#amnatrealwrites

"One time he pointed at a clear plastic straw on the floor and waited for me to pick it up. Held up a round of five doctors for like three minutes."

"When I first started, he scared me so badly I asked him if I could use the bathroom like he was a school teacher. He hasn't looked at me since."

"He yelled Out! when I asked if we just put an NG tube back in if it falls out."

"I remember him kicking me out of a case because I prepped the patient's clothes and added socks. Patient just had a leg ambulation."

Before ever being in the same room as Dr Park, Whittaker assumed rumors and stories change in dramatics as they travel around the hospital. Having embarrassed himself when meeting the man, He understood what triggers these stories. 

Park was terrifying. He moved like he believed everyone else should move around him, direct and never stopping unnecessarily. His eyes seemed all-knowing, like he can detect lies. Dennis wasn't that surprised that even Robby seemed slightly intimidated, the attending didn't color his words or joke when Dr Park was in the room. Dennis was reminded of his older brother's scary friends, those that he knew could bully him mercilessly if they wanted.

All together, experiences with Dr Park were few and larger than life as any encounter would be talked about for daysafterwards. Dennis was never curious enough to ask question, until the day a preschool teacher came in with her 4 year old student.

"Hello, My name is Dr Whittaker," He greeted after pushing open the curtains in cental 10.

A woman sat on the bed with her arm wrapped around a whimpering child, he seemed to be protectively cradling his arm to his chest with his face half hiding in her jacket. Dennis's eyes flicked quickly through the chart in his hand. 

Sam, 4 years old, minor head trauma, elbow injury.

"Hi, I'm Sam's preschool teacher," you softly spoke, giving your name, "He had a fall during school hours while playing."

The doctor saw your hand careful brushing the boy's blond locks, you face seemed strained with worry. Jesse moved the curtains again as he entered and smiled at the child while taking his vitals. 

Whittaker was pleased to see your calming presence and well-versed words effectively calming Sam enough to allow an examination of both his head and arm. 

"This seems to be a pulled elbow," He explained kindly, "happens a lot with kids when they fall, or their arm gets yanked."

You sigh in relief as you listen to the treatment plan he offers. 

"There's no need to imaging since there's no deformity visible, so we will do a quick reduction. It's like a a fast arm movement so the elbow clicks back right."

"Will it hurt?" Sam's small voice reached him as the boy mumbled to you.

"Only a little, sweetie," you reassured him, holding his small hand in yours, "but your arm will be all better after."

Electing to monitor Sam's head bump without subjecting him to unnecessary radiation, you stayed with him in the room after the successful reduction as Dr Whittaker moves towards the nurses station. As he neared the counter, he heard Princess's hushed Gossip Tone.

"-they called ortho three times, that's why he's annoyed."

"He's always annoyed though," Dr Santos retorted from her seat behind a monitor, "like how do you tell?"

"who's-" Dennis started.

"Shhhhh," Princess pinched his scrub sleeve, "He's in Trauma 1."

Dr Park, Orthopedic surgeon, was snapping off his gloves and aggressively throwing them in the designated bin before stepping out the glass doors. He cast a sharp glance over the Hub, one that made Dennis want to duck, and walked past them. The man's chilling aura trailed after him towards the elevators at the far end of Cental to West. 

"What was-" Dennis went again but received a slap on the forearm. 

"Look!" Santos hissed, her eyes, peeking from behind her monitor, were trained intently on Dr Park's path.

Sighing, Whittaker took a step out from behind the large counter covering his view of the hallway. His eyes first caught the bright yellow floral pattern of your skirt, an instant contrast to the blues and whites of the department. You stood in front of Central 10 with you arm in Dr Park's grip. What? 

The surgeon towered over you, standing a step too close, with his head angled down and eyes on yours. "That's my patient's teacher," Dennis told Trinity, "should I-"

"Do not move, Huckleberry."

Park leaned closer as if to surround you, speaking softly as his hand smoothed up to your elbow. You smiled brightly in response and tugged at the bottom of his scrub top once playfully. A sharp ping interrupted from Dr Park's pocket and he reached a hand to answer his phone. 

Dennis saw you take a step back, still smiling gently, as Park spoke tersely to his phone while simultaneously rubbing your upper arm. In a moment, the man ended the call, spoke to you again, then stepped back to walk to the elevators. 

"What was that?" the roommates whispered at each other as they watched you step back into Sam's room.

Whittaker might have forgotten this incident if it weren't for the ortho intern delivering a coffee cup and a toy car to Central 10 sent by Park the shark.

2

July was the Sarcoma awareness month, prompting the hospital management to set up a stall by the main lobby and strongly recommending the staff to wear the yellow ribbon pin. While the ED staff generally felt unsafe wearing a pin during their shift, Dr Robby has been pressured as senior staff -mainly by Gloria- to set an example. So it shouldn't have been a surprise for him to enter the lobby and find Dr Park The Shark standing at the stall picking up his own pin. 

"Dr Park."

"Robby." Park drawled back, still looking through the items on the table.

The attending glanced down at the different size pins, magnets, and pens, and reached to pick one of each as he usually does with free stuff. 

"You don't want a magnet with that?" the staff member running the stall asked Park with a smile, "I like collecting them myself."

The surgeon glanced up blankly for a long beat, then started adjusting the pin in his hand to the pocket of his top. "There's no space on my fridge for any more, thanks," he muttered.

Robby's head snapped up, keeping his widening eyes forward. 

"Woulda' never thought you'd be one for fridge magnets," Robby teased mildly.

"I'm not, but MagniTiles are a thing."

Park sidestepped the table and walked back towards the elevators, leaving Robby confused with both Park's response and his own curiosity. It was only when he walked through the double doors towards the ED, fiddling with the pin through his collar, that he recognized the clink of a chain around Park's neck. A silver ring hung on it and glinted in the light when he adjusted his scrubs. 

Must be part of the Shark persona to have your private life a complete mystery.

"Dr Robby, why are you looking up MagniTiles?" 

Robby flinched at Perlah's question coming from behind him. He fought the urge to cover the monitor screen as if he got caught doing something scandalous instead of Googling a children's toy. God, he hated getting himself too deep in work gossip.

"My kids obsessed over them for a phase, then we lost them," The nurse shrugged when Robby asked if she's familiar. 

"Oh," He whispered.

"What's up? where'd you hear about MagniTiles?"

The attending hummed in thought and leaned back in the desk chair, "Dr Park mentioned it yesterday." 

Perlah's brows furrowed, then raised as her eyes widened. "Oh.."

"Oh."

3

"Eh, he's not that bad." Dr Abbot shrugged, resting his back against the Hub counter, eyes focused on the ambulance bay.

"We're talking about Park," Dana muttered from behind the counter where she was listening to a resident anxiously explain that she hadn't meant to refer to a Scapula as Shoulder Blade in front of The Shark.

"So am I," huffing, Jack turned around to see Dana raised brows, and the back of the resident scurrying away.

Dana pushed her glassed to the top of her head, and pinned him with glare. "I can't say he's ever been rude to me, but he's too blunt with the littles. This is a teaching hospital."

Jack hummed agreeably and leaned his forearms on the counter between them. 

"Did I ever tell you about the time this one kid held up her surgery because the mom wasn't there to braid her hair?" 

"What? no," Dana leaned forward curiously.

"Park went to see what the delay was on the anesthesia," He continued, "listened to the kid cry about how her braid has to be a specific way, she was young and seemed fixated on it for comfort maybe."

"Did he scare her into compliance or something?"

Abbot's grin widened, "He braided her hair himself."

The charge nurse's face went slack, eyes unblinking, "come again?"

"He dismissed the anesthesiologist, sat with the girl on the bed, and braided her hair the way she wanted," Jack whispered, "OR nurse said he explained that he learned how sometimes a ponytail is too tight and loose hair is annoying so a braid is best. Apparently he assured her that he had the practice to back it up."

Dana's hands rested at her hips, brows suddenly smoothed, "That's so …" 

Jack nodded slowly.

"… Soft." 

"Yup."

4

"-and apparently, I should experiment with another iced drink," Dr Shen scoffed into his phone as he sat on the entrance steps on the parking level, the elevator behind him busy since the day shift was starting soon. 

"No, I'm not trying matcha," He fake-gagged, "too grassy."

John was taking the time to call his wife before continuing his double shift, this usually leads to her taking the phone everywhere with her so he can keep yapping while resting in the "cool" spot in the parking lot. It was uncomfortable here, but any physical comfort after a night shift will drop him into the very sleep he was trying to avoid. 

"Sure but doesn't strawberry overwhelm the tea?" He mumbled as he turned his head, hearing a car sound growing louder and closer, "What would be the point of the matcha if I'm drinking strawberry milk-"

That's not Dr Park. 

The white Porsche SUV took a sharp turn into the parking lot closest to the entrance, the figure in the driver's seat sat rummaging with things beside him then the door clicked open. John held a gasp at the sight of Brendon Park stepping out with his hair in soft curls flopped on his forehead. Shorter and slightly wet at his temples and around his ears, it made him look like a random guy at the grocery store. What the f-

"-apparently, you're only supposed to use one side of the eraser," Park's voice came closer, holding his phone by his ear with a rare smirk on his face, "I tried to suggest cutting it in half but she refused to change the logic."

The man's eyes caught John seated beside the glass doors, and gave him a stiff nod as he walked towards the elevators. Very cold, familiar, shark eyes.

"Sweatheart, I know. I talked to the Wi-fi company-" 

Shen's eavesdropping was cut off by the closing doors as the elevators took the shark to where he needed to be. 

"John, Baby?" 

"Shit. Yes, sorry, I caught something really juicy I forgot I was on the phone," he spoke quickly, standing up to clock back in, and whispered as if the walls would rat him out, "I think Park the Shark is married."

5

"There's a baby shark."

"What did you just say?"

Yolanda and Parker stared at each other, eyes budging as if what just happened was a glitch in reality. Dr Ellis had come to Surgical Recovery to check on a patient, finding Garcia updating a chart behind the nurses desk. The moment the trauma surgeon saw her, she sped around the counter, caught her sleeve and walked briskly to the stairwell. Then she hissed the most outrageous utterance Ellis had ever heard.

"Park the Shark," Garcia blurted, face intense and hands wild, "has children!"

"Dr Park-"

"At least one!"

"Girl-"

"Girl," Yolanda hissed back.

"Ok spill. Quick."

"All the clues line up, Ellis," She started, holding up her hand to count of her fingers, "There's a booster seat in his car, a leftover fairy sticker on the bottom of his leather duffle bag, and for the first three minutes of coming on shift, he has a wedding band on his ring finger-" 

"Thee minutes?" Ellis hummed, these were all news to her.

"-then he loops it on a chain under his collar," Garcia continued over her friend's words, "This has got to be the most casual secret I've ever encountered, he's not at all secretive about it."

"You mean if we just.. ask him…" Parker hesitantly asked.

"Yeah but who would ask him..?"

Fuck.

