#dr abbot

There’s a lot of things that Jack loves about you.

He loves how sweet and innocent you are. How oblivious you are to what can hurt you. He loves how kind you are, even to the people who hurt you. He loves how much you enjoy his company. He overall, loves you.

But what Jack hates is how scared he was to tell you about all those things, because he’s the opposite of you. He doesn’t think he’s sweet or innocent, and certainly not oblivious to anything around him. He wishes he could be as kind as you.

What he hates even more, it that he should be happy for you, when you told him you found the one. He doesn’t know if it’s jealously that made him hate your husband to be, James, or because he isn’t a good match.

Either way, Jack thinks it’s too late. He’s outside the church, waiting in his car. He’d just seen you walk in, wearing a beautiful white dress.

He hoped that this next chapter of your life is truly what you deserve.

To be yourself and not to change.

He doesn’t want to go into the church, and watch the woman he loves get married. He has supported you long enough by being your friend, but this.. being here… he had to be selfish.

He sits back in the car, looking through photos and videos of the two of you over the years. He tries not to think of the thoughts that tell him, that he indeed won’t lose his friend once she’s married. But the signs are there. You’re moving on, and Jack will no longer be in your life.

Maybe this would be the occasion to pray, or make a wish, or speak to the Gods about what he wants most in this life. But what was the point?

His phone buzzes in his pocket; he ignores it the first time. It buzzes again. He’s curious on who’s texting him, because everyone he knows is inside that church.

The text message reads: kitkat

1 month earlier

“James’ mom picked up my wedding dress for me.”

“Oh yeah? How do you feel about that?” Jack replies.

“It’s nice. Expensive too.”

“Just… nice? Do you feel good in it at least?”

“It’s big and… puffy. And I might trip in it. She said I have to wear heels too.”

“But you hate heels!” Jack protests, “you literally don’t own a single pair.”

“She says it’s the right thing to do, Jack.” Jack despises that the family’s making you wear something you’re not comfortable in. He hates that they make you do anything.

“Sweetheart they do white Dr Martens you know.”

“I’m not allowed to wear them.” You reply quietly.

“Sweetheart you don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what, Jack?”

“This!” He gestures at the empty space between the two of you, “changing you. Making you wear things.”

You don’t want to cry in front of him, because his words hurts. Although your voice is low, Jack can hear how hurt you are, “I’m lucky to have him!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you!” Jack calls after you but you were already gone.

Lena chuckles next to him and he shoots her a look with one eye brow raised, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t stop this wedding then I will.”

“What are you even talking about.”

“It’s obvious how you feel”

“She’s a friend. They’re making her do things. Can you believe this shit?”

“Better tell her before it’s too late.”

Jack mumbles, half to himself as he walks away, “dunno what you’re talking about.”

Every time he tries to catch up with you, he’d find you occupied with a patient. He wanted to apologise for what he’d said; he is never usually this harsh with you but he’d seen how much this family has now changed you. And it’s becoming difficult to bite back on his words.

“Apology KitKat?” He hands you the chocolate bar. You swipe it off without looking, open it and take a bite. “How have I never noticed that you don’t break each finger? You just… bite the whole thing.”

You hum in response.

“Huh. Guess I don’t know everything.”

You give him the rest of the chocolate bar to finish off, because if there’s one thing about Jack Abbot, was that he is a sweet tooth. He doesn’t protest it, just like you’d expected, and eats the rest of it. “I’m sorry.”

“You were mean.”

“I know.. i don’t know what came over me so please forgive me.” You shrug and turn your back to him “Sweetheart please.” He places a gentle hand on your back, and feels you tense up in response, “I just.. want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Okay then. I am happy too.” He says softly, “if you say you’re happy then I am too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? So Im forgiven?”

“Maybe.” You mumble, “just please don’t be mean again? I don’t like mean Jack.”

His hand move up your shoulder, pulling you in for a hug, “never.”

You embrace the hug, even if lasts for a couple of seconds before he pulls away. “Have fun tonight.”

“I’m not looking forward to it.”

“It’s your bachelorette party! You should be excited!”

“There’s gonna be a lot of people I don’t know… and I have to wear heels as well. And a short dress.”

Jack bites back some truthful but possible hurtful words. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ll forget you’re wearing the heels after a couple of drinks?”

“Can I text you? In case no one talks to me?”

“Sweetheart of course they’re gonna talk to you! You’re the bride.”

You don’t meet his eyes, instead you look down at your hands.

“Call me if it gets too much. Okay?”

“You promise you’ll pick up?”

“I promise.”

Jack waits by the phone, waiting for a call or a text from you later that night but it doesn’t come. He paces around his living room, checking the phone once, then again, then again.

No news is good news, right?

Right.

He tries to occupy himself with the police radio, but that doesn’t help. He opens a baking book he had bought you but you kept at his apartment, but immediately closes it. Who is he kidding, really?

He checks his phone again.

Nothing.

Wait.

You’re too anxious to text him, he thinks to himself. He should text you — a check in text wouldn’t harm.

Jack: having fun? You: hiii You: it’s… ok Jack: so you’re not having fun You: I’d rather be in bed Jack: are they talking to you? You: of course! Jack: why are you on your phone then? You: …. you got me You: they’re all busy dancing. Jack: what about you? You: I can’t dance in heels. Jack: take them off. You: I can’t… Jack: kitkat? You: I don’t understand what you mean Jack: do you need a break? You: I need to escape. Jack: do you trust me? You: what do you have in mind?

Jack was already dressed and ready to go anticipating that you did indeed need rescuing. He was out of the door within minutes, and headed toward the bar you were at. James’s sisters had booked the rooftop bar, and to access it you needed to be invited. He didn’t think it through when he got stopped by the security guard who stood upstairs by the entrance to the bar. When asked who Jack was, he mumbled and couldn’t come up with something quick enough.

“Oh.” The security guard says. “I know who you are.”

“You do?”

He looks at his watch, then back at Jack, “a bit early for a performer but… they might be ready for you.”

Jack doesn’t understand what he means, but he doesn’t protest when he’s let into the bar area. It was decorated with cheap, polyester banners, balloons scattered all over the floor - the air is hot and thick with fragrances, the smell of alcohol and vape.

Someone shrieks the moment they see Jack step into the room. Another girl yells. Then suddenly everyone’s excitedly screaming. You look up from your phone and see everyone rush toward him. “Oh no.”

