reef

Ｔｈｅ Ｐｉｔｔ

Ⓙⓐⓒⓚ Ⓐⓑⓑⓞⓣ

MULTIPART

lover, you should come over - 10 parts

come closer - 5 parts

ONESHOTS

sweet summertime

are you having a bad dream, baby?

TEXT FICS/SMAU

jack x f!resident (2 parts)

ⓜⓘⓒⓗⓐⓔⓛ(Ⓡⓞⓑⓑⓨ)

Ⓡⓞⓑⓘⓝⓐⓥⓘⓣⓒⓗ

ONESHOTS

robbyxreader (misunderstanding&fluff)

When you woke the next morning, you immediately wondered if it would be humanly possible to dig yourself into an even deeper Jack Abbot shaped hole. So far, on your quest to distance yourself as much as possible from Jack and your feelings for him, you had shared some of the deepest, most personal truths you held and stayed up giggling on his couch together all night. Which was obviously a bit counter productive. 

The fleeting thought had once again crossed your mind of whether you should start apartment hunting again, if it would be better to rip the bandaid off and end this whole thing rather than risk your traitorous heart growing more and more fond of Jack Abbot the longer you lived with him, the longer you let yourself play this little game of denial.

You wished it didn’t pain you so much to consider leaving.

Whether you were simply pushing the rational part of your brain down in avoidance or truly just got swept up over the next few weeks, things seemed to fall into a comfortable rhythm. You and Jack didn’t share any more deep moments of conversation like that night, but you were doing a better job of not running away from him (physically or mentally) at every chance. 

During the slower moments of your shift that day, and any time you could over the next few weeks, you began paying closer attention when Langdon talked to gather more ideas for your gift to him. So far you’d considered a gift certificate to the doggy daycare you passed on your commute, which would honestly be more of a gift for Frank’s wife by the sounds of it, but a quick internet search shot that idea down quickly. You wondered what dogs could possibly be doing at a daycare that would cost almost as much as your old rent.

Then, one shift you overheard him talking about some men’s athleisure brand that he apparently liked, saying they were opening a new store near his house, but once again you found yourself at a similar financially strained dead end. 

When the week before the gift exchange rolled around and you were beginning to lose hope, deciding you would just get Frank some lame ass Pittsburgh Penguins merch- he pulled you onto a case with him.

The patient was an older man, accompanied by his wife, and they were in some of the most impressive homemade pirate costumes you’d ever seen. You’d honestly expected Langdon to have some sort of mostly humorous but slightly judgemental comment for the eccentric couple, but you were quickly proven wrong.

“Woah! Ahoy there!” Langdon greeted the couple enthusiastically, and you had to hold back a surprised chuckle at his obvious excitement. “I’m assuming you two fashionable folks came from the Renaissance Fair downtown?” 

You smiled over the computer you were currently pulling the man’s charts up on as Langdon spoke with them. He’d had a fainting spell at the fair, according to his intake. Unsurprising, given his age and the fact that he’d stated he’d had no water and “four or five meads” (??) today.

“I really wanted to go, but I wasn’t able to swing it this time.” Langdon is saying, and suddenly your ears are perked. “I used to go with my parents all the time. My kids are completely uninterested though. Losers.” The elderly couple laughs at Langdon’s joking, but your mind is already ten steps ahead. Bingo.

A few minutes later, when you’ve gone over proper hydration with the man and patched up the small cuts on his arms, you quickly slip into the bathroom and do a speedy google search.

The website stated that the fair was over at the end of this week, and completely sold out anyway. But it would be back early Spring, and the tickets were completely doable for you. With a grin and silent celebration, you hit purchase on two tickets for March and give a sigh of relief that you had at least one holiday responsibility off of your plate.

But as much as you’d been wanting to find the right thing for Langdon, you were feeling tenfold the stress about what to get for Jack. You’d oscillated for about two days on whether you should even get him a gift, but came to the decision that you definitely had to. It was the least you could do to show your appreciation for everything he’d done for you. And, if you were really being honest, you just wanted to.

But what kind of gift did one buy their roommate/boss/crush/friend? Cologne? You already liked the cologne Jack wore. Not that you were paying close attention to it.

A candle? Too generic. You’d been wracking your brain for the perfect mix of thoughtful but appropriate and coming up short.

At least you’d gotten your gift exchange present out of the way. Progress was progress.

When Jack woke up that day, he climbed out of bed with much more enthusiasm than usual. He only had a few hours to go out before he needed to get ready for his shift that night, and he was determined to find you the perfect gift. As if spurred on by a new wave of delusion and encouragement from your bonding the night before, he was more focused on finding you the best Christmas gift possible than his whole secret unrequited love thing.

He drove to the outdoor mall a few blocks away, and even as a man who didn’t typically enjoy shopping, Jack was pleasantly surprised by the festive decorations and softly playing holiday music echoing through the shopping center’s speakers.

After wandering in and out of a few stores, all full of generic items that didn’t at all stand out to him as something worthy of gifting you, he passed the window of a shop. It was decorated inside with all different colors, and just upon first glance he was overwhelmed by how much… stuff was in there. But it was charming in a way that pulled him through the doors.

Jack browsed the full tables of candles, coffee mugs, fancy dishes and knick knacks and anything one could possibly come in looking for, honestly. 

But he stopped in his tracks when he passed the third table, nestled in a corner beside a giant pink Christmas tree. Sitting amidst a plethora of clay dishes and jewelry stands was an assortment of polished, colorful seashells. They were clearly real, holding minute chips and scratches along the edges and showing their natural imperfections. The shells had been turned into jewelry boxes, even encrusted with little gold snaps to seal shut. One of them sat as a model holding a dainty pair of gold and pearl earrings.

Jack was grinning maniacally as he ran a hand over one of the shells. He was thinking of you, and how your eyes had filled with so much love and joy and sadness all at the same time when you’d told him about the shells you’d collected with your brother. 

More superficially but just as fondly, Jack thought of the countless dangly earrings he always saw you wearing on your days off, or the daintier gold hoops you’d wear when you had to go into the hospital.

He pictured you opening these little shell trays and smiling, that big bright unapologetic smile he loved to see so much, wished you’d show him more- and finding a place for them in your room, and keeping your things in them and maybe, just maybe thinking of him whenever you saw them.

Jack thought of his wife, and the small porcelain tray she’d kept her wedding ring in every night when they went to sleep.

Jack smiled, and blinked hard a few times, and collected every single shell off of the table to take to the register.

Twenty minutes later, Jack was stowing the paper shopping bag and array of wrapping material he’d bought as well under his bed, which was a bit overkill seeing as you’d never even stepped foot inside his room, but he didn’t want to even risk the chance of you finding your gift. He was wrestling a knot of nerves and excitement over giving you the gift, hoping you would really like it as much as he thought you would.

With a sigh and nod of approval, Jack stood, moving to get ready for his shift. Only a few days until the gift exchange. He wondered absentmindedly as he donned his scrubs who you had drawn for the gift exchange, and if he were a better man would’ve admitted to the twinge of jealousy he felt toward whoever got to open a gift from you.

7:00pm rolls around, and with the budding holiday spirit and decorations that you’re convinced Dana has been adding more to every day. Whitaker had tripped on a loose piece of tinsel while rushing a gurney earlier and nearly faceplanted onto the unconscious patient, and Robby kept pretending he was going to stab himself with the cardboard menorahs around the nurses’ station. But all in all, the Pitt was in good spirits, yourself included.

Even the patients seemed to be in generally higher spirits, outside of the influx of weather related incidents. 

Ironically, as you were leaving the hospital you were thinking back on the particularly grinchy man who’d come in with a broken nose after eating it in his driveway and laughing to yourself at his dramatics. Even after you’d staunched the bleeding, let him ice it for way longer than necessary, and watched Robby reset it seamlessly, he’d been grumbling about the lack of “real pain meds”.

This was ironic because you were so lost in thought you didn’t see the thin patch of ice at the foot of the steps as you trotted down. You certainly felt it though, as the toe of your sneaker caught and slid across it, sending one leg flying out from under you and the other bent awkwardly underneath you as you slammed to the ground. 

You vaguely noted the clang of your bag flying off of your shoulder and the clunk of your head against the handrail before things went black.

You came too moments later to Lena’s calm voice and hands at your shoulders, shaking you gently. You blinked the blurry haze from your eyes a few times before looking up at her. 

“You okay sweetie? You slipped?” The night charge nurse is asking as she pulls out her pager. “Can I get a wheelchair…” Her voice fades a bit in your mind as you try to sit up, but pain sears through your right leg. After a moment you register her words and immediately shake your head, assuring her that you’re fine and she definitely doesn’t need to do that.

It’s too late, you realize a moment later, because the doors to the ED slams open, and instead of a wheelchair one frantic, jogging Jack Abbot is barreling toward you and Lena. 

“What the hell happened?” His deep voice carries across the dark sidewalk and your vision is swimming again. You try to stand, hand gripping the cold, slippery handrail you’d hit your head on moments ago. 

That same sharp pain shoots up your leg and you suck a sharp breath between your teeth, and you feel your legs giving out from under you. Before your butt lands back down on the wet pavement, a strong, warm pair of arms is scooping you up from under your arms and lifting you.

You come face to face with Jack, who’s searching you for any sign of injury other than the obvious.

“Did you hit your head?” He asks, and you’re already trying to deny and assure him that you’re fine.

“Yes, she was unconscious for about a minute.” Lena answers for you, and a dizzy swooping sensation crashes over you as Jack hoists his grip on your back into one arm and scoops your knees with the other.

If you weren’t in increasingly concerning pain and still trying to catch up with your own mind, you would likely have much stronger thoughts on Jack carrying you bridal style back through the doors of the ED and straight into an empty room. You vaguely clock Lena gathering the belongings you’d dropped and stowing them behind the nurses’ station before coming in to quickly take your vitals.

Inside the hospital, already much warmer than a moment ago and head steadily clearing, you speak up.

“You don’t need to do this, you guys, I’m fine, really.” Lena just smiles at you over her glasses with a shake of her head and continues monitoring your heart rate for a moment. Jack is across the room rifling a bit violently through a drawer, and hasn’t spoken since he’d placed you on the patient bed a few minutes ago.

Lena hums that she’s going to get you some water and steps out, and you watch his back, shoulders tense, for another quiet moment before speaking.

“Jack.” Your voice cracks, lacking the assurance you’d hoped to give that you were completely fine. If anything, your pride was bruised, and you wanted to get out of this hospital as fast as possible. He doesn’t respond at first, but you hear the drawer shut when he finally turns around and seems to realize for the first time that you’ve even spoken.

“I’m fine. Really.” You assure him, and push yourself off the bed. To your dismay, your clearly sprained ankle immediately disproves your claim, trying to give out from under you once again. Thankfully both hands are still planted on the bed and you catch yourself this time, at least not needing a repeat of Jack knight in shining armor-ing you.

Not that it had been unpleasant…

“Clearly.” Jack grunts, and you look up to see his incredibly unamused face staring down at you. Overcome by his closeness, the fierceness of his gaze, and the overall comedown of your nerves as your ankle starts to throb, you snort a loud laugh. 

“We can’t keep meeting like this.” You finally get out through giggles, and Jack stares at you with the same frown for a moment before being unable to stop the crack of a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The man huffs, and you’re still stifling silent laughter. 

"What? It's funny." You say.

"You think your tendency to get head injuries is funny?" Jack asks, mock seriousness in his tone as he frowns at you. You're laughing again, a snort escaping.

"Hey, at least it's not a bullet!" You point, and he rolls is eyes but concedes. Before you can even register it, Jack is pulling up a chair and has your ankle in his hands, gently bunching up the loose leg of your scrubs. “I’m gonna take your shoe off, okay?” He asks, and his voice is completely different, shifted into full-on doctor mode as he begins to undo your laces before you even answer.

“Jack, please. You don’t need to do this. There are real patients for you to go see, I’ll ice it when I get home.”

When your mind catches up with your mouth a few moments later, you thank God that Jack is still focused on removing your sneaker as gently as possible, because your face must have just turned tomato red in point five seconds. 

Home, when I get home.

You hadn’t really thought about it before, but you were certain now that you’d never called it that in front of him. Never called it home out loud at all.

But clearly that was what you’d grown to know it as in your mind, Jack’s home, your safe place for the past few months that had felt so normal and right from the very first night. Despite every awkward moment and spike of anxiety over your feelings for Jack himself, you hadn’t even realized how truly at home you had let yourself get in his house. How you’d pushed the thought of moving out or looking for apartments as deep down as possible any time it resurfaced.

“You are a real patient.” He whispers, placing your shoe on the floor and bracing your foot gently. “Cute socks.” He adds with a quiet laugh, eyes darting up at you from under his brows quickly before refocusing on your ankle. 

You’re wearing soft compression socks with dancing snowmen covering them, a detail no one was even able to see under your scrubs but made you happy nonetheless.

“Rotate to the left for me.” Giving up on arguing, you do as Jack says, twisting your sore ankle gently to the left with surprising ease. “Now the other way.” His voice is soft and quiet and sinking to the bottom of your stomach like honey.

You change the path of movement and let out that same hiss of pain, ankle twinging in refusal at the movement. Jack clicks his tongue disapprovingly. 

“It’s just sprained.” You huff, knowing that Jack knows it as well as you do. “I know the drill. I’m kind of a doctor too, remember?” 

Jack is peering up at you again, that unamused look where the silvery hair of his eyebrow pushes up as if questioning every word you’re saying.

“I was aware, yes, but thanks for the reminder.” His gruff reply comes out, voice still barely above a whisper in a way that makes you remember all at once how close you are, how alone you are in this patient room. “I’m going to wrap it for you, mostly because it does seem to be a sprain but partly because I don’t want to go through the argument of trying to get you to do an x-ray.” Smart man. “And we need to make sure you didn’t concuss yourself before you can go.” He adds, patting your calf lightly before slowly letting go, sure not to jerk your ankle too quickly, and standing.

“I did not concuss myself. This is all a bit dramatic, Jack.” You begin to protest again, but you can tell just by his body language that the man isn’t listening to you.

"This is the second bad hit to your head you've gotten in the last two months, I'm checking for a concussion." He says, leaving no room for argument, and you just sit back in the bed in defeat.

You spend the next few minutes in silence as he shines his light in your eyes and feels around the back of your head for any injuries. You try to not act as affected as you feel by the deep inhalation of his cologne and curls still slightly damp from the shower he took before coming in to work.

“Any headache or nausea?” Jack asks, breaking the silence and your lustful train of thought. You shake your head, no, neither.

“Just normal soreness. I’m fine.” You look up at Jack earnestly now. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, and you can see the sympathy flash across his handsome features. He then reaches for the compression bandage, sitting back down and methodically wrapping your foot and ankle. 

“I have a few rolls of this under my bathroom sink if you need it before I get home.” He speaks, not looking up as he finishes off the brace.

You just hum in what you hope comes across as gratitude, a large lump suddenly sitting in your throat.

When Jack is finally done, he pats his thighs and looks up at you with a tight lipped smile. “All set!” He huffs, but doesn’t move to stand yet. “I know I don’t have to tell you the rest of the drill, but please make sure to be careful on it, especially going upstairs.” He continues. “And if your head gets worse call me right away.” You laugh, a bit bewilderedly, and shake your head at him with a smile.

“I will be completely fine, Jack. Thank you.” You pick at your nails a bit, waiting for him to stand before pushing yourself off the bed, not wanting to fall right into him thanks to your close proximity.

When he finally does, you follow, moving slowly as you place the weight on your right foot. It’s still really sore, but helped exponentially by the bracing Jack did.

“Much better.” You sigh. “Thank you. Really.”

“Any time.” Jack says back, and when you meet his eyes he’s already staring at you.

“Okay.” You start again awkwardly, rocking a bit on your feet. “Well, I better get going. Don’t want any more ice patches sneaking up on me on my walk home.” You huff a laugh, trying to break the silence that’s growing more and more tense as you stare at one another.

“You’re not walking home.” Jack then replies automatically, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?” You ask, unsure what else to even say.

“You aren’t walking home on a sprained ankle.” He repeats, tone once again implying that it’s ridiculous you would even assume so, as if you have any other mode of transportation.

“It’s a super short walk.” You’re already inching toward the door, eager to escape any other reason he can find to keep you in this damn hospital any longer.

“It’s a walk in the dark on the icy sidewalk with a sprained ankle.” He huffs back in response, shaking his head as he beats you to the door, shouldering it open and holding it for you as you both exit. You notice fondly that he’s automatically slowed his pace to help you keep up. “You can take my car.” He then adds, and suddenly you’re stopped in your tracks as he continues on to the nurses’ station, where he retrieves your bag, and digs a set of keys out from his own backpack that he must’ve abandoned when he’d come out to your rescue. 

“I cannot take your car.” You blurt immediately, hands out in front of you in refusal.

“You’re going to.” Jack replies simply.

“What if I crash it?!” 

“Are you planning on crashing it?”

“Well, no, but-” 

“Good. That’s settled then.” He hums, and suddenly his keys are being pushed into your hand and he’s carrying your purse away from you and out the door of the ED. You hobble after him instinctively.

“Um, hello! Wait!” You huff, and to Jack’s credit he does slow a bit, though makes no move to stop in his tracks out to the parking lot. When you both exit the second set of doors, you still arguing that you simply can’t take his car to no avail or response from Jack, he pauses.

“Be careful.” He says seriously, nodding toward the sidewalk before continuing on. You groan loudly and swear you hear him snickering at you from ahead.

You trek after Jack for only about a minute more before he comes to a stop behind a dark green Toyota Forerunner, turning to you as if waiting for something.

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to remember he’d given you the keys, and clearly wanted you to unlock the car.

“Oh! Sorry.” You jump, fiddling with them and hitting the unlock button twice for good measure. Jack just opens the driver’s door, leaning in to stow your bag before turning back to look at you, arm leaning against the frame.

“Be careful. And make sure you eat something and drink some water when you get home.” He adds softly, and your heart is racing and you’ve never been more thankful that the sun seems to set at two pm in the winter because your face must be crimson red under his gaze. Home home home.

All you can do is nod, and then Jack is ushering you into his car, and gently helping you in so you don’t hurt yourself, and you’re surrounded by the warm, clean smell of him everywhere. He shuts the door softly behind you and it takes you a moment to start the engine. Once you do, you roll the window down.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask, and your voice comes out as a timid whisper you can hardly recognize as your own.

“Of course.” Jack replies, voice warm and sure and void of any sort of question about it.

You don’t know what it is you possibly could’ve done to be blessed with the gift of Jack Abbot, and his big gracious heart, and his perfect kind smile, and those eyes that had only ever looked at you with kindness.

You didn’t know how you could possibly move forward, knowing what you now knew. 

Knowing that as Jack stood just outside his own car, smiling at you with those perfect lips and those kind eyes so full of concern and care for you, only wanting you to get home safe… Knowing that no matter how hard you tried you would never be able to forget the feeling of his gentle hands assessing your ankle, cradling your head, carrying you into the hospital – the same way you’d never be able to forget the feeling of his bare skin as you’d patched him up that day or his soft, strained breaths.

Knowing that you’d been able to bare your grief to him, show him the deepest parts of yourself that you kept hidden away, and he’d accepted them without blinking, lived through such similar pain and come out the other side.

Knowing that in every way, Jack Abbot had entered your life, your mind, your heart - and there was no way you were ever going to get him out.

As you slowly pulled out of the PTMC parking lot, driving so cautiously that it would likely take you an extra five minutes to get home, Jack Abbot knew without a doubt that he was in love with you, and there was absolutely no going back from it.

a/n: right right okay right.... right.... - reef

links:

masterlist💌

previous part

“Alright people, dontcha go running off on me yet! That’s it, circle up circle up!”

