Prompt: Sunshine x Grumpy (except Dr. Jack Abbot MeowD is the sunshine)
AN: This man has whimsy out the wazoo and yesterday's ep cemented that (I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THE EPISODE PLEASE TALK TO MEEEEEE). Also I really liked writing this so if you wanna put this type of reader and Jack into more scenarios, send me your ideas!
I was editing this before that episode launched and it was finished in the flames of my sanity.
Masterlist // AO3 Version // Can be a prequel to this and this or as a standalone
On the surface, Jack seems grumpy. Older man with a lined face connoting a history of frowning and squinting, drawing attention away from evidence of a history of smiles surfacing in his dimpled cheeks. All too late, patients and staff alike find themselves expunging their first impression as Dr. Jack Abbot narrowed his eyes only to see an ultrasound better and frowned when someoneâs standard of care was in jeopardy.
Ellis didnât initially seek him out to show him the patient with a fork speared in her nose, but after his semi-composed âutensil specialistâ comment, she was sure to send him the photo. He did his duty as an attending to reprimand Santos for her REBOA yet managed to get in his praise from the âER cowboyâ perspective that he valued more.
âPerfect, keep it upâ, âsolid workâ, âyou got thisâ: his praise is succinct and earned which meant it was more impactful to each student and resident and nurse and tech and cleaner that he spoke with. The smile about his go-bag of medical goodies, the unshakeable faith in medicine and his staffâs abilities to do their jobs, his stupid jokes that got a reaction even during someoneâs darkest hour. His stoic expression and grey hairs barely hide the steadiness he provides to any setting heâs in. His half-jokes amuses him first and occasionally a few others in the room second, but the ladies and gentlefolk of the ER waiting room adore him for them. They're not the only ones.Â
Cue you, a pen with a chicken opposite the nib in hand and a notepad youâd let a paediatric patient decorate with glitter stickers, smiling at Gloria as she explains why sheâs ânot quiteâ responded to your recommendations for ER safety in the way youâd hoped. The smile didnât fade in shape or in supposed warmth, even as you replied:
âSpare me the grief of the âweâre a familyâ mentality, because if we were family, I wouldâve gone no contact long ago with the way the administrators are bullshitting us.â
Jack finds himself smiling as he listens in, already having finished with this chart and needing a thirty-second brain break. Your collected tirade reminds him of when you called â on his behalf â his prosthetist to discuss compensation after his new one had worn a bloody big blister into his stump only three hours into attachment.
Your smile is not indicative of your mood. Those who know you better understand and those who didnât could sense when âitâ was directed at them. Your gaze paired with your teeth is less of a sun-ray and more like a spotlight and theyâd been caught up against the chain-link fence with no way of surmounting the barbed wire over the top. All that is left to surrender to you in your watch-tower, hands above their heads, or else⌠well, the âalternativeâ is rather left unsaid.
Jack knows the smile without teeth is more genuine, reserved mainly for more vulnerable patients (often kids who were great bullshit detectors and more honest than adults) and himself.
Don't let the chicken pens fool, they were a tactic so that no one would steal them. Only one person had felt the wrath of that. Sweetest was replaced by sourness, a silent hand outstretched and expecting the pen back with an apology â which you received and continued with your day without further impediment in that department.
The fear of any deity a med student has entering the ER is replaced by the fear of disappointing you. Not to mention if someone does something that sank that smile from your face, because before then at least you had wherewithal to maintain a veil of professionalism. Your true expression surpasses the bitchiest of resting bitch faces. The idiot who made you stare icy unrelenting cold into their soul is set on a long road to reclaiming even a foot on the ladder towards getting back in your good books. It wouldnât directly affect work. But so help them if they make eye contact with you across the ERâŚÂ Jack actually seeks that out because you don't look away when he catches the beam full blast. Neither does he, raising his brow as if to ask "who pissed in your cornflakes today?" from the safety of knowing that it's not him.Â
Never sugar-coating, you don't yell, only wield sarcasm to punch up, never down. Complaining is cathartic for everyone and you most of all. That doesnât prevent med students from tiptoeing around Trauma 1 with the speed and grace of professional ballerinas in hopes of avoiding your signature stare, of course. You wouldnât ever let this get in the way of patient care or a pupilâs learning - only pausing briefly if they asked a really, really stupid question... which was at least twice a day. This just ups the ante to conduct under. In fact, you respect those who werenât put off by the reputation your intensity had built more. Better to face the discomfort of approaching you for help with a consult than be blasted with the wrath of avoiding appropriate patient care because "they're scared". These are real lives at stake.
After a bout of complaints during your semi-overlapping piss breaks, Robby once argued that, if you were a little more approachable, perhaps this wouldn't be an issue. His comment instantly bit him on the ass when you reeled off the numerous occasions his students had fucked up royally despite his softly-softly approach with them (the male med students) and the other half of his flock that had thrived in spite of his absence or scolding (often the female students who banded together to survive). Your performance review of him sent him spiraling for a week to compensate for his "alleged" sexism. It did little to alter his teachings, but you still took care of his day breakers whenever they were shunted onto your shift.
When you do give praise, itâs like that person has gotten a Paul Hollywood handshake back when it was still sacred. Med students flock together and chatter excitedly over whoever was dubbed worthy.Â
These are adults here to learn or be healed and you to guide and do the healing. You don't coddle.
Well, you do coddle one person.Â
Jack watches you with unbridled pride channeled into a smirk as you finish off with Ellis, walking her through with your constructive feedback via the shit-sandwich method and getting Ellis to predict what she should keep doing. Your senior resident is about to fly the coop, but that pat on the shoulder you give her on your way out still sends her off with a spring in her step. Lena waves you out, a snarky comment between the two of you before you fall in stride with Jack for your end of shift routine:
You walk out (together), head home (together), eat and shower (together) and go to sleep with black-out curtains keeping the world away (together). There's little variants. Don't fix what isn't broken.Â
In the midst of your wind-down routine, Jack grumbles about the things he shouldnât as a boss to his subordinates â the finer details of meetings and policies and âin the worksâ protective measures, not the general disdain for the treatment of medical staff. Meanwhile, you listen whilst you whip up some dinner, offering appropriate sounds in response to Jack's unloading. Batch cooking saves your life on the regular.
He finishes his tirade with a sigh, sipping his drink before bringing out the big guns: âHeard you being nice to Mohan about her work on that encephalitis patient. When are you going to defrost for me?â
âOh, Iâm sorry, didnât realise you ran on compliments as well as protein bars and bench-pressing my weight in cast iron. Isnât it enough that I feed you?â Another complaint, but this one has no burn to it.
Jack's version of puppy-dog eyes whilst you dish up flood you with endorphins. With a sarcastically grumpy eye roll, you tilt his chin up and kiss him with the exhaustion and yearning the day had built up.
âSatisfied?â You slide a plate in front of him.
âOne more?â
âGreedy guts.â And you are worse for feeding into his âbad habitsâ, pecking his lips once more (and again, except it's less of a peck and more of a snog) before getting stuck into your own meal.
Despite the fatigue, your and Jackâs fond smiles intermittently return throughout your showering: Jack rubbing your shoulders whilst soaking the soap bubbles off, you twirling leave-in conditioner into his hair, trying to convince each other to leave the hot water for the no-manâs-land discomfort of towelling off and getting into pyjamas.
Youâre resting your heads on fresh silk pillowcases in no time. Realistically, within the hour, youâll end up sharing Jackâs pillow, tucking up into that furnace of a boyfriend with a gratified sigh. But no one at work would ever know that.



















