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summary: before the cameras flash, bryan has one problem he can’t keep his hands off the one person he’s supposed to pretend isn’t driving him crazy.
word count: 3.5k words
a/n: this was a request i hope you enjoy! life has been lifeing lately but i'm still alivee! thank you for reading, i love youuu!!
warning: SMUT
⸻
The late afternoon light filtered through the hotel suite’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting everything in gold. You stood at the vanity, fingers steady as you applied the final touch of lipstick a deep, confident shade that made you feel like you could handle anything the night would throw at you.
Behind you, reflected in the mirror, Bryan sat on the edge of the bed. He was already dressed, scrolling through his phone and adjusting his cufflinks, pretending he wasn’t watching your every move. But you could feel his attention like a physical thing, warm and weighted, tracking the curve of your neck as you tilted your head, the way your hands moved as you smoothed down the fabric of your dress.
You took your time, on purpose.
When you finally stood and turned to face him fully, the air in the room shifted.
Bryan looked up and his phone slipped from his hand onto the bed. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything at all. His gaze traveled slowly from your heels to the way the dress hugged every curve, to the bare line of your collarbone, to your face.
“You look…” His voice came out rougher than usual. He cleared his throat and shook his head slightly. “Damn.”
Heat bloomed in your chest, spreading outward. You bit back a smile.
“That’ll work.”
He stood then, crossing the space between you in three strides, and suddenly he was right there. You held still as he moved behind you, his presence filling the mirror.
His hands found your waist first, fingers spreading wide, thumbs pressing gently into the small of your back. The touch was warm even through the fabric, possessive in a way that made your breath hitch. His jaw came to rest against your shoulder, the slight scratch of stubble sending a shiver down your spine.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, meant only for you.
You met his eyes in the mirror, your pulse quickening.
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“Exactly.” His hands tightened slightly at your waist. “That’s the problem.”
The energy between you was charged, electric, like the moment before a storm breaks. You could feel the tension in the way he held himself controlled, restrained, but barely.
You turned your head just enough to catch his profile.
“We have to leave soon.”
“I know.”
“Cameras. Red carpet. Hundreds of people.”
His thumb traced a slow circle against your hip, and your stomach flipped.
You were about to say something teasing, something to push him just a little further—when a sharp knock sounded at the door.
“Mr. Woo! We need to go, we’re already five minutes behind!”
The PR team, of course.
Bryan’s jaw tensed. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your neck, and then reluctantly he stepped back, his hands sliding away from your waist.
You turned to face him fully, and for a moment, you just looked at each other.
His eyes were dark, intent, full of promises he couldn’t make yet.
You smiled slow, knowing.
Later, that look said.
His answering gaze confirmed it. Then he grabbed his jacket, you picked up your clutch, and the two of you headed for the door.
⸻
The black SUV was waiting at the curb, engine idling, tinted windows reflecting the city skyline. The driver held the door open, and you slid into the backseat first, the leather cool against your legs.
Bryan followed, and immediately you realized the problem.
There wasn’t much space.
The backseat was generous by normal standards, but with Bryan’s frame broad shoulders, long legs and the way you’d positioned yourself, a choice had to be made.
You made it.
Without hesitation, you shifted, sliding smoothly onto his lap, your dress riding up slightly as you settled against him.
His hands came to your waist immediately, steadying you or maybe just needing to touch you. One hand rested on your thigh, warm and deliberate, fingers splayed wide. His other hand pressed against your lower back, holding you close.
“Comfortable?” His voice was low, amused, but there was an edge to it.
“Very.” You shifted slightly, adjusting your position, and felt him tense beneath you.
The driver closed the door, sealing you in dim, tinted privacy. Outside, the city lights began to blur as you pulled into traffic, but inside, the world narrowed to just the two of you.
You turned your head to look at him and found him already watching you, his gaze heavy lidded and intent.
“Hi,” you whispered.
“Hi.”
When he leaned in, you met him halfway.
The kiss started slow a gentle press of lips, a soft exhale, the kind of kiss that could stay innocent if they let it.
Neither of you let it.
His hand slid higher on her thigh, fingers pressing into soft skin. You cupped his jaw, deepening the kiss, parting your lips, tasting him.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat, and suddenly the kiss wasn't slow anymore.
His mouth moved against yours with purpose, with hunger barely restrained. The hand on your back pressed you closer, and you could feel his heartbeat fast, matching yours.
"You're making this impossible," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough.
"Good," you breathed back and kissed him again.
His breathing changed deeper, less controlled. His fingers flexed against your thigh, and you felt the tension in every line of his body, the way he was holding himself back even as he pulled you closer.
You shifted in his lap, and his grip tightened, a warning and a plea all at once.
The driver cleared his throat.
Loud. Pointed. A reminder that you were not, in fact, alone.
You pulled back just enough to catch your breath and found Bryan staring at you with dark, dilated eyes. His lips were slightly swollen, his hair messed up where your fingers had tangled in it.
You couldn’t help it, you smirked.
His eyes darkened further. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear.
“Wait until later.”
The words sent heat pooling low in your stomach.
“Later,” you agreed, your voice barely steady.
But you didn’t move from his lap.
⸻
The moment the SUV door opened, the world exploded into noise and light.
Camera flashes erupted like lightning, a constant strobe that made you blink. Voices called out Bryan’s name, questions, requests to look left, look right, over here, one more.
Bryan stepped out first, then turned and offered his hand.
You took it, letting him help you out, and immediately felt his other hand settle at the small of your back.
As you stepped onto the red carpet together, the noise intensified.
“Bryan! Over here!”
“Who’s your date tonight?”
“Both of you, look this way!”
His hand never left your back. If anything, it pressed more firmly, his fingers splayed wide, a silent claim that made you hyperaware of every point of contact between you.
They moved slowly down the carpet, pausing for photos. When you stopped, he leaned in close, his lips near your ear, whispering things that had nothing to do with the cameras.
“You okay?”
“You’re stunning.”
“I can’t stop looking at you.”
The whispers sent shivers down your spine and made it harder to maintain the polite, camera ready smile.
You wanted to kiss him, badly. Wanted to turn your head and capture his mouth with yours, forget about the cameras and the crowd and the fact that you were supposed to be professional.
But you couldn’t.
So instead, you leaned into him slightly, let your hand rest on his chest, felt his heartbeat strong and fast beneath your palm.
An interviewer stepped into your path, microphone extended, camera crew flanking her.
“Bryan! So excited to see you here tonight. Who are you most excited to see at the ESPYs?”
Bryan’s hand tightened slightly at your back. He glanced down at you, and the look in his eyes made your breath catch.
Then he turned back to the interviewer with an easy smile.
“I already brought my favorite person,” he said simply.
The interviewer beamed, and warmth flooded through your chest, spreading outward, making you feel like you were glowing from the inside out.
You looked up at him, and he looked back, and for a moment, the cameras didn’t matter.
You wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.
Later, you reminded yourself.
Later.
⸻
The venue’s interior was all low lighting and elegant ambiance, a stark contrast to the chaos of the red carpet. Your table was positioned among other athletes and actors, people whose faces you recognized from screens and headlines.
But you only cared about the man sitting next to you.
Bryan pulled out your chair, waited until you were seated, then settled beside you close. Way closer than strictly necessary.
Your knees touched under the table.
Neither of you moved away.
As the ceremony began, the lights dimmed further, and the room settled into a quieter energy. Awards were announced, speeches given, applause rippling through the crowd.
And under the table, hidden from view, Bryan’s hand found your thigh.
The touch was light at first, just his fingers resting above your knee, warm through the thin fabric of your dress. It seemed casual, innocent even.
Except it wasn’t.
His thumb began to trace slow circles, a deliberate pattern that made you hyperaware of every nerve ending in your body.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was watching the stage, expression attentive, like he was completely focused on the ceremony.
But his hand never stopped moving.
You slid your own hand down, covering his, and felt his fingers flex beneath yours.
You sat like that, hands layered together, hidden beneath the tablecloth, while cameras panned across the audience and award categories were announced.
To anyone watching, you looked perfectly composed.
Underneath, tension coiled tighter with every passing moment.
Then the presenter announced.
“And now, for Best Breakthrough Athlete…”
Bryan’s posture straightened slightly.
His category.
Camera operators moved into position, ready to capture reactions.
But his hand never left your leg. If anything, his grip tightened, his fingers pressing more firmly into your thigh, like he needed the anchor.
You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers through his, and squeezed gently.
I’m here, the gesture said.
His thumb brushed across your knuckles in response.
⸻
The room fell into that particular kind of hush that comes right before an announcement anticipatory, breath-held, everyone waiting.
The presenter opened the envelope with theatrical slowness.
Bryan leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, the slight movement of his jaw as he spoke.
His voice was low and rough, meant only for you.
“If we weren’t in public right now…”
He paused.
“You know exactly what I’d be doing.”
Your breath caught in your throat. Your pulse jumped, suddenly loud in your ears, drowning out everything else. Heat flooded through you, making you acutely aware of every point where your bodies touched his hand on your thigh, his shoulder against yours, his breath on your neck.
You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.
They were dark and intense.
You held his gaze, letting him see the effect his words had on you, letting him see the promise in your expression.
Later.
His jaw clenched as his fingers pressed harder into your thigh.
“And the winner is…”
⸻
“Bryan Woo!”
