Luna

“I think you like this more than you let on,” You cooed as you worked the razor over Jack's cheek. Shaving away at the grey stubble, you loved the feeling of between your silky thighs. “Typical of a man to need a woman to do his dirty work.” 

“You know, you should respect the elderly, sweetheart,” Jack rebuttaled, the harshness of his morning voice sent shivers down your spine. “Besides, you offer every time.” 

Slow mornings…those were the moments you lived for. The quiet mornings where nothing else mattered but the way Jack let his back rest against the headboard of his bed with you straddling his boxer-covered waist. 

“Once we get you all cleaned up, pops, you wanna walk down to Roadside Remedy for a coffee?”

“Only if you push my walker,” Jack teased as he let his hands graze up and down your hips. The soft, supple skin underneath his slightly more rugged fingertips made blood rush to a certain extremity Jack wished could be buried permanently inside you. “I’d like that, they’ve got killer breakfast burritos.” 

You continued shaving Jack's face just to keep him underneath you. There wasn’t a single thing in the world that was more satisfying than this. He adored you…his controversially younger girlfriend. The kind he kept a secret all to himself. A guilty pleasure. A vice just for him. 

And when your dad would see those perfect marks littered on Jack's neck like something feral had attacked him…he only imagined the damage that man would do to him. 

Hell…he might end up a double amputee if he ever got caught red-handed with you. But Jack digressed, your dad was a horrible influence…that’s probably why you had a thing for older men. 

“Then it’s settled, breakfast burritos and iced lattes it is.” You cooed as you leaned in to leave a kiss against Jack's earlobe. “We might even have time for a quick game of ‘Dr’” 

“I’m going to hell for all of this, ain’t I?” Jack didn’t believe in heaven and hell and whatever was coming for him next. So long as he got a little bit of joy back from all the suffering he’d been through, he didn’t mind the idea of a permanent end. But the slow mornings with you…The scandalous things the two of you got up to, made all the suffering in the world all the easier to digest. 

Perhaps he’d already been in hell this entire time. Demons came in all shapes and sizes. Maybe you were just the next. 

“Things aren't hot enough for you here on planet earth?” You groaned against Jack's neck. The tiny, greying hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention with quick heist. 

“Take your shirt off, and I bet the temperature might rise a little.” His hands were cool against the small of your back under the shirt he’d let you borrow. 

You sat upright; the frown between Jack's eyebrows didn’t go unnoticed. 

“I need coffee first, then I promise I’ll take you to the moon and back.” 

“We’ve gone from hypotheticals to space travel, have we?” Now that was something Jack could get behind. Much like he adored being behind you. “Consider me an orbiter.” 

It was the slow, needy, deep kiss that followed that had both of you melting into one another. Both completely forgetting your breakfast plans altogether. The kind that takes the breath out of your lungs and sends warmth to your core. 

Oh, how you loved slow mornings with Jack Abbot. The slower…the better. 

It's flatpack. IKEA. Forty quid and a bag of wooden dowels. A normal, boring, adult activity that millions of people do every weekend without incident.

But Simon is building it shirtless, because he got warm, and he's sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with the instruction manual spread across one beefy thigh, and he's wearing reading glasses—the ones he thinks you don't know about, the ones he keeps in the junk drawer next to his side of the bed—and he's holding a tiny Allen key between two fingers that could crush a man's windpipe, and he's frowning.

Not his scary frown. Not the operational, someone-is-about-to-die frown.

The little one.

The one where his split brow furrows and his lips press together and he looks like a very large, very dangerous man who is mildly inconvenienced by step seven of twelve.

And you're standing in the doorway.

You've been standing in the doorway for four minutes; hands clenched at your sides, and a feeling building in your chest that can only be described as rage.

"Whot," Simon says, without looking up, because of course he clocked you the moment you approached the room.

"Nothing."

"You're starin'."

"I'm not."

"Y'are. Can feel it." He picks up a wooden dowel, examines it, checks the diagram. Pushes his glasses up his nose with one knuckle. "Either help or stop hoverin'."

The glasses adjustment. The calloused knuckle. You want to bite him. You want to sink your teeth into his stupid massive shoulder and shake him like an overstimulated dog with a squeaky toy.

"I hate you," you say eventually.

He looks up slowly; one eyebrow raised above the glasses. "Whot?"

You start gesturing wildly. "I hate you. I hate your face. Put a damn shirt on."

"... No?"

"Put a shirt on or I'm going to do something insane, Simon Riley!"

He sets the Allen key down and looks at you properly. There's a smudge of saw dust on his cheekbone and his dirty blonde hair is pushed back from his forehead and the reading glasses make his dark eyes look bigger and you are going to lose your entire mind.

"You olright?" he asks, with the same cautious tone he'd use on an unstable IED.

"NO! No, I'm not alright. You're sitting on my floor building me a bookshelf in your reading glasses with your stupid arms and your stupid frown and I can't—I literally cannot—" You gesture at him incoherently. "How DARE you!"

His eyes flick down to the bookshelf, then up again. "How dare I... build furniture?"

"How dare you look like THAT while building furniture! You look like a—like a domestic—like someone's HUSBAND—"

His frown drops. "I am yer husband," he deadpans.

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"

He stares at you, and the ghost of a smile is pulling at the corner of his mouth now, which makes everything worse, because Simon Riley almost-smiling in reading glasses is a federal crime.

Simon clicks his tongue. "C'mere," he says.

"No," you retort petulantly, arms crossing again.

"You're goin' to come here, sit in my lap, and tell me exactly whot's wrong with you."

"What's WRONG with me is that you're—" You cross the room in three furious strides, drop into his lap, grab his face with both hands, and kiss him so hard you nearly knock the glasses off. He catches them. Catches you. One strong arm around your waist, holding you steady while you kiss him like you're trying to absorb him through osmosis.

When you pull back, you're breathing hard. He's not, just watching with that smug expression of his.

"Better?" he asks calmly.

"No. I'm still angry."

"About the bookshelf?"

"About your ENTIRE existence, Simon."

"Noted." He puts the glasses back on. Picks up the Allen key. "Step eight requires a Phillips head. Make yerself bloody useful and pass it."

"I hate you."

"Y'mention that." He kisses your temple without looking up from the manual. "Phillips head. Top of the box."

You pass it and stay in his lap. He builds the rest of the shelf with you sitting between his legs, silently furious about the way his pale forearms flex, tendons twitching, when he tightens the screws.

After the day you heard Dr. Al and Jack, no Dr. Abbot, you felt as if someone had drained the soul out of you. Their words, his laugh and grin constantly replayed in your mind—finding new angles and new thorns to prick you. That night you cried. You weeped. You sobbed. But you realised that you needed to back off.

Jack was not yours. He didn't owe you anything.

He was a free man, allowed to ask other women out and that he did. Just because your heart was torn due to illusions created by your mind, the feelings that you held for him didn't mean that he was held responsible. He never ever even smiled at you. Wasn't that the whole premise of this? How were you so humiliatingly blind?

The mornings you would wait just for him, so that you could tease him one last time before going home. The smirk that would catch you off guard, the huffs and eye rolls you held dear—why? They were mere reactions, a crumb of what he could have actually given. The afternoons you would spent baking, imagining his face, when he tried it.

If he tried it.

Would he finally smile?

Would he gaze at you with his twinkling eyes?

God, you wanted to dig up a hole and die.

Why did you create this world by yourself? Where he would reciprocate your feelings? Why would he like you?

You with your chubby stomach, your endless rolls down your back, the way your scrubs stuck to them and and tightened around your thick thighs. Your visible pouch and overbearing love handles which poured out that your scrubs tugged at every single day.

He must be entertained by it, you thought.

The way he would be amused by your one liners, your silly attempts which he must've seen as desperation. You know he loved the attention, sensing every time he heard your a little too enthusiastic pitter patter growing as you got near him, he would immediately expect some flirty dig.

How much ever you tried, he never gave in.

It was a reminder—he was your attending. You were his nurse. And he would never go for you. He would never break that professional barrier with you.

But what about that moment on the roof? Samira asked you when you were telling her everything and almost flinched when you scoffed.

Tears almost brimmed your eyes at the thought of that sunrise, his words, that smile. The hope you built in your heart, the sliver of belief that had grown into something wildly inappropriately out of proportion which had been shattered.

"He probably felt responsible. I am a nurse under his authority and he noticed how I was on the verge of fucking losing it. Can't lose another nurse when there's a statewide insufficiency of nurses." You laughed humorlessly, sipping the wine in your hand. She had just stared at you, reading you meticulously, but that's when you realised one thing. This was your workplace. These were the people you worked with.

And you had let yourself get too personal.

The sunshine of the night shift.

Where had you gone wrong?

Like why could Samira read you so well?

"You know, you don't have to make yourself feel dumb over something that wasn't in your hands."

"But wasn't it Mira? I should've stopped myself from...whatever that was."

"What? Stopped yourself from what exactly, hon? Being yourself?" She questioned. You let out a huff. "You don't understand, Mira. It wasn't just that—I–I got way too involved in this whole...thing. Flirting with my attending to make him smile?" You retorted. Samira just rolled her eyes and smiled softly.

"That's who you are, bub. Making others smile and laugh. Spreading joy!"

"Don't make me sound like a Disney character." You had playfully rolled your eyes.

However, she couldn't convince you and after that you had decided that you had to refrain. Refrain yourself from getting too involved, too personal. You mentally reprimanded yourself for sharing that little story with Abbot. You had to pull back. So you did.

You decided no baking. Not for someone who doesn't even have a bite. No flirty comments or digs for someone who doesn't even give a smile. No bonding over past trauma or tragedies. Professional boundaries must be set. For your own sanity.

Now the thing is Jack Abbot doesn't believe in coincidences, so the first time you called him Dr. Abbot in a flat and weirdly un–you way, it bugged him. His mind said its been a hard shift. But instinct said that he knew you, and that this wasn't normal.

He can tolerate the lack of attention and then he'll get used it, you figured. Besides, he has Al Hashimi now. Your chest tightened.

He probably didn't even care about you that much, did he?

So, you pulled back.

Little did you know, Jack Abbot noticed everything immediately.

—

"Hey, sunny,"

Your back tensed. Your attention on the chart in front of you wavered, but you didn't want to show him that. Not him. You had to back off. You had to push the stupid giddy feeling you get at that nickname. Your eyes hardened on the chart.

You hummed in acknowledgement. Jack's eyes furrowed. "You know, while I appreciate you not bringing in treats to distract our pittlings, they are complaining to me about it."

Everyone. Not you, you figured.

You gulped. It was hard to figure out what to say in a way that didn't seem rude or too standoffish. Or too obvious to the fact that you were trying to avoid him.

"Sorry, Dr. Abbot. I didn't realize that, do you want me to tell them to back off?"

You didn't notice the way he flinched. Or maybe you chose not to. Because even if you chose to not let your eyes drift off to the attending, your body didn't stop understanding him. It didn't stop feeling him.

Jack swallowed in the feeling of his heart squeezing. His jaw tightened for a small second, before returning his focus on you. His mouth opened to give a reply before someone called your name. His heart's pace quickened, almost in panic, but all he knew that something was wrong with you. You started moving, didn't even wait for his reply, like you were afraid of what he was going to say. How he was going to react. Your heart was on the line.

But before you could slip past him, he stopped you, his hand on your elbow. Your eyes widened at his touch. His grasp around your elbow, firm yet not harsh, soft and almost careful. His calloused fingers' touch was almost feather-light, yet it burned through your body. Your mind flashed to the roof, to the way he took care of you on the other side of the railing. You let out a shaky exhale.

"Sunny, are you okay? You know if there's anything—"

"Three traumas incoming! Car collison, two adults, females, and a 7 year old boy! ETA is 4 minutes!" Lena yelled over the nurses' station and you immediately snatched your hand from his hand as if it scorched you. You couldn’t even look in his eyes anymore.

But his didn't leave you. "Sunny, are you fine?"

"I'm okay." Jack furrowed his eyebrows at your short tone.

