We all have weird hobbies, right? Jack finds out about what you’re doing outside of work
menace!jack x menace!resident!reader | prev ⋆ masterlist ⋆ next
"Jesus fucking Christ," you hiss as you snap the curtain close. "Talk about indecent exposure, gonna give Robby a heart attack flaunting those around."
Jack is stunned into silence, his muscles contracting as your voice processes through the leftover adrenaline coursing through his body. He's contorted awkwardly, trying to clean a wound on his back that he clearly can't reach.
He doesn't chuckle at your joke, doesn't do more than shyly try to cover himself up a little, as if hiding away something that he broke after being explicitly told he shouldn't touch it.
He's honestly half expecting you to yell at him, invalidate his feelings and tell him what he's doing exposing himself to the line of fire is stupid or reckless.
But you don't?
"Gimme that," you hold out your now gloved hand.
He hands over the q-tip begrudgingly, body slightly relaxing as you step around him and roll the tip in the ointment jar again.
"You're not mad?" his voice is uncharacteristically soft.
Your brow scrunches in confusion. "Why would I be mad someone shot at you?"
There's a tinge of anger in your voice, and he can almost convince himself that it's directed at whoever dared try to hurt him.
He shrugs, as much as the purpling on his back will allow. "It's not exactly a...safe hobby."
You chuckle. "Yeah well, we all have weird hobbies, who am I to judge?"
Your nonchalance starts to scare him but the prospect of a new morsel of information that he can pick at takes precedence.
"We do?"
You still for a split second and he simply knows he pulled correctly.
"Y-yeah..." you clear your throat. "Shen collects Pokemon cards, Ellis runs marathons, Dana’s really into WWE, Robby…he's practically married to that stupid bike, you volunteer to get shot at—”
“And you?”
You smile, heart beating a million miles per second.
“I…am a perfectly well adjusted adult that likes to order takeout and watch trash tv after a long shift.”
He scoffs. “Yeah right."
You chuckle, setting the q-tip down and picking up a piece of gauze and scissors.
"Don’t worry, I’ll find out on my own.”
Now it’s your turn to laugh. “I mean, there’s nothing to find out, so…”
“Sure there isn’t.”
You don’t dignify that with a response, securing the gauze to his back before discarding your gloves.
You really shouldn’t have poked the bear, should’ve given him some lame, fake hobby that way he would not have spent the last two weeks hounding every single person that knew you just a little bit better than him for information.
Luckily, no one bit. And he was offering a lot of money for even the smallest morsel of information.
Fortunately for him, he wouldn’t have to work so hard to find it. Unfortunately for you, you really should’ve taken him seriously.
It happens at shift change three weeks later.
You’re there earlier than him, all of the student doctors huddled around you conspiratorially at the hub as you all whisper in hushed tones.
He pretends he doesn’t see it, gives you space and instead walks over to leave his bag in his locker, waiting for them to come to him.
And like a grizzly bear in the middle of a river patiently waiting for jumping fish, they all come to him in a swarm.
At first it's the usual chatter, excited to go home, running a bubble bath, nothing out of the ordinary.
But then he sees it.
Tucked and hidden beneath the arms of every single woman you know, and Whitaker, there’s a book.
It looks normal enough. Maybe you started a book club, hell knows Walsh tried that a few years back with zero success.
But then he notices something stranger.
None of the books have cover art. Only a title and an author name.
Jack knows nothing about books but even that’s weird to him.
So he waits patiently, saying hello, pretending to check his messages until one of them puts their copy down and he's able to take a quick picture of it.
Bingo.
You're already working the floor when he returns, unfortunately, which only gives him more time for the snowball to turn into a full blown avalanche.
He's actually giddy all through handoffs with Robby, the satisfaction of knowledge so close he can practically taste it.
The adrenaline from it keeps him going until the early hours of the morning when he finally has the chance to sit down and open up google.
Whatever he's already imagining is nothing compared to the sweetness that is connecting the dots.
At first he thinks he's projecting, maybe you're just working with the author, nothing major. You've never mentioned writing before, at least not directly to him or in passing.
But then he finds a TikTok from Dr. J where she's promoting a novel and it's enough for him to know.
He doesn't pounce right away with this information, however.
Instead he waits, patient and calculated, all the way until the launch of book one a month later.
He's not invited, obviously, but he doesn't need to be.
He preorders his copy and it arrives the day before the party, which you’ve taken off so you can go.
Meanwhile, he spends the entire shift reading, obviously disguising the cover with a sleeve from another book, one of Robby’s adventure ones.
To say he’s hooked would be an understatement.
Who knew you were this good? He certainly would’ve never guessed that you would be the one to write a book. He always guessed Javadi.
It isn’t until he gets to the first turning point that he’s introduced to the main love interest.
And boy does he let out a loud and boisterous laugh that has the entire ED coming to a stop.
He makes his move the next afternoon.
You're gonna be taking off for two weeks on a national tour, nine cities. And of course you’re starting it in Pittsburg.
The day shift has been posting stories congratulating you all day, which he knows because Trinity did him a solid a few months ago and introduced him to the joyous world of “fake” Instagram accounts.
He knows exactly where to go. Makes sure to be last in line before it gets cut off.
He’s in line for a total of twenty minutes. He can feel you visibly relax as you notice there’s only one more person left.
“Hi, who should I make this out to…”
Your voice trails off as your gaze lifts to meet his Cheshire smile.
“Motherfucker.”
“That’s no way to treat your fans,” he smirks, holding out his copy for you to sign.
Your eyes narrow, annoyance overflowing. You snatch the book from him, focusing on the blank page and start signing it.
“You know, when you said you had a weird hobby,” he starts, teasing and slick. “I never thought it was attached to a five figure deal.”
You scoff. “You make just as much working with SWAT.”
He chuckles. Touché.
You slam the cover shut, handing him the book back.
He grabs it but you don’t let go. You stay there, taunting the other for what feels like a short eternity.
Until Jack brings forward his other arm that had been hiding behind his back.
A bouquet of lilies, pink and white, your favorite.
You stammer, your grip faltering enough so that he can take the book from you and tuck it under his arm as if it’s an afterthought.
He steps forward, pressing the flowers forward until you finally snap out of your haze and grab them.
Tears swell in your eyes as you hold them close to your chest.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.”
You beam, cheeks heating up at the pet name.
“Thank you Jackie.”
“Do you want go get dinner?” He asks, suddenly timid. “Officially.”
The smile you give him is so bright it could rival the sun.
“I would love to.”
He waits while you say goodbye to the event organizer, take pictures with staff and literally take the time to thank every single person still standing.
By the time you’re done, he wraps an arm around your waist and walks you out of the little independent bookstore where the event was held.
“So…” he starts, pulling you closer into him. “This Jackson character—”
“Oh my god shut up!” You shove him, hard, but neither of you can help the burst of laughter that escapes you, your bodies drifting back to each other as you keep walking, hands interlaced together as he continues to tease.
a/n: your honor i love them
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