Welcome To Serenity

She truly didn't mean it. It was stupid, really. She had barely slept the night before, then proceded to have the worst day imaginable. Everything was going wrong. She was tired, upset, emotional, and frustrated, though now she knew none of that gave her the right to be acting the way she was.

She couldn't even remember what started it. All she knew was that she got so angry. The worst part was that Jack didn't fight back. He let her yell at him. They'd never fought before. It was uncharted territory. But the calmer he was, the more frustrated she seemed to be.

There was a moment when she paused to take a breath. Jack stood opposite her, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow.

"Are you done?".

She let out an irritated sigh. "Why aren't you more angry?".

He tilted his head. "I'm not angry at all."

"Why not? Jack, just say something. Fight back!".

He didn't flinch. Didn't falter.

Just crossed the room and moved closer to her. "No."

His voice was so soft and gentle that it pissed her off. She glared at him. He ignored it, taking another step closer to her. "I'm serious. Shout back at me. Do something! What's wrong with you?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going to shout at you. I won't ever do that, sweetheart."

"But I'm shouting at you."

"I know, that's okay."

"Fuck you."

He chuckled. "I know you're not mad at me."

"I am now!".

"No, you just found a new thing to be mad at. You don't even remember what you were mad at before."

It was incredibly frustrating fighting with someone who won't do it back. Someone who knew her better than she did sometimes. If she was thinking rationally, she would've realised he was right. But she just kept thinking about how awful her day was, and it was overwhelming. And now her boyfriend was being so sweet to her despite her being so mean to him.

He sighed. "What do you need from me? Want me to leave, or do you want a hug?".

Physical touch was the last thing on her mind right now. She was so mad at everything. She didn't know what she wanted.

"I don't want you to leave." She muttered.

"Okay. I won't, it's okay." He replied softly but stayed where he was. He didn't move in to hug her because she didn't say that either.

"I think I want to be alone for a while."

He nodded. "You do what you need to do, honey. I will be in the kitchen making dinner when you're ready."

She had to leave before she blew up at him again just for that. Before Jack, she was single for a long time. She used to just deal with things by herself. And before that, she only seemed to be in relationships with men who didn't know how to talk. So much of her adult life had been spent only relying on herself. Then, Jack came along, and suddenly, she had someone who talked and listened and took care of her and learned all of her little quirks and habits, and understood how important her independence was to her.

It dawned on her that perhaps after almost five months of dating him, it was finally catching up to her. They were getting more serious. Her hoodie was draped over the back of his couch. Her citrus scented body washes were in his shower, her skincare products on his bathroom counter. Her book was left on his coffee table. He had a set of crutches at her place. His gym shirts in her laundrey basket. And he just did things for her. Without her asking or even saying anything. He never complained or made her needs feel like a burden. He made it easy, and it was starting to scare her.

And him not yelling back at her tipped her over the edge because what did he mean he wasn't going to fight with her? Like it was the most normal thing ever.

It felt weird.

She slipped back into her old habits and distanced herself from him. She went to his bedroom and laid down on his bed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to cool down.

Silent tears spilled down her cheeks.

She wanted to scream and cry, but nothing like that came out. It wasn't dramatic. She broke down quietly. Not necessarily to avoid Jack hearing her. But she was just so tired and feeling insecure. It was all too much, and she wasn't used to this many feelings all at once. It was exhausting. She cried herself to sleep, nuzzling her face into Jack's pillow. The faint familiar smell of him that lingered there was comforting. Without his physical presence there it wasn't overwhelming, and she could finally take a deep, shuddering breath to release all the pent-up energy left in her body.

About an hour went by, and Jack decided to go check on her. When he noticed all was quiet, he assumed she'd fallen asleep. He tapped on the door, a soft knock with the back of his knuckles. No response. He did it again. Then, he proceded to carefully push the door open and made sure to close it behind him to prevent the light from the hallway coming in and waking her up.

He made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge beside her. Looking at her face, he could see the tear tracks left on her cheeks. He frowned, finding her arm with his hand. He stroked her soft skin for a moment, leaning over to brush the stray hairs out of her face.

He didn't say anything just yet, wanting to let her have a few more peaceful minutes before waking her up. He had come to tell her that dinner was ready, but upon seeing that she had been crying, his intention quickly changed.

He woke her up so gently it almost felt like she was dreaming.

"Hey, sweetheart."

She blinked up at him tiredly. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "You still mad?".

She nodded, shifting to sit up against the headboard. Then she paused and shook her head no instead.

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "You don't know?".

She sighed quietly. "No. I just... I don't know."

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry."

Reaching over her, he gently grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Wanna tell me what's on your mind?".

She shrugged, letting him hold her hand. "I'm sorry... for shouting at you."

He shook his head. "Already forgiven. I would like to know what I did wrong, though."

She frowned, feeling terrible now that she was a bit calmer. "Nothing."

"Well, I find that hard to believe."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Jack. You just... didn't fight back."

"Is that what you're upset about?".

"No. I... I'm not upset. I'm tired and angry and confused and scared. I think I panicked and took it out on you even though I didn't mean to. You didn't shout back."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then he looked at her. "Can I come closer?".

