hi my friends!

Brendon Park x Neurosurgeon!Wife!Reader

Content: Mr. & Mrs. Park being equally intimidating, Nervous!Awkward!Confused!Dennis Whitaker, Strong PTMC personalities, incorrect medical terminology

Dennis hadn’t had too many good interactions with Dr. Park, “The Shark”.

Well…he hadn’t had any good ones at all.

And each failure was his fault. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He’s still a resident at the end of the day—aka, at the bottom of the medical food chain.

The first time Dennis interacted with the infamous orthopedic surgeon was in March. Apparently spring cleaning and spring break caused more ladder falls, lacerated limbs, and ligament tears than expected. Meaning, Dr. Park’s services were in high demand.

It was a teenager, only fourteen years old. Her pelvis cleanly broken during a gymnastics incident. She was out of school and felt driven to use the break for training rather than a real vacation.

The usual chaos of ER seemed to go quiet upon his arrival into Trauma One—as if everyone decided to hold their breath.

Dennis was confused.

Shouldn’t we give him background on the patient?

That was the typical routine when doctor’s were called down to the Pitt for consult.

Maybe this is one of those “teaching moments”?

Robby likes those moments, and he particularly likes when interns and residents take initiative. He takes a steadying breath, eyes following the stoic doctor.

It had been long day. Dennis was tired and unmotivated to perform outside of the expected scope, but if there’s an opportunity to shine in front of another attending, he figured that he should probably take it.

Who knows where he could end up in his career. Maybe orthopedic surgery would be less… life-altering than emergency medicine…

“Patient is stable. There’s a clean break horizontally along the pelvis and a fracture along the—“

The monologue is broken by a glare Dennis can’t help but slightly lean away from in an unconscious urge to protect himself.

“Did I ask you?”

Oh!

That wasn’t the response he was expecting.

Dennis blinks, baffled on how to respond or, whether or not he even should.

“W-well.. I-I was just..”

His nervous blabbering trails off when The Shark’s eyes shift over to Garcia.

“X-ray.” Dr. Park says, firm and deep.

Dennis can’t help but swallow the lump in his throat as he watches Dr. Garcia respond with action rather than her usually snarky quip.

That was over a year ago and the interactions had, technically, improved.

Not because Dennis learned how to navigate a mature and efficient conversation with the surgeon.

Nope. He actually barely speaks at all when Dr. Park is called down for consult—fearing that what little of his ego left will dissolve into nothingness if he does.

There goes his futile dream of being an orthopedic surgeon…sigh

It was never going to work. That much is clear.

Today is another one of those days—a day where doctors from various parts of the PTMC are called down to the ER to help manage the influx of patients.

Dennis had already been preparing himself mentally for Dr. Park’s presence.

1. Positive self talk.

“You can do this Whitaker. You’re a doctor too.”

2. Imagining the best scenario.

“This is my patient and I’m leading this conversation!”

3. Imagining a more realistic scenario.

“Yes sir. I cleaned the wound with saline.”

None of the preparation was effective though, because when Dr. Robby said “Call Dr. Park from neuro”, Dennis quite literally shivered.

Luckily, it wasn’t noticeable…

But wait, Neuro???

“Uhh.. Dr. Robby. I thought Dr. Park was an orthopedic surgeon?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

Robby briefly glances up from the patient’s head trauma before looking back down.

“Dr. Park is an orthopedic surgeon.”

Okay…

Well that doesn’t clarify anything at all, so Dennis inevitably continues his useless internal preparation under the assumption that The Shark must have a dual concentration.

But to his surprise, it isn’t the slicked back mafioso that walks in, it’s a woman.

A woman with sharp eyes, just as intense and intimidating as The Shark’s, but not the man himself.

Dennis can’t help but release a deep breath in relief.

Thank God.

“What’s the status?” You ask, voice level and somewhat raspy as you roll your disposable gloves on.

