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@abbots-go-bag
lee || 37 || 18+ || mdni || sideblog
masterlist
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content warning: sfw, nsfw, dark content, old man fucking, also literally obsessed with jack abbot, i have the right to just not engage if i choose not to, i’m not afraid of the block button, not spoiler free (sometimes i tag sometimes i don’t and if you don’t like that meh), and i may talk about other shows on this platform - if you wish to follow my anime blog - see my main blog
#unc is a hunk
she's locked in
The Pitt cast attend HBO's The Pitt Season 2 Emmy FYC Event
David Geffen Theater at the Academy Museum | Los Angeles, CA | June 9, 2026
📷 Phillip Faraone/Getty Images for HBO
SHAWN HATOSY on CBS Mornings (▶ prev interviews)
*cares aggressively*
dapitt at da beach
having someone care about you for the first time in 10 months
Your Husband Is Who? - Jack Abbot
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader
WC: 1.4k
Summary: A routine IT call in the ED turns into an unexpected reveal when Santos realizes the quiet IT specialist she’s been talking to is married to the doctor she works with.
A/N: Requests are welcome! This work is entirely mine and has been proofread with Grammarly.
Masterlist
Your pager went off mid-sip.
The page had come in as “urgent” which, in hospital terms, usually meant one of the doctors couldn’t figure out how to access their records without their badge automatically logging them in.
It was one of those calls that could be quickly fixed if they bothered to remember their hospital-given access codes.
You grabbed your coffee, badge swinging against your chest as you made your way down to the ED.
The second the elevator doors slid open, the chaos hit you. Phones were ringing, stretchers rolling in, voices overlapping. All of it made you grateful to be hidden away in a room for most of the day.
You made your way to the nurses' hub; it was bound to be the location of the confused doctor.
“Someone called for IT?”
“That would be me.”
You followed the voice to find Dr. Trinity Santos sitting there, staring at a frozen screen as if it had personally betrayed her.
“I’ve been trying to fill out charts forever,” she huffed. “Damn thing kicked me out.”
You stepped in beside her, setting your coffee down carefully before leaning over the keyboard.
“Let me guess,” you said, already reaching for the mouse. “ You tried a couple of passwords, got locked out, and now it's not letting you in.”
Santos pointed at you as you’d just insulted her personally. “First of all, I tried multiple passwords. It’s the damn computer that won't take them.”
“Incorrect passwords are still incorrect to the computer,” you mention lightly, finger moving across the keys as you pull up the backend system.
She groaned, dropping back in her chair. “I swear, technology has it out for me.”
You smiled to yourself, suppressing a laugh. “Technology is a neutral party, but user error isn’t, however–”
“Don’t,” she warned, though there was no real heat behind it.
You hummed, still working. “Alright, I’m going to unlock your account. It might take a couple of minutes.”
She leaned back in her chair, eyes catching on your ring while you typed.
“That’s a really nice ring.”
You glanced down, almost like you’d forgotten it was there, your thumb brushing over the band without thinking.
“Oh yeah, thanks,” you said, a small smile slipping through. “My husband actually picked it out on his own.”
“Did he?” Santo leaned forward slightly, interest replacing her earlier frustration. “Damn girl, he must make a pretty penny. That’s a good choice.”
You laughed at her comment, a grin spreading. “He’s a doctor.”
Santos blinked. “Of course he is.”
“How do you even make that work?” she continued. “I barely have time to see my fling that works here, let alone manage to date or marry anyone.”
“You get used to it.” You shrugged, “Schedule lines up sometimes. Other times you just make time even if it's not very long.”
“That sounds way too functional,” Santos muttered. “Are you sure he’s actually a doctor?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Does he work here?” she asked, curiosity creeping in now.
You tilted your head, like you were considering whether to answer, before just focusing back on the screen. “Try logging in again in a minute.”
Santos huffed, watching you work. “You computer people are too calm. If my job locked me out of patients, I’d lose it.”
“You are losing it,” you pointed out.
“Fair.”
There was a pause while you worked, the hum of the ED filling the space.
“So,” she said again, clearly not done talking, “married life.”
You glanced at her briefly. “What about it?
“How long have you been with Mr. Fancy pants?”
“A while,” you said vaguely.
“That’s not an answer,” she said immediately, narrowing her eyes at you.
You smiled slightly. “It’s a safe answer.”
“You’re funny. I like you.”
“Dangerous combination,” you muttered.
She ignored that. “Okay, seriously though, what’s it like being married to a doctor?”
You leaned back in the chair, still working as you spoke, as the words came easily now.
“It’s kind of funny, actually,” you started. “We met here at the hospital. I was fixing a printer no one wanted to deal with, and he was hovering like I was about to make it worse.
Santos snorted. “That tracks.”
You smiled slightly, shaking your head. “I thought he didn’t trust me at first. Kept asking if I knew what I was doing.”
“Please tell me you humbled him.”
“Oh, immediately,” you said. “I finally turned around and snapped at him, told him if he was that concerned, he could fix it himself.”
Santos let out a sharp laugh. “No—”
“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “And he just” you paused, mimicking it slightly, “kind of froze for a second.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” you said. “Then he goes all quiet and goes, ‘I just figured you might need help lifting it…’”
Santos blinked. “…lifting what?”
“The bottom panel,” you said, gesturing slightly. “The paper tray was jammed. He thought I wouldn’t be able to lift it.”
There was a beat.
Then Santos’ face lit up.
“Oh my god,” she laughed. “He was trying to help you.”
“Yeah,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. “Just… very badly.”
“And you snapped at him?”
“I didn’t know,” you defended, smiling. “He was hovering.”
“That is so much worse for him,” she said, shaking her head. “He tried to be nice and got told off.”
You hummed. “To be fair, I fixed it without his help.”
Santos let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Wow.”
She leaned forward again, interested now. “Does he still work here?”
You hesitated just long enough to be annoying on purpose. “Sometimes.”
Before she could even question it, a voice cut in from behind you both.
“Dr. Santos, trauma room four needs your signature before we can send the patient home.”
You didn’t look up right away, your gaze still on the computer loading screen, fingers idly tapping against the desk.
Santos did. “Yeah–got it, I–”
She stopped mid-sentence because Dr. Jack Abbot was standing right next to you, tablet in hand.
He was calm, as usual, not caring that he just walked into the middle of someone's conversation.
You finally glanced up, meeting his eyes for half a second.
It was hard to notice, but the small shift at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Quick enough that anyone not paying attention would’ve missed it, he added the slightest wink to match.
Your fingers stilled for just a second against the desk before you picked your coffee back up, as if nothing had happened.
Santos definitely didn't miss that.
Her brows pulled together instantly, eyes flickering between the two of you.
You, who suddenly looked just a little too composed.
Him, who was already looking back at her like nothing had happened, one hand resting against the counter just beside yours. Close enough that if either of you moved an inch, you guys would touch.
Her eyes slid back to you. Then to your ring.
Then to him.
And something clicked.
Her posture straightened just a little too much.
You took a slow sip of your coffee, unbothered.
Jack didn’t help her either.
Santos looked between the two of you one more time.
Her eyes widened.
“No way.”
You set your coffee down, pushing your chair back just slightly like you were getting ready to leave.
“Try logging in now,” you said casually.
She didn’t move.
Her mouth opened slightly. “…that’s your husband.”
You tilted your head, a small smile pulling at your lips.
“You asked if he worked here,” you reminded her lightly. “You managed to answer your own question.”
For a second, Santos just stared at you. Then at Jack. Then back at you.
Her jaw dropped.
She just stared at the two of you, eyes wide, as her brain had stalled completely.
You stood, grabbing your coffee like nothing had just happened.
“You’ll be fine, Dr. Santos,” he said evenly. A beat. “Try not to make it a department event.”
That made it worse.
Santos made a strangled sound, still staring between you and him like her brain refused to cooperate.
You stepped back from the desk. “Try logging in now,” you said, already turning away.
Jack’s eyes followed you for a moment as you walked off, expression holding the faintest hint of amusement that lingered a second too long before he looked back at Santos.
Affair?
summary: the ER knows you're married, pregnant, and hopelessly in love with your husband. so when brendon keeps hovering around you, everyone's convinced you're having an affair.
pairing: brendon park + attending!pregnant!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings/tags: mentions of pregnancy, workplace misunderstanding
notes: based on this ask from anon, tysm for requesting!
reblogs, likes, and comments are so so appreciated! if you want to read more from me, kindly submit in my inbox !!! xoxo
The first rumor started because of a protein bar.
Not because of anything dramatic. Not because someone saw you sneaking around hospital corridors or caught you pressed against a wall with Brendon Park's hand around your waist.
No.
It started because at two in the afternoon, during a brutally understaffed Friday day shift in the ER, you looked up from charting and said with exhausted fondness:
"My husband is going to kill me if he finds out I skipped lunch again."
And Dana, who had worked enough years in emergency medicine to survive on caffeine and spite alone, snorted.
"Husbands," she said. "They worry too much."
You smiled to yourself while typing. "Mine's worse now that I'm pregnant. Yesterday he tried to meal prep for me."
"Oh?" Santos asked from the next computer. "How'd that go?"
"He labeled every container by protein count."
"Sounds intense," Santos muttered.
"He is intense," you agreed easily. "But he means well."
Nobody thought much about it then. Because everybody in the ER about your husband.
Well, sort of. They knew he existed. They knew he packed your lunches sometimes. That he texted reminders for vitamins. That he apparently folded laundry with terrifying precision. That he hated when you worked overtime but still stayed awake until you got home anyway.