She nodded, instinctively making room for him while he removed his prosthesis. He shifted closer, taking her spot before pulling her against him to rest on his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist, hands settling on her stomach. He felt her breathe deeply.

Then he rested his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling into her cheek and pressing a soft kiss on the side of her neck.

"M'kay, angel." He hums. "I need you to listen up. Can you do that for me?".

She nodded.

"You listenin'?".

"Yeah."

"I love you. Do you know what I mean when I say that? I mean that I love all of you. Every part of you. Every version of you. When you're happy, sad, scared, exhausted, or randomly decide you hate me for a few seconds. Especially in those moments, I love you. I will always love you with everything I have. I know you didn't mean to shout. And I know that it wasn't me you were mad at. I even know you had to leave before you shouted more. But it would still be okay if you didn't make that decision because I love you more than anything you could say to me. And if that's what scares you, we need to talk about it."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried to blink them away. She sniffled. "I'm terrified, Jack."

"Can you tell me why?".

"Because loving someone is scary, and you make it easy. And letting someone like you love me is... overwhelming. Sometimes."

His head tilted, but he didn't judge her. He didn't take offence or get defensive. Instead, opting to press a kiss to the side of her head, which made her close her eyes briefly.

"What overwhelms you, sweetheart?".

"All of it. You know how to talk. You listen, actually listen to me, and remember stuff I've said. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can rely on someone other than myself. You take care of me in ways I didn't even know had to be taken care of. I like it, but... sometimes I hate it, too."

His expression softened. "You know, I hate to say it. And your feelings are absolutely valid, and I understand what you're saying. But, honey... that's how a relationship is supposed to be. You're supposed to talk and listen and remember stuff. We need to be able to trust and rely on each other. We take care of each other. That's actually the bare minimum."

Turning in his arms, her chest now pressed against his, she looked at him.

"If it doesn't feel easy, then something ain't right." He said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's not normal. It can't be."

"It is, baby. I promise."

She frowned. "Then why am I scared, Jack?".

"Because you're not used to it. It's okay to be scared."

"What if I don't want to rely on you for everything?".

"You don't have to. We can talk about it and figure out what you feel comfortable with."

She let out a quiet sigh, settling with her chin gently resting on his chest and looking up at him with her big eyes he was so madly in love with.

His expression softened. "I know this is hard for you."

"I'm not gonna pretend it isn't. But we'll figure it out together, and then it'll get easier. Alright?".

Her chin lightly bumped into his chest as she nodded, making him smile at her. "Okay." She mumbled.

He sighed. "C'mere."

She furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of how much closer she could get to him. But he just chuckled and pulled her up further so they were face to face. First, he kissed her forehead, then pressed more on her face until he had her giggling. Then he pulled her into a sweet kiss on the lips.

"There's my girl." He hums. "Feel better now?".

"Yeah... a little."

"Do you need anything from me?".

"Just want you to hold me."

He melted inside. "That I can do. Are you hungry? Dinner's ready, but I'll probably need to heat it up by now."

She shook her head. "Not really."

"No? Okay, later then. You need to eat something."

She nuzzled back into his chest, content to fall asleep on top of him like this. Jack had no complaints about it, but he would be waking her up in an hour or two to persuade ger to eat something. For now, he just held her in his arms while she rested.

For the next two hours, Jack stayed awake, trailing his hand down her arm up soothingly as she slept. He kept his touch light and delicate, reaching down further to intertwine their fingers together. He pressed the softest kiss on to her temple, letting his lips linger a little longer. His other arm held her by the waist, pressing her torso against his, and he could feel each steady breath. When her eyes eventually fluttered open once again, he brushed some of her hair back out of her face.

If it was possible, her body sunk into him even more. Just wanting to feel his closeness and warmth.

"Hi." He whispered.

"Jack, I'm so sorry."

"Hm?".

"I'm sorry." She started to cry.

"Oh... no, no. Don't cry. It's okay. It's all forgiven. I promise. There's nothing to be sorry for."

His hand stroked the back of her head lovingly as she sniffled. He gently wiped her tears away with his thumb.

"I love you." Her lip wobbled.

His expression softened. "I know, angel. I know you do. It's alright. Calm yourself down."

She took a deep, slow breath in and out, and he nodded. "There you go. That's it."

She sighed quietly, nuzzling back into him, and he gently squeezed her. "There she is. That's my girl."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you."

"Any time."

After a while, he convinced her to get up with him to eat. She didn't realise how hungry she was until a bowl of heated up pasta was placed in front of her. And he had made one of her favourite dishes.

She looked at him confused.

"What's up?".

"It's not my birthday."

He smiled. "I know it's not. But you had a hard day, and I wanted to make something nice for you."

It was official. She had the best boyfriend. He was kind and thoughtful, and even when she was having the worst day of her life, he still loved her. That was all she could really ask for

Jack Abbot loves his wife.

Any moment spent with her is another moment where he knows true happiness. Any moment spent away from her is another moment where he knows true longing..

The two had met one early morning in spring. Jack was walking back to his building after a long night shift and stumbled upon the most beautiful woman he’d ever met..-

Now here’s where Y/N would interrupt his retelling of events with the truth.

Because in reality, she was a sweaty mess.