The room erupted into applause.
For a moment, Bryan didn’t move. He just stared at you, like he was memorizing this moment, this feeling.
Then he lifted your hand from where it rested on his, brought it to his lips, and kissed your knuckles.
He stood, buttoned his jacket, and made his way to the stage.
You watched him go, your hand still tingling where his lips had been.
He accepted the award, shook hands with the presenter, and stepped up to the microphone. The speech was gracious and humble, thanking his team and his family and everyone who’d supported him.
But then, right at the end, he paused and looked directly at you.
The look lasted only a few seconds but it felt like longer.
Thank you. I see you. Later.
When he returned to the table, the ceremony continued around you, but you barely registered it.
All you could think about was the weight of his hand returning to yours, the promise in his eyes, and the fact that soon, finally you’d be alone.
⸻
The ceremony ended in a blur of applause and movement. People stood, mingled, congratulated Bryan as they passed. He accepted it all with grace, with smiles and handshakes and thank-yous, but his hand never left your back.
The car ride to the hotel was different from the one that brought you to the venue. The tension had shifted no longer restrained anticipation, more urgent.
They didn’t speak.
They didn’t need to.
When you finally arrived at the hotel, Bryan helped you out of the car with a hand that lingered at your waist, then guided you through the lobby. The elevator ride felt endless.
The moment you reached your suite, he had the key card out and the door open.
It closed behind you with a soft click.
He turned to you, eyes dark with intent.
“No more waiting.”
You smiled, slow and knowing.
“No more waiting,” you agreed.
Then his mouth was on yours. The kiss was nothing like the one in the car this wasn't restrained or careful. This was hunger unleashed, all the tension from the entire evening finally breaking free. His hands came up to frame your face, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you opened for him immediately, tasting him, feeling the groan that rumbled through his chest.
Your hands found his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it without breaking the kiss, letting it fall to the floor. His tie came next, your fingers fumbling with the knot until it loosened and you could pull it free.
"You've been driving me crazy all night," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low. His hands slid down your sides, tracing the curves of your body through the fabric of the dress. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
"Show me," you breathed.
His eyes flashed dark, and then he was kissing you again, walking backward until yours legs hit the edge of the bed. He found the zipper at the back of the dress, sliding it down slowly, deliberately, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin and leaving trails of heat in their wake.
The dress pooled at your feet, and you stepped out of it, standing before him in just lingerie and heels.
Bryan pulled back just enough to look at your, his gaze traveling over every inch of exposed skin. "Fuck," he whispered. "You're perfect."
Heat flooded through you at the raw desire in his voice, in his eyes. You reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it with fingers that trembled slightly not from nervousness, but from anticipation.
When you pushed the shirt off his shoulders, your hands explored the planes of his chest, the defined muscles, the warmth of his skin. He was beautiful, and he was yours.
Bryan guided you back onto the bed, following you down, his body covering yours. The weight of him, the heat, the way he fit against you, it was overwhelming in the best way.
He kissed your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin there, and you arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair. He worked his way down, trailing kisses along her collarbone and the swell of your boobs above your bra.
"Bryan," you gasped, and he hummed against your skin.
"I've been thinking about this all night," he murmured, sliding his hands behind you to unhook the bra. He pulled it away slowly, then took a moment just to look at you. "Thinking about touching you. Tasting you."
His mouth found your boob, tongue circling your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, as you cried out, her back arching off the bed. He palmed the other, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, and pleasure shot straight through your core.
Then he kissed his way down your stomach, sliding your panties down your legs. He helped you kicked off your heels, and then you were completely bare before him.
Bryan settled between your thighs, his hands spreading them wider, and the look he gave you was pure hunger. "I need to taste you," he said, his voice rough. "Need to make you come on my tongue."
"Please," you said and then his mouth was on you.
The first touch of his tongue made you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily. He groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body. He worked slowly at first, knowing what made you gasp, what made her moan, what made your fingers tighten in his hair.
When he found the rhythm that had you trembling, he kept going. His tongue circled your clit with perfect pressure, and when he slid two fingers inside, curling them just right, till you saw stars.
"Bryan—oh god—I'm—"
"Come for me," he murmured against you, and the combination of his words, his tongue, his fingers sent you over the edge.
The orgasm crashed through you, wave after wave of intense pleasure that had you crying out his name, body arching, thighs trembling around his head. He helped with you through it, gentling his touch as you came down, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs.
When he finally moved back up your body, his lips were glistening, and the satisfied look in his eyes made you want him even more.
⸻
You reached for his belt, unbuckling it with shaking hands. He helped you, pushing his pants and boxers down and kicking them off. When he settled back over you, you could feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and you reached down to wrap a hand around him.
He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. "Fuck, baby."
You stroked him slowly, feeling the weight and heat of him in your palm, the way he pulsed against your touch. After a moment, though, he caught your wrist, pinning it gently above your head.
"I need to be inside you," he said, his voice strained. "I've been thinking about this all night. About how you'd feel."
"Then stop thinking," you whispered, "and fuck me."
Something in his eyes went molten. He reached for his discarded pants, pulling out a condom from his wallet. You watched as he rolled it on, pulse racing with anticipation.
He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against you, and you both groaned at the contact.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch was perfect, the fullness exactly what you needed. When he was fully inside of you, he paused, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathing hard.
"You feel incredible," he murmured. "So fucking perfect."
He started to move, setting a rhythm that was deep and deliberate, each thrust hitting exactly where you needed him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, changing the angle, and you both moaned at the sensation.
"Yes," you gasped. "Just like that—don't stop—"
He kept that perfect rhythm, his hips rolling against yours, one hand gripping your hip while the other braced beside your head. He kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans, and you could taste herself on his tongue.
The pleasure built steadily, coiling tighter in your core. You could feel another orgasm approaching, could feel it in the way your body tensed, the way your inner walls tighten around him.
"I can feel you getting close," Bryan groaned. "You're squeezing me so tight. Come for me again, baby. I want to feel you come on my cock."
His words pushed you closer to the edge. You reached down between the two of you, your fingers finding your clit, and the added stimulation was exactly what you needed.
"Bryan—I'm—oh fuck—"
The orgasm hit like a tidal wave, even more intense than the first. You cried out, your body clenching around him, pleasure flooding through every nerve ending.
"Fuck, yes," Bryan groaned, and his rhythm faltered, became more urgent. "You're so beautiful when you come. I'm close—"
"Come for me," you whispered, still trembling with aftershocks. "I want to feel you."
He thrust into you hard, once, twice, and then he was coming with a groan that sounded like your name, his body shuddering above yours, his face buried in your neck.
You stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, bodies still joined. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest.
He lifted his head to look at you and the tenderness in his eyes made your chest ache.
"That was…" He shook his head, smiling. "I don't even have words."
You smiled back, reaching up to brush his hair back from his forehead. "Worth the wait?"
"Worth everything," he murmured, and kissed you softly.
He pulled out carefully, disposing of the condom before returning to gather you in his arms. You shifted together until you were lying side by side, your head on his chest, his arms wrapped around you.
The room was quiet except for your gradually slowing breaths. Outside, the city lights glittered, but inside there was only warmth and satisfaction and the feeling of being exactly where you were meant to be.
"Stay," he whispered into your hair.
You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "I'm not going anywhere."
Perlah and Princess finding younger nurse reader’s old modeling photos. Jack Abbot and Dana ask them what’s going on and they show them the photos. Jack’s already existing crush on her grows more and he starts acting weird with her at work and she wonders why. He finds the photos for himself and eventually asks her out and maybe things get spicy ;))))
— ᴍᴏᴅᴇʟ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ ༘˚. ᵎᵎ
→ warnings: jack abbot x fem!reader, 2.2k wc, smut, pervy!jack, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, honey], unprotected or protected sex you can choose lowkey, I just forgot to write about the condom…
→ a/n: i didnt know what type of modelling pics you meant exactly so my brain went the underwear modeling izzie stevens to pay your way through school modeling pics way. which lead to well you’ll see. yall send me jack abbot thoughts PLEASE
If Jack thought you looked pretty in scrubs at work and the occasional casual civies after shift is over, he is now convinced you look like an actual angel in the photo he is currently staring at on Princess’s phone.
They were supposed to be doing hand-offs, you know that thing he’s normally very diligent about, he had just barely walked through the doors of the hospital before he sees Perlah and Princess huddled together by the nurse’s station. Now this wasn't an odd sight by any means but the absolute shock on their faces was what slightly alarmed him to begin with. It apparently alarms Dana just as much because she is waking up to them alongside Jack, — “Whatever has you twos jaws damn near on the floor better be good” she scoffs softly. “Supposed to be trading off patients with night shift or better yet clearin’ beds” The mother hen Dana is as always keeping her pittlings in line.
Without another word, Princess spins her phone in her shock and there sits the photo that now almost has Jack’s jaw being the one nearly on the floor but he has to stay professional, even if he is looking at the most beautiful thing on earth right before his eyes. It looks to be an old professionally taken photo of you, all dolled up, hair done and you're wearing what looks almost like a nightie, it’s sheer and black and Jack thinks if he stares any longer he’s gonna have to change both his scrub pants and his underwear. Better yet or his heart is gonna give out from how damn hard it’s thumping against his chest.
