âWait, lemme fix this upâ He spoke, squinting his sight as his gaze remained focused on your math homework, with the intent of helping you figure it out.
âYou see this symbol?â He paused, making sure you two were on the same page by catching your gaze in his. âIt means that youâre supposed to use that method right there, not this oneâ he stated patiently as his fingers stood in pointing position, tapping on your sheets and trailing invisible logical connections along the white paper, while his tone was clear as water.
âMâkay..â you acknowledged, nodding slightly as your eyes met the same spot as his on the written surface. âOkay, yeah - got it.â You bit your lip, memorizing the explanation and stealing the pen from his hand, processing the next step for the calculation.
âThank you Rayâ Your voice sweet and reserved as usual. Your eyes met his, glistening in admiration as you basically saw in him your savior. Rafe had been helping you in math for quite a minute now, and he has made somehow everything lighter for you to handle. He was present when you though you were failing and when you thought it was over. He was there when you succeeded too, slowly feeling more and more proud of you for learning.
He reciprocated the kind smile that grew on your lips, meeting your gaze. âitâs nothing, Iâm more than okay with helping you as long as you learnâ
Now that your knowledge was sufficiently developed, you didnât need him anymore as much as you used to. He was still helping though, cause he craved every single moment he spent with you. Staying by your side was his perfect little habit by now.
Without thinking, you leaned in his personal space as your lips split in a seductive smile, locking your eyes with his. Your voice lowered as you dissolved the distance from his lips to yours almost completely in a slow motion. âYouâre so smart and talented⌠You ainât just a pretty face, you know?â
You attempted with your compliment as Rafe simply chuckled, his gaze jumping up from your lips to your eyes, the corners of his lips sharpening as confidence slowly marks his features.
âYeah? Wanna see how much more I can do?â His eyebrows slowly raised, eyes smoothing with certainty as he never lacked a cocky comeback.
You chuckled, as if your flirting was a joke. As if youâve not already replayed this in your head every night for the past months. âWhat can you do, huh?â
âOh- oh my godâ your voice cracking weakly as you yelped mindlessly, your spine arched at its maximum width while your thighs were growing limp and barely squashing into his cheekbones for stability anymore. Your fingers pulling at his damp frontal hair pieces in a desperate rush of satisfaction.
His tongue struggling to keep its pace as it fought your silky walls squeezing tightly around the wet muscle, imploring for more stimulation while all you could do was jolt your hips rhythmically, led by his rapid motions inside of you that had you curling your toes in ecstasy.
You moaned and whined with no filter as your head fell back without a trace, your thighs trembling as your muscles froze in a light shade of soreness.
His name rolled out of your lips frenetically as your breath came out in short gasps, your bodily reactions manipulated by his actions.
His fingers wandered up around your waist and torso, having a shiver creep up your spine and shoulders. His fingers crawled up to the swell of your breasts, where he reached and rolled one of your nipples between his thumb, between the squeezing of the soft skin and the itchy teasing to your peaks.
His eyes devoured every single contraction of your features, sight blinded by the distraction of your body twisting and being responsive around his tongue to his twisted liking.
Your liquids rolled dangerously further into his mouth with the way you thrust your hips, chasing his movements as much as your body claimed.
The outer peak of his tongue spasming against your folds and clit, your juices flowing down his chin as a result of his not so gentle fraction.
You ground your folds against his lips, more and more frenetically as you felt the orgasm approaching, clearly not controlling the way your body visibly trembled and froze in place, about to explode in a shaking vulnerable mess.
Your moans came out in quick, leading gasps as the grip on his hair began to grow more solid and demanding. Your warmth spasmed around his tongue, dragging it further up as your eyes turned glossy.
Overstimulation crashing over you just as soon as your orgasm hit you, making your hips twitch against the fraction of his mouth and your ribs to expand in a desperate gasp.
You squeezed your eyes shut as his hands dug into your hips, keeping you grounded as he kept devouring and torturing you through your climax.
You moaned in short sighs, slowly angling your head down to see Rafe, to make sure he was aware of what he just did to you.
He pulled his tongue out, dragging it up your sensitive folds with a lewd lick, brushing against your swollen clit, making you whimper and jolt against his face.
âFuck..â His voice raspy and almost amazed, coming from between your thighs. His grin noticeably wider than when you got through an exercise without his intervention.
His chest dropping and raising gradually while he tried to catch his breath after almost suffocating in your pussy. You inhaled, air itching in your sore throat as you still came down from the orgasm.
Your knees lifted off the bed, dropping your body on the soft duvet as you landed on your back, turning your head to him, hoping heâd say something while you waited for your lucid reasoning to return back to you.
âAm I still just a pretty face?â Rafe asked grinning, shifting on top of you, with his chin on your stomach as his elbows dug in the soft fabric near your bare hips. His eyes glistening as he looked up at you, his fingers brushing intimate paths on your ribs.
Your eyebrows still facing up in a knot, lips swollen from all the biting. Your hand digging through his hair as you sighed, physically strained.
âNo..â you breathed, legs tangling together under his chest, fighting the ache you had been left between you thighs. âFuck, youâre notâŚâ you scoffed, amazed and still breathing laboured.
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You (23) meet Danny Walker (24) at a bar while he's not on active duty and you're studying at university.
The university semester had been chewing you up for weeks.
Between assignments, exams, and a part-time job that paid just enough to keep your apartment's lights on, you were running on caffeine and stubbornness.
So when your roommate dragged you out to a local bar on a Friday night, you agreed mostly because you needed an excuse to stop staring at textbooks.
The place was crowded but comfortableâwarm lighting, old rock music playing through speakers, people laughing over drinks.
You were halfway through your first cocktail when someone accidentally bumped your elbow.
"Oh, damnâsorry."
The deep voice made you glance up.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Criminally attractive.
Dark hair that looked like he'd run a hand through it one too many times.
And a smile that appeared the second your eyes met.
"You're good," you said, steadying your glass.
"Didn't spill anything?"
You checked.
"Nope."
"Good." He grinned. "I'd hate to be responsible for alcohol abuse."
You laughed before you could stop yourself.
Okay, he's funny.
The stranger extended a hand.
"Danny."
You took it.
His grip was warm.
"(Y/N)."
"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)."
Something about the way he said your name made your stomach do a weird little flip.
You quickly ignored it.
"So," Danny said, leaning against the bar, "what are you drinking?"
You held up your glass.
"Something fruity and probably embarrassing."
"Perfect."
"Perfect?"
"Absolutely. Anyone who orders drinks based on taste instead of trying to look cool gets points."
"You saying I don't look cool?"
"I'm saying you look too smart to care."
You narrowed your eyes.
"That sounded suspiciously like a compliment."
"It was."
The smile he gave you was shameless.
You immediately looked away.
Which only made him chuckle.
One drink turned into two.
Then three hours somehow disappeared.
Danny was easy to talk to.
Ridiculously easy.
He listened when you spoke.
Actually listened.
When you talked about university, he asked questions.
When you ranted about professors, he laughed.
When you admitted you weren't completely sure what you wanted to do after graduation, he didn't judge.
"You're twenty-three," he said.
"You make it sound like I have plenty of time."
"You do."
"Easy for you to say."
He shrugged.
"I didn't have my life figured out at twenty-three either."
"You do now?"
"No."
You laughed.
"At least you're honest."
"Always."
For a second, something softer crossed his face.
A quiet sincerity.
The kind that made your chest tighten.
Eventually curiosity got the better of you.
"So what do you do?"
Danny took a sip of his beer.
"I'm in the Navy."
"Oh."
That explained a few things.
The posture.
The confidence.
The broad shoulders.
Your eyes narrowed.
"Wait."
"What?"
"You've been sitting here for three hours and forgot to mention you're military?"
His grin returned.
"You never asked."
"You absolutely did that on purpose."
"Maybe."
You rolled your eyes.
He looked far too pleased with himself.
"Are you stationed nearby?"
"Not at the moment."
"So you're on leave?"
"Something like that."
There was a slight hesitation in his voice.
Not enough to feel suspicious.
Just enough to suggest there was more to the story.
You didn't push.
Near midnight, your roommate finally texted.
ARE YOU COMING HOME OR ARE YOU MARRYING THE HOT GUY?
You nearly choked.
Danny noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
You turned your phone around.
He read the message.
Then laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
"Oh, she's funny."
"She's evil."
"She's not wrong."
Heat rushed into your face.
"Danny."
"What?"
His smile softened.
A little less teasing.
A little more genuine.
"You've been staring at me all night."
Your jaw dropped.
"I have not."
"You have."
"You have!"
"That's true."
The admission caught you off guard.
Danny looked completely unashamed.
Completely sincere.
And somehow that was worse.
The noise of the bar seemed to fade for a moment.
Neither of you looked away.
"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly.
"Okay."
"Would it be incredibly clichĂŠ if I asked for your number?"
You smiled.
"Depends."
"On?"
"Whether you plan on texting me."
His eyes sparkled.
"Oh, definitely."
You handed him your phone.
"Then I guess it's not clichĂŠ."
Danny entered his contact information before giving it back.
A second later your phone buzzed.
Danny Walker
Try not to miss me too much before our first date.
You laughed.
Looking up, you found him already watching you.
That same warm smile.
The one that made you feel like maybe this wasn't just a random night at a bar.
Maybe it was the beginning of something.
Something worth staying up for.
Something worth waiting for.
And judging by the look in Danny Walker's eyesâ
he was thinking exactly the same thing.
The following Thursday arrived much faster than you expected.
You spent an embarrassing amount of time standing in front of your closet, changing outfits, then changing back into the first one.
Your roommate offered absolutely no help.
"You like him."
"I barely know him."
"You spent forty minutes deciding what to wear."
"That's called being prepared."
"That's called having a crush."
You threw a pillow at her.
At exactly six-thirty, your phone buzzed.
Danny: I'm outside.
Your stomach immediately flipped.
Traitor.
You took one last look in the mirror before heading downstairs.
The moment you stepped out of your apartment building, you spotted him.
And for a second, you forgot how to walk.
Danny was leaning against his truck, hands tucked into the pockets of a dark jacket.
The second he saw you, his entire face lit up.
Like he'd been waiting all day.
Then you noticed what he was holding.
Flowers.
Not generic grocery-store flowers.
Not a random bouquet.
Your favorite flowers.
The exact ones you'd loved since childhood.
You stopped short.
"Danny..."
His smile softened.
"You like them?"
You stared at the bouquet.
"How did you know these were my favorite?"
A slightly guilty expression crossed his face.
"You mentioned them."
"No, I didn't."
"You did."
"When?"
"At the bar."
You blinked.
"Danny, we talked about a hundred different things."
"Yeah."
"And you remembered that?"
He looked confused.
"As opposed to... not remembering?"
Your heart did something alarming.
"Most people don't memorize random details."
His gaze stayed on yours.
"Maybe most people aren't trying to impress you."
The butterflies in your stomach multiplied.
Rapidly.
You accepted the flowers before your face could get any hotter.
"They're beautiful."
His grin returned.
"Good."
The date itself was surprisingly simple.
Dinner at a small restaurant by the waterfront.
A long walk afterward.
No fancy reservations.
No over-the-top gestures.
Just conversation.
Hours of it.
You talked about everything.
Movies.
Music.
Travel.
Family.
The classes you hated.
The professors you secretly liked.
Danny told stories that made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt.
You discovered he had an annoyingly good memory.
And an even more annoying ability to make you smile without trying.
At some point during the walk, your hands brushed.
Neither of you moved away.
A few minutes later, his fingers hooked around yours naturally.
Like they'd always belonged there.
You looked down at your joined hands.
Then up at him.
Danny glanced over.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
His thumb brushed across your knuckles.
"Good."
The simple gesture made your chest ache in the best possible way.
By the time he walked you home, it was almost midnight.
The city had gone quiet.
Streetlights cast golden pools across the sidewalk.
You found yourself slowing down as your apartment building came into view.
Because reaching home meant the date was ending.
And you weren't ready for that.
Apparently neither was Danny.
He walked you all the way to your apartment door.
Neither of you made a move to leave.
An awkward silence settled between you.
Not uncomfortable.
Just...
Hopeful.
You looked down at the flowers still tucked under your arm.
Then back at him.
"Tonight was really nice."
His smile appeared immediately.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I had a good time too."
Your heart was beating entirely too fast.
Danny stepped a little closer.
Close enough that you could smell his cologne.
Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
His eyes dropped briefly to your lips.
Then returned to your eyes.
The question was obvious.
Even without words.
Your breath caught.
"You can kiss me, you know."
A surprised laugh escaped him.
"Was I being that obvious?"
"Painfully."
"Good."
The word came out softer than you expected.
Then his hand gently cupped your cheek.
And suddenly every nervous thought vanished.
Danny leaned in.
Slowly.
Giving you every opportunity to stop him.
You didn't.
The kiss was warm.
Gentle.
Nothing rushed.
Nothing demanding.
Just soft lips and the feeling of his hand against your skin.
The kind of first kiss that made the rest of the world disappear.
When he finally pulled back, neither of you moved very far.
Foreheads almost touching.
Both smiling like idiots.
"Wow," you whispered.
Danny laughed quietly.
"Yeah."
"You've been wanting to do that all night, haven't you?"
"Since before dinner."
You couldn't help laughing.
"At least you're honest."
"Always."
His thumb brushed across your cheek.
The look in his eyes made your pulse skip.
"Can I see you again?"
You smiled.
"Are you asking for a second date immediately after the first one?"
"I'm being efficient."
"Danny."
"(Y/N)."
You shook your head, still smiling.
"Yes."
His grin was instant.
Bright.
Boyish.
Dangerous.
"Good."
Then he stole one more quick kiss.
Just because he could.
And as he walked away a few minutes later, you found yourself standing in the doorway smiling after him like a complete fool.
Danny Walker (Pearl Harbor) x fem!reader - Set in a modern AU
You live in a Navy port town and Danny (24) meets you (23) in the local bookstore where you work.
Danny keeps flirting with you but you never seem to understand. You genuinely think he's just being nice, which is unfortunate considering you really like him.
ââŚYou know I flirt with you, right?â
The first time Danny Walker walked into the bookstore, you barely looked up.
Not because he wasn't attractive.
Unfortunately, he was.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Easy grin. The kind of face that made people forgive him for things before he'd even done them.
You just happened to be trying to shelve an entire cart of new arrivals before closing.
So when he appeared at the counter carrying a military history book and a coffee he definitely wasn't supposed to have inside, you only offered your standard customer-service smile.
"Find everything okay?"
"Actually," he said, setting the book down, "I found something way better than what I came in for."
You glanced around.
"Oh. Did someone help you find the section?"
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he laughed.
A loud, surprised laugh.
"No."
You smiled politely.
"Oh."
And that should have been the end of it.
Instead, he came back two days later.
Then three days after that.
Then the next week.
Then twice in the same week.
Then every week.
Then so often that your coworkers started recognizing him.
"Your boyfriend's here."
You looked up from sorting returns.
Danny was entering through the front doors.
"Navy guy?" you asked.
"Yeah."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Sure."
"He isn't."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night."
You rolled your eyes.
People were ridiculous.
Danny was just friendly.
Very friendly.
To everyone.
Probably.
The thing was, Danny never seemed bothered by your complete inability to understand what he was doing.
In fact, he appeared to find it hilarious.
"Morning, sweetheart."
You smiled.
"Morning."
His eyebrows lifted.
That was it.
No reaction.
No realization.
Nothing.
He handed over a stack of books.
"You work tomorrow?"
"Yep."
"Good."
"Why?"
"So I can see you."
You blinked.
"That's nice."
Danny closed his eyes.
Actually closed them.
Like he was praying for patience.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You made a face."
"I make lots of faces."
"Okay."
He stared.
You stared back.
Then you handed him his receipt.
"Have a good day."
Danny walked directly into the display by the door.
His friends found this situation incredibly entertaining.
Especially his best friend, Rafe.
"She doesn't know?"
Danny groaned.
"No."
"At all?"
"No."
Rafe laughed so hard beer came out his nose.
Danny considered leaving him there.
"Brother, she might be the only woman on Earth who doesn't know you're flirting."
"I'm aware."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"What exactly have you said to her?"
Danny began counting on his fingers.
"Told her she's beautiful."
Rafe nodded.
"Reasonable."
"Told her her smile makes my day better."
"Okay."
"Told her I specifically rearranged my schedule so I'd be free when she got off work."
Rafe blinked.
"What?"
"Told her she's my favorite reason to visit downtown."
"What did she say?"
Danny looked toward the ceiling.
"She thanked me for supporting local businesses."
Rafe nearly fell out of his chair.
Meanwhile, you were having your own conversations.
Mostly with your coworker Emma.
"That Navy guy likes you."
You nearly dropped a stack of novels.
"Danny?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Absolutely yes."
"He's just nice."
Emma stared.
"Sweetheart."
"What?"
"He literally waits for your shifts."
"So?"
"He only comes in when you're here."
"Maybe he likes books."
Emma made a noise that sounded physically painful.
Months passed.
Danny became part of your routine.
Your favorite part, if you were honest.
Though you'd never admit that aloud.
He'd stop by after training.
Or before.
Or during lunch.
Sometimes he'd buy books.
Sometimes he'd wander around pretending to browse while talking to you.
Sometimes he'd bring coffee.
Always your favorite order.
Always without asking.
Which should have told you something.
But somehow didn't.
"You remembered."
He handed over your drink.
"You've ordered the same thing every Wednesday for six months."
You smiled.
"That's sweet."
His expression softened.
Dangerously.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His gaze lingered.
Long enough that your stomach did an odd little flip.
"You have no idea what you do to me."
You laughed awkwardly.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Danny fell first.
Hard.
Hopelessly.
The kind of love that sneaks up and then completely wrecks you.
He loved your laugh.
Your kindness.
The way you remembered customers' names.
The way you got excited about books.
The way you rambled when you were passionate about something.
The way you looked at him like he was important.
Even when you apparently didn't realize he was trying to date you.
Which honestly made him love you more.
Because there wasn't anything manipulative about your attention.
You genuinely liked him.
He knew that.
You just didn't seem to understand why he kept showing up.
One rainy afternoon, the bookstore lost power.
The entire building went dark.
Customers groaned.
Employees scrambled.
You were standing on a ladder trying to reach emergency supplies when the ladder slipped.
You yelped.
Then suddenly strong hands caught your waist.
The ladder clattered away.
Your heart nearly stopped.
Danny.
Of course it was Danny.
He'd come in ten minutes earlier.
He still had one arm around your waist.
The other braced against the shelf behind you.
You realized with startling clarity how close he was.
Very close.
"Oh."
His eyes flicked down to your mouth.
Then back up.
"Oh," he echoed.
Neither of you moved.
Your pulse hammered.
Something strange and warm spread through your chest.
Danny swallowed.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
His hand remained on your waist.
"Good."
Neither of you stepped away.
Until your manager appeared.
"Everything alright?"
You practically launched yourself backward.
Danny looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.
That night you couldn't stop thinking about him.
The way he'd looked at you.
The way his hand felt.
The way your stomach kept doing strange things.
It bothered you enough that you texted Emma.
Do friends usually stare at each other like they're about to kiss?
The response came instantly.
Emma:
OH MY GOD.
You:
What?
Emma:
OH MY GOD.
That wasn't helpful.
A week later, Danny finally snapped.
Not angrily.
Not dramatically.
Just exhausted.
Because he was standing at the counter.
You were smiling at him.
And somehow you'd just thanked him for being such a good friend.
Friend.
Friend.
Friend.
Danny laughed.
A slightly hysterical laugh.
You frowned.
"What?"
He rubbed his face.
Then looked at you.
Really looked at you.
"...You know I flirt with you, right?"
Silence.
The entire world seemed to stop.
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"What?"
Danny stared.
"You know I flirt with you."
"No you don't."
His jaw dropped.
"Yes I do."
"When?"
"When?"
He pointed at himself.
Then at you.
"All the time."
"No."
"Sweetheart."
Your eyes widened.
His eyes widened.
The bookstore around you suddenly felt very small.
Danny stepped closer.
"I bring you coffee."
"Because you're nice."
"I remember your schedule."
"Because you're observant."
"I call you beautiful."
You froze.
"...You do?"
Danny looked moments away from screaming.
"Yes."
"Oh."
"OH?"
You replayed approximately eight months of interactions.
Every conversation.
Every smile.
Every lingering look.
Every excuse to visit.
Every coffee.
Every compliment.
Every single thing.
The realization hit like a freight train.
"Oh my God."
"Thank you."
"Oh my God."
"Yes."
"Oh my God."
Danny laughed.
This time genuinely.
Because your face was turning red.
Rapidly.
"You're serious."
"Very."
"You've been flirting with me this entire time?"
"Yes."
"And trying to ask me out?"
"Repeatedly."
"Oh."
He folded his arms.
"Well?"
Your heart felt like it might explode.
Because suddenly everything made sense.
And the worst part?
You liked him.
So much.
Had liked him for months.
Possibly since the beginning.
You just genuinely hadn't realized.
Danny's expression softened.
"Sweetheart?"
You looked up.
He looked nervous now.
Actually nervous.
Which seemed impossible.
"I really like you."
Your stomach flipped.
"I really like you too."
For a second he simply stared.
Like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.
Then he laughed.
A beautiful, relieved laugh.
"You're kidding."
"No."
"You like me?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
You considered it.
"Probably around the fourth visit."
Danny covered his face.
"Unbelievable."
Their first date happened two days later.
Mostly because Danny refused to wait any longer.
"You wasted eight months."
"I didn't know!"
"You thought I just liked bookstores?"
"Apparently."
"You are so lucky you're cute."
Dating Danny turned out to be surprisingly easy.
He was affectionate.
Patient.
Protective without being overbearing.
The same man who spent months flirting without success somehow remained completely smitten once he actually had you.
Six months later, everyone in town knew.
Especially because Danny looked at you like you hung the moon.
And because he still visited the bookstore constantly.
Now with a legitimate excuse.
One afternoon, Emma watched him wrap an arm around your waist while you organized displays.
She shook her head.
"What?"
She pointed at Danny.
"That man spent nearly a year trying to ask you out."
You laughed.
"I know."
Danny kissed the side of your head.
"I still haven't recovered."
"You survived."
"Barely."
You leaned into him.
He smiled immediately.
Like it was instinct.
Like loving you had become second nature.
Maybe it always had been.
And as he pressed another kiss against your temple, holding you close among shelves and stories and the bookstore where everything started, you decided some people were worth taking a little longer to understand.
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summary: One glitchy tablet, one HR email, and suddenly youâre married to your attending, Jack Abbot. HR thinks it was intentional and has already started merging your records. Claim it was a mistake, and your residency could be delayed. With only three months left until you're an attending, Jack agrees to play along. Pretending to be married might save your careerâbut can your heart survive the side effects?
tags: accidental marriage, slow burn romance, HR involvement, nosy coworkers, reader is a PGY-4 resident, jack is not a widow in this fic, possible medical/legal inaccuracies, fluff, smut
word count: 8.7k
a/n: ahh it's the final chapterđ honestly such a bittersweet feeling. i've loved writing this fic and finding that passion again, and i can't thank you guys enough for being here and encouraging me! it's been such a blessing to have you engage with this fic almost every week for months now (!) i appreciate you all lots!! i'm gonna take some time to write the other things i've been wanting to, while, of course, still checking in on these two here and there :D and who knows, maybe someday, i'll even write a sequel...đ as always, i hope you enjoy!! <333
p.s. to anyone who cares, i might go back in the future and edit the chapters (stuff like minor grammar things and sentence structures that i don't like etc)
i'm not keeping a tag list for this series!