Hair tied sloppily to keep it away from her face, no makeup on, and in the most low effort outfit she could manage. It was moving day after all. There was no need to look put together. But to Jack, she looked effortlessly gorgeous..

She sat at the steps of his apartment building, cradling her ankle with a pout playing on her lips. Jack stopped to check in on her and she explained that her friends were supposed to help her move, yet they were running late. She had begun moving things on her own but had stepped wrong on the steps while exiting the building.

Now, one thing about Jack Abbot should be made clear here. This man… Loved playing hero.

It’s what pushed him into medicine. It’s what got him through the military. It’s what made him perfect for SWAT. And it was his favorite thing to do for pretty women. Maybe it was his age showing, but Jack truly believed the best compliment a guy could receive from his woman was a cheesy ‘you’re my hero!’ line.

So without much hesitation, Jack offered up his services. Even while exhausted, even while sore. And when receiving permission, he scooped Y/N up and carried her to her apartment. Setting her carefully on her couch, Jack worked first as her doctor. Then, he worked as her personal mover.

To thank him officially, Y/N would surprise him a few days later with a bottle of white wine, he’d let it be known that that was his favorite drink, and some playing cards since he’d joked with her that, as a veteran, he knew all the best card games.

The two were meant to be from that night on..

But for as much as Y/N was his dream girl, there were just a few times where he’d look at her, shake his head, and wonder how the hell she had survived so long without being in a giant bubble of protection..

These are those times..

{ Number One: The Kitchen Incident.. }

Y/N had been trying to help Jack make dinner one night, when she somehow managed to knock over his spice rack instead.

Trying to help clean it up only resulted in her cutting herself on the broken glass.

Jack, with a sigh and a fond smile, just scooped her up and placed her on his kitchen counter top.

He tended to her injury and then, with a quick kiss to her temple, handed her a bowl to stir.

“Wha… I can still help!” She tries bashfully as he softly chuckles.

“Baby. Just.. Supervise from up there." He says with a slight tease to his voice before pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“It’s safer for everyone." He continues jokingly, making her playfully pout.

{ Number Two: The Morning Mishap }

Y/N was still half-asleep when she rolled out of bed.

Trying to get ready for the day, she ended up blindly bumping into the bathroom doorframe, stubbing her toe.

“Ah! Fuck!”

Jack was up fast, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He had just gotten home about an hour ago. Looking over, he’s met with his gorgeous wife on the bedroom floor, holding her foot as she tries to stay quiet with her angry grunts of pain. It’s as if she truly was trying not to wake him up right now..

He eyes her with slight amusement before getting out of bed with no words exchanged. She didn’t need to ask for his help, he’d always provide it.

Turning on the bedside lamp in order to fill the room with some soft lighting, Jack walks over, scoops Y/N up, and carries her into the bathroom. Just to make sure she doesn’t encounter anymore obstacles.

Setting her on the bathroom sink, Y/N sheepishly mumbles a thank you while he moves to turn on the shower. He then goes back to her, resting his forehead against hers with a soft sigh of content.

“Don’t mention it, beautiful..” He whispers softly with a small smile.

{ Number Three: The Romantic Picnic Situation }

Jack had planned a beautiful picnic in the local park after a very long week of just work and responsibilities.

It was supposed to be a day to just relax and take in the sun.

As Y/N is walking to their spot by the lake, basket in hand, she stumbles on a perfectly flat patch of grass.

Luckily, Jack had been holding her other hand, and quickly yanked her towards him before she could fall flat on her face.

He can’t help but laugh in slight disbelief as he softly pulls her closer to his body. “How does that even happen?” He asks, smiling down at her when she begins fussing sheepishly that there must be a rock there that she’d tripped over.

There wasn’t..

{ Number Four: The Garden Emergency }

Jack Abbot was a man of many hobbies.

One of which happened to be gardening.

In order to spend more time together, Y/N decided one morning to help him, despite his reservations.

“Jackie, please. I can be real helpful..” She gives her best puppy dog look. He grumbles softly.

Those damn eyes would always work on him.

Within five minutes though, Y/N had managed to somehow prick her finger on the rose bush she’d been tasked with caring for.

She tried hiding it, but Jack had already heard her soft yelp when it happened. He gives her a knowing glance, holding out his hand for hers. With a dramatic sigh, Y/N sets her hand in his and he hums, leaning down to kiss it better..

{ Number Five: The Christmas Debacle }

It was Christmas time.

More specifically, it was Y/N and Jack’s first Christmas living together, and Y/N wanted to make sure the house was perfect.

Jack had taken the day off in order to help fully decorate the house, and also because he had a hunch he’d need to watch over Y/N..

She was trying to hang some tinsel on their tree, but the step stool had begun to feel wobbly. Maybe it was her determination, or her faith that Jack would be watching out for her, but either way, she wasn’t fazed by the constant teetering.

Sure enough, she starts to sway a bit as she gets on her tip-toes, so close to the perfect spot on the tree for the pink tinsel. Jack, who had been watching her with a fondness, immediately rushes over, catching her by her hips and gently tugging her off the stool.

“I’m not even gonna risk that..” He jokes as he carries her to the sofa.

“I could do it!” She complains lightheartedly, knowing with her luck she would’ve just ended up in the tree or on the floor..