Now Jack is by no means a prude but god does he really hope the whole PTMC and their mothers haven't seen you like this, he knows how fast the rumor mill runs with Princess and Perlah at the front lines.
“How- How um” he attempts to get out but his brain apparently can’t currently form any words, if he thought his little pathetic crush he had on you was bad before. It's worse, so much worse now. He thinks his heart is about to thump right out of his chest at the sight of you, the sight of you rounding the corner headed their way now in fact. Dana ever his savior chimes in. “Should the two of you have this picture? How did you get it anyway?” she questions a bit harshly.
“Princess” you hiss out at her as she spins her phone back hiding it in her chest. “You weren’t exactly supposed to show people” you explain and Jack swears he hears you mumble “Especially” as you nod your head his way. Perlah fades out of her own shock and begins arguing or scolding Princess in Tagalog, not that Jack understands any of it as they walk away. You let out a sigh and start explaining, “Uh yeah i sent it to her, I was complaining to Princess about rent and she mentioned her student loans and i told her that i sort of un conventionally paid my way through nursing school so i didnt have any and well” you gesture towards the two still arguing nurses going about their duties now.
Jack's mind is still on the photo as he stares at you, his eyes scanning your body. He can’t help his thoughts drifting to think of what kind of bra or panties you had under your scrubs, if they were lacey or just basic black, he prays lace. His cock doesn't seem to mind either option however as it twitches at the thought. He thinks he hears you and Dana talking back and forth but his brain is still not exactly working. “Gotta find Robby, hand-offs and all” he grumbles out a bit rough as he walks away in some direction, any direction that's away from you before he starts leaking in his boxers.
Which is about how it goes the whole rest of the shift. Him walking away from wherever you are, he works alongside you when you’re the assigned nurse but during down time if he can see you walking his way he’s spinning and walking whatever direction beside yours he can. You’re not stupid you notice he’s acting weird and avoiding you, you know it’s because of the picture, you think however it’s cause he’s judging you. What you don't know is, Jack goes home and by some miracle through internet snooping and stalking your following, he finds the photographer and furthermore his end goal — the picture, more than just one in fact.
If Jack fists his cock with the modeling pictures pulled up on his phone that morning he got home and subsequently that night before his next shift, well that's between him and the four walls of his apartment.
You were already ready to end Jack avoiding you by the next shift, pulling him aside in the ambulance bay before he could even walk inside, you had practically jumped out at him like a bunny he didn't have time to turn away.
“I didn’t take you of all people as the judgemental type Jack, I did what I had to pay my way through school” you start immediately ranting at him, his chest starts to ache as he registers the genuine hurt in your eyes as you are snapping at him. “Sweetheart-” he starts as if to explain himself but is cut off as you continue. “I don't appreciate you avoiding me and judging me because of it, I'm not proud of it but it happened and it helped, I would however appreciate you not telling anyone else” “Never” he responds quickly and gruffly, more jealously lacing his voice than intended. You nod and mumble “Thank you” as your tense shoulders drop, the fire leaves your body.
“I was never judging you honey i just-” he starts and stops shaking his head. “You what jack?” you prompt with a manicured hand on his forearm, heat flooding his face at the contact and what he has decided in the last few seconds he’s about to do. “It’s just I-” clearing his throat and looking up he starts again.
“I like you, a lot actually and seeing well you know only made it worse, never meant to make you feel judged” before you can let his confession sink in he’s speaking again in quick succession, because he’s scared to hear what he is expecting to be a rejection. “And I might as well ask ya’ now but will you let me take you out on a date sweetheart?” he braces himself for a polite no to leave your lips but instead they crash against his and so does your chest against his when you throw your arms around his neck.
He hums into the kiss in surprise but also in content as he kisses back, his eyes fluttering shut, slipping a hand around your waist and pushing at the small of your back to press your whole body against his. “This is a yes if you couldn’t tell-” “yeah yeah i got it baby” he cuts you off and deepens the kiss not ready to pull away just yet, his hands sliding from your waist down to grab a handful of your ass.
“Oh finally!” Dana exclaims as the sliding doors open, her words startling the two of you apart. “Knew i’d have to win one of these damn bet pools yet” She smirks and pats abbot on the shoulder and shoots a wink your way before heading off to the other end of the ambulance bay pulling out her lighter and cigarettes as she walks. Safe to say moment ruined but you and Jack turn back to look at each other and both erupt into laughs.
Jack's not as nervous on the date as he expects and he’s a perfect gentleman. Picking you up at the exact time he said, bringing you a bouquet of your favorite flowers that he definitely didn't learn when overhearing a conversation between you and Perlah. He opens the car door for you, even buckling you in with a kiss to your forehead before getting in his side, opening the door to the restaurant, one he picked because he knows they serve your favorite food. A fact he learned one night you were working a double and were starving, so you know a less weird way of learning something about you. But since meeting you, Jack had succumbed to stealing all the little facts he could get about you in anyway he could.
The date goes perfect, even more than expected when Jack ends up spread out laid back on your albeit a little small for a man his size bed. All he was expecting tonight to get was a goodnight kiss, but this, you naked as the day you were born on top of him, is much, much better.
Jack’s just about if not more bare than you, His nice dress shirt, pants and boxers are discarded on your bedroom floor next to your pretty black dress and your lacy bra and panties (he did in fact sort of guess right, you wear black lace). His prosthetic is also off, not discarded but leaned up against your nightstand, when he sat down on your plush bed he groaned and rubbed at where it met his thigh and ever the observant girl you are you asked if it was bothering him. Jack, ever the man to avoid being a burden told you not much, you then offered to take it off for him. Who’s he to say no to a pretty girl pretty much asking to take off his pants?
Turns out he underestimated just how intimate it would feel to have you strip him of not just his clothes. He will admittedly deny tearing up slightly or excuse it as relief when you took it off.
“Jack~ you feel s’ good, fuck! S’ big” you moan out as your hips buck forward, your back arching when his lift up to meet you, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. “Fuck honey! You feel amazing holy fuck, youre already killing me here baby” he grunts out as his grip on your hips tightens, his eyes can’t chose between watching the way your face contorts in pleasure when his tip hits that spongey spot deep inside you just right or watching where your bodies are connected and gazing in awe at how your pussy is practically swallowing his cock. “She’s such a greedy thing baby, she's engulfin’ my cock and still aching for more huh?” he coos, bringing his thumb to rub circles on your clit. You clench down around him at the action and bounce even harder up and down his cock. “Wanted this- wanted you so long fuck!” he groans out as his head falls against your silk pillow below him. You hum out in a high pitch nodding your head as if to agree with him. “Ridin’ me so good honey” he coos. “Fuck- Jack im- m’ gonna cum” you whine out, your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as your hands reach down behind you, grabbing at his thighs, your hips speeding up. He speeds up his toying with your bundle of nerves and a smirk blooms on his face as a sneaky thought enters his head.
You're so blissed out on top of him that you miss one of Jack’s hands leaving your body and him leaning over to grab his phone off the nightstand. “Yeah honey? Gonna cum f’ me?’ he mocks softly using your whiney tone of voice, it has your hips faltering lightly as you get closer and your cunt clenching down on him harder. “Fuck- she’s milking me sweetheart, wan’ me to cum with you?’ he asks though he thinks he’s about ready to cum that second with how enthusiastically you nod your head before throwing it back, a mantra of yes’s spilling from your parted lips.
Lifting his phone just in time he takes a picture capturing your body and face screwed tight in euphoria as your high crashes into you.
“Cumming- m’ cumming- shit” you squeal out. “There we go honey, cum for me sweetheart, ive got you” he mumbled out in a soft tone as your legs started shaking lightly where they rested either side of Jack who isn't far behind you, his hips buck up against yours as your pussy squeezes his release out of him. Your hips rock against his softly as the two of you come down, his thumb slowly stopping the circles on your clit and coming to rest on the side of your thigh. You finally open your eyes to find Jack’s phone aimed at you, your eyes go a little wide with surprise. “Come on, model for me baby huh?” he coaxes, thrusting up into you as his cock is softening inside you, but gives a small twitch at the movement.
You squeal a little and giggle before doing a silly dramatic sexy pose on top of him by pushing out your bare chest and making a fake orgasm face. He takes the photo and another when you're mid giggle before striking another fake mid orgasm pose. “Oh sweetheart, I know that one’s fake, got the real one right here” he chuckles and flips his phone to show you the picture of you he took mid real orgasm. “Jack” you squeal and swat at his chest.
→ a/n: half assed proof-read, i meant for this to be short but apparently i cant do under 1k and yet i feel like i don’t like this and i rushed the smut…anyway it’s 2 am maybe i should sleep.
synopsisyou were Robby's star pupil, his favourite person, but when he catches you and Jack in the middle of performing a high risk procedure you definitely shouldn't be doing he can't handle the jealousy. so really, is it your fault if your pushed into Jack Abbots bed, but can't stop thinking about Robby?
warningsjealous&possesive Robby x reader, Jack Abbot x reader, kinda Rabbot, Jack kinda wants Robby in this, language. smut MDNI. fingering, oral (f receiving) breast play, dirty talk, praise, Robby calls while Jack eats you out. handjob
authornotei'm so close to writing Rabbott fics, I need them both!
pitt masterlist. last robby fic! last jack fic!
“What the hell are you doing?”