The DJ immediately yells for everyone to gather around, hitting press on Pony By Ginuwine, and Jack still has no idea what the hell is going on.

He tries to talk to some of the girls, yelling over the music asking for you, whilst looking around trying to see you. But then one of the girls yanks on his jacket, forcing it off him. “What are you doing!”

“Oh” the girl teases, one hand gripping onto his biceps, “an act on top of an act. I like it.”

Jack yells over the music, “I’m looking for the bride!”

“Well of course you are.” Her hands trail all over his chest, tracing across, moving onto his back as she does a 360 around him. Eventually, her hands land on his ass. Someone else closes the distance between her and Jack, and starts grinding on him.

“Hi!” You eventually make it over to Jack, and he’s stunned at the sight of you. You look breathtaking, wearing a short white dress, showing so much skin that Jack thought about it in the past, but didn’t imagine too much out of respect for you, with heels that made your ass pop out. You had a ridiculous polyester veil on that you clearly hated, but you looked utterly stunning.

“It’s show timeeeee!” One of the girls yell and everyone join in screaming. Suddenly, you’re forced into a chair; you’re trying to protest, explaining that this is your boss, not the stripper, but everyone thinks this is part of the act.

Jack is also protesting as one of the girls tugs on his T-shirt, the other pushing him right over you. His abdomen is now shoved in your face; you look up at him through your eyelashes, and Jack simply grins. When the girls finally pull his t-shirt over his head, you swallow hard at the sight in-front of you. Your boss, your friend, your Jack, is shirtless over you, with his cock inches away from your body.

Jack chuckles as he tries to pull away from you, once again explaining that this is a misunderstanding, but none of the girls seems to think so. One of the girls grabs your hands, slapping it across his bare abdomen, and starts trailing them all over his abs. You force your eyes shut, yelling “oh God” all over again.

“Maybe let’s-“ Jack cuts in once more, but he’s quickly interrupted by your hands on his cock.

Not willingly, no.

“Give ‘em a squeeze!” Someone yells.

“Oh please, let’s not-“ another useless protest, because you’re not willingly doing any of this. Suddenly, someone unbuckled Jack’s belt, and that’s where he drew the line. He gestures no to them, his hands instantly reaching back for the belt.

Why the hell did that turn you on so much? You blame it on the booze.

Jack leans down, yelling over the loud music, “I promise this was not my plan!”

“You look like you’re enjoying it!”

“Me???”

“You can’t stop smiling!” You can’t help but smile at him, and he does too.

Jack shrugs, eventually managing to pull back from you and take a few steps back. “I think we might be done here?” he yells over the music.

“Give her a spin!”

“You’re a shit stripper!”

“Again, not a strip-“ Jack’s words die quickly once he sees you push off the chair and charge toward him. He picks you up with both hands, legs wrapping around his waist. Everyone bursts into cheers, including you, because this might be the best moment of your life.

Jack is spinning you around, shirtless; your legs are wrapped around his naked waist. You imagine how it must be to have him in bed. Shit. You blame it on the booze again.

Once he sets you down, helps you fix your dress, steadying you on the floor.

“So what was your plan then?” You giggle at him

“I was gonna say we needed you at work! Didn’t plan on stripping?!”

“I liked it!”

Jack smirks, “oh yeah?”

You nod eagerly. You gesture for him to lean toward you, “I wish I saw more!”

Jack chuckles, “I think you’re drunk.”

“I am!” You cup his face in your hands, “I’m very happy right now!”

Jack has to bite down on his lips otherwise he may step over the line and kiss you. “Me too.”

“Can we go home now? Please?”

“Sure I’ll be outside waiting.” His hand come up to your face, brushing hair off your cheek, “you look beautiful.”

“I feel it when you look at me that way.”

“James is a lucky guy.”

You feel a twist in your stomach, “yeah… yeah he is.”

Jack leans in, kissing your cheek softly, before turning his back to you and walking away, picking up his clothes that had been thrown on one of the chairs mid-performance. It was lucky that you didn’t come out straight away, because he certainly needed a minute to calm his erection down. A short while later, you stumbled out of the bar because of the ridiculous heels James’ sister had forced on you.

Jack had only just managed to calm himself down, but seeing you like this got the blood flow going again. He watched you for a second too long before approaching you. You stood outside the bar, clutching your bag, tilting your head at him while biting your lip and giggling. You loved Jack’s little performance, and loved how much he blushed during.

You give him a little wave and his heart does a little flip.

“Hey beautiful” he gives you a hand and you hold onto it so you don’t trip. “I’ve got you slippers in the car.”

“Oh thank God”. He sees you limp, struggling to walk to the car so without warning, he picks you up.

He loves how giggly you are. “This is romantic”

Jack thinks so too, but it’s a shame you’re not marrying him. “It’s what friends do for each other.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to carry you if you were drunk…” You love how happy Jack looks right now.

“You could at least try…” Jack teases as he puts you back on the ground, helping you get in the car.

“Hey Jack?” He hates how electrifying your touch feels as you reach over for his hands, “thank you, for everything. I mean it.”

“I’d do anything for you.” He leans in, and for a moment your breath catches as he gets too close to you; Jack grabs the seatbelt and clips it in for you. You blame your thoughts on the alcohol again.

“Let’s take you home.”

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, because the moment the car rolled, you fell asleep. Staying late was not a habit of yours, and you generally preferred a quiet night in. Jack couldn’t get his eyes off you, stealing short glances between you and the road. It certainly didn’t help that your dress had lifted while you were curled up on the seat, showing even more skin. He grabs his jacket from the backseat, covering you up with it.

Once outside your apartment, he tries to wake you up but you mumble and protest. “Your bed is comfier.” Jack whispers.

“No”

“I can assure you that it is…”

“I’m happy here.”

Jack is happy here, too. “How about I take you upstairs? Put you to bed?”

“Will you stay?”

“Only until you fall asleep.”

“Not later?” You mumble again.

“No sweetheart, it would be unfair to James.”

The moment Jack says his name, you wake up a bit more. “Yeah, of course.”

He helps you out of the car, you’re now walking a bit better thanks to the slippers he brought over for you, and takes you inside the apartment. There were boxes everywhere, with your things neatly packed inside each box. Soon, you’d be moving into James’s house. Soon, Jack knew that you’d be saying goodbye to your small apartment that you’ve loved so much.

“I’m sleeping on the couch” you mumble.

“Noo, no you’re not.” He gets hold of you before you stumble over to the couch, “bed is better.”

