we in the pitt

When you woke up the next morning, the room was already filled with the smell of bacon and eggs. For a second you wondered if that's just the stroke talking you convinced yourself you're having multiple times a day because life can't be real. There is too much shit happening all at once that sometimes, everything just seems to float away. You just wanted to forget everything that happened in the last 24 hours, even if it was nice to have had someone that took care of you.

Jack had convinced you to take his bed for the night, sleep for as long as you need to and gave you space to cry yourself to sleep. And you did, after thinking about how his dick twitched underneath you and how lovely it would feel to grind back against him. You had to stop thinking like this, because sooner or later that would cause problems. Jack is your attending and your boss, if anyone found out you're thinking about bounching on your bosses co-

Alright. Enough. You shouldn't even be here to begin with.

His bedroom was kept clean and tidy, his clothes neatly folded on top of his dresser, like some psychopath was living in here, preparing the clothes they plan to wear the night before. He probably learned that in the army. Do they learn how to tie knots as well or was that the fire department....

You got out of bed, still wearing his clothes he gave you last night and made your way down to corridor into the kitchen.

Jack was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs leaned against the marble kitchen counter, scrolling on his phone when he heard your footsteps. He didn't turn around when he pointed to the chair next to him. "Mornin' sleepy head. Made you breakfast".

Breakfast. Damn, Dr. Abbot. Didn't know you could cook.

"Thank you. That's very nice of you" you replied, trotting over and taking the seat right next to him. You looked at him, your eyes wandering up and down and it doesn't take you long to notice his wet hair. Did he shower?

"Can i help you?" he grinned, eyes glued to his phone. "Watch it, I'm charging for autographs. Cash only."

"Cocky this early in the morning" you mumbled, heat rushing to your cheeks. You picked up the fork and stabbed one of the eggs on your plate.

"Woah, what did the egg do to you?" he chuckled and finally put his phone down, turning his body on the chair to fully face you. You were already devouring your breakfast, moaning at how fucking good those eggs and bacon were.

You could feel his eyes burning into your skin, the way he looked you up and down appreciating how beautiful you looked in his clothes. "Good, right?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, old man"

"I beg your pardon, little girl?"

"Oh you heard me right" you giggled, stuffing the last piece of bacon into your mouth before setting the fork down. "I called you an old man. But little girl? Really, that's all you can come up with?"

"Easy here, kiddo. I have a lot of nicknames reserved for the people who deserve them."

"Oh yeah?" you turned to face him with a devious smile. "Apparently that includes your first name, *Jack*." Oh you were definitely testing the waters now.

He stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes locked on yours and it looked like he was fighting with himself, struggling not to cross a line that had already been crossed in silence a while ago.

"I told you to call me Dr. Abbot, and you know why-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, because Jack is for friends and for the ones you fuck" you interrupted, not caring what might happen next. The urge to tease him, to see how far he would let you push, was too strong to resist.

"I'm warning you, *sweetheart*," he whispered, clearly hoping you would back down. He didn't want to have this conversation with you right now. He knew you wanted him. You always had a crush on him, and Jack wasn't stupid. He could read the signs, put one and two together. But he also understood there were unresolved emotions inside you that needed an outlet. He just wasn't sure you knew exactly what you were asking for.

But, what did you have to lose? If you couldn't pay for your degree after losing your job, you might as well go all in. Impulsive decisions you'd probably end up regretting.

"Sweetheart? Wow, that's like super lame," you giggled, shaking your head. You had to know if he would stop you.

Something in Jack's eyes darkened, he looked like he was debating his next move. And then he gave in. His hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushed over your lower lip, pressing down gently and forcing your mouth to part.

"*Babygirl,* I don't think you understand." He leaned in until your noses touched. "You're playing with fire."

A smile crept to your lips and you couldn't handle his intense stare.

"I-I like fire" you stuttered, the words slightly slurred by the pressure on your lip. Heat flooded your face. You tried to hold back a moan but failed. Jack chuckled in amusement.

"It's pathetic how much you are trying" he whispered before easing the pressure on your lip. Jack watched your face turn bright red as his lips slowly moved to your ear.

"I saw the way you arched your back last night," he whispered, "like you wanted me to touch you more then just tending to your wounds" He savored the way your hands suddenly pressed against his chest and your breathing faltered.

"J-Jack, I don't-"

"And don't get me wrong, i like a good fuck," he cut in, gripping both your wrists with his hands. "But that's all I do. I fuck. I don't do relationships. Because once you're underneath me..." His grip tightened as his tongue traced your earlobe, licking and biting down. You whined at the sharp sensation.

"You're going to be screaming my name, choking on my cock while I ruin you." He sucked on your earlobe, drawing another moan from you before he pulled back slightly. "and you're too precious for that. I would ruin you and I would enjoy every second of it. We both know you deserve better than that."

Jack released you and leaned back in his chair, putting distance between you. Aside from the bulge in his pants and his amused look on his stupid face, you noticed a shift in him. You could tell he was trying to backtrack in this very moment.

"Besides," he added, his voice calmer now "I'm your attending. I can't fuck my student. And after what happened with Marcus last night, I don't want to be the one who messes you up for the rest of your life. I won't take advantage of you in this vulnerable, truly fucked up situation."

It took you a solid minute to steady your breathing before you finally met his eyes and you wanted nothing more than his cock fucking you senseless. "I'm not vulnerable. I am fine, Jack."

Jack ran a hand through his damp hair, clearly trying to back off and make this situation less complicated than it already was.

"Yes, yes you are. I don't think you understand what you're asking for here."

"I'm not asking for anything, I just..."

"You like to test the waters, and you like to be a brat. I get it. I saw that the first time you stepped foot into the ER, alright? I saw the way you looked at me every time i was around. I get it, everyone wants a piece of cake."

"That's a very cocky way of admitting that you're hot" you just couldn't stop yourself.

Jack drew in a sharp breath, every fiber of his body trying to resist the urge to grab you by the throat. So he continued like nothing happened. "But I've made the mistake of crossing lines before. And i already crossed every professional line with you the second i stepped foot into the club and i shouldn't have come back. Secrets are thrilling but..." Jack sighed, running now both his hands through his curls.

"I don't think you understand how fucked up i am" He sounded so serious it nearly broke your heart.

"Jack, you're not fucked up," you tried but he convinced himself of the opposite a long time ago.

"Kiddo, I don't know how to tell you this." He fought to keep his voice steady. "I can't open up to someone again. Not emotionally. When I date, it's only sexual. I fuck. I destroy. You deserve someone who can keep up with you emotionally, someone who won't snap at you for breathing too loud or picking the wrong table at a restaurant. I scan every room before I take another step. I'm not your casual guy. You don't want me. You might like the idea of me bending you over and fucking a baby into you, but you don't want the reality of me waking up screaming at night because I can still feel my leg getting blown off."

His confession hung in the air and you noticed his hand shaking. His eyes avoided you for a moment and all the confidence he just had, seemed to have vanished into thin air.

"I need to be in control. And I don't think you can handle that."

You swallowed hard and you were at a loss of words. For someone that claims he's not good with emotions, every single little thing he does seemed to be driven by them. "Jack..what if-"

"You can fix me?" he blurted out in a mocking tone "Sweetheart, you can't fix me. No one can. Look, Marcus should be grateful I didn't put him in the hospital myself. I protected you, and...that's all it needs to be. We don't have to make this any more complicated than it already is." He pressed his palms against the sides of his head. "I fucked up. I crossed every line there is to cross with everything I said. I'm sorry."

"I know I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I crossed the line myself" you cut in this time.

You were slowly beginning to see past the facade of Dr. Jack Abbot. Behind the cocky, confident doctor was a young man haunted by demons and traumas you could barely imagine. The way he was standing there, his damp curls fell into his face, and the broken look in his eyes made you realize how much he hid behind that perfect, cocky mask.

He kept his distance, pushing up from his chair and walking around the kitchen counter to the fridge. He was clearly trying to hide how turned on he still was, and how mentally torn he felt by everything. His cock was pressing hard against the fabric of his boxer and the outline of his dick was visible through his pants. An image that would be burned into your retina for forever.

