Dr. Abbot
Jack Abbot x F!Reader
17.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: sweaty, scruffy Jack Abbot in uniform; shirtless Jack; spoilers for season 2 episode 7 (kind of? You have to know what happens for it to spoil?); doesn’t totally follow the show’s storyline; doctor!reader; anxiety; angst; fear for partner’s safety; crying; arguing(ish); reader gets in her head; very small not-quite full anxiety attack for reader; discussion of being shot, gunshot wounds, bullets, guns; oral sex (m rec.); reference to oral sex f rec.; vaginal fingering; dry humping; slight hint of soft dom!jack; hand around neck but no choking; inappropriate use of supply closet; bad puns/jokes/double entendres; no use of y/n.
Summary: Jack shows up to the Pitt sweaty, scruffy and in full uniform and you react accordingly. Until Jack tells you a little more about what happened, that is.
AN: Am I over the flu? No. Have I rested at night or taken any time off work? Also no. I just wanted this out so badly and unfortunately there is no hot doctor here to force me to rest so I was left to my own devices and poor decisions!! My turn for a sweaty uniform Jack fic? Yes. Plus he's so scruffy I can't. I probably should've waited to finish this until I was better because I wanted this to be good and it feels so wildly eh. I don't know. My head is fuzzy from the flu and I wrote a solid 65% of this while sick, fevered, and jumping back and forth between the chills and sweating into dehydration, so who knows how it actually is (certainly not I). 😂 We know I always hate my smut so there's also that factor playing into things (but also it doesn't feel like there's actually that much smut lolllll). Anyway, sweaty and scruffy Jack Abbot supremacy!!! Thank you so much for reading and all of your support!! ♥️ I hope you can enjoy and that it's okay!
You hear Jack but you can't see him.
And for some reason that makes your stomach drop and anxiety bloom icy shards through your veins. Your anxiety has been on deck, humming in the background just waiting for a reason. It found it.
You can't see him because your back is to the door of your patient's room as you work on them. You hear his voice but only just barely through the door, can only hear it because you know it, know what he sounds like. You can't make out what he's saying, can't figure out if he's a patient or doctor. It could easily be either.
There are so many things that pass through your head all at once as the sound of his voice fades. Is he hurt? Is it serious? You know he has an airway if you could hear him so that's something at least. Unless he lost it and that's why you can't hear him anymore. And he isn't screaming in pain, though you know he never would, he always gets quiet, grits his teeth, tries his hardest not to show it no matter how bad it is.
Somebody would've come and got you if it was him, if Jack was the patient. Or it would've drifted in somehow, everyone would've sounded more panicked, would've been louder. It's fine. He's fine. You're sure. You're almost sure. Almost.
You swear to christ if he's just hurt or injured non-critically you're going to go in and see him, give him a kiss and hug him if you can, tell him you love him, and then you're going to have to walk out of the room to compose yourself and go walk off…something. You're not sure what to label that emotion you think you'll have and hope you'll never have to find out.
Somewhere you find it in you to access that ability you have that you kind of really hate and tune most of that out, don't let it invade your thoughts completely so that you can return your full focus back to the patient in front of you whose problems are emergent but not imminently life threatening.
"Hey," Princess calls your name as she steps into the room. You glance over at her with furrowed brows, think you might actually be sick with the wave of panic that passes over you. What if she's here to tell you it's Jack. That Jack's the trauma patient that just rolled in. "He's fine. I asked him as they rolled in if he was injured or anything and he said he's fine. And then I told him I was going straight to tell you his answer and asked him again if he was injured or anything and he said he's fine again. He's in trauma one with Robby working on the patient he brought in."
The relief that washes over you is palpable to everyone in the room and you swear you feel tears sting for just a second. You smile at her and nod. "Thank you. I love you Princess." Your voice is somewhere between playful and thankful, and serious and sober.
She smirks at you but you can see the softness in her eyes. "I know." Her smirk drops into a smile at you and she nods before walking out of the room leaving you and the Pitt team you've assembled to continue working on your patient.
Once you finish dealing with your patient's emergent needs you walk out and turn to go to the hub. You spot Jack standing in full uniform just outside of trauma one, his profile to you as he clearly fills someone in on what just happened in there.
Your eyes run up and down his body and fuck. Fuck. To say he looks good in his uniform would be the understatement of the century. Your heart rate speeds up and you start to really feel it. How attracted you are to him. How worked up for him you are. How fucking needy you are for him in this moment.
You haven't even taken in all of him and are already nearly fucking vibrating and soaked for him, you swear.
Your eyes drag back up and take in his neck, sweat glistening on it. Sweat you'd really, really like to lick off him. His shoulders are a little tensed, which you don't like but you're sure you could suck that right out of him if he lets you. Your eyes continue up and hit his profile and hair and you think you sway. It's so overdramatic, you think to yourself, but it's fucking true.
He looks not quite angry, but so serious with a little edge of something there, lips pressed in a line and his jaw set, eyes narrowed just slightly as he looks at his friend who shares a similar expression. Jack hasn't shaved recently so his stubble is a little longer than it normally ever gets. The way it's pretty much all white now makes you shift on your feet as lust and sheer desire course through your body enough to make you breathe slightly deeper.
All that runs through your mind are thoughts of feeling his stubble all over your body again, your breasts and nipples, your neck, your jaw, the skin around your lips, your inner thighs from how long and intensely he goes down on you. You want, or need at this point, Jack to add to the stubble burn he's already in so many places.
You're the reason it's been a little over 36 hours since he's last shaved. The reason his stubble is as grown out as it is now. You're the reason he didn't get to shave this morning. He ran out of time, too lost in you and your body.
You force your eyes to move from his neck and jaw and cheeks further up. Sweat beads at his temple and you're desperate to kiss it away. And then you get to his hair. His fucking hair. Those salt and pepper curls that always drive you up a wall to half-madness because they're just so fucking hot and sexy and attractive and handsome to you. And now they're sweaty. They're so perfectly fucking messy, stuck to his forehead in places, pushed up a little on top, almost a little fauxhawk happening, the curls at the nape of his neck plastered to his skin from the sweat. His curls are fucking perfect right now.
A little piece of your heart aches with love at the same time you feel like you could come just from him touching you because that is your man. That's your Jack. The man you love more than anything and everything in the universe and who you know loves you all the same.
You're breathing harder at the sight of him and you feel absolutely fucking ridiculous at it but you're dizzy because you're so turned on for him, you can feel it everywhere, skin electric, cunt throbbing and getting your underwear embarrassingly soaked, you're sure. And you're sure every person in the place who can see him and is attracted to men is thinking about the handsome man outside the door with his scruffy neck if they're close enough to see and his perfect, sweaty curls.
It doesn't matter though. Maybe you should be jealous. A different you would for sure be jealous. But you're not. You know Jack only has eyes for you, he reminds you of it all the time, reminded you this morning when he woke you up with his tongue and cock so you could get ready together. And honestly you're too fucking smug and horny for him right now to have jealousy swimming around in your brain.
Because those perfect curls are yours. Jack is yours.
Rings on your fingers to prove it. To make sure everybody knows.
Your thumb absent mindedly plays with your diamond wedding band you wear at work, thumbs over it to rotate it around your finger, your engagement ring on a special necklace made just for the task around your neck because it rips gloves. The movement is one of those little grounding habits you have, one you know Jack has too.
You need him right now. You need to get your hands on those sweaty curls or you're pretty sure you'll die right here in your own god damn ED.
But you can't exactly go up to him and ask him to accompany you to the supply closet because he looks really hot and so now you're turned on and horny for him and are pretty sure you will actually cease to have a pulse if you don't get to run your hands through his sweaty curls and kiss him to feel his stubble. And if you go up to him and just ask him to come to the supply closet with you he'll ask why and you don't have a why. Or at least not an appropriate why.
You need to get him to follow you there without having to talk to him. But you're not sure if he'll follow you or just call across the floor and ask what you need if you look normal. Maybe if you looked sad? There's no way you can pull off sad right now, not when you're this on fucking fire for him. You're not sure looking super happy or excited will do it either. You're going to have to make it look like you're a little irritated or annoyed, not necessarily at him, though you're sure that's where his mind will go.
You set your jaw and press your lips in a line, put just a hint of irritation into your eyes that you try to make seem like annoyance so it looks like you're annoyed with something that happened here. And then you wait to catch his gaze. Your expression almost falters when you finally do because before Jack can even consciously process the expression on your face his face is lighting up as his stoic seriousness fades into a smile just at seeing you and his shoulders relax a little. A smile that lasts a second, second and a half at most before his face falls and his lips pull down, eyebrows furrowing as he realizes you look mad or irritated. Did he do something? Did something happen?
Fuck. You kind of feel like a dick.
But then you look at him again and your thoughts go back to his dick. It's not like you're keeping him in limbo. He'll know in like twenty seconds that you're not really mad. He won't even really have time to hit anxiety, he'll walk into the closet and then you'll be on him pushing him into the wall and kissing him and running your hands through his curls. And worshiping him however he'll let you.
You look over at the supply closet and nod at it, look back at him quickly and then do your best to look like you're stalking off to it.
"I've gotta go, I'll be back," Jack mutters, taking off after you before his friend can even answer.
