The Weirdest And The Wildest

As Robby tries to leave, Jack sidesteps, blocking Robby's way to the ambulance bay. "What was that about bad timing?" Jack asks. His mind is still wrapped around you, but something about Robby's tone is sticking out in his head.

Robby grabs Jack's shoulder, turning him to the bay as they walk in tandem. "Nothin'," Robby says with a shrug. "There's just this new resident..."

"Yeah? What about?"

Robby rubs his hands together. "She's your type."

As they step out into the ambulance bay, Jack is shocked by sweltering heat. Today was going to be rough. "What's that mean– my type?"

"You know," Robby rolls his eyes. Jack narrows his. "Good-looking, witty... soft." "Soft? The fuck–"

"Yeah, Jack!" Robby throws his hands up. "Don't act like you don't know this!"

Jack opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He thinks back to you– good-looking, witty, and–

Oh shit. Jack definitely has a type. A type which you definitely are.

"Goddammit."

"Sorry to break it to you." Robby is smirking. He glances over Jack's shoulder and blanches. "Uh, here she comes. Just keep an open mind, yeah?" Robby clasps Jack on the shoulder, once again turning him abound. "Dr. Abbot! Let me introduce our–"

"Oh," Jack breathes, cutting Robby off because–

"It's you." The laugh you let out is already committed to his memory, from back in the diner when Jack somehow managed to put together a half-decent joke. "You're my...?"

Jack has never been as happy for his existence than when Robby pops his head over your shoulder and calls, "No! Not your boss... directly. That would be me." He nods at Jack, then turns to you, "Me. Who is your–"

"My boss," you finish for Robby, staring at him until he finally takes the hint and steps off to where Whitaker lingers. You whistle lowly. "So, uh, this is..."

"Sticky," Jack sighs. In the distance, sirens approach.

"Yeah." You nudge Jack's ankle– his prosthesis. He makes a note to talk to you about that sometime. "Does this change things for you?"

The sirens are getting louder, you glance back in their direction, and Jack takes the opportunity to trace the length of your neck as it disappears down the neckline of–

"Jack?" You're staring at him through furrowed brows. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" He clears his throat, eyes snapping back to yours. You're laughing. A flush creeps up his neck. In a desperate attempt to save his skin, Jack tries, "Let's talk about this another time.

Jack's still got it, because you break his stare, smiling shyly as you stutter, "Th-That sounds good. Nice."

You freeze. That’s not part of our regularly scheduled programming.

“Yes?”

Robby clears his throat, eyes scanning the diner behind you. He leans in and says, “They don’t pay you enough here.”

You shift. “Well—“

Robby puts his hand up, and for some reason you shut up. “Don’t argue. I know they don’t.” He scratches his beard, observing you. “You should quit.”

You laugh because it feels like your only option. It’s beginning to feel hot, and the few other people in the place are noticing you two. You’re sure if it wasn’t empty tonight, you’d get an earful about wasting time from your manager.

“I can’t,” you say. Your skin is buzzing— you should go. “I can’t pay rent without it.”

Robby smirks. “Okay.”

Your face twists at Robby’s tone. You press, “I can’t.”

“You’d be surprised.”

That’s the last word he says all night. Not even a thank you when you drop off his coffee and pie (along with the check). You stick behind the bar, wiping various coffee mugs with a rag.

When Robby eventually leaves, you stay behind the bar longer still. You check on all the pies in the case, counting each and every slice left, and then doing that twice more before deciding it's about time to go grab the twenty dollar bill Robby always leaves.

Except, it's not a twenty– it's a fifty. Twenty of them.

You choke on nothing, nabbing receipt only to find something scribbled hastily in pen on the bottom– a phone number and a message.

But Robby's romance with Heather fizzled out in the way that all of Robby's romances did. And Jack really didn't have time to concern himself with how his best friend went through women. Sometimes he would think about it in the lull around 1am on the nightshift. Was Robby running away from something rather than towards something with these women? Sometimes he would mention it to his therapist who would peer at him over the frames of her glasses.

"Is that what you really want to talk about right now, Jack?" she would query, and he would simply shake his head.

All this to say, Jack Abbot never had an issue with being professional with his residents. He likes training them up, he had overseen John Shen and Parker Ellis, who chose to stick around on the PTMC night shift. He likes nights, has ever since his wife passed away a decade ago. He used to fight with Robby about who would work day shifts, and then, after he came back to work, he asked Adamson if he could swap to nights permanently. No one questioned it. How could they? Jack had lost his wife and his unborn child.

Romance was not the top of Dr Jack Abbot's list. He had experienced it. And he had no intention of getting on the apps or dating or any of that shit. Anyway, his work schedule wasn't really compatible with dating.

"Brother?"

The voice shakes him from his thoughts. He turns and sees Robby approaching him across the roof.

"Rough night?" his friend asks as he leans against the railing.

Jack just shakes his head. Honestly, it hasn't been. He has no excuse to be up here watching the city of Pittsburgh awaken.

"Just needed to clear my head," he confesses before letting Robby bring him back downstairs.

Robby doesn't question why his friend needs to clear his head. He's been there. They've all been there. This place can suffocate you if you let it. He knows that all too well.

Unfortunately, Robby has no idea that the reason why Jack's head has been spinning isn't some disaster, some rough night, some difficult case. No, the reason why Jack has needed to take walks, take deep soothing breaths and avoid spending time in the on-call room is because of a new intern.

You are currently speaking to Trinity Santos and Samira Mohan, catching up on what has happened. You're currently on your night shift rotation after joining PTMC in the summer. Straight out of med school. You hug Mel when she appears, a little later than the other two. She had to drop her sister at her care facility, and there was an issue. You nod sympathetically as she rambles, before you place a hand on her arm to remind her to take a breath.

Jack is very aware of how much younger you are than him. He is very aware that he is your Attending, your mentor, your teacher. He is someone you look up to...literally. And you look at him through your lashes when he explains something to you he can feel his cock stir in interest. And he feels like a dirty old man. He cannot be doing this.

He would get in so much trouble!

Anyway, a pretty, young thing would never be interested in an old guy like him. So he shakes off his thoughts. He tries not to dream about the way you would squirm under him. He tries not to fist his cock, thinking about you as soon as he gets home from the shifts he shares with you.

You always ask him to walk you through every new procedure. It's something he usually does with the residents, regardless. But he can think of a thing or two that he would rather talk you through instead. You always move so close to him when he has to guide you, he can smell the perfume you always wear to your shift. He can feel the heat radiating from your body and he wants to touch you desperately.

"Dr Abbot," you call, catching him in his thoughts. "Will we do rounds before we get caught helping these guys out again?"

You never mind staying a little bit longer if it got busy in the mornings. You want a good evaluation at the end of the year, of course, from both Dr Robinavitch and Dr Abbot.

Jack blinks as he watches your open and eager face, just waiting for him to give you a command. Instead, he simply nods his head and leads you, Santos, Mohan, and Mel around the beds.

You manage to clock out and change out of your scrubs just after 7:30am. Not bad! You are fumbling with the zipper of your jacket as you walk out of the changing rooms when you walk straight into your Attending, Jack Abbot.

You are counting down the weeks until you're back on days. Dr Jack Abbot seems to hate you. And you can't understand why. Samira and Victoria had both told you that Dr Abbot was so much nicer than Robby. He rarely ever yells and he talks you through procedures, every step. He has a very different teaching style than Robby. But while Robby is always there to help you go through your charts, Abbot avoids you like a plague. He never wants to be around you it would seem.

He is only there when he needs to be. And usually, he's handing you off to Shen when the other Attending is on. You really have no clue what you did to make Abbot hate you like this.

You've worked your ass off to get here. Top of your class in pre-med and med school. That's why you got your first pick of this specific Emergency Department. It's one of the best in the country! In fact, you attended lectures both Robby and Abbot held when you were in college. This was it for you! And Robby always sang your praises.