“Bed is lonely.”

“Soon it won’t be.”

You scoff sarcastically, and Jack doesn’t know what it means.

“Soon you’ll be in a much bigger and comfier bed.”

“I don’t want to be in a ‘bigger and comfier bed’”. You mumble, attempting to air quote while drunk. “I want… to be here.”

“It’s the alcohol talking.”

“It’s me talking, silly” you tap on his chest a few times, then get closer to him, “did you know you have chest hair?”

Jack chuckles, “yeah they’ve been there a while,”

“Not many though” your face is too close to his chest as you pull down on his T-shirt to inspect the few chest hairs he has, “have they always been there?”

“Okay… you’re drunk. Let’s get you to bed,”

“I said I don’t want to!” You fight his hands off you, “don’t touch me!”

He pulls his hands back, holding them up in the air, “sorry. Shall I leave?”

“No!”

“What would you like me to do?”

“Many things!” Jack doesn’t understand why you’re yelling right now.

“Like what?”

“Like-“ - “like you staying here! You always stay here!”

“But it won’t be unfair on-“

“James! I know!” Jack blames the alcohol for the tears that are now streaming down your face. “Everything’s changing”

“For the better they are…”

“Yeah well…”

“Are you not happy?”

“Who’s happy really, Jack?”

“You! You should be! You’re getting married!”

“Yeah… I am.”

For a bride, you sound pretty sad and miserable to be getting married. “If I stay with you for a bit, will you tell me what you’re feeling?”

“You will stay until the morning?”

“Yeah, until the morning sweetheart.”

You gesture to the bedroom, mumble something about going to get changed into pyjamas. Jack waits in the living room for you to come out, but you never do.

He walks to the bedroom and finds you on the bed, curled up into a ball, crying. He lowers himself to the floor slowly, unclips his prosthetic, finds a comfortable position facing you, and slowly wipes your tears away with a tissue. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You shake your head quickly.

“Okay, I’ll stay here until you fall asleep…”

You nod and force your eyes shut.

It pains him that you’re here crying, practically sobbing, over something he doesn’t know the cause of. You should be happy. Over the moon. Ecstatic. But instead you get married in a month and you’re crying?

“I didn’t think anyone would love me…” you whisper, almost to yourself. “I didn’t think I’d ever find a home.”

“You found it now..”

“No, I’m leaving it..”

“Do you mean this apartment?”

“Yeah.. I’m happy here. It’s mine.. and I’m about to lose it.”

“Home can be a person if you let it…”

“Jack i don’t find a home in James. Maybe i should but.. it’s not the same.”

“It might take sometime…” Jack murmurs, “but you’ll be comfortable in the new house soon.”

“But you won’t be able to come visit me.”

“Of course I can!” He forces himself to sound happy. Excited. But you can tell he’s bluffing.

“Everything’s changing.. and I hate change. My whole life I was on the move, changing homes, changing families. You and work have been the only things stable in my life.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jack promises, “I’ll be there anytime you need me.”

You shift in bed, turning your back to him and continue to cry. Jack no longer cares about what’s right and what’s wrong, because right now his friend needs him to be comforted, so that’s exactly what he’s going to do. “Room for one more on the bed?” He sees you nod. He lifts himself up carefully, skidding onto the bed, lying just behind you. “Come here.” He wraps his arms around you pulling you against him, as you continue to cry until you fall asleep.

Once he makes sure you deep into sleep, he moves out of bed, clipping his leg back on, putting a glass of water next to your bed along with some pain relief. He tells you he’s leaving but you don’t hear him.

He hates that he’s having to leave you here.

Hates that you cried yourself to sleep.

Honestly? Jack hates James, hates that he got to you first, and hates himself even more for not interfering sooner.

“I love you sweet girl” Jack murmurs, before kissing your temples goodbye, and shutting the door behind him.

Two weeks before the wedding

The bar was busy and loud when you got there, everyone had already arrived early, trinity insisting that you don’t come on time so she can make sure everyone’s already there. James has come along too, and this would be the first time he’s meeting everyone. Yes. Two weeks before the wedding and the first time he’s meeting them; the red flag is certainly there but you were too blindsided.

Jack, on the other hand, could see the red flag a mile away. You walked into the bar, wearing yet another short dress that showed too much of your beautiful skin, but you are clearly uncomfortable. Your hands kept pulling it down as you looked around to find your friends. He hated that you are wearing heels again. Because you looked so uncomfortable and out of your comfort zone. If only you’d be convinced to simply wear your Dr Martens with a simple black dress. Just like you would have wanted.

The night goes by in a mix of chatter, drinks, cheers, more drinks and lots of fun. Except for Jack who doesn’t want to be here, near you, near him or overall around anyone else. Since your bachelorette party, he tried to speak to you about what was said. You simply blamed it all on the alcohol. You got defensive too actually. Told him that you’re lucky to have someone like James, who’s giving you a big & beautiful home.

So since then, things have been difficult and rocky.

At one point in the night, Lena suggested everyone say something about you, whilst looking Jack dead in the eye. Another way to tell him: you better interfere.

Robby was the first one to go; he had known you the longest, actually. He said many, many lovely things. Trinity was too drunk on tequila but managed to say a couple of things. Everyone took turns saying things until it was Jack’s turn.

It felt like the bar had gone quiet, waiting for what Jack had to say.

He clears his throat, grips on his thighs under the table, forcing himself not to cry. “I’m so incredibly happy for you. I’m happy that you’ve found your person, and James, you’re a lucky guy.” Jack nervously chuckles, “I uh…. It took me a while to realise that you’re my best friend. I think it hit me now, actually. You've always supported me, no matter what. You know when i'm upset, without needing to say anything. You know me too well, actually. I'm lucky to have you as my best friend. I can’t wait to celebrate you and.. yeah I’m just happy. For you.”

Silence hangs in the air for a second, because no one truly expected Jack to call you his best friend. Even Jack didn’t realise it — too blindsided and convinced himself that you were just a friend. But you two spoke everyday at work, called each other on the drive home, and mostly hung out together on your days off. Knew one another off my heart.

You two are dumbasses.

Eventually everyone goes back to talking, more speeches, but you slip away from everyone, wanting a minute to yourself. You bump into Jack just outside the toilets.

“Why are you crying?” Again, he wants to hug you, take you into his arms, wipe your tears away. But you’re not his to do any of that.

“Just emotional.”

“Happy… emotions?”

“Yes Jack! Happy! Don’t you get it?”