They knew he rubbed your swollen feet after shifts. They knew he was "ridiculously overprotective." They knew he called you "doctor" sarcastically whenever you forgot to take care of yourself.
They knew you adored him, but they didn't know his name.
And somehow, over months of working together, nobody ever asked. Or maybe they had once and gotten distracted by a trauma alert halfway through.
That was the thing about the ER. Conversations happened infragments.
So your husbands became this faceless mythical man everyone pieced together from tiny details.
And because you were basically sunshine in human form (You were the warmest, most patient, endlessly kind person), everyone imagined your husband accordingly.
Probably some sweet elementary school teacher. Or a soft-spoken accountant. Or maybe a stay-at-home husband who baked sourdough and wore cardigans.
Definitely not Brendon Park. Absolutely not him.
The first time most of the ER really met Brendon was during a motorcycle trauma.
The ortho pager had gone off twenty minutes earlier and everyone was already stressed. The patient had multiple fractures, a discolated shoulder, and enough road rash to make the interns pale.
Then he walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered. No greeting, no wasted movement, just immediate assessment,
"X-rays," his voice cut through the chaos.
Someone handed them over. Brendon studied them for maybe three seconds.
"We'll prep OR two. I want vascular on standby."
Ogilvie beside him started talking. "So we were thinking—"
"No," Brendon interrupted without even looking at him. "You were guessing."
Silence. Ogilvie visibly shrank.
"Comminuted tib-fib fracture with displacement. If you'd waited another hour, he'd lose perfusion."
The room went still. Not because he was wrong, but because he was terrifying.
Then his eyes shifted toward you. And the entire atmosphere changed so subtly that nobody noticed it except maybe Santos.
Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. Brendon's expression remained unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you for half a second too long.
"You've been here since morning," he said flatly.
"Hello to you too."
"Did you eat?"
The room paused.
You looked midly defensive. "Yes."
"You're lying."
"I had crackers."
"That's not food."
Ogilvie who'd just been verbally executed stared between you both in confusion. The Shark did not do conversation, yet here he was arguing with you about crackers.
You rolled your eyes. "I'm busy."
"You're pregnant."
"And?"
"And you require actual nutrition."
Santos coughed to hide a laugh. Brendon ignored everybody. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and placed a protein bar beside your keyboard without saying anything else.
Then he turned and walked away. No goodbye or no explaination. He just left.
The ER collectively stared at the protein bar. Then at you. Then back at the protein bar.
Santos finally broke the silence. "...What the hell was that?"
You unwrapped the bar casually. "He gets grumpy when I forget to eat."
"You know Park the Shark?" Santos asked slowly.
You looked confused. "Brendon?"
The entire station froze at the first-name basis.
"What do you mean, Brendon?" Santos asked.
"That's his name."
"No one calls him Brendon."
"Oh," you took a bite of the protein bar. "I do."
After that, people started noticing things. Little things.
Like how Brendon only ever lingered in the ER when you were there. How he answered everyone else with clipped professionalism but always gave you full sentences.
How you somehow never seemed intimidated by him. Everyone else treated Brendon like a shark circling bloody water, you treated him like an annoyed housecat.
One afternoon, during a particularly miserable shift, you were sitting at the station rubbing your lower back.
"God," you muttered. "My husband bought six different pregnancy pillows."
Dana laughed. "Six?"
"He said the first five didn't have the right feeling."
"What does that even mean?"
"I don't even want to know."
Then Santos frowned. "Wait. Wasn't Park carrying a giant package into the parking lot yesterday?"
You didn't look up from your charting. "Probably."
"And didn't he get irritated at at someone who bumped into him because it caused him to drop it all?"
"Oh, that was ours."
Silence.
You blinked up. "What?"
Santos stared at you carefully. "You and Park live in the same building?"
"Oh." You smiled absentmindedly. "Yeah."
Another silence. Santos looked deeply concerned now.
"You're... close with him?"
You laughed. "I mean, I would hope so."
Nobody knew what to say to that. Because there was no way. No way.
You were married, pregnant even. Completely in love with your husband, whoever he was.
And Brendon Park looked at most human interaction like it personally offended him.
Yet somehow he kept appearing around you like a shadow, like it was gravity.
The rumors exploded after an incident at the cafeteria. You had been off your shift for exactly eleven minutes when Brendon walked into the cafeteria still in his scrubs.
And everyone noticed that. Because Brendon never went to the cafeteria (He barely seemed to consume food). He scanned the room once and found you immediately. THen walked over carrying a tray.
Without asking, he switched your coffee with a different one.
"You can't have that much caffeine."
You looked offended. "It was half-caf."
"It was basically battery acid."
"You tasted it?"
"You left it on the counter this morning."
Brendon sat across from you naturally, like this happened every day.
You pointed at his tray. "You got fries?"
"You wanted fries."
"I mentioned fries once."
"You cried about it."
"I was emotional that time."
"You threatened divorce."
The tables surrounding you stared. The conversation sounded disgustingly domestic.
Brendon pushed the fries toward you first before touching his own food. You stole half of them and he didn't complain.
Actually, he watched you eat with this faintly distracted expression that nobody had ever seen on his face before. Like he was making sure you were really eating.
Then your phone buzzed. You checked it and groaned.
"The husband says I forgot my appointment tomorrow."
Brendon immediately said, "Ten-thirty."
You looked at him. "I know."
"You forgot."
"I remembered eventually."
"You remembered because I reminded you."
The silence at the table became defeaning, like somehow everyone was staring at you. Brendon glanced around once, clearly unimpressed by the collective lack of intelligence.
Then his pager went off. And before leaving, he reached down and adjusted you chair closer to the table because you'd been sitting awkwardly with your belly.
The movement was instinctive, like he'd done this a million times. And it was weirdly intimate.
The second he disappeared, Langdon sat on the seat that Brendon just occupied.
"Oh my God."
You frowned. "What?"
He leaned forward carefully. "Are you having an affair with Brendon Park?"
You nearly choked on a fry. "What?"
"That man practically tucked you in!"
"He's just—"
"You literally just talked about threatening him with divorce!"
"My husband!"
"Exactly!"
You stared at him in disbelief before realization dawned.
"Oh my god."
"So, you are!"
"No I'm not, Frank."
"Then why does The Shark know your OB schedule?"
"Because he made it."
Silence. "...Made it?" Langdon repeated weakly."
"He color-coded the whole calendar."
He didn't speak. Then you laughed, actually laughed. Because suddenly the misunderstanding was hysterical. But before you could explain, a trauma alert blared overhead and the conversation died instantly.
Unfortunately for you, the rumor did not.
Within a week, the entire ER thought you were secretly involved with Brendon.
Not openly. Nobody confronted you directly again because you seemed so genuinely confused by the accusation.
But people whispered. The evidence kept piling up. Brendon carrying your bag without asking, appearing whenever you mentioned cravings, glaring at anyone who stressed you out, standing suspiciously close during procedures if you looked tired.
And worst of all? The way he looked at you when you weren't paying attention.
That's what really convinced people. Because Brendon looked at everyone else like they personally wronged him. He looekd at you like you were something precious.
Then one night, the ER was hell. Every bed was full, three ambulanced inbound, a drunk patient screaming in triage.
You were exhausted, hormonal, and dangerously close to crying. Then one of the newer interns snapped at you.
"Can we get another attending to handle this? Dr. L/N clearly isn't keeping up."
The station went silent. Your exhaustion sharpened into humiliation. And before you could answer, a voice cut through the room.
"No."
Everyone turned. Brendon stood near the doors, having apparently arrived seconds earlier. The intern straighted nervously.
"Repeat what you said."
The poor intern paled. "I didn't mean—"
"You questioned an attending physician with ten years of emergency medicine experience while you can barely place an IV."
The room became deathly still. Brendon's voice never rose which somehow made it scarier.
"You will either assist competently or get out of her department."
Her department. The possessiveness in those words hit everybody like a truck.
The intern muttered an apology. Brendon didn't even look at him again. Instead, he turned to you.
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
Brendon's hand briefly touched the underside of your belly as he adjusted your position from the station edge.
It was gentle. So different from the cold surgeon everyone knew.
And suddenly Santos understood. Not the affair, but something else. Something much bigger.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
Dennis looked at her. "What?"
But she was staring at Brendon. At the wedding band hidden beneath his gloves as he reached for the chart. At the identical band you wore on a chain around your neck because pregnancy swelling made your fingers ache.
At the way you entire body relaxed when he was near. At the way he knew every tiny thing about you.
Not like a lover, like a husband.
"Oh my god," Santos repeated louder.
You looked up. Brendon looked annoyed already, like he sensed where this was going.
Santos pointed between the two of you. "You're married."
You blinked. "Yeah?"
Brendon closed his eyes briefly like this was exhausting.
You looked genuinely baffled. "Who else would we be married to?"
Chaos. Absolute chaos.
"You let us think she was cheating on her husband?!" Santos yelled at Brendon.
Brendon looked unimpressed. "That sounds like a you problem."
"You never said—"
"Well, nobody asked."
"You literally acted like you hated each other!"
You burst out laughing. "What? No we don't."
Brendon looked down at you. And for the first time ever, in front of the entire ER, his expression softened completely.
Not subtly or barely there, but fully. Warm eyes. Affection. Something that was gentle.
Park the Shark was apparently somebody's husband. Somebody's incredibly devoted husband. And somehow that was more shocking than if he'd announced he killed people.
And somehow, from that day on, things became infinitely worse. Because now everyone noticed everything.
The quiet touches. The instinctive teamwork. The fact that Brendon always knew where you were in the hospital. The way he softened only for you.