You gulped. "I have to get the...carts ready." You mumbled and sprinted off.

—

You put up a verbal guard, a professional mask, something other people, who didn't know you wouldn't question at all. But Jack wasn't "other" people. He knew you, atleast that's what he thought.

So, he approached you more.

It was like the world was cruel, you thought. Why is he coming after me, now?

You were just trying to protect yourself from the hurt. The pain. The ache of seeing him every time and the reminder, pricking you like needles, that he chose someone else. Maybe you were being unreasonable. Afterall, none of it was his fault. But wasn't this what he wanted? Professional boundaries. So you boarded up walls that you wished he wouldn't break through with his saccharine tone and honey dipped kindness.

But you had to be strong.

So when he came up to you with his concerned yet hopeful eyes, searching your soul for something you didn't want to name, you closed off. He was just a man who was searching for the sunlight which blessed these insufferable nights. "Hey,"

But before he could even say something, he could see the walls go up, your guards that weren't up before. His throat tightened. He didn't understand what was happening.

"Dr. Abbot, do you need something?"

He stared at you for a bit too long. His stare burned on your body, as if it was consuming your entire being, luring you to look at him, give him something. The gaze seemed too critical to you, like he was trying to figure you out, a secret. It was stripping you bare.

"Are you sick?"

You pursed your lips and pretended that your body wasn't begging to just lean into him. "No, not at all." You said, nonchalantly.

"Are you sure? I can check you out—"

The warmth inside your sternum flared up, threatening to redden your whole face. You had to get out of there. "Really, I am good. I appreciate your concern, Dr. Abbot. But its not required."

You walked away.

Jack's throat went dry. Usually, you would throw in a retort at him, a flirty dig or some insinuation he would be too flustered to acknowledge. He imagined it, your wicked grin, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes and he would expect the comment—"You can check me out at dinner, Abbot." or "A little eager are we, Mr. Grumpus."—and now, nothing.

He watched you walk away as if you had burned him with your absence of words.

Why was this affecting him so much?

But he was in denial and he knew that. If he wasn't so obvious, maybe Lena wouldn't have started teasing him about how his gaze lingered on you. The way you smiled, they way your hips would sway in that playful way of yours after getting the slightest of reactions out of him, the way the room would light up due to your laugh.

He gulped and walked away.

But Jack Abbot knew one thing—something was wrong with you. And he couldn't let his the night shift's sunshine dim out.

—

You groaned and hit your head against the locker. This was too difficult. Had you actually fallen for this man so hard that you saw him everywhere now?

Every where you went, he was there. His scent, his gravelly voice, his eyes followed you literally everywhere. Every single patient, you were partnered with him. You had to give your best fake smiles, swallow in every instinct to make him smile and focus on the patient in front of you.

"Hey, I am Nurse—" you introduced yourself, "and this is Dr. Abbot," and him, stopping yourself from glancing at him in his glory. "He will be inspecting your wound, is that okay?"

The 72 year old woman in front of you just nodded, a reassured smile forming on her face as she looked up at the man you tried so hard not to adore. He glanced at you and gave the woman a gentle smile, making your heart skip a beat. Can he not?—

"Sunny, can you please hand me the gloves?" He asks you and you just nod, trying to hide your face from him. Your ears had turned cherry red and the way his fingers brushed against yours was not helping you. He gazed at you for a moment and you had to remind yourself that you had a patient in front of you. Who was noticing everything.

"Now, can you tell me how this happened, Mrs Lowery?"

The woman told her dilemma. How she was trying to make a dish her husband used to love. She was out of practice unfortunately, as her husband died four years ago, but today was their wedding anniversary and she refused to sulk. Rather wanted to celebrate him. While cutting something the knife slipped and cut her.

He listened to her intently, his care burrowing deep into his veins. Ignoring the way his delicate touch or gentle eyes made absurd butterflies erupt deep in your stomach, you handed him everything he needed to clean her wounds and prevent any infections.

"Sunny, can you hand me the—"

"Have you always called her Sunny? That's such a cute nickname!" She gushed at the both of you. Heat crawled up your neck, making your whole face go crimson as she looked expectantly between the two of you.

"You both make such a cute couple!" She beamed.

You couldn't look at Jack, not when everything was making your eyes water.

"I—um, no—we aren't—" You stammered frantically. Your brain was going in a frenzy. Were you still being obvious? How could she insinuate that—

Jack cleared his throat, and you side glanced him. He looked dejected. God, he must've been so embarrassed by this. You felt a sharp sting inside your ribs.

"Ma'am, your wound is clean, I will come back to do some tests though. So, just stay right here, alright? Do you need anything else, like water or some food?"

"No, sweetheart, you're such a doll. You just keep that sweet smile on that face, don't you agree, Dr. Abbot?"

"Um—yeah—" He rasped, the tip of his ears turning pink. "Her smile is," He swallowed, "sweet, makes everything easier." He turned his head towards you, your eyes meeting his, his hazel meeting yours. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears because it was too intense. The way he was looking at you, gazing at you, as if you were worth something in his life, someone he cared so intently about. The soft green specks in his eyes sparkled at you and you had to force yourself to look away. There was a lodge in your throat.

You had to get away.

"Thank you," You mumbled to him or the lovely lady, you didn't particularly know but you had to escape. Escape before your heart decided that he was in love with you, too. Increased your hope by a ridiculous amount which would ultimately crash and you would have to consume an insane amount of ice cream while weeping.

Not happening.

Not over the man who couldn't even smile at you.

So, you almost ran out of there.

"Hey, hon! Can you get some gauze from the supply room for me?" Lena asked Kelly. But you saw your opportunity, and ran before her, "I got it, Lena!" You chimed in, a fake smile creasing your face weirdly. "Listen Kelly, could you take South Eight? She needs some tests done. Don't worry, Dr. Abbot is there, he'll tell you what to do," You pleaded.

"But—"

"Thanks, Kels, I love you—"

__

"So, why did our honeybee just dump her case with you to nurse Kelly just to get some gauze for me?"

"I—I don't know. God, does she seem weird to you lately?" He ran a hand over his face. His forehead held exhausted creases, his muscles sore and he felt like something had been tugging at his chest. Your sudden absence in his life was confusing him to no ends. Why were you acting like—like—

"Oh, you mean the fact that she doesn't try to make you smile anymore?"

He blinked. And again. His eyebrows furrowed. "Can you read minds or something?"

She raised her eyebrows at him and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, suspiciously. "So, you were thinking the same thing?"

"What? No. That's not—Oh, no."

"Uh huh," She stared at him, "Listen, nobody here knows what's going on with her, but you should at least try to cheer her up."

"Yeah. Yeah, I could do that. Thanks, Mama nurse. I swear this place would go to shit if it wasn't for you." He boasted.

"Don't I know it," She grunted.

—

The next shift, Jack walked towards you with the confidence of a man who knew the secret to the most infuriating woman. As if he knew how to break down all your guards successfully with having to move a muscle. And Sunny, he thought pridefully, he can't wait to see the look on your face.

He strutted in, ignoring inconsequential, judgemental looks by Ellis and Shen, with a coquette brown bag in his hand. It had the label of The Moonlight Bakery, written in a sweet font, with bows tied on its handles. Inside it held your most favourite pastry, the one you were yapping about a few weeks ago. Its aroma floated towards you before Jack reached you. You could taste the sweetness of the blueberry compote topped on the sweet tres leches cake that you love so much.

Your eyes drifted from the board in front of you to everyone near you. Why can you smell that? Where is that coming from? Before you could figure out the person who was gatekeeping your favourite pastry, the last man, the last person you would expect such a menial thing about you, stopped beside you.

His fresh cologne hit you, threatening to lure you in a dreamy state. Anxiety coursed through your veins and you frantically looked around, finding a way to avoid conversing with him. But before you could move away, he plopped down a bag next to you. Your eyes widened at the label and the pastry inside.

You cursed.

"For you. Your favourite pastry from that bakery you couldn't stop talking about last week. Gotta admit your taste is not half bad, Sunny." He grinned smugly. What?

He remembered.

Why does he remember?

Why did he even pay attention?

You swallowed, glancing at his satisfied expression and to other peering eyes near you, too eager for your reaction. "Um...Thanks Dr. Abbot."

His grin immediately faltered. "What?"

"Thank you for this, you didn't have to." You said mildly. His face fell. Almost crumpled. Your heart pace increased as you witnessed his eyebrows furrow, his lips form a discouraged pout and his hazel eyes dimmed. Something tugged at his chest. Yours ached.

"Why are you being weird?" He muttered, with a gruff voice but it was disheartened, as if he was taken aback. But you had to pretend there wasn't anything wrong. That this was normal. This is normalcy. That the very weave of every moment you spend with Jack now didn't change the way your heart pumped deep inside your sternum. How all of it isn't inherently unnatural. That it didn't unsettle your bones. Every time you had to create a formal boundary or throw a polite word at him to protect yourself, you felt as if your soul was losing itself, the very sparkle that held you and him. Because as every detached conversation widened this distance between you and the man you loved brilliantly, an ache spread through every muscle, to an extent where your lungs couldn't process the oxygen it inhaled. Or maybe it wasn’t the oxygen that your body needed desperately.

You swallowed that desperation.

"I'm not being weird?" You blinked, cluelessly.

He pursed his lips, his frustration boiling, like a 5 year old who was refused his favourite candy, something he expected so cockily but he didn't show that, no. His face was unreadable.

You almost rolled your eyes. Shocker. No reaction by Jack Abbot.

"Don't do that."

"What do you mean, Dr. Abbot?"

Every instinct in your bone was screaming at you to lean into his body, touch his forearm, give him your sweetest smile or a kiss on his cheek as a thank you.

He looked like his frustration was about to boil over, force him to say it outright. He stopped himself in his own irritating, out–righteous way because half the hospital was shamelessly spying on you. He glanced at the pastry in front of him, untouched. Then at you, whose eyes had returned back to the chart, as if he was unimportant. Disposable.

"Nothing," He muttered.

He walked away.

The next shifts, you didn't come back. Didn't go back to being the Sunny he knew. You had stopped leaning into his space. You stopped calling him old man, stopped haphazardly and inappropriately complimenting his looks, stopped your dramatic winks, your warm waves and soft smiles when his day was going unexceptionally difficult.

It was becoming impossible to ignore. Not by just Jack but by your fellow, lovingly nosy, coworkers.

"Do you think we should do something?" Javadi asked Ellis, who, along with Crus were observing the very entertaining scene in front of them.

You were assisting Jack on a cardiac patient. Your movements were mechanical and detached and your eyes were focused on the patient but they were still vacant. His kept drifting back to you, your face, as if he was seeking something in the way your features expressed, as if they held the answer to all his questions. Yet Jack's eyes had this look in them, something akin to melancholic, because the answers he sought weren't what he was searching for.

Shen—who was also there with you—and the patient were looking between you and the attending back and forth as if this was the best and worst entertainment they had gotten since Sophie's Choice.

Shen side eyed Ellis across the room. "O—kayyy, this is so much worse."

"What even happened between them?"

"Whatever it is, they refuse to talk about it which has amped up the tension."

"Which is simultaneously slaughtering employee morale. Seriously, I will write a formal complaint to Robby." Crus chimed in at which Javadi snickered.

"So, do we get it involved?"

"Nahhh, let them figure this out themselves." Ellis declared as Crus groaned next to her.

"Care to make this interesting?" Princess smirked. Javadi jumped out of her place and Ellis flinched. "Jesus, where did you come from?"

"40$ on 4 more shifts after which they have a huge fight and makeout in the supply room."

Javadi scoffed but Ellis raised her eyebrow. "50$ on 3 shifts, and makeout on the roof."

"You really think they will last that long? Abbot looks like a volcano about to reach its bursting point. 30$ on 2 shifts—"

"Abbot can last longer, the most patient man I've ever seen." Javadi stated, mindlessly playing with her pen while gazing at the two of you.

Crus gave her a deadpan look. "Not for the girl he's so crazy in love with."

Ellis leaned back on the counter.

"Does he even know that?"