The fact that Jack couldn't decide if he should be dwell in old memories or fuck you on the counter, drove him nuts. He wanted the closeness and yet he wanted nothing more than to push people away from him. It was easier that way, he thought. No one would get hurt and there would be no one he had to take care of or worry about. But he feared that he already went way too far to avoid that.

"We both went too far" he mumbled, turning away from you to grab two mugs from the sink.

"Please, i'm not done with this conversation" You hopped down from your chair and came around the counter as well. "I'm sorry, really. You are my attending and...and i pushed things. I don't know why, i guess..i don't know, I think I was just trying to take my mind off things. I should have thought about how you felt during all of this instead of just teasing you."

Jack sighed and poured coffee into two mugs. "I know. That's why I'm not upset. I just lost control myself for a minute. I wanted to protect you, and seeing you vulnerable and crying... it reminded me of the darkest parts of myself. It made me angry to see someone else had caused it and some instinct in me jumped in and wanted to make up for it...maybe I'm more of a sadist than I thought. I told you, im fucked up"

You were facing his back, watching the muscles under his shirt contract as he finished pouring the coffee and you had to collect yourself. For someone claiming being bad with emotions, every word and action was based on them. You just wished he would allow himself to see that.

But there was nothing to add anymore, it felt like everything was already said.

"So... do we just go back to normal?" you whispered in hopes he wouldn't just kick you out right away.

He turned toward you and held out one of the mugs. "Well, have you thought about what I said last night?"

"About the..the money?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed as you took the mug from his hands. "I can't take your offer."

Jack looked at you like he had already expected that answer. "Why not?"

"I just... I can't. Not with you." You whispered, staring down into the dark liquid. "I can always go back to the club. Maybe Marcus will forgive me."

Jack held back a laugh. "Kiddo, there is no shot in hell he's just going to let you walk back through that door. The best thing that could happen is that he beats you up again."

You swallowed hard, biting your lower lip to keep the tears at bay as Marcus's face flashed in your mind. "And the worst?"

Jack stayed silent for a long moment. You both already knew the answer. He stepped closer until he was only inches away from you.

"The worst case is him torturing and killing you."

"He wouldn't... do *that*" you whispered, even though you knew Jack was right.

"I've seen enough of these fuckers out there. Raping the women sell the children. Don't be a fool. Your safety matters more."

His voice carried a bitter edge, like dwelling in memories that never seen the light of day before.

You reached up and gently squeezed his arm, trying to pull him back to the present. "What if i don't go back? Maybe I can find a different job in the meantime or.. or a different career. I'll be fine. Please don't worry about me, okay? I am truly sorry that i got you into this situation in the first place, you shouldn't be the one fixing it"

Jack lifted his head and shook it in disagreement. "No. I want to see you succeed. I'll pay for your tuition, your apartment, anything you need. You're a good student and you're almost done. Don't throw it all away just because your pride won't let you accept help."

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because I've seen what happens when people have their lives taken from them. How fast everything can fall apart. I always liked the way you work. You care about your patients and your colleagues. We need doctors like you." His eyes stayed locked on yours, a rare flicker of genuine vulnerability showing through.

"Please, don't make me beg. Take the offer. Or at least think about it."

You set the mug on the counter and let out a long breath. "FIne. Okay. I'll think about it."

Jack studied you for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether you were just saying that to end the conversation or if you actually meant it. He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don’t just say it to make me feel better," he said quietly. "If you’re going to think about it, actually think about it. It won't put me in any financial problems, i make enough money as is."

You nodded slowly, but your eyes drifted to his mouth for a second before you caught yourself. The air between you still felt thick from everything that had happened minutes earlier. And the way he seemed to care about you made your heart ache and your stomach flutter. None of what he explained made you want him any less, if anything, you wanted to keep testing the waters but most importantly, you wanted to get to know him. What motivated him, what keeps him up at night and what keeps him going after everything he's seen. But a part of you knew that it would take a long time, a lot of trust and a little bit of luck. He didn't seem too happy talking about anything that happened around his army time.

A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. "You’re still looking at me like you want to test me again."

"Maybe I do and maybe i just want to find out why you think you're so fucked up," you admitted, your voice softer now. "I know i might not be the right person to talk to about the things that keep you up at night but..."

Jack let out a long sigh, running a hand through his damp curls before he took a sip of his coffee. "It's not that its just.. i dont know. There is a lot you wouldn't understand"

The room went silent for a bit before you took the courage to keep pushing. "It's alright. I'm not claiming to understand, at all. All i am saying is that i will lend you my ear if you need someone to just...listen"

Silence. The only sound you could make out was the hum of the fridge behind him and somewhere further away, the faint tick of a clock. It drove you nuts. Your grandma had one of those and you eventually took out the batteries because the ticking made you go insane.

"Thanks, Kid. It's appreciate it. I don't rally have another response for any of this right now"

"that's fine, Jack. We can change the topic right now" you offered, hoping he wouldn't pick his recent offer as the topic.

"So uh" he muttered into his mug "Did you think my offer?"

Great.

"I meant what I said earlier," he continued, his tone more serious again. "I don’t do the emotional stuff. I’m not good at it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to you. I’ve lost enough people who mattered. I’m not about to watch you spiral just because you’re too proud to accept help."

You thought about it for a long minute before crossing your arms and biting you lower lip. "If i accept the terms and conditions, what's in the fine print?"

Jack chuckled and tilted his head, a smile coming back to his lips. "You really are one of a kind. Fine print are rules we need to establish."

You raised an eyebrow. "Rules?You offered to pay everything that i am worried about. Like a sugar daddy, i didn't know that came with a lot of rules"

"Jesus Kid, you are gonna be the death of me" Jacks jaw tightened and he looked away for a second before he met your eyes again. "Yes, rules. Those are important. " His voice dropped lower.

" Rule number one - All cards on the table. We need to be honest with each other at all times. If you can't be around me anymore because it all just gets too much, you tell me. I don't like to be kept in the dark. Sound good?"

His response took you by surprise but you were fine with rules. It helped you understand what you're in for. "Okay. All cards on the table" you confirmed.

"Good girl." he patted you on your head, took his hand back really fast when he realized he's slipping up. "Sorry"

Your cheeks turned into a bright red, if he kept this up you'd be on your knees in a matter of seconds.

"W-what else?" you tried to steady your breath by closing your eyes. You couldn't look at him again without embarrassing yourself.

"Naw, you're blushing. Cute." he leaned against the marble counter behind him, setting down his mug before he continued. "Okay i can't help myself here, you're just..too tempting. Therefore, rule number two. We need to keep this professional."

You blurted out a laugh with your eyes closed before you opened them to look at him. "That one is going to be very hard, Jack. The only reason i haven't accepted your offer yet is because you are my attending and every time i look at you, i just want to get on my knees "

Another stretch of silence followed and you couldn't bear to look at him. Your face felt like it was on fire.

"i know i know. It's not fair to you and i know that. But i personally think we can manage to do this AND keep both of our jobs. I just...really want to help you finish your residency. After that, you can blow me into the wind and never talk to me again."

"Why would i do that?"

"Because with that much temptation, eventually resentment will set in and you might be fed up by the point you're done. I've seen it. "

"What if i want you even more after i finish my residency?"

The question hung in the air like a brick waiting to fall. You shouldn't have asked but he wanted all cards on the table, so might as well risk it and ask.

"If by that point you're not scared and running away from me, something is deeply wrong with you."

"Ouch" you mimicked a knife stabbing into a chest with both your hands and earned a light chuckle from Jack. "I can always make it worse for you"

"Is that a promise? Please tell me it's a promise"

"You're such a brat."

"Yeah and you don't seem to care at all" you shrug your shoulders before you set down your mug.

Jack was fighting with himself, really trying to just ignore everything and keep establishing the rules. "Believe me, i care. More than i fucking should. I'm trying to help you here, will you let me continue? Thank you" he continued without waiting another beat.