The way you could make the scariest surgeon in the building carry your snacks and hold your coffee and rub circles into your back between traumas.
And worst of all?
Now the ER knew that every horrifyingly domestic story you told about your husband had been all about Brendon Park all along.
Which completely destroyed their ability to fear him properly anymore. Especially after they heard him answer your phone one day with:
"Baby, why are you calling me from upstairs?"
thank you for reaching until the end! i'd love to know what you thought about this story anddddd if you'd like to see more ;)
Scary Park the Shark being absolutely intimidated by his wife…like Mrs. Park isn’t mean or anything. She’s not cruel to him…she’s just not afraid to put her intimidating surgeon husband in his place and call him out on his shit. Everyone is dumbfounded when he comments his wife will kill him if he works late on date night and people are like “you’re scared of her!!??” “she knows where I sleep so yeah…”
And people meet her and she seems so sweet but she also tore Park a new one when he left the toilet seat up this morning…again… so yeah…if you see Park getting chewed out by his wife, leave him alone. He’s exactly where he wants to be. She’s probably right and he’s going to grovel later…so it’s all good.
The Body Pillow: Brendon Park x Reader
Summary: Brendon and you settle in for your first night at the new house.
SET AFTER:
Rockstar - Brendon Park meets his match against PTMC's fiery new attending.
Pussy Wagon - A spilled drink leads you to see a different side of your nemesis Park The Shark.
The First Time (NSFW) - Fireworks aren't the only explosive thing happening at Jesse's Fourth of July party.
A Loaded Gun (NSFW) - Hate sex has never been so fucking hot...
This Is Not A Love Story - Brandon tries to set a rule after a 'sticky' situation.
The Game - Brendon finds himself breaking his own rules when it comes to you.
Tell. Me. To. Stop (NSFW) - Jealousy is not an emotion Brendon Park is accustomed to.
Pittfest -Brendon comforts you when you fall apart after the events of Pittfest.
Is He Prettier Than Me? - Brandon gets curious when he learns you have other plans.
The Drawer - Brendon realises your relationship may be shifting when he discovers he has a drawer at your place.
Scrunchies - Scrunchies… they’re the downfall of Brendon Park.
Love Games (NSFW) - Brendon and you love to play games, especially with each other.
An Exquisite Form of Torture (NSFW) - Brendon continues to turn up the heat as he holds you captive.
THAT Guy - Brendon is forced to face up to his feelings for you when he finds out your meeting up with an ex.
Seven Days - Seven days is far too long to go without you...
Save It - A thirty six hour shift leads to another admission about your relationship with Brendon.
Doctor Dick - Brendon's day takes a turn when Whitaker gives him some critical information.
A Manipulative Fuck - You and Brendon discuss what happened with your ex.
The Call (NSFW) - Brendon decides to put a stop to David's calls once and for all.
The One That Hates The Ravens - David's attempt at revenge backfires spectacularly.
The Lovin Spoonful - You wake up to an unexpected surprise.
Delete, Block, Rinse, Repeat - A series of cryptic messages force Brendon to confront a secret he's been keeping for almost a decade.
His Father's Son - Brendon reflects on the past as he debates taking that first sip of whiskey.
The Cost of Dignity - Brendon's greatest secret comes with a cost.
A Kiss For Luck - Brendon struggles to navigate working at the hospital after the release of THAT video.
The Craziest Fucking Thing - You take matters into your own hands after receiving bad news from Brendon.
Ride Or Die - You wake up to the sound of an angry blender after Brendon discovers what happened with Rowena.
Baby Shark - Once a year Brendon always ends up back at the aquarium.
Diamonds (NSFW) - A bet leads to naughty shenanigans in a five star restaurant.
The Call Out - Brendon's focus on wedding planning is disrupted when he's called out to the scene of a multi-car pile up.
Good Hands - Abbot reminds Brendon you're in good hands as they proceed with the amputation.
Flayed - Brendon's world crashes down as he learns the truth about the accident.
Ten Things I Love About You - Brendon discovers a pink envelope in the pocket of the jacket you were wearing at the time of the accident.
The Parent Trap - Brendon faces your parents, leading to a surprise revelation.
Sledgehammer - Brendon struggles to cope in the aftermath of everything that's happened.
Et Tu Marianne? - Your mother throws Brendon under the bus after you wake up from surgery.
Roses - Brendon is forced to deal with a vindictive POS when a dozen red roses are delivered to your door.
The Fucking Patient - Abbot has some harsh words for Brendon regarding your care.
Chemistry - You and Brendon finally have a moment alone to talk.
A Serial Absconder - Your habit of disappearing leads to a healing journey Brendon doesn't expect.
Home - Brendon introduces you to your new home after the accident.
The Change Up - When you struggle to reacclimate at home Brendon realises you need a change up.
You sleep with a body pillow.
One shaped like an L that you cradle into your form, the length of it setting between your legs, elevating your hip just enough so it doesn’t ache while you drift off. Not being able to sleep because you can’t figure out a good position for your limb is a common problem when you first get home. Brendon had discovered this after doing some research on Reddit to stream line your reintegration, so the body pillow was his solution.
You’d laughed when you’d seen it resting on your side of the bed, protesting you’d never had an issue in the hospital, but mattresses at home, they’re different. You’d just had to figure it out for yourself.
So, he’d sit back and let you, biting his tongue when you’d finally huffed and asked for the pillow.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it.” You’d mumbled, wrapping yourself around it before scooting your ass back into the cradle of his hips. He’d draped himself over you like a weighted blanket and you’d nestled in as close as you could, cocooned in the sanctuary of his body, warm, safe, right where you were always meant to be.
Sleeping without you this past month, it’s been a nightmare. Figuratively and literally. He’d spent his nights at the condo, tossing and turning, reliving the scenes from the day at the call out. It’s to be expected his counsellor had told him when he’d given him a diagnosis of PTSD, he’d been through something no person should have to go through. But so had you and you were mostly sunshine and rainbows despite the fact you were missing an integral part of your anatomy.
A lesser man may feel resentful of that but there’s something so beautiful in all the joy you seem to find in the world. It sparks something inside of him, a more hopeful version of the man he’s been since the accident. The EMDR sessions, they’ve been helping but the real remedy to his ailment is you, it’s having you back in his arms right where you belong.
Even if you do snore.
Because you do, even though you completely deny it.
He tucks himself in even tighter against you, his face buried in your unruly hair as he breathes you in, the soothing cadence of your body lulling him to sleep.
For the first time in over a month there’s no nightmares, there’s only you.
Before You Ask...It Was A Shark (Part 2)
Surviving The Shark - As Part of The Shiver Collection
Jack Abbot x Reader, Brendon Park x Sister!Reader
Find My Pitt Masterlist here Read Previous here! What's a girl gotta do to entertain herself when her leg's broken? Forced to be benched for the next few months. Boredom festers. Restlessness grows. Until an idea sparks. One that leads you to hang out in PTMC's ER. Under the ruse that you're simply bringing in some food for some of Pittsburgh's hardest workers... When really, you're just there to gossip. The Pittlings jump on the chance to learn more about the Shark of PTMC. And how Jack handles him as a brother in law...
Notes: strong language. established relationship. medical inaccuracies. injuries. Jack being relentless when it comes to teasing his brother-in-law. overprotective Shark. Nosy Pittlings. Gossip fuels The Pitt.
Word Count: ~4.3k
If anyone were to ask Brendon or Jack about you.
One of the first things that would come to mind is the fact that you always needed to be doing something.
Sitting still just wasn’t something you were accustomed to.
Mind stagnant while you stay still.
Especially for hours on end.
TV shows and films only occupying your attention for so long before you would grow restless.
It was why when both men learnt that you would have to be on bed rest for at least a few weeks.
They were a little worried to say the least.
Hovering over your every move. Making sure you were ok and comfortable.
For the first few days you complied.
You listened to doctors’ orders.
The advice from both your husband and your brother.
Who hovered over you relentlessly.
Whether it be Jack’s insistence to do everything for you.
Hell he even nearly tried to offer to brush your teeth for you, before you swatted him away, jokingly stating, “Honey, my arm’s not broken, I can brush my fucking teeth”
“I just want to help–”
“I know, but I’m not a child, I can still do a few things for myself right now, just like you,” You send a pointed look to him, eyes darting down to his own leg.
Before your tone softened, taking in a deep breath letting your frustration leave your body,“…Thank you though.”
His shoulders dip, with a small sigh, “You just tell me what you need me to do”
Smiling at his consideration, you lean in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “Maybe if you could make me some tea before you head out for your shift?”
“Consider it done,” he nods, moving swiftly to leave the bathroom.
“And a slice of that brownie you made,” you call out.
“With ice cream and strawberries?” you hear him ask.
“Yes please!”
“Heated?” he follows up.
“Like you even need to ask,” you say, just about to brush your teeth.
And then his voice enters your ears again, a knowing lilt in his words, “Might want to reconsider brushing your teeth, sweetheart.”
Brows knitting, you mutter, toothbrush stopping short in the air, “Fuck, he’s right.”
Turning around you make your way to the lounge.
Where he waits for you, tea made, brownie neatly plated in a bowl.
A heated blanket already sprawled onto the couch and switched on for your comfort.
Trying it’s best to substitute the warmth you felt when wrapped up in Jack’s arms.
He sets you into place, all comfortable, crutches placed aside, just in reach.
He leans down to kiss you once more, while he had taken a few nights off from work to help you adjust.
Tonight he was scheduled to be back on shift…even if all he wanted to do was cuddle beside you and hold you tightly, tucked into his arms.
