, jaw dropped in an equal mix of concern and amusement.

You groan and run your fingers through your hair. “Rough night.” You are far too inebriated to be here, the full gravity of your situation, being drunk in front of your coworkers in your going-out clothes.

“We were walking, and she tripped on the concrete. Broke the heel of her shoe.” The man holding you up answers, clearly in a better state of mind for this situation. “She can’t walk on her own.”

Tilting his head, Shen looks you up and down, assessing you, able to notice that whilst you were standing up, little to no weight was being put on your right foot.

“Right. I believe South 14 is open,” he looks back towards the overhead monitor to confirm, nodding once he finds it. “We can go there now and-”

“Shen! Ellis!” Lena calls from behind the desk. “Incoming trauma! Adult male, 25-foot fall, impalement injury. Unstable vitals. ETA three minutes.”

“Shit,” Shen mutters. “Alright, sorry, um,” he looks around to find someone to help you, eyes finally locking onto an available doctor.

“Dr. Abbot! Can you help her out?” Shen runs off with Ellis before he gets an answer, grabbing some other doctors on the way to greet the ambulance outside.

Jack’s eyes find yours, and the punch you feel in your gut has you immediately looking away, desperately trying to find a way to get out of his gaze. You are so fucked, you think to yourself.

He makes his way over to you. Both of you, you realize, suddenly remembering the man beside you, and your cheeks instantly color.

“What happened?” Jack asks. You shiver as you feel his eyes running over you without looking at him. He must have special powers that make a person feel where he’s looking, you think. This is not normal.

“We were walking back to my car when she tripped on a crack in the concrete. She can’t walk, and said something about her ankle.”

You slowly look at Jack, biting your lip nervously when you realize his eyes have steeled over.

“And who are you?” Jack asks, finally looking away from you.

“Oh, sorry, completely forgot to introduce myself.” He extends his hand. “I’m Jack.”

Shit. Fuck. ShitFuckShitFuck. You totally forgot that this guy’s name was Jack. Of course, this happens.

Your eyes widen as you watch the upper corner of your Jack’s lips lift into a smirk. No- Not your Jack, you mentally slap yourself. Dr. Abbot. Wow, you really need to get it together. You need to get out of here. The alcohol is still in your system. 

“Look.” You said, putting your hands in front of you as if you were protecting yourself from your Ja- Dr. Abbot. “I’ve hurt my ankle, the world is not over. I’m a doctor, a perfectly good one who is capable of handling this by herself.” 

It took an enormous amount of effort not to stumble over your words, and truth be told, you had no idea how you would handle this on your own; you didn’t have anything you needed at home. But you would rather figure all that out in the morning than have your intensely attractive attending care for you.

“Oh yeah?” Jack asks you, crossing his arms over his chest. An unknowingly unfair move on his part, because you can’t help how your gaze moves to his arms in that moment. “How do you do it?”

It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. “Um, no walking on it. Duh.” You say with a nervous laugh. “Wrap it and…” you blank on another step, curing your slow brain.

You turn to the Jack next to you. “I swear I'm a good doctor,” you say, putting a hand on his chest because in your mind that makes him believe you more. “You can ask him.” You face Doctor Jack and falter.

His jaw looks painfully clenched as he looks at the other Jack. More specifically, where your hand is placed on his torso.

“Let’s get you to South 14.” In the blink of an eye, he is on the other side of you, pushing the other Jack out of the way so he can hold you up by your waist. You swallow your gasp as you feel his hand on you. Without any fabric between his fingers and your skin, you can feel how he is hot to the touch, and wonder if this is just the case for his hands or…

You subtly pinch yourself to snap yourself back to the present.

“I can help her there,” other Jack resists a little bit, hesitant to let you out of his arms.

“Unfortunately, since she is being treated here, she has become a patient, and our emergency room only allows family as visitors.”

“But…” you say, trailing off. You know that’s not true. Friends bring their friends into the ER all the time, no problem. What is happening?

Jack #2 is still being stubborn. “I feel like I should be there with her. Is there seriously no way I can be a visitor?” He says with disbelief.

“Lets ask her then, she is right here after all.” Jack presses his fingers into your waist as he says your last name to get your attention, causing you to inhale sharply before you can look at him. He says your name in a sickening way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Are you okay with letting me take care of you?” He asks you softly, eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. You feel paralyzed, unable to do anything except swallow and nod your head, captivated by his gaze.

The other Jack finally lets go of you, causing your weight to fall onto your attending. You wish the ground would swallow you whole. You wish they weren’t in the ER. You wish Jack #2 didn’t exist.

“Right, well.” Other Jack steps back and rubs the back of his neck with his hands. “I hope you feel better. You have my number, text me when you're home?”

