carrington

Someone had strung garland around the nurses’ station in pediatrics. Construction paper snowflakes decorated the windows outside the waiting area, and every few hours I’d catch one of the younger patients pressing their nose against the glass, hoping to spot the first snowfall of the season.

Outside of work, Jack and I had settled comfortably back into our routine after Thanksgiving. If we weren’t at the hospital, there was a good chance we were at his house, usually doing something painfully ordinary. It got too cold to do things outside the city like we usually did on our day off together. Most of the time, we’d cook dinner together, watch whatever movie we picked on Netflix, or simply exist in the same room without feeling the need to fill every silence. I had started looking forward to those quiet moments more than anything else.

Sunday afternoon found me standing in Jack’s living room with a box of Christmas decorations sitting open at my feet. “I didn’t realize you actually decorated,” I laughed, pulling a tangled strand of white lights from the box. Jack looked over from where he was carrying the box that held an artificial tree into the corner of the room. “What, you thought I was a Scrooge?” He asked with his eyebrow raised. I glanced around his house dramatically. “I mean…” He let out a quiet huff of amusement.

"Dana started making me decorate after my wife passed.” Jack mentioned casually, "She said the place looked too depressing every December." I smiled softly, running my fingers through the knot of tangled lights. "Sounds like something she'd say." Jack looked over at me, "Yeah." The corner of his mouth twitched. "She wasn't exactly asking."

I smiled to myself before kneeling on the floor, attempting to untangle what looked like several years’ worth of Christmas lights. Lord knows if half of them even still worked. “These have definitely been shoved back into this box every January.” Jack knelt beside me, grunting as he held his bad leg. “They work.” he mumbled. “It doesn’t have to be pretty if it works.” I took a strand of lights, plugging them into a nearby outlet. The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile when they lit up. “See? Good as new.” A quiet laugh escaped me as I returned my attention to the tangled lights.

The house smelled faintly of pine, cinnamon, and whatever candle Jack had lit earlier that morning. Mazzy Star played quietly from Jack’s record player speaker, just loud enough to hear over the occasional rustling of cardboard boxes. I looked up just in time to see him hanging the first ornament near the top of the tree.

“You’re putting all the good ones out of reach.” I whined, placing a hand on my hip. “They’re safer up here.” He said, placing another ornament on the tree. I walked over, reaching into the box beside him before pulling out a small wooden ornament shaped like a cardinal. “Oh.” I turned it over in my hands. 

“This one’s pretty.” Jack glanced at it briefly before nodding. “My mom gave me that a long time ago.” I smiled softly before handing it back to him. “You should put it somewhere people can actually see it.” Jack took it from my hand without arguing, moving it lower on one of the branches. “There.” Jack looked back at me. A warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips. I nodded. “Much better.”

For a while, the only sounds in the room were the soft music drifting through the house and the quiet clink of ornaments brushing against one another as we worked. After a few minutes, I stepped back to admire the tree, tilting my head slightly. I hummed, staring at the tree. “It still needs something.” Jack looked over at me. “Like what?” He asked, crossing his arms, looking up at the tree. “I don’t know…” I scanned the branches thoughtfully before smiling to myself. “A star.”

“I’ve got one.” Jack replied. “Look in that green box.” I immediately crouched down and started digging through the remaining decorations. “It’s somewhere… in that mess.” he motioned towards the bin, watching me dig for the star. Jack watched me for another second before returning his attention to the tree.

“So…” I said casually, still sorting through tissue paper and ornaments, “what do you usually do for Christmas?” I asked. Jack didn't answer right away. He adjusted one of the branches near the bottom of the tree before stepping back to look at it. "I usually head back to Baltimore." He said, adjusting one of the ornaments on the tree. "Every year?" I asked. He nodded, "Yeah. My parents host Christmas Eve. My sisters come into town if they can." I smiled to myself, carefully unwrapping a glass ornament from several layers of newspaper. “What about you?” He asked. “My family’s all back in Philly. My mom starts decorating before Thanksgiving’s even over.” Jack chuckled to himself. “Of course she does.” 

A smile tugged at my lips. I dug a little deeper into the box before finally spotting the tree topper buried beneath a bundle of silver garland. "There it is." I held the star above my head triumphantly, grinning brightly. Jack looked over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I was wondering where that thing disappeared to." I stood, brushing bits of tissue paper from my sweatpants as I walked over to the tree.

"You know..." I turned the star over in my hands, absentmindedly running my thumb along one of its glitter-covered edges. "Maybe one day I'll have to see how your family does Christmas."

The words left my mouth without much thought. To me, it just seemed like any another conversation. I was giving him a suggestion, like the way we were deciding on what to order for take out that night. Jack's hand stopped halfway to the tree, his body suddenly stiffened. 

When I looked up, he wasn't looking at me anymore. His eyes stayed fixed somewhere near the middle of the tree, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly before he reached out and adjusted an ornament that didn't need adjusting. "...Maybe." he mumbled. 

The single word landed heavier than I'd expected. I stood there for another second, waiting for him to say something else. He didn't. Instead, he took the star from my hands, carefully placed it on top of the tree, and stepped back to admire it. "Looks good." he said quietly. "...Yeah."

The conversation never found its way back after that. We finished decorating the tree in near silence, filling the room with lights and ornaments while somehow making it feel emptier than it had an hour earlier.

By the time we plugged the lights in, the sun had already started to disappear behind the houses across the street. The living room glowed softly with twinkling white lights, the reflections dancing across the windows while the music continued playing softly somewhere in the kitchen.

“It looks nice,” I said quietly, taking a step back. Jack nodded. “It does.” I looked over at him, expecting the small smile he’d worn for most of the afternoon. Instead, he was staring at the tree. He almost seemed like he was distracted, as if his mind wasn’t fully present. I frowned slightly before looking back toward the lights. Maybe I was imagining it.

The rest of the evening passed more slowly than I expected. We made dinner together, washed our dishes, and settled onto opposite ends of the couch to watch some random Christmas movie Victoria suggested to me a few days prior. Normally, one of us would’ve ended up leaning against the other before the opening credits had even finished. Tonight, there was just enough space between us for me to notice it.

By the time the movie ended, the feeling hadn’t gone away. Jack slowly stood first, carrying his empty mug into the kitchen. “I should probably head to bed,” he said, setting it in the sink. I followed him a few seconds later, leaning against the kitchen island. I watched him for a second before speaking. 

“Hey.” He looked over. “Hm?” I hesitated for a moment. I really did not want to ask him about what I had said a few hours prior, but I could not bear the thought of whatever he was thinking continuing, especially if we were going to be sharing a bed. I stayed silent for a second before sighing and finally speaking up. 

“…Did I say something wrong earlier?” I asked. His eyebrows pulled together slightly. “What do you mean?” he asked, turning towards me. “When we were decorating…” I searched his face for any sort of reaction. “You just got super…” I trailed off, trying to find the right word. “Quiet.” I broke eye contact, looking back at the tree. “I just wanna make sure I didn’t say or do anything to upset you.” 

Jack looked away for a moment before shrugging. “I was just thinking.” Jack opened the dishwasher, placing his mug inside. “About what?” I asked, watching him. “Nothing important.” The answer came a little too quickly. I folded my arms across my chest, shaking my head. “Yeah okay, Jack.” He sighed quietly through his nose before meeting my eyes again. 

“You didn’t say anything wrong.” He said defensively, shutting the dishwasher. I raised my eyebrows at him. “But?” I asked. “There isn’t a ‘but’.” I wasn’t looking at him, but I could feel the frustrated eye roll and huff coming from him. I stayed quiet. He knew me well enough to know I wasn’t buying it. After a few seconds, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve just… got a lot on my mind.”

“Work?”

“Work.”

I nodded slowly. The explanation made sense. At least, it should have. I still wasn’t falling for it. I sighed, playing with the rings on my fingers. “Uh… I can leave if you want some space.” Jack didn’t answer quickly enough. He just stared at me, his brows coming together as he started to think. The silence was long enough that my stomach started to sink. Finally, he nodded once.

“…Yeah.” It was barely above a whisper. “I think that’d probably be best.” I blinked, then looked down at my slippers. “Oh.” Jack sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking back at me. “I’ve got to get to the ER early tomorrow,” he continued quietly. “I just… I think I need a night to myself.” I forced a small nod. “Okay.”

He stepped toward me then, resting a hand gently against my arm. “It isn’t because of you.” I looked down at his hand before looking back up at him. “I know.” I mumbled before breaking eye contact. Jack tucked a strand of hair behind my ear before I shrugged his hand off of me and turned towards the stairs. “I’m gonna grab my stuff.”

I walked upstairs in silence to grab the overnight bag I’d unpacked only a few hours earlier. The room looked exactly the same as it always had. My zip-up was still draped over the chair. My toothbrush sat beside his. My phone charger was plugged into the outlet next to his bed. Little pieces of me had quietly found their place throughout his house over the last few months. For the first time since he’d given me a key, I packed everything back into my bag.