“I got a better job for you, my love. Hm? Chief Decorator..” He jokingly presents the title like it’s massive. “How’s that sound, hm?” He gently tucks her hair away from her face as she playfully glares up at him.

“Sounds like a made up title..” She plays along as he smirks.

“Nah. It’s the most important job, baby. I'll handle the physical work. You just point where.." He assures softly as she bites back a smile, acting as if she’s begrudgingly taking the ‘job’..

"Go?" You stand up when he wheels himself from the table. "Go where?"

"PTMC. Somebody has to make sure you didn't break your hand." Jack shrugs, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. "You don't want me to look at it– that's fine. Robby can."

You make a noise of outrage, halfway between a guffaw and and a strangled gasp. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, now come on."

"Jack, I can't show up looking like this!"

He tilts his head, peering over his shoulder to look at you. "Like what?" He asks, as though he's not staring at your tits, plump and popping out of the low-cut top of your dress.

You purse your lips, "Looking like I was one right hook away from fucking my boss."

Now that makes him pause. The two of you showing up together would be very much less than ideal. Sure, he could just drop you off and tell you to sort things out, but that'd be a surefire way to not get a second date, and the half-chub Jack has been sporting since you socked that asshole would very, very much like to get a second date.

"Dr. Abbot it is," Jack says. "Sit back down."

Reluctantly, you do. As he pulls his chair up, you down the rest of his scotch and shrug at the pointed look Jack gives you. "What?" You say, presenting your mottled hand, "I'm not the doctor tonight."

Jack grunts and takes you by the wrist. You whine softly as he turns your hand, observing the blood caked on your knuckles. "Move your fingers for me," he says softly. You do. He brushes your fingertips, "Any numbness?"

You shake your head, "No."

Jack puts your hand down, running his thumb over your split knuckles. The first aid kit sits in the corner of his vision, but he hesitates, savoring the feel of your hand in his.

"So, doc," you say, licking your lips. With your hand still in his, you lean closer to Jack. Your mouth hovers over his. "Am I gonna live? Because I have a hot date that I'd like to get back to."

Jack's lips quirk, "Careful sweetheart, don't want your date getting jealous."

"Oh, he won't mind," you kiss the corner of his mouth. "I promise."

"Well then, maybe I won't discharge you just yet," Jack lets go of your hand to grip your waist. "Keep you all to myself."

Sure, he really pissed you off, but at the same time the only person that can bring you comfort is him. And you don't want to be all alone and sad in his big house. You hate being away from him, even if you are mad at him.

You pad on your bare feet towards the garage, and stop in the doorway unsurely. Jack's already in the car, waiting for the garage door to roll up.

He sees you fiddle nervously with your sleeves before you finally walk up to the car. He rolls the window down because yeah, he might be mad but he'd never just blatantly ignore you.

"Can I... C-Can I come with you? Please. I'll sit in the back and I promise I won't say anything. I just...Can I?" Your wet, big eyes practically plead to let you in. To not be left here. You're scared that maybe if you let him go all alone, he might realise he doesn't want you one night.

Jack's eyes soften a bit, and you hear the lock open on the door. You immediately jump inside the car, not giving him a second to change his mind.

You quietly sit in the back as Jack backs out of the garage and starts driving down the road.

It doesn't take long for Jack's pent up energy to sizzle out. Especially, when he hears you sniffle with your runny nose every once in a while.

Jack tries to catch your eyes in the mirror but you just won't look his way, eyes strained on the road. And he can't have his best girl looking so, so down. Especially because of him. So he pulls into the nearest parking lot.

Jack kills the engine and jumps out. He rounds the car, opens your door all while you watch him with confused, but hopeful gaze.

"I'm so sorry, angel. I shouldn't have let it get so heated. And I shouldn't have tried to leave. I'm an idiot." It's his defence mechanism, he'd rather leave and cool down before he'd say something and regret it later.

Jack's hands hover inches away from you, holding onto the cushions next to your thigh.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for yelling. And for making you take me for the ride with you, I was just...." You stop talking before you can say too much. You don't want to sound crazy.

You turn to him, and his hands immediately move and settle on your hips.

"What is it?" Jack's thumb brushes your exposed tummy. He softly urges you to answer his question. You both need to talk it out even if it can hurt.

"I was worried you might not want to be with me anymore." You explain sheepishly, eyes everywhere but on him.

"Wait, baby." He frowns at you. "Do you always worry about that after an argument?" He can remember all of the times you two argued, and every time you didn't let him go cool off alone. It's basically a routine by now that after you argue, you two go for a ride together.

You just nod, embarrassment settling in. "Why didn't you say something?" God, it pains him so much to think about it.

"Don't know. I was just worried." You shrug, but it's far from casual. You look like you might die from embarrassment any second now.

"Fuck, sweetheart. You know, that no matter how much we fight, I'm not leaving. You're it for me baby. There's nobody else I'd rather be upset with."

"Don't you think it's annoying though? Me being so...so clingy." Jack thinks that surely you must be joking. You look so uncomfortable at your skin as you ask him that, that Jack's swears he must be doing something wrong if you feel like that.

"Sweetheart, if it was up to me, we'd literally be attached to hip 24/7. I love being with you. You're my favourite person ever." Jack states, words all lovey and honest. Your eyes water from it, it overwhelms you for a second because it was exactly what you wanted, needed to hear.

