#pittrauma

[ text: jack 💕] - I just left to go grab stuff work tomorrow

I'VE HAD ONE TOO MANY OF THESE.

That's the only explanation I have for this hallway moment. Carol's bachelorette party is still in full swing in the living room, mostly made up of women her age, and me, until recently. I slipped out after my third drink, running into the entertainment as he was making his way out after giving us what I thought was quite an enthralling show.

He's changed back into his regular clothes, which should probably make things better, but somehow it hasn't. Just different. He's still the young man I saw nearly naked half an hour ago, and that's not something I can simply stop noticing. Especially not with this much to drink.

We end up talking. About trivial things, like the party, the bride. Something about the neighborhood. The kind of conversation I wouldn't normally engage in, and yet I do. Finding reasons to. Not noticing when I start leaning in until he says something about it.

@pittrauma / Nick: "If you keep leaning in, I'm kissing you."

That should stop me. It does not. It has the opposite effect, actually. It makes me smile.

@pittrauma asked: “ I don't think my genes had any chance of winning. They're a spitting image of you. ” from andie to abbot

married life sentence starters | accepting

Jack chuckles softly, gently picking up the baby from its bed next to Andie. He moves the blanket away from the baby's mouth and coos softly at his child as he bounces and sways slightly in place.

"Yeah, right down to the freckles and the brown hair, but I bet they'll have your personality." He grins at Andie, teasingly. He moves over to her, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"do we have to?" she asks with a soft sound in protest. she does get up though. it's slow as she doesn't feel like she can move too fast right now. she reaches to offer her hand to help him up. "lets get to bed before i change my mind and make you sleep on the couch with me."

@pittrauma asked: I want a baby (from andie for jack)[she definitely wants another baby xD]

Send 'I want a baby' to see how my muse reacts. Or send ‘You want a what?’ for my muse’s reaction after having told yours the same. | accepting

Jack ducks his head under the shower, almost missing her speak. He jerks his head up, turning to look at her as he sits on his shower chair. "You want a baby?" He wipes away the water from his face as it drips down from his hair. His once curly hair was now wet and flat against his head.

Jack’s halfway through shrugging into his jacket when he hears it.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

The words land softer than they should in a room that’s been nothing but noise all shift—monitors, voices, footsteps—but now it’s quiet, just the hum of the lounge and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights. He pauses mid-motion, one arm still caught halfway into the sleeve, like something in him needs a second to catch up.

He finishes pulling the jacket on, slower this time, then turns to look at her properly. Really look. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—brief, but real—before it settles into something steadier.

“Okay,” Jack says, simple, grounded.

He grabs his keys off the table, rolling them once between his fingers before stilling, attention settling fully on her. “Then come with me,” Jack adds, quieter, like it’s the simplest solution in the world. “We’ll figure the rest out on the way.”

Robby doesn’t react to the pause. Not outwardly. If anything, he leans into the normalcy of it, expression easy and neutral like there’s nothing sitting under the surface. “Glad to have you,” he says, voice steady, measured, his gaze holding hers just a second longer than necessary, not enough to raise suspicion, but enough to confirm it for himself. It’s definitely her.

His attention shifts smoothly to Dana, giving a small nod like that’s the more relevant connection right now. “You’re in good hands,” he adds, tone professional, almost reassuring. “Dana runs a tight ship. She’ll get you up to speed faster than I will.” Then back to Jules, just briefly, the flicker of recognition buried again. “We’ll start you light. Shadow a couple cases, get a feel for the flow here. If you need anything, ask.”

Then, just enough of a glance to land without drawing attention, “Or don’t,” he adds lightly, the faintest edge of something under it, gone as quickly as it appears. And just like that, he steps back, giving them space, already turning his attention to the board like nothing about this just got complicated.

Jack’s already at the kitchen table by the time she starts in. Shirtless, hunched slightly forward, medical supplies spread out in a neat, practiced layout—gauze, sutures, antiseptic, everything he needs within reach. The overhead light is too bright, catching on the smear of dried and fresh blood along his side, the gash deeper than anything that could reasonably be called a scratch. He’s working one-handed, the other pressed tight just above the wound, controlling the bleed as he gets everything ready.

“You know,” Jack says without looking up, voice rough but steady, “I didn’t give you a key so you could come over and yell at me.”

He finally glances up at her then, one brow lifting faintly like he’s trying to make this lighter than it is, even as his jaw tightens from the effort of staying upright. There’s a flicker of pain he doesn’t quite manage to hide as he shifts, pulling his hand away just long enough to assess the wound again before grabbing fresh gauze.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he adds, like that’s going to help, like the blood on his hands and the table says anything different. "I’ve had worse.”