When I came back downstairs, Jack was waiting by the front door. “I’ll text you tomorrow,” he said. I nodded. “Mhm.” I mumbled, grabbing my car keys from the bowl by the door. “Drive safe.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I slipped my shoes back on, picked up my bag, and stepped out into the cold December air.

As I pulled out of his driveway, I glanced back through the front window. The Christmas tree still glowed softly in the corner of the living room. Jack hadn’t moved. He was still standing exactly where I’d left him.

Over the next few days, I barely slept. 

I wandered into the kitchen, still half asleep, and stood in front of my matcha supplies for a solid minute before remembering why I’d walked in there in the first place. I let out a quiet sigh, rubbing my face as I reached for the bag of matcha powder. Everything felt strangely automatic. I measured the powder into my favorite ceramic bowl, my mind still replaying the conversation I’d had with Jack a few night before. Before I could even process what had happened, my elbow caught the edge of the counter. The bowl slipped from my fingertips.

Crash.

The sound echoed through my apartment as green matcha powder and shattered ceramic scattered across the hardwood floor. I stared at the mess in complete disbelief before throwing my head back and groaned.  “…Are you fucking kidding me?” I stepped backward to get a better look, completely oblivious to one of the larger shards lying behind me. “Fuck!”

A sharp sting shot through the bottom of my foot. I instinctively lifted it off the floor, only to watch a thin stream of blood run down the side of my heel. I closed my eyes for a second, letting out a long, defeated sigh. In a way, I felt like this was some weird karmic situation. Not only would I not be able to have my daily matcha that morning, but my favorite mixing bowl that I have owned since I was a teenager was now broken into several shards and littered all over my kitchen floor. 

After wrapping my foot in a Band-Aid and sweeping the broken pieces into the trash, I somehow managed to get myself ready for work. Nothing seemed to be clicking, my brain felt completely fried. I fumbled my way through getting dressed, threw my hair into a claw clip, and barely touched the breakfast I’d made before heading out the door.

The entire drive to PTMC, I debated texting Jack. Just something simple.

Good morning. Hope you slept okay.

Anything. Instead, I locked my phone and shoved it back into my bag. If he wanted space, I was going to give it to him. We hadn’t spoken much since I was over on that Sunday night, just a few awkward, yet casual messages. I’m sure a text from me would throw a good morning out the window. Even if it was driving me insane.

The hospital felt… off. I noticed it the second I walked through the employee entrance. As I made my way up to pedes, groups of nurses stood around computer stations with confused expressions. Residents kept refreshing their screens, only for the same error message to appear over and over again.

“What is going on?” I asked, setting my water bottle down beside one of the computers. Riley looked up from the keyboard. “I have absolutely no idea.. But nothing is working.” She clicked the mouse again. Nothing. I furrowed my eyebrows, watching an error message pop up on the monitor screen.

“It won’t load.” A few feet away, another nurse sighed loudly. “My entire patient list just disappeared.” Within minutes, overhead phones started ringing all at once. Then someone yelled from down the hallway. “Epic’s down!” Shortly after complaints started ripping throughout the floor, the patient board went blank, and flashed a grey and white No Internet signal. The unit immediately erupted. 

“Is this hospital-wide?”

“I can’t pull up labs!”

“Do we need downtime forms?”

For a moment, everyone simply looked at one another before it became an all-hands-on-deck situation. Charge nurses started handing out paper charting packets while physicians gathered around the desk, trying to figure out exactly what had just happened. Rumors quickly started to spread through the floor faster than anyone could confirm them. Server failure. System outage. Cyberattack. Nobody seemed to know. By the time I’d finished helping pass out paperwork, one of the pediatric attendings looked over at me.

“Can you head downstairs and see how the emergency department’s handling this? If they’re switching to downtime procedures, we’ll probably need to do the same.” I nodded. “Yeah.” My attending watched me get up from my seat. “Take Riley with you. We’re gonna need all hands on deck this morning.” 

The elevator ride felt strangely quiet compared to the noise waiting on the other side. Riley and I didn’t speak to each other. I could feel the frustration radiating off of her, and I had the feeling she could sense my irritable behavior the moment I had walked up to our nurses' station that morning. The second the doors opened, I was hit with the familiar sound of controlled chaos.

The emergency department looked even busier than usual. Stacks of paper charts covered the nurses’ station. The emergency department looked like it had been thrown twenty years into the past. Every computer monitor displayed the same error message we had on our floor. The tracking board had gone black. Nurses stood around the station holding stacks of blank paperwork while someone dragged a whiteboard out of a supply closet. Surprisingly, nobody was panicking. But everyone was moving faster than usual.

As I stepped further into the emergency department, I found Trinity trying to refresh her computer. “Trin..” I called out as I stepped closer to her. Her head cocked my way. “What?!” She snapped. Her expression immediately changed when she saw who had spoken to her. My brows raised after hearing her tone. “I was just… I was just gonna ask if you knew what was going on—“ 

Jack stepped up beside the nurses’ station, glancing once at the blank computer screen before looking out across the department. “Alright, everybody,” he called, loud enough for the room to hear him without shouting. “Listen up.” The conversations around the desk slowly died down.

“If the computers aren’t coming back, we’re switching to downtime procedures.” Dana was already unloading packets of paper charts onto the counter beside him. The ER staff started to talk quietly among themselves. “You know what that means… we are going analog!” 

Groans and soft whispers were heard throughout the small crowd. Trinity let out a long sigh before covering her face with her hands. “Every patient gets a paper chart,” Jack continued. “Registration can worry about the electronic side later. Right now, if they walk through those doors, they get seen.” Several residents nodded, already reaching for clipboards.

“We’re using the whiteboard again.” Jack pointed toward the board Whitaker had propped against the wall. “Room numbers, chief complaint, attending, resident. Keep it updated. If somebody moves rooms, erase it. Don’t assume somebody else did.” Robby had uncapped a marker and immediately started drawing columns across the board.

“Verbal communication,” Jack said, looking around the room. “If you order labs, tell the nurse. If imaging calls, don’t assume somebody else heard it. Nothing lives in a computer anymore.” Shen folded his arms. “What about consults?” He asked. Jack shot a look back in his direction. “Phone or in person.” Shen nodded, “And if the phones go down?” Jack didn’t hesitate. “You walk.”

A few quiet laughs rippled through the station. “I’m serious,” he replied. “If you need surgery, go find surgery. If you need pediatrics…” Jack trailed off, glancing at me, then back at the crowd of people around him. “Then run upstairs. Don’t wait for the system to fix itself.”

Dana slid another stack of downtime packets toward Emma. “Everybody grab a clipboard. Keep it on you.” Jack pointed to the T rack before everyone dispersed. “And pay attention to where to put your intake forms!” Across the room, a medic pushed through the ambulance bay doors. “We’ve got another one.” Jack glanced toward the entrance before looking back at the group one last time. “One patient at a time,” he said calmly. “We’ve done harder things than this.”

For a second, the department was still. Then everyone moved. Emma gathered a stack of paper charts before hurrying toward triage. Whitaker and Joy wheeled the whiteboard closer to the nurses’ station while trying to write down all the cases that were previously on the big screens. Dana began assigning nurses to rooms by hand. Jack grabbed the first clipboard within reach and headed toward the ambulance bay as the stretcher rolled through the doors. Within minutes, the department had found its rhythm again. It just happened to be written in pen instead of typed on a screen.

As the morning barreled into late afternoon, our system throughout the entire hospital was still down. The pedes ward was a complete mess. Residents (including myself) were continusely misplacing clipboards, miscommunication was constant, and everyone was completely exhausted. I sat by the nurses station, and suddenly heard one of the landlines ring. Lena, a charge nurse who usually worked night shift, had come in to help run downtime procedures on her day off. She immedaiely picked up the phone, glancing over at me. She had hung up shortly after, “They need you down in the ED to check in with our 3 year old with abdominal pain. Try to make it quick.”

I nodded, adjusting the stethoscope on my shoulders. “Okay.” I lifted myself up from my seat. As I sat up, I shifted my weight on my right foot and winced quietly. Lena looked back over at me, raising her brow. “You okay?” she asked. I nodded, pushing in my chair. “I stepped on broken ceramic this morning…” I shook my head. Lena raised both of her brows, her mouth dropping ever so slightly. “Well… did you get yourself checked out?” she asked. I laughed under my breath, turning away from the desk. “I’m fine…”

After checking on my patient, I spotted Jack across the department. He was standing beside the trauma desk, talking to Robby and Shen while waiting for another ambulance. I hesitated for a moment before deciding to walk over.

“Hey,” I said quietly once there was a break in the conversation. Jack looked up. For the briefest second, our eyes met. Then Dana stepped beside him. “Abbot, ambulance just called. Two minutes out. Rib fracture and possible head trauma.” He nodded immediately. “On it.” Without another word, he turned and walked toward Trauma One with Shen. Robby walked in the opposite direction, glancing back at me before finding Mel and discussing a case with her. I stood there for another second, watching Jack and the others disperse into different areas of the ED.