When you get into the closet you stand a little behind the door, know Jack isn't going to fling it open so it won't hit you. This way you can be right there to push him up against the wall by the door and lock it as you start kissing him.
The door opens just a little more than enough for Jack to step through. "Hey, what's up? Did something happen? I'm okay." Jack is confused when you aren't standing right there waiting for him when he steps in the door. He sees you out of the corner of his eye as the door closes behind him but by the time it registers you're already moving, locking the door and pushing him up against the wall right next to it. Well. He lets you push him up against the wall, he could easily hold his ground if he wanted to.
"Wha-" Jack doesn't get the word out fully before your lips are on his, the hand you've slid to the back of his neck pulling his face down toward you to make it easier to kiss. You bring your elbows to rest on his shoulders, as you kiss him, lick at the the seam of his lips urgently because you need to kiss him that deeply right the fuck now, his perfect silvery white scruff scratching your skin deliciously.
Jack is a little confused about what exactly is happening and why, but he's sure as fuck not questioning it. He'll never fucking question this. One arm wraps around your body to pull you as close to him as you can get with all the gear he's wearing, the other holding one side of your face, his fingers pressed just firmly enough in an angled line down your cheek as his thumb presses up against your chin gently to help hold you in place for him and give you a little reminder that he's still very much in control.
Your fingers are finally able to run through the sweaty curls that are 95% of the reason you're in this closet doing this right now and if someone had their ear to the door and heard the moan it pulls from you they'd think you and Jack were having sex, that's how fucking erotic it sounds. Because that's how fucking erotic running your fingers through his sweaty curls is for you.
As you moan Jack drops his jaw for you, and your tongue is right there to slip inside his mouth and glide along his tongue. The moan gives you away. Jack knows immediately. Knows why you're here and that you looked irritated just to get him to follow you into the closet. You can feel the warm huff of a laugh he lets out through his nose and feel the corners of his lips pull up slightly in a smirk and it just makes you wetter and needier as you make out with him.
"Nothing's wrong," you pant against his lips when you have to part for a breath. Your lips press against his again briefly for a kiss, "I just," another kiss, "had to get you in here." You kiss him again, longer this time, eagerly open your mouth for his tongue when he runs it across your lips in a wordless question.
You kiss until you can't again, thirty seconds, a minute, two, five. Neither of you know for how long. And neither of you care right now.
"The uniform," you pant against Jack's lips as you break for air, give him a quick kiss "and the scruff and the sweaty curls." The last word is almost whined and Jack feels himself start to get hard for you. "Fuck Jack." You let one hand leave his curls only so that it can dip down and untuck all his layers, find the end of the longest layer he's wearing while you continue to kiss him. You slip your hand under it and make a clawing motion with your fingertips and nails gently at the sweaty skin just above his waistband before starting to move your hand up as much as you can to feel his sweaty abs, perfectly balanced between definition and a healthy softness, his skin even warmer than usual.
"I was pretty sure I'd die if I didn't get my fingers through them," you murmur against his lips. "If I didn't get my hands on you and your scruffy face and your sweaty body in uniform. I need you." You nibble at Jack's bottom lip and suck on it at little before kissing him again because you can't fucking stop. You need more, need him to fuck you or let you suck him off or something.
"Fuck," Jack grunts into the kiss, the groan to the word making your whole body feel electrocuted. He keeps making out with you, lets your fingers slip under the line of the vest and press into his skin far more firmly than usual from the weight of his gear. The fingers of your other hand are still running through his curls, playing with them and tugging at them. You give the softest whines and moans as you continue to kiss, sounds he knows he is pulling from you, without even trying. Sounds only he'll ever hear. The thought makes his now fully hard cock throb hard enough it almost hurts.
Jack is ready to fuck you right here, bend you over and get you to support yourself on a shelf while he fucks you incoherent from behind, the headiness of you and the situation getting to him hard, his mind hazy as he gives into it all. Or he could stick his leg out a bit so you can grind one out against him while you stroke him. It's been a bit since you've given him a pure handjob, your mouth or pussy or both or your tits usually becoming involved.
But you guys really can't and Jack knows it and deep down you know it even if you don't want to admit it. It goes against every instinct and need and desire in his body and mind but Jack knows he needs to start winding this down, that you guys need to get back onto the floor.
He pulls his head back to break the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. "Baby," Jack pants softly.
"Yeah, Handsome?" You pull your hand out from under his vest and layers and bring it to the waistband of his pants and blindly start looking for a button, hand slipping under the canvas belt you can feel sitting over the top of his pants, undoubtedly holding an unreasonable amount of supplies. You're not completely sure what's there because you didn't spend a tremendous amount of time looking at his lower body, and the time you did spend looking was mostly spent looking at his ass.
"We can't." Jack shakes his head against yours, groans about it because he fucking hates that it's the truth. He does his best to tell himself the wait will make it even better once you get home tonight.
You just hum in response, keep looking for a button and kiss Jack again.
"Hey, you," Jack mumbles against your lips, his hand on your face coming down to your hand searching for a button and pulling it away even as he continues to kiss you.
"Jack!" You break the kiss long enough to whine his name over two syllables before kissing him again.
"I want to," he groans against your lips, "god, believe me I want to." Jack moves your hand that he's still holding over his cock to let you feel how hard he is for you. "But we can't, Baby. We've gotta stop." He pulls your hand away before you can really start to palm at him and starts to pull his lips from yours.
Or tries to, at least. You chase his lips with yours, keep kissing him as much as you know he's right and you guys need to stop. "Sweetheart," Jack drawls, a warning edge to it that makes you shiver. "Seriously. We can't." He gives you one last kiss and then pulls away too fast for you to effectively chase.
"We don't have to do anything. I'm more than happy to do all the work on my knees, Baby." As much as it pains you, you pull your other hand from his curls, the thought of his cock in your mouth enough to make the loss of the feeling of his damp curls through your fingers worth it.
You use that hand to start looking for the button of his pants again, finding it easily this time. But before you can get it undone Jack's free hand is wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away.
It happens very quickly then.
Before you have time to finish whining at him for moving your hand Jack has your positions reversed, your back now against the wall, one of his hands holding both of your wrists and pinning them above your head while his other hand is wrapped just tightly enough around your throat to make sure you know who's in control.
He moves his pointer finger on your neck to press gently below your chin to get you to look up at him as he stares down at you, your faces just far enough apart to see each other. You greedily take in every detail of his handsome face, the laugh lines and crows feet you adore and are proud to have contributed to, his plush lips that are a deeper shade of pink than usual and a little swollen, unfairly long eyelashes, transfixing hazel eyes you could look into forever and study every day and find something new, a new color or fleck or crypt or furrow, and of course, his god damn fucking scruffy stubble that you need to feel everywhere.
His eyebrows raise slightly and he slowly moves his index finger back to where it was, lets his thumb brush across the skin of your neck as he loosens his grip, no longer exerting any pressure and just letting his hand rest wrapped around your throat.
"Calm. Down." Jack emphasizes each word, his voice low and even more gravelly than usual. The way he says it isn't patronizing or condescending. It's just fucking hot, a sexy, I'm in control edge to the words that does absolutely nothing to calm you down. "We can't. Not today."
You pout at him for a second and then huff. "Okay one, how are you expecting me to calm down when you pull this move with both of my wrists in one of your hands pinned above my head and your other hand on my throat? And two, when in the history of ever has telling someone to calm down made them calm down?"
Jack gives you a look. "One, it wasn't that type of calm down and you know it. I've never told you to calm down outside of a situation like this and sex and I never will." He's right of course. Jack has never told you to calm down during an argument or while you were upset or crying, for whatever reason, he's never said it in an emotional sense to you, and you know he never will. "Two, I know you have an enormous amount of self control when you want to Baby, because three, I've seen telling someone to calm down be incredibly effective with my bratty girlfriend who became my bratty fiancée who became my bratty wife when she really wants to be allowed to come."
"Well… You like that I'm a brat." You stick your tongue out at him.
Jack blurts out a laugh at the move, unable to stop himself because it's so unexpected and random and ridiculous. He smiles widely in disbelief at you. "I do love it. Did you just stick your tongue out at me?"
You shrug, do your best to look incredibly unbothered. "And what if I did?"
He laughs again, trails it off into something low from his chest. "I'll have to think about that," he bobs his head and pulls his lips down, eyes boring into yours to make it clear it's sexual.
"Oh, yeah?" you smirk, raise your eyebrows. "That a promise or a threat?"
"You know full well by now that I don't make threats, my dear," Jack murmurs, voice unfairly hot.
You nod with feigned nervousness. "Oh, I'm very scared."
Jack clenches his jaw slightly and there's a little twitch under his eye that makes you even more satisfied with yourself. His thumb stops brushing against the skin of your neck as he gives it another little squeeze while leaning in to kiss you again. "You really should be," he murmurs against your lips.
He leans into you more as he kisses you again, his vest pressing into you deliciously. Jack nips at your bottom lip as he releases your hands, a silent order to be good. His now free hand finds your hip and squeezes lovingly before pressing against it to help pin you to the wall further.