“Don’t yell, that’s not fair.”

“Leave me alone.” You push past him, and spend far too long in the toilet, scrolling through your phone endlessly. Until you come across a video, James’s sister posted of you on her Instagram. With the caption: stripper boss.

“Shit.” You click on the video and watch it all, not realising how much you giggled at it. Until something caught your eye. Once Jack moves away from you, he adjusts himself. Did he seriously get an erection? What the fuck?

Back at the table, Jack found it incredibly alarming that you’d been gone too long, and James hasn’t even asked where the hell have you been. To stop himself from looking for you himself, he excuses himself and leaves without saying goodbye. He is fed up with this whole night, and how sad he feels. He ignores your call on his drive home. He ignores it again, and again. Each time, his anxiety’s raised slightly, thinking the worst. But you’re with James. You’re his responsibility.

The phone calls eventually stop, and Jack hopes for a text to say you are okay. Or a good night text. But instead, he gets a knock on the door not long after arriving back home.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks once he sees you standing at his doorstep, once again crying.

“I need you to tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“Me? You? Us!”

“I told you everything.”

“Liar!”

“Please stop yelling? It’s 3am. Where’s James?”

“I dunno!”

“Jesus..” Jack hisses, pulling you inside the apartment and shutting the door. “You’re drunk and you need sleep.”

“Actually-“ you mumble, pointing one finger at his chest, “I’m actually very drunk.”

“Sit there” he points at the couch, “I’ll get you some water.”

You follow him into the kitchen. You tap his shoulder, “tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know.” You mumble again, “about me and you!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jack was not going to reveal his feelings to you anytime soon. “Water.”

You shake your head.

“Drink.” He says firmly, putting the bottle in your hand.

“Noppe” you say, emphasising your P with a cute pop .

“Goddammit.” Jack hisses. “I’m calling James.”

“Nooooo” you try and grab the phone from him, but he pushes you away. As he scrolls through his phone to try and find the number, panic rising in your chest, you splash the bottle of water in his face.

“What the-“ he looks at you horrified, water dripping down his face and chest. “What’s up with you!”

“I don’t want to get in trouble!”

“With who!”

“James and his mom!”

“Sweetheart you’re not five years old! You’re not getting told off by your-“ luckily for Jack the words die on his lips before they come out. You didn’t have parents to tell you off. Instead you lived in shitty foster homes until you were 18 and then went straight to university. “No one’s upset with you.”

“Please don’t call him.”

“Goddammit you.” Jack grabs a towel, patting his phone dry then himself. He grabs another water bottle from the fridge, handing it over to you.

You shake your head.

He opens the bottle slowly, maintaining your gaze. With one quick motion, he splashes the bottle in your face.

Sounds of Jack’s laughter and your yelling now fill the apartment. “Asshole!”

Jack shrugs casually then hands you a towel.

Fuck him and his smirk. That same smirk he gave you the day of his short lived striptease. The day he got turned on by simply being close to you. You want to test the water, because if Jack has feelings for you, then he sure as hell should have said something instead of calling you his best friend.

You take a few steps away from him, kick the uncomfortable heels off, then hands reach behind your back to unzip your dress.

“What are you doing?"

The dress falls to the floor. “I’m wet.”

Jack nods, eyes looking behind you, not directly at you. You’re standing with just lingerie in his kitchen, what the hell were you doing?

“Can I have a change of clothes?”

“Su-sure yeah. Just.. stay there. Here. Don’t.. go anywhere.”

He brushes past you to the bedroom, mumbling swear words quietly to himself as he frantically looks for a change of clothes.

“Found anything?” Your voice behind him makes him jump.

“Here.” He doesn’t look directly at you once he hands over the clothes. “I’ll leave you.. to change.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can you ask me after you get dressed?”

“Why?”

“Because… you’re naked. In my bedroom.”

“Best friends can be naked around each other.”

“Sure but not best friends who get married in two weeks.” Jack's worse are quick and harsh. What sort of game are you playing? Are you trying to give him a heart attack?

You snatch the clothes out of hands and put them on. “I’m going home.”

“Sure”

“You’re not gonna protest it?”

“Sweetheart I’m really confused.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Okay.” He gestures at the bed, “all yours,”

“You’re not staying?”

“I’ll sit next to you until you fall asleep.”

You climb into bed, find a position which doesn’t make it seem like the bed is rocking, and close your eyes. Jack sits by you as promised, one hand resting at the top do your head, thumb gently brushing against your forehead, “I found my home, Jack. My person.”

“That’s good to know sweetheart.” He murmurs, “I’m happy for you.”

“But he doesn’t want me.” You murmur back, moving away from him, tugging on the blanket higher, crying until you fell asleep.

By the time the morning comes, Jack wakes up on the couch, with no trace of you in his bed; your clothes and bag were all gone.

What you’d said to him played on his mind over and over again. You found your home.

He occupies himself with many useless activities until his shift starts. He always looked forward to seeing you at work, but today. Today it was different. He’s anxious about you confronting him, worried about how to move forward from this. And the image of you naked in his kitchen keeps popping up in his mind.

But to his surprise, you were incredibly calm when he saw you at work. Acted like nothings wrong. Like the events of last night never happened. And that’s what upset him even more.

He eventually finds you in an empty room, casually stepping in, closing the door and blinds behind him, “can we talk?”

“Sure..”

“About last night.”

“I was drunk and being silly, I promise it won’t happen again.” He can see how flustered you’re getting, possibly regretting everything that you did. “Forget everything I did, or said…”

“Sure. But can I just ask something? You’re a lot different when you drink. A bit more honest.”

“Yeah that tends to happen. Unresolved trauma and all that.”

“Did you tell James what happened?”

You nod.

“What did he say?”

Silence.

“Did he do something?”

Silence stretches until it’s interrupted by the sound of your sniffles.

“Sweetheart what did he do?” Jack’s tone is angry, frustrated even, and that makes you feel like you’re in trouble.

“I’m leaving.” You look up at him, teary eyed, “I told HR this morning.”

Jack whispers, “no”

“I’m gonna miss you.”

“No” Jack shakes his head, “you don’t get to leave! Me! Or this place!”

“I’m sorry”

“Where are you gonna work!”

“James said they’d pay for everything. I don’t need to work for a bit, maybe I’ll get pregnant and-“

“Do you hear yourself!” His loud yelling makes you flinch in fear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have yelled!”

“It’s better this way” Jack hates how broken you sound. “We’ll keep in touch.”

