The Weirdest And The Wildest

Chapter 1: Prey

The bus had windows so tinted you could barely see outside. The sun had shown through the sack over your head as you were being transported, so you knew it was still daylight. The day already felt too long. Everyone else was also seated rigidly, anticipating the stop. 

The ring around your finger spun smoothly against your skin. A nervous habit; the reason you hadn’t pawned it off when you hit rock bottom. No, instead of the safe route, you decided to follow the whispered words that were shared between back alleys and VIP drug dens–to The Hunt. A bunch of rich folk ‘donating’ to a prize pool that one of you could win. High risk, high reward. Money or death. You’d already considered jumping off a bridge, so even if you did lose, the outcome would at least be what you expected. 

The vetting process had been extensive and surprisingly difficult. Hundreds of people had gathered to be assessed at the warehouse. From logic tests to physical endurance, the herd was narrowed down to the top 10 performers. The final spot had been yours. You didn’t read the ridiculously long contract that, no doubt, absolved these psychopathic billionaires of any fault. But before the ink was even dry, you’d be bound, bagged, and dragged to this bus. 

A bus that had now come to a stop. The armed guards, dressed all in black with their faces covered, walked us out on a line in front of a castle-like estate. The looming building behind them and a vast area of land in front of them. The lawn was a glorified putting green, and the perimeter was redwood trees as far as the eye could see. The long road that had taken you from the outside world to this false paradise wound deep into the woods where you couldn’t see its beginning. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to The Hunt! This year, we bring you the top participants to compete for the generous prize of 50 million dollars! The announcer spewed out like a ring leader as you were shoved into a line. The reveal of the prize amount had sent a ripple of tension among them. 

“The rules haven’t changed, but our contestants are new, as expected.” The man turned and paced in front of them. He was dressed in a riding suit with glasses, a greying beard, and wispy hair tied in a queue down his back. “The rules of The Hunt are as follows: 

Acquire the 5 relics: The ring, the pendant, the bracelet, the dagger, and the key;  and survive until sunrise. 

While you do that, you will be hunted by our esteemed guests. 

You may retaliate. No one is safe from injury or death. 

Should none of you succeed by daylight, then the winnings will be split by the remaining guests. 

The only clue you have to the whereabouts of the relics is dark green ribbons tied to a low branch.

You have your weapons as decided by your assessment levels. The game will begin momentarily.” 

You nodded when one of the guards handed you a backup magazine of bullets and a handgun. Next to you, the other contestants received an axe, a sawed-off shotgun, a tactical army knife, or their own handgun, all based on how they had done in the assessment. 

The laughter made you look up and eye the ‘guests’ that would be hunting you. Immediately, you noticed the tactical gear and advanced weaponry. They were drinking champagne and chatting with the announcer as if they were getting ready for a party. Disgust warped your expression. You weren’t as bad off as some of the others who had been at the warehouse, but even in a simple outfit of cargo pants, a black shirt, and steel-toed boots, you felt distinctly poor.

You eyed the hunters, counting out only 9. Then he walked in. Tall, salt-and-pepper curls with a broad chest. His clothes were similar to yours. Black shirt, cargo pants in a green that matched perfectly with the surroundings. A ripple of tension went through the hunters, followed by glances and nervous nods in this man’s direction. Then you met his eyes. He held your gaze for a long moment. He didn’t laugh or toast champagne like the others. This man watched like a predator about to strike. 

“Fuck, Titus Danforth is here,” the man next to you growled lowly. His body tensed further. You’d noticed this guy earlier. It was hard not to since he was as tall as a tree with the physicality of a rhino. He had scars across his face and on his bare arms. There was a distinct phoenix tattoo that wrapped around the side of his neck. It was obvious that he would be hard to beat, but hearing him and seeing him react to the man from earlier seemed like information you needed to keep in mind. His voice was strained when he continued, “I’m surprised they let him in here.”

You don’t ask him questions, aware that he was probably just talking to himself. A movement to your right caught your eye. A familiar face was nearby. You’d spoken to him a few times during the initial assessment rounds. Willowy with tracks down his forearms and hollow eyes, he didn’t look like much. But he’d let slip to you that he had done this before and won. He obviously hadn’t used it to better his life, as you were planning to do. You weren’t nearly as desperate as some others who tried to qualify, either. Apparently, both of you had barely passed in the ninth and tenth spots. 

“Nice of them to finally bring us a woman worth catching!” An older man with a round belly and a long shotgun cackled from the hunter’s side. He was eyeing you up and down, licking his lips. You were too disturbed to notice how Titus Danforth glared daggers at the older man. 

You were the only woman among the contestants. The implications were clear, and it sent a shiver up your spine. Other hunters wolf-whistled and jeered. You gripped your gun tight and turned away.  

“To your places, contestants! You’ll have a 10-minute lead, then the hunters will be released. Remember, everyone is fair game. Kill or be killed. Find the relics and survive until sunrise. Good luck and may Satan be with you!” The announcer called out jovially. 

“The ribbons are higher on the trees than you’ll expect.” The thin player said to you, voice quick and precise. 

“What?” You hissed.

“The ribbons. They expect you to look low on the trees, but they put them high. They don’t want us to win; they just want to play their game for as long as possible.” He said quickly, not looking at you. 

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely. He glanced at you and looked forward. 

A shot rang out, and the contestants were bolting across the grasslands toward the treeline. ---------------------------

The moment the contestants broke through the treeline, they slowed. Their eyes darted as if looking for some sign of camaraderie. One look at each man told you that none of them would be your ally. You cocked your gun when one hesitated to leave, his eyes traveling over your body greedily. Then he too turned and ran into the woods without a second glance. 

The thunder of boots trampling leaves and branches was soon swallowed by the dense forest. You needed to keep moving. The objectives repeated in your head as you looked up, beginning your search for the ribbons. The gun in your hand was heavy, and the accompanying magazine weighed down your pant leg. It was now or never. 

A branch snapped somewhere off to the left. You whipped around, gun raised. 

But you were alone. 

The gun stayed raised and ready as you moved on, reminding yourself that you had to channel your nerves and fear. You couldn’t trust anyone here. Not the contestants, and definitely not the rich hunters who were probably counting down the minutes until they too could join the fray. Especially not the men who had started eyeing you differently the second they realized you were the only woman stupid enough to sign the contract. 

A hulking shape moved ahead between the trees. 

The man from earlier, the scarred one who looked the most lethal at first glance, came into focus. A shotgun rested over one shoulder like he was out on a hiking trail instead of a race for his life. You kept your gun raised. 

“Planning on using that, sweetheart?” He chuckled, low and predatory. 

“Maybe.” 

His toothy grin made him look like a shark. “Good. You might not be the first one out if you do.”

You held your ground as the man moved forward, veering left, away from your intended path. Over his shoulder, he called out. “See you in the morning. Or goodbye, if I don’t.”

Trembling hands kept the gun raised until he disappeared into the darkening forest. 

---------------------

Time was moving quickly.

Sunset was painting the redwoods golden like the licks of a flame. The ten minutes were up. As you moved further in, the trees grew closer together, taller, older. Tree trunks thicker than your entire body loomed above you. Ancient. There had been distant rustling, but nothing close by for a while now. 

Eyes raised high, you stayed on guard. 

Ribbon.

Ribbon.

Come on! Ribbon!

There!

The sun was barely above the horizon, and in the final flash of light, you saw it glare off the shiny strip of fabric that hung several strides ahead. You dropped the gun to your side and sprinted forward, nearly tripping over roots, kicking up leaves. The trees were dense. Low-hanging twigs scratched the bare skin of your cheek and forearms. 

The giant tree had to have a relic inside it.

The bodies were slumped against the tree, blood spattered down their chests like their throats had been cut. Their heads hung low, making them unrecognizable in the waning light. Between them stood Titus Danforth, casually leaning back, one foot propped up against the bark. Even in the darkness, you could see his muscles pulling his shirt taut.

You froze. 

He didn’t have a speck of blood on him. Not any that you could see. Dark green cargo pants streaked faintly with mud, over heavy leather combat boots. Grey hair, glinting as it caught the last bits of light. Titus was tossing something and catching it. 

Up.

Down. 

Up.

Down. 

The ring shone gold on his finger as he raised it for you to see. Your blood ran cold. The gun was up and dropped back down a moment later as the ring sailed through the air towards you. Your hand wrapped around the ring before you could stop it. 

It was a heavyweight in your hand as you looked down at it. Your eyes seared into him, “Why?”

Titus smirked, slow and satisfied. Then he pushed off the tree, bent down, and hefted one of the dead men over his shoulder with ease. He turned to you once more, gave you a mock salute, and moved in the opposite direction as you took off running, fear tearing through you like a living thing.

Your thoughts were tangled violently together. What was that? Why help you? Did he kill those people that easily?

Your boot slammed into something solid on the ground, and you stumbled to your knees, hard. A hiss of pain burst from your lips as you found your footing.

“What the fuck–”

Someone was lying next to you. Face down. Your eyes adjusted to the encroaching darkness, and the first thing you noticed was a phoenix tattoo visible on his neck. Your breath came fast and short. The scarred contestant stared lifelessly into the dirt, shotgun missing, one arm bent awkwardly beneath him. His skin already carried that awful grey pallor death settled into it quickly. 

A trembling finger poked him. Cold radiated off of him.

He’d been dead for a while. 

As if he hadn’t been speaking to you an hour ago. 

This man was already dead. How? 

Who–

You wanted to vomit. The image of the two bodies from earlier flashed in your mind. 

Titus.

Desperately, you got to your feet and ran into the darkness. Titus had killed three contestants in the space of an hour. But he’d given you the ring. Given. You. The Ring. 

No one stood a chance. 

Sob tore from your throat. You had to keep going. Who knew where he was now?

---------------------

The screaming was cut off by a gunshot. You didn’t want to think about the others in the game. You hadn’t seen another contestant since seeing the scarred man in the dirt. But you knew they were all dying somewhere in these woods. 

You put it out of your mind and kept moving. 

The frantic panic from earlier had diluted into a sharp survival instinct. You checked the chamber in your handgun behind the cover of a massive redwood, counting bullets with trembling fingers. There weren’t many left. 

Guilt twisted in your stomach, but you buried it deep, where you could deal with it later. 

The sun had set, and the moon was high. A full moon. Typical. Ritualistic. But at least it wasn’t pitch black. The forest was painted in dull colors. The towering trees stretched endlessly upward, their canopies blotting out huge sections of the sky. You’d started understanding why people got lost in forests like this. Everything repeated. Tree after tree after tree until you couldn’t tell the difference between where you came from and where you were going. 

Dark satin caught your eye.

A ribbon. 

The young tree was standing in a small clearing ahead. The difference between its towering brethren was stark. You crossed the clearing cautiously this time, gun raised first before your eyes scanned the surrounding woods. Nothing moved. No bodies. No sound beyond the wind. 

A small metal chest sat half-hidden among the roots and fallen leaves at the base of the tree. You fell to your knees, tearing it open and pulling out the old silver pendant. The stone in its center was red as blood. Expensive, like everything these entitled bastards owned. 

"You beat me here. Pet." His voice made adrenaline and survival instincts flood your veins. You couldn’t tell where it had come from, but it was close. He was calm, as always. 

You whipped around, gun raised wildly towards the trees. You moved in a slow circle, trying to find his position. But there was nothing. Your pulse thundered in your ears, muffling his words. 

“What?” 

"I saw you kill that contestant earlier," he repeated, amused. You looked down, remorseful. He continued, "I knew you weren't as soft as they all hoped. I was going to rip his throat out, but then you emptied a whole magazine into his chest." 

You stayed silent, fingers tightened around the gun. 

Titus’s voice drifted lazily through the woods. "Did it feel good? Watching him bleed out?" 

“He attacked me. I had to defend myself.” You bit out, raising your gun again. 

A low chuckle echoed somewhere nearby. "None of them realize what they've done by bringing you here. Bringing you to me. All that fire. That pretty face. The things I could do with you." 

You're so focused and distracted by his words that you don't hear the approaching footsteps. The pendant hung forgotten in your hand now. Goosebumps rose on your skin as if you could feel him circling you like a panther and its prey. You turned sharply. 

“All of them were so pathetic. But you, you were hungry.” The way Titus let the words roll off his tongue felt obscene. “Admit it, pet. That first kill, it’s sweet poison.”

Your stomach twisted violently. The worst part was that some ugly piece of you remembered it. How the recoil kicked back into your hands. The way the man had dropped into the dirt, choking on his own blood. The relief that burned through your heart.

A twig snapped behind you, too close. You spun around just as a gunshot exploded through the clearing. You froze and waited for the pain. But it never came. Another shot rang out, and something heavy fell to the ground behind you. You turned slowly, afraid of what you would find. 

One of the wealthy hunters sprawled across the forest floor only a few feet away, blood spreading rapidly across his chest. His expensive camouflage jacket darkened almost black around the wound. His rifle lay a few inches from his fingers. 

A crunch of leaves. You turned and faced Titus as he stepped into the clearing. 

The clearing seemed to compress around him. His gun was holstered at his hip. The tilt of his head seemed ironic as he looked over at the corpse. 

Then another figure burst through the treeline behind him. 

“Titus!” the older hunter snarled. It was the same man from earlier. The one who had laughed about you being the only woman, while licking his lips. A crossbow shook in his hands. “She killed Christian!”

Titus’s turning was lazy as he rounded his focus to his compatriot. “What a shame.” 

Then he shot the man between the eyes, his hand moving so fast you didn’t even see him pull his gun. It was all so fast. Speaking one moment and dead the next. Another body. Titus holstered his gun again. His expression of amusement and boredom didn’t change. It hadn’t changed since he came into the clearing. 

Not when the hunter appeared. 

Not when the second one had yelled his name and commanded retribution. 

Not even when he killed them. 

The horrible realization formed. 

Titus had been protecting you. He could have killed you–should have. Instead, he’d killed two hunters. Men who knew him and called him by name. 

Why? To save you? 

Hope flickered to life somewhere deep inside you. It made you feel sick. 

Without another word, you scrambled to your feet and bolted from the clearing. 

Titus’s laugh followed you through the trees. 

-----------------------

By the time you found another marked tree, another hour had passed. 

You've dodged hunters and contestants. You'd seen more bodies. The darkness was cloying, but the moon was like a beacon lighting your way. It would have been beautiful if it weren’t for the circumstances. Your legs ached from running. Sweat made your clothes cling to your skin, and the cold air chilled your bones. Filth painted your skin; an unknown mixture of blood and dirt.

You were so tired. 

A ribbon. 

You spotted this one hanging from the hollow of a massive tree split open by age and lightning. Something caught the moonlight inside the dark opening. 

Relief could have made you laugh if you weren’t so exhausted. You shoved your arm into the hollow and wrapped your fingers around the cool metal. You couldn’t even relish in the cold reality of another relic as a heavy hand gripped your shoulder. A scream tore from your throat as your body slammed violently against the tree trunk. 

"Oh, you're good, aren't you?" He invaded your space, grinning down at you like you’d told him something funny.

 "Let me go!" You struggled, but he was so much bigger than you.

"You know I will.”

The certainty, the confirmation of your suspicions, took your breath away.

“But this time. I want something first," his voice was thick with want. The kiss stunned you. The fervor, the passion, the minty taste of him when you almost expected him to taste like blood. A strong hand slid into your hair, fingers gripping tightly as he deepened the kiss.

You hadn't been kissed in so long. Your desperation translated into a hungry return. Loneliness cracked open inside you before reason could stop it. Melting against him, as your body chose for you for a long moment, before panic surged back through your veins. Titus made a low sound against your mouth when you kissed him back.

He nipped at your lips and then yanked your head back to bare your neck to him. 

Fear gripped you again, your body confused and high off adrenaline and the beginning pulses of arousal. Then he bit down hard on your neck. The junction where the curve of your shoulder met your neck felt like a brand had been burned there.

You screamed as his teeth pierced your skin. A scream that is cut off by his hand around your throat, fingers digging into the new wound. Titus pulled back just enough for you to see your blood coating his mouth. His bloody smile was grotesque as he reached between your bodies and took the bracelet from you, expertly clasping it to one of your wrists.

"Please–Titus," you choked out. 

He let you breathe.

The metallic click of the bracelet makes panic flare violently inside you. You clawed at it and him immediately. Large hands wrapped around yours and pinned them to the tree; his nose nuzzled your cheek in feigned affection. The false tenderness hit you in your deepest wounds. 

His large hand cupped the back of your head as his other smeared your blood across your face, over your lips, and across your jaw. He stole another kiss, making sure his tongue dragged some of your blood into your mouth. The noise that escaped you was small, needy, and humiliating. 

