Fix The Attitude
pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader
summary: jack couldn’t stand you. not your smart mouth, not your attitude and definitely not how good of a nurse you were. he should’ve ignored it. instead, you had a way to get under his skin and ruin his controlled demeanor he spent years crafting.
content: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, age gap, no use of y/n, pet names, work romance, praise, probably medical inaccuracies, reassurance, slow burn, praises, mutual pining, tension, reader is a little bratty, night shift crew, a little day shift crew
word count: 5.9k
author’s note: i changed the appearance for this fic and i started writing with capitals like requested in my poll, tell me if you like it!!
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Most of the day shift staff were going home, making their goodbyes with a smile on their faces. Dana was always the last one to go. She had a long day, so you and Lena insisted on making her leave now.
“We can handle that,” you assured, taking the tablet from her hand. "Go home, Dana.”
“You’re probably right…” she started, feeling the exhaustion run through her body. “I’ll go rest. Have a nice shift, sweetheart!” she smiled while slowly fetching her things to head out.
This beautiful moment got interrupted by the voice of your attending.
“Got news on Central 8?” he asked as he walked toward the nurse's station.
“No, results are still pending. I would’ve told you if they weren’t.”
He checked on the patient’s chart before letting you know his speculations.
“It’s most likely anxiety. He had a crisis before.”
"There are no cardiac results yet,” you added to avoid categorizing every young person with anxiety without further proof.
“He’s 22 with generalized anxiety. He doesn’t need all of that.”
“He’s also diaphoretic and rates the pain an 8.”
“He was hyperventilating and Googled his symptoms multiple times before coming in. It is a panic attack.”
“Yeah, right, because Google is known to be reliable,” you argued. “I’ll just tell him Dr. Google was right and he’s having a panic attack, even if there’s no CT scan to confirm it.”
He leaned on the nurse’s station counter, ready to enumerate his thought process. “EKG is fine, no risk factors, no family history. What makes you think it’s not anxiety?”
“Did you actually see him recently? He looks worse than when he came in!”
He took a second to think about it before nodding.
“Alright, repeat vitals, wait for troponin, and we escalate if things are getting worse, better?”
At the same time, the labs came back. You looked at them, angling the screen toward you to avoid any possible glances from him. As you read them, it was clear that it was just a panic attack.
Jack immediately got it when he saw your reaction. He tried not to act cocky to respect your professional opinion, but it felt so good to shut that smart mouth from time to time.
“Panic attack?”
“Yeah… But I had good reasons to be unsure!”
He rolled his eyes, but a small laugh betrayed what he really thought. You knew he liked having people in his team who hypothesized about everything instead of treating without thinking.
“Good job, kid,” he finally admitted, leaving for another patient’s room.
Once you were left alone, you quickly ran to the break room to take an energy drink from the vending machine that you carefully placed beside your computer.
“Need you in trauma 2!” Mateo yelled from the room.
“What happened?” you asked, ready to help how you could.
As everyone gathered around the person you needed to treat. The night shift attending repeated what was said by the paramedics who had already left.
“19-year-old male, sudden onset of shortness of breath while playing basketball. No trauma. Vitals are HR 118, BP 112/72, RR 28, and SAT 93% on room air.”
Nazely made the decision to speak with the patient face-to-face in order to comprehend his condition. “History of asthma?”
“I have a mild one, but I have an inhaler.”
“Give him a NEB and some oxygen. It could be asthma exacerbation,” Abbot ordered, placing himself at the foot of the bed with his strong arms behind his back. He was prepared to take charge.
You listened to his chest before coming to another conclusion. “Breath sounds are diminishing on the right side,” you informed while trying to keep it proficient in front of the young man in the bed.
“It can still be bronchospasm,” he validated with his confident tone.
“Look at his stats. 91% on oxygen. Probably a pneumothorax.”
“Alright… Let’s ultrasound him then.”
He knew better than to uniquely trust his judgment, especially when it came to high-priority cases. You could really get on his nerves at times, but he’d never minimize your knowledge.
He asked the new intern to do the ultrasound while he talked her through it.
“Okay, a little more on the right, Dr. Toomarian. Now, tell me, what do you see?”
“It looks like a pneumothorax,” she replied with her eyes concentrated on the screen.