Dana’s voice is ringing out across the ED from where she stands behind the nurses’ station, Lena beside her. Emma is standing behind both of them with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on the young nurses’ face and holding a giant fluffy stocking that someone has glued “PITT” onto in lopsided sparkly letters.

“Did everyone put their name in?” Dana asks, and a chorus of tired groans from the day shift, and somewhat less tired groans from the night shift sound out in confirmation.

Your charge nurse had put up an incredibly colorful print out announcing an emergency department gift exchange for Christmas last week. Many people had pretended to groan and grumble about it, such as Robby claiming he didn’t even celebrate Christmas (not true) and Ellis asking if it was really mandatory for everyone (she’d been one of the first people to put her name in tonight).

“Alright! You know the rules. Let’s get this thing going so my guys can start rounds.” Lena says with a grin and clap, and the stocking begins making its way around the large circle of your coworkers, each person picking a name written on a crumpled piece of post-it and stuffing it in their pocket. Emma had demanded that no one look at their name until they were alone, she was taking the whole secret thing very seriously. 

You stifle a yawn as Mel takes her paper and passes it to Trinity beside her. As you follow the path of the stocking, it arrives in a pair of hands that have your half asleep gaze perking up a bit. You gaze shoots from Jack’s hands up to his face as he takes the fuzzy sock from Trinity and digs into it a bit theatrically, then pulls out a crumpled blue post-it. He almost immediately opens it, stopped only by the quick shouts of protests from Emma and Dana.

You can’t help but let a soft giggle out as everyone else either groans or laughs as well, but Jack’s eyes immediately rise up to meet yours from across the circle, brows raised as if saying geez, they’re taking this a bit too seriously, no?

You smile back softly by quickly look away, embarrassed to be caught already watching him and becoming a bit restless as you wait for your turn. When the stocking finally gets to you, you grab the first piece your fingers brush and pass it on, and after three more people retrieve their gift assignments you’re finally free to go. 

“December 20th people! Do not forget, or I’ll give your gift away to a patient!” Dana hollers after all of you as the day shift filters out and the night shift gets ready to round with Robby and Jack.

You couldn’t believe it would already be December next week. Time had been flying by, and you wondered internally how three whole months had passed living with Jack already. Not that you hadn’t felt the weight of every single day, but it felt like just last week you’d moved out of your old apartment.

Speaking of Jack Abbot, things certainly had not improved in the tension department with your roommate over the past few weeks. After that morning in the supply room, where Abbot’s nearly shirtless body had completely crumbled any resolve you’d tried to build around playing things cool, it had only seemed to get harder to push down your feelings.

If you didn’t know any better, Jack’s recent behavior would’ve made you believe he was fighting a similar struggle. He seemed to be avoiding you much more than before, going on long walks with Roxie and working late and taking every SWAT shift he could get- which was a bit frustrating to you given the whole cleaning his gunshot wound last week thing, but it wasn’t your place to be worrying about him like that. So you pretended not to.

In reality, you suspected Jack was just displeased with your series of inappropriate interactions, first your fall at the bar, then the supply room, and pretty much every other time you’d put your foot in your mouth when he smiled at you too sweetly or said something that made you blush.

It honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he’d caught on to your feelings for him, you certainly weren’t doing a good job of being normal. 

He was likely on edge around you because he was trying to set a professional boundary, make sure no lines were crossed between attending and his senior resident.

Though hadn’t Jack kind of blurred those lines when he’d offered for you to move in in the first place?

You wondered a bit anxiously, as you unlocked the front door and stepped into the house, if Jack regretted offering for you to live with him. It would make sense, with how awkward things had been and how much more distant he had been getting.

You were exhausted, and spiraling a bit. But that didn’t stop the thoughts that had already taken root in your mind, twisting anxiously down through your chest and gut.

He had done this incredibly kind thing for you, and if he had picked up on your inappropriate crush on him, he probably felt totally taken advantage of and stuck with you. Like he had no choice but to keep being nice to you even if he didn’t want to. The thought made your stomach turn.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to start looking for available places in the new year. There was likely to be a better turnout apartment hunting with people’s leases ending in January.

You heard the tell-tale sign of Roxie padding down the hall excitedly as you kicked your shoes off and you smiled, the thought temporarily pushed from your mind.

Jack Abbot was losing his mind. 

Ever since that day in the supply room, when you’d patched him up and snapped at his negligence, and ran your soft hands over his skin, and looked up at him with your big beautiful eyes…

He couldn’t be around you for more than a few minutes without picturing it, without every last bit of his completely faltering resolve cracking more and more. 

He needed to tell you. Needed to find some way of telling you the truth without it being a complete shit show. Which was highly unlikely to happen, he had run through the hypothetical scenario hundreds of times now and in none of the outcomes he’d imagined did it end smoothly. 

But he knew that he had to tell you. 

Because he had let you move into his house, and he really thought he could deal with it- he did. But Jack was only a man. And he couldn’t keep letting you live with him, pretending that he was looking out for you when he was truly hiding all of these completely inappropriate feelings inside.

It wasn’t fair to you. And he was pretty sure it was slowly killing him.

Instead he’d been avoiding you. Jack knew it wasn’t the right way to go about things, but he couldn't help it. Whenever he let himself get too close, lingering in the kitchen with you or trying to make you laugh or seeking you out at shift change because he found himself needing to know you’d had a good day before he could even think about starting his night… he felt the unbearable weight of the truth pressing on him. 

He needed to tell you.

And so when he’d reached into that stocking for Dana’s Christmas game; seen a glimpse of what was unmistakably your handwriting on the poorly folded scrap of paper, and almost opened it right then and there to confirm before Dana had shouted at him about the rules, Jack’s heart had sped up a bit.

When he finally got to step away from the circle of coworkers and open the paper outside of the charge nurses’ hawkeyed gaze, it completely dropped to his stomach.

Because yes; scrawled in blue ink on a bright blue post-it was your name, a small smiley face doodle at the end of it.

His breath caught a bit, and Jack Abbot was fairly certain he was blushing in the middle of the fucking hospital over simply reading your name on a piece of paper.

Yeah, he needed to tell you.

After heating up some dinner and eating with Roxie on the couch, you crawled into bed early. Something about winter- the cold and the sun setting earlier, always made you so much more excited to cozy up at the end of the day.

You then remembered suddenly that you’d completely forgotten about the crumpled piece of paper in your scrub pockets. Jumping back off of your bed, you retrieve it from your laundry basket and unfold the scrap. Scribbled in big, squiggly writing is FRANK.

You chuckle softly to yourself at the man’s penmanship and toss the paper onto your nightstand before crawling back under your covers, already yawning. 

Langdon was a pretty good selection, you thought. You weren’t that close, but you knew him well enough. You knew he had a dog, and you’d met his kids- Tanner and Penny, a few times. He also did talk about himself pretty often, so you’d be able to come up with a fine gift.

As you tried to drift to sleep, mind now idly circling gift ideas and all things holiday, you found yourself wondering who had gotten Jack. The thought made your eyes snap open, and you audibly huffed in frustration at your own mind, and its inability to stay off the one track it clearly loved going down most these days.

It felt like you could never escape the pull to Jack, the constant desire to know- know more about him, know what he was doing, thinking, feeling, to just know him.

Who had gotten him for the gift exchange?

The thought races through your mind again, sharper and with a hint more jealousy than before. You groan now, loudly, and smash your pillow over your head, praying sleep will come quickly.

For the next few weeks, every single idle moment in the Pitt is full of chatter about the gift exchange. People trying to get covert advice on what to get their person, people begging their friends to just tell me who you have, and i’ll tell you who I have, and those like Shen, who has told pretty much anyone who will listen who he drew (Robby) and is demanding to know who drew him (still with no luck)

Surprising to no one, Ahmad has turned the white board in the security office into a red and green expo marker grid with everyone’s names and bets on who has drawn who. Dana keeps muttering about how no one knows how to follow rules, but it’s obvious she’s just glad Emma is having fun.

Thus far, you are fairly certain about the following predictions on the board:

Javadi - Mateo (Highly likely, she usually avoids the night nurse like the plague but has now been discreetly sticking around to talk to him at shift change; though not without looking like she’s about to pass out)

Shen - Robby (Confirmed by the source)

Santos - Javadi (Highly likely, she’s been ninety percent nicer to Victoria than normal and keeps asking incredibly strange questions about her personal life)

And finally, everyone seems to be convinced that Robby has you, because apparently he has awkwardly brought you up in conversation to Trinity, Dennis, and Mel over the past two weeks; but whenever you talk to him about the gift exchange you really don’t get the vibe that he has you. In fact, you’re almost certain that he has Whitaker, because Robby had asked you the day after the name drawing if Whitaker liked anything other than “farm stuff”- whatever that was supposed to mean.

It didn’t really matter to you- you agreed with Dana that the surprise made it more fun, though you had joined the betting board on both Javadi and Santos. 

Abbot had been searching high and low every free moment he had to find the most perfect gift possible to give to you. He had even enlisted Robby to gather intel from who you were closest with on the day shift, which was likely going poorly knowing his friend’s inability to act smooth.

It had to be just the right thing. Jack had already obviously been planning on getting you a few small things for the holidays, but the pressure of a gift that you’d be opening in front of the whole emergency department…

He was lost in thought on this as he stood over the stove on his night off, stirring the homemade sauce he’d made for his spaghetti. He’d gotten the most success in getting you to eat what he cooked when it was of the pasta variety, so he’d just happened to be on a pasta kick for the past month.

He was so lost in thought, in fact, that he didn’t even hear you come through the front door and pad down the hallway until you were behind him.

“That smells amazing.” You spoke, and Jack turned to see you standing in the doorway, peering at what he was making. He was fairly certain that this was the first time in a long time you’d actively sought him out and spoken when you were both in the house together.

“Good.” Is all he says in response, eyes still locked on you as he stirs mindlessly. A soft smile. “It’ll be ready in five.” 

He thinks he must’ve woken up in some alternate reality, or hit the lottery of luck, or there was a genie hiding in his bottle of olive oil or something- because instead of your usual polite insistence that you could make yourself something, you smile. You grin actually, with a soft sleepy nod, and say that you’re going to take a quick shower before eating.

You want to eat. With him. You want to eat the food that he cooked you with him.

He stares at the empty doorway for too long to be casual after you’ve gone.

About ten minutes later, you’re reentering the kitchen and taking the large plate of pasta Jack had dished up for you with a soft thank you.

He swears his heart does a few back flips.

He smells your shampoo and your cheeks are rosy and glowing and he has to focus really hard on putting the sauce on his own pasta.

You sit across from one another at the kitchen table, and eat in silence for a few minutes before Jack finally can’t help but speak.

“Do you have a favorite food?” 

It’s a somewhat stupid, small talk question, one that you likely don’t want to answer after working a twelve hour shift while you’re just trying to eat dinner, but Jack finds himself needing to know the answer like he needs air.

“Actually, I think it’s probably this.” You say with a laugh, wiping sauce from your mouth with a paper towel. He raises an eyebrow for you to go on. “When I was younger I would order spaghetti every single time we went out to eat, it didn’t matter where.” You shake your head a bit as if laughing at yourself, looking down at your plate and twirling noodles around your fork as you talk. 

Jack is mesmerized by you, and frozen in his seat, afraid of doing anything to stop your sudden talkativeness. He could sit there frozen and listen to you talk about spaghetti forever. 

“There was this one time we went to this super fancy steakhouse on a family vacation, even my little brother got like, steak and vegetables or something-” You laugh again. He wants to reach across the table and trace the crinkles around your eyes. “And I ordered spaghetti. My mom tells that story all the time, she thought it was so ridiculous, but I just didn’t think anything of it. I knew what I liked.” You shrug, taking another bite of food, and Jack can tell you’re done talking, lost in your own train of thought now.

He stares at you for a moment, just thinking. He knows he needs to say something or look away before it gets weird, but he could just watch you like this forever; at ease, eating in his kitchen. Happy. He’s happy. 

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Jack hums finally, twirling another bit of pasta around his own fork. Finally forcing himself to look away from you for a moment, he doesn’t notice the immediate pull in your brow, the quick flash of tension that comes and goes just as quickly across your face.

“Yeah.” You hum absently in response, and you’re blinking hard and stabbing your fork a bit more harshly, and Jack definitely notices now.

“You’re not close?” He asks softly, not wanting to intrude. He’s just never heard you talk about your family much at all he realizes, not that you guys have sat down and had these heart to hearts all that often.

He watches you swallow and prays he hasn’t tread too far, done something to make you retreat from him into the awkward avoidance and quiet that the two of you have been dancing around for the past month.

“We were very close.” You finally say. Your voice is thick in a way he hasn’t heard before. “He got sick when he was young.” You trail off. Jack can tell that you need him to understand what you’re telling him without having to say the words.

You look him in the eyes and he swears his heart shatters in his chest, holding your strong gaze even as your eyes well with unshed tears. You smile softly, lips pressed together, and nod a bit.

“I…I’m so so-” In all of his years of pain and love and loss and trials and anger and joy and grief, Jack Abbot is lost for words, unsure of how to express to you how much his heart is aching for you, how much he truly understands.

“I know.” You say. And then you reach across the table, and you pat his hand, and say “I know.” Again. Soft, in the sort of way that can only mean I know that you understand. I know that you have lived it too. Neither of us have to say anything else, not right now.

You squeeze the top of Jack’s hand once before retreating. He immediately aches for the touch to return. The two of you finish your plates in comfortable silence, but when Jack stands and clears them, you don’t leave. You just stand after a moment, and follow him to the sink, and load the dishes in the dishwasher after he rinses them in silence. When that’s done, Jack asks if you want any wine, or tea. You smile and nod, and he pulls down two wine glasses and starts the kettle, which makes you giggle quietly.

Jack hands you a glass and you take it to the couch. And then he sits on the couch with you, and Roxie lays across it, paws splayed out and touching both of your legs in a way that makes both of your hearts ache silently. 

And you tell him about that vacation with your family, back when it was still all of you and things seemed so good. About how after the fancy steak/spaghetti dinner, you’d all walked down to the beach and collected rocks and shells for hours. Your brother had put so many in the pockets of his swim trunks they started trying to slip down, and you had laughed so hard you threw up spaghetti in the ocean.

You told him how you still had all the shells he’d collected that night, you kept them in a box and just stared at them or held them in your hands sometimes, running your fingers over the grooves and cracks that still held little bits of sand.

And Jack told you about how he’d met his wife, how they’d only dated six months before he proposed. He laughs and smacks your shoulder across the couch when you stare at him in shock, saying hey, it was a different time, and then laughs even harder and smacks your shoulder even harder when you make fun of his old age. He tells you about how hard it was to leave for his service so soon after they got married. How he still has days and weeks where he regrets it more than anything in his life, the time he was away that he could’ve had with her before she was gone. 

At some point you realize you’re crying, silent tears streaming down your cheeks as you listen to him. You only do when Jack trails off, and his hand slowly raises and catches a tear as it seeps from your eye, and you just let him. You see the unshed tears behind his own eyes. The two of you sit in silence, staring back at each other, and the moment is only interrupted from going on far too long when Roxie lets out a dramatic groan, stretches, and slides off the couch to trot to the back door.

“Oh my gosh.” You sit up with a start, looking at the time. I need to go to bed, like, forever ago.” You huff, quickly standing too.

Jack just watches you for a moment before following you into the kitchen, fighting the fond, tired smile he can feel pulling at every part of his face.

“Can I make you that tea now?” He asks, and you blame the wine for the hot flush you suddenly notice on your face. Yes, definitely the one glass of wine from hours ago. You smile softly at him despite yourself

“I would like that. Thank you, Jack.” He just nods and smiles, like it’s nothing. “For everything.” You add softly.

a/n: as alwaysssss, thank you so so so (x1000000) much for reading <3 every single comment means the world to me - reef

links:

previous part

next part

masterlist 💌

You wake up the next morning to your phone’s alarm, and an unread text from Robby.

Don’t need you to come in today. Whitaker decided to pick up his shift after all.

You groaned, dropping your phone back onto your bedside table and staring at the ceiling in silent frustration. It didn’t take much deducing to figure out how exactly that had come to be, but you were well rested enough now to know it would be ridiculous to get upset at Whitaker for clearly trying to help you out here.

Still though- for a group of doctors, you coworkers were being quite dramatic about a little bump on the head. They hadn’t been the only ones who’d overreacted though…

No, you probably owed Mateo an apology for the way you’d laid into him when he’d gone against your wishes to call Jack last night. 

But you’d just wanted one night, one night of pretending like you weren’t quickly spiraling into proximity induced insanity over Jack Abbot. Instead, your fun night out had turned into the exact opposite of that. 

It was only six, and since you’d apparently been volentold out of your shift today, you had the day off. But you were wide awake now, mind racing as you relived the previous night. 

You knew that you owed Jack an apology, and a conversation. Though the latter did not seem any better than it had last night.

Your mind flashes over images of Jack standing in front of you, warm, calloused hands holding your head so gently as he’d inspected your wound. You had spent plenty of time around Doctor Abbot, competent, precise, and incredibly good at his job. That had been different. He hadn’t been simply playing the role of doctor for you. If that was what he truly cared about, he could’ve let you take care of patching yourself up on your own.

The way he’d looked at you… watched you the whole time you ate the leftovers that he’d microwaved for you and filled a glass of water for you to take before letting you finally go to bed. As annoying as it had been in the moment, you knew it was because…

Because Jack Abbot cared. He cared about you; enough to come pick you up from the bar on his night off, enough to make sure you were as taken care of as possible before going to sleep, enough to notice that you hadn’t been eating enough and enough to offer you a place to live. 

Jack Abbot cared about you. The only problem was, you were pretty sure you cared about him a lot more.

You hide out in your room for a large portion of that day, and when you finally ventured downstairs around one pm, there was a scrap of paper with a short note scrawled on it.

Picking up a SWAT call before going in tonight. Text or call if you need anything. Hope you’re feeling okay

You found yourself frowning as you read the words, though you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Maybe because a small part of you had been hoping to run into Jack when you finally left your room, even though you’d been hiding from him all morning. Maybe because this meant that you wouldn’t be seeing him until the next morning at shift change. Maybe because something embarrassingly strong and worried and anxious twisted in your gut, knowing he was out with the SWAT team when he should be home sleeping before his shift. 

But it wasn’t your place to worry about that. 

Just like you’d told Jack last night.

Because all you were to one another was roommates, and coworkers, and hopefully friends(?) 

So it wasn’t your place to worry about him picking up the most psychotic and dangerous “hobbies” a man could choose from, and it wasn’t his responsibility to worry about you.

You nodded to yourself, alone in the living room. Yes, it was better that way. 

It was better. 

Jack had laid in bed restless for most of the night, not falling asleep until nearly two am and waking up as the sun began to rise. After a pathetic attempt at trying to fall back asleep, he admitted defeat and trekked out to the living room to make a pot of coffee. 

He hoped that you wouldn’t be awake for a long time yet, goodness knows you needed the rest. He’d texted Robby as soon as you’d gone upstairs to bed last night and explained, in as few details as possible, what had happened to you- asking his friend to figure something out for your shift tomorrow. Jack knew many of the day shift residents had already finagled the Saturday off, but someone who didn’t have an open laceration on their head could buck up and go in in your place.

After sitting at the table over two cups of coffee, walking Roxie, doing his morning yoga in the backyard, and finding himself back on the couch trying and failing to read this stupid book, Jack decided that he was going to need something a bit more effective to get his mind off of you- and everything that had happened last night.

Every time his eyes flicked to the next sentence on his page, his mind drifted to the feeling of his hands on the soft skin of your face, the strands of your hair, the look in your exhausted eyes as you’d let him care for you.

All he wanted to do was care for you…

Yeah, he needed to get out of this house.

When, about an hour later, he got a call from his buddy about a response job downtown- a warehouse robbery that had turned into a full on hostage situation- he was tugging on his gear and out the door in minutes. This was exactly what he needed, exactly why he’d started helping out with them in the first place. 