"w-we'll just never know, I guess," Ellis mumbled, shoulders shrugging while barely containing her frustration. 

Garcia waved her arms up, sounding a tsk in her tongue, and started walking out of the stairwell muttering to herself, "I don't know why we get so into this shit, but fuck I wanna know-"

+1

The farm was finally doing well enough to join the farmers market at Market Square, and Dennis was both excited and terrified. The thought of members of his family reacting to his life in the city was terrifying, but he did find it thrilling to share the fruits of his labor on the farm with his friends. He might almost be prideful about it, but he's never admit that.

Dennis made sure he was there by 4 am to help his brother David and sister-in-law set up their table, because he was just raised like that -and he'd never hear the end of it if he didn't. By 10am, the previous day's shift had caught up with him and he started drooping in his bench behind the table. 

"You absolute Hucklefarmer, are you wearing a plaid shirt?!" 

Trinity wore a smirk as she walked towards him, with Samira and Mel waving excitedly behind her. 

"Hey!" Dennis greeted them and rounded the table.

The girls looked relaxed and well-rested in casual clothes. He introduced David, then stood with trinity for a few minutes listening to her complain about the recent plumbing problem in their apartment building. Samira had looped her arm through Mel's and asked if she'd like to go win something fun at a game table, to which Mel excitedly agreed.

"Got any updates from Princess?" Dennis asked.

"What updates?"

"As I understand it, nursing staff gossip is a whole other animal. I am sure they know something about Dr Park."

Trin chuckled loudly, "If it's so hard for you to let this go, why didn't you ask the teacher the other day?"

"I couldn't," he sighed, "she looked so worried for the kid, and it seemed rude to ask. Then his parents arrived and she left."

With a laugh still in her breath, his roommate hummed in agreement. "Well, no. Princess only told me about night shift theories. You want something concrete-"

As Trinity talked on, Dennis's eyes swept over the tables and stalls lining the walkway, wondering where his other friends made a stop.

Mel watched in unfiltered fascination as the the old lady behind the sand art counter started her request, holding a small glass bottle and twisting it delicately as she filled it with colorful sand. 

"That's so cool! how long have you been doing this?" Samira cheered, leaning a hip on the table beside Mel.

"Over 10 years, love." the old woman responded with a smile.

Mel gasped as she started to see the image of a penguin come together on one side of the glass. Mira sneakily took a picture of her friend's face, because nothing is more pure than Mel with wonder in her eyes. Fiddling with the camera settings, Samira saw a tall figure two booths ahead of them. Respectfully, she moved to Mel's other side to avoid including strangers in the photos, which put her a step closer to-

"Bren, Baby, just admit defeat, would you?" Your voice sounded both exasperated and loving, "the babies are getting bored."

Samira tilted her head as your conversation caught her attention.

"Layla said the monkey was pretty. I'm winning her the monkey." The man's voice sounded familiar, but the young resident couldn't place it. A click sounded as he gave away more money and picked up the rifle. 

Deciding to naturally turn her body to catch a glimpse of the family behind her, Mohan's heart was warmed by seeing a toddler in a winged fairy outfit wiggling excitedly as she watched her dad aim a rifle at a sharpshooting game booth. Beside him was a woman in a white sundress, her long hair swayed as she tried to sooth the baby she held against her hip. A few shots sounded off the rifle, and Samira blinked back to look at the man. 

He roughly placed the rifle on the table and turned to you when you tugged the bottom of his shirt. You smiled gently and tugged again. 

"We can teach her how to lose gracefully, Dr Park, not everyday is a win." You said, running your nails along his forearm, your baby boy squirming on your other side.

Dr Park

His hair was so fluffy, laying in un-gelled waves, that it changed the sharp sharkness of his features. Jackpot.

Samira slapped a hand lightly on Mel's shoulder, her jaw dropped open in a gasp. Mel stalled on her face and her what?was shushed firmly. "Behind me!" Samira hissed.

"Everyday is a win, Darlin'," Brendon frowned, almost offended, and pointed at your baby boy, "look at that."

Then he bent down and picked up the kid, Layla, under her arms, holding her up with a blank face, "Look." and you couldn't hold back from laughing sweetly at your girl.

The little girl giggled when her fluffy skirt bounced as her dad turned intensely to the young man running the booth, "Look at this face, man."

Samira slapped a hand over her mouth, the girls clutching each other's sleeves as they watched the guy hesitate between Brendon's deadpan stare and a three year old's absurdly adorable cheeky smile. Sighing dejectedly, he reached behind him and unhooked the stuffed monkey, "I don't get payed enough to handle that."

Brendon placed his babygirl on her feet and handed her the monkey, kneeling to her level, and smiled-

"That's a smile-" "He has dimples-" Mel and Mira both said breathlessly. They turned quickly towards each other, eyes connecting and wide. 

"I think we saw something really important." Mel mumbled.

"But I think we're both the least likely to participate in gossip…" Mohan added.

"… but is it gossip if it happened directly in front of us?"

Samira gawked at Mel's sudden lean into the group's on-going speculations about Park the Shark. "Honey, you've got a saucy streak I don't know about?" She teased, tilting her head closer. 

"It's just.." Mel's lips quirked at the corners as she looked away, "that was really cute and I think I want to talk about it." 

Stifling an excited laugh, Mel look back over her friend's shoulder. You were handing your youngest to his father's arms, Park leaning down to kiss you cheek, and holding out your hand for Layla. You walked with your bouncing fairy toddler towards a nearby ice cream truck, while Brendon talked softly to his son as he pushed a stroller with his other hand towards an empty park bench. 

"I think this is my favorite," Mel whispered.

+Bonus

"Ok, so I'm about to ask you something, I just need you to not bite my head off after."

Brendon Park turned his head sharply to see Robby walking towards him at the entrance of the parking lot. The surgeon was standing there on his phone when Robby headed to his motorcycle to finally end his day shift. Seeing Park stalling, the man usually in a constant movement through the hospital without pause, Robby took his chance. 

"What do you want, Robby?" He grumbled and tucked his phone in his jacket.

What's the worst that could happen?

"Are you married?" Robby blurted out, fighting his face muscles to remain firm.

Park rolled his eyes, "Yes, I am. What? Ahmed's got a new bet?"

"N-not exactly," muttering, Robby rubbed his hands together for more courage, "You're aware how you're… perceived, right?"

"Robby, man," Park's stare was pointed as he unclasped the chain around his neck and took out the wedding band, looking down for a moment to put the ring on his finger, muttering There has got to be some better use of your time.

A buzz sounded from brendon's pocket and it triggered a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. "You want more?" He challenged, nodding his head to the open gates. 

"Park, I didn't mean to-" Robby held his hands up placatingly, but stopped when a white SUV, famously The Shark's car, slowed to a stop beside them. 

Brendon scoffed at him and stepped closer to open the driver door, holding a gentle hand out for the driver to step out. "Artful timing, Doll." He mumbled to you with a softening smile. 

The ring on your hand, the first thing coming out of the car, almost blinded the ED attending when it caught the light. You smoothed down your flowing skirt and stood beside your husband with your hand still in his. 

Robby cocked his head subtly at the familiarity of your features. Oh, the preschool teacher.

"Daddy!" "Dada!" 

He swallowed his shock and offered a smile. Ellis did say Baby shark but that was supposed to be a joke. There were two children, visible through the glass, strapped in the back seat with their arms waving wildly at their parents. You greeted Dr Robby cheerfully, an unburdened smile gracing your face, waiting to see if your husband needed to finish up his conversation.

Brendon Park reached an arm behind you, pulling a lever under the driver's seat and pushing it back. Nonchalantly tucking his duffle bag between the seats, he stopped by your side, eyeing Robby's face with a bored expression, and closed his large hand around your hip. "Anything else, Dr Robinavitch?" 

"Nope," Quickly responding and stepping backwards towards his motorcycle.

Park nodded as he smoothed a hand down your back, "Get in."

After rounding the car to the passenger seat, settling with your work shoes off, Brendon climbed into the driver's seat. He paused as he was about to close the door, glancing at Robby with his brows knotted. 

"Robby."

Not too far, Robby paused on his motorcycle and looked up. "Yeah?"

"There's a helmet right on the strap," Park stated lowly, narrowing his eyes, "Put it on would you? the entire car is watching." 

Robby blinked rapidly, eyes flickering from his helmet, which he hadn't even considered putting on, to the small faces in Brendon's back seat. You peeked to see him from your seat, your finger pointedly urging him. 

Unlatching the headgear, Robby fit it over his head half-ashamed at his recklessness. He snapped up the kickstand and started the engine. He heard muffled child-like cheers and looked up to see Park lazily salute him with a grin, and drive off.

Flower dividers by @strangergraphics

tagging @totallynotashieldagent because they asked :)

an: some personal thoughts/hcs :

Whittaker is actually more into gossip than Trinity, she'll listen but she won't activity think about it, or seek it out.

Brendon used to say "Dude" a lot when he was younger, it slowly turned into "man" as his sharp persona was developing.

Brendon doesn't actually care about secret keeping, it's just his scary resting face is preventing people from having open conversations with him.

Brendon is mean at work. bully-adjacent. it's more about competence than the person, therefore, he's not that bite-y when off the clock.

I have two kids and one fridge. It is absolutely covered (all the way down) in magnet letters and MagniTiles. It's a big metal wall, of course toddlers want to see how much they can stick to it.

Jack abbot is that one guy that's always in the group chat but never says anything. he's got ears everywhere and I think he'd know more outside the ED that is expected.

the kid discussion about the eraser happened in real life more than once.

Your silhouette was emphasized by the high-waist skirt with the cropped top, making your waist a sharp, tight, focal point. Your hair swayed behind you in multiple layers of ponytails, making it move as if it was longer than it was. Parker had never seen you in anything other than scrubs and the view was both disturbing and absolutely scandalous. She started waltzing toward you with a smirk like she found the hidden sweets drawer. "Who are you?"

Dana was walking towards the Hub, finally with her jacket and bag intending to leave, and skidded to a halt. "Now what do we have here, huh?" She rasped when she recognized you. 

"Okay, alright," you huffed as you reached the hub counter, "I know it's weird-"

"You look fucking beautiful, babe!" Ellis leaned closer, sweeping a pointed hand over your form.

Your skin flushed as you smiled while giving a cheeky twirl of your skirt. 

"Wait, wait, wait," you heard princess whisper-scream, scurrying over from behind the desks and walking right up to your face, "This is amazing, I didn't know you're that good at makeup!"

She lovingly cupped your jaw with both hands, tilting your head to see the sparkles catch the light against your eyelids and the tops of your cheeks. Chuckling at her amazement you placed your hands at her round cheeks, you loved to make Princess giggle.

"Robby," Dana stepped up beside him.

He blinked a couple times before tearing his eyes from the scene.

"Is Abbot here yet?" She mumbled secretively, eyes squinting happily at you as Ellis pretended to twirl you into a dance.