If you weren't as skilled a resident as you were, as stony as you'd been made, the raise of voice and slam of a door would have stolen you from your attentive work. But it didn't. You didn't flinch. As your hands were all but inside a patient it was a good thing, too.
Jack tutted from over you, the heat of his breath hot on the back of your neck. “Robby...”
“I said- what are you doing?” he barked again, standing in the middle of the trauma room.
Nurses turned to look at him and then back to you and Jack, un-sure of which immovable force was greater.
You only focused on the woman in front of you. Bruises up her arms, blood on her cut-away clothes, tubes coming out of her and into her, monitors beeping with life signs fleeting.
“It's a hypotensive pelvic bleed,” you said through your face screwed in concentration.
“A REBOA? Are you serious, right now?”
“I'm here, supervising, brother,” said Jack, still caved over you like he could protect you from Robby's wrath.
“You're not her attending,” Robby argued.
“No but I'm an attending.”
You could hear Robby's sharp inhale of breath, picture the clock of his head in annoyance and the tight pinch of his eyes. You knew every small give away of his that he didn't know he had. The tightness of his muscles when angers, the way he clutches at his chest for his star of David when silently scared.
The tension in the room chocked you.
Jack was still at your side, a comfort, a gentle wave against the sharp rocks. “Keep going.”
Robby said your name, an edge to it you'd never heard before.
Looking past Jack you found Robbie. He stood blocking the door, gowned up already, arms over his chest. His brows were pulled in, eyes dark as they levelled on you. He was danger dressed as a man.
But in front of you there was Jack, nodding encouragingly.
“Keep going.”
Your hands moved to carry on in spite of Robby's sigh.
“Okay... good...” said Jack as you pushed in the needle. “Femoral artery, couple inches. All right, let's guide wire and introduce the sheath.”
You pushed and did what Jack said, careful under his guidance.
Robby watched all the while, walking slowly around. He knew how well you preened under praise and careful instruction, like a cat purring at an owners touch. Robby knew because it was always him, ever since you began as a med student to intern to resident he'd been there to build you up, crafting you into a perfect doctor.
His perfect doctor.
Apparently he didn't like to share.
“How much saline have you pushed?” asked Robby.
“Five CC'S,” said Jack, without entertaining his attitude.
“Your carotid is weak,” said Robby. “Is it even there?”
“Yes,” you said.
Jack caught your gaze behind your goggles, pleading silently. You hadn't worked with him as much as you had Robby, or Langdon or almost anyone in the day shift but he seemed to catch on to your needs at once. “You know what to do.”
With his words you proceeded.
“Push another three CC'S of saline in the balloon,” you ordered.
“Injecting.”
There was a moment of silence as the saline was passed through tubes into the woman.
“How we looking?” asked Robby.
“Radial is up, pressure's up too- BP hundred-and-ten,” said Donnie.
For the first time since Jack dragged you into the trauma to teach you a REBOA, you looked at the patients face. At the blankness of it, the blood splattered at her cheek. There was colour returning to her.
“Check the wound,” said Jack.
You did so, the wound at her pelvis are that had been gushing on arrival had stopped bleeding.
“Looks okay,” you said.
Jack's gloved hand squeezed your gowned shoulder, blood of the woman passing between the two of you. However, it was the physical contact that broke you from your trance, pulling you up taller. “Good job, you saved her life, another couple minutes she wouldn't have made it.”
“She's still not out the woods yet,” said Robby.
You looked back at him with enough time to catch an un-characteristic roll of his eyes.
“Surgery can take her now,” said Jesse from the phone.
“Oh, finally they're ready for us?” teased Jack as he moved around the gurney. “Now that they've missed all the fun.” He passed you a wink that sent butterflies in your stomach rolling around.
The team pulled off gowns and gloves, pulling the gurney out the room.
“Wait-” said Robby, arm out stopping you as you went to follow.
The doors shut behind the gurney before Jack could understand you were behind, trapped in a room with a bear of a man who was failing at concealing his anger.
You waited for him to begin. Whether it were to be a lecture or an approval that you saved a woman's life, you wanted it over and done. The adrenaline was coursing through your body in crashing waves of red. You'd crash if you didn't calm. “There was no time for anything else-”
“- save it-”
“- there was no time for me to come and get you-”
“- stop!”
You stepped back, hands balled at your sides.
It wasn't un-common for any member of staff at PTMC to have Robby Robinavitch yell and demand the stars and moons from a person. It was scary to have him yelling at you, his deemed shadow and golden girl.
Since day one everyone knew you held a special place in Robby's heart.
“I saved a patient's life,” you defended. Was that not the most important thing to be doing? Could you not be attending to at least two other patients while he stood- imposing- in front of you.
“Doing an extremely risky procedure that is only reserved for the senior residents which you are not,” he scoffed out.
“Doctor Abbot was at my side the whole time, he talked me through every step.”
Robby shook his head, chuckling and looking around the room as if to be anywhere but with you. “Abbot-”
“- he believed me capable,” you said. “Don't you think I'm capable?”
His teeth bit into his bottom lip as he turned away from you, stretching his hand to the back of his head and flattening the hair there. When he turned back to you he took a step closer, watching the toes of his shoes meet yours.
“Do you know why I'm angry?”
No, you really didn't.
You took in a deep breath, meeting his eyes that lowered to yours. “Because I performed a high risk procedure.”
“A high risk procedure without me,” he corrected. “You're on day, not night. I'm your attending, not Jack. You get me when you're doing something like that, you understand?”
There was little room for argument. Your body trembled, the mixture of blood on your gloves and the beating of your heart heard in your ears. The lights of trauma two were suddenly too bright; walls too sterile. You nodded.
Robby tsked. “Do you understand?”
Every word was punctured with anger.
You rose to all your height. “Yes, I understand.”
He didn't dismiss you, only jutted his head back as he dragged a hand over his beard.
Without a word, you dismissed yourself.
“I just don't get why he was so.... angry,” you admit quietly.
The lights of the bar were dimmed in a golden light, casting sun set gazes around the bar Jack had told you was a good place to get a drink. He'd led you to a small table by a window with the blinds pulled down, his hand- the one that had saved so many lives- splayed out on the small of your back.
Somewhere along the night Jack's chair had scraped around closer to you. So close with every inhale you could catch the musk on him and his arm was comfortably slung around the back of your chair.
There were two empty whiskey glasses of Jack's and you were still cradling your first, down to the dregs.
“It's Robby,” said Jack with a shrug of his shoulders, but it didn't stop the crease in his brows.
“But he's never been like that with me.”
Was it the fact you'd seemingly lost your favouritism bothering you? More than you cared to admit. More so the fact you didn't understand why he'd yelled.
Why the flare of anger had burned brighter with you saving a life than anyone else?
Why your body had trembled at the rise of his voice.
Jack's body tilted toward yours, head bowed low as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Oh, come on....”
You slurped the last from your straw and looked at him. “What?”
“You don't have to play dumb with me.”
Your own body gravitated towards him. “Play dumb? I'm not playing dumb, what are you talking about?”
Jack chuckled, shaking his head to himself. He sipped the last of his drink. “Robby's...” he trailed off.
“Robby's...”
Jack levelled his gaze to yours. “He likes you.”
The words sat frozen in your brain. You knew Robby must have had some soft spot for you, you knew he liked you. But the way Jack said it, a teasing lift to his voice and the serious gaze of his eyes suggested it was more than the competence of your skills as a doctor that had Robby's affection.
“He doesn't,” you chuckled.
“He does,” said Jack, nodding along with your words.
“How would you know?”
Jack's cheeks dusted a faint pink, the rain on the window behind you dropping like mini thunderstorms. “Believe me, I know.”
You waited for more clarification.
“You have no idea the kind of effect you have on old men like us.”
Like us. Jack didn't just speak for Robby but himself. The pink in his cheeks, the hand on your back earlier. The heat from him was all different now. A wanting.
“Old men?” you smirked.
Jack's eyes darted between your eyes and lips. “Yeah, old men.”
“You're not that old, are you?”
Jack tilts his head side to side.
You peer closer at him as if trying to find the lines of age in his face. “Younger than Robby though, right?”
Jack nods. “Younger than Robby, if that makes any difference.”
“Any difference to what?” you asked, stirring the straw against the ice in one hand, the other holding your chin.
“To you.”
Under the table Jack's fingers traced over your knee, gently, as if he was trying to go un-noticed. You felt it anyhow. Felt as his fingers gripped your knee when you pushed your leg against his.
He watched you, analysing.
“Well,” you began, pushing your leg to kick over the other under the table and moving his hand further up your leg, till his all too eager fingers were splayed over your thigh. “What kind of effect is that?”
Jack was always a serious man at work. Competent and well kept. You didn't expect him to be so well versed in 'playing games'. “I dunno if I can tell you.”
“No?”
Jack shook his head, eyes lingering over his lips and his head tilted to the side, watching you. “I could show you?”
There was lip gloss stain over the straw in your glass, you saw it catch Jack's eyes as he pushed away your empty glasses to provide more space on the table.
“See any time you look at us, it's like-like a tingling sensation,” he said. “Like when you know someone's got their eyes on you.”
His hand that had been riding higher at your thigh darted away, leaving a sudden tremble of everything cold through your body. Instead, he rested his elbow at the table and beckoned your hand to his. He didn't hold it, instead, spread your fingers out and put palm to palm in a tender touch.