It takes gargantuan levels of effort to turn your head and smile at another Jack. “Thank you for bringing me to the hospital.”

He waves goodbye and finds his way back to his car.

Jack Abbot is strong, you realize. The arm supporting you is essentially doing all the work of traveling for you, and you try not to imagine what his big arms look like straining to carry your weight.

You don’t say anything as he walks you over to the bed, trying your best to fight your face flushing as he gently grabs your ankles and sets your legs on the bed so you don’t have to swing them over yourself.

“Is the light too bright?”

You look at him finally. “What?”

“The lights.” Jack says, gesturing above to the ceiling. “Do you want me to dim them?”

“Oh. Yeah, that would be nice.” You mutter a thanks as the white lights above you become less abrasive, saving you from a headache in the near future.

The bed is at an incline, allowing you to watch as Jack drags a seat to the edge of the bed. He takes your heels in his hands, gently removing them from your feet to get a look at your ankles.

“I’m going to need to roll up your jeans.” He says, eyes dark and looking at you, waiting for your permission even though he didn’t really need it.

You just nod and bite the inside of your lip, not trusting your voice in the moment.

He rolled up the leg of your left jeans slowly, stopping when the fabric rested right below your knee. You almost wanted to look away; the amount of care Jack was giving you right now was really doing it for you. 

You know that this is just procedure, pure professionalism, but you can’t bring yourself to turn your head and look at anything else. You tell yourself this makes sense. When will you be this up close and personal with your hot, older attending again? Might as well appreciate it while it lasts.

As Jack rolls up the material on your right leg, you jolt slightly as you feel his thumb brush your leg as his hands move. Your heart is still beating embarrassingly fast when he touches you again, this time causing you to gasp under your breath.

You want to slap yourself across the face, dunk your head in water, anything to snap out of this. He literally just brushed your leg as he rolled up your jeans. He’s being so careful about it, like one wrong move could break you. 

Your mind begins to wander, imagining what it would be like in another life where it's the two of you in a dark room, and Jack is trying to break you. Would he take his time with you, pushing into you slowly at a pace that would unravel you piece by piece? Or would he set an unforgiving speed, grunting at the effort it takes to maintain the rhythm whilst simultaneously-

You’re startled back to reality when Jack squeezes the side of your calf, head tilted as he looks at you amusedly.

“Where did you go?” he asks you calmly.

You can feel your face immediately heat up as you stammer in response. “I- I’m- What- What do you mean?” The way he is looking at you has you thinking he knows exactly where you went, even though that would be impossible. “I’m right here?”

“Hmm. You didn’t hear me after I called your name twice.” He remarks, biting back a smile. “If you were here, I feel as though that wouldn’t have happened.”

You scoff. “Well.. where else could I have been?”

“Do you want to tell me?” He asks you. There is nothing inherently suggestive about his tone, yet you still feel heat gather as you remember what you were just thinking about.

You swallow, trying to maintain your self-composure. “Not really.”

Jack looks at you, through you, once more before turning his focus back to the issue at hand. “Which ankle is giving you trouble?”

“I really feel like you should be able to answer this.” You frown. “You are my attending after all.” You can’t stop your words from slurring just a little.

Jack lets out a laugh at that, which of course makes your stupid heart soar. “I can tell, I was wondering if you could remember.”

You hiss as he gently squeezes your hurt ankle, which makes him give you an apologetic glance. He doesn’t say sorry, however. 

He sets down your ankle onto the bed and claps his hands together. “Alright, it’s just a minor sprain from what I’ve gathered. I’m going to grab some bandages to wrap and help speed up the healing.”

“But-” you start, only to be silenced by the hand he places on your knee.

“I’m doing this. Don’t move.” He orders, then leaves without waiting for a response.

You sigh and stare at the door while you wait for him to return. As the seconds go by, you feel your eyelids getting heavier before you finally drift off to sleep.

Suddenly, you jolt awake as you feel a hand lift your ankle, jerking your leg back and immediately regretting the action, wincing as you bump your ankle against the bed.

“Whoa, careful now.” Jack has evidently returned from the bandage run and is currently…

You blink away the sleepiness and watch as Jack brushes his thumb over your ankle in an attempt to soothe the pain you just caused yourself.

“It’s just me,” he reassures you.

“Did you just get back? You should have woken me up, you creep.”

“Now now,” He tsks, still rubbing your ankle. “That is no way to speak to your attending.”

“Still a creep.” You say words more to convince yourself than him. If you kept talking, then you couldn’t focus on how the rough skin of his thumb slightly scratched you as it moved over you, sending a shock down your spine and reminding yourself that what is happening in this moment is not a dream.

“I’m the creep?” Jack chuckles. “You were about to go home with a guy who has the same name as me.”