“Well…” I turned at the sound of Trinity’s voice. She had apparently walked up beside me sometime in the last few seconds. She glanced toward the trauma bay where Jack had disappeared before looking back at me. Her eyebrows pinched together slightly, as if she were trying to make sense of what she'd just witnessed. “…That was weird.” I forced a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes, busying myself with straightening the stack of paperwork in my hands.

“He’s probably just busy.” The excuse sounded weak even to me. Trinity didn't answer right away. Instead, she studied my face for another moment, searching for something. She knew me well enough to recognize when I was brushing something off, and judging by the skeptical look she was giving me, she didn’t believe a word that had come out of my mouth. 

"He like..." She paused, lowering her voice. "...completely ignored you." I stared down at the paperwork, pretending to reread a chart that I'd already finished. "He didn't even look at you," she continued. "Not once." I was blinking rapidly as I focused on the lines of text in front of me. The words had long since stopped registering. All I could see was Jack walking past me without so much as a glance. 

“We um…” I trailed off, trying to find the words for what I was about to say. “Had some sort of fight, if you could even call it that.” I finally looked at her. Trinity nodded, letting me speak. “He sort of asked me to leave a few nights ago and we haven’t been talking much since.” Trinity stared at me for a long moment, the concern on her face only growing.

"He asked you to leave?" I nodded once. "He just..." I sighed. "He said he wanted to sleep alone." I rubbed my thumb absentmindedly along the edge of the clipboard, trying to find a way to explain something I wasn't even sure I understood myself. Trinity nodded again. "What happened before that?" She asked. "I don't even know… we were decorating his Christmas tree." Trinity blinked. "...Seriously?" I sighed again, "I made some comment about maybe going to Maryland with him one Christmas." I shrugged helplessly. "Then everything just got... weird. He started acting distant. I asked him if I had said anything to upset him but kept telling me that I didn’t.” I paused, looking toward the ambulance bay. "And then I asked him if he wanted me to go home and he said yes."

Trinity looked down at the floor for a second before meeting my eyes again. "Okay..." She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I'm not saying what he did was okay… but that seems sort of different from how he usually is. " I nodded, watching her. "So something's going on."

I felt my shoulders sink. "I know." She reached over and gently squeezed my forearm. "Have you two actually talked about it?" I huffed, looking back down. "I thought we did." I looked back at the ambulance bay, then back at Trinity. "But after today… I don't even know if he wants to." Trinity nodded, “Just… text him. Ask him to come over like usual. Maybe he just needed a night to let things blow over.” I nodded, letting out the first genuine smile I had that entire day. “Yeah… you’re right.” 

Jack was already home by the time I let myself inside. The house was dead silent.

I slipped my shoes off by the front door before hanging my coat on the hook beside his. Normally, one of us would’ve said something the second I walked in. Tonight, the only sound was the faucet running in the kitchen. It was my first time seeing him since that Sunday night.

I rounded the corner to find Jack standing at the sink, filling a glass with water. He looked exhausted. His hair was slightly messier than usual, and the dark circles beneath his eyes had become even more noticeable after the chaos of the day. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard me.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He gave me a small nod before taking a sip of his water. “How was the rest of your shift?” He asked, placing his cup back on the counter. I shrugged, “It was okay… just a little crazy this morning.” He nodded again. “Good.” That was it. The silence stretched between us. Normally, it would’ve been comfortable. Tonight, it wasn’t.

I leaned against the kitchen island, watching him rinse his glass before setting it in the sink. “Can I ask you something?” I asked. Jack looked over. “Go for it.” I hesitated. The question had been sitting in the back of my mind since that morning. 

“…Did I do something?” His eyebrows pulled together slightly. “What?” I took a breath before responding. “To uh– to upset you.” Jack stared at me for a second before looking back down at the counter. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve been cold towards me for days, Jack.” Jack looked away almost immediately, letting out a tired sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. For a second, I thought he might actually answer me. Instead, he just stared down at the kitchen floor. “I’ve had a long day.” 

“I know. So have I.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

That finally got a reaction out of him. He folded his arms across his chest before looking back at me, his brow furrowing slightly. "I don't think you do." I frowned. "What does that even mean?" I asked, taking a step closer. Jack held my gaze for a second before shaking his head. "The hospital was falling apart today." He let out a quiet, exhausted laugh, though there wasn't any humor behind it. "Our entire system went down for six and a half hours, and half my residents had no idea how to follow analog protocols." He looked away again, running a hand over his face.

"We had ambulances lined up outside. Every room was full. People were charting on scraps of paper because we ran out of downtime packets." I watched him and nodded. "I know." His jaw tightened. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think you do."

I shifted my weight against the kitchen island, crossing my arms around my chest. More out of discomfort than defensiveness. "I wasn't asking you to spend the whole day with me, Jack," I said softly. Jack didn't answer, his eyes stayed glued to the window. "I just..." I looked down at my hands, absentmindedly rubbing my thumb over my knuckles before forcing myself to meet his eyes again. "You didn't even acknowledge me."

His expression didn't change. "You answered literally everyone except for me. You didn’t even look at me and I was standing right in front of you." I swallowed hard, feeling the knot in my throat grow tighter. Jack's eyes dropped to the floor. "And you walked away like I didn’t even exist."

For the first time all evening, something shifted across his face. Frustration. Exhausted frustration. "I was working." He mumbled, staring out the window. 

"I know you were."

"I didn't have time."

"I'm not asking you to have time." I shook my head, feeling my own frustration beginning to surface. "I'm asking you to acknowledge that I was there." Jack rubbed the back of his neck before looking back at me in disbelief. “I can’t do this while I’m at work.” I rolled my eyes, and let out a sigh. “I’m not asking you to–” “That’s exactly what you’re asking.” I shook my head. “No… I’m asking you to stop making me feel invisible.”

For a second, neither of us spoke. I swallowed hard before quietly continuing. “Sometimes…” I looked around the house. “…Sometimes I feel like I only exist when I’m here… or an hour outside the city where nobody knows who we are.” Jack watched me, his arms still crossing his chest. “Nobody knows about us. You get all weird and quiet when I bring up Trinity, who’s literally my best friend. You get too scared to let anything get out that you’ve gotten to the point of ignoring me to make yourself feel better about us.” I looked away as my eyes began to sting.

“I can’t walk up to you at work, ask if you want coffee… and god forbid I ask to sit and eat lunch with you.” I shrugged. “I can’t even ask how your day’s going unless I make sure nobody’s watching.” Jack watched me, his arms still crossed.

“But then I come here…” I gestured around the kitchen. “…and suddenly everything’s normal. You act like we are married or something.” My eyes met his again. “And then I leave.” Jack stared at the floor for a long moment before quietly saying,

“That’s what we agreed to.” He said, dryly. “I know.” I nodded. “I remember.” Another silence settled over the room. “But I don’t think we’re agreeing anymore.” Jack finally looked back at me.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked. It wasn’t an angry question. If anything… He sounded tired. I opened my mouth. Then closed it again.

“I don’t know.” The answer came out almost as a whisper. “I just…” I felt my eyes begin to sting. “I don’t want to feel like a secret anymore.” Jack closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, something in his expression had changed. He looked… defeated. Quietly, he let out a slow breath.

“Maybe…” He paused. “I think this is getting more serious than either of us planned.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. I stared at him. “…What?” I asked. “I just think—” “No.” I shook my head before he could finish. “Don’t do that.” Jack watched me.  “I’m not trying to—” I immediately interrupted him, completely appalled. “Don’t tell me this is suddenly ‘too serious.’”

I looked at the Christmas tree glowing softly in the corner of the living room. The same tree we’d decorated together only a few days ago. I let out a slow breath. “I think I need to go.”

Jack didn’t stop me. He didn’t argue. He simply stood there, watching me grab my bag from beside the front door. When I finally looked back at him, neither of us knew what else to say. So I walked out. For the second time that week. Except this time it didn’t feel temporary. It felt as if the end was near

Jack Abbot was normal. He was fine. He was definitely not seething watching you dance with friends. The problem with dating the hottest woman in existence was that he couldn’t exclusively monopolize your time. He barely knew anyone at this wedding, it was your friend’s wedding.

She had too many sisters to have you as a bridesmaid and in the comfort and secrecy of your bedroom you had whispered to him that you just didn’t have it in you to be in so many weddings—most of your twenties had been spent traveling around the country to be in friends’ weddings.

Now, he was watching you in a gorgeous plum dress dancing around barefoot with girls you’ve known for over a decade. Some of their husbands were tolerable. Your best friend and her husband were here. Most of the time Ted was fine. Drunk Ted cared a lot about golf and Jack, drunk or sober, couldn’t give a shit.

When P!nk’s “So What” ended you meandered back over to Jack and to his surprise (and delight), collapsed in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m a little tipsy.”

“So I see,” he replied, lightly pushing your hair back away from your face. Your nice hairdo had long since come unraveled and kept falling in your face.

“I like you so much,” you said leaning into him.