“And then when you touch us, it gets worse,” he uttered, eyes stuck on where your palms met. Jack's hand moved around yours, playing with your fingers.
“Worse?” you ask.
“A good worse. Good shivers,” said Jack, pulling at a finger.
“I touch you enough for you to gather all that?”
Jack's dark gaze found yours again. He bit down on his bottom lip. “Not nearly enough as I'd like.”
The door of the bar opened and a gush of wind cooled the heat on your skin. But Jack's eyes were like a furnace that you were sitting too close to, burning yourself and delighting in it. When the door shut again with an un-oiled squeak, Jack reached over.
He plucked the necklace charm from against your chest, the brush of his knuckles against your chest. “Pretty necklace.”
“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky un-characteristically.
“You get it yourself?”
“No, it was a present.”
It was almost as if he didn't have to ask who had gifted it to you. Whose hands had brushed back your hair in the middle of a shift and clasped it around the back of your neck.
Or maybe he just didn't want to know.
Jack's apartment was everything that made him.
As you passed the kitchen and he peeled off his jacket, keeping his lips close enough to breathe you in, you could smell the coffee from the morning plastered to the walls.
When he pressed you up to the sofa to shove his hands down your pants and slide a finger into your wet pussy your fingers scratched at some blanket he had thrown over the back of it.
You caught a glimpse of pictures around the place, a frame of meddles too but his place came to you in flashes and glimpses through pleasure.
“I'm gonna show you,” he uttered against your mouth as another finger slipped into you, worked inside of you. They curled up, your body moving into him at the feeling. “Just how I want to touch you.”
The car ride over had been torture enough. He could hardly get himself inside the car, stealing himself away from you. But your lips had been at his neck at every stop sign and red light. Your hand had ghosted over his crotch and the hardening length of him. As occupied as you'd been in each other in the front seats of his car you'd been beeped at twice.
“Jack,” your voice whispered, lips dragging against his as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, pulling at the seams of your panties.
“I'm gonna show you just how Robby wants to touch you.”
You wish the name didn't have the effect it did. That the fury you felt at him for how he yelled didn't turn to a throb in your core when Jack said his name.
“You're touching me, Jack,” you said, breathless.
“Yeah... yeah,” he said. “You like that I'm touching you?”
You nodded as his fingers retracted, finding your clit and wetting the bud of nerves, circling it.
“Say it,” said Jack. “Say it.”
“Yes, I like it.”
Jack grinned into the curve of your neck as his fingers plunged back in, working you open and spreading your wetness of the black of your panties. “God, you're making such a mess for me baby, aren't you?”
He worked you open a little longer, mumbling encouragement with every moan and throw back of your head. 'So pretty, arg, you're so pretty baby.'
By the time your stomach was coiling tight like a snake ready to pounce Jack removed his hand from your pants and kissed you again. It was a hard kiss, his clean hand grasping your cheek and keeping you still as he forcefully worked his lips against yours, like it had only just clocked in his head it was you he had on his lips, it was you he was turning to putty in his hand. Like he wanted to forge you into his lips
“Not done yet,” said Jack, hands sliding down to your hips as he guides his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in. “I wanna make you moan on my tongue, like Robby wishes he could, yeah?”
Your body betrayed you, shivering again in anticipation.
Jack's hands stirred you by the hips, urging you to his room. He pushed the door open over your head, licking into your mouth.
“Please... don't mention Robby right now,” you said as Jack fell slowly to his knees in front of you.
His brows rose. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled down your pants, helping you step out of them. “No? You don't want me to mention Robby?” he asked.
You shook your head, looking away from him. You knew you'd soaked yourself through by the small touches and passionate kisses from Jack. But you didn't need to see the realisation hit when he realised Robby's name had as much effect on you as Jack's own touches.
“Eyes on me, keep your eyes on me,” said Jack.
With a tight squeeze, you looked at him, seeing the attending of the night shift get closer to your heat.
“See, I think, you like when I say his name, huh?” his nose nudged your clothed clit. “Robby.”
Jack licked a stripe up your pussy, gathering your want through the cloth.
You were left, mouth agape, to catch your breath. Your hands didn't know where to go till Jack peeled off his shirt and guided your hands to his shoulders, your nails digging into the freckled skin there.
Jack wet his tongue with his spit before he rubbed it along your panties again, kissing you there. “I think you're so wet for me, but you're wet for Robby too, huh?”
“Jus-just you, Jack,” you gasped.
He swept a finger into your panties and let the elastic snap back against your skin.
Your body jolted in its wake.
“Not just me, don't lie,” he said, darkly.
In the morning would you realise what you'd done? Jack wasn't your attending but an attending none the less and Robby's friend- brother- at that. Although you and Robby were nothing more than colleagues, it didn't feel right to have Jack licking up your want with his name on his tongue.
“Liars don't get to come, you know,” he said. “So, you get this wet when you think about me?”
“Y-Yes.”
You could feel Jack's smile against your thigh as he pressed a kiss there.
Jack hooked two fingers around the bands of your panties and slowly dragged them down. “Do you get this wet when you think about our Doctor Robby?”
“Yes. Yes I do,” you gasped, your body curling up in the relief of letting go.
Yes, you liked Robby's extra attention. You couldn't even be left angry at his chastising you when it sent a wave of need through you, settling in your core. When you'd been at the bar with Jack, touching him in ways you'd thought about touching your own attending, almost wishing he would storm through the door and see the two of you.
“Good girl.”
Quickly Jack tilted his head back and found purchase in your pussy.
His tongue laid flat against your core.
It didn't stay in one place long. It explored all around you, tasting you for the first time and mapping out delicate spots. He slipped between your folds like he was always supposed to be there, moaning into you.
Your nails dug into his shoulders. “Mmh, Jack!”
He licked you up, spreading the mess of your want around and cleaning it up. “Taking my tongue so well,” he said against you. He dragged his lips down your thigh, wet tongue dragging up and down.
Your legs trembled as Jack spread the lips of your pussy and buried himself in there again. He pressed his thumb onto your clit, your body lurching at the pressure.
“Oh fuck, J-Jack!”
“Pull my hair, pull my hair,” he said into you.
Your did so. Your hand fell into the short strands of his salt and pepper hair, twirling into the strands and tugging just enough to rip a groan from him.
Jack buried himself into your further, his nose nudging into you deeper and deeper till he was almost trying to be inside of you.
Every time your eyes fluttered shut Jack pulled back, easing up on his work of your pussy and easing the orgasm that was slowly building up.
“No, no- eyes on me, keep your eyes on me, baby,” he said.
You looked down to him. “Jack, I want- I want to come.”
“I know, I know you do baby,” he said, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit again. “You will, I promise, I promise.”
He eased himself up from his knees and helped off your shirt and peeled off your bra before he latched himself onto your breast.
Your back arched into him. His hands felt larger than ever as they curled around your waist and held you in. He groped at your breast, watching it jiggle as he moved before swirling his tongue around your nipple.
“Jack-”
“God, I wish Robby were here,” said Jack as he switched his attention to your other.
“Wh-what?” you didn't know if you'd heard him right.
Jack looked at your breasts instead of you, dedicating time to licking up each of them. “Wish Robby could see how good a girl you're being,” he muttered, almost to himself, like he wasn't talking to you. “How responsive you are. Would you like that? Would you like Robby to watch?”
You imagined it, closing your eyes.
Jack let you.
You pictured Robby sat on the bed, watching. Would he watch with his glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose? Would he keep his hands to himself or want to touch and play? You imagined how big he was, if he'd get hard watching.
If he'd touch. If he'd stand behind you while Jack kissed along your breasts. Would Robby dedicate enough time to the back of you?
“You want Robby?” asked Jack.
Anyone else eating you out or with hands on your chest wouldn't want another mans name on your lips.
Jack seemed to thrive on it.
“Yes,” you gasped.
Jack reached back up to you. “Yeah.... yeah...” his nose ghosted yours as he inched closer to kiss you.
In the slim lighting of his bed room you could see the shine of his lips from your arousal, the burn of red at his cheeks. There was a clink as he un-did his belt, throwing it behind him as he slowly pulled down his trousers.
First you saw the prosthetic of his leg before you trailed up, past the scars, to the heavy set of his cock. It flushed red at the tip, a leak of pre-cum running down. It stood tall onto the thin, greying hair down his sternum.
“Jack-” you reached for him, wrapping your hand around him.
“Ah- ahh fuck, baby,” he moaned as you slowly pumped him. “You feel so good. God, Robby doesn't know what he's missing.”
You tangled your tongue with his as you pumped, growing confident in every pump, in every leak of his cock, in ever groan of him into your mouth.
Would Robby guide you to holding Jack's man hood in your hand? Would his own hand wrap around your wrist and guide you up and down, muttering how good you were doing.
It was like you could hear him in your head.
'What a good girl doing what you're told, so responsive,' you imagined the heavy set of his tongue dragging over your pulse as you wrapped your arm around Jack's shoulders, smothering him in closer.
“I wish-” you said against his lips, making a mess out of you mouth as you squeezed his cock. “I wish Robby were here.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too baby,” said Jack, slowly wrapping his fingers around your wrist and peeling back your hand. He pulled two of your fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of himself off and into the warmth of his mouth. “Next time.”
Jack eased you back on his bed, crawling over you.
You shuffled up, sitting up on his headboard. “Do you- do you want me to?”