“Damage to the Parietal and occipital lobes due to blunt force trauma.” Robby responds, backing away from the medical bed to give you space to look over the patient.

As you lean in, you pull the glasses down from the crown of your head, narrowing your eyes with focus.

Your movements are smooth and quiet but intense nonetheless, as if your brain is moving a mile a minute.

“Trauma to the back of the cranium can cause fractures in the spine... Did you consult ortho?”

“Nope, but I can make that happen.”

With that Robby steps away, leaving you and Dennis together with a small crowd of nurses.

The young resident can’t help but feel grateful that you’ll still be here once Dr. Park… well… the other Dr. Park arrives.

He couldn’t possibly have an ego trip with you and Dr. Robby present, right?

And you seem nice… enough. Definitely nicer than Dr. Garcia. Although, it doesn’t take much to be considered nicer than her…

The thought makes him huff something close to a laugh, causing your focused eyes to snap to his.

“Problem?” You ask lowly.

The curt question makes Dennis realize that you probably think he’s laughing at you.

He swallows, jittering his head no.

“No, Dr. Park. I just..um..”

You raise a brow, confused by the flustered behavior of the sad looking boy.

The expression makes Dennis panic a bit. He needs to give you a full response but he can’t admit he was thinking about how much of an asshole Dr. Garcia is…

So he has to think fast.

“Um..” he clears his throat, an awkward smile curling on his lips. “I was just thinking…it’s a funny coincidence that there are two surgeons named Dr. Park, you know?”

He thought it was a nice save, but apparently you don’t—your lips pursing in a way that communicates how unimpressed you are.

He wonders, “Did I say something wrong?”, as your eyes briefly flick from his outdated Student Doctor badge.

Time seems to move like molasses before you respond, but once you do, Dennis decides that maybe he’s not cut out to get along with anyone who has the surname of Park.

There goes any plans to travel to South Korea….

“You must be new here.”

Before he can even contemplate a rebuttal, Dr. Robby walks backs in with the other Dr. Park in tow.

“Ortho’s here.” The veteran attending announces.

“Great.” You murmur, eyes lingering on Dennis for one final second before backing away from the medical bed.

“Call me back down when you confirm that fractures in the spine haven’t impacted the brain stem.”

Robby and The Shark both nod as they take your place beside the patient, refocusing on the priority of care that you’ve set.

It takes Dennis by surprise to see the orthopedic surgeon actually taking direction from someone else for once. It’s a mild use case, but, unlike every other time, he didn’t demand anything of you upon entry.

Shifting your glasses back up to your crown, you hover nearby to observe for a couple more seconds before removing your gloves and placing a hand on Dr. Park’s shoulder.

Now Dennis is really surprised. In fact, he freezes—briefly forgetting that he needs to aid in flipping the patient to their side for spinal observation.

You did that so casually—almost as if it was second nature.

And The Shark, all sharp teeth and aggression, didn’t respond negatively at all.

On the contrary, it seems that he may have even leaned into your touch. It was nearly imperceptible, but Dennis caught it.

What the fuck?

He blinks. Once. Twice.

Maybe working in the pitt is making him hallucinate…

Nope.

Your hand’s still there—briefly patting over the fabric of the orthopedic surgeon’s scrubs before fully separating.

He shakes his head, shooing the wandering thoughts away before landing his gaze on Dr. Robby.

The attending doesn’t seem to mimic Dennis’ disarray, completely tunneled on doing his job.

It’s as if the moment didn’t happen at all, so the resident swallows, deciding to follow his bosses lead to focus as well. Until…

“I picked up a double for the night, so I’ll call you when I’m off, babe.”

The Shark nods once again, lips twitching into what Dennis could only assume is the closest thing to a smile he’ll ever see from the man with the words “got it” following in a tone so soft he can barely believe his ears.

Pardon???

The cooperation.

The lingering touch.

The term of endearment.

The semi-smile.

The soft words.