"You're my favourite person, too." You mumble out, your hands sneaking out of your long sleeves to squeeze his. Jack chuckles because only now he notices it's his big-ass hoodie you have on.

"I love you, angel. So all is forgiven?"

"Yes." You nod quickly and lean in for a very much needed kiss.

You can barely even remember what the fight was about as his lips move against yours, and both of your bodies finally relax.

"I love you too, Jack." You breath out against his lips. He pulls away with a gentle smile and wipes away the left wetness on your cheeks with tender hands.

"Do you want to go get ice-cream?" Jack suggests, and your face lights up as you nod sheepish.

"Okay, c'mon, need my girl next to me." He scoops you up before you can protest and manages to put you in the front seat, all while you giggle at him.

He rubs soothing circles into your skin as your tears slow down. "But you were so excited for us to swim together. Said it'd be perfect for your leg."

You feel so bad. Because he finally got 2 weeks off from work so you could go relax somewhere far away. And you found the perfect place on an island. A private house with a pool and a sheer blue sea water just a few feet away. And food available at all times of the day with many activities to do as well. Basically a heaven on earth.

"We can still swim, sweetheart. We are there for two weeks. You can wait until your period ends. Or you can get in the pool with a tampon or a cup. Or you can just get in, you won't bleed in the water because of the pressure, remember?" He taps your chin lovingly, reminding you that it's all okay.

"Or we can go buy you some period swimsuit. I think I saw that somewhere." Gosh, your heart might just burst from how sweet your boyfriend is.

"Oh, yeah? You saw that somewhere?" You chuckle with a sniffle.

"Yes." He rolls his eyes at your teasing. "My point is, baby, that it's okay you got your period. We'll have great time anyways." You nod softly against his hand.

Jack wipes away the remaining tears and leans in to give you a peck on your forehead.

"Do we have time to go look at that underwear?" You ask tentatively, you know there's still plenty of time until your flight, but you also know that Jack wanted to take a nap after his shift.

"Yes, let's go now so we don't rush later." He says and it makes you feel even worse. Jack clocks your unhappy frown immediately.

"No, Jack. You need to sleep." You'd rather have no swimwear then make him go with you.

"I'll nap in the plane, I'll have plenty of time then, okay?"

"Or I can just go alone?" You suggest.

Jack gasps dramatically, hand on his chest. Oh, he's got the jokes now, huh? "No way, sweetheart. You need my expertise."

"You just want to ogle me in the bikinis."

"And?" He smirks at you, and you just chuckle at his antics. You love showing off clothes for him anyway.

"Okay, fine. But I'm paying."

"In that case, I think we don't even need to go anywhere. Two weeks on the couch seem great." There's no fucking way he's letting you pay for anything. He's a gentleman after all.

"You are insufferable." You mumble, shaking your head in disbelief with an amused smile on.

Oh.

That's what he's doing. You didn't even realise it, but your sad mood is gone, replaced by soft smiles reserved just for Jack.

"And yet, you love me." He grins some more at you, pushing another kiss onto your face. This time on your cheek, close to your plush lips.

"I do love you. You are too good to me."

"No, baby. It's just what you deserve and more. And I love you, too. Now c'mon, let's get dressed and go buy you the swimsuit and sunscreen." He gets up on his tired legs, one of them way more achy than the other. But he doesn't show it, you'd make him stay home.

"Wait, how did you know I needed sunscreen?" You raise your brows at him.

"Baby, I don't think there's a single think that I don't notice about you."

You kiss him on the mouth before he can say something even more lovely and you'll cry about it.

Good thing you don't know about the velvet box safely hidden in his suitcase, otherwise your period hormones might just make you sob.

But that reaction is reserved for later, When he finally gets down on his knee.

“ What ?” You asked. Your limbs sneaked into his hairs. You liked how they curled on his head, a sea of salt and pepper beauty you definitely liked long enough to be played with. Or held. Especially when he went down on you. One of his slithered to your face and tipped your head down. It was your turn to frown, but not without a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “ It’s new.”

“...What’s new ?”

“ Your gloss.” You look at through your falsies. He stares back and you lat out an amused laugh. 

“ Jack, how come you remember what gloss I don’t have ? Yes it’s new. It’s Riri’s gloss bomb. My friend gave me one, you know ? The one working at Sephora downtown.”

“ You like it ? ” He asks absent mindly, eyes contemplating your sparkling lips. The glitters scattered all over your petals made them look more appealing, more kissable. And if he didn’t want to kiss you again he’d be a mad man.

“ Yeah. It’s nice, I guess.” 

The following day when you pull out your keys to open your apartment door, you can’t help but notice the box sitting on your doorstop. You don’t recall ordering anything and your monthly deliveries were not even shipped yet. What on Earth ? You kick your heels off and slip into your more comfortable indoors one. Curious as ever you unpack the mysterious box and your eyes wide at the sight of a pink fenty beauty heart shaped box. 

It had to be Jack. Your generous and devoted boyfriend, Jack Abbot. Who else would that be ? 