Then he released you, laughing as you bolted out of his arms. 

You feel something worse than violation. You've been marked. Bound by him with this bracelet that you can't seem to force off. Branches tore at your clothes as you fled blindly through the woods, one hand clamped hard over your bleeding neck while the bracelet knocked cold and heavy against your wrist. 

You hear two more shots fired behind you and know that Titus has added more bodies to his kill count. You stumbled harder through the darkness as silence fell around you. Your lips still burned from his kisses. Your neck throbbed violently. 

The horrible truth settled in fully as a sob tore through your throat.

Titius wasn’t hunting you.

Your eyes tracked the unfamiliar face the moment you walked into the Pitt. The man walking up to the patient with Shen was a new face. Dark hair. Tall. Sharp jawline. Cheekbones that could cut glass. Even as you made your way over to the nurses’ station, you could see his dark eyelashes beneath his protective glasses. You can’t help but observe him as he moves smoothly, calling out orders in a deep but warm voice. He exuded confidence and competence. It reminded you a little of how Jack held himself. 

You turn to the nurses and are unsurprised to see them gossiping and watching the newcomer. “New attending?”

Dana nods, “Fresh meat.”

Whitaker appeared at your side. “Doctor Eli Morales. He started yesterday.” 

“Former army medic, single, never married, and a dog person,” Princess rattled off like she was reading off a checklist. 

“Why do you—ya know what, I know better than to ask,” you laughed to yourself. 

Santos came up to your other side and raised her brow. “Don’t tell me that Dr. McSteamy over there has caught your eye, too? Don’t let Abbot see. You should just look longingly into my eyes instead.” 

You shoved Trinity, laughing brightly at her playful flirting. 

“Wait, she hasn’t noticed yet,” Whitaker said. 

“Noticed what?” Javadi joined them. 

“The badge reel.” Whitaker grinned. 

“Oh, yeah. You like Pokémon, right? It looks like Dr. Morales is also a fan. Maybe you could trade cards or whatever it is you nerds do.” She teased you. 

You squinted your eyes when Morales turned, and you spotted his badge reel immediately. It was a freaking Fidough. A Fidough. The cute bread dog. Not even Pikachu.

“You can see her inner nerd clawing to the surface,” Santos whispered to Javadi. 

“He’s also got a Pokémon card in his phone case,” Whitaker added. “You’ll never guess which one.”

So far, Whitaker had been the only one to admit to a similar interest in the pocket monster hobby. A hobby you never really mentioned around Jack, except for when he shook his head at your binders when he was helping you move in. 

“He’s a hot nerd,” Princess announced dreamily. 

“Who’s a hot nerd?” Jack said, appearing before them. “Hey, Chip. You’re in early today. Have you eaten?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back. 

Jack eyed you for a moment. “Come to the break room, I packed some of that apple granola shit you mentioned. You can’t go running around in an ambo on an empty stomach.”

His hand settled automatically against your lower back as he steered you toward the break room. Everyone ‌at the nurses’ station exchanged looks. 

“Who’s that?” Dr. Morales’s breathy voice asked as he approached the station. Everyone could see how his eyes tracked your form and how his lip twitched at the corner.

--------------------

In the break room, Jack pulled a portable parfait cup from his pack in the fridge and handed it to you. 

“Jack, what about you?” You pouted. 

“I have another one, and I bought more of that trail mix from Trader Joe’s. I’ll be fine.” Jack assured you, patting your head affectionately. 

“Doctor Abbot, I was hoping for a consult on the patient in trauma one.” 

Doctor Morales appeared at the break room door, hair perfectly coiffed. His smile was perfectly white and dazzling. There was grey hair at his temples, but otherwise it was thick and dark.  

“Sorry to interrupt. I’m Eli Morales. I’ll be one of the new attending physicians here in the ED.” 

His dark brown eyes, framed by dark lashes, were annoyingly captivating. You took his hand for a firm shake. You introduced yourself. “But don’t call me Chip.”

“Sure, but why not?”

“Only he gets to call me that,” you pointed at Jack, but laughed softly as you continued, “Santos will do it no matter what I say, though.”

“Chip?” He asked. 

“Nickname. You want to tell me about the case?” Jack interrupted, stepping slightly between the two of you. 

“Oh yes! Here I took some photos of the lesion.” Morales lifted his phone. 

“No fucking way!” You gasped. 

“Chip, what the hell?” Jack startled. 

“Is that?” You pointed to the back of his phone, where a Pokémon card sat in the sturdy plastic.

He laughed, full-bodied and delighted. “You know cards? Yeah, it’s exactly what you think it is.”

“And you just walk around with it on your phone?” You took the phone when he handed it to you. “I can’t believe I’m seeing one in person.

“Oh, this is a Pokémon thing,” Jack chuckled. He looked over your shoulder and took in the card. It looked like two bird things doing the heart shape that swans make when they mate. It was cute. 

“Jacky, this is like a holy grail card. I’ve wanted one forever.” You exclaimed. 

“It’s a piece of cardboard.”

“It’s art!”

“It’s just two birds.”

“They are dragon types.”

“My mistake, two cardboard dragons.”

“Worth more than the teak chairs you bought me.”

“What–”

There was a knock at the door. You all turned to see Princess standing in the doorway. “Your partner is looking for you. Dispatch is calling for an ambo nearby, and you’re the closest.” 

“Shit! Okay,” you handed Morales back his phone. “Thank you so much for letting me see it, Doctor.”

“Call me Eli,” he said warmly.

“Eli,” you smiled at him. 

“You should head out, Chip,” Jack grumbled. 

Immediately, you turn and hug him, “Thanks for the food. I owe you one.” 

He pressed a kiss to your hair and then pushed you toward the door. “Go on. Be safe.” 

“Sure thing, old man!” You winked, waved goodbye, and then were on your way. 

“Come on then, Morales. Tell me about that trauma,” he commanded. 

Morales nodded, “She seems nice.”

Jack didn’t reply as he headed out of the break room toward Trauma One, cracking his neck as he walked. 

“Hustle up, Morales.”

The younger attending fell into step beside him.

Jack glanced at the ambulance bay doors as he headed in the opposite direction.

-----------------

“I swear to you, I don’t think she’s noticed,” Santos whispered heatedly to Javadi. 

“Willing to bet on it, Trini?” Mohan challenged as she walked by. 

Santos watched from across the ED as Robby walked up to you and Jack, taking the older man’s attention. Almost as if he was called, Morales appeared at your side, smiling charmingly and standing very close. You took an unconscious step back to lean against Jack’s back. Morales took a step closer. 

“I’ll take that bet,” Trini called out to Mohan’s retreating figure.

—----

You were showing Eli pictures on your phone as you chatted about some ‘new release’ happening soon. Jack was far enough away to look like he was doing some charting, but still close enough that he could hear what was said. 

“I have a friend who gets me ETBs at MSRP. Otherwise, I buy singles.” You said. Jack’s typing faltered when he realized he didn’t really understand that sentence. But it seemed like Eli did. 

“I try to get to a card show once a quarter. Get it out of my system by buying packs to open later, and singles for sets I have planned. I haven’t been to one here yet.” Eli ran a hand through his stupidly perfect and shiny hair. 

There is one at the end of May at the convention center. It’s a big one, so if you want to spend a ton there, it's the place to do it. Have any holy grails you’re looking for?” 

On and on you went. You were supposed to be here having lunch with him. Instead, Jack was trying to finish up some charts while Eli kept you company. He tried to ignore the ease with which you and the new attending conversed. The man was friendly. Just yesterday, he and Jack had been talking about tennis during a slow night. He’d had fun. It wasn’t hard to like the guy. Morales was smart, experienced, and the same kind of unhinged that Jack was. They both knew the same shortcuts because of their army medic backgrounds. He could count on him during a heavy trauma. 

The greatest flaw of Eli Morales was that he took your focus away from Jack. 

“Hey, Jacky, the sandwiches will get cold.” You had appeared at his side, gripping his forearm familiarly. When you had time to stop by for lunch, you’d always bring sandwiches from a specific Italian spot you both loved. Then you’d eat it in his car, stepping away from the ED for a moment of calm while you chatted. “Should I just get them? We can eat them in the break room.”

“Sorry, Chip. I’m almost done.” Jack said. 

“It’s ok. I’ll grab them from my car. Just meet us in the break room.”

“Us?” 

“Yeah, Eli and I were talking about that con I told you about. I’ll have your sandwich ready. Don’t you dare skip your meal.” 

Jack’s jaw clenched as he watched you disappear down the hall with Morales. Although silent, his reaction had not gone unnoticed. When he finally left the station to go to the break room, money was exchanging hands in the nurses’ station. 

—-----

Jack could see the sweat dripping down the side of your face as the gurney was rolled into the ED. You were performing CPR on the young woman, and had been for the 20 minutes it had taken you to reach the hospital. 

“Hey, you can switch. We got this,” Morales was already directing the bed to Trauma 2. “Sweetheart, you can come down.” 

Jack buried the green flare in his chest and moved between you and Morales. His hand slid up your back until he squeezed your shoulder. “Chip, kid. You’re past the point of tired. Morales will take over.”

“I fucked up, Jack.” You choked out. “I didn’t see the bracelet. It had fallen off.”

“I know, chipmunk. But you gotta let us take over.” Jack’s voice was calm and low. He circled your waist with his arms. “Lean on me. We’re gonna pull away on three, then Morales will take over. Can you do that?”

You hadn’t stopped compressions. Tears were rolling down your face. Jack wasn’t even sure you could see what you’re doing. He held you close, letting your back press against his chest. In your ear, he spoke, “Chip, baby girl, you have to get out of the way if you want us to fix this.”

You sobbed harder, then finally nodded your head. Your voice was thick and rough, “O-on three.”

“One. Two. Three!” Jack pulled you completely off the bed, holding you up against him as your legs gave out. Morales was working on the patient the moment he had an opening. Jack held you tight and pulled you out of the trauma bay.

After they stabilized the patient, Morales asked Lena where you were. “Don’t worry, Doctor, she’s in excellent hands. Jack took the rest of the night off and is taking her home.” 

The handsome doctor nodded, still looking worried, but continued to the next patient. 

—------

“Heard the dynamic duo put on a bit of a show last night,” Robby said when he approached the nurses’ station in the morning. 

Dana took off her glasses and nodded. “The patient had an allergy to painkillers that they gave her on the way to the hospital. Her allergy bracelet had fallen on the ambulance floor. By the time they figured it out, she was in cardiac arrest. Chips Ahoy was on top of her, doing compressions for nearly 30 minutes. Jack had to pull her off. Like, literally wrap his arms around her and convince her to count down so they could continue once they got her out of the way.”

Robby whistled. “How’s the patient?” 

“Stable and upstairs in a room.”

“And they are?” He glanced around.

“Jack took her home and took the rest of the shift off.” Lena chimed in. 

“I’m guessing Morales took over as shift lead?” 

“Yep,” Santos said. She rolled over to them from behind a computer. “I got called in early. Poor guy. He’s trying so hard.” 

“He’s doing great as a new attending,” Robby said, confused. 

“No, she means he’s trying so hard to get close to our favorite EMT. Then this happens. Jack swoops in like Superman and takes her home.” McKay said. She had also come in early. 

“You think Morales likes her?” Robby ran a hand through his hair. 

“I insinuated once, and she laughed it off as if I were the crazy one. To be fair, I’ve heard her say she looks like a potato, so we can’t really trust her judgment on her date-ability.” Santos sighed. “She’s one of those who will never believe it.”

“Who won’t believe what?” Eli asked tiredly.

“Nothing.”

“No one.” 

He looked at the group and just shook his head. “Keep your secrets then.”  

Dana watched him walk away, “Does he not realize that she doesn’t know?”

Robby rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

--------------------

“Wanna grab coffee with me after shift? You and Shen have been hyping up that new place so much that it made me curious. I also gotta give you back those fishing poles I borrowed.” Morales said as they both grabbed their things from their lockers. 

“Sure, man. Catch anything on your trip?” Jack chatted with him as they walked side by side toward the parking lot. 

“Nothing too big. Enough for a few fancy dinners. Those poles came in clutch. Thanks for lending ‘em. I wouldn’t have booked the trip if I’d known mine were damaged in the move.” 

It was an easily flowing conversation between two coworkers. Post shift jokes. Random questions. A little bit of complaining about patients.  

Then it shifted. 

“Jack, can I ask you something?” Morales seemed contemplative. He didn’t look him in the eye and fiddled with a napkin. 

Jack knew already. How could he not?

“Is she seeing anybody?” 

Jack paused. Furrowed his brow. 

“You know, the Pitt’s favorite EMT. Is she single?”

“No.”

Morales blinked. “No, she’s not single?”

Jack’s jaw tightened. “No, she isn’t seeing anyone. And yes, she’s single.”

“Good.” Morales breathed out. Then a bright smile swept across his stupid, perfect teeth. 

-------------------------

The first post-shift coffee turned into a weekly thing. Jack didn’t know why he let it happen. Despite his growing unease over Morales’ interest in you, he was exactly the type of guy that Jack got along with. 

They’d lost family during and after their tours in the Middle East. They had both gone to the same medical school; he did it ten years before Morales did. They cheered for the same sports teams and kept up with each other intellectually. 

But they rarely talked about you. Until Morales asked how you’d met. Jack had told him most of the story, wanting to make it known that his connection to you ran deep. 

“You should be proud of her.” Morales took a swig of his beer. “Not a lot of former patients end up doing what she did. She even tracked you down. She wanted to make sure you knew you impacted her life.”  

“Yeah,” Jack said quietly, “she’s pretty amazing,”

“I’ve got a patient who just sent me a graduation announcement. First kid in their family to finish college.” He shrugged and glanced at Jack. “Almost brought tears to my eyes. I don’t have kids, but I imagine it’s got to feel like that.”

Jack choked on the comparison. Is that what they thought? He could understand being seen as your mentor. 

But a father figure? 

Was he really that old? 

Morales was only 10 years younger than him. Which still made him older than you. 

Jack felt sick as Morales talked more about the kids he had helped and how they showed their appreciation. 

You weren’t a kid anymore. He kept reminding himself, even as the doubt trickled in. 

-------------------------

It was a late night in the ED. Slow as a snail, and Jack had been staring hard at the screen in front of him, unblinking, for nearly an hour. 

Santos, having finally caught up with her charting, went up to him. 

“What’s eating at you, boss? Missing our Chips Ahoy while she’s on day shift rotation?” She tried to coax him out of his funk. 

Jack sighed. “Be honest with me for a second.”

“So honest they could make me a saint. What’s eating at you?”

“Do you think I give off ‘father figure’ energy?” 

Santos blinked. “Uh. No, not really. I mean, you have the stern voice down, but that’s from being in the army. You do too much cool shit, like SWAT and risky procedures, while arguing with Doctor Walsh. It’s more like ‘cool uncle’ energy.”

“Still old though?”

“Age is relative. What are you too old for?”

“Nothing.” 

“Exactly. But ya know the pharmacists have a nickname for you.”

“Do I want to know–”

“Doctor Daddy.”

“Shut up, Santos.”

“So maybe ‘Daddy figure’ vibes.”

“I’m going to go drown myself in the break room sink.” 

-------------------

You were hanging out at the ED on your day off. As crazy as that sounds. But you and Jack had been on alternating shifts for a few weeks and hadn’t been able to hang out as much as you would have liked. 

Handover for the night shift had started when Eli pulled you aside. You were waiting for Jack, who was talking to a few residents while pointing at the board. 

“I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime, if that’s something you’d be into?” You could tell he was a little nervous. But he was genuine. Annoyingly handsome in his street clothes. 

You still looked past him to Jack, who was obviously looking around the ED for you. Your eyes locked. Jack seemed to take in the scene; the proximity between the two of you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now. Took a bit of time to build up the courage.” Eli diverted your attention. He looked like a puppy waiting for a command. Your eyes glanced towards the nurses’ station. Jack was gone, but everyone was pretending not to be watching. 

If you said ‘no,’ then you’d humiliate him. He’d been so nice since he’d started there. He was objectively handsome. And he’d asked you out when Jack never had. You replied, “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.” 

—------

You sat together on your couch, like you always do on movie nights. You’re both off for the next few days, so you really wanted to milk this time with your favorite person. But the earlier exchange had turned the familiar setting into a minefield. 

“Jack, what do you think about Eli?” You asked finally. You both knew you weren’t paying attention to the movie. 

Next to you, Jack stiffened. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees. “He’s a good guy.”

You looked at him expectantly. “Go on. You two have been friendly. Give me the truth.”

Jack sighed, “He’s funny. Smart enough to keep up with you. You guys have that Pokémon thing as a mutual interest. So far, everyone likes him, including our patients.”