You refused to have all your hard work get thrown away because your Night Shift Attending hates your guts.

You look up at him through your lashes when you bump into him. He grips your biceps to stop you from stumbling backwards. He's looking down at you, unimpressed, with his chin jutting out. God he hates you.

"S-Sorry, Doctor Abbot," you breathe. "I'll see you tomorrow...or I guess tonight."

He just nods and releases you. You miss how he flexes his hands after touching you just for the briefest moment. And you certainly don't know that he'll fantasise about that interaction in his shower later that morning.

No, you're convinced he hates you and it couldn't be further from the truth.

You trudge back into PTMC that night, 7pm sharp and Matteo is quick to hand you a Red Bull.

"My angel," you say with a smile as you crack it open immediately. It's going to be a long one. Especially when you see Jack Abbot round the corner and crack his neck.

Oh God. Was he coming over to yell at you? Did you do something wrong last night? But no, he ignores you entirely. And somehow that is worse.

You actually don't interact with Dr Abbot until about 2am when you have to help with a trauma. It's stressful, and you feel like your legs are going to collapse from under you.

"That's it, kid," he praises you, walking you through the procedure that has you wrist deep in a man's chest. "That's it. Just like that. Almost there, kid."

It's a nickname that is reserved only for you. He never hears him call any of the other interns, well Santos, that.

"That's it," he breathes again, his hot breath tickling your neck as he watches your every manoeuvre. "That's it. Good girl."

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze. He's watching you with his chin tilted up just so, making your breathing hitch for just a second. You shake your head and focus back on your patient.

When Dr Walsh finally comes down to bring the patient up to the OR, you are on the brink of tears.

"Good job, kid. You just saved that man's life," Abbot tells you, giving you a half smile.

Your body is trumming with adrenaline. That is the only reasonable explanation for why you do what you do.

You turn to your Attending and throw your arms around him in a tight hug.

Jack freezes. He never expected to be this close to you, having your smaller frame wrapped around him. And his heart is thumping. He is willing, no demanding, his cock to behave. It's not long before you realise what you've done and jump away.

"Sorry! Sorry!" you repeat before pulling off your gown and gloves and rushing off.

Jack calms his breathing, tells Lena he's taking fifteen and heads up to one of the abandoned wards. He should not but doing this as he locks the door to one of the rooms. But it's not even five minutes later that his cock is loose and he is stroking himself thinking of you. He can still smell you on his skin. Even that brief interaction drove him mad. He swears as he cums in his hand, catching his load so it doesn't spill onto his scrubs. He can't go back down like that.

He takes a walk up and down the hall before going back down and finishing off his shift. As soon as Robby walks in, Jack ambushes him.

"Can we talk?" he asks.

Robby looks at his friend with weary eyes. He hasn't even had a second to put his bag down. But he allows it, letting Abbot bring him into the breakroom.

"I was thinking of releasing the Kid back to days," Jack says simply, busying himself by making coffee.

This surprises Robby, who leans against the countertop.

"She hasn't finished her rotation. It's her intern year, it's important that she completes everything," he reminds Jack.

Jack sniffs, twisting his mouth to the side and nods.

"Yep, but we run a tight ship here. And I think you need more hands on Day Shift. Anyway, no need to fuck up a good cicidian rhythm for the sake of rules," he says with a hand wave.

Robby watches the way his friend moves. Jack is usually all about eye contact, to an unnerving degree but Robby cannot catch the shorter man's eye this morning. And finally the pieces click into place.

"She's very young, Jack," he crows, a triumphant smirk on his face.

Finally something, or someone, has penetrated Jack's walls.

"I am aware, Robby. That is why I am asking you to do me a solid and remove her from the rotation," he grits out, finally meeting his friend's smirk.

While Robby agrees, neither man realises you are outside. You had made your way over after Langdon showed you another video of Penny crawling to grab your lunchbox. But all you heard was how your Attending was asking the Chief of the ED to do him a "solid" and get you kicked off night shift.

You turn on your heel and leave before anyone can stop you, lunchbox be damned.

You're dreading your next shift. You change into your scrubs slowly, you tie your hair back and finally make your way onto the ward. You tug at the sleeves of your grey undershirt and frown when your gaze lands on Abbot.

He nods at you, motioning for you to follow him. And you do. He walks you into an empty room and pulls the curtain.

"I know, you want me off nights," you say before he can start. You don't need to hear the whole song and dance from your boss who clearly hates you.

"Kid," he begins, but you shake your head.

"Don't call me kid. I'm not...I'm a good doctor. I'm still learning, I work so hard. I've never had any issues with any of the Attendings. So I'm really sorry that I have offended you in whatever way I have," you snap.

Jack sighs, "You can finish your shift and start back with Robby on Monday."

You nod and storm off, tears thick on your lashes. You have to take a few minutes to cool down before you start working.

You manage to avoid Jack Abbot for almost six months. Even when you have a double shift scheduled, Jack is always off. You do your rounds with Shen. He chuckles and shakes his head as you actively avoid dealing with the older man.

"He's not that bad," Shen says one night with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Uh huh," you say as you take the decaf iced coffee Shen has started to bring in for you when you're doing handover. "Not like he got me kicked off night shift."

"You really didn't wanna be stuck with us," Shen responds with a smile.

You roll your eyes. It's true, you didn't plan on staying on night shift permanently. But it was part of the job! You're concerned that his cutting your rotation short will affect your progress in your intern year! You grumble about it to Santos at least once a week.

At one point, she suggests you just "kiss and make up," and you throw a chest tube at her.

But one evening, you get a call from a very desperate Shen, Parker called out sick and they are scrambling for someone.

"Can't someone work a double?" you grouse.

You really, really don't want to work with Abbot. Not tonight! You've just gotten home from a day out with friends. Your hair is carefully curled and you even have makeup on. Something that rarely happens when you go to work. So your grumbling as you walk into the Pitt.

"It better be a quiet night," you point at Shen as you walk in with your bag slung over your shoulder.

Jack Abbot's eyes flick up when he hears your voice. He wasn't expecting to see you. And you take his breath away. Moreso than you do when you're running around the hospital in your scrubs that fit just a little too well. You're not even wearing anything fancy, just jeans and a form fitting tank top. That is worse than the scrubs. He swallows thickly trying not to swallow his tongue.

"Jack?" Lena is saying, following his gaze, before smirking to herself.

The only person that is oblivious to how Jack really feels about you is, well, you.

He shakes his head and returns to his chart and lets Lena walk him through what he's missed. But it's not long before you're back out on the floor, changed into your scrubs with your hair tied back now. But Jack can't stop tracking your every movement.

You're sure you've jinxed yourself when you demand a quiet night, but all things considered, you're not run off your feet. Until 5am rolls around and a crash comes in. It's tough and you just can't manage to figure out how to stop the internal bleeding.

"Hey! Look at me," Jack all but growls at you. "You need to focus. Breathe and fuckin' focus, kid."

You try, you fucking try your best but none of it matters. Doctor Park comes in and take up to OR but they lose him on the table. And it's your fault. You should have been able to stop the bleeding!

You're worked up and the day shift is slowly starting to trickle in so you climb up to the abandoned ward on the eighth floor. You just need to breathe. To think. And not have Dr Abbot watching every move you make, waiting for you to fuck up. Again.

You're pacing back and forth, trying to stop the tears that are threatening to overtake you from flowing down your face. And then you spot his shadow in the doorway.

"Kid?" Jack Abbot's husky voice asks.

He didn't plan to run into you. Obviously, he would rather avoid it, but he had seen movement when he was on his way to the roof to take a breather. He didn't want some lawsuit on his ass because he had ignored a squatter. But worse it was the intern he has been successfully avoiding for the better part of six months.