Gently caressing your side as he lulls you to sleep with the sound of his heartbeat whilst your head laid on his chest…
…Maybe he could call in sick?…
He shakes those thoughts away, reluctantly leaning away.
“Love you sweetheart, call me if you need–”
You squeeze his hand.
“I’m ok.” You reassure him.
His brows furrow as they look at you a little expectantly.
You let out a soft sigh in exasperation, “But if it makes you feel better, yes I will call you if I need to–which I won’t. But if I do, you’ll be the first to know”
He hums in satisfaction.
“...Are you sure you don’t want Brendon to come over, just in case–”
You push him away, “Did you seriously ask if I wanted my brother to baby sit me?”
“No–I’m just suggesting he come over to keep you company,” he argues lightly.
“At night? When I’m about to go to sleep in a few hours”
He shrugs, “Maybe..” tone a little unsure.
“If it helps you keep your mind at peace, I’ll give him a call? A happy compromise”
“Fine. But just know that I’ll ask Brendon if you actually did call him,” he arches a brow towards you, hand now clasping at his bag.
Slowly making his way out of the house.
Cutting it fine, timewise.
You laugh at his seriousness, “I can’t believe you two are in cahoots now”
He shrugs, a small smile creeping onto his features, glad to see you smiling, laughing, “We’re simply uniting against a greater evil.”
“And what evil is that?” you asked intrigued.
“A stubborn you,” he retorted.
“Ok, you can get out of here now before I throw the remote at you,” you pout.
He throws his hands up in defense.
“I love you!” he says finally.
“Love you too, dear husband of mine, now go be with your fellow nightcrawlers. Hooha! And all that jazz,” you wave goodbye.
The last sound you hear is the rumbling of his laughter.
Before soon you’re enveloped into a peace.
You sigh, relaxing into the couch, humming in satisfaction as you dig into the brownie, the ice cream beginning to pool around it.
Just as you begin flicking through the TV trying to find something to occupy you before bed.
As though Brendon knew that you needed to call him.
His contact lights up on your phone.
“Heyo” you greeted, words muffled as you enjoyed a spoonful of the delicious dessert.
“What are you up to?” he asked. Faint humming of some tv show in the background of his call.
“Probalbly the same as you–trying to drown my sorrows with good food and a good show”
He hums, sarcastically replying, “That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m definitely hunkering down on a bowl of chocolate ice cream and a slice of cake”
“Ok Brendon, we get it, your body is a temple, no room for chocolate,” you retort catching onto his sarcasm.
He mutters defensively, “You know I eat chocolate…”
Humming you reply, “Yes 80% dark chocolate”
“It counts”
You click your tongue. “One day I am going to get you to eat some cake, even if it's the last thing I do”
The running gag having existed since he had first started becoming a gym bro.
It simply never stopped.
Even if Brendon had indulged in a little cake now and then. You still liked to tease him over it.
Before you could continue he switched the conversation.
“Where’s Jack?”
“First night back at work since my accident”
Brendon hums in understanding, as you catch him mutter to himself, “So that’s why he messaged me to call”
You huff with a whine, “I told him I’d call you”
“But were you actually going to?” he asked, knowing you too well.
“...No.” You answer, “I was probably going to say I fell asleep before getting around to call you”
He snorts from your response.
Leaning back you prop the phone onto your chest, phone now on speaker.
Arms folded behind your head. Eyes drifting close as you talk.
You let him ramble on about his day.
The surgeries.
The residents and nurses on his team. Even a little bit about the gossip he had picked up on.
“It seems like your husband’s ER staff are harassing my scrub nurses to get more info”
“And how do you know that?”
“Cheryl told me she was cornered at the cafeteria”
“And?”
“Well Cheryl’s worked with me long enough to know better than to run her mouth. She pretended to not know me”
You laughed as he retold the story. Knowing full well that your brother ran a tight ship when it came to his OR. But that didn’t mean they weren’t all good friends.
His steely facade reserved for those he wasn’t close with.
But deep down he was a real softy.
“Oh, speaking of Cheryl–did she finally break up with that guy? You know the asshole who just didn’t know when to shut up”
“Yep. Dane finally convinced her to leave the douche.”
“Takes one to know one–” you quipped, referring to Brendon.
“Shut up,” he said, before continuing, “And now she’s asking if you have anyone from your crew you can set her up with…”
You two go back and forth with whatever comes to mind.
Before soon the inevitable happens.
Just as your eyes grow bleary, and tired.
Just as predicted.
Just as usual.
Like every other conversation Brendon has had with you lately over the past few days, he had taken it upon himself to almost constantly check-in with you.
Calling between surgeries asking if there was any swelling, changes in appearance, and always without fail he would ask…
“Any discomfort?”
He just couldn’t help himself, slipping into doctor mode with the tone of an overly concerned brother laced all together.
This was now the 6th time he’d ask that
So you had quipped back with a, “Yeah, there’s a real pain in my ass”
“Did you take the meds–” he said with concern dripping into his tone.
“I’m talking about you, Brendon…The pain in my ass is you.” You replied dryly.
He had huffed heavily over the phone, as you could practically imagine the knitted brows and unamused frown upon his face.
Before sighing, as you state, “I promise I’m ok–and if I wasn’t I would tell you or Jack immediately”
“Fine…but if anything changes–”
“I knowww. It’s not my first broken bone, I’ve been through this before. I’m sure you’ve got things to do”
For a moment the line is silent.
A silent stand off.
Both just as stubborn as the other.
“...Love you”
“Love you too, even if you’re a pain in my ass,” you said, full sincerity behind the words love you. The bite lacking behind your retort, just the usual teases often thrown between you both.
He chuckles over the phone before one final goodbye and the phone hangs up.
With a sigh, you shuffle off the couch, balancing the plate and mug, as you place them in the sink before making your way back to the bedroom, ready for sleep to envelope you.
But not before brushing your teeth.
Stomach settled. Soothed by the tea and sweet treat.
Humming in delight as the early morning hours bring you Jack slipping into bed by your side, his strong arms curling around you, with a gentle kiss to your forehead.
Soft murmurs of missed you and I love you.
Warming your heart.
Content to have him near you once more.
So happy to be able to relish in this softness…
But after 3 weeks had passed.
You were growing stir crazy.
While Jack was home during the day, you mostly had to shove him into bed to get the rest he needed.
And Brendon was often in the midst of surgeries at work.
You were growing tired of the same four walls.
And there comes a point where talking to your tv becomes a little concerning.
So you tried your best to occupy your mind.
Whether by walking around the house or even around the block for some fresh air.
Sifting through storage boxes, supposedly doing a little spring cleaning only to walk down memory lane.
Trying your hand at gardening, only to remember why you didn’t even do this when your leg wasn’t broken.
So you had taken to cooking and baking.
Perhaps a little too much cooking and baking.
Whilst you often shoved containers into Jack’s arms for him to go take to work. To share with his colleagues.
An idea sparked in your mind.
A small ah-ha moment.
You were in dire need of some company.
And…
Perhaps.
A little gossip.
So while you can’t exactly be back to work just yet.
You decided to find another avenue of entertainment.
And that included making a little trip to PTMC’s ER.
…Perhaps a few little trips to the ER.
Swearing Robby and Dana to secrecy, bribing them with good snacks and decent coffee.
As far as Jack knew. You were out walking, taking it easy.
Definitely not picturing you sitting at the nurses station gossiping with his coworkers from the dayshift in passing.
With snacks and treats in hand. Making sure to pack a little extra for those coming in for the night shift.
And the med students and interns jump on the chance to thoroughly grill you on all that you’d been holding out from them.
Probing you with any and all questions that come to mind.
All of them had already known the details of you meeting Jack for the first time, you and Jack had spoken about it fondly many times.
He never failed to grin whilst stating the fact that at first sight of you he thought you were smoking hot. Everyone usually rolled their eyes at his little joke.
But overall they found it sweet as you’d explain the meeting. How it had almost slipped through your grasp.
How if you didn’t bump into him in the coffee shop you might never have met the love of your life.
But that was old news.
The questions that they really had on their mind now.
Was about finding all they could about the Shark of orthopedics, and what that meant growing up as his sister.
From questions about what Shark was like as a kid?
Not much different, just a lot less hair gel.
Has he always really been that menacing?
Yes. Our mom said he was pretty much scowling when he was born–but he’s about as ruthless as a daisy.
Santos folded her arms over her chest, Whitaker munching on the cookie you had brought in.
“I still can’t believe neither of you told us,” she said, looking at you expectantly.
Shrugging, “It just never came up–and none of you asked so…”
“But Mel knew!” Javadi exclaimed, catching Mel’s attention.
“We were talking about the troubles that come with having siblings, even though we love ‘em, it’s tough. Especially with stubborn siblings,” you say, offering Mel a fistbump in solidarity.
“Ok, but what about the night shift? How come they knew?” Mohan added.
“It’s really not a big deal,” you try to calm them.
Only for them to look at you with furrowed brows.
Bating your eyes with an innocent look.
Throwing your hands up in defense, “What can I say, my husband just loves to talk about me.”
You grin cheekily, “And well, when it’s a little you know the q word.” You say with raised brows. Knowing better than to jinx the place.
“Jack is just a total gossip. Don’t tell him I said that. He’d deny it. But it’s true…seriously he’s always asking me about what’s happening with my colleagues. And well it’d surprise you to know just how much he knows about some of you guys here…” your words wavered off, before laughing a little to yourself.
Biting your lip, remembering some of the things he’s mentioned.
Their eyes widen at your words, leaning in, hanging on your every word.