Diagnosis: Married | Masterlist
The Pitt | Masterlist
Main | Masterlist
Previous part | The end
The early afternoon sun beats down on the backyard as you stand a few steps from the pavilion, one hand shielding your eyes while you squint up at the string lights.
Jack, balanced on top of a chair, glances over at you. "Higher?"
You nod. " A little."
He raises the strand another inch.
You tilt your head, taking another step as you study it. "That's perfect."
He climbs down, brushing his hands together as he steps beside you.
The pavilion stands in the corner of the yard, a couple of tables stashed under it along with some chairs. White tablecloths flutter gently in the breeze, little jars of wildflowers scattered across the tables between empty serving platters waiting to be filled.
Jack had spent most of yesterday putting it all together, with the help of Robby, refusing to sit down for more than a few minutes at a time until everything looked just right.
"One more thing to cross off the list," he says.
You sigh. "Only twenty thousand more to go."
"Hey," he murmurs. His fingers find your chin, gently turning your head toward him. "Breathe. We've got this."
You take a slow breath as you look into his calm eyes. His thumb brushes along your jaw before he releases his grip.
"We need to get the drinks outsideâthey're ready in coolers inside the garageâbut I'm gonna wait to bring them out. Otherwise, they'll get warm." His hand finds yours. "We'll fire the grill after the guests have arrived. Everything needed for that is either by the grill or in the fridge." He glances around the yard as his thumb brushes your knuckles absentmindedly. "What else do we need to do, honey?"
You take another breath, collecting your thoughts. His fingers squeeze yours gently. "Uh⌠The welcome drinks still need to be made. More chairs. Oh, and the snacks need to be plated and brought outside." Your gaze sweeps over the yard before finally dropping to yourself. "I also need to get ready."
Jack nods. "I've got the chairs and snacksâ" He waves away your concern. "Robby'll be here any minute to help me."
Your brows pinch together. A flutter of nerves runs through you.
He steps closer, his expression softening. "You go get the drinks and yourself ready, okay? No stressing. This is supposed to be a fun day."
"Yeah⌠You're right."
"I usually am." He smirks and pinches your side gently. Your startled yelp dissolves into laughter before he catches your lips with his. His kiss is warm and eager, and you happily let him drag you closer.
"Ahem." Olivia's voice cuts through the moment from the open patio doors.
You freeze in Jack's arms but still allow him to steal one more kiss. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch her standing in the doorway, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"When I agreed to come by and help," she says, "I didn't realise that meant you two making out and me doing all the work."
"We are working," you reply.
"Mm." She doesn't look convinced.
You slip out of Jack's arms and turn towards her, gesturing to the pavilion. "Look."
"Very pretty," she concedes, "But I've been watching from the window. No one did any work the last ten minutes."
"Creep," you mutter.
"Please," she waves you off. "Somebody had to make sure you two actually got something done."
You stick your tongue out at her.
She rolls her eyes but can't hide the smile that tugs at her lips. "Come help me before I start looking through your closet for my sweater. I know you have it."
"It's my sweater," you shout as she disappears inside again. You turn back to Jack. "I'd better go."
He grins. "I didn't know your thieving streak went that far back."
"I didn't steal her sweater."
He shrugs as he steps closer. "Well. You keep stealing my hoodies, so the evidenceâ"
"It's not the same," you argue but still step into his arms again.
His face nears yours again. "Is that so?"
"Mm," you hum. You press a quick kiss to his lips, then spin out of his grip before he manages to hold on. You point at him from a few feet away. "Snacks. Chairs."
"Yes, ma'am." He gives you a mock salute.
You grin, shaking your head as you slip away to the kitchen.
The kitchen counters are a mess by the time you walk in. Half a dozen bottles clutter the island alongside empty bowls, bunches of mints, straws and more glasses than you remember owning.
Olivia is standing in the middle of the chaos, wooden spoon in hand as she stirs a huge bowl of punch.
She looks up when she hears you come in. "Finally."
"I didn't take that long," you say.
She sends you a look.
You nudge her shoulder as you pass her to wash your hands. "Cut me some slack. It's a special day."
"I'll cut you some slack after we finish these drinks." She shoves a lemon into your hand, the second after you've dried your hands, then points to the mountain of citrus fruits lining the counter. "You'd better start cutting if we wanna be done before the guests arrive."
Your eyes widen, lips turning downwards. "Damn."
"Yeah," she laughs. "You were the one who wanted to decorate the drinks."
"I regret that now," you murmur.
A comfortable silence settles between you as you work through the pile of fruit. Olivia begins pouring the punch into glasses, carefully finishing each one with slices of citrus and fresh berries.
Having Olivia here since yesterday has been your saving grace. She's so in tune with you that she knows exactly when to tease you and when to go easy. She's kept track of everything your frazzled mind has forgotten, stepping in to organise Robby and Jack whenever they needed direction. You honestly don't know what you'd have done without her.
"So," she says after a moment as she begins cutting strawberries. "How are you holding up?"
You shrug, reaching over to grab a watermelon. "I think I'm okay."
"Yeah?" She looks over at you.
You nod. You're nervous, yesâbut underneath it all, you're excited. "I just want everyone to have a good time."
"Oh, trust me. They will," she assures you. "I honestly can't wait to see their faces."
You grin at her before turning your attention back to the cutting board. You cut the watermelon into bite-sized pieces, placing them in a bowl that Olivia brings you.
She leans against the counter next to you. "You know, I'm really happy for you. I know I've said it before, butâ"
You blink, caught off guard by the emotion in her voice.
"I've seen you in relationships before, and yes, you were happy," she says, "but this is different. You're different."
"I am?"
"Yeah. It's a good different," she says, popping a strawberry into her mouth.
"Phew," you say, laughing.
She pushes her foot against your leg. "You know what I mean. I'm justâI'm happy for you."
You send her a soft smile. You do know what she means.
Because it is different.
You still work ridiculous hours. There are days when you barely see Jack because day shift needs help, and all you get of each other is a few minutes during handoff. Some mornings are nothing more than sleepy kisses over coffee before you crash. Some evenings are takeout on the couch because neither of you has the energy to cook.
It's so different from what you shared with previous boyfriends. It's also so much better.
It's not just the easy days. It's knowing when he needs his wheelchair and getting it without him having to ask. It's him reminding you that you've earned your jobâthat you're good at itâon the nights you can't believe it yourself. It's showing up for each other when there's nothing glamorous about it all.
You wouldn't change a thing about it.
"I'm happy, too," you admit quietly.
Olivia smiles as she steals a bit of watermelon. "Good. You deserve to be."
The room falls quiet for a moment as she helps you scoop all the fruit into different bowls.
"I was also," she says as she sets a bowl down, "wondering if the two of you have talked aboutâŚ" She looks at you, wiggling her eyebrows. "You know."
You narrow your eyes at her. "We're barely married."
She scoffs, glancing down at the stone that glints off your finger. "I don't know anyone who's getting married twice."
You make a face at her.
"Besides, with the two of you, you never know."
"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" You point a spoon at her. "What about you and Robby, then? How was the drive from the airport yesterday? Did you talk?"
She glares at you before lifting both hands in surrender. "Okay. Truce. You fight dirty."
"That's what I thought," you say, grinning smugly. You clap your hands as you look over the counter of finished drinks. "All done."
Olivia nods. "Just missing you, now."
You glance at your strawberry-patterned pyjamas. "I don't knowâI feel like this screams 'Summer Barbeque' attire."
She huffs and grabs your arm to pull you with her. "You and Jack need to work on your jokes. He's been making the same ones all morning. We get it. It's not just a barbecue."
Through the open bedroom window, a muffled burst of laughter drifts in from outside. You don't say anything, but you notice the way Olivia's mouth pulls into a tiny smile at the sound of Robby.
She stands beside the chair she'd ordered you into, a makeup brush tucked between her fingers and an open eyeshadow palette balanced in her hand. She's already worked her magic on your hair, rearranging loose strands until every piece sits exactly where she wants it.
She sweeps a shimmer across your eyelids, tilting your head gently with her fingertips whenever she needs a better angle. It feels strangely familiar.
For a moment, you're back in collegeâsitting on her dorm room floor while she helped you get ready for parties. It's the same teasing, the same steady hands, the same feeling that she's got your back no matter what.
Twenty minutes later, she twists the lid back onto your lipstick. "Done," she says.
"Can I look?"
"Not yet." She steps over to her bag and returns with a pair of small blue pearl earrings. "Your something blue."
"Oh." You hadn't expected that. Warmth spreads through your chest as she helps you put them in. You catch her hand. "Thank you."
She just nods at you, then takes a step back. For several seconds, she just looks at you.
"Liv?"
Her smile wavers, and she blinks rapidly. "You look stunning." Her voice comes out softer than usual.
You swallow around the sudden tightness that has climbed up from your chest. Before either of you can get too emotional, she reaches for the dress hanging in the closet.
"C'mon. Let's get you into that dress before you make me cry."
You laugh softly as you step out of your pyjamas and into the dress. It's a white, flowy dress that you found a couple of weeks ago. It's simple enough that nobody would think twice about seeing you wear it to a summer barbecue, yet beautiful enough that it feels perfect for today. Olivia's fingers work quickly, tying the delicate bows on top of each shoulder before smoothing the fabric across your back.
When you look into her eyes, they're glistening. She blinks and smooths a wrinkle that isn't there.
"Hey, don't. You'll make me cry," you say.
"Don't you dare," she warns you. "I just spent ages doing your makeup."
"Well, you stop then," you argue, but your voice comes out hoarser than intended.
Olivia clears her throat and nods toward the mirror. "Go look."
You walk over to the full-length mirror. For a second, you just⌠stare. The woman looking back at you looks completely at peace. No pretending. No forcing a smile. She's just⌠happy.
Beside you, Olivia leans against the dresser.
"IâŚ" You laugh softly, smoothing your hands down the fabric. "I actually look nice. Thank you."
She snorts. "Nice? You're drop-dead gorgeous."
You huff but don't disagree, turning to wrap your arms around her. She hugs you back just as tightly.
She lets you go after a moment. "Right. I should probably make myself look presentable." She nudges you toward the door. "Go make sure everything's ready outside."
"You sure?"
She nods. "I'll be out in a minute."
You step into the living room, heels clacking against the hardwood floor. The patio doors stand halfway open, carrying in bursts of conversation from outside as well as the scraping of chairs.
Just as you're about to head outside, the door slides fully open.
Jack steps into the house, a clean dish towel in one hand. He's changed into the navy polo you'd once casually mentioned brought out his hazel eyes.
He looks so handsome.
He takes one step, then looks up. Then he stops.
Completely.
The towel slips from his fingers onto the floor.
For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. His eyes travel over you slowly, lingering as though he's trying to memorise every detail.
Your smile turns shy. "Hi."
He doesn't answer. His throat works around a swallow. For a moment, he just looks at you.
"Jack?"
He blinks once, dragging a hand across his jaw. "âŚHi."
You laugh softly. "Are you okay?"
He lets out a shaky breath, finally meeting your eyes. "I don'tâŚ" He shakes his head, sneaking another glance across your body. "I don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful as you."
Heat blooms across your cheeks at the awe written so plainly across his face.
"You.." He laughs quietly to himself, still looking completely overwhelmed. "SweetheartâŚ" He shifts his weight uncertainly.
You close the distance. As your arms wrap over his shoulders, his hands find your waist automatically. "You really are trouble."
You grin. The nickname has followed you through almost every version of yourselvesâcolleagues, friends, something complicated in between, and now this.
Now love.
You lift a hand, brushing your thumb gently beneath one of his eyes. "Are you crying?"
He catches your hand, but instead of pulling it away, he presses it closer to his face. For a moment, you can see him considering a lie, but then a tear slips free and lands on your skin.
He closes his eyes. "âŚMaybe."
"Oh, honey." You laugh.
He laughs, too, and the sound is lighter than it usually is. He cups your face carefully, looking you deeply in the eye. "I can't believe you're mine."
You tilt your cheek into his hand, nuzzling closer. "Well, you'd better believe it soon, because I'm not going anywhere."
"Good." He kisses you softly. "I wouldn't be able to take it if you were."
Your lips part to answer, but Robby's voice booms through the open doors before you can.
"Abbot! Where should I put the chairs?"
Jack closes his eyes briefly. "âŚGive me ten seconds," he shouts back.
"You've already had ten!"
You giggle.
Jack sighs dramatically, but the smile gives him away. He presses one lingering kiss to your lips before he steps back. "I should probably go make sure he doesn't leave them all in one pile."
When he reaches the doors, he glances back, still grinning. Still looking at you with that expression that makes you feel like he can't quite believe you're standing there.
By the time you step back outside with the final tray of welcome drinks, the backyard is buzzing. Music drifts softly from the speakers, mixing with the chatter of half a dozen conversations. Coolers are already open, bottles clinking as people help themselves. The snack bowls are half empty, and the fruit platters already have generous gaps in them.
It's rare for healthcare workers to have time to eat without being interrupted, and judging by the speed the food is disappearing, everyone's making up for lost time.
"Oh, wow." Parker sidles up beside you, looking you up and down with an appreciative grin. "You clean up pretty well."
You laugh as you do a spin for her.
"Honestly," Trinity cuts in, reaching for a piece of watermelon. "Abbot better watch out. If he ever fumbles this, you let me know."
"Girl, get in line," Parker says, throwing her a sideways look.
You shake your head, laughing at them. You hand them both a drink.
Parker smiles. "What? I can't remember the last time I saw you out of scrubs. I'm allowed to appreciate it."
You hum, shrugging lightly. "Not that many chances to get all dressed up."
"I invited you out last week?" Trinity says.
"Okay," you concede. "Not that many days where I'm off and can get dressed up. Better?"
She scrunches her nose, but nods. Her gaze then drops to your hand where your engagement ring glints in the afternoon sunlight. She blinks. "Damn. Abbot's loaded."
You roll your eyes, but before you can answer her, Shen appears with a drink in hand. "I'm letting you know as a courtesy that I expect this to be a yearly tradition."
You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"
He shrugs, taking a sip. "Yeah. Good food. Good company, and nobody's calling me about a patient. Only thing missing isâ"
"Coffee," Parker finishes with a groan.
"That's not what I was gonna say," he says, turning to her with an affronted look.
"Uh huh."
You smile as you watch them get into their usual bickering.
Before you can linger, someone catches your arm, and the next twenty minutes disappear in a blur.
A hug from a nurse you worked with in your surgical rotation. A quick conversation with one of your old pediatric attendings. A resident from the ICU stopping you just long enough to compliment your dress before getting distracted by someone calling their name.
The backyard feels impossibly full. Nurses, residents, attendings, people from departments you only crossed paths with during rotationsâsomehow they're all here now, laughing together like they've known each other for ages.
Most importantly, your people are spread all over the garden. Mel sits nearby with Frank, Dennis, Perlah and Princess, all waiting their turn to hold Donnie's baby. Dana stands near the grill with Robby, Jack and Lena. Lily catches you as she passes by with her boyfriend, squeezing your arm with a smile, before heading to the corner where the other nurses sit and chat.
Jack's friends from SWAT start arriving not long after. Introductions are fleeting but still warm, and Jack's face lights up as more of his teammates arrive.
Someone compliments the decorations. Someone else asks where you found the flowers. Two of Jack's teammates stop you to properly introduce themselves, explaining that they've heard so much about you. They also try to convince you to get Jack back on tasks, which he hasn't done since that day. You tell them politely that it's up to Jack, secretly grateful that he hasn't been back.
Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter and people filling the backyard, you realise how much bigger your life has become. From being the disappointment at home, the daughter that never could be enough, to being and working with people who think you're enough as you are.
For a moment, you just take it all in.
You catch Jack's eye as your gaze sweeps over the yard. He tilts his head, asking a silent question, and you nod. You walk steadily through the crowd toward him as he mutters something into Robby's ear.
Just as you step up onto the patio, Jack clinks his bottle, the clear ringing note carrying across the space. Conversations slowly begin to fade, heads turning to you. Jack's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close.
He clears his throat, his fingers tightening around your side for the briefest moment before relaxing again. "Thanks for coming, everyone. We know getting this many healthcare workers together on the same day is basically impossible. SoâŚthank you for making it happen."
He takes a slightly deeper breath than usual as he glances around the yard. "Now, I know we called this our end-of-summer barbequeâ"
You feel your heartbeat start to pick up. Jack's thumb strokes absentmindedly along your side, grounding you like he knows exactly what your nerves are doing.
"âbut there was another reason we wanted everyone here."
Confused looks pass through the crowd.
"We've all heard the complaints," you say. "SoâŚ" You take a slow breath, a twinkle beginning to shine in your eye. "We figured we'd do something about it."
You can see Shen's frown deepening.
"We thoughtâŚmaybe you'd all like to come to our wedding?"
For a moment, nobody reacts. Samira stares at you. Parker looks from you to Jack, then over at Dana, who's already smiling, clearly trying to figure out if everyone else knew something she didn't.
Trinity is the first to find her voice. "You're kidding."
And then it starts to click. The dress. The decorations. The way you and Jack had been acting about this 'party'. The realisation moves through the yard like a waveâthen chaos erupts. It's a loud jumble of disbelief, laughter and cursing.
Shen is still trying to process what just happened. You catch Parker shaking her head at you, grinning wider than you've ever seen. Off to the side, Olivia is already recording the moment with a wide smile.
Robby steps forward beside the two of you after people begin to quiet down. He grins. "Shall we get to it?"
He gestures for people to move closer, and waits until everyone has settled, then he turns to look at you and Jack.
"So, I was one of the people complaining I didn't get to be there for the first wedding. I guess my nagging paid off because you asked me to officiate this one."
You smile.
Robby's smile softens. "I'm really glad you asked. But frankly, I would have been offended if you didn'tâI've aged at least ten years because of you two."
"Okay." You hold up your hands as Robby laughs.
"It was worth it." He turns back to the crowd. "Because you two were always meant for each other."
"I've known Jack for a long time." He glances at him. "When I first met him, I honestly wasn't convinced anyone would ever be able to put up with him."
Jack glares at him.
Robby continues, nonetheless. "He works too much. Forgets to eat if no one reminds him. Also keeps insisting he doesn't need help when he very obviously does. Like earlier when he tried to carry seven châ" Robby's voice catches as Jack puffs his shoulder.
Dana laughs loudly.
"Never mind." Robby's gaze shifts to you. "And then you came along." The teasing leaves his voice. "I've never seen him happier."
You glance at Jack. He's already looking at you.
"I've also never seen him so thoroughly outmatched."
Jack laughs.
"You keep him honest. You remind him to slow down. And somehowâŚ" He smiles at you both. "âŚyour craziness matches. You make each other better."
He turns back to you. "You were a pain in my ass when you were a resident. Headstrong. Unafraid. Always getting into trouble." He lifts a finger when your mouth opens to argue. "So damn argumentative. But you were also one of my best residents. So smart and brave. Always able to see things from a different perspective. We were lucky to have you."
You swallow.
"Now, Jack's the lucky one."
"Damn right," Jack murmurs.
Robby takes a slow breath. "So. Speaking as someone who's had a front-row seat to every stupid thing these two have doneâŚ" He looks from Jack to you. "I can't think of two people better suited for each other."
He lets the silence linger for a moment before clapping his hands together. "Right. I am, apparently, supposed to say something official." He reaches into his pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. "We're here today to join two people in matrimonyâwell, for the second time. We're here because marriage isn't just one day. It isn't just paperwork. It isn't even the vows you're about to hear."
He looks up. "It's every ordinary day that comes afterwards. It's the early mornings, the late nights, the takeaway dinners because you're too tired to cook. It's choosing each other over and over again. On the easy days, and especially on the hard days. Today isn't about starting your marriage. It's about celebrating it."
He folds the paper in half and slips it back into his pocket. "Now, I think that was enough from me." He looks between the two of you. "I believe you have something you'd like to say."
You nod and feel every gaze settle on you. Jack smiles, his eyes warm with reassurance.
You unfold your paper. "When we metâŚ" You start, already laughing softly as you admit, "I tried really hard to find a reason not to like you."
Laughter sounds across the yard.
"But you just kept being nice and being ridiculously good at your job. And..." You glance at Jack as a grin spreads across your face. "Well...being really fucking hot."
Jack laughs.
"You've always been the person I looked for first. The person I wanted to tell things to. The person I wanted beside me after a difficult shift."
Your eyes don't leave his.
 "I used to think love was supposed to be the big moments. The ones people write stories about." You shake your head gently. "I was wrong. It's coffee waiting for me when I wake up after a night shift. It's the way you always know when I need a hug before I ask for one."
A smile tugs at your lips.
"It's you pretending not to notice when I steal your hoodies. It's arguing over what to order for dinner, knowing we'll end up sharing anyway. It's coming home and knowing you're there. It's laughing until we can't breathe because one of us said something stupid. It's every ordinary day somehow becoming extraordinary because you're in it."
You crinkle the paper between your fingers. "When everyone talks about soulmates..." You swallow. "I don't think they're talking about someone who completes you. I think they're talking about someone who makes you feel yourself completely."
You bite your lip. "That's what you've given me. Somewhere I never have to be anyone but myself. Somewhere that feels like home."
Jack's jaw tightens, blinking a bit more rapidly than usual.
"I know our story hasn't been... conventional." A few guests smile knowingly, assuming you're talking about the elopement they'd all heard about. Only Robby and Olivia nod with a truly knowing smile.
"But if I had the chance to do it all again...I'd do it. No hesitation."
You hear someone sniffle behind you. It sounds suspiciously much like Lena.
"I promise..." You reach for Jack's hand. "âŚto keep choosing you. When life is easy and when it isn't. I'll remind you to eat lunch."
Robby chuckles.
"I promise to tell you when you're being stubborn."
Jack raises an eyebrow. "When am I everâ"
You squeeze his hand, sending him a look, and he drops it. You laugh softly before continuing.
"I promise to celebrate every victory with you and help carry every burden. I promise to keep laughing with you. To keep dancing with you in the kitchen. To keep making this house our home."
"And lastly..." You smile through the tears gathering in your eyes. "I promise I'll never stop feeling lucky that somehow...after everything..." Your voice catches. "...I get to call you my husband. "
Jack lets out a shaky laugh, squeezing your hand tightly. Tears drip down his face, but he makes no effort to hide it.
"How am I meant to go after that?" he jokes, wiping his face.
He reaches into his jacket and slowly unfolds his own piece of paper. "Well..." He chuckles softly. "I should probably start by admitting I liked you straight away."
Everyone laughs as he takes a moment to gather himself.
"When people ask how we met, I usually give them the short version." He glances at you. "The real version is a lot messier and involves a surprising amount of paperwork."
You huff a quiet laugh.
"I don't think either of us expected any of this. I definitely didn't expect to fall in love." His voice softens. "But then you kept showing up. Every shift. Every conversation. Every bad day."