You still hadn't left his thoughts, though. Sometimes he would catch a glimpse of you if he came in early or when he came to meet Robby for lunch. He would sometimes find hints of your perfume around the ED and it made him stop dead in his tracks. And yes, he was still cumming into his hand, groaning out your name.

He really should speak to his therapist about it all. It was all so fucked up.

Your glassy eyes meet his gaze, and you just burst into tears. He's probably come up here to yell at you. Tell you that you can't just hide when something goes wrong.

Instead, he doesn't. Despite Jack Abbot's better judgement, he closes the door, crosses the room and bundles you up into a hug. He really shouldn't be doing that. But you're sobbing!

It takes you maybe 30 seconds before you realise what is going on and pull away from him. He steps back immediately, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I wasn't even supposed to be working tonight," you finally snap. "I cam in as a favour to Shen."

You say the other Attending's name pointedly.

"And if I need a second to compose myself after losing a patient, I'm going to take it. And I don't need you to come up here and tell me what a shitty doctor I am, I can do that on my own, thank you very much."

"I wasn't gonna-" Abbot begins but you're not finished on your tirade.

"I just don't understand why you hate me! I have worked so hard to be here!" you say finally looking at him, you face red with tears and from your yelling.

Jack had a half smirk on his face as you ranted, but it immediately fades at the idea of him hating you.

"You think I hate you?" he asks, cocking his head to the side in surprise.

You let out a small laugh.

"You asked Robby to move me off night shift," you remind him. "Because you run a tight ship."

His words still echo in your head all these months later. You wait for his response but there is none. He's still staring at you; the man loves nothing if not eye contact. But his mouth is screwed up in concern now.

"I don't hate you, kid," he finally breathes out, his voice soft and raspy. It makes you stomach twist in a way you didn't expect.

You open your mouth to argue back. How could he not hate you? But you don't get a chance because he has closed the space between you and pulled you into a searing kiss. A kiss that has your whole body feeling like you're static. You can't even think as his silver stubble rubs against your soft skin. Your tongue delves into his mouth and you let out a soft moan at his taste. You can't help yourself. You thought all this time he hated you. And yet his rough hands were grasping at your ass over your scrubs.

God, you were going to be a fucking cliché, but you pulled back just to pull your scrubs top and your undershirt off. And Jack's eyes look like they're going to bulge right out of his head. He didn't know what to expect when he kissed you, but this? Well, this was better than any fantasy he has come up with. Maybe he's sleeping...dreaming... Maybe he's actually taken a tumble off the roof, and this is heaven.

Your lips on his neck bring him back to this moment. You don't realise how hungry you are for him until he's presented in front of you. Your Attending, your Attending that you thought hated you is now groaning out for your kisses. You pull at his scrub top trying to see how far the freckles on his neck go. But he stops you.

Fuck. Have you gone too far?

But he's pulling you closer, kissing you again. He lifts you, easily and carries you to the unused bed in the corner.

"I don't hate you, kid," he growls as he lays you down.

Now its his turn to kiss down your silky neck, down to the swell of your breast. He laves at your hardened nipples over the fabric of the bra before he crawls over you and unhooks it. He lets out a groan as your breasts fall free and he dives between them, sucking and licking and biting. He focuses on the skin around your nipples before sucking and teasing each hardened peek. Your buzzing brain is wondering if you can cum by nipple play alone. And if Jack Abbot had more time, you were sure you could. By the time he's finished, you're covered in love marks.

He pulls away a smirk on his face as he kisses down your stomach down to the top of your scrub pants.

"You don't-" you begin which causes Jack to surge up and kiss you hard.

You take this chance to pull his scrub top off and let out your own appreciative groan at his freckle covered biceps and chest. He's spent a lot of time in the sun...without a shirt it would seem. You get dizzy thinking about him sweating as he chops wood in his back garden. As if the Adonious isn't in front of you right now.

"Like what you see, kid?" he asks with a cocky smirk.

Usually, you would roll your eyes, but all you can do is nod as he begins his journey back down your body once more. When he gets to your scrub bottoms, he pulls them and your soaking panties off in one swift move. He groans as he watches your wetness stick to you fabric of your underwear.

"All for me, baby?" he growls as he kisses over your mound. "You walkin' around the hospital like that every time we work together, huh? Cos I was hard enough to pound nails when I was working with you. Useda have t' come up here just to jerk off to the thought of you."

You whimper out at the filth coming out of his mouth.

"Been dreaming about what you would taste like," he breathes, blowing a warm stream of air over your cunt.

You writhe underneath him already and he hasn't even touched you. You whimper as he places a soft kiss over your weeping folds. You haven't been touched in so long. And Dr Jack Abbot knows what he's doing. He presses kisses over your pussy, peppering a few over your clit. And then he's pressing his tongue inside you, moving between that and lapping at your clit.

You can feel that familiar coil of pleaesure build and build and build. One rough hand comes up to tease your hardened nipple as he focuses his attention to your clit.

"Cum for me, baby," he demands as he spits onto your cunt. "Cum for me, now."

He focuses his efforts back down on your clit, moving his tongue in time with the fingers on your nipple and within seconds you're crying out his name as you absolutely soak his face.

Your release is sparkling over his lips, catching in his stubble. You go cross-eyed at the sight. He climbs up the bed to kiss you, claiming you desperately.

"Fuck, Jack, I need you," you beg him between kisses, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Baby, we don't need to do anymore," he breathes, just happy to have made you cum like that.

You shake your head. You need more. You demand more.

"Need you inside me, please? Need you to fuck me," you beg.

You've never begged before, but the way Jack Abbot is on top of you, still gripping onto one of your thighs...well, you can't help but beg.

"Ya want me to fuck you, baby?" he coos all sweet. Hell, he even pouts.

You just nod, rubbing your thighs together as you dream about getting a sight of him. He's already tented against his scrub pants, and your eyes flick between his hazel eyes and his crotch. He gives you a cocky smirk, and by God has he earned that cockiness, and simply flips you onto your stomach. He gives the rounded flesh of your ass a smack as he presses his chest right onto your back.

"Hands and knees, baby," he growls into your ear, his teeth grazing over your lobe.

You scramble to do exactly as he tells you. It's a struggle with him kissing down your neck and over your shoulder. But you do it.

"Good girl," he praises as he sits back on his heels and pushes his scrub pants down his thigh.

Not enough to let the pretty, young intern see his prosthetic. He's not ashamed of it. But he doesn't need you asking questions...especially not right now. Now, he needs to be balls deep inside you. He pumps his angry cock that's dripping with pre-cum, admiring the view in front of him. You've arched your back just right, your legs spread enough for him to see how wet you are for him. Your slick has coated your thighs.

He can't help but reach out and land a sharp smack to your cunt.

"Ready, baby?" he asks as he moves forward.

You simply nod but that doesn't satisfy Jack. He gives your pussy another slap, earning him a little mewl from you.

"Words, baby," he growls.

"Yes," you manage to whimper as you hands twist into the sheets of the hospital bed.

He plants a kiss between your shoulder blades before he presses the blunt head of his cock against your folds. He lets out a grunt as he settles into you, slowly, torturously slow until he bottoms out inside you.

"Atta girl," he praises as he kneads at your ass.

He takes a second to adjust to you before he rocks his hips forward. Then he slowly starts picking up the pace, his hand grips your hair and pushes your face into the pillow. You never imagined that Jack Abbot would be loud in bed, but he's grunting and groaning over you.

"Wanna hear you," he demands, tugging your hair so your cheek is pressed against the pillow and your moans are finally unmuffled.

Jack closes his eyes and drinks in the sweet cries you make as he slams in and out of you.

"That's it, baby. You can take more, can't you?" he growls as he pulls you apart with each thrust.