Your hands find his curls again and you sigh into the kiss, content to do this with Jack all day. You keep your eyes closed for a second after the kiss ends and then slowly flutter them open. "You're going to have to fuck me with this all on one day," you murmur, holding his gaze. "While sweaty."
A ghost of a smile crosses his face and he leans back in. "Only if you're good for me," he whispers against your lips before giving you one last lingering kiss and pulling away.
You click your tongue and tsk at him. "I'm always good for you."
Jack snorts a laugh and moves his other hand so that they're both at your hips. "Yeah, okay."
"I resent that." You bring your hands down and pat his chest above all the stuff that's attached to the front of it, glancing down at it all and it finally all clicks. You cock your head at him as your heart rate goes back up a little. "Are you armed?"
Jack doesn't miss a beat. "I'm always armed for you."
There's silence for a beat as the two of you stare at each other. "That was terrible," you start laughing, emphasizing the first syllable.
"It was so fucking bad but I had to," Jack laughs with you.
You share some lighter kisses as your laughter trails off, ones that are quicker and sweet and fit the mood. Eventually the two of you part and smile at each other.
"I just needed to get my hands on your sweaty curls. Run my fingers through them," you shrug, let out a sigh. "I thought I might drop dead if I didn't. I was so fucking turned on. I mean I still am, the kissing helped me get some of the energy out, but fuck, Jack. I'm the luckiest fucking woman. You're so hot."
Jack hums. "Good to know I can still get to you after five years together."
You roll your eyes at him playfully. "Yeah, because that's definitely news to you and something you're just now finding out, Jack rabbit." Sarcasm drips off every word.
He tilts his head and smiles at you looking so happy with himself as he leans in for another quick kiss.
You chuckle at him and shake your head. "Okay, Sweaty, when's the last time you had some water or gatorade or something? It's ridiculously hot and humid out there and you're in long sleeves and pants and layers and wearing at least 30 pounds of shit and kevlar, which I'm very thankful for and need you to be wearing, don't get me wrong, I'm just saying." You pat the top of his vest.
"I can feel it. You're running hotter than normal." One hand rests on his neck for a second and then the back of it on his forehead just to confirm what you already noticed earlier. "I got you some pedialyte and gatorade on the way in just in case you ended up here or for tonight. It's in the fridge. And I can get you some ice packs for your neck if you want."
You frown a little, know it'll only be so effective while he still has everything on. "Can you take any of it off now? Or are you going back out?" Jack stares down at you with one of the most adoring smiles you've ever seen on him, something sappy and sentimental and palpably loving about it. You give him a small, questioning smile back. "What?"
Jack shrugs, keeps smiling at you all the same. He wishes he could think of some way to articulate how you're making him feel right now, how loved you're making him feel worrying about him like this and preparing for him to be dehydrated and noticing him running hotter than normal, how good it feels to be loved that much, to know somebody cares about him that much. You always make him feel like that of course but there's something especially poignant about it in the moment, its presence heavier in Jack's mind and body.
"Nothing," he murmurs, shaking his head softly. "I just love you."
You smile back at him. "I love you too."
"I know," Jack whispers, nodding this time. "Trust me, I know."
"I'm glad you know." You raise your eyebrows slightly, a gentle, silent ask for him to answer your questions.
"No, I'm not going back out, so yes I can." He lets go of your hips and takes a few steps back so that he can start taking his vest off.
"Good," you sigh, noticeable tension dropping from your shoulders. "I'll help."
Getting Jack's vest off is pretty straightforward and doesn't take long. As he sets it on the ground you take a step back to admire him in just this part of his uniform. You should've expected the large sweat marks all over the zip up he's wearing but it wasn't something you really thought about. Seeing it though, your mouth legitimately waters.
"Oh, jesus fucking christ," you breathe, licking your lips.
"What?" Jack looks at you with furrowed brows as he stands back up straight from setting the vest down.
Seeing the sweat marks with him staring at you now just makes it all even hotter and you have to remind yourself that you're supposed to be helping him take off layers to cool down. You look up at him. "You're sweaty."
Jack looks down and grimaces. "Yeah, I probably stink. I'm surprised you couldn't smell me when we took turns against the wall."
You shake your head at him and give a single laugh, almost look dazed in an amusing way, your eyes returning to his body. "You probably smell un-fucking-reasonably good, like your body wash and deodorant and you and sweat. I'm literally salivating."
Jack lets out an amused laugh. "You're crazy."
"For you, yes," you agree, nodding at him and pulling your eyes from his sweat marks back up to his eyes.
"Ha," Jack laughs. "Yeah, smooth."
You smile and shrug at him, take a step closer and reach out to start unzipping the long sleeve, planning on smelling him to your heart's desire once all possible layers are off. But when you glance back up at him after finding the zipper and starting to pull it down Jack's face has changed and your hands and feet go cold as your heart drops because you know. You just know.
You force yourself to unzip it all the way and then help him shrug it off before you say anything. But the second that's done, you're talking.
"Tell me." The words come out just above a whisper. Jack raises his eyebrows slightly, uneasiness washing over him even more. He should've known you'd clock him this fast. Your face is largely emotionless, though the look in your eyes gives away your anxiety. "Tell me whatever it is you're thinking about how to tell me, Jack."
Jack takes a breath and licks his lips before starting. "I'm okay. I'm perfectly okay and I'm here and safe and everything is okay." Your expression remains stoic and impassive and when he realizes you're not going to say anything else Jack continues. "A bullet grazed my back just above my vest."
You don't know why but you do your best not to react to the confirmation. You know what he means. He was shot. Jack was shot.
It's an impact all of your own for you to absorb with absolutely nothing protecting your heart. And Jack, he can see it, he can see the words hit you, can tell from the way your eyes fall from him that you're distraught and struggling.
"I'm quite certain it just needs cleaned and a small dressing, if that," he offers when you don't say anything.
You nod slowly, worried that if you do too much, move too much too fast or say too many words you'll crack. "Yeah," you whisper.
"Honey,-"
Something about him calling you that snaps some little piece of you. "You told Princess you were fine." You finally look back up at him, breathing noticeably harder with glassy eyes and your mouth set in a line.
"Because I am." He says the word like he's pleading with you and in a way he supposes he is. "I promise you, I am fine. I'm okay. It grazed me."
"You were shot, Jack." It's like life and animation suddenly find their way back into your system. You scoff at him and shake your head, hold up your hands at him and shrug deeply. "You were shot and you're being so fucking blasé about it. You were fucking shot."
"At." He doesn't say it in a corrective tone, keeps it upbeat, with the smallest smile to try and keep things light. Or make them light again. "I was shot at."
It doesn't work in the slightest. If anything it backfires.
"You say that like it makes it any fucking better, like, like a fucking preposition is going to make it better! Like a bullet didn't have fucking contact with your skin!" You stop talking and hold your hands up as you take a step away from him. You know that emotion you were thinking about earlier in the day, the one you weren't sure what to label and were hoping you'd never have to find out, is taking over and that you're getting too escalated and upset for anything further to be productive. "I have to go. Like I said, there are drinks in the fridge for you. Have one please."
"Baby," Jack sighs softly, taking a single step toward you. "I was just trying to lighten the mood, I'm sorry."
"Can you just…" You drop your hands and press one to your chest and rub as you think of what you want to say. Of how much of what you want to say to actually say. "Imagine if our roles were reversed, Jack. Imagine if I told you that a bullet grazed me enough to need medical treatment no matter how little or minor. Imagine if I told someone else that I was fine and then didn't immediately tell you when I saw you. Imagine I was shot. Imagine that I was even just shot at, let alone shot at close enough to get grazed by a bullet. Just imagine that Jack."
"I… Sweetheart, please…" He holds his hand out praying you'll take it, let him pull you into him and talk this out.
"I need… I don't even know what I need Jack. Space, I guess. Time to… Calm down. Figure my head out or at least try. Just…" You shake your head as you look at the door and then back at him. "Go put your shit away or wherever it needs to go and grab a drink and find an open room. I'll come find you in a few and get it cleaned and bandaged."
You take the few steps to the door and pause at it. "You need to fix your hair." The way you say it is so truly forlorn and aching that it makes Jack nauseous, especially when you say his hair and not his curls even though he doesn't know why he noticed that nuance, why it feels like it has some sort of meaning. But at the same time there's something so incredibly sweet about you pointing it out to him even when you're this upset, looking out for him and not wanting him to be embarrassed or something, like he could ever be embarrassed of you. "I love you." Your voice sounds as small as Jack has ever heard it, and scared, a bone deep fear etched into the words.
"I love you too. More-" You walk out of the room before he can finish, leaving him alone. "More than anything," Jack whispers to the back of the door.
He stands there staring at it and does what you asked. It's the least he can do at this point. The feelings that run through him don't surprise Jack. He expected them, expected the fear and anxiety and sadness that gets close to paralyzing. But it doesn't make them easier to deal with at all and Jack has it lucky. He can snap himself out of them, remind himself that they aren't real and won't ever be.
And when he does take himself out of them it makes the reality of your situation and how you're feeling hit Jack that much harder as he imagines not being able to take himself out of it. Imagines being stuck in those feelings and having one of his worst nightmares come true. He doesn't think he'd be reacting as well as you are, he'd be a mess, a total fucking reactive mess.