“He wants to take me out to dinner in a few days,” you explained. 

“I gathered,” Jack said, leaning into the sofa with his arm along the back of it, tilting himself to face you. “He’s annoyingly perfect. I’d say he’s a catch, and he’s been into you for a while now.” 

 “Oh. I hadn’t really thought of him like that,” you admitted. 

“You should give him a chance. He’d be lucky to have you. I also think you’d have fun making all the nurses in the hospital jealous,” he tried to lighten the mood, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you felt your heart clench at his encouragement. “Princess might shun me.”

The sound of the TV filled the space between them. 

“Hey, Chip?” Jack broke the silence. 

“Yeah, Jacky?” You turned to him, big eyes looking up at him in the dim light. 

“Ya know that shelf of binders. The ones you keep your cards in?” He said, gesturing at one bookcase he had assembled for you. The top shelf was filled with colorful zip binders of various sizes. 

“You mean the ones you teased me about because they were ‘neurotically’ organized?” You frowned, but the lilt in your voice told him you weren’t mad. 

“I stand by that observation,” he ruffled your hair affectionately. The tension broke. Jack stood and pulled down a dark green binder. “Why does this have my name on it?”

“Wait, no! Give me that!” You jumped up and tried to snatch the binder away from him as he unzipped it. 

“It has my name on it!” Jack dodged you and vaulted over the sofa. You both dissolved into manic giggles as you chased him around until finally he collapsed back onto the couch. “I surrender! Jesus, Chip. Is there contraband in here?”

You took the binder and flopped onto the couch next to him, tucked against his side. The awkwardness of earlier had vanished. “If I show you, you can’t make fun of me.”

His arm came around you as he rubbed your shoulder. “I promise to be respectful.”

The boyish smile he gave you made your heart flutter. You averted your eyes and opened the binder. Jack pulled the binder into his lap as he took it all in. He’d seen the cards in some of your other binders, and they were all cute and thematic. One was filled with cute cat-like monsters. Another was filled with various rodents. But this one was filled with fierce dragon-like Pokémon. Some looked like they were made of rocks, while others breathed flames. Jack flipped through the binder, pointing out some of the ones that caught his eye. 

“I know you aren’t really into it. But I’m a firm believer that you just haven’t found the kinds you like. So I put this together. I know it’s childish,” you explained. 

“You picked all of these for me?” 

“I looked for ones you might like. Like these,” you flipped to a page and pointed at the top row. “Geodude and all the evolutions kind of remind me of when you’re in your SWAT uniform. There’s a spread for the legendaries because, well, you’re just that cool.”

Jack flipped through the pages and stopped on a spread. “Who’s Brock?”

“Well, he studies to be a Pokémon doctor.” 

Jack smiled. “Alright, what about all these pink ones?” 

“Well, Chansey, Blissey, and Audino are basically nurses,” you replied. 

“So this whole binder is full of cards that remind you of me?” Jack’s heart melted as he leaned into you, hugging you close. 

“Yeah, I actually had to ask Eli for some more stereotypically ‘masculine’ cards because I only keep the cute ones.” Your mention of the other doctor was nonchalant, but you felt Jack stiffen. He pulled away, cleared his throat, and then closed the binder. 

“I’m sorry I made jokes about your hobby before. I was being a dick.” 

“Yeah, you were. But we can like different things. I wasn’t going to drag you to a card show or anything.” You took the binder and walked it over to a shelf. 

“You could.”

“Or if things go well with Eli, we can go together,” you said, not turning back to look at Jack. You didn’t see the pained look on his face. He couldn’t see the wistful look in your eyes. 

—-----------

It was so easy to talk to Eli Morales that you sometimes wondered if you shared a brain. You shared opinions on issues. You had the same sense of humor. He was gorgeous in fitted black pants and a dark purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up. 

He’d picked you up from your apartment and had the date completely planned. Dinner at a nice restaurant, but not too nice. Eli asked all kinds of questions about you. It was easy for you to do the same with him. He’d reached over and taken your hands a few times, and you’d let him.   

The dinner was drawing to a close as you both sipped wine and nibbled on a shared dessert. Hours had passed, and the restaurant was dying down. You laughed as he finished up a story about a dog running loose through your last hospital. 

“Oh my god! I have to tell Jack about this,” you breathed out between giggles. You froze, realizing what you said. 

That thought wasn’t supposed to come out of your mouth. It was supposed to stay buried in your psyche like all the other little thoughts you’d had tonight.

Jack would love this place. 

He wore purple. How did Jack guess?

I should take Jack here one of these days.

You were on a date with a good man. A really good date. But he wasn’t Jack. 

Eli blinked slowly and looked away. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring someone else up,” you tried to explain. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I get it,” Eli smiled sadly. “He’s important to you.”

“We were having such a nice time.” You dropped your head, annoyed at yourself. 

Eli observed you for a moment, shaking his head. “And we still are. I knew when I asked you out. I figured since he said you were single that he wasn’t planning on making a move. I took my shot.”

“What are you saying?” 

“You talk about him like he hung the moon and stars for you.”

“Then why ask me out?”

“I didn’t want to have any regrets.” Eli stood, “I’ll go pay off the tab. I’d like to stay friends. Who else am I supposed to be nerdy with?”

You took his hand. “I’m sorry, Eli.”

He leaned down and kissed your knuckles. “Don’t be. Just tell him the truth.”

You watched him walk away. 

—----------------------

The light in your living room was on, but Jack was sprawled across your sofa, fast asleep. He’d waited for you like he did when he knew you were pulling a double. You kicked off your heels quietly and walked around to the front. There was a book lying open on his chest. His glasses had slid to the tip of his nose. 

Carefully, you perched on the edge of the cushion and looked down at him. In sleep, his laugh lines flattened, the furrow in his brow was less prominent, and his jaw was loose, making his teeth just barely visible. He was softness personified. You wanted to crawl into his chest and never leave.  

A greying curl was falling forward on his forehead. He felt the featherlight touch of you brushing it back. Blinking awake, Jack stretched and closed the book on his chest. 

“Hey, chipmunk,” he said, “how was your date?”

You bit your lip and sighed, “...good.”

Jack nodded, “Okay. Anything else?”

Your eyes roamed over his face. The eyes that had been a vision of comfort for so long were now looking at you with worry.

“Chip?”

You traced a finger up his forearm, averting your eyes from his intense gaze. 

“What happened? Did he do something?” He was already on alert. Your hand on his forearm tightened. 

You swallow thickly. “He told me I should be honest.”

Jack raised a brow and settled back. “Well, that seems like sound advice.”

“Yeah.”

“If you like him, tell him.” Jack’s voice was low. He was looking down at your hand on his arm. You could practically see him shuttering his feelings. You flipped your hand and entwined it with his. 

“Jack, look at me,” you commanded quietly.

 He didn’t move. 

“Please look at me. Let me be honest with you.” 

That caught his attention. Your eyes met. Your voice cracked. “Jack Abbot, it's always been you.”

“What?” Jack stared at you like you’d spoken a different language. But disbelief made way for understanding.

He whispered your name. Your real name, and for once, it felt like a blessing and not a curse.

For the first time, you saw desperation in his eyes. Desperation to understand. To know that your words were real. His eyes dilated and flicked to your lips. You surged forward, holding his face between your hands, and your lips met his in a firm kiss. 

Jack didn’t respond. Your stomach dropped, and the icy, cold hand of rejection wrapped around your throat. You tried to pull away. Jack muffled a groan of protest by deepening the kiss. The slide of his lips and tongue made your knees weak. His hands found your waist, pulling you in close. You reached for him in return. Your nails dragged up the nape of his neck and into his cropped curls. 

Jack’s strong arms pulled you onto his lap. The feel of his capable hands moving restlessly across your thighs, hips, and waist pulled a moan from your throat. You both came up for air, foreheads pressed tightly together. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathing. In the dark of the living room, everything felt a little surreal. 

You smiled when you felt his nose brush against yours. 

He pulled back just far enough that he could look you in the eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

Your heart filled to bursting at the apprehension in his eyes. “Oh, Jack. I don’t think I’ve ever been more honest than I am now.”

A breathless whimper fell from his lips. His arms tightened around you while his kiss-bitten lips found yours again. Jack moved your arms to loop around his shoulders as he buried his face against your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin. His fingers found the hem of your dress and pushed it up to your waist.

“So soft, sweetheart,” he groaned. 

You rocked against him, feeling his hardness through the grey sweats he wore. “I love your hands on me. I love it when you touch me.”

“Yeah?” Jack’s voice broke as you cupped his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, so filthy it left you both grinding against each other. 

The heat was building. The desire overflowed. The hem of his t-shirt was found, and it soon fell to the floor. 

“Jack,” you moaned, dragging your blunt nails down his chest and to his abs. Meanwhile, he’d pulled the zipper of your dress down your back. Your lips met again as you worked together to push the dress off your arms and let it pool at your waist. Your chest was bare only for a moment before Jack’s hands were on you, followed by the wet heat of his mouth and tongue.

He pressed his face against the swell of your breast, flicking his tongue across the stiff nub as he inhaled against your skin. “You taste so good. Smell so good. Feel so good.” 

You rocked against him. “I need you, Jack.” 

“Patience, baby.” The words were muffled against your skin. He palmed your ass, slipping his hands under your panties and squeezing your supple cheeks. Jack’s movements guided your rocking against the tent on his lap. You soaked through your panties and left a dark, wet spot on him.   

You held his face to your chest, gasping when he brought one hand forward and cupped your wet pussy. Jack cursed, eagerly pushing your panties aside and gliding his fingers through your slick folds. “So wet.”

That strangled admittance had a dizzying effect on both of you. Your hands raked down his chest, fumbled with the tie on his pants, and then delved straight into his underwear. Jack kissed you in the same moment that he thrust two fingers into your welcoming heat, and you wrapped your hands around his cock, thumb grazing his tip.

“Fuck, Chip. Fuck. I haven’t done this in so long. I don’t know if I’m going to last if you touch me like that.” His head was thrown back against the sofa as he let you touch him. You were grinding down on his still fingers as you pulled his cock free from his pants. 

“You won’t have to last, Jack. This is only the first night. We’ve got all the time in the world.” The whispered reassurances banished any insecurities that had cropped up. “Lie back and let me do this.”

Jack’s eyes were lazy with lust as they tracked your movements. You stood and stripped your dress and panties off. Then you helped him with his sweats while pressing teasing kisses to his exposed skin. When you came to the end of his leg, you remembered his prosthetic. “Oh, good. It’s already off, so you’ll be comfortable.”

The easy way you’d brushed off the glaring disability in favor of running your tongue up the length of his hard cock would have made him fall in love if he wasn’t already. 

“Let me move a bit, then you can come up here, sweetheart,” Jack said. He shifted from leaning against the arm of the sofa to the back, planting his foot on the floor for leverage. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as he took your hand and guided you to straddle him. 

You hovered over his thick shaft, rubbing your wet cunt along the length of it while your hands tugged at his hair and you nipped at his lips. The soft whimpers and groans Jack was letting loose were more than you could bear.

Catching his chin, you looked him in the eye. “Look at me, Jack.” 

His hazel eyes were a storm of desire and affection. The familiar brow furrow appeared when you reached down and lined up his cock to your slick hole. 

“Don’t close your eyes.” The breathy command came out in a deep growl as he suddenly pulled you down and thrust up.

You trembled at the fullness. Neither of you moved. His hands flexed on your hips, holding himself back. 

“Kiss me,” you pleaded. 

His lust softened, pulling you tighter against him as he leaned back into the sofa. Your torso was flush against his as you started to ride him. But Jack was far from passive. His hips rolled in time with yours while his hand buried itself in your hair, maneuvering you for a soul-deep kiss. You held on tight as you moved like it wasn’t your first time coming together like this. The pleasure built in an accelerating crescendo. 

Your hands found purchase on the back of the couch as you rode him in earnest. The slap of damp skin on damp skin was loud in the quiet of your apartment. Jack was thrusting into you from below with quick, pointed strokes. Another flood of wetness wept around his cock as you neared your peak. 

“It’s okay. You can cum, sweetheart. I’m barely holding on,” Jack growled into your ear. “Cum for me.”

You fell off the ledge a moment before he followed. Pleasure so overwhelming that you both kissed and sucked and fucked in a sensual dance, stretching your release until you collapsed against each other. You were both sucking in air like you had run a mile. 

When the sweat had dried on your skin, and you’d been cuddled up for too long, Jack finally coaxed you to get up. “We should clean up and try to get a few hours of sleep in.”

You stretched like a cat against him, stole a kiss, then finally pulled away from him. You pouted a little at the loss of his heat. 

“Fucking hell,” Jack groaned as he propped himself up. His hand was on his lower back. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as he grumbled. 

“You laughing at me, sweetheart?”

“You’re cute, old man.”

“True, but I’d prefer to be called ‘your man’.” 

You shook your head in amusement as you crossed the room, still naked, and grabbed the crutch he kept in your apartment. You lay it within his reach. 

“I’ll go start a bath for us. Take your time.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. Jack watched your swaying hips, reaching out for the crutch without a second thought. 

==============

Your first day back on the job was standard until your first drop-off, when Jack was there to receive your patient now that he was on shift. 

Jack was next to you in the blink of an eye as you followed the usual routine, listing off stats rapid fire as  Santos and Princess came up to assist. 

When you were done reporting, trauma two was in full swing. You moved out of the way. But not before sharing a long look with Jack. Trinity caught that look and gasped. Only to be scolded by Princess to focus on the intubation. 

You stopped by the Pitt at the end of your shift, as usual. But when you walked through the doors, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, even if they pretended not to be watching. You tried not to let it get to you as you found Jack. 

“Is it just me, or is everyone looking at us?” You whispered out of the side of your mouth. 

“Not just you,” he murmured, turning away from his tablet. “Give it a couple of minutes, Santos wants to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“CHIPS AHOY! I cannot believe you chose him over me!” Santos practically slammed into your side, gripping your arm. 

“Trini!” you gasped, surprised.

“And not only that, but I owe Whitaker thirty bucks because you two couldn’t hold out for one more week.” Santos pouted. 

Whitaker laughed loud enough to make you turn your head. He was waving around a not inconsiderable wad of cash. “I told you that her going on a date with McSteamy would get his ass in gear.”

“Hey! I’m still your attending Whitaker!” Jack scowled. 

“Aww, what gave it away?” You whined, turning to Jack. 

“You had those ‘fuck me’ eyes earlier. But we confirmed it when Princess caught Jack texting you and calling you ‘baby’,” Santos answered. 

“But the most damning? That was when Samira walked in on Jack changing his shirt and saw the scratches and hickies.” Javadi looked embarrassed as she said it. 

Your hands covered your face in mortification. Jack looked unbelievably smug. “Yeah, but that could have been from anyone.”

“Nope! Nope! LALALALA. I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOU IN BED, ABBOT. I’VE ALREADY PLAGUED MYSELF WITH THE COLLAR!” Santos screeched as she plugged her ears. 

Jack looked mortified. 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Whitaker sighed. He stepped away, but pivoted back to the two of you. Handing you each a couple of twenty-dollar bills, he smiled. “Thank you, and I’m happy you two figured it out.”

Jack looked at the money, shrugged, then pocketed it. 

“On that note, I should head out. I just wanted to check in.” You smiled at Jack, but before you could move, he ‌leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. 

Jack rolled into a seated position. He didn’t need to look down to pull his prosthetic back on. When he finally stood–stretching like a cat and blinking awake–he remembered where he was. He scanned the sparse room and smiled at the scattered book. They were in piles on the ground and in the bookshelves he had put together the night before. 

After putting you to bed last night, he’d gone around and pulled all the curtains and blinds, doublechecked the doors, and had set your coffee maker to turn on automatically. He could already smell the new brew from his place in the living room. He did his best to stay quiet during his morning ablutions in the hallway bathroom. You’d made sure he had a set of anything and everything he could need before you’d even had dinner the night before. 

By the time you walk into the kitchen, blurry-eyed and yawning, he’s got eggs and bacon cooking on a hot skillet. You paused in the threshold between the hallway and kitchen, watching him with wide eyes for a long moment. When you sniffled, Jack’s head shot up in concern. He was then witness to an impressive seven sneezes in a row. 

“Uh, you alright, Chip?” He asked, a brow raised, his voice tinged with concern. 

“Yeah,” you huffed, “My allergies always act up when I move to a new location. You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

Jack shooed you away when you tried to take the spatula from him. “Ah ah ah. I got this. Sit, eat. Then we can strategize for the rest of the day.”

“Rest of the day? You’re staying?” There was a hopeful tinge to your voice. 