“You don’t love me?” He asked with a smile on his face. You snorted.

“Of course I love you. But I also like you.”

“Thanks?”

“I don’t think all my friends like their husbands,” you whispered a little too wet in his ear. He had to resist the urge to push you away to wipe it off.

“What makes you say that?”

“Take me back to the hotel and I’ll tell you,” you said laying your head on his shoulder. It definitely didn’t look comfortable, largely speaking to your exhaustion. You had been dancing and jumping with your friends for multiple hours.

“C’mon, babe,” he said shifting your legs off his lap.

“Ugh,” you groaned standing again. “I need to tell Claire goodnight.”

“I’ll get our stuff,” he said.

The send off had been a few hours ago, before the elderly relatives had left. Now, it was just a fun party with friends. He loved watching you light up and enjoy being around your people. He loved his people, but they were far more subdued than yours.

Across the dance floor you approached your friend who threw her arms around you with heartfelt but drunken balance and coordination. It made his heart swell, watching how happy you were. Fuck, he loved making you happy. All he wanted in life was to make each day just a little easier; he wanted to do his best to make you happy.

By the time you’d extricated yourself from your friend’s embrace and made your way back to him, Jack had a hold of your purse and coat. He also had already dug your ugly Birkenstocks out of your purse so you didn’t have to put your heels back on.

“Fuck you’re so good to me,” you said, holding onto him while you slipped the shoes on.

“Well if that’s all it takes,” he replied, helping you into your coat.

He kept a hold of your bag when walking out to the parking lot. Just like his mother taught him, he held the door open on the rental car and shut it gently behind you. When he got into the drivers seat, you had dug your water bottle out of your purse.

“Ugh, I’m already sobering up,” you complained.

“So you don’t want drunk fast food?”

You gasped dramatically. “Do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?”

Jack laughed and grabbed your hand as he turned out of the parking lot heading back to the hotel.

“What did you mean earlier about your girlfriends not liking their husbands?” He asked pulling into a greasy fast food joint. It rarely mattered which one as the point was disgusting food.

Once the French fries and chicken and burgers had been acquired, Jack pulled into a parking spot towards the back of the lot. One of the first things you both discovered you’d had in common was growing up in small towns. It meant that you both had fond memories of idling car conversations and the occasional makeout. Even now, a long away from your teen years, you both adored your post party ritual.

“So,” you began, curling your legs up. “Abigail, not technically my friend, but she’s a good time. Was talking to me about how glad she was that her husband couldn’t come and that was fucking bonkers to me. Why would you marry someone you don’t like?”

“You would be sad if I couldn’t come?”

“Sure, I like spending time with you. It’s not like it would ruin it for me, I basically barely hung out with you tonight, but it’s fun coming back and kissing you before dancing to Pitbull songs with everyone.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” he laughed.

“But seriously!” You said nudging him. “I like being around you. It’s fun. You’re just as fun as my friends.”

“Even though I can’t dance with the energy of a drunk college girl?”

“Even then,” you laughed. “Hear anything good with the spouses?”

“Ted likes golf,” Jack sighed.

“God he’s so boring,” you laughed. “But she needs boring after the shit head she used to be married to.”

“Do your friends think I’m boring?”

You scoffed. “No, they think you’re a crazy adrenaline junky, not boring. Did you notice the groom’s sister had a fucking weird speech?”

For the next hour you both sat in the car, eating food that would clog your arteries and gossiping about the wedding. It was life giving and comforting in ways you never wanted to lose. You’d had this with friends but Jack was the first man you’d ever dated who wanted to do stupid shit with you. He wanted to go to weddings of people he didn’t know. He wanted to sit in a slightly too heated car talking shit about speeches. He wanted to do nothing and everything with you.

“What’s that look?” Jack asked.

“I dunno,” you sighed. “I just really fucking like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I really fucking like you, too,” he said. “Even if you dance like a baby giraffe.”

“Fuck off!”

When you both got back to the hotel, Jack helped you search for the various pins hidden somewhere in your hair.

“You’re so pretty,” he said mouth at your bare shoulder.

“Are you trying to get in my pants, Dr. Abbot?”

“You’re not wearing pants,” he said, bracketing your body against the counter of the bathroom. “You are, however, wearing a gorgeous dress I’ve wanted to peel off with my teeth all night.”

“Your teeth, huh?” You asked making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“God I’ve wanted to touch you so bad all night,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a soft kiss right near your hairline.

“You look so good in that suit,” you grumbled, pushing your ass back against his groin. “Kept coming back to kiss you so everyone knew you were mine.”

Jack’s eyes fluttered closed as he buried his face in your neck. Being wanted by you was intoxicating. Knowing that you coveted him as much as he coveted you was more than enough to turn him on. He could feel the ghost of your cunt clenching around him. It had been two weeks since he last fucked you. Both of your jobs had been hectic.

But now, in the privacy of the too expensive hotel room, he had you at his mercy.

“Look at me baby,” he said softly against your ear, relishing in how you shivered against him. “All mine, right?”

“Only yours,” you breathed. “I’ve missed your hands.”

He ran his hands from your thighs up your dress to cup your tits. The strapless dress was held up by tape and some intricate ties in the back. He pulled the tape off your chest gently and then yanked the fabric down under your tits, bra and all. You looked so good. In the dim light of the bathroom, he drank in your heedy gaze.

“Beautiful,” he said attacking your neck again.

Having you in his bed for so long, meant Jack knew just how to kiss you and play with your chest to make you soaked. It’s like he had a cheat code to turning you on. It helped that most of the night had been subtle foreplay between you both. During dinner his hand was definitely too high on your thigh but he couldn’t bear to move it.

“Fuck, baby, take me to bed. It’s cold as shit in here,” you groaned.

“Anything for you,” he said. “How hard do you want tonight?”

“Rough,” you replied.

He wove his fingers through your hair, close to the roots and pulled. He drug you back into the main room and tossed you on the bed face first. Holding you down with one hand on your upper back, he slowly pulled the zipper of your dress down.

“Look at this sexy body,” he said. “All for me.”

You wiggled a little as he unhooked the strapless bra with one hand. It had taken him nearly a year to master, but it was one of his most used bedroom skills. Letting you go, he pulled off the dress harshly, taking your underwear with it. Then you were face down on the bed, naked and already dripping for him.

You had arched your back, preening under his gaze. With a sharp smack to the meaty part of your glute, he watched you jump and settle back into your skin. A few more spanks and he quickly shoved his fingers inside you making you gasp.

He loved all the noises and movements you made during sex. For the duration of your relationship, he had been making a running catalog of how to get you to do a sound or movement. While he harshly fingered you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, he began unbuckling his belt and pants.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Fuck me, please,” you panted against the comforter.

Shoving his pants down just low enough let out his dick, he pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your wetness along his cock. Just the smell of you was sending him over the edge. He made sure to clamp down on your hips tightly, hoping to leave a bruise for you to enjoy, before careening his hips into yours aggressively.

There was a grunt as the air was knocked out of you. For a moment he paused, enjoying how you felt. Your cunt always felt so fucking good against his dick. You were so warm and wet and you clenched so beautifully when he spanked you. As much as he loved to be the one furiously fucking you, he also loved having you in charge.

He always enjoyed feeling your nails rake down his back. He was desperate to feel you closer against his skin, so while he had your hips pinned to the bed, he quickly ripped off his button up and undershirt so he could wrap his arm around your neck and pull you up against his body.

Once he felt you against his chest, he began to thrust ferociously against your cunt. He loved how it fluttered and the grunts and groans you released as he harshly pounded into you.

“Fuck, baby,” Jack growled harshly. “You feel so good. Made for me. Carved for my fucking dick, isn’t that right?”

“Just for you,” you said breathlessly.

You were clutching onto the bicep his had wrapped around your neck (more so your chest than neck, but it had the same effect). He felt you meeting his thrusts sending shockwaves through both of you.

“I love it when you’re rough with me,” you heaved against his assault. “Harder, please.”

Your tone was always so breathy and almost whiny when you got worked up like this.

“Anything for my naughty girl. Do you like this dick pounding into you. Does it feel good to have someone treat you so meanly?”

“Fuuuck,” you groaned arching against his grasp more. “You feel so good inside of me.”

“You make me so fucking crazy, pretty girl,” he hissed against your ear. “Watching you tonight was like my own personal dream. The prettiest girl in the world dancing and jumping but always coming back to me. Can’t be without me can you?”

“No, I can’t,” you whined as one of Jack’s hands roughly kneaded your tits. “Your hands are so good.”

“Rub your clit for me, baby. I want to feel you cum on my dick. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Yes please,” you mumbled. He felt one of your hands leave its iron grasp on his arm. “You fill me up so good.”

Jack felt himself getting close so he pulled out and finished taking off his pants. Getting his prosthetic off quickly was a hard fought for skill, but he managed to push you flat on the bed covering your body with his own before slipping back inside of your warmth.

He wrapped his arm around your throat again and grinned at how you moaned wantonly.