The memory of each swim around in his thoughts like some sort of whirlpool, and it all sinks down to one conclusion—you’re not just Dr. Park, you’re Mrs. Park.

Wow…Okay

Dennis huffed again, feeling both self pity and amusement at his luck… or lack there of.

Just like the time before, your eyes flick up in response along with your husband’s.

“Problem?” The Shark questions, causing Dennis to smile despite himself.

God…you two are just alike…

He’s so screwed.

- jack abbot x wife!reader

content: touch starved abbot, dilf abbot, milf wife, my attempt at semi-angst

6:35 a.m.

Shift’s almost over.

That’s what Jack is thinking. It was a particularly rough night.

Some frat had a house party last night, so the ER was flooded with drugged up college students, all on the brink of overdose.

Sigh.

It’s a stressful reminder that his oldest son would be off to college in two years and would have to fend off temptations such as these without his or your guidance.

He’s a good kid though. All three of the Abbot kids are good, a quality that he attributes to your teaching. Not his own. No. There’s no way such well-mannered children could be a byproduct of anything he’s done.

“Tough night?” Robby asks as he walks up behind Jack, the silver haired man’s eyes glued to the digital charts above.

“Isn’t it always?” He responds flatly, not bothering to look away or acknowledge his old friend. This is routine.

“Yeah…” a pause, Robby’s eyes briefly cutting to the crowd of teary eyed parents hovering in the hallway. “But there aren’t always this many parents here. What happened?”

Jack sighed, finally turning to his colleague with crossed arms, a clear sign that he’s pent up with stress…typical.

“House party. 20 near ODs.”

“Jesus..” Robby hisses, running a hand over his hair.

“Yeah...” Jack murmurs in agreement. Despite being of age, to him and Robby, these college students are kids and kids are always tough cases to navigate. “But we got them stable. Waiting for space in ICU.”

“Of course we are..” Gloria would be hearing a complaint before the end of the day for sure. “Alright. We’ll take it from here. Get home before your wife gets mad at me again.” Robby says, slapping a friendly hand Jack’s shoulder.

With a dry huff of laughter, he nods. You take his daily farewells to the kids very seriously, so that means he needs to be home before 7:30 a.m.

—

As expected, when Jack makes it home he sees the four of you standing in front of the front door waiting for him. Noel, the oldest, looking extremely bored with this daily routine, the keys to the car you begrudgingly allowed Jack to buy him for his sixteenth birthday dangling from his finger tips. Then the twins, still young enough to hold an innocent excitement in their eyes upon seeing their father pull into the driveway.

Then…you. In a robe, loosely tied and revealing your nightgown underneath. Your blowout slightly disheveled like you absentmindedly pulled your headscarf off while helping the kids get ready for school and never checked yourself in the mirror.

It’s messy, vulnerable. Almost exactly how you look after he…

“Daddy’s here.” You say, running your hands gently over the top of the twins heads as Jack slowly climbs the steps to the front door, the nine years olds are jittery with an energy that only nine year olds could have as they smile and wave at him.

“Hi Daddy!”

“Walk faster!”

Jack blinks for a second, his mind stalling for longer than it should to get out of the gutter. But it’s hard, you just look so pretty and it’s soothing his spirit in more ways than one.

However, it’s not the time, so with a huff Jack shakes his head to snap back to reality and acknowledge his little ones. It’s endearing that they clearly missed him and it’s somewhat therapeutic to see his own children safe and healthy after the night he had.

“Hey..” he greets softly, pulling both of their heads gingerly to his stomach for a hug.

Like the angels they are, both of them nuzzle their heads into his body, preening at the physical affection.

Yeah. This is definitely a byproduct of your parenting.

“Are you gonna come to Noel’s game tonight?” His daughter, Lyla, asks while lifting her head and staring at him expectantly with those big brown eyes that look so much like yours.

It’s cute, and Jack’s lips can’t help but curve into a hint of a smile.

“Uhh I can’t sweetheart..” he admits lowly, breaking eye contact with his daughter’s pout to check for Noel’s reaction.