“Good, let’s set up for needle decompression,” he concluded, clapping his hands together before stepping away to let the doctors and nurses work their magic.
He turned to look at you. You were right and probably going to brag about it.
In fact, you wasted no time smiling and tapping his shoulder while leaving the room. Already too crowded to make yourself useful.
“1-1, looking forward to being right again!”
He shook his head and turned toward the team of professionals working on the young guy.
You walked to another patient for an IV line with your drink in hand.
A high school girl who had way too much to drink needed fluids because of dehydration.
As you helped her, you gave her some advice.
“Akari, you need to drink water when you take alcohol; otherwise, you’ll end up here again.”
“I know… I just wanted to get drunk, but it was too much at once, I guess,” she mumbled with a tired voice.
“Why did you want to get drunk?”
“I just don’t have any actual friends, and I just wanted to forget about it and go to a party. Ended up here…”
“I understand, but I hope you know that drinking won’t solve anything, right? I see too many people die because of alcoholism to let you go down that path. As for the friends part, have you tried to talk about it with a therapist?”
“She wouldn’t give me friends…”
“No, but she could help you deal with not having friends and how to find new ones. Friendships are hard to find and harder to keep. Don’t think that high school is the only place where you’ll meet people. I don’t talk to anyone from there.
“Really? Not even one person?”
“No, I was feeling lonely for a while, but it gets better. Now, I have friends from work and nursing school that I hold close to my heart.”
“I hope it’ll get better then,” she wished in a low tone.
You were already finished with her IV drip, and you thought about all the charting you needed to complete, so you excused yourself and left.
As soon as you were seated on the chair, Abbot was there.
“What are you working on?” he confidently asked as he sat down next to you.
“None of your business. Ellis is on the case, not you.”
“I’m her boss. Give me the presentation.”
“52-year-old male, chest pain for an hour, classic symptoms. He’s stable for now.”
You tried to focus on the computer in front of you, but his presence pulled your eyes toward him. You weren’t used to having anyone close to you while you charted.
“‘For now’ isn’t a vital sign. I need numbers, kid.”
You sighed and read the information written down previously. “BP 148/92, heart rate 104, O₂ 96. Do you want me to list his horoscope too?”
“No, but I need you focused,” he severely answered, making you raise your eyebrows. He never talked back like this when you were with him. “Sorry, my leg hurts… ECG?”
You ignored the topic of his leg, not wanting to bother him with that and not knowing how to even talk about it with him.
“I was about to do one.”
“You’re too late. Chest pains get an ECG in the first ten minutes.”
“I was busy! Since when are you the protocol police?”
“Since I’m now winning, 2-1,” he winked as you were trying to pierce holes through his soul with your harsh stare.
You headed to North 22 to see this 52-year-old man without a second word to Jack.
It was way longer than necessary because of how talkative he was. Your aluminum can was empty by the end, so you discreetly stole Abbot’s coffee cup from his desk. It was quicker than making one.
Unfortunately, he noticed by the second. He had sharp eyes for an old man. You barely had time to take two sips when he approached you from behind and smoothly removed the cup from your hand.
“That’s mine; you should ask permission,” he stated, drinking from the cup to prove his point further.
“It was left alone. Finders keepers, doc.”
“Your hands are shaking because of the energy drink you took. I’m not letting you have more caffeine.”
“You want to act like my dad now? I’m a grown woman; I can drink whatever I want.”
He suddenly got called for something else. It seemed like you were going to win this one.
──୨୧──
The end of the shift came quicker than you expected. You had to make an attending physician sign your charts; you usually went with Shen, but he was nowhere to be found.
“Lena, have you seen John? I need him to sign my chart of the night,” you asked your supervisor with a tablet in your hands.
“He’s busy in trauma 1. Why don’t you ask your other attending?” She pried with a knowing expression.
“He’s too strict! I would’ve had to edit everything until 2 pm if I made him look!”
She completely ignored you and grabbed Jack by his strong arm while he was passing by.
“There you are!” She exclaimed, guiding him towards you.
“You okay, Lena? Didn’t overwork yourself tonight?” He asked in his annoyingly caring tone.
“It was a long night, I’m happy to go home, now…” She started by adding the rest in a happier voice. “Talking about going home, you need to sign her chart!” She concluded before leaving you alone.