"I will pay for your tuition and your apartment, and you will save up any money you have. So that way, by the end of it, you can decide what you want to do and where you want to go." he held up his index finger before adding "And you will stay here for a little bit until we have this marcus-situation figured out. He can probably track down where you live if he already knows where you shop. I'll drive you and pick you back up."

You were about to argue when he added "ah-ah, no arguing. We're not doing all of this for him to find you again. There is zero room for argument here. Understand?"

You nodded before fiddling with your fingers. "People are gonna start asking questions if they find out" you whispered and reality slowly came back to you. Everything was fucked. You were fucked.

Jack uncrossed his arms when he came up to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "as much as i like teasing you, i want you to be safe. No one we work with lives around here and I don't care if people talk. I want to make sure you are safe and if that means that you'll be living here for a little bit, then so be it. We are both two grown ass adults, who cares about gossip."

You cared. You cared a lot because they would judge you if they found out and title you as the one sleeping with the boss to gain yourself benefits, even if you didn't even sleep with him.

The two of you had to keep it at bay to protect both of you from damage.

"We need to keep this professional, i get that. We might have to come up with excuses on why i suddenly live 20 minutes away instead of 40" you thought out loud and earned a nod from Jack.

"No problem. Your car is in the shop, i happened to pick you up" Jack delivered right away.

"every shift?"

"You live on the way back from my nude yoga sessions " he was the one to shrug this time.

"I'm sure no one is questioning that one"

"They wouldn't want to"

"Okay" you laughed out loud in disbelief. "What if someone sees me around your house?"

"Only Robby knows where i live. And i am sure if we explain it to him, he would understand"

"I would like this to stay between us as much as possible"

"That's fine. But i am sure if he ever asked and i explained to him whats up, he would understand. Just sayin'" Jack tried to reassure you but even he wasn't a hundred percent sure that it would all work out this way. People could talk. He realized how fucked up his entire idea was but he couldn't have you go back there. Not with everything that already happened.

"And if they find out, then what? This isn't just my residency on the line, its also your job on the line, Jack." you noted and he knew you were right. "If they find out, we will talk about it. But until that happens, we keep it professional. We have to, Kiddo. "

"Professional. Platonic. Jack, that's just not fair. You knowing i have a crush on you won't make this any easier" you took a step back to create some distance, covering your eyes with your hands to think about everything he just said. "That's such a big risk, especially for you"

"I've taken bigger risks before and at some point in your life, you gotta decide if you want to survive, or live. If you don't want any of this then i'm not forcing you. We don't have to interact with each other at all. I'm just trying to offer solutions"

His truth hit you right in the gut. He was right. He was so fucking right and you were so fucking sick of how right he was, every. single. fucking. TIME.

You stayed quiet, trying to keep the emotions at bay that threatened to overwhelm you. The last couple of years weren't easy and you couldn't remember the last time you were able to sleep through the night. All you wanted was a stable life and someone to come home to, one day. Why did everything always have to be so fucking complicated?

  "You don't think your life is worth the trouble. I get it. If you haven't caught on by now, this is the way i live by too." he took a step towards you but the truth hurt too much this time. You took another step back and he met you with another step forwards. "You are a much better person then your give yourself credit for, Kiddo" he added, pushing you right up against the wall with the last step he took.

"You don't know me that well, Jack" you whispered, a tear flowing down your cheek. The wall you built up over time finally crumbled, releasing all pent up emotions. And Jack just watched you cry, offering support with his body firmly pressed against yours. "You deserve good things." he whispered, wiping away the tears that just kept coming. You slapped away his hand, feeling too vulnerable in front of him, too cut open. He let you, let you have the feeling of being in control again until you calmed down.

"I just don't want to feel like shit, for once" you whispered, your lip shaking.

"I know, kiddo. I'm right there with you. "

"Do you ever feel like you are enough? does it ever get better?" the tears just wouldn't fucking stop.

"Eventually, you start to accept that this hole inside you might never go away. You learn to live with it"

"Great. Fuck you"

"Its just the truth, i fear. "

It took you a while to calm down and by the end of your outbreak, jack had pulled you into a tight hug and your head was resting on his shoulder.

"Jack, i don't know if i can just accept your offer. I will feel so guilty taking this money from you and putting you into this position"

"I know and i get it. Just...let me do this for you. You can make dinner on days you feel like it, if that makes you feel better"

"I suck at cooking but.. i can try"

"Does that mean you accept my offer?" he tilted your head back slightly with the tip of his finger, meeting your swollen eyes like its the most natural thing to do.

"Only if you promise to be straight with me. Tell me, if you can't afford this anymore"

Jack chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest. "I can afford to watch you cry, don't worry"

You punched him into the side of his shoulder and couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Alright, fine. I will accept your money, sugar daddy "

He sighed laughing, shaking his head. "My god, you're such a fucking brat"

"Fucking sue me, asshole" you laughed wholeheartedly, wiping away your tears with your wrist.

"Also, Jack? "

"Yes?"

Its been two weeks since you last saw Jack at the Club and a week since the last interaction in the Hospital. Its almost like he disappeared off of the face of the earth without warning. You tried asking about him, but Santos got a little too close with how much she tried to squeeze out of you so you just let it go.

It was when you overheard a conversation the other day that Robby had with Dana, that you started getting worried.

"What do you mean he changed his hours?" Dana blurted out louder than she meant to, drawing attention from all sides onto her. You furrowed your brows and moved a little bit closer on your rolling chair, pretending to be charting.

"Well," Robby said, scratching the back of his head. "He said he had to take care of something and he didn't know how long that would take. So i gave him a couple of different night shifts to give him enough time to do whatever he was doing. Besides," he sighed and shook his head before picking up a chart "He is still doing the whole SWAT thing."

"Oh great. Tell him to get his ass back into the game, we need him." Dana answered under her breath before taking on one of the incoming traumas.

So he was taking care of something? You wondered what that could be. At the same time, you didn't really have the right to know or ask but you felt like checking in on someone you work with isn't a bad habit. Or maybe you wanted to hear his voice again up close.

Fuck.

"YO!" a voice ripped you out of your thoughts and you stumbled forward, finally coming back to reality.

The Customer in front of you was waving with a $100 Dollar bill, smirking and waiting for you to bend over so he could stuff it into your blue bra. His fingers lingered a little longer than you would've liked, stroking the part of your breast that was peaking out on the top.

You started to hate this, so much. It gave you a good amount of money to put to the side, pay for your apartment but you got tired of being on display for everyone except the person you'd want to be on display for. Tired of showing everyone your body, but no one wanted to see what's behind it. How funny your jokes could be and how much you care for your loved ones.

When the guy finally let go of your breast, you gave him a smirk and blew a kiss. You missed seeing Jack's face in here. God, why can't you just stop thinking about him?! You had to get your head back into the game. Like, right fucking now.

As the night continued, more customers flew in, stuffed your bra with money and one paid extra to whip your ass with his belt. He got off on seeing you flinch, whine and squirm underneath him, but he paid good money for it. And by the time the night came to an end, your left cheek was blown dark red. And it fucking hurt like shit.

You slammed your locker shut and swung your bag over your shoulder and finally, another night was done. You survived and you were already thinking about the long shower waiting for you at home when raised voices spilled down the hallway outside the dressing room door.

Just another drunk customer, you thought rolling your eyes. Probably pissed he can’t stay past close.

But when you pushed the door open, the scene hit you like a slap.

Marcus was screaming inches from Jack’s face, veins bulging in his neck, spit flying with every word. Several bouncers stood tense nearby, and a small cluster of familiar faces. Dancers, security, even one of the bartender had gathered in a semicircle. The second you stepped into the hallway, every head snapped toward you.

"Is this your doing?!" Marcus aggressively yelled, tightly gripping your arm and yanking you over to him once he spotted you. "Did you tell this shithead anything about how things are run, hm?!" his hand was crushing your arm and the intensity of his grip was causing tears to gather in the corner of your eyes.

His fingers dug deeper into your flesh, the pain flaring up your arm. You gasped, tears instantly stinging the corners of your eyes. You tried to pull away, but his grip was iron.