“Fuck that.” Jack blurts out, walking toward you, two hands on your neck gently. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t Jack. I already agreed-“

“Please” he begs, voice cracks as he says, “I’m begging you please don’t leave.”

You shake your head quickly, wiping your tears away, “I’m gonna have a permanent roof over my head, a husband, a big family… money! Jack I don’t have to worry about money anymore.”

His hands move away from your neck down to your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You hate that he’s crying, his chest trembling against yours.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Not good enough”

“You’re being mean again!” You push him off you, taking in a deep breath, backing up against the wall behind you, “you’re always so mean! Why can’t you be supportive for once!”

“I’m-“

“No you don’t get to talk!” You cut in, "you’re always making a comment about him or, or, saying something negative and you’re never supportive! I need you to support me. I need you to think about what I want.”

“And what is it you want?” His arms rest on the wall behind you, on either side of your head, he leans in murmuring, “actually, a better question. Who is it you want?”

His lips are too close to yours.

His nose is practically brushing against yours.

You can hear how trembly his breath is.

Even his lips are shaking.

“You. Jack. I want you.”

That was the confirmation he needed, to let his lips finally touch yours. There was nothing gentle about the kiss; it was hot. Sloppy. Messy.

He would have undressed you right in this room, would have showed you just how truly he loves you and all of you. That he wouldn’t change anything about you. But he holds back. Once he pulls back off your red and swollen lips, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kisses your cheeks, telling you to come find him once you’re ready to be his and only his.

And if you don’t, then he’d be the loudest one to cheer at your wedding.

With that, he leaves the room.

The wedding day

Jack’s still waiting in the car, looking at the message that read: kitkat.

Who the hell has messaged him? And how do they know about your code word with Jack? It sure as hell won’t be you because you’re at the altar about to get married.

You are about to get married.

Jack reminds himself again that he indeed is about to lose you. He charges out of the car and rushes over to the church. He doesn’t think, or does he want to?

The door opens and every single head in that church turns to face him.

Including yours.

You look even more beautiful, standing tall with the dress trailing behind you, a veil fitting perfectly around it.

You look… happy? Jack couldn’t tell. With all the faces looking at him, he freezes until someone whispers at him to sit down. So he does. Right at the back of the church, next to a random woman. She leans in and whispers, “I thought you were about to stop the ceremony”

“Well…” Jack hums. His phone buzzes again. The same text message reads again: kitkat.

Was someone messing with him? Is this some sort of sick joke?

The ceremony carries on, Jack’s palms are now starting to sweat.

So does yours.

James whispers, “are you okay?”

You nod quickly.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I think I might.” You whisper back.

“Can you.. just.. not?”

You nod shakily. You wipe your palms on your dress, but the fabric was not absorbent so instead you now have glitter on your hands from the dress. “I think I need some water.”

“Now?” James asks.

You nod again. The priests leans in toward the two of you, wondering what the whispering is all about. James explains that you need some water. The whole church hears it because of the microphone that sat on the priests’ chest.

You mumble to yourself, “I could do with a kitkat too.”

The whole church once again, hears what you’ve said. It was only when you started to hear chatter that you turned around to face everybody. People are looking through their purses and bags, looking for a kitkat. Or a bar of chocolate.

But only one person was looking at you. Jack.

He stands up from his seat, and starts walking. Your breath hitches in response. Everyone’s now looking at the man walking down the aisle toward you.

He puts his hand out to you.

You look at James first, who’s whispering “what the fuck?” to you.

You don’t want someone to tell you to try and not pass out.

You don’t want someone to tell you that you should wear a dress because that’s more feminine.

You don’t want someone to tell you that your laugh is too loud.

Actually, you don’t want someone that wants to change your quirks and habits. You take hold of Jack’s hands and you hear a collective gasp from the crowd.

“How quickly can you run?” Jack asks, ignoring all the chatter behind him.

You kick the heels off under your dress, ignoring James's angry whispers, “now I can run.”

Jack charges toward the door, one runaway bride in hand. Someone yells “stop her” like you were someone’s possession.

Once you’re outside the church, reality sinks in, “oh my god oh my god oh my god!”

“Get in the car!” Jack points in the car’s direction. “Actually, wait. I have a gift!”

“No time for gifts!”

“No, no there’s time!” He opens the boot, and inside it sat one box and a bag.

He hands you a Dr Martens box. You open it, flicking the tissue paper away, and inside the box is a pair of white Dr Marten boots, with ribbon instead of laces. With shaky hands you take the boots out of the box, hugging it tightly against your chest, letting your happy tears run.

“Put them on!”

“I don’t have any socks!!”

He hands you a bag, and inside the bag is a pair of white socks, embroidered “wifey.”

“But I’m not a wifey…” you look up at him through your lashes — but he doesn't look upset. He's smirking.

He pulls out a box from his suit jacket and hands it over to you. Inside the box were two wedding bands.

“What?” You look at him confused, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

"It means exactly what you think it means. I want you to marry me."

The morning after the two of you get married, Jack’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. He hands it over to you to read the message, because he can't find his readers.

“It’s from an anonymous number.”

“What does it say?” Jack asks.

“Operation KitKat completed.”

a/n: i'd like to imagine that the reader indeed got married wearing her white Dr Martens, in a simple white dress that she picked from a vintage shop. That was her something old. Her something blue was her socks, her something new was the wedding band, and her something borrowed was a necklace Lena had lent her. I imagine the wedding was simple, held outdoors in the backyard of a small venue. Everyone from the pitt was there. Fairy lights and candles were scattered all over. At the end of the night, she takes off her shoes and jumps in the pool, everyone following in.