“No place else I’d rather be,” Jack said. He pushed a plate with eggs, bacon, and toast across the island where you’re seated. He joined you soon after with his own plate. 

“You’re the best. Like really. A godsend. Always have been,” you mumbled between bites of crispy bread. 

“I was thinking we could finish up the bookshelves and clear a path for the coffee table. The dressers and side tables won’t come in until next week, so I can come back and help you with them then. That sound good?” 

“Perfect. You’re too good to me.” 

“Nothing’s ever too good for you, Chipmunk.” 

You couldn’t stop the bright smile and bashful feeling that bloomed in your chest. 

------------------------

“Where do you want this?” You heard Jack say behind you. 

You were up on a step stool, organizing a row of hardcover classics in one of the bookcases. Jack was holding a small wooden chest in one hand as he dug through a moving box on the sofa. Seeing him with the chest in his hands made your stomach swoop. 

You stepped down from the step ladder. “Open it.” 

The doctor turned to you with a raised brow, and curiosity immediately formed. You walked up to him as he opened the box, reverently sifting through the papers. 

“Are these,” Jack glanced at you, “my letters?”

It had been a while since you had pulled the sheafs of paper out, but they had been a comfort to you in times of loneliness and pain. The physical proof that someone out in the world cared about you. Every single page of writing seemed to have Jack’s sharp scrawl across it, even sticky notes he had left for her when she was still in the ER. 

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird that I kept them all these years. You were-are-very important to me, Jack. I don’t think I would have made it through what I did without you. I could never get myself to throw them away.” You admitted. 

“No, no, honey. It’s sweet. Come here.” Jack took your wrist and pulled you down to sit with him on the couch. 

“I know you probably didn’t keep mine. I was just a silly teenager with a crush and a lot of unprocessed trauma. I didn’t expect anything-”

“Chip, calm down,” Jack soothed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I would have kept all of your letters, too, if I could have.”

“Oh.” You breathed out.

—------------

Jack felt sick with guilt. He had tried to keep the letters. They had been in a manila folder in his closet for a long time. Unlike you, he hadn’t revisited them. They were keepsakes of a time when he had done well in a life full of mistakes and regret. Between getting married, becoming a widow, and working to stay alive, he’d lost the letters.  

Tentatively, he reached for your chin and made you look at him. Your eyes met his, nervously flicking from his face to behind him, back to his eyes, and away again. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Chip. I’m happy that they meant so much to you,” Jack said, voice low as if he were talking to a skittish animal. 

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out,” you sucked in a deep breath of air. “I don’t want you to think I’m weird or obsessed.” 

“I like weird. I also don’t think an obsessed person would have gone 20 years no contact, as we did,” he reassured you. “I never thought of you as some ‘silly teenager with a crush’. As adorable as you could be sometimes, I knew you needed guidance and support. I was happy to be that person for you. I was happy to see you getting better. You went through an incredibly traumatic situation that could have ruined an adult, while you were still a teenager. You were–are–so strong, Chip.”

You started to calm down. Jack let his hand drop from your chin. 

“I may not have kept the letters, but I never forgot how important it is to connect with my patients. I never forgot that seeing a patient for only the things happening to them was just as bad as giving them the wrong treatment,” he sank back into the couch. “The things you taught me? That’s how I connected with Cara the first time we met. She had come to the Pitt after an accident. Everyone was worried about her since she had pretty impressive wounds. But she kept talking about a puppy. Over and over. Everyone ignored it, but once she was stable, I asked. She’d dodged a puppy in the road and was so worried about it that it was making her sick.”

“What did you do?” You asked, looking over at him. 

“I went to where the accident happened once my shift was over. I found the puppy, and I snuck it into the hospital the next day. “She cried so hard it almost got me in trouble.”

“She sounds sweet.”

“She was.”

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Me too.” He sighed. “I told her about you, once. We’d been together 10 years at that point. She had just started her chemo and wanted me to distract her. I joked about everything. I told her about the craziest cases I could think of. Then she asked me which case had the best ending despite being the worst to think about. I told her about you.”

“Really?”

“Yup. She used to say that cases like that were what gave me a soft side.” Jack closed his eyes at the intense memory. “When she was really sick—when she wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital anymore—she gave me this Amazon package. Said she had one of the nurses order it for her. It was an anniversary gift. It was a chipmunk. This fluffy keychain sort of thing. It was supposed to ‘represent the best parts when the worst parts got too loud’. It was the last gift she gave me. Like she knew I would blame myself.”

“Did you blame yourself?” 

“Of course I did. As stupid as it was to rage against cancer as if being a doctor protects you and the ones you love.”

“The day after I buried her, when I decided I needed to move out of our house, I looked for your letters. I needed palpable proof that I had helped someone. That I wasn’t destined to lose everything important to me. That’s when I realized they were gone. Probably had been for a long time. It felt like I was being kicked while I was already down.”

It was your turn to wrap your arms around Jack and give him some comfort. “Will you tell me more about her sometime?” 

“Yeah, Chip. I will.” 

“Want a distraction now?” 

“God, yes, please. The air is thick with emotions. Any longer and you'll have to take me to the Pitt for asphyxiation.” 

“Help me with the rest of my books. I think you'll get a kick out of the rest of them. They are a wild array of romance novels that you will love to make fun of.” 

“Perfect. I saw one earlier that caught my eye.” He walked across the room, rifled through a box, and pulled out a beat-up paperback. He read the title from across the room. “‘Marrying the Silver Fox’? A bit on the nose, don't you think, Chip?” 

“For the record, that one is tame.” 

Jack flicked through the book and stopped on a page. His eyes widened. “That is an interesting use of mint toothpaste.” 

You tossed a pillow at him. “Shut up!”

The rest of the afternoon was taken up with emptying moving boxes and scathing critiques of your reading preferences. 

“Why are all these men either hockey players, billionaires, or stalkers?” He asked as he finished filling one of the shelves. 

You scoffed from your place on the floor, where you were surrounded by more books. “Women love variety. Who doesn’t want a burly hockey team desperately vying for their attention? And billionaires? Blame the love for that on the economy and the legacy of Pretty Woman.”  

“And the stalkers?” 

“Dark romance has its positives…” You stood up and tried to snatch a particular book out of his hand. 

“Ok, but the colorful tabs are for what exactly?” Jack asked, flipping open the book. 

“Wait, Jack, gimme that!”

“Now I have to read it.” He held you back with a hand on your forehead. He flipped to one of the marked pages. You watched as his eyes scanned the page and his ears started to turn pink. Jack closed the book and rubbed a hand down his face, freeing you long enough to snatch the book from him. “Chip, a knife in a mattress?”

“Yeeaap,” you stretched the word out as you shoved it back onto the shelf. 

“Women are terrifying. You’re terrifying.” Jack shook his head. 

“You like me anyway.”

The response was out before he could think about it. 

“Yeah,” he said smoothly, “I do. Thought I was smarter than that.”

“Rude,” you pouted. But you still felt your cheeks warm as he shot you an affectionate smile. 

Jack cleared his throat and picked up another stack of books. “Haunting Adeline? You read horror?”

“Oh shit!” You lunged for the book. Jack caught you around the waist automatically, dropping the pile as you stumbled together, falling to the floor in a blob of limbs and laughter. 

“My books!” 

---------------------------------

Some people would think your dynamic would change now that everything was out in the open and you’d found the rhythm of your friendship again. But the next time you saw each other at the ED felt normal. Blissfully normal. 

“Chipmunk is looking for you,” Santos called to Jack across the nurses' counter. 

Jack didn’t look up from his chart. “She had a name, Santos.”

“A name you never seem to remember,” Santos shot back. 

Before he could respond, you bumped into his side, lodging yourself comfortably next to him while sticking your tongue out at Santos, “Only Jack gets to call me that, Trini!” 

“Girl, quit making me jealous of a dinosaur,” she shot back, with a grin on her face. 

You shoved a coffee into Jack’s hand. He accepted it automatically. “What is this?”

“We switched when before I dropped you off.” You shrugged.

He looked down and smelled the familiar dark roast wafting through the top. “...How did I not notice?”

“Jack, you drank half of it before you were even out of my car. I only realized when I got to the depot and took a sip of mine that it was the gasoline you call coffee and not my premium matcha.” You pouted. 

Robby passed behind the counter, stopping short enough to stare. “You’re sharing beverages now?”

“Against my will. I knew it tasted like grass,” Jack muttered.

You gasped, “I bring you your morning fuel after you drank mine, but suddenly I’m being slandered, and you’re offending ancient tradition.”

The grin tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth and appeared before he could stop it. Robby’s eyes widened at the easy intimacy. He turned to Dana, who was also watching the pair bicker. 

“You two are more entertaining now than you were when Jack couldn’t figure out where he knew you from,” Dana smirked, taking off her glasses. “I’d have been offended if I were you, missy.”

“I could never be mad at Jack, Dana,” you replied with ease. 

“I think he’d actually be worse to work with if you ever did,” Robby chimed in.

“Hey!” Jack protested.

Santos barked out a laugh, “Yeah, have mercy on us and keep him tame."

---------------------------

Jack’s head snapped up when he heard a commotion at the ambulance bay doors. A few COs led a gurney with an inmate who was thrashing against his restraints. Robby was already rushing over to start treatment when you walked in. Your carefully sleek ponytail was frizzy and askew, and your hands rubbed your neck.  

Jack moved around the nurse’s station, straight to your side. His gait focused, and eyes already assessing, “Chip. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you replied automatically.

“Let me see,” the command was sharp. You hesitated for a moment before lowering your hands and letting him take you by the chin. You already knew the bruises were forming. Jack’s jaw tightened at the angry red skin. 

“Je-sus,” Santos winced. Whitaker had the wherewithal to tug her along to the trauma bay. 

“Come sit her over here, Jack. We don’t have any rooms open right now.” Dana gestured towards an empty chair next to her. 

You could see the worry in his eyes and feel it in the way he was practically wrapped around you as he guided you over to the nurses' station. 

“I’m peachy, Jacky. I told you inmate medical transport was my least favorite assignment.” You shrugged.

“They always want to hit the women,” one of the EMTs muttered darkly as he brought your bag in from transport.

Jack looked like he wanted to hunt the inmate down. Instead, he gently checked your neck, strong fingers firmly pressing into your skin. “Dizziness?”

“No.”

“Headache?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“Jaaack.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, boring into you with his worry and irritation. 

‘It’s not a big deal,” you said more softly. You reached for his arm and squeezed as if to show him you were fine.

“Yes, it is.” Jack nearly growled. He stood with his hands on his hips, clearly agitated. 

“It was handled,” you explained. “One of the straps wasn’t secure, and he got his arms loose for maybe ten seconds.”

“Ten seconds is plenty of time for someone to crush your trachea. I would know!” he snapped. 

“Says the man who runs around with SWAT for fun!” You shot back. The ER had continued its usual frenzy, but you could feel the eyes discreetly watching the heated exchange. 

His shoulders dropped as he sighed heavily. 

“Have you told your superiors this keeps happening?” 

You crossed your arms defensively, warning in your voice. “Jack.”

“I’m serious. This wasn’t the first time.”

“It isn’t unusual. We take precautions.”

“Not enough.” The finality in his voice seemed to ripple through the department. 

You knew he was right. But your pride was just as stubborn as his. “So what exactly do you want me to do?”

“I want you to stop acting like getting assaulted at work is just part of the job.” The worry in his voice broke through his frustration. 

Your expression softened as you stood and stepped closer. 

Before you could say anything, Robby emerged from Trauma 2, pulling off a pair of gloves. 

“He’s stable and sedated,” Robby announced dryly before glancing between the two of you. “Although Abbot here looked about thirty seconds from committing homicide.”

“I still might,” he grumbled. 

You couldn’t stop the snort of amusement. “Hey, doc. Do no harm. Remember?”

Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, as if the whole situation was giving him a headache. Unselfconscious, you stood and reached for his hands, entwining your fingers together. 

His hazel eyes opened a moment later. “Tell your boss. Please.”

You nodded, and immediately his shoulders relaxed. “I’ll talk to them. But I’m not requesting a permanent reassignment unless they think it’s necessary.”

“Chip.”

“Take it or leave it.”

You eyed him, prepared for him to argue. Then he sighed. “Fine.”

“Deal?” You stuck your hand out toward him.

Jack pulled you into a hug rather than shaking your hand. 

Neither of you noticed that most of the ER had watched your interaction and felt like they had witnessed a new side of their attending. 

--------------------------

Little shared moments between the two of you were commonplace. 

The kind that slipped so naturally into your daily lives that neither of you questioned them.

“You left your hoodie at my place again,” you told Jack as you dropped off a folded sweatshirt at the nurses’ station. 

Jack was looking intently at an X-ray and didn’t look up. “That’s because you live in a freezer.”

“I run hot.” 

“You should ask your doctor about that.”

“Already did. He said I’m just too hot to handle.” You winked, waving at some of the nurses as you left. 

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” Princess whispered to Dana. 

Dana shot a look at Robby, who snorted into his drink.

“It’s like watching your crush fall in love with your dad,” Santos sighed, as she continued her charting. 

The amount of time you spent at the ED during your own ambulance rounds was astonishing at times. You’d drop off coffee on hard days as if you could feel Jack spiralling. Sometimes you’d have bags of food for the whole shift. Amongst which there was always a single bag that you and Jack shared.

Any time you came in with a trauma, both of you would immediately look for the other. 

“It’s like telekinesis,” Javadi said as she watched for the third time that day as Jack popped his head out of a room the moment you walked through the door. 

“It’s kind of like how a cat’s ears will perk up before their owner is through the door because they memorized how their tires sound on gravel,” Mel added. 

“Or when dogs scent their humans in a crowd of people,” Whitaker chimed in. 

“Nope. Nope. My brain did not just picture Abbot wearing a collar,” Santos rubbed her eyes as she walked away. Her fellow residents and interns cringed at the thought. 

----------------------------

Then there were the moments no one else saw. 

The first time you invited Jack to sleep over after a trying shift. 

Every subsequent time, when he would walk in and find the sofa made up for him, just in case he needed company. 

The weekends when you paid for his labor with home-cooked meals and playful bickering over Ikea furniture. 

Or the time you slipped him a spare key, and he never had to knock at your door again. 

One night, during handover, Robby took a long look at Jack. “You know, I haven’t seen you this relaxed in years.”

Jack looked up from the tablet, “I relax.”

“Now it’s not a lie.”

“Go home, Robinavitch.” 

Robby smirked and then gestured with his chin for Jack to turn around.  Your laugh rang out through the space as you walked through the doors with Santos. Jack’s attention was completely yours in the space of a second. Robby made a whiplike sound and was disappointed that his friend didn’t react. 

“You say something?” Jack asked, finally turning back to him. 

Robby shouldered his bag. “Nothing, man. Have fun assembling whatever furniture she conned you into building tonight.”

Before Jack could respond, you crossed the space and playfully rammed your forehead into his shoulder. “Are you done yet? I’m convinced they sent me the wrong pieces for this sideboard.”

“Yeah?” 

“The instructions have contradictions.”

“Right.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“You eat dinner yet?”

“Protein bar and a banana.”

“That’s horrible.”

“At least it had protein.”

“Flavor?”

“Smores.”

“I’m confiscating those.”

“You’re coming over, right?” 

You were trembling with nervous energy. Jack was coming over after calling you ‘sweetheart’ and sending that emoji. You reminded yourself that he’d called you that before, and the emoji was wildly out of character for him, but it did nothing to steady your hands as you tried to make your place look decent, if a little bare. You’d been in Pittsburgh for over 5 months now, and the only room that was fully moved in and unboxed was the kitchen. Boxes in your room doubled as dressers while you tried to find time to buy actual furniture. 

The living room had a sofa, a mounted TV, and a roll-away table. The perimeter was filled with boxes, bags, and wrapped art pieces. All things you still had to put away. Not to mention the 5 boxes of books you’d also taken with you. God, you really needed to go furniture shopping. Jack wasn’t coming until the afternoon, so you had time. Maybe you could at least order some furniture for future visits. 

You were getting ready to leave when your phone vibrated. 

It only took Jack 20 minutes to arrive at your door. 

“Hey, sorry. I know this is weird and random. But you said I could ask for help whenever-” You started to babble as you let him inside. 

“Chip, don’t worry about it. I’m always happy to help. You didn’t tell me you had a condo. Do you own this outright?” Jack asked as he took in the post-modern architecture. Old enough to be sturdy, new enough not to need too much maintenance. 

“Uh, yeah. I was making good money in California, but I needed to get away from the family. I found this place, and it’s better than anything I could have afforded over there.” You winced when you mentioned finances. Talking about money always made you uncomfortable. 