Those early days after his wife had passed… there were stretches of days and nights when he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t silence his mind. He’d picked up the cooking, and the yoga, and as many extra shifts as he could when they finally let him come back to work. 

Nothing was ever enough, not enough to quiet his mind, calm his nerves. Give him any sense of the security that had been ripped away from his life piece by piece over the past few years.

When one of his old friends from overseas had contacted him about volunteering his combat medic skills, Jack had figured sure, why the hell not? He sucked at golf, and was open to anything to get him out of his house and out of his fucking head.

He’d been doing it since, just every once in a while. If there was a high risk operation he knew they’d really need him for, or he was having a particularly hard day. 

And admittedly, though he was nowhere near the point he’d been in those days, struck down in the grief and sadness and anxiety- he was still certainly struggling today.

Because the security, that sense of calm and certainty and goodness that he’d felt had been ripped out of his life… it had been coming back lately, slowly, in pieces. 

In learning how to use the stupid fancy coffee machine Robby had given him just because you so clearly enjoyed teaching him.

In seeing your shoes kicked off by the door, abandoned just next to the shoe rack - he still wasn’t sure if it was out of laziness or not wanting to take up space on the rack with your shoes, and both options were ridiculously endearing.

In cooking food for more than just one person again, and knowing that even with your opposing schedules he wasn’t coming home every single day to a house that only he lived in.

And unfortunately, he also knew very well that he should not be thinking or feeling any of these things.

It was not his place to see you that way, to hold you in this position in his life that you had never signed up for. He obviously fucking knew that; knew how terrible it would be for you to realize the depth of his feelings for you. For you to realize that the man who was supposed to be offering you a place to stay out of the goodness of his heart, the simple desire to help his resident, was fighting an internal battle every single day not to confess his completely inappropriate and ever-growing love for you.

So yeah, even if he wasn’t doing as bad as he once had been, he was kinda fucking struggling. And despite the negative opinion most people in his life held toward his hobby of choice, Jack was going to go blow off some steam by getting shot at. Sue him.

You nurse your pride, and your head, for the rest of the day- and feel a pleased smile make its way onto your lips the next morning when you take off the gauze to see the cut is healing well. You decide on a thick headband and a braid for your shift, hoping covering any evidence will lead everyone to forget how you’d embarrassed yourself two nights ago. Unlikely, but a girl had to try.

Running a bit behind schedule, you quickly stop in the kitchen and grab the only clean thermos on the counter to fill with coffee and shoulder your bag, heading out the door.

You’d stewed long enough yesterday, alone in the house besides Roxie, to decide you would no longer let this situation affect you so much. 

So what you had a crush on Jack Abbot? If a survey was sent around, you were fairly confident a large number of your colleagues would say they did too. You were just the only one (un?)lucky enough to be living with the man.

But we were a big girl, nearly a legitimate doctor, and you needed to get your head back in the game. Running on fumes day after day was not going to get you through the rest of your residency in one piece, as you’d clearly proven to yourself. 

This whole woe is me, I have a tragic unrequited crush thing, let’s make my entire life a fucking awkward mess about it thing was over.

Jack Abbot was just a man.

A kind, gentle, intelligent, handsome, big, strong man….

NO! No.

You could do this. You could handle being around someone you were attracted to. It was a normal adult feeling, and you were a normal adult, and over time it would fade away.

This was going to work. You were going to be completely fine.

Everything was NOT completely fine.

When you first walked through the doors to the ED, one blonde charge nurse with a bright smile and worried eyes commandeered you immediately. With an arm around your shoulder, Dana walked with you to the nurses station, an onslaught of are you feeling okay’s and are you sure’s thrown at you, though to her credit she was at least trying to whisper. You should’ve known better than to even hope word hadn’t spread about your little fall.

But that was beside the point- Dana had caught your attention so quickly, then transitioned to giving you the lowdown on your first few cases after you’d assured her you were okay, so you were in the ED for nearly ten minutes before even noticing the commotion swirling in trauma three.

You were coming back from stowing your things and heading to your first patient’s room when your eyes caught on the clear glass doors of the trauma room. It was backed wall to wall, you couldn’t even get a glimpse of whoever was on the bed.

But it was clearly bad- you caught the profiles of both Garcia and Park from surgery, voices getting louder as they argued back and forth with one another. Behind them, a few nurses were moving about the room methodically, a well oiled machine. The rest of the bay was a sea of camouflage, uniform clad officers at the head of the bed and up against the wall watching in intent silence. 

Something hard and wrong tugged on your gut then, even as you kept your pace into your first patient’s room. As you went over the young woman’s vitals, examined the burn on her leg, and entered a few details before going to prep to clean the wound, your stomach kept twisting and an alarm rang in the back of your mind. 

Trying your best to stay focused and on top of things, as you’d reassured yourself you would on the entire walk over here, you quickly made your way down the hall to retrieve the ointment and bandages for your patient. While a nurse would typically take over the patient to do this, so many of them were tied up in whatever was going on in trauma three that it would be better for you to just get it done.

There was that tugging feeling again, something’s wrong wrong wrong.

You didn’t come to any sort of realization until more than twenty minutes later, when you were leaving the young woman’s room to put your supplies away and begin her discharge. The group of SWAT officers had filtered out of three, now standing a bit aimlessly around the nurse’s station. A quick glance behind them as you slipped back down the hall told you the room had been emptied of its patient altogether, likely taken upstairs by whichever of the surgeons had won their argument.

You were rolling your eyes internally at the thought, never fond of getting stuck on a case with either Garcia or Park and their inflated egos, when you stopped dead in your tracks.

In the previously empty supply room that you had come to to return the things you’d needed for your burn patient, a man in a dark green long sleeve and camo pants identical to all of the men you’d just seen out in the hub.

He turned quickly when he heard you enter the room, but you’d already recognized him from behind immediately.

Jack.

“Oh. Hi.” You speak, a bit startled even though you were the one that had just come up behind him.

“Hi.” Jack replied, eyes soft as he peered down at you.

“Sorry, I was just,” You wave the stack of supplies in your hand in explanation.

“No apology needed.” He said simply, stepping aside from the cabinet so you could quickly stow the things back inside. 

When you step back and look at Jack again, he is pointedly looking anywhere but your face, and not moving. As if waiting for you to leave to continue whatever it was he was doing.

You were not going to be nervous. You were going to be normal.

“Do you need help with anything?” You ask, because now you’ve both been standing in awkward silence without moving.

“No.” Jack replies, much too quickly and with a smile that looks strange on his handsome face. “All good.” 

You almost just nod and walk out, but as you take a step and your eyes flick over the tense creases around his own, you stall. What was going on with him? You take Jack in and suddenly, your scattered brain connects the dots. 

“Wait, what happened?” You’re asking now, much more alert. “Something happened on your SWAT job? Did someone get hurt?”

Obviously someone had gotten hurt, or there wouldn’t have been a parade of people in matching outfits in that trauma room a few minutes ago. Your eyes shoot up and down his frame now, mind working overtime as you tried to catch up to whatever you’d been missing.

“GSW. Multiple, actually.” He says matter of factly. “In one of the guys’ leg. They just got him up to surgery though, pretty good chances of pulling through without any intensely permanent injury.” He sighs, waiting as you still don’t speak and continue examining him frantically. “Hopefully…”

Then you see it, the way Jack is favoring his left side far more than he normally does, the hand that keeps brushing his shirt where his ribs lay underneath. 

He sees it too, sees you realize.

When you look up at him he’s frowning slightly, not angry but clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m good.” Jack eventually speaks, voice gruff and quiet. 

“Take off your shirt.” You say firmly.

If you had been in pretty much any other circumstance in the world, you would have completely caught on fire at the sound of those words, leaving your mouth, directed toward Jack Abbot. But you were quite fairly certain what the man was trying to hide from you, and weren’t going to leave until you confirmed it.

“What?” His hoarse reply comes out awkwardly loud, and you swear his cheeks are flushing, pale freckled skin turning pink and eyes wide.

“Lift your shirt. Now, Abbot.” You point an accusing finger right at his ribs, where you’re certain you would see blood seeping through his tight shirt if it wasn’t so dark.

A few silent, charged moments pass, and you don’t drop the finger directing him. Finally, with a huffed sigh, Jack looks away from you, shaking his head as he slowly, painstakingly begins tugging up the fabric of his shirt.

You gasp immediately, huge, splotchy patches of blue and black skin coming into view every inch the fabric lifts. When the hem of his shirt reaches his waist, Jack lets out an involuntary hiss. You’re stepping forward, in physician mode at once. 

You gently take the material from Jack’s hands, which drop to his side now without any argument. The source of his pain is obvious, the angry red laceration across his side.

“Jack.” You all but snap, and take a jerking step back, his shirt dropping down unceremoniously. “What the fuck?”

His abdomen is still on full display, and though you are definitely much more focused on the intense bruising all across Jack’s stomach, you’re temporarily disgusted with yourself for the somersault your own stomach does at the hard, exposed plane of his body. Quite literally the definition of not the time.

“It’s fine.” He grits now, but it quickly dissolves into another pained groan and his right hand flies up to clutch his waist lightly.

“Clearly!” You hiss back, absolutely floored by Jack’s insane behavior. To be walking around with this under his uniform, doing fuck all to even clean it then trying to hide it from you?! And for what? He of all people should know better than letting a damn gunshot wound sit and marinate for a while, like he’d get to it some other time. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you have someone clean this up for you?” Your voice pitches a bit louder now.

“Easy.” Jack responds, and stares at you hard. “I am dealing with it now. It is fine.” 

You swear your jaw could’ve hit the floor.

“Um, I may not be an attending, but I think someone with zero medical knowledge and working pair of fucking eyes would be able to see that it is NOT fine.” You gesture harshly at his middle, once again needing to tear your eyes away for more reasons than one. NOT THE TIME.

“Honey. Calm down.” Jack’s voice is firmer now, not louder or holding any anger toward you, but serious.

You take a beat, realizing that it honestly is unlike you to be so worked up. This was nowhere near the worst GSW you’d seen at this hospital alone, and Jack was clearly well enough to be up and walking around. But… but still. It was Jack. Your Jack, and he was walking around with black and blue and bleeding ribs and refusing to ask anyone for help.

You wanted to help.

“When did you get here?” Is all you say in response, voice quiet and much calmer now, though not for a lack of effort. He stares at you and blinks once before answering.

“Just past four.” His voice is quieter too, and he glances away from you as he speaks.

“Oh, so three fucking hours ago. Awesome.” You snap back. You spin with a huff and yank open the drawer behind you, rifling through it before slamming it shut again and retrieving a pair of gloves from the wall. You hear Jack sigh behind you, as if inconvenienced by your anger at his absolute stupidity.

“What are you doing?” He asks. You glance at him over your shoulder and point to the chair in the corner. There’s no patient bed in here, but you would place a pretty big bet on knowing how it would go if you tried to get Jack out of this room to help him. The chair would have to do.

A few moments later, a long cotton swab in one hand and disinfectant in the other, you cross the room and hold back a pleased smile when you see that he listened to you, and is now sitting in the chair with a childish frown.

As you approach him, you cannot help but notice the way his large body splays out from the chair, legs wide and splayed out and arms hanging at his side defeatedly, as to not put any extra strain on his middle. 

You’re a good doctor. You’re a sensible adult. You are simply a doctor doing your job. This wasn’t weird at all. You felt very normal about Jack Abbot’s bare chest.

“Okay.” You sigh, examining your options momentarily as you realized the chair was going to be just as uncomfortable for you to care for him as it was for him to sit in. You crouch down on his side. “Can you hold your shirt up the whole time, or would it be easier to just take it off?” You ask, looking up at Jack.

“Wow, someone really wants to see me shirtless.”

You nearly fall over. “Excuse me?” You sputter, face burning. Had you actually heard him right? “Relax kid, I’m joking.” You can’t tear your eyes away as Jack smirks down at you, eyes wandering over your face as his gaze flickers with something you can’t quite pin down. Probably pain, from his fucking gunshot wound, the idiot.

“Funny one.” You snap humorlessly, and grip the back of the chair to steady yourself. “Shirt on or off. Or I can take back my act of kindness altogether and you can do a shit job cleaning it yourself. Up to you.” 

His smirk only tugs up a bit more, then he shakes his head and laughs with a sigh.

“I’ll just hold it up. It’s only on my ribs where you saw.” He reached his hand across his abdomen and hikes the dark fabric up, uncovering the extent of his injuries to you again. You can’t help but sigh as you examine them, even if it wasn’t anything fatal, it looked terrible.

You go in with the disinfectant, not bothering to give him any sort of this will sting warning. He already knew.

You work in silence, fighting to focus as hard as possible on the cut across Jack’s ribs and pretend you don’t know he’s staring down at you, unblinking, laser focus. He lets out a few soft grunts and sighs when you rub the ointment across the laceration. When you’re finally wrapping it, you speak.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened, or is that one of Jack Abbot’s many secrets too?” Your eyes flick up to him only momentarily while you speak, but it’s too much. The moment of direct eye contact, so up close and touching and breathing the same air– you feel your face begin to heat and immediately look back down at what you’re doing. “Job went bad.” He says simply. You roll your eyes.

“No kidding.” You huff, then stand, patting your hands against your sides. “Done.” You say softly, taking one more glance to make sure you’re satisfied with your work before turning to toss your gloves and wash your hands. You don’t hear him moving behind you, and you can almost feel his blue eyes still locked on you from behind.

“It doesn’t matter.” He finally says, and you look at him over your shoulder. “Thank you. For taking care of me.” He adds, and his voice trails off into a near whisper. Your hands still, and you’re stuck staring back at him. 

“Of course.” 

Jack leaves soon after. You spend the rest of your shift pretending that the morning in the supply room and patching him up didn’t completely destroy any hope you had of “being normal”.

Jack goes home and tries to sleep, and even more so tries to pretend that your soft hands on his chest and your concerned eyes and your insistence on helping him hasn’t sent him down a complete spiral, from which he can find no return.

A few weeks pass in which you and Jack Abbot play this game, desperately try to keep up the charade in your own minds.

As December rolls into Pittsburgh, and the snow starts falling, and you begin wondering if Jack Abbot has any Christmas traditions, the facade begins to crack. In irreperable ways.

a/n: I am very glad to hear that you guys are enjoying the slow burn cause I can keep this thang goin FOREVER BABYYY!!! jkjk it's only ten parts. truly truly I love every single one of you reading this and being kind enough to leave comments more than I can even say. thank u as always and as always pls tell me what u think :))) - reef

links:

masterlist💌

previous part

next part

taglist:

You end up a few blocks away with a handful of your coworkers and a growing sense of regret about agreeing to this whole thing. The karaoke bar that Trinity had sworn was the best place in town to go out was packed nearly wall to wall, you’re surprised they even let your entire group in. Just through the window you can see far more college kids than you’d care to interact with in variations of full on costumes and simple animal ear headbands paired with as little clothing as possibly allowed in a public establishment. 

Trinity- followed by Dennis, Victoria, Emma, Mel, yourself, and even Mateo and Ellis- who had the night off, had filed into the packed bar and followed her lead to a booth being emptied by its previous patrons. Monster Mash is humming on the speakers over the karaoke stage, currently empty, and you instantly feel about twenty degrees warmer than you were outside thanks to the body heat and sheer amount of people in the bar.

About ten minutes later, you’re being handed a beer by someone after you’d told Trinity to just order you a water. You’d started developing a bit of a headache as you’d walked to the bar, and weren’t sure if the slight lightheadedness setting in was simply due to the hot, loud, overpacked room or not. You couldn’t remember what you’d eaten today.

As you’re looking for someone to pawn your drink off on, your phone buzzes from your jacket pocket.

Jack: Hey, coming home tonight? I’m making tikka masala

You don’t realize that you’ve been frozen, staring down at your screen until Whitaker slides into the booth beside you, jostling your shoulder slightly.

“You okay?” You hear him ask, and you quickly turn off your phone, stowing it back in your pocket. “You look a little pale.” 

“Fine.” You nod quickly, busying your shaky hands by cracking open the can and taking a sip of the beer. You’d never been quite fond of any alcohol that didn’t taste like juice, but you needed something to do other than sit awkwardly under Dennis’ questioning gaze.

Thankfully, his attention is pulled away by a shouting Trinity and Emma, who have commandeered the sign up list and were currently filling it in for every single one of you to sing a song. You didn’t have the energy to speak up enough over the commotion, but mentally noted to Irish goodbye this place before your turn came up.

Santos, not at all surprisingly, is up first- a very loud and passionate rendition of Season of the Witch.

Next, Emma drags a hesitant Javadi behind her to perform Heads Will Roll together, and you smile softly against your beer as Victoria gets more and more into it the louder Mateo cheers from the crowd.

As the two girls begin to reach the end of their song, you feel a sharp pain beginning to prickle at your temples and get the distinct feeling that something more than just the environment is wearing you down. You squeeze your eyes shut, head spinning a bit, as the MC’s voice comes over the speakers.

“Okay, give it up for these two! Next we have…let’s see, next we have a Huckleberry? Is there a Huckleberry in the house?” Trinity’s screeching cheer echoes through your mind and you suck in another breath. You think you might be about to throw up. “And after that…” 

You’re shooting up from your seat much too fast as he announces that you’re up after Dennis, and you have to steady your hand on the table for a moment before moving.

Vaguely, you can hear him getting up behind you and reluctantly making his way to the stage as the rest of your coworkers egg him on, but it sounds far away and you feel crooked on your feet and you have no idea where the bathroom is in the stupidly crowded place.

You make for the entrance, deciding fresh air is what you actually need, and don’t realize that your foot has caught on the leg of a bar stool until you’re plummeting down.

You don’t even fully realize at all actually, before your forehead makes a crack of contact against the hightop table and your vision goes dark.

Jack is sitting on his couch, Roxie sleepily curled against him, and trying his very hardest to read a book. The problem is though, every few sentences he realizes he’s not processing any of the words but in fact thinking about you. Again. He’s started the same page over four times now, and is growing increasingly frustrated by the fact that he can’t seem to control his own mind. 

When he’d offered you his empty guest room, he’d been able to convince himself for the total of one (1) day that he had not had any sort of ulterior, self benefitting motive in doing so. He was simply a good attending, looking out for a resident in need. He remembered what it was like to struggle through residency, and the room was just sitting there with no one to use it after all. And so he’d offered it to you, because Mohan had told him and Dana that you were worried about finding a place to live and it was his job, really, as your attending (kind of, Robby was technically your direct superior), to help you out when you needed it! Right. Yes.

So yeah, he’d lasted about a day of denying that there was any other reason he’d wanted you to move into his fucking house.

When you’d come over to look at the room that afternoon, and Roxie had loved you right away, and he’d watched you wander around his home like it was exactly where you’d always belonged… he had a feeling he might be in trouble.

The day you’d actually moved in, dragging boxes of your life into the house and thanking him every two minutes for his help and grinning brightly, face glowing with sweat and hair sticking out at all ends, Jack had known for certain that he was fucked.

It was his own fault, a torture of his own making offering for you to move in with him. He obviously didn’t regret it, not even a little bit. But it was becoming increasingly hard to pretend it wasn’t taking quite the toll.

Every rare occasion that you were both home at the same time, he would spend the entire evening quelling the all consuming urge to bare his entire soul to you- tell you that he thought you were one of the most brilliant doctors and people he’d ever met and that you were kind and beautiful and funny and he had never felt as at home in this house as he had since you moved in.

To tell you that being around you sparked a feeling in his chest, deep and sure and previously foreign to him for the past decade. Since his wife had passed.

To tell you that even with all of his cracks and rough edges and baggage and age he wanted more than anything to keep giving you a safe place to land, to keep giving you every comfort he possibly could for the rest of your lives if you’d let him.