He takes in and lets out a breath before he grabs his gear and leaves the closet. Jack doesn't fix his curls because you made them look however they do and he loves it and is proud of it and you, and right now he doesn't give a fuck if everyone knows you were in there making out or if they think you were doing other shit. Right now his curls have a mark of you to them and he's not getting rid of it.
You're not even sure where you're going when you step out of the closet, just let your feet take you somewhere. You end up on a bench outside the cover of the ambulance bay in the July sun. You don't do well with the heat for a number of reasons and you know Jack wouldn't want you sitting out here, especially in black scrubs, and maybe that's a little bit of why you do it. It's petty and passive aggressive and inappropriate and wrong but you stay seated.
You think about so much and yet almost nothing at all it feels like. You can't come up with a name for how you feel, can only say that it's consuming you whole at the moment. You sit in it and let yourself go through what feels like all five stages of grief, though you don't cry. You won't let yourself cry. You tell yourself it's because you're at work but really it's because that would make it too real. You'd be crying because Jack got shot. Because your best friend, your husband was shot.
As your initial, extra-heightened reaction fades you realize that continuing to sit out here isn't doing anything for you, is arguably making you worse. Because you miss him. You want to be close to him. Today could've gone so much differently and it shoves in your face even more than working at the Pitt already does the fact that time is precious and always too short. There's never enough of it with the ones you love. And you don't want to spend the time you do get with Jack away from him and upset or mad or having him think you're either of those things.
So you get up and go find him.
Jack is taking his shirt off as you walk into the room Dana mentioned seeing him go into. You shut the door before opening the curtain enough to step through and pull it back closed.
"Wish I got to walk in on you taking your shirt off every shift," you joke, half-heartedly if you're honest, trying to break what feels like tension in the room but that doesn't truly exist.
Jack looks up at you and smiles, very obviously trying to feel you out and see where you are. "Could probably be arranged," he says lowly, tossing his shirt to the side and flashing his eyebrows at you with a hint of a smile.
You let out a soft laugh through your nose and roll your eyes affectionately. Jack sits on the edge of the bed and pulls the mayo stand he's set some supplies and a bottle of pedialyte on a bit closer to him. You walk over wordlessly and set two acetaminophen tablets next to the bottle in front of him.
He knows better than to argue about whether he needs them right now. If you want or need him to take some acetaminophen for pain or swelling or whatever so that you feel like you're helping take care of him he's going to without even a questioning glance. Plus, it is a little sore and he knows it'll be worse tomorrow. He probably wouldn't bother going to find some acetaminophen for himself if you weren't here, but you are.
You watch as Jack picks up the tablets and opens the bottle, takes them easily and has a bit more to drink, just for you, you're sure.
It hits you as you study him while he drinks. "You didn't fix your curls."
Jack sighs in relief internally when you say curls instead of hair as bizarre as he knows that it. He shrugs shallowly while putting the cap back on the bottle of pedialyte and setting it back down. "I liked the way you did them for me."
You give him an amused, knowing smile and nod as you push the stand aside so you can stand between his legs. "You're sweet."
"Only on you," he murmurs, resting his hands on your hips.
You arch a brow at him and cock your head for a second, smirking as you rest your hands on top of his thighs. "Laying it on thick Dr. Abbot."
"Hey, that's the truth," his right hand leaves your hip and comes down to your left hand and plays with your wedding ring, "Dr. Abbot."
"Yeah, I know," you murmur, scrunch your nose at him and lean down for a quick kiss. "I'm sorry for walking out on you."
Jack shakes his head. "You didn't walk out. You needed space and you communicated that. You're allowed to need space, Sweetheart. It's healthy."
You shrug. It doesn't feel healthy to you in the moment. He doesn't push you to talk more, knows you will when you're ready.
"Let me take a look?" you raise your eyebrows slightly as you ask.
"'Course," Jack nods.
"Better not need more than cleaned and a small dressing." There's nothing behind your words. Because it doesn't matter what it needs, you both know you'll do it, take care of him without any resentment or true anger.
Jack squeezes your hips before releasing them so you can walk around. "It won't."
You know within seconds of looking at it that he's right, of course. You knew that all along, trusted his assessment or you never would've left him alone, never would've left his side. But seeing it makes it hit you all over again just like him telling you did.
A bullet did this to him. A bullet. A bullet you know all too well could've done so, so much fucking worse to him if the wind had blown a little harder or the shooter had turned at a slightly different angle or one of any number of small things.
You're quiet as you take it in standing behind him, trying to process through this initial part before speaking or going to stand in front of him and share eye contact with him again. Tears sting at your eyes and you finally let them but even then they don't form all the way.
Jack gives you the time and the space and the quiet that he knows you need for this. But he starts to get worried you're getting lost in your head. He's relieved when he hears you start to move and then you're standing in front of him again by the mayo stand starting to open supplies.
"Was I right?" he asks gently.
You look up at him and nod. "Yeah. Of course you were."
"Good," he whispers.
It's obvious he thinks you're mad at him and you hate that because you're not. Not truly. And you don't want something to happen and him to think that you are.
"I'm not mad at you." You still your hands and look over at him, his eyes already on you. "I'm not, Jack. I promise. I'm sorry for making you think that I am. I'm just…" You start pulling pieces of tape and let out a long sigh. Silence hangs between the two of you for a moment, it's not tense or charged or uncomfortable though, it's not fraught. It's thick with the love you and Jack share for each other and everything attendant.
"I'm just…" You're very clearly in your head. You've pulled about twelve pieces of tape when you'll need two or three, maybe four, depending on how you decide you want to dress it. You finally snap out of it and shake your head at yourself before setting the tape down and holding onto the edge of the mayo stand tightly just to have something to feel and ground yourself to. "I… I don't know, honestly. I don't know Jack."
Your face breaks like you're going to start properly crying but you keep it together and don't, just lick your lips and sniffle hard before smoothing your face back out. Two tears escape and you huff as you wipe them away.
It breaks Jack's heart.
He never likes seeing you cry or upset or sad or anxious or scared or anything like that but something about your face crumpling like that and you only letting two tears go rips a gaping hole in his chest right now.
"Baby," Jack whispers so softly, the word wrapped in a sort of ache that comes straight from the heart.
You crack a little at it and breathe back a sob through your nose before one of those broken, sad whines from trying to stop yourself from sobbing that you just can't control and can't prevent making rips from your throat. You suck in a breath through your teeth, look and sound pained as Jack watches you. "All I can imagine is never hearing that again. Never hearing you again. All I can see is you being the one brought in on a stretcher and me leaving here without you and never seeing you again and I can't fucking breathe, Jack, I can't fucking breathe."
"But I'm not mad at you Jack or upset with you, I promise. I'm like this because I'm scared and I love you. I'm really fucking scared. And," you try to sniffle hard, but it doesn't work, bigger breaths that are difficult to control coming out, "being mad or upset with you, that's not how I want to spend my time with you, it's not how I'm going to."
You swallow hard and shake your head, another distraught whine coming from the back of your throat. "Because you were fucking shot at and grazed today and if the trajectory of that bullet had been just a little different they might have been wheeling you into trauma one, or have been sending someone to pull me into the family room while taking your body away from the scene in a black fucking bag and, and then I, I, I wouldn't be trying to take your clothes off in the supply closet, I'd be picking out clothes to bury you in. Picking out the last thing you'd ever wear from our closet, and I, and, and, and…"
You finally break, clamp a hand over your mouth as you start to sob, the thoughts too much for you to continue to keep inside. You shake your head at him, move your hand just to squeak out a barely audible, "I'm sorry." There's nothing you want more than to be in his arms but you take a step away because you don't want him to have to deal with this. With you like this.
"No, Baby, don't apologize, come here." Jack slips off the edge of the bed and holds a hand out to you, pulls you toward him when you take it. "Come sit with me, yeah?"
Even though there's a huge part of you that doesn't feel like you deserve it you nod and help Jack pick you up for just a second before he sits back on the edge of the bed and scoots back a little more, your legs and arms wrapping around him tightly as you bury your face in his neck and cry, let it all out.
"Shhh," he soothes you, not at all rushing you to stop crying. He holds you close with one hand and lets the other rub circles on your back. "I've got you. It's okay, you're okay. I'm here, Baby and I'm perfectly okay."
There's so much you want to say to him but you can't stop crying long enough to get any words out for two minutes or so. And when you can force words out it's mainly to repeat the same things to him, almost a little chant as you rock yourself into him in a desperate attempt to self soothe in his arms.
"I'm sorry Jack," you choke out against his neck, moving your head so he can hear you better. "I'm, I'm so sorry. This is so unfair to you. I'm just so scared Jack," you repeat over and over.
"Everything's okay Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for," Jack murmurs to you just loudly enough for you to hear over your tears. "I know you're scared, I'm here though okay, you can feel me, I'm here with you and I'm okay. And there's nothing unfair about you feeling how you do, I promise. I love you. It's okay, I've got you." Like you, Jack repeats himself over and over praying that you'll be able to take his words to heart while knowing from personal experience how hard it is to do that.