“You really haven’t moved in,” Jack eyed the boxes around the living room. 

“It’s hard with my hours being way less consistent here than I’m used to. I also couldn’t take much furniture with me. I’m lucky I had my bed delivered the day after I moved in. I figured I’d gradually find pieces to fill the place.” You followed Jack as he walked around your place. Next to the living room was a decent-sized kitchen with a small island. He could see that you had an average-sized backyard. Upstairs, he peered into your bare bedroom and an empty spare room. 

You’d gone quiet under Jack’s perusal of your space. Seeing it through new eyes made it even more apparent that you hadn’t made it a home. 

“Alright, chipmunk. Grab your bag. We’re going shopping.” Jack said. Hearing him say the word ‘chipmunk’ sent you back in time for a moment.

“You like Alvin and the Chipmunks?” The handsome doctor asked you. 

It was the first question anyone had asked you that wasn’t related to what happened to you. You looked up at the doctor, who kept a distance from the bed. You nodded. 

“Ya know, there are girl chipmunks too, right? Or is Alvin your favorite?” He asked gently.

“My brother’s name was Alvin.”

“Oh. Well, now I can’t call you that. But I read the note that you don’t like your name. So what should I call you?” His eyes were kind. Not sad, like everyone else had been.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s start with ‘chipmunk’ for now. I’m Jack Abbot.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to call you Doctor?” 

“My friends call me Jack.” 

“Earth to Chip, I mean it. Grab your bag,” Jack said with an amused smile on his face, interrupting your trip down memory lane. “You can’t live like this, sweetheart. Let’s get you some furniture. I can help you unpack. We were going to hang out today anyway. Might as well make it productive. Plus, I brought my truck. So if you buy anything we can bring back today, we can get it done together.” 

“Jack, you don’t have to.” You tried to protest, but he just raised a brow at you and scoffed. 

“I want to. Now grab your shit and let's go.”

------------------------------

“They are so pretty, but it’s just a bit out of budget when I think about what else I’m probably going to get.” Your fingers skimmed the matching bedside tables. They had a classic look but had built-in charging stations. 

“I got it. Don’t worry about it.” Jack said, unbothered as he played with the tassel of an extravagant lampshade.

Your face blanched. “But, Jacky–”

“Don’t argue with me. I’ll win.” He warned. His warm hand found the back of your neck and pulled you in close so he could murmur in your ear, “I promise. I want to do this. I’ve saved up more money than I know what to do with. That’s what happens when you’re a 50-year-old workaholic with no family.”

“You have to let me buy you something,” You countered. 

The only thing Jack wanted from that shop was a set of ‘whetstones’ that had obviously been gifted to someone who had no idea what to do with them and had donated them along with other kitchen supplies. He'd been interested immediately.

-------------------

“Are you looking for anything specific?” A saleswoman asked a few moments after they had stepped into the modern furniture store. 

“I’m thinking of a nice dresser,” you said uncertainly.

“She likes cherry wood. Or anything with a darker finish. It has to go well with the bed frame and headboard. I was thinking more on the classic side, with feet and hidden wheels so that if she wants to move it around, it won’t be hard for her.” Jack rattled off, glancing at the woman only once. He turned to you before walking away, “Chip, I saw something over there when we walked in.”

The saleswoman stared after him, then a smile spread across her face. She gave you a knowing look, “Your husband is very attentive. Aren’t you lucky?”

“Oh, he’s not–” You rushed to correct her. But Jack’s voice interrupts you from across the sales floor. 

“Chip, come and look at this. We could replace that table in the living room.” 

------------------------

“I can’t believe you haggled that antique vendor down $300!” You gripped his bicep with both hands, hopping a little as you walked out of the consignment shop. Your happiness made Jack’s heart race. Who knew that haggling with a vendor would make you cling to him?

“He knew he was overpricing the thing, especially when you loudly screamed at the sight of it. He counted on you wanting it so badly that you’d pay double.” He explained as if it were obvious.

“Thank you, Jack. I’ve wanted a mid-century teak and leather chair since I did wood shop in my first year in college.” Your voice was dreamy. 

“What’s so special about it that the price tag said $1,000.00 for a pair of chairs. I like my luxury stuff, but that was surprising. Plus, you didn’t let me buy them for you.” Jack grumbled. 

“You’ve already bought so much for me today. This is 100% a splurge purchase. Unnecessary. Getting both for $800.00 is practically robbery, but I don’t think the guy actually knew what he had. If I’d seen them when I didn’t have the money for it, I probably would have cried.” You told him, your stride faltered as you pouted exaggeratedly at him. 

“Well then, it wasn’t unnecessary. You’re happy, right?” Jack’s eyes met yours. There was a layer of intensity there, a double meaning. 

“Extremely.” You breathed out.

“Good.”

---------------------------------

It’s already 5 pm by the time you get back to your place. You brought in two dressers, the teak chairs, and two cheap bookcases that still needed to be built. 

“I’m ordering food. I’m too tired to cook right now.” You huffed as you dropped to the sofa. “And no, you can’t cook either. We’re going to rest, old man.”

“Only because you asked nicely.” 

While you waited for the food, Jack started building the bookcases, following the directions quietly. The concentration furrow in his brow was unfairly attractive. By the time there’s a knock on your door, he’s anchoring one bookcase to the wall, and you’re trying to come to terms with the wave of attraction that had come over you at the display of his continued capability. He had no idea the effect he was having on you. You pulled your phone out. 

“I gotta say, Jack, I think the girls are going to love this,” you teased as you snapped a photo of him wiping sweat off his brow. He was in a plain white shirt, a flannel with rolled sleeves, and jeans. He was devastating. 

“Right. Like anyone wants to ogle an old man.” He rolled his eyes, moved the tools to the corner, and then joined you on the couch. You were spreading out the take-out on your rolling table. Your new table would be delivered the next day, so you made do.

“One: you know, I don’t actually think you’re old. Two: Competency porn.” You winked at him. 

“Competency. Porn?” He choked on the water he was sipping from. His ears had already started to turn red.

You nodded enthusiastically, “Women love reliable men who can problem-solve without making a whole stink about the effort they put in. You’re also giving off lumberjack vibes. I don’t think I need to go into how women find that attractive. I’m convinced that’s how Robby gets dates. It’s all in the beard. Nothing to do with his obvious insanity.”

“So you’re saying you think I’m hot because I do things for you while wearing a plaid shirt?” Jack asked. His face was serious, but you could tell from his tone that he was amused.

“Yes. Heavy on the ‘doing things for me’.” You teased, unwrapping the naan and handing him one. “But really, Jack, thank you. I kept putting off furniture shopping because I always get overwhelmed with all the choices. Not to mention all the things you paid for! You’re getting a crazy birthday gift from me, be warned.”

“A guy can’t be nice to his friend?” He grumbled.

“Jaaaack.” You shoved his shoulder. 

“Chiiiip.” He mimicked your voice; his smile was dazzling. You had to pause to catch your lost breath. 

“Eat your butter chicken, Doc.”

----------------------------------

“That’s not fair. He’s nice! He’s a doctor! It’s not the same thing.” You argued. Your mother sighed heavily. 

“Even so. It’s inappropriate for you to keep talking to him. You’re a child.” The look on your father’s face showed his exhaustion. 

“It’s just letters. Barely even notes. He’s the only one who doesn’t look at me and only sees what happened to me!” Your face was streaked with tears now. 

“This is for the best. We’ve already asked the hospital to get involved.”

“No! Dad! No, you can’t get him in trouble for just being nice to me!” You wept loudly. 

“We just want what’s best for you.”  

“Then don’t take him away from me!”

---------------------------

“Hey, shhh, we fell asleep on the couch. I’m just taking you to your room.” Jack whispered as you stirred in his arms.  

Jack pulled back the sheets with one hand before easing you into your bed. Before he could step away, you tugged at his pant leg. Your voice was rough with sleep, “You can…take your leg off. I remember…more blankets in the hallway closet.” 

He couldn’t figure out why you looked so familiar. You were new among the EMTs who brought patients to PTMC. Jack had caught a glimpse as he arrived early for his night shift, fully prepared to help out for a couple of hours before he had to take the mantle of shift lead. He knew you from somewhere, and he couldn’t place it. You’d been back four separate times with different patients, and each time, he made sure to get a better look. 

Whoever you were, you looked good in uniform. It fit your body perfectly, accentuating your strong legs and back. You had to be hitting heavy weights; there was no way that the passive physicality of your job gave you glutes and quads that he wanted to grab. 

Jack schooled himself. He wasn’t one to ogle women as a general rule. But his curiosity had led to appreciation. At this point, he was certain he had met you before. 

By his next shift, he knew he had to talk to you. He’d lost sleep trying to figure out where exactly he knew you from. 

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Jack called out to you, following you to the ambulance bay. 

“Oh, Doctor Abbot! I’ve been meaning to stop by and say ‘hello,’ but things are always hectic when I’m here, of course.” You wore a soft smile. 

He may not remember you, but you definitely remembered him. A wave of embarrassment came over him. Were you a hook-up he didn’t recall? No, you were younger than he normally went for. He doubted you’d smile at him like that if that were true. You knew his name and seemed at ease in his presence. 

“I knew I’d run into you eventually. I just got back to Pittsburgh a few weeks ago and started my ambulance rounds last week. Reaquainting myself with the city and all that.” You kept talking, and Jack kept listening. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’ve been meaning to thank you again for what you did for me. I know, I know. It’s your job. But sincerely, you inspired me. I became an EMT because of you.”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise, and he couldn’t help but smile. The sun had sunk low as you’d spoken. Golden hour looked magnificent on you. That image, paired with the sincerity in your eyes, was almost too much for him.

Before he could respond, your partner called your name from the ambulance. The name still didn’t ring any bells for him.

“Shit, I have to go.” You took his hand in both of yours and squeezed it affectionately. “I’m really happy I could see you again.”

One last wave of your hand, then you jumped into the ambulance, and off you went. 

Shen sidled up next to Jack. “You know her, boss? Damn. The rest of the guys are going to be so disappointed. They’ve been practically tripping over themselves since she first showed up.”

“Yeah?” Jack turned, brow raised. It wasn’t surprising that the men had noticed you; they never missed a pretty face.

“Look, I may be a happily married man, but that is a very pretty, very out of their league woman. Add that you’ve apparently already got a leg in? The boys don’t stand a chance.” Shen laughed, sipping on his iced coffee. “So how do you know her?”

“No fucking clue.” Jack walked away, rolling your name over and over in his head, hoping it would help him recall it better, but it proved fruitless. 

In true Pitt fashion, the news that he knew the pretty new EMT but couldn’t recall from where had spread like wildfire. Now it was a game that Ellis and Shen, in particular, liked to play. 

“Abbot’s right. She looks at him too kindly for her to be an ex booty call.” Shen said. 

“How old do you think she is? Maybe she was military.” Ellis added. 

“Can’t be more than 35. Granted, she does have a youthful glow, so the margin of deviation is pretty wide,” Lena commented.

It was a slow night. They had already covered Shen’s mouth twice to stop him from jinxing it. Now Abbot had to listen to them speculate about you. 

“Do none of you have anything better to do?” He looked at them pointedly. 

“No. You still don’t remember her, boss?” Shen inquired.

“Unfortunately, no.” He sighed deeply. Jack was starting to feel very guilty about not remembering. 

“Yet she always says ‘hi’ to you when she can. And she left us those extra donuts and made us promise to give you one. So she’s definitely into you.” Shen took another obnoxious sip from his sugary monstrosity.

“OR maybe she’s an old patient, and I saved her life. She might just be grateful. I’ve saved a ton of people,” Jack reasoned. 

“But you have a great memory. It doesn’t make sense that you don’t remember her,” Ellis said, her eyes never leaving her computer screen.

“Fuck if I know. Get back to work. Do not bother her if she brings anyone in tonight.” 

At handover, the gossiping had started to get to him. 

“Robby, you know that new EMT?” Jack inquired, trying not to sound too invested. At the nurses’ bullpen, the flurry of shift change was a big enough distraction from their murmured conversation.

“The one Santos has a crush on?” Robby’s brow furrowed.

“Does she? Why do you know that?” Jack asked, incredulous.

“I know everything. Now what about the EMT? Have you figured out how you know her?” Robby was looking up at the board and cross-referencing the tablet in his hand.

“She knows me, but I can’t remember her for the life of me. She said I’m one of the reasons she became an EMT. But I’ve tried for the past few weeks to recall, but I just can’t.” He knew he sounded frustrated.

“You could just ask her.” His friend replied, looking at him pointedly.

“And admit to this woman that I impacted her life so deeply it changed its trajectory, while she didn’t leave even a name on my mind? Do you want me to embarrass her?” Abbot was many things, but no one could ever say he was inconsiderate of a woman’s feelings.

“You either ask her, or you never find out, man.” The taller man shrugged.

“Ok, well, look the other way then-” Jack stepped up to a monitor.

“Look the other way when what?”

“When I pull up her medical record.” 

“Seriously, Jack–”

“Robby! Abbot!” Dana called out. The playful bickering was out the window as a new emergency was brought to their attention. 

They met the incoming trauma as soon as it came through the doors. You're next to the gurney covered in an almost comical amount of blood, giving information on the MVC victim and a heads up that two more were coming in critical condition. Jack was impressed by your composure. He let the rest of the day shift take over so he could approach you. 

“I hope none of that's yours,” He said, eyeing you up and down. 

“Arterial. The one who didn't make it. I did cut my hand on some glass,” you sighed, stretching your shoulders out. 

“You got a change of clothes in the van? We have to do the usual tests before we can let you go.” He said, seriously.

“Yeah, I know the drill.” You met his gaze. If you weren’t covered in blood, Jack thought he might see your face flush. A moment later, your partner rolled up, thankfully clean, and handed you a go-bag. “Where can I get changed? I’ll also need a bio bag for these clothes.” 

“The call room should be empty. Come on,” Jack gestured for you to follow him. “There’s also a shower in there. Nothing fancy, but I think I’ll feel better if you stop looking like Carrie.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” You smiled at him unabashedly. 

“I’ll come back with a bio-bag,” He replied. 

After fending off questions from Robby and Dana about why he’s tending to you himself instead of passing you off to one of the interns, he finally returned to the call room. Two sharp knocks to the door caused it to open a few inches. Jack was about to avert his eyes when he realized your bare back was to him, until he noticed the puckered scar tissue on your lower back. They looked jagged and formed a ‘w’ followed by an ‘h’ and an ‘o’. 

Memories flashed before his eyes. He panicked for a moment, thinking he was having a PTSD episode, until everything he knew about you came to the forefront of his mind.

A 16-year-old girl with a similar face and dark hair, trying hard not to cry as she lay in a gurney, the back of her nightgown torn and soaked in blood. Her shaking hand clutched a stuffed toy, a Disney chipmunk. 

“Chipmunk…Chip!” Jack breathed out the nickname with a gasp. 

You pulled the loose shirt down all the way, then turned to look at him. “I knew you didn’t remember me. Took you long enough, Jacky.”

You’d been one of his first patients when he started working on emergency medicine outside of the military. Civilian hospitals were less dangerous but equally painful. He remembered the late-night trauma call like it was yesterday. You were just a kid, and you’d put your trust in some 20-year-old boy who made you feel mature and seen. That ‘boyfriend’ had carved the letters into your back and was going to finish the rest when your worried friends had gone looking for you. You were supposed to be at a sleepover with your best friend. 

It had been harrowing for a younger Jack to see a group of teenagers rallying around their friend as they followed you into the ER. You’d come through the doors, face down on the gurney, nearly catatonic. That ‘boyfriend’ had followed, causing a minor brawl in the ambulance bay as he’d yelled at you to ‘keep your mouth shut’. There had been a lot of stitches sewn that night, along with a call for PD. 

Your wounds hadn’t been life-threatening. The trauma, however, ran deep. Jack remembered your wounds being redressed by an R2 while he supervised. He recalled your hysterical crying when the charge nurse went through the rape kit with you. Everyone in the Pitt could hear it. 

Your nightmares kept ripping open your wounds. Three attempts to hurt yourself with a stolen scalpel or needle kept you down in the ER on an involuntary hold. Jack had faced the grim reality that war was not the worst that humanity had to offer. 

When you yelled at your friends for saying your name, a trigger for you, he had started calling you ‘chip’ for the chipmunk toy you kept with you. Jack was the only male doctor that you let near you. You were one of the few cases where he got too invested. When nightmares had plagued you, he was able to get you to open up by sharing his own experiences with harrowing nights. You’d both lost something inherent to yourselves, and it kept him from ever looking at you with pity. You felt safe around him. He couldn’t refuse when you asked to keep in contact with him once you were moved to a room upstairs. 