“What!?”
“Spill!”
You zip your lips, “Nope. Gotta keep some things to myself don’t I?” you tease.
“Anyway, uh. Yeah, Jack just happened to mention my brother to the night crawlers”
“That’s not an explanation.” Santos looks at you unimpressed.
“Well that’s what you’re getting–” you cut yourself off laughing, “Actually there was this one time, where in the midst of a trauma Jack was in the middle of joking about his leg and the fact that a shark took it, when Ellis full on snapped her fingers in his face stating, ‘Yes, we get it, your brother in law is Shark. He took your leg. Now focus!’ It was honestly the funniest thing.”
Now if either your brother or husband knew of the stuff you were telling their colleagues, you could be guaranteed that they would do all that they could to keep you out of there.
But for the moment.
Your little visits remained hidden from them…
Until one day.
Whilst you had been swapping a few more stories. Brightening up the ER with your funny little jokes.
Revealing sides to the two, rather mysterious doctors, that no one knew existed.
The very Shark himself had come down for a trauma consult.
Only to come to a stop.
Eyes darting over to the hub as he hears your voice.
Brows deepening.
Lips pulled thin.
He stalks over.
A deadpanned look crossing his features.
Arms crossed.
Whilst those around you fall into two categories.
Flight or freeze.
Some scatter away whilst others can’t do anything but stand still. Not wanting to catch his attention.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” his low voice draws your attention, whilst you look up at him with a smile. Biting into the cookie you had brought.
“I am...” your voice heightens slightly.
A tad sheepish.
“Sure. That’s definitely what this looks like,” he gestures to you.
Shrugging you retort, “I’m just trying to get the blood moving”
“In the middle of an ER?” He asks dryly.
You quip back, leaning into the chair, not standing down, “So I’ve chosen to be a Saint and feed the needy, is that a crime?” you gesture to the boxes of food you had brought.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Does Jack know you’re here?”
“What is he, my keeper?” You raise a brow at him.
“No. But I feel like he’d probably like to know that you’re okay”
“I’m in the best place possible. If anything happens there’s a doctor less than a metre from me,” you joke.
He sighs.
The fight leaves his body.
Already knowing that you never failed to have the last word.
Triumphant in your efforts you instead extend a hand, tempting him, “Cookie? They’re your favourite, dark chocolate and bittersweet”
He hesitates for just a second.
Whilst you wave it in his face.
Before he reluctantly takes it, giving in, before giving you a pointed look, “But I’m telling Jack you’re here”
“Go ahead. I don’t mind.” You shrug. “Tell him I said hi, and that I love him,” you call after Brendon.
The grin on your face, unable to be wiped off, whilst you wave goodbye.
He shakes his head, trying his best to hide the slight twitch at his lips.
A smile threatening to form on his face. Before he disappears in the lift
Everyone watching simply in total awe in the way you handle him.
“Teach me your ways,” Whitaker pleaded. Simply wanting to know how to withstand his piercing gaze.
While the others all agree.
All wanting to know how you were able to so easily go toe-to-toe with PTMC’s notorious Shark.
The very shark that might have made even Ogilvie tear up…
You laugh, “Sorry, ain’t something I can teach, it’s something you must develop on your own.”
They groan at your words.
Small murmurs of complaints.
Swearing that you were holding out on them.
There just had to be some sort of trick.
“So how did Jack develop it?” Mohan piped up.
“Oh now that is a fun story. It all began when I forced them to meet for the first time…”
The memory brings a wide grin to your face in reminiscence.
“It was a tense meeting at first. I had dragged Brendon over for dinner to meet Jack. And as it turned out, they knew each other from here of course–I didn’t even realise it, never once thought that they worked together even if they were in the same hospital,” you explained.
“So what did Shark do?” Santos asked, raising a brow in question.
“You should’ve seen him, he was so on edge, practically glaring at Jack. Trying to be all overprotective of me–”
“And what did you do?”
“What’d you think?” you folded your arms over your chest, “I told him off”
They snorted as you spoke.
Finding the image of Brendon being told off by you so completely amusing they couldn’t help but laugh.
“He was being a real jerk by not being nice to my boyfriend, now husband, and so I told him off–He’s not the only Park who can do a harsh stone cold glare,” you stated.
Snorting you add, “Jack told me once that Brendon tried to give him a classic brother to boyfriend stern talking too, but–”
You cut yourself of with a laugh.
“-But it was after Jack had seen Brendon become putty with me, so he just couldn’t take him seriously.”
…
Brendon had tugged Jack outside.
Eyes narrowed. Arms crossed over his chest as he practically puffs up.
Trying to appear intimidating.
“So you’re the guy my sister’s decided to date?”
And yet.
All Jack can think of. Is your voice filtering into his mind, joking about how Brendon does this thing to look intimidating where he swells up his chest. But all you can see is him becoming a pufferfish.
With that in mind, Jack cracks a fraction from the sight. The slightest twitch of his mouth in amusement.
Brendon raises a brow at him.
Jack clears his throat trying to regain composure, “Uh–yes. Yes I am”
“And what makes you think you deserve her?”
“I don’t–” Jack sucks in a deep breath, “But I’ll never stop trying to deserve her–to make sure she’s happy”
Brendon hums.
Not quite clear if it was one of satisfaction or not.
But the clasp of his hand on Jack’s shoulder.
The small nod.
That told Jack everything he needed to know.
…Brendon Park the Shark approved of him.
And Jack knew that Brendon’s opinion was important to you. Even if you denied it at times. Jack knew how important this would be to you.
And Brendon knew that Jack would never do anything to hurt you willingly.
That with Jack, you would be in safe hands.
That you would be happy.
And truly.
That was all Brendon could ask for.
…
“It all worked out in the end. They ended up getting along as you know–even if they still poke fun at each other,” You said with a wide smile beaming across your face.
“This is changing everything I thought I knew about them,” Santos replied. Whilst the others hum in agreement.
“Ok, story times over,” Robby clasped his hands, ushering everyone away. Pushing them to disperse.
Before he turns to look down at you, “Happy with yourself?”
“Very,” you grinned. Before plucking a cookie, holding it out to him, “Cookie?”
He stands for a moment.
Before clasping the cookie with a sigh as a smile creeps up onto his face, “What’ll be next? The story of how Jack and Brendon went ring shopping for you”
“All in due time, don’t want to make their heads explode from all the information,” you chuckle lightly.
He rolls his eyes, before adding, “I think you’ll find you might have someone waiting for you outside”
Your brows furrow for a moment, before a sparkling smile forms on your face.
Packing up your things you call out to Robby to keep some of the cookies aside for the night shift, and before long with your crutches in hand your leaving the ER, waving bye at everyone.
Exiting through to the emergency bay.
You’re met with the sight of your loving husband.
A small arch of his brow, sleep still vaguely fogging his eyes, hair scuffled from his nap.
Whilst your smile only widens.
“Hey handsome,” stopping before him.
He smiles softly at you, “Hey love”
“Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” he nodded before adding, “Until I got a call from Brendon that you were in the ER”
You drop your head onto his shoulder, with a huff, “Please tell me he didn’t just say I was in the ER”
“I was probably halfway here in a complete panic, until I called Robby who said you were just gossiping with the staff”
You chuckle, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder, “Just trying to keep my brain active with a bit of socialising,” before tilting your head up to look at him, whilst his arms curl around your waist to help support you.
“They had a lot of questions”
“Let me guess. Were they about your brother and I”
“It’s some pretty juicy stuff, you’ve got to admit–”
He chuckles softly, before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, humming in vague agreement.
“–Besides, you don’t have the time to talk about it during changeover, so I took it upon myself to inform your colleagues”
“How thoughtful of you,” he remarked sarcastically.
“I know, aren’t I?”
Twisting slightly, the smile still plastered across his face, he shifts so he stands by your side. “Ok, let’s get you home, I’ll make your favourite for dinner, how does that sound?”
“Sounds perfect”
As you walk away together, you add, “I can’t believe my brother tattled on me–”
“He just cares about you”
“I know–but that doesn’t mean he’s not a snitch” You mutter.
He chuckles at your words.
Glancing over to you.
Eyes softening.
Just so full of love for you.
For you and your confident nature.
Your fearlessness.
And cheeky humour.
“I love you,” he said.
You look over to meet his eyes, raising a brow. “What brought that on?”
He shrugs, “I just wanted you to know that”
Smiling at him, “Well, I love you too.”
…
“...Even if you and my brother are totally conspiring against me.”
Jack huffed out a laugh.
Any worry he felt over you and your broken leg now faded.
Clearly you were going to be just fine.
And Jack was grateful for it.
More than happy to put up with your shenanigans and your 'scary' brother.
So long as you let him love you.
That was fine by him.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I imagine you literally use cookies to disarm people whenever you can (just like with Brendon and Robby) haha. Was really fun to explore more of these guys and their dynamics! and I loved the idea of you and Brendon gossiping over the phone - he totally gets along with those in his OR hands down. Both Jack and Brendon just love you so much that they fret, even if they know you're strong and capable, they can't help but worry. ♥️
Also the idea of Jack and Brendon going ring shopping for you is just so funny to me - You can imagine what it looked like to have these two guys with stern expressions looking through sparkling rings and everything.
The poor sales person being subjected to that all.
Especially cause your brother can be very particular and well obviously Jack wanted it all to be perfect.
So they would've been very thorough.