It's like when he walks you through a procedure, so thorough...but so much hotter.

"I can feel that pretty pussy already pulsing. Are you gonna cum for me again? On my cock, pretty girl?" he gruffs out.

Honestly, his own orgasm is on the horizon. But he's a gentleman, and he won't finish before you. He's just gotta coach you throw it.

"Baby, I wanna feel you cum for me. Cum on my cock, huh?" he gruffs as he pulls your hair up.

He uses this leverage to pull you flush against his chest. One hand wraps around your waist to keep you upright as his thrusts get more and more erratic. But he manages to snake the rough palm up your body to paw at your breast. His other hand slides down to your clit.

"You're close, baby," he tells you, right into your ear. He kisses over your neck. "Can feel ya...ya got another one for me. Huh?"

You nod before you cry out his name. You drop your head back against his shoulder.

"I'm right there with ya, baby. Right there," he grunts, kissing over your face as best he can at this angle. "Fuck...fuck...that's it, baby."

You can feel him fill you with white, hot spurts of his cum.

"Take me, baby, take me. Gonna fill that pussy. Fuck," he growls.

He captures your lips in a heady kiss as you both come down from your highs. You feel him grow soft and he slides out of you with a wet pop. He grabs the blanket and gives his cock a quick clean before pulling up his pants. You collapse back onto the bed completely spent. He grabs his scrub top and redresses. He dips into the adjoining bathroom of the room to wet a cloth. He cleans up the mess he made between your legs. Your vision is still spotty so you let him. And let him kiss you once more.

You finally become more aware of what you just did. Who you just did it with. And where you just did it.

You sit up looking for your clothes, but Dr Abbot is already at the door.

"Our little secret, kid," he practically purrs, throwing you a wink before he disappears back down to the ED, leaving you alone with a lot to process.

a/n: thanks for reading

part two

"This is a live-in position?" you clarify as you sit at the breakfast bar in his home.

He nods his head, "Yea, um, with my job I have to be away from home a lot. I don't like leaving Lena alone."

You blink, "Well yes, she's six. I wouldn't leave her alone either. That's fine. I'll just take Saturday afternoons until Monday mornings off."

The man before you frowns, "What if I need you to work weekends?"

"We can discuss overtime, Mr Blackwell. But I will be taking weekends. I'm being generous with Saturday mornings," you say with a frown.

His frown deepens but he nods.

"Lena's mother would do a grocery run-"

"Mr Blackwell, I'm not a maid. Of course, I'll cook for Lena. But I don't clean, I don't cook, I don't grocery shop."

"If I paid more?" he asks then.

You cock your head to the side, "If you paid more, then we can discuss that, of course."

So that's how you end up working for Barry Blackwell.

You don't mind living in the house by the beach. You get Lena up every morning, you make breakfast, bring her to school. You go clean the house when she's away, even do the damn grocery shopping with the wad of money he leaves on top of the microwave each week. When you pick Lena up from school, you always bring her to the beach.

"Daddy never takes me to the beach," she tells you one day as you eat ice cream.

Yea, you gather. You really don't like her dad. But he's rarely at home like he said.

"Uncle Pope brings me," she says. "We go to the swings."

You stroke her curls and smile, "Your uncle? Does he live around here?"

Lena shrugs, "I think so. Sometimes he's at Grandma Smurf's. But he was away for a really long time. I don't know where. But he's nice."

One morning after you drop Lena to school, you walk into the house to find a blonde woman sitting in the kitchen. You jump when you see her. Nobody has been in the house bar you and Lena since Baz left at the start of the week.

She sizes you up and down, "Where's my son?"

"Mr Blackwell?" you ask.

You've never seen this woman before. Baz told you not to let anyone into the house when he was away. Fuck. The older woman softens at your tone.

"Who are you exactly?" she asks, pursing her lips as she eyes you up.

"I'm Lena's nanny," you explain. "Mr Blackwell hired me a few weeks ago. He needed the help after his wife left. I just dropped her at school. Sorry, he never mentioned any family."

She frowns at your words, "Well that would be why I haven't seen my grandbaby in so long. I didn't know what Baz was doing with her. But he's got a pretty girl like you taking care of her.

"You can call me Smurf. Everyone else does. How about you bring Lena over to my house after school?"

"Oh, sure. I, well, don't know where you live," you confess.

Smurf smiles, "Well why don't you come over now. And we can go get Lena together. We have a pool," she tells you.

You brighten up immediately, "Oh! I was trying to teach Lena to swim. She loves to go to the beach but she can't swim. You think I could teach her in your pool?"

Smurf is delighted by the idea. Let's you gather your and Lena's things before driving you over to the Cody house. You've never been to this area of Oceanside. You don't expect the huge house. And you don't expect to meet Smurf's other sons.

Craig and Deran are making noise by the pool when you walk in. Smurf just ushers you into the kitchen.

"Have you had breakfast?" she asks you.

"Um, no I usually eat after I come back from dropping off Lena," you respond.

Smurf immediately starts cooking for you. You hate being doted on like that. You haven't been in so long. So you try to help but Smurf tells you to sit.

"Can I make you coffee at least?" you finally ask.

Smurf allows this, and you get to work with making fresh coffee for them. You look up when you hear heavy footsteps approaching. Your heart skips a beat when you look up to see a man storming into the kitchen handsome, auburn hair, hazel eyes and sun-kissed skin.

"Who's that?" he asks Smurf, ignoring you.

"Baz hired a nanny for Lena," his mother responds, introducing you.

He frowns as he sizes you up, "What did he do that for? We can take care of her."

Smurf scowls at him, at the suggestion. She doesn't want him to say something stupid in front of this stranger. She puts her arm around you, squeezing you gently.

"This is my eldest boy, Andrew," she tells you. "He's a bit rough around the edges but I promise, he's a sweetheart underneath it all. Now you go eat your breakfast while I speak to him."

You do as you're told. A part of you knows better than to go against what this woman says. It's a gut feeling. And you don't go against gut feelings.

When Smurf leaves you and Lena back to Baz's, Smurf grips your wrist, stopping you from getting out of her car.

"Let's not tell Baz about this visit. I think it's best if we just keep it between us," she says.

You nod your head. You're not stupid enough to disagree with her. And anyway, it's just swimming lessons.

Since Pope learned about you, he knew he needed to keep an eye on you. He spent a week following you. Watching as you brought Lena to school. Where you do your grocery shopping. He watches you when you go to the beach before you have to collect Lena. He likes watching how your body moves in the water when you go for a swim. He tries to ignore how his body reacts to you when you walk out of the sea, water sliding down your body.

You have no idea about Pope Cody. One morning, when you go to wake Lena up to get her ready for the day, you go into her room, and she's not there. Your heart drops. She's not watching TV. She's not in the bathroom. You search every inch of the house.

You're about to call Baz when the door opens and Lena walks in. You rush over to her, falling to your knees and cupping her little face in your hands.

"Where were you?" you ask. "You know you can't just wander outside on your own."

"I wasn't alone," she says as the door opens wider.

You look up from where you're kneeling on the ground to see a man come in. Andrew. The man who you met briefly at Smurf's house.

"Uncle Pope brought me to swings."

You lean back on your kneels with a frown as you look at him. He stares you down and you can't help the way your heart races. You blame it on the stress of Lena going missing.

"You shoulda woke me up," you say to her, stroking her cheeks again before standing up.

Andrew, Pope, looks at you. Cocking his head to the side.

"Where's Baz?" he asks, his voice rough.

Lena answers, "He's away..."

"And is he away a lot?" Pope asks, his eyes flicking to you.

"Lena, can you get ready for school, sweetie. I'll make you breakfast in a second," you say.

As soon as Lena rushes off you turn your attention to Pope.

"You can't just break in here and take off with her," you tell him. "I thought she was kidnapped. Mr Blackwell woulda killed me!"