As expected, his sixteen year old makes no visible response, merely continuing to fiddle with his keys.

Unfortunately, Jack’s absence isn’t abnormal, and Noel has obviously grown accustomed to it, a fact that makes the weak smile fall.

With a grounding inhale, he shifts his gaze to you. For support? Maybe..

“But mom’s going to record it for me, right?”

“Of course.” You answer immediately, catching the hint. With a soft smile, you step over to your oldest to rub his shoulder, soothing whatever ache may be beneath the surface.

Noel simply nods while looking down at his Apple Watch, avoiding both his parent’s gazes.

“We’ll be late if we don’t leave now..” he mumbles.

Right. School.

“Drive safely, okay?” You say before pressing a kiss to his cheek then leaning down to do the same to Lyla and Levi.

“Make sure to thank your brother for driving you.” You whisper to both of them before straightening to your full height, eyes lingering on the way they quickly go back to hugging their father.

“Bye, daddy.” They both say, clearly not giving a fuck about you.

Rude.

“Bye. Be good a school”, says said father, his voice significantly softer than anyone at PTMC will ever hear from him.

With a resounding “yes sir”, the kids all walk down the steps to Noel’s car parked on the curb.

You and Jack watch them in silence, observing how Noel checks that his younger siblings are buckled before driving off.

You really did a good job with him.

“You were later than usual today..” you murmur, breaking the silence.

When a response doesn’t come, you turn your head to face your husband, finding that he’s already looking a you, his expression seeming dazed.. almost distant.

A few more seconds go by. Still no answer.

You raise a brow. “You alright?”

Consciousness seems to slowly bleed back into his face following the question, leading Jack to shake his head once more, the source of his stall being the same as it was earlier—you. A fact beyond your awareness.

“Yeah.. yeah. I’m good”, he eventually replied, briefly averting his gaze to where Noel’s car was previously parked before looking back at you.

Weird.

But not weird enough for you to question, so you hum in acknowledgment before turning to walk into the house, leaving the door open for him to follow.

“Food’s on the stove. I’ll be back after teaching a few classes.”

Oh.

Right. Pilates.

You had taken a break from teaching for a little while. An agreement you made with Jack when he took on the occasional role of working with the SWAT team.

You weren’t happy with it, in fact, you were pretty fucking disappointed.

You’ve only ever worked part time since having Noel, but having a job kept you stable. Helped you feel like more than just a mother. More than just a wife.

So your hiatus didn’t last long, meaning less time to spend with Jack after he got off work.

He’d be lying if he didn’t say he missed you. “Missed” is actually an understatement, he craved you. Not just sexually, though that is one peice of it and the sight of your robe beginning to fall off your shoulder as you make your way to the bedroom isn’t helping...

No, he misses the conversation, the tenderness, the intimacy between husband and wife.

Maybe a date would be good?

He thinks to himself as he watches, lips pursing as he thinks of someway to spark a conversation that doesn’t revolve around work or the children.

“So..” he starts as he shuts the bedroom door behind him, following you shortly after with his hands fidgeting in the pockets of his scrubs.

“So?” You reply, slipping off your robe so you can start to get ready.

Jack’s throat tightens at the movement, eyes lazily dragging over brown skin of your arms and legs.

The nightgown isn’t indecent by any means. If anything, it’s a bit grandma-ish, but it’s the most vulnerable state he’s seen you in… in a while.

“I’ll be off this Saturday..” he finishes after clearing his throat, keeping a safe distance from you near the base of the bed frame as you start to undress, far enough that he won’t pounce.

“Good.” You quip flatly, clearly not registering the roughness in your husbands tone. “You’ll be able to go to Levi’s soccer game then.”

Damn. He completely forgot about that.

He’s missed four of Levi’s games this season and all of Noel’s baseball games so far. He can’t miss this, even if he originally wanted to spend Saturday alone with you.