(might do a little Drabble of this idk)
Let me know what you thought ✨ Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 For more Jack Abbot Works check out my series below! Such as my Dr Jack Abbot x Reader Who Would've Thought series here💖 Or my fic Based on Waitress the Musical, Dr Jack Abbot x Waitress!Reader Sugar, Butter, Flour series 🥧 Or for a lil bit of hurt with eventual comfort check out Jack and the reader create a bond through being widowers,I Know You're Hurting series Or Find My Pitt Masterlist here
Taglist: @the-sassy-one @ilocuras24 @may-machin @hazydespair @barnes70stark @kyky9103 @darknessofhell666-blog-blog @kmc1989
Noah Wyle as Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch The Pitt
Baby Rabbit
word count: 4.4k
pairing: Jack Abbot x (wife) reader
summary: When you've been feeling sick for a few weeks, Jack expects to face the worst. But a trip to the emergency room reveals something he never expected. And you have to face the fact you're there for each other in sickness and health... and everything between.
warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abbot being a widower, lots of uncertainty and anxiety, age gap (but reader is implied to be a bit older), talks about infertility/ trouble getting pregnant. let me know if I need to add anything!
notes: had this idea a few days ago and like the devious baby fever pilled gal I am and managed to bang it out in two evenings. thank you jack abbot for being my current muse.
enjoy reading :)
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“Hello?”
“Hello, uh… is this Jack Abbot?”
Jack’s work shoes squeak against the linoleum floor, his heavy footsteps echoing down the empty hospital hall. He’s running, a layer of sweat already beading at his temple. The glass ambulance bay door hits the wall with a teeth chattering thud. Jack is almost suprised it didn't shatter with his thrust.
He pants, eyes scanning the hospital’s back lot, trying to find the ambulance he knew was on his way.
“Mr. Abbot, we have your wife here- she fainted in the grocer’s parking lot…”
Jack knew he shouldn't have left you. He'd had a feeling. The looming dread that had been creeping up on him the past couple of weeks.
You'd been feeling out of it for a while now. A lethargic and nauseating achiness you couldn't quite shake, no matter how much tylenol or herbal teas you’d tried.
You had played it off as nothing. Just a headache that came and went. An upset stomach due to the day old chinese food you’d eaten.
“It's fine, Jack. I’m just tired.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m okay. I’m here. You don't have to worry.”
But Jack worried.
He was always worrying.
He knew that little things sometimes added up to a bigger, meaner somethings. That if you missed the signs, you might catch it too late.
What exactly? Jack wasn't sure. He didn’t particularly want to find out.
But he sure as hell wasn't gonna let you blow it off now.
His heart pounds as the ambulance finally pulls into the bay, the emergency lights blaring an ugly red and orange. Jack bary registers the EMT saying hello to him, his eyes focused on your splayed out form, laying on the gurney.
“Hey baby,” he says, voice cracking slightly.
“Jack,” you look up at him blearily, your eyes hazy, a bandage already taped to your forehead. Jack is quick to come by your side as the EMT lowers the gurney, his hand running over the back of your hair.
“One of the bystanders said she hit her head going down. It's not too bad. Just needs some cleaning. Same for her legs,” the EMT says to Jack as she watches him carefully lift the bandage.
Jack lets out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and leading your gurney back into the Pitt.
“What the hell Jack. You just ran off-” Robby calls out, watching Jack come back in. He stops once he sees you, your scraped up knees and bandaged head, the confused expression on your face. “What happened?”
“She fainted. We’ll need to start her on an iv, get her fluids and run a couple of blood tests. Do you still feel dizzy?”
“I don’t… Jack, what’s going on?” You look up at Jack, confused, panic written across your face. Jack looks back at the EMT who shakes her head.
“She was having trouble remembering the fall. Only remembers her headache and feeling sick.”
Jack remembers how you had looked this morning. The purple bruises around your eyes and the wince you'd tried to hide when he said goodbye.
“I don't have to go in today. Shen can cover if Robby really needs him to.”
“Go Jack. They need you more than me.”
He should have known better.
Robby comes beside the railing of the gurney, helping to pull it into a trauma room. You look around, your chest beginning to rise and fall quicker as your eyes begin to clear of the confused fog.
“What’s going on?”
“Jack, stay with your wife.”
“I am with her,” he throws back at Robby, turning to grab the bag of fluids Princess was moving to hand him.
“No. Stay with her as Jack. Not Dr. Abbot,” Robby tosses back, gesturing to your wide and fearful eyes. Jack swallows thickly, torn.
Especially when you groan, turning towards Robby and vomiting off the side of the gurney railing.
Jack’s heart hurts, pounding heavily against his sternum. You were here. The one place he hated seeing you.
Jack knows he can help take care of you right now. Bandage you up and order labs. He can solve the mystery behind why you were suddenly so ill. Why you haven’t been feeling well lately.
He can handle that. Dr. Jack Abbot, night attending and army vet, can handle bad news.
But just Jack. Mr. Jack Abbot, loving husband and worried widower, cannot.
He can’t take another bad diagnosis.
Jack looks up at Robby who’s helping Princess clean up the vomit, and then back at you. And he makes a decision.
“Hey,” Jack says, pushing down the railing on his side of your gurney and sitting on the edge. “Hey, honey-” He takes your head in his hands, taking the damp cloth Robby hands him and helping to clean your face.
Jack sits with you, his scrub top abandoned, his hand clasped tightly over yours. He watches as the color slowly comes back into your face, helps you take a sip of juice when your hand trembles too much to hold the cup. He stays silent for it all, Robby cleaning and bandaging your scrapes, Perlah coming in to draw your blood, the hospital gown Princess helps you into. He watches it all with a wariness. An awful churning in his gut.
A fear gnawing away at him.
“Jack,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. He hums, glancing up at you from where he was sitting beside your gurney. “It’s going to be alright.”
“I know,” he whispers back. You hadn’t said much to each other. Mostly hushed whispers and clinging to each other's hand. Like raising your voices was too much for the already overstimulating hospital room.
Jack’s knee is bouncing up and down anxiously. He couldn’t help it, his mind turning over the many diagnoses, the myriad of things that could be wrong with you. You gently wrangle your hand out of his iron grip, reaching over to rest it on his jostling knee. Jack stills at the feeling of your warm palm over the fabric of his scrub pants, swallowing. You smile.
“Whatever it is… we’ll be okay.”
"I know," Jack repeats again. But it's hard to really believe it.
He's been here once before. A hospital room just like this. The woman he loves loved sitting by his side. Slowly wasting away. And he didn’t even know it.
He sees the symptoms, too familiar and painful. The exhaustion and fatigue that wore you down. The migraines and brain fog, lethargicness and nausea that plagued you. He sees it and he knows. Whatever labs Robby is currently looking at holds a future he’s not sure he’s ready for.
You sigh, your hand moving upwards to run through his salt and pepper curls. They had already been mussed and messed up from his own hand raking through them. Jack sighs at the feeling, closing his eyes and leaning his head against your side. You hum, holding him close.
“I didn’t even get to do any shopping. I just… passed out in the parking lot.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Jack mumbles into your gown. “I’ll order some groceries for delivery later.”
“I really wanted to get that new cream cheese to try. The one with the jalapenos.” You sigh. “Gosh, I wish they could just inject that into my iv. Maybe I’d perk up faster.”
Jack can’t help but crack a smile. You hum happily, still petting his hair.
“There he is.” Jack looks up at you, his mouth open to say something. To apologize for worrying. For being so scared.
But he doesn’t get a chance.
The door to your room opens, Robby’s familiar silhouette shadowing behind the curtain.
“Jack?”
Jack clears his throat. “Yeah?”
Robby peeks his head through the fabric.
“I’ve got the test results back.” He comes in and sits down on the stool by the foot of your bed with a grunt. You give Jack a nervous look, your hand finding his again. He takes it, squeezing gently. Grounding. Robby clears his throat.
“Well, your blood panels came back fine. No signs of infection or disease.”
“So…what is it? What’s wrong with her?” Jack asks, swallowing thickly. Robby looks down at the lab work in his hands, peering over the frames of his glasses at the two of you.
“Nothing.”
The word hits harder than Jack could have expected. Of all the things he had anticipated-
You frown, looking confused.
“Nothing,” you repeat, the question no louder than a breath of air. Robby smiles and nods.
“Well, nothing that won’t go away in nine months. Congratulations kids. You're gonna have a baby."
Both of you go very still. Your mouth falls open, Jack’s eyes practically bug out of his head. Robby sits there smugly, folding the lab results over.
“A…” Jack starts, trailing off as he leans forward. Surely he’d heard Robby wrong.
“I- a baby?” You ask, dumbstruck.
“Hmm.” Robby nods. “From what I can tell you’re roughly six weeks along. Of course, you’d need an ultrasound and larger blood panel to be able to tell more accurately.”
“Pregnant,” Jack breathes. His eyes dart around the room, finally meeting Robby’s. “But how?”
Robby raises an eyebrow.
“It’s a simple process. I don’t think I have to explain the exact mechanics on conceiving to you Jack-”
"No, I know- I mean how... I can't even...
"We aren't exactly prime candidates for conceiving," you finish for Jack.
He can feel your fingers wrap tighter around his hand, your shoulder brushing against his.
Robby gives you a look, his features softening. “I know. I know, I don’t know why. It happens. Sometimes fertility problems resolve themselves. No on can pinpoint why exactly. Could be hormonal changes, medication changes, reduced stress-”
You and Jack finally glance over at each other. He looks at you, eyes raking over your face, the glimmer of hope you were trying to hide. And it hits him.
The sabbatical, he thinks. The long overdue vacation he'd finally gotten around to taking.
Three months without either of you worrying about work or patients. Three months of just the two of you; long walks in the park, lazy mornings spent in bed. Decadent yet nutritious dinners and way too many trips to the ice cream shop down the street.