When you walked into the bar, you really hadn’t planned on even talking to someone, nevermind flirting with anyone; you’d barely been in Pittsburgh for a week, boxes still donned your apartment, your scrubs, text books and the odd piece of cutlery unpacked, the essentials mainly. In need of a change, you’d taken up a position as an ER nurse here in Pittsburgh and at a loose end the day before your first shift, you decided to scope out the local bar scene. Not normally one to go out drinking alone, you shared your location with your friend back home, threw on a casual jumper and jeans and did your make-up to help you feel a bit presentable and popped your book into your bag and headed out the door. Heading to the local, according to google and tiktok anyways, designated cosy bar, you take in the soft light of the warm summer evening that is cast over the bar. Even though it is midweek, the small bar is crowded, with tables of couples softly speaking under orange lighting and red velvet booths providing a level of intimacy to the bar. You walk around for a moment, peaking around the corners of the bar looking for a free table where you won’t feel too exposed on your own, but as it seemed like half of the Pittsburgh population decided to do something similar with their evening, you took the last free seat at the bar. Ordering a glass of chilled white wine, you pull out your book and get comfortable for the evening, enjoying the liberty of reading in a bar where no one knows you. As you settle into your book, the world melts away from you, stress of starting a new job tomorrow evening dissipating completely. Completely engrossed in your book, you don’t notice Jack’s intense stare at first, sure, you didn’t notice the fact his eyes landed on you the moment you walked into the bar. His mind had been pulled from the rumination spiral by the sight of your hair, if he wasn’t thinking straight, Jack would have taken a double glance to make sure you weren’t his late wife walking through the door. Not that you looked particularly like her, it was more just the fact that your hair was the same, soft curls falling around your shoulders, half pinned up, just like hers used to be, making him unable to keep fixating on you as you walked around for a minute looking for a table before settling on the stool beside him. After a few minutes, and a nagging feeling that someone is watching you, you look up from your book, and catch Jack's diverting gaze. He had tried not to stare at you, ordering another glass of whiskey and pulling his phone out, but he just couldn’t help himself, internally berating himself for being such a clique tonight. With a slight smile you acknowledge Jack, and the fact that you caught him staring, catching his eye, and return to your book. In what seems like a constrained attempt to get your attention Jack murmurs a gruffed 

“Solid book choice sweetheart” 

Looking up again with more purpose, you take in the sight sitting beside you, eyes widening slightly at the state of the man sitting beside you. Silver hair speckled with remnants of auburn curls along his forehead, sticking slightly with the humidity of the evening, fierce hazel eyes that bore into you, but really your eyes are drawn to the smirk plastered across his face and the buff arms practically bulging out of his dark cotton polo shirt. In a feeble attempt to cover up you ogling at him, you cough out a soft 

“Oh? Erm thank you”

Returning your attention back flustered slightly at the sight of the silver fox beside you, spending the first moment or two regulating your breathing, you hardly notice the fact that he wasn’t done chatting with you. He lets out a soft cough grabbing your attention as you set your book down to take a sip of your wine. 

“Well sweetheart, what do you think of it so far”

A set of firm fingers toy with the edge of the cover, subtly breaching into your personal space, his second whiskey making him a bit more bold. You look up at him wide eyed and cautious, 

“Oh - sorry - I love it, only a few pages in but still” taking a beat you add on hastily “I take it you’ve read it”

Shifting in your chair slightly, you turn and face Jack committing to the conversation, you two exchange names, chatting about books and Pittsburgh, as you sip your wine and his whiskey, eyes darkening with a thin layer of desire emerging from the otherwise innocent conversation. Internally you fight with the angel and devil on your shoulders, should you throw caution to the wind and flirt with a random stranger or should you try and be a tiny bit responsible and at leave now. When Jack asks you what a pretty girl like yourself is doing sitting in a bar on her own you you decide to be a little bit truthful, smiling sweetly replying in you attempt being the operative word here at flirting 

“Oh you know, at a bit of loose end, being a night owl and new to a city it seemed like a better option than a club, what else is a girl to do”

“Ah a night owl? Seems like we’re birds of a feather here sweetheart.”

Jack takes the opening, reading your slightly flirty tone and expertly complements your hair, your smile and your eyes, causing you to blush head lowered in a bashful stance as you look back up at him and reach out in a moment of boldness and touch his thigh, 

“You don’t look half bad yourself” 

You cringe at your words, but they seemed to work a treat, with Jack gulping down the rest of his whiskey and murmuring

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t normally do this, but I was gonna have one more whiskey back at home, if you’d want to join”

You blush at the offer, knowing exactly what he means, and deciding that, yeah you're a big girl now, you should have your fun, and agree to go back with him. The heat of the summer night surrounds the pair of you as you get ready to head out; Jack grabs your bag and places it softly on your shoulder offering you a hand as you walk out if the bar. Leaning into the night, you wrap your arms around his neck and leaning in for a deep kiss while you wait for your uber to arrive, desperate to break through the awkwardness of an uncrossed physical barrier. 

Once you make it to Jack’s you barely make it through the door before he is pushing you up against it, Jack crowds your space, lips landing messily, engulfing your brain. You barely get a second to become aware of your surroundings; the soft hum of the washer going in the background, the stale smell of takeout lingering in the air, shoes kicked at the foot of the couch, a coffee table covered in papers, and for some reason what looks like to you a tactile vest like the police wear, the sight of it in the dark reminding you that you don’t even know what this guy does for a living. In the moment of clarity, you push Jack away from you slightly, his face forming a look of confusion and slight panic that he had pushed it too far, watching you fumble at your bag and pulling out your phone. Mumbling a quick explanation about your friend having your location and if he didn’t want the police at his door you’d better text her a quick update. Laughing softly at you, impressed by your attempt at a safety plan, Jack pulled away fully giving you enough space to reply, but not once did he take his eyes off of you, phone pocketed once again, your eyes dance along his silhouette, taking in the buffness of his frame, your hands absentmindedly tracing up his arms pulling him back into your space, taking charge, you press yourself into him, mouths seeking messy kisses and start pushing him further into the space. With a skill of a man who seems like he’s done this a million times over, Jack slides his hands down your back as he deepens the kisses with an open mouthed groan, and uses the leverage of his hands groping your ass in the back pocket of your jeans to turn you around as you get closer to the couch, letting your knees buckle as they hit the armrest of the couch, giving Jack the prime opportunity to crowd your body fully once again. You lie flushed to Jack as his hands roam under your jumper, tugging at the hem to pull it off, with a swift removal of your jumper and a sloppy row of kisses placed on your jaw, Jack returns his attention to your mouth, tongue seeking yours as his hands grope and pull at your tank top, searching for your nipples to sit pinched between his fingers. Pulling away for air again, your hands reach down to the buttons of his jeans, one sliding down slyly, as you return the intensity of his gaze, hand reaching down over the growing tent appearing and you let out a soft moan at the sensation of his hard length twitching at your touch. You grind the palm of your hand against his crotch slightly, eliciting a deep moan from Jack which causes your core to heat even faster, with your panties feeling like they are getting wetter by the second. Looking over Jack’s shoulder as you undo the button and zip slowly, you ask about the vest laying on the table behind him, barely able to steady your voice as you get your first real tactile feel of his hard cock. 