Jack's brows pulled together as he brushed back your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “To what, baby?”
“To ride you? Would it be easier on your leg?”
Jack smiled, love sick. “That's very kind of you sweetheart. Next time, I'll let you ride me like I'm a damn horse,” he whispered as he slowly lowered you down. “Right now I want you to finish on my tongue. Then I'm gonna really fuck you like I've wanted to for so long.”
You watched with a bite to your lip as Jack rolled a condom over his cock before hovering over you.
He stirred the base of his cock against your pussy, rubbing the arousal of you over your slit.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, yes.”
Would Robby hold you against him, keep your legs spread for Jack? Or would Jack insist on Robby going first.
“Beg for it, baby.”
Before your words could leave your mouth the familiar buzz of your phone echoed between you.
Maybe anyone else would have ignored it, sent it to voicemail or let it ring. Except Jack- he moved down his bed, reaching for your pants and fishing out your phone. He smirked down at the contact before holding the phone out to you.
“Answer it.”
You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking at him. “Wh-what?”
“Answer him,” he said, grabbing your hand and putting the phone it in.
Robby.
You looked to Jack, having no time to ask if he was serious before he was descending on the bed again. His eyes were pointed, gaze locked on you.
You answered, holding the phone to your ear. “H-hey, Robby.”
“Hey. Is everything okay?”
Did he know you'd left the bar with Jack? Did he hear his name called from both your lips?
“Yeah, everything's okay.”
Jack smirked at you.
“I've been calling you all night, you didn't answer,” you could hear the slight accusation in his voice, the small anger you hadn't bowed and answered the phone when he called. He wasn't good at hiding it though maybe he thought he was.
“Sorry I-”
Jack slid two fingers inside of you at once and pumped them without warning.
You caught your breath in your throat. “- I was busy.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah,” you gasped.
Robby stirred down the line. “You okay?”
Jack was looming close enough to you, nodding for you to pull the phone back enough for him to hear.
“Yeah, it's just, cold in my apartment,” you lied.
Jack's brows rose, he mouthed the word, cold?
“Still haven't sorted that heating, huh?” Robby chuckled down the line. “You need someone to come sort that out for you.”
Jack withdrew his hand, dragging those two fingers from inside of you around you, before lowering himself back down. He spread you open, lying his tongue back in.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Want me to come take a look at it?” asked Robby.
“Not- not right now,” you pushed your phone back as Robby scoffed lightly. You sort Jack's attention, begging for the end of the torture he was inciting. His eyes were a haze of lust as he only watched you, shaking his head slowly to feel all around you.
His hand pushed your knee up to your chest, welcoming him in deeper.
“Are you still mad at me for earlier?”
“Y-yes!”
“You are?”
You'd forgot Robby down the line, forgot his question, could only feel the depth of Jack's tongue in you. You bit down on the bottom of your lip. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I am!”
“Okay- well, i'm sorry,” he said down the line. “You just have no idea what seeing you with Jack does to me.”
Jack moaned into you, sending vibrations through your body. His nose nudged against your clit, circling his tongue in you. Your mouth opened, a moan ripping through you that Jack managed to stifle quickly by slamming his hand over your mouth.
“- It's just, I think of you as one of mine,” Robby continued down the line, un-aware's to Jack tapping your phone on speaker and placing it next to you.
Jack dropped his mouth next to your ear, nipping at the lobe. “As mine,” he uttered.
“- seeing you with Jack, I can't stand it, you know I can't-”
Jack went back down to his work, two fingers working inside of you as he sucked in your clit. Your walls are like silk that his fingers thread through with ease, your mind blank with pleasure.
Your moans continued to be muffled by his mouth, he dared not move it.
“- you know I... you know I favour you over anybody else in that ER-”
Your hand reached out for your phone, sure you would come soon and needed to end the phone call.
Jack reached out for you. “Be nice, be nice.”
You picked up the phone and put it to your ear, Jack sucking diligently at your bundle of nerves. “Robby, I-”
“What is it? You sound like you're burning up? You need me?”
Yes, you needed him.
Jack curled his fingers up and you came with a loud gasp, ending the call abruptly as your world shattered in stars of want. Your back arched into Jack's mouth as he laid there open mouthed, taking what you could give him like a man dying of thirst.
Only when your breathing calmed and you could open your eyes to make sense of the world- and Jack's room- did Jack slowly move out his fingers, gently crawling up you body with kisses like butterflies.
You laughed when Jack reached your neck. “Oh god.”
“What?” he said, laughing along with you.
“I hung up on Robby.”
Jack fished for your phone, holding it between the two of you as he rubbed the head of his cock against the slick of your folds. “Then I guess we better call him back.”
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Summary: Your daughter fakes a stomachache to surprise her parents at work on Take Your Kid to Work Day, never realizing the panic it would cause.
Word count: 4.2k+
Warnings: fluff, tiny angst
A/N:
this was co-written with my friend Nora! We actually wrote some other stuff together too, but this is the first fic where she wrote the most of it. She also wants to write fanfics but is a little hesitant. Can’t wait for you to open your own blog and share your talent with tumblr Nora, this one’s you!!!💓
English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.
Happy reading xxx
I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.
When your daughter Lucy heard about Take Your Kid to Work Day, she came home convinced it was going to be the greatest day of her entire six-year-old life.
Her class had spent nearly a week talking about it. Every morning another child had a new story, another exciting detail to add. Emma was going to help frost cupcakes at her mother's bakery. Noah couldn't stop talking about riding in his dad's garbage truck, proudly announcing to anyone who would listen that he was going to press the "real buttons." Olivia was getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the aquarium where her mom worked. Even little Ben, whose father worked at a bank, marched around the classroom with a paper tie taped around his neck, declaring he would be "approving loans all day." By Thursday afternoon Lucy had listened to enough stories that she'd begun planning her own. She was absolutely certain she would wear one of those little white doctor coats she'd seen in toy stores. She'd carry a clipboard. Maybe even a stethoscope. Everyone would finally get to see how cool her parents' jobs were.
So when you and Jack walked through the front door that evening after a twelve-hour shift, you barely had time to take your shoes off before Lucy came barreling across the living room like an excited puppy.
"Mama!"
She wrapped herself around your legs so tightly you had to catch yourself against the wall to stay upright.
"Daddy!"
Jack wasn't spared either. She launched herself at him next, nearly knocking the backpack from his shoulder.
"Whoa, easy, bug," he laughed, catching her under the arms before she could accidentally headbutt him. "Someone's excited. Where's your grandma?"
"In the kitchen. I have something important to say."
You and Jack exchanged an amused look over the top of her head. Important announcements from Lucy ranged anywhere from losing a tooth to discovering worms in the garden.
"Oh?" Jack asked, setting his bag down.
Lucy nodded so enthusiastically that her ponytail bounced. "It's Take Your Kid to Work Day next Friday."
Her grin stretched so wide it nearly split her face.
"And I get to come with you."
The silence that followed was tiny.
Barely a second.
But it was enough.
Jack's smile faltered first. You watched it happen almost imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth relaxing as his eyes drifted toward yours. The excitement on Lucy's face hadn't dimmed yet. She was already imagining hallways and stethoscopes and showing all her friends pictures afterward.
You felt your heart sink before either of you had even opened your mouths.
Lucy noticed immediately.
Her smile wavered.
"...What's wrong?"
You crouched until you were eye level with her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear while you searched desperately for words that wouldn't break her heart.
"Oh, sweetheart..."
Jack carefully lowered himself beside you, adjusting his balance before slipping an arm around Lucy's shoulders.
"Our jobs are a little different from everyone else's."
She frowned in confusion.
"But I can still come, right?"
Jack let out the smallest sigh.
"The emergency department isn't really a place for kids."
Her forehead wrinkled.
"Why?"
You looked at Jack for half a second before answering.
"Because the people who come to see us aren't coming for fun." You spoke gently, carefully choosing every word. "They're usually having one of the worst days of their lives. They're very, very sick..."
"Or hurt," Jack added quietly.
"They can look scary sometimes," you continued. "There can be blood. People cry. Sometimes they're frightened, sometimes they're angry, and sometimes they need every doctor and nurse in the room paying attention to them."
Jack nodded. "Our job is making sure they get help as quickly as possible. We can't always stop to explain what's happening, and there are things no six-year-old should have to see."
Lucy listened with surprising seriousness, though it was obvious she still didn't understand.
"But..." she said softly, "I'll be quiet."
Your chest tightened.
"I know you would."
"I could sit in the corner and color."
Jack smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You probably could."
"I wouldn't touch anything."
"We know, sweetheart."
"I wouldn't even talk."
Jack smiled sadly. "You'd probably be the quietest kid in the whole hospital."
For the briefest moment, hope flickered across Lucy's face before reality settled back in. She looked between the two of you, swallowing hard.
"So..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "...I can't?"
The words were so small they made your chest ache. You reached for her little hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"No, sweetie. I'm sorry."
Her eyes filled almost instantly.
"But everyone else gets to go to their parents' work."
Jack closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. Every parent hated hearing those words because sometimes there simply wasn't a fair answer. He rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over the back of her tiny hand.
"I know."
"I wanna see where you guys work."
"I know."
"I wanna wear one of those little doctor coats."
Despite the ache in your chest, a smile tugged at your lips. "You would look absolutely adorable."
"I could help."