Or something like that.

Instead Jack cooked way too much food so he could offer it to you and checked in on you more than he knew was necessary or appropriate and cherished every single extra moment he could possibly steal with you, simply living in your orbit. Relishing in the foreign joy and warmth that had returned to his life since you’d moved in.

He pretended that none of the feelings fighting to burrow out from his chest even existed, pretended that he could handle being roommates and coworkers and maybe friends and nothing more, because…

Because you were you. You were young and bright and had so much life ahead of you, deserved so much more ahead of you than anything that he could possibly offer. 

And Jack was… Jack. Old, and damaged, and not at all what you needed in your life.

It was ridiculous and inappropriate and best kept inside.

And so that’s what he did, kept the feelings as deep down as possible and extended his care for you in the ways he could, the safer ways. Offering you a place to stay. Offering you dinner.

That was what led Jack to tonight, sitting on his couch unable to read a damn book because his mind kept drifting back to wondering why you hadn’t gotten home yet. As if it was any of his business.

Well, in his defense, it was a little bit his business, he was only being a concerned roommate after all. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t worry about you walking home from work at night alone, right?

It was probably just a super busy shift, Jack assured himself. All of the kids would be out drinking and partying for Halloweekend. Shen had taught him about the last night. Jack thought it sounded pretty stupid to turn one of the most insignificant holidays into a multiday bender, but who was he to judge? 

Jack found himself bristling at the thought of the plethora of young guys coming through the Pitt tonight for some stupid party injury, shooting sleazy smiles at you and thinking they could ever be good enough for your attention. He let out a huff at the thought, then came back to himself. He was truly pathetic. He needed to get off the couch and do something other than sit around driving himself crazy over you.

Jack made his way into the kitchen and began examining what he had to make for dinner. He enjoyed cooking different things on his nights off, experimenting- a habit he’d picked up in the earlier years after his wife’s passing. Things that kept his hands and mind busy were ideal. A guy could only pick up so many SWAT shifts.

He managed to get halfway through making dinner before his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you and your continued absence. A glance at the clock above his oven told Jack it was past eight now, and he was pulling his phone out of his pocket before he could stop himself. He’d just send a casual text, a check in to make sure you were all good. You must just be held up.

Jack allows another half hour to pass, turning the stove off and retrieving a plate from the cabinet to plate his now finished dinner, but can’t deny any longer that he’s a bit anxious that you haven’t gotten home yet. You were quite the creature of habit, he’d come to notice over the past few months of living together, and it was very unlike you not to head home right after exhausting yourself at work all day. The few times you’d been out especially late you’d even shot him a courtesy text, which Jack could admit he appreciated an embarrassing amount.

It was pretty much humiliating to be a grown man checking his phone incessantly for a text back from his crush, but he was truly getting worried about your safety. Would it be annoying to text you again? Would it be crazy to text Robby? Yeah. It would be crazy. 

Right? Yeah.

Would it? He could text Robby. Robby was his best friend. It wouldn’t be crazy, just checking in on your safety and wellbeing and all that. It was his responsibility as a caring roommate!

But Robby had been needling Jack for the past two months, trying to get him to admit he had more than work friendly feelings toward you. Jack had been denying it passionately.

It would be pretty obvious that he in fact, did, have more than work friendly feelings toward you if he texted Robby to check in on you. Much more than work friendly. Robby would never let him hear the end of it.

But… Jack glanced up at the clock again. Almost eight thirty, and you still hadn’t replied. It would be worth checking in-

Jack’s insane spiral of bargaining is cut off by a ding from his phone. He sets the plate in his hand down a bit too harshly and goes to retrieve it. Before he can even open the message, another ding, and another and another light up on his screen, and then it’s taken over by a call coming from… you.

He answers immediately.

“Hello?” He cringes momentarily at the uncharacteristically desperate, eager tone of his voice, but quickly moves past it as he’s greeted with a voice that is distinctly not yours.

“Jack?” The person on the other line asks, before muttering something he can’t hear.

“Mateo?” Jack asks, confusion clear in his voice. Why was Mateo calling him from your phone, in fact- why was Mateo even with you at all? Jack knew for a fact he’d given the nurse the night off.

“Hey man, uh, are you busy?” 

“Why are you calling me from her phone?” Jack asks bluntly in response.

“Okay, so…” Mateo trails off for a moment on the other end of the line, and there’s a frenzy of muffled chatter before a much clearer and louder voice speaks once again. 

“Hi Dr. Abbot.” A woman this time, definitely, but still not you. What the hell is going on? “It’s Victoria. Dr. Javadi. We have a bit of a situation here.”

The young woman goes on to quickly explain what exactly the hell is going on.

When Jack processes the words fell and head and just a little bit of blood but he’s already tugging on his shoes and grabbing his keys. 

“She keeps saying she’s fine to walk home, but…” Javadi explains, trailing off a bit as the line turns into a muffled variety of voices once again.

“Send me your location.” Is all Jack says in response, front door swinging shut behind him.

Jack pulls up outside of a karaoke bar that he can immediately tell is far past capacity. Thankfully, it only takes him moments to park and spot you sitting on the stoop of the sidewalk out front, Whitaker and Mel on either side of you. There’s a half empty plastic water bottle at your feet and your head is cradled in your hands. You look exhausted. 

Jack marches straight toward you, not slowing until you’re toe to toe. 

“What happened?” He keeps his voice low, not wanting to overwhelm you, but having to fight very hard to restrain the stress in his tone.

Whitaker stands and gestures with his head, taking a few steps away. Jack reluctantly takes his eyes off of you and follows the young doctor. 

“Hi Dr. Abbot. Sorry to bother you on your night off.” The boy starts, and Jack simply gives a quick shake of his head. Dennis speaks a bit quieter then. “I think she might be sick or something. I asked her earlier and she said she was fine, but then… well, she wasn’t obviously.” The boy huffs a humorless laugh and scratches the back of his neck. “She really didn’t want us to call you but her head was bleeding pretty bad.” He huffs, eyeing you a bit as if worried you can hear him. “She got kind of… upset, or something. I don’t know. She sort of yelled at Mateo when he called you. We’ve just been sitting out here to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t try to walk home alone.” He trails off, and Jack nods sharply, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve got it kid, thanks.” He says, clapping Whitaker on the shoulder. The younger doctor nods with a somewhat nervous smile, and Jack steps back over to you.

You’re sitting up straight now, and he sees that someone’s bandaged your right temple with gauze. In any other circumstance, Jack would find it amusingly appropriate that one of your coworkers had been carrying medical gauze in a bar of all places. He was willing to bet it was King. Jack simply stares at you for another quiet moment, as Mel whispers something to you then stands and follows Whitaker back into the bar. You stare off into the distance, eyes glossy and fixed on the parking lot.

He wants to ask you what the hell made you pass out in a damn karaoke bar and why you didn’t reply to his text and why you seem apparently hell bent on avoiding him, so much so that you yelled at one of his nurses for calling him, but it's not the time. 

“It’s nothing.” You say flatly, so quiet that it takes Jack a moment to register that you’ve even spoken to him. “I told them not to call you.” Your voice sharper now.

Jack remains silent for a long moment, internally breathing through how much your harsh tone cuts him. Had he done something to upset you? Was that why you hadn’t been replying to him, why you were so clearly on edge? And why hadn’t you wanted them to call him? He wanted to take care of you. He was supposed to take care of you.

“It’s no big deal.” He finally replies softly. “I’m happy to come pick you up whenever you need a ride. I’ve told you that.”

“I’m not drunk. I didn’t even have half of my beer.” Is all you huff in response. “Okay.” Jack replies with a shrug. He’d already known you weren’t. “Did you have anything to eat today?” He asks. He has a feeling he already knows the answer to that one, too, and it makes displeasure curl in his gut.

“It’s not your job to feed me.” You snap quickly. “Or pick me up, or give me rides, or check in on me. We’re just coworkers that live together. Right?” It makes Jack physically lean back a bit, the bite in your voice. He stares at your profile in growing confusion as you continue glaring straight ahead. He tries to ignore the uneasy ache that forms in his stomach at your words.

“Let’s go home.” Is all he musters. You don’t move. “Okay? Let’s get home.”

“You didn’t need to come get me. It’s not your responsibility.” You’re quieter now, and if he hadn’t still been recovering from your small outburst a moment ago Jack would’ve thought you seemed sad, timid even. “I’m not your responsibility.”

When he realizes you don’t plan on continuing, Jack takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Is there something we need to talk about?” He asks slowly, treading as carefully as possible around the tension radiating off of you. He just wants to get you home safely.

“I don’t know, Jack, is there?”

You turn and face Jack at last, temple still lightly throbbing and heart racing rapidly in your chest. You try and fail to ignore the way it speeds up even more as you meet his gaze.

“I don’t know, Jack, is there?” You huff, words spilling out of you in a way that they never would in a more stable state. You somewhat wished you actually were drunk, so you had something to blame your destructive approach to this conversation on. You cringe internally as soon as you speak, not intending for it to have come out so harshly. Not intending for anything you’d said in the past few minutes to have come out the way it did.

Jack doesn’t reply, and to his credit simply remains calm and quiet as he stares back down at you. Your chest is heaving too heavily for someone just sitting on the sidewalk and you wish that Jack could truly read your mind as well as you sometimes felt like he could, when he stared at you with those deep blue eyes. You wished that you weren’t sitting here, tight grip that you’d been holding on your feelings slipping more and more dangerously loose with every passing day, every passing second you spent with Jack Abbot. You can’t deal with these growing feelings and his incessant need to be so kind and caring and… and…

“Let’s go home.” Jack says again softly, a hand on your shoulder. He’s pulling you up gently and you don’t have the strength or mental clarity to stop him.

Then you’re in his car, taking the short ride back to the house in silence. Your mind is racing, still lightheaded and only feeling more unsteady in such close proximity and tension with the very man you’d been trying so hard to avoid tonight. The water and crackers that Mel had practically force fed you had definitely helped, but all you wanted was to crawl into bed, you could hardly keep your eyes open. You certainly didn’t want to deal with whatever you had sparked between Jack and yourself tonight, or any time ever if possible. 

You genuinely could not have dreamed up a more awkward, embarrassing situation if you’d tried. Okay, maybe that was a big stretch, but still. 

Your fun night out that was supposed to get your mind off of Jack had only resulted in physical injury and an even greater blow to your pride. It certainly hadn’t helped that you’d behaved like a child when Jack had come to your rescue either. 

But that was the problem- wasn’t it. Jack just kept on showing up for you. With a free house to live in, moving you in without complaint, making extra food and practically begging you to eat it, checking in on you and doing more than you could possibly ever repay him for. 

It was all just too much, and you couldn’t keep holding in how you felt, the unmistakable safety and comfort he brought you- the admiration and appreciation you had for Jack Abbot pressing against your ribs and fighting to be set free every time he smiled softly at you in his kitchen or across the ED. 

The warmth and security and happiness and balm for your loneliness that you’d been lacking for so long, all because of him.

When Jack unlocks the front door and holds it open for you, you step inside and mentally weigh the odds of him letting you retreat upstairs without any follow up conversation.

When you’re halfway up the stairs and hear a second set of footsteps starting up behind you, you realize the chances are apparently zero. You stop and speak without turning back to look at him. 

“I just want to go to bed. I’m sorry for being… so rude, at the bar.” You sigh. “Thank you for picking me up.” You say the last part quietly. As you scale the last few steps, Jack replies. 

“You don’t need to apologize. But I’m going to look at your head, and clean it, and rebandage it. And then you are going to eat something. And then you can go to bed.” He speaks so matter of factly, as if leaving no room for argument, that you nearly fold in agreement immediately. He speaks again when you just stare at him, mouth a bit ajar. “If you’d like to do all of that in complete silence, that’s fine. But that’s what we’re going to do.” He clears the rest of the stairs behind you and walks right past you down the hall, pausing at your bedroom door. 

His guest bedroom door. The door to the guest bedroom of his home that is now your bedroom because you live with him in his home. 

He waits expectantly for you as if even in his grand determination, he doesn’t have the right to go in your room without your permission. Is going to do what he’s set out to do, but not before you give him permission to.

A few reluctant minutes later, you’re both standing in your bathroom. Jack has retrieved the first aid kit that he’d known was under your sink (he had them in every bathroom), and was currently sorting through its contents methodically to find what he’s looking for. You watch in silence, but after a few minutes your vision is becoming a bit spotty again. 

You lean with a silent breath to steady yourself against the wall, arms crossed over your torso and eyes squeezed shut.

“Sit down.” Jack speaks almost immediately, voice quiet but firm. Your eyes flutter open and he gestures with his head at the toilet. You don’t have any energy to argue, not that you have a reason to. You certainly don’t need to add a second fainting to tonight’s list of embarrassing acts.

A few moments later, Jack is in front of you. Like, right in front of you. You’re counting specks of lint on his black sweatshirt. 

You lift your gaze to meet his, having to crane your neck a bit from where you’re sitting. He’s looking at your forehead.

“I’m going to take off the gauze, okay?” He hums thoughtfully. You’re thankful he’s preoccupied, because you’re staring up at him like you’ve never seen another person this close up before. You nod, and he gently removes the cotton pad that Mel had stopped your bleeding temple with.

Your eyes scrunch a bit reflexively, the skin all around it is sore and likely already bruised. You can’t see yourself in the mirror from this angle, but Jack frowns deeply as he tosses the old gauze in the trash can.

“That bad?” You ask quietly.

“Not too bad.” He hums in reply, reaching for something on the counter. “Gonna bruise like hell though.” He’s still frowning as he comes back with a pad of antiseptic, then some ointment. “You don’t have to do this.” You finally say, though you realize that you’ve said that about quite a few things tonight and given in to Jack on every single one. “I am a doctor, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m a better one.” The man replies quickly, voice a whisper as he meticulously reapplies fresh gauze. You start to jerk back, but suddenly Jack’s hand is bracing the back of your head firmly, not letting you move away as he finished carefully tending to your temple. You see then that he’s smirking in amusement, and the combination of his handsome, grinning face a few mere inches from yours and the warm pressure of his hand through your hair makes your voice die in your throat.

A few seconds later, Jack is stepping back, nodding once in satisfaction at his work and stowing the first aid kit back under your sink. 

“Do you want what I made for dinner, or something else? Soup?” He asks, and it takes you a few moments to keep up with him. You shake your head a bit to clear it before finally responding.

“Oh, I’m fine. I really just want to go to bed.” You say, standing. You have to grip the sink counter for a moment, seeing stars as you adjust to the quick motion. When you meet Jack’s gaze again, he is sporting an unamused look that’s bordering on frustration.

“I’m not going to argue with you. I would tell you to name what you’ve consumed other than coffee today, but I already know that answer. And we will be talking more about that another day.” He adds, and goes on before you can protest. “You’re eating dinner before going to bed. You can barely hold yourself up, and you fucking passed out an hour ago. You know better, Doctor.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, and you don’t even know where to begin. All your exhausted mind can truly manage right now is knowing that you want this day to be over, and Jack Abbot and his stupid smirk and stupid big arms were making it very hard to argue anything.

“Whatever.” You grumble, gesturing petulantly for him to get out of your way so you can exit the bathroom and eat his stupid dinner and go to sleep, finally.

“Chicken tikka masala it is.” Jack says with a grin, stepping out of the bathroom and motioning for you to head back downstairs as he follows you.

When you got into bed that night, you stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you knew when you were truly in love with someone. If constantly trying to deny that you weren’t in love with someone was proof enough that you most definitely were. Wondered if there was any way to move on from tonight without acknowledging that your feelings for Jack Abbot were no longer something that could be denied or wished away.

When Jack gets into bed that night, he stares up at the ceiling and thinks about the first time he realized he was in love with his wife. Remembers how stupid young love made him. Remembers how even when they’d fight and drive each other crazy and fail spectacularly at communicating with one another, he knew there was no place in the world he would rather be than by her side, loving her.

He wondered if his wife was looking down at him and laughing, knowing that he was going through the same stupid kid in love bullshit as twenty something years ago, and still just as bad at it as he had been then too.

a/n: AYYJACKPOVAYYYY

me when i get carried away and don’t even get to the tension/resolution i planned for this chap🩷but it is ok bc that just means jack and reader have to suffer for my amusement even more🩷-reef

links:

previous part

next part

masterlist💌

The first month of living in Jack’s house had flown by much quicker than you’d thought possible. Your opposing schedules and the fact that you hadn’t had corresponding days off over the past four weeks led to very little interaction in the house itself.

The hospital, on the other hand…yeah, the hospital had been a bit of a different story.

The shift change passing greetings that you had shared regularly had turned into something different all together.

Whispers from Princess and Perlah from behind the desk as you passed your roommate in the hub. Trinity smacking Dennis across the back repeatedly in what she thought was a covert attempt to draw attention to the completely casual conversation you were having with Jack as you walked out of the ED. Even Dana, who you were most disappointed in, kept throwing sly smirks over her glasses at any mention of your life outside of work.

So while you had been able to handle the actual living with part of this whole living with Abbot thing, it was starting to feel like every single external input being given on your situation was grating on you a bit more than you’d care to admit.

It came to a head at the start of the fifth week. A Tuesday night; you’d reached the end of your shift and wanted nothing more than to get home, eat dinner on the couch, and fall asleep cuddling with Roxie (who had taken to sleeping with you every night that Jack was working). You pulled on your coat, hoping it would be enough to war off the biting cold that had been setting in more each night as Pittsburgh entered October, and slipped through the growing crowd of nightshifters in the center of the ED. 

Abbot and Dr. Robby were standing outside of trauma one with a few residents surrounding them, getting ready to start rounds. You were worn out from a week of warring off the rest of the Pitt staff’s demand to know every detail about your living arrangement, and didn’t feel inclined to add any fuel to the fire.

It seemed a bit dramatic, to let silly gossip bother you so much. But honestly, you’d been struggling. Long before the whole debacle with your apartment. You were so burnt out, often making it through each day feeling like you were at the frazzled end of a quickly burning rope. Your student loans, your residency, the every day toll of the Pitt… you had signed up for all of it, but it was piling on more heavily than you’d ever expected it to. You wanted to find more security, something to assure you that you were where you were meant to be. That your hard work was paying off toward something. When every day felt like an ongoing struggle, it seemed impossible to ever reach that stability. So- yes, you felt a bit sensitive to the extra annoyance of your coworker’s insinuating your living in Abbot’s guest room was anything more than just that.

As grateful as you were, and you were very, very grateful to Jack, it was getting a bit hard to navigate feeling like you were in an emergency department fish tank every morning and night. The rare moments that the two of you were both home at the same time were still much more than you’d been interacting with Jack Abbot a month ago. And it was doing nothing to quell the growing feelings that you could no longer even try to deny being a full blown crush.

The universe’s plans did not seem to align with your own that night. As you slipped past the group of doctors and reached the doors, a voice called your name and you stopped.

Abbot strode over to where you stood at the door and came to a stop.

“Hey. Just wanted to tell you I meal prepped today and put some leftovers in a container for you, if you want to heat them up for dinner. They’re in the fridge.” His eyes flickered over you a bit as he spoke and you wondered if he thought you looked as haggard as you felt. You wished that it didn’t send a soft rush of self consciousness through your chest. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You reply quietly. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get you to take food, but every time it just made you feel too guilty to accept knowing you were already staying with him for free. When you trailed off into silence, you realized his gaze was a bit concerned as it leveled on your face. Did you really look that shitty? You knew your hair needed a wash, but you’d just gotten off a twelve hour shift after all.

Your thoughts are cut off quickly by another voice, a quick passing comment as Langdon passed you on his own way out. “Wish I was getting the special Abbot treatment, save some dinner for me next time man!”