"y-yeah," Robby blinked again, looking behind him, "Do you wanna.."

"Bet? Obviously."

"Here's to something finally fucking happening," he muttered, offering the charge nurse his fist to bump.

There was something different about your lips. 

Not a dramatic color, or a drastic change in features, it was just that Jack can't make himself look away. He had just wrapped up the hand-off with Robby, and left him to go to the locker rooms. When he walked back through the hallway in front of the trauma rooms, Jack saw you and his leg locked him in place, prosthetic stuttering to a stop with it.

They were the softest they've ever looked, especially to a man that had been sneaking glances for months before today. Your bottom lip was lined with a warm coral shade that nearly matching your natural color, artfully outlining the edges and making the lighter center look so kissable-

"Dr Abbot?" 

"Hm?" His head snapped to Dr King standing behind him with a concerned look on her face.

"The signature?" She help up her pad with a patient's lab orders.

"Oh, yeah," he signed his name quickly, suddenly feeling like any second looking away from you would be a wasted opportunity. 

As Mel walked away, the tall figure of Robby blocked his view of the hub. 

"Hey Abbot, New patient just got wheeled in," rotating the chart in his hand towards his friend, "87 year old Hassan, acute chest pain, prior MI, type 2 diabetes."

Jack nodded and took the device, starting to walk forward only to be stopped by Robby's hand, He looked back at him with a confused frown.

"And guess who brought him in," the taller man added in a whisper, and left him with a wink and a pat on the shoulder. 

Jack's thoughts stuttered, hesitating between ordering EKGs, finding you, seeing the patient, and crossing his fingers to wish very intensely for time to pause just so he could register the picture - and stare until he could see it with his eyes closed. 

Because for the past year of knowing you, the picture of you in his mind was always in scrubs. The cycle of shifts in the Pitt, windowless boxes making day and night look the same, had him repeatedly forget that other people have personal time outside. Jack knew you did too, he just never thought he'd be so stunned and breathless at the sight of you ready for a night out. Of course he was, he reevaluated, he lost his voice the first time he saw you let your hair down at end of shift.

Pearls of multiple sizes glinted in your movement as they hung at your ears. Your nails shined even brighter while you waved to greet Jesse and Lena, sparkly enough to have been dipped in glitter. A sleek black leather bag, shaped like a small box, was looped around the crook of your arm. Elegantly completing the picture and simultaneously devastating his long-standing restraint.

A pattern of heel clicks snapped his attention into place when you walked up to him, having caught him standing aside pretending to read a chart. There was an uptick at the corners of your lips. Plush and framed in liner, Jack beginning to feel like a creep. If he could just graze his teeth along the-

"Dr Abbot," You sweetly greeted, "you're here early."

Leaning his elbow on the side of the nurses station, He avoided looking up, instead making a pointed glance down over your outfit. "So are you," he languidly retorted.

A breathy giggle reached him as you told him you had plans and something came up. Standing before you, with no one's comments to evade, Jack was filled with the warm sensation of stepping out into direct sunlight after a hellish double shift.

"This your date?" the courage to ask was thin at best as he gestured to the chart in his hand.

"I do like'em older," you replied in a stage-whisper, grin clear in your voice, "Hassan's my neighbor, he called for help when I was getting ready to leave." 

His eyes snapped to yours, catching a glittering line of gold dancing over your eyelids. How you achieved looking like an angel under florescent lights is beyond his comprehension. Jack tried to talk over the I like them older tease but it rang an echo in his ears. 

As his eyes dropped again to your lips, like gravity dictated it for him, he watched the shape curl as you said-

"Dr Abbot?"

Christ, he shouldn't have seen that. Shouldn't have watched that happen. Why have we stopped wearing lab coats again?

Your head tilted to the side slyly as you waited for what seemed to be a glitch, or some kind of buffering happening behind the man's eyes. You glanced back, barely containing a giggle in your pursed lips when your eyes connect with Dana and Robby by the ambulance bay.

Jack tried blinking, but opening his eyes back up only restarted the staring problem. The corners of your lips quirked then, dimples appeared around them trying to suppress a full smile. Linking both hands through your bag handle in front of you, you bounced subtly between your toes and heels. Dragging his eyes to anything else in the ever-moving ED around him proved useless, the best he could do not to embarrass himself was drop his gaze to your hands. 

"…. May I?" Jack's hand lifted, offered palm-up in the space between you. 

You blinked rapidly, pink blush spreading up to your ears, and delicately placed your hand in his warm grasp. Jack angled the tips of your fingers closer, the strain around his eyes softening as he marveled at your nails. "How'd you get it to reflect like a mirror?" his question came out in an awed whisper, more admiring than curious. 

"It's- well," you muttered, gently tightening your hand in his, whispering, "I had it done- is that really what you wanted to say, Jack?" 

The man huffed lightly, lowering your linked hands, but keeping them together, "…no."

A pause lingered, as did his stare, flickering between your lips, shoes, eyes, and back again. Your smile softened, gentling the dip in your cheeks, and you daintily stepped one step closer. 

You watched his eyes drop, half-lidded, to your mouth again and stay there. "You don't want to know what I really wanted to say," he murmured. 

"Don't I?" you step another inch closer.

+

"It was a 20 at best," Robby complained quietly, his hand digging through his back pockets.

"It was 50 and you know it, Cap," Dana smirked, her eyes still facing the hallway and pretending she's not keenly watching Jack Abbot finally get your number, "Pay up."

an: when your person can't take their eyes off your lips and are actually in a stupor when you say their name? it is simultaneously a boost of confidence, and a surge in genuine affection.

"Something going on?" Robby said, tentatively pushing. 

"What is it, Robby?" Jack turned to him, leaning forward curiously.

The taller man rubbed at the back of his head and sighed.

"You seem.. like you're actually sleeping, or on some new medication?"

Abbot huffed, smirking and lifting a paper coffee cup to his lips.

"I am sleeping better, yes."

Robby's eyes tracked the cup as the man took a sip. A sticker labeled Foxglove Cafe caught his attention. "Did a new spot open?" He nodded towards the cup.

Jack's smirk stretched into a full smile and he stepped backwards to walk to the lockers.

"Something like that."

"Is it a secret coffee shop?"

Dr.Abbot's shoulders jumped in surprise at Shen's question coming so close to his ear while he was charting.

"Hm?" he looked at the man for a moment, then went back to the screen.

"Like a hidden gem kinda thing?" 

"What're you ta- oh that," Jack saw John's eyes on the paper cup by the keyboard, "umm .."

"Because it's not on google maps or Instagram. That's how you find places, you know?" Shen added, stepping back to lean on the doorframe.

"How old do you think I am? yes I know." Jack retorted with a scoff.

"So?"

"So?" Abbot's brows furrowed in slightly bemused confusion. 

"Oh goddammit." John hissed, turning sharply to walk out.

"Move your ass to west 13, Dr Shen." Jack yelled after the resident, chuckling quietly.

Dr. Abbot used to walk into the ED fully prepared to tackle a disaster. He used a backpack to keep his hands free and clean, kept a scalpel in his pant pocket, and never once was seen bringing a drink to work -"I come in pre-caffinated". Langdon had looked up Foxglove Cafe repeatedly every other day in hopes that the cafe decided to exist on the internet. Apparently the question circled through the night shift all the way to the day shift, and curiosity had dug it's claws. 

At first it was as simple as oh i wonder what he's drinking, but when Dr.abbot evaded answering, it became what secret is he keeping  then wtf, that shop name doesn't exist. 

"Maybe it's an old cup?" Mel suggested, settling across from him in the staff lounge.

"I was gonna say that too," Frank countered, "but it's been two weeks, a paper cup would've shriveled up or turned to dust."

"Maybe just ask him?" She looked up at him innocently.

"He won't answer directly and working in the ED always gives him an out-"

"TRAUMA INCOMING ETA-" the overhead speaker blared suddenly, Dana's voice urgent.

"See!" Langdon snapped, rushing out of the lounge chair towards the bay.

Dr. King thought it was funny how hung-up everyone was about Dr.Abbot's new habit. 

The way she saw it, everyone develops and drops habits throughout their lives. As uncommon as it is to see, older men can also pickup habits or find comfort in new things. New routines. But everyone forgot that when the older man in question had such a mysterious, elusive persona. 

When she settled on the bench by the lockers with her backpack open in her lap, it was end of day shift and her sister was already calling. 

"'Evening, Dr King." 

Looking up at Dr.Abbot's arrival, Mel greeted him back as he opened his locker, a large coffee cup in his other hand. 

"It's a fake sticker right?" She chanced a confrontation. 

"Hm?"

"My sister had the same one but with an Arum Lily instead. She's a regular." Mel smiled up at him, a flicker of mischief in her eyes.

Jack Abbot snorted, shaking his head, and closed his locker.

"Don't tell anyone," Squinting his eyes at her with a small smirk, "but you're my favorite."

It had been a series of strange decisions that led to this weird prank that Jack has been pulling on the ED for the past few months. It's one of those too subtle tricks that only cause utter confusion or inconvenience. These are Jack's favorite kind, yours too.

You had been running your bookstore for two years when Mrs Brisby discovered it. She was in her 80s, and a quick-witted conversationalist, so she became a friend in two visits. To accommodate her age, achy knees, and her tendency to stay for hours to chat, you set up a seating area and made it as comfortable as you could, with throw blankets, a footrest, and a spare cane leaning against the wall. 

This opened up the chain of events that led you to offer "exclusive to regulars" drinks. Mrs Brisby was going to have to have her tea, but you didn't want the bookstore to turn into a Cafe- you didn't have the staff for that, and you liked the slow pace you were at. 

So you made her and yourself drinks in white paper cups with a random sticker on them.

This made it seem like you bought your drinks from another spot, and so the bookstore pace of customers remained comfortable. That is until Dex and his brother Eugene, also regulars, asked the right questions. 12 Year old Dex was always smarter than given credit for, and he was the one that told you a consistant sticker design made more sense. So you bought plastic cups for his cold drinks.

By that point, the whole thing was a giggle-inducing, fun secret between your friends. Something to be sneaky about with no consequences. A variety of ingredients accumulated in the backroom, along with an ice machine and a discovery set of coffee flavors. Making a special sticker seemed like a lot of work, but Mrs Brisby's favorite flower was the purple foxglove and it was her birthday around the time you found someone to make the logo for you. Later on, some other regulars got to feature their own favorite flowers. 

This system, or scheme, remained within a tight circle, until the day you had one of your flare-up while simultaneously shattering your wrist against the pavement. The day you had the pleasure of meeting one Dr. Jack Abbot.

"Pedestrian Vs Motorcycle. Female 30s, Isolated wrist fracture splinted in scene. Minor head injury, Abrasions at forearm, right hip and thigh." 

EMT Maria rattled off the the handoff report as she unbuckled the gurney from the floor of the ambulance. 

"GCS 15. Vitals stable, alert and oriented. Pupils equal and reactive."