Jack lunged forward. “Get your fucking hands off her-”

One of the bouncers stepped in fast, shoving his massive frame between them and forcing Jack back for a moment.

Marcus’s face twisted with pure contempt. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted, you fucking slut.”

The word landed heavier than any blow. Then his hand cracked across your face. His slap echoed. Your head snapped sideways and for a split second everything went blurry and ringing. And then something inside you snapped.

Your knee drove upward with every ounce of fear and anger you had, aiming straight for his balls. You felt the sickening impact as it connected. Marcus let out a guttural choke, his grip loosening just enough.

Your vision was still swimming, but your hands were already moving. Clawing, slapping, punching wildly at his face. Nails raked across his skin, holding on to everything that you could to defend yourself. Your fist caught his cheekbone with a dull thud. He staggered back a step, one hand flying to his balls, the other still weakly clutching your arm.

That was it for the head bouncer, Tony.

“Enough,” Tony growled, stepping in like a freight train. He pushed Marcus backwards causing him to stumble as his fist connected with Marcus’s jaw in a heavy, meaty crack that echoed down the hall. Marcus’s head whipped sideways and he crumpled, his knees bending and now he was the one whining. Tony had enough of his bullshit for a while now and was just waiting to finally step in. "You don't get to attack our ladies, brother. You should know that"

The moment his grip finally released you, Jack surged forward. His strong hands grabbed your waist and pulled you tight against him.

“I'm here kid, its okay, i got you” he whispered, his own voice laced with a tiny bit of panic and..hurt? “We’re leaving. Now.”

Your legs felt shaky, but Jack didn’t wait. He kept one arm wrapped protectively around you and guided you fast down the hallway, away from the shouting and the growing chaos. You could still feel the throbbing heat in your cheek and the deep ache in your arm where Marcus had crushed it. Behind you, Tony’s deep voice boomed as he and the other bouncers handled what was left of Marcus.

Jack didn’t stop moving until you were both pushing through the back exit. Cool night air hit your face like a shock, cutting through the adrenaline haze. "Fuck" you whispered, clinging onto Jack for dear life, nowhere ready to let go. When his hand accidentally brushed past your ass, you flinched at the touch of your bare cheek, whimpering out loud.

He opened up the back of his truck door, hands lifting you onto the backseat to assess the Situation. His hands came rushing up to your face, tilting it, turning it in the low lit parking lot, making sure your nose wasn't broken. "That's gonna be a bruise" he whispered and you just nodded absently.

Jack's eyes were scanning your face, jaw tight with worry. “How are you feeling, any other pain? Fuck… I’m... god i am so fucking sorry, kid” his hands hovered over you, trying to asses the situation but failing to keep his composure. You shifted in the seat, avoiding to sit on the side that was covered in bruises caused by other men. He caught on immediately. "Let me see"

"N-no, im good. Thanks, i..i just want to go home" you whispered holding back tears. "Please, Jack. I just want to forget this happened. Take me home, please?"

"Fine. But you're going to let me check your Injuries. Deal?" his eyes wandered across your face, and you knew he wouldn't accept no for an answer. So you agreed to his demands if he agreed to take you home.

It was when you realised you two had been on the road for some time that you havent even told him where to drop you off. You were still seated on the backseat when you popped your head between the driver and passenger seat "I didnt tell you where i lived"

"You dont need to because we are not going to your place" he answered, your eyes meeting his in the rear view mirror. He answered your question before you could ask. "We are going to my place because i dont trust that Marcus wont just show up at your doorstep and neither should you. And no, this wont become a problem at work, i wont tell anyone. It will be our secret but i am not letting you sleep alone. Not in a place where you are this vulnerable. So please, don't argue with me right now. Deal?"

You leaned back into the seat, not arguing at all cuz you knew he was right. For some reason, he is always right.

The next 30 minutes went down in a blur. Jack helped you out of the backseat, talked about how you should take a shower and change into more comfortable clothes and left you to yourself in the bathroom, the door opened slightly so he could intervene if needed.

You stood there for what felt like forever but water couldn't wash away how dirty you felt. For the first time in a while, you thought about your job and what you were actually doing with your life. Whoring yourself out for the benefit of hopefully becoming a doctor. Why couldn't you just be born into a wealthy family? Why do you have to jump through every loophole to get what you want, to be happy in life? Why is life so fucking hard?

"Kiddo?" his voice ripped you out of your thoughts back into reality. Back into Jacks bathroom in Jacks Apartment. In your attendings Apartment, Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, what the fuck-

"Im good!" you replied back, coming to your senses. You reached for a towel and turned the water off, wrapping the towel around you before fully opening the door. There he was, standing in hiw bedroom with a look so worried it made you worry. "I got you some fresh clothes" he pointed to a pair of folded clothes on the bed that had to be his. "I noticed your bag didnt have spare clothes in it so, you can wear mine until yours are done washing."

"Oh." you whispered, forcing a little smile onto your lips to show him gratitute. "Would you mind..?" you gestured him to turn around so you could his clothes on. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. You just got me worried. Find me when you are done, i want to take a look at your nose in real light" he turned around on his heel and quickly left his own bedroom to give you space to change.

So you changed into his shirt and shorts he gave you no bra or underwear. Well, fucking great. Now you gotta hang around your attending like this. What a fucking mess.

When you made your way into his living room, he was already sitting on the couch, a first aid kit scattered on the table. His head turned to you when he heard your footsteps and his hand pointed to the spot right next to him. "Sit." he ordered and you could tell that he switched to Dr. Abbot. So you sat down, biting your lower lip at the pain of the bruises on your ass and shifted yourself onto the other side. And of course, Jack noticed immediately.

"Let me see. Please"

"Its okay, Jack."

A stretch of silence. His head tilted slightly and his hand grabbed one of the cremes that was on the table.

"It wasnt a question. Show me." he demanded, opening up the tube, turning his head back to you.

"No, y-you really dont have to. Its just a bruise-"

"I see enough bodies in the hospital. I wont judge you and i wont think of you any differently. I need to see what happened."

You contemplated for a little bit and decided that you dont have it in you to fight against whatever this is any longer. "Fine"

He taps his knee twice, gesturing you to lay down on his knees and his eyes are locked on yours. You pause, searching his face for a moment before you cave. You shift forward and lower yourself across his lap, letting your body settle over his thighs.

The position immediately feels exposing. Your knees press into the soft couch cushions for support, while your arms drape loosely beside his hips, fingers brushing against the side of his shirt. You're practically spread across him now, chest to his lap, back arched slightly.

The warmth of his body radiates through his jeans, seeping into your skin. One of his hands comes to rest on your lower back, his thumb slowly stroking the strip of exposed skin where the shirt has ridden up. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you, and when he shifts slightly, the subtle movement makes your whole body tense with...fear? Or maybe..

His hand slowly shifted to the seam of your pants "I'm going to pull them down now." he said, his voice was low and careful, like he was handling a fragile item.

You gave him a small nod because what else could you do. At least someone took take of you for once, and it felt nice to finally let your guard down.

Jacks fingers hooked carefully into the waistband of his pants, pulling them over your hips, exposing your bare ass to the cold air. You whimpered quietly while his breath hitched for a second. The bruises were worse than he expected, your skin colored in a dark purple and blue blooming across your cheek, some of the edges drowned in a angry red.

"Jesus, kid.. what happened?" jack muttered under his breath. You could feel the anger building inside of him by the way his body tensed up, his words slurring into nonesense.

"A customer..he paid for..for spanking me" you shamefully admited and burried your face in between your arms.

"Im guessing a belt?" he reached for the tube of cream he put beside him, warming a generous amount of it between his hands before he began to spread it on your skin. You couldnt help but flinch when his hand touched you but you gave into his touch right after. His hand felt warm and you welcomed his touch. "Yes, he spanked me with his belt"

"Hmm" he hummed, his other hand rested gently on your lower back, his thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing and surprisingly grounding rhythm.