“ I can’t believe him. ”

you had slumped over the bathroom toilet, your knees hitting the tile as your stomach painfully violently seized, purging the sudden, suffocating weight of needing someone that much.

it was the pure terror of the stakes finally being too high, your body physically trying to eject the vulnerability before it could kill you.

that visceral fear set the tone for everything that followed. for five years, your relationship had been a volatile loop of high-stakes rewinding and fast-forwarding.

breaking up when the intimacy got suffocating, and crashing back together when the loneliness became a physical ache.

and god, the crashing back together was always intoxicating.

when the distance became too much to bear, you would show up at his door or he would find you in the dark, and the reunion was always a quiet, desperate collision.

he would pull you against him with a fierce, possessive hunger that made your brain shut off.

in his bed, away from the world, you didn't have to think.

his hands were always warm. hands that knew exactly where to press to soothe the ache, smoothing over your skin until your breathing finally synced with his.

in those silent hours, buried beneath his sheets with his lips pressed to the crown of your head, you allowed yourself to be held.

it was a wordless truce where you could melt completely, safe in the knowledge that for the next few hours, neither of you had to explain a gthing.

now, you shared a lease, a kitchen, and a goofy, ninety-pound golden retriever named milo who currently sat between the two of you. his tail was giving a hesitant, confused thump against the hardwood floor.

you should have known better from the very beginning.

you had met jack at a loud, crowded benefit dinner where you had spent the first hour hiding near the catering staff just to avoid small talk.

and then jack had appeared, completely out of place in a stiff tuxedo, carrying two plates of tiny appetizers and smiling with a warmth that felt entirely too bright for the dark corners you usually lived in.

he had bumped your shoulder, offered you a crooked grin, and cracked a joke that melted your armor in seconds.

you were struck by him.

you were struck by the effortless way he moved through the world, by the genuine, intense focus he gave you the moment you started speaking.

later that same night, when he walked you to your car, that intense focus had shifted into something heavy and magnetic.

he hadn't tried to push his way into your apartment.

instead, he had just stepped close, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair away from your cheek, his touch lingering against your jawline just a second too long.

the casual, effortless sensuality of it had sent a shiver straight down your spine.

when his lips finally met yours, it wasn't a rushed goodbye—it was a slow, deliberate promise that left you breathless and terrified of how much you already wanted him.

but even then, as your heart hammered against your ribs, a quiet, cold warning had echoed in the back of your mind.

this is doomed, it whispered.

he will see right through you, and then he will leave.

you had ignored it, drunk on his charm, but you had never truly forgotten it.

it was hard not to bring your job home with you when your entire worldview was built on the guaranteed decay of intimacy.

you spent ten hours a day watching love self-destruct in real-time. you weaponised people's worst flaws for financial gain and drafting the autopsies of dead marriages.

to you, relationships weren't sanctuaries.

relationships were volatile liabilities that were bound for failure.

so with that you treated your own romance like an impending disaster.

you were constantly scouring the situation for the exit strategy.

you refused to let your guard down because you knew exactly how ugly the fallout could get when things finally ended.

but jack wasn't a case file. he was a man who lived in the loud, messy chaos of the present, and your preemptive defenses were finally running him into the ground.

it was a tragic contrast to the quiet dome of safety you usually managed to build together when things were good.

you loved the domestic rhythm you had secretly grown addicted to.

jack standing behind you at the stove, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. his breath warm against your skin while you pretended to complain about him suffocating you.

you loved the way he would absentmindedly rub your thighs with his hands while you read on the couch, a grounding, physical wire that kept you attached to the earth.

he was so naturally affectionate, so deeply giving and it was the only time your hyper-vigilant mind ever truly went quiet.

but thing is usually, you were the quiet one.

outside of work, you were shy by nature, soft-spoken to a fault, the kind of person who shrank into the background of a room.

but your instinct to protect yourself wasn't passive it was more of a sleeping predator.

when jack tried to peel back your quiet exterior to see the raw panic underneath, your shyness evaporated.

it became replaced by a sharp, icy precision. you didn't slam counters or throw things.

instead, your voice found a cold, biting volume that cut through the room like a razor, weaponizing words to scorch the earth so he wouldn't want to come back.

tonight, the trigger had been tiny.

he had asked, with genuine, exhausted vulnerability, why you still hadn't unpacked the last three boxes of your books into the living room bookshelf.

"why are you keeping your things packed?" he had asked.

to jack, it was just a question about furniture and to your hyper-vigilant brain, it was an interrogation.

it meant he was building a case against you. he was realizing you were a burden, laying the groundwork to kick you out.

"if my boxes bother you so much, jack, i can have them and the rest of my shit gone by morning," you said, your tone dropping into that fierce, hyper-articulate edge.

it was loud enough to fill the quiet kitchen, the sudden sharpness making milo instantly drop his head onto his paws.

jack didn't flinch at your word. he never did.

he didn't even yell back.

he just looked at you, his eyes hollowed out by a profound, bone-deep weariness that cut worse than any shout.

"we have been doing this for five years. and your first instinct is still to threaten to leave over a cardboard box." jack said, his voice a flat, exhausted whisper.

the silence that followed was suffocating.

you stood there, your chest heaving and your hands trembling with a toxic cocktail of adrenaline and shame.

your throat burned with the sharp, defensive arguments you had just used as weapons to protect yourself.

jack ran a hand over his face, his broad shoulders slumping as he sat down heavily at the kitchen table.

he didn't look angry, just completely defeated.