He shrugs lightly. "And somewhere along the way... you became the person I wanted beside me for all of it."
He folds the paper and slips it back inside his pocket, then reaches out and grabs your hands. "I like to pretend I have everything under control. I push away the things I don't want to think about. You've seen me at my worst⌠and yet, you stayed."
The words hit you harder than you expect.
"You love me despite it. Because of it." His voice catches. "And I don't think you realise what a gift that has been."
Now, it's your turn to cry.
"I've never met anyone who gives so much of themselves to other people. You worry about everyone. You carry everyone. You'll stay an hour after your shift ends because someone needs help. You'll pretend you're not exhausted because you don't want anyone else to worry."
He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. "I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else does." He pauses. "The way I do."
A tear drops down. Jack reaches up automatically, brushing it away with his thumb.
"You make every place feel like home." He smiles. "I don't care where we live. This house. A tiny apartment. Somewhere halfway across the country. As long as you're there... I'm home."
Robby sniffles, trying to be discreet but failing.
Jack smiles without looking away from you. "I promise..." He takes a steadying breath. "...to keep choosing us. Even when life gets busy. Especially when life gets busy. I promise to never stop flirting with you."
"Yeah, no kidding," Parker mutters.
Jack ignores her. "I promise to keep making coffee for you every day, because you still don't know how to use the machine."
You laugh.
He grins back. "I promise to hold your hand every chance I get. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen...Even though I can't dance."
"You really can't," you whisper.
"I promise to remind you that you don't have to carry the world on your own. You've got me now, too." His eyes search yours. "And I promise..." His voice breaks, and he laughs at himself. "...I promise I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you've made me."
You can barely see him through your tears.
Silence settles over the yard once more. No one speaks. No one moves. Looking around, you can't find a single dry eye.
Jack leans forward just enough for only you to hear. "I love you."
You smile. "I love you, too."
Robby quietly clears his throat, wiping discreetly at one eye. "I think..." He glances toward Olivia. "...it's time for the rings."
Olivia steps forward from where she'd been standing beside Bridget, carrying a small velvet box in both hands. She stops in front of the two of you with a warm smile. "I've been told these are important."
She opens the box. Nestled inside are two simple wedding bands. Nothing extravagant. Just the two rings you'd chosen together months ago, now engraved with two dates. Your fingers brush over the tiny inscription before you lift one from the box.
The date of the convention. And today.
Jack takes the second from her.
Olivia closes the empty box before looking between the two of you. "I love you both." The words are quiet enough that only the three of you really hear them.
You step forward and hug her. "Thank you."
She kisses your cheek, squeezes your hand once, and quietly rejoins the others. You barely hear Robby through the rush in your ears.
All you take in is the feeling as Jack reaches for your left hand. The gold catches the late afternoon sunlight as he holds it just above your fingertips.
He looks up, waiting, as though silently asking one last time.
You answer with a smile and a nod. Always. He slides the ring onto your finger smoothly.
You slide the ring onto his finger with slightly shaky hands. Jack's fingers fold into yours. He looks elated, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at you,
You're married again.
The words "You may now kiss the bride" barely leave Robby's mouth before Jack surges forward.
For the next twenty minutes, you're fairly certain neither you nor Jack actually touch the ground. Applause, whistles and laughter erupt across the yard after the kiss. People talking over one another as they surge toward the two of you.
Dana reaches you first. She's crying before she even wraps her arms around you. "Oh, sweetheart."
You laugh into the hug. "I know."
"You sneaky little thing."
"We've been planning it for weeks."
She sighs. "I should've noticed."
"You really should have. You're losing your touch. "
"It won't happen again." She pulls back just enough to cup your face. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you."
"And your vowsâ" She stops, pressing her lips together as her eyes fill all over again. "You've built such a beautiful life."
"Oh no," you laugh. "Don't. You'll make me cry again."
"I'm trying."
You hug her again, feeling her laugh through the tears.
Parker is next. She shakes Jack's hand firmly before immediately pulling him into a hug anyway. "I'm happy for you."
"Thanks."
She steps back, looking between the two of you. "You've done well."
Jack glances at you, unable to hide his smile. "I know."
She rolls her eyes, but it quickly softens into a grin. "The dress should've tipped me off."
You beam at her.
Shen steps up beside Parker. "I knew."
Parker raises an eyebrow. "You absolutely did not."
"I suspected it."
"Yeah, yeah." You laugh. "You can't take credit for this one, too."
After that, the congratulations blur together. Trinity nearly squeezes the air out of your lungs. Lily's eyes are already shining before she even reaches you, mumbling heartfelt congratulations. Perlah and Princess both admit they're impressed you managed to keep such a huge secret.
You just shrug. If only they knew.
Beside you, Jack is surrounded by his SWAT teammates. They clap him on the shoulders, pull him into hugs, and give him enough grief that his laugh carries all the way across the yard.
The conversations begin blending together after that. Someone starts arguing over who cried first. Trinity insists it was Robby. Robby loudly denies it, but video evidence is quickly produced, and he ends up conceding.
At some point, Dennis ends up standing on a chair, trying to organise everyone into something resembling a group photo while at least three people completely ignore him.
You don't move straight away. Instead, you watch.
Dana is already fussing over the food despite repeatedly being told to sit down. Parker has somehow accumulated a drink and three different appetisers. Lena is laughing so hard she has to wipe at her eyes while Vivi quietly shakes her head beside her. Across the yard, Jack catches your eye and smiles, then turns back to the grill.
Olivia quietly slips beside you while Dennis is still unsuccessfully trying to direct traffic. She doesn't say anything at first. She simply loops her arm through yours. You lean your head briefly against hers.
You laugh. "I don't think this is how weddings normally go."
Olivia follows your gaze. "No." She pauses. "I think yours is better."
Ten minutes later, as you're scanning the coolers to make sure there's still enough drinks, your hip gets nudged softly. Jack stands beside you with a plate in his hand.
"Eat."
You narrow your eyes. "Is that an order?"
"It's a request." He pushes the plate into your hands. "You've had approximately one strawberry and half a glass of spritz all afternoon."
"You've been monitoring my food intake?"
He shrugs. "I'm married to you."
"So?"
"So I know exactly how easy it is for you to forget."
You smile despite yourself. "Well, what about you?"
He lifts the plate he'd been hiding behind his back. His brow lifts. "Gotcha."
You scrunch your nose at him.
His smile softens. He turns your hand over, his thumb brushing slowly across your wedding band. For a long moment he simply looks at it. "This feels different."
It does.
"Everyone was here." You hadn't realised how much it would mean to share this part of your story with them. You lean over and kiss him. "I love you."
"I love you." His forehead rests against yours for a second. The hiss of the grill interrupts you.
"You should probably save dinner."
Jack sighs. He starts walking backwards. "I'll be back." He disappears into the crowd, greeting someone who immediately claps him on the shoulder. Still, he glances back one more time to send you a smile.
Jack has just finished rescuing a couple of burger patties from Robby's questionable supervision when the two of them find themselves alone by the grill. WellâŚas alone as either of them can be with fifty or so people scattered around the yard.
He puts the final patties on and closes the lid of the grill, resting the spatula on the plate next to it. "Almost done."
Your laughter carries across the yard, and Jack turns toward it without thinking. He finds you standing with Olivia, both of you laughing loudly. He smiles at the sight.
Robby crosses his arms next to him and follows his gaze. "They're something else when they're together."
"Tell me about it." Jack nods. Most of last night had been spent screaming in excitement about the following day, catching up on the latest gossip, and, of course, teasing Jack.
He loves it when Olivia is in town.
Tearing his eyes away from you, he flips the lid to turn the patties. "I don't think today's really sunk in yet."
"No?"
He turns back to look at you. "I never imaginedâŚ" He shakes his head, pulling Robby into a hug. "Thanks, man. For everything."
Robby nods, clapping his back twice. "Of course."
Jack clears his throat and moves to flip the final patties onto a plate. He closes the valve, waits for the lines to clear and then turns off the knobs. When he turns back, he finds that Robby is still looking across the yard.
You're laughing at something Parker says as you steal a sip of Olivia's drink. A second later, you splutter dramatically, and Olivia doubles over laughing at your expression.
The corner of Robby's mouth lifts before he seems to realise he's smiling.
Folding his arms across his chest, Jack nudges Robby's shoulder lightly with his own. "Careful."
"What?" Robby asks, still watching.
"She'll catch you staring."
Robby tears his gaze away a little too quickly. "I'm not staring." He reaches for the tongs, unaware that Jack has already turned off the grill.
Jack just raises an eyebrow. "If you say so."
It takes all of five seconds before Robby's eyes drift back again. The tongs hang between his fingers, forgotten again.
Jack chuckles.
Robby huffs. "You're no better."
"She's my wife," Jack says, unable to hide his grin. He slides the burger buns onto a platter before glancing sideways at Robby. "What are you two?"
Robby's jaw twitches. "Shut up."
The evening slips by almost without you noticing. As the sun sinks lower, the warm string lights begin to glow around the garden, casting everything in a softer light.
One conversation melts into the next as music drifts through the yard. The last of the burgers has disappeared, and most of the dessert has already been devoured.
You duck into the kitchen in search of more ice.
"So this is where you're hiding."
You look over your shoulder, finding Robby leaned against the doorframe. He's got an empty stack of bowls in his hands.
"Jack put you on clean-up duty?" You sit down to rummage through the fridge.
"Volunteered." He shrugs, stepping toward the kitchen.
"Who are you and what have you done with Michael Robinavitch?" you gasp.
"Ha. Ha." He sets the bowls down.
You laugh, pulling open another drawer. "I think we're officially out."
"Good."
You glance back at him. "Good?"
He nods. "Means people are having a good time."
You guess he's right. You close the fridge, standing up to lean against the counter. Neither of you moves to go back outside just yet.
From here you can still hear the party through the open patio doorsâbursts of laughter, the clink of glasses, and soft music.
Robby leans against the island opposite you. His brown eyes trail over your face. "You belong here."
You blink. "What?"
"With us." He gestures toward the yard where most of the Pitt is having fun. "You're family."
Your throat tightens. This is everything you'd wanted for years without quite believing you'd ever have it. Before you can find the words, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.
Robby stiffens for only a heartbeat before hugging you just as tightly. He's never been particularly comfortable with emotions, but he's always shown how much he cares in quieter waysâin the hours he gives his patients, the way he looks after his staff, the loyalty he shows the people he loves.
When you step away, he clears his throat and moves for the patio door. Without looking back, he says quietly, a smile in his voice, "See you at work on Monday."
There are orange streaks in the sky when Jack finds you standing by yourself. People aren't gathered in one big group anymore. Instead, they're scattered wherever there's roomâchairs pulled together, people leaning against tables, conversations stretching lazily into the evening. Some have left for work, others heading home to get some sleep before their day shifts. It's everything you hoped for.
Santos is halfway through a story that has Princess and Perlah laughing loudly. Mel sits next to Dennis, whispering follow-up questions that he tries to answer. Shen and Parker sit off to the side watching it all with an amused smile.
A little further away, you spot Olivia sitting with one of Jack's SWAT friends. She's laughing at something he says, while Robby pretends hard not to look in their direction. He keeps failing.
"What's so funny?" Jack asks. He holds out a glass of water for you.
You accept it gratefully, and nod your head to the right.
He follows your gaze. "Ah."
"Yeah."
"That's not the first time he's been staring at her."
"Oh?"
He nods. "He thinks he's being subtle."
You look back toward Robby. "He really isn't."
Jack laughs. He turns to face you fully as the song drifting through the speakers changes into something slower.
The last of the sunlight catches in his hazel eyes, making the green seem brighter than usual. He holds out his hand. "Dance with me."
"Here?"
"Why not?"
"There's no dance floor," you say, but step closer to him anyway.
He glances down at the grass beneath his feet. "Looks good enough to me."
You laugh, letting him take your drink and set it aside. He draws you closer until one hand settles naturally at your waist. The other stays wrapped around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. It isn't really dancing. Just the two of you swaying beneath the lights, more interested in being close than keeping time.
"Was it everything you wanted?" you ask.
"Even better," he says.
You look at him. His thumb traces slow circles against your back while the two of you sway.
"I love you." You've lost count of how many times you've said that tonight.
He presses his forehead against yours. "I love you, too, sweetheart."
Neither of you notice when another couple joins you. Then a second, and a third. At some point, Olivia stands, walking over to Robby and offering him her hand. He looks surprised for half a second, hesitant for another, but then smiles and takes it.
Little pockets of slow dancing appear all over the yard.
"I love this," you say. Your hands settle at the back of his neck, your fingers disappearing into the soft grey curls there.
"The dancing?"
"The people." You look around. "All of them."
Jack lifts his head to look around, then he quietly kisses the top of your head and continues swaying with you.
At last, when all the dessert is gone and most of the coolers have been emptied, guests gradually trickle out until only you, Jack, Robby, and Olivia remain.
You're collecting trays into neat piles while Jack stacks chairs nearby. To your left, Olivia stuffs paper plates into a rubbish bag as Robby makes his way around the garden, gathering empty bottles.
She catches your eye, and you raise an eyebrow, nodding subtly towards Robby. She shakes her head, eyes narrowing immediately.
You fight back a smile.
Looking around, there's still so much to be done. Cushions scattered across the lawn, empty glasses on every flat surface and enough washing up to keep you busy until morning. However, instead of tackling it now, you turn to Jack.
"Let's save this for tomorrow."
His eyes hone in on the mischievous twinkle in your eye, and he catches on quickly when he spots Olivia's glare. A slow smile appears on his face. "Yes. That sounds like a plan."
He turns toward Robby. "Couch's yours." He grins. "I hope it doesn't take out your back like it did last time."
Bait set. Now, it was up to Olivia to take it.
You laugh quietly, tugging him toward the door before either of you burns from the heat of their glares. You're almost at the threshold when he pulls you back.
"Wait. I've got one wedding tradition I'd quite like to keep." Without another word, he bends, slips one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, and lifts you clean off the ground.
You yelp, immediately laughing as your arms wrap around his neck. "Jack!"
"What?"
"I can walk."
His lips turn up at the corners. "Despite everything, so can I."
Jack ducks through the patio doors without so much as a stumble, and continues until he's inside the bedroom. Once inside, he lowers you carefully onto your feet.
He looks at you, his eyes soft. "Hi, wife."
You smile so widely your cheeks ache. "Hi, husband."
He steps closer. You're not sure who moves first, but your lips meet in a gentle kiss. You tug him with you toward the bed, your fingers reaching under his shirt to pull it up. He obeys without hesitation, lifting his arms to help.
"I need to take off my leg, honey." He reminds you when you try to push him down on the bed.
You kiss his cheek. "Let me."
He sits on the edge of the bed. You roll up his trouser leg before carefully unfastening his prosthetic. Pressing a kiss to the skin just above the scar, you set it beside the bedside table. He makes quick work of his pants, tossing them somewhere across the room.
Then he pulls you up. You climb onto his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his.
"God, this dressâŚ" he murmurs as he begins sliding the straps down. He kisses your shoulder softly, trailing down to your collarbone. His fingers brush against heated skin, goosebumps fluttering in their path.
He presses another soft kiss to the skin just above your boob before the fabric slowly falls down, revealing your chest to him. With one hand, he guides the other side to join the pooling fabric at your waist.
You push your chest toward him, and he takes the hint without teasing. His mouth closes around one nipple, tongue swirling before he sucks lightly.
"Feels soâŚ" you moan, holding onto his shoulders.
"Yeah?" he hums, lifting his head to look at you. Your lips find his neck, trailing kisses up and down, before nibbling lightly at his earlobe.
He pulls back. "I'm losing my mind, sweetheart. No more teasing. Are you ready or do I need toâ"
You grab his fingers and pull them under your dress. He groans when he feels how soaked you are. "Christ. Where's your underwear?"
You gesture at the ground. "Took it off when you weren't looking." You grind down on his cock, and his hips lift at the sensation. "I'm ready."
"You sure?" He looks into your eyes. "I don't mind."
Tired of his talking, you reach down to free his cock. His head falls back down onto the mattress when you glide it against your folds. Then you sink down.
The dress pools around your thighs, hiding the spot where he disappears into you, but the slick that sounds around the room is unmistakable.
Jack's eyes grow darker. "Jesus. How'd I get so lucky?"
You grin.
"I mean it," he says, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. He punctuates the following words with separate thrusts. "Luckiest. Man. Alive."
A hand reaches up to cup your boob while the other trails down under the dress. His thumb finds your clit easily, putting just the correct amount of pressure on it that gets you gasping.
It doesn't take long to send you over the edge. Jack tries to stay steady through it, but the tightening grip around his cock proves too hard to resist. He comes with a long groan, thrusting himself deep into you.
You collapse against his chest. Both of you take a moment to regain normal breathing, his hands brushing soft patterns across your back.
"I'll go get you a washcloth," he murmurs into your hair.
"Just one more minute." You nestle closer, burrowing into his heat.
"One." He relents, pressing a soft and content kiss into your hair.
The first thing you notice when you wake is the smell of coffee. Its rich scent entangling with the clean scent of the duvet sheets. You don't open your eyes, but stay there, wrapped in warmth as memories of last night wash over you.
Lights. Drinks. Jack. Vows. The ring.
You twirl it around your finger, smiling into your pillow. You got married to Jack.
Again.
But this time it was even better than last time. This time you both meant to. This time he chose you.
Married on purpose sounds a lot better than accidentally.
You hear the quiet scrape of the bedroom door being pushed open. The familiar shuffle of Jack's slightly uneven gait. The thump as something gets set down on the bedside table and the clunk of something placed on the floor.
Then the mattress dips beside you. A warm hand brushes your hair away from your face before a soft kiss meets your forehead.
"Morning, wife."
You finally open your eyes. "Morning, husband."
Jack grins at you. Sleep has left his soft grey curls sticking up in every direction.
You grin back. "You made breakfast."
"I did," he says. He settles fully down beside you. "How are you feeling?"
"A little hungoverâŚ" You glance around the room. Sunlight spills through the half-open curtains. Your dress hangs over the chair, Jack's trousers lie abandoned in the corner, and the empty ring box still rests on the dresser. "But very happy."
His hand brushes your shoulder. "Good."
You sit up, taking the cup he holds out for you. "You?"
He looks down at his coffee, then at you. "I couldn't be better."
"Yeah?"
He nods and reaches for your hand. His thumb traces slowly over your wedding band. "I meant what I said last night."
"About making me coffee every day?"
He laughs softly. "That too. But also about being lucky."
"Well. I guess we're both pretty lucky." You hold your cup up. "To us."
He clinks his cup against yours. "To us."
"And to forever." You clink your cup against his again. "Oh, and toâ"
He pinches your chin with his free hand. "How about we workshop it before we try again?"
You nudge his shoulder, huffing. He just grins, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his chest.
ex-husband!steve harrington x fem!reader
(18+; MDNI; 3.9k words)
It's been two years since you divorced your ex-husband.
You get called back to Hawkins for his father's funeral.
cw: second chance romance; angst; character death; hurt/comfort; making out at an inappropriate time; hopeful ending!!!
-> thank you to @keeryspullman for letting me torture u in dms with this! follow up at some point. maybe. hehe <3
masterlist || divider by @/strangergraphics || ao3 link
Youâd never expected to find yourself back in Hawkins.
Not in the two years since your divorce, not since you saw your ex-husband for the last time as the two of you left the courthouse, refusing to make eye contact or even attempt an amicable goodbye.
(To be fair, what does a person say to their newly minted ex-husband after fighting with him for years to stop working so much? To let you in? After you gave up and decided enough was enough? What do you say to a man who, even as you signed the finalized paperwork, you still werenât sure you could live without?)
(You hadnât managed to figure that one out in time.)
But then you got the call from Robin in the middle of the night, panicked and crying and breathless as she says, âSteveâs dad died a couple of days ago, and I know you guys havenât talked in forever, but heâs really falling apart and I donât know what to do and he wonât talk to me and Mr. Harringtonâs funeral is today andââ
Thatâs all you needed to let her know that you would make the hour and a half drive up from Indy, kicking out your date that slept over the night prior and packing a bag in a massive rush, only remembering at the last minute that youâre about to attend a funeral, that you need to be dressed for a funeral, andâ
And you make it back to Hawkins by ten, a black dress on and pearl earrings that Steve once gifted you hanging from your ears.
The town is the same as you left it. Still small, still aging, still quiet. Everything that you thought you hadnât wanted in life, and everything that you found yourself yearning for once you got your apartment above a restaurant on Mass. Ave and a shiny new job at a bank downtown.
For a moment, you almost let your muscle memory take over, to guide you towards the northeast end of town to the white, two-story cottage with a fenced in backyard and hydrangea bushes spilling out everywhere in the summer. The kind of house, the realtor had said, that was perfect for raising a family, with its tall ceilings and big windows and creaky stairs, ready to withstand everything from the small pitter-patter of feet across wood floors to the slamming of doors from teenage fueled angst.
The house that you know Steve still lives in, even two years later.
But you donât let old instinct take over. Thereâs enough heartbreak being back in Hawkins as it is.
The funeral home sits in the center of town, the one that Will Byers was once memorialized in before he was found alive just days later, and sits opposite of the place the MAC-Z used to sit.
(The place where Steve had been released from military custody to you, and the place where he had dropped to one knee and asked you to marry him just minutes later.)
(The place that you had said yes through your confusion and tears, because he disappeared for weeks without a word, and youâd only had a thirty minute warning from the military to come collect him.)
(Steve never told you why he had been held in custody.)
(You never asked.)
You park down the street and make your way through the well-worn sidewalks, carving out the same path that you used to take with Steve in that summer after the two of you graduated high school, hand in hand whenever he had a free moment from Scoops.
(A summer that, as you recall, had been cut short by a mall fire and grief and the three weeks you spent by his side in the hospital, worrying and fretting as you slowly watched the swelling around his eye go down. A summer where too many people died, Steve had to be kept under observation in case of a brain bleed, and in the aftermath, he became more cagey than ever.)
A sea of mourning black surrounds the pristine white funeral home as you make your way closer, the crowd surging towards the ornate double doors, and itâs only then that you spot him.
Steve.
Steve Harrington in all of his glory. His hair is a little shorter than you remember it, a little less styled, and thereâs new laugh lines crinkled along his eyes. But despite the differences in the man you once knew and the man in front of you now, heâs still the same Steve heâs always been with a soft look on his face and a steadiness to his broad shoulders despite the occasion.
And like a moth to a flame, he meets your gaze through the mass of people. His brown eyes widening with recognition as his face does something funny, like heâs not sure whether to laugh or cry or both, and you canât help but offer him a small smile.
He smiles back.
The moment is cut short when someone calls his name, and with one last, lingering look in your direction, he disappears inside.
You stand there for a moment, heart pounding, before slipping into the building after him.
You find a seat in the very back of the hall, away from the congregation of people you once knew, the people you once considered family. There will be time to greet your former mother-in-law later, when she doesnât have Robin on one side and Steve on the other, and thereâs no part of you that has any desire to run into Dustin Henderson whoâs lingering near the front.
(Not after the last time you talked to him, two months after you filed and he went from begging you to not go through with it to insulting you when you told him that you unequivocally were not going to stop the proceedings.)