A tear slipped down your cheek, then another. For the first time since he’d pulled you out of that club, you let yourself cry - silent shaky little breaths you tried to hide against the couch cushion. He didn’t comment on it. He just kept going, even as you felt his thigh shift slightly beneath you. His cock twitching once, then again, pressing against the fabric of his jeans as his body reacted to the sight and feel of you. He thought he was fucked up for feeling turned on in this moment, but maybe the little sadist in him was finally allowed to come out.

“You’re done with that place,” he said quietly and it sounded like there was no other option then to accept it.

“No more dancing for pieces of shit who think they can put their hands on you. I dont care how much they are paying you, i will give you the money if that means you will never go back to this place. You're done. Doctors Orders. ” The words came out calm but he was as serious as ever. Like the decision had already been made the second he dragged you out of that club.

You stayed silent, tears kept slipping quietly down your face and onto the fabric your face was resting against. His hand that rested on your lower back moved up, gently cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing just under your eye to catch a tear. "Did you hear me? I am serious. No such thing anymore"

"B-But i need the money, i cant pay for my apartment without it or my degree, please Jack, I need this job " you whined and you just couldn't hold anything back anymore. You just let it all go, give the tears and the pain room to finally sit. And Jack just let you. He didn't say anything, he just sat there, letting his words have his effect on you, holding your face in his hand stroking the tears away.

When you finally calmed down enough, he tilted your head a little more toward him so he could look at your nose. It was swollen and tender from the punch her boss had landed earlier, but nothing looked broken. Still, the sight made his jaw clench again. He ran his thumb lightly along the bridge, testing it with the barest pressure, and you winced.

“Easy,” he breathed. “It’s not broken, but it’s gonna hurt for a few days.” His hand lingered there a moment longer than necessary, possessive in the way he cradled your face, before he returned to smoothing more cream over the worst of the bruises on your ass. His thigh shifted again beneath you as his cock gave another slow, heavy twitch against his jeans, clearly affected by having you so exposed and vulnerable in his lap. But he knew as much as you did how inappropriate this is and how much trouble this could cause if anyone found out.

But he didn’t apologize for it. Instead, his voice dropped even lower as he continued rubbing the cream in before pulling your pants back up and removing his hand from your face.

The grocery store was two blocks away from the hospital and the only place within walking distance that carried the sauce you liked, which was the only reason you were here and not horizontal in your apartment already.

You were almost at the door when you heard him.

"Hey."

You stopped. 

Marcus, your manager at the club, was leaning against the wall beside the entrance in a grey tracksuit, six pack under one arm, with the particular ease of a man who had never once considered that his presence might not be welcome. Like he'd been waiting. Maybe he had.

"Funny," he said, pushing off the wall. "You work two jobs and I still always manage to find you."

"Marcus." You kept your voice flat. "It's six in the morning."

"I know." He fell into step beside you before you could move toward the door, cutting the angle just slightly, enough to slow you down without being obvious about it.

"Just came from the club actually. Long night."

You said nothing.

"You weren't on." His eyes moved over you in the way they always did, slow and proprietary, like he was checking inventory. "Shame."

"I had a shift." you replied dry, trying to push past him but he didn't bother to let you.

"Right, right. The doctor thing." He said it the way he always said it, with that particular smile that meant he thought one job made the other smaller. "You know most girls don't bother with all that, two jobs and stuff.”

"Marcus." You stopped and turned to face him, because moving hadn't worked and neither had silence. "I'm tired. I've been on my feet for twelve hours. I want to get my groceries and go home."

"Sure, sure." He didn't move. "Just wanted to check in. See how you're doing." His hand found your elbow, fingers wrapping around it with the easy confidence of someone who'd never had a grip shaken off and had it stick. "You've been a little cold lately. At work."

"Let go of my arm."

"Relax."

"Marcus-"

"You know the slow season's coming." His voice dropped, low and pleasant and horrible. "Schedule's going to get tight. I'm just thinking about you, sweetheart. Making sure we're good."

"We are not anything," you said quietly. "Let go."

He didn't. His grip shifted instead, and before you registered it moving, his hand was at your throat, fingers curling against your pulse point with the slow deliberateness of someone making a point. His thumb pressed in, just slightly, just enough.

"Don't," he said softly, "make this difficult."

The pressure increased for three seconds. Maybe four or however long it took to leave slight bruising on your skin.

Long enough that your vision swam at the edges and your hands came up on instinct and then he stepped back like nothing had happened, adjusting the six pack under his arm, smoothing the front of his tracksuit.

"Think about it. You could be much more than a wanna be doctor." he said pleasantly, throwing you a wink before walking off like this was the most normal conversation in the entire world.

You stood on the pavement and breathed. Trying not to break into tears.

Your next and last nightshift for the month came two days later. Your throat was hurting, the bruises clearly visible and the scarf around your neck made you look ridiculous. So you wore a hoodie, hoping Santos wouldn't throw stupid comments your way.

“I see, you're running extra cold today. Getting sick?” she bumped into you with a smile.

“Please, Santos, I'm not in the mood”

“Oh c'mon girl, can't make jokes around you anymore?” she bumped her elbow slightly into your side and gained a small laugh from you.

“Just a rough couple of days is all, I'm tired. That's all” you mumbled and reciprocated her incoming hug. You bit your lower lip when she wrapped her arms around your neck and prayed for her to not notice.

She was about to say something, when Robby yelled out her name from across the room.

“God damn, can't catch a break around here, can you” she rolled her eyes and gave you another smile before heading into Robbie's direction.

Good. You're good. All good. No one knows. No one will know.

But it was the supply corridor that did it. You'd ducked in to grab a kit and hadn't heard him follow. When you turned around, Jack was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes locked on your neck. The expression on his face was one you'd never seen before. Raw and more than the attending mask, something sharp and laced with curiosity.

"What happened to your neck?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing." you replied, trying to push past him.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"Jack, im just wearing a scarf, please leave it alone, please " you almost whimpered, his name slipped off your lips and tears were pooling in your eyes by the sudden confrontation of the inevitable.

"Don't lie to me, kid.” he answered more quietly.

“Marcus, my manager at the club” you whispered, your eyes dropping to his feet.

He was trying to be soft and gentle but underneath his words, you could feel that there was no room for argument.

“Let me see. Please” he slightly tilted his head, smiling softly.

You crossed the small space with a shaky sigh and stood in front of him. For a moment he just looked at you, his jaw was tight and his arms still crossed in front of his chest. Like a protective barrier that he put up to stay away from danger as far as possible.

Then his hand came up slowly, unraveling your scarf. His fingers curved under your jaw, tilting your head into the light.

“Sorry” he murmured and went quiet for a moment, studying the bruising.

The air between you felt thinner than it ever had. You could smell the faint trace of his soap, feel the warmth radiating from him. He had never been this close before. Not like this.

The marks had worsened overnight, purpling along the left side of your throat in clear finger shapes.

"Sit down," he commands.

"I'm fine standing."

"You've been on your feet for six hours. Sit." He pulled the supply cart out and waited for you to move close enough to it, before lifting you up onto it.

He stepped into the space between your legs, and you hoped that he didn't feel the heat radiating off of you.

"Has it been difficult to swallow?" he asked, brushing his fingers over your skin.

"A little. Better than yesterday. Feels better today."

“It happened yesterday?”

“Two days ago”

"Breathe for me."

You did. He watched your throat move, eyes dark and focused. Then, with deliberate care, his hand shifted. His fingers slid lightly around the side of your neck, not squeezing, gently testing the bruised areas while his thumb rested just under your jaw.

"Tender here?" His voice was low, professional, but there was a clear roughness underneath it.

"Yeah." you whimpered and his eyes met yours in that very moment. You should be in pain, not turned on by the way he touched you.

He pressed a fraction firmer, hiding it behind clinical interest, but the possessiveness flickered behind his eyes for a split second, like some darker part of him wanted to cover Marcus’s marks with his own. He caught himself immediately, easing the pressure.

"Sorry. What about here?"

"Nothing"

He nodded once, but didn’t pull his hand away right away. His thumb traced the outer edge of the bruising, barely touching, so careful it made your chest ache with something far more dangerous than pain. You wanted to lean into it.