Jack let out a quiet snort, his expression turning dramatically serious.
"Oh, that's exactly the part I'm worried about."
Lucy blinked. "...Really?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said with a solemn nod. "I think you'd spend the whole day walking around the department telling everyone what to do."
"I would not."
"You absolutely would."
She crossed her arms.
"No."
"No?"
She puffed out her chest, planting both hands on her hips as she deepened her voice into what she apparently believed sounded very authoritative.
"'Okay everybody, one at a time! No pushing! You have to wait your turn!'"
Jack laughed so suddenly and genuinely that it echoed through the house.
"There it is."
You couldn't help laughing too.
"Our little charge nurse."
Lucy dissolved into giggles, pleased she'd made both of you laugh.
The moment was warm.
Light.
Comfortable.
Until it wasn't.
Her smile slowly faded as she remembered why she'd started the conversation in the first place.
"...But I still don't get to come."
Jack's laughter disappeared just as quickly. He opened his arms without saying a word, and Lucy climbed into his lap as naturally as breathing. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, wrapping her little arms around him with a sigh that sounded much older than six years old.
"No," he admitted quietly, kissing the top of her head. "Not to work."
The room fell silent.
You watched Jack gently rub circles over Lucy's back while she sat curled against him, neither of them speaking. The disappointment in the room was almost tangible. You knew Jack was feeling it just as sharply as you were. Both of you spent your careers taking care of other people's children, yet this was one of those moments where your own daughter simply had to accept that your jobs came with doors she couldn't walk through.
Finally, you leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
"How about this?"
She peeked up hopefully.
"When we're both off next weekend, we'll take you to the hospital."
Jack immediately caught on.
"We'll show you the cafeteria."
"My locker."
"The ambulance bay."
"If there aren't any helicopters flying, maybe we can see the helipad from outside."
"The empty waiting room."
"My office."
Lucy sniffled, considering the offer with all the seriousness of someone negotiating an international treaty.
"...Can I push a wheelchair?"
Jack looked over at you.
You shrugged.
"If nobody's using it, sure."
She thought for another long moment before giving a tiny nod.
"...Okay."
It wasn't the answer she'd wanted.
It wasn't even close.
But she accepted it with the quiet resilience children somehow managed to find after their hearts had been disappointed. Before long she was asking what was for dinner and whether Grandma was still making pancakes the next morning, and by bedtime she seemed perfectly content again.
You smiled to yourself as you tucked her in that night, smoothing the blankets over her little shoulders.
Children had an incredible ability to move on.
Or so you thought.
Lucy had absolutely no intention of moving on.
She smiled when you tucked her into bed that night. She happily ate pancakes with Grandma the next morning. She colored pictures at the kitchen table, watched cartoons, and talked excitedly about the hospital tour you had promised for the following weekend. If anyone had asked, she seemed to have accepted your answer completely.
She hadn't.
To a six-year-old, "next weekend" felt impossibly far away. Everyone else would get to visit their parents' jobs on Friday. Everyone else would come back to school Monday with stories to tell. Emma would talk about frosting cupcakes. Noah would probably tell everyone he got to honk the garbage truck horn. Olivia would have pictures of fish. And Lucy... Lucy would have to say she stayed home because her mommy and daddy worked somewhere she wasn't allowed to go.
That simply didn't seem fair.
By Wednesday she had the beginning of a plan.
By Thursday she had improved it.
By Friday morning, she was convinced it was foolproof.
Your mother had barely finished pouring herself a cup of coffee when she heard small footsteps padding down the hallway. Lucy appeared in the kitchen doorway still wearing her pajamas, her favorite stuffed rabbit dangling from one hand while the other pressed dramatically against her stomach.
"Grandma..."
Your mother looked up immediately.
"Morning, sweetheart."
Lucy took two slow steps into the kitchen, making sure not to walk too quickly. Sick people probably didn't move very fast.
"I don't feel good."
The smile disappeared from your mother's face at once.
"Oh, sweetheart."
She set her mug down without taking a sip and crouched in front of her granddaughter, brushing a hand over Lucy's messy bed hair.
"What's wrong?"
"My tummy hurts."
"Oh no."
Lucy gave a pitiful little nod.
"It hurts a lot."
Your mother frowned with concern.
"Can you show me where?"
Lucy froze.
That...
She hadn't prepared for.
She looked down at herself, suddenly realizing stomachs had different parts. She'd heard you and Jack ask patients that question before. Daddy always wanted to know exactly where it hurt.
Panic fluttered in her chest for half a second.
"...Everywhere."
Your mother's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
"Everywhere?"
Another solemn nod.
"Mhm."
She gently rested both hands on Lucy's shoulders.
"Did you throw up?"
"No."
"Do you feel like you have to?"
Lucy pretended to think about it before giving a hesitant little shrug.
"...Maybe."
"Do you have a fever?"
"I don't know."
"Hmm..."
Your mother pressed the back of her hand against Lucy's forehead before checking again with her palm, the way mothers and grandmothers always seemed to do. Her skin felt perfectly cool.
No fever.
That was reassuring. Still, children didn't always spike a temperature right away. Maybe she'd eaten something that hadn't agreed with her. Maybe a little stomach bug was just beginning.
Lucy watched every expression that crossed her grandmother's face. She could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.
She needed to make it more believable.
So she let out the tiniest little whimper she could manage. Not loud enough to sound dramatic, just enough to make it seem like the pain had returned.
Your mother's face softened immediately.
"Oh, you poor thing."
Lucy leaned instinctively into the comforting touch, a small stab of guilt twisting in her chest before she quickly pushed it aside. She wasn't trying to be naughty. She just wanted to see Mama and Daddy at work like everyone else got to.
After a long pause, she lowered her voice to an almost frightened whisper.
"I think..." She looked up through her lashes with the biggest, saddest eyes she could manage. "...I need the hospital."
Your mother smiled gently as she tucked a strand of hair behind Lucy's ear.
"Oh, honey. I don't think we're there just yet."
Lucy's heart sank.
"...But my tummy really, really hurts."
"I know it does."
"We should go."
Your mother hesitated. Normally she would've waited an hour or two, called you first, given Lucy some water, and seen whether she felt any better after breakfast before rushing to the emergency department.
But abdominal pain in children was one of those things she'd learned never to dismiss completely after watching both you and Jack work in emergency medicine for years. You had both told stories about children who seemed perfectly fine until they suddenly weren't. Appendicitis. Intussusception. Things she'd never heard of before you became a doctor and Jack became a nurse.
She didn't want to overreact.
She also didn't want to ignore something important.
Her eyes lingered on Lucy's face. The little girl looked uncomfortable enough to be believable, even if she wasn't crying. Some children tolerated pain differently.
Your mother sighed softly as she stood.
"Alright."
Lucy's eyes widened before she could stop herself.
Really?
It worked?
Excitement rushed through her so suddenly she almost smiled.
Almost.
She bit the inside of her cheek just in time, quickly lowering her head and pressing a hand dramatically back against her stomach.
"I'll get dressed," your mother said. "Then we'll have one of Mommy's friends take a quick look at you, okay?"
Lucy nodded with all the seriousness she could muster.
"...Okay."
As your mother disappeared upstairs to change, Lucy remained standing in the middle of the kitchen, hugging her stuffed rabbit tightly against her chest.
Her plan had worked.
In just a little while, she'd finally get to see where her mom and dad spent all day.
She had no idea that before the morning was over, two people who had faced mass casualty incidents, violent trauma, and countless life-or-death emergencies would see her name on the emergency department tracking board and experience a kind of fear neither of them had ever learned to prepare for.
The emergency department had been in controlled chaos since seven that morning.
Every room was occupied. Hallway beds had filled before breakfast. Monitors chimed from every direction, phones rang almost constantly, stretchers rolled past one another with practiced precision, and conversations overlapped until they became little more than background noise. Jack had barely stopped moving since clocking in. He had just finished helping stabilize an elderly patient in respiratory distress and was updating the tracking board when a new name appeared among the incoming pediatric triage patients.
His own last name.
At first his brain didn't process it.
He frowned automatically, assuming it was another family with the same surname. It wasn't uncommon.
Then his eyes shifted to the details beneath it.
Accompanied by: Lucy.
The world seemed to narrow into a single point.
His stomach dropped so violently it almost hurt.
No.
No, no, no.
His mind filled the blanks long before reason had a chance to intervene.
Car accident on the way to school.
She'd fallen from the playground.
An allergic reaction.
A seizure.
Appendicitis.
A ruptured appendix.
Internal bleeding.
She'd stopped breathing.
His chest tightened so sharply that, for one terrifying second, it felt impossible to draw in air.
He was already moving before he'd consciously made the decision.
"Jack?"
Dana looked up from her workstation as he hurried past.
"You okay?"
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
His prosthetic clicked faster against the floor as he rounded the nurses' station, weaving through stretchers and staff with an urgency that made several people instinctively step aside. Every extra second felt unbearable. His heartbeat pounded so loudly in his ears that he barely registered the voices around him.
Across the department, you were finishing charting after discharging a patient when your own eyes drifted toward the tracking board.
Your last name.
Pediatric triage.
Lucy.
Everything inside you went cold.
"No..."
The word escaped before you realized you'd spoken aloud.
Your pen slipped from your fingers onto the counter.
You didn't bother picking it up.