Pope sizes you up, "She's my niece. I can see her whenever I want."

You look at him like he's crazy. He has to be crazy. It's barely 6am and he thought he'd pay a visit?!

"I knew Baz wasn't around. I was worried about Lena. I thought she was here alone."

"And you didn't call your brother?" you ask, folding your arms in annoyance.

"He didn't answer. Where is he?" he retorts.

You shrug as you turn to the kitchen, Pope's eyes fall to the swell of your ass under your sleep shorts.

"He told me he travels for work. Is that not true?" you ask as you pull out bacon from the fridge.

Pope just sniffs in return. He knows his brother is probably with Lucy in Mexico. Leaving his daughter with a stranger.

"You're a nanny?" he asks then.

"Yea, I worked in Europe as an au pair. I've done all my courses. Everything is above board, if that's what you're tryin' to get at," you say as you start making breakfast.

"And you live here? With Baz?"

You shake your head quickly.

"I'm a live-in nanny. But I don't live with Baz," you say, maybe a bit harsher than usual. "You want coffee?"

Pope's lips twitch, as close to a smile as you'll get. He likes you.

You don't expect Pope to still be there after you get home from dropping Lena to school. But he's there, cleaning the kitchen.

"Lena really likes you," you say. "When she goes to her grandmother's she's always asking if you'll be there. I'm teaching her how to swim. I can't believe she's a Cali girl and she can't swim!"

Pope just shrugs. He's not much of a talker.

"Look, I have no problem with you seeing her but I'd appreciate if you told me first."

He takes another minute before looking at you.

"So I need your number," you say offering him your phone.

That's how you end up texting Pope Cody.

Pope Cody: Hello. I can pick Lena up from school today. I'm in the area.

Pope Cody: Good Morning. I can take Lena for breakfast, she likes a pancake place on the way to school.

Pope Cody: Hello. I made too much spaghetti, I can bring some over for Lena and you if you'd like.

You smile whenever your phone vibrates. You like talking to Pope. Even if it is just about Lena.

Whenever Baz is there, the texts don't come in. Sometimes Pope will come over to hang out with Baz. But you never get to say too much to him as Baz suggests you take Lena somewhere else.

Although one day you walk in as Baz snarls in Pope's face, "No one is ever gonna have a kid with you."

Pope can't meet your eyes as he walks past you to leave.

You spend your Saturday afternoons and Sundays out of Oceanside. Unless Baz has requested that you stay. He pays you in cash beforehand, and you just spend the weekend with Lena. Sometimes at Smurf's. Sometimes with Pope.

You're on the beach one Saturday with Lena, Pope is pushing her on the swings and you are watching on. A woman comes up to you and smiles.

"Your little girl is so cute and your husband is so good with her," she says. "I have to drag my husband out with them."

You should correct her, but you don't. You want people to think that you're a family. It would be nice...

Soon you find yourself texting Pope, not just about Lena.

You: I watched a documentary about wolves I think you'd like

You: I was going to go to the beach tomorrow did you wanna come? Deran said you used to like surfing!

Baz comes in all flustered one afternoon. He hasn't been home in almost a month. It's the longest that he's been away. He rushes over to Lena and she's so happy to see her Daddy. You go back to cleaning as she babbles about everything that has happened since he's been away. You smile.

She's a great kid. One of the best you've taken care of.

You hear Baz ask her to repeat herself and your head shoots up.

"She's teaching me how to swim in Grandma Smurf's pool," you hear her say.

It's not her fault. She's just a kid. And even though you had told her not to say anything about Pope or Smurf, you can't blame her for spilling details. But the colour drains out of your face nevertheless. Especially when you hear Baz telling her to go to her room. She does as she's told.

You continue cleaning as you hear Baz's footsteps storm into the kitchen. He grabs your hair and pulls you backwards. He's pressed against your back and you're looking up at him, fear coursing through your body.

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in the house. And now I hear Smurf has been sniffing around. And you're bringing my kid around to her house," he hisses at you.

You whimper as his grip on your hair tightens.

"She's her grandmother. I didn't think-" you being before Baz slams your head against a cupboard.

"Yea, you didn't fuckin' think. When I tell you something, you fuckin' listen. You stupid bitch," he snarls, hitting your head against the cupboard again.

You're bracing yourself for another slam, but you're suddenly falling to the ground. Baz has been hauled off you. You collapse. You turn to see Pope dragging him off you. He punches him once before pushing him to the other side of the room.

You whimper when you hear footsteps coming towards you but it's not Baz. Pope scoops you up into his arms and carries you out of the house.

"Lena," you breathe shakily.

You don't wanna leave her alone in that house.

"She'll be okay. Baz isn't gonna hurt her," Pope promises as he brings you to his car.

He puts you into the passenger side and drives you to his home. You've never been to Pope's house before, even though you spend most days with him now. You start to get out of the car, but Pope once again gathers you in his arms, bringing you into the house.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, his face a mask of anger.

He places you down on the couch. He strokes the cuts on your face, he can already see where the bruises will come up. Baz at least hadn't broken your nose.

"Let me clean you up," he breathes after you nod that you're okay.

You're shaken but it wasn't the first time that you've gotten hit. It's just been a while. Fuck, you thought you were over that stage of your life. Shouldn't have gone to fuckin' Oceanside to mind some kid.

"You promise Lena'll be okay?" you ask him when he finally returns with water and cotton pads.

Pope grunts as he cleans you up, "I wouldn't have left her there if I thought Baz would hurt her...I'll get her in the morning and bring her here. Is that okay?"

"Thank you, Andrew," you say softly. "You didn't have to do any of this. And thanks for being there."

You don't query how he knew you needed his help. You're just glad he was there. His large hands are still holding your face and his rough thumb slides over your lower lip. He is well aware that he shouldn't do this. But he can't help himself. You gently kiss the pad of his thumb, your eyes never leaving his.

He brushes his thumb slowly over your cheekbone. His eyes never leave yours. Pope has never been good with eye contact but he holds yours for what seems like hours. He doesn't want to push you. Not after what Baz did to you. But you're the one who finally breaks and presses your lips against his. Pope tentatively kisses you back but when he hears your little whimper, he's a goner. His hands drop from your face to your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

You've been waiting for months to run your fingers through his auburn curls. You tug at his curls as you deepen the kiss. You're suddenly dry-humping with Pope Cody on his couch like two teenagers. And you couldn't stop if you tried.

That is until his hands slide up your shirt and grasp your tits. You moan into his mouth as his rough palms press against the swell of your breasts, squeezing and releasing. He pulls your shirt over your head, breaking the kiss for just a second to do so. He doesn't even undo your bra, just pulls the cups down so your breasts fall free. He flips you onto your back. He kisses down your neck and then to your tits. He spends what feels like hours laving at your nipples. Whichever tit isn't in his mouth is being played with by his rough hands. Your arousal is all but rolling down your thighs when he finally pulls away from your tits.

His eyes are so blown out they're almost black. He pulls your jean shorts and panties down in one move. He groans at the sight of you.

"Lemme see that pretty pussy, baby," he tells you as he spreads your legs. You've never been this turned on in your life.

"Andrew Cody, if you don't fuck me right now," you whine out.

Your whines only result on him smacking you hard on your weeping cunt. Your back arches off the couch. Fuck you need him.

"Now lemme see that pussy."

Pope crawls between your legs, getting eye level down with your pussy.

"So pretty," he praises as he spreads you open, his eyes scanning you. He blows on you, causing you to shudder. His thumb teases your clit watching how you clench around nothing.

"So, so pretty," he praises.

Finally he presses kisses up your thighs and eventually presses his tongue inside you.

"Fuck, yes, right there," you whine out in pure need, grinding against his face.