Maybe another time…

With a defeated sigh, he mutters “Right” before slipping off his backpack and walking to the adjoined bathroom to refresh.

—

“Someone looks pissed..” Ellis mutters to Jack as he enters the ER.

Pissed? Nah. Tired and drained and miserable? Yes.

You left for pilates and never came back home to chat before his shift. All he got was a short text.

Wifey:

I’ll send you the recording of Noel’s game.

Yeah. He knew that already. What he really wanted was…. something else. Something more heartfelt.

You could’ve at least gave him the courtesy of knowing where you were and why you didn’t come home.

Sure, he could just check your shared location, but that’s not the same. He wants to talk with you.

It made his chest ache to think about how bland things had gotten.

“Focus on the patients, Ellis.” He grumbles back, neither confirming nor denying her assessment.

“Yeah…”, she mutter to herself in mild amusement. “He’s pissed.”

—

One hour in, the shift is pretty typical—a lot of chairs, random injuries Dr. Seuss couldn’t even make up, an occasional argument with Gloria.

Typical. Sigh…

Maybe a complicated case will help distract him from the problems at ho—

“Trauma two! Patient’s name is Noel Abbot. Sixteen year old hit in the face with a baseball!”

Wait what?!

Jack’s eyes snap over to the automatic doors, finding his son on the gurney being rushed in and you trailing in behind with a tense expression.

Complicated case…

Before he can even fully process what’s happening, Jack’s feet are moving, reaching for the metal railing of the gurney, eyes inspecting his son with an intensity only a father could have.

“Is he conscious?” He asks, voice steadier than expected.

“Dad…” comes the groggy, muffled voice of Noel, indirectly answering Jack’s question.

Its a hard sight to see—the blood leaking from his first born’s face, the wounds that are clear indicators of broken bone, the glazed over look in his eyes that reflect the shakey cognitive state he’s in.

Jack has to swallow. This is his son… his baby.

But he’s a professional. He does cases like this everyday, most being worse than this. He can do this.

“Hey..hey man” he mutters gently as the gurney is rushed to trauma two. “We’re gonna get you fixed up.”

Once there, the crew taps in, checking Noel’s vitals and confirming a synopsis. At that point, Jack checks on you again, noticing how quiet and rigid you are in the corner of the room, watching everything closely.

You’ve always been a calm person, very level headed and mature in challenging situations, but you’re also very sensitive about your babies.

“How we doin’ over there, honey?” He calls out, trying to get a pulse check on your energy.

“Okay..” you reply lowly, holding eye contact with your husband for a second or two before looking back down at your son being operated on. He looks unconscious now, a condition that makes your stomach churn uncomfortably.

A lie. Jack knows that, so he asks you another question, just to keep your mind occupied on something other than Noel’s injury. Truthfully, he needs a distraction too.

“Where are the twins?”

“Uhh…” you stall. Respectfully, your mind wasn’t on them at all.

You lift your hand to rub the bridge of your nose, thinking back over the last several minutes to figure out where your little kids might be.

Ah yes… that’s where they are.

“Matteo brought them to the breakroom..”

The breakroom? That means they were probably behind you when walking in. That goes to show how tunneled Jack’s focus was on Noel.

“Why don’t you go join them and I’ll send someone to get you when we’re done here.”

Your face scrunches in disbelief. You don’t want to go. You want to be right here where you can see how your son is progressing. You’re nervous, scared even. Noel took a fast ball to the nose and you saw it all live….

Ugh… the memory is haunting and you can’t help but grimace when you think about how much pain your baby must be in.

“But Jack—“ you start, ready to protest until being cutoff.

“No buts. Go try to relax and see if the kids are okay.”

The twins have always been tender and emotional, especially with their big brother. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’re in the break room crying.

You purse your lips, considering if this is one of those things you should fight him on, but one look at his expression tells you enough to nod reluctantly in resignation.

Fine. You trust him.

Jack’s eyes follow you as you exit, something softening in them.