Leaving behind the worries of your every day.
The sabbatical he’d finally come back from not even a few weeks ago. Just before you had begun to get sick-
You're the first to smile. A small curve upwards, more nervous than anything.
"I'm pregnant."
Jack breathes heavily in his chair.
“You are,” Robby smiles. You take a shaky breath, unsure of what to say. “There’s quite a few things we’ll have to go over. I’m sure Jack knows this speech like the back of his hand, but it’s still customary…”
Jack is half listening as Robby goes on about the usual procedure. The prenatal vitamins you’ll need, the appointments you’ll have to set up. The safety precautions and symptoms and internal changes. The risks considering Jack was older and you weren’t very young yourself.
Jack is so far zoned out he doesn’t even realize you’re calling his name.
“Jack. Honey," you shake his shoulder, frowning. “Are you okay?”
Jack opens his mouth, looking between you and Robby. He glances once at your stomach. Hidden behind the hospital gown. Looking exactly like it had yesterday.
But it was different. There wasn’t some disease growing inside you. Some foreign thing making you sick and slowly sucking the life out of you.
There was a baby growing there. You were sick because you were making another life.
Jack is hit by the realization that for the next nine months, you were going to be going through all kinds of changes. All kinds of hurdles and milestones.
A baby.
Jack suddenly feels sick.
“I have to go,” he blurts, shaking your hand off of his shoulder and beelining out of the hospital room.
“Jack!” You call out, your voice raising with surprise.
“I just need some air!”
Jack doesn’t turn back. He can’t. He can’t let you see the utter terror written on his face.
He marches down the hall, ignoring the looks the nurses give him, the confusion Trinity and Mel share as he storms out down the crowded hallway and to the stairwell.
------------------------------------------------------
You find Jack outside. Not on the roof like you’d panicked he’d be.
Robby had come back, shaking his head, trying to calm your racing heart.
No. After finally convincing Robby to let you help him look, You find Jack sitting on one of the benches in the park across the way from PTMC. He’s sitting there, elbows braced against his knees, staring off into the distance.
You approach him carefully, blades of grass crunching beneath the slip on clogs the hospital provided. Your clothes feel cold against you, comforting and familiar after the scratchy hospital gown. You glance back at Robby who stands at the edge of the park. He nods, encouraging you to keep going.
As you get closer, you realize Jack’s not just staring off at nothing. You catch sight of his eyes, focused and glistening beneath the late afternoon light. You follow his sight line, watching a little family on the other side of the park. A broad shouldered man tossing a foam ball to a toddler girl, her mother laughing as her girl toddles about.
You watch Jack for a moment, staying out of his sight line. You don't have to try very hard to guess what he's thinking about. The sheer amount of worry and confusion he's feeling.
You felt it yourself. The whiplash of expecting the worst outcome only to learn you were carrying something wonderful. There was still the nervousness of what the future would look like.
The schedules that would need rearranging, the house child proofed, your office room cleared out in space for another little person. Doctors appointments and ultrasound photos taped to the fridge, onesies and books and diapers tucked away in a closet.
In spite of the excitement you felt, the confused yet exhilarating feeling of knowing you were going to be a mother, you were scared.
There was a whole person you'd have to take care of. You'd have to grow and birth. You weren't exactly a spry chicken. Neither was Jack. And there were more risks and complications that came with that.
On top of all the things that came with pregnancy.
You might not be dying from some malady. But pregnancy was no small thing either.
You finally take a step forward, placing your hand gently on Jack’s shoulder. He snaps out of his stupor, back straightening, a panic written in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be up-”
“I’m okay.” He frowns. You point to the space beside him on the bench. “Can I sit?”
Jack nods, scooting over a bit. You sit. Jack wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand; being closer now, you can see they’re red rimmed and glassy. He doesn’t look at you. Not at first.
But he’s the first to open his mouth again.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run out of there. That was a dick move."
You swallow against the thick lump in your throat, trying to keep the well of anger rising at bay. It wasn’t hard to. The fear and anxiety laid bare in Jack’s voice. The thoughts he tried so hard to hide from you unveiled.
You nod. “Yeah. It kinda was."
He takes a breath, reaching out to hold your hand. You take it, his thumb brushing along the ridge of your knuckles.
"I just... this whole time I was worried I was going to lose you. I kept thinking about all the ways I’d have to watch you die. All the treatments or surgeries…” he chuckles dryly. “I was so worried about you. And now all I’m thinking about is how we’re going to have a kid walking down the aisle in a cap and gown when I’m 70.”
You sigh, the breeze a gentle comfort as it blows against your cheeks.
“That's all you’re thinking about? College already?” You give his hand a small, loving squeeze. Teasing. A clearing amidst the stormy turmoil you both had been worrying over.
“Well,” he shrugs slowly. “You know, between wondering if the pregnancy will hold. Or birth. Or what elementary school drop offs will look like and dinners and the house and my crazy schedule-”
“I know. I know, it’s a lot.”
Jack nods. “It is… and I’m scared.”
You look at him. Your heart aches with the pure sincerity written on his face. Jack was never one to hide his feelings. But he rarely gave them away easily. Not like this.
Truth written in the glassy mist of his eyes, the worry carried in the tightness of his hand around yours.
“I know,” you nod. “I know it’s not going to be easy. Robby explained the risks.”
The long list of complications and genetic disorders and risky side effects run through your mind. You hadn’t known just how fragile pregnancy became the older you got. It was just never something that had crossed your mind. To think or worry about. But now…
You continue.
“I know this wasn’t what we had planned, Jack. Us. Having kids… and I know you may not want- may not think we can do this. But I don’t think this is such a bad thing.”
Jack’s eyes widen, his frown deepening.
“What, woah. No I don’t want you thinking that. I don’t- I don’t think that.”
“Really?” You take a deep breath, hopeful. Jack finally smiles. A small and gentle quirk of his mouth.
“Really. And I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I just… I didn’t think that I could have one.”
“A baby?” You clarify. He nods.
“I told you about what happened in the army. With my leg and, well, everything else. And you told me having kids wasn’t exactly going to be easy for you.” It’s your turn to nod.
Between Jack’s injury and age, your genetics and seemingly lackluster fertility, a baby had just never been a part of your plan. And you were fine with it. Life was crazy enough as it was.
“I know. But here we are.”
Jack nods, looking out into the park again. He’s watching the small family again, eyes glued to the man as he hoists his giggling daughter into his arms.
“Here we are,” he mumbles.
“We don’t have to figure everything out right now Jack. There’s still time.”
“Seven months and two weeks,” he huffs. You chuckle.
“Right. Plenty of time.”
------------------------------------------------------
Robby makes Jack leave the hospital early with you.
Although Jack would use the term ‘make’ loosely, considering he had already decided he wasn’t staying the moment he saw you in the ambulance’s hull. You’re cleared to leave not long after Robby drags the both of you back into the ED, making sure to stop by the pharmacy to pick up your new prescriptions.
The prenatal vitamins and nausea medication sit among Jack’s own clutter of meds on the kitchen counter. Jack told you not to worry about groceries or the car still at the store. He’d take care of all of it in the morning.
For now, he just wanted to clean away the sterile smell of the hospital lingering on both of your clothes and get to bed.
He’s grateful, for once, that you're exhausted enough to fall asleep the minute your head hits the pillow. You’re breathing softly beneath the sheets before Jack can even pull his prosthetic off, your hand lain out on his side, like you still wanted him to hold it unconsciously.
But sleep doesn’t come for him. Jack lays awake for a long while.
The moonlight casts wispy shadows along the wall and he watches them, thinking. He plays with his wedding ring, twirling it between his fingers with mesmerizing ease.
Not the ring you'd slipped onto his left hand years ago, the dark amber band that still glistens on his ring finger. Jack plays with the wedding ring he wore a long time ago, still a young man figuring things out. From his first marriage. His first wife.
It wasn't often he pulled the ring out. Sometimes it hurt too much to even look at it; to think about and remember her. Jack fiddles with the ring now, holding it against his lips as if he could whisper all his worries into it.
The worries which still rested in the side of his ribs, changed but there all the same. Jack can’t help but think of all the things he never got to do with her. The future they’d planned cut short by an illness he couldn’t cure. Maybe it’s why he felt so scared now.
This unplanned thing laid out before him. Far out of his control.
Jack tosses and turns, his mind reeling with memories and thoughts about the future. He quietly gets up, setting the ring on his nightstand and fitting his prosthetic back on. He slips out of your bedroom, making sure you were still settled before wandering down the hall.
He’d always wanted to be a father. That wasn’t the problem. Hearing that you were pregnant had resurfaced those feelings like they’d never been buried. The idea of having a mini him, with matching curls and crooked smile. Or a mini you, with your bright eyes and pretty nose.
The problem was that desire had been locked away for a very long time. After he got injured in the army. After he became a widow. Even after he met you. Jack had begun to accept that being someone’s parent was just not in the cards he’d been dealt. But now…
Jack stands in the living room, staring around the dark room. He moves quietly, picking up a random glass and setting it in the kitchen, moving the tossed couch pillows back into their designated places. He can’t sit still when he tries. The air suffocating inside in spite of the cooling system blowing gently.
Jack ends up sitting outside on the back porch, his head in his hands.
What would she have thought? After all this time.
A baby.
Jack’s not even sure he should begin to want this. To let himself hope. There was so much uncertainty with a later in life pregnancy, of an older parent conceiving a child. The constant what ifs and complications. So much to worry about.