Pope decides he needs to have you ride his face next. But not yet. He wants to play some more. He focuses his attention on your clit, hooking your legs over his wide shoulders. And within just a handful of ministrations, you're coming undone over his tongue. Your orgasm hits like a freight train. You're painfully turned on. You've been wound up for so long. And Pope Cody is just so happy to help you let loose.

Once you come down from your high, you pounce on him, pulling his clothes off. Desperate to see him. He chuckles softly as he helps you take his clothes off.

You follow his lead, kissing over the freckles on his neck, down his chest and stomach. He tenses under your movements and you smirk, nipping over his abs. His cock is leaking, standing to attention. And he's fucking huge. You should have expected that.

"Wanna fuck my face, daddy?" you coo up at him.

That name sends Pope wild, he grabs your hair and guides you down onto him. Once you've gotten used to him, he starts rocking his hips up. He holds onto you as he starts fucking into your mouth just like you asked.

"Fuck, sweetheart. Shit," he grunts after just a handful of thrusts. "I can't take this anymore. I need to be inside you. I need to fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

Pope grips you, flipping you back onto your back so he's on top of you again. He teases your clit with the head of his cock, smirking as you start to squirm.

"You want daddy's cock, huh? You gonna be a good girl and take my cock?" he growls in your ear.

You nod desperately, dumbly. Finally he's pressing inside you, inch by inch. You lock your legs around his hips as he finally bottoms out.

"Just like heaven, baby girl," he breathes in your ear.

He should be gentle, sweet, slow, after what Baz did to you. But he's desperate. So he starts jerking his hips in and out of you. The snap of skin on skin fills the room. Your pussy is so wet you can hear it just as well. You're so desperate for him.

"You gonna cum on daddy's cock?" he breathes as he fucks you. His hands palm at your tits with each thrust.

And as if on command, you cum again. You soak him and Pope looks victorious. But he's not finished with you yet. He pulls out to flip you onto your stomach and press inside you again.

"Fuck, so big, daddy," you whine for him as he pounds into you.

Pope kisses over your neck and down your spine, as best as he can from this angle. He buries his face into your neck as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over again. Your eyes roll back in your head as your third orgasm hits you.

This time you clench so tightly over his cock, Pope can't move. Your cunt literally milks his cock, forcing his orgasm out of him. He hasn't cum in so long that his release his hot and thick. It starts sliding out of you as your abused pussy can't take it all.

And Pope, you hates mess, marvels at the sight. After you've both come down from your highs, he gathers you in his arms.

"Sorry...was that too much?" he breathes.

You shake your head, "No. It was perfect. Needed it. Needed you."

"I can sleep out here," he says suddenly.

You look at him in shock, "Oh no baby. I wanna sleep right next to you. What if I need daddy's cock in the middle of the night?"

Pope gives you a wolfish grin as he kisses you again.

Baz thinks everything is alright when he wakes up the next morning and sees that Lena is already gone to school. But then he realises that all your shit is gone. And he sees red.

He drives straight to Smurf. Planning on spreading some bullshit about the nanny. Some sly bitch you tried to swindle him. He walks into the house, crocodile tears at the ready so mommy can fix his mess.

He frowns when he sees Pope sitting on the couch looking like a fucking king and you curled into his side. He's running his hand up and down your arm as the cuts and bruises Baz left on your face are on display.

"Baz," Smurf tuts when she sees him. "We need to work on your temper."

a/n: thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! any and all feedback appreciated. requests open

taglist: @sweetashhh @orangecheescakeleftover @elenamoncadaibarra @joelmillrenthusiast @abbotaes

$1 - A raffle ticket to win a pack of assorted stickers from Mr. James’ sticker collection (free shipping; international welcome)

If you buy a raffle ticket, your name will go into a randomizer. Two winners will be randomly selected to win a pack of 25 stickers selected by Mr. James with a thank-you note from me. You must be willing to provide an address where you can receive mail as there will be no return address.

Choose a character and then a cake flavor, frosting, and toppings to make a tasty blurb.

$2 - Drabble length (around 100 words)

$5 - Blurb length (around 500 words)

$10 - Scene length (around 1000 words)

Cake Flavor

Chocolate (Smut)

Vanilla (Fluff)

Red Velvet (Angst)

Coffee (Crack

Frosting Flavor

Chocolate (established relationship)

Vanilla (getting together)

Strawberry (hurt/comfort)

Cream cheese (omegaverse)

Toppings

Rainbow sprinkles (domestic)

Edible glitter (yandere/dark)

Sugar pearls (possessiveness/protectiveness)

Marshmallows (idiots in love)

If you want an NSFW ficlet, pick a filling

Cherry (virginity loss)

Honey (sex pollen)

Fudge (D/s)

Custard (sex toys)

Marshmallow fluff (somnophilia)

Double frosting (James’ choice)

Truths

$1 - I’ll answer any writing-focused question

$2 - Ask me anything! This guarantees you a response to any question.

$3 - I’ll reveal one sentence from a WIP of your choice with absolutely no context

$4 - I'll drop a minor spoiler from an ongoing series of your choice

$5 - I’ll give you a brief hot take/personal opinion about anything of your choosing related to the fandoms I write for. That’s right: James will dunk on your faves.

Dares

$1 - Send a prompt to be included on my 10K followers build-a-blurb game (examples of previous games)

$2 - $2 - Choose one of my brainworms from this list & I'll write up to a paragraph for it.

$3 - Send an idea & a character; I’ll send back a headcanon of a few sentences to a few paragraphs (example of one of my headcanon posts)

$4 - Choose one of my personal “embarrassing” kinks and I’ll give you a character headcanon

$5 - Choose any of my most-dreaded tropes & a character and I’ll write a blurb for it

$5 - Choose any of my current WIPs from this list; I will add one paragraph and post it. My typical paragraphs are about 50-100 words. This will compound if you wish to donate more - $10 for two paragraphs, $20 for four, etc. Capped at $50 (ten paragraphs).

$5 - I’ll write a blurb-to-scene-length dialogue exchange between reader and any character you’d like based on any of these prompts

$1 per letter of the NSFW alphabet for a character of your choosing ($26 for all)

$5 - I will create a one-screenshot SMAU text conversation (examples in this fic) with a character of your choice based on your prompt. This will compound if you wish to donate more - $10 for two screenshots, $20 for four, etc. Capped at $30 (six screenshots, basically a ficlet)

$20 - I will create a four-screenshot SMAU conversation in a group chat of your choosing (examples: Deran, Craig, and Pope planning a heist with you; the Pittlings encouraging you to ask out Jack)

$15 - I’ll properly outline a chapter or one shot for any WIP of your choice

$30 - I will write a full scene expanding one of my existing fics’ universes

$50 - I will read & provide feedback on a piece of writing of yours under 5k words. Return time will be one week.

$200 - I will finish any WIP (chapter or one shot) of your choice. Turnaround time will be one month at most.

Party Playlist

$1 - Choose a character & I'll add a song that reminds me of them to a character playlist

$1 - Send me a song that reminds you of a character and I'll add it to the playlist

$5 - Send me a song of your choice and a character; I will write a blurb based on it. Your song will be added to the character playlist.

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In case this actually goes well, I will be avoiding spamming your dashboards by combining responses into themed posts. For example, if I receive five $5 donations asking for the same WIP to be expanded, I will make a post with all five of those paragraphs, or I will combine all of my hot takes onto one post, etc. I have no idea what the reception will be like on this, but I don’t want to have this become a hundred random posts on my blog in a row, so I’ll do my best to collate.

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They’d gotten together before they presented. Both late bloomers. Very late. Med school. Assumed to be betas because, well, they were twenty-one and that was more than a little late to be anything else. Robby, bitingly sarcastic, rakishly and boyishly handsome, too cocky for his own good as he flirted with anything with a pulse. Jack, a squirrely redhead fresh off a tour in Kuwait with darkness in his eyes and an amputation that needed six more weeks before he could be fitted for his prosthesis. An unlikely pair connected by one thing: Being not quite enough. Not quite at the top of their class. Not quite harsh enough to attract omegas or soft enough to attract alpha. Just enough for each other.