He’d missed you all day, but this was not the circumstances he had hoped to see you again.

After taking a taking a deep breath, he mutters, “Okay”, mainly to himself to refocus. “Let’s get a surgeon in here.”

—

2 weeks later…

If Jack was craving some alone time with you before…he’s starving for it now.

With Noel’s injury—a broken nose, broken eye socket, a fractured jaw and a major concussion—you’ve taken off of work and Jack has paused his SWAT hobby to care for him.

Despite that, you are soooo emotionally unavailable, completely committed to making sure Noel is well rested and comfortable enough to heal properly.

Not that that’s a problem. Nope. Not a problem at all. Jack is committed to Noel as well. You could even say that Noel is receiving special treatment due to his father’s occupation that may make this recovery even more speedy than it’s supposed to be…

BUT (of course there’s a but), Jack just wants a little hug from you. Maybe even a kiss. Something that proves he isn’t just playing the role of the family doctor right now.

He spoke to his therapist about it and she encouraged him to just talk to you. Ask to go on a date. Nothing crazy—a movie night or a dinner. Anything to give you both the opportunity to escape reality and revisit what was once a passionate relationship.

And he’s tried. He’s really tried, but every time he tries to pull you aside for a chat you seem so… distracted.

“I need to bring Lyla to dance practice.”

“I have to pick up Noel’s class work. I don’t want him to fall behind.”

Like the gentleman he is, Jack always responds by being helpful. He gets it. Noel requires extra accommodations, and the twins still have their own typical commitments. There’s a lot of things that need to get done, and marriage is all about working through these moments together.

“I’ll pick up the class work. Just focus on the other stuff you need to do and we can talk later.”

But, later comes and it’s something else.

Damn…Can a man kiss is wife?

This is getting ridiculous and he’s starting to feel desperate, so he’s does…something—something you may or may not appreciate.

—

You set the grocery bags down on the counter with a huff.

You’re so fucking tired…

But Noel has to take his antibiotics in twenty minutes, so the hustle must go on.

With a self motivating nod, you start to move again, emptying the grocery bags and placing things in their designated areas.

Once finished, you take the premade smoothie you purchased out from the fridge—your go to for Noel’s snacks and meals since he isn’t able to chew yet.

“Levi!” You shout. “Come bring this to your brother.”

You wait for a few moments, expecting to hear “Yes, ma’am!” and feet padding to approach you soon, but…crickets.

What the hell?

“Levi?!” You call out, but again, silence.

Okay…

You round the island bar with the smoothie in hand to bring it to Noel yourself and possibly look for where the hell your youngest son is at.

Maybe he’s taking a nap? Or playing on his Nintendo switch?

You knew you should’ve taken that damn thing away from him. It’s way too distracting.

Your inner voice ceases when you turn the corner to exit the kitchen and find your husband standing in the middle of the hallway like the 🧍emoji.

“Umm… why you standing there like that?” He’s literally unmoving.

“You called for Levi.” He answered matter-of-factly as if that answers your fucking question.

“Yeah. And you’re not Levi.” You reply with a brow raise, eyes scanning Jack from head to toe, searching for some type of visual clarification for his odd behavior.

“He’s not here.”

What?

Your eyes snap back up his own, now narrowed in deeper confusion.

“What do you mean he’s not here?”

“I mean..” Jack starts, taking a step forward and crossing his arms, he’s own eyes seeming to scan you in return now.

“…he’s not at home... None of them are. They’re at Robby’s.”

Hello???

“Our children are at Dr. Robinavitch’s house?” You ask, feeling like you need more details.

“Thats what I said.”

You scoff. Irritated that he’s being so curt in his responses. You’re concerned and on edge. Dr. Robby is more than qualified to care for Noel in yours or Jack’s absence, but all three kids??? Michael Robinavitch is a great guy, but you aren’t certain that he can handle that.

With a head shake you turn on your heal to bring the melting smoothie back to the refrigerator.