"i'm so tired," he breathed into his palms. "i love you so much, but i am completely out of gas. i can't keep fighting you just to get you to admit that you're scared."

for a heart wired to run from safety, this was the worst-case scenario.

the aggression was a shield and without it, you were entirely exposed.

your instinct screamed at you to run to the bedroom, lock the door, and start packing those boxes for real.

the urge to flee was a physical pull in your gut.

you took a step backward, your eyes darting toward the hallway.

"don't," jack said, not looking up. "if you walk away right now, don't come back. i mean it. i can't sign up for another round of this."

you froze.

the floor felt like it was genuinely disintegrating beneath your feet. your breath hitched, a small, choked sound escaping your throat.

you were trapped between the terror of staying and the agony of losing him for good.

the exit route was right there, wide open, and it terrified you to your core.

slowly, milo got up, his nails clicking on the floor, and nudged his wet nose against your trembling hand.

jack finally raised his head. seeing the sheer, paralyzed panic in your eyes, the hardness in his expression softened just a fraction.

he reached out across the table, his palm open and flat on the wood.

he wasn't reaching to grab you or force you into anything.

he was just offering a bridge.

"i'm not asking you to give up everything," jack murmured, his voice cracking with fatigue. "and i'm not going to throw you out. but you have to stop treating me like the enemy the second things get heavy. sit down. please."

every muscle in your body resisted. sitting down meant admitting you wanted to stay. it meant risking the rejection you had spent years trying to beat him to.

you crossed the kitchen, your legs feeling like lead, and sank into the chair opposite him.

you didn't take his hand but you didn't run.

jack let out a long, ragged breath, his fingers twitching toward yours. "we're keeping milo, we're keeping the apartment, and we're keeping the boxes," he said softly, his tired eyes locked onto yours, refusing to let you drift away. "but you have to start trusting that i'm not looking for a reason to leave you. can we just try that for tonight?"

you looked down at milo, then back at jack's worn, familiar face.

the safety felt terrifyingly huge, something you couldn't control, but for the first time in awhile, you let your hand slide across the table until your fingers touched his.

the contact was like a sudden thaw in the icy armor you had built around yourself.

jack didn't squeeze your hand immediately.

he just let his calloused fingers curl slightly under yours, his thumb tracing the back of your knuckles in a slow, rhythmic stroke that was agonizingly tender.

he was offering a truce, not just with words, but with the quiet promise of his skin against yours.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: rude patients PROTECT OUR NURSES!!, crying, fluff, kissing, pet names (sweetheart) and Age gap even thought it’s not directly discussed

Masterlist

The ER at three in the morning had a strange kind of stillness.

Not quiet, but calmer than it had been a few hours earlier when ambulances seemed to arrive every ten minutes and every room had been full.

You adjusted your scrub top as you walked out of Room 12, rubbing at the ache in your shoulders. Night shift was almost over.

You just had to survive one more patient. Unfortunately, that patient seemed determined to make your night miserable.

“You call this care?” the man snapped the second you stepped into the room with his medication. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

You kept your voice professional. “I understand you’re frustrated, sir. We’ve had several critical patients come in tonight, but I’m here now.”

“Don’t give me excuses.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Normally you could brush comments off. Working in the ER meant dealing with stressed, scared, angry people every day.

But tonight had already been exhausting.

You hadn’t sat down once and

You hadn’t eaten since midnight.

And every muscle in your body felt like it was running on fumes.

“I’m not making excuses,” you said gently. “I’m just explaining the delay.”

The patient scoffed.

“Maybe if you spent less time standing around and more time doing your job.”

The comment stung.

You felt your face warm.

Still, you stayed calm.

“Sir, I’m trying to help you.”

“Then do it correctly.”

You handed him the medication and completed the rest of the interaction as professionally as possible, but every rude remark seemed to chip away at you.

By the time you finally left the room, your chest felt tight. The door clicked shut behind you.

You stared at the floor for a moment.

Then took a slow breath.

“It’s not personal,” you whispered to yourself.

But it still hurt.

Across the nurses’ station, Jack looked up from a chart.

Your husband had been working the opposite side of the ER most of the night. Normally you checked in with each other constantly, stealing coffees and exchanging quick smiles whenever your paths crossed.

Tonight had been too busy.

He frowned slightly.

You immediately forced a smile.

Jack’s expression didn’t change. He knew you too well.

But before he could ask anything, a trauma alert came overhead.

Both of you were pulled in different directions again.

The next few hours passed in a blur.

Patients.

Charting.

Medication.

Vitals.

Questions.

More questions.

By six-thirty in the morning, the sun was beginning to lighten the horizon outside. Day shift started trickling in, and everyone looked exhausted.

You finished your final chart and practically collapsed into a chair.

Your feet hurt.

And despite your best efforts, the rude patient’s words kept replaying in your mind. Maybe because they had hit on a bad day.

Maybe because you were tired.

Maybe because you cared too much.

Whatever the reason, it lingered.

“You ready to go home?”

Jack appeared beside you.

His dark hair was slightly messy from running his hands through it all night. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes.