Morning workouts where Robby pretended he wanted to get fit as an excuse to come to Jack’s physical therapy sessions, encouraging him and watching him with barely controlled lust as he fought his way out of the wheelchair and onto his prosthetic, going from wobbly to sure over weeks and weeks of hard work. Midday lunches where they could complain about professors who lived behind the times and other students who just plain sucked. Study sessions where they savored shortbread cookies from the cafe attached to the library, those shared moments of late-night sweetness enough to fuel them through days of harsh salt and sour.

So they bonded – not in the traditional sense of the word with bites and pheromones, but something else. Something that went deep. Deep enough that when they were both hit by their first rut, they collided into each other full force. Lips that broke against teeth, sweat that mingled as they lost themselves, knots that rubbed against each other as they tangled up in Jack’s army-issue sheets. After that first rut together, they locked eyes – hazel and brown, a sunlit creek – and knew. It would be a hard road for them in a society where two alphas together was well outside the norm, but this was it. This was lust and love and laughter and light and everything all merged into one relationship.

They decided to figure it out together.

Wedding bands and attending positions and fifteen years of figuring it out later, there’s only one thing missing: A family of their own. Every alpha has that deep urge at the base of their gut to have pups – to breed, yes, but also to raise children, to grow with them, to be a parent. That was the one thing they couldn’t give each other. There are plenty of options these days for non-A/O couples, of course, but none of them felt like a fit for Jack and Robby.

They could only agree on one option: If the right omega came along, someone they could both spend their lives with, they’d have pups of their own. If it happened, it happened. They could be happy and fulfilled without it, but the option was open.

There’s been a handful of omegas over the years, but never anything serious. Friends they helped out during heats, brief flings, one boyfriend of a couple months. In the last five years, though, it’s just been the two of them. Nowadays, creeping into their forties together, they’re pretty damn sure that dream is no longer possible. Countless friends who understand them most have told them to wait, it’s fate, that biology wants alphas to find omegas. But, really, no matter how much they nod along or laugh it off, they’ve made peace with their simple life together, refusing to admit that there’s still a tiny spark at the backs of their minds every once in a while. That want. That ache.

Jack can smell you from the hub.

Through the clear semi-perforated patch over his nostrils that usually keeps omega pheromones off his mind.

His chin snaps up as you sit down at regular triage. As a nurse does your intake, you cradle a pup who can’t be more than two wailing in your arms. Your eyes are as red-rimmed as his, clearly affected deeply by him being so upset. You soothe the poor baby with gentle bouncing and intentionally flaring that scent of yours. Jack’s body moves before his brain catches up, taking long strides until he’s next to the nurse receptionist, hand on her shoulder, mouth already opening to say, “I’ll take them back and handle everything now. Thank you.”

It takes him by surprise as much as the nurse, who gives him a curious, amused sort of glance. Sure, theoretically, he’s more than welcome to take a patient back in whatever order he wants as an attending. But she can see right through any real reasoning. The stern and sarcastic Dr. Abbot fawning tenderly because of a crying pup and a sniffling omega? It’s…endearing, if strange.

After more than a decade in emergency medicine, he’s very rarely affected by the presence of omegas in distress. He even chuckles when his younger, less experienced coworkers trip over themselves to focus on anything when a sweet, soft thing like you needs immediate help. But now here he is, hand on your lower back as you introduce yourself and the toddler to him, taking sturdy steps across the ED like he’s trying to shield you from any other doctors who might poach your presence.

Guiding you into the closest open room equipped with pediatric supplies, Jack moves like he’s your marionette. As he gets the room and chart ready, his every motion is an unconscious response to you, his body instinctively trying to comfort and assure and take control the way an alpha should. It’s all instinct buried in medicine. While he tries to keep his head on straight, Jack sits on his stool opposite you and the toddler on the hospital bed and gently says, “Tell me all about what’s going on.”

You offer up a small smile and explain as you fuss over the toddler’s messy hair and tear-streaked cheeks and rumpled pajamas, “Benny’s felt yucky all day – really sleepy and fussy, not wanting to eat, running kinda warm – but we had it under control until a few hours ago. Sips of clear fluids, nice cooling bath, resting with some Bluey.” Your eyes go misty again as you look up from Ben and find Jack’s gaze resting tenderly on you. With your lower lip wobbling and your voice thick with tears, you tell him, “But then his fever just kept climbing up starting after dinner. I didn’t feel good about going to sleep not knowing if it would break or not, so we’ve been up for hours. Now he doesn’t want to drink anything and- and he’s never upset and clingy like this; he’s so curious and polite and-” You fall into tears again. “Sorry, I just- I just-”

Jack can’t stand seeing you upset. It hurts as much as any real heartbreak. And he’s never even met you before. He can’t help wondering what it would be like if he took the scent blocking patch off his nose and let himself inhale the fullness of you. Clearly your pheromones are strong enough to be a problem for him without even knowing that.

Swallowing hard, Jack scoots closer and takes your free hand in his. It’s not professional, but you don’t mind. You lean into the touch, clutching his hand close, taking his strength to be your own. Jack squeezes your hand and assures, “It’s alright; you did the right thing bringing him in. We’ll get this figured out in no time. Is it okay if I pick him up and do my exam now?”

With a reluctant nod, you help Jack move Ben onto the exam bed, where he looks so small and so hurt that your tears keep falling despite how often you wipe them away. Ben’s immediately reaching for you, trying to get to your side, and you look to Jack with the most innocent, pained eyes. He touches his stethoscope to Ben’s chest and tells you, “You can stay over here; don’t worry. Are you his mom?”

“Oh, no, not anyone’s mom,” you reply softly, always taken aback by the question no matter how many times it’s asked. Stroking Ben’s wispy hair like he’s your own, you go on, “I’m his nanny. Shoot, his au pair. His mom gets so mad when I forget to call myself that. Anyway, yeah, um, I just take care of him when they’re away, which is a lot of the time.”

He commits that to memory, hating himself for being relieved to know that you don’t already have a mate and pups of your own. It’s a strange swirling feeling in his stomach. Something similar to what he feels when he’s alone with Robby after a fresh batch of students has moved on – a yearning, quiet, needy thing. He swallows hard, swipes a forehead thermometer over Ben’s skin, and tuts, “103.8. That’s no good, little man.” Subtly dropping his hand, he pages for a nurse and tells you, “We’re going to go ahead and start IV fluids since he hasn’t been drinking enough and add some fever reducers to try to get his temperature down so he’s more comfortable. Once he settles some, he’s due for a whole bunch of fun tests. We’re gonna have to admit him tonight to make sure that fever breaks and he can sleep here under observation.”

Ben’s eyes slam up to yours, understanding as much as his tiny brain can as he latches onto ‘sleep here.’ Trying to snuggle closer to you while you fight to keep him on the exam bed, he wriggles and worries fearfully, “Nini stay?”

“He can’t say ‘nanny’ yet,” you tell Jack with the softest smile. You gently run your fingers through Ben’s hair, the gesture clearly to calm you both, and ask Jack, “That’s okay, right? If I stay in the room with him? His parents are in Europe until next week.”

Glancing at your chart to make sure all your paperwork is in order, he replies, “Of course. I’ll have them bring up a cot so you don’t have to deal with the loveseat. They’re awful.”