“And you couldn’t tell me ahead of time?” You ask, not bothering to hide the frustration in your voice.

“Would you really have let them go if I did?”

No. Absolutely not. What sane parent would push their own injured kid onto a friend? At least that’s your perspective…

Jack knows this, which is why he didn’t tell you ahead of time and why he’s not bothered by your lack of response. Instead, he just admires your irritated expression as you busy yourself around the space.

Is it normal to be this attracted to you when you’re mad?

Oh well…

“So what was the point of sending them away?”

Hmm…

Jack wonders how honest he should be considering you’re clearly upset with him.

I was lonely? Nah, you’d probably roll your eyes.

I wanna fuck? Nah, that’s way too crass. You might slap him.

Though they’re both true, he settles on the middle ground:

“I’d like to take you out on a date..”

Your steps pause, giving your husband a sidelong glance from your position near the sink.

“You… abandoned our unwell son for a… date??” You mutter slowly, as if you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

Shit… Maybe that wasn’t the right approach?

Jack purses his lips, inwardly searching for a way to charm you, his wife, into being open-minded enough to date him.

Just thinking that makes him feel deflated…

“He’s almost fully healed, hon—“

“Almost!” You snap, cutting him off and turning to face him fully from the other side of the island bar.

“You couldn’t have waited?! Waited until I was more comfortable with being apart from him?”

Jack bites in the inside of his cheek, nostrils flaring slightly at the heat radiating off of you.

“Robby will take good care of Noel and the twins.”

“That’s not the point, Jack!”

“Then what is the point, Y/N?!”

Inhale. Exhale.

Both of your chests raise and fall with each deep breath as the your gazes pierce one another.

Yelling between the two of you is rare. You honestly can’t remember the last time you raised your voice at him, and you can’t help but falter a bit when a sliver of guilt graces your heart.

“Listen.” He starts again, voice low and patient once again. “I miss you.”

He swallows, searching your eyes for any effect his vulnerability may have had on you, fortunately, he finds the softening in your eyes.

“I miss you.” He repeats, just to ensure the message is clear.

“Noel is getting better. The twins don’t have any games or practice this week. You’re off work….” He briefly gestures to you before setting his calloused hand back on the marble counter.

“…and I’m off work. I-I… just thought it would be the perfect time for us to spend some quality time together.”

All the frustration you felt a moment ago suddenly dissolves, your mind flipping through its files to find the last time you and your husband spent… quality time together.

No matter how long your thoughts drag, all that comes to mind are passing glances, brief touches, short conversations—never about each other, always about other things.

You sigh, hand smoothing back over your blowout.

You’ve been so…occupied that you really hadn’t thought about… Jack.

You’ve thought about yourself, getting back into your hobbies and interests, and, obviously, your children. They will always be a priority.

But Jack? No…

“I miss you too…I’m sorry..” you murmur, letting your hand settle on the back of your neck.

The last bits of tension in Jack’s expression falls at your apology. You just sound so tired and sincere… It almost makes him feel bad for essentially asking for attention.

Almost.

He rounds the island to approach where you stand, eyes never leaving yours.

“You don’t need to apologize…” he mutters, hands finding your hips once he’s close enough. “I know you have a lot on your plate..”

You hum softly in agreement, as you shift your hands to rest gingerly against the wide expanse of his chest.

That’s true. You do have a lot on your plate and so does he…

Silence fills the kitchen after that. However, it isn’t an empty silence, it’s full. Full of the affection neither of you have vocalized to each other in so long, just sizzling under the surface.

Jack eyes flick to your lips, licking his own absentmindedly while his thumbs gently rub the waist band of your yoga pants.

God.. when was the last time he kissed those sweet lips, so plump and soft.

Too long.

That’s what he decides as he shifts his gaze back to your eyes, and without another thought, he leans forward and to press his forehead against yours.

“Soo…” he whispers, pausing to briefly press a kiss to your nose.