The words clatter around your head much more dramatically than they should, you knew Frank was just joking. It didn’t matter. You were exhausted, and annoyed, and felt a burning flush creeping across your neck and cheeks. Special treatment. 

As if dumping invisible salt in the wound, Robby’s loud voice then carried from across the room. “We’re ready to round if you two could wrap up the sweet nothings, please!” 

You choke on air, your shallow embarrassment welling up into hot tears pressing at the back of your eyes as a few residents turned to look at you and Abbot and Robby gestured a bit impatiently for his fellow attending to get back to work.

You turn on your heel and shove harshly against the door before Jack can even look back at you, all but fleeing into the waiting room and out the doors into the cold evening air.

You were embarrassed, embarrassed that everyone felt the need to examine your completely professional relationship with Dr. Abbot and embarrassed that you had just been publicly called out on the supposed special treatment people seemed to believe you were receiving and embarrassed that stupid Robby and snippy attitude had really driven the humiliation home.

A few tears slipped down your cheeks as you made the quick walk home, and you told yourself they were just from exhaustion. Only when you’d locked the door behind you and kicked off your shoes next to the rack in the entryway did you stop for a moment to breathe.

It didn’t matter, it shouldn't matter so much to you what others had to say or think. In fact, you knew that the reality was people just wanted something to gossip about. No one you worked with truly cared that you were living with Abbot, at least no one who’s opinion you cared about. It wasn’t even the gossip that bothered you. It was feeling like you’d been under a magnifying glass, every crack and chip on display. 

You were so burnt out it was starting to wear on you in ways that couldn’t be hidden. You rarely had more than a protein bar and way too much caffeine until you got off shift each night, and even then you’d been falling asleep before mustering the energy to fix dinner some nights. Just today you’d gone in and done the same patient’s intake twice, it had taken you nearly five minutes to even notice.

Now, trying with every passing touch and soft check in and offer to eat his food in his house that he paid for to pretend that you weren’t falling into something dangerously close to love with Jack Abbot was another stone on the pile of things stressing you the fuck out. 

Roxie came bounding down the hall and circled you a few times, tail wagging. You simply collapsed to sit on the floor, petting her affectionately as she showered you with excited kisses.

“Hey pretty girl.” You whispered, sniffing your slightly stuffy nose and wiping a last stray tear from the corner of your eye.

Roxie knocked your bag as she plopped down in your lap and a few things spilled out, including your phone. When you retrieved it, other hand still scratching her ears, it lit up to display an array of messages you’d received on your commute.

A missed call from Jack, followed by three messages. 

You okay?I’m sorry about Robby. He’s a dick. I’ll talk to him.

Pls eat the chicken at least ok

You dropped your head back and let out a long sigh. 

You wake the next morning when Roxie jumps suddenly out of bed, where she’d been curled over your feet, and bounded down the stairs at the sound of Jack entering. 

You sleepily registered the jingle of his keys as he dropped them on the table, his whispered greetings to his dog, his footsteps fading down the hall toward the kitchen.

You bask for a moment in the knowledge that you have the day off and can fall back asleep, and do just that.

About two hours later, you wake naturally and roll over to grab your phone. 

You’d never replied to Jack’s messages last night, half forgetting after you’d showered and gotten straight into bed, and half refusing to acknowledge the situation altogether. You were immediately reminded of this when a new message from him shows in your notification bar, and you open it. 7:32 am.

Choosing to believe you ate something else less delicious and nutritious than my chicken for dinner and you don’t hate me and my cooking

A quiet snort escapes you in the silence of your room. Jack still sometimes caught you off guard with how silly he could be, a side of the man you’d only seen glimpses of in the hospital.

Your amusement, against your will, quickly fades to a warm feeling in your stomach at the realization that he noticed you hadn’t eaten his food, cared enough to text you about it when he got home. 

You slammed your face into your pillow and let out a muffled groan of frustration at your own stupid heart and how easily it fluttered for Jack Abbot.

You’re pulling a loaf and muffin pan of banana bread out of the oven when Jack emerges from his room that afternoon. The man rarely adhered to what you would call a stable sleep schedule, so when he did come home and get some rest after his shifts you were pleased. Not that it was any of your business. You were just a caring roommate was all.

“Something smells delicious.” 

Your hands stutter at the sound of Jack’s gruff, still sleepy voice, and the muffin pan bangs a bit too harshly against the counter as you set it down. “Yay.” You reply as you whirl toward him, then gesture behind you. “Banana bread. And muffins. I bought a lot of bananas last week and didn’t eat any of them. So.” You explain.

Jack is getting closer and closer as he enters the kitchen and you wonder what the least obvious method of fleeing would be. Thankfully, he stops at the fridge and begins filling a glass of water, giving you the chance to put the hot pads back in their drawer and circle around to the opposite side of his kitchen island. A healthy distance. For normal healthy coworker roommate friend acquaintances.

“Are you okay?” 

Cutting right to the chase then.

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” You nod, voice breathy.

“Because you looked like shit last night and everyone was being rude to you.” Jack replies, blunt and matter of fact. You decided that the candor you’d always admired in him was now your least favorite quality. “And you didn’t reply to any of my texts.” He adds, that part added with a bit less conviction and confidence, and you notice. It makes you smile a bit inside, that he cares.

“I’m fine.” You repeat, wishing the conversation down any other path but this one. You pick at the sleeve of your sweatshirt and avoid Jack’s gaze, but you know he’s staring you down in that steady, studying way of his. Like he’s trying to figure something out about you that you don’t even know yet.

“Hmm.” He hums eventually. You wonder what exactly that means, but more so hope he’s moving on. He doesn’t speak again for a few more moments, but you meet his gaze when he does at last. “Did you eat last night?” You see it in his eyes, he already knows the answer. There’s something else there, something searching as he watches you.

“No, I fell asleep right away. It wasn’t a personal slight against your chicken.” You joke, hoping to lighten the odd tension you’re feeling with reference to his more humorous text.

“Hmm.” Again. “Okay. Well, I made plenty, have it this week.” He turns now, reaching for a mug from the cabinet. 

“Oh no, it’s okay. Thank you so much though. That’s really nice.” You wave a hand in dismissal, as you have every time Jack has tried to get you to eat food he’s made. You notice him still a bit, hand bringing the coffee mug down and bracing against the counter momentarily before turning to you. That steady gaze again, it makes you want to put up some sort of shield to keep him from crawling into your mind and seeing everything you’ve been trying to keep from him.

“Okay.” He says softly. You smile in return, he doesn’t. You rub a nervous hand against your leg and decide that you really need to do laundry, right now. Before exiting the kitchen, you gesture to the stove where the banana bread is cooling.

“Help yourself to the banana bread, okay!” You muster a smile much brighter than you’re feeling. “The muffins have chocolate chips.” 

With that, you slip out of the room and upstairs to busy yourself with the pile of dirty clothes in your hamper. You don’t see the frown that deepens on Jack’s face as his eyes dart from the place you were just standing to the baked goods on his stove.

You continue on in successful denial that you are quickly fraying at the seams for the next week. Talk, as expected, dies down surrounding you and Abbot and it quickly fades into just another norm of your dysfunctional workplace.

You wake up, you make it through your shifts, you are the best doctor you can possibly be. You pass Jack at shift change like a well adjusted adult and pretend your stomach doesn’t do somersaults every time you briefly touch or he leans in to talk softly to you. You come and go from the house and you continue insisting he doesn’t need to feed you or do anything else for that matter, because he’s already done more than enough. He continues trying. 

You both continue falling into lives that become more and more normal routine, quick texts about feeding Roxie and if you should take the trash bin out or not and hearing the jingle of Jack’s keys when he gets home early in the morning.

You both continue acting like this is completely normal.

“Come on, please! Please please please please plea-”

“Wow, please stop right now.” You cut Trinity off with a sigh, spinning in your chair to face her. 

“It’s Halloween. We have to do something fun.” She whines, and you let out a defeated sigh as Victoria comes up beside her. 

“Wait, you’re coming out with us? Yay!” The girl grins, looking between you and Trinity.

You huff again, and spin back to finish up your last chart for the night. Trinity had been trying to get you to agree to going out to the karaoke bar with them all shift. It wasn’t even actually Halloween, which was actually on Monday, but it was a Friday night and a handful of the younger Pitt staff had managed to get the next day off. You were not one of those lucky few, and you certainly weren’t in any rush to go out to a karaoke bar.

“Okay. It’s not Halloween, and I did not agree to that. My going out and having fun after work days are behind me. I’m an old woman now.”

Both girls groan and boo in response, and to their credit they are being very pushy and persuasive. 

“BOO!” Trinity nearly shouts. “I see you’ve been spending too much time with Dr. Geriatric.”

It’s an offhanded comment, one that doesn’t even hint at anything untoward between you and Jack, certainly one of the most tame comments about you and your roommate that you'd heard over the past two months- but it rubs you just the wrong way.

You had been spending all of your time either working or at home, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d done something social. And... and Jack had tonight off, an anxious thought that had been gnawing at the back of your mind all day. Every time you two actually shared extended time in the house together, it was as if you could physically feel your control slipping under his drawn out gazes and caring questions and innocently brushing past you in the hall.

It certainly would be a bit of a relief to not have to play the role of totally normal girl who doesn't have a raging crush on her boss and roommate for an evening.

“Fine.” You hear yourself saying as you stand from the computer. “I’ll go.”

You retreat from the nurses’ station to subdued cheers from Trinity and Victoria trailing after you.

This was exactly what you needed. A fun night out. You let out a shaky breath and repeat the thought like a mantra that you need to convince yourself of.

a/n: HEYYY :) can you guys tell that i barely even attempt to edit these be honest (JK DO NOT BE HONEST. LIE AND SAY IT'S PERFECT)

a bit shortie because the next part will be a double wammie of both reader's and...that's right...u guessed it...JACK'S POV AYYYYY can you tell i'm excited

anyway thank you as always to everyone who takes the time to read and comment etc etc it truly makes my day everyday. love u all and let me know what u think :))

links:

masterlist

previous part

next part

tags:

You aren’t sure why you cry when Jack drops you off at your apartment, but, you do. The tears well up unexpectedly as you toe off your sneakers in the entryway and collapse onto your creaky couch.

They stream down your cheeks as the reality sets in. 

You’d stared at him there in his guest room for what could’ve been minutes, more likely only seconds. He’d stared back, patient, waiting.

You’d move in this Sunday, your next day off.

Yeah, you weren’t sure why exactly you cried, but it was likely a combination of the following: Jack Abbot, your unknowing guardian angel, offering you a home to live in when a few days ago you were fairly certain you’d be moving back into your childhood bedroom across the country and applying for residency all over again.

Jack Abbot, who had not only offered his home but insisted you stay in it without any sort of payment, simply out of kindness.

Jack Abbot, who had previously been just someone you’d worked with, the older night shift attending who you found handsome and charming and overall very nice to be around- was now growing at an alarming rate into a large source of stability and comfort and happiness in your life. Which was equal parts concerning and lovely. Maybe a bit more on the concerning side, though.

So yes, it was probably just an overwhelming combination of these things making the hot tears fall from your eyes, not from sadness but an overflow of emotion that you had a hard time pinning down and naming.

All you could truly solidify in your frazzled mind right now was that you were no longer out of a place to live, and you were no longer going to be quite so lonely, and- much more concerningly- Dr. Jack Abbot was no longer some distant, untouchable thing that you could admire and appreciate from afar- he was your roommate.

Three days pass in which you wake up, go to work, act as cool and casually as you can possibly make yourself when you pass Abbot during shift changes, then go home and sort through the landfill of your apartment. It takes the first three hours of moving your scraped up pots and pans (three (3) in total) from the donate pile to the keep pile and back again- for you to cave and text Jack and confirm that you should get rid of them, rather than plague his home with old appliances that are likely slowly giving you lead poisoning. 

Lol. Don’t get rid on my account if you want to keep them, but I do have a full set. Totally up to u.

You grin at your phone screen, sitting criss cross on the floor of your bedroom surrounded by clothes. 

Lol? Didn’t know u were hip like that Dr. Abbot

Apparently accepting his offer had gone hand in hand with throwing all decorum to the wind as well. You huffed at yourself as soon as the message was sent. It was the beginning of his shift and he certainly didn’t need you bombarding him with stupid questions, let alone pathetic attempts at being friendly. Being roommates didn’t mean he wanted to actually be your friend outside of work. Right?

His response comes through less than two minutes later, and you nearly slip on a much too small bathing suit top as you go to fetch your phone.

Don’t be mean to me.

And then

Jack.

Your cheeks flush, a feeling becoming all too familiar these days, and you lock your cell before you can respond with anything even stupider. He’d been insisting you call him by his first name since that day at his house. He’d even corrected you yesterday morning when you’d arrived for your shift, still half asleep and caught off guard by his presence at the nurses’ station as you walked in. He was usually doing rounds with Robby by the time you arrived in the morning, but today he was leaning over the desk laughing about something with Dana.

You’d tried to make a sly dart past them, but Dana and her annoying insistence on greeting everyone every morning did not let that slide.

“Mornin’ sunshine!” The charge nurse had called loudly, and you looked up with your best ‘oh, I didn’t even see you guys right there in the middle of the room!’ face.

“Morning.” You’d smiled softly, scurrying on to stow your things in the back.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want anyone to know about your new living arrangement, and you were certainly not naive enough to think you’d be able to keep it a secret at this hospital. But… you would like to get settled at Abbot’s house before it became the new talk of the ED. Not that there was anything to talk about! It was just…

“Morning, sunshine.” Abbot had parroted, throwing you an amused grin over his shoulder as you passed.

“Morning Dr. Abbot.” You smiled and nodded, polite and friendly. Very normal stuff.

“Jack.” He simply replied softly, already turning back toward Dana. The comment nearly had you tripping over your own shoe laces, but you held strong all the way back to your locker, where you had to take a few deep breaths and remind yourself that it was very normal to call your coworkers by their first names, especially if you lived with them.

While you had gained a substantial amount of confidence that this situation would truly work out, Jack Abbot’s incessantly flirtatious nature was not making it even a little bit easier.

You knew it was just the way the man was, how he’d been since your first day and presumably long before. The man had been married after all, he clearly had no trouble with the ladies.

As it usually did, the fleeting thought of Jack’s late wife sent a pang of… something, guilt? shame? sadness? through your chest. Was it totally fucked up to have a crush on a guy with a dead wife? He still wore his wedding ring. Ugh, yeah, totally fucked up.

You rubbed an exhausted hand down through your tangled, shower damp hair and tried to push your spiral of thoughts away, turning instead to the disaster you’d managed to turn your bedroom into over the past hour and a half.

It was nice that you didn’t really need to get rid of anything, there would be more than enough room for the clothes and belongings you’d shoved into this shoebox over the past few years. Aside from the assorted appliances and furniture that you obviously would no longer need, it should be a fairly simple job to pack up.

Should being the key word.

You’d never been a skilled packer, as evidenced by the fact that your entire closet was laying in piles on your floor, because you’d thought it would be most efficient to pack them “by season”. What the hell did that even mean. It was currently the end of August and you were wearing a sweatsuit.

You huffed a sigh and decided to throw in the towel for the night. You still had three days til you were supposed to start moving stuff over on Sunday, and you had to be at work in the morning.

When you opened your phone to set your alarm, the still open thread of your messages with Jack stared back up at you.

Not wanting to be rude but also holding on to some shred of self preservation, you simply put a heart on his last message and roll over to sleep.

Day four after you’ve accepted the invitation to move in with Abbot, Trinity Santos finds out. You’re at a desk starting your first patient charts that morning, already running more behind than you’d like to be and pissed that you forgot your thermos of coffee at home, and the young doctor greets you with a mischievous grin that you hope has nothing to do with you.

“So I hear you’re shacking up with Robby’s evil twin.” 

Your fingers stutter over the keyboard momentarily and you let out a silent sigh. It was bound to get out sooner or later, but it would’ve been nice if the only person in this ED who liked to gossip more than Princess and Perlah hadn’t been the first to find out.

“I am moving in to Dr. Abbot’s guest room, yes. I’m getting kicked out of my apartment.”

You don’t look away from the screen and valiantly continue typing. Santos isn’t budging from her spot where she’s leaning over your chair and you can almost feel her grin growing.

“Ooh, romantic.” She hums.

“Not romantic.” You reply, a bit too quickly, but who can blame you? “Very kind and generous, but not at all romantic.” You hastily save your document and stand to check on your next patient. 

“Sure, man. Whatever you say. Don’t look at me if there’s a betting board on you two getting together by EOD.” 

You roll your eyes as the woman calls out from behind you, pretending to ignore her even as the headache begins to form at your temples.

About ten hours later, you have had an iteration of the same conversation with Princess, Perlah, Javadi, Mohan (who you suddenly realize is somewhat to blame for this whole thing anyway and will be complaining to later), Dana, Princess again, Dennis (forced by Trinity to ‘gather more intel’), Donnie, Princess again, and when Robby approaches you at the end of the day with a strange look on his face, you nearly throw the tablet you’re holding clear across the ED.

“If this is about my now public living situation, please ask literally anyone else whatever you’d like to know. They would all love to talk about it much more than I would.”

Robby stares back at you, brows raised behind his glasses. You’d only spoken to him so snappily on rare occasions, and he was quite caught off guard by the reaction.

“I was coming to ask if you’d eaten anything today. You look like shit.” He holds out the granola bar you hadn’t previously seen in his hand and laughs as your defensive shoulders drop a bit. “Sorry.” You mumble, taking it from him with thanks. “And rude. No, I haven’t eaten, but far worse I haven’t even had any coffee.” You groan, ripping into the bar and speaking with a full mouth. “And everyone is being so…” You wave it around, gesturing vaguely and sending crumbs flying. Robby huffs a laugh in understanding.

“Yeah, I heard you’re moving into Jack’s spare room?” Robby asks, clearly treading lightly around you short temperedness.

“From who? Literally everyone in this hospital?” You grumble. He chuckles again and nods his head as if to say ‘well…not no’.

“Actually, I am quite proud to say I seem to have gotten the hot scoop before everyone else. Jack told me a few days ago.” You realize that, of course, Dr. Robby had likely known much longer than just today. For all intents and purposes Abbot, as much as two incredibly complicated and confusing grown men with communication issues could be best friends.

“Ah.” You simply reply, taking another large bite of granola bar.

“That’s good. I mean, I hope that works out well for you.” Robby goes on, tucking his hands into the pockets of his zip up hoodie. “Shitty stuff with your apartment.”

The man’s clear disinterest in talking in much detail about your personal life is so comforting you could probably cry, but you won’t. That would be silly. You aren’t sure if Robby has already grilled Jack about the admittedly odd living arrangement or truly just doesn’t care much, but either way you’re grateful for the first conversation you’ve had all day without the other party wiggling their eyebrows or implying that you and Dr. Abbot were now legally married with three kids on the way.

“Speak of the devil.” You’re polishing off the granola bar as Robby speaks again, and your eyes drift past his tall figure to see a familiar face approaching. Jack comes up beside his friend and claps him on the shoulder. 

“Hey, brother.” Robby greets him, moving aside a bit so Jack is standing directly in front of you. You aren’t sure whether it would be more awkward to suddenly stand or spin back around in your chair and continue charting.

“You talkin’ about me?” Jack asks in greeting.

“All bad things, obviously.” Robby grins back, and you huff a quiet laugh. It draws Jack’s gaze down to you, and you feel like a little bug under a looking glass as he peers down at you. 

“Obviously.” You repeat with a faux serious nod. Jack’s lips twitch as he tries to hide a smirk, but he doesn’t break his eye contact with you. He really needs to stop this shit. 

“Obviously.” He repeats, gruff voice holding an unfamiliar quiet quality. 

You see Robby’s eyes start to dart between the two of you and quickly opt to spin your chair back toward the computer and resume typing. After a brief silence the men start talking behind you, something about one of Robby’s patients that is tuned out by your racing mind. Their voices fade as they head toward the patient room and you suck in a deep breath, but peace doesn’t last long at all.

