#armpittlings

You’re not really sure how you ended up in the passenger seat of your boss's truck, but God, here we are. This night was doomed from the beginning.

It probably started when you walked into PTMC, absolutely drenched, swept up by the chaos of the city and the relentless downpour of rain that seemed to never cease nowadays.

6:45 PM - WEDNESDAY

“I’m never taking that route again,” you grumble as you walk in, shedding your soaked jacket before you can even reach the lockers.

The rain from the jacket drips onto the floor with a soft ‘plop’, while your boots squeak along the floor with no mercy.

“Stupid city, stupid bus, stupid—” your repeated complaints were momentarily silenced by the sight that was in front of you. It took a moment to process the scene in full, really.

John Shen, newly appointed attending, was engaged in an arm wrestle challenge with two men at once. Right in front of your locker. Blocking all hope of dry scrubs and salvation. You push past them with an eye roll as you hang up the poor-looking coat. One of the men who had been wrestling turned around to greet you, exhaustion rimming his sad eyes.

“Is it still raining out there?” Dennis Whitaker asks, knowing the obvious truth from the way your hair dripped. You just sigh and grab a pair of scrubs before nodding. It was going to be a long, long day.

Shen wins a round, presumably, because the room erupts in cheers, and a very angry ortho resident storms out without saying a word.

“Nice job, Johnny boy!!” you exclaim, coming around to clap him on the back and to grab a donut from his bag. Shen tries to grab it back, but fails before Parker Ellis walks in behind him and kicks him in the back of his knee.

“Stay sharp, Shen. You’re slacking,” Ellis grins, grabbing a donut as well before she collapses against the array of lockers. She took a once-over of your sopping state before raising a quizzical brow.

“New fashion statement burn, or what?” John lets out a howl before you shoot him a glare and grab another donut.

You roll your eyes and shake the new set of scrubs in your hands. “How’d you know? It’s French vintage,” you joked, exiting the locker room to change in the bathroom.

The bathroom, the perfect place of solace for the female staff recently, it seemed. You quickly shed your clothes, not wanting to be late for hand-offs for the nth time this month.

It was a bad habit, but there were worse ones to have. Like staring at your boss, for example. Not that you do that, of course?

You exit, making a beeline for your locker, but end up running into a solid wall of man. A man of many titles, doctor, medic, widow– but only one name: Jack Abbot. You reel back, uttering an immediate sorry and donning an apologetic smile.

“Eaaasy, killer,” Jack laughs, reaching an arm out to steady you as the momentum throws off your balance. He gives you a once-over, maybe twice, but hey, who’s counting? Your hair was still messy from the rain; you hadn’t had a chance to even look at it yet.

“Did you do something different with your hair?”

Jack asks out of the blue, not even bringing up how late you were for handoffs and how Robby would probably make some comment when you saw him.

You reach up to smooth out your frizz and laugh softly. “I mean, technically, yes,” you giggle, wondering how silly it looked, thinking Jack was making a joke. Instead, he just nods and turns, walking over to the nurse station, but not before calling over his shoulder.

“Looks good, Burn.”

You would be lying if you said your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest, but you don’t have time to focus on your hot boss, because Trinity Santos sneaks up behind you before you can.

“My lovely roommate who I haven’t seen in 14 hours! Where have you been?” Santos quips, poking your side incessantly.

You push away her hand and sigh. “The stupid bus stopped short, I had to walk half a mile in the rain.” Santos pouts and makes fake crying gestures.

“My poor baby, late for handoffs again.”

Trinity teases, waving a chart in her hand. This wasn’t out of the ordinary; you weren’t the most punctual resident that PTMC had seen, nor were you trying to be.

“Oh, great, so you’ll just pass your cases off to me? That way you don’t have to stay any longer, and I don’t have to get talked to by Robby?” you plead, not wanting to experience another hallway chat about being on time. Never from Abbot, however.

Trinity rolls her eyes, but hands you the chart anyway as she explains her caseload. Most patients during hand-off were those who needed beds but lacked space upstairs, meaning they stayed in the ED for monitoring.

As Santos gets into the incident of the day involving Whitaker and an elderly woman, your eyes trail off to a certain attending who was talking with Ellis.

“You paying attention? Or are you making googly eyes at our boss again?”

Trinity smirks, looking between the two of you. You smack her on instinct and avert your gaze. It’s not like you had a crush on him or anything; he was just…nice to look at, sometimes. Well, all the time, really.

Santos finishes explaining the patient before walking off to chart, too busy to tease you any further.

​

10 PM - WEDNESDAY

You stare at the countless messages that were plaguing your notifications, most from the work group chat you’ve come to love.