“I’m fine, I’ll wait for Shen,” you finished directly without making him utter a single word.
“No, I’m here, he’s not. I’ll review it,” he harshly pointed out, crossing his arms and holding eye contact to drive his point home.
“You’ll make me add and edit stuff! I want to go home.”
He held out his hand to get the tablet.
“Give it to me, kid. I don’t like to argue with you.”
“Watch me.”
You looked at him for a second, but your eyes felt too heavy, and your bed never felt so appealing.
“Okay, there you go, then. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Wow, you must be very tired,” he said, with a small smirk peeking out, starting to read what you wrote down for your patient. “Last time took us a good fifteen minutes.”
You rolled your eyes, but he gave back the tablet with his signature.
“How many hours did you sleep last night?”
“Well… It’s a little too personal. I don’t think we’re at this level of-“
“You spelled 'abdominal' wrong three times. Consider yourself lucky that I care about the well-being of my nurses.“
“Oh my god, you’re letting it slide, what’s happening to professionalism?” You asked in a fake, shocked expression.
“Go to bed.”
You nodded while packing your things in your bag.
“Do you have a drive home?”
“I’ll drive myself home like the grown woman I am.”
“No, you won’t,” he ordered like it was the most obvious thing on the planet.
“No?” You repeated.
“You’re not driving, I will,” he stated before walking to his locker, expecting you to follow.
“Heck no, you aren’t! You’ll try to kidnap me or even murder me!”
He stayed silent, but walked to his locker to get his belongings.
“I had a long day, can you cut it and come with me, please?”
“Fine…”
“Good,” he smiled while putting his camo backpack on his right shoulder.
You silently walked to his car. The hard work from your night is catching up to you.
“You did great out there,” he praised as he opened the passenger door for you.
“I know…”
He let out a soft chuckle at your usual cockiness. You could tell you weren’t the only one who was exhausted. As he got into the driver’s seat, you decided to address it.
“So… tough day?”
“Yeah, I had a woman who came in today with breast cancer.”
“Tough case, why did she come in?”
“Febrile neutropenia.”
“It’s common during chemotherapy. Why did it shake you like that?”
“Probably because it made me think about my wife. I miss her a lot.”
“Oh… Sorry… I… I don’t know what to say but sorry…”
“You’re good, I just needed to let it out,” he began, his hand tightening its grip on the wheel. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good, I couldn’t handle it,” he softly chuckled as he ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair.
“Okay,” you awkwardly answered.
He was seeing a therapist, and he had friends. What were you supposed to do?
He dropped you off at your place and agreed on a time to come pick you up tomorrow.
“6:40 tomorrow?” He asked with a gentler tone than usual.
“6:45.”
“6:43?”
“6:44.”
“Don’t push it, kid.”
“Okay, see you!” You finished before leaving his truck and getting to your apartment complex.
──୨୧──
He was there at 6:40 the next day, and you opened the passenger door at 6:45. He was fidgeting with his prosthetic when you entered.
“Hi, doc!” You energetically greeted him with a large cup of iced coffee in your hand.
“You’ve never looked so happy to see me,” he pointed out with a small smile, waiting for you to buckle up before starting the car.
“I know; extremely out of character. I just got a new coffee machine, and it’s my second one of the evening.”
“You’re not having more coffee than this one. I don’t want you having a heart attack at work.”
“You’re just afraid that I’ll be too great and treat all of my patients in record time!”
“…Or that your energy will completely fade and that you’ll need breaks every two minutes.”
“I’ve survived with more caffeine during med school! I’ll be fine,” you reassured while taking a sip.
He tightened his grip on the wheel and shook his head.
You entered the hospital with him close behind you.
“Quicker, we’re almost late,” he commands with a hand close to your waist without actually touching it.
“Time is a social construct,” you corrected with a small smile toward him.
“Go to reports.”
You went to see Dana and hugged her.
“Hey, sweetheart, slept well? Ate well?”
“Well and well, you?”
She chuckled and signed something before taking her bag from under the desk.
“Wow, we’re leaving at 7 pm? Who are you, and what happened to my favorite nurse?”
“Heard that!” Lena yelled from the other side of the emergency room.
“How?” You whispered to Dana, who didn’t care about it.