(Two weeks later, Steve had found out what happened and forced Dustin to apologize, but you never quite stopped nursing that wound.)
Itâs a beautiful service, really. Not that youâd expect anything less from the Harringtons. Friends of Dannyâs give their eulogies, colleagues talk about his business prowess, until finally, Laura and Steve step up to the dias side by side.
You can tell, even from a distance, that Laura isnât quite holding it together the way you know she wants to. The way she needs to, really, because Laura Harrington has always prided herself in being put together and in charge, a matriarch in a family full of nothing but men for generations. You can tell that Steve notices, too, by the way he squeezes her arm and pulls a paper from his pocket, spreading it along the wooden surface of the podium.
He searches the crowd for a moment, and his eyes settle on you in your seat in the very last row. Youâre not sure what heâs looking for, but whatever he derives from seeing you, it has his shoulders relaxing. And quietly, hesitantly, he glances down at the paper and begins his speech.
His voice is strong and steady as he reads, the same soothing timbre to it that heâd once used to calm you down after nightmares and hard days at work. A reassuring quality to his tone, one that could make anyone relax, as he talks about his earliest memories with his father â little league games, vacations to the Harrington beach house, morning spent snuggled between his parents â to his early twenties and learning how to navigate adulthood with his fatherâs guidance.
(He skips past the teenage years, the ones where you first entered Steveâs life. The arguments with his father about his future, the worries about his past, the stress that he might never amount to something. The period of time where resentment had swelled up so much between the two that it bubbled over constantly.)
He talks about the last conversation he had with his father, only a week prior, where the two of them had sat in the backyard of Steveâs house. And Danny, never a man with much to say, had clapped Steve on the shoulder and said, Iâm proud of you, Steve. Truly.
You donât miss the way Steve surreptitiously wipes his face.
âAnyone who met him would tell you that he was a complicated man,â Steve says. âBut at the end of the day, no matter what other role he filled, he was my father. All I can say to that is thank you, Dad, for loving me even when I didnât think you were, andââ He pauses, clearing his throat. âIâll miss you, and I hope youâre resting easy now, wherever you are.â
The funeral ends and everyone is ushered to the graveyard, where Steve serves as one of the pallbearers and stands strong as Laura finally crumples into his side.Â
You hang further back once again, away from the prying eyes of anyone who would ask too many questions, and you lose sight of him when the crowd migrates to the reception in a local church.
Thereâs part of you that wants to seek him out, to offer him your condolences and ask if thereâs anything you can do, butâ
Your eyes catch on Laura standing in the corner by herself, gazing at a family portrait of her and Danny and Steve from Steveâs childhood, and you cross the room without thinking, falling into place next to her with a quiet, âHe was a good man.â
Laura blinks at you, though she doesnât look surprised to see you there. Happy, maybe, but not surprised.
âDanny loved you, you know,â she says, apropos of an actual greeting, like this isnât the first conversation youâve had with her since you filed for divorce. âNever stopped talking about how get togethers werenât the same without you beating him at cards.â
âIâm sure heâs having a big laugh that this is what got me back in Hawkins,â you say. Her lips twitch up. âHe couldâve just asked, honestly. Spared us all the dramatics. I wouldâve come for less.â
The corners of her eyes crinkle together the same way Steveâs does, and she draws you into a warm hug with shaking hands, the smell of her floral perfume overwhelming your senses.Â
âIâve missed you,â she whispers.Â
You feel your throat grow tight. âIâve missed you, too.â
You stay like that for a few moments, letting her rock you back and forth and draw whatever comfort it is that she needs from your bones, until a throat clears and you look up to see the familiar face of Robin Buckley. You pull away from Laura and offer Robin a small smile, one that she easily returns, and you know that the two of you will catch up later when she squeezes your arm.Â
âMrs. Harrington, letâs go get some food,â Robin says.
Laura rolls her eyes, but lets Robin loop their arms together. âSteveâs had her on âMom watch,ââ she tells you conspiratorially.
âWell, thereâs worse company to be had,â you say. âRobin always has a few jokes on hand, at least.â
âThatâs what Iâve been saying!â Robin says, and you let yourself bask in the raspy warmth of her voice for a few moments before stepping out of their way. And just as sheâs slipping past you, she stops to whisper in your ear, âHeâs in a private room down the hall.â
You stare at her, surprised, but she only leads Laura across the room without further acknowledgement.Â
You shouldnât go. Honestly, really, itâs a bad idea as it is â meeting him surrounded by people was one thing, but a private audience with your ex-husband isâ
(Your feet are moving across the floor before you can even finish the thought.)
The hallway is quiet and empty, the conversation from the reception hall only a quiet buzz compared to the pounding in your ears as you slowly and methodically check each room you come across until finally, at the end of the hall, you spot one with the door cracked open.
You press your palm flat against the wood, the hinges creaking in protest as you ease it open just a bit wider, and find Steve sitting on a couch, leaning over his knees with his face pressed into his hands.
He doesnât move.
The door clicks shut behind you.
You settle on the couch next to him, silent and waiting for something â anything â to tell you what to do. Any cue or sign from Steve or God or anyone who will listen, because your hands are shaking and your throat is dry and Steveâ
Steve. Strong, brave, kind Steve, who once held you as a doctor stitched up an ugly gash in your leg, is hiding his face as his shoulders tremble, trying to pretend like his tears arenât catching in his throat.
âI want to be left alone, Dustin,â he mutters. âJust five minutes. Please.â
You bite down on your lip and, quietly, say, âIâm not Dustin, but I can give you space.â
He jerks up, tears still coursing down his face, and stares at you with wide-eyes, his voice little more than a whisper when he says, âOh.â
You smile. âHey.â
âYouâre here,â he murmurs, full of wonder, as if heâs trying to figure out if youâre real or simply a mirage.
âYeah,â you say, just as quiet. âIâm here.â
It starts with his brows pressing together, then his jaw clenching. He presses his eyes shut, his nose flares, and you pull him into your arms before the first hiccuping sob has a chance to billow out.
He doesnât fight you, only wraps himself more firmly around your waist as he buries his face into your chest, his back heaving from unrestrained grief and everything left unsaid between the two of you. He cries and cries and cries, letting everything out until heâs stripped down to his rawest form, the image of a man held strong for far too long finally letting himself fall apart entirely.
You let him.
You smooth your hand down his back and card your fingers through his hair, comforting him in the way you only know how.
(The only way you learned how, back in those first few, fraught hours after the mall fire back in â85. Back when youâd sat in the waiting room, leg bouncing, waiting for anyone to tell you that he was okay. Waiting for his parents to catch a flight back from their beach house in North Carolina, waiting for a nurse or a doctor to come out, waiting for a sign that your boyfriend was going to make it.)
(And when youâd finally been allowed into his hospital room, heâd grinned, all boyish charm and bloodied teeth, like it was no big deal that heâd been hurt.)
(It was the first time youâd seen him so injured.)
(It was nowhere near the last.)
âItâll be okay,â you whisper. âIâve got you, Steve. I got you.â
The front of your dress is completely soaked through, but you find that you donât quite care. Not when he lets out a heart shattering, âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorryââ
Your entire body freezes.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorryââ
âSteve?â You press at his shoulders, suddenly desperate to see his face. âSteve, what are you talking about?â
He pulls back, and for a moment, heâs the eighteen year old boy who smiled at you with a swollen eye and a split lip, tutting affectionately when you sobbed into his shoulder. Heâs the boy who pulled you into his strong arms, uncaring of the IV line he was surely at risk of tugging out, and said, I know, I know, Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry, honey, I know that I scared youâÂ
âFor everything,â he gasps out. âFor keeping things from you, and â fuck, crying on you â and I know youâve moved on, but I just â god, Iâm so sorry for everything, for the divorce and the secrets andââ
(And your heart breaks all over again, because can anyone ever truly move on from Steve Harrington?)
âSteve,â you murmur, brushing a thumb down his cheek. He tilts his head just a little bit more into your palm. âItâs okay.â
âItâs not okay,â he insists. âI mean, fuck, I kept so much from you, and everyone told me not to and I drove you away andââ
âSteve.â
He falls silent.
âI forgave you a long time ago,â you say. âYou donât need to worry about me, okay?â
(Itâs the same thing that he said to you before disappearing off the face of the earth for weeks. The same words that he whispered as he held you close in the doorway of your apartment, his arms trembling as he murmured all of his love and affections into your ears, like he only had one more chance to tell you. Like he wasnât sure heâd ever see you again.)
(Itâs what he said before disappearing for twenty-five days, nine hours, and three minutes, leaving you alone as the earth heaved and shook and groaned, when it felt like the entire planet was once again at risk of falling apart, and you thought that you might die without ever getting to see his face once again.)
(And itâs what he said just minutes after the military released him back to you, seconds before he dropped to his knees and desperately said, I canât live without you, will you please, please marry me? Iâll do anything to make you happyâ)
âYour father just died,â you gently say. âYouâre allowed to worry about yourself for once.â
He looks like he wants to argue, like he wants to push back, but you watch the fight leave his body. He gives you a wobbly smile, you give him one back, and for a moment, you can let yourself pretend that you hadnât thrown eight years down the drain in the matter of a single night.
(That last argument still haunts your dreams. The way your voice cracked as you begged for him to let you in, to let you understand. How his fists shook when he said, Canât you see that Iâm doing this for you? The calm resolve you felt when you realized with an icy clarity that the two of you were too stuck in your ways to change.)
(The moment, nearly a year later, when you realized that you werenât quite sure if you wanted to change into a new person without him.)
(Looking at him now, you think he might feel the same.)
You let out a sigh and draw him closer, resting your forehead against his the way that you always did, letting the feel of stubble rough up your palm.
His breath catches.
You peek at him through your lashes to find him searching your face with barely disguised desire.
You want to laugh. Truly, you do, because if there was ever a wrong time and place to feel desire, it would be your ex-father-in-lawâs funeral, but you canât help the timeworn flame deep inside of you from flickering to life once more, a fire thatâs only ever been maintained by Steveâs careful hands.
âHoney,â he says hoarsely.
You swallow, tilting your chin just a bit closer.
Thatâs all the encouragement that he needs.
His fingers grip your waist, dragging you across the cushions and into his lap, and itâs need that has you tangling your hands with his hair. Need to be closer, need to be with him, need to be one with him.
(Need to remember what itâs like to fall asleep with his arms wrapped around your skin, whispered promises of nothing ever hurting you, swaddling you as you drifted off.)
âTell me to stop,â he begs, his hot breath ghosting your skin. âTell me to stop right now, and I will. I swear, I will.â
âDonât stop,â you say, and he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own.
It feels like coming home, in a way. Kissing him, feeling him under you. Like stepping into a soft memory, carried along by hands that have long since learned the tune of you, held by a man who had dedicated so much of his life in pursuit of the knowledge of who you were, inside and out.Â
Like your body had been held in stasis for two entire years, frozen in time, only able to come back to life with the key he held in his heart.
You giggle into the kiss, suddenly elated, as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, teasing for more.
And you give it. God, you give him more. Youâd give him the world, if you could, and suddenly youâre crying, your heart twisting, because you wasted so much time, because you were so, so stupid, becauseâ
âIâm sorry,â you gasp into his mouth. âI shouldâve listened to you, I shouldâve trustedââ
âNot your fault, honey,â he assures, pressing a trail of kisses down the column of your throat. âI kept so much from you â thereâs so much I need to tell you, andââ
AndâÂ
Thereâs a knock at the door.
âSteve?â Robinâs voice, hesitant and unsure, calls through the wood. âAre you in there?â
He drops his head against your shoulder and lets out a world weary sigh.
The doorknob turns, and you donât even have time to gather yourself or launch yourself across the couch, to pretend like Steve doesnât still have his body wrapped around yours, before Robinâs peaking inside.
âOh,â she says dumbly, eyes wide as she takes the two of you in.
Your face burns with embarrassment.
âUh, Steve,â Robin begins, clearing her throat uncomfortably. âYour mom is asking for you. What⌠do you want me to tell her?â
âIâll be there in a second,â he says. âJust give me a minute, Rob.â
Robin nods, and with a lingering look towards you, shuts the door behind her.
The two of you stay frozen like that, your legs still wrapped around his hips, his forearms still pressed into the small of your back, untilâ
A shocked laugh escapes him.
âFuck,â he says, releasing his hold on you to scrub at his face. âFuck, Iâm sorry, I have to go check on my mom, but later â can we talk? Later? Are you staying in Hawkins, or were you planning on going back toâŚ?â
âI packed a bag, but I wasnât sure what my plans were,â you say. âI can stay, though. We can talk. I thinkââ
I think we need to talk.
âCome over,â he says, an urgent strain to his voice. âTonight. Please.â
âOf course,â you say, because after everything, thereâs no way you can deny his request. âOf course I will, but you shouldââ
âYeah, I know,â he says, already beginning to shuffle you from his lap, keeping you steady as he settles you onto the cushions once more. âI know, just â you mean it? Youâllâ?â
âIâll be there,â you say. âI promise.â
He smiles, soft and true, and presses one more chaste kiss to your lips, as though heâs leaving the promise of something more for you to chase later.
And as you watch him leave, your heart pounding against your ribs, you let hope blossom inside of you once more.
⥠pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader x michael robinavitch (kinda)
⥠synopsis: after a patient attacks & strangles you, you're put on a short leave of absence so you can recover in peace. when you return to ptmc, you stay practically glued to robby's side. jealous, abbot tries keeping his distanceâgranting you time & space, so as to allow you to come to him when you're ready to discuss the events of that day...which he emerged from with bloody knuckles on your behalf.
⥠content: angst, hurt/comfort, strangulation, assault, robby being soft w/ you, jack being jelly b/c robby has so much of your attention, jack comforting you while you have an emotional meltdown
⥠a/n: requested by @styx03, ty! | i intended for this to be a lil prequel to tell me what you feel, but it ended up being its own thing since robby's actions in this one-shot vs what i put in the aforementioned fic about him wouldn't align.
"I want out of this Goddamn bed," Mr. Haberly spits from behind you.
You nod while continuing on with furiously typing away the results from his EKG. "I understand. The doctor will be in to see you really soon. But until thenâ"
"What? So he can tell me that I have fuckin' Covid or somethin'?" He scoffs. "Bunch of quacks. Whole thing is a hoax. Well, you listen me to me, you littleâ"
You spin around on your heel, desiring to cut his tirade of expletives off at the head. "It isn't Covid in your case. Nor is it a heart attack like I know you were concerned about. We're going to run a few more tests, thenâ"
He shoots upright. "And max my out of pocket?" He hollers. "No," he continues with a swipe of his hand through the air. "I'm done. No fuckin' jabs, or tests, orâ"
You step toward him and place a gentle hand against his shoulder. "I understand your concern with medical bills, believe me. But you really need toâ"
Swatting your hand away, he rips his leads off and stands.
Panicking, you take a small step back. "Sir, p-please get back into bed. If you go home AMA, you...you may not make it back if things get worse, orâ"
The world sways. One moment, you're facing your patient. The next, the back of your head has slammed off the tile floor, leaving you staring up at the ceiling. You blink dumbly, and then a searing pain begins to build at the back of your skull until it develops into a blazing inferno.
Oh God. Are... Are you paralyzed?
You curl your fingers inward, taking stock of what still functions. Just when you go to wiggle your toes, he climbs atop you and straddles your waist. "Please," you rasp as tears gather in your eyes, causing them to sting. "Plâ"
He wraps his hands tightly around your throat which you begin to claw uselessly at as your eyes bulge from your head. He presses his thumbs into your larynx next in an attempt to crush it.
His face will be the last thing you seeâthis red, ugly, pockmarked thing, and breath that reeks of alcohol and peppermint chewing gum which fans across your face.
You're going to die here.
If you're fortunate, his heart will give out before the job is through.
You kick your legs and flail your arms, completely helpless to stop what's happening to you.
"You stupid fuckin' cunt! I told you I wasn't gonna let you do it! Shoulda fuckin' listened!"
Your vision grows blurry, and then dimâthe harsh lighting overhead bleeding, instead, into inky darkness.
"Hula hoop! We've got a code hula hoop!" Someone shouts from far away.
You'd had one of those as a child. Aggravating things. Never could get it to stay circling your waist for very long. You suppose that's of little concern to you now, however.
"It's Y/N!" They screech panickedly.
Just as your eyes have begun to flutter closed, a fast-moving, towering form rushes into the room, knocking the monster from atop you, sending him skidding across the floor.
Your body, acting on reflex, doubles over while your hand comes to circle your throat, desperate for air to fill it. You cough hoarselyâa good signâthen draw in a harsh sounding, ragged breath.
People circle you from all angles, fussing over you and speaking all at once. So quickly that you can hardly discern a single question or comment. Too much. It's all too much!
And then the screaming starts again. "Abbot's gonna kill 'em!" Yowls a feminine voice.
Your head rolls to the side, and like a horrific car crash, you find yourself unable to look away as a fist is drawn back before making impact with an impossibly swollen face, sending blood splattering against a stark white wall.
You shudder at the sight, but remain impossibly still, praying you won't be next.
Until a strong pair of arms slide beneath you and hoist you up, holding you against a sturdy chest. "I've got you, sweetheart. Stay with me."
You watch as the floor falls away from beneath you, creating a sense of vertigo. It makes your head swim.
A head full of silver curls turns back to you, and when your eyes lock, his fist stops in its downward descent toward what looks to now be a dead man.
He huffs, then shoves the man aside, leaving him slumped over against the wall and quickly forgotten as he rises.
Bending your head back, you gaze up at a familiar face. One you've admired so many times before from afar. And now you're in his arms. Oh, how lovely it is to be held by him.
"Robby," calls a thickly accented voice at your side. "Put her in here. I've got the room all cleared out."
Dana. Yes, it's Dana directing him as to what to do with your injured form. You like her very much.
With impossible gentility from a man of his stature, he settles you on a gurney and cups the top of your head in his palm before turning toward the doorway from which you just entered. "Whitaker, get me a portable ultrasound machine. Now."
You hear the sputtering of a young man grasping at metaphorical straws, and then Robby sneers. "I said now!" He barks, causing you to flinch in fear.
The sound of sneakers squeaking against polished floors fades away.
Robby turns back to you, and his fingertips gently massage your scalp. "You're gonna be alright, sweetheart. I promise."
He glances to the side. "Security needs to get down hereâ"
"Already here," Dana says, following his train-of-thought. "Fuck 'im. I hope he codes before they get 'im off the floor."
Leaning down, Robby presses a tender kiss to your forehead, and despite the circumstances, a hot rush of blood rises to your cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I should've had a better eye on things. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again in my ER. Never."
You open your mouth to attempt a reply, until he shakes his head and shooshes you.
"Don't talk. You've got a lot of swelling," he states while tenderly probing at your throat with his fingertips. An action that causes hot tears to prick your eyes.
"Don't you worry, doll," Dana croons.
You turn to look at her, wanting to brush away the blonde strand that's fallen before her twinkling eyes.
"Dr. Robby's on the job, and he's got ya real well looked after."
You're put on leave for the next couple of weeks as you heal. Being unable to speakânot to mention the apparent bruising around your throatâwould only serve to make your occupation that much more difficult.
And when patients would inevitably get to asking questions you in no way felt comfortable answering... It's safe to say you enjoy the short vacation you've been alloted as best you can.
Your return to the Pitt is just as hectic as always. A feeling quickly instilled itself within you like you'd never left as residents rushed a patient past who was coughing up mouthfuls of blood into a small plastic tub, an elderly woman hollered from her bed about wanting vodka, and an ambulance screeched outside, signaling another was incoming.
So much for trying to take things easy your first day back.
You do spend your day taking easier cases in the end, thoughâas easy as they can get in the ED, anywayâper Robby. He assigns you a child having an allergic reaction to a peanut butter cookie, a young woman who'd just returned from a cruise in the tropical islands and came back with the souvenir of an odd fungal infection as a reminder of her time away, and a middle-aged man with a dog bite on his rear.
The rest of the time you spend before a computer at the nurse's station, charting.
You're grateful to those who treat you the same as before the attack. Their looks don't linger, their touches aren't ginger, like you might shatter if your shoulder is squeezed too hard in a simple gesture of reassuranceâno matter that you wouldn't entirely mind a hugâand their words are straight to the point of how they require your aid.
Abbot is a different story.
The first thing you'd made note of was the splint around the middle finger of his dominant hand, as well as faded yellow bruises and scabs along his knuckles. You had wanted to thank him, but when you opened your mouth to do so, the words got stuck in your throat. It's a bizarre thing to be appreciative that he assaulted a patient on your behalf, is it not?
When he looked at you with utter alertness, howeverâready to hear whatever it was you had to sayâyou froze up, then scurried away in search of Robby.
He's been a sort of security blanket for you ever since you came walking back through the ED's sliding glass doors. The comforting feeling of being in his arms while he whispered sweet nothings to you made a lasting impression, like an imprint in wet concrete before it driedâforever memorializing the mark left upon its surface.
You've done your utmost to remain out of his way, so as not to hinder his ability to properly do his job, but when either of you have a spare moment, you seem to just appear randomly at his side. Apparently your feet have a mind of their own now, always in search of him they are.
When you're not, though, is when Abbot comes into play.
He'd started out by putting a gentle hand against the small of your backâdesiring a talk with you the first morning you returnedâbut when you squeaked in fear from the unexpected contact, he promptly dropped it. Then watched as you wandered away in search of his fellow attending.
Now, he loves Robby like a brother. He's one of his closest friends. His closest one at PTMC, to be certain. But watching you at his sideâgazing up at him with doe eyes, all soft and adoring likeâhas left a feeling of heated jealousy burning deep within his chest.
Not because he feels like he's owed something for having defended youâhe would've done it for anybody here (perhaps he wouldn't have gone quite so far in another's case as he did for yours)âbut rather because he wants to gain whatever it is that Robby seems to have; whatever spell he's cast over you.
He doesn't know why it means so damn much to him: ensuring that you understand he's just as much of a safe place for you as Robinavitchâbut it does. So, he goes about it by a different approach. Such as buying you lunch.
Until you take the pricey sandwich from him with a quiet 'thank you' before wandering off to eat it in solitude one afternoon.
It makes him feel just the least bit pathetic, practically courting you like a damn school boy with a juvenile crush, but he simply wishes for you to talk to him. Have one decent conversation so he can get...whatever this is out of his system and he can get his head screwed on right once more.
Because if your reason for avoidance is fear? He can't let that go. You should never have a reason to fear a fellow coworker here, particularly an attending. It'll only serve to make the possibility of dire mistakes all the more likely on the job if you hesitate to ask for his expertise when it's required.
So he gives you space; deigns that you'll come to him when you're ready.
He hopes so, anyway.
"I care about her, too, y'know?"
Glancing from the iPad he holds, to Jack over his glasses, Robby raises a brow in confusion. "What?"
Jack folds his arms, then rolls his head to the side from atop his shoulder. He should've kept his damn mouth shut.
"You know who."
Robby merely stares at him for a moment before he snorts quietly with mirthâan action that sends his shoulders slightly shaking from a sense of amusement. "Y/N?" He asks.
That damn obvious, then, Jack muses. "Mhm."