“Is that a bullet proof vest, you're not a cop are you?”

Jack, taken aback by the question, barely able to focus on anything else but the feeling of your soft hands dancing across his boxers lets out a deep groan and a slightly broken answer. 

“Fuck - ugh - ts’ a hobby ok m’ not - god - a cop”

It’s been too long since someone has touched Jack like you are right now, his brain is short circuiting like a teenage boy, willing himself to not blow his load right now as you pull him out of his boxers, he does not want to solidify the sad old widower image tonight. You take Jack’s cock fully in your hand, giving him a soft stroke and use your other to help maneuver his hips quickly to the side so you can get out from under him and change the position to sitting in between his knees on the ground. With you both settled down you reach back to his hips and place your hands on either side, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth. Focusing on the tip for a few seconds, you swirl your tongue around the tip, paying close attention to the underside of it and shaft lapping at it quicker in response to the soft moans and slight bucking of hips coming from Jack. Closing your eyes, you prep yourself quickly with a deep breath and take the thick shaft fully into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you bobble up and down his length. As a firm hand reaches for the top of your head your eyes flutter open as you attempt to take the full length of his cock into your mouth, staring up at his desire making your eyes feel heavy. The cotton polo he’s wearing is pushed up slightly on his stomach, revealing a sexy silver happy trail on his firm stomach, as your eyes trace the hair up his stomach along with a hand dancing up his side, you hum happily in response to the deep moans croaking out of his throat, sweet ‘fuck mes’ and ‘oh god babys’ spill from Jack’s mouth as on hand fists in your hair applying a light pressure onto your head and the other reaching up to his now damn silver curls, pushing them out of hsi face. You choke slightly on the thickness of his cock as his hips thrust slightly into your mouth, his large hand running down to the side of your face, guiding your mouth off his cock as he pants a desperate

“Fuck sweetheart, gonna make me cum, s’ good to me”

As you let his cock out of your mouth, you lean back on your heels, hands leaving his body and wiping the string of spit coating your mouth and chin away. Suddenly, feeling the exposure of your tits hanging out of your tank top you go to cross your arms across your chest. Jack coo’s at the sight of your sudden modesty 

“Oh sweet girl, don’t get shy on me now, look so good with your tits out and my cock down your throat.” 

Normally, the filth running out of Jack’s mouth would make you cringe and hide your face, but hearing it from him makes the heat in your stomach pool, letting out a moan, your hips buck slightly against your own thigh as you lean your head back towards Jack’s crotch. A hand reached for under your chin and with a tsk and a stroke of your cheek he gestures for you to stand up. Standing together, he takes your hips in his hands and walks you backwards towards the bedroom planting wet open mouth nips along your exposed neck and collar bone. Before he pushes you down onto the bed, he pulls the tank top off and your bra fully, taking your nipples fully into his mouth, swirling his wet tongue and nipping greedily at each before focusing on taking off your pants; using his teeth to pull at the front of your panties, mouthing at your clothed core. As his mouth reaches your clothed pussy he hisses out

“So worked up that I can taste it through your panties sweetheart, so good” 

Committing to pulling your panties off, you sigh at the sensation of the cold air hitting your soaking pussy, you don’t really have time to fully adjust anyways, as Jack’s mouth begins to work on you, hot tongue licking flat firm stripes from the bottom of your pussy up to your clit, sucking softly until you moan. He makes light work of bringing you to the edge quickly, lapping firm circles around your clit while intermittently licking down into your cunt, sucking at all the right areas that have your chest heaving. 

“Oh fuck baby, s’ good, ,oh fuck”

You can barely get a full sentence out as he slips a finger into your pussy, hooking it up and pressing into the soft velvety walls that make you go crazy. Humming in response to the sound of your moans getting louder and your legs hooking around his back, Jack latches his mouth onto your clit, alternating with great precision he sucks and swirls his tongue around your clit causing you to keen out, with knot in your stomach dangerously close to snapping 

“Oh god, fuck, feels s goo - oh fuck m’ gonna cum!” 

Before you can finish your sentence your hips are closing in around Jack’s face grinding tightly as you ride the wave of your orgasm out, his hands gripping at your thighs in an attempt to keep you still as he tries to lap at you throughout your orgasm. As you come down from your orgasm, Jack slides from between your thighs, praise spilling from his lips, complementing your sounds and body as he slides his pants and boxers off fully. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you up the bed resting his knees between yours mouthing at your stomach as he reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out a condom. Whispering in your ear, he guides you to lie on your stomach, tucking a hand under your waist he raises your hips and ass up until you get the idea of the position he wants you in. As you settle into your chest flat on the cool sheets ass in the air, Jack leans down groping at the plushness of your ass and coos into your ear as he slides his cock into you 

“Oh god yeah, such a good girl - fuck” 

Setting a steady rhythm, he pushes into you deep, his cock filling you to the hilt. Jack knows that he should be a bit more of a gentleman and at least fuck you with you on your back, but he just can’t resist the idea of looking at your hair, even through its slightly subconscious he knows his brain wants to remind him of his wife. In an effort to push the guilt to the back of his brain, he fully focuses on you, a hand gripping at your hips as he fucks into you with a rough rythm, cooing your name and grabbing your hair in a soft bunch at the nape of your neck he moans out

“Such a sweet girl for me, you feel - fuck - so fuckin’ good”

As Jack drives into you, the pleasure makes your back arch slightly, the feeling of his cock inside you makes your walls flutter and squeeze around him. The feeling of him pulling lightly at your hair makes you keen his name sweetly back at him breathless, with your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. As Jack pushes into you, sounds of your wetness and his cock echoing obscenely around the room, he knows he won’t last much longer, his thrusts losing a touch of control. As Jack nears closer to finishing, he lets go of your hair and crowds around you once more, hand snaking around to your front and finding your clit. Moans spill from your mouth, hips bucking into his touch trying to get a bit more pressure to speed your release. Jack takes the sounds as encouragement, fucking into you deeply, rough thrusts and load groans letting you know just how close he is. With a loud ‘fuck’ and teeth bitting at your shoulder Jack collapses on top of you, hips jutting into yours as he cums, his body weight resting onto you as he chases his high. Not forgetting the woman beneath him, he pushes your hair to the side and nips at your neck until your a panting mess from the overstimulation of your clit. For a few moments you lie there both in silence, apart from your erratic breaths, and take in the post sex feeling; Jack is the first to move, pointing to you the way to the bathroom, and he heads out the door without a word. It is only then you notice the prosthetic, too caught up in the moment to fully take stock of the man you slept with, after you come back to the bathroom, Jack is sat at the end of the bed, removing the prosthetic, he gestures, without really looking at you, to a glass of water and an old tshirt sitting on the bed. 