“My daughter’s back in town. We’re going to dinner together,” she explained, undoing her hair from her now-messy bun.
“Good for you, then! Have a great evening. I’ll have Princess update me.”
“She’s in North 10. Got thrown up on today. Go easy on her, she won’t handle you like Abbot does.”
Paramedics entered with Jack and a woman on a stretcher. He wasted no time giving Dana a presentation.
“34-year-old female, 20-foot fall from a ladder. No reported LOC and GCS of 15. Complaining of severe lower back pain and right wrist pain, unable to ambulate after the fall. Where do I put her?”
“Trauma 2 just opened!”
“Kid, you’re with me. Ellis and Henderson, too!”
You nodded, and everything went quickly from there. It was the usual trauma bay chaos. The only place where you could enter a state of deep focus. The paramedics shot the vitals and the important information before leaving as Abbot placed himself at the foot of the bed.
“Do a FAST exam, kid,” he ordered as he moved on to something else for someone else.
“FAST is clean. Love that for us,” you commented with a smile.
“Great, do another survey!” He commanded, shifting his weight from his working to non-working leg with a small groan.
You mentally noted his visible discomfort but continued to treat the patient until she got stabilized and sent upstairs.
As she entered the elevator with a crowd of medical professionals around her, you sanitized your hands and went to your attending.
“Hey, looked older than usual out there,” you joked as his eyes were on the TV to choose a new case to work on.
“Cut it and take a patient. Lena needs help. Day shift was busy and left us with the leftovers.”
“Fine, which case are you on?”
“Take your own.”
“Then, I’ll work on my snack case.”
“No, you’re with me.”
“Yay!”
He sighed and took a tablet.
“We’re going to South 5.”
“What’s in South 5?”
“55-year-old man with right lower quadrant abdominal pain, probably early appendicitis.”
You nodded and entered his room. Abbot introduced both of you. The patient looked normal if you ignored a mildly uncomfortable expression and a hand covering his right side.
You gave Jack a spinning chair to sit down, knowing that if he refused, it would prove your point further.
“No, I’ll do the physical exam now.”
“Right,” you replied, even if it wasn’t right. “Sir, can you rate your pain on a scale from one to ten?”
“I’d say a five, maybe a six when I move.”
“Nausea?” Jack asked as he inspected his abdomen.
“A bit, but nothing else,” he reassured.
You saw your attending wince as he needed to walk to the other side of the bed to inspect his other side.
Once the exam was done, you both walked to the nurse's station. Jack was next to you, but he remained slightly behind.
“Get him bloodwork, CBC, CRP, UA, start IV, and you can keep NPO. We’ll image after labs.”
“You’re limping.”
“I’m walking,” he corrected, but anyone could see that he was favouring his right leg to the absent one.
He leaned on his desk before painfully sitting down and starting his charting of the night.
“You’re limping like an eighty-year-old man!”
“I’m fine,” he finished.
“Get up then,” you ordered, wanting to prove your point.
“It’s- Fine,” he finally obliged and got up with a pained face that he couldn’t hide at all.
“Ok, supply closet, now,” you commanded with a newfound authority.
“Labs aren’t-“
“Jack.”
He looked around and saw how everyone was doing their tasks and minding their business. He felt hands on his chest pushing him toward the closet he’d prefer to avoid.
“Come on, grandpa, limp to the closet.”
“Oh, I know you did not just call me grandpa!”
“Dang, getting deaf too?”
He let out a dry laugh before hardly sitting on the floor of the supply closet with a tiny whimper.
You closed the door and kneeled beside him.
“Let me see,”
“I’ll treat it myself, you’re needed in North 9.”
“Let me help you for once. You’d do the same for anyone else.”
He paused and looked down at his leg with a sad face. Slowly, he pushed his pants up to uncover his prosthetic before removing it.
As he revealed the injury, you tried not to react. You’re a nurse, you’ve seen way worse. However, this time was different. It was more difficult to see. The skin was reddened, indicating a pressure ulcer, probably at stage 2.
“Don’t put anything in the charts.”
“And how can I be sure that you’ll get it checked?”
“I will… Hurts like hell,” he confirmed with a raspy voice.
“Yeah, that’s usually why people go see a doctor before it gets that bad,” you replied while putting on gloves and gathering saline and a sterile gauze.