As Dr Robby helped secure the handrails upward, his gaze swept the form of the woman in question. Your hairline was sweating under bandages on your forehead. Eyes squeezed shut, you squirmed slightly as if the pain wasn't letting you still.

"Baseline?" He asked.

"Chronic neurological pain disorder, migraines, baseline hand tremor. No visible neuro changes from baseline noted."

Dr Whittaker, checking the laceration on your head, addressed you first.

"Ma'am, my name is Dr Whittaker. You're at PTMC." 

"Mhm, that tracks, yeah." You mumbled, eyes still closed against the stabbing lights of the ED hallway, and scoffed, "Figures I'd get hit at 15 km/hr and the handoff is longer than 3 sentences." 

Robby snorted as he picked up his penlight to check your eyes, then changed his mind when he saw the intensity of your light avoidance. "Sarcasm is a good sign." 

Dana looked up from her spot behind the counter as they wheeled you in and gestured her arm to the left. "Central 8 is free, Dr Robby. You're an hour pass handoffs, by the way."

"Am I now?" He mumbled, pushing away the curtain so Perlah can set up the monitors. He leaned down to inspect your right wrist.

"Pain seems out of proportion." 

"History of chronic pain?" A familiar voice came from behind him.

Robby turned to the door to see Jack Abbot walking in, fixing his stethoscope around his neck. 

"Yes. Miss Y/L/N, this is Dr. Abbot. He will be handling your case for this evening." Robby said, turning to you.

Your breath was still shuttering with restraint, the IV they placed in your left hand administered pain relief too slowly. You could feel the pounding behind your eyes. The adrenaline from the accident nearly had you forget the usual terror that precedes an oncoming migraine. 

"… Hi." you said in an exhale. It felt impossible to hold a conversation, but you knew they were there to help you.

Jack's eyes instantly went to the screen to check the IV content, then to your pained shifting on the bed. He reached a hand to the IV valve and increased the flow of morphine. 

"Your drug baseline is higher." His murmur was softer as he neared you, trying not to risk more pain with his volume, "This tremor usual with a flare-up?"

His fingertips touched the skin on your uninjured hand after a soft "may I?", turning it over to check. The tremor running through your skin shook your fingers hard, you knew you wouldn't regain control for hours yet.

"Yeah," you whispered, a self-deprecating grin tugged your lips, "might have been the shock before, but this is all me."

Slowly, your shoulders slacked against the pillow behind you, brows unknotting with relief. Spots of stabbing pain from you wrist and leg came forward, but dulled again. Like you hadn't felt the injuries over the tsunami that is your own personal pain. 

The white blur dulled suddenly from behind your eyelids and the doors slid open and shut in a swooshing sound.

"Lights are dimmed. I will check your eyes now." Dr. Abbot said, voice gentle against your throbbing temples. 

Slowly, timidly, you blinked your eyes open, noticing the dampness of tears on your lashes, and turned to look at him. 

"Wow," you rasped, "remind me where I am again?"

"Pittsburgh Trauma-" he cut himself off with a scoff when he noticed you eyeing his face with a smirk on your lips, "Cute."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

The genuine smile that graced his eyes and dimpled his cheeks has become one of your favorite things to see.

Part 2

an: Thank you so much for reading! please comment what you think! oxoxox

Your eyes would sweep over the department while standing at the Hub, ask the charge nurse about the urgency of some of the cases on the upper screen, then walk deeper towards the lockers to take off your headphones, backpack, and Jacket.

"Sunshine come in yet?" Perlah asked, passing behind Dana towards her desk.

"Babygirl is never late, is she?" Dana muttered, peering at the woman from above her glasses.

"That was one time!" Perlah whined discreetly, "and stop calling her that, it's starting to show favoritism."

"Twice actually. This is why she's my fav-"

A knock on the desk interrupted her sassy retort, and Dana turned to see Cheif Medical Officer Gloria Underwood standing in a crisp-collared pink suit.

"Nurse Evans."

"Oh hun, Robby ain't in yet." the blonde smiled mischievously.

Gloria huffed and placed a stack of card papers on the counter between them.

"We need patient feedback," she tapped a finger against the top card, "have as many people as you can fill these out."

Dana almost snorted, but thankfully, she had more decorum than that.

Perlah didn't. The filipina opened her mouth only to hesitate at the sight of the new nurse walking in briskly from behind Gloria. Your stride pleasant and up-beat as you greeted them and gently placed a hand on the cards.

"We got it handled, Dr. Underwood." you stated with a sweet grin.

"Lovely. Thank you." After a sigh of relief, Gloria walked towards the elevators.

The charge nurse turned to you, in your light blue scrubs, french-braided hair, and violet full-sleeve undershirt.

"You're trouble, missy." Perlah grumbled, waved a hand dismissively in your direction.

"Maybe if we accept it like we're on her side, then show how unable we are at making the patients take the surveys," you tilted your head in consideration, looking down at the stack in your hands, "maybe then she can see this isn't the department for these."

"Sunshine! that's just extra paperwork!" Princesses rolled her eyes as she walked into the Hub.

You giggled breathily, and Dana could tell you're secretly more cunning than they knew.

"No it's not, I'll handle it." You winked and turned to start your work.

"How wou- did she just skip away?" Princes looked to her two colleagues to check, eyes wide in disbelief.

When their eyes met, laughter bubbled out of them in a contagious circle. Dana wiped at her eyes as she chuckled. She couldn't wait to see how you'd handle this.

Walking in through Chairs, pass the Picture wall, Dr. Robby took a deep breath and tucked his sunglasses into his bag. He walked by an open triage room, then stopped and walked backwards for another glance.

Why were you gently placing a palm-sized card in the trash bin?

"Good Morning, Dr.Robby!" your greeting was the cheerful one he got every day.

He cocked his head, brows raising in suspicion. "What is that?"

"Oh!" you saw his gaze on the cards in your hands, "Patient satisfaction surveys."

The older man learned not to trust a woman's unbothered, impossibly chipper attitude.

"Something I need to know?"

"Don't worry about it, Robby." You leaned down to place a single card under the metal leg of the examination chair, a gentle smirk on your lips, "you got enough on your plate."

He also learned not to involve himself where all he'd gain is a headache and an admin meeting.

"O-Ok…well, let me know if you need anything."

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Mrs. Turner needs a blood draw and a Rapid PCR swab," Dr. Whittaker informed them at the hubb, settling his hands on the keyboard of the central portals.

"Sputum Culture?"

He jerked back at your voice to see you leaning forward, waiting for his confirmation.

"Oh.. umm, she didn't sound phlegm-y but it wouldn't hurt, yeah."

Perlah stood up from her chair and pressed the button on the hand sanitizer. "I got it-"

"Perlah," you stopped her and handed her your clipboard, "can you wrap up this one's arm for me instead please? kids like you best."

"What? kids love you-"

You smiled at her confused expression, and speedily prepped what you needed to tend to Mrs. Turner.

Dana, sat on the opposite side of the Hub listening, knew the patient and their attitudes towards different religions. She knew you might have landed yourself a few minutes of reduced patient satisfaction, but you spared Perlah a worse fate.

"Does that count as cherry-picking?" Whittaker muttered lowly when he passed her.

"Don't talk about my baby like that."

"You know, I've never seen you without that on." Trinity nodded her chin to your turtle neck top under your scrubs.

"I like it." You shrugged, "and I get cold."

Dr. Santos stood above you, watching as you helped clean the wound on a young man's forearm. She hummed thoughtfully.

"Both valid, sure," She muttered, leaning closer with a smirk, "but never without it? you hiding some weird birthmark?"

The patients huffed a laugh while you continued your work.

"Yup." you said, an easy smile gracing your face.

"… Three?"

"Three."

Gloria held up the cards pointedly at the charge nurse.

"Three patients filled surveys in the last two days?"

"Yes." Dana's eyes remained on her screen, still organizing cases with rooms.

"What happened to the rest of the cards?" Gloria asked.

The blonde woman shrugged nonchalantly, and turned on her heels to walk towards the next task. Gloria scoffed, then searched around her for Dr. Robby.

"Dr. Underwood, Hello!" a cheerful voice greeted her as she caught your eyes from across the hub.

"Good morning." the older woman spotted a card in your shirt pocket and gestured to it, "how's the survey going?"

Your face curled in a sorry grimace as you pulled out the five empty cards from your pocket.

"Well, its OK I guess," you told her, "but the majority were upset at the … audacity."

Brows raised sharply, Gloria stared at you.

"Their words." you add, your smile gentling the blow.

"Oh.. OK, thank you." She thanked you by name, genuinely appreciating the effort and slightly fearful that she may have put the nursing staff in danger with angry patients, and walked to the elevators with the remaining cards in her hand.

"I'm seeing something suspicious," Jesse drawled as he came to stand next to you, "I'm just not sure what it is yet."

You giggled breathily and grabbed the data pad he gave you.

"Be sure to let me know when you do."

The most personalized items Jack had ever seen on you was a pair of high platform leather loafers and the metallic glint of multiple key chains hanging from your backpack. It was on a random chance he had happened to be at the ambulance bay when you came in before your shift.

You wore your light blue scrubs with full length undershirts everyday, layered with a Nursing Association Ohio State University jacket. Hair tucked away, nails clean and short, and face bare and freckled. A cold pink on your nose and cheeks.

He'd seen some color variation in undershirts ranging from pale blue to dark gray, and the fact that he has so little information on you made him increasingly curious. He'd been working here for years and had collected specific knowledge on each of the characters he interacts with daily. Besides regularly adding MSs to the roster -whom Jack easily learns enough about within a couple of days, He felt confidant about knowing everyone but you.

"Why do you come through here instead of chairs?"

He does know you like the ambulance bay better than the main entrance.

"Why do you take your breather out here like you're wishing for one more crisis?"

Your voice was teasing, and rarely ever mean. Your smile was disarming as you walked pass him, offering a good morning!, and entered the building. He could hear Ahmed receive the same chipper offering.

"You're either insane and this is the perfect job for you," He muttered with a smirk, "or you're an actual angel."

"It just doesn't feel like clubbing is her scene." McKay poured out the last of her lukewarm coffee in the sink, and started rinsing the mug.

"It wouldn't hurt to ask though, right?" Samira argued from her seat at the lounge room table.

"Ask what?"

They both turned to the doorway to see you saunter in, looking between the girls curiously, then proceeding towards the fridge to grab your snack container. It was two hours passed end of day shift and McKay could see the day's wear in the loose hair strands framing your face and your drooping shoulders. Samira perked up, smiling excitedly at you.

"We're going clubbing!" She clapped her hands together, "We thought the shift ran late, can't get anything done with the rest of today, so why not go out together?"

"Oh!" you paused, eyes lighting up to match Mohan's, "that sounds fun. Hangovers?"

Princess huffed a laugh as she walked into the room behind you.

"Not really, we're going dancing."

Samira's only ever been out with them once, and that was before you joined the ED nursing team. As cliche as it sounds to say your not drinking enough for a hangover, She found the members of the ED to be very responsible. They do actually go to dance.