His therapist and yours had found the letters you handed off to each other endearing. At least once a week, the charge nurse had a handwritten letter waiting for him that you’d dropped off. He would leave one for the day shift to hand to you when you’d visit the ER after your weekly meetings with your psychologist. 

That lasted for a few months before the hospital admin got involved. Your parents had been worried about your attachment to yet another older man, despite it being innocent. The two of you hadn’t even seen each other in person since the day you’d come down to bring the night shift home-made cookies, two weeks after you were discharged. But he’d written one last letter, telling you to do well in school, to be brave, and to be safe. 

The next time he heard anything was a year later. A small note: “We’re moving. Thank you for everything. - Love Chip.” That had been the end of that. 20 years had passed. 

“You almost hurt my feelings. But then I remembered that I’ve had rhinoplasty, it’s been 20 years, and I’m easily 80 lbs heavier.” She was still smiling at him softly as he stepped into the room and closed the door. 

Jack was overwhelmed. He’d thought of you a few times over the years, wondering what kind of woman you’d become, but inevitably, his life would interrupt his thoughts. Somewhere down the line, he’d forgotten what your real name was. 

“It’s been nagging at me since you first showed up that I knew you. I feel terrible for not realizing sooner. I’m sorry.” He took a step closer as he finally got a good look at you. Your hair was wet from the shower, but all the blood was gone. Your nose was a little straighter and smaller than it could have been. You had small smile lines and the faintest crows' feet. Your dimples were more pronounced than they used to be. But your deep brown eyes were the same.

Jack knew he probably looked a little deranged, gazing at you with a soft smile on his face. “You really became an EMT because of me?”

“Well, I wasn’t keen on being a doctor, too much school. But I still save lives. I’m still there for people on their worst day. I told you I wanted to help people like you helped me.” Your eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “Oh no! I don’t want to get too emotional. I was actually getting used to you not knowing me. It’s been fun ‘people watching’ in here when I get the chance. Your staff adores you. Even if you’re grumpier and greyer than I remember.” 

“Hey! I’m still the hotshot around here,” Jack countered. 

“Yeah, I noticed. The other EMTs all talk about you like you’re Superman. I didn’t realize so many grown women could swoon over an old man.” You laughed as his face flushed. 

“Come here, brat!” Jack finally closed the space between the two of you, looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest.

Jack stiffened when he realized what he’d done. But a moment later, you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him back. They’d never touched outside of what was clinically necessary when you were a teenager, for obvious reasons. 

They stayed like that for a long minute, both of them sniffling but unwilling to admit they were emotional about the reunion. It was Jack who finally pulled back, then gripped your shoulders firmly. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you. I wondered, over the years, ya know. I really wanted you to do well. I know it might be weird in retrospect, but I considered you a friend. You were one of the first people in my life whom I talked to about my leg and how it affected me. It meant a lot to me that even in your darkest time, you cared about my well-being.” 

“I thought about you, too. Honestly, thinking about you being disappointed in me kept me from doing some really dumb shit over the years. I considered reaching out a few times, but decided against it. I looked you up, though. I’ve read all your papers. I know about…” You looked at the ring on his finger. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy you cared enough to remember me, Chip,” Jack smiled down at you. 

“Is it weird that I feel a little giddy when you call me that?” You asked, laughing to yourself. 

“Not weird. I knew you had a crush on me back then.” He teased. 

“Did not!” You shoved him playfully, “Ow! Fuck, I forgot.”

You both looked down at her hand to see it wrapped in a towel, blood blooming through the thin fabric. 

“Right. Yeah, let’s go take care of that. You got everything? Here’s the bio bag.” Jack helped you gather your ruined clothes. Then opened the door for you, “After you, Chip.”

He’s surprised to walk straight into your back. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Santos asked, eyes flicking between the two of you. She must have been walking by when the door opened.  

“Don’t you have a patient to see?” Jack maneuvered around you and started guiding you with a hand on your back. A detail that made Santos’ eyes widen.

“I was actually looking for her,” Santos followed closely behind them. “I was told she had a lac on her hand and she needs blood tests,” she turned to you, “Your partner told me.”

“Please don’t tell me he stayed? I told Jeremy to finish up and bring the van back for shift change since I didn’t know how long I would be here.” You grumbled. 

Jack could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching as the three of you walked into an empty patient room.

“Santos. You draw blood for the labs. I’ll take care of Chip’s hand,” Jack ordered.  

“Chip?” Santos asked, her eyes once again flicking between you and him. 

“It’s a nickname,” you replied quickly. “Blood draw right?”

You distracted yourself by watching Jack’s hands as he cleaned the cut in your palm and started the stitches. Santos was an obvious spectator even as she prepped your arm and found a vein.

“So, Chip?” Santos prodded as she expertly drew your blood for the tests. “Doesn’t really fit your name.” 

“Short for ‘chipmunk,’” Jack replied, absentmindedly as he pulled the needle through. 

You bit your lip and continued to gaze at Jack fondly. He could practically hear Santos jumping to conclusions in her head. He hoped that his ears weren’t turning pink. This was a lot of attention after the recent revelation.

“So are you straight?” Santos blurted out.

You looked over at the resident and smiled. “I identify as bisexual, Doctor Santos.”

It was Santos who was nervous now. “Oh, um, that’s cool, yeah.”

“Doctor Santos, I can stay with Chip here. You should finish your rounds.” Jack said sternly. 

“Ay, ay, captain! It was nice talking to you for longer than a ‘hi’ and ‘bye’.” Santos waved at you before leaving the room. 

“She’s sweet.” You chuckled to yourself as Abbot finished patching up your hand. 

“How’s the pain?” 

“I can barely feel it. How long will I have to wait here?” 

“Depends on the results, but it won’t be more than an hour.”

“Will you stay with me, Jack?” You asked tentatively. 

Jack didn’t stop his impulse to reach over and brush her hair off her cheek, tucking the lock behind your ear. “Yeah, I’m here until you tell me to leave. I have to make up for taking so long to remember you.” 

----------------

Robby rounded the corner to find Santos, Javadi, and Whitaker peaking into a room. The main traumas had been dealt with for now, so he figured he’d play nice. He walked up to them and whispered, “What are you doing?”

None of them moved. Santos didn’t turn. “Shhh, Abbot is in there with my future girlfriend. Looks like everyone who bet they didn’t know each other lost. He even had a pet name for her.” 

“It’s not a very good pet name,” Whitaker murmured. 

“Pet name?” Robby asked, surprised. 

“Chip, short for chipmunk,” Santos replied. “He’s being very touchy.”

Robby looked over at his friend to see him standing in front of you. You were sitting on the side of the bed. It had been adjusted so that your feet were skimming the floor as they swung back and forth. Jack was very close to you to the point that you were looking up at him. Your fingers were tugging absentmindedly on the front of his scrubs as you spoke animatedly. You and Jack were laughing, teasing. It wasn’t shy or secretive at all. Both of you even greeted Princess when she came over with some papers. He noticed you didn’t step away from each other or make room between you. 

“You don’t stand a chance, Trini,” Javadi mused. 

“Look, I get that everyone thinks Abbot is a hottie silver fox, but come on, he’s at least 15 years older than her. Plus, he just remembered who she is, so it can’t be romantic.” Santos insisted. 

Robby almost agreed with her until he saw you playing with Jack’s hand, pressing your palms together, then entwining your fingers. His wedding ring sat on one of those entwined fingers. Robby had never seen Jack hold someone’s hand like that, or let someone hold his hand like that, since before his wife died. 

“Alright, back to work, you three. No more spying and no more speculating. Bet or no, we have patients that need to be seen,” Robby commanded. He glanced up just in time to see you pulling Jack down to whisper something in his ear. 

--------------------------

“Jack, someone left this for you,” Dana called out when he walked in. She winked at him as he took the envelope emblazoned with his name in your handwriting. He just shook his head and took the letter, as if everyone didn’t already know who the letter was from. 

A few months had passed since you reconnected. It had been a little awkward at times when both of you realized just how much life the other person had lived. For Jack, reconciling the fragile teenage girl with the capable woman he now knew had been a lesson hard-earned. His instinct was to be protective, even overbearing. You wouldn’t let him get away with that and frequently made sure he knew that you were good at your job and didn’t need any babying. 

Of course, unable to do things like people with normal friendships, you and Jack had started to leave each other notes at the nurses’ station when you knew you were working opposite shifts or wouldn’t see each other. The nurses were in a tizzy over it, for once, Jack didn’t care what people thought about his associations with a woman. He was quite private with his relationships, but this was different. This friendship started in the Pitt 20 years ago. It made sense for it to continue here as well. 

He put his bag away and tore open the taped-down piece of paper. 

We’re both off tomorrow night. 

Come over? I can prove to you that I can cook.

- Chip

Jack paused, his heart sped up at the prospect of going to your place. So far, everything between the two of you had been more or less in professional settings and within the normal breadth of co-workers who were friends. You weren’t the first co-worker that he had spent time with off the clock. He’d been close with most of the night shift staff for years. But the idea of being with you, in your home, alone, was daunting. 

As his shift passed, Jack thought hard about the last few months. From the realization of who you were to the near-constant communication that the two of you shared. Well, constant in a way that two people in emergency medicine could keep up. Usually, when you asked a question in your letter that demanded an answer, he would shoot you a text, but he hadn’t done that yet. It wasn’t until 3am that he had a moment to look at his phone and saw the texts you sent. 

The last text was from 10 minutes before. 

He’d barely finished typing the last text before a rather obnoxious gif was sent back with Alvin the chipmunk giving a thumbs up. 

“What’s got you smiling at your phone like a teenage boy?” Walsh appeared at his elbow. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re like a bad cough I can’t get rid of?” Jack glared, pocketing his phone. 

“I have now. Heard you’re dating that EMT. Didn’t know you had the dog in you, Abbot? Got all the young guns jealous,” Walsh chuckled. 

“I’m not dating her. We’re friends. I was her ER doctor when she was a teenager,” Abbot admitted, hoping that word would spread so he didn’t feel like a total creep.

“Woof, robbing from a cradle you helped take care of is audacious work, Jack. I think I’m a little bit proud of you,” Walsh cackled as she walked away. Jack ran an exasperated hand down his face. 

Unfortunately, her words kept repeating in his head. Had everyone assumed you were dating? No, most of the day shift, especially the guards, still flirted with you. Did he want to date you? He was attracted to you, who wouldn’t be. Was the age gap really that bad? Roughly 15 years. But you were 30+ now, so it wasn’t a DiCaprio situation. He did know you as a teenager. Briefly. But still. 

Did you even see him like that? He’d known you’d had a crush at some point in the months you’d sent letters back and forth with him when you were both younger. It was easy to read a teenager’s subtext. A childhood crush didn’t exactly translate to grown-up feelings. 

“You’re brooding,” Robby murmured as he came up beside Jack during shift change. 

“Said the pot to the kettle,” Jack countered, but still gave the man a one-armed hug. 

“Rough night?” He asked as Jack handed him the tablet. 

“Pretty hectic there early on, but it mellowed out by 4 AM,” Jack said. His phone chimed with a text message. Then a few more. 

The bar was moderately packed, but almost too loud. After the Pitt officially raised its patient satisfaction rating, the residents and nurses quickly planned an outing. It was his day off, so Robby had called him in to celebrate after making him promise that he had invited other people who were off that day. Robby didn’t need to be told ‌who he was really hoping would show up.

Inevitably, the senior residents and attending doctors let the interns and newer residents have their fun. What Jack didn’t expect was how jarring it would be to see you in street clothes, dolled up for a night out. Everyone had agreed to dress a little better since the bar was new and still had that new-bar smell. It had all the trappings of an Irish pub, but with more TVs and a chalkboard with that month's IPAs and other hipster drinks.

“I’m going to hell,” Jack mumbled before throwing back the rest of his drink. You’d gone to the bar for another round. His eyes were on you every step of the way, tracing your curves and wondering how it would feel to bury his hand in your hair.

“You’re gonna start drooling in a second,” Robby smirked at his friend. 

Jack raised a brow, “How’s Heather been? Talked with her since she went back home?”

The bearded attending physician raised his hands, “I know. I’m one to talk. But she’s a lot closer to the others than Heather was with anyone when she was still here. Plus, I know you. You can be kind of intense.”

“Intense?” 

“I’m not saying she won’t be able to deal with that. I’ve seen her stand up to you during a patient eval. She’s just as intense as you are. Heather and I were messy when deeper feelings weren’t even involved.” He sighed, sipping ‌his beer. 

“Who said anything about deeper feelings?” Jack scoffed. His eyes were on you again as you maneuvered around the tables with a few more beers in hand. You met his eyes and smiled at him. 

“You don’t half-ass things, Jack. You’re a bomb ready to go off, and she’s a blaze. I’d be skeptical that either of you will come out of this unscathed.” Robby said thoughtfully.

“Your faith in her and me leaves something to be desired, Robby. We’re both adults. She’s technically still day shift, even though she consistently covers nights when she can. Let me ogle in peace.” Jack rolled his eyes and ended the conversation as you reached the table again. 

Aside from a few meaningful glances over the next couple of hours, Robby kept his mouth shut. Not that Jack noticed. You and he had been debating various medical journals and research studies animatedly as if you were in a little bubble of your own. It was the longest the two of you had carried on since you’d joined the PTMC nearly a year ago. Robby just sighed and wished you and Jack a good night before he left. 

===========

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride home. I can’t let you take an Uber. It’s 2 am,” Jack insisted as you exited the bar together. 

“I am perfectly capable of getting home on my own, Abbot.” You scoffed, already pulling your phone out, and flicked open the app. 

Jack’s large hand wrapped around your screen, swiftly lifting it out of your reach. You gripped his arm, jumping to reach, but you were still too short. Jack laughed, catching your waist as you fell into him. He tried not to think too hard about how good your body felt against his.

“Give it back!”

“Let me take you home, sweetheart,” he said, looking down at you, not realizing he had pulled you in close. Suddenly, his face blanched, and he took a step back. “Shit! I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I just meant I can take you–in my truck–to your place.”

You paused, letting the moment sit while his ears grew more pink. You shrugged a shoulder. “Pity. Oh well, come on then.” 

Jack’s mind short-circuited. By the time he was moving again, you’d crossed the parking lot to his truck in the far corner. You disappeared around the passenger's side, against the side of the building. He jogged after you, rounding the corner of the truck to find you leaning against the passenger door in the shadow of the wall. 

He glanced once over his shoulder. They were some of the last ones in the group to leave the bar, and he’d parked so far out that no one would bother them. 

“What did you mean by that?” He asked cautiously. 

“You know what I meant,” you said with a smirk on your lips. 

Jack took a step forward. “You want me to take you home?”

You took a step toward him. “Yes. Your home.” 

The last part was a tease. He knew that. That didn’t stop him from finally stepping into your personal space, his intense gaze meeting your amused eyes. “No one can know.” 

“I can be discreet. But the risk is part of the fun, isn’t it, sir?” The smile that spread across your face held so many filthy promises that Jack let out a groan before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck. Your lips crashed together, slotting against each other so perfectly that, rather than sinking into it, you dove in deep. Looping your arms around his shoulders, you pressed up close to him, thrusting your tongue into his mouth. He tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking. 

Jack pinned you between himself and the truck. With you securely pressed between his firm body and the car, his hands roamed. Down to the hem of your skirt, skimming the warm skin of your thigh. Up to the curve of your chest and the hard contour of a wire bra. Finally breaking for air, you looked at each other, breathing the same air, so close you could see his eyes dilate as you pressed your hips to his. He was hard against your hip. 

You dragged your hands down from his shoulders to his stomach. The cotton of his shirt did nothing to minimize the tantalizing scratch of your nails across his pecs. He hissed before burying his hand in your hair, tilting your head, and trailing kisses from your shoulder up to your jaw, sucking and nipping. Every soft moan and whimper that came out of your mouth made his cock twitch.

“You always smell so fucking good.” He groaned into your ear.

“Don’t think I’ve never noticed you stopping to smell my hair, Doctor Abbot.” You teased breathily. “I even know which of my perfumes you like ‌best.” 

You pulled him away from your neck, thumbing his lip as he lifted one of your legs over his hip. Slotted between your legs, he pressed himself tight to your core as you whispered, “I wore it tonight. Even put it on my ankles.” 

That comment made him groan and lift your other leg around his hip, locking him in place. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist as he captured your lips between his again. His teeth grazed and tugged at your bottom lip, eliciting an obscene moan that made him smile. The tease of his tongue against yours gave you ideas of what it would feel like between your legs. Your thighs squeezed around him as arousal burned in your core.