A sharp chill runs down your spine, probably the caffeine from your energy drink coursing through your body. It was an outrageous amount of caffeine to be drinking at 6 PM, but when you work the night shift, you need all you can get.

“Ohhh, Burn~ This girl in chairs has a sewing needle stuck through her finger.”

Shen walks behind you, waving the chart in his hands as if it were some sort of trophy. Your eyes widen. It had been a quiet night and you were *dying* for some sort of excitement.

“John, if you love me–” your pleas were silenced by Shen’s finger. He held the chart over your head, and you already knew he was going to barter.

“One, don’t question my love for you. That’s insulting. Two, I will give you Ms. Needle…If…,” John trails off, motioning for you to come in closer, so that no one else would hear. “If you cover me for the last two hours.”

Your lips part. That would be rough, to say the least. The night shift was infamously understaffed, so missing even one doctor was enough to send the emergency department into imbalance.

“Johnny boy, you’re an attending now, I can’t just cover–”

Shen’s finger is once again on your lips, quieting your worries, literally. He shakes his head with a smile before bringing you close again.

“You’ll be fine, it’s only an hour, and I got Ellis on it too.”

Parker was also just a resident, but the two of you could handle anything, especially with Abbot as backup. You groan and suck in a deep breath.

“God, this better be the best case I’ve ever seen,” you huff, grabbing the chart from Shen as he skips off, most likely to bother Ellis and retrieve his coffee.

“What should be?” Jack appears behind you, shoulders broad and hands in his pockets, coming from an exam room.

The chart that is in your hands feels suddenly heavy as you tuck it under your arm, trying to be nonchalant and not ogle him. You flash him a smile, pointing to the waiting room.

“Needle in finger. Ellis and I are taking it.”

You omit the part about Shen bartering with you, which could stay a secret between friends. Jack nods, looking over to see the kid standing with her mom.

“Probably a wild child trying to keep up with the trends,” Abbot jokes, shaking his head. You roll your eyes.

“Been there, done that,” you laugh softly, missing the way Jack’s eyebrow quirks slightly.  “Wild children make interesting adults, though,” At least, you think they do.

“It seems that way.” Jack's gaze lands on you, but you don’t notice, already heading towards chairs, ready to investigate the patient who just cost you two hours of stability.

2 AM - THURSDAY

Your excitement for the night lasted as long as your ex-boyfriend, the girl already gone, the needle long forgotten. So now, you were doing what you do best– trolling Whitaker about his relationship with Robby while simultaneously defending him from Santos’ siege of questions.

It was getting to that point of the night where everyone seemed to hit a lull, even Abbot, who seemed to never take a break.

Santos and Whitaker eventually go to bed, leaving you to your devices once again. You sigh, spinning the chair by the charting station, hoping something exciting would come your way.

And, boy, did it, in the form of Jack Abbot. The attending suddenly reappears in your line of vision, running with a visibly lethargic young boy.

The child was flushed, sweat clinging to him like he had been sprayed with it. You quickly jump up to assist, calling out for a bed and a room. Jack sets the kid down with the urgency and gentleness that you wouldn’t expect from someone who looked so gruff.

“Kid was found unresponsive by mom, no idea when symptoms started,” Jack mumbles to you, already moving to check his vitals.

You nod and begin to push the bed into the room, locking eyes with Jack, who was wearing a grim expression. Jack takes over assessing him, while you order the remaining tests.

“Mateo, can we get him up to CT right away? And rush his cultures,” you call out the orders before returning to where Abbot was looking the boy over. You lift up the boy's shirt, noticing a blooming rash beginning to pepper his small frame.

“Shit.”

Jack’s eyes rush to meet yours, wide and pressing.

“What? What’s wrong?” He rushes over to your side, peering down to see where your gaze lands. He frowns softly before letting out a sigh and taking off his gloves. “Could be meningitis.”

“I’ll set up for a lumbar puncture then,” you sigh.

It never felt good to do spinal taps on kids. As you call out for a nurse, the monitor starts beeping fervently, and the child starts to seize. Jack immediately is on the boy, holding his head stable and barking out his vitals.

The next few minutes blur together, you and Jack working in tandem as you attempt to stop the seizure. You check the monitor as the waves rise and fall in a disjointed rhythm.

“He’s tachy– keep pushing that 0.5 of lorazepam,” you huff, the caffeine and adrenaline making you lose yourself in the whirlwind of codes and orders being called out.

Within minutes, the monitor emits a continuous tone. Your eyes reach to meet Jacks and you sigh, understanding each other without saying a word. He gives you a soft smile before tugging off his gloves and walking towards you.