“So pretty when you’re being used by me.”

“Please,” you managed.

“Prop your hips up, baby,” he said getting on his knees to allow you room.

The harsh sounds of him slamming into you filled the room while he kept whispering debauched things in your ear:

“You’re made for me and only me.”

“Using you feels so sweet.”

“Are you going to cum on my dick?”

“I’m so fucking deep, baby.”

“I’m going to make you cum so hard.”

He was so focused on making sure you came, he didn’t noticed how you turned your face.

“Please, daddy, harder,” you moaned.

His hips stuttered and to control himself, he bit into the muscle of your shoulder. He almost felt guilty for how hot he found your cry of pain to be.

“Rub your clit and say it again,” he mumbled against your skin.

Your hand snaked underneath your body, and gasping under his assault you said,

“Harder, daddy. I want to feel you cum inside me.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned.

He was so close when he felt the tell tale flutters of your cunt against him. He nearly wept with relief you finally were close enough for him to say,

“Cum on my dick, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel. Milk me. Milk daddy.”

You cried out as you tensed and gasped underneath him. He made sure to keep moving as you clenched against him until your shaking thighs collapsed. He continued his furious pace until he felt himself orgasm. It felt like he came forever. When he finally collapsed and rolled over next to you, he chest was heaving.

“Daddy, huh?” He asked.

“I don’t know where it came from,” you laughed. “But you clearly liked it.”

“Surprise for me, too,” he huffed. He pulled you against him, reveling in how your naked skin felt against his.

“You’re sweaty and hot,” you grumbled, nuzzling your face against his chest. It was said like a complaint but you weren’t moving away.

“So are you,” he laughed. You tweaked his nipple.

“I’m fresh as a daisy.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Want to shower first?”

“Yes please,” you said. “Will you keep me company?”

He snorted and nodded.

The accessible bathroom had a removable shower chair that he used while he waited for you. Unlike the shower at home, it wasn’t big enough for Jack, his shower chair, and you. So he watched as you tied your hair up and quickly rinsed off. He noticed your wince when you gently cleaned your vagina.

“Do you want me to check it?” He asked a little concerned.

“Nah, just sensitive. You did a good job.”

“Wow, did I get an A-plus in sex?”

“Fuck off,” you laughed.

While Jack showered, you began working through your nighttime routine. You took off whatever make up hadn’t been sweated off during the wedding or the following sex and washed your face. By the time Jack got out, you were brushing your teeth.

Before leaving the bathroom you kissed him and said, “I love you.”

“Wuv yew,” he said with his toothbrush in his mouth.

Using his crutches, he made his way back to the bed, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before sliding into bed with you. Like you always did, you slept on the side farthest from the door. It was one of the many things that lingered from the war. Jack wanted to be between you and anything unexpected.

He pulled you against him, in the dark, enjoying how warm and soft you were.

“A good night,” he mumbled.

“And good sex,” you said.

He laughed and closed his eyes, feeling so much love and affection for you leaking out of his chest.

“Hey,” you said after a while. “You awake?”

“Hmm?” Jack asked sleepy.

“I just really like you.”

Jack laughed softly. “I really like you, too.”

You huffed a laugh as the two of them started bickering just as your phone buzzed in your pocket. You leant against the wall, only half listening as you pulled it out of your scrubs and saw a notification from Jack.

He must have just woken up from his pre-shift nap. The corner of your mouth lifted as you read his reply.

You: Are you coming in early today?

JA ❤️: Always.

You quickly typed out another message.

You: any chance u could bring in a protein bar for me? the ones at work are inedible

The reply came almost instantly.

JA ❤️: I know. I’ve told Robby they are a serious health hazard.

You smiled at that as you watched the three dots blink back at you.

JA ❤️: I’ll be in soon. I already have some in my bag for you.

You: are you psychic?

JA ❤️: Just good at pattern recognition.

Your smile widened as his reply came through.

You: thank u 🩷

JA ❤️: 👍

“What are you smiling at?”

You looked up to find McKay watching you over the fridge door.

“What?”

“That.” She pointed vaguely at your face. “Whatever that was.”

“Nothing.”

Santos and Whitaker paused their arguing to focus on you.

Santos studied you, her face contorting into a grimace. “Gross.”

“What?”

“I just can’t get over the fact that Abott reduces you to…” She trailed off, waving vaguely at you.

“That?” Whitaker supplied.

“Yeah.” Santos nodded gravely. “That.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding your phone back into your scrub pocket.

“I think the two of you are starting to fuse into one brain cell.”

Santos’ expression went still. “….that was genuinely hurtful.”

You turned to Whitaker. “There’s your new button to press.”

Whitaker’s grin widened as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Santos. “Oh I cannot wait to bring this up multiple times a day.”

Santos glared at you. "You're a traitor."

You pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you made your way towards the door.

“Never give your triggers away Santos.”

“You’re still a traitor!” She called out.

You waved her off without looking back, escaping before she could start another argument.

You barely made it two steps before nearly colliding with Samira.

“Oh sorry.” She came to an abrupt halt, the usual frazzled expression etched onto her features as she looked up at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah um- have you seen Joy?”

“Not for a little while.”

“No worries, if you see her can you tell her I need her in Room 3?”

“Sure.” You nodded, tilting your head slightly as you studied her. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah fine.” She brushed you off as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Haven’t had lunch so I’m a bit cranky.”

You nodded in understanding. “Word of warning, don’t eat the protein bars.”

Samira’s nose wrinkled as she stepped around you. “Why on earth would I do that?”

You threw your arms up dramatically. “Am I the only one who didn’t know they were inedible?”

“Apparently so.”

You huffed, pulling your hair out from under your collar as you made your way over to the status board which was currently glowing above the chaos that was the ED like a cruel little scoreboard.

Your hands settled on your stethoscope as you scanned the board. Less than an hour till your shift was over, at least officially. Which given your track record of overtime, meant close to nothing.

“Hey.”

You glanced over to see Perlah leaning against one of the desks.

“What?” You asked warily.

Her smirk widened. “Have you seen the hot visitor?”

“The what?”

Princess appeared beside her, equally delighted.

“Absolute smoke show.”

Princess nodded towards the far end of the station. “Follow the sounds of Joy giggling.”

Your brows knitted together.

“Joy? As in our intern, Joy? As in the complete antithesis of her name, Joy?” You queried.

“See for yourself.” Perlah grinned.

You followed their line of sight to the other end of the nurses station where a tall figure stood, leaning an arm on one of the benches.

At first, all you saw was the back of a leather jacket, familiar in a way that made your stomach drop before your brain had fully caught up. The man shifted slightly, turning just enough for a familiar profile to come into view. The same hair coifed to perfection, the same self-satisfied slant of his mouth.

And sure enough standing beside him, blushing furiously as she giggled, actually giggled, at whatever he had just said, was Joy.

“I didn’t even know she was capable of laughter.” Princess remarked.

You closed your eyes for one brief, pained second. “You have got to be kidding me.” You grumbled.

Before either Princess or Perlah could ask what was wrong, you were already moving, making a beeline towards them.

Princess and Perlah exchanged a look behind your back. “What just happened?” Princess asked in Tagalog.

“I don’t know." Perlah muttered. "But I think it’s going to be good.”

By the time you were close enough to hear the familiar deep drawl of his voice, Mark Sloan had inched in just enough to make Joy look like she might pass out.

“So, is that the only piercing you have or...?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Still shamelessly hitting on interns I see.”

Mark turned at the sound of your voice. For half a second, there was nothing but surprise. And then his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Well I’ll be.”

That familiar grin spread slowly across his face as his eyes travelled down your body with the same shameless appreciation he’d had years ago, like he was undressing you from memory.

“Cupid.” He said the nickname lowly, like he’d never stopped saying it. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You shot him a fake smile. “Wish I could say the same.”

Joy looked between the two of you, blinking rapidly, as if she was trying to decipher a complex math problem. You turned your attention to her, offering her a polite smile.

“Dr Mohan's looking for you, something to do with your patient in room 3.”

“Oh right.” Joy nodded, adjusting her glasses as she glanced at Mark. “On it.”

“Bye Joy.” Mark called out lazily, watching her blush as she scurried away, nearly walking into a wall in the process.

He turned to you, looking pleased with himself as he leant forward. “Why do you always have to ruin my fun?” He pouted once she was out of earshot.

"Someone has to."

Meanwhile, McKay, Whitaker and Santos had exited the breakroom, not even bothering to conceal their ogling as they clustered around a monitor.

“Ok who on earth is that?” Santos queried.

"And why does he look like he just walked off a photoshoot?" McKay muttered.

“And how do they know eachother?” Whitaker added.

“He called her Cupid.” Joy casually commented as she walked past them.

Whitaker’s brow furrowed. "....Cupid?"

Santos froze. The faint amusement dropped away, replaced by the sharp, dawning horror of someone remembering a detail they were never supposed to need.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” McKay and Whitaker asked simultaneously.

"Do you guys remember that time at karaoke?"