You wanted to close the last inch between you and feel what it would be like if he stopped holding himself back.

You tried for lightness, desperate to cut the tension. "Y-You know… I usually don’t mind getting choked, but this wasn’t exactly the fun kind."

The joke landed flat. Jack’s eyes darkened a little more. He leaned in a fraction closer, lips hovering near your ear, voice dropping low.

"Don’t." The single word was quiet, but it drowned out everything else. "That's not turning me on. Not when his hands did this to you."

His breath brushed warm against your skin. "No one gets to put their hands on you like that. Not him. Not anyone."

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the two versions of him warring openly now. On one side he was the controlled attending and on the other side was something far more possessive underneath.

“This shouldn't have happened to you. You shouldn't have been alone.”

His hand stayed gentle on your throat for another heartbeat before he finally let go.

"I know," you whispered.

"Good." His thumb carefully brushed one last time along the edge of the bruising.

“Because this is never happening again. Not while I can do something about it."

The silence stretched, thick and heavy between you. Jack straightened slowly, but he didn’t step back as far as he usually would. His gaze lingered on your throat, then dropped to your mouth for half a second before he caught himself and looked away.

He cleared his throat. “I’m pulling you from the floor for the next hour. No arguments.”

“Jack, I can still-”

"Don't," he said.

"Don't what?!” you blurted out unintentionally.

"Don't tell me you're fine." The corner of his mouth moved and for the first time that night, he looked a little tired.

"You're sitting on a supply cart in a corridor because someone put his hands on your throat. You don't have to be fine right now."

Your throat tightened. You knew he was right.

"I really hate it when you're right,"

"I know, terrible, right? I heard It's a consistent problem”

“God you're annoying” you sigh and rub the corner of your eye.

"I'm your attending." he smiled but got that one squared away quickly. "Occasionally that works in your favor.”

“Listen, I can work-”

“Oh i know you can, but you won’t.” His voice was firm, final and the way he said it felt heavier now, like the words carried more than just an order. He reached out one more time, fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder as he helped you off the cart. The touch was brief. Professional. Or at least he fucking acted like it was, because it still sent shivers down your spine.

You followed him out of the corridor on unsteady legs. He walked you to the small staff lounge at the end of the hall, the one hardly anyone used during shift. Jack held the door open, then stepped inside after you, closing it behind him with a soft click.

“Sit,” he said again, softer this time. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and set it in front of you before leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Watching you.

The silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. It was just..charged. You could still feel the ghost of his fingers on your throat, the warmth of his breath against your ear. Every time you swallowed, you were aware of it and aware that he was too.

“You’ve really never said anything,” you said quietly. “About any of this. About the club. The dance. Afterwards, i mean”

Jack’s jaw flexed. “It wasn’t my place. You’re a grown woman. You handle your own life.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders.

“But seeing those marks on you… it changes things. For me. I can't watch you getting mistreated like this, and especially not in a place i go to regularly”

Your breath caught. The way he was suddenly looking at you said enough like he was fighting every instinct that told him to pull you closer, to put himself between you and the rest of the world. When did that version of Jack surface? When did he learn to pull that stick out of his own ass?

“Jack-”

“Try again, Kid”

“Sir.” you whispered, slightly testing the waters. You didn't know what gave you the confidence all of the sudden, but you had to try.

He stopped and it looked like he was thinking for a moment.

“I accept that.” he pushed himself off the counter and came to stand in front of you again. Closer than necessary. Not touching, but near enough that you had to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes.

Jack lingered there a moment longer, the restraint in his posture visible. Then he stepped back, putting that professional distance between you once more.

“Drink your water. Rest. I’ll check on you before I leave the floor.” At the door he paused, hand on the frame. “And if you need me… you come find me. Immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” you replied immediately.

The corner of his mouth twitched, it was almost a smile.

“Good girl.”

He left before you could react to the words, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sat there in the quiet lounge, heart hammering, skin still tingling where he’d touched you. The ache in your throat was nothing compared to the new, far more dangerous ache he’d left behind.

next

The days that followed blurred together in a strange rhythm.

At the hospital, nothing changed on the surface. Jack remained the same calm, commanding attending he had always been and his corrections were still delivered in that steady tone that never left any room for arguments.

"You gotta be more confident, Kid" he'd say when you hesitated on a central line.

"Yes, Dr. Abbot," you'd reply, yet again concentrated on how your hands moved. You had no idea that he caught you napping in the room, and he intended to keep it that way. For now.

But the eye contact became its own language. Every time your eyes met across a gurney, during rounds, or in the hallway, the air grew thick. He never looked away first. He never smiled. He never gave the slightest hint that he knew what you did after hours. But you felt it - that heavy, knowing weight behind his gaze. As if he wanted you to know, but took a step back every time you convinced yourself it was him. Abbot stayed cool, you on the other hand were slowly loosing your fucking mind.

Next night at the club, your anxiety was through the roof. You scanned the room, looking for the same figure with the same basic features.

You moved across the stage with practiced sensuality, but your mind kept drifting. The red set you wore clung to your body as you're spinning around the pole, legs extended in a slow split before sliding down. You dropped low into a squat, rolling your hips in smooth, filthy figure-eights, then crawled forward on all fours with a sultry arch in your back.

You wouldn't mind doing this for Ja-..Abbot. Dr. Abbot. Fuck.

Money rained onto the stage. You picked up the bills gracefully as you always do, ending the dance with a playful bow and smile. But you couldn't stop thinking about your attending. Part of you wanted it to be him, part of you was afraid for your career. What if it was him and what if he-

"Hey! Get your head into the game girl!" a customer yelled out of the corner, shaking his head. One of the bouncers was standing close by, eyeing you and him, ready to jump in if he wanted to get hands on. You had stopped moving your hips and guys are greedy so best to just smile and dance.

After making sure he wouldn't attack you, the bouncer came up to you. You never learned his name but everyone agreed on fake names anyways so it didn't matter to begin with.

"Bay three booked a dance." he muttered in your ear.

Your head turned towards the bay where customers could sit down and wait for their dancer to come. Number 3 had the curtains still open, but the lights were dimmed as always so you wouldn't see the customer fully. All you could see was a figure and how the lights reflected off its lower limbs and boots.

You crossed the floor with your best version of professional confidence. You didn't feel like delivering a private dance tonight but if you didn't, your manager would be up your ass about it. So you parted the curtains and stepped inside bay three and drew them closed behind you.

A narrow strip of light ran along the floor at the base of the small stage just enough to perform by, aimed up and forward the way these things always were. Meant for the customer's benefit, not the dancer's. It caught you in a pale wash of light while the rest of the bay stayed dim, and the chair, and whoever was sitting in it, remained mostly in shadow. All you could make out was shape and stillness while your eyes struggled to adjust.

The music shifted to something slower from outside.

You moved into it automatically, hips finding the rhythm before your brain had the chance to panic. You kept the distance professional, let your hands trace the air above his shoulders without touching, rolled your body through the choreography you could do half asleep. Smile. Arch. Turn.

He didn't move, didn't reach and didn't make a sound.

His stillness was worse. Every other man in here gave you something to work with. Not just fucking silence. This one just watched with his hands glued to his thighs, like he'd decided before he came in that he wasn't going to touch you and the decision required no effort whatsoever.

You turned your back to him, moving low and slow, and when you glanced over your shoulder out of habit, looking for any kind of hint that he liked your moves you saw that his eyes were locked onto yours.

Well, at least he kept eye contact. Yours slowly adjusted to the little bit of light but still couldn't see his face. Only his eyes and how the light reflected off them.

You faced forward again. There was one more move you could try to get something out of him. You leaned forward with your hands, towards your feet to touch them, your back arched so he could have a good look at your ass. Was he satisfied? Did he like what he was looking at?

"More confident, Kid."

His voice was low and you almost overheard it through the music coming from outside. But you'd recognize that unique voice anywhere. You stopped moving almost immediately and slowly turned around.

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. For a second, just one, the composure you'd spent two years building in that club cracked straight down the middle.