“We did our best, okay? You were amazing tonight, always are,” Jack pats your shoulder as he walks out of the trauma room, probably letting the parents know. God, you wish this day would end quicker than it is.

5:45 AM - THURSDAY

Shen had left a while ago, leaving you and Ellis to run around for the last hour, preparing all of the patients to be transferred to the day shift.

You yawn softly, reaching for your small paper cup that held the world’s most disgusting coffee. The delicious iced caramel latte that Shen had been kind enough to doordash for you was long gone, leaving you to drink the sludge that Robby called ‘Coffee’.

“You actually drink that tar?”

Ellis grumbles, making a face like you were personally offending her. Coffee wasn’t something that you were particular about, especially after the atrocities you had to get used to during med school.

You just shrug and take another swig. “Coffee’s coffee, Parker. Any caffeine is good in my book,” Ellis shakes her head and continues to chart in silence.

It was nearing shift change, and with any luck, people would come in to relieve you from your torture. Not that you hated night shift– the opposite, actually, but you craved excitement on boring nights like these.

Your wishes are soon answered, as Mohan walks in 20 minutes to 6:00, looking like she just rose from the Garden of Eden. It was frustrating that the day shift looked so rejuvenated when they came in, while the night shift looked like zombies, but hey, at least someone was enjoying a normal sleep schedule.

The rest of the shift flies by, with Trinity, Dennis, and Robby all arriving not long after, making hand-off smooth and efficient. It was only about an hour later that you caught up on your charting and could finally make your way home.

7:25 AM - THURSDAY

Your fantasies of walking home to the sunrise and grabbing food on the way were quickly squashed when you realized it was still raining, if not harder than when you clocked in last night.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me,” you grumble, pulling your coat over your head. The bus was going to take forever, and you didn’t feel like walking through what the puddles of Pittsburgh were hiding.

With a groan, you turn around to walk back inside, only to be met with a familiar broad chest.

“You must really like bumping into people today, Kid.”

Jack laughs, steadying you for the second time this shift. It was almost like deja vu, really. You shoot him an apologetic smile before turning back to look at the flooding streets.

“Sorry, sorry. Just wanting to escape–” you motion to the dreary landscape, “this.

Jack looks down at you with his familiar teasing glare. “What, you mean you don’t like when it rains for 12 hours straight?” He shifts his weight, his prosthetic clicking softly.

You roll your eyes, noticing how his eyes crinkled at the corners, his age showing through laughter lines. It was cute, you thought, knowing that he smiled so often in his life that his skin adapted to it.

“Not when I have to walk home, no,” You huff. ‘Maybe Trinity would let me borrow her umbrella,’ you think, trying to brainstorm how to get as little wet as possible.

Before you could think of a solution, however, Jack is already pulling at your arm and leading you to the staff parking lot. You furrow your brow.

“Dr. Abbot?” you call out, not understanding what the rain had to do with whatever he was attempting to do. He leads you to his truck before opening the passenger door, eyebrow cocked like he’s expecting you to be in the seat already.

“Well, get in, Burn.”

Jack motions towards the seat like it was normal that you would be in his truck. It takes a moment to register that he was offering you a ride, and your heartbeat betrays any sort of calm disposition you are trying to have.

You consider just braving the weather, after all, isn’t it not appropriate to ride home with your boss? All hesitations are thrown from the window; however, when you remember just how far you would have to walk. In wet shoes, no less.

So that is how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Jack Abbot’s truck, only mildly wet from the rain this time.

Your fingers were flying across your screen, frantic messages being sent to the group chat you had with Trinity and Dennis, sending out SOS messages. All of your pleas were met with crude reaction pics and laughter at your expense.

With a grumble, you turn off your phone and turn to look at Jack, who seemed to already be looking at you.

“Something on my face, Unc?” you joke, catching Abbot’s gaze. He just smiled and looked away, rolling his soft eyes.

“Nah, just checking to make sure my favorite resident isn’t melting from a little water. That’s all,” Jack bites back a laugh as you hit his shoulder with a playful intensity.

“Aweee! I’m your favorite resident?” you beam with faux positivity. “Not Ellis?”

Jack shook his head and met your eyes. “Ellis is my best resident, but you’re fun too, I guess.” He remarks, the banter rolling off his tongue.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing at his joke, and instead take in the rainy morning and thank your lucky stars you weren’t walking right now. It had been a rough shift; you really didn’t need wet shoes for the second time today.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you be quiet for longer than 30 seconds,” Abbot jokes, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at your tired state.