“That’s sweet; thank you. I know it’s not your job to deal with stuff like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” As a resident pushes an IV and takes cultures, Ben finally starts to quiet and soften as the fluids hit his system, his sleepiness beginning to take over. Jack tells you sternly, his eyes paternal and warm, “I want you to be extra diligent about keeping yourself healthy the next couple days. Can’t have a lovely thing like you coming down with whatever the little guy has.” Your eyes widen in response to the way the compliment slips from his tongue so earnestly and simply. His face blanches and his neck goes blotchy. Quickly, he stammers out, “Oh, god. I’m so sorry; I have no idea why I just said that. I mean, you are lovely, of course, but-”

“It’s alright, Dr. Abbot,” you giggle, happy to smile for the first time since you’ve been at the hospital. You give Jack a playful nudge and add, “I don’t mind being called lovely by a silver fox such as yourself.”

As his cheeks tinge bright pink, Jack nods courteously, grateful that you’ve given him an out. “Thank you. That’s, ah, that’s very nice of you.”

You snicker and shake your head. “Please; I’m sure patients hit on you all the time.”

The junior doctor who’s tending to Ben snorts, “You have no idea.” Her mischievous eyes flick up to yours with a conspiratorial sort of energy. “Usually it doesn’t fluster him so much.”

Abbot releases a harsh breath and bites back, “Ellis, please.”

“I’m just saying,” she teases lightly, making big amused faces to amuse Ben while drawing his blood and praising him for being brave, “the big bad night shift attending doesn’t usually take care of sweet toddlers with fevers himself.”

Abbot hisses, “Parker.”

She just chuckles to herself and stands up with her collection of swabs and vials. Practically skipping past with amusement, she leans in close to him and teases, “We can smell it on you, gramps.”

You let out a squeak, something like a laugh, and avert your eyes. You hadn’t mentioned it because you’re unendingly polite and would rather die than embarrass a doctor, but, yes, Dr. Abbot is scenting all over you like a teenager with a crush, all raspberry and brunch. It’s not necessarily uncommon for an alpha to stink up a room when they’re with a particularly cute omega, but for an older professional it’s a bit juvenile, maybe. Like laughing a little too loud at every joke or staring at someone’s lips while they talk.

To Jack, though, the realization is like being shoved in the chest. As Dr. Ellis takes a reluctant-but-too-sleepy-to-protest Ben off for some imaging, Jack puts his hand over his face and groans, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. For the compliment and then for this and- God. I haven’t- I’m not even- I’m sorry. That’s the point. Sincerely.”

After biting your lip so adorably it makes Jack’s stomach turn, you sheepishly admit, “It’s really alright, doctor. I’m probably a little too close to my heat to be running around in public; I’m sure it’s affecting you more than it normally would. Don’t worry about it.”

Jack’s brows furrow. You’re affecting him that strongly when he has his nostrils covered and he’s nowhere near being in rut? That’s ridiculous. He must be, like, sick, surely. Or you’re some super omega with magic seduction hormone powers.

Or, worse than it all, you’re something special.

His mind races a bit as he turns away from you, reaches up, and carefully peels off the scent-blocking patch over his nose.

And it’s you.

Shift change can’t come soon enough. Jack’s thrumming his fingers against countertops, clicking his pen enough to make Dana snatch it from his hand, and checking on you and Ben so often it could probably count as an addiction. He tries to be subtle about it but fails miserably, not even realizing how pathetic he’s being until Ellis makes fun of him for it – over and over, at that.

Finally, though, fucking finally, his husband slinks through the doors with his sunglasses on and his earbuds still blasting. He walked to work, which means he woke up early, couldn’t get back to sleep, and stayed antsy until he could justify leaving early. The moment he can smell Jack, his face softens, the morning’s anxiety easing because he knows Jack will have already done everything he can to set the day shift up for success.

This morning, though, Jack walks up to Robby with hurried, serious steps unlike the exhausted, unsteady ones he’s usually met with. He doesn’t skip tilting his chin up to meet Robby’s quick kiss – he never misses that – but he does drop his voice low right away to say, “You need to come with me.”

As he meets Jack’s eager pace, Robby hustles up, catches Jack by his lower back, and chuckles against his ear, “Shit, where’s the fire?”

But Jack doesn’t answer, too possessed with leading Robby up to the pediatric room where you and Ben are still both sleeping. The heavy blinds keep out the early morning light and Jack’s hand hesitates on the door handle. You look so peaceful with your lips gently parted, curled up, totally calm now that Ben’s fever’s come down and the antibiotics are working their magic. During morning rounds, he’s the first doctor to punch the lights on and wake a patient to keep the hospital going and free up beds.

But you?

He hates the idea of waking you.

With a shaky breath, Jack meets his own husband’s eyes, tells him all about last night, that moment really just a few hours ago now, and then says, “It’s time for his morning workup. You’ll understand if- I need you to- I don’t even know how to explain myself right now. Just come in here with me, okay? You’ll know. I’m sure you’ll know.”

Tentative, soft, he nods. “Alright, of course. No problem.” Early in a relationship, this kind of intense behavior would be met with suspicion, concern, confusion. But now, with more than a decade of expertise in the strange field of Jack Abbot, Robby knows better than to do anything but what he asks without question. He tucks one of Jack’s too-grown-in curls behind his ear and prods quietly, “Just give me a quick heads up on what I’m in on, though, would you? Because, from here, it looks like a pedes case getting ready for discharge.”

Jack cracks a stupid sort of smile. “I know I’m being nuts, alright? But just take a deep breath when we’re through the door, okay? Because I think she’s- I think she’s supposed to be ours, Michael. I’ve never felt anything like it – and I need you to feel it too.”

Robby tilts his head to the side, any thoughts rushed away. Ours. Conceptually, he knows what Jack means. They’ve discussed it before. But Jack’s never looked so goddamn serious about it. Like there’s not a single question in his mind. If you’re not theirs, then you must at least be his. That makes Robby’s heart rate spike a bit, but he decides not to entertain the thought. He decides, as he has ten thousand times, to trust Jack with the fragile stitched-up thing of his heart.

As Jack pushes open the door and carefully slides the dimmer lights on, you stir to consciousness and so does Ben. When you realize the two of you have actually managed to sleep soundly after such an awful evening, your scent flares happily.

Robby’s world shifts just like Jack’s had.

His breath catches in his throat when you smile at him.

Shortbread.

Butter and vanilla and sugar.

Flooding from your skin, so thick and delicious it makes their heads spin.

Jack and Robby’s scents have always fought one another. Robby – black coffee, no cream, roasted so dark it’s past bitter. Jack – raspberry, bright, effervescent, tongue-coating sour. They don’t make sense together. Every kiss a clash. But with your scent mingled in, something gentle that matches them each individually and meets in the middle, it all blends into something that clicks into place. It’s not just Robby’s rough winter night and Jack’s bright spring sunrise. It’s a summer evening that lingers on and on, warm, ripe, rich. Fireflies in cupped palms and laughter on whiskey tongues and homemade thumbprint cookies dipped in swirling hazelnut heat until they’re perfectly soft. A complicated mouthful finally balanced.

Immediately after they leave the treatment room, Robby drags Jack down a hall and corners him against a wall with a borderline heaving chest. Voice raspy and needy, he presses his forehead to his husband’s and checks, “You feel this- this crazy? Like nothing makes sense anymore?”

Jack swallows hard and tries to focus on the rough scent from Robby’s neck. Usually it calms him, but his head is still spinning from the way your presence mixed with theirs into something so much more simple and true. He reaches up and twines his fingers in the short hair at the back of Robby’s neck and replies slowly, “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do. Fuck. What are we supposed to do? Should we-”

“We shouldn’t,” Robby whispers. Harsh. Lying. “We really shouldn’t.”

“We shouldn’t,” Jack agrees as he nods like he means it. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he sees you in the hall, away from Ben’s inquisitive eyes, questioning a nurse with serious concerned eyes. He melts all over again. Looking back at Robby, he sighs, accepting it, “But what if we did anyway?”