After another few minutes your sobs slow to just crying into Jack's neck and then shuddery, hiccuped breaths as you sniffle and try in vain to breathe in Jack and his scent, the smell of home and comfort and safety. Jack continues to murmur little reassurances and sweet nothings to you as you come down, shifting a little at some point so that your face is less in his neck and more resting on his uninjured shoulder.
Jack grabs some gauze for you to use as a tissue off the mayo stand and smiles to himself as his heart absolutely fucking aches when you use it to wipe off his neck first before using it to clean yourself up. It takes you another moment to speak once you've got yourself a little put back together.
When you do speak your words are simple. "I'm sorry." You pull yourself away from Jack's warm skin so you can look at him.
Jack gives you a crooked smile, looks at you like you're adorable and a little crazy, his eyes squinted just a touch more than usual. "For what, Baby?"
You rest your arms gently along the top of his shoulders and let your fingers scratch and massage and play with the curls at the nape of his neck. "Being like this, sobbing into you when you're hurt and I'm supposed to be taking care of you. Making you feel bad and overreacting."
He shakes his head at you slowly. "I'm hardly hurt and you're not being like anything and you're certainly not overreacting." Jack pauses for a second as he looks you in your eyes. "I thought about it like you asked me to, our positions being reversed and I can guarantee you I'd be feeling and reacting the same way as you. I'd be just as upset. Your reaction is incredibly valid, Sweetheart."
You shrug shallowly, look down at his chest. There's something about how small the shrug is and how you won't look at him that tells Jack both not to push that topic further and that you're acknowledging that he's right. "And you know I don't care if you cry into me, Honey. You know that's where I want you to cry into if you have to cry so that I can hold you and try to help comfort you and keep you feeling safe so you can get it all out."
"I know, thank you," you murmur. You take in a deep breath and then look back up at him. "Thank you for holding me and giving me a safe space, for being my safe space."
"You're welcome. I always will be, Baby." Jack leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Do you want to talk about it more now?"
"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "Not really. Not today and probably not tonight or tomorrow. I just want to be with you for a bit first if that's okay."
He nods. "Of course that's okay, we can do that. I was planning on sticking around here with you until you're off anyway, pitch in where I can."
You give him a small smile. "I'd like that, thank you." You lean into him and share a few sweet kisses before you nuzzle your nose against Jack's cheek and sigh happily at the feeling of his grown out stubble against your skin which makes him chuckle.
The sound helps relax you and you press a lingering kiss to his cheek before pulling back to look at him again. "I know it hurts more than you're letting on, Jack. It was a graze, yeah, but it's still a graze and an impact."
Jack shrugs with his uninjured shoulder and pulls his lips down. "Yeah, but it's not that bad though, I promise, even with it being worse than I'm letting on to everyone except you because you see it regardless."
"You let me see it," you murmur. You bring a hand to his face and drag your knuckles down just beneath his cheekbone lightly before cupping the side of his face. Your eyes find his again. "You let your guard down with me. You let me see you. And I cherish that more than you'll ever truly know."
Jack turns his head in your hand to kiss your palm before bringing his head back to look at you. He leans into your palm and swallows thickly. "I do yeah. Because I know that no matter what, no matter how tough I am or seem or can't be or think I should be, you'll be gentle with me."
"I'm glad you know." You give him a small, soft smile.
Despite the fact that you and Jack have cleared the air and made up and things are good and okay, there's still something kind of somber and anxious in the air, augmented by how carefree and light and flirty and lusty and horny for each other you were in the supply closet. You hate it, feel like you ruined such a good thing, especially when you're still just as hot and worked up for him underneath it all.
You know you just need to chill out some and you're sure by the time you're home this fog will have passed but you still hate it in the meantime. You move your hand back to Jack's curls and continue to play with them. "I don't want us to be down like this. I want to be how we were in the supply closet," you sigh, an adorable little pout to your lips.
Jack takes in a deep breath and nods. He knows what you mean, that it's not a sad kind of down but more that you're subdued. He looks around the room just for the show of it and then cocks his head at you and smirks a little. "We could lay down and make out again."
You laugh softly and raise your eyebrows, nodding at him. "And when someone walks in?"
"They get a free show," he shrugs easily. "Tax exempt bonus compensation."
You start to giggle and Jack's heart soars at the sound even more than it did at your soft laugh. "You're ridiculous."
He doesn't deny it, but does offer more of a real answer. "We know whoever it was would be like 'Oh! Sorry!' and turn around and scurry out and go tell the first person they saw, probably."
"True," you smile at him and there's a pause as the two of you look at each other. "I'm really glad you're okay. That's such a fucking understatement actually," you laugh under your breath. "I love you Jack."
Jack returns your smile. "I love you more."
You shake your head. "Not possible."
"It is very possible and it's true and I win," he nods.
"Nu-uh."
Jack gasps overdramatically. "What do you mean 'nu-uh?' The injured person always gets to win and I'm injured." You raise your eyebrows and tilt and bob your head at him a little with an amused smirk because he's spent so much time trying to convince you he's not injured as such. But you know what he means and why he's saying it in this context. The realization passes over his face and you have to stifle your laugh. "Ish," he tries to backtrack with a slow nod. "Injured-ish."
"Injured-ish," you nod slowly, narrowing your eyes at him and smirking widely so he knows you're not upset by it. And you're not. It seems that at least for right now you really just needed to have a cry about it all to make it not so scary and something you can at least kind of joke about like this where it's not fully making light of what happened. "Well, I got told my husband was shot today."
A hint of a smirk pulls at the corners of Jack's lips as he looks at you and tries to read your reaction. You know immediately.
You shake your head at him, trying to keep a straight face and sound serious but not quite pulling it off. "Jack Abbot." His name is a little laughed, the warning edge you try to infuse belied by the smile creeping at your lips.
Your reaction tells Jack all he needs to know, that he can say what he wants without upsetting or hurting you. He leans in and gives you a kiss that's so soft it's almost more of him ghosting his lips over yours. "At," he murmurs at your lips before pulling back to look at you. "You got told your husband was shot at today."
"You are such a fucking ass sometimes," you huff, trying so hard not to laugh but unable to stop a few from coming out as you shake your head at him.
"Mm, yeah," he gives you a saccharine smile, "but you love that and I'm your ass. You're the one who decided to marry me after all."
"I really do, yeah," you laugh gently. "And yes, you are mine and I would make that choice every single time without a second thought."
"And I'll always be yours." He gives you a genuine smile this time and leans in, gives your forehead a kiss.
"We're okay?" you murmur as his lips linger against your skin.
Jack tilts his head at you when he pulls back and moves his hands to your hips, squeezes gently. "We're perfect on my end. We good on yours?" He knows that you guys are, but he still does want to check in a little and make sure his 'at' joke was really okay and not something you just swallowed down.
"Yeah," you smile widely at him, nose and lips and eyes still a little swollen from all the crying. You look adorable, he thinks. "We're perfect on mine too." Your fingers continue to play with his still damp curls as that adorable smile turns into an equally adorable pout. "But I do think we should make out again."
Jack doesn't miss a beat, you're only just able to hear his soft laugh and catch a flash of his smile because he leans into you and starts doing exactly that, his lips caressing yours as he slides his hands from your hips to your back to pull you flush against him.
You and Jack make out again, slower at first until things pick up again and you both get greedier and more escalated, start getting handsy with each other. It feels like you're back in the supply closet again.
Eventually the need for more oxygen than you can get while kissing forces you to pull your lips from each other's. "Should probably get this dealt with and back out there," Jack pants softly as he rests his forehead against yours. "As much as I'd rather do this the rest of the day and night."
"Probably, yeah." You nuzzle your nose against his and take a moment to relish in him and his smell and his hot breath against your skin, proof that despite being shot at he's still here and alive and nearly perfectly fine and with you. Because as much as you need to set a lot of it aside for the rest of today and probably tomorrow, you're not exactly over it. "But I'll spend as much time as I deem necessary taking care of my most important patient."
"Mm, yeah? That so?" Jack murmurs, smiling against you.
"Yeah, so I better finish up quickly here and go check on them," you tease.
"You're so full of shit," he huffs a laugh, smiling and squeezing your waist with one hand and pinching your ass gently with the other.
You giggle and kiss all over his face. "There could never be any patient or anybody more important than you." You press a lingering kiss to Jack's lips and share a tight hug for a few seconds before he wordlessly slides off the bed with you so that you can unwrap your legs from around him and set your feet back on the floor to stand. Jack gives you one last kiss before he lets you out of his arms and sits back on the edge of the bed for you.
As you clean and dress his wound you ask what happened and Jack explains. You know it's probably bothering and getting to him more than he wants to admit to himself or let show. And you feel incredibly selfish but you can't help but imagine Jack in his Hiro's place, especially as you tend to the injury left on his skin by a bullet. You set that aside for now though because it's not what matters. Your husband and his feelings are what matter the most to you right now.
When you're finished you bring your lips down and press a soft kiss just above the dressing you've put over Jack's wound. You peel your gloves off and toss them and everything left on the mayo stand in the trash as you walk to stand in front of him again, grabbing his shirt from the other end of the bed where he tossed it.
