#eczema

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Although the request mentions she pronoun, after I wrote the fic I realised I did not include any pronouns so it can be g/n!

TW/TAGs: eczema flare up, Jack taking care of you, reader embarrassed about their eczema

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: I will always use my platform to talk about important topics, so while we're on the topic of dermatology, I wanted to remind you all that there is so much underrepresentation and racism when it comes to skin conditions. Around 5% - 10% of images that appear in dermatology textbooks are on black skin, when there are approximately 1.4 billion black people on this earth. There is a huge diagnostic gap to this day, and this leads to mortality that is so preventable.

Let's never stop talking about inequality in healthcare, people. <3

@lacy1986

Keep track of your triggers. That's what the dermatologist kept telling you.

So you know to avoid them. She reminded you.

Make sure you follow the treatment plan. She hands you a piece of paper.

It's a new regime; I'm sure it'll work this time. She smiles softly.

Maybe you should have reminded her that this might have been your 5th visit this year, and you are currently on number three of a 'new regime', and your triggers? Was anything and everything. You couldn't possibly lock yourself up in a bubble now, can you?

Or maybe you can. Because today... today you wanted to lock yourself up and be miserable.

You woke up in pain, a throbbing sensation all over your skin, matching the beat of your heart. As you reach over to flick the bedside lamp on, you feel your skin tear just around your wrist, and you cry out in pain. This new regime must be working miracles, you think to yourself. As you turn the light on, you look down at your body and sigh. You have been scratching yourself in your sleep, and this time, you have drawn blood, and your nice bedsheets are now covered in red blotches. The patches that started appearing two days ago have now doubled in size, and not only are they red, but your skin is dry and discoloured. You are too scared to get out of bed because the patches that surround your knees are about to break, and you know it means a painful day for you. You opt to stay in bed, call Jack, who doesn't pick up, so you opt for Robby and tell him you won't be making it to work today. You are in no state to move, and the thought of applying sanitiser on your hands sent a nauseating feeling through you. A big tub of ointment sat right next to your bed, so you lathered it on all the broken and sore skin and lay back in bed. It gave you temporary relief, but this was nowhere near the end of your chronic illness.

Your phone rings just as you find a comfortable position, that doesn't irritate your sore skin patches.

"Sweetheart, where are you?" Jack has been worried sick when you didn't show up to work.

"I uhhh." You groan in pain as you twist around, "Didn't Robby tell you?"

"I'm sorry I missed your call, I got there and Robby said you weren't in and then you weren't answering your phone so I'm on my way to you now."

"No! no, no don't come here!"

"Why not?"

"You'll catch what I have!" you say quickly, kicking your legs in frustration, which is a big mistake because you felt the scabs around your knees tear.

"What do you have?"

"Uhhh, the flu!"

You could fool anyone in this world, but not Jack. "Yeah, you sound congested."

"I'm soo congested and sneezy."

"Sure, baby, sure." Jack murmurs, "Open the door."

"What?"

"Open... the door." Jack says slowly, "I'm outside."

"One sec" you hang up, throwing the phone to the side and getting out of bed as quickly as your body allows. You throw on a long-sleeved pyjama top and bottoms and walk over to the door. "Shit. shit. shit!" You take a deep breath, preparing for an act that you indeed have the flu.

"Morning, Jack."

He tilted his head to the side and sympathetically murmured, "Oh baby."

"I know," you fake a cough, "so bad."

"No, your eyes!" he reaches over for your face, gently tracing his thumb along your jaw line, "they're so sore."

"What?"

"Are you having a flare up?"

"No!" You brush his hand off and hurry off to the bathroom, which was yet another mistake. You take one look in the mirror, and there was no hiding your flare-up, because it was literally all over your face. Your eyelids are red raw and swollen. "Fucking shit balls!"

"Can you open the door please?" Jack says softly.

"Give me a minute"

"Are you hiding from me?"

"No...." You say defeatedly.

"That's lie number three this morning and it's not even 8am."