Imagining you in a dance club, however, felt weird. Since meeting you for the first time, Samira had the pleasure of watching your sparkly aura infect anyone who comes close, trigger more smiles, and lift the burdens of heavy cases. It was like if they stand at the right distance, they can't help but orbit the sun.

Perhaps you'd be overwhelmed in a club, or feel left out. You'd need to be watched over.

"Is Dennis stopping to pick her up?"

"No, he's picking up Garcia with Trinity."

Victoria stood beside Cassie by the bar waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive. It's her first time doing something like this since her 21st birthday, and it was both thrilling and gut-twistingly terrifying. She tried to set herself up for success by not overdoing her makeup, and making sure her bag was stocked with anything she would need. She felt steadier with McKay at her side, the older woman having such a caring nature.

"Dr.Abbot!"

Victoria turned at her companion's shout. Jack Abbot was weaving his way through the crowd at the entrance, worn leather jacket on his shoulders. Dana was behind him, clinging onto the edge of his jacket to be led out of the cluster of bodies.

"Honey, you look adorable!" The older woman came to hug Victoria.

"Thanks Dana," the young med student muttered, cheeks blushing, "though that's not what I was going for-"

"Everyone here yet?" the attending leaned his hip against the bar stool, eyes scanning the dance floor.

Dana's phone buzzed against her pocket.

"Almost." looking down at the caller's name, she smirked and answered.

"Sweet darling, are you tapping out already?"

She paused to listen to you, the crew around her pretending not to eavesdrop.

"Walk straight in all the way to the right side of the bar," the charge nurse instructed, "I'll spot ya."

She giggled when the heads around her snapped towards the entrance, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Only to groan as they spot Santos, Whittaker, and Garcia entering.

Your arrival had a delayed effect, only because they couldn't recognize you until you reached two feet before them, or hear you over the pounding of the music. 

The clacking of sharp heels snapped the crew's attention first.

"Hello!" 

Dennis thought he must be hellucinating, because the woman walking towards them couldn't possibly be-

"Sunshine! what the fuck!" McKay screamed as she sped forward to hug you.

Your giggle was mostly covered by the loud club music, but your wide beaming smile shone through as you returned the hug warmly.

Dana smirked as her eyes skimmed over your figure. You were in a green tight, low-cut top, and black denim shorts. Your face was layered delicatly with makeup, something she's never seen on you. Black-lined eyelids and glittered cheeks sparkling with the movement of the club lights. 

"Ooh you've done it now, doll." the blonde woman greeted you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. 

"Don't know what you're talking about." You laugh.

What stunned Trinity the most was not the black leather heeled boots, or the thick waves of your loose, flowy hair. It was the amount of tattoos covering almost all your exposed skin. Artistic lines interrupted by flowers and bees. Black dots of stars spread like freckles on your shoulders and under your collarbone. One thick line going from under your arms to your wrists. 

Damn the turtlenecks.

"Is this real?" Trinity exclaimed, eyes still wide at the vision that is you.

"It is, Trin." You smile cheekily, "you've just never seen me out of my scrubs."

"Oh I'd love to see you out of your scrub-"

A sharp nudge dug into her side.

"Stop that." Whittaker hissed.

"You look absulutly breathtaking." Abbot complimented with a wink, after getting over his stuper, and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

Still with a laugh in your breath you walked with him to join the crew at the bar.

"Thank you," you batted your eyes sweetly, "Scandelous, isn't it?"

Princess remembered she was holding her drink and put it down on the bar with determination, digging out her phone from her purse. 

"I can't wait to see the look of Perlah's face when she sees this."

a/n: I am not a medical professional, nor have I ever been to a club. lol I just googled some stuff to fit the story.

Accidentally finding that D/S app, Dip, felt like having a light bulb moment. Because with all the free time that had been forced upon him, Jack needed something. Badly enough he felt like he was losing his mind. Remembering his experiences caring for a submissive, he felt like perhaps that was what he needed, what was missing. The strength in it, to offer a piece of himself, to reach into someone's psyche when their walls are let down. That first sigh from deep within them was a reward that still steals his breath.

Jack hadn't really ever been a dom for the practice, it was more about the other person for him. that's why he couldn't imagine being with multiple partners in scenes like that. Watching his person, learning them inside out, and neatly lining up the chaos for them, was the most satisfying job he'd ever had. He missed it.

This app was different, it didn't offer professional dominants, didn't require payment, it just connected people with potential compatibility based on a very thorough kink survey. The app employees keep contact just in case of a failed connection, and if a member had not behaved by the rules, they would be banned from the app, or reported if it's a severe offense. Jack found this consequence helped make the meetings safer for members, starting them on steadier grounds.

The first couple of meetings with subs went well but did not continue and Jack's hopes were dwindling down slowly, but having nothing else to do with his time gave him the energy to keep looking. The sex was good, great even, but there were other elements to this dynamic that were very delicate and very hard to match. Jack's need resided there.

"She's super meticulous, Abbot, She's not looking for a slap on the wrist if you know what I mean." Marcus, his flamboyant Dip agent, said through the phone.

"I.. don't, actually," Jack mumbled, staring at a half-chopped Onion on the cutting board, "What do you mean?"

"Babe, It's very rare for a submissive person to come to us and not be looking for pain, punishment, or multiple orgasms," Marcus explained, "Her interview was one of the shortest I've ever seen, girl just knows what she wants. If I link you two for a meet up, I can send you the interview video. What do you think?"

Jack hummed as he picked up the board to scrape the onion into a hot pan, "Why do you think we're compatible?" he asked, "I understand her personal information is private until we meet, but do you think I can offer her what she needs?"

"Great question, darling, yes," Marcus quipped, voice smiley and excited, "and I sincerely hope this helps you both."

"Hey, Marcus?"

"Yes, Yes."

"Can you give her my number with my real name?" Jack offered, "Not a code for a blind date, my name. She can look me up if she needs it." 

"Isn't that risky to offer so early?" A hum sounded over the speaker.

"You gotta offer trust to gain it, I think."

Your video interview was interesting, to say the least. The sound of your voice echoed in Jack's empty apartment as he sat his laptop on his lap. There were so many question where you responded with no, and your answers only lengthened when asked what you wanted.

Sometimes I need everything to stop.

Overstimulation becomes painful.

I want to not know what to do and be okay with it.

Your file told him about your stressful job, dysfunctional family relationships, and past BDSM experiences. Your face told the stories deeper. Brows and shoulders spelling out the disappointment, fluttering blinks and fidgeting fingers revealing the certainty of a need unmet. 

Earlier that morning, when he met you for the first time at a bakery half an hour off his usual path home, these signs were well-hidden. Jack Abbot met a beautiful and incredibly intelligent woman with whom he had a surprisingly witty conversation. You broke through small-talk several times, and waited patiently for the man to give a thoughtful answer. There was an air of steely strength about you, holding your spine straight and maintaining a brave amount of eye contact. 

Beyond seeing how beautiful you were, how desire surged within him at the first sight of your smile, Jack was awestruck by the realization that the meeting he just had with you felt so much like a date. A successful one. Walking himself home, he passed the doorway mirror and caught his own lingering smile still staining his cheeks.

By evening, he'd been sent your Dip information with your permission. Jack read through your file and sat through multiple rewinds of the interview.

I don't want to be anyone else.

I don't need to play pretend.

and a hesitant, small-voiced I need help shutting down.

He felt the ache he was sure you knew very well. Under his lowest rib, pulling at his spine like his center is constricting on itself. You needed care. It's one the loveliest admissions to confess, and it had Jack's heart lurching in anticipation.

You spent the first two weeks texting, and randomly meeting for a few minutes between shifts. The fondness sweeping Jack's voice when he talked to you never left, the lines around his eyes soft when his gaze caught yours.

"Jack?" 

Your voice was gentle and light, like the smile couldn't help but infuse the sound. He tightened his hand around yours are you continued your walk through the park. "Hm?"

"Does it bother you any?" You asked lowly, "that we haven't yet.. you know.."

"No," his reply was quick, unchanging in his pace and tone. He glanced to the side to see your eyes deliberately on the walk path. 

"It's not.. "

"No, it's not lacking, Sweetheart," He huffed, proud he could already guess what you're thinking, and smiled at you, "I'm having an incredible time with you, just being around you. You looped your arm through mine on that second date and it still makes me smile." 

Jack pauses his footsteps, halting your walk gently with a small pull on your linked hands. "When I told you I liked you, and would love nothing more than to wait for you," Stepping closer to you to see your eyes glance up at him, "I meant it." 

Your free hand stroked up his arm as you sighed, nodding your head slightly. "Sorry, I had to ask." 

"Because you feel as good as I do, or because something's changed?"

"The first, and it's … scary," you mumbled, tilting your head up at him with a smile.

"Terrifying," He hummed, "Don't apologize. Sorry is honestly something I will never need to hear from you."

Jack watched your shoulders drop slowly, as your eyes dropped to his lips for a moment. That half-lidded look has quickly become one of his favorite views. Cradling your jaw, warm hand covering your ear and moving your hair, Jack kissed you slowly, the touch solid and unhurried.

Prt 2

an: thank you for reading! this might be an extended series as I'm planning to explore writing smut. this was my first try, please let me know what you think :)

also if you have any idea how I can tag or write cw for spicier parts please teach me <33

taglist lovlies:

His finger paused for half a second, hovering over the screen of a tablet, while his eyes dazed on the top corner of it, as if he forgot to move them towards what he was doing on a patient's chart. It was only a moment, then he blinked twice more that usual for another moment, and moved on. 

"Dr Abbot." You called his name, coming to stand beside him in front of the Hub screen.

He turned to you sharply, first his head, then shoulders, sharp eyes moved over you as if for his own peace of mind and relaxed at your proximity. You smiled when his eyes came back to meet yours. 

"You OK?" your voice lowered, not a secretive whisper, but a private check-up. It's the tone you use to be with him not the Pitt around you. It's a tone Jack never dismissed.

"Yeah… I'm good." 

The hesitation had you look closer at him, but the twinkle in his grin and the tease in his eye-squint relaxed you enough to not push him about it. 

"Better stay that way when you come home in the morning."

The head tilt and forward step was downright mischievous. "Or what, Dr Spidey?"

Referencing the unfortunate coincidence of Jack walking into the staff lounge to see you climbing over the fridge, one foot barely stable on the counter, to reach a bag of snacks from the cabinet above. Such an unoriginal nickname, but he derived so much joy from using it.

You gasp, dramatically putting your hand to your chest. "Are you never letting that go?! it doesn't even fit the context!"

"What context?" The innocence on his face had you scoffing.

"I was trying to flirt w-"

"Trauma incoming!" Lena's voice came sharp and urgent from behind the high counters, phone held against her ear, "Pedestrian vs truck. Head trauma, unresponsive on scene. ETA 2 minutes!" 

Jack snickered at your drained sigh, reaching his hand to brush his knuckles against yours. 