—

He still didn't stop his tries, his kindness and compassion pouring its way into every shift as he brought you your lattes he once complained about—how they are not even coffee, just random flavours mixed in milk—he helped you with your charts and made sure that Shen didn't finish that absurdly spicy ramen you like from the vending machine.

But you had stopped seeing it as hope, in order to save your heart and feelings from any more damage, but only seeing it as your attending looking out for you. As he must be with everyone else.

It was only that. Professionalism.

It could be only that.

But you didn't know how hard misery had hit Jack. Every time he looked at you, something made his chest stutter. He tried to deny it, the way he felt at peace whenever you were near him, always smiling. The way he would feel like the universe blessed him with you, the way you would be determined to make him happy. Denying the way he would gladly surrender to your shenanigans, your attempts, your exclusive sparkle if it wasn't for his stubbornness.

It almost scared him.

He didn't expect to care so much for someone, yet find someone who cared so much for him after his wife's death.

He lost someone he loved and then fell to the crutches of loneliness and emotional numbness. He didn't find happiness, scratch that, he didn't believe that he deserved happiness nor care. It was Robby and Dana who took him out, reminded him that there is so much to live for and that there are still people who care about him.

But love? He forgot that. Forgot what it feels to be in love. Forgot what it feels to be loved by someone. He carried his wife deep inside his heart, but the thought of finding another person to love, our rather another person feeling him worthy enough to love was unthinkable.

Then came you.

A blast in his life, you entered with a box full of chocolate chip cookies, the most annoyingly sweet smile on your face, and the biggest heart on your sleeve. It took him less than a second for his brain to decide you were trouble and his heart comprehend you were significant.

And beautiful.

So simply beautiful.

Your wide eyes, to your curvy hips to your thick thighs. Everything had him unnecessarily malfunctioning. The way your scrubs stuck to your back rolls, and your cute pouch which poured out in the front and how the neckline couldn't hold your cleavage, knowing his large hands could hold your body just they way you liked, sent him spiraling. He would've done anything to see you out of the scrubs. He didn't know why he was suddenly acting a 16 year old boy who had discovered women for the first time.

Then there was your pretty smile. It used to send heat waves through his body, a giddiness along with it which he thought he would never experience again. The way you would look at all the patients with kind eyes, always chirpy for the kids who were scared, compassionate with the parents. He didn't know what to do with himself and what he was feeling when you sent him your warm waves every time you saw him and all he could do was purse his lips and nod.

The danger in his mind and heart would grow whenever you brought some of your delicious food to try. Always making sure the kids (doctors in the their mid 20's) were fed, along with everyone else who overworked themselves. This was just a step towards—imminent doom?—he didn't know. But he knew that the way his heart raced with the urge to just be near you and your kindness all the time, make you smile, make you blush and fluster you wasn't exactly normal.

Yet, his body never stopped your ridiculous attempts, his smile and feelings coming slowly to the surface. But he had to put up a wall. Because this sudden lack of inhibitions when it came towards you was dangerous, wasn't it? No, it was scary. Not exactly dangerous. This lack of control was, in a way, good. But he could never admit that. So, he put up a wall and never smiled. Never gave you a reaction.

But never stopped you either.

So, when all of it had stopped all of a sudden, his heart malfunctioned. His brain couldn't process this change. Rather refused to adapt to it.

Denial is a river in Egypt, Ellis had said.

He didn't understand what it meant. Or rather, he didn't want to.

It was when Robby cornered him that he knew he wasn't just being ludicrously unsubtle but he was being moronic as well.

"You know, you're being stupid, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sunny."

Jack's eyes hardened.

"That's my nickname for her. Find your own." He scowled at Robby.

But Robby laughed outright, boisterously. "Do you hear yourself? God, do you even understand what you're doing?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He claimed.

"You know she made that Afghan food you like. The one you used to yap about in your letters."

"Wait, what?" Jack breathed out. He gulped and reminisced the sunrise on the roof with you. The way you looked in the sun, how your eyes lit up when he smiled for you, the kindness in your eyes when he told you about his times in Afghanistan—his heart lodging in his throat. You actually listened. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Look at you, man. You're flushed." Robby gasped out, his eyes unbelieving. Jack's gave was pink, a dreamy look in his eyes, his pulse quickened at an alarming rate. "You're down bad for her, aren't you?"

Jack just let out a shaky breath. His eyes were glassy.

"Listen, I don't know what happened between you both, man. But you gotta get your shit together, Jack. You've met a woman so kind and so loving, someone that you won't find in a million lifetimes. She likes you. You know that? Who spends half their time trying to make you laugh?"

He took a soft pause as Jack let's out a soft, unbelievable chuckle. "She is amazing."

Robby nodded, "The universe is giving you another chance, man. Ridiculously easy one because she's right there. You just gotta do right by her, Jack. I swear to god, if you fuck this up, the whole E.D is not going to forgive you. She might be your Sunny. But she's everyone's sunshine here. No one wants to lose that."

Jack breathed in, trying to process every word Robby just said. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm so fucked."

"That's right."

—

The end of the shift Jack felt like he couldn't breathe. Not with you still looking at him like you didn't know him. You still ignored every single opening he gave you. By this time, you had gotten better at hiding your pain behind a mask of smiles and propriety. The civility you had structured masterfully between you and Jack was meant to be protecting you. You tried to convince yourself shift over shift, yet you knew it was killing you from the inside.

What you didn't know was that it was killing him too.

His own decorum was slipping. It was frustration that was seeking through the crevices of his well maintained reputation as a composed doctor. Not anger though. Never anger.

He felt like he was losing you.

His Sunny was slipping away from his fingers.

"Dr. Abbot? Dr. Park is here for the ortho consult?"

He merely nodded, his head not in the right state. But it worsened when he got to North Four. You were there. Not alone. With Park.

He entered, his footsteps heavy with the storm his heart had been enduring. The fluorescent lights pierced through him, not like they did before, when you were there to warm him up. When your smile would warm the whole place up. You would always look at him first. But as he entered this room, a coldness spread through his veins, because this time he realised you didn't look at him first.

Instead, as his sight settled, he saw you.

Laughing.

With Dr. Park. Your gaze set on him.

A wrenching pain shot across his chest.

No. No. No.

He glanced between you and Park.

Jack's eyes narrowed. You had your hand loosely covering your pretty mouth as you giggled to yourself, but he was not the cause. Dr. Park stood there in all his glory telling the young teenager some hilarious tale of an injury he went through while playing football in his high school years. The teenager seemed more relaxed and comfortable now. You stood there beside him with a suture kit in your hand, your eyes never leaving the ortho attending, with a sparkle in your eyes that Jack never saw.

You didn't notice him.

At least that's what he thought.

You had sensed him entering as you always did. Your body had an instinct when it came to him, as if seeking him out or leaning into him was more of a nature to you. Something you had grown comfortable to. You recognized his presence immediately and somehow, even if you had tried to get in the habit of forgetting him, your body hadn't forgotten him at all. After all, muscle memory is muscle memory.

So, your shoulders had relaxed but your heart raced. You had difficulty focusing on what Dr. Park was saying so you just kept your eyes on him.

"Dr. Park. Took you long enough." A rough voice came from behind. Your eyebrows immediately furrowed. Jack's voice was tight, as if he was holding something back. Some kind of pain or discomfort. You had seen him get shot at, yet his voice had never been like this before. It was new for you.

He saw you turn away from him, almost an inch closer to the other attending. His breathing had become shallow, teeth grinding one another as if he was trying to control himself. The distance between you and him had never been more suffocating. He couldn't breathe in your lavender and vanilla scent, couldn't feel your warmth, hear your silky, cheery and kind voice.

But he thought he witnessed it, an ease in your body, the way it hasn't been with him in past few nights. The laugh he hadn't earned in ages. Something that, apparently, Dr. Park had earned.

His heart was starving. Lungs felt hollow.

But something about the proximity between you and Dr. Park made irritation gnaw at his chest.

"Why? Did the ED miss me, Abbot?"

He let out a huff that sounded much like a scoff, like he couldn't believe the audacity of the man. "Oh, don't worry, ED is doing just fine." He gruffly said. Dr. Park's mouth twitched slightly.

You stood between them, a tension attaching you to him. Yet you felt like there was something going on in his mind, something that was making the veins in his neck pop. The intensity with which he was glancing at you was magnetic, a force you wished you weren't so pulled towards. You resisted and resisted. A string between you both losing its elasticity moment by moment as you not only avoided him but refused to name it.

So, you did what you thought was best.

You deflected. You deflected and turned your attention on Dr. Park in front of you.

"Well, don't worry, Ortho is perfect for me. I was just convincing this lovely nurse to join me up there. I swear—"

"Excuse me?"

Your breath hitched.

Something beneath him, inside his lungs, set on fire. A cold fire. It knocked the air out of him. His brain stuttered. Stopped functioning thoughts except for a tangible reality of you actually going away. A warmth he couldn't hold onto first.

"Sunny? You call her that, right?" He smugly added, unknowing of the fire he was adding fuel to. "Sunny, can you pass me the chart?"

Jack's irritation whitened into something else. Hot anger. Frustration. Panic.

Absolutely fucking not.

"You don't call her that." His eyes had darkened, jaw clenched to an impossible extent. The room had fallen to a deadly silence. The air had escaped, a cold settled around which had nothing to do with the weather. Your throat had gone dry. Face flushed. Heat spread through your body.

You hadn't ever seen Jack with such a dark expression.

He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowed—hazel covered with an envious green—and whatever burned inside him was creeping out, ugly and unseen. "Only I call her Sunny."

"Dr. Abbot—"

He ignored your gasp of voice, unbelieving of his claim. It was scalding and irrational, he knew, but he couldn't stop it.

He could only see what his brain flashed in front of his eyes, undesired. An image of you moving away, another person making you laugh, flustering you the way he used to. You looking at someone else with the same caring eyes. Because he did, now. He looked for you first. He didn't want to lose being the first person you looked for, forever.

He felt something coil and tighten under his sternum.

Especially not because of fucking Dr. Park.

"So what should I call her, Abbot—sweetheart, darling, honey? She looks like a honey." He teased on.

"You call her nothing, Park. She's not your anything."

Park's eyebrows raised in amusement, finally getting a hang of what exactly was going on. He moved his gaze back and forth Jack and you, a tension he didn't know he had stepped into.

"I see, Abbot. Of course. She's yours—"

"I'm not!" You cried, a desperation in your voice that pierced through the tensed air set in the room. "I am nowhere near his. Dr. Park, please continue with the consult." You whispered with a frustration lodging in your throat.

You moved to leave, glaring at Jack before storming out.

—

Jack didn't go after you. Not this time.

Because at this point, he felt like he didn't understand you anymore.

Or rather he felt like he was losing you.

The worst part was that he knew your laugh. It rung in his ears every time he felt like the darkness was going to absorb him again. He knew every version of it, every version that you gave him—with your heart open. It was the way the room used to light up every time your eyes brightened with it, a loud laugh, one that bounced off of every single surface just to get to him and wrap him in its velvety warmth. Then there was the sly giggle or the snort you couldn't help but let out. They gave him a kind of delight that would linger.

Yet when he heard this one, something lurched behind his ribs. Because he didn't expect this. Didn't expect to hear a new one which he hadn't catalogued himself yet. A swirl of ugliness and breathlessness tightened under his sternum because it was not him that was the cause of it.

White frustration surged through the man as he thundered across the ED. A type of storm people had not seen before.

"What happened?" Lena asked, fearlessly. His gaze sharpened as he remembered the foreign sound again. "Fucking Dr. Park. And Sunny."

She raised her eyebrows. "What?

"This man thinks he can just swoop in and try to poach her. Fucking called her Sunny," He ranted. "Everybody here knows I call her that. And then when I told him that, Park had the fucking audacity to ask me whether he should call her 'honey' then."

Lena pursed her lips at him, amusement visible across her face. "Right."

"I mean, can you fucking believe that?"

"I can't fucking believe you, Dr. Abbot." Samira muttered to herself, resentment laced in her words. Her eyes had sharpened as if to cut Jack, but they were still focused on the chart in front of her.