“So is eye-fucking you in the middle of the hospital part of the whole roomie agreement or just an added bonus?” Santos’ wry voice comes from over your shoulder, and you drop your head harshly onto the keyboard. “What? Just wondering? Huckleberry never offered me any benefits like that.” You slam it down into the keyboard repeatedly to the sound of her maniacal chuckling.

Two days later, you step through the door of your now mostly packed apartment like a zombie. The full work week, a particularly rough shift today, and nights spent awake much later than normal trying to get all of your things together to move over to Abbot’s house tomorrow had taken a toll on you mentally and physically.

You’d hoped you’d manage moving in without inconveniencing him at all, ideally without him even being there, but when he’d asked how you planned on actually getting all of your belongings across town, you’d quickly found yourself at the losing end of another battle of Jack Abbot’s will.

He’d insisted on coming by when he got off of his shift tonight, and helping you load up his car to transport your things. You’d insisted that you would hire movers, and assured him he was already doing more than too much to help you out.

No, no movers. He’d said texted back. You’d chewed your lip and contemplated what exactly to say in argument, but he’d messaged again before you got a chance.

I can be there by eight Sunday morning. It’ll be way easier that way

I really don’t want to burden you even more than I already am. You’ll be exhausted you’d replied.

Stop. I already told you you aren’t.

I have Sunday night off anyway, we can get you all settled. It’ll be great.

Jack Abbot’s annoyingly incessant need to be the kindest person on the planet: 2, You: 0.

So he would be at your apartment around eight tomorrow morning, straight from a twelve hour night shift. You’d passed him as you left the hospital tonight, his eyes lingering on you with a questioning concern that you didn’t notice through your haze of exhaustion.

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.” You’d replied, mustering a tired grin and gesturing that you were at last on your way out.

“You need any help with everything? All set for tomorrow?”

“Yep!” You’d fibbed. He didn’t need to know that you still had an irresponsible amount of packing to get done. His gaze flicked over you again, brows furrowing as he saw the deep exhaustion written in your face and slumped shoulders. You spoke again- “I really feel bad about you coming to help me though. You should just go home and sleep.”

He was already shaking his head at you in refusal.

“I’ll be there. You need to get some sleep tonight. Don’t work yourself too hard.”

You’d only had the energy to nod in defeat, giving Abbot another quiet thank you and see you tomorrow before you exited the emergency department.

Now you were home, and though you didn’t have an alarming amount left to actually do, you were fairly certain the nerves running rampant through your system  over the next day were not going to allow for much sleep tonight.

The deafening sound of your alarm woke you at a bit past six am, a time you’d never wished to see in the history of your off days but was unfortunately necessary on this one.

As you rolled over and silenced your vibrating phone blindly, the realization of what this day would hold came crashing over you all too harshly for so early in the morning.

You were truly moving into Jack Abbot’s home today. No joke.

The next ten minutes that you spent staring at the ceiling were full of iterations of this thoughts, running rampant circles through your mind.

You’d managed to finish getting all of your things into a fairly organized pile last night, and someone from Facebook marketplace was meant to come pick up your bed today (which you’d gladly gotten rid of in place of the much better one already in Jack’s guest room.

After a quick rinse shower to wake up and a sentimental look around the living room of your first ever solo apartment, you decided you needed to get moving asap before you went clinically insane overthinking the life decisions you’d made over the past couple of weeks.

A walk and some fresh air would definitely do some good. Right?

When you returned to your apartment after the half hour trek to and from the coffee shop nearby, there was a text from Jack on your phone screen.

Leaving now. See you soon

The butterflies that had taken up free residence in your stomach fluttered furiously, and you tried furiously to calm yourself down before getting too far ahead. The unconscious reaction you had to this guy’s simple acts of kindness truly needed to get under control. 

About ten minutes later, there was a knock at your door. Time to face the music.

You swung it open with a ridiculously large grin and greeted Abbot. “Morning!” You said, gesturing for him to come inside. You’d decided that overly enthusiastic friendliness would be a better route than overly awkward… awkwardness. 

“Morning.” He replied, much more quietly. You cringed a bit, remembering that he’d just come from his night shift and was likely not feeling as wired as you. You pivoted to your almost bare kitchen counter and retrieved one of the to-go cups sitting on it.

“I got you a coffee. I wasn’t sure how you take it so I just got you my order, hot vanilla latte. I hope that’s okay. If not I can-”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Abbot replied, lips lifting into a smile all the same. “Thank you, honey.”

Thank you, honey.

Thank you, honey.

Thank you, honey.

You were staring at him, arm still extended in front of you like an idiot when he’d already taken the cup of coffee and lifted it to his mouth to take a sip. When he brought the cup down, you quickly jerked your arm back, spinning around and walking quickly toward your living room in an attempt to hide your flushing face. 

That was fine, this was fine. Roommates and coworkers and platonic friends called each other honey all the time.

“Okay, uh, so I have all of my stuff together. I’m hoping we can get it all in your car in one trip, but I’m not sure.” You kept walking, not slowing or looking to see if Jack was following. You came to a stop between your living and bedroom and took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again. “I tried to consolidate as much as I could, but-”

“We’ll get it done.” Jack said simply, smiling at you in a way that made you hear honey honey honey like an alarm going off in your eardrums. “I don’t mind taking multiple trips.” You didn’t know if you were ever going to get used to his relentless kindness and understanding. You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

Upwards of two hours later, you were standing in Jack Abbot’s kitchen, downing a glass of water that you hadn’t even bothered putting ice in and wiping sweat from your brow. You were also pointedly looking anywhere but in his direction, as he had taken off his scrub top about forty five minutes ago and since broken a sweat through the offensively tight white tee shirt he’d been wearing underneath. 

The reality of your predicament would be pressing in on you more painfully if you weren’t so…excited. Sue you, you were excited. You were excited to be moved in with Jack Abbot– and as many see through white tee shirt shaped hurdles you’d have to jump over, you were going to let yourself enjoy it.

“You wanna get somethin’ to eat?” Abbot’s voice reaches you from across the kitchen, and your eyes betray you as they dart over to his figure, hip now resting against his dark kitchen counter and gaze fixed on you with a lazy smile.

Yeah, you were going to let yourself enjoy this.

a/n: hello hello! if you are all the way here at part 4 still reading I can't tell you how grateful I am! it is so much fun to write knowing others enjoy it too!!

i would seriously love any feedback or ideas of what you want to see from jack and reader in the coming chapters!! i'm having a bit of a struggle on which direction to take it next and love all comments and input. love u all so much - reef <3

links:

masterlist

previous part

next part

tags:

One hour later, on the dot, there’s a knock at your door. The sound of it echoed down the hallway to where you were currently staring existentially into your bathroom mirror.

It almost startled you, the solid knock where an “I’m here” text usually sounded. You’d given Dr. Abbot your unit number, not even thinking twice about it. You’d never once given that information to a date picking you up in the past (not that this was a date), always opting to meet them outside. It hadn’t even occurred to you to do so with Abbot when he’d asked for your address.

It wasn’t all that strange, really. You’d worked with him for a few years now, and were apparently considering moving into his home.

Taking a deep breath and smoothing a hand over your shirt, you made your way to the door. It didn’t even have a peephole, a detail that had plagued you since moving in and would certainly not be missed once you left this place. The thought flitted through your mind and was on its way out as you swung the door open to the sight of Jack Abbot, hands in the pockets of his jeans and shoulders straining against the fabric of his plain black tee.

“You don’t have a peephole?” He says in greeting. Startled from your ogling, you snort a soft laugh. Clearly unable to follow your silent line of thought, Abbot stares back at you in confusion, serious expression turning up in a smile. “What?” He laughs softly.

Finally meeting Abbot’s eyes, you can’t help but smile back. This is all so strange.

“Sorry, nothing. I was just…” You trail off again, mind frazzled by the man smiling brightly at you and not wearing scrubs and smelling like that familiar mix of clean soap and something warm that you’d caught before when he’d leaned over your shoulder during a procedure or passed you a little closer than normal in the hall of the ED. “I was just thinking the same thing.” You finish in explanation, waving a hand at your door.

He nods in understanding, and takes a small step aside as you turn to lock the door behind you.

“Not safe.” He notes as you twist the key, no tone of judgement or condescension, just a quiet observation of concern. You nod as you turn back toward him.

“Yeah, this place didn’t really come with the bells and whistles, that’s for sure.” You huff, gesturing that you’ll follow him down the hall.

“You won’t miss it much?” Abbot asks, taking your cue and heading back down the stairs he’d come up.

His question is innocent, you can tell Abbot is genuinely curious if you’ll miss this shitty apartment, trying to make friendly conversation. It stalls you though, jumping right into talk about your living situation and why you’re even on this outing with him at all. You knew you needed to calm down, to be an adult. Dr. Abbot, your coworker who you had been able to hold a professional relationship with thus far, was being incredibly kind by offering you a place to stay. You didn’t need the butterflies in your stomach coming in to mess that up.

“Ah, I don’t know.” You sigh at last. You’re descending the stairs now and coming out into the late afternoon sunshine. The weather is fair, but you wonder absentmindedly if you should’ve brought a jacket as the cool breeze rustles your hair. “This was my first place alone, you know? I’ve lived here since I first came to Pittsburgh. I guess I’ll miss it in that sense.” You shrug a bit, slowing down to follow Abbot to his car as you realize you have no idea what it looks like. He leads you to it, coming around the passenger side to open the door for you before responding.

“That makes sense.”

“Oh, thank you.” You say softly. Is this the first time a man has ever actually done that for you?

When he slides into the driver’s seat, you continue.

“But, yeah, obviously it isn’t the best.” You chuckle. “I don’t have a washer or dryer, and my water turns off like once a week. It’s walking distance to the hospital though, and it’s a place to live.” You know you’re rambling, but you’re nervous and on edge and the smell of Jack Abbot is all encompassing in the confined space of his car.

Abbot just lets you talk, nodding and humming a bit but staying quiet. When you trail off, he thinks for a moment before speaking.

“You shoulda seen my first place out of med school. It was pretty much one small room, but we-” He trails off. “Yeah. It was no palace.” He chuckles quietly.

You picture it, a younger Jack Abbot. You wonder if he already knew his wife then. When he decided he wanted to be a doctor, how he got there from his days as a combat medic. There was so much you wanted to know about him; the questions you found yourself getting lost in thought about when he got more quiet or tense treating certain patients.

A few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again.

“Do you have any preference about going by the house or eating first?”

You turn to look at his side profile as he speaks, then decide you’re sitting much too close to trust yourself staring at him like that and look back out at the road.

“Whatever’s easier.” You hum, fingers tapping against your jeans. Hopefully it would be easier to think when you were out of the car, though you weren’t so sure. You once again found yourself thinking that this didn’t bode well for a future of living with him. “What would be best for you getting to the hospital afterward? I can grab an uber back from wherever.”

“No.” His reply is instant, quiet but firm.

“No really, it’s no worry.” You reassure him, but Abbot speaks again before you go on.

“We can eat first, if that’s okay with you. You can ask me anything you want, I’ll tell you about the house and all that. Then we can go by after, I’ll show you the room. I’ll have plenty of time to bring you home before I have to get to my shift.”

“That sounds great.” Your cheeks are warm and something bright is blooming in your chest.

Water nearly came spraying out of your nose and you slapped a hand over your face to stop it as you bent forward in laughter.

Abbot watched you with the fond smile that had been on his face since the two of you had sat down at your table. He’d given you the choice between a diner near his house or the new Thai place you’d gone to with Samira and Javadi the week before. When he’d seen your face light up at the mention of it, he’d already rerouted to head there as you recounted how much you’d enjoyed it when you went.

“That is absolutely ridiculous.” You say through choked laughter, the burn of the water that you’d almost choked back up pressing behind your nose. He’d been recounting stories of when he and Robby first started at the Pitt for their residency, mostly focused on situations in which he had come to the rescue of his friend. He’d just finished one about Robby somehow accidentally leading a much older woman on to the point that she’d needed to be escorted out by security.

“Yeah, he swore he had no idea she was flirting with him but… I don’t know. You know Robby.” Abbot chuckles in response, shaking his head at the memory.

“That’s kind of funny coming from you, Abbot.”

The words are out before you process them, and the humored smile you’d previously been wearing drops a bit, quickly covered as you take a gulp of water and look anywhere but the man across from you. Maybe he wouldn’t think much of it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ok. Great.

He’s looking at you with an eyebrow raised in question, but his face is still painted with the mischievous humor you’d been seeing so much more of tonight.

“Oh, nothing.” You laugh, and it sounds unnaturally high pitched and wobbly to your own ears. You attempt to get the conversation back on its previous track. “I’m sure you’re right, the amount of elderly patients I’ve seen Robby charm is too high to remember, not accounting for the women he’s actually flirted with.” You add. It was no secret that your attending had a habit of making his rounds in more ways than one.

Taking another slow sip of water, you pretend not to notice that Abbot is still staring at you a bit inquisitively, an unmistakable smirk forming a bit as you avoid his gaze.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were accusing me of being a worse flirt than Michael.” He hums, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

It should genuinely be illegal for him to do that shit when he was already making you nervous, and you should genuinely win some sort of award for having enough self control to not let your eyes drop to the muscled, freckle covered skin straining against his tee shirt sleeves.

“I was totally joking.” You say with an awkward laugh, setting your glass down a bit too hard and cringing as it thunks against the table. “Sorry, that was kind of ina-”

“Don’t be sorry.” He interrupts you gently, though still smirking a bit. If you are beginning to appreciate at least one thing about Dr. Abbot, it’s his ability to so smoothly cut off your rambling. Never rudely, but as if to assure you he understood, that he didn’t want you to feel you had to over explain yourself. It was nice. You wish it didn’t make you feel so nice.

“You may be right.” He continues, feigning a long sigh. “What can I say?” Abbot shrugs his shoulders up, and this time your self control has apparently been fractured. Your eyes flick down to his broad shoulders and toned forearms and you feel your cheeks heat immediately. It could only have been a second or two, but you know he must’ve caught your ogling as you once again meet his eyes that are still trained on you.

In an act of saving grace that truly solidifies this place as your new favorite restaurant, your waitress arrives at the table with your food right at that moment. You let out a silent, heavy breath of relief, and both thank her as she sets down your plates and departs.

“I hope you like it!” You say, genuine but also taking the chance to move away from your precious conversation. Abbot had asked what you’d recommend and decided on the same thing as you, which was one hundred times more nerve wracking to you than it should’ve been. So what if he didn’t like it? You didn’t force him to order what you liked.

You watched out of the corner of your eye as he took his first bite.

“Delicious.” He confirms, still swallowing. You beam with far too much pride for something so silly.

“Yay.” you reply softly, starting on your own plate.

“So,” Abbot speaks after a few silent moments of eating. “Ask away. What all do you want to know about the house? I do have an actual peephole and security system, so I feel like I’m doing good so far?” He jokes, and you roll your eyes and try not to laugh too hard. Geeze, you needed to take a chill pill, or like, a bottle of them.

“Definitely a plus.” You nod, thinking for a moment before going on. Your most pressing question is the obvious worry about how much you’d need to pay him in rent, but you were hopeful that that would come up naturally without having to so blatantly ask him. You weren’t embarrassed or anything, but Dr. Abbot was certainly in a much different place in his career than you were. As much as he understood the struggles of residency, you weren’t sure what exactly he thought would be a good deal for rent for you in this day and age. You opt for something easier first. “Is your house walking distance from the hospital?”

He nods, mouth full of food. You give a nod back in confirmation and take a bite of your own as he answers.

“I’d say so. It’s actually a bit closer than your apartment. I live off of Maple and E street.” He takes in the look on your face, communicating that you aren’t entirely familiar with these directions. “It’s about a ten minute walk.” He adds helpfully.

“Oh, wow. That’s great!” You nod with a smile. Your current commute was close to half an hour on a bad day.

“I’d say you’d just ride with me but,” he lifts a hand to communicate what you both already know, being on opposite shifts would make it so you were ships passing in the night (or morning) as they say.

You wave your own hand in dismissal but thank him for the offer anyway.

Honestly, this thought is strangely comforting, the reminder that you honestly wouldn’t likely spend much time in the house together at all with such opposing schedules. It steadies your thumping heart a bit and gives you more confidence to go on.

“Hm, okay. And you said your spare room has its own bathroom? I’m only asking cause I’m thinking about our schedules now and wouldn’t want to be a burden on you with getting ready and that kind of thing.”

“You’re never a burden.” Your racing heart is back immediately. “Yes, your room is upstairs and has an en suite bathroom. You would really have your own space upstairs, I hardly go up there at all unless Roxie is hiding from me.”

“You have a pet?!” You blurt, leaning a bit toward him over the table. He looks up at you in a bit of surprise, eyebrows shooting up.

“Oh- yeah. A dog. Sorry, I don’t know why I just assumed you knew that.” He runs a hand down the back of his neck. “Is that bad?”

“Oh my gosh, no! That’s amazing!” You reply excitedly. “I love dogs! What kind is she?” you’ve abandoned your fork and are looking at him with bright eyes, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own head you would notice the pink tinge creeping onto Abbot’s cheeks as you stare at him intently.

“She’s a German Shepherd. I adopted her a few years ago, she had been bred to work with the SWAT team but didn’t really have the temperament. She was partnered with a buddy of mine, so…” he trails of in a tone of the rest is history.

“That’s sweet.” You say, trying to tamper your excitement.

Your apartment complex didn’t allow pets, not that you had the time or means to take care of one well enough right now. You’d always had dogs growing up, even one cat, and you knew that the missing company of a pet had a lot to do with your growing loneliness over these years in Pittsburgh.

“It’ll be great actually.” Abbot speaks, looking down at his plate. “For her to have someone there when I’m gone. I’m always afraid she gets kind of lonely.” He hums thoughtfully as he pushes noodles around with his fork.

You feel warmth bloom in your chest as he speaks, as if he’s stepped into your mind and speaking directly to your thoughts to make you more and more sure this is the right choice. You don’t even notice that he’s already speaking like you’ve agreed to move in for sure, but he does. His eyes snap up to you and his cheeks flush even more, but you’re looking down at your own plate with a fond smile, lost in thought.

“I mean- if you decide you want to- sorry, I didn’t…” he trails off and you snap back to reality. “I just mean if you do decide it’ll work out. I’m sure she’d love to have you. Is all.”

You had seen Dr. Abbot in a number of situations- stressed, more than usual, on particularly hard shifts. Tense or overtired after staying late on what was already an unscheduled double. Happy, humorous, leading the ED with a positivity that could only come from someone strong enough to joke in the face of death.

You had never seen him nervous.

You were almost, nearly, fairly confidently sure that he was quite nervous now.

It made the warm, happy feeling settled in your chest bloom even further, settle the butterflies in your stomach into something more soft and calm, ease your mind even more toward the idea of living with this man. Jack Abbot was only human. Sure, he was a human that you were attracted to, concerningly more so with every moment you spent with him, but human all the same.

And if Dr. Jack Abbot was human enough to feel even a portion of the nervousness you currently did being in this situation, you could certainly handle living in his house. Right?

Dr. Abbot pulls up to a brownstone nestled in a street canopied by huge, blooming trees and lined with all manner of flowers and plants and unique mailboxes in front of each home. He comes to a stop directly in front of it, putting the car in park and turning to face you.

From the passenger side, you’re staring out the window and rapidly trying to take it all in, this home that looks like it had been pulled straight out of a book or show about an idealistic cozy city life.

Abbot watches you watch, and when you at last turn toward him your cheeks heat as you discover his attention on you.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.” He says. Your eyes aren’t parting and you’re so close together in the car and you need to say something in response but- “Ready to go inside?”