"Alright."
Jack rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. This is the stupidest fucking conversation he's ever had in his life, hand to God. "She just won't..." He sighs from frustration. "She won't fucking talk to me," he hisses while turning toward him. "Every time I try, she runs in the other direction. To you."
Unexpectedly, Robby barks a laugh, then waves his hand before him. "I'm sorry," he begins before crossing one arm over the other, leaving the tablet to hang loosely at his side. "Are you actually saying that you're jealous? About what, Jack?"
Jack silently steams. If this were the damn cartoon with the coyote, there'd be smoke coming out of his ears. "Forget it," he clips before stomping off.
"Oh, come on!" Robby hollers from behind him. "Come back so that we can talk aboutâ"
A raised middle finger cuts him short.
You can't stop shaking. Violently. You're all alone, trapped in that room again, with a hefty man atop you, trying to choke the life from your throat.
You hadn't even done anything wrongâall you wanted was to help him; make him better. Send him home to his family.
Your fault, your fault, your fault. Last you heard, he was in jail. Now what will happen to him? And there've been whispers. That Jack's professionalism has been called into questionâif not his medical license as well. How many lives have you ruined all because you were too weak to act? To take care of the problem you caused?
You want to tell someone. Want the truth of everything you've been bottling up and pushing down to come spilling out like an endless river until its bed has gone dry and nothing is left but sand.
But you can't burden anyone else. Can't put them on the line as well for the sake of your own sanity.
Cradling your head in your heads, you rock back and forth while sobbing, doing your utmost to self-soothe and come back to yourself before your break is over.
It's been like this every day since you got back: scheduled meltdowns. You worry you're conditioning yourself for them, because once the clock hits a particular time, here comes a downpour.
"You're fine, you're fine, you're fine," you repeat over and over again.
Problem is, they feel like empty words at this point because you've said them so many times.
A metal door swings open, and you huddle further into the corner you occupy beneath the stairwell, quietly sniffling, hoping they'll soon be on their way.
Even footfalls descend the stairs, your eyes drifting to each one as an unknown foot makes contact with the other side of the stairs that loom above you.
Then they stop at the bottom, round a corner, andâ
Oh no.
"You've got people looking for you," Abbot states with his hands on his hips.
Your chin wobbles, then you break into a fit of sobs again.
Taken aback, he stalls for a moment before morphing into a soldier ready to jump into action. His black tennis shoes scuff against the floor as he walks over to you. Pressing his back against the wall, he slides downward, finishing with a quiet 'oomph' when his butt hits the floor.
"Alright," he begins, dragging himself closer until he's pressed against your side. "This about what happened, or somethin' new?"
"H-happened," you choke out inbetween sobs.
For once, Robinavitch fails to be the hero coming to your rescue this time, Abbot muses, despite knowing that he's too damn old to be thinking so immaturely.
And yet.
Outstretching his arm, he makes to wrap it around your shoulder, until you go spastic, nearly pushing him over onto his side. "No! No, I can do it! I have to! I can do it this time! No one hasâhas toâ"
Resituating, his brows furrow. "Sweetheart, what the hell are you talking about?"
Burying your racing head in your hands, you claw at your scalp. "It's all my fault," you mutter between ragged breaths. "That man. He's in jail. AndâAnd you. Your job andâand license. Oh, God, what've I done?"
His mouth falls slightly open as he attempts to formulate a reply. You blame yourself? Just how long have you spent beating the shit out of yourself for things you had no control over, exactly?
Grabbing your face between his handsârefusing to let you slip from his grasp this timeâAbbot levels you with a steely look. "I gave that piece of shit what he deserved. Had we been outside the hospital, I can promise you that I would've done a lot worse. I only stopped because you were watching. As for my license, yes, there was an inquiry, but the case is now closed. I'm fine. HR deemed in the end that ultimately I did what I had to to protect my staff."
Sliding his hands beneath your legs, he drapes them over his lap before enveloping the rest of you in his arms.
Almost immediately does the tension within you loosen from the unexpected embrace.
He cups your cheek and brushes a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Everything is fine. That...patient," he spits. "Is fine. Recovering. In jail. Where he fucking belongs. Whatever happens to him next is strictly due to his own actions. Understand?"
Slowly, you nod. "I'm sorry. That I've been avoiding you."
He shakes his head. "I understand why now: you felt guilty when you had no reason to. I thought..." He trails off. "Doesn't matter now. Everything is alright. That's what matters."
"W-what? You thoughtâ"
He sighs, and runs a tired hand down his face before leaning his head back against the wall behind him. "I lost myself in the moment." He wiggles his splinted finger. "When I saw him on top of you, something just...snapped. Everything went red. I was out for blood; felt like I was back overseas again. The shouting turned into gunfire, and all I saw was a faceless man trying to hurt someone that Iâ"
No. He can't go that far. Not when you're in such a delicate state of mind.
"That you...what?" You question innocently.
"Care about." Deeply, he supplies, but leaves unspoken.
Jack knows it's more than that.
Your sobs having turned instead to the occasional quiet sniffle, you let your eyes flutter closed. Now having exhausted yourself from a nervous breakdown, you'd really like to take a nap.
But there's still four hours left of your shift.
Jack's lips tug into a soft smile at the sight of you so peaceful. And in his arms, at that. "You okay now?"
You nod, then yawn. "Sleepy, but yes."
Granting a kiss to the crown of your head, he breathes deeply. "I knew you were going through it. It's why I hovered," he murmurs against your forehead. "Then I gave you space since suffocating you wasn't getting me anywhere. Maybe I should've done things differentlyâ"
You shake your head, then settle it atop his shoulder. "It wasn't you. It was just...me."
He chews his lip for a moment. Fuck it. "You went to Robby."
Your brows furrow. "Yes...?"
Jack rolls his eyes, then squeezes them shut. He is truly too old for this schoolyard crush bullshit. Damn his heart. "Maybe I got a little jealous."
Your head shoots upânearly clipping his chin in the process. "Whaâ" Your mouth quirks to the side, so as to prevent yourself from smirking. There's just something so deeply hilarious about that statement to you. Coming from someone such as himself, especially. He served overseasâbearing witness to God knows what, then came home only to continue watching people die in the ED, and you giving Robby attention is what does him in?
At a loss for words, you merely look at him with wide eyes.
Shaking his head with a smirk now plastered on his face, he half turns his head toward you. "You don't have to say anything. Please don't, actually. I've already given him shit about it and don't need to feel like any more of an ass than I already do."
You lean forward, and he slides a palm up your thigh. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you nuzzle against his neck. "I'm just glad to hear that everything is okay with you."
Resting his cheek against the top of your head, Jack nods. "Same here."
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summary: After Park the Shark gets a little too forward with you in the ER Jack starts to question himself and your relationship.
contains: MDNI! Angst, Fluff, a little allusion to smut because I just can't help myself.
word count: 2.4k
author's note: just a short and sweet little jack fic-let to try and work myself out of a writers block. please leave a comment if this speaks to you in any way! having a little crisis of confidence over here lol
The ER hummed with anticipation as you waited for the waterpark victims to be wheeled into the ED. As the first ambulance pulls up Robby grabs you, motioning for Whitaker, and Ogilvie to follow, directing traffic towards trauma one.
âWhat do we have?â Whitaker asks.
âA fall from 10 feet onto a metal fence. Right below the knee. Unconscious, maybe from the pain. Good vitals.â Robby says.
âGood lung sliding right and left,â Whitaker says with this stethoscope pressed to her chest.
âAirway patent, breath sounds bilaterally.â You add, nodding in agreement with the R1 across from you.
âTwo view tib-fib.â Robby says looking down at the patient.
âPushing cefazolin and gent now,â you say, attaching the syringe to the IV, pumping the fluid in one at a time.
âWhy do we take down the tourniquet, Whitaker?â Robby looks down at the R1.
âTo give the residual limb blood flow,â Whitaker nods, âjust two little pumpers.â
âA couple of figure eights ought to take care of those. Park,â Robby greets the ortho surgeon as he steps into the trauma room.
âPark the Shark, orthopedic surgeon.â Whitaker leans over to Ogilvie, speaking low. Park gives you a once over.
âWhat are you doing later?â He nods at you, a small smirk on his face.
âNot you.â You donât even look up from the computer, Robby chuckles behind you, as you push the scans towards Park to show him the x-ray, âfavorable amputation for reattachment, pretty clean cut. Fence sliced through like a guillotine.âÂ
âNot too bad,â Park agrees, wandering towards where Whitaker and Ogilvie sit beside the patient.Â
âJust tying off a couple arterioles,â Whitaker offers.
âI'm not blind.â Park says flatly, âwhere's the amputated leg?"
âDouble bagged on ice,â you say, watching him with a hand on your hip.
âSterile saline on the inner bag. Ice water in the outer bag. No direct ice-on-skin contact.â Whitaker says as Park slips the leg out of the bag, examining it closely.
âWe spent a lot of time prepping-â Ogilvie starts.
âHe still needs to look,â Whitaker mumbles.
âAntibiotics?â Park asks curtly.
âCefazolin and gent,â you say with the same affect, âwe've cleared her chest, abdomen, and pelvis.â
âClean wound, no crush injury, rapid transport time. Replantation is a go. I'll book an OR. Irrigate the hell out of this with 3 liters.â Shark nods at you, as if you had done the entire case alone.
â3 liters?â Whitaker confirms, confused by the large quantity.
âOf saline, genius.â Shark says, voice flat.
âThanks, Shark.â Robby says.
âBye doctor,â Park nods at you.Â
âOk,â you say, not bothering to look up at him as he leaves.Â
âI knew he meant saline,â Whitaker looks between you and Robby asking for confirmation that you know heâs not an idiot.
âIgnore him,â you say, still sounding agitated at the whole interaction.
âYeah, Shark doesnât really like anyone,â Robby offers the two, slightly shaken, young doctors sitting in front of him.
âHe seems to like her just fine,â Ogilvie points a gloved finger to you and you scoff.
âThatâs just because he wants to f-â you cut yourself of realizing your chief attending is standing right next to you, âI think I hear someone calling my name out there, yeah no, I gotta-â you push out the door, everyone in the room knowing that no one was calling you.
âShe was going to say fuck her,â Ogilvie says.
âThank you for clarifying Ogilvie,â Robby says, giving a curt nod.
You donât usually work the day shift but after McKay got a call from Harrisonâs school she had to bow out for the day. Robby is certainly excited to work with you and get to know you a little better, you are his best friend's favorite resident, in more ways than one. Robby knows that Jack is seeing you, however the exact parameters of your relationship are unclear to the chief attending. Heâs tried to spot slip ups between the two of you during hand-offs, any indication that you two are anything more than co-workers, but you are entirely unflappable and Jack is the same. He assumes the secrecy is because you and Jack want to keep things in your private lives private but the truth is Jack himself is unsure of the exact nature of your relationship.
The two of you are having sex, hot, passionate sex, on a regular basis. He feels like a teenager again, desperate to have his mouth on yours, his hands on your body, his cock in your tight pussy. The first shift after the two of you hooked up Jack could barely look at you, his ears flushing red every time he saw you, thinking of the day before when you were panting and whimpering beneath him, squeezing him like a vice, letting him come inside you... Over time he got better at staying composed. No one at the hospital had suspected anything, he maintained his cool outer shell without an issue, but for those first couple of weeks he had felt like he was melting inside. More recently the two of you started getting breakfast together after a shift, staying at each otherâs places, lingering near one another in the ERâŚ
âYour little resident is fiery, I like her for you,â Robby smirks as Jack stands next to him at the hub, the senior attendings preparing to start hand-offs.
âOh yeah? Whatâd she do to get you so wound up?â The corner of Jackâs mouth curves up ever so slightly.
âJust put Shark in his place this afternoon,â Robby says, pushing his glasses up to rest on his head.
âPark? Why? Was he bothering her?â Jackâs mouth drops, imperceptible to a passerby but Robby notices. Shit. He had just meant to tease his friend a little, not wind him up before a shift.
âNah heâs just- he just seems to be uh, interested, but she shut him down,â Jack gives him a look, waiting for Robby to elaborate, âno he just- he just asked her what she was doing later,â
âWell, what did she say?â Jack crosses his arms over his broad chest.
âMan, you should just talk to her,â Robby sighs, regretting saying anything.
âRobby,â Jack looks at him with a hard stare.
âShe said ânot you,ââ Robby shrugs, ââwhat are you doing later?â ânot you,â that was it- it was funnier when she said it.â
Jackâs mouth is in a firm line.
âFuckinâ ortho surgeons,â Jack mumbles.
âI mean⌠glass houses, brother.â Robby says, again without thinking.
Jack raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, silently prompting Robby to explain himself.
âYou, you have been known to try to charm the odd patient⌠or nurse⌠or doctorâŚâ Robby tries to placate him.
âThat's different.â Jackâs head pulls back slightly.
âWhy?â Robby scrunches his eyebrows.
âBecause- because I'm seeing her.â Jack says, dropping his voice low.
âYou werenât always seeing her.â Robby pauses, looking in the distance, âactually now that I think about it sheâs the only person I havenât seen you make eyes at."
âWhat do you mean? You donât think sheâs charmed by me?â Jack cocks an eyebrow.
âYeah but you donât do the whole Dr.-Jack-Abbot-thing with her, thereâs no smoke or mirrors, youâre just⌠being Jack.â
âHey,â you slide next to Jack where he stands at the hub, resting your hands on the desk dangerously close to his, âheard youâre taking Dr. Al for a beer, can you put in a good word for me?â
âWith Al-Hashimi? Why?â Jack turns away from you, starting to walk towards the ambulance bay.
âUh, because sheâs a smart, assertive attending with a cool, humanitarian background? I mean the AI shit is lame but I don't know, I feel like I could learn some stuff from her,â you chatter away, following him closely, not entirely picking up on his foul mood. âNot that I donât love to learn from you but- I don't know, men have been in charge of me my whole life, it would be nice to have another woman be a mentor figure. And I wanna do a slash trach.â
âWhy donât you ask Shark to teach you?â Jack says with a little bite once the two of you step outside.
âShark? Yeah Iâll ask him for help if I ever need to use a hammer,â you breathe out a laugh, âHeâs⌠how do i say this professionallyâŚ.â you purse your lips and tap your chin, pretending to think, âheâs the worst.â
âYeah well he thinks very highly of you,â Jack mutters.
âOh my god. Has Robby been whispering in your ear? Jack, it was a non-event. He does it all the time. Iâm used to brushing him off.â You say sympathetically.
âHe does it all the time?â Jack head snaps to you.
âNot literally,â you sigh, âyou have no reason to worry about Shark, I can't stand him, thereâs nothing to be jealous about,â
âMaybe youâre the one whoâs jealous,â Jack turns away from you slightly, his comment prompting you to let out a sharp breath as a laugh.
âWho am I supposed to be jealous of?â You say incredulously.
âIâm not having this conversation right now,â Jack rubs his hands over his face.
âOh my god.â you let out a breathy laugh, âyou want me to be jealous. Why?â
âYouâre acting like a child.â He turns to you.
âMe? Are you serious right now?â You cross your arms, staring at him with your eyebrows raised. Jack says nothing, starting to turn back into the hospital.
âJack,â you grab onto his arm, keeping him from walking inside, âtalk. It's just me.â
âYeah thatâs the problem," Jack snaps, "youâre the problem."
Your face falls at his words.
âWh-what did I do?â You say suddenly seeming very small.Â
âNo- you didnât-â Jack lets out a frustrated breath, rubbing his hands down his face, âlook- youâre young- god- youâre so young, and I know dating has changed since I was doing it twenty years ago but I donât know how to do this with you- I donât know how to see more than one person-â
âIâm not seeing more than one person-â you cut Jack off from his spiral.Â
âWhat?â He looks at you blankly.
âIâm not seeing more than one person,â you say again, sounding a little more bold, a little more like yourself, âI'm only seeing you. I only want to see you. You thought I was seeing other people? Are you?â
âNo- I donât- I donât know-â Jack stammers.
âYou donât know if youâre seeing other people?â You raise an eyebrow.
âNo- of course Iâm not- I just didnât know if-â Jack struggles to articulate himself.
âWhy didnât you just talk to me?â You say gently.
âYou seriously need to ask me that?â Jack finally turns to look at you, âIâm a widower, Iâm a vet, Iâm an amputee. Iâm a night shift ER doctor, you should know what that says about me, better than most people. Iâm twenty years older than you⌠Iâm punching above my weight here⌠I- I figured Iâd take what I could get.â
You donât say anything. You canât think of anything to say. Thatâs how he thinks of himself? Damaged goods? He is the most confident, borderline arrogant, doctor you know and he ought to be, he really is that good. And heâs just as good of a person. Sure, he had some walls up but slowly he was letting you in, showing you his entire self, something you felt privileged to have access to...
âCome with me,â you take his arm pulling him back towards the hospital. He pauses slightly, not exactly sure what youâre about to do, âJack, can you just- please?âÂ
He follows you silently to the elevator which takes the pair of you to the third floor where the orthopedics department is located. The ride up is silent as you tap your foot, arms crossed tightly across your chest. The elevator dings and you step out with a determined stride, scanning the floor. You spot Park standing with two other ortho surgeons.
âPark!â you shout across the room, âwe need to talk.â
Park smirks as you beeline towards him. The poor sucker, Jack thinks, slowly following you at a safe distance, stopping at the nurses station, resting his elbows on the counter, not even bothering trying to hide his interest in this interaction. The other two surgeons skulk away, god, Jack wishes he could see your face right now
âStop smiling,â you say as you stand in front of him and his smile immediately drops, âyou need to stop asking me out. First, Iâm with someone, and Iâm not sure heâd like it if he knew you were bothering me every time youâre in the ER. Second, even if I was single it would never happen with you and me. If we were the last two people alive it wouldnât happen. And third, itâs fucking unprofessional. Iâm a doctor, not your groupie. Am I making myself clear?â
He swallows hard, then nods.
âSay: yes doctor,â you say, looking him right in the eyes.
âYes, doctor, it wonât happen again,â Park looks almost sheepish. Jack canât think of a time heâs seen him look like this⌠ever. Despite his imposing frame, Park seems so small right now.
âGood,â you smile and turn on your heels walking back towards the elevator where Jack stands with his mouth agape. You take his hand pulling him towards the stairwell, the door dropping shut behind you.Â
âCan I get in trouble for that?â You turn to Jack with a slightly anxious expression.
âI was with you for the last hour and didnât even see you go up to Ortho.â Jack smirks at you.
âHm,â you smirk back, grabbing the back of his neck, placing a quick kiss on his lips. He keeps leaning towards you as you pull back.
âJack,â you smile, pushing him away lightly, stepping down one stair so he towers over you.Â
âSo whoâs this mysterious person youâre âwithâ?â He gazes down at you with his hands in his pockets as you bite your lip.
âMm,â you hum, toying with his ID that sits against his hip, âheâs just this older guy, really fuckinâ smart, measured, competentâŚâ you pull his badge toward you examining the photo, âheâs sexy, even when he gets a little jealous,â you let go of his ID badge letting it snap against him sharply, he winces slightly at the stinging sensation but keeps gazing down at you with adoration. Your eyes flick up to his.Â
âAnd I really like him,â you finish, a small smile on the corner of your lips. Jack takes a step down so youâre eye to eye.Â
âAm I allowed to just say weâre dating? All these code words âseeing,â âwith,â âexclusiveâŚâ I just-â Jack cuts himself off with a shake of his head.
âMm it depends,â you hum, a playful grin on your face, âare we dating?âÂ
âYes,â he squeezes your hip.
âThen youâre allowed to say it,â you say, looking up and then down the stairs, seeing that youâre still alone, placing another more lingering kiss on his mouth, your lips soft against his. You pull back and see the tips of his ears turn bright red, making you blush as well.
âBut weâre not telling anyone down there,â you clarify.Â
âOh fuck no, theyâre all crazy,â Jack scrunches his eyebrows in agreement.Â
Warnings: friends/coworkers to lovers, established mutual feelings, fluff, drunk reader, whipped Jack.
Summary: Jack decides heâs done hiding exactly how whipped he is for you.
After a brutal week of work, your shift crew was letting loose, trading complaints about management and downing cheap drinks.
âBut Jack wasn't paying attention to any of them.
âHe was leaning against the table, a half empty beer in his hand, with his gaze entirely on you. You were sitting across the table, throwing your head back as you laughed at a joke someone just made. The warm ambient lighting of the pub caught the edge of your smile, and right then, something shifted heavily in Jackâs chest.
âGod, sheâs easily the most beautiful person in this room, he thought, a sudden clarity hitting him.
âIt wasn't just a fleeting work crush anymore, and he knew it.
Watching the way you effortlessly commanded the space around you, he realized he was completely done for.
He found himself thinking past the walls of the bar, imagining what it would be like to be the one walking you to your front door tonight. Heâd willingly play the perfect gentleman, do whatever it took, even charm your mom if he ever got the chance to meet her; anything just to ensure he got to stay in your life.
The mere thought of a future with you, spoken out loud or just kept in his head, made his heart race.
âAs if feeling the weight of his stare, you turned your head. Your eyes met his, and your smile softened into something private, just for him.
âJack didnât look away. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
The music in the bar shifted to something with a pulsing beat, and a few people from the shift immediately dragged you out toward the cramped dance floor.
Jack stayed at the table, but he didn't join the conversation around him. His eyes followed you through the lights. He watched the way you moved, the unbothered laugh on your lips, and the way you completely shook off the stress of the past week.
Every second he spent watching you only hammered the realization deeper into his chest.
When a song ended, you made your way back, flushed and laughing. The drinks had fully caught up to you by now, leaving your mind pleasantly fuzzy and your movements a little loose.
Instead of reclaiming your original seat, you slid straight into the tight space right next to Jack.
The moment your hip met his, his hand slid effortlessly around your waist, his palm warm as he pulled you against his side. The warmth of your body radiated through his clothes, and because of the alcohol blurring your usual boundaries, you happily let yourself sink heavily into him, leaning your head back against his shoulder and looking up with slightly unfocused eyes.
"Too much dancing?" he murmured, dropping hus voice so only you could hear him over the barâs bass.
"Maybe a little," you hummed, a smile playing on your lips. "Or maybe it's the drinks."
"You're a lightweight," he teased softly. As the words left his mouth, he leaned his head down and pressed a kiss right against the bare skin of your shoulder, his lips were warm against your skin.
A shiver ran down your spine, and you let out a soft giggle, shifting even closer until there was absolutely no space left between you. You reached up, your fingers playfully tugging at the lapel of his jacket. "Are you being sweet to me, Jack?"
"I can be whatever you want me to be," he replied without a hint of hesitation, his hand at your waist gently squeezing. He was completely dialed into you, entirely forgetting that you two weren't alone.
Across the table, a few looks were traded. A couple of eyebrows went up. One of the paramedics cleared their throat loudly, a massive smirk spreading across their face.
"Uh, Jack? You want us to leave you two alone?"
Jack blinked, fucking finally remembering the rest of the world existed. He looked up, catching the knowing grins of the entire shift crew staring.
Anyone could see it: the way he was holding you, the softness in his eyes, the absolute focus he had on you. He was totally whipped, and there was absolutely no denying it anymore.