"Excuse me?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "If you seriously don't know what you've done, I can't help you." And tried to walk off. Before she could, Jack caught her. "Mohan, what are you talking about?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Dr. Abbot, I have patients to catch up with."

"Seriously? Listen, I care about her. A lot. And I have no idea why she is acting like this and its killing me. If you know something—please tell me." He pleaded.

"You have no right to act all jealous and possessive of her when you asked out Al Hashimi."

"Wait, what?"

"She's been trying to make you smile for months and she bakes for you goddammit! You give her nothing, never! And then the poor girl walks in on you and Dr. Al—"

"I never asked her out."

"Excuse me?"

Jack's heart dropped down in the pit of his stomach. "I never asked out Dr. Hashimi."

"But she—"

"Never. I did ask her to get beer together but that was just because Robby wanted me to get a a clear image on her. It was never meant—Fuck."

Samira pursed her lips and blinked at the man as he went through a plethora of emotions. He swallowed and raised his gaze at her to find her eyebrows shot up, expectantly, as if to say you need to fix this now.

"I need to find Sunny."

—

You needed a breather.

And what better place than the roof?

You breathed in the air, a calm that you wished would stop the storm inside you. The whirlwind of emotions and stupid feelings. All for that one man. One man you couldn't seem to let go of. It was almost humiliating how much you wanted to hold on, hold on to the brittle dream of him loving you back like you did him.

The look you saw on his face. God, did you imagine it? Did he also miss you? No. No. You stopped yourself. You just needed some more time. Away from him. Away from the chaos which was a few floors down. A bit of silence—

The door creaked open, destroyer of your attempts at peace up here. You wished it was Lena or Ellis but you knew who it was.

"What are you doing here?" You asked weakly.

"Sunny—"

"What do you want from me, Jack?" Your voice broke.

"I need to know why out of nowhere you've been acting like you don't fucking know me, Sunny." He confessed, his frustration laced in the words. "I need to know what the hell your problem is, cause'—"

"Jack, please—"

"No, I need to hear it from your mouth, okay? What is it? You hate me all of a sudden—" He kept pacing towards you, as if without the close proximity he won't survive.

"No, you fucking dumbass! I love you! I've been in love with you and you don't—" You hiccuped, turning around, tears finally rolling down your cheeks. "You don't a–and if I stay any longer with you, I'll break my own heart because I will keep falling a–and you won't."

"You're in love with me?" Jack gasped out, disbelief in his breath. You pulled yourself together, your hands wrapping around your cold body, shoulders hunching, trying to hide yourself. Humiliation made your tears well up again, your brain was hurting and you embraced your body, bracing yourself for the inevitable rejection. "Are you serious?"

You nodded slightly before your gaze flickered back to the sky. "Listen, I–I know this is bad, especially since you like Dr. Al Hashimi and you asked her out. I am going to give in my request for a shift to days, or even out of the ED—"

"Like hell you will. Like hell I will let you."

"What?" You whispered.

"I never asked out Al."

There was a heavy pause between, as your heart stopped itself, almost as if because it couldn't hear Jack's words perfectly.

"Excuse me?"

"I never asked her out. Whatever you heard was me doing a favour for Robby."

His gaze pierced through your soul, begging you to understand what his words couldn't convery but you deflected. You didn't let yourself believe. "Still. It doesn't mean you don't want her—She's perfect. She's mature, beautiful, absolutely brilliant—"

"She's not you."

You couldn't have heard the words right. "Excuse me?" You breathed out.

He stepped closer to you, your heart threatening to pump out of your chest. You could see him clearly now, through all of your tears. His perfectly freckled face, gorgeous salt and pepper curls, his eyes filled with so much tenderness and pain it caught your breath.

"She's not you."

He titled his head slightly, gazing at you with so much adoration. He reached out, his hand so careful, feather light touch as he tucked a strand away, as an unfortunate whimper escapes your mouth. Not a moment of weakness. An indication of the longing. Longing for the same touch.

"She's not Sunny. Yes, she is intelligent, mature, brave and pretty too. But she's not you." He let out a shaky exhale before continuing.

"She's not the person who is so determined to make me laugh. She's not the one who makes the room brightened up by just being in it. She's not the one...the one who made me feel worthy of being loved again."

Your gaze flickered up at his eyes again.

"But Jack—you never," you gulped again, stopping the tears to blur up your vision again, "you never even reciprocated it. Never..." You trailed off, mindlessly flashing back to the times you put yourself down while wondering why he never flirted back. "But when—when I saw you with Dr. Al, you smiled—so freely, it hurt. W–Why did you never—"

"I was afraid." Hs cut you off. "Afraid that after I smiled for you, you w–would move on. Stop doing what you're doing. I didn't want you to stop. You were the best part of my day."

There was a pregnant pause before he added.

"Besides you made my brain malfunction."

A chortle left your mouth, a remark of disbelief. "Excuse me?"

A sly lopsided grin touched his face. "I never could give you any reaction because you stopped my brain from giving out any coherent orders to my body. My throat would become concerningly dry and I couldn't even give a reaction without making myself look like a dumbass."

You let out an unwarranted giggle. You shook your head, but behind your eyes, there was still the blinding cover of uncertainty. A cloud of doubt still stopped you. Your body was not letting yourself lean into him completely, but not pushing him back either. Reluctancy had settled over your bones.

"Jack. This is not making sense—"

"You're the first person I look for in a room." Your breath hitched. "And when you stopped looking for me...I felt empty. I was losing my mind and Robby had to knock some sense into me—and I—I was too afraid to lose you, Sunny."

He grabbed the rails around you, his arms framing around your body, his figure radiating a kind of restlessness. His fingers had gripped the metal so hard, his knuckles were turning white in frustration, as if he was holding himself back from...well, you.

A heated flush spread across your cheeks. Your eyes met his, a soul found another, the love and yearning that had been hidden behind fear finally blown out in the open.

"Why did you never tell me?" You whispered.

"I was afraid." There was a pause before he moved his body close to you, the proximity both of your hearts had been starving for. "But I realised the fear of losing you is far more than the fear of...accepting love."

Your hand slowly reached out to his face, cradling it, his stubble grazing your hands, your eyes boring into his. A shy smile broke out on your face, something eternally beautiful, he realised as his heart skipped a beat. You both leaned in, his forehead leaning against yours, as you let yourself finally be pulled into his warmth. Falling into his soul. Never leaving his heart.

"Say it for me. Please."

His gaze flickered to yours, a vulnerability shone in them as he searched your face before realisation dawned on him.

"I'm falling for you, hard."

He took a deep breathe.

"I love you, Sunny."

You opened your eyes and sighed, as if you were holding a breath for the longest time.

"One more time."

Jack's eyes never left you. Instead, they flickered to your lips. The ones he dreamed about. The ones he wanted to—

He tilted his head and went in, a brush of his lips against yours, as if asking for permission, but only a whimper came out. Soft and delicate, something that gave him the courage he needed.

You gasped as his hand grabbed at your waist, gently squeezing your pretty love handles before pulling you into him as he smashed his lips against yours. He swiftly molded his lips against yours, getting drunk on your taste. While you just melted into him, holding onto him like he was your lifeline.

Your hands travelled up from his torso to his chest to his collar, your fingers grabbing them and passionately pulling him impossibly closer. His explored your body in the way it didn't even daydream about. They hoisted you with their bulging strength, sliding from your back to your mane and back to your hips. He groaned in your mouth and you whined softly before he sucked on your lower lips.

The kiss wasn't aggressive nor was it too shy. It was the perfect amount for two lost people finding themselves again. For the two people who had been too afraid to grab the love right in front of them. Two people who were stunningly starved for each other's touch. Two souls who had finally found each other.

You slowly whined as both of you pulled back for air and he smiled against your lips.

"Look, who's smiling now." You teased gently. You played with his curls, reveling in this feeling, the giddiness consumed your body, and the anxious buzz in your muscles had disappeared because he was here. Holding you. Loving you.

He chuckled wholeheartedly. He softly pecked your lips. "Only because of you, Sunny."

—

The elevator dinged open.

The sight could heal all longing hearts. And it did.

"Oh my god." Santos whispered.

Everybody at the nurse station looked at her, puzzled at her widened eyes. That was until they followed her eye sight.

There you were.

Not alone.

Jack and you appeared, fingers intertwined, shy smiles on both faces, but the satisfaction and love glowed on both of you, unsubtly. Plus, your lips were chapped.

Crus crossed his arms over his chest, "Fucking finally."

Robby cheered with Shen. Dana and Lena said something on the lines of 'took you long enough', as Princess and Perlah looked kind of disappointed, but for a different reason.

"I fucking won!" Ellis beamed.

Everyone groaned.

You both just grinned at each other. Jack, finally happy, because he faced his fears, and finally reached for the warmth and love that was always there. Because he got his girl. His Sunny.

And you? Well because you finally realised that the man you loved also looked for you before even entering a room.

That was love.

In a room full of people, I look for you.

—sombr.

AHHHH FINALLY DONE WITH THIS.

I love you guys so much for the love you gave me and sunny <3

PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG

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A buzz of electricity shot through your spine at the deep, gravelly voice. You turned around on your heels, a sly grin adorning your face, cheeks bumped up to meet his almost smirk and beautiful hazel eyes.

Dr. Jack Abbot. Your grumpy, sassy, hot attending. Your personal mission.

"So you agree that I'm distracting?"

Javadi made a choked noise that sounded almost like chortle while covering her mouth.

He huffed at you, crossing his arms on his chest. You had to keep your eyes from drifting to the muscles on his big arms taut against his broad chest.

"Bribing my students with baked goods? That's distracting."

"You know, its crazy—all I keep hearing is that you find me a.k.a my cooking is distracting, doc."

"Yeah? Well that's medically compromising—you should get your ears checked."

You rolled your eyes, your grin unwavering by his dry quips. "Well, what's medically compromising is your appetite, Abbot. Say, when was the last time you tried any of my distracting goods?"

He raised his eyebrows, "Why? You want me distracted too, nurse?" His voice dropped a decibel, as if the whisper was a secret meant to only rile you up. Your cheeks immediately turned pink, dusting the tips of your ears as well.

Your grin faltered. His almost came into view.

"Very subtle—" Shen coughed up, very unsubtly as your intimate moment with the attending came crashing. Jack took a quick look at your face; pink cheeks and ears and the confidence of the sunshine he managed to falter. A prideful feeling almost bloomed in his chest—only he could affect you like this. Fluster you like this. A small smile was about to make to his face, but was he about to let you win?

"Okay, back to work everyone! Santos, you still have to finish those charts!"

He moved away from your space, the warmth lingering in your heart. But you saw it—he almost gave in.

"Well, sunshine—you almost made it. take the win, will ya?" Dana's voice rang out in the back. but you shook your head, your lower lip getting caught between your teeth, leaning back onto the counter, watching your grumpy attending order around. "Never giving up on this, Dana. Not until he actually smiles, or even laughs."

"God, when will you both stop?"

—

It all started during a particularly, mercifully uneventful night at the pitt.

You, including almost everyone at the pitt, had their eyes glued on the screen with dollars on stake. Will the stupid teenagers who stole their professor's car, with a brake fail, be caught by the unwitting police? Or will they crash? In who's vicinity? Presby or will they have to save lives in the pitt, yet again?

You had put 40$ on presby and he had snorted. "You're optimistic."

"You should try it sometimes—might just make your grumpy face prettier, old man."

Whittaker's eyes widened, Trinity side eyed Perlah and Princess who were looking like they just found gold, Jesse and Donnie stopped incessantly organising the crash cart in case the car did crash in the pitt's vicinity and Dana and Robby smirked at each other.

Amusement etched onto the attending's face and it was a thrill you never stopped chasing. "C'mon, even the grumpy dwarf in snow white smiled, doc—what's stopping you?"

He just shook his head at you, huffing at the comment and walked off. You watched him walk away with his back towards you and accepted the challenge. "One day or the other, I'm gonna make you smile, Abbot—maybe even laugh—you'll see!"