"Get outta here, Honey," he drawled, giving you a wink as he passed, "I'll pick up your coffee on the way back."

Since you had a day off, you decided to stay up late then nap with Jack when he came back from his shift. It's his favorite non-activity, and you hoped if would realign his strange mood, or maybe reveal it.

"Hmm no." he mumbled against the back of your neck when you started shifting to get up sometime around noon.

"I'll make us some food, Honey," you whispered, maintaining the hush of the darkened room, "sleep some more." 

You fingers swept through his gray curls and you pressed your nose to his cheek for a moment, feeling his smile and hum on your skin, before moving to leave the bedroom. 

Setting a pot of water on the stove, you moved smoothly around the kitchen, collecting ingredients for the Ramen recipe you had saved a few weeks ago. Just when you pressed the preheat button on the airfryer for the side dumplings, warmth spread down your back and two freckled arms wrapped around you waist, hands meeting over you stomach.

"I even tell you I like my clothes better on you?" the words were rasped against the skin behind your ear, lighting up a giggle in your chest as his stubble scratched you. 

"Once or twice," you huffed as he squeezed your middle. You reached a hand back to poke at his side, "get the noodles, please?"

"oh! I read two more chapters before bed," You leaned against the counter, excitement in your clasped hands, "Jack, you won't believe it. I actually screamed." 

A sleepy chuckle came through him while he reached for the packages of instant noodles in the upper cabinets. "I remember stopping with Keeley and Gideon last night."

"Next chapter is Becky's!" you gasp, slapping your hands on the counter top, "She told Blade she loved him!"

After a matching gasp, Jack's jaw dropped, eyes widening as he turned to you, "no!"

"Yes!" you whispered forcefully, "then she ran away before he could say anything."

Jack huffed a laugh as he opened the packages and prepped the spices. He'd gotten quite attached to "co-reading" books, it was like watching a movie for an extended time with the bonus of hearing the narration in each other's voices. It helped that the man could close his eyes when it was your turn to read.

You animatedly continued, covering the part he missed, and the ones that made you excited or emotional. Jack looked from you to his hands and back, focused on the story and making matching noises at every scene. 

After you set the noodles to cook, standing next to him as you whisked the sauce, you saw his eyes glaze over for the second time that day. Head down to his hands holding the bowls, Jack's movements paused slowly as his shoulders clenched upwards. 

Eyes unseeing but rapidly moving, like he was looking for something not in front of him, Jack's breath stuttered for a moment. "umm, I'll- I'll be right back." 

Your brows furrowed as you watched the man walk hastily to the bedroom. "Jack?"

Dr Harris, VA therapist, had explained to Jack what a prolonged panic attack is. It wasn't a thing before, Jack thought if you panic longer, that's anxiety. The term kept confusing him.

"Imagine it as multiple attacks back to back, with small distractions of the day as intervals."

It felt like burying his feet in sand too close to the sea, with every wave his stability is unsettled. And while the water shouldn't hurt him, it breaks up the sand around him bit by bit with every pass, until nothing supports his feet and stops him from being swept away.

A car dealership had called him earlier in the morning. Something about personal information and car registries. Jack's first instinct was to hand-up without speaking a word. His number is very old and apparently a favored target for spam calls. However, the man on the other line mentioned a red 2013 BMW, and Jack's breath hitched for a second.

The company was asking for information on the man he sold it to. Asking him about the paper trail of deposits. About the license plate number.

His late wife's license plate number.

He ended the call promising to send the missing documents later, but the question stayed. what was the plate number?

He had it memorized, along with other details about the car model, and jack was sure he had stored it somewhere in his mind with all the other memories of her, a safe place where they remained precious, but not in front of him all of the time. He'd spent all day trying to get to that place, and somehow he couldn't.

"I can't remember it." He couldn't help but mumble as his lungs seemed to forget their rhythm. Your head swerved to look at him from across the kitchen, noticing a rare tone in his voice.

There were papers in his right hand, his left clutching the bedroom doorframe like he needed it to keep his knees. Eyes wide and glistening, they flickered around wildly as pain radiated in waves at his temples and in his throat. Jack attempted a step to the kitchen island, but his panic had spread through his legs, and the prosthetic was suddenly extremely foreign. He couldn't remember the number. Could he have even remembered the the car model if the man hadn't said it? what else did he forget? 

"I forg- I can't remember the plate number," He gasped mid-step, limping to steady a hand on the kitchen counter. Words coming out in a shameful stutter, "The- .. umm, the car- Elizabeth's car."

His eyes started glinting in the kitchen lights, tears welling up before his fearful eyes. It was as if a lantern was lit behind his armor, making the cracks glaringly visible, glowing and vulnerable. The sea waves have been battering him all day, he thought to himself, this one will do him in. 

As soon as your eyes caught the disrupted pattern of his breathing, you hurried to him. Your hands landed gently on him, one on his heaving chest, the other cradling his cheek as gently as you could.

"Baby? Jack, look at me, please." You whispered, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

"I can't find it, I-" Shaking his head, He squeesed his eyes shut, "How could I forget?"

White papers fluttered to the floor as he released them, his hands shakily clutching at the hem of your sweatshirt. He felt his throat closing, painfully forcing whimpering breaths through his teeth.

"Jack," you grab his hand and place under your collar bone, "Breathe, Honey. With me, yeah?"

As you exaggerate your inhale, moving your chest and his hand with it, his shoudlers curl with the effort to steady him. Exhales were coming out stuttered and sharp. "I can't-"

"You can," You interrupt, tightening your fingers around his hand against your chest, "Just as I can, Baby. I got you." 

His chest felt like it was on fire, heat reaching his neck and slicking his back with sweat. His hands gripped at you, pulling you closer. The pounding of his heart was so loud in his ears, skipping every other breath. Jack placed his forehead on your shoulder, eyes focusing on the movement of your lungs.

"Good, just like that." you whispered as you felt him release deeper breaths, your hand reaching around him to comb through the hair at his nape, "Keep breathing, Jack."

You remained standing, hanging onto each other with your hands tightening and loosening, until the stitch in Jack's chest released him. The first relaxed sigh was swiftly followed by a sob and Jack burried his tears in the fabric of your neckline. 

"S-sorry," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"I did not hear you say that," shaking your head, pulling him up to cup his face. You felt your eyes prickle at the sight of his trembling lips and downcast eyes. "Come here, Honey."

You guided him to the couch, dimmer than the kitchen with sunlight seeping gently through the curtains, and knelt before him as he sat down. Jack took a deeper shuttering breath and rubbed his eyes. 

"I forgot." He whispered, quieter now, less panic in his voice, more grief.

"That happens, Baby," you matched his tone, stroking his thighs firmly before reaching under his pant leg to unfasten his prosthetic. Once you placed it leaning against the couch beside him, you looked up to see his eyes on you, brows knotted.

"You ever heard," you ask, settling down to sit on your heels, eyes locked on his pursed lip, "of the Room Theory?"

He cocked his head subtly, his focus on your mouth as his chest still struggled to catch a rhythm. 

"It states that every person that enters your life creates a room within you, in which they effect how you live, or love," You watch him swallow as you explain gently, "and when a person leaves, they leave behind their room. Its contents still in you, shaping your subconscious."

"People will enter and leave your life constantly," your head tilts, eyes welling up at the thought of the amount of loss Jack has been through, "but the rooms stay. Maybe you don't remember them, everything in them, but they will always be part of how you love, how you fight, how you show up. Does that make sense, Jack?"

His hand moved towards you, knuckles softly stroking your cheek, before reverently cradling your face. His softening eyes closed and he nodded.

"You're allowed to forget things, you're human." you sighed, your hand holding on to his against your skin, "that doesn't mean Elizabeth's completely gone. She is part of who you are. You have her room." 

Bending his head down, his forehead rested against yours. You could feel his warm air on your nose and lips. He murmured your name, fondly worshipful as if it was holy. "Thank you, Baby."

"Oh Jack," You sat up on your knees, placing your hands on his, and pressed a two small kisses on his lips, "Thank you for allowing me to help." 

an:

-thank you for reading. I love Jack Abbot.

-the book mentioned was Accomplice To The Villian by Hannah Nicole Maehrer, I was reading it and I've been obsessed for two years. Can't wait for the last book. omg. I actually screamed multiple times reading this one ffs

Stepping behind the counter to check, Jack saw your file open on Dana's screen, with a phone number registered to a Brie Brisby. "Mrs Brisby, I take it?" he rasped.

"Yes, Dr Charming." A grin creased the woman's wrinkled cheeks as her eyes swept over him. 

Dana whistled, Brows raised at her. Whittaker tucked his head down behind the pad to smile. A chuckle sounded from Jack's chest and he rounded the Hub to offer her his arm, taking hold of her bag with his other. 

"It's usually Dr Abbot, Ma'am," he leaned his head down to whisper, "but my ego will feed off this the entire day. Let me lead you to her room."

With the lady's small hand at the crook of his arm, Jack turned to Dennis. "Get the lady a cup of tea, Dr Whittaker. Central 8."

"How is your emergency contact an emergency hazard all on her own, huh?" Mrs Brisby wheezed, gingerly stepping into your dim room.

"Oh, Great Brie!" You said tiredly, a slow smile showing at the sight of your favorite person.

"More like aged Brie," she complained lowly as she pulled the dr's stool and tried to balance herself on it. 

The door slid open again for Dr Abbot holding a padded chair, cautiously finding a place for it on the left of your bed. "Here is best, Mrs Brisby, I need to work on the wrist reduction on her right." 

"What a gentleman." She whispered, patting his arm as she passed him to settle on the chair. Her hand reach up to give him her cane, as she turned her eyes to you. Jack's brows shot up in surprise, but obediently grabbed it and leaned it against a wall out of the way.

"A motorcycle, sweet thing?" The lady said after a dramatic sigh.

You huffed indignantly, trying to stop the urge to roll your eyes. You had been there for around two hours, which involved a CT scan, X-Ray, and a tediously extended phone call with your Neurologist to confirm prescriptions. The steady drumming behind your brows was dull enough to let you breathe, but not enough to nap. The noise of the entire department, clanking of metal wheels and tools, only added to the noise sensitivity. The morphine helped though. 

"That's a bit .. umm," you squinted at Brie, "victim-blamey."

"Proper English has vacated, I see." She retorted, chin high is playful offense.

Your lips opened to banter back, but your eyes scanned her closely. You knew how her brows creased when riddled with anxiety, and how it must've been strenuous and burdensome for her to make it all the way to the ED. You exaggerated your serene expression and beaming smile blossomed back at her.

"You're so worried about me." huffing teasingly, you stretched your trembling hand to grasp hers.

the woman's wrinkled fingers tightened weakly around your hand and she forced herself to look away.

"Oh you'll be fine," She shrugged, concealing a wet glimmer in her eyes, "I'm just weary my tea spot won't be the same for a while."