“I was managing it.”
You stared at him, putting a little more pressure on the wound, making him wince.
“Every time I thought about taking time off to get it healed, I thought about why everyone needed it more than me,” he explained, looking back at you with soft eyes.
“You think being useful is the same thing as being worthy.”
He slowly nodded to take in what you were saying.
“It’s not,” you added.
You applied a bandage to his wound with extra padding before continuing to talk.
“You can’t walk the rest of the shift with that, you’re going home, doc.”
“I’m probably going to have some days off,” he said in a low tone to prevent his voice from cracking.
“And get it treated.”
He sighed, putting his prosthetic back on.
“I’ll call them once I get home.”
“Wow, we’re making progress here!” You congratulated him as you got up and gave him a hand to go the same.
As you opened the door to go back into the ER, you almost collided with Ellis. She paused, looking at the two of you in the small supply closet, and resumed as if nothing had happened.
“I don’t even want to know,” she started, grabbing saline from one of the shelves. “You’ll text me the details later, though,” she asked you as she went back in the patient’s room.
──୨୧──
It’s been some hours since your shift started, and you felt weird. His annoying presence didn’t feel annoying anymore, but needed. One morning, after work, you subconsciously drove to his place instead of yours. You only noticed when you were parking your car.
You walked there with furrowed eyebrows. You never went somewhere uninvited, and it was so inappropriate to go to a coworker’s place on top of that.
You didn’t have time to knock, and the door opened, you flinched at the unexpected movement.
“Hi,” you smiled, not sure about what to say.
“I saw your car in the parking,” he answered as you awkwardly nodded.
He was wearing black sweatpants with a black t-shirt that was probably too tight for his big arms. It felt strange to see him in something other than scrubs but also comforting in a way you couldn’t explain.
There was a silence. You were searching for any type of excuse to explain why you were there at 9am but there were none. You had his number; you could’ve texted.
“Come in, kid,” he invited in his gentle voice.
His apartment was spacious and a little luxurious if you were being honest. The doctor’s salary obviously came with some perks. It was very minimalist with not much furniture except the important ones. Some keys on the kitchen island and a yoga mat on his isolated patio were indicating he was actually living there.
“VA benefits are something… I’d join the military if I could get all this cash,” you commented while checking out his place.
“Don’t.”
“Come on! I wasn’t serious!”
“But I am. Do you want something to eat? I was going to make some pasta.”
“I’m not going to say no to a free meal. How’s your leg?”
“They gave me cephalexin“
“That’s not what I asked.“
“I can wear my prosthetic again.”
“Still not what I asked-“
“My leg is better.”
“Good, let me help you with dinner, I’m starving.”
“No, sit down and tell me how was work today,” he asked, secretly happy to have news from someone.
“There’s a new nurse in the night shift! Her name is Emma. She was in the day shift but she’s temporary switching to cover for Gabrielle because she’s going to Cancun for a week.”
“Good for her, she needed rest. You? You alright?”
“Yeah, I just feel empty without someone… It’s dumb because he’s always so annoying, but I think about him when something isn’t done his way,” you explained, feeling very vulnerable at the revelation.
“I think Gabrielle uses she/her pronouns,” he joked to make you feel better which gave you a small chuckle. “I’ll be back in three days. My leg’s almost healed and I can walk without pain.”
“That’s good to know… I edited my charts today. It’s crazy how much I make mistakes when I write.”
“Told you. With age comes wisdom,” he proudly announced while putting pasta in the boiling water.
“It also comes with dementia and Alzheimer.”
“I’m not that old, kid.”
You shook your head as you ran your fingers through your hair and untied them. They were messy from your hard night.
“Do you want to take a shower before dinner?” he proposed.
“…Is that your way of saying I smell?”
“You work in an emergency department.”
“Wow, just tell me I stink already.”
“Go, or it’ll be ready while you’re in the shower.”
“Don’t rush me!”
You felt a little awkward at the idea of taking a shower at his place but you still went in, desperate to feel clean again.
You unfolded a towel and wrapped it around you before realizing that you didn’t have any clothes to put on.
“Abbot?”
“Mhm?” he answered, concentrated on making the sauce.
“I forgot that I don’t have any clothes to wear.”