He raised his eyebrows at you and leaned back onto a wall with his arms crossed on his chest, making something thunder inside your body. "We'll see about that, nurse. But first, you might want to look at the screen."

The police had caught them.

—

After that day, you brought in your best food and your best lines. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about seeing him smile. I mean, obviously you wanted to see him smile, almost concerned it would make your heart stop, but Jack Abbot started to mean something more.

Seeing him everyday, looking into his soulful eyes, his stupid soft voice while talking to patients and the almost smile he gives you during your shenanigans bloomed a deep, warm, ridiculously fuzzy feeling which had set itself somewhere behind your sternum.

Even if it got a huff out of him, a scoff, a smirk that burned its way through the small space in between you both to between your legs or just raised eyebrows.

So, you never stopped flirting. Never stopped baking. Never stopped chasing his smile. It became your dream. Because you knew it would be breathtaking to see it, feel it and know that you were the cause of it.

So, you were here, with a hop in your step, making your way towards the man.

"And I thought these dull hospital lights could never make anyone look good, but here you are, proving me wrong, Mr. Grouch."

He didn't even look up from the chart he was assessing. "Don't you have patients to check up on?"

"Don't you have some smiling to do?"

He turned to look at you and the warm feeling started to spread through your body, unwarranted. He was about to quip back, his mouth opening slightly when—

"19 year old, GSW to the chest, head trauma, pulse is thready—"

Jack's shoulders and jaw set itself tight, as if bracing for whatever was about to come next. he kept the chart back with a thud, going around you, hand brushing on your lower back. "You're with me. Smiling later." He said, lowly, breath fanning your ear.

"Promise?" Your voice had gone heavy.

You gulped as you both walked towards the gurney, his hand still on your lower back, a small comfort before heading into the storm. He glanced back at you, before getting to the boy after you gave him a nod of readiness.

"Trauma 2 is open!" You heard princess yell.

You took a deep breath before going in, hoping this one will turn around. Everyone is here. Jack is here.

It was going to be okay.

—

Your hands trembled.

Your breath was stoic. It didn't dare to move the air between you or the resident still doing cpr.

Jack glanced at his watch. "Stop."

His voice had lost its sharpness but it still held authority. It honeyed through the trauma room, reaching you. But it didn't warm you up like it usually did. His concerned face was focused at the year 2 resident who was starting to hyperventilate. She still kept going.

He glanced at you. You understood what he needed. You moved forward, your body numb. "Sweetheart, you need to let go. Its okay, its going to be alright—"

"No!" She shrieked. You heard Jack calling her name. "He was younger than me—" She whispered.

Jack stepped forward and gripped her shoulders. "Its okay, doctor. Let go. Look at me—I need you to breathe."

Her hands went slack. The machine beeped mercilessly. "Time of death, 5.57 am."

You circled your arms around her as she fell, weeping into your chest.

"shh, I know. C'mon let's get you out." You whispered, your voice sweet as sugar, your soul numbing as the machine beeped.

Jack looked at you but you avoided his gaze. Your hands were trembling, your vision was blurring and your heart was trying to punch its way through your body. Your brain couldn't take it. But you still took care of the people around you. You squeezed donnie's hand on the way out because you knew his kid was also a teenager. You promised princess a treat because you knew she was not going to eat after this. You took care of the resident in your arms because you knew she wont be able to sleep after this.

His gaze burned on your back as it followed your figure through the overbearing walls of the pitt.

After, you got the resident settled, you were about go off to take a breather when Ellis called your name. "Hey! The kid in trauma 2, do you mind calling his parents and informing them?" Your heart ached and flashbacks of another trauma, another death, another set of parents losing their whole world burned in your mind. But you nodded.

"Hello? am I speaking to Mrs Shah?" You introduced yourself, "I'm speaking from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center—"

Immediately the questions started, the panic, the desperation, the devastation. You sighed, your exhaustion and anguish slipping out. You tried to explain the urgency, that they needed to come immediately. Your hands shook as you hung up and closed your eyes.

You tried to busy yourself, checking up on other patients, but your mind still wandered away to the boy. The sorrow of another soul departing, another young life you couldn't save, another injustice was too heavy. The grief set in your bones.

It was a reminder of how this job got harder. These walls sometimes seemed too hollow, too empty, with the losses all of the doctors had faced. This department wrung people out with its cruelty. You were expected to move on with no time to process everything.

That's where Jack came.

Being with him, bantering, flirting, joking—it gave you joy—something that the E.D could never steal. He made working and just being there easier, as if the air got much more breathable around him. You were almost addicted to the giddiness you felt around him. his salt and pepper curls, his teasing voice with you, his dry sarcasm, the way his black tee stretched around the muscles on his back and biceps—

"Excuse me? We were called in urgently? We are looking for our son? Neil Shah?"

The grief crashed down on you. Your eyes turned glassy again and tried to look for any other nurse or even Jack so that you wouldn't be in this position. Not again. Not where you have to inform the parents that their beloved child has passed away. Not where you have to hear the wails of the mother and denial of the father.

You sighed in defeat and led them to an empty room. Slowly, you explained what had happened. How their son had passed away. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs Shah. Truly."

They had started crying, asking you questions, Demanding answers to truths you didn't know. Until one question. "How did he get shot?"

"He—" Your voice broke, but that's when you felt a warm, steady hand on your shoulder. Your beacon of comfort. You immediately recognized it. "I'm Doctor Abbot—I performed the surgery on your son. Nurse, could you please assist Dr. Kwan with a consult in south eight?"

Your heart filled with gratitude. He gave you an out. And you took it. You nodded but not before mouthing a thank you to the man in front of you. He squeezed your shoulder before holding the door open for you and your heart squeezed. Why did he have to be so kind?

You took a quick glance towards him before getting out. You felt you could breathe.

That did not long last.

"Can you believe he did that? I mean, if I was in his place, I would never put my life on the line—for a girl i just met? That was so stupid—"

You took a sharp inhale and jerked your head to the voice. "How dare you? Just because you don't even have an ounce of the bravery, the courage and the empathy that he had, doesn't mean you get to call it stupid, you—"

Before you could go up to him and slap him, strong hands grabbed you, wrapping around your torso, with no harshness but just comfort coursing through.

"Ogilvie, if you don't have even 1% basic empathy or haven't heard the phrase 'dont talk ill of the dead' I suggest you drop out of medical school and go back to 3rd grade."

You shoulders visibly relax at the voice and at his fingers which softly caressed your chubby love handles—this man was not helping you keep cool. Heat travelled up your neck when you felt his chest rumble with some instructions he gave to the resident in front of him.

Jack called your name and his hands travelled to your shoulders. "Come on, let's go—"

"What? what about the consult—"

"That was a lie—"

"You dog—"

"Come on, you nuisance. Let's get you a breather."

—

"The roof?"

"You'll see."

The door busted open and strong gust of wind hit you in the face. And there it was.

You gasped and your hands went to Jack's forearm. "Oh my god."

"Oh my god."

"Come on, you wanna see the sunrise?"

"Well, at least ask me for a cup of coffee first, old man. You losing your touch already?" He gave you a deadpan look. "But of course, if you insist."

He took you to the railing. "I've heard you go even beyond the railing..."

Jack gave you a side eye. "Oh come on, you really believe anything really stays in the box at this hole?" He still did not entertain you. "Please, Jack?" You gazed up at him, with your best puppy eyes.

"Alright. But only this time."

He ducked and got across first, holding out his hand for you, fingers gently taking your palm and helping you cross the railing. "Thank you," You softly murmured, the touch growing the warmth in your chest. the sunrise had only taken its footing—the soft blue of the sky was slowly lighting up. "So," You took a deep breath, "why did you bring me to your sacred space?"

"Sacred space? Really?" Jack scoffed.

"Everybody knows its where you and Robby come to make heart eyes at each other—" He grunted and you let out a soft laugh. "Come on, tell me." You whined.

"I saw you." He spoke. "After–after you realized he was gone, after we declared the time of death. your hands were trembling," Your breath hitched. "Your breaths were small, your voice was—" You looked away. His gaze bore deep into your eyes, trying to probe out the vulnerability gently, and his voice was too tender, too warm, almost wrapping you up in their saccharine like blanket. "The point is, you still took care of everyone. Donnie, Princess, the resident—"

"Someone has to. I just choose to. Nobody forces me to, Jack." Your voice gets small.

"And when will you let yourself take care? When will you take a breath?" Your breath hitched. "You're the sunshine of the dark side, sweetheart. We don't want you fading out while you take care of others." He syruped.

You hoped it would stay dark so that he couldn't see the red on your cheeks, the heat crawling up your neck and how you couldn't trust your own voice anymore. But you braved on.

"um, I dont know if you know this, doc, but I shifted to nights for a reason other than one grumpy teddy bear," You let out a giggle when jack let out an annoyed huff, "there was a girl, 19, just like today's kid. She was abducted and tried escaping, but the abductor shot her. She was brought in, I was a part of the surgery and despite everything, despite Robby busting his ass—she–" Your voice broke and you gripped the railing. "She almost escaped it, but...her parents were angry more than heartbroken. Her mother threw things at the father, he yelled back and I tried to calm them down, but h-he pulled me in, threw me in the wall and said I was too incompetent, I couldn’t save his daughter's life."

You inhaled sharply. "He killed himself 2 months later."

"Look at me."

"Jack—"

He pleaded your name. "That was not your fault. It will never get easy, I know that...too well. But you learn to live around it, but I need you to understand that it was not your fault."

You nodded. "How do you live with it?"

"Before returning to Pittsburgh, before my...leg, in Afghanistan—we used to get this street food. It used to be sold at nights and we used to switch routes and trade fucking mattresses and anything just to have a chance to get it. Its called kolcha. It used to be heaven in the hell we were put in.

I used to see my brothers get blown up, losing their lives, civilians losing a sense of humanity after the way everyone treated them. But there are soft joys that help the grief. that helped me live. Stopped me from..." He trailed off, a pensive look forming on his face.

Your hand clasped around his on the railing. He gazed up at you, your eyes already on him, so honeyed, filled with care and admiration, with so much compassion, he didn't know what to do with it.

You both just gaped at each other. Your hearts filled to the brim. Getting lost in time.

Suddenly, a ray of sunlight reflected in Jack's hazel eyes and you broke your contact, a gasp forming on your lips as you tore your eyes away to marvel at the jawdropping sunrise.

The sun was officially peeking up. Its rays bounced off skyscrapers made of glass, lighting up the small alleys of the street. The orange and yellow shades painted the horizon and you almost died right there. "Its so beautiful..."

The sunlight was colouring your skin, your giddiness coming out with the sun.

"Will you take care of yourself, sunny?"

You let out a sweet giggle. "Sunny?"

"The sun clearly loves you." He murmured softly before tucking in a strand of hair fallen haphazardly on your eyes, blocking him from the view.

"Hmm, you're going soft on me, old man. Or are you just manipulating me so that I won't tell anyone that your grumpy attitude is a hoax and you're just a big ol' teddy bear?"

He snorted and let out a soft smile.

Your heart jumped.

"Oh my god!" you gasped and pointed. "Oh my god! You smiled!"

"Come on, sunny. Let's get you inside before you tragically die due to slipping while celebrating something that never happened—"

"Excuse me—" You scoffed but let him lead you onto the safer side of the railing, his hands on your shoulders, sliding down to your hands to steady you as you come over.

"Try convincing Robby that you did it—"

"Oh fuck off, you are just a big, fuzzy, loving teddy bear inside—"

His smile burned through you, in your heart.

And as you predicted, you could never forget it.

—

The next day, there was a new skip to your walk as you entered the pitt. You had spent your day trying to calm down your heart every time you reminisced what happened on the roof. Your skin would jump with goosebumps and your cheeks would immediately redden. So you distracted yourself in the best way.

You walked in with a box in your hand. The aroma of the newly tried recipe made everyone turn their heads. But this time you refrained from giving in to your beloved pittlings' puppy eyes.