“Yes.” You say quickly, swallowing and unbuckling yourself to exit the vehicle as quickly as possible.

You follow Abbot up the short stairs and he unlocks the front door with a keypad on the handle. Fancy.

When he holds the door open to you, you step into the home that you’d spent the last few days pretending you weren’t imagining in every little detail.

To the left, there’s a dark wooden staircase leading to the second floor, a door directly next to it cracked to reveal what must be the sunroom on the other side of the large window you’d seen on the front of the house.

To the right, there’s a small table with a pretty blue bowl that Dr. Abbot has placed his keys in, it looks like one of those fancy handmade pottery dishes you’d pick up at a store and immediately set down because it’s a few hundred more dollars than you’d expected. The walls of the entry way are covered in light wallpaper and framed by the same dark wood as the staircase.

Abbot takes a few steps down the hall before stopping suddenly, turning on his heel toward you. You realize he must’ve been on autopilot, stopping himself to go into tour guide mode.

“I’ll show you around downstairs first?” He asks, genuinely wanting to know if that’s okay with you. You nod with a smile, gesturing for him to lead the way. Once again you’re struck by his sweet nervousness and how much he clearly cares about this whole thing. You wonder if it’s strange that it’s making you more and more calm.

As you follow Abbot down the short hall, you pass a closed door that you imagine must be a bathroom or closet, another branched off hallway, then enter a brightly lit kitchen.

Each step through the house paints a much cozier picture than you’d dreamt up in your mind. You had no idea what sort of home Dr. Abbot would live in, truly, but you’re a bit smitten by how much it aligns with your own personal style. You aren’t surprised at all, when you truly think about it, the man having such a warm and comfortable home. It reminds you of him.

“So, the kitchen, of course.” Abbot’s voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to face him as he laughs softly at stating the obvious. He’s leaned one hip slightly against the counter, and your gaze catches on the machine beside him, mouth dropping all the way open with a soft gasp.

He turns quickly to find what’s shocked you, likely afraid your dramatic reaction was to some sort of bug or embarrassing item he’d left out- but only finds the coffee machine.

“That is the nicest espresso machine I have ever seen in a house. Wow.” You whisper. He turns back to you a bit bewildered, but can’t deny the pleasure that blooms in his chest at your excitement.

“Uh, great.” He chuckles. “Robby got this for me for Christmas last year, and by got I mean he definitely won it at a holiday party and regifted it to me.” Abbot scoffs at the memory. “He always does that shit and says it’s because he doesn’t even celebrate Christmas, but still takes my gifts to him every year.” You join his laughter and shake your head.

“Well, Robby did not know what he had here.” You can’t help but cross the kitchen to inspect it closer, coming to stand much nearer to Abbot as a result. He stills from his place against the counter and watches you fiddle with the machine a bit.

“To be completely honest with you, I’ve never used it.” You whip your head toward him in horror.

“What?!” He simply points in response, gesturing to a Mr. Coffee pot on the opposite counter.

“It’s too complicated!” He huffs, and you’re truly laughing now. “Why does it have so many parts? That pot makes coffee just fine.” He huffs a bit, pretending to be petulant and offended but reveling in your bright, grinning laugh.

“I’ll teach you.” You chuckle, then clear your throat a bit, eyes widening. “I mean, not that I’m expecting you to let me use it or anything, I just-”

Abbot’s hand is on your arm and his eyes are on yours and you feel the words whooshing out of your chest as if the wind had been physically knocked out of you.

“Kid, take a breath.” You do. “Thank you.” You take another, out of pure necessity, and look anywhere but the man’s face. “This will be your house too. If you decide to move in.” He adds quickly. “It wasn’t an empty offer. Mi casa es… your casa?” You snort, literally snort, and take a step back before his continued touch puts you at risk of passing out.

When his hand falls from your shoulder you immediately miss the warmth. It’s better though. It’s better to have some distance. Right?

“Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” You finally reply with a deep sigh.

He bristles a bit at the formality, but you miss it as you go back to looking around the kitchen. There’s a paned glass door leading to a quaint backyard that you can only see a bit of, but you spot a few chairs and what looks like a barbecue grill around the corner of the house. You smile to yourself at the thought of Abbot spending time with his friends out there, a version of him not consumed by the inside of the hospital. You wonder absentmindedly if you’ll find that too.

“I’ll show you upstairs?” You nod and follow Abbot back out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Just as you remember and go to ask, a new set of footsteps come clambering down toward the two of you from your spot halfway up the staircase.

The biggest German Shepherd you have ever seen is rocketing toward you, tail wagging erratically as she all but leaps over Abbot and by some miracle makes a graceful landing at your feet, back paws stretched a few steps above you and front ones pawing at your jeans.

Thankful that you weren’t completely taken out by the giant creature, your mind quickly switches to excitement and adoration, dropping to sit on the steps and pet her enthusiastically.

“Well look at you!!” You sing, scratching Roxie’s ears and nearly being taken out by here long tail as it thumps in excitement.

“I am so sorry.” Abbot is saying from above you, trying and completely failing to settle her before she sends you both careening down to the first floor.

After a few more seconds of loving on the dog, you look up at him with a grin.

“Don’t be sorry. She’s such a sweetheart.” His completely unamused face drops to meet yours, and the man just shakes his head.

“She hasn’t really behaved a day in her life.” He grumbles, and you just laugh, turning your attention back to Roxie.

“Oh, that’s not true! You’re a good girl, yes, yes you are. You’re a good good girl.” You would cringe at yourself in any other scenario, a certified hater of baby talk, but she really is just that cute.

Abbot grumbles something else from above you and ascends the last few steps. Roxie jumps up to her feet and bounds after him, leaving you the last to follow.

“This is your room.” Abbot goes to open the door while trying to hold Roxie back, but she’s far too excited and goes bounding in before either of you get through the door. She’s curled up on your bed, tail wagging once again as she looks up at the two of you with innocent eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.” Abbot groans, and you look to see his face dropped into his hands in defeat. “Now she’s just trying to make me look bad.”

You laugh, loud and bright and more than you mean to, and your hand is on his shoulder now before you can even process it.

“It’s fine. Really. This is her house, and I really do love dogs. It doesn’t bother me at all.”

His hands slide down from his face slowly but his gaze drags not to your face, but where your hand is on his shoulder. You drop it quickly, clearing your throat and stepping further into the room.

He stares after you, wishing you hadn’t.

“This is really, really nice.” The room can compete with the size of your entire apartment, and is furnished with a full sized canopy bed. You run a hand appreciatively over the carved wooden posts. There isn’t much else, which is good- you have plenty of belongings to fit.

There’s a window on the far wall with a dreamy alcove bench that looks like something out of a movie. Your ten year old self would freak. To the left of that, the door that must lead to your bathroom. You look over your shoulder to ask if you can go in, and Abbot is already nodding, gesturing with a hand toward the door.

When you step inside, you aren’t fully convinced there aren’t tears brimming behind your eyes at this point. The shower is huge, and has a glass door and huge rain head that looks like the epitome of luxury compared to the plastic curtain and occasionally warm spout your apartment’s five by five shower sports.

You really need to find out if you can afford this place before you get way too attached. When you turn to face Abbot, who’s watching you with that soft, fond smile again, you’re afraid you already are.

“Um…” you know it’s the grown up thing to do to bite the bullet. Dr. Abbot has never given you any sort of negative impression, and obviously knows you’re struggling to find somewhere you can afford to live, that’s why he offered. Now you just need to find out how much he actually understands that. “Not to be way too straightforward but, I do still have one big question.”

Abbot simply nods in response, face friendly as he waits for you to go on.

“Er… how much exactly would rent be each month? This is… way nicer than any of the apartments I’ve looked at, obviously, and I am… well, I’m broke. Obviously.” You laugh a bit, hands splayed out at your sides.

Abbot stares at you without replying for so long that you wonder if you’d asked clearly enough. And then he laughs. Like, laughs at you. In your face. It’s not mean, but it’s a loud chuckle full of disbelief and pure humor, and you wonder what exactly is so funny and what exactly to say as he stand in front of you laughing.

“Oh, sorry. Sorry.” He clears his throat and schools his face into a serious look. “Sorry. Um, you won’t be paying rent.” His lips press together firmly and you wonder if he’s trying that hard not to laugh at you again.

“What?” Is all you can reply, staring at him dumbly.

“You’re not gonna pay me rent.” He states again, as if it makes all the sense in the world. “No rent.” He shrugs.

“Uh, what?” You can’t think of any other words right now, evidently. Rather than repeating himself for the third time, Abbot- evil Dr. Abbot in his evil tight black tee shirt- once again crosses his arms over his chest and waits for you to process. When you finally do, your head is shaking frantically as you speak. “No, no. No- I will definitely pay you rent. I am totally capable of paying rent, I just need to know exactly how-”

“I will not be taking money from you.” He speaks firmly, and you feel that you’re back in a trauma room and he’s leading you through a case and you obviously are not going to argue back with him but-

“What?! No!” You sputter, and take an earnest step toward the man. He stands his ground. “Dr. Abbot, I am one hundred percent paying you to live in your home. This is an incredibly generous offer and there is no possible way I’m not-”

“Call me Jack.”

Your words die in your throat and the hands that were frantically waving in front of you drop with a slap to your legs. When you don’t reply he speaks again. “Please. Call me Jack, if you’re going to live here. We’re not at the hospital.”

You’re far too overwhelmed by his insanity to delve into that whole thing at the moment, but your body is certainly reacting. With your face burning and heart attempting to beat out of your chest, you speak again.

“Dr. Ab- Jack. I cannot live here for free. That is insane.” You state calmly, trying to muster some of that authority that he seems to have so much of.

“No, what would be insane would be me, an attending physician with a fully paid off home and no children to care for charging a struggling resident rent, when I offered you a place to stay in the first place.” He speaks slow and clear, and you are becoming more and more aware that some fights are losing battles against Jack Abbot’s determination. “I want to do this for you. I don’t need or want your money. In fact I refuse it.” He adds firmly, holding up a hand before you start arguing again. “I understand why that is hard for you to accept, but I’m not gonna change my mind. You can live here for free, or not at all.”

You’re at a loss, and you may not know the man in front you as well as you’d like, but you certainly know enough to realize he’s being completely serious.

Setting aside all secondary issues, your growing desire to continue being around him (BAD), the fact that you’re already quite attached to the idea of living here, with him (VERY BAD), and his apparent insistence on you doing so for free (INSANE)— you were completely out of options. You knew you’d exhausted them, there was nowhere else available right now that you could logically make work. As crazy as it was, you were truly in no position to turn down this option just because- what? Because it was free?! In all reality, that only tallied up hundreds of extra points in the pros column.

But it was twisting in your stomach, this anxious feeling. How could you accept such a huge, generous gesture from this man? Why on earth was he even making it in the first place? For all the heart eyes and butterflies you held for Jack Abbot, the two of you did not know each other this well outside of work.

This would be the perfect opportunity to get to know him more, then.

The sing song voice that you were now certain must be the devil on your shoulder pushed you toward that yes fighting to escape your throat.

“I’m going to take your extended silence as realization that you should definitely say yes. Right?” Abbot’s voice floats over to you, and through the friendly smirk he’s once again wearing you can almost see the yearning hope hidden underneath it as he waits for your answer. Roxie’s tail thumps faster against the bed.

You let out a shaky breath.

a/n: again and always thank u to everyone reading this 🩷 it makes my heart so happy to reply to comments etc etc

hope this chapter was gratifying!! went on a bit long but i just get so wrapped up in jack and reader’s dialogue they are just the cutest. feeling most excited about the next part (posted tomorrow or wednesday!!) LOVE U

- reef

links:

previous part

next part

masterlist

tags:

Apartments dot come, Pittsburgh apartments dot org, Affordable Housing Near You dot com, and a slew of local realtor’s social media pages were open, draining the pathetic battery life that your overheating laptop was trying to function on.

You weren’t even looking at them anymore, your forehead dropped down against the kitchen table in utter defeat. 

There was a piece of notebook paper, simply a sign of your naive optimism, on the table beside your laptop. At the top line, you had written the contact information of the three, yes- only three, actually realistic apartment options out of the hundreds you’d spent the better half of the day scrolling through.

Whether way too far from the hospital or, unsurprisingly, completely out of your budget, the pages and pages of listings had amounted to basically nothing. A fruitless search that had only left you even more stressed than before, and unable to stop the creeping thoughts of the one option left untouched in the corner of your mind. 

No, no. There had to be a better option. There had to be.

You had one more number from your pathetic list of possibilities to call before the search was to be truly declared hopeless. Typing the number into your phone, you held it up to your ear and stood to stretch. The line rang for so long that you were convinced no one would even answer, but it suddenly cut out, replaced by a sharp voice.

“J Street Apartment Complex, how can I help you?” The man spoke loudly and robotically.

“Uh, hi. Hi! I was just calling to ask about the apartment opening you had listed? Would it be possible to come-”

“That’s no longer available.” He interrupted.

“Oh. The one that was posted three days ago?”

“That’s no longer available.” He repeated, silent again.

“Oh.” You stared at your open laptop on the table, the listing with AVAILABLE NOW written in bright green letters under it. “Do you have anything else available? Like, literally anything at all?”

“No, sorry. You can check back again in the new year, got a few leases ending around then.”

The line went dead before you could even open your mouth to reply.

Okay, so you may be officially out of options. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing even to crash on Trinity’s couch? You internally cringed at the thought of having to bear witness to whatever horrible situationship was brewing between her and Garcia outside of work, it was unbearable enough in the ED when they were pretending it wasn’t happening. 

You do have another option.

Your subconscious sung in the back of your mind, and you wished it was possible to tell your own brain to shut up for once.

But… it was true. You did have one last option.

No, it was by no means a “good” idea to move in with Dr. Abbot. Yes, if you wrote out a physical pros and cons list, the cons would likely beat the pros by a mile. 

But… but. But, would any of those cons truly outweigh the alternative? The alternative being having nowhere to live, and, what? No option but dropping out of your residency and moving back across the country to your mom’s house? No. 

No, you simply could not let such a ridiculous set back compromise the work you’d put in, the years of dedication. You were already applying for a fellowship at the Pitt for the next year. You couldn’t just throw in the towel.

And you certainly couldn't turn down the only saving grace that had been presented to you just because… well, just because you had a completely inappropriate crush on your much older boss. Just because you would be putting yourself in an entirely awkward situation, moving into the man’s house while harboring this stupid crush like some hopeless, heart eyed girl following her crush around the playground. 

Just because, for all of the reasons constantly running through your mind on why it would be an absolutely terrible idea to move in with Jack Abbot, there were hundreds more why you wanted to pack up your shitty apartment right now and show up at the man’s door.

You were lonely. Yes, you had made good friends at work, much better than you’d let yourself get your hopes up for. But still, more often than not you worked yourself down to the bone, came home to your empty apartment to sleep, and did it all over again. It was the nature of your path, the expectation of a fourth year resident and all sacrifices worth becoming a doctor, but still. Still.

You were human, and you were lonely, and you were exhausted. You missed having family or roommates to come home to at the end of the day, to complain about work outside of the actual walls of work and joke and decompress and laugh and cry with. 

Also, you missed things like in house washer dryer units and a disposal that actually worked and a toilet that didn’t need to be plunged every single time it was flushed. 

No, you did not expect Jack Abbot, your much older male doctor boss to sit around and eat takeout and gossip with you after a twelve hour shift. But, you liked him. Aside from liking him, you did truly like him. He was kind, encouraging, supportive. Showed up and filled the cracks Robby often missed, a soft hand on your shoulder after a particularly hard case, a good call, kid or even just a thumbs up of approval. He slipped you granola bars and coffee from the break room and always told you to get home safe if you ran into each other at shift change.

And he had literally offered for you to move into his home. Jack Abbot- veteran, widower, long time doctor, and not even technically your direct boss, had been told in passing that you were in a tight spot, and came back twelve hours later offering you a complete catch-all fix to it, you hadn’t even had to ask.

So yes, for all of the reasons that you could’ve written down on the cons side of a list, there were a few really big ones warring with them. The complete lack of any other options was only strengthening the fight. 

You weren’t sure at exactly what point you pulled up the contact log on your phone, scrolling down to the number you knew for a fact you’d never exchanged a text with. After a few minutes of staring, lip pulled between your teeth as you debated, you clicked the new message button and began typing.

Hey! Sorry to text you while you’re probably sleeping. I was wondering if I could give you a call at some point, just to kind of talk about everything? No worries AT ALL if not. Just let me know :)

You realized, almost instantaneously after hitting send, that there was no way Jack Abbot had your contact saved, and no way he would have any idea who was texting him. You only had his number because all residents were given the attendings’ contact information, you’d never once actually used it. Before this thought had even formed to completion in your mind, your phone was buzzing in your palm.

The screen was black, white text scrolling across the top of it in bold letters spelling out Dr. Abbot (Work).

As was your apparent new method of making decisions, you answered it without thinking, bringing it up to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, cringing at the sound of your voice in the silent apartment.

“Hey. Sorry, is now a good time?” Abbot replied immediately from the other end of the line, accompanied by a bit of shuffling that sounded like he was walking around.

“Oh. No. Yeah. I mean yeah, now is fine. Sorry- did I wake you up?” You added quickly, sending a panicked look at your watch, it was two in the afternoon, and you knew he had to work tonight.

“No. I was awake.” He replied, unbothered.

“Oh. Great. Okay.” You realized after a few silent moments that you hadn’t really said anything he could respond to. “Um, also- sorry, I should’ve signed my message. I had your number from when I started my residency and everything,” You were waving your free hand in the air as you spoke, as if he could see you overexplaining yourself over the phone. “But you wouldn’t have any idea who was texting you. Or, but you did I guess? Wait, this is-”

He cuts you off, thankfully, with a soft laugh. You can almost see his eyes crinkle and the shake of his head.

“I had your number saved.” Oh. Okay.

“Oh. Okay.” You hear the whisper of his laugh again, and more shuffling.

Why did he have your number saved? How did he even have your number in the first place? Not that it was particularly crazy or suspicious, it was likely easy to access you information as a resident- Dana had done it to get your phone number a few months back when you'd left your wallet at the hospital. But why? He'd never used it, you'd never spoken to him over text or call at all.

“So, what’s up?” The casual question coming from Dr. Abbot both pulled you from your thoughts and fogged your mind a bit, and you had to run a rough hand down your face before breathing and finally speaking.

“Yes. Thanks for calling me. I uh… Well.” Maybe you should’ve put a bit more thought or preparation into this before sending the text.

“I’m assuming you’ve hopefully thought more about the offer?” Something in his voice was pulling, almost tense. You dismissed it as anxiousness over you dilly dallying and not simply getting to the point of your call, but... there was definitely some underlying weight to his words as he spoke.

“Yeah.” You reply with a sigh. “Yes, uh, Dr. Abbot, if the offer is still available, I would really appreciate talking to you about it a bit more.” Your eyes were squeezed shut, and you were incredibly thankful not to be having this conversation in person. You wouldn't be able to deal with Abbot actually seeing you squirm under the pressure of having a simple conversation with him, you were already doing a bad enough job at the verbal part.

“That’s great. Great.” He laughs, you definitely think he sounds strange, almost nervous. “I’m actually free till I have to go in tonight. I’m assuming you’re off today?" He keeps going before you can stop where he's taking the conversation in its tracks. "We can go eat, you can ask whatever you want.”

Great. Great.

“Oh… uh, we don’t hav-”

“I can pick you up in an hour if you want.” You weren't sure if he didn’t hear the beginning of your protest or simply interrupted you. “We can even swing back by my place so you can see it.”

There’s a lilt to his voice that the dreamy, unrealistic part of your brain (likely the same idiotic portion that had chosen to reach out to Dr. Abbot in the first place) wants to identify as hope, even a bit of nervousness. This delusional haze pushes your response out before you can stop it.