"....the one where she sang No Scrubs at Abbot?"

"No. The one when she accidentally admitted she had an ex at Seattle Grace that used to call her Cupid."

McKay and Whitaker both slowly turned to stare at Mark, then at you, then back at Mark.

"No." McKay shook her head.

"Yes."

“You don’t seriously think….” Whitaker trailed off.

“Oh I do” Santos nodded. “I really do.”

Back at the nurses’ station, you folded your arms, ignoring Mark's attempts at getting under your skin.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh some conference.” He waived his hand dismissively. “Thought I’d take the opportunity to come see Robinavitch.”

You blinked. “You know Dr Robby.” You said slowly.

“Since med school.” He answered smoothly. “Why? Hoping I was here to see you?”

You snorted. “Please.”

“Oh c’mon Cupid don’t act like you don’t miss me.” He smirked as he stepped closer. “You wouldn’t have moved across the other side of the country to forget about me if you didn’t.”

You leant in slightly, shooting him a dry smile. “I wouldn’t touch you again even if my life depended on it Sloan.”

He let out a genuine chuckle. “I’ve missed this.” He gestured between the two of you. “Us."

He placed his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning even closer. "Why did it ever end?”

You pretended to think for a moment. "Maybe because you’re physiologically incapable of staying monogamous?”

“Oh yeah right that.” He nodded. “Speaking of monogamous..."

"No."

"... I’ve heard you’ve got a new boy toy right here at PTMC.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ Meredith needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.”

“Well in her defence she told Derek who then told me so….” Mark trailed off, turning his body around to survey the room. “Which one is he?”

"I'm not playing this game." You answered, folding your arms over your chest.

“Wait let me guess.”

Before you could stop him, Mark placed both hands on your shoulders and gently turned you so you were both facing the floor of the pitt.

His eyes landed on Frank first. “Too pretty boy.”

He guided your shoulders slightly towards Whitaker. “Too scrawny.”

From across the room, Whitaker stiffened. “…Why is he looking at me?”

Santos didn’t look away. “Don’t wave.” She murmured.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Then the ambulance bay doors opened. Jack walked in with a thermos in one hand, his bicep bulging as he shifted the backpack slung over his other shoulder on full display under his dark fitted shirt.

Your stomach dropped as his eyes scanned the room, no doubt looking for you. It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You watched as they shifted to Mark, then dropped to Mark's hands resting on your shoulders.

For a moment, his expression barely changed, only the faintest tightening around his jaw gave him away. Then he kept walking.

Mark smiled slowly. “….bingo.”

Your body stiffened as Mark glanced sideways at you.

“I’m right."

You didn't answer.

"I am."

“I’m not talking about my love life with you of all people.”

“Cupid, don’t be like that.” He nudged your shoulder. "Come on, what’s he like?”

“Well for starters, he volunteers as a medic for the SWAT team.” You said sweetly. “So he’s got at least one gun on him at all times.”

Mark nodded slowly, dropping his hands from your shoulders. "Noted."

"He also has excellent aim."

"Message received." Mark held his hands up. "I'll behave."

And then, for the first time since he had appeared, the teasing faded.

"But seriously..." His face softened slightly as his eyes settled on your face properly, no longer performing for the room.

“You’re happy?”

You exhaled slowly, your defences lowering slightly by the unexpected tone of his voice.

“I am.”

“He good to you?"

You smiled softly despite yourself. “He is.”

Something flickered across Mark’s face then, softening the usual sharp lines of his smirk, scarily close to being something sincere. “Good.”

For a moment, the years between you settled there. It didn’t feel painful or bitter or even sad. In fact, it seemed absurd to think that you'd cried over him once upon a time. Now he was just a story you told after one too many drinks, something you reflected on and shook your head, chalking it up to the foolishness of youth.

You cleared your throat, looking away first. “How’s work?”

“Busy, chaotic, dramatic.” Mark shrugged.

"So the usual then?"

“The usual.”

He glanced around the emergency department, frowing slightly as he took in the noise, the movement, the organised disaster of it all. “How’s the ED?”

“Busy, chaotic.” You echoed. “Somehow still much less dramatic than Seattle Grace."

Mark barked out a laugh. “Yeah that checks out.”

“Sloan.”

The two of you turned to see Robby making his way towards you, Jack beside him.

Mark's grin returned instantly.

“Robinavitch.” He broke away from you and pulled Robby into a hug with the force of someone who had never respected personal space in his life.

"A lot less hair since I last saw you."

Robby snorted, clapping him on the back. "The Pitt will do that to you.”

Jack caught your eye over Robby’s shoulder, his expression running a fine line between faint amusement and annoyance.

Robby stepped back, shaking his head before gesturing to Jack.

“This is Jack Abbot, night attending.”

“Nice to meet you. Mark Sloan.” Mark stuck his hand out. “Head of Plastic Surgery at Seattle Grace.”

“Plastic surgery?” Jack's brow lifted slightly as he shook Mark’s hand. “Explains the soft hands.”

Mark laughed loudly enough that several people looked over.

“Oh my god.” Whitaker mumbled as he watched Jack and Mark shake hands. “It’s like I’m seeing double.”

Santos shook her head. “She’s got some serious issues.”

McKay folded her arms over her chest as she studied the two men. “Or just good taste.”

“I second the good taste thing.” Princess murmured as she appeared beside McKay.

Perlah took a sip of her drink and nodded. “I third that.”

The handshake lasted just a fraction longer than necessary as Mark glanced over at you. “I get it."

Robby’s eyes narrowed as he gestured between you and Mark.

“You two know eachother?”

“I was an intern at Seattle Grace." You supplied quickly.

“Oh yes, Cupid and I go wayyy back.” Mark smirked.

Robby's confusion only deepened. “Cupid…?”

You shot Mark a warning glare, which he very intentionally ignored.

“Yeah Cupid.” He answered smoothly. “'cause you know she’s got these little angel wings tattooed right above her-“

“Okayyy you know what.” Robby clapped his hands letting out a bark of awkward laughter. “I think a hospital tour sounds like a great idea right about now."

Mark's eyes gleamed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was going to say shoulder blade."

“You are going to walk with me." Robby said, already steering him away, “And tell me absolutely none of the rest of that story.”

Mark let himself be guided down the hall, still grinning smugly as he glanced back over his shoulder at you and winked, making you roll your eyes once more.

You dragged your eyes away from him to look at Jack who was yet to move. He watched Mark disappear down the corridor, then looked back at you.

He slowly stepped forward, eyes scanning your figure as he placed his hands casually behind his back.

"Ex?"

You sighed. "...Ex."

Jack nodded curtly. “Got it.”

“Abbot.” You looked over to see Dana studying both of you. “Dr King needs an attending in Room 8.”

Jack's eyes never left you. You watched him intently, waiting to see if he would say anything further. Instead he simply reached into his pocket and produced a protein bar.

You swallowed as he slid it into the front pocket of your scrub top, his fingers lightly against your side subtly.

“Eat.” Was all he said, unable to hide the affection in his voice.

Your throat tightened around a smile as you nodded. He held your gaze for one more second, then turned and headed in the direction of Room 8.

You watched him go, your hand subconsciously brushing over the side that he’d just touched.

When you looked back, Dana was still standing there, one hand on her hip as she watched you over her glasses with an expression far too knowing for your liking.

“Don’t you dare say a word.”

She raised her hands up in mock surrender. “Wasn’t gonna.”

You huffed as you turned, suddenly desperate to busy yourself in order to keep your mind off the cluster fuck that was your two worlds colliding.

For the next twenty minutes, you threw yourself back into work. Every few minutes though, your gaze betrayed you, either drifting towards the corridor where Robby had taken Mark or towards Room 8, where Jack had disappeared. The protein bar sat heavily in your pocket, your appetite now completely non-existent.

By the time you ended up at a computer to finish off your charting, your shift was close enough to ending that you had started to believe you might actually survive it.

“Oh damn, the patient in room 7 died.”

You glanced up to see Whitaker staring at a chart from the workstation beside you.

“The old lady with the chest pain?”

“Yeah.” Whitaker sighed.

You frowned. "That sucks."

“She had a husband right?” Santos chimed in from across from you, not bothering to look up from her own computer.

“Yeah she did, married nearly fifty years."

Without missing a beat, Santos glanced up at you. “Abbot better watch out.”

Your eyes narrowed.

"Nice. Very respectful." Whitaker shook his head, although you could see he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" Santos shrugged. "Our girl clearly has a type."

"Silver foxes?" McKay suggested as she walked past grinning like a cheshire cat.

"I hate all of you."

Whitaker looked over at you like he was genuinely offended. "What did I do?!"

Across the hallway, Jack had just emerged from Room 8. Your eyes met his. He didn’t react beyond the faintest lift of one eyebrow, but you could tell he'd heard every word.

You tipped your head slightly towards the supply closet. Jack looked at you for half a beat, then gave the smallest nod.

You waited a couple minutes before moving.