Lena and Dana raised their eyebrows. "What's got our sunshine happier than before?"

"Nothing." You squealed softly.

"Mhm." Lena hummed. But mama nurse knew you too well. She knew all of you too well. "You know, you spent an awful lotta time on the roof yesterday. And what's that in the box you're tryin' so hard to keep away?"

"Its for Jack." You murmured. "He mentioned this food he had when he was in Afghanistan—"

"Didn't Dr. Abbot take you up on the roof yesterday?" Joy chimed in.

"What!?" Trinity yelped.

"Excuse me?" Dana took her glasses off and left them on the counter with a thud.

"Are you serious?" Matteo asked you, with her eyes wide open as Princess squealed to Perlah. "i knew it! may utang ka sa akin ng 50 bucks!"

Donnie gave you a pat on the back, like he was proud of you. "W–wait—guys—"

"What's going on here?"

You closed your eyes and sighed in defeat. The voice, the man, the mchottie who had you in trouble. Ellis leaned up on the counter with a dangerously smug look on her face. "Well, we were just talking about sunshine here and yo—"

Your eyes widened and embarrassment crawled up your veins in your neck, swirling anxiety in your brain with all the ways this could go wrong. "Okay! Everybody go back to work, now! Trinity, go home. Ellis, your labs for the 33 year old lady in north five are here and Matteo—"

She peered at Matteo with her glasses slid down till her nose, staring at his phone dreamily, who straightened up, as if he was caught with a scandal. "—do us all a favour, keep the yearning for Dr. Javadi aside and get. back. to. work!"

Everyone scrambled off. You gaped at her with a grateful look in your eyes. "You are amazing."

You turned around to look at the man you've been—shamefully or shamelessly you didn't know—thinking about the whole night and your jaw almost dropped. The sight was marvelous.

Jack abbot in gear.

Camouflage pants and a tight black tee.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He dryly quipped at you.

Before you could reply, a gurney came bursting through the bay. "55 year old man, cardiac arrest—"

You felt his whole body reset and bracing like it always did. "Sunny, you're with me—"

"Sunny?" Shen asked, a knowing, smug look adorned his face as his eyes jumped from him to you. Your whole body flushed. He was going to be your ruin. Jack ignored Shen's absolutely valid inquiry with the excuse of the patient in front of him. But you're frozen.

He still remembered your conversation.

Did he think about it again and again and again like you did?

Your heart did not stop pumping blood but your brain stopped producing logic it seems.

"Sunny? You still with me?" Hus rough yet gentle voice coaxed you out of your thoughts and reminded you of the situation at hand. You cleared your throat and just nodded wordlessly, hoping no one would notice the red on you face.

How will you survive this man?

After sending him off to surgery, Crus looked between the both of you, as if he could sense the electricity between you, the tension, the undying sense of something happened here and just these two are in denial. "That was smooth."

Jack raised one eyebrow at him, amusement etched onto his face. "What was?"

Crus cleared his throat. You stilled. You knew what was coming. Crus did not stop. "You two make a good team."

You shot him a glare that seemed somewhere between 'i will kill you' and 'please don't make my life hell'. He saw it, noted it, considered it.

And threw it in the trash apparently. "Just saying. Everyone saw it inside. Its like you both were in sync. Unstoppable. Inevitable—"

Don't say it.

"—made for each other."

Shen made a choked sound and Ellis pursed her lips, trying to contain her giggle. Beside you, Jack stilled.

"Sunny makes it easier. Made for the night shift." He grunted out.

"Don't make it sound dramatic." He signed on some discharge papers and handed them to Lena. His hand brushed against yours. "Bye, sunny." he murmured softly against your cheek and left you. All by yourself. To process what just happened.

"So, sunny?"

"Shut up, guys."

You turned around and walked towards the supply closet, nothing but an excuse to ditch the conversation that you are about to face.

They followed you like little ducklings.

"What happened to you guys on the roof?" Crus asked.

"Nothing happened—and how do you know?"

Ellis scoffed as if the notion of anything staying a secret in this hospital was absurdly ridiculous. "Come on! tell us—"

"Nothing happened guys and shush!" You glared at them. They peered on you with curiosity as your body shook with embarrassment? Humiliation? Adrenaline? The mere thought of Jack abbot and you on the roof?

Shen slurped on his stupid watered down coffee. "You should go for it."

"I will stab you—"

"No, he's right! At least then your sexual tension in between emergency traumas will not traumatise us."

"Excuse me?"

"Please—even the unconscious patient can sense it!"

You huffed and crossed your arms as if it could save you from this conversation and put on a mask of denial. "That's not even remotely true. besides—I don't like him!"

The three of them stared at you. "Yes, and Shen doesn't live on caffeine." Ellis deadpanned. "You cant deny something we see literally everyday. You banter, flirt, tease and even cook for him! Didn't you make something specially for him today?"

Crus gasped dramatically. "Whaaaat?"

You rolled your eyes. "Its not that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is." The three of them chimed in unison. Your eyes fell on their faces, their relentless questions and sighed in defeat. You scrunched your face, closing your eyes for just a second and then squinting at them. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes—"

"No—"

You pursed your lips and raised your eyebrows at them. "Seriously?"

They gave you wordless looks almost meant to serve with pity, empathy, hope. You don't know. "Listen, you just made this afghan food for him which I know you've never even heard of before. You try to make him smile everyday and there is this embarrassingly obvious sexual tension in between you. Don't think that the ED is half blind to miss the looks you give him."

You sharply inhaled.

"Hey, there's no harm in going for it—he will say yes. If he doesn't, that's his loss. some other person will get your perfectly baked goods." Ellis assured you.

That's when your brain imagined it—wildly. Not in the unsaid, shy and restrained ways it has been doing for the past months. The vivid image of you and the attending you made smile, together, in each other's arms, happy. Holding hands, requited secret glances, soft kisses, stolen touches, his eyes with a gentleness and passion just saved for you and a love that's not a secret—its known, its seen and understood—but its just for both of you.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Your cheeks blushed furiously.

The three of them smirked, knowingly.

"I—" You gulped and stammered on your words. "I need to be somewhere." Your hands shook and your brain didn't comprehend what you needed, nor did your body and it all was about to go crashing when—

"What are you all doing there? Don't you have jobs?"

Jack.

You didn't whether to sigh in relief or wring your hair out in frustration. This man was going to end you. "You know, sunny also has patients to attend to, rather than hearing you guys bicker or gossip about whatever it is."

You felt heat and humiliation hiking up your neck as you notice the smug looks they give each other before wandering off. "Yes boss."

But not before Ellis winked at you, Crus gave you a smug salute, and Shen slurped away loudly, obnoxiously, knowingly, looking back and forth between you and Jack.

Speaking of the man, he just leaned against a counter, gazing at you, with an unpredictable and unreadable look on his face. "Well, since you're done organising that supply closet for the 4th time, some patients are getting starved of your sunshine. Unless, of course, the supply room is in dire need of your attention, sunny."

Sudden confidence flared in your chest. "Well, cap'n grumps, you could just say you are in dire need of attention. No need to shame my perfect supply room."

Your mouth spoke before your brain you could stop it. His mouth twitched, just slightly, his amusement not hiding under a curtain and a glimmer in his pretty eyes which made you weak in the knees. "Get back to work, sunny." He murmured, head shaking and his shoulders lighter than before.

You almost giggled. "Of course, boss."

You walked away. every sense in your body was tingling, goosebumps on your skin and a fire somewhere in the pit of your stomach and a familiar fuzzy feeling growing stronger beneath your chest.

You didn't know if you were going to survive this man. You didn't know if you wanted to.

—

The next hours of the shift were determined to drain the soul out of you.

There were 4 traumas at the same time and a statewide insufficiency of nurses. So that meant you had to jump back and forth. Chairs was filled and actually overflowing while you had a scarcity of beds so all the nurses were charged with scheduling, organising and moving beds according to the level of emergency and pain patients were facing. Plus, you had multiple patients and a family who had declared that dr. google was more knowledgeable than a nurse.

Amazing.

And you hadn't gotten a chance to even eat.

When you finally got a chance to eat in the breakroom, that's when you saw it. The kolcha. Untouched. Because you wanted him to have the first bite. First taste. Just to see that Heartwarming smile again.

You bit your lip and took a peek outside. Everything had slowed down. Just for bit, you were sure, before another trauma, another emergency, another goddamn patient too obnoxious and blind to only believe what google says pulls you in.

This was the time, you decided.

So, you picked up the box, an extra hop to your walk, as you looked for him.

Jack abbot.

Ellis' words rang in your ears and your heartbeat sped up. Should I do it?

Take the chance, the risk?

"Hey, Lena, do you know where Jack is?" You asked softly, almost bashfully, as she narrowed her eyes at you but then flashed you a knowing look before pointing at a room.

The buzz in your heart and brain intensified as you walked towards him. You were so giddy, it hurt. Your soft smile had turn into a beam. The anticipation had turned to you nervous and exhilarated. You wanted to see his smile, the one he'll give after you give him a kolcha. Will it be a soft and dedicated one, reserved just for you? Will it be a joyous and unwithdrawn one, not shying away from showing his beautiful wrinkles?

Everything made your heart soar.

Your feet slowed down as you got there and you heard voices. His and... Dr. Al-hashimi. She was laughing before Jack spoke.

"So, you want get that beer we talked about?"

You heard Jack chuckle. A vibration that rumbled through his lungs in his chest to the ground that you apparently walked on. You felt as if it had just been pulled underneath you. It was lighthearted, casual—directed at someone else.

The ringing of elation in your ears stopped. Replaced with a haunting stillness.

"Yeah, of course. I would love to."

Your breath stopped in your lungs.

It was casual without any audible or visible awkwardness. You glanced inside only to see Jack smiling, a sly and playful grin, lighting up his whole face. Directed towards her. Not you.

Never you.

You wondered if she made it easy for him. Like you probably never did. His whole body was turned towards her, a casual openness to him that was never reciprocated with you. Your chest tightened. Throat strained. Something in your temples felt like it was being pulled.

Jack asking Dr. Al Hashimi out for beers. Your breathing felt shallow. Why wouldn't he? She was brilliant, kind almost dazzling with every step she took. She carried herself with maturity that only comes with facing warzones and fighting injustice. She never had to take constant efforts to make someone smile. He did it instantly for her.

Your hold on the box full of kolchas loosened.

Your legs moved before your brain processed everything. Your eyes looked into the distance, your thoughts melding, twisting your heart, a suffocating hurt settling deep in your bones.

You just kept walking.

"Hey, hon—you okay?" You heard someone say, but your mouth didn't move, your voice had gone numb. So, you just gave tight smile and gave a wordless nod and moved ahead.

Get back to work. You have patients.

Your body moved, on instinct, but without any soul in it.

He didn't owe you anything, you realized. He never reciprocated your efforts, nor did he respond. He just grunted, shook his head, raised his eyebrows, scoffed. It was meaningless. Fruitless. It was just amusement to him. You felt your heart hitting the pit of your stomach. He probably never even considered it. You were his nurse. He was your attending. You tried too hard it was almost entertaining. The sunshine of the night shift. Overbearing. aAways shining. Never needed anything back.

You were nothing like her.

She was everything he could want.

You never even understood where you left the box of kolchas meant for him. It was discarded somewhere like it never included unconditional efforts, hope and love. Like you didn't just stay up the hours you were supposed to put in for sleep to make something you had never made from scratch, just for him. It was not like he ever tried anything you made.

You just walked to a patient, and gave them a smile.

But it felt foreign on your face.

You asked them what was wrong, checked their pulse, gave necessary meds and equipment to the resident in front of you. It felt mechanical. Your eyes were vacant. Too preoccupied with trying to see the things your heart missed. the hope that you harboured over time, the anticipation and giddiness on seeing him, the fuzzy feeling inside your sternum.

Now replaced with a sudden anxiety. A hollowness.

"There she is." You almost jumped, startled by the intrusion of the voice you were now dreading to listen to. "I was looking for you."