"Jack-" you panted, shock stealing your breath.

"No." he answered in a soft, almost mocking tone like he'd been fucking waiting for it.

His eyes found yours and didn't move. He simply looked at you with that patient, immovable certainty and let the silence do the rest.

"Dr. Abbot," you corrected quietly, letting out a shaky breath.

Something almost imperceptible moved through his expression. Satisfaction?

"Better” he replied satisfied.

“W-what..what the fuck are you doing here?” you bit your lower lip hard enough to be painful.

“For starters, I thought I'm getting a dance, not an interrogation”

“That's not what I'm talking about!” you bury your face in your hands, trying not to die from embarrassment and anxiety. Jack fucking Abbot. Your Attending. Your Boss. If he talks to HR, you're fucked.

“Well I'm talking about it so, what about that dance, Kid?”

You stood there for a moment, heart hammering against your ribs, face still half-hidden in your hands. The sheer absurdity of the situation made your stomach twist. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

But it was. Jack Abbot sat in Bay 3 paying for a dance from you, half naked.

You forced a slow, deep breath through your nose, then lowered your hands. You could feel the heat burning in your cheeks, but you lifted your chin anyway. Professional. You could do professional. You’d been doing it for years. And he seemed more professional than ever, so why not just pretend that your world wasn't threatened to fall apart.

“Fine,” you said, voice steadier than you felt. “You paid for a dance. You’ll get one.”

You turned back around and found the rhythm again, slower this time, more deliberate. Your hands weren’t quite as steady as usual, and your movements were a fraction more controlled than fluid, but you pushed through. If your legs felt like they might give out at any second, you refused to let it show.

You moved through the choreography on autopilot. Every rotation, every slow drop, every arch of your back that the light caught just right. You gave him exactly what every other customer got. No more. No less.

At least… that’s what you told yourself.

You didn't look at his face again. You focused on the music, on the mechanics of it, on the professional distance you had maintained in this club for long enough that it was supposed to be second nature by now. Supposed to be.

When it ended you stepped back, smoothed your hands down your sides, and said what you always said.

"Thank you for your time."

Your voice came out steady. Small miracle.

Jack reached into his jacket and pulled out a little stack of folded cash without looking down to count it. He held it out and you took it the same way you always did, graceful, unbothered, like this was any other night and he was any other stranger.

You turned to go, you needed to get out of this little room as fast as you could, run away and forget you just performed a dance for your boss.

"Sit down."

It wasn't a request. He used the same tone as when he needed a second set of hands in the trauma bay and wasn't interested in hearing reasons why not.

You turned back around slowly. There was nowhere to sit except the edge of the small stage or the arm of his chair and you were not sitting that close to him, so you lowered yourself onto the stage edge and didn't dare to look at him. The floor suddenly became so interesting to look at.

“Look at me”

But you didn't follow. You just couldn't. You felt ashamed, bare and a little cold. You'd like your clothes back, the ones that covered everything.

“Kid” he whispered and leaned forward, his hand reaching out. His index finger found your jaw, applying enough pressure to make you lift your head enough to no longer able to avoid looking at him. So you do. With tears in your eyes.

The silence stretched long enough but he didn't break the eye contact. “I said, look at me”

He retracted his hand and rested his elbows on his knees, now closer than he's been before.

“Why..I-..” you muttered in broken words but he shook his head.

"Take a breath," he said.

You did. It didn't help much.

"This can't-" you started, "this is going to be a problem. This is already a problem, you're my attending and I just-" you gestured at the stage, at him and yourself . "You can't have seen that. You weren't supposed to see that."

He said nothing.

"This could cost me everything," you said. Your voice stayed low but the words came faster now, the anxiety finally finding an exit.

 "My residency, everything I've been working towards. If anyone found out that you were here and that I-" you pressed your lips together hard. "I can't lose this. Can't we just pretend this never happened? Fuck! I have worked too hard for too long and I am not going to let one night unravel all of-"

"Are you finished?” he interrupted, not rude or sarcastic, just patiently waiting.

You stopped talking.

He looked at you for a moment. He had his own emotions contained and locked right behind some walls that you'd rather not break down.

"You're not going to lose your job," he then continued.

"You don't know that."

"I do." he said it with such a certainty that it made you almost angry.

"How," you said. "How can you possibly-"

"What happens in this room stays in this room," he said. "That's not up for discussion."

You stared at him. Something hot and defensive climbed up the back of your throat - the same thing that always rose up when you felt cornered, when you felt small, when someone saw more of you than you'd chosen to show. You'd rather be angry than bare. You'd always been better at angry. Anger is a great motivator for success followed by failure.

"You don't get to just decide that," you said. Your voice had changed. Steadier now, but with an edge to it. "You don't get to walk in here and watch me and then sit there and tell me how this goes. This is my job. My life. You have no say in any of it."

"I know that."

"Then stop acting like you do."

"I'm not acting like anything," he said evenly. "I'm telling you that you're not going to lose your residency. That's all."

"And I'm supposed to just take your word for it?” you blurted out almost laughing, like this was a joke. It felt like hell on earth in that moment.

"Yes."

The simplicity of it knocked the wind out of your argument for a moment. He offered certainty and he offered it plainly, take it or leave it.

It made you angrier somehow.

"You had no right to come here," you said, voice getting louder.

"This is an open space for everyone.” he tilted his head. “but i agree, picking you out of everyone was.. maybe not the best decision.”

"Then why-" his name was already on your tongue, hot and ready, and you let it go without thinking. "Why, Jack-"

Something shifted in his expression. Immediate and quiet.

"It's Dr. Abbot."

"We're not at the hospital," you said. The defensiveness had full control now, and some reckless part of you leaned into it.

"No," he agreed. "We're not." His eyes stayed on yours. "Still Dr. Abbot."

"You can't just-" you stopped. Started again. "The rules are different here."

"Some of them," he said simply. “Some aren't”

"Then I don't see why-"

"Because I said so."

It was the same way he shut down arguments in the trauma bay without ever raising his voice, the same way he could stop a room cold with two words and a look. You'd seen him do it a hundred times from a safe distance. It landed differently when it was aimed directly at you, in the dark, with no chart to hide behind and no scrubs to straighten.

You crossed your arms. "That's not a reason."

"Didn't say it was." His eyes didn't move from yours. "Still applies."

"Jack." You said it again. Deliberate this time. Testing the waters, see how far you could make it. Like a part of you switched out to the bold and reckless version of you.

He looked at you for a long moment. Let it sit there between you just long enough that you thought maybe, just maybe-

"Only two kinds of people call me that," he said low and even.

“Close friends." he paused and the corner of his lips turned into a subtle smile, the first of it's kind you've seen from him today. "And people who've had a reason to scream it."

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth but close it again right after.

"Are you either of those?" he asked and the question sounded rhetorical.

You held his gaze. The anger was still there but it had lost its footing, knocked sideways by something you didn't have a name for yet.

"That's-" you started.

"Are you?" he asked quietly, leaning in a little more and we was just a couple inches away from you now.

For some ungodly reason, you blushed. It's like he was waiting to see if you were going to keep throwing yourself against it or let yourself stop.

"No," you answered his question and the fight went out of your voice with it, leaving something smaller and more honest underneath.

"Then you know what to call me." he leaned back in his chair, removing himself from the warmth and closeness and took a deep breath himself.

You looked at him for a long moment. The low light caught the line of his jaw, the steadiness of his eyes, the absolute stillness of a man who had never once needed to fill a silence in his life and wasn't about to start.

"Dr. Abbot," you said finally.

Something almost imperceptible moved through his expression. Not smugness. Nothing as cheap as that.

"That's a start" he said. Almost like a praise and you liked it. Oh, you did. But you'd never admit it. Ever.

The silence that followed was different. The anxiety had burned itself out. The defensiveness had nowhere left to go. What remained was just the two of you in the low light with the strange, unfamiliar feeling of having been seen and not destroyed by it.

"Your manager," he said quietly. "Last week. I saw him put his hands on you."

You looked up, your brow raised. “What about it?”