And somehow he still looked ridiculously handsome.

You smiled weakly.

“Absolutely.”

His gaze narrowed.

That weak smile hadn’t fooled him either.

But he didn’t push.

“Come on.”

Together, you headed toward the employee parking garage.

The cool morning air felt nice after hours inside the hospital. You climbed into the passenger seat of Jack’s truck while he settled behind the wheel.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

The engine hummed quietly.

Jack pulled out of the parking garage.

The city was just beginning to wake up.

Finally, he glanced over.

“What happened?”

You looked out the window.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been upset for hours.”

Your throat tightened.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

His voice was gentle.

Not accusatory.

Just concerned.

“You know you don’t have to pretend with me.”

That almost made it worse.

Because Jack was the one person you never wanted to hide things from.

You stared at your hands.

“It’s stupid.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

The sincerity in his voice made your eyes burn.

You blinked quickly.

“It was just a patient.”

Jack immediately frowned.

“A patient?”

You nodded.

“He was rude.”

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“How rude?”

You hesitated.

“Just…mean.”

Jack was quiet.

“Mean how?”

You laughed weakly. A shaky sound.

“He kept saying I wasn’t doing my job. That I was lazy. That I didn’t care.” The words sounded even worse out loud.

Jack’s jaw clenched.

“He said that to you?”

You shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me.”

Your eyes started burning again.

Jack noticed instantly.

His expression softened.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

That was it. The tears came before you could stop them.

Not dramatic sobs.

Just exhausted tears.

The kind that appear after a long night when you’ve been holding everything together for too long.

You quickly wiped at them.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re not.”

Another tear slipped down your cheek. Jack immediately reached over, taking your hand. His thumb brushed across your knuckles.

“You spent twelve hours taking care of people.”

You swallowed hard.

“You always do.”

He squeezed your hand.

“You show up every night and give everything you’ve got.”

More tears appeared.

“Jack..”

“No.”

His voice was firm.

“You are one of the hardest working nurses I’ve ever met.”

Your chest tightened.

“You care about every patient.”

“You have to say that. You’re my husband.”

A small smile appeared on his face.

“I was saying it long before I became your husband.”

That made you laugh softly through your tears.

Jack continued.

“One angry patient doesn’t get to decide what kind of nurse you are.”

You looked down.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

The question hung in the air.

Because the truth was you weren’t sure. Not when someone’s words had found every insecurity you tried to ignore.

Jack must have seen the answer on your face.

His expression softened even more.

“You know what I saw tonight?”

You glanced at him.

“What?”

“I saw you skipping your break because you were helping a family.”

You looked away.

“Jack—”

“I saw you comforting a scared kid.”

He kept going.

“I saw you stay twenty extra minutes with an elderly patient because she was lonely.”

Your eyes filled again.

“I saw three different nurses ask you for help because they trust you.”

The tears spilled over.

Jack shook his head.

“So no. I’m not going to let one miserable guy convince you that you’re bad at your job.”

The lump in your throat became impossible to ignore.

You squeezed his hand.

The truck stopped at a red light.

Jack turned toward you fully.

“You hear me?”

You nodded.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Words.”

A tiny smile appeared despite everything.

“I hear you.”

“Good.”

The light turned green, and Jack started driving again.

Silence settled comfortably between you.

Just peaceful.

The kind of silence that only existed between people who knew each other completely.

After a minute, you spoke quietly.

“I hate that it got to me.”

“You’re human.”

“I should be used to it.”

“Maybe.”

You looked over.

Jack shrugged.

“Or maybe caring means things hurt sometimes.”

You considered that. Maybe he was right. Maybe the fact that the comments hurt didn’t make you weak. Maybe it just meant you cared.

And caring was never a bad thing.

Even in the ER.

The closer you got to home, the lighter you felt. Not because the night had magically disappeared. But because you weren’t carrying it alone anymore.

Jack had always had that effect on you. Somehow he made difficult things feel manageable.

You pulled into the driveway.

The truck rolled to a stop.

For a moment neither of you moved. You leaned your head back against the seat.

“Tired?”

Jack asked.

“Very.”

He smiled.

“Me too.”

You finally looked at him.

The concern was still there.

The protective anger over what happened was still there too.

But mostly there was love.

Steady and unwavering.

The kind that never left.

The kind that had carried both of you through years of difficult shifts and sleepless nights.

Jack reached over and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

His fingers lingered against your cheek.

“You okay?”

You thought about it.

Then nodded.

“Yeah.”

His smile grew.

“Good.”

You leaned toward him.

He met you halfway.

The kiss was soft.

Slow.

Just warmth and reassurance and home.

When you pulled back, Jack pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Then another to your temple.

And finally one more to the corner of your mouth.

A laugh escaped you.

“What was that?”

“Making sure you know you’re loved.”

Your heart melted.

“I think I got the message.”

“Hmm.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer.

“I’m still going to be annoyed at that patient.”

You laughed.

“I know.”

“For at least a week.”

“A week?”

“Maybe longer.”

You shook your head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I love you too.”

The words came automatically.

Easy.

Natural.

“I love you too.”

Jack smiled.

The exhaustion was still there.

The difficult shift was still there.

But somehow neither felt quite as heavy anymore.

Because the night was over.

You were together.