“Of course, I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized while going to his bedroom and looking through his wardrobe with you slightly behind him, looking over his shoulder.
“You barely have clothes!”
“Don’t lie,” he started, realizing that your observation might be true. He never felt like he needed more clothes. Most of his time was spent working in a uniform or sleeping.
“Okay, I don’t have tons but I have this,” he said before presenting you an old shirt with a university logo on it, probably one he had as a med student.
“Does it still exist?” you joked as you pointed to the uni’s name behind the shirt.
“Cut the crap, I’m not that old. Get changed while I make your plate.”
“Whatever you say but I’ll Google your uni after!” You said as he left you alone in his room.
You came back in the kitchen with his shirt and a pair of backup panties you kept in your purse.
“Do you want to eat on the couch?” He asked as he handed you your plate.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”
You were sitting together, just eating without a word.
“Long day?”
“Yeah, I just got an energy crash. Luckily, I’m off tomorrow,” you informed with a relieved smile.
“Glad to hear it. You need rest.”
“You do too…”
He paused and broke eye contact to eat again with a small nod.
“You can sleep here if you want. You know I won’t let you drive if you’re too tired.”
“Where would I sleep?”
“My bed. I can sleep here.”
“Okay…”
He didn’t say anything else and finished his meal before taking your now-empty one and placing it in the sink.
You walked into his room. The bed wasn’t made, but it still looked clean and inviting.
“I have a charger for your phone here, and I’ll be in the living room if you need anything; I’m here.”
“I know,” you smiled as he halfway closed the door.
The room was pitch black except for the small light coming from the rest of the apartment. You lay on the bed and closed your eyes.
──୨୧──
You woke up at 3pm, during the time you’d sleep in. You had a nightmare about a patient you had.
A young girl who came in after a car crash was in critical conditions. Fortunately for everyone, you were able to save her. However, you dreamt you couldn’t, and it hunted you.
The teachers at your nursing school and your fellow nurses were all wrong when they said that you get used to the idea of loosing patients. Very few understand that it takes a very good mindset to understand that it’s not your fault. It’s simply not something you could do. How could you move on from having someone die when you were the one insuring their safety?
You needed to get out of this room and do literally anything else to go back to sleep without continuing the nightmare so you walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
You saw your attending doing the same thing.
“Stealing my ideas, I see,” you commented while taking the glass he made for himself and drinking from it.
He didn’t say anything about it and took another glass.
“Nightmare?” He asked before taking a sip.
“Yes, you?”
“Nightmare. You want to talk about it?”
You thought about what to say but your eyes just watered, and you looked up to prevent the tears from falling.
“Come here,” he whispered as he opened his arms for a comforting hug.
“I’m so emotional, I’m sorry,” you apologized as you were crying in his chest.
“You don’t have to apologize for that.”
You quietly cried for a moment, and he slightly rocked you to soothe your saddened feelings. His shirt smelled like fresh laundry and a manly cologne with woody notes.
It felt natural to stay like that. Even when you finished crying, he kept holding you, resting his chin on your head.
“I put some snot on your shirt.”
He slightly pulled away to check what you were saying, but he was quick to brush it off. “I had way worse on me.”
“Me too, but still… It’s so embarrassing…”
“It’s not. Do you want to take a sip of water?”
“Yeah, good idea,” you immediately agreed to change your mind with anything you could find.
You took some sips as he ran his hand up and down your back to prolong his reassurance.
“Do you want to go back to bed?” He asked with a low voice.
“I don’t know…”
“Do you want to watch TV?”
“No, bed sounds better… And you probably watch animal documentaries like old people.”
He smiled and didn’t correct you.
“Go back to bed, kid.”
You headed back but as you were entering the room, you turned around.
“Forget what happened, okay? I’m not a cry baby or anything like that.”
“I know.”
──୨୧──
Jack finally returned to work later in the week. It was a little awkward between you two. You haven’t found a balance between your usual dynamic and whatever that was in his apartment.
“Can you check on a patient in South 9? Risk of septic shock,” he informed as he was charting.
“Good morning to you, too. Yes, I had a good evening, and I slept well. Thank you for asking!”
“South 9.”
“You’re mean!”
“You’ll survive, go.”