The supply closet was narrow, overstocked, and smelled faintly of antiseptic and cardboard. You shut the door behind you and leaned against a shelf, exhaling slowly for what felt like the first time in an hour.

A few minutes later, the handle turned. Jack stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He leaned back against the opposite shelf, folding his arms loosely across his chest as the two of you studied eachother.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So… that’s your ex.”

“That’s my ex.”

He nodded. "You left out a few details."

"Such as?"

His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to your face.

“Well first of all I wasn’t expecting Mark Sloan.”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “You know who he is?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Of course you have.” You paused for a moment before your voice dropped slightly, unable to hide the insecurity in your tone. "Do you think less of me because I dated someone like him?"

Jack's brows knitted together. "Absolutely not." He said immediately. "It's just that I wasn't expecting your ex to be..."

Your brow furrowed. “Be what?”

“…old.” Was what Jack settled on.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “He’s not old, he’s like your age.”

“Exactly.” Jack nodded. “I'm practically from the stone age compared to you.”

“You’re not.” You insisted.

Jack’s mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t quite hold as he looked down at the floor.

You studied him for a moment, admiring the lines etched deep into his face that you’d had memorised for as long as you’d known him. “Does it bother you that he’s older?”

“No it doesn’t bother me it’s just...” He sighed. “I thought I was the exception.” He confessed.

Your face softened instantly as you pushed off the wall and took a step towards him.

"Jack."

"I know it’s irrational.” He said, giving a small, self-deprecating shrug. “I just thought I was the first older doctor you’d made questionable life choices over.”

You huffed a small laugh as you closed the gap between the two of you, reaching up to cradle his jaw.

“Hey.” You said gently, guiding his eyes up to meet yours.

“When I met Mark I was young and overwhelmed and had just moved to a new city and he was…” You trailed off, glancing at the door like Mark might somehow materialise on cue.

“…well you’ve seen what he’s like.”

You brushed a thumb over his stubble that lined his jaw. “It barely even qualified as a relationship. And then it ended and we worked together for months. And then I moved.”

Jack leant into your touch slightly, his eyes never leaving your face as you spoke, attentive in the way that always made your heart ache a little.

“And then on my first day here I met a grumpy doctor up on the roof while I was mid meltdown.”

His brows drew together in feigned disbelief. “I don’t think he was grumpy.”

“He told me if I was thinking of jumping I shouldn’t because it’d be a shame to ruin a face like mine.”

The frown that had a hold on his face loosened just a fraction. “Why on earth would he think that line would work.”

“In his defence, I think he was a little out of practice.”

His hands settled at your waist, warm and steady through the thin fabric of your scrubs. “Or his brain short circuited when he saw you.”

Your smile widened as you slid your arms around the back of his neck, entwining your fingers absentmindedly around the silver curls at the nape of his neck.

“Well, lucky for him it worked.”

The reluctant smile finally reached his eyes. “Very lucky.” He corrected.

He glanced down, playing with the tie of your scrub pants.

“I just can’t believe you dated a plastic surgeon.”

You snorted softly. “Is that seriously what’s bothering you the most?”

“Yes.” He answered plainly.

You shook your head, a wry smile on your lips. “Not the stupid nickname?”

Jack glanced down at you, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

“If he calls you that again I may have no choice but to punch him.” He conceded casually as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

His head tilted slightly as he studied you for a moment. “But at least he can fix his own nose up after.”

You let out a laugh, running a hand over his chest. “Don’t worry.” You soothed. “I already told him you volunteer with the SWAT team.”

Jack smirked down at you proudly. “Atta girl.”

Then he leant down and finally pressed his lips to yours in a slow, reverent kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes narrowed immediately.

“Did you eat?”

You winced slightly. “Not yet.” You patted the pocket that contained the protein bar. “I’ll eat this and then go.”

Jack frowned, clearly unsatisfied with your solution. “Go home and eat something more substantial.”

“I will.”

“There’s pasta in the fridge for you, all you have to do is chuck it in the microwave.”

Your interest piqued immediately. “The pesto one I love?”

“Of course.”

You grinned, pressing your forehead against his. “You’re very good to me Dr Abbot.”

His smile softened into something private, something reserved just for you. “Anything for my girl.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, enjoying the feeling of his warmth seeping into you.

“Alright.” He muttered reluctantly against your lips as he pulled away. “Get going before I end up locking you in here.”

You smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He shot you a warning glare with absolutely no bite to it.

You huffed dramatically, “alright alright.”

You reached for the door, then paused, glancing back at him.

“And for the record, if you’re worried about feeling old…”

Jack raised a brow.

“You should meet my other ex, he checked into the nursing home down the road last week.”

“Very funny.” He muttered, trying but failing to look unamused.

“I know I am.”

“Go.” He urged as he tapped your backside affectionately.

You raised your hands in mock defeat, slipping back into the pitt without another word.

Jack shook his head as the door shut softly behind you, a lovesick smile spreading across his face.

Jack tilts his head to meet your gaze and smiles softly. His eyes drift over your face like he’s memorizing every inch. He’s close enough that he could count each individual lash if he wanted to. 

When he lifts his hands to cup your face between his palms, you melt into his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. 

Your skin heats under his hands, blood rushing to your face. The timid smile on your face tugs at Jack’s heartstrings.

“So beautiful,” he repeats tenderly. 

He means it. 

You misinterpret it. 

When you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him again, there’s more heat to it—the kind that leads to places you haven’t been to with him yet.  He keeps you steady, your face still held by him.  His lips fit against yours like two puzzle pieces.

The weight of him leads you towards the couch naturally. He doesn’t guide or force but simply leans in until you sink onto the cushions, him braced above you. 

Your hand drifts down from his chest to his stomach. Through his shirt, you still feel the way his muscles flex under your touch.  He breaks the kiss to look at you, an almost dopey curve to his mouth. 

“You’re ticklin’ me,” he mumbles. 

“That’s on purpose,” you reply. 

He grins, then catches your hands in his own.  “Is that so?” he whispers. “Anything else you want to confess?”

You let a few seconds pass, just for dramatic effect, before you nod.  “Yeah,” you mumble, “I’m also trying to take your shirt off right now.”

Jack chuckles softly.  “You don’t say,” he teases. “Any reason for that?”

You roll your eyes fondly.  “Take a guess.”

A gentle laugh spills from him, originating deep from his chest. You feel the vibration travel through him until it reaches your hand, too. 

“I think I can help out with that.”

He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, then over his head. Your eyes are glued to every inch of sun-kissed skin that’s slowly exposed. For a moment, you hesitate before you reach out to rest your hand on his chest, feeling the heat radiating from him. 

When you’ve had your fill of touching him—though you’re not sure you’ll ever get enough of him—you take off your own shirt. You had planned in advance and worn a black lace bralette, but you hadn’t told Jack, so you could trick him into thinking that you’re always this put together.  The matching panties waited for him under the skirt, which you were eager for him to pull off of you. 

Jack can’t look away—and doesn’t want to. You’re surprised that for once, it doesn’t feel like you’re being ogled. 

No, Jack admires. 

His fingers drift over your breasts up to your neck, then rest on your face. 

“Like I said,” he whispers. “Beautiful.”

Instead of answering, you lean in to kiss him again. As your lips press against his, you reach for his belt buckle and open it. Jack hums into your mouth, a small roll of his hips encouraging you. 

He helps you take off his jeans. Jack talked to you about not wearing his prosthetic at home around you a few days ago, but right now, he still has it on. He seems a little nervous as his pants fall away, and you get a full glance at it for the first time.

You don’t mind at all. 

The next barrier that falls is your skirt. Jack undoes the zipper at the side carefully, then slides the fabric down your legs. He makes a sound you can’t quite categorize when he sees the thin lace panties you picked out for tonight.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “How are you this perfect?”

Again, you forgo an answer with another kiss. 

Jack notices. He cups your face, then pulls away a little just to look at you. His brows knit together slightly. 

“Hey,” he mumbles.

You haven’t been together that long yet, but he knows you well enough to see that you don’t feel like talking about this right now.  Still, for a moment, he chews on his bottom lip in contemplation before he asks, “Wouldn’t you rather take this to the bedroom?”

You shrug softly. “I don’t mind the couch. Whatever you want.”

The divot between his brows deepens.  “But I’m asking you what you want,” he counters. “If… if we’re doing this right now, I want you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable,” you reply. 

He nods reluctantly.  “Alright,” he mumbles.

The next kiss feels a little different—not in a bad way, just more careful. Jack waits, lets you chase him instead of taking the lead. So you do. 

You reach behind you to unfasten the clasps of your bra. As the lace falls away, Jack watches with amazement. He almost manages to throw in another compliment for you, but you don’t give him the chance. You stand up from the couch and hook your fingers into your panties, then slowly slip them off.  Jack’s breath hitches. He leans into the back of the couch to watch as you step out of the fabric that fell to your ankles. This time, he truly stares. 

When you step closer, he pulls you in by your hips until you’re seated on his lap. Your bare cunt brushes over the bulge in his boxers, causing both of you to moan. 