You shrug, feeling the effect of your day hit you like a ton of bricks. You usually felt better about nights like this after a glass of wine with Trinity and Dennis, or during hand-offs when you could see Mel, but you didn’t get the chance due to the chaos Shen created in his absence.

“I can be quiet sometimes, Abbot.”

You scoff playfully, turning your body back towards him. He raises an eyebrow, his expression screaming ‘no you can’t’, but doesn’t correct you. How merciful of him. You tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Do I look so edgy and mysterious?”

“Of course…and it’s Jack,” Abbot says with an all-too-casual tone. The rain seemed to grow harder the longer you were in the car. You furrow your brow in confusion.

“...That’s your name, isn’t it?” you quip, not understanding what the hell the old man was talking about. “Are you going senile already, Doctor Abbot?”

Jack rolled his eyes and gave you his signature frown that was much too pouty for a man in his 50s, but it suited him nonetheless.

“I’m saying to call me ‘Jack’, smartass,” Abbot grumbles softly, and if you squint, there might be a pink tint to his freckled ears. You just laugh softly and nod.

“Just teasing, Jack,” you try the name out. You had always referred to him as ‘Abbot’ to everyone else, or used his title when speaking to him directly (well, besides the casual ‘Unc’ here and there). His name didn’t feel as foreign on your lips as you thought it would. Jack smiles in the driver's seat and looks out the window to see an array of pedestrians with umbrellas.

“Do you always walk to work?” He asks suddenly, turning the radio down until it was just a whisper in the background.

“When it’s nice, otherwise I try to catch the bus. Sometimes the route gets interrupted, though, like today.” You shrug casually, public transportation was a girl’s best friend…mostly. “I used to ride in with Santos and Whitaker before I was put on the night shift, since Trin has a car.”

Mornings with Trinity and Dennis used to be the best part of your days, besides saving lives, you guessed. Whitaker would use his farmboy prowess to cook breakfast that was certainly not AHA-recommended, while you would make smoothies for everyone. Santos was a slow riser; you were lucky if she woke 5 minutes before you had to go in. Jack slows for a red light before turning to look at you.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow too, how about I swing by before I go in and we can drive together?”

Jack suggests, his eyes confirming that it was an honest offer. Your heart stills for a moment. If you didn’t know better, you would think you died at work, and this was heaven.

“Uhm, that would be amazing actually, but I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything–” Jack gives you a look that screams ‘Please, as if’ before shrugging.

“Not an inconvenience. I offered, didn’t I?” Jack’s voice was so earnest, you think it might kill you. The apartment you shared with Trinity and Dennis was only about two minutes away at this point, your bed so close it was calling your name.

“Thank you, Doctor– I mean, Jack,” you beam, turning to smile at him in gratefulness. Jack’s ears turn an embarrassing shade of pink suddenly as he turns onto your street. He clears his throat and nods.

“Of course, y/n.”

You pull up to your complex a few moments later, the rain still pouring as if it would never cease. However, this new offer made you wonder if you even wanted it to stop. Jack puts the car in park before hopping out, making his way to your car door.

“Wow, who knew the rugged and mysterious Doctor Abbot would be such a gentleman?” you joke, grabbing your go-bag and sliding out of your seat onto the wet concrete. Jack rolled his eyes, closing his door.

“I always am, aren’t I, Burn?” he jokes. The rain was beginning to drip down his face, and if you stood there any longer, you weren’t sure how long it would be before your staring problem was discovered.

“Keep telling yourself that, Unc,” you laugh before turning to run into your complex. You made it about halfway there before hearing Jack call your name from the curb. He was leaning out of his truck, head popping over the roof.

“Pick you up at 5?” Jack calls, his voice booming across the short distance. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“5? Isn’t that a bit early?” you call back. Shift change was typically at 6:30 with 7:00 as a hard deadline to punch in, but you knew Abbot was a bit of a workaholic. Jack shrugs from the truck and smiles.

“Thought we could get dinner before, I wanna hear about this Whitaker and Robby thing I keep hearing about.”

Jack shouts, water now staining his black undershirt. It was almost too much for you to handle; this was truly the most torturous day of your life.

Your expression widens to one of shock, but you find yourself nodding before the words can even come out.

“Oh, uhm, yeah.” you stutter slightly. “But you’re paying,” you joke.

“Always do.” Jack grins, wiping a bead of rain off his forehead. “See you at 5 then, Burn.”

Jack gets into his truck and gives you a wave before driving off into the rainy weather again, leaving you reeling in his wake. It was like all of your grandiose delusions were coming into fruition at once.