You went to check on the patient. It was a middle-aged woman who was playing with her phone.
“Hi Mrs Romanov, are you feeling better?”
“I am, but I can’t figure out how to call my daughter,” she complained as she tapped the screen with a progressing agitation.
“We’ll call her for you. Is she an emergency contact?”
“Yes! You already called her, I just wanted to give her an update while she’s driving her.”
“Okay, we’ll do that. You just have to relax as much as you can for your health. Do you want something to eat or a journal to read?”
“No, I’m fine…”
“Good, I’ll check your vitals and let you rest.”
Once everything seemed normal, you left her alone and updated his chart to write the last visit.
“She’s okay?” Jack asked, charting for one of his many patient.
“Yes, I need to call her daughter, though.”
“We already called her.”
“I know, she just wants to update her daughter on her condition.”
Your comment made John and Lena, who were talking about a difficult case, turn around.
“Didn’t know Mrs Romanov had a VIP room,” John said with a moralistic undertone.
“I know, it’ll be quick!” You tried to convince him, but the red phone used for outside calls was placed in your hand by Jack.
“Let her, it’ll be quick,” he added to Shen as he stayed by your side with his hands behind him.
“Thanks,” you mouthed while you typed the number, making him leave.
After three minutes of conversation on the phone, you hung up and watched the TV in order to find something to busy yourself with.
“Come with me in the psych room,” Jack commanded before giving you a granola bar.
“Who’s that for?”
“You. You haven’t eaten yet.”
“How do you know? You were stuck in the trauma bay for all of the beginning of our shift.”
“Did you eat?”
“No, but I could’ve!”
“Take it.”
You rolled your eyes but took it and headed to the psych room as he described the case to you.
“17-year-old male, chief complaints are chest tightness and paranoia. He apparently took alcohol and marijuana. Eventually got too agitated and Henderson had to tie him down. You’ll give him 5 mg of zyprexa to calm him a little while I hold him.”
“Looking safe and harmless,” you sarcastically answered as you finished your snack and took the syringe in your hand.
You entered and Jack placed himself beside the boy to explain what he was going to do. He was very calm which surprised you considering how he was described. This room wasn’t a place you liked. You never felt confident there but you tried not to show it and stood next to your attending with a reassuring smile.
It’s only after you approached that you realized that he was restrained for a reason. Instinctively, Jack placed his arm across your chest like your mother used to do when she made a sharp stop in the car. You took a step back and stared at the screaming patient.
“Do you want to continue?”
You nodded and he held him down well. You injected him quickly and left immediately.
Abbot tried to conclude the interaction but the medicine wasn’t active yet and it was essentially just yells.
“Okay man, I’ll leave you alone,” he finally said as he left.
He noticed that you were watching the TV with your arms crossed. He made a mental note to never send you in that room again.
As Abbot approached you from behind, a hand automatically wanted to place itself on your lower back, but it stayed inches away. It was like a weird attraction pulled him close to you but pushed him out once he was close enough.
“You good?” He finally asked in a low voice.
You sighed and opened your mouth to say something but closed it after.
“…Never better,” you lied, hoping and craving that he could see right through you for once in your life.
“You’ll get home soon, and it will all be better, okay? Plus, you’re off Friday.”
“Yeah…”
Suddenly, a patient screamed. Without knowing why, you flinched. You were so focused on his words that you forgot where you were. It didn’t really matter because has you backed off during your scared moment, you felt his hand on your back.
You didn’t know what to say or do. Being sarcastic about it felt wrong. You were just frozen in place, looking at him. He wasn’t fazed by your reaction and used that hand to push your body closer to the nurse station to let someone pass.
It wasn’t normal at all, but you wanted for the first time in your life to watch National Geographic documentaries with Jack Abbot and stare at his mouth while he reexplained the scenes because you zoned out during one of the numerous long scenes.
“Kid, focus for a second.”
“What?” You asked as you noticed that you were shamelessly staring at his lips like a teenage girl.
“I’m off Friday.”
“Why would I care?”
He looked around, getting scared to ruin it all.
“Do I need to spell it out, kid?”
“Yes, please,” you answered with a smirk.
“Do you want to go on a date with me?”
Your smirk didn’t last long because it quickly got replaced by a full grin.
“Of course, doc.”
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