Instead of pulling away or getting defensive, Jack just looked down at you, seeing the faint, beautiful flush on your cheeks. He chuckled, his arm adjusting around your waist.
"Mind your business," Jack said to the table, not a single bit of shame in his voice. "I'm minding mine."
Before anyone could even process his words, Jack turned his head down toward you. His hand slid from your waist up to the nape of your neck, his fingers gently tangling in your hair as he tilted your face up and captured your lips in a deep kiss.
The kiss was deep, slow, and full of all the unspoken words heâd been keeping to himself for months. It was a warm claim that left you completely breathless. He tasted faintly of the beer heâd been sipping, his lips incredibly soft but firm as they molded against yours, demanding a response you were more than ready to give.
The shift went absolutely wild around, cheers and loud whistles erupting from everyone, but Jack didnât pull back. Instead, he only deepened the kiss.
The sheer excitement of the crew brought a shy heat to your cheeks, and a breathless smile broke across your lips right in the middle of the kiss. Jack let out a chuckle against your mouth, loving the feel of your lips curving against his.
Yielding completely to the fuzzy rush of the alcohol and his touch, you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, burying your fingers in the collar of his shirt. You tilted your head and kissed him back softly, your smile pressing directly into his as you let him completely steal your breath away.
jack abbotâs tummy. thatâs it. thatâs the post.
fem!reader, mdni. chokehold, doggy style, dom!jack. porn no plot
youâd insist that he fucked you doggy, forearm and bicep curling around your neck, squeezing just enough to enhance the dizzying sensation his cock ramming into your cervix gave you.
his tummy was warm and heavy, pressing up against the divot of the small of your back, arching perfectly for him to fit against you like a puzzle piece.
whining around his arm, desperately pawing back at his tummy, trying to tug him harder against you.
âstop whininâ.â heâs growling against your ear in between rough pants, cock slowly dragging out to just the tip, pausing momentarily before plunging back inside your greedy cunt with sheer force.
âmngh⌠jusâ need it.â you complain, drooling down against his freckled skin.
âoh, youâre fuckinâ taking it.â grunting as his muscles around your neck contracted. you just nodded along dumbly.
Description: Alexa, play âmanchildâ by Sabrina. Or, 3 times Jack notices the incompetency of your new boyfriend and gets annoyed, and 1 time he does something about it.Â
Tags/warnings: big age gap (r is in 20's and abbot is 50), "ive got tattoos older than you" gets said, yes he has tats bcos i said so, size diff, mentions of concussion, medical inaccuracies (idk shit), (1) allusion to reader having a choking kink (đ), r has a used to have a massive crush on him, made ellis a lesbian bcos ofc, abbot life's goal is to make fun of r's bf, flirting (so much), bit of yearner!jack & dom!jack vibes, gets dialogue heavy at the end, angsty fights & confessions, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, sexual innuendos, i use loads of em dashes (dont even compare me to chatgpt bcos im better), pet names: kid, kiddo, sweetheart
Note: tysm for the love on my first ff, it means the world to me. Writing something longer made me lose all objectivity, and I genuinely cannot tell if it's good or great or whatever. Please give me feedback (PERSONALLY). Again, I tried to keep r neutral but you might see mentions of r having hair.
Enjoy. This is for the ones with a competency kink. And for the ones who def wanted him to call you âkid.â and the ones who love silver foxes (get checked) (ur girl incl)
1
âI told him not to take me here,â you mutter to Jack, who's checking for tenderness in your neck, his thick fingers pressing against the side, while you try not to think of his hands on your neck in a very different context.
âLet him. Something the boy can do right, hm?â
After checking for initial symptoms â making you walk in a straight line, and balancing yourself on a single foot, you're subjugated to the very hands-on physical examination. You're suddenly wondering how other patients remain composed when Dr. Abbot touches them like this.
Well, usually, attending physicians don't do a history check or a physical exam, but this one does. For you. Probably because you're his staff.
Focus.Â
You clock into the reality, realizing the dig he made at your âboy.â
âYeah, she didn't wanna come, I kinda dragged her here. I was like, âbabe, it may just be a light concussion but you're a nurse, not a doctorâ so, like, thanks, doc. We needed the big guns,â proudly speaks Noah standing against the wall, checking time on his phone for the 5th time since you've been in this room.
Jack's jaw tightens and he shoots him a look so dirty, Noah actually takes a step back.
âWatch it, kid, if it wasn't for nurses, American healthcare would be even fuckinâ worse.â
Abbot looks back at you, and raises an eyebrow as if to say âreally? him?â
You should speak up in your boyfriend's defense, something â anything â to wipe that perceptive look on Jack's face, the smugness he isn't trying hard enough to hide. You might as well be in your birthday suit right now, for how bare you feel. How bare you always feel in his presence.
God knows how much you'd actually like to be â no, you have a boyfriend. A perfectly handsome, competent, and a caring one.
Handsome. Not rugged.
Competent. Doubtful.
Caring. Well, caring enough.
âDoctor AbbotâŚâ you begin, voice stripped raw, breath coming uneasy, when his index brushes right over your thrumming pulse.
âFocus on the examination. Tsk, thought we taught you better here. Well, I at least did. Don't you agree, nurse?âÂ
The air leaves your mouth in a little puff, leaving your throat dry, your lips soon following. You need a glass of â
âNeed some water? You've been here a while,â Jack asks, tone becoming gravelly and intimate, eyebrows drawing closer seeing how pale you look.
He immediately turns to Noah â hands leaving your neck â without waiting for a response from you. His voice takes on its normal cadence. âHey, son, grab her a bottle, would you? Vending machine is at the end of the corridor. Thanks.â
His âThanksâ comes out in a slow drawl that makes you squirm in your seat.Â
Your attending has not even fully turned back to you yet, when your partner speaks up, âUh, bottle of what?â
âA Pinot Noir, perhaps. Which one do you prefer?â His eyes find yours again, brows raising in deep amusement. Is he getting a kick out of humiliating your boyfriend â and by extension, you?
âUhâŚâ noah looks utterly confused. You feel almost bad for him. Almost.Â
âWater, son. Get your girl a bottle.â Noah makes a move to leave, complying immediately to the doctor. Has he ever even listened to you so quickly? God, men are such dicksuckers for each-other.
âA chapstick while you're at it, maybe,â Jack mutters, trying to keep the humour out of his voice. Noah stops in his tracks again, clearly deaf to the sarcasm.
Jack huffs. âJust go.â
You honestly don't understand why he dislikes Noah so much. You've only been dating him for 3 weeks.
Well.
Noah did try to make a âromanticâ gesture by coming to pick you up from your shift. Except, he arrived an hour early as a âsurpriseâ and cribbed because you couldn't leave early. And he did just undervalue your job as a nurse. AndâŚof course, an hour ago, he accidentally hit you your head with a football while he was showing attempting a trick.
As Noah leaves, Jack lets out a long-suffering sigh. âDon't worry, I'll get you a chapstick,â he says, staring shamelessly at your trembling bottom-lip before making a slow way up again.
âPenlight. Incoming.â
You've barely had time to react when a sudden light shone in your eyes. Your face instinctively tries to move back, only to be stopped by a feather-light touch on your jaw. Jack's finger retracts as soon as it comes, leaving you starved for more. More than just the pad of his index.
You hold still for him, letting him sway the torch alternatively between your eyes. When the light is kept back with a soft clink, there are no more distractions as he stands up straight again.
The creases in his scrubs only increase when he folds his arms over his chest.
âSo.â You mutter, your gaze trying to find something interesting on the floor.
âNick seems like a good guy.â
âNoah.â
âRight. We should thank Nick for bringing you here right on time. Wouldn't wanna lose one of our best nurses.â
You scoff at his words. Your feet are moving in a slow back and forth rhythm, your eyes fixated on them.
âLet's not say things we don't mean for good staff satisfaction scores.â
âIf you're trying to insult me by implying I care about that shit, good job. I'm slightly more offended than the time you implied I am too old for karaoke." He's slightly rocking himself back and forth on the balls of his feet.
âDidn't imply, actually. I think I was pretty direct.â
A huff of laughter leaves his lips. You don't want huffs or sarcastic laughs. You want his full belly-laugh. His happy laugh that you've only seen Robby drag out of him.
âI don't care about staff satisfaction scores,â he lightly shakes his head for a moment.
âYes, you just sai ââ
âOnly care about yours.â
That makes you look up at him again with widened eyes and parted lips. Little shit, off-handedly throwing around words that gives you butterflies.
Dead butterflies, of course, just like your affections on him. Former crush. Yes.
You quickly regain your senses to retort.
âSatisfaction with your services? If so, thank you for checking me for a concussion.â The formality in your words completely betray the flush creeping up your cheeks.
âOf course, what else?â You hate the way he says your last name. The way it rolls off his tongue. The way it reeks of intent, and not casualty.
The sharp noise of metal rings dragging across a rod brings you out of your trance. Nic â Noah emerges from behind the privacy curtain, a bottle of water clutched in his right hand, and a simmering cup of black coffee in left. âGot you choices, babe.â
You smile thankfully at him, perhaps more grateful for the distraction. You extend your hand, your pointer gesturing at the water. You don't feel the same electricity when Noah's fingers brush against yours in the hand-off.
Jack takes a step back. He nods at you. âRest. Hydrate. You know it.â
"Mhm, no big brain activity, limited screen time, don't avoid if symptoms worsen."
"Impressive. How does a civvie like you know the drill?" he asks, eyes widening in mock-surprise.
"Oh, I'm very smart. Could've easily been a nurse at your hospital," you can't help but smile.
"Shame. I'm sure you would've been terrific."
He nods at your boyfriend next, âNick.â
âUh, it's actually Noa ââ but Jack's right hand has already caught the edge of the curtain, swiftly pulling it out of his way, and disappearing shortly after.Â
âShe prefers lattes, by the way.â
2
BzzzzzzzÂ
âDoctor Ellis, I didn't know you allowed your staff to bring phones in a trauma bay. I would've brought mine to play some music while we inserted a chest tube inside this man.â
Ellis only grunts, too focused on work at hand.
Your cheeks heat at Doctor Garcia's comment, feeling the loud buzz against your thigh for the nth time today.Â
âI'm sorry â â you had only just begun when Dr. Abbot's voice cut in, deadpan and dry.
âYolanda, you listen to music?â
âDoesn't everyone?â
âYeah, well, normal people do. Why?â
Garcia's sharp glare to the attending does nothing to his demeanor. His hands â controlled, precise, and so fucking practiced â don't stop for even a fraction of a second.Â
âNot everyone can have eccentric hobbies like nude yoga, Dr. Rabbit.â
Nude yoga? Nude? You force your mind to not conjure up an image of that. Especially not with your attending â who you have used to have a schoolgirl crush on â as the main character. Or, you'll be the one on the operation table instead of observing, breaking out in hives.
âI'm sorry, Dr. Garcia,â you complete.
âApologise to the man on the table; It's not my life on line. No matter how much I wish whenever I work with you boy scouts.â You always cringe at the bluntness in her tone, but it's worse when directly aimed at you.
âEasy, Garcia,â Jack commanded, tone instantly gaining its authority, pausing a moment to shoot her a look. Yolanda doesn't deter, and two of your most-respected, highly-competent seniors seem to engage in a silent eye-conversation. It ends with a twitch of Garcia's lips as she glances at you, and your attending muttering, âshut it.â
Huh, Strange.Â
***
The biohazard bin shuts with a snap, and you rub your clammy hands, trying to get the feel of rubber gloves off them. Trauma bays are always stress-inducing, no matter â
Bzzzzzzzzz.
You're about to kill someone tonight. It's gonna be your boyfriend. And you're gonna enjoy it. And you're gonna go online, talk about it, and watch a number of supportive women tell you, âI support your rights, but also your wrongs. You go, bitch.â
The constant vibration against your thigh, the baby crying in pedes, and looking like a fool in a trauma bayâŚyou heave a sigh. Has the ED always been so bright? It's like the lights are directly in your eyes.
You hate loud. So much.
You un-pocket your phone, letting it unlock before you start typing furiously, your mouth instinctively murmuring everything you're typing. Your feet carry you forward, muscle memory taking you to a quiet corner, where you can peacefully argue. And bang your head against the wall, if you're lucky. But you're not sure if there's a staff discount at The Pitt. And frankly, you're already struggling with rent and groceries.
Look at you being fiscally responsible.Â
âFuck, sorry,â leaves your mouth as soon as you accidentally collide with someone. A single calloused palm settles on your hip, steadying you.Â
Your lips part to say something, but no words come out. It seems the entirety of blood in your body has rushed towards your hip to greet Dr. Abbot's hand, before it retracts.
âBeen apologising a lot today. Forgot your training or have you rejoined pre-school?â His body moves to your front, effectively blocking the view of rapid-paced staff, and people in wheelchairs and gurneys.Â
âJustâŚone rookie mistake after another.â Your body sags sideways, taking support of the wall. As if on instinct, his posture mirrors yours, his entire side leaning against the wall as well. You deposit your phone back in your pocket.
âFor what it's worth, you started out not too long ago. You are, technically, still a rookie,â he speaks.Â
In this slow corner, the lights seem dimmer and noise quieter. Your shoulders drop just a bit. You're not sure if it's the location or him. Your bet is on location.
You wonder how you must look to the others, a junior nurse and the person with the most seniority on this floor, tucked away in a hushed hallway. What would they think of you? Certainly not co-workers.
Your lips curl in a tired, soft smile. âTrying to make me feel better again, sir?â
âTrying to tell you trauma surgeons have a permanent stick up their ass. Shen and I have bets on whether she lives in an ice castle or a secluded cave.â
Your smile grows bigger, and his eyes crinkle. âIt's not just her. In fact, I admire women with a mean mouth.â
âOnly women?â
âMen already are. I can't think of any situations where they'd need to be more mean.â
âI can think of a few,â his voice dips even lower, rocks coated in honey. Your eyes find the fluttering pulse on his throat, and travel up his face, to find his gaze fixated on your lips. He looks up again. Slowly. Not in a rush.Â
In this low-lit corner and his head tilted down to adjust to your height, his curls â salt and pepper and presumably soft â brushed his forehead, creating shadows across his face.Â
You clear your throat, trying to erase some of the tension. âIt's Noah. You met him the other day, if you haven't forgotten."
âOh, I tried.âÂ
You click your jaw, âHe's a nice guy, sir.â
âUh-huh. Is he blowing up your phone? What's wrong?â His brows furrow in concern, and you find his worry comforting. You're about to open your mouth to explain â
âDid he forget his Roblox password?â
You slightly shake your head, looking down at his shoes. âYouâŚDr. Abbot,â you trail off, looking up at him again to see the corner of his mouth twitching, eyes wide as if he's seriously expecting an answer.
âHow do you even know what that is? And no, that's not it. HeâŚsprained his ankle, hewasdoingaparkourjump,â you mumble the last part as quickly as you can, cheeks heating and eyes wandering.
Jack pauses, expression caught somewhere between humour and exasperation, âWow, didn't know your boy was still in middle school. Tell me, were you trying to find a boyfriend or a son?â
You throw your head back, a light groan escaping your mouth. While you rub your eyes, you feel your attending move. After a second, he has a bottle of water in his hand.
You give him a look of gratitude and hold your fingers out. But before passing it to you, he twists off the cap with ease. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the sight of his biceps straining against his scrub top.
You empty almost half the bottle, throat working the liquid down, flushed under the heavy gaze of the man standing in front of you who is currently shamelessly oggling your neck. He's quick to take the bottle off your hands once you're done.
You mutter a quiet âThanks.â He holds out his free hand forward. You shoot him a confused look, your fingers come up, hovering centimeters away from his palm.
Does he want you to hold�
âYour phone, nurse.â
Your eyes blink, realisation creeping with a smudge of cringe, âOh, that makes more sense. Yeah.â But the embarrassment is quick to vanish when you think about what he said.
âWhat? No. I feel naked without my phone on me.â
His eyes drop to your chest the moment the word ânakedâ leaves your mouth. You're not sure you've stopped blushing in the last 2 minutes.
âYou're not a teenager.â
âWell, I love my phone like one,â you defensively say, standing up straighter. Your right hand moves towards your pocket to protect your mobile.
Abbot rumbles your last name like a warning, his husky voice settling low in your belly, and your traitorous hand is fishing the phone out without a conscious thought.
Before you can even hand it to him, he slightly bends, prying it out of your fingers.
âNow, I feel like a teenager,â you pout.
He uses her corner of your phone to tap against your nose, âThen don't make me go all authoritative on you again, kid.â
With that, he pockets your phone and walks away. You watch him twist the cap off the bottle again and drink directly from the mouth of it. The mouth you just had your own lips wrapped around.
Kid.Â
You need a chair.Â
3
âOkay, instead of using this job as an excuse for a sad dating life, how about you guys just admitâŚy'all got no game,â Mateo knocks back the last sip of his drink, making this very, very bold claim.
âFirst of all, nobody was talking about dating life. We were talking about sex. Forget dates, when was the last time any of you got laid?â Ellis asks, using her glass to gesture vaguely around the table, a few droplets falling on the wood.
Your shift was hell. Well, everyone's was. Really, every shift is hell, so this one was no different. The only thing was that today, everyone decided to grab a drink. Not in the nearest park, no. Instead, they're all here, the nearest bar that's open at a time when a person should be doing a morning walk, not shots.
You're tucked between Mateo on your left and Jack on your right, in a worn-out brown leather booth, with Shen and Ellis across the table.
âI don't feel comfortable talking about the personal details of my married life with my colleagues,â replied Shen, sadly nodding his head.
Jack's voice, raspy from his whiskey, cuts in, âOh, shut it, Shen.â
âI'd say 6 weeks since we slept together,â Shen gave up quickly. A series of sympathetic groans and nods went around the table.
Mateo juts his chin towards Ellis, raising his brows. âHooked up with someone last week. Left before she woke up,â replied the woman.
âDidn't know you were a player, doc,â laughs your fellow nurse, before his head turns to you. âAnd you? Come on, we're the youngest and hottest, we gotta rub it in their faces. Besides, you have, uh, what's his name...â
You laugh nervously, tracing the rim of your glass with your index. While everyoneâs lazy and heavy-lidded all around, you feel Abbot's fervent gaze burning a hole into the side of your head.
âNoah. And hate to disappoint, but it's been some while,â you admit. Not being able to hold back any longer, you finally turn your head to the right. Not taking his eyes off you, your attending takes a long sip of his whiskey.
âHow much is a while?â
This is inappropriate. Your attending physician shouldn't be asking you this, you're sure of it. But nobody but you looks alarmed.
âI would sayâŚnone of your business, doc,â you softly murmur, the liquid courage making your tongue sharper.
âAnd what about you Dr. Abbot?â Mateo jumps in again.
It's your turn to look at Jack with the same intense gaze. He doesn't take his eyes off you, âbeen a while for me too,â he mutters so low, like he's only referring to you.
You lose. You lose the staring contest and let your eyes fall back to your glass. Thank god, you have some of your drink still left.Â
âWhy, is itâŚold man stuff?â Mateo asks, and your eyes widen at his question. You bite the inside of your cheek to hold back your laugh. Ellis's rich chuckle fills the quiet bar. You finally bring your cup to your lips.
âI'm an attending, Mateo. We're always at the very top of our performance. Here to serve well. In or out of trauma bays.â
Your drink goes down the wrong pipe, and you break out into a violent cough. Why would he say it like that? You're pretty sure you look like a tomato.
You feel a strong hand on your back, beginning to rub small circles through the thin fabric of your shirt. âEasy,â Jack whispers into your right ear.Â
Is nobody watching this?
You look around to see Shen, Ellis, and Mateo have deeply engrossed themselves in a completely different conversation. You wonder for a second if it's intentional.
His heavy hand stops rubbing, instead patting the small of your back softly and rhythmically. Your coughs start dying down, and you wipe the underside of your watery eyes with your knuckle.
âHave trouble swallowing, kiddo?â His voice is right next to your ear, every breath rustling a tiny bit of your hair.Â
Oh. Oh. OH.
âThink I need some air, sir,â you mutter, voice dried. You feel floaty, and it has nothing to do with alcohol.
Jack rises from his seat with a low grunt, âThink we're gonna step outside for a moment,â he announces.
You quickly follow suit and walk out after him before you can see anyone's expressions. You're pretty sure you hear Shen's giggle.
***
You welcome the morning chill that greets your face as soon as you step out, double doors falling shut behind you. You close your eyes, tilting your head upwards, and take a deep breath, easing the night's tension out of your body.
âHot date yesterday?â You're quickly brought back to reality, turning sideways. Abbot has his hands in pocket and hair ruffled from the wind.
âOh, uh, yes. How'd you guess?â
âYou clocked in yesterday wearing somethingâŚdifferent.â His eyes drop to your chest, before lingering on your lips, and then meeting your eyes again.
Your cheeks burn. You didn't realise he saw you in your fancy clothes. It was bad enough that you were running late, and worse that you didn't get to change before clocking in with your date outfit still on.
âYeah. Noah took me to dinner. I just signed a new lease. I'm moving out of my current dumphole to another dumphole, but it's nearer to work. So.â
âCongratulations, glad to have you close.â
âThanks, sir.â
A comfortable silence falls over for a minute before he speaks again, âwas the place nice and quiet?â
âHm?â
âWhere he took you. Nick.â
âAh. No. It's kinda trendy right now, so, super loudâŚâ you trail off with a sigh. Jack keeps looking at you, as if wanting you to say more, as if finally expecting you to spill the truth out: Noah doesn't know you.
âHm. Didn't peg you for a gold person, either.â
âWhat?â
He gestures with his chin towards your neck, where a sliver of chain is peeking out from under your shirt. A new one, gold colored, gifted by your boyfriend yesterday.
âI'm an anything person, really.â
Jack doesn't say anything, only waits. And this time, it works.
âWell, silver, if I had to pick. I like silver,â you speak, your voice bordering on a whisper.
Jack finally stops looking at you, and with that, you finally breathe. He casts his gaze towards the sky.
âI know.â
He says your name.
Your first name that he rarely says. Your heart stutters. Every bit of fresh air you inhaled seems to leave your lungs all at once. Instead, a family of butterflies â so fucking alive â have swarmed in there, rendering you speechless.
Please say my name again.
âI know, kid.â
âI'm not a kid, Jack.â For a second, you watch his eyes get darker. He takes a step closer to you. Then another.Â
You crane your neck to look up at him. Suddenly, he turns his back to you. One of his hands peeks from his side, and tugs at the lower back of his shirt, pushing it down by an inch or two.
You stand confused, until you notice faint black ink â now visible â just below his neck. You suck in a sharp breath.
By the time Jack turns towards you again, you're barely holding yourself up. He leans forward, his nose only inches away from yours.
âI've got tattoos older than you,â he breathes, âkiddo.â
Your knees turn to jelly. A sharp heat travels straight into your belly, increasing the buzz between your legs. Your lips part, teeth sinking into your plush lower lip.
You can only numbly turn your body towards the door as he holds it open for you. There's not a hint of teasing or smugness in his expression. There is something else, though.Â
Desperation.
You walk in through the gate, mind already trying to think of a reason to break up with Noah. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it finds plenty.