Flashes of his soft smile, the wonderful sound of his chuckle, the casual openness—never meant for you—shattered you. You stood there still, unresponsive.

"Sunny?" Jack asked, oh-so-gently, but it just pricked your skin like needles. Even his soft words had become a sign of betrayal. Was he just dragging you along?

A shaky exhale escaped you but your face remained stoic. Your movements were calculated.

"Lena wants you to talk to this patient, he doesn't agree with any of the nurses, says he wants a 'real, qualified doctor'."

"Okay—"

"—and ortho has your results ready for north five, just sign on those." You said in a clipped tone. Tou couldn’t even look at him anymore. You had to get out of there.

But you could still feel him. His furrowed eyebrows, tensed shoulders, concerned eyes—searching for answers, searching for you. All confused. But you didn't have answers. Not anymore.

So, you left, wordlessly, with your broken heart.

Him, with confusion etched onto his features.

Because you realized that while you looked for him in every room before even entering it, he probably never did.

So you should stop too.

Shouldn't you?

oh, what a curse it is to be lover girl

—laufey.

thank you for reading!

part two is out now!

tagging ppl who commented on inspo post:

Jack Abbot was never really the type to feed himself the way a person should eat. He lived off of vending machine food and granola bars. He could cook—he’s actually a very good cook—but didn’t see the point after a twelve hour shift that left him dead on his feet.

But for you? He’d cook a three course meal if you asked. He made sure you had dinner when he was off, waited on you hand and foot.

You did the same for him. But more so; you kept him fed.

You started meal prepping lunches for him to take to work; sometimes just leftovers from the previous night or something you made new entirely the day before while he was at work. Then you started adding desserts and snacks; a donut or pastry from the corner bakery you both loved, homemade cookies or brownies.

You left yogurt and homemade granola, veggie sticks with dip, beef jerky. But the dinners you packed? God, Jack could die on that hill.

He couldn’t explain how happy and domestic it made him feel to open up his lunchbox and find you’d packed him leftovers from the lasagna you’d made. Or chili, or a sandwich that looked like it came straight from a deli. Wraps that were filled to the brim with turkey and lettuce and everything he liked in them. He’d groan every time he took that first bite, leaning back in his chair with a content sigh. Something dangerous playing in his heart.

You—his sweet girlfriend of a few months who lived in his t-shirts and padded around his apartment with a giddy step and had more kindness in your pinky than most people had in their entire body—packed him lunch like it was nothing. Taking care of him like it was second nature. For you, it was.

People noticed, because Jack Abbot didn’t eat on shift unless it was a handful of nuts or whatever stale thing fell out of the vending machine when he kicked it after it ate his money.

But along with Jack eating good, came the changes in his body. Not anything drastic or bad but…he got thicker. At first it was just a little more pull at his scrubs, nothing he couldn’t handle by adjusting his arms a little.

He didn’t get fat or out of shape just; broader, healthy fat lining his muscles. His pecs and biceps always strained against his shirts, but now they looked like they were seconds away from busting the seams open. His ass got rounder, cheeks slightly more plush that you grabbed every time he kissed you; making him yelp a noise of protest. Every. Single. Time.

Don’t even get started on his torso. Layered with a slight pudge at the bottom when he wore his belt, abs and back muscles visible and flexing underneath his movements. He looked divine. He was stronger, more solid and filled out. His scrub top looked more than two sizes too small, hanging on for dear life.

Even if people noticed, they didn’t say anything; not at first. But of course Robby would be the one to put a stop to that; coming to a halt as he walked by with an ipad in hand, looking at his best friend like he’d just committed a felony in front of him.

“Jesus brother”, Robby says; “Let that shirt breathe.”

Jack turned to look at him, pushing his elbows off the counter of the hub; “What?”

“You look like your shirt’s two seconds away from ripping”, Robby points out, like it’s common knowledge.

“I don’t-“

Dana appears out of thin air next to them; “He’s right. You’ve been eating actual food too.”

Jack’s mouth stays open for a second, before a smirk takes its place; “So what? People eat.”

“You”, Robby says, pointing at him with a look over his glasses; “Don’t eat.”

“This feels like a personal attack”, Jack scoffs, still slightly amused; “You don’t eat either.”

“Correct. But i’m not suddenly showing up two months later looking like an honorary Avenger about to bust out of his scrub top.”

Jack’s jaw ticks, eyes flicking between the two; “You’re unbelievable.”

Jack grabs his own tablet, throwing a mock glare at the two in front of him; “I have patients to see, you know, like a real doctor?”

Then he walks away, throwing a half-hearted wave and a middle finger at whatever Dana and Robby are calling out after him.

Robby shifts on his feet, scoff leaving his mouth; “Damn.”

Dana gives him a look; “Whatever you’re thinking Robinavitch; don’t.”

Robby shakes his head; “No…Abbot’s got a better ass than me.”

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

A week later Jack finds himself standing in the break room, pulling out the lunch box you packed for him—leftovers from dinner the night before. Pasta and bread that he happily reheated in the microwave and toaster oven.

A small yellow sticky note was stuck to the top of the container, his lips already twitching at the corners.

‘Baby! I can’t wait to see you today. Go kick ass & save lives, sexy doctor man !! I love you sooooo much !! PS: I left you a surprise from your fav place !!’ with a little smiley face and heart drawn below it.

Jack’s heart skipped a beat, feeling the heat climbing up his neck and ears; settling on his cheeks as he slipped the note into his pocket to hang in his locker later with all the other notes of yours he kept.

He settled at the round table in the break room, looking further into the lunch box where sure enough—he found a pastry from his favorite bakery around the corner from his apartment.

He took a bite of it, sighing and letting his eyes close as the sweet taste hit his tongue. Shoulders dropping a bit as he relaxed a little into the chair.

He didn’t even open his eyes when the break room door swung open, whoever was stepping inside slipped to the back of his mind.

“Woah, is that homemade pasta?”, Shen’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Jack grunted quietly in response, nodding as he leant forward to take a bite; “Maybe.”

“You got a professional chef at home we don’t know about?”

Jack smirked a little; “Something like that.”

He took another bite, knowing more questions were coming and secretly hoping Shen would just do whatever he came in to do and let him eat in peace—but this was the ED, the night shift nonetheless; and Jack knew that was wishful thinking.

The door swung open behind them, Ellis sliding up next to Shen—stopping in her tracks.

“Abbot’s got homemade pasta”, Shen says, eyes wide.

Ellis leans over to inspect; “Now I know you didn’t cook that yourself.”

Jack raises his brows; “I can cook.”

“Not like that”, Ellis defends; “You burnt the noodles at last year’s potluck.”

“Robby was distracting me.”

“Excuses.”

Jack huffed and took another bite of his food.

“A pastry too? Who’s packing you this stuff?”

Jack takes the last bite of his pasta, pushing himself out of his chair and packing up the empty container; “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He can feel the eyes on him as he puts the lunchbox back into the fridge, pulls out a water and slips past them with a smirk; “Enjoy your break, crawlers.”

Ellis scoffs, turning to Shen; “Fifty bucks says he’s got a woman at home. He’s not cooking like that.”

“Sixty-five”, Shen says, holding out his hand.

Ellis shakes it; “Done.”

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

The buzz of Jack Abbot’s sudden new eating habits—that actually benefited his body more than a vending machine dinner—quickly reached every corner of the ED. Various bets and hushed whispers of different theories floated around med students and residents alike. Hell, even Robby’s name had made it up on the betting board.

Jack himself couldn’t care less, the hushed whispers of the bet made him smirk to himself; knowing it was driving his coworkers crazy.

He wasn’t keeping you a secret exactly; it had just never directly or seriously come up.

He didn’t pay too much mind to all the whispers about his new size, either—mostly brushing it off as teasing or Robby and Dana just trying to get him all riled up.

But now, as he stood in the bathroom of his apartment—tugging a soft grey t-shirt over his head after a much needed shower; he was starting to think what Robby had said may have some truth to it.

You can hear him huff to himself in the bathroom, words you can’t quite pick up on as you flip through TV channels. A soft groan of frustration or disbelief echoes through Jack’s room, making you sit up more.

“Baby?”, You call, “Everything ok?”

There’s another quiet murmur of something before Jack comes out of the bathroom; hair still damp, greying curls lightening up as they dry. Boxers clinging low on his hips, the grey shirt he has on doing almost nothing to cover the contour and outline of his muscles—clinging to him so close he might as well not even bother wearing it.

Your mouth goes dry, watching as he sets his crutches against the bedside table and slumps down onto the end of the bed—every muscle in his back moving and pulling the shirt fabric even tighter.

“M’fine”, He says, messaging his residual limb; “Just starting to think maybe Robby’s right.”

“Ok…?”, You breathe; “Don’t ever say those words again…but about what?”

Jack huffs a laugh; “I’m serious!”

You shimmy out from underneath the covers, walking on your knees to the end of the bed and letting your hands roam over Jack’s shoulders. He instantly leans into it—like he didn’t even have to think about it anymore.

“He said my scrub top looked too small”, Jack sighs.

“Really?”

“Well actually his exact words were ‘let that shirt breathe, you’re about to rip it’ but I was phrasing it nicer.”

You laugh; “What makes you think he’s right?”

Jack shrugs; “Didn’t notice anything until I tried to put this shirt on and it barely fits. It used to be loose on me…”

He trails off, something in his mind making him think extra hard.

You hum softly, continuing to rub at his shoulders and a little down his arms; playing with the damp curls at the nape of his neck.

It’s quiet in the room as Jack continues to massage the tension out of his leg, eyes flicking over whatever TV channel you’d landed on before he came out. You press a soft kiss to his nape.

“Am I bigger?”, He asks suddenly.

Your eyes widen, a surprised laugh escaping your lips; “W-What?”

“Am I bigger?”, He repeats; “Have I put on weight?”

You soften immediately, realizing by the scrunch in his brow; he’s insecure about this.

“Baby, no”, You coo, slipping around to settle into his lap.

His hands come up to your waist, immediately steadying you.

“You’re just eating good”, You assure him.

His brow stays furrowed, a slight pout on his face and lips; eyes not looking at you.

“I mean maybe you’ve put on a few pounds, but with your job and SWAT; it’s all muscle, my love”, You say, letting your fingers comb through his hair.

He doesn’t answer yet, but his brow softens, eyes flicking towards yours now as you move your face in front of his.

“You’re so broad”, You whisper, hands roaming his shoulders again; “So strong.”

“Yeah?”, He asks, eyebrows raising a bit.

You nod, bottom lip between your teeth; “Yeah.”

You giggle softly when you feel his fingers flex at your waist, the way he shivers when you let your hands drift under his shirt—palms pressing flat against his torso. You let them settle there for a moment, fingers tapping against skin before you pull them back—tugging upwards at the hem.

His ears are pink now, but he doesn’t hesitate; pulling the shirt up and over his head with one pull at the back of the collar. It lands somewhere on the floor, but your attention remains on him.

Pale skin with a slight farmers tan disappearing by his elbows; laid out bare in front of you. His eyes flicking around the room, hands back at your waist.

With a soft hand on his jaw, you force him to look at you.

“You’re so thick”, You murmur, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.

His grip of your waist tightens, a breath leaving his nose.

Your kisses travel over his skin, trailing over his shoulders and torso; leaving no spot unmarked.

“So full and filled out.”

Kiss.

“So muscular.”

Kiss.

“So handsome.”

Your compliments start drifting elsewhere as you let your kisses trail over him.

“So kind.”

Kiss.

“So caring.”

Another kiss.

“So good to me.”

A kiss to his neck.

Your hands stop at the bottom of his torso, just below his belly button where the slightest bit of softer skin sits just above his waistband. You smooth your hands over it, feeling the muscle below it tense.

You look up, finding Jack’s cheeks the same color as his ears—his eyes wide and waiting. You pinch his skin once, before letting your hands roam back up his freckled arms to his shoulders; cupping his nape in your hands.

“You’re so beautiful, Jack”, You murmur.

A shaky breath leaves him, your lips against his cheeks and nose. He pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“God, I love you”, He huffs, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips press firm against yours, hands traveling up your back and settling on your ribs. Jack’s forehead stays against yours when he pulls back, eyes still closed.