You scrunch up Jack's shirt to help him get it on. He doesn't really need the help of course, but you want to give it and it helps make you feel better and a little more in control and Jack certainly has no objection. Before you hold it up for him though you pause. "I'm here. If you need to talk about it," you tell him softly.
Jack shrugs, far too fast and trying far too hard to be truly unbothered. "I'm okay. We saved him. He'll be in the hospital for a while and have a long recovery obviously, but he'll be okay."
You give him the softest smile and raise your eyebrows at him slightly, effectively calling him out on what you know to be his bullshit. You expected that answer though, especially here at work. Who wants to face those emotions if they can pretend they don't need to?
He takes in a breath and nods. "Yeah," he whispers. "Not here. And probably not tonight or tomorrow. Like you said, I just want to be with you for a bit first."
"Okay," you murmur. "There's no pressure. And when you are ready to talk, it doesn't have to be with me. You've got your therapist and Robby. I just want you to know I'm here for you."
Jack laughs softly and shakes his head at you. "I know that, I always know that. I knew before you said it. You always make me feel like you're here for me. I love you and I'm so lucky to have you."
"I love you too." What you're sure can only be described as a mushy love sick smile pulls onto your face. "And I'm the lucky one in this relationship."
He shakes his head, smiling. "This is one we're always going to have to agree to disagree on, Sweetheart."
You hum at him. "I suppose it is." You lean in to take a quick kiss from him and then help him get his shirt on. "You know I'm really bummed I'm not helping you get your shirt back on because I took it off you before you fucked me."
"I thought you wanted the uniform to stay on," Jack smirks.
You click your tongue at him. "Well yeah, but a girl can still imagine getting fucked by her husband at work."
His smirk deepens. "You like imagining that sort of thing?"
"I like imagining many sorts of things with you," you smirk back at him.
"Oh yeah?" Jack flicks his eyebrows up, reaches out for your hips and pulls you closer so that you're standing between his legs. "What else do you like imagining?" he says lowly, voice dripping with want and need.
You're smiling as you lean in for another kiss, keep it almost frustratingly chaste. You kiss from his lips up his stubble covered jaw until your lips are right at his ear. "A girl also needs her secrets," you whisper.
You move quickly then, step back and out of his hands and start walking away before Jack can tighten his grip on you. Both of you know that you'll tell him everything you like to imagine at some point and that you already have told him some of those things.
Still. He doesn't get to know now like he wants, just has to imagine what you imagine. Jack whines over-dramatically as you walk away. "Tease!"
You finish throwing in a final stitch and glance up at the monitor while Garcia watches the field. The numbers start to stabilize as she announces the field is staying dry. You nod at her as you step back so that the others in the room can get ready to move the patient up to the OR quickly now that he's stable. You pull off your gown and gloves as they wheel him out, throw them in the biohazard bin, let out a long breath and then walk out like nothing happened.
Like Jack isn’t standing there in the vestibule between the two trauma rooms absolutely fucking losing his god damn mind.
Jack was in the vestibule with the doors open long enough to have heard and seen everything that just happened, to watch you pull whatever the fuck that was out of thin fucking air and save the patient from what had appeared to be close to certain death in the Pitt, give him at least a shot in the OR. Everything you do is hot in Jack's opinion. But that, that has to be one of the top ten hottest things you've ever done, that he's ever seen.
He understands your desperation from earlier when you got him to follow you into the supply closet. Because Jack needs you. Now.
You're just so fucking hot. Physically, yes, always of course, and you're wearing those scrub pants that he absolutely fucking loves because of how they make your ass look, and the cut of your scrub top emphasizes your curves in all the right places and with the bra you're wearing your tits look fucking fantastic.
But your intelligence and your capability are just as fucking hot. That was so fucking smart. You are so fucking smart. Jack doesn't think he'd have come up with that on the fly like he heard you tell Garcia you did, that you didn't read about it somewhere. You were so textbook in certain ways and creative in others, controlled in your approach but flexible and willing to fully commit and go for it to save your patient.
Realistically a small percentage of doctors probably have the skill set to do something like you just did under the kind of pressure you did it under even knowing what to do in advance, much less come up with the maneuver and adapt it as needed mid-trauma. But you did. That was all you. His girl. His woman. His wife.
And so he needs you, is already hard for you and knows he won’t be able to stop walking or anyone who looks at him will be able to see, knows the movement will hide his prominent hard on.
He turns back to the trauma room he had been in and stalks out of it with his face set, shaking his head to himself slightly. He's trying to set up his irritation in case you're out at the hub and see him walking out. Like you he feels bad using a bit of a ruse to get you to follow him but he makes sure he seems irritated and frustrated with the world and not you, though, also like you, he figures you might start to think it's at you. He'll straighten out any confusion you might have very quickly.
You are at the hub when Jack walks out of the trauma room and because you seem to have a radar for him you look up and find him easily, smile automatically just at seeing him like he did with you before you furrow your brows a little at how done with the world he looks. Did something happen? Did he get bad news about Hiro? Did you do something?
Jack's eyes find yours and he shakes his head subtly and you can see him let out a breath. He flicks his chin, a silent request for you to follow him. A request you follow without a second thought, walking off after him.
Given the fact that you did the same exact thing to him hours ago, the thought should probably occur to you that Jack is doing the same. But it doesn't because you're just not thinking about it, at least in part because you haven't done anything to earn a reaction from Jack that's similar to your reaction to him earlier today.
"Baby?" you start as you follow him in. "What-"
Jack is quick, predatorily quick, and so before your mind has a chance to catch up with anything you hear the click of the lock as he locks the door and find yourself pushed back up against the wall exactly where you were earlier, Jack's hand behind your head so that you don't hit it from the force of him nearly pinning you to the wall in one swift motion.
It steals your breath, as does the way Jack drops his head and looks at you, hazel eyes blown and almost glowing in the low light of the closet.
"You have no fucking idea, do you?" Jack laughs under his breath. "Not a single fucking clue how hot that was."
"What was?" You're still a little breathless and the sound sends a shot of pleasure through Jack, has him throbbing against his boxer briefs and cargos as he bites his bottom lip.
Jack releases his lower lip from between his teeth. "That move during the trauma. The one you just pulled out of fucking thin air."
"Oh." You laugh softly and shrug. “I was just doing my job.”
"Feel that?" Jack grabs one of your hands and brings it down and holds it over his cock, grinds his hips up against you so that you really feel how hard he is. "That's what it did to me. That's what you did to me. Your intelligence, your capability. That was so far beyond just your fucking job, Sweetheart." Jack releases your hand and kisses you hard. When he pulls away he brings his hands to your face and holds it gently, something tender to it. "That was… Only a small percentage of doctors could pull off that move if they'd been taught it, knew how to do it going into a high pressure situation like that. And you fucking came up with it off the cuff, in the middle of a fucking trauma with the pressure of knowing your patient's life likely depended on it, having to adapt and be willing to change course but also stay committed."
He drops his hips and presses into you to pin you to the wall as he kisses you again, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth when you give him the chance. You moan into the kiss softly which pulls a much louder groan from Jack who drops his hands from your face to run down the front of you and palm and squeeze at your breasts. Your hands unsurprisingly find his curls and tug at them as Jack rolls his hips against you hard.
Jack breaks the kiss for some air and trails his hands down to hold your hips as he kisses and sucks lightly at your neck, his stubble teasing your skin and making you whine for him. "You're going to publish that and we're going to go to a conference and everyone in the whole god damn room is going to want you. As a doctor and as a woman. And you're fucking mine."
"Yeah, I am yours," you pant softly. "Always will be Jack."
"I know," Jack almost growls into your neck before suddenly pulling away from you, his face leaving your neck and his hips leaving yours.
Before you can start to ask why or what happened one of Jack's hands is at the waistband of your scrub pants pulling the bow of the drawstring free and then trying to slip inside.
"Jack," you laugh breathily. You love when he gets like this, you really do. But he was right earlier and nothing has changed. And you're so fucking close to being done with your shift. As much as it pains you, you bring one of your hands down and wrap it around his wrist to stop him from sliding his hand down your pants. "What was it you said earlier? Calm down."
"I'm perfectly calm," Jack hums as he uses his other hand to cup your pussy over your pants and start rubbing, blindly seeking out your clit with his thumb. You can't lie, it's infuriatingly attractive when he succeeds in finding it in only a matter of seconds when most men couldn’t find it if you were naked and brought their finger right to it.
"Oh but when I try to suck you off or get you to fuck me in the supply closet I'm not calm?" You grab his other wrist with your other hand and pull his hand away. Really, Jack lets you do it. He could easily keep his hand there against your pull.
Jack whines a little and shakes his head. "You're thinking entirely too much, Baby."
He kisses you again before you can respond and you melt into it even more this time, release his hands for them to roam his body so yours can roam his as you make out. Jack thinks back to his earlier idea, sticking his leg out for you to grind one out on while giving him a handjob. There's also still the option of bending you over and taking you from behind as you hold onto a shelf. He could kneel and throw your legs over his shoulders to start with, get you nice and worked up and wet for him with his tongue.
"Jack," you murmur against his lips. "We can't." You're so close to being off, just have a few more things to do in your last ten minutes and then hand off and you can hopefully get out of here on time or at least within thirty minutes of on time, but not if you stay in here with your husband, as much as you want to.