+1
âOh, honey, just take this right now. The doctor has told your mom the rest. You're gonna be just fine!â You give your brightest smile to the 6 year-old girl, looking all sad and tiny on the gurney.
You stand up straight again, your back protesting. For someone still âyoungâ, you definitely have an old-person back.
The mom gives you a thankful smile that still doesn't hide her tiredness, âThank you so much.â
âShe's gonna be alright, mom.â You flash one last smile and turn to pull the privacy curtain. When you step out, you see Lena, your charge nurse, and Jack in a conversation at the charge nurse station.
Lena calls out to you, âAll done in there, hun?â You nod and give a thumbs-up. You expect your attending to say something, a joke, or even glance at you, but he doesn't.
Your heart sinks. After the morning at the bar, you went home and planned how to break-up with your boyfriend. On the other hand, Jack apparently went home and came up with, â10 ways on how I will ignore my co-worker who I occasionally flirt with on purpose.âÂ
For the past week, there have been no lingering looks, no cornering you to check in, and no making fun of you.
No point in dwelling. You start going on about your usual business, entering through another curtain, all while the back of your mind still calculates how to leave Noah.
You had prepared your speech and your reasons. But then, Noah lost his job the same day you were planning to have the talk. And 2 days later, he was leaving to visit his parents in California. Shouldn't you just wait until after the trip? It will be so much easier.Â
Yes, you're definitely delaying it because it makes sense, and not because you're scared that Noah will absolutely take it the wrong way. He's been miserable lately as is, and while you were trying to be sympathetic, you couldn't find it in yourself.
Noah had always been unobservant and insensitive to your needs, not doing anything till he's told. All while, he expected it all from you â emotional support, moral support, and now, financial support. You saw nothing wrong with being âneedyâ but didn't you deserve the same treatment from him?
As you leave another exam room, still conflicted, you see Lena waving you over, the telephone receiver pressed against her ear. You quickly walk over.
Lena brings down the handset, palming the mouthpiece so the other person can't hear. âSweets, it's your boyfriend, he's all panicking over something. Do you wanna take this, or should I make an excuse?â
The color from your face drains. This is humiliating, Noah calling at your work because he can't take care of himself. You quickly un-pocket your phone, tapping the screen awake.
9 missed calls from Noah.
âUh, I'll take it. Thank you, Lena. Sorry too.â She gives you a sympathetic smile and hands you the handset.
âNoah, you can't be calling me at work.â You whisper into the mouthpiece.
âBabe, did you think I wanted to? I called your phone like 3 times, but you didn't pick it up. It feels like you're ignoring me.â
âIt's because I am ignoring you. I am at a fucking hospital, working the emergency department,â your voice is straining with the effort to keep it low.
âOh, I knew you'd throw your job in my face because I'm unemployed. You're a nurse, not a doctor, babe. See, I remember things.â
You take a deep breath.
âWhat do you want?â
âI locked myself out of my house. The locksmith will come by in the morning. Can you swing by and drop your keys? You know, I lost my license recently, and my ankle is still not good enough to take the subway.â
âNo.â
âJesus, I'm stranded, just be a good girlfriend for once.â
That sends you over the edge. You put the telephone down with more than necessary force, cringing when a few people turn to look at you.
âFuck,â you mutter under your breath, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes.
âYou okay, kid?â Lena asks sweetly, coming to stand closer to you. You're only able to nod at her. If you open your mouth, your voice will break. When your charge nurse finally steps away, you clear your throat, and blink back your tears.Â
When you look up with clear eyes, there's Dr. Abbot standing about 20 feet away from you, in a conversation with a nurse that he's not listening to. Because he's looking directly at you.
You quickly move your head, âLena, mind if I take 5?â
âTake 10, hun.â You flash her a grateful smile and start walking towards the supply closet.
You twist the doorknob and walk into what must be a 6Ă6 feet room, and close the door behind you. Your phone is still in your hand, clutched tightly enough to be used as a weapon. You open Noah's chat.
This isn't working out. When the locksmith figures out your door, pack my things in a box and leave them outside my door. Have fun folding your own bedsheets. I'm changing my Netflix password!
Your thumb hovers over the send button. Is the message too unkind? Too cruel for you? You drop the phone in your pocket, with the text still sitting there.
You force yourself to take deep breaths, pressing the heel of your hands against your eyes, turning around to face the organized racks.
âFuck, fuck, fuc ââ
The door slams open, and then shuts behind you, making you jump around, your hands falling to your chest.
âJesus, Jack.â
âDid you forget your manners?â His voice comes out stern, low enough to drop the temperature of the room.
Your hands fall to your side. You're not in the mood for this. You don't want him in here, no matter how quickly your body is gaining color in his presence.
âWhat do you want, sir?â your question comes out breathless.
âYou know, we pay you to work, not to hide in supply closets when you have fights with your childish boyfriend.â
âI asked Lena first, and I should be out in 5.â
âA patient can need you in 1,â he deadpans.
âGood thing there's Mateo and a bunch of fucking nurses already out there! I'm not the only one, sir,â you frantically wave your hands around, voice rising in pitch.
âYeah, you're the only one yelling at your attending,â he leans back against the door, looking like he's enjoying a goddamn show. His calm pisses you off even more.
In your frazzled state, the true words spill out before you can filter them.
âYes, my attending who has spent the last couple of days icing me out, keeping his distance, like I broke into his house and stole his leg.â
He's eyeing your motioning hands cutting through the air. You must look like the crazy one, while he stands there all frickinâ composed, his lips twitching.
âThat's dark. And I'm your attending, nurse, as you mentioned. I'm not your boyfriend,â he shakes his head slowly like he's talking to a dog.
âI know that. Do you?â
âOh, I know I'm not Nick,â he snickers.
âFOR THE LAST ââ your voice booms throughout the small room before you stop yourself. You pinch your nose, chest heaving up and down.
Deep breaths. In and out. You're not the only two people in the hospital, no matter how much it feels like that.
Nurse, there's people that are dying.
âFor the last time, his name is Noah,â you calmly say, voice shaking with the effort of controlling your pitch.
âRight, sorry. I just forgot because he forgot to fill his name out on your discharge papers when he brought you in. It's okay, children make mistakes like that all the time. Even when the forms are very easy to navigate, and the font size is very large,â Jack mocks, laughing sardonically.Â
âWhy do you care so much?âÂ
âDon't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I care about all my staff.â
Sweetheart.
âYou're killing me.âÂ
âTrauma bay 1 is empty,â he deadpans, shrugging his shoulders.Â
A humorless laugh escapes you. Oh, he thinks he's so funny.
âStaff. Is that what I am? Then why do you look at me differently than you look at others? Why do you catch me in the hallways? Why are you always seeking me out? Why have you not walked out of this ââ
You flinch at the sudden motion, hand moving towards your temple where something just knocked against it. You look down, where a box maybe twice the size of your hand, lies on the ground.
The rack behind you is still vibrating from when your right arm collided with it 2 seconds ago. You shouldn't have been waving your arms around so much.
âOw,â you mutter, the heel of your impacted hand rubbing your temple, and eyes downcasted at the box, looking at it like it personally wronged you. Which it did.
Jack quickly moves towards you, his left hand shooting up to take hold of your fingers that are kneading your head â same fingers that smashed against the rack â and brings your conjoined hands down.
âCareful. Are you hurt?â With only inches between you, he bends his head down to examine where you took the hit. His free palm brushes your hair back gently, and you shiver at the touch of his warm skin.
Trapped between your torsos, your hands are still joined, his thumb stroking against your knuckles to soothe any pain you felt on the impact.
âI asked you something, kid.âÂ
You've lost your voice. You look from your connected fingers to his eyes.Â
And, oh.
His eyes have softened, looking at you with concern. This man sees lacerations, head traumas, hematomas, and fractures every single day. You've never seen him look this worried, and all for a pathetic clash that didn't even leave a bruise behind.
He switches positions with you, and suddenly, his back faces the shaky rack, his form protectively towering over yours. All of your body protests when he moves back, his hands dropping to his own sides.
âYou can continue yelling at me now.â
In and out. Deep breath.
âWhy have you not walked out of this room yet? And why have you kept me at an arm's distance?â you say but your voice is anything but loud, it's small and quiet, breaking at the end.
âAs I said ââ
âStop, stop, stop. Stop, Dr. Abbot, and don't lie to me.â You instinctively take a step forward, closing all the distance again.
A pause.
âI really thought you were gonna break up with him. That morning, I thought you finally regained your senses, and were gonna cut off the dead weight,â he admits, running a hand through his hair.
âJac ââ
âShut up and let me speak. I thought you were gonna end it with him, and you would come to the next shift looking happy and bright again. Just like you used to before you let that boy date you. You.â
His eyes are boring into yours, and he looks breathless and affected, so opposite to how he was just a minute ago.
âMe? What about me?â
He laughs humourlessly, âlet's not fish for compliments. You know what you are. And if you don't, it makes me wonder what kind of limpdicks you have been with.â
You suck in a sharp breath, at a loss of words. Your cheeks burn, and your heart does a backflip.Â
He thinks that?
Jack turns around, so his back is facing you. Both his hands brush his hair back, and you can see the expansion and contraction of his back as he takes deep breaths.
âWhat if I had broken up? Nothing would've changed. It's not like you would've done anything. You would've continued to eye-fuck me across gurneys, and flash a smile once a day,â you speak up, voice rising in pitch again.
He turns back sharply, walking even closer to you, his chest colliding with yours.
âOh, you know it's more complicated than that,â he retorts, eyes narrowing.
âWhat? You're my senior, you're older ââ
He says your name. Low. Authoritative. You feel a traitorous sensation between your thighs.
âI'm not just older, I am old. Period. And I know just how old I am, because I feel it everyday when I strap my leg, and wake up with a new pain every day."
You don't know how to respond. Your gaze falls to his lips, and before you know what you're doing, you're withdrawing your phone from your pocket.
You take a tiny step back to make space, and tap your screen awake. It directly opens to Noah's chat, your message still sitting there in the type box.
You turn your screen towards Jack. His eyes move back and forth, reading your draft. When his eyes meet you again, they're intense, frantic, and what do you knowâŚexcited.
âWhy haven't you sent it?â
âBecause he's already going through a lot. He doesn't have a job, or a car, orâŚokay, I get it.â
Jack's fingers come up to grab your chin, holding it up. He looks like he's just had a shot of espresso and topped it off with another 3.
âDo it. Do it right now, in front of me, or you'll chicken out. He lost his job, his car, the next thing he loses is you. The one that's worth the most.â
With his breathless voice, taking the edge of desperation as every second ticks, you know you've lost. You bite your bottom lip.
His thumb moves from your chin, to your lower lip, freeing it from your teeth, âdon't worry yourself over him.â
Deep breath. In and out.
You slowly look down at your screen, your thumb hovering over the little arrow.Â
Send.Â
You put the mobile back in your pocket and look up at Jack with hope, like a kid waiting for approval. Jack flashes you the biggest smile you've ever seen on him.Â
You did that. You.
âYou did so good, sweetheart,â his thumb strokes your cheekbone, and you can't help but lean into his palm. You're high watching him smile, a similar one takes form on your lips.
He's so beautiful. He's the most beautiful man you've ever seen. He should be on TV, winning Emmy's for his grin.
But then you falter, âMyâŚmy minutes are up.â
âYou can take another 5,â his face leans closer, and the tip of your nose kisses his.
âPatient might need me in 1,â you helplessly whisper, your breaths mingling.
âWell, consider me a patient, then. Your patient.â
You gulp. Your knees are growing weaker by the second and you can't stop staring at his soft lips. You let out a little pathetic whimper before lifting your chin, brushing your lips against his softly.
Fuck.
Your heart tries to escape your ribcage, palm operating with a brain of its own and landing right over his heart. His fluttering, excited, nervous heartbeat greets you, and your lips curve upwards.
Just as you try to move your lips against his â
âNot like this,â he murmurs against your mouth.
You let out an entirely pathetic whine, forehead crashing against his neck with a soft thunk. Your affectionate graze on his sternum turns into a punch â also, pathetic â and it makes him chuckle.Â
âHow, then?â your mutter into his neck.
His arm comes around your waist, holding you up for him so you can let your weight go. His arm tightens as soon as he feels you melt.Â
âWhen I'll get you all the silver jewelry in the world,â he breathily replies in your ear.
âThat's a lot.â
âWhat can I say? I like paying for things.â
His free fingers travel to the back of your neck, deftly working the hook of your golden chain with a single hand. You catch as the necklace falls down your chest, reluctantly taking your face out from his neck.
Note to self: Ask him what perfume he uses later.Â
âOne hand, wow.âÂ
âA lot of things I can unhook with one hand.â
He captures your wrist that you've held against his chest â index hatefully scratching, trying to harm him for not kissing you â and brings it to his lips.
He doesn't break eye-contact when he kisses the inside of your wrist. Then the middle of your palms, and finally the tips of your fingers.
You're grateful for his arm around your middle, otherwise you'd be on the floor, shrieking and screaming.
âDon't want to see that on you again,â he points with his chin towards your fist with the necklace inside it.
âYes, doctor.â
He nods, heat swimming in his gaze. He finally extracts his arm from around your midriff, using it to pull out your phone from your pants and swiftly slipping it in his.Â
âNo more worrying, hm? In returnâŚâ He empties his other pocket, taking out a set of keys. He brings your palm down from his face and puts them in it.
âSit in my car at the end of the shift. You know which one. Turn the heating on, and wait for me,â he raises his eyebrows, awaiting confirmation.
âYes, okay,â you gulp, closing your other fist as well. One holds your past, another, your future. Or, so you hope.
âYes, what?â he asks, already side-stepping you and moving towards the door.
âYes, doctorâ
âGood girl,â he shoots you a wink, the door falling shut behind him.
Look at that, your 10 minutes are up.
I enjoyed writing this sm, and i hope you lovely people do too. again, feel free to glaze me in asks, comments, and dms. likes and reblogs appreciated much <3 i also need to know if yall blushed reading this, if yes, WHEN
content warning: jack abbot x female!reader. 18+, minors do not interact!!! age gap (i imagine reader to be mid-to-late 20s). you're quiet and jack wants you to be loud in the bedroom. jack calls you baby, sweetheart, honey. vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting. also not proofread.
word count: aprox. 1k.
i want to write a pt 2 already later on, but right now this was all my creativity allowed me to write. maybe if any ideas pop into my head, who knows đ¤ˇââď¸
you're shy. shy and unexperienced.
you're quiet. especially during sex. you don't moan loud, doesn't beg and doesn't whine and whimper. most jack can get out of you is a few sighs, hands gripping the sheets and teeth digging into her bottom lip or his shoulder.
she doesn't initiate sex. doesn't ask for what she wants â and not because she doesn't want it, but because she cannot mutter the words. but jack would always know, the way your cheeks would heat up, flushing pink all the way down to your neck and chest. he'd always cave and make sweet love to you, and he'd be especially thorough, always making sure to get you to cum.
but after a while, he grew tired of this. jack wanted everything. everything from you. every sound, every moan, every whimper. he wanted it all. it was his personal mission now: get you to lose your mind.
jack has you on your back, spread out on the middle of the bed. jack himself is on his stomach, between your thighs. and he's been bullying your cunt with his thick fingers, plunging them deep, dragging them out on your soft walls.
but not a single loud moan from your lips yet.
your pussy lips are puffy, swollen and red from the stimulation. jack doesn't let you cum just yet. he'll get you close enough, until you're clenching and writhing, then stop it all.
"aw, look at you, baby," he coos at your pussy, using both middle fingers of his other hand to spread your folds for his gaze.
"jack," you whisper, so desperate. by now, you're leaking all over his hand, the insides of your thighs all slick and messy.
"c'mon, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he says. but his resolved has changed now.
the thrusts in his fingers, deep and harsh, curling them just right against that spongey spot. you gasp, your hole clenching hard.
jack doesn't stop, bringing you to the orgasm quickly. your back arching off the bed as your thighs close around hir arm. "nu-uh, baby. keep 'em, open," he says.
"jackie, it's too much," you whine when he keeps drilling his fingers into your cunt. well, that's a first.
"i know, baby. i know. but you can give me another one, can't you?" he mocks, bringing his face down to give your clit a little lick. "just one, honey. yeah?"
you nod, and, oh, poor you.
your second orgasm builds up quickly, your pussy squeezing at his fingers. "c'mon, sweetheart. you can be a little louder for me, mhm?" he hums, watching your body squirm and writhe on the bed.
you shake your head, the idea of making noise making your heart beat so fast in panic. what if you sound weird? what if you're too loud? what if he doesn't like how you soundâ
"i can see you overthinking," he says. "get outta your head alright, honey. you don't have to sound like a pornstar. i just wanna hear you, okay? just wanna hear my best girl. how good i'm making her feel."
"jackie," you whisper, pouting at him. the sheets beneath you grow a shade darker with your arousal that keeps dripping out of you.
"little louder, baby," he asks you.
you can't. it's like a physical weight on your neck, making it impossible. the words won't come out.
jack sighs, and for a moment you think he's disappointed. but no, he is determined. he will make you louder by the end of the night.
his lips seal around your clit, suckling at it, swirling his tongue around. he groans when your hand grips his hair. he keeps torturing your clit with his mouth, toying with it, and his fingers keep hitting the spot that makes you see stars.
that second orgasm leaves you reeling, your mind going fuzzy. you're starting to make some noise â a few mewls, whines, but not nearly what jack wants. he wants you loud. wants you to bed for what you want.
"you wanna be my good girl, don't you, honey," he mumbles, licking at your folds, pulling the soft flesh between his lips. you nod desperately from above and he smiles.
so he doesn't stop. you're sensitive, he knows that. your poor pussy must be feeling raw after two back-to-back orgasms he pulled out of you. too bad, he doesn't care. unless you tell him to stop â and you haven't â, he doesn't care.
"jackie, jackie, jackieâ" you whimper, tears building up behind your eyes.
"there's my sweet girl," he chuckles against your cunt, the sound rumbling through you. "little louder, baby. i'm an old man, my hearing isn't what it used to be," he winks at you from between your legs. he's playing with you and you know it.
the familiar sensation of your orgasm building up is back, making you clench and squeeze at his fingers. jack groans at that, his hips bucking against the bed. he's humping the bed like teenager, and not the fifty year old man he is.
"jack, stop, stop," you say, swatting at his forehead. "i gotta⌠iâŚ" you stammer, eyes rolling back.
"what?"
"it feels like-like⌠i gotta go pee," you say.
"mhm," he hums. pretends to think about it. "no," he says, diving back to lap at your weeping cunt in time with the thrusts of his fingers.
"whatâ jack!" you moan, and this one is loud, your back bowing off the bed in a pretty arch.
"that's okay, sweetheart," he says. "just this one more, okay? then we're done, honey. i promise," he kisses the insides of your thighs. every time his fingers thrust into you, your pussy squelches, wet and loud. "you have the prettiest cunt, you know that. the prettiest i've ever seen," he kisses your folds again.
"jack, noâŚ" you cry out, desperate, because you're about to make a mess.
"it's okay, sweetheart. it's normal, yeah? it's just your body reacting. nothing to be ashamed of," he calms you down.
eventually, it's too strong to hold back. you sob, your thighs clenching around his head and you come.
the loudest you've ever been as you squirt all over jack's hand and face. "theeeeeeere we go," jack moans. "look at you, baby. making a mess of the bed. so pretty when you squirt, honey," he says, not stopping his thrusts. "good job, baby. you gonna do that on my cock next," he swirls his tongue around on your cunt.
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hii can i request jack x reader who gets dolled up with her hair done cute and lipgloss is shining and the pittlings is looking at her like who is dr barbie and how does she have the time. with jack staring at her cutely:))<3
Lipgloss Kisses
summary: jack abbot's house was taken over by the color pink and oozes lip gloss out of the foundation.
tags: jack abbot x reader, fluff, cute vibes, pink, pink, pink, and more pink, jack actually has a staring problem, sunshine personified reader, pittlings, lippies galore, no large age gap (jack is 50/reader is 45), 18+ MDNI
notes: thank you nonnie for the request! this was such a fun thing to write :) for my readers if you'd like to join my permanent master list, please comment here! enjoy!
word count: 2.4 k
Jack wasnât sure when he first noticed that his house had gone from macho-bachelor pad that obviously hadnât seen a womanâs touch in years to a place that had something pink tucked in all its corners.