"Didn't like it," he huffed. The edge was back underneath his voice, brief and controlled. "I want you to be careful. That's all." A pause. "For now."

For now.

It wasn't a threat but it didn't sound like a promise either.

"I will be fine”

“I know you will, all I'm saying is be safe. I don't want to step in unless i have to.”

He held your gaze and something told you that he was serious. He seemed to..care?

"Get back to work," he interrupted your brains workflow to overthink.

You finally stood, smoothing your hands down your sides again, trying to gather the composure that had been steadily unraveling since you stepped into this bay.

"Goodnight, Dr. Abbot."

Yet again he reached back into his jacket and pulled out another little stack of folded money and stuffed it underneath the lace of your bra before leaning back into the chair, giving you a faint smile.

"I'll see you around, Kid."

You didn't trust yourself to answer. You pulled the curtain aside as fast as you could and stepped back into the pulsing noise and colored lights of the club. The crowd swallowed you immediately, but your body felt electric. Your heart hammering with panic, stomach tight with anxiety, and a slick, throbbing heat between your legs that made every step feel dangerous.

You were spiraling. Part of you wanted to run straight home and touch yourself thinking about the way his finger touched your chin, another part wanted to hide in the dressing room and never come out again.

Dr. Jack Abbot had just watched you dance like it was nothing. And now nothing felt the same.

The roof of The Pitt was one of the few places that still felt peaceful after a brutal shift. The city lights stretched out below like scattered stars, and the cool night breeze brushed against your skin as you leaned against the railing. You picked at a lukewarm grilled cheese sandwich from the food cart outside the hospital, trying to shake off the weight of another long day. The little nap in the break room earlier didn't fix the tiredness.

The door behind you creaked open.

You turned your head and saw Jack Abbot step out onto the roof. He paused when he noticed you there.

“That’s my spot,” he said, his voice as low and calm as ever. Just a simple, factual statement. He was always like that, if you didn't know it any better you'd think he didn't have emotions at all. Or he is just good at hiding them.

You stayed where you were, refusing to move. “Didn’t see your name on it, Dr. Abbot.”

He gave a single small nod, accepting your answer without argument, and walked to the far side of the roof. He leaned against the railing, keeping a respectful distance between the two of you. Silence settled and neither of you spoke for a while. Your thoughts began to fade into the noise of far away traffic.

When you glanced over, he was already looking at you. His head tilted towards you, an unrecognizable look on his face that could've been anything.

After what felt like forever, he looked back out at the city.

“You are quiet. Long shift?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly “That multi-vehicle trauma was rough. Kept coming in waves.”

He hummed in quiet agreement. “You did good work on the chest tube. Steady hands under pressure.”

You looked at him again. His gaze met yours once more, holding for several seconds before he turned away again as if he was avoiding any more eye contact.

“Does it ever get easier?” you mutter under your breath before turning your body sideways, towards him. His face was still unreadable and it took him a second to respond.

“The job?”

“No. Confrontation with the inevitable. The one thing that will get us all one day. Does it get easier to see people die?” you whisper the last word and you can feel the lump in your throat building.

He sighed and pressed his lips together. When he turned his head towards you again, he could see how you were clinging onto the railing, trying to steady yourself while memories flashed through your mind.

“You just learn to deal with it, find something that takes the edge off“ he shrugs his shoulders. “Eventually, you accept it for what it is. Inevitable. So best to just…enjoy your time on this earth and make the best of it. That's all you can really do.”

You scoffed and you could feel the sweat under your fingertips. You couldn't understand how he could always stay so calm and collected, like it never phased him to begin with.

“Did you find something to take the edge off, Dr. Abbot?”

He debated for a second on whether or not he should answer that question honestly or if a lie would be easier on both of them. “Yes, i have.”

“What is it?”

“none of your business." he answered before you could ask more questions.

“wha-” you looked at him confused but he lifted his index finger into the air to silence you.

"Enough. Get yourself together and go back down. And no more sleeping in the breakroom. If you have too much on your plate, reconsider the day shift. The night shift isn't for the weak.”

And with that, he left you up there on your own, scrambled into a million pieces while trying to gather yourself together. If he knew that your side job is keeping you up on your off-nights, maybe he would've reacted differently. Or the same. It didn't matter. No one would have an ounce of respect left for you if they found out that your side gig is you working at a stripclub. Or that's what you thought, at least.

The next couple of hours kinda got lost in a blur. Nothing changed. Or everything. Jack looked at you as if he was trying to figure you out, read your thoughts but keep you at a distance. Like he cared but didn't know how to show it.

“Different angle,” he’d say during a central line.  

You nodded while changing the angle.

“Words” he muttered quietly only you could hear.

“Yes, Dr. Abbot” you replied, focused on keeping your hands steady.

During rounds, while you presented cases, his stare burned into you. He never looked away first. Never smiled. Never gave any indication that the eye contact meant anything more than professional observation. He never stood too close. And it always left you wondering by the end of every shift. Can he even stand you?

The days blurred into each other, nights became days and days nights. Friday night was your first night off in a while and you had to get ready for your job at the club. It paid the bills, that's all that mattered. Whenever your residency was over you could finally relax a little bit, is what you told yourself.

The music was loud and deep, vibrating through your body as you stepped onto the stage. You wore the deep red lingerie set you got yourself for your birthday, the one that barely covered anything important. The lights caught on your skin as you began to move.

You started slow. Your hips swaying sensually to the beat, hands sliding down your sides. Then you dropped low into a squat, rolling your hips in smooth, filthy figure-eights, back arched deeply. Money started hitting the stage. You crawled forward on all fours, ass up, before rising gracefully and spinning around the pole. You hooked one leg high, sliding down slowly while rolling your body in waves. You enjoyed the dancing, the money and good god, maybe even the attention. But at the end of the day, it's all about the money. Has always been. Your dream was to get out of this, be a doctor and eventually make enough money to buy a beautiful house and a cat. Maybe two. Who knew.

Customer after customer called you over for lap dances.

You straddled the first one with confidence, grinding down in slow circles, your hands trailing over your breasts and stomach. You leaned forward, lips parted near his ear, breathing softly as you worked your hips against him. He tucked a twenty into your lacy bra and you rewarded him with a deeper, slower grind, thighs squeezing around his lap.

The next customer was handsier, but you kept control - rising up only to sink back down, pressing your ass against his thighs while rolling your hips. Your movements were fluid, teasing and practiced. You lost yourself in the rhythm, dancing for one man after another, stacking bills as the night went on. It was a good night, you really needed this after those stressful nights at the pitt.

Near the end of your shift, as you finished the last dance of the night, a dark figure caught your eye. He was sitting all the way in the back of the room and you couldn't make out more than basic outside features.

Broad shoulders. Dark jacket. Unmoving posture.

It reminded you of a certain someone, could it be…No. No, why would he-

You took a deep breath and your manager already made his way over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. There are rules for the customers but that didn't mean the manager had to follow them. He was drunk every time you came in here and you've heard the stories about how hands on he's gotten with other ladies at the club before.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see the dark figure moving, maybe even tensing up a little bit but you didn't have time to investigate - you had to give your manager his share of the bills and then make your way out of there.

Still, a little part of you was terrified that Jack might've been the dark figurine.

The next shift at The Pitt, Jack was exactly the same.

Professional. Calm. Unreadable. As fucking always. It drove you mad for some ungodly reason you couldn't name. Why did it bother you so much?

He commanded the trauma bay with quiet authority. When your eyes met across a patient, he held the stare for a few long seconds before looking away like nothing was different. Never a smile or a smirk. Only clean precision. Always.

By the end of the shift, you were completely drained. During a quiet moment, you slipped into the small break room, curled up on the couch, and fell asleep almost instantly. It was supposed to be a quick nap, if even.

But you didn’t know that Jack had stepped into the room a few minutes later. He stood there silently, watching you sleep - exhausted, vulnerable. He didn’t wake you. But he got close to your ear when he draped one of the blankets over you and whispered:

“You’ll wear yourself out dancing for all those strangers every night. Keep pushing like this… and I might just have to step in.”