“Ankles. You had plans tonight, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jack was breathy, barely restraining himself from taking you right there.

“You know me, Jack. I live to plan ahead.” You pushed him back slightly. His hair was a mess, and his lips were pink from your kisses. 

“Oh, it’s Jack now? I was starting to like you calling me ‘sir’ while you’re grinding against my cock like the good girl I know you are.” He hoped the obvious authority kink you had would make you flustered. But you bit your lip, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

“Focus on that for a little bit, Jack. If you’d come in wearing jeans, then I would have been so disappointed. I did this for you, after all.” You spoke calmly as you braced your hands on his shoulders, leaned against the truck, and dragged your core against the bulge in his dark chinos. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. He looked down to see the growing damp spot on the front of his pants. More soaked than damp, actually. Realization bloomed on his face as he lifted the edge of your skirt that managed to cover you. “Jesus fuck–” 

Your bare cunt was dragging against his pants, glistening and plush. You were wearing underwear, and he ‌felt it when he grabbed your ass while lifting you up. But the gusset of your black lace panties was stitched open in the center. 

“Oh, you want my cock so badly you made it easier for me to give it to you?” Jack chuckled in disbelief. To your surprise, he let you down to the ground and guided you to the passenger door. 

“What–Jack–” you protested. He guided you with a firm hand and opened the door. Without asking, he took you by your hips and lifted you into the truck, legs dangling over the side of the seat rather than tucked forward. 

“You have a choice to make,” Jack’s voice was like gravel; a starved and desperate look in his eyes. “You can wait until we get to my place to sit on my face until you cum, or you can spread your legs right here and let me get my first taste now.”

“First?” 

“It definitely won’t be the last. So, my place or right here, right now?” You were surprised at the proposal, but, as he expected, you gave him the answer he wanted. 

“Now, then, your place.” You pushed your legs wide and thanked whatever had possessed Jack to park his truck against a wall. 

“Atta girl.” His eager smile was devastating as he gripped your hips and pulled you to the edge of the seat. The first swipe of his tongue had you gripping the handle above your head as you threw your head back. 

“You’re so fucking wet and sweet for me. I’ve been wanting to get under this skirt all night.” He groaned against your pussy as he dragged his tongue up and down. His nose gliding across your wet curls as he sucked at your clit. 

“Oh, my God!” You muffled your cries with your free hand. 

Large hands gripped your ass, cupping you into an angle that let him delve his tongue into your entrance, the wet sounds loud and obscene as he devoured you. Jack held your hips down as you ground against his tongue. He knew he couldn’t prolong this. There was a large and soft bed waiting for him to fuck you into. 

You bit your fist when he pushed two fingers into your eager pussy, curving them in perfectly. It only took three thrusts for him to find the spot that made you gasp and see stars. You gripped his greying curls, meeting his gaze as he pumped his thick fingers in and out while flicking his tongue across your swollen clit. The satisfaction and heat in his eyes seemed to grow stronger as you whimpered pathetically under his touch. 

When your thighs began to tremble, Jack smiled, lapping at you eagerly as he pushed a third finger into you. You press your face against your forearm to muffle your obscene cries when your orgasm rips through you. 

Your cunt was tight around his fingers as he pushed them in and out. The suction dragged against his knuckles, hurtling his mind to imagine that feeling on his cock. The vibration of his moan around your clit had you crying out. “Fuck, it's too much. Oh god!”

He pulled his face away and slid his fingers out, only to rapidly swipe them across your overstimulated clit and folds. “That’s it, baby. Make a mess for me.” 

Jack knew he was wearing his ‘smug bastard’ face while watching you lose yourself under his touch. The surprise in your eyes and the silent ‘oh’ on your face had him kissing you deeply. Your taste on his tongue and lips as the wet sound intensified. You gushed as Jack roughly rubbed your pussy until he finally pulled his hand away. 

His satisfied chuckle was deep and amused as he pulled back. You both looked down to find his hand dripping and the telltale splash of you having squirted. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Your face was feverish with mortification, but Jack kissed it away. 

“No apologies for following directions, baby.” 

Without pause, he was pulling open his passenger door and cleaning you up with some wet wipes and a clean towel from his gym bag. When you were sitting demurely in the passenger seat as Jack started the truck, you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. The car didn’t move. 

“Hey, look at me,” Jack whispered. 

You lifted your head, and he could see your uncertainty. His hand was so much bigger than yours when he reached over and took it. “Your choice. I can take you to your place, or we can go to mine. No pressure. I’m happy you let me have all of that earlier. I won’t push you.”

He still wanted you to feel comfortable. Even when he hadn’t cum. You breathed slowly, then smiled at him. 

“You tired old man?” 

“I should be asking you that, young lady.” He finally backed out of the parking lot. 

“I don’t know if your stamina is up to it, Doctor Abbott.” You teased. 

“Is that a challenge?”

“Take me home and find out.”

He let out a loud laugh and shook his head. His hand was still clasping yours. He exuded self-confidence when he asked, “You ever cum five times in a row before?”

Your eyes widened. 

“Before you say it. It’s possible. Always possible.” 

=========

Rather than stumbling into his house and directly into his bedroom like you expected, he led you inside by the hand and offered you something to drink. Maybe you’d hooked up with too many ‘modern men’, but this change of pace was nice. Humanizing, even.

He asked you about your day and how your last year of residency was going as you sipped red wine. You slipped off your shoes and left them next to his bar top. You padded around his living room, asking him questions about pictures on the walls and books on shelves. You stopped in front of a family picture from when he graduated from medical school. 

You felt him walk up behind you, looking at the picture over your shoulder. His voice was low. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me.” You leaned back into him as he wrapped a muscular arm around your waist. 

“You telling me what to do, resident?” He nipped at your ear. 

“Isn’t that your job, attending?” You teased back. He guided his nearly empty glass to your lips and gently urged you to finish it for him. There was something incredibly decadent about having this man wrapped around you, kissing your neck, and pouring excellent wine past your lips that made this feel surreal. 

“Jack,” you breathed out his name softly. He abandoned the wineglass on the shelf.

“We can stop here,” he breathed, pulling away enough for you to turn around. 

“What? Why?” You asked, turning in surprise. Your hands lay flat on his chest as you looked up at him.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m one of your attending physicians. I’m quite a bit older than you, if you didn’t notice from my med school graduation year. I slowed down to give you a choice. I let myself get carried away earlier, and you deserve more than some parking lot hook-up.”

“Are you really giving me the ‘age gap’ talk right now? I would have gladly let you do whatever you wanted to me back there, and I was fully expecting to do a lot more once we got here. We’re adults, Jack. I’m not going to turn around and accuse you of quid pro quo. I’m sure everyone in the ED already knows that I’ve been dreaming about a host of inappropriate things I’d like to do to you.” You explained quickly. It was sweet that he was worried about influencing your choices. 

The mild tension in his shoulders slackened as you slid your hands up and hooked your arms around his neck. His hands found your hips and teased the skin right where your blouse pulled up. “Forgive an old man for not wanting to seem like a complete lech.”

You smacked his arm, “Quit it with that ‘old man’ talk. You’re a silver fox, and you know it. Now are you going to school me on those 5 orgasms or am I going to have to find a new hookup at 3 in the morning?”

Jack growled possessively, “This is the thanks I get for being a gentleman.”

“Maybe I never wanted you to be gentle with me.” You said, stealing a kiss. But Jack cupped the back of your head, meeting your lips again. His mouth was hot on yours as he backed you up against the bookcase. “Someone likes to pin a girl down.”

A wicked smile lit up his face before he dipped his head and kissed and licked ‌your collar. “I can’t have you slipping away when we have so much fun still planned.”

“Oh, I would love to see if any of my fantasies line up with yours.” You let your head fall back as Jack pressed his lips to your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “Fuck, Jack. At least do it somewhere I can cover easily.”

 “So as long as you can cover it up,” he pulled his head back, his voice coming out in a gravely hum, “I can leave as many marks as I want?” 

You moaned softly in reply. He pinned your wrists above you with one hand and found the hem of your shirt with another. A whimper slipped from your lips when you felt his hot palm on your stomach, gliding upward and taking the shirt with it. Jack dropped your wrists so he could help you pull the blouse over your head, then let it fall to the floor. 

You arched into him as one of his hands found the top of your skirt and skimmed the edge of it. Your blunt nails scratched trails up his shoulders and into the curls at the nape of his neck. His name fell from your lips in a breathy sigh when he slipped his hand into your skirt and gripped a palmful of your ass. 

“You are so fucking soft,” he was breathless as he nuzzled your cheek. The movement felt adorably innocent in contrast with his other hand unhooking your bra. Jack pulled back to give himself room to admire your bare torso. Nimble hands unzipped your skirt, leaving it to fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Seeing you bare except for the scrap of lace he knew didn’t cover you up completely made his desperation to sink into your body even more apparent. “You are a piece of art.”

His reverent tone, paired with the admiration in his eyes, made your cheeks heat up. No man had ever looked at you like this before. You reached for his belt loop and pulled him close again. It was your turn to suck at his lip and pull the sexiest sounds from his lips while your hands delved into his shirt and helped him pull it over his head. 

You’d always known Jack was fit. But seeing his brawny chest bare before you was too tempting. You were less tentative than he was. Nipping and leaving your own marks on his collar and chest had him burying his hands in your hair, cradling you, but not directing. He was letting you have control, at least for now. 

“Jesus,” Jack groaned as your hand wrapped around his length. You’d flicked his belt open and shoved your hand inside without warning. 

“Do you get this hard when it’s your hand wrapped around you?” 

A laugh like a bark burst from him. “Only when I’m thinking of you, sweetheart.”

His pre-cum painted your palm as you pumped your fist around his ample girth and modest length. You flicked your thumb over his frenulum and felt his hand tighten in your hair as a response. 

“Come here,” he groaned as he guided your lips back to his. If possible, your kisses grew more passionate. More consuming. He tried to slip his hand between your thighs when you wrapped a small hand around his neck and pushed him back. Your other hand reached further down, cupping his balls. 

“You’ve still got too many clothes on, Doctor.” You bit your lip as you made eye contact. In the room's dimness, his hazel eyes darkened to melted chocolate. The intensity of the shared eye contact grew as you trailed your hand down his body, and you dropped to your knees. Together, you pushed his pants down. His prosthetic didn’t bother you. You’d seen it before. It did remind you that a bed would be a much better location for what you had planned. 

Jack’s brow furrowed when you stood, but eased when you took his hand. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before asking, “Bedroom?”

“Oh, um, down the hall. Last one on the right,” Jack had barely finished speaking when you started to drag him down the hall. He let you pull him along and then shoved him onto the bed, his legs dangling over the edge. 

“You can take it off,” you urged him gently. You’d walked in on him in the break room once, taking his prosthetic off to change the sock underneath. You knelt before him and pressed a kiss to the side of his knee. “I promise I’ll still be just as wet and ready to suck on your cock when you’re done.”

Your brazen words had him chuckling, while his flagging cock surged to fullness again. Your eyes were attentive as he went through the process of removing his prosthetic. Jack couldn’t help but feel a blush rise on his cheeks as your eager eyes still showed off how much you wanted him. You’d stayed on the floor with your hand on his other thigh, with your eyes flitting from his leg to his cock and then back up to his face. Jack set his leg aside, next to his side table. Your hand was on his cock before he was fully seated. 

“You’re unbearably attractive, you know that, right?” Your wide eyes showed only sincerity. Jack sank into the exquisite feel of your hands on him and your lips pressing kisses up his thighs. You nudge him to sit wider than you finally lick a line up his hard shaft, swirling it around the tip. 

“Christ,” Jack moaned. “You can’t say shit like that and then take me so we-”

You bobbed your head forward and felt his cock slam into the back of your throat. You constricted your throat at the pull upward, then shoved your face down again. The strangled grunt of your name had your core flooding with need. Jack’s hands found your hair and held you still when you pulled up again.

“Fuck, baby. You can’t do that to a man out of nowhere,” Jack groaned, his cock glistening with your saliva and a drop of pre-cum welling at the tip. You tried to take him again, but his hold was firm. “Ah ah ah, if I let you keep that up, then I’ll be done for. So you be a good girl for me and get on the bed and spread your legs.” 

His fingers glided through your mussed hair as you stood up. You pouted, then mumbled, “Yes, sir.” 

That made him take your chin and pull you in for a quick, passionate kiss. Which was closely followed by a playful spank to your ass as you climbed onto the bed, sprawled out, and let your knees fall wide. 

You admired Jack’s strong arms as he moved towards you. His muscles rippled and flexed. You wondered, for a moment, if he’d be interested in wrapping his hand around your throat, but you’d save that for a later date. Basking in his attention, you focused on his lips, trailing paths of fire up your body. He held your legs wide, gliding his fingers through the mess between your legs as his lips met yours. 

Now that you were completely under his mercy, Jack teased you. He let you get lost in his passionate kiss, while his fingers drew lazy circles and stripes around your pussy. 

“Please, Jack,” you begged as he teased your slit with the tips of two fingers. 

“Please, what, sweetheart?” He breathed against your lips, “Tell me what you want.” 

“M-more, please, I need more!” You rocked your hips against his hand and pulled at his waist. “Please, Jack, sir. I want you.” 

Your faces were close as he spoke to you, intense eyes boring into your soul, keeping your attention as he pressed two fingers into your wet heat. He whispered in a low tone, just for you, “You want my fingers inside you, baby. You’re so wet for me. You’re always such a good girl at work. Always following directions and being a good example for all the other residents. I should have been a good attending and left you alone.”

Jack’s words ran through your mind as his fingers worked your pussy. His strong fingers angle up, putting pressure on your G-spot. You were already on the precipice, thighs shaking and hips rolling. 

“Instead, here I am. Ready to make you cum for the second time tonight. Isn’t that right, resident?” A part of you hated the confidence he had in your authority kink. 

“Yes, sir. I’ll be good.” You clenched around his fingers. 

“Alright, sweetheart. Cum for your attending. Do as I say,” the rasp in his voice and the command in his tone sent you over the edge. Jack was relentless with the movement of his fingers, grinding the palm of his hand across your clit with each stroke. You clutched ‌his forearm. Your vision went white as you curled and arched with each wave of pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck, Jack, it’s too much!” The broken whine that slipped from your mouth was shushed affectionately as Jack finally pulled his hand away from between your legs. 

Your curled toes and grasping hands relaxed as you melted into the bed like a blob of pleasurable glue. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” Jack chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. The easy affection of it made your heart clench. 

“Yes, sir,” came out as a long his that was cut off by a manic giggle. 

“What’s so funny?” Jack asked as he reached for something in his bedside drawer. The foil of the condom caught the light right before he tore it open with his teeth, knelt on his good leg, and rolled it on. 

“Trini was right,” you giggled as Jack joined you again, slotting himself on top of you and between your legs. His weight on you felt right as you rocked your hips to grind against his length.

“Right about what?” He mumbled out, his eyes closed in pleasure as his hard length rubbed up and down your slippery core. 

“That you’d clocked my authority kink and would use it against me,” you smiled and hooked your hands around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

“Mmm,” Jack sucked on your lip, then pulled back. “You and Santos talk about me?”

“More like I talk about you while she reluctantly listens.”

“And you talk about how I would act during sex?”

“Kind of, but in this instance, she said you’d use it against me to pull overtime and doubles when you needed help on the night shift. If you’d called me a ‘good girl’ even once in the ED and then asked me to pull 3 doubles in a single week, I probably would have said yes.” You admitted, between soft mewls of impatience at the feel of Jack rubbing his tip up and down your slit. 

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” The conversation was forgotten when Jack latched his mouth around your nipple. You arched up, feeling the warmth of his hand as he flicked and teased the other. 

“Please, Jack,” you whined and panted. 

“Be a good girl and tell me exactly what you want,” he growled against your skin. You tried to move your hips to catch him as his tip slipped across your core, but he held you down. “You can do it. Tell your attending what you need. I’ll give it to you. Promise.”

“Fuck me, sir,” you finally cried out. You clutched at his strong back as he finally slid his cock between your wet folds, the girth stretching you slightly. He was the thickest you’d ever had. You’d never felt so filled. 

“Oh fuck, oh you feel so good wrapped around me.” Jack lifted one of your legs and hooked it over his elbow, angling you wider so he could thrust deeper. “I can’t hold back. Pinch my side if it’s too much.”

He’d started slowly rocking into you. Pleasure exploded behind your eyelids at the realization that you’d dreamt of this. That you weren’t the only one who wanted this. His warm hand on your cheek pulled you back to the present. 