"CT is good, you'll bruise tomorrow but there's no damage. I'm going to numb your arm using a Hematoma Block then splint it." Dr Abbot explained gently as he settled to you right on the stool, "how's the pain?"

"I don't like that question." you mumbled after a thoughtful pause.

"You'd prefer I ask if you like the morphine?" his lips curled at the corners.

You closed your eyes for a beat as you sighed. 

"Yes, and yes."

Jack snorted before he could stop it and approached your fractured wrist holding a needle. "This will block your nerves from feeling for a bit while we fix your wrist. It'll sting."

"That's what needles do, right?" 

Somehow, your tone made him look up, barely a whisper as if you were talking to no one. There was no uptick by your lips, no the glint of mischief in your eyes. The amount of drugs pumping into you would likely cause delayed response, or confusion. He thought this must be your curse; drug your pain along with your mind, or be fully alert and continuously in agony. His jaw clenched with sympathetic frustration, looking back down to your arm.

"Can you move your fingers for me?" 

"Fo you?" your lazy grin blossomed as you wiggled the fingers resting on his hand, "I'd walk a tightrope blindfolded." 

A full laugh forced it's way out of him as a rare, open smile lit up his face. 

"Oh, that was a good one."

He was still chuckling as he turned at Dana's voice. She shut the room door quietly, delivering a Procedure light and positioning it over him from behind. This way they didn't have to light up the entire room for the reduction. When the stark white light turned on, setting an outline over Jack's head like a halo, you snickered as your eyes squinted. 

"Now it looks like you're an angel," your shoulders shook with laughter and you shook your head, "sorry- um that was too much." 

"Walking a tightrope blindfolded wasn't too much?" He quipped, brow raised.

"That's fictional, I'd die if I tried," you whispered as if revealing something valuable, "this can be real, you have angel eyes."

His next inhale was tight, your words striking further than he anticipated. He tried to chalk it up to the fact that he know only a drugged version of you, but the smile on his lips lingered long into his shift. 

You were napping after your wrist was splinted, Mrs Brisby by your side, reading on your EReader in the dim light of your room. 

"Good evening, Mrs Brisby." a whisper came from a small opening at the door and a nurse quietly entered, "I'll will be adjusting the morphine to taper off so we can switch her to oral pain management soon." 

Brie's eyes flicked towards your IV, then back to your face. Your smooth lines will crease with pain gradually as the relief leaves you, she had seen it before. 

"Dr Abbot still here?" The older woman asked, flicking a finger across the screen.

"Yes, Ma'am. He's the attending on night shift," the nurse smiled while looking at your vitals. 

"Lucky us." 

"I'm sure he'd tell you he's the lucky one," she whispered to Brie who stifled a snort.

"You know," the old lady added, casually glancing up over her glasses, "he fixed her wrist for an hour and they both forgot I was in the room."

The nurse covered her mouth in delight, "that never happens with him."

"First time for everything, dear."

"Run the order for IV NSAIDs before the morphine's completely off," Dr. Abbot instructed, Whittaker standing across the desk with your file on the screen, "We treat the migraine separately so she doesn't need to be in pain while we get her the oral. Did you see the post-reduction X-ray?"

Jack leaned on the outside of the Hub circle, Body mostly tilted towards your room, brows closing together in thought. This shift didn't occupy him as much as he wanted, A child with a rash, two adults with fever and flu symptoms, and a couple having a pre-term scare with a pregnancy. Not enough to fatigue his mind.

"Yes. The films came back neat, radial tilt realigned." The young man rattled as his eyes scanned the imaging. 

"Good. What's next for the wrist?" Abbot prompted, his attention still on the the white square of hallway light that was cast into your room.

"Check neurovascular status before discharge, Ortho consult and follow-up in a week." 

"Flying colors, Dr Whittaker." The attending pointed a proud finger at Dennis' face. Making the boy's ears flush red at praise will never not be fun.

Matchmaking had never been something Jack Abbot would encounter, especially by someone as seemingly unbothered as the 80 year old ED visitor he met two weeks ago. 

Mrs Brisby had stood outside by the pickup lane until she confirmed your Uber, then walked back in to accompany Perlah as the nurse wheeled you out. The hights of the migraine was treated with drugs in your IV, and you were discharged soon after. 

"Remember to book your Ortho appointment for next week. Try to call them in a day or two, so they don't push you back too far on the calendar." Dr Ellis instructed as she caught up with you. 

"Thank you, Dr Ellis." You smiled up at her, "I want to say I'd love to see you again."

"Let's say if you're ever here again, I'd love to see you too." Ellis laughed, shaking her head, "Good luck!"

As Perlah helped you off the wheelchair and into the backseat, Mrs Brisby handed the young Dr a folded pharmacy receipt and mysteriously insisted she deliver it to Dr Abbot, saying something like the man would think it too unethical to use her file for an address.

He pretended to be too busy after your discharge, so as to not seem too involved when you leave. He regretted it enough to keep the receipt with your home address in his wallet. 

"What was that about?" Ellis had dug for information when she saw him looking towards the exit after you left. Parker thrived on gossip and was not ashamed to admit that she looked into the folded receipt before delivering it.

"Triage, Ellis." He drawled, fiddling with the thin paper, "Go away."

Standing outside a three story brick building with a small bookstore on its ground floor, he reconsidered the visit. It would be dubious at best, to walk in and claim concern, or as a doctor to check on you. It would be hard to pivot questioning glances when his arrival has no other goal besides wanting to know you. 

Somehow meeting you felt important. Jack trusted the trajectory of his life most of the time and could distinguish this feeling as something pivotal coming into his path. While the vet was intimately familiar with loss, his feet still dragged him all the way to your address. like something was biting at his heels, urging him to grab the chance before it's lost. 

A chime sounded as the shop door opened. He could see Mrs Brisby from where he stood across the street, She fixed the door wide open, and sat gingerly on a wooden chair leaning against the display window. Jack wondered whether you opened your shop too soon after the injury, and if you had help. Could you walk upstairs, where he assumed your home was, everyday? Do you have a person to share the pain with? 

He shook his head, tucking away his roaming thoughts, and crossed the street. The old lady had her eyes on the book in her lap until the sound of his footsteps stopped near the shop.

"Well, you're a prompt decisor." Her croak drawn long in sarcasm.

Jack squinted in a small wince, adjusting to lean a shoulder on the glass display.

"Needed time to …" he paused, his fingers restless in his jacket pockets, "ponder."

Her wispy brows raised as his words and scoffed, closing her book, "you… pondered for two weeks?"

The man sighed, reaching a hand to rub the back of his neck. Before he could think of another excuse, the sound of steps accompanied by the tap of a cane came closer from inside. "If you start talking to yourself, we're both doomed-" You muttered, focus on steadying your feet as you appear in the doorway.

"Dr. Angel!" A soft smile spread across your cheeks when you looked up.

"I was sure it was Abbot my entire life," He chuckled, his eyes meeting yours.

"Maybe, but it's so easy to nickname you , Dr Charming." You teased with a smirk, making Mrs Brisby snort from her seat between you.

You folded your right arm close to your abdomen, and Jack's attention was caught on the blue-green bruising still visible at the fingers. Now in a cast after the ED splint, It looked like healing is ongoing, and Jack knew this stage was the most irritating. 

"How's the wrist?" He nodded his head towards her. 

"Annoying, swollen, and occasionally electric." You responded blandly, a blend of a smile and a grimace gracing your features.

The doctor tilted his head at the last word. 

"Nerves zapping sometimes," You elaborated, waving your left hand lazily over the cast, "Very dramatic."

You tended to behave so blithely about your pain, injury or not, and Jack could only see beyond that because he did it himself. Someone used to constant pain, afraid that if they start complaining truthfully, they'd never stop, never do anything.

"Rightfully so." The old lady piped up with a scowl.

"Oh hush," you waved her off. The old lady had repeatedly stated that you don't whine enough.

"Would you like to browse, Dr Ponder?" Brie looked up at him with a raised brow, "or maybe a seat at the gossip table?"

You let out a small chortle that had the man's eyes gravitate to you again. Your long dress fluttered with the swaying afternoon wind. You had a sweater over it, the sleeves covering your palm on one hand, and bunched up in large folds behind the cast on the other. You had your cane propped on the doorframe and the door supported you at your back. 

This is slower, softer, Jack thought. His therapist did say the pace of life he's addicted to will cost him his health soon. He felt like he was seeing a different side for the first time since he enlisted. A side that was mindful of small things, unhurried, patient. He was curious.

"Hmm," Jack suppressed a smile, "What would the latter entail?"

"He's so beautiful, Brie," You cover your eyes with your hand, "It's so annoying."

It was three hours past closing, and Mrs Brisby wouldn't leave without dragging the admission out of you. You sat beside her on your couch, head leaned on the backrest. 

"Is annoying the word you're looking for?" Brie mock-whispered from your right, her finger collecting your long hair and sectioning strands to braid.

"Stop analyzing my word choice."

"You're a well read, grown woman, darling, I'm sure you can define the feeling better."

"Fuck." You groaned.

"That's more like it." your friend chuckled.

part 3

an: I've never done a taglist before I hope I did alright :) please message me if I forgot you. Thank you for reading! xoxo

taglist:

Abbot chuckled, leaning his head back against the sloped wall. "I was busy with something."

Robby felt like he could no longer see the workaholic in Jack, the Doctor who's mind was always in the ED, who'd readily respond to police scanners like some batman-type hero. Busy with something wasn't going to cut it.

"OK, no," his eyes met Jack's intently, "something is happening, you have to tell me."

The smirk on Jack's face softened and looked down at his shoes for a moment.

"I'm seeing someone."

Robby startled. "Brother… that's.."

"I know, right?" Jack looks up at him, a smile glinting in his eyes.

"Oh it's like that, huh?" brows raised, Robby pressed his lips against smiling, "Tell me more."

"I thought I had something juicy!" Ellis slapped Shen's arm in outrage, "now you're talking about a coffee shop?!"

"Ow," John hissed, pulling his arm away, "you had an address to a bookstore from months ago. It's not my fault you don't pay attention."

The chair scraped the floor as Dr Ellis pulled it back eagerly. She sat down, folding her hand on the table in the staff lounge, and glared at Dr Shen.

"You're telling me that old lady was just flirting with our attending physician?"

"I'm telling you that it's been too long, it's old news!" He retorted, "Abbot probably forgot about it by the next trauma alert."

"Then what the fuck is foxglove cafe?!" Parker hissed, waving her arms up.

A loud snort came from Dana as she walked into the room with Lena.

"Oh! all-knowing charge-nurses!" John turned on his heels to face the ladies, "You must have a theory."

"A few, sure," Dana rasped, tauntingly glancing between them from above her glasses, "and I'm never wrong."

"How come?" Shen questioned, while Parker rubbed her face in defeat.

"Because I don't disclose until I'm proven right."

"There you are." Jack drawled warmly as he walked by the downstairs backroom to find you at your desk, the printer next to you shuttering and humming.