“It’s your fault, ya know”, He smirks.

You shrug; “I know, and I’m gonna keep feeding my man good.”

He lets out a noise between a groan and something of disbelief when you move off his lap, finding your way back to your spot on the bed. He follows you, rolling over to lay on his stomach; arms framed around his head and tucked under his pillow.

“Besides”, You say, mischievous smile growing; “Your ass looks ridiculously good.”

He yelps when your hand comes in contact with his ass, eyes wide as pink practically runs up his neck.

“Baby!”

“M’not even sorry”, You say, leaning in to capture his lips before he can protest any further.

─ ─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ─── ─

Something in Jack settles after that, most of the insecurity gone. He takes all the comments from Robby and Dana in stride. He still eats what you pack him, still keeps your notes.

He frowns when he goes to get his lunchbox out, finding it missing with a note in its place.

‘No lunch today, baby. Got a surprise for you!’

He can’t help the way his lips turn up at the corner, curiosity taking over when the door behind him swings open.

“Abbot! We got a MVA coming in”, Dana’s voice cuts him out of his thoughts.

“How long?”

“About two minutes.”

Jack sighs once, putting his bag away and following Dana out the door; the part of him trying to figure out what you were up to slipping to the back of his mind.

About two hours later, the bay doors open around you; boxes stacked in your hands as you wander towards the hub.

“You need help there, hon?”, Dana’s voice comes.

She’s standing at the hub, brows quirked in amusement and confusion.

“Oh hi!”, You chirp; “I just brought some lunch for my boyfriend and his co-workers. Not really sure where to put it though.”

Dana’s smile grows; “Well why didn’t you say so? Follow me, we’ll put those in here.”

She shows you to the break room, holding the door open as you slip in.

“So boyfriend huh? Which one of our lucky med students gets all this food?”, She asks, leading you back to the hub.

“Oh! He’s not a med student, he’s a doctor! Uh, Jack?”, You say.

Dana’s smile widens even further; “So you’re the one who’s feeding our grumpy guy?”

Robby’s head whips up from the other side of the hub, Ellis and Shen slowing to a stop behind him.

You can’t help the laugh the slips out; “He looks grumpy sometimes, but he’s actually not. It’s all a ruse.”

It’s Dana’s turn to laugh; “Huh.”

“He thinks he’s got everyone fooled, but he’s just a big—“

“Sweetheart?”, Jack’s voice breaks through.

Your eyes light up immediately, rushing to meet him halfway; “Jack!”

You meet his chest with a soft thud, arms wrapping around him as you lean up and press a kiss to his lips. He’s frozen for a moment, but immediately melts into the kiss once your lips meet his. His strong hands find your waist, smoothing over them; keeping you both grounded.

Nothing else around him matters in that moment—not whatever trauma he’d just stepped out of, not the fact that his leg was a little sore, not the fact that the ED had fallen almost silent around you; and not Robby or his coworkers bewildered gazes.

He’s melted into you as you wrapped your arms around his torso, tucking yourself under his arm; hand rubbing softly over his ribs.

“Baby!”, You hum; “I missed you.”

Jack’s eyes wander over you; “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

There’s a moment where his brain catches up, and he’s suddenly tilting your head up to look at him; worried eyes checking over your features.

“What’re you doing here? Are you ok? Are you hurt?”, His questions come rambling out.

You giggle, squeezing his side; “I’m fine! I brought you and your friends some lunch. It’s in the break room.”

Jack softens, a small graze of his lips against your head; “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know”, You shrug; “But I wanted to.”

The gazes around you narrow, mouths agape at this Jack.

Jack Abbot was a lot of things in the ED; assertive, leading, confident, level-headed, kind, always looking out for everyone in his own quiet way; but he wasn’t soft.

But with you? Jack crumbled under your gaze, the strong-willed and grumpy looking attending was a smiling and sweet puddle in your arms.

“I got that coffee that you like”, You hum.

Jack dips his head down closer to hear you; “From the deli?”

“Mhm, it’s at home on the counter. Where do you think I got the sandwiches from?”

Something sparkles in his eyes; “That’s what you brought us for lunch? Baby, that’s too much.”

But the glint of excitement stays in his eyes.

You tsk and wave him off; “Not for you.”

His face goes unbearably fond, eyes and smile soft. His lips brush against your ear.

“You’re gonna spoil us”, He says, voice low and raspy.

“Let me”, You smirk.

Behind you, Robby finally clears his throat; “Jack you gonna introduce us or do we all just not exist now?”

“You don’t”, Jack rolls his eyes, smirking as Robby feigns hurt.

Jack introduces you, pointing to each of his colleagues that have gathered around; “That’s Robby, he’s annoying.”

You smack his chest; “Be nice!”

Jack doesn’t falter; “That’s Dana, she makes this place run smoothly. Behind her are Ellis and Shen.”

“Oh! You’re Dana!”, You smile; “I’ve heard so much about all of you.”

“Oh really—“, Robby starts before Dana stops him with a flick to the back of his neck; “Ow!”

Jack takes that as an opportunity to steer you away from the crowd and into the break room; Whitaker slipping out the door with a mouthful of sandwich from one of the boxes.

“Well it seems like they like the sandwiches”, You say, watching as Jack himself digs into the boxes you’d left on the counter.

“I labeled yours”, You add.

Jack finds his as the words leave your mouth, unwrapping it as he lowers himself onto the small couch—patting his lap; “‘Cmere.”

You drift towards him with a magnetic pull you’ll never be able to explain, finding your spot on his good leg. Hands drifting up to play with the curls on his head; a little sweaty now from working.

He hums around another bite of sandwich, his free arm resting at your back; “Thank you for this, really sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jack. I like taking care of you”, You tell him.

The smile on your face matches his as he presses a kiss to your temple, offering you a bite that you gladly accept.

“Your friends seem nice”, You add; “Kinda quiet though.”

Jack scoffs, smirk crooked; “Give them a chance.”

“We should have them over sometime, for a barbecue or something.”

Jack hums, palm circling your lower back; “Whatever you want, baby.”

You reach out and grab his chin, catching him off guard; his mouth still half open as he went in for another bite—brows in his hairline.

“I love you”, You coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He chases after your lips; “I love you too, sweetheart.”

You let his lips take over yours, warm and present. You jump when you pull back, checking your watch; “Oh! I gotta get going, I’m gonna be late.”

Jack pats your bum as you press another kiss to his lips, slipping out of his lap and heading towards the break room door. You turn back when you get there, smiling at Jack whose eyes have never left you.

“See you at home?”, He asks, not really wanting you to leave.

You nod, bottom lip between your teeth; “With dinner and a hot bath ready.”

Jack groans, already aching to be cuddled up with you and unwind from his shift. You blow him a kiss with a soft wave, that he happily returns before you slip out the door; leaving him alone in the break room.

He can still feel your weight on his lap, your fingers in his hair and your lips against his—a blush and smile creeping up on him as he leans forward for another bite of his sandwich;

“So ‘baby’, huh?”, Robby’s voice comes.

“Shut up, Robinavitch”, Jack juts.

The sound of a clipboard hitting the floor and Robby yelping as he jumps out of the way are all that Jack hears as the door swings shut; humming softly to himself—more than ready to come home to you.

“She sleeps between us half the time. The body heat of two parents and enough blankets to suffocate a horse works well to keep her warm. But sweetheart, listen to your mother—”

When he sets his prosthetic against the nightstand, Chubby stops trying to crawl away. She sits between the pillows and looks at Jack’s residual limb. The sudden stillness gets your attention first. 

When Jack notices, his hand moves to rest over the end of his thigh, as if there’s something indecent about her seeing too much of the part of him that she has literally helped you clean before. 

She tilts her head. 

“Dada, where leg go?”

Jack glances at his prosthetic, propped up. “Right there.”

“No. That’s Leggy. Other leg. Where it go?”

You lower her pajama shirt into your lap as you know Jack too well to understand that the muscles in his jaw settle in a way that tells you he doesn’t want to answer the question. That he’s arranging his body around her question, and you can’t stop him. 

Even if you could, you wouldn’t, because if you know your daughter well enough, too, she’ll know how to charm the hurt into something beautiful. 

“I don’t have it anymore. I lost it. You know that.”

He’s been better than good about his leg long before you. He’s let Chubby knock on the socket like it was a door.

...He pretended to answer. But this ain’t a joke. His daughter is looking at him and realizing that his body is different. 

He goes still, but he doesn’t stop her when she reaches out and presses a hand to his thigh. 

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not right now.”

She plops down next to him, criss-cross-applesauce style. Jack looks at you, but not to plead, which is obvious. He’d probably chew off his other leg rather than ask to be rescued from a conversation with his little girl. But…you see the clear uncertainty, because you’re so good at making big things fit inside small, soft words. 

You just nod. 

Go on. Tell her there was a world where you existed without either of us and almost stopped existing altogether. Maybe leave the parts that still visit you in your dreams for when she’s older. All she knows is that you kiss me too much and sometimes uses a scary voice when I accidentally leave the door unlocked. 

“My leg got hurt pretty badly.”

“Mommy fix with Leggy?”

Oh. That’s a heartkiller. Jack looks at you again, swallowing. 

“No, baby. I didn’t know Mommy yet.”

Chubby turns to stare at you. She’s disturbed by this. You understand totally. A world in which you and Jack did not know each other feels unreal to you, too.

“Mommy not there? Who fix you?”

“Doctors helped me. They tried to fix the hurt leg, but it was hurt too badly. So they had to take it away to help the rest of me get better.”

Chubby stares down at the rounded end of his thigh, her small fingers curling into his shirt.

“You were sick like me? Like Mommy when she cough?”

“Sicker than that. I was in the hospital for a while.”

“You cry?”

…Oop. That is also a heartkiller, the way she says it. The way Jack sighs.

“Probably.” 

“You were scared?”

Jack lowers his eyes at Chubby’s question. He feels as much as he feels he should lie. He could easily…well, not easily, but he could tell her that Dada knew everything would be okay and that he was brave. 

But she deserves more than that. She may be too small for the truth of fear, but she doesn’t deserve some false version of her dad. That’ll make the truth harder to take down the line. He doesn’t know if he could handle that. 

“Yeah, I was scared.”

Chubby’s face goes blank before it twists at the fact she’s just learned that her father can hurt. Of course, you should expect a tantrum or a wail for her dada, the immovable object of her life. The broad chest runs into, and the deep voice that makes the monsters beneath her bed dumb for even trying. 

Her eyes begin to tear up. Her lips begin to pout. You instinctively shift closer, but Jack rubs her back first. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

Anyway, Jack should think it beautiful and flattering that his being scared is harder for her to understand than his having one leg…considering it’s the most his heart can do before it dies on itself at her cries. 

…The way yours is right now. 

“Dada scared!”

“I was, but that was a long time ago.”

Her lip trembles as she sniffles.

“Your leg gone, you almost gone?”

…You’re not sure if Chubby even knows what she’s asking. Gone to her usually means work, or when you have to use the bathroom, and she can’t handle it. Or when she throws bun-bun under the couch. 

But, apparently, she’s put enough of the pieces together, and when you look at Jack, you think he’s the man that must’ve been in that hospital bed. 

You lay your hand over his before your tearducts can follow your daughter’s.

“I’m here now, baby—”

“No! Don’t go Dada! No Dada go!”

Chubby scrambles into him and locks her arms around his neck. Jack hugs her, which is too easy considering how tiny she is. 

“I’m right here, baby.”

“No go.”

“I’m not going anywhere right now.”

You hear the care he takes with the last two words, because Jack never promises forever, not with the future that he watches like a hawk. And as annoying as it is, you understand his point. 

But when your baby girl lifts her head and looks into his eyes, you understand the way he breaks in on himself. 

“Stay, Dada.”

And jeez, how can he not at that? You, though? Breaking inward—silently, that’s not your style. 

“...Dada’s not going anywhere. Can’t. I’ve got two girls to take care of.”