"There's a really good Italian place nearby. If you... if you like that kind of thing?"

“Okay. Yeah. That’d be great.”

A few minutes of nerve wracking conversation later, you were hanging up the call and launching your phone across the living room with a loud groan, collapsing onto the couch and burying your head in your hands.

You had lost your mind, you truly must’ve lost your actual mind.

You had not only given in to the absolutely insane idea of possibly moving in to Jack Abbot’s spare bedroom, something that sounded straight out of a rom-com written in your teenage dreams, you had somehow been roped into a dinner date with him along the way? Okay, it wasn’t a dinner date, he literally hadn’t said anything close to implying it was any sort of date, but still. You were going out and getting food somewhere with Jack Abbot, just the two of you. 

What should you wear? What would he wear? What was the appropriate attire for a platonic one on one dinner with one's work superior with the purpose of discussing potentially moving into his home? Jeans?

When you’d reached out, you’d just wanted to call and ask him a few things, like how much rent would be to stay at his place and if he had any pets (hopefully) and if it was walking distance to the hospital and if he was really sure he'd meant to offer the room to you or if he’d maybe slipped and smacked his head on the way into work that day. You’d certainly not expected for it to turn into dinner, in person, in less than an hour.

The incredibly dramatic and panicked reaction you were having to spending a short evening with Jack Abbot was certainly not boding well for moving into the man’s house.

Oh shit. Oh shit, shit shit.

If you couldn’t even get your nerves about being around Abbot under control for this, how could you ever expect to manage living in the same space as him 24/7? Had you completely forgotten about that night a few weeks ago when you’d been so distracted by him smiling at you that you’d walked directly into the nurses’ station? You’d knocked over Emma’s huge metal water bottle and sent it to a deafeningly clanging demise that attracted every single gaze in the ED. You hadn’t been able to even look back in the general direction of Abbot before leaving and trying to erase the interaction from your memory the entire walk home.

No, it was delusional to think that you'd be able to handle this. It was completely inappropriate, and if he ever found out that he had this affect on you, that you were so pathetically enamored by a man you hardly even truly knew... what then? He'd probably kick you out of your house and report you to Gloria for being a total creep that somehow guilt tripped your way into his home with ulterior motives.

Okay, maybe you were spiraling. That probably wouldn't actually happen, but it would be very awkward if you couldn’t get yourself together and hold a full conversation with Abbot without getting a high heart rate notification from your watch.

Your phone buzzed from across the room, and you shamefully went to retrieve it. A text from Dr. Abbot (Work).

The immediate flutter in your chest and heat in your cheeks set off deafening alarms in your mind.

Yeah. You were one hundred percent, inarguably, absolutely fucked.

a/n: thank you all so so soooo much for the likes, comments, and reblogs on part one. it is so encouraging and so so sweet to know people like reading this!!

part two a bit shorter than the first because i didn’t want to get toooo far ahead of myself and keep the excitement for the next part :) please keep letting me know your thoughts!!! <3 reef

links:

previous part

next part

masterlist 💌

tags:

Being a senior resident at one of the most highly visited emergency departments in the country was not a cake walk by any means. Being a senior year resident at said ED, which was thousands of miles away from the home you’d known for the previous decades of your life, and struggling every day to not completely burn yourself out or run out of money was exhausting to say the least.

When you’d woken up on what you had hoped would be a restful and much needed day off, you hadn’t been expecting any mail- it was a Sunday after all. 

But nevertheless, a thin sealed letter had been stuffed underneath your apartment door, now resting half exposed at the threshold amidst a pile of shoes and the coat you’d tossed aside last night instead of taking it the extra ten feet away to your hamper. 

You’d fetched it off of the floor and tossed it carelessly onto your kitchen counter, opting to pour a day-old cup of coffee from the pot and revive it in the microwave before even considering reading the crumpled letter. 

You’d immediately wished you’d just forgotten about it altogether.

Dear Tenant,

This notice has been sent to all relevant parties affected by the upcoming construction developments. 

As previously notified, the complex is undergoing extensive renovation. As a part of this effort, the top floor of the building will be turned into updated studio apartments- this will entail a complete demolition and construction of the new living spaces. 

Construction is scheduled to begin September 1st and be completed by early January. 

All current tenants will be required to move out of the building during construction, but will be given priority access to applying for residency in the new units. 

All tenants must be completely moved out by August 20th- effective immediately. 

Please reach out to the building manager with any questions or concerns. 

You weren’t sure how many times you read the words typed in heartless, bold font, eyes skipping up and down over the paper as your stomach dropped. Was this some sort of sick prank?

(A few texts to the handful of neighbors you knew confirmed that, no, this was in fact not a joke. It was unfortunately very real.)

Well fuck.

(A frantic phone call to your landlord only further confirmed your misfortune, and assured you that he did not care even a little bit that you and the five other tenants on the top floor of your apartment building were about to be without a place to live.)

Well, fuck.

Like any sensible adult with little to no means of moving anywhere else in the city, no idea how to find said new living space mid-July, when most leases were already signed and sealed- you tossed the paper violently down on your cluttered kitchen table and effectively ignored it for the rest of the day.

Or at least you’d tried. After about an hour of scrolling on the couch and hoping the situation would simply disappear if you ignored it hard enough, the reality that you had hardly over a month to find somewhere to live really set in.

Samira texted you about twenty minutes later, interrupting your doom spiral.

Mira: Hey! Victoria and I are going to that new Thai place after she gets off tonight if you still wanted to come :) LMK

You probably didn’t need to spend money going out to dinner given the new development in your already strained financial life.

You: yess! what time

“So I have six weeks to find somewhere that I can actually afford to live.” You finished explaining your current predicament to the two girls sitting across from you in the packed restaurant. Victoria had been staring at you with a completely unconcealed look of worry and borderline terror since you’d started talking.

“That’s like, impossible.” She spoke, shaking her head matter of factly. Completely unhelpful, but true. You nodded slowly, closing your eyes. Yeah, it kinda was.

“I’m so sorry.” Samira added, shaking her own head and staring down at her plate in thought before speaking again. “Have you asked around to see if anyone at the hospital has an extra room, at least like a temporary thing?” She suggested, trying to sound hopeful. “I think it’s worked out pretty well for Santos and Whitaker.” She shrugged.

Victoria still lived at home, and Samira was currently trying to figure out a less than ideal living situation with her mother herself, or either of them would have been willing to give you a place to stay.

“That’s a good idea.” You sigh. “I don’t know, it’s just so awkward. I can’t even think of anyone that would.” You sighed, twirling a too big bite onto your fork. “Maybe Dana will adopt me.” You conclude with a snort before shoving the noodles into your mouth.

To their credit, both girls give you a somewhat encouraging nod and shrug.

The next morning, you walked your commute to the hospital running a mental list of potential good samaritans from your group of colleagues. Samira was right, Trinity and Dennis had seemed to fall together perfectly as roommates. If you hadn’t heard so much gossip about how many extra visitors that apartment constantly had, you’d consider asking to crash on their couch- but no, Dennis had come to work one too many times with exhausted eyes and a desire to avoid Garcia like the plague. They didn’t need to throw anyone else from this hospital into the mix.

With Samira and Victoria already ruled out, and your hesitation to even bring it up to Mel (she would likely tell you to take her own bed, but she already had more than enough on her plate), your hope was dwindling rapidly as you approached the doors of the ED. A department of overworked doctors was not the best place to be looking for such a large favor, but these were the only people in Pittsburgh that you actually knew.

With a resigned sigh, you slipped past the desk in the waiting room and walked on autopilot legs to stow your things in the back before beginning rounds. Not realising the dark cloud you must’ve been carrying with you and completely lost in thought, you almost didn’t hear Dana greeting you from the nurses station.

Turning dazedly toward the sound of her calling your name, you meet the concerned gaze of the woman and a sympathetically smiling Samira standing beside her. You gave a wave and halfhearted smile as you continued on. You needed to clear your anxious mind and prepare for the day ahead, but it was hard to shake the burden weighing on you. Every passing moment of reality was making the ball of stress in your chest grow tighter. Taking a composing moment in front of your locker, you inhaled steadying breaths and reminded yourself that things usually had a way of working out. Right?

You headed back to the nurses station to begin offloading the night shift and met Samira and Dana still standing there, now joined by tired Dr. Abbot, ready to head home from his night shift. They were all wearing thoughtful frowns as Samira finished speaking, hands moving in the air in front of her in that way they always did when she cared a lot about something (which was almost all of the time).

Your gaze caught on Dr. Abbot as you walked. You were always taken aback slightly by the effect the man had on you. Something tugging in your chest, not letting you look away. You’d only directly worked with the night shift attending on a handful of occasions, night shifts you’d picked up over the years and the times he would come in early or stay way too late. The man never seemed to stop moving, flying in and out of the hospital at all hours of the day and night. You often thought of him in that torn up camo SWAT uniform he’d stormed into the ED wearing a few months back, all fiery determination and confidence. Not that you were thinking of him often!

That was just the first time you’d really spent time with the man, had a conversation that wasn’t panicked, urgent shouting over cases or polite exchanges at shift change. 

He’d come in with the rest of the SWAT team, and you honestly hadn’t even recognized the doctor right away. Only when he’d rushed the bed right into a trauma room and begun working on his injured friend without faltering did you realize who he was. 

About an hour later, after the officer had been somewhat stabilized and admitted to surgery, you were across the ED frantically searching for your patient. 

Orlando had accepted your offer to at least send him home with a bag of supplies for home care if he wouldn’t stay and continue being monitored in the hospital. You’d told him to meet you out at the nurses station, but when you’d returned with the bag full of supplies he was nowhere to be found. You’d made your way to the room he’d been in, ripping back the curtain in hopes of finding him waiting there, but were met with an entirely different and unexpected sight. 

Dr. Abbot was resting on the edge of the patient bed, completely bare from the waist up and twisting awkwardly as he tried to reach something on the back of his shoulder.

“Oh.” You’d stated, finding yourself so caught off guard that you just stood in place for a moment, hand still gripping the plastic curtain as you stared at the man. His freckled, muscular arm was straining as he stretched, and you were stuck still staring for a moment before finding your voice again. “Sorry.” You continued at last, shaking your head a bit as if to clear it and come back to what you’d been doing. You looked around the small room as if Orlando could’ve been hiding somewhere. 

“S’okay.” The man’s gruff voice had replied quietly, the surprise fading from his face as he dropped his arm. You absentmindedly noted that he was holding a cotton swab with ointment, tinged a bit red at the tip, but your mind was already back on the frantic track of finding your flighty patient. 

“Have you seen my patient anywhere? Orlando?” You asked, turning back and peering out the glass door into the center of the ED. 

“No, sorry. No one was in here.” Abbot responded from behind you. You brought your hands up and tugged them through your hair in frustration, groaning loudly. 

“This sucks.” You huff, dropping down into a chair in defeat and letting your head fall toward the floor. 

“Oh, no I’m fine. Don’t worry about me-”

“No, my patient.” You interrupted Abbot, clarifying what you’d meant but also looking up for the first time in realization that he was clearly injured. “He was refusing treatment, I… I thought I’d convinced him to at least wait and let me get him what he’d need for home care but…” you lifted a hand to gesture at the empty room with a sigh. 

“So Uber it to his house.” Abbot replied matter of factly, turning back to peer over his shoulder again. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You think the hospital’s gonna pay for that?”

“I’ll pay for it.” He replied immediately, voice a soft sigh. You froze where you stood, fingers flexing under your arms as you took in his words. He hadn’t even stopped to think about it, clearly wasn’t even thinking much about it now as he grunted, still trying to reach whatever injury needed attention on his back.

You hadn’t been sure if it was his natural quickness to be so generous, so thoughtful toward you and your patient- or the way your pulse was stuttering while you stared at his stretched, toned muscles, on display in a way you’d never even imagined. Well- okay, maybe you’d imagined this kind of thing, but you’d definitely never actually seen it. You’d always known Dr. Abbot was attractive, in that undeniable, back of your mind fact kind of way. He was a handsome and incredibly smart older man, of course you thought he was attractive- the entire hospital must’ve. But seeing this side of Abbot was definitely shifting the concept in your mind a bit. 

So yeah, you weren’t sure what exactly had gotten into you, but your feet carried you straight over to the patient bed where you plucked the cotton swab from Abbot’s grip without speaking. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked, not defensive but blatantly confused. 

“What you clearly can’t.” You joked softly, applying the ointment with ease. Rather than saying anything in response the man crossed his hands over his chest and huffed a bit of air out of his nose. It was a bit pouty, and endearing. “What happened?”

“Bullet grazed my vest.” Quiet and blunt. You waited in thought for a moment before speaking again. 

“Why do you do this?”

“My therapist said I need a hobby.” You almost snorted at his quick response, but let out a soft laugh instead. 

Though you didn’t know Dr. Abbot incredibly well, you did know a few things that mattered. 

You knew that he had served, which you’d come to realize during a conversation over beers in the park after a particularly shitty shift. He’d taken off his prosthetic, you hadn’t ever realized he had one, and Robby had said something in passing conversation that confirmed your suspicion; Abbot’s tough exterior had been built from more than just his time in the emergency department. 

You knew that Jack was a widower, something Dana had shared with you quietly when the man had been in an uncharacteristically bad mood one evening. He’d never gone home from his shift, staying all day as a woman watched her husband, Abbot’s patient, slowly pass away in trauma three. She’d watched you as you’d watched him, storming around the ED unable to do anything to help the woman losing her partner, her best friend. His wife passed, y’know. A few years ago. She’d squeezed your shoulder as if to add something unsaid. 

You knew that Jack Abbot was a good man. You knew this in a way that could only be learned by watching someone come in and save lives every single day. In watching him extend kindness and care and empathy and everything he possibly could to save his patients and the people he loved, because he’d lived a life experiencing a lot of the opposite; loss, hardship, fear.

So you didn’t say anything about the SWAT stuff, about how you thought it was reckless and a bit ridiculous, and how you wondered if he’d tried something normal like cooking or tennis before settling on getting shot at as a hobby. 

“Thanks.” Abbot eventually spoke quietly, and you went to toss the swab in the trash. “Didn’t wanna deal with the paper work.” 

“Our little secret, then.” You replied absentmindedly, removing your gloves and throwing them away as well. You must’ve gotten lost back in thought about Orlando, because when Abbot had spoken again you’d turned to see him clad in a black t-shirt and standing, good as new. 

“Let’s go look up his address. I’ll order the car.” 

No, it’s not that you spent a lot of time thinking about the man, that would be… silly. And embarrassing. It was just that when you did think about him, there was always a lot to think. That’s all. 

You came up to the group, realizing quickly from the identical looks on their faces that Samira had clearly shared your recent misfortune. Already on the warpath of compartmentalizing your personal life in order to be a functioning doctor, you spoke before they could. 

“Anything interesting?” You ask, grabbing a tablet. 

As if on perfect que, Robby strolled up next to you, his own tablet in hand as he stared up at the board. 

“Come on, you two can round with me.” the man says to Samira and you, not looking up as he types something. 

Thankful for the diversion, you fall into step behind the two attendings with Mohan, pushing any worries of your apartment to the recesses of your mind for the next twelve hours. 

The day passed relatively uneventfully, though as hectic and busy as always. When the end of the day rolled in and the night shift began seeping in, the thought of going home only dragged all memories of your current situation back to the surface full force. The responsibility of figuring out your apartment issue only weighed heavier after a twelve hour shift, who would’ve thought?

As you signed off on your last chart for the evening, you looked up to see Dr. Abbot entering the ED, backpack slung over one shoulder. To your surprise, he was headed in your direction, not coming to a stop until he was right beside you. 

“Hi, Dr. Abbot.” you greeted tiredly, sliding the tablet into its station on the counter and turning toward the man. 

“Hey kid.” He replied, tucking a hand in the pocket of his scrubs. “How you doing?” 

You hesitated, caught up a bit the way you always were around him. 

“Uh, fine.” You reply. “You?”

The man just looked at you, as if assessing your answer, deciding if he really believed it. He waited so long to speak you began wondering if you should excuse yourself, but could tell there was something he was trying to figure out how to say. 

“Heard you're having some… house problems.” 

You laugh, shocked at his bluntness and even more shocked at the man bringing up the subject at all. 

“You could say that.” You laugh humorlessly in response, folding your arms across your chest and leaning back against the wall. Your cheeks warmed a bit under Abbot’s gaze, a bit embarrassed to be discussing this with anyone at work let alone the older man who likely hadn’t had to worry about things like getting kicked out of his shitty apartment in a long time. 

“Listen.” Abbot spoke, and you stared back at him as you waited for him to continue. He didn’t. 

In fact, he didn’t for so long, instead opting to kick a booted foot against the floor and peer anywhere around the room but at you, that you thought you must’ve misheard him. When you moved to step away, his attention snapped back to you as if he’d woken up from a trance. 

“Listen-” he said again, going on quickly this time. “Mohan told me this morning about your apartment stuff. I know you probably don’t have many options, I’m honestly shocked you’re even living alone right now. No offense.” He added, and you couldn’t fault him, you’d really lucked out finding an apartment you could afford solo. Not that it had really worked out, had it? “I um… I wanted to offer for you to crash at my place. I have an extra room, an extra bathroom too. I honestly don’t even go upstairs much at all.” He was rambling now, hands gesturing in front of him as he spoke. “I just remember how hard it is, med school, residency and everything. And you’re not from here, right? I just don’t want you to have to struggle more than necessary. Any of you- I mean. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and obviously think about it and go through all your options and stuff. I just wanted to. Throw it out there.” He puffs a breath of air out. “If you want.”

If you had a smidge less composure, your jaw would have dropped onto the floor. You had to take a few seconds to process what Abbot had actually just said to you, and squeeze your nails into your palms to make sure you weren’t having some sort of weird stress dream. When you finally did respond, it wasn’t much.

“What?” You managed, needing the man to clarify whether or not he had actually just offered for you to… move in with him.

Dr. Jack Abbot, your very handsome, very charming, very much older and dreamy and intelligent and intimidating boss- had just asked you if you wanted to move into his house. Right? “I just wanted to give you the option. No pressure. At all.” He emphasized, taking a small step forward. “But the door’s open.” A hand was squeezing your arm then, and you jerked your head down to look at it as if you’d never been touched before. Abbot quickly let go, taking your surprised response as dislike. You immediately mourned the loss of his warm hand against you, and even more immediately tried to banish that insane thought from your mind. Were you genuinely losing it? 

“I- uh- I-”  you searched at a loss for an appropriate response to this insane offer. Because it was insane, right? Not that Abbot was insane, or that you didn’t trust him or anything like that. Honestly, when you really thought about it, you couldn’t think of a single reason on Abbot’s side of things that would deter you from accepting his offer. No, you were the problem.

You, who had most definitely and inarguably, despite how much you’d tried to convince yourself otherwise, had been harboring a crush on the night shift attending since that day you’d patched him up- if not the very first time you’d met him. Who’d caught yourself staring a few too many times at the wedding band on his finger, feeling like a terrible person for having a crush on a widowed man, and even more so feeling like a stupid girl for harboring a crush on a man who had already had a whole ass wife. You who, though you were embarrassed to admit it, had always been so generous in picking up people’s night shifts when they needed it for the ulterior motive of spending an entire shift beside Jack Abbot.

Saving you from stammering on any longer, Abbot gave you a tight lipped smile and curt nod, as if to say his business was finished.

“Just think about it kid. Let me know.” 

And then he was gone.

a/n: thank you so so much for reading <3 i hope u enjoyed

this will obviously be multi part, chapter 2 hopefully tomorrow! i would love to hear feedback on the length of this part (I felt like it was a bit long but always feel that way about my own writing lol) LMK!!! if you feel it was ok length or if I should adjust for the rest of the chapters. LUV YA!!!! - reef

links:

next part