You open the door slowly, chin tilted down looking at the floor. "Sorry."

"Oh, you will be." Jack murmurs softly, lifting your chin up so you can face him, "You're embarrassed because you're having a flare-up?"

"Maybe..."

Jack clicks his teeth and shakes his head at you, "you're silly."

"I'm sorry for lying."

"Nothing to be sorry about my love, now let's take a look at your skin."

"No! No, I've managed it all on my own. It's fine."

"Huh...Promise?"

"Uhhh..."

"Thought so. I did wonder why you're wearing long-sleeved pyjamas when it's literally summer. Couch or bed?"

This was certainly a battle in which you are not going to win against your boyfriend who is overly protective and never stops being a doctor, "Bed..."

He wraps one strong arm around you, pulling you closer to him as he leads the way to the bedroom.

"Sit."

"Yes boss."

"Can I take off your clothes?"

"Oooo you usually never ask." You tease him and Jack in response, chuckles and blushes. "Are you blushing right now!"

"Shush you. Dont turn me on mid crisis. Clothes off, c'mon, I'll help." He gently takes off your pyjama bottoms first, watching your face as it winces with every movement. "This is a bad flare up."

"Mhmm."

"What have you used so far?" he leans closer, examining each patch, and you feel yourself starting to tear up in embarrassment.

"Just an ointment..."

He sits on the bed next to you and slowly helps you take off your top, carefully examining each sore and broken patch of skin. "Let's get you in the bath, and then we're gonna help soothe the skin. How does that sound?"

"You don't have to help..."

"Oh we're being super silly today" he says sarcastically, "i'll just sit on the side and be useless then, shall I?"

"I feel disgusting... and I look horrible."

Jack leans in, gently moving your face toward him, "Do you think I'm going to love you any less because of an illness?"

"I just...don't want you seeing me like this." You turn away from him again, wiping the tears that are now rushing down like a waterfall.

"Baby look at me."

"No..."

"Okay, I'm gonna run you a bath, and then we're gonna talk about why you're so wrong." Jack presses his lips against your cheek. "Just remember that I love you for who you are, however you come. I don't not love you on bad days."

Moments later, Jack tells you the bath is ready, and he helps you carefully sit on the edge of the bath as he wipes the ointment off your skin first. "So the ointment creates a barrier... locking the moisture in." He explains softly, "and we need the skin to not have a barrier before you sit in the bath."

"Yes, doc." You run your hand through his curls as he attends to your skin.

"We'll moisturise when you're out of the bath." He helps you get in the bath slowly, and watches your face as it relaxes the moment the lukewarm water touches your skin. Jack sits on the other side of the bathtub, one hand in the oily water, massaging your skin, and the other hand resting on your arm.

"Feeling better?"

"Mhmm."

"Do you want me to leave?"

You shake your head, "I'm sorry for being silly."

"What are you even apologising for?" Jack murmurs softly, his hand gently rubbing the open wound on your knee, "You're in pain and ill, your feelings are justifiable. But what I don't understand is you hiding from me..."

"You know how people feel about eczema.. Some people look at it differently... like I'm disgusting and contagious."

"But I'm not these people, okay, baby? I will never think of you like that."

You both stay quiet for a while, Jack continues to massage the water against all the sore spots, and you find yourself so relaxed that you start crying again. He shifts closer to you, pressing gentle kisses to your lips, while one hand stays resting on your jaw.

"Shall we get back to bed?" he murmurs.

"Yes, please."

"Anything you need, baby."

He helps you stand up slowly, careful of you not to slip in the oily bath and wraps a towel around you. Every one of his moves is gentle and calculated, avoiding irritating your skin further, as he applies the various creams and ointments to your skin. He grabs one of your medical-grade eczema stockings, wrapping it gently around your arms and legs. "Close your eyes," he says, applies the cream around your eyes and, without another word, kisses your lips once more. "Beautiful."

"You sure about that?"

"A billion per cent sure. Breathtakingly beautiful."

"I love you, Jack."