“Theres a shirt if you want, not gonna kick you out, you can stay if you want”

You hum a polite thanks in response and slip your panties and the old shirt on, too exhausted to think about getting a uber home now, you take him up on the offer, sliding under the sheets keeping a marked distance away from him as you drift asleep. 

In the soft early morning light that seeps slightly through the curtains, you wake up and take stock of your surroundings; clothes scattered around the room, squinting your eyes trying to find your bra in the darkened room you sigh quietly, slightly embarrassed by the fact that you’ve slept in so late. Luckily, Jack, is still asleep on his front with his back to you, his freckled back rising and falling in time with the soft snores coming from him, you pull your arm out from underneath his back, cringing slightly at the closeness you just had with your one night stand. You slip out from his bed and gather your clothes in silence and exit the room, Dressing in the hallway, you look around at the photos that are scattered along the walls, as you pull your jumper over your head you notice the wedding photos and photos of a small child that line the way. Bile rises in your stomach, realising not only have you slept with a man that is more than likely nearly fifteen years older than you, judging by the photos of him at his wedding, but also a fucking married man. You gather the rest of your things and rush out the house without another thought. Your heart is racing, you should have known that pulling a one night stand in your first fucking week in the new city would have been a bad idea, the shame rising though your body like a fever. You thank god that Pittsburgh is a big place and that you probably won’t have to see him again, but for the rest of the morning your mind is brought back to the idea of his poor wife, maybe you should have left her a sign of something, but it was too late and you were definitely going to avoid that bar and man like the plague. As the evening rolls round, you get yourself ready for your first shift, water bottle filled, hair plaited neatly away from your face and it’s game on as you pull into the staff parking lot. The fluorescent lighting in PTMC is doing nothing to aid the lingering hangover you had as you walked into the ER. Eager to make a good impression on your new line bosses, you’d downed as much coffee, electrolytes and greasy diner food as you could until you felt that you could hide your shame around the night before and fake professionalism until you made it. You make your way to the ER and are greeted by the night shift charge nurse Lena, introducing herself as your main point of contact as you work the night shift and she shows you around the ER after you get settled in and changed out of your civies. You exchange pleasantries and an odd war story from your last job at a hospital in your home town as you make the rounds with Lena. Turning the corner to head back central, Lena points to the man in front of you with his back to you. A pit of dread starts to form in your stomach before your brain has a chance to fully catch up with the dots that are connecting in your body. Lena calls out to the man in front of her.

“Ah, Dr.Abbot! Just the man I’ve been looking for, meet our new RN, joining the dark side from New York”

As he turns to smile at you and Lena, Jack’s stomach turns, acidic bile rising in his chest as his mind catches up to the sight of you walking in tow with Lena toward him. God must be playing some sick trick on him right now, as if he’s trying to teach him a lesson about fucking your way through grief, why else would the woman he had face down in bed last night be the new night shift RN. As you get closer, still deep in conversation, Jacks eyes scan your badge for confirmation, reading your name and th bile rises quicker, because yes, the woman who he purposefully fucked on her stomach because her hair reminded him of his dead wife’s is indeed his new co-worker. As if it was something out of a movie, it feels like time has slowed down to just the two of you in the room as you come to the same realisation practically at the same time, watching him glimpse at your badge, you clock why the man in front of you looks so familiar. Because its the man you let fuck you into blissed out oblivion last night; the man Lena is now gesturing to you as the night shift attending, aka, your fucking superior. Suddenly, no amount of coffee and greasy food can combat the sick feeling rising in your stomach, as your mind conjures up wild stories of how you slept with your married attending and how every single person here will find out you're a homewrecker. You try to hide the surprise on your face, which is mirrored on his as Lena introduces you both. Your face feels bright red heat flooding at the embarrassment of it all, but miraculously Lena doesn’t notice, she simply continues on introducing you both as you pay no heed to anything except the way his posture visibly tightens as he takes you in. Your mind, now spinning with ways to try and fix the fact that you slept with your boss, tries to refocus on what Lena is saying to you. Saved by the bell, or rather the pager, Jack pulls the phone from his pocket and with a curt nod turns and briskly walks away from you. When you turn to look at Lena, you try to joke, in an attempt to cover the clear tension that was still handing in the air

“God, is he always like that, huh, who pissed in his cherrios?”

Lena smiles at you sweetly, hand patting you maternally on your back as you continue your tour around the ER. With a considerate whisper Lena leans forward, gesturing for you to come closer. 

“Well hon, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s better to be armed and aware, he’s not usually like this, we’ve just caught him on a bad day, his late wife’s anniversary was yesterday so we’ll give him a pass”

And with that it’s as if all blood drains from your body, the beeping of the machines and the sound of your pulse rushing through your body drowns out the further explanations coming from Lena. Not only have you essentially fucked your boss, you were his rebound for his dead wife, right now you can’t fully decide if this is worse or better than being a homewrecker. Panic swirls through your brain as you excuse yourself and ask where the bathroom is, locking yourself into the stall, you pull out your phone and place your head between your thighs trying to regain some composure, shooting off an update of the clusterfuck that is your life to your friend back home, you head back out and splash some water on your face and whisper to yourself that it’s ‘game on’. Leaving the bathroom with a new facade of calmness, you swing around the corner, naturally bashing right into the back of Jack, beet red again he stares down at you with his chin ticked up. 

“Huh, we should start callin’ you cherry with how easily you blush” 

You try to stammer out a sentence, looking to try to address him properly, but you are too taken aback by his cockiness in the workplace; treating you with the same level of smugness that he did when he was buried deep inside of you. You gulp and stare back, unable to form a coherent thought, Jack tsks at you, pointing toward a patient's bed, asking you if you wouldn’t be a doll and help him with a case. Your pulse, still racing in your ears, you remind yourself that it is a simple professional request and nod tightly and head off with Dr. Abbot, trying to push aside the fact that you now have a better understanding of what last night might have been for him and head in through the curtains, starting your shift. Mentally, you’re brain is still focused on sorting out the cluster fuck that is your life as you take the patients blood pressure, this whole situation really was going to be a whole lot harder to deal with than you thought. 

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