You roll against him once, then twice, then kiss him again. The heat between the two of you is unbearable. You don’t understand why he hasn’t taken off his underpants yet and wonder if he maybe just needs a little bit more encouragement, so you grind down against him again. 

Jack hisses at the contact, his fingers tightening on your sides. 

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Then let me help you,” you chuckle and reach for the waistband of his boxers. He lifts his hips to help you slip them off—and you swallow hard when you see what you’re working with. The grey happy trail you’ve been eyeing since his shirt came off leads down to his thick cock. The size of the bulge makes more sense now. He’s veiny and flushed a dark red, almost a little purple at the tip. 

“Jesus,” you whisper.

Jack chuckles, maybe even a little self-consciously so. 

“Yeah, it’s um… it’s been a while for me,” he admits. 

Your mouth falls open—you hadn’t expected that. A man with his looks, a doctor at that, too?

“Really?” you ask. “I mean… that’s okay. I don’t mind. Just… tell me what you like.”

He shrugs softly. 

“I like you.” 

His answer is so sappy that it makes you grin. 

“Shut up. No, really, tell me what you like.”

Jack looks at you and pulls you closer again. 

“I’m serious,” he mumbles. “I just want you, however you want. Why? What kinda stuff do the kids like these days?”

Your face warms a little.

“I don’t know,” you mumble. A total lie.  “We can try some stuff, you know?”

“Like what?” he asks. “You want me to tie you up?”  He chuckles like the idea is absurd to him. 

“Would you want to tie me up?” you counter. 

Jack’s brows furrow again. 

“I don’t think that’s my thing,” he says quietly. 

You nod slowly.  “What about…”

Saying it out loud feels, for lack of a better word, cringe, so you take his hand and place it on the base of your throat. 

Jack doesn’t pull away immediately, but his fingers don’t wrap around your neck either. He looks up at you, his jaw set tightly.  Then he shakes his head and cups your face instead. 

“I don’t think so,” he says softly. “How about… we just take things slow and figure it out as we go?”

When you nod, Jack kisses you, and it tastes like relief.  He surprises you when he switches positions with you—you’d have thought he would want you to stay on top.  

Jack braces his weight on his forearms as he hovers above you, his face just inches away from you. Then he lowers his head, but his lips don’t meet yours—they trail down over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipple, making you gasp as the sensation tingles through you. 

He cups your other breast, squeezing and kneading the flesh gently, then places a kiss on the valley between your breasts before he descends further.  To your ribs… then your navel… then your hipbone. 

Your breath stills completely when his fingers come to rest on your thighs. He doesn’t push them open yet.

“May I?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

He parts your legs gently, his eyes still focused on you until he lowers his head and—

Your world tilts a little. 

When his tongue drags through your drenched slit, and Jack moans out loud, you arch towards him. He holds your hips in place, fingers digging into the flesh—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make you feel him. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

He flattens his tongue against your clit, licking upwards until you see stars.

“Jack-“ you moan, trying… you don’t know what you’re trying to say. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, tugging slightly at the grey curls.  He sucks your clit into his mouth, causing you to cry out in pleasure. 

He laps at your cunt like a starved dog, and you can’t believe that “it’s been a while” for him, not when he’s eating you out like that.

“I—oh God,” you sigh dreamily.

Your legs quiver, your hips twitch—your entire body is shaking with pleasure. 

“That’s it, baby,” Jack murmurs, his words muffled. “Fuck—please, just let me make you feel good.”

The sounds of your arousal mixing with his saliva are unholy—a wet overflow of moisture between your thighs. Jack seems to be right where he wants to be. He moans into your flesh, his hips bucking and pressing into the couch below like he is trying to alleviate the ache, the buildup of his own need. 

When you come apart, he guides you through it, not stopping until your brain is overflowing with oxytocin and your thighs won’t stop shaking. 

Both of you are panting when he comes up.  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles devilishly. 

“God… we’re so doing this again,” he declares softly. 

You’re at a loss for words. You haven’t come like that ever. All you can do is nod and reach for him. 

Jack plants his arms on either side of your head and kisses you deeply. You taste yourself on his tongue, the sweet, tangy flavor erupting in your mouth. 

His leaking cock presses against your tummy as his lips graze yours.

You reach between you and stroke him, making him groan into your mouth. 

“Jesus,” he mutters when he pulls away to look at you. “You—”

He thrusts into your hand instinctively, and you realize just how pent up he is. 

“Your turn,” you whisper. 

Jack tsks softly, half amused, half… something else.  He cups your face and kisses your jaw tenderly. 

“Believe me, that was my turn,” he says lowly. “But if you want to keep going, I’m sure as hell not saying no.”

--

The bliss afterwards is indescribable. But it’s also foreign.

You still sense every press of his hands on your body without feeling tender, every brush of his lips without a single mark on your skin, and every thrust of his hips without that residual feeling of having been used. 

Jack was nothing but gentle. 

And god, it was incredible. 

The sheets underneath you are crumpled and slightly damp with sweat and sex, but you don’t mind. Not when Jack’s arm is wrapped around you, your back pressing against his chest. He kisses the side of your neck where your pulse still flutters with excitement. 

“You were incredible,” he whispers.

It must be so obvious that his words fluster you because he smirks when you hide your face in the sheets. 

“Barely even did anything,” you mumble. 

Jack makes a sound you can’t quite discern. 

“Right,” he chuckles. “Except that thing where you got really tight when you were about to come again or—”

You whip around and press your hand over his mouth, your eyes wide and embarrassed.

“Jack,” you complain, half-serious, half-playful. 

He kisses your palm and smiles. 

“Hey, I’m just teasin’,” he retorts. “But I really meant it. It was really great for me.”

“Yeah, for me, too,” you mumble. 

You’re not used to any kind of pillow talk, so the words feel thick, like they don’t quite want to leave your mouth. 

Jack doesn’t seem to mind. He just pulls you closer against his chest and rests his chin on the top of your head. 

As the minutes pass, he tells you to go pee and promises more cuddles later on. 

In the bathroom, you look at yourself in the mirror. The haphazardly buttoned-up shirt you’re wearing belongs to Jack and falls to your mid-thigh. Your hair is a mess from how often he ran his hands through it. A few hickeys begin to gain color and paint your neck a soft purple.

You can’t help but smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Jack calls out. “Your phone keeps vibrating. I think someone really wants to talk to you!”

“Yeah, just a sec,” you reply. 

When you return to his bedroom, Jack is sitting up, his brows drawn together slightly. Your phone is in his hand, the screen facing up. 

“Sorry,” he says as he passes it to you. “I didn’t mean to spy on you or anything, just wanted to bring it to you.”

You take your phone and glance at the messages—and feel your face heat up.

“Oh.” Your laugh comes out stiff as you quickly shut off your phone. “Sorry, um—they’re joking, of course. Like, uh…”

Jack looks at you quietly, watching as you fumble nervously with the edge of your phone case. There was a light flush to his cheeks now, too. 

“No, no, don’t worry, I shouldn’t have read it anyway, I just looked at it ‘cause it kept… vibrating,” he explains. 

The awkward silence that follows feels detrimental. 

You wonder if you should explain more, or if maybe stammering another apology would make it worse, but then Jack breaks the quiet first. 

“Not to sound my age, but… I assume cracking means… uh… hooking up?”

You press your lips together uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Like, um… yes.”

He nods once. Then he tilts his head to catch your eyes. 

“It’s not the… nicest word, is it?” he asks. 

“It’s just, like, a TikTok thing,” you answer. 

“Hm,” is all he replies. 

Then he takes your hand and guides you back onto the mattress. You meet his gaze hesitantly. The lines around his eyes are a little deeper, just like the furrow between his brows. He doesn’t seem angry, just serious.

“I… I kind of would prefer it if you didn’t think of what we just did as… “cracking”. It’s not the word I would use,” he says slowly.

“It’s just a word,” you mutter. 

“Not to me,” he argues softly. “It’s… words have meanings. And cracking sounds like… like I’m doing something to you, not with you. I don’t mean to be… all old man and, like, police your language. But… I don’t want you to think of sex with me that way. Or… with anyone else for that matter, even though, ideally, I would like this to be a long-term thing.”

His hazel eyes don’t leave your face for even a single moment, and it’s almost overwhelming—if it weren’t for the sincerity in them. 

“I’m sorry—" you begin, but Jack shushes you.

“No, sweetheart, I don’t- I don’t want you to apologize. I just want you to be comfortable with me. I wanna make sure you… you feel respected by me,” he explains. 

“I do,” you reply quickly. “Really. Like, no one else has ever… been this kind to me.”

Jack’s face falls. 

“Oh, no, I mean, like… you’re a gentleman,” you elaborate.

He shakes his head softly. 

“No, baby, I’m… this is… this is the bare minimum. Christ.”

Jack’s hands find yours, and he leans in to kiss your forehead. Then he wraps his arms around you. 

“At the risk of sounding like your father, I think you kids need to put down your phones and go out in the real world.”