Ever since youâd moved in, pink was suddenly all that Jack saw.Â
Your pink towels were always fluffy and warm next to his hanging-by-a-thread navy ones on the bathroom rack. Your pink slippers sat dutifully next to his crutches while the two of you were working the night shift; you up in pedes, him down in the third layer of hell. Your pink hair ties scattered in various places: his bedside table, his side of the sink, one in the shower, a few in his vehicle, and he swears he stepped on one in his garage.Â
However, no matter how many pink hair ties he saw in his dreams, nothing could have prepared him for your actual addiction: lip gloss.Â
As a man, Jack thought that youâd maybe have two or three. One to go in your makeup bag and one to go in your purse and one to leave in your locker at work.Â
Oh, boy, was he wrongâdead wrong.Â
If he thought you had too many hair ties and too many earrings and too many claw clips that he always had to remind you to take out of your hair before a drive, their number (combined) held no candle to how many lip glosses you had.Â
It felt like every trip to the store ended a new lip gloss added to the cart. And that didnât even compare to the ones you bought online. Jackâs head went dizzy with the, what he felt to be innumerable, list of brands that you swore was better than the last.Â
Rhode, Kylie Cosmetics, Summer Fridays, Glossier, Refy, Dior (Jack did like that one because he knew you used his card for that), Clinique, NYX, Eadem: the list went on longer than a receipt from CVS.Â
Jack didnât know how you could keep up with all of them. One minute you were yacking his ear off about the newest sparkly nude shade while the next you were raving about a deep berry shade that would match your dress for the next medical gala. And then in two days, a new box would show up with your name on it, and he could only bet that the four cardboard walls held a brand-new lip gloss. When he thought about it, he wasnât even sure heâd ever seen you finish one push tube before ordering a new one.Â
But that really never mattered; he didnât care what you bought with your money as long as he got to take care of everything else you needed.Â
One time when he asked why you bought so many, you had simply told him that buying a new lip gloss felt like a reward. Whether you got one after a good night with lots of cases with happy results or after a bad shift where the world just felt impossible, you could always find a smidge of joy in buying something pretty to put on your lips.Â
Jack understood a little too well. While he didnât spend his free time scouring the shelves for a new plumping formula that held the smallest of shimmers, he found that same smidge of joy in spending time with you and slowly learning that down time didnât mean he had to fill it with adrenaline-rushing activities.Â
Now, even if the only downside to your lippie addiction was that your bank account went down by almost $25 each purchase, there were a lot of upsides to it as well. One of Jackâs favorites being that youâd get to test each of them out . . . on him.Â
Jack became the heart eye emoji every time you swiped the same gloopy-looking lip gloss across your lips. His hazel eyes tracked the back-and-forth motion, and most times heâd run his tongue across his own lips in preparation for what came next. Your lips, now glossy and catching the light in whatever shade youâd gotten, would stretch into a smile as you looked at him expectedly. He never failed to look away, face sometimes leaning in inch by inch before you even finished applying the gloss.Â
âCalm down, boy,â youâd said, nose scrunching at his eagerness. âYouâll get your kiss in a minute.âÂ
âIâm being calm,â he replied cooly like he wasnât a breath away from your face, eyes taking in each freckle and smile line on your face. If he inhaled deep enough and if your gloss came scented or flavored, heâd be able to smell it on your lips. âYouâre just so pretty.âÂ
âYouâre such a flirt.âÂ
You rolled your eyes and grabbed his cheeks before pulling him into a kiss. Jack never minded the feeling of the gloss transferring over to his lips. He remembers how his late-wifeâs favorite wine-red matte lipstick would always leave a few prints behind and even on his teeth depending on how long he stayed connected to his lips. But now it seemed as though glosses were more popular than lip stick, and Jack would die happily with his lips between your smooth ones.Â
His lips would move languidly across yours like he was savoring the feeling. His hands would also rise and hold your face so you couldnât escape the onslaught of his kisses. And the few times that the gloss was indeed flavored, heâd make sure to finish with a swipe of his tongue to the point a string of saliva would connect your lips together before your giggles started sounding off at the sight of his lips covered in sparkles or stained dark pink.Â
A boy would hate the fact, but Jack was a man, and he wore the color with pride.Â
_______________________
âBrother, you got a little something, riigghhttt there,â Robby drew out while poking Jack in the cheek before handing it over his friend. âSecond thought, I think itâs doing something to bring out the rosiness of your cheeks.âÂ
Jack smacked his hand away. âKnock it off. I thought youâd be out of here by now?âÂ
Robby shook his head and chuckled. âYou should know by now that I havenât left on time in years.â He leaned against the nursesâ station. âIs that a new color? Pretty sure we saw this shade two weeks ago.âÂ
âCanât ever have enough shades,â Jack repeated from the multiple times you had told him the same. âBut yeah, itâs a new one. There was a summer drop, and you know how she gets.âÂ
And he did after witnessing the near meltdown of the 2025 Rhode summer launch that you thought you had missed out on before Jack casually mentioned heâd been able to get every single product while Robby sat in the chair chuckling the entire time.Â
âDid you say summer drop?â Victoriaâs voice suddenly sounded, pitch a bit too loud for someone coming down after twelve straight hours of traumas after traumas.Â
The corner of Jackâs lips twitched into a smirk. âMy partnerâs very into those. Between the two of us, we spent a minimum of $400 just to get that damned towel.âÂ
And it wasnât even pink Jack thought. But a summer drop was a summer drop.Â
Victoriaâs jaw dropped. âWait, are you talking about the Rhode drop?âÂ
âYeah. Next weekâs the popup in New England, and thankfully it happens on my day off.  I donât want to think what would happen if we failed to get a hoodie.âÂ
âDamn, Dr. Abbot,â she said, jaw dropping slightly. âI didnât expect you to be someone so into makeup.âÂ
Jack looked up from the tablet in his hands with furrowed brows. âHuh?âÂ
Because to Jack, anything you were into swiftly became everything he was into. By himself, he didnât have a lot of interests outside of the ER and some yoga he did in the mornings. Youâd brought a fresh air to his life with your hot Pilates on the weekends and your farmers markets and movie watching and book reading that included matching Kindles. So for Victoria to be confused as to why he knew exactly when the next Rhode pop-up would be, his chest flared with a feeling of invalidation.Â
Victoria must have picked up on his inner turmoil by the face he was making because she quickly backtracked. âOh, uh, that wasnât meant to be a negative thing, Dr. Abbot. I just mean that a lot of guys really arenât into something like that. So itâs kind of refreshing to see.âÂ
âI see.â Jack turned back to the tablet. âItâs a good thing Iâm not being piled in with the rest of the male population.âÂ
âSo,â Victoria began again, now looking like she wanted to delve into Jackâs personal life. âIâm guessing your girlfriend likes lip gloss?âÂ
Robby answered for her with a large smile. âYou have no idea.âÂ
âWho has no idea?â Trinity asked on her way out. However, she paused and smirked at the sight of the glossy kiss-shaped splotch on Jackâs cheek that he hadnât wiped off. âOoooo, Dr. Abbot, you got somethingââÂ
âThank you, Santos,â Jack gruffly said. âIâm very well aware that I have something on my cheek. And Iâd prefer that everyone stopped pointing it out. If I wanted it gone, I would have wiped it off when I noticed it before I got out of my car.âÂ
Jack paused. Heâd said too much, and he knew that Victoria and Trinity caught on it.
âWait,â Trinity said, âdoes your girlfriend come to work with you? Does she work in the Pitt?âÂ
Victoria looked around with wide eyes like sheâd be able to find something hidden in plain sight. âIs she here?â Â
âI wonder if she knows Dr. Barbie. She also likes lip gloss.âÂ
Robby looked over at Jack knowingly.Â
The two girls, despite their excitedness, had made a few errors.Â
Jack had said partner, and they clung to the idea that he had a girlfriend. But if the absolute rock of a diamond he put on your finger followed by that thin band had anything to say about it, you were far from being woman who deserved the juvenile title of girlfriend. Plus, much to contrary belief and your affinity for all thinks pink, you were only five years his junior. He absolutely loved the way you now wore your hair with gray licking at your roots.Â
Second mistake was automatically thinking you worked in the Pitt. Even if youâd worked in an ER well before meeting Jack, youâd shuffled departments around until you ended up specializing in pediatrics to help your reign in your small bouts of baby fever after deciding that children werenât something you ultimately wanted in life.Â
Yet, that didnât mean you werenât unknown in the Pitt. To his knowledge, the younger kids had started calling you Dr. Barbie because of the number of pink scrubs you wore into work.Â
See, just another bit of pink that Jack welcomed into your shared home.Â
They knew you were married, often opting to let your ring flash as you walked through. So the idea of Jack having a girlfriend while you had a full husband meant that they didnât make the connection.Â
Well, that was until the elevator dinged and you stepped out, pinks scrubs, hair falling in those beautiful curls you got with an over-night curler, and, most importantly, lips shining with your first gloss of the day.Â
âDr. Barbie is so pretty,â Victoria mentioned almost dreamily. âHer time management must be insane if she manages to look so good all the time.âÂ
Trinity hummed in agreement. âIf she wasnât married, Iâd be in line in a heartbeat.âÂ
Despite their comments, Jack smiled as he watched your eyes scan the room until they landed on him, and a bright smile plastered onto your face once you started making your way over to the nursesâ station.Â
âJack!â you called. âJust the man I was looking for.â You stopped right in front of him, mouth open to continue whatever you were saying, but you stopped, cocked your head, and narrowed your eyes. You clicked your tongue and stepped forward as you licked a finger. âHoney, you should have told me I left that on your cheek.â
It was as if all else faded into the background, and Jack quickly dodged your finger. âHey!â
âJack, just stay still for one second.âÂ
He caught your outstretched hand. âKnock it off.âÂ
âI canât let you go the entire night walking around with Macadamia Butter lip gloss on your face.â You managed to get your hand free and gently wipe the kiss mark off. âThere.â You watched Jackâs face fall. âDonât pout.âÂ
He sneered playfully. âIâm not pouting.âÂ
He was definitely pouting.Â
You warmly smiled at him. âDonât worry, Iâll just come down later and refresh it, yeah?âÂ
Jack hummed lowly before he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in the middle of the emergency department not caring who saw. He ran a quick tongue across his lips after he pulled back. âIs that the hot cocoa one?âÂ
Your smiled turned into a bashful one. âIâve turned you into a lip gloss connoisseur.âÂ
âItâs not like you have over twenty in the house plus the extra five in the truck along with the seven you keep in your lockerââÂ
âOkay, okay, I get it,â you giggled right as your pager went off. âLooks like Iâm being called away. Iâll see you later?âÂ
He nodded and smirked down at you. âIâll see you later for my reapplication.âÂ
You turned away and yelled over your shoulder. âFig sauce is going to look great on you!âÂ
Once you were out of sight on the elevator, Jack turned around to see the shocked faces of Victoria and Trinity. His chest puffed out just a bit, knowing he had shown them at what a good husband he was.Â
âFig sauce,â Robby chuckled. âMan, youâre so whipped. Iâll see you in twelve for my reapplication, Dr. Abbot,â he teased while walking away.Â
Jack couldnât help but laugh softly until he remembered that Robby wasnât the only member of his audience. He eyed the two women carefully.Â
âIâll get you each three glosses from whatever brand in return for your silence.âÂ
Oh, yeah, Jack Abbot was indeed a lip gloss connoisseur.Â
SUMMARY: One of the worst days you have ever experienced in the ER happens to fall on your birthday. Nothing goes your way, and seconds after you finish your shift, you are sobbing in the passenger seat of Jack Abbotâs car. Luckily, Jack knows how best to remind you that you are so important and so, so loved.
NOTES: Hurt/comfort, forgotten birthday, Robby being an asshole, aggressive patients, unintentional meal-skipping, stress-induced breakdown, lots of crying, established relationship, Jack is the lover ever.
NAVIGATION | PITT MASTERLIST | KO-FI
A/N: Did I have a lovely birthday today? Yes! Is that going to stop me from writing angsty birthday fanfic? Certainly not, so enjoy!
The clinical smell of the Pitt always seemed to cling to your skin like a second coat. It was a sterile mix of rubbing alcohol, sharp floor bleach, and the distinct, heavy scent of human misery. By the time your feet hit the pavement outside the double automatic doors, the chilly evening air felt less like a relief and more like another slap to your already raw senses.
Your shoulders were hitched up to your ears, your scrub top felt restrictive, and your eyes burned with a dry, gritty fatigue. It had been twelve hours of relentless, unyielding chaos. All you wanted to do was disappear.
Through the dim light of the hospital car park, you spotted the familiar, reassuring silhouette of Jackâs car idling near the edge of the drop-off zone. The soft glow of his headlights cut through the gloom, a tiny beacon of safety in a day that had felt entirely hostile.
You dragged your feet across the tarmac, your trainers scraping lightly, every step requiring a monumental effort of will. When you pulled the passenger door open, the sudden rush of warmth and the familiar, grounding scent of his cologne, woody, clean, and entirely safe, hit you so hard that your throat instantly tightened.
You tumbled into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut to lock the harsh world outside. You hadn't even buckled your seatbelt before the first sob ripped its way out of your chest. It was a violent, involuntary sound that seemed to come from the very bottom of your lungs.
"Oh, sweetheart," Jack murmured immediately, his voice a low, worried rumble.
You dropped your head into your hands, your fingers digging into your temples as the dam broke entirely. The sheer weight of the last twelve hours collapsed on top of you, crushing whatever fragile composure you had managed to maintain for the sake of the patients.
Jack shifted the car into park, switched off the ignition, and unbuckled his own belt so he could turn fully toward you. He reached out, his strong, warm hand gently cupping the back of your neck. His thumb began soothingly rubbing the tense muscle right at the base of your skull.
"Hey, hey, look at me, sweetheart," he pleaded softly, his other hand finding yours and squeezing it tightly. "I've got you. You're safe. Let it out, honey, just breathe for me, okay?â
But the comfort only seemed to unlock more of the misery, the tears flowing freely now, hot and fast down your cheeks. "Robby has been on my fucking ass all day, Jack," you choked out, the words tumbling out in a breathless, frantic rush between heavy, shuddering gasps.
"What did he do, honey?" Jack asked, his jaw clenching as his thumb continued its rhythmic, calming strokes against your neck.
"Every single thing I did was wrong," you sobbed, pulling your knees up toward your chest as much as the small space allowed. "If I was five minutes late with a chart, he was there, breathing down my neck. I think heâs stressed because Trin is falling behind, but that isnât my fucking problem. He practically fucking yelled at me in front of the nurses' station because a lab result hadn't come back yet."
"He did what?" Jackâs voice darkened, a flash of protective anger crossing his features even at the expense of his friend. "In front of everyone? He's an absolute ass sometimes."
"He acted as if I have any control over what the pathology lab does," you wept, pressing your face into Jack's palm as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. "I felt so small, so completely useless, and he just wouldn't stop pushing me."
"I love him but Robby can be a miserable bastard who wouldn't know good stress management if it hit him in the face," Jack said softly, his tone shifting back to pure gentleness for your sake. "You are brilliant at your job, and he has no right to take his own incompetence out on you. Don't let him take your peace, love."
You shook your head, cheeks damp with tears. "It wasn't just him, Jack. The patients were just so mean today. I had a man throw a plastic cup of water at me because his pain meds were ten minutes delayed."
"Jesus Christ," Jack muttered, his hand sliding down to rub your arm comfortingly. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, it was just plastic, but itâs the principle," you cried, your voice cracking with a deep, exhausting sadness. "And another woman spent twenty minutes just shouting at me, calling me incompetent because the wait times were long. I was running between cubicles, trying my absolute hardest, and everyone just looked at me like I was the enemy."
"Shit. You're not the enemy, sweetheart. You're the one saving them," he whispered, leaning across the console to press a soft kiss against your temple.
"I didn't get to sit down once, Jack," you whispered, sniffing heavily as he pulled a clean handkerchief from his jacket and gently began wiping your face. "I didn't even get to eat my lunch because I left it sitting on the kitchen counter this morning, and the cafeteria was closed by the time I had a spare five minutes."
"Oh, my poor girl," Jackâs voice softened even further, filled with a profound, aching sympathy. "You haven't eaten a single thing since this morning? You shouldâve called me, sweetheart. No wonder you're absolutely spent. You've been running on empty in hell all day."
"And on top of everything..." You paused, a fresh wave of grief washing over you, making you feel incredibly small and desperately lonely. Your breath came in jagged, uneven hitches as the absolute worst part of the day finally forced its way to the surface.
"What is it, sweetheart? Tell me," Jack urged, his fingers gently tangling in your hair, tilting your face up so he could look into your eyes.
"It's my birthday, Jack," you whispered, the admission sounding incredibly pathetic to your own ears, your voice dropping to a miserable, fragile whimper. "It's my birthday, and not a single person at work even noticed. No one said a word. My own team didn't care."
You hid your face in your hands again, your shoulders shaking. "I spent the whole day being shouted at and degraded, and itâs supposed to be my special day, and I just... I felt completely invisible. Like I don't matter to anyone at all."
Jack let out a low, pained breath. Before you could spiral any deeper into that dark thought, he shifted closer, pulling you completely across the center console and tucking you firmly against his chest.
He wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you so tightly that the cold, cruel reality of the hospital seemed to melt away entirely against his warmth. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
"Look at me," Jack commanded gently, pulling back just enough to frame your face with his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the fresh moisture on your cheeks. "You listen to me very carefully, alright?"
You blinked through your tears, looking into his warm, fiercely sincere eyes.
"You are not invisible, and you matter more than anyone else in my world," Jack said, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "I am so deeply sorry that today was a nightmare, and I am sorry that the day shift made you feel small on the day you should be celebrated. But you are done with them now."
He pressed a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead, keeping his hands warm against your cheeks. "The shift is over, Iâm going to tear Robby a new one another day, and you are coming home with me. I've got you, okay?"
You rested your forehead against his collarbone, the steady, rhythmic thumping of his heart beneath his shirt serving as a perfect contrast to the chaotic franticness of your own head. "I'm just so tired, Jack," you whispered into the fabric of his coat. "I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to be strong."
"You don't have to be strong," he promised, his hands sliding down to rub your back in long, soothing strokes. "You've done enough fighting for one day. From this exact moment, I am taking care of everything."
"What are we going to do?" you asked quietly, your voice muffled against his chest, though you were already feeling the heavy cloud of tension begin to lift.
"We are going straight back to my apartment," he said, his lips brushing your hair as he spoke. "First, you are going to have a proper, long hot bath to wash all of that hospital filth off your skin.â
"And food?" you murmured, your stomach letting out a timely, traitorous rumble that made Jack chuckle softly.
"Yes, lots of food, sweetheart," Jack smiled, kissing the crown of your head. "I'm going to order a ridiculously expensive takeout that you love. We'll get everything you want and a little extra for later. You won't have to lift a finger."
He pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a soft, adoring expression. "And then we are going to pile every single blanket we own onto the couch, and we are going to watch whatever mindless crap you want until you fall asleep in my arms. How does that sound, birthday girl?"
A small, watery breath that was almost a laugh escaped your lips. You nodded against his chest, your muscles finally beginning to unlock, the tension draining out of you now that you had surrendered the burden of your day to him.
"That sounds like heaven," you mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut as the safety of his presence completely enveloped you.
"Then to heaven it is," Jack smiled softly. He kissed your temple one last time before gently guiding you back into your own seat, reaching across you to pull the seatbelt over your shoulder and clicking it securely into place.
He treated you with the kind of delicate, fragile care that you hadn't realised you desperately needed. "Letâs go," he said softly, restarting the engine, the familiar, low purr of the car filling the silence as he pulled out of the hospital car park, leaving the misery of the ER far behind.
The drive back to Jackâs apartment was a quiet, soothing blur. Jack kept one hand firmly on the steering wheel and the other stretched across the center console, his fingers securely entwined with yours. Every time you let out a small, residual sigh, he would gently squeeze your hand, a silent reminder that the hospital was growing further away with every passing mile.
By the time he pulled into the familiar driveway of his building, the sky had turned into a deep, velvety black. Jack rushed around to the passenger side, opening your door and unbuckling your belt before you could even reach for it. He scooped your heavy canvas work bag over his shoulder and wrapped his arm tightly around your waist, practically dragging you up the stairs to his apartment.
The moment the front door clicked shut behind you, the familiar warmth of Jackâs home wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. Jack immediately kicked off his shoes and helped you slide your tired feet out of your stiff trainers.
"Gonna head to the bathroom, honey," Jack murmured softly, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your neck as he unzipped your heavy winter coat and slid it off your shoulders. "Don't worry about a thing. I'm going to go run the water."
After pouring a glass of water, you walked into the bathroom, the tiles warm beneath your socks. Jack was there, sat on his shower chair by the side of the tub. He turned the brass taps, and the soothing, roaring sound of rushing water instantly began to drown out the echoes of the chaotic hospital alarms that had been ringing in your ears all day.
He reached for an expensive-looking jar of lavender and amber bath salts, pouring a generous handful under the running water. The bathroom instantly filled with a thick, fragrant steam that made your chest loosen.
"There we go," Jack said, standing and wiping his hands on a fluffy towel. He stepped over to you, his hands gently finding your waist again. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes dark with pure devotion. "Strip out of those clothes, sweetheart. Put them right in the laundry basket. I don't want you thinking about that place for the rest of the night."
"Thank you, Jack," you whispered, your voice still a bit raspy from crying.
"You don't ever have to thank me for taking care of you, beautiful," he replied softly, cupping your chin and kissing your lips with a slow, lingering sweetness that tasted like safety. "I'm going to order food now. Take your time in here."
Sinking into the hot water felt like an out-of-body experience. You lowered yourself down until the fragrant, bubbly water reached your chin, letting out a long, shaky breath. For the first twenty minutes, you just closed your eyes, letting the heat sink deep into your aching muscles, washing away the phantom feeling of Robby's critical gaze and the harsh words of the patients. You felt the tight knot in your chest finally begin to dissolve entirely.
By the time you finally stepped out of the bath, your skin was comfortably warm and completely relaxed. Jack had left your thickest, softest pyjamas warming on the radiator, along with a pair of fresh fluffy socks. Slipping into them felt like a massive relief, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the stiff scrubs you had been wearing for twelve hours.
When you walked back into the living room, the flat was dimly lit, illuminated only by the warm, flickering glow of a few scented candles and the soft amber light of the television. The heavy coffee table had been pushed closer to the sofa, and a massive mound of your favourite duvets and pillows covered the cushions.
"Perfect timing," Jack said, walking out of the kitchen carrying a large paper bag that was radiating a heavenly, rich scent. "The food literally just arrived. Come here."
He set the bag down and immediately pulled you into his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the fresh scent of the bath salts. "You smell wonderful. Much better than bleach and stress."
"I feel human again," you admitted, a genuine smile finally touching your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close.
"Good. Because you deserve to feel human, especially today," Jack said, kissing your cheek before guiding you onto the sofa.
He didn't just let you sit. He practically buried you in the blankets, propping pillows behind your back until you were perfectly comfortable. Only after that did Jack adjust himself, taking off his prosthetic with ease and leaning it against the side of the couch. He opened one of the cardboard containers, revealing a massive, steaming portion of your favourite takeout meal.
"Eat up, sweetheart," Jack urged, handing you a fork and settling down right next to you, his thigh pressing firmly against yours. "You need to make up for that lost lunch."
You didn't need to be told twice. The first bite of the rich, comforting food was so good it made you close your eyes in pure bliss. Jack watched you with a soft, satisfied grin, occasionally reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face or to feed you a bite of his own dish from his fork. He kept one hand resting on your knee under the blanket, his thumb moving in slow, rhythmic circles.
"Is it good, sweetheart?" he asked quietly, his eyes warm as he watched the stress finally wash away from your face.
"It's amazing," you sighed, taking a sip of the ice-cold water he had placed next to you. "I didn't realise how hungry I actually was."
"I know, my poor girl," he murmured, leaning over to kiss your temple. "But I've got you now. No more skipping meals, and no more bastards like fucking Michael Robinavitch ruining your day."
Once the containers were cleared away, Jack shoved them onto the table and immediately pulled you back into his space. He lay back against the corner of the sofa, dragging you with him so that you were lying completely on top of him, your head resting securely on his chest and your legs tangled beneath the heavy duvet.
He grabbed the remote, clicking on a familiar, light-hearted comedy movie you had seen a hundred times before, something that required absolutely zero brainpower to follow.
"Comfortable, love?" Jack whispered, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you so close that you could feel the vibration of his voice against your cheek.
"Perfect," you mumbled, completely content.
His large hands began a slow, mesmerising pattern across your back, tracing smooth circles up and down your spine, occasionally slipping beneath the hem of your pyjama top to press his warm palms directly against your bare skin. The soothing friction combined with the heavy meal and the warm bath made your eyelids feel incredibly heavy.
"Happy birthday, my beautiful girl," Jack whispered into the darkness, his voice thick with an undeniable, fierce affection. He reached over to the side table, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a small, beautifully wrapped velvet box, sliding it into your view. "I know the day was shit, but I hope this helps a little bit."
You blinked, opening the box to find a delicate, sparkling bracelet, simple enough to wear even during your shifts. Tears pricked your eyes again, but this time, they weren't from sadness.
"Jack... it's beautiful," you choked out, looking up at him through thick lashes. "You didn't have to."
"Of course I did," he said, taking your wrist and gently fastening the clasp, before kissing the inside of your wrist right over your pulse point. "You matter to me. Every single day, but especially today. Don't ever forget that."
You buried your face back into his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as a profound sense of peace finally settled over you. The mean patients, the unread charts, and the horrible manager didn't matter anymore. Right here, wrapped in Jack's arms, you were completely safe, deeply loved, and exactly where you were supposed to be.
"I love you, Jack," you murmured, your voice growing faint as sleep finally began to pull you under.
"I love you more, sweetheart," Jack whispered back, his chin resting on the top of your head, his hands never stopping their soothing rhythm against your back as he held you tight against his chest, keeping the rest of the world completely at bay.