Someone behind you asked a question you never heard. You abandoned your chart mid-sentence and hurried out of the trauma bay, every rational thought dissolving beneath one singular, suffocating fear.
Not my baby.
Please not my baby.
You'd both spent years watching parents run into emergency departments wearing that exact expression.
The look that silently begged someone to tell them their child was okay.
Now you understood it from the inside.
Jack reached pediatric triage first.
He rounded the corner so quickly he nearly lost his footing, instinctively compensating before his prosthetic could catch awkwardly beneath him.
Then he stopped.
Lucy sat on one of the triage beds beside your mother, happily swinging her legs back and forth as she hugged her stuffed rabbit. She looked perfectly content, completely fascinated by everything happening around her.
The moment she saw him, her entire face lit up.
"Hi, Daddy!"
Jack didn't answer immediately.
He couldn't.
His breathing still hadn't caught up with him. His pulse hammered painfully against his ribs as his eyes swept over her with clinical precision born from years in emergency medicine.
Skin color okay.
Breathing normal.
Alert.
Talking.
No blood.
No bruising.
No obvious deformities.
No signs of respiratory distress.
No altered mental status.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Relief crashed into him so suddenly his knees threatened to buckle.
He had to grip the back of a nearby chair to steady himself.
"Jack?"
Your mother stood immediately, guilt already written across her face.
"I am so, so sorry. I should’ve called."
You arrived only seconds later, breathing almost as hard as Jack.
"Lucy!"
Your daughter beamed.
"Hi, Mama!"
You dropped to your knees in front of her without hesitation, your hands automatically moving through the familiar sequence every parent in emergency medicine knew by instinct. Forehead. Neck. Arms. Wrists. Face.
"What happened?"
Your mother looked apologetic.
"She was perfectly fine this morning. She'd been playing, and then all of a sudden she started holding her stomach and said she was in terrible pain. I didn't know if I should wait or..."
"You absolutely did the right thing," you assured her automatically, even as your attention remained fixed entirely on Lucy.
"Honey?"
Lucy nodded solemnly.
"It hurt."
"Where does it hurt, bug?" Jack asked.
She pointed vaguely toward the center of her stomach.
"...Here."
"How bad?"
She held up eight fingers.
"On a scale of ten..."
"...Eight."
"When did it start?"
"This morning."
"Did you throw up?"
"No."
"Feel sick?"
She hesitated.
"...Maybe."
Jack exchanged the briefest glance with you.
Neither of you relaxed.
Because children lied about vegetables.
They didn't usually lie about pain.
And even when they weren't lying, they were notoriously bad at describing it. Jack had treated smiling children with ruptured appendixes, kids who laughed while walking on fractured ankles, toddlers quietly coloring despite severe dehydration. Looking well meant almost nothing in pediatrics.
You rested a reassuring hand against Lucy's abdomen.
"I'm just going to press a little, okay?"
She nodded.
You gently palpated one quadrant.
"Does this hurt?"
"No."
You moved to another.
"How about here?"
"No."
Lower right.
"No."
Lower left.
"No."
Jack watched every tiny flicker of her expression. Or rather, the complete lack of one. She wasn't tensing beneath your touch. She wasn't guarding her stomach or curling inward instinctively. If anything, she seemed far more interested in everything happening around her than in the examination itself.
Her eyes wandered constantly around the department, following nurses rushing past, patients being wheeled down the hallway, monitors chiming, stretchers rolling by, the ambulance doors sliding open every few minutes. She wasn't frightened by any of it. She looked fascinated.
You noticed it too.
Before either of you could ask another question, Lucy turned back toward Jack, wearing the brightest smile she'd had all morning.
"So..." She tilted her head innocently. "...Can I see where Daddy works now?"
Silence settled over the four of you.
Jack closed his eyes.
Very.
Very slowly.
Your mother frowned, looking between the three of you.
"...Lucy?"
Your daughter's grin only widened.
"It worked."
Jack opened one eye.
"...What worked?"
"My tummy."
Neither you nor Jack said a word.
"It wasn't really hurting." She paused, as though she'd only just realized you weren't reacting the way she'd expected. "I just wanted to come."
For several long seconds, nobody moved.
Jack slowly lowered himself onto the chair beside her, more because his legs suddenly felt weak than because he'd intended to sit.
Because his prosthetic leg suddenly felt unsteady beneath him.
He rubbed both hands over his face, forcing out a long, shaky breath before looking back at his daughter.
"You..." His voice was rougher than he intended. "...You faked it?"
Lucy nodded proudly, completely oblivious to the emotional hurricane she'd just unleashed.
"That was the only way Grandma would bring me."
Your mother's mouth fell open.
"Oh my goodness..."
Lucy looked between the two of you with complete sincerity.
"I wanted to see where you work."
Jack let out another slow breath that sounded dangerously close to becoming a laugh. Not because anything about this was funny, but because relief had nowhere else to go.
"You scared ten years off my life."
Her smile faltered.
"...I did?"
Jack swallowed, the image of her name on the tracking board still burned into his mind.
"When I saw your name pop up..." His voice caught unexpectedly, forcing him to pause. He looked away for a moment before gathering himself enough to continue. "I thought something terrible had happened."
You nodded quietly beside him.
"I thought my little girl was hurt."
Lucy's face crumpled almost instantly. The excitement disappeared, replaced by confusion and guilt.
"I..." Her shoulders curled inward. "...I didn't know."
Of course she hadn't.
She was six years old. In her mind, she'd come up with the smartest plan imaginable. Pretend to have a stomachache. Go to the hospital. Surprise Mommy and Daddy. She'd never stopped to think about what it would feel like for two emergency clinicians to suddenly see their own child's name appear on the tracking board.
She looked down at her sneakers, twisting one toe against the floor.
"I'm sorry."
Jack watched her quietly for a long moment. Every ounce of frustration he'd felt dissolved beneath the sight of her trying so hard not to cry. Without another word, he opened his arms.
Lucy climbed into them immediately.
He wrapped her tightly against his chest, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against her hair.
"I'm not mad."
She looked up uncertainly.
"...You're not?"
He shook his head.
"I'm relieved."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"So unbelievably relieved."
He held her for another moment before leaning back just enough to meet her eyes.
"But you cannot ever pretend to be sick like this again."
She nodded immediately.
"Okay."
"I need a real promise."
"I promise."
You moved closer until your shoulder rested against Jack's, wrapping an arm around both of them. Almost instinctively, Lucy reached for your hand with her free one.
"I'm sorry, Mama."
You squeezed her little fingers.
"I know."
"I just wanted everyone at school to know my mommy and daddy have cool jobs."
Your heart ached.
"We know, sweetheart."
"They all got to go."
You met Jack's eyes for a brief second. Sometimes the hardest part of parenting wasn't saying no. It was understanding exactly why your child wanted something so badly and still knowing the answer couldn't change.
Jack kissed the top of Lucy's head.
Jack was quiet for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"Since you're already here..." He glanced at you, silently asking the question before either of you spoke.
You smiled back.
"I think our patient has been thoroughly examined."
Jack nodded solemnly.
"I agree."
He looked back at Lucy.
"So I'm officially discharging you."
Her eyes widened.
"You are?"
"Mhm." He reached over and gently tapped the tip of her nose. "No tummy ache. Cleared to go home with Grandma."
She giggled.
"But..." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Before you go home, I think we can spare five minutes."
Lucy's mouth fell open.
"Really?"
"We can show you the nurses' station." He pointed toward the center of the department. "My locker. Maybe the ambulance bay if there isn't anything coming in."
"And the cafeteria," you added with a smile.
Jack nodded.
"But that's it."
"No treatment rooms."
"No sick patients," you said gently.
"And you stay with one of us the entire time."
Lucy threw her arms around his neck so quickly he almost laughed.
"I promise!"
"I know you do." He hugged her back before pulling away just enough to look at her seriously. "But that doesn't change one thing."
"What?"
"If you ever feel left out again, you tell Mommy or me."
She nodded.
"You don't have to scare us to spend time with us."
The smile slipped from her face.
"...Okay."
"I mean it, bug."
"I know."
She leaned forward to hug him again, then reached for you too, nearly pulling the three of you together on the waiting room chair.
Jack caught your eye over the top of Lucy's head.
"I think she inherited our problem-solving skills."
You laughed.
"No."
"Our stubbornness."
Lucy looked up immediately.
"I heard that."
"Oh, we know," Jack said with a grin. "Trust me, we know exactly who you got it from."
"I did not fake being stubborn."
"You absolutely did."
That earned another burst of laughter, loud enough that even your mother laughed through the tears she'd been quietly wiping away.
As Lucy happily slid off Jack's lap, already asking a hundred questions about ambulances and whether nurses really kept candy in the break room, the knot in his chest finally began to loosen. The fear hadn't disappeared entirely. He wasn't sure it ever would. Seeing her name on that tracking board had unlocked a terror he hoped never to feel again.
But as he watched her bounce happily between you, clutching one of your hands and one of his as though the last twenty minutes had never happened, he found himself smiling despite everything.
He would take fake stomachaches, dramatic plans, and six-year-old schemes over seeing his daughter in one of those treatment rooms for real every single day.
just thinking about crawling into older!bf pope cody’s lap and him rubbing my thighs as I bury my face in his neck while he’s all “what’s wrong baby? what’s got you all worked up?” in a whisper as I pout about my day…
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