You're both just as keyed up and needy and ready for each other as you were when you found yourselves in here earlier. If anything you're even more keyed up and needy and ready for each other because you've both spent the last however many hours thinking about finally getting home and having the other.
"Why not?" Jack mumbles against your lips.
You let out an airy laugh. "Because…" You realize you don't really have an answer other than you're at work technically still on shift for another ten minutes. But you sure were ready to fuck him while on shift earlier. "It'll be better at home," you offer weakly as Jack kisses you again.
"Both," Jack mumbles against your lips. "We can do both. I'm not opposed to both, I'm more than happy to have you both here and at home." He brings his lips back to your neck, makes sure his stubble scratches at your skin with just the right pressure to tease you again, his teeth nipping at you occasionally this time.
"Jack," you breathe, a hard shiver of pleasure running up your spine. "Let's finish here so we can go home."
"I'm all for finishing here," Jack murmurs into your neck.
You have to laugh a little at his comment and his ability to make something so innocuous a double entendre. You can feel Jack smile against the skin of your neck and he nips at you one last time before groaning.
"Fuck," Jack sighs into your skin. He knows you're right the same way you knew he was right earlier no matter how much you disliked it. "You're right, I just don't wanna stop," he pouts as he pulls away from your neck to look at you.
"Hey," you give him a soft, teasing smile, run your fingers through his curls. “We just have to survive ten minutes and however long it takes us to get out of here."
"Yeah, I guess," he half huffs half sighs playfully. "Still fucking sucks." Jack takes a small step back so that you can walk by him even though he wants to keep you right where he has you. "Go finish up, yeah? That way we can leave as soon as possible. I'll be out in just a minute after I chill out." He motions to his quite obvious erection straining against his pants.
"'Kay," you giggle with a nod. You give him one last lingering kiss before walking to the door. You pause there again and turn to him, smirking at him and winking as you unlock the door and go to walk out, repeating his own words back to him. "Good to know I can still get to you after five years together."
Jack closes the front door of your shared townhouse behind you, locks it and flicks on the lights and sets his backpack next to yours on the credenza as you finish toeing your shoes off and moving them on to the shoe rack with your feet. He wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you to him, his hands settling on your hips as yours splay across his chest, an amused smile pulling onto your face, eyebrows raising slightly. "Now, where were we?" he murmurs, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, his eyes smoldering as he looks down at you.
You tilt your head and smirk at him, the most caring edge to it. There's quite frankly absolutely fucking nothing in the world you want more than Jack right now. But. "I was thinking on the way home. You have to be absolutely exhausted from the heat, Jack, and sore. Let's get you a shower and something to drink and in bed, yeah? We have all of tomorrow." You lean up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips.
Your concern is genuine of course, and if what Jack truly needs is in fact to shower and get in bed, you're all for that. But you know that's not what he needs, nor what he wants. You just like making him work for it a little, know he likes the element of what almost feels a bit like chasing you.
"Oh, no," he laughs under his breath, shakes his head at you once. "You can't get me that wound up at work twice and then nothing."
Jack gives you the slightest nod as he finishes speaking, one so subtle only you would be able to see it. It's a nod he doesn't need to give you because you already know but he does anyway. A nod that says actually you could do exactly that. You could tell him no right now and he'd respect it and stop, that you don't owe him a single fucking thing and that while yeah, he loves this game and knows exactly what it is, he'll stop in a second if that's what you want or need.
You hum a little and your smirk grows. You shrug. "I mean I didn't get you wound up the second time."
He clicks his tongue. "Right, right," he drawls, hands sliding from your hips to your ass and squeezing. "Just like I didn't get you wound up the first time."
"Well," you take in a deep breath and step closer to him, and then closer again so he has to take a step back and another and another until you have him pressed up against the wall just like you did earlier at work. You both know it's exactly what he wanted. "I don't know, Baby," you murmur, syrupy sweet, "I'm not sure you can afford to lose the sodium."
Jack's eyes close slowly and he takes in a deep breath through his nose, his face turning just slightly as you giggle. The sound makes his cock throb hard against the confines of his boxer briefs and cargos, makes him get even harder for you somehow.
He still tries to keep it up though, lets out a long sigh. "A cum joke," he mutters, "oh my fucking god."
"I don't think it was that much worse than your 'I'm always armed for you' cock joke." He can hear the smirk in your voice.
He opens his eyes and looks at you and shrugs, the smile he's trying so hard to hold back peeking through in his crows feet. "It was effective, I guess. Mood ruined. No further sodium loss will happen. Let's go shower and get in bed."
You smirk and give him a look that says oh please, take a step even closer to him, your bodies pressed a little more firmly together now. One of your hands runs down his chest and abdomen, fingers skirting just under his waistband to tease him before your hand continues down and starts rubbing his fully hard and aching cock over his pants.
Jack takes in the slightest sharp breath, his hips canting against you a little before he catches himself. "You sure about that Dr. Abbot?" You find just about where the ridge of his head is and start rubbing your thumb over it, relish in the way his breath catches in his throat and you watch his eyes blow a little more as you hold his gaze. "Because I'd really, really love to have your cock in my mouth and throat."
"Fuck," Jack groans quietly, cock twitching at your insinuation that you want to take him all the way.
"I had this whole nice little plan too," you fake pout, feigned disappointment playing on your features. "Take you to the couch and get your leg taken care of and then get you to just sit back and relax and let me do all the work so you don't have to further exert yourself." You shrug and pull your hand off him, sigh dramatically. "But I guess if I ruined the mood-"
"Cock first," Jack interrupts you, missing your attention to his cock. "And yes it's okay, my leg is okay, I promise, it can wait for this." He needs you, the pleasure already racing through him so fast and so intense that he swears to god he's going to embarrass himself after five years together, three of them married, by coming a second and a half after you get your mouth on him.
You cock your head slightly, furrow your brows in confusion. "What? I don't…" you trail off, shaking your head.
"Cock first. Right here. Cock first and then deal with my leg," Jack pants at you, one hand leaving your ass to start trying to get his pants undone.
Your brows furrow further. You do a good job of keeping yourself neutral as you fuck with him again. You understood what he meant the first time he said it. "What?"
"Cock first and then leg," he repeats. "Suck my cock first and then we can deal with my leg."
"What?" you ask again, the question obviously feigned this time as a smirk ghosts your lips.
Jack rolls his eyes at you and you giggle. "Oh jesus christ woman," he brings his hands to your shoulders and pushes down on them with just the right amount of pressure, "get on your knees and suck my fucking cock."
You beam up at him as you unbutton his pants and start to sink to the floor, nodding. "Sir, yes sir," you smirk as you settle on your knees and pull his pants and boxer briefs down far enough in one go.
"That was terrible- fuck!" Jack's hips buck slightly at the absolute jolt of pleasure your lips sealing around the head of his cock and sucking hard sends through him. You expected it, move your head back in time with the motion so that he doesn't get to shove himself any further into your mouth or throat yet. "Oh fuck!" Jack groans in pleasure as he looks down at you taking his cock in your mouth.
Your head bobs up and down him shallowly at first, taking a little more of him each time but only by a centimeter or less. You love almost teasing him with it, love building it up achingly slow for him.
Once you're worked up to sucking his cock in earnest you make sure to prolong it, suck him hard and how he loves and how you know makes his mind hazy with pleasure, but back off when you know he's close until you can feel his lower abs twitching. It's your sign that he's not going to be able to last much longer with this long of a fuse for you to work with until he comes. It's your sign that he needs it.
You pull your mouth off him, swirl your tongue around his head and use the tip to flick at his frenulum. "Fuck Baby," Jack breathes, voice shuddery with pleasure as he groans softly and leaks a drop of precum for you that you're quick to clean up with the tip of your tongue at his slit before taking half of him back in your mouth. "Oh shit," Jack pants hard, a soft thump of his head hitting the wall as it falls back in pleasure, his eyes closing as he focuses on and loses himself to the sensation of your mouth around him.
You let your eyes close so that you can focus on the feeling of him in your mouth and every little groan and moan and sigh of pleasure you pull from him as you continue sucking him off like your fucking life depends on it. Eventually you're able to hear and feel Jack pull his head back up and know he's looking down at you again. Your eyes flutter open and you smile around him when you make eye contact, take more of him than you have all night as you look up at him through your lashes.
"God I can't believe I get my cock sucked this fucking good on a weekly fucking basis," Jack rasps, his cock twitching in your mouth. "Multiple times a fuckin' week."
You hum around him as your head moves back down him and then back up. You pull all the way off him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock that earns you a keened whine from him. "I can't believe I'm lucky enough to get to suck your cock on a weekly basis," you pant softly, move your lips closer to him so they flutter against his head with your next words. "Multiple times a week. I'm," you press a kiss to the tip of him, "so," another kiss about halfway down the top of his shaft, "lucky," a final kiss right at the base of him, your nose brushing against the silvery happy trail you adore so much. You drop your mouth and stick your tongue out, lick a hot stripe up the underside of him from his balls to his tip and then take him back in your mouth again.
"Yeah," Jack sighs all breathy, a heavy groan to it and a bit higher pitched than normal. "Yeah," he breathes out, "yeah, you're so good to me."