“I- That-” You fumble over your words. “First of all, no I wasn’t.” A lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “Second of all, we are absolutely not talking about this.”

“Hmm,” is all Jack replied with, finally taking his hand off your ankle and beginning to prep the bandage instead.

You thank every deity you could think of in the moment that it was dark, and your attending could not see how red your cheeks have become.

He starts wrapping your ankle with the care and precision of someone who has been doing this for most of his life, which would make sense.

Your heart has finally returned to a regular pace when he starts to talk again.

“So you’re feeling better, then?”

“What?” You ask, confused.

“Well, you did let me know this morning that you weren’t feeling good, which is why you aren’t working at this moment.” He pauses, wrapping the bandage, looking at you.

He would be good at interrogation; just his gaze alone has you squirming in your seat.

“You must have been feeling better to go out drinking with Jack.” You watch the way he clenches his jaw, noticeably irritated.

“I didn’t go drinking with him.” You look away. “I just met him at the bar.”

“If you had just met him at the bar, why would you be going home with him?”

You give him a look. “Do I have to spell it out for you, Dr. Abbot?”

Jack smirks at you. “So you do admit you were going home with him.”

You groan. What is this guy’s problem? “Fine! Yes. That’s exactly what I was doing. I really don’t see how this is any of your business.” You snap at him, patience running thin.

“It becomes my business when one of my best residents calls out of work so she can do this instead of being at work, where she’s needed.” Jack retorts, setting down your ankle and standing up.

“Can’t you just leave this alone?” You plead with him. You could feel your brain slipping away from you, and you didn’t like where the conversation was heading.

“Not really. You’ve never done something like this to me before, so I want to know why now? What changed?”

“You did!” You blurt out. You swallow as you realize what you just said.

Jack steps towards you from the edge of the bed, which makes your insides flip. “What?” he asks, voice low.

You inch backwards with the little maneuvering space you have and avert your eyes from him, trying to put distance between the two of you. “You did, okay? At least I think? You keep touching me, looking at me, and saying my name, and I feel like I’m going crazy! I know this is crazy, so god forbid I try to take a day to clear my head so that I don’t jeopardize a good, nice, healthy, professional relationship-”

You’re cut off by his touch again, this time it was his hand on your jaw, moving to lift your head so you look at him. As soon as you lay your eyes on him, your brain frazzles. You aren’t sure when he got so close, but even through the darkness, you were able to notice the little specks of green that lay in his brown eyes.

“You aren’t crazy.” Is all he says, sliding his hand to cup your face as he searches your features for any hesitation on your end. Your body responds before your mind can catch up, leaning into his touch.

“I’m not? Are you sure?” you ask him in disbelief.

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s a struggle for me to come into work every day and not jeopardize our nice, healthy, professional, whatever.” His thumb swipes across your face as he says this, sending a chill down your body. “Every time you caught me touching you, looking at you, it meant that the selfish part of me that wants you won out.”

“But… that's why I was going crazy. You were doing both of those constantly.” You say, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Exactly.” He murmurs as he drops his head and kisses you.

You freeze for just a second, brain short-circuiting, before you come to your senses and kiss him back. You don’t even think as you kiss him, your senses too overwhelmed to form any coherent thought.

You moan as he lightly bites your bottom lip, using the opportunity to use his tongue to explore your mouth, adjusting your position with his hand to deepen the kiss.

After a few more moments, he pulls away, causing you to whine at the loss of him against you. You still don’t even know what to think, you feel hot all over, and you're slightly panting even though the kiss wasn’t for very long.

“I’m not doing this with you in here.” He says, “No matter how much I want to.”

“That didn’t stop you just now,” you say back, grabbing his hand as he tries to move away.

“Another win for my selfish side. I can’t hold it off for very long, so I need to finish up with your ankle and get back out there before it wins again.”

“But it will happen again?” you ask hopefully, embarrassingly desperate.

“Sweetheart,” Jack says, voice dripping with hunger, “I want you too badly for this to be a one-time thing.”

You say nothing as you watch him set back down in front of the bed and finish wrapping your ankle, electing instead to watch him; his arms, his hands, handling you carefully and softly.

Jack gives you some crutches to use whilst you heal and walks you out to the front, where you wait for the Uber he called to arrive and take you back to your place.

The ER is too busy for him to wait outside with you, having already spent too much time in South 14 with you. His hand snakes up your neck to hold your jaw as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, giving you goosebumps all over.

Eight hours later, you wake up with a pounding headache and countless text messages from your friends wondering how your night with Jack went. You laugh to yourself, if only they knew.

You scroll through your notifications when a new one pops up that has you fighting a smile.

“Good morning, Sweetheart. Breakfast?”