You grinned at the sight of him, fresh out of the shower, in sharp scrubs, ready for his shift. Jack walked around the desk, laying a warm hand on your shoulder, and bent down to gift you a soft peck on the forehead. "What's that?"

You noticed him nodding towards the glossy paper that just left the printer.

"That," you held it higher towards him and dramatically stated, "is a Voodoo Lily."

Brows raised sharply, Jack turned to you with a comical expression, like it was hard to take the weirdly long, purple flower as anything other than a bad luck omen. You rolled your eyes and huffed, poking his side with a finger.

"Eugene's going through a phase, I think." You swerved your chair around towards him, "You want one?"

"Oh no," Jack shook his head firmly, smirk lining his lips, "I like what Foxglove is doing to them and I think if I show up with a new one they'll riot."

You looked back down with a giggle and Jack's hand stroked down your arm. He knelt down before your knees, placing his hands on the armrests. He would smoothly transition the view like this ever since he got to know you better, so you wouldn't have to strain your neck looking up, or to the side, for too long. You placed one hand on his shoulder, the other smoothing the collar on his scrub top.

"Dinner's in the fridge, sweetheart," He whispered, looking up at you, "But I think you forgot something."

You leaned your head down, and kissed his lips firmly. His shoulders relaxed into it as his hands slid over your lower back. Your smile disconnected the kiss, and Jack snickered.

"God, I wish that was what I meant." He groaned.

"What?"

"You left your cane upstairs," Jack let out a full chuckle, nudging your nose with his, "I put it on the landing, in case you need it."

You pinched his ear playfully, and pulled him in again.

At around 11:30 pm, the steady stream of yelling and rushing EMTs usually mellows out a bit. Dr Abbot, famously a man of habit, typically uses the time to take his cup of coffee outside by the ambulance bay. Dr Shen once called it a healthy dose of brooding in the darkness.

On a night where he got distracted with an intubation and a discussion with Lena about what grandma name fits her best, a ding sounded from his phone just as he turned to walk out.

"Since when do you have your phone on you during shift?" Lena squinted her eyes at him from behind the Hub counter.

Dr Shen was charting on the desk behind her and looked up sharply, slurping his large drink. "Yeah! you said I couldn't keep my phone on-"

"Oh, Shut up." Jack waved a hand out dismissively, digging his phone out of his pocket just as it emitted another insistent ring. Seeing the text and the call at the same time, the lift of his smile dropped and he hurriedly answered.

The vet's frame tensed all at once, strain tightening his shoulders up to his ears. His steps were harsh as he turned sharply towards the ambulance bay, still speaking on the phone.

"What's happening?" Parker came to lean on the counter by John's computer, eyeing Jack's back.

"I don't-"

But Abbot rushed back in a moment later, throwing his phone at Lena, and darted the opposite way towards Chairs. "Shen! With me!"

"Yep!" Dr Shen jumped off his spot and sped off behind the attending.

Human nature dictates that the body cannot anticipate pain, predict some maybe, but people cannot measure the amount of pain before or after they've experienced it. Even those who are intimately friendly with their own.

Your chronic migraines had signals that let you know what was coming, but they were unreliable some of the time. What you learn to be safe movement can easily change at a moment's notice.

You threw all theories out of the window when you, in desperate panic, ordered an Uber to the main entrance of PTMC.

You had cautiously climbed upstairs, lounged after dinner with a book, and tucked yourself into bed by 10:30pm, in a sweatshirt that held his warmth from that morning. The Tylanol should have helped your sleep hold, but something like a nervous tick kept you changing positions, never comfortable. That's how it started.

It took ten minutes for the ice cold sweat to cover you in shivers, your limbs trembling too hard for focused movements. The hurt spread up your spine like a lightning strike and sang at your temples in a piercing roar. You should've told Jack about the insurance sooner. You shouldn't have trusted breakthrough meds to cover you.

The chill that raised Jack's skin at the sound of your whimper through the phone hadn't left him as he burst through the door into the waiting rooms, dodging around the crowd of people to reach the entrance.

Ja-Jack I'm outside- please

He found you standing against the brick wall outside, quaking knees locking you in place, like you intended to walk in but your limbs wouldn't cooperate. Your breath was caught in a stutter, like it forgot which way it was supposed to go.

"Get a gurney- no, wheelchair!" He commanded as he heard Dr Shen follow behind him.

Jack approached you quickly, bending his head down to catch your face.

"Hey, hey," His warm palms carefully cradled your face, gutted by the amount of tears soaking your neckline, "I'm here, doll, it's ok."

His whisper, the tangible presence of his hands, had you lurching slightly forward and your hand came up to fist at his sleeve. "Jack- sorry I just- I need-"

"I got you," hands softly wiping your cheeks, Jack moved to steady your hips, "I have you, sweetheart."

A sob struggled through your throat as the pain radiated, costing you your knees. The man wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you upright, as Shen steered a wheelchair behind you.

"You're gonna sit down slowly ok," Jack spoke against the skin of your forehead, his arms supporting you as you let go of the wall.

kneeling with you, he placed you into the chair and moved his hands to brush away your hair.

"Can you look at me?" Titling his head to catch your eyes, but your pupils kept moving in a daze, "please, baby?"

You winced, the sound of your eyelids meeting disturbingly sharp.

"I can't see." You breathed.

Drowning in a relentless migraine had your eyes darting around, almost rolling back, unable to focus on one spot. He felt his throat seize at the thought of you making it to him by yourself , blinded by pain.

The Doctor scanned your shaking body, fearful of finding a fall injury. Finding none, he sighed and straightened up to take the wheelchair handles. "Run ahead, Dr Shen. Find a room."

You fought your panic enough to tell him your meds were delayed, pharmacies restocking, your insurance took too long, you ran out. It was hard to catch your breath while weaving through waves of pain, the words barely coming out.

Too many things moved around you, blurs of color coming in and out of your view. You knew Jack was there, but it was like you needed further convincing that it was real. Your unsteady hands reached around for something to keep you solid, for Jack to keep you in reality. He spoke your name, close to your cheek, barely above a whisper, catching your seeking hand in a warm clasp.

"You're dehydrated, the IV will help." His voice was rough with strain as he tried to calm you when you felt the sharp prick on your hand. He turned back towards Lena and asked her to call someone in to cover him.

"Gonna get her the migraine cocktail." Dr Shen spoke, having been watching and following silently, and stepped out of the room.

"Hey," His voice low and soothing as he moved both hands to embrace yours, "you feeling nauseous?"

"I was.. I'm more.. um, dizzy now." you mumbled, thoughts barely sensical.

What you could see of the room through your squint was tilting and wobbly. Laying steadily on the bed helped you see Jack's form a bit clearer as he curled his back and head toward your hand in his lap, and you felt his soft lips touch your knuckles.

Lena's call asking him to come back and cover a shift was the last thing Robby expected at that time of night, but with concern for Abbot, he set out towards PTMC to see what's going on.

Strolling in towards the Hub, he found the charge nurse conversing with Dr Shen, backs turned to him, their attention on a further area in the central rooms.

"-add dexamethasone and check if we can refill the prescription from here."

"Dr Shen." Robby cleared his throat.

"Dr Robby, thank you for coming," Shen sighed, grimacing apologetically as he turned to the attending, "I would have covered but I have plans with my kids."

"It's not a problem, John, what's going on?"

Lena raised a signature brow, which seemed to come with being a charge nurse, and nodded towards a room ahead. The attending tilted his head questioningly and walked around the Central bend to peer into West. He stopped when his gaze caught a half-dimmed room, where the hallway lights bathed half the room in white, and the figure of Jack Abbot at a patient's bedside.

His hands were tangled with yours, voices soft and intimate as you talked. The man's gaze was hung on your face, eyes tracking when you winced or sighed. Robby nerves were warmed as the realization set it, and as he saw Abbot's rough fingers continuously caressing the back of your hand. This is important.

He returned to the Hub, dropped off his backpack under a desk, and began picking up the work.

"I feel like my brain is a bag of glass." you attempted to describe, voice cracking and dry, "A plastic bag of broken glass. Any move could rip it open. The puzzle is rigged because I'll never know what's a safe move, and if I did, the puzzle changes and I am back to not knowing."

"Sweatheart…" Jack's brows furrowed, looking down to his lap as an ache invaded his chest.

You shifted in your upright bed, tightening your hand around his.

"Jack," Your whisper, bringing his eyes back to you, the volume of the care in them had you pause, "I-… I was afraid you wouldn't want to-… be burdened with this … figuratively entire other person in the relationship."

"Oh Baby," He gasped, leaning his head closer to yours, "I'm not. It's not something other either, It's a part of you, something you deal with all of the time."

"I'd be honored if you'd allow me to join you in that." you felt the utterance as his breath moved against your cheek, and the sincerity brought a stinging sheen to your eyes.

"Will you have me?"

"I'll have you." you breath out, turning your head to press against the side of his face.

"Good."

You stayed there for a while, sharing air and skin, his solid presence made floating feel freeing instead of terrifying. The drugs helped, too.

"Angel, that was really sweet just now, I'm really scared I'll ruin it." You confessed breathily, eyes squeezed shut.

You felt him lean back a bit to look at your expression, opening your eyes showed you his Abbot grin sliding easily on his lips. "You won't. Tell me."

You faced him with a deep inhale, grabbing his hand with both of yours.

"I want to cut my hair." 

Your voice was low enough, Jack had to understand it watching your lips. Then his eyes met yours, and he knew how much deeper this statement was than the words made it seem.

"Do you?"

"It used to- umm…" tears kept building up, and your throat tightened, "It's not making me feel anything anymore, not beautiful or sexy. I just feel.. pulled down by it. Constantly, and I want it off." 

You gasped after that, like it took all your breath to say it out loud. You loved your long hair. Jack had seen you fix it up so many different ways, had attempted to braid it himself when he bragged to you about knowing how. 

"That was a hard thing to decide, wasn't it?" the man rasped, head tilted and eyes soft. It made your lips tremble, "Don't be scared, Baby, we'll get it cut and it'll be beautiful, sexy, and light all at once. You'll see." 

He lifted your hands to his lips, giving your skin two firm kisses.

"You'll protect me when Brie hates it?" you bantered, trying to laugh over the tears spilling down your cheek.

"Oh, I'd lay my life down for your hair, Love," he chuckled, untangling a hand to cup your cheek, "but you know that woman's will is unsinkable." 

"What do you know about Abbot's secret cafe?"

Robby looked up from his screen to the intense, interrogative eyes of Dr Parker Ellis. 

"Abbot has a cafe'?" 

"No," She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead, "I meant-"

Robby's snort refused to be suppressed, and his shoulders shook with laughter.

"Ok, Dr Ellis," He leaned back in his chair, smile stretching his face, "It's taking too long anyway so.. Just don't tell him I told you."

"Fucking finally."

an: thank you so much for reading and commenting. I love you and you made me feel so good about my writing recently, I'm literally excited to write all the time xoxox

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