You hum around him again, suck as hard as you can as you pull up his cock. Jack almost laughs a groan, because how is this his fucking life, how is he so lucky. His ability to think with any level of clarity is truly starting to go as you quite literally suck it out of him. "Can't believe I'm married to someone as hot as you. As fucking…" he trails off as the pleasure your mouth brings him overwhelms him. "As," he tries again, "as…."
Very carefully and very, very lightly you scrape your teeth up him on your next pass and Jack shivers hard at the flood of intense pleasure that rushes through his system. You wrap your left hand around half of him, make sure that your wedding band and engagement ring that you put back on during the trip home are on top for him to see since he brought up being married, suck on him a little more shallowly as you stroke the rest of him.
"Oh I love you," Jack groans, watching your rings that tell everyone who sees them that you’re married to him sparkle in the light against his cock, your mouth a heaven he knows for a fucking fact he doesn’t deserve, and one you give him so, so freely. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."
You're not sure why but for some reason that's always one of the hottest things Jack says to you while you're going down on him. I love you. It never fails to get to you.
You double down on your efforts and Jack lets out a strangled groan. "I'm gonna come, Baby," he pants hard, voice pure gravel. "Gonna come, where do you…where?"
Jack knows you really don't love swallowing all that much. He knows you'll do it from time to time and that you don't mind when you do because you're always the one that tells him to, who brings it up and offers to do it. And there is something so fucking attractive and hot to you about the way he knows that and always remembers it and acknowledges it and asks and never pressures you or 'accidentally' comes in your mouth 'because his orgasm surprised him.'
You let your eyes flutter closed for a few seconds and focus on keeping your throat relaxed as you take Jack all the way, gagging just once or twice before your nose is nuzzling into well kept gray hair. It's you telling him he can come in your mouth. Both of you know it.
"Yeah? You sure?" Jack's eyes search yours as his chest heaves and your head moves slowly up and down him. There's no hesitation to be found, no look that tells him you don't really want to but are doing it for him. Your eyes tell him you're more than okay with it, that you want this for him and for you.
But at the same time you can read in Jack's eyes that he wants more verbal confirmation. You nod as you pull off him, keep your lips right against his head. "Just let go for me Handsome, yeah?" you pant softly, give him a smile so breathtaking and beautiful and sexy that he's honestly impressed he doesn't lose it immediately.
You suck on his head once or twice and then bob your head up and down him all the way once. "Baby," Jack breathes. "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come." You work your mouth down him all the way again and let your nose nuzzle into him again before you swallow around him and bring one hand to play with his balls and Jack is fucking gone.
He comes down your throat with a loud groan of your name, watches for a few seconds before his head tips back in pleasure and hits the wall gently again. Your name and a flurry of curse words drip off his tongue just before the praise starts and continues through his orgasm.
"You're so good," Jack pants, unable to catch his breath as his orgasm starts to ebb. "Oh, fuck Sweetheart you're so good, so good for me."
Tunnels start to set in at the edges of your vision as Jack finishes coming. You know he'll lose his fucking mind if you pass out so you start to pull off him, coughing a bit once he's out of your mouth and choking on air as you try to breathe it in too fast, your hands flying up to cling at his shirt to help you stay upright with the momentary dizziness that sets in. It feels fucking good if you're honest, being that light headed.
"You okay?" Jack is quick to ask, bending slightly so his hands can wrap around your forearms to help steady you. "And you sure you were okay with that? Me coming in your mouth?"
You have to laugh, let your head tilt forward to rest on his lower abdomen for a second before you look up at him. "Well, it was really more my throat now, wasn't it Baby?" You nod at him. "I'm sure. And I'm so much more than okay Dr. Abbot," you laugh a little more. "I'm fucking great."
Jack pants a laugh with you and nods. "Good." He helps you back onto your feet and pulls his pants and boxer briefs up but doesn't bother rebuttoning his pants, knows they'll stay on enough to get him to the bedroom. He kisses you as hard and deeply as he can with how hard he's still breathing. You smile against his lips and pull yours from his, move them to kiss at his face and neck and clothed chest as he comes back down. "Go get on the bed for me Sweetheart," he tells you once he's recovered and his breathing is mostly back to normal.
You pull your lips from his scruff and give him a look with a little smirk. "It was cock first, leg second," you remind him.
Jack half whines at you. "I meant to say cock first, pussy second, leg third."
You shake your head at him. "Not after today, Baby," you murmur. "We're going to take care of your leg and shower and then get in bed."
He pulls his lips down in consideration and nods once. "Alright," he acquiesces, "I like the sound of bed."
"Get in bed and sleep. You don't need to exert yourself any further today," you clarify for him with a look. But nothing about you right now is particularly firm or serious, not your tone or your expression. You're not quite fucking with him all the way because your concern is genuine of course, and he knows if he truly needed to just take care of his leg, shower and sleep, you'd be more than okay with that. It's more like you're protesting half-heartedly to give him that chance to chase you a little how you both love for him to do sometimes, the chance to persuade you to give yourself over to him. "You've already done more than enough for me, Sweetheart. I know you're sore and exhausted from the heat and then working at the Pitt for hours and getting grazed."
"I'm okay," Jack nods at you, rests his hands on your hips and kisses the tip of your nose. "I promise."
You rest your hands on his chest again and rub a little. "I know and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Sweetheart, having sex with my wife isn't going to make me not okay," Jack laughs, but it’s not at you. "You really think we're going to sleep this early?" This time it's him who gives you a look.
"We have tomorrow off, all day and night for things," you murmur, push up on your tip toes and give him a kiss.
"Exactly! We don't have to be up early! We can do whatever we want tonight and sleep in as late as we want tomorrow, spend as much time lounging in bed as our hearts desire." Jack's hands slide down to your ass and squeeze and don't let go. He pushes off the wall and takes a step forward that you match by taking one back. "And if you don't want me to exert myself you could fuck yourself on me, yeah?" he murmurs lowly as he starts to slowly walk you backwards to your bedroom. "Be in control for the night."
"There's not even a good position, Jack. You need to keep weight off your shoulder and back." It's not even a half-hearted protest anymore.
"It's okay, I promise." Jack nods slowly, his eyes locked on yours but still able to check the path in front of you to make sure it's clear and you won't trip over anything. He loves the way you trust him completely, unthinkingly, know he won’t let you trip or run into anything or hurt yourself.
You know he'll be fine if he exerts himself more or puts weight or pressure on the area he was grazed, you just worry. But he's caught you and you know he knows by that fucking smirk he's wearing. "Why do I have a feeling whatever position we start in is going to end up with you on top of me sucking as many hickeys into my chest and the top of my tits as you possibly can while you fuck me damn near as hard as you can into the mattress?" There's an obvious strain of longing and lust to your voice.
The question gives you away, whatever position we start in means you will in fact be starting, and it confirms for Jack that he's got you and that you're looking forward to it. "Because I'm just in that kind of mood for you and you know me well enough to be able to tell just from our conversation and my expressions and body language." His smirk deepens. "And I won't be fucking you damn near as hard as I can into the mattress. There won't be any near to it, I'll be fucking you as hard as I can into the mattress, until you are begging to come on my cock."
You let out a shuddery breath and shiver, swear you can feel yourself get wetter for him at your words. Jack flicks the light on as you hit your bedroom and shuts the door behind him, stops walking with you once you're at the side of the bed. "You don't have to make me come just because I made you come, Jack."
"I know," he nods, grabs the waistband of your pants and underwear and shoves them down as far as he can get without breaking eye contact with you. "And it's not about that. I'm not trying to play it tit for tat." One of Jack's hands slips between your legs and he tilts his head and smirks at you when he feels how wet you are, slides one finger and then a second inside of you with ease, stealing your breath. "I haven't stopped thinking about fucking you since the supply closet, the first time. And I'd really like to go down on you before fucking you into the mattress as hard as I can as you put it."
You clench around his fingers, couldn't stop from doing so if you'd tried. "I," you gasp slightly, Jack's smirk deepening as he makes a come hither motion with his fingers inside of you. "I suppose the oxytocin from another orgasm will help you with pain relief and healing."
"Yeah," Jack agrees in that breathy, slightly higher pitched tone he uses sometimes. "Yeah. It will. So will the oxytocin I'll get from having my tongue in your cunt."
"Jesus, Jack," you breathe, thoughts of feeling his stubble between your legs and his tongue on your clit and inside of you so heady you almost feel dizzy. "Fuck, okay. Okay, yeah. If that's what you want and need, Jack, yeah. Please."
Jack hums a single laugh, eyes sparkling and smirk still on his handsome face. "I think it's what you want and need too, Beautiful." He pulls his fingers from you and brings them up so that they're between your faces and you can both see how wet you are for him. "In fact, I know it is." And he's right, of course. It has been this entire time even though you've been making him chase you and work for it a little. Jack makes a show of sucking his fingers clean, groaning at the taste of you. "Now be a good girl and stay still while I strip you, okay?"
I need him so badly I could scream about it forever. He's just so 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠. I love him. 😭 I hope it was okay and enjoyable!! Thank you so much for reading and for all of your support! ♥️ I love hearing your thoughts and comments! ♥️
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