“You have to answer me, sweetheart. I’m 2 seconds from pounding you into this bed, as if I hate you. If it’s too much, you have to pinch my side.” When you nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin spread across his face. “Fuck you’re amazing.”

His lips met yours again, at the same time as he started to earnestly thrust into you, hard and deep. You held on as words failed you. The only sound in the room was the cacophony of your moans and grunts with the obscene slap of skin on skin. When he shifted back and gripped you by the crook of your thigh and hip, he hit a new angle that had you tearing at the sheets. He was relentless. When you thought it was almost too much, his thumb found your clit, and you were hurtling into another orgasm. 

“Yes, that’s it, baby. Cum on my cock. Fuck, I’ve wanted to see you like this forever,” Jack groaned as you gripped him so tightly he thought for a moment the condom had slipped off. His pace didn’t falter as he hovered over you again, pushing your knees up and out. 

“JACK!” you yelled. He swallows your cries and loses his rhythm as he fucks you through your orgasm and straight into his own. 

“Yes, yes, baby, take it,” he groaned against your lips. You let him drop his weight on you for a few moments after, while you caught your breath. Eventually, he became too heavy, and you shoved him off. Despite his whining and clinging, he still played the gracious host, pressed a kiss to your temple before he took one of his crutches and swiftly walked to the bathroom. 

By the time Jack came back, you’re barely awake. That doesn’t stop him from urging you to stand. “Baby, you have to go to the bathroom. It’s practically mandatory.”

“You’re not gonna give me a UTI,” you grumbled. 

“That’s not how that works, and you know it,” Jack admonished you. He stayed outside the bathroom, listening to you do your business, wash your hands, and walk back out. He handed you a shirt and some clean boxers to wear. Jack has a thin pair of pants on but remains bare-chested, to your delight. While you changed, you could feel his eyes on you. 

The air shifted. “Um, hey. I just realized I assumed you were staying the night. Which I have no problem with! I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured just because we slept together.” 

Jack actually looked nervous. You close the distance and hook your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his. “I’d like to stay if you’ll have me.”

You couldn’t help but admire the smile lines and the crow's feet that appeared at his delight. 

You freeze, but only because you hear every possible wrong way Jack can take that.

She points up at him while the ways make weight, as if his thick-necked, broad-shouldered body isn't something you worship and instead tolerate. Ha. Oh no.

"Dada bigger."

Your daughter reaches both hands up toward her father's chest while standing on her tippy toes. His face doesn't change enough, but his hands flex as his head lowers.

"Dada bigger. You got big neck. Uncle Wobby neck not big."

Jack looks down at her.

She beams.

"More wide belly, Dada."

Jack takes one slow breath through his nose.

And you...can basically see him leave the room through his brain because of the toddler you share with him, holding up a mirror of honest baby words.

He gives a curt nod, and it looks like it takes everything in him to do that.

"Good observation, sweetheart. Just as astute as the one you gave Uncle Robby."

She claps at the praise she can't read the undertones of. "Dada belly---"

You come in between Jack and whatever sentence he's laid out for himself. You take the hand of his that comes up to his own neck. You squeeze. You smile down at your baby.

"Bodies are different, huh, baby? Uncle Robby's body is his, and Dada's body is Dada's. And whatever they look like is wonderful, how like how you look wonderful. You always will, no matter what you look like."

"I'm getting roasted by someone who isn't even two."

You ignore Robby's mutter as you try to stop Jack from leaving. He tries to leave too quickly. Without a word as his mouth thins out and curves into something so slight. But you know his heart well enough to find it's pulse in the lines of his face.

Only you. You're very proud of that.

"I'm just gonna check on something in the garage---"

"Dada. Up!"

You see the breath Jack can't take properly. Maybe there's logic to his battle this time, that he should leave before he bleeds his insecurity all over the floor. But how can he when you baby is reaching for him?

Robby's silent, finding the floor very interesting. Good. Good man. You squeeze Jack's shoulders.

"She wants you, Dad."

He sighs low.

Right. Okay. Don't fuck this up.

He lets his daughter want him by letting her just jump right into his arms when he crouches. It's total, greedy trust that he has to catch against his chest.

She tucks himself into the curve of his neck.

His big neck. His husky body. His old, broad, thick, embarrassing, beloved body.

You watch Jack's face change when your baby nestles in. Not enough to heal him, of course. Jackie would never be that convenient, but it's obvious that something in him falters under the weight of her comfort, and that's more than enough make your heart swell wildly.

She pokes his cheek.

"Dada big and warm."

You can hear Jack swallow. You can feel your eyes sting.

How could she ever mean anything that's cruel? How could she ever mean anything that isn't meant to eat at your and Jack's heart?

"Yeah?"

His voice is rough as she nods into him, and apparently, Robby has no self-preservation left.

"That's a five-star review, man---"

But when Jack shoots him a look, he knows to find some more. He lifts both hands.

"Sorry, sorry."

You baby pulls back enough to look at her dad's face as she grabs at both sides of his jaw, squishing his cheeks with chubby hand authority.

"No skinny Dada. Nooooo."

...And how could your baby say anything that isn't genuine and also hilarious?

"What's she saying?"

As if you can translate your toddler's language.

...You can.

"She's saying she likes that you're big, Jack."

And you must be an expert, because your babygirl nods.

"You hold me good, Dada. Uncle Wobby skinny. No hold good."

She points at Robby. He slaps a hand to his chest.

"Uh...Okay. Wow. I have been nothing but kind to you."

She shakes her head as she burrows against Jack again. He gives you a warning look as you kiss his neck, like he knows you're about to make him feel something and he'd rather die.

It's your job, as his lover and wife and mother of his child, to ignore him.

"Our daughter has spoken, she doesn't want a skinny dad. She likes you just the way you are."

"For the record, I can hold children just fine---"

"Robby, not now."

Jack laughs at your demand. It's gruff and barely there, but it's enough to let you know what's sifting in him. He will still be insecure. It all lives too deep inside him to be toddled away by one compliment. He will still compare with worse intentions that his daughter.

But she settles her cheek against his shoulder like he is the best-shaped thing in the world.

And you know you're looking at him like you agree.

"Well, baby...I try my best to hold my girls good."

"Good, Dada."

Robby stands slowly, rubbing his knee. He doesn't know how he feels like he's interrupting something that he was invited to, but he is.

she blinked slowly up at him from where she was half buried in his pillows, lips parted slightly, completely blissed out.

“i am,” she mused.

“nuh uh.” pope leaned over her, one hand settling against her jaw to keep her attention on him. “you’re in and out of it.”

a sleepy little smile tugged at her mouth. “mm, i feel nice.”

his expression shifted at her words. he softened for half a second before the seriousness set back into his features.

“baby, i know.” his rough and calloused thumb brushed once under her eye. “need you to focus for me now.”

she really tried for him.

be the good girl that he needed her to be.

but then his hand moved down her arm slowly and her eyes drifted again.

pope clicked his tongue softly. “c’mon.”

he pushed himself up off the bed and came back within minutes, holding a glass of water. she made absolutely no move to take it from him, still staring at him with that hazy little expression that made something possessive twist hard in his chest.

“sit up.”

she whined quietly at the command, barely moving.

pope just stared at her for a second before placing the class of water down on the nightstand. then he started hooking an arm behind her back and lifting her against his chiseled chest himself. “there,” he nodded, “there baby, take it.”

she immediately sagged into him bonelessly, face tucked into his neck.

“baby,” pope warned lowly, though there was no real heat behind it. “drink the water.”

he pressed the cold glass into her hand and kept it there until she finally took a few timid sips.

“good girl.” he purred in relief.

the praise made her eyes flutter shut again instantly.

“hey.” his hand slid to the back of her neck, grounding her again.“no, no. stay awake another minute.”

“mean,” she whispered weakly.

“yeah?” pope’s mouth twitched slightly as he pulled the blanket over her legs. “you’re still listening though.”

she looked so soft like this. completely relaxed. trusting him enough to let go entirely.

that part always got to him.

because pope wasn’t used to people trusting him with the vulnerable parts of themselves. or any parts if themselves.

but here she was, half asleep in his arms without an ounce of hesitation, letting him guide her through every little thing.

his hand rubbed slowly up and down her back while he kept talking quietly to her, reeling her back in every time she started float.

“look at me.”

she obeyed.

“that’s it.” softer now. “you with me?”

a tiny nod.

-

You were sitting at a bar, patiently waiting for your date to show up.

After a few more minutes, there’s a tap at your shoulder. You turn to look and it’s the guy whose picture you remember from the dating app profile.

“Oh wow um you’re not… what I was expecting…” his gaze flickered over your body.

You frowned. You’d specifically included a very recent full body picture so as not to “deceive” anyone. And you thought your dress looked pretty okay in the mirror. “What were you expecting?” You asked apprehensively.

“Not… that.” He gestured to your body vaguely, nose scrunching slightly. “Yeah… I uh… I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can do this.”

He just sighed deeply and walked away without another word to you, exiting the bar. He seemed more sorry he’d been put in this situation than he was about the way he’d reacted to your body.

You let out a long exhale before sitting back on the bar stool. You put your face in your hands.

You felt a presence behind you as you heard boots on the floor leading up to you.

“You okay?” A voice from somewhere behind you asked. “Guy was an asshole.”

“I’m… fine. I’ll be… fine…” you dismissed his concern.

“Lemme pay for your drink. Then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

You looked back at him finally, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

You observed the man standing a respectful distance away from you (but still close enough for a semi-private conversation). He was about 5’9”. He had shortish slightly greying curly hair (that still had tinges of auburn to it). He looked fairly muscular, his biceps and pecs defined in the fitted black tee he wore. He was wearing camo cargo pants. His body language was relaxed and friendly. His face was neutral and relaxed as well. He had some wrinkles (especially around his eyes). His brown eyes were dark and soulful as they observed you right back.

“Just because an asshole rejected you, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a drink now. Just… drink responsibly, alright?”

You gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

He gave a tight lipped smile before his mouth went back to a neutral position. “Just Jack, please.”

“Alright… Jack.”

He set some bills down on the bar counter beside you. “For the lady’s drink. And for another.” He told the bartender.

“Just two drinks.” You confirmed. “I can’t have any more than that.”

The bartender nodded, understanding, and took Jack’s money and poured you another drink. Jack meandered back to his table not that far from the bar. He left you alone but kept an eye on you, just to make sure you were alright and that no one else was bothering you.

“Just two.” You stated again to the bartender.

“Just two.” He repeated, nodding, giving you a small smile.

You finished your first drink and he took the empty glass away. Sipping your second drink, you meet Jack’s gaze. He held it and gave you a small smile. And you felt your body relax  just a bit more. Between the alcohol and his soft comforting gaze, your body was losing some of the tension that had settled in it earlier with your potential date’s rejection of you.

Instead of being creepy or unsettling, his gaze was consistent and comforting indeed. You could always look over at him and know someone was looking out for you. His gaze remained fixed on your face. Every single time you looked at him, he never had to readjust his gaze. He wasn’t looking at your tits or your legs, always just at your face.

You wondered why he was sitting all alone over there. He was handsome and nice enough. But he seemed quite content all by himself. After a while, when everything seemed to calm down, he stopped looking at you so much. You were still calmed down too, but something in the back of your mind itched for his continued concern even if you didn’t want to be in situations where he would need to be continually concerned about you.

Finished with your second and last drink of the evening, you pulled out your phone to check messages and socials. Your friend had messaged you asking how it was going and you were honest with her about the rejection. She offered virtual hugs and real ice cream but you passed, opting instead to just go home and chill. You went on the dating app you’d met the guy on only to find yourself blocked before you could’ve blocked him. It was whatever.

But before you headed towards the door, you approached Jack. His eyes were on you as you did approach him (your movement getting up from the bar stool apparently had grabbed his attention).

“Hi, I uh I just wanted to thank you again for offering to pay for my drinks… and then leaving me to my own devices. That was really kind of you. I really appreciated it.”

He put his hand up. “No problem. I’m glad you could enjoy your drinks alone.”

“Alright… well… I’ll leave you alone now, then.”

He gave you a smile. “Have a good night.”

You returned the smile. “You too.”

You turn away from him to leave. But then a novel idea hits you. If he’s alone and you’re alone…maybe you could not be so lonely together. You’d stopped. He’d noticed.

“Something wrong?” He called out to you.

You turned back and walked back to him. “Could I sit here?”

He didn’t hesitate to gesture to the chair across from him. “Sure. Want another drink or are you driving?” He’d asked if you would exceed your stated limit (because he’d be paying for that too). He didn’t try to coax you into having a third drink.

“I’m driving. I really don’t feel like another alcoholic one but I’ll switch to a virgin cocktail.”

He flagged a server down and ordered your drinks for the both of you. “If you don’t mind me paying for yours still…”

“Not if you’re offering.”

“I am.” He said with a smile.

The server went to give the bartender the drink order. You both sat in silence for a few seconds.

“So… Jack… what is it you do for work?”

“I’m an attending physician in the ED at PTMC.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Oh, wow! That’s cool!”

He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. “It’s alright. What about you? What do you do?”

You waved a dismissive hand. “Oh um nothing as exciting as you, surely.”

He leaned in slightly. “Well, I still wanna know what it is you do.”

“I’m a librarian.”

“No kidding?”

“It’s true.”

“In a place like this?”

“Guess who picked it?” You asked dryly.

“Not you?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“He made you come to a bar?”

“I chose to come.” You admitted.

He shook his head. “Still no way to treat a woman.” He murmured. “He your age?”

“About, yeah.”

“No goddamn sense… I would’ve taken you to a nice restaurant for dinner or to a cafe for brunch or lunch. If I were going on a date with you, that is. You like Italian? Indian? Coffee? Lattes? Cappuccinos? Breakfast sandwiches? Or are wraps more your thing?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I um… are you… asking me out?”

“Not necessarily. Unless you’d like for me to be asking you out. Any of that sound appealing to you? Feel free to offer your own suggestions. I’m all ears. Or feel free to turn me down. I’m a big boy, I can take it.” You could tell that he’d cringed a bit when he’d called himself a “big boy” but he let it pass.

“If you were asking me out…”

“Yes?” He prompted.

“I might be inclined to say yes to lunch at The Grind.”

His eyebrows rose. “Ah, a woman with good taste. I applaud you.”

“Do I need your approval?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No. You don’t.”

“But I appreciate the acknowledgement that I’m correct in my food taste.”

He nodded, playing along with you. “Oh, of course, happy to oblige.”

“You’d really take me to The Grind for lunch?” You asked seriously.

“Oh, it’s the least I could do.” He put his hand to his chest, still being a bit dramatic and silly but you could tell he was being genuine in his offer and enthusiasm. “It would make up for your ruined date experience.”

“Doesn’t seem so ruined to me.” You shrugged lightly. “A kind and handsome Doctor kinda salvaged the night.” He smiled.

A small smile graced his face as well. “Did he?”

You nodded. “He did, yeah.”

His smile widened. “Happy to oblige.”

He’d made sure you got to your vehicle alright after you’d called it a night.

“Thanks again, Jack. I really appreciate you.” You leant in to give him a brief kiss on the cheek. “I won’t go home and cry myself to sleep now.”

“Knowing I was able to prevent that is all I could’ve asked for.”

“Well you didn’t have to beg me to go on a date with you.”

“No, but I would’ve.”

You smiled. “Would you really have?”

“Oh, absolutely. Something tells me something beautiful may come from being granted the chance to be in your company.”

You laughed and he wished he could bottle that up and save it for when he’d had awful shifts. It would keep him warm in the freezing cold ED. “What? Too cheesy? ‘Cause I’m a little rusty at this, just so you know.”

You tried to keep a straight face. “Well, I couldn’t tell.”

He smiled and shook his head at your obvious lie. “You absolutely could.”

“But maybe I don’t mind.”

"Seriously, I've been out of the dating game for decades at this point."

"It's never too late to get back on that horse."

He shook his head and sighed. "I'm really not good at this."

"You're doing just fine, trust me. And hey, you're already doing much better than Kyle. So there’s that.”

He gave you a slightly judgmental look. "Kyle? Really?"

You smiled and shrugged. "We all make mistakes."

"That’s a pretty low bar but I sincerely hope that I can meet and surpass it so I'm not another one of yours."

"Time will tell but I've got a good feeling about you."

"I'm absolutely terrified but I've got a good feeling about you, too."

He helped you into your vehicle and stood there and watched as you drove out of the parking lot before getting into his own vehicle. He just sat there for a few minutes to let reality set in for him. He had a date. He had an actual honest date with a woman in what was a few decades for him. He'd been an Army combat medic. He was an emergency medicine physician. And yet, he was absolutely terrified of an utterly adorable and sweet librarian.