Jack sighs, running a hand through his mussed curls as he realizes how tired he is. Of feeling on edge. Of never feeling like he could settle. The worry of something bad happening again. Of being all alone-
A noise sounds from the bushes running along the fence.
Leaves rustle softly, twigs crunching beneath something weighty. Jack looks up, brows furrowing. He squints, standing and flipping on the porch light to illuminate the dark backyard. The rustling sounds again, and Jack inches closer.
He pauses. And then he lets out a disbelieving laugh, instantly quieting himself.
The rabbit which had ducked back into the foliage at the sound of his voice peeks it’s head out again in the new silence. Her nose twitching, beady black eyes staring straight into Jack. He lets out a breath, in awe of the rare sight. He knew there were plenty of rabbits that lived around the neighborhood. He often saw where they burrowed through your garden or ate certain plants. But actually seeing one was rarer.
Of all the nights…
He goes still when the rabbit moves. Inching slowly out of the bush. She turns back, snuffling softly and moving forward again. A baby in tow.
Now, Jack was not a very superstitious man. At least, not by nature. He laughed when Ellis chastised him for saying the “q” word in the ED, rolled his eyes when Joy and Nazely talked about karma.
But if life had taught Jack anything, it was to never ignore the signs.
He watches the pair of rabbits hop through the backyard, eyes following their path until they squeeze through the cracked boards of the fence, disappearing into the night. Jack lets out a slow and much needed exhale, the cool air of the night finally feeling fresh.
New.
Second chances that don't always happen every day.
Baby rabbit.
Baby Abbot.
He liked the sound of that. And maybe, this time, there wouldn’t be so much to worry about. Not with you by his side.
------------------------------------------------------
Bonus:
"Jaack!" You call out from the kicthen, where you're putting the first few bags of groceries away.
"Yeah?" Jack's voice echoes down the hall, the sound of more paper bags rustling.
"Did you get- never mind!" You grin as you find the tub of cream cheese you'd been dying to get your hands on, practically tearing the package open and digging in. You let out a satisfied hum as you eat a spoonful of the spicy spread, nodding in satisfaction.
Jack enters the kitchen, arms full of groceries, an amused look on his face.
"As good as you'd hoped it'd be?" You hum again.
"Better. I think your child already has great taste in cuisine."
Jack stills for a fraction of a second, then smiles. He sets down the bags and moves over by your side, pressing a kiss to your forehead, carefully around the tender cut still hidden by a bandage.
"Yeah they do."
You both put away the food and various household items you'd needed to stock up on. Trash bags and pasta, that lavender creamer you loved and Jack's protein bars he always carried in his scrub pockets.
You munch on a bagel- properly toasted and spread with your cream cheese because Jack insisted on at least being civilized about your cravings- going through the last bag. The bag crinkles as you feel around inside; you frown as your hand comes into contact with something soft. Fluffy. You peer inside.
A little stuffed bunny peers back at you. You stare at it for a moment, and then you laugh.
"Jack?"
"What?" He asks, folding the towel he'd just used to wash his hands. You smile, holding up the bunny. His ears go pink and he gives you a bashful grin.
"I just thought... well I thought it might be cute for the baby. You know, rabbits are thought to be good luck charms or something."
You laugh, bright and hopeful and so in love.
"You're so sweet, you know that Jack Abbot?"
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I am actually so obsessed with peter rabbit, it's not even funny. and I love the silly "jack rabbot" joke.
thank you for reading! if you're interested in reading more of my works for the pitt, here is a link to my masterlist :)
The Work Husband Clause
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2, 980
Summary: John Shen brings you a 48-ounce Dunkin' iced latte; fake marriage paperwork is discussed; and Jack Abbot discovers his girlfriend has a work husband.
Warnings: Established relationship, workplace teasing, jealous-but-not-really jealous Jack, Shen, and Reader being absolute menaces, fake marriage pact, excessive Dunkin, one deeply offensive sweet coffee beverage, no real angst.
Author’s Note: This is pure nonsense, and I love it. Jack is secure in his relationship, but unfortunately, his girlfriend and her work husband have paperwork, annual reviews, and a beverage vessel. Pray for him. Thank you @jennataurus for the idea!
Xoxo, Del
Jack saw Shen before he saw the drink. That was his first mistake. Shen walking into the emergency department was not unusual. Shen walking into the emergency department with that particular expression on his face was.
Too calm. Too neutral. Too deliberately innocent.
Jack narrowed his eyes from the other side of the nurses’ station.
Then he saw what Shen was carrying.
For one brief and terrible second, Jack thought it was medical equipment.
Then he saw the ice. Then he saw the straw.
Then he saw your face light up like Shen had walked in carrying a diamond ring, a rescue puppy, and a winning lottery ticket.
“Oh my god,” you said, already abandoning your chart. “You got it.”
Shen set the container on the counter with the solemn care of a man presenting evidence in court. “Blueberry Cobbler Iced Latte. Forty-eight ounces.”
You pressed both hands to your chest. “John.”
Jack looked at the bucket. Then he looked at Shen. Then he looked at you.
“No,” Jack said.
You turned toward him, smiling. “You don’t even know what this is.”
“I know enough,” Jack replied.
“It’s the bucket,” you said, like that explained anything.
“It is not a bucket,” Shen said.
Jack stared at him. “It absolutely is.”
“It’s a beverage vessel.” Shen corrected.
Jack stared at him. “It has a handle.”
“That doesn’t make it a bucket,” Shen grumbled.
You leaned over the counter and kissed Shen’s cheek. Jack went still. Shen went very still, too, but not because he was nervous.
No.
Because he knew.
Jack watched Shen’s mouth twitch once before he smoothed his expression back into something infuriatingly calm.
“Thank you,” you said sweetly.
Shen nodded. “Of course.”
Jack pointed between you and Shen. “Don’t love that.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
“The cheek kiss,” Jack answered.
Shen looked down at the drink. “It was a gratitude kiss.”
Jack’s eyes shifted to him. “Dunkin.”
Shen’s brows lifted. “Is that me?”
Jack nodded once, “It is now.”
You pressed your lips together. Jack knew that face. He loved that face. He also knew that face meant you were about thirty seconds away from making his life worse on purpose.
“Jack,” you said gently.
“No,” Jack said. “You don’t get to ‘Jack’ me when Dunkin just walked in with forty-eight ounces of sugar and got kissed for it.”
Shen glanced down at the container. “It does have two straws.”
“That makes it worse,” Jack replied.
You picked up one of the straws with reverent fingers. “It’s for sharing.”
“With your boyfriend?” Jack said, jerking his head in John’s direction.
You smiled. “With my work husband.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. There it was. Shen took one small, thoughtful step closer to you, like a man approaching a live wire just to see what would happen.
Jack watched him do it. He watched you notice. He watched both of you decide, silently and instantly, to be problems.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Your what?”
“My work husband,” you said, very seriously.
Shen nodded once. “It’s an administrative title.”
“Administrative,” Jack repeated.
“Very little romance involved,” Shen said.
Jack stared at him. “Very little?”
You touched Jack’s chest. “Jack, be fair. John and I have survived a lot together.”
“Long shifts,” Shen said.
“Bad coffee,” you added.
“Printer failures,” Shen said.
“The cafeteria meatloaf incident,” you said.
Shen’s expression darkened. “We don’t discuss that.”
You nodded. “Out of respect for the dead.”
Jack looked between the two of you and inhaled slowly through his nose.
He was a grown man. A physician. A professional. He had handled trauma bays, impossible calls, mass casualties, and patients who thought WebMD had more authority than medical school. He was not going to let two adults and a container of dessert coffee dismantle him in the middle of his emergency department.
You slid the bucket toward Shen. “First sip goes to the provider.”
Jack’s head turned. “Provider?”
“He provided the bucket,” you said.
Shen took the straw with grave dignity. “I accept this responsibility.”
Jack watched him take a sip.
You leaned in, eyes bright. “Well?”
Shen considered it for a moment. “Sweet.”
You nodded. “Expected.”
“Artificial blueberry,” Shen said.
“But fun artificial?” You asked.
Shen took another sip. “Aggressively fun.”
You pointed at him. “That’s what I thought.”
Jack stared. “You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
You gave Jack a look, “I know John’s palate.”
Jack went still again.
Shen lowered the straw. “You walked into that one.”
“I did not walk into anything,” Jack said.
You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Are you jealous of John’s palate?”
“No,” Jack replied immediately.
Shen tilted his head. “He seems jealous of my palate.”
Jack pointed at him. “You are on thin ice.”
“Appropriate,” Shen said, glancing at the bucket. “Given the beverage.”
You made a sound like you were trying not to choke.
Jack looked down at you. “Do not laugh at that.”
You covered your mouth. “I’m not.”
“You are,” Jack said.
You pointed to Shen and said, “I’m being supportive of my work husband’s humor.”
Jack stared at you. You smiled sweetly.
Shen leaned slightly toward you. “I feel supported.”
Jack closed his eyes.
Not yet, he told himself. It is too early in this shift to ask God for intervention.
When he opened them, you were holding the straw toward him.
“Try it,” you said.
Jack shook his head, “No.”
“One sip.” You implored.
Jack’s brow furrowed. “I already know I’m going to hate it.”
“That’s not very scientific,” Shen said.
Jack didn’t look away from you. “Dunkin, I am not discussing the scientific method with you over a bucket of sugar milk.”
You lifted the straw another inch. “For me?”
Jack looked at your face. That was unfair. Everything about your face was unfair. He sighed like a man accepting his own execution, leaned down, and took the smallest sip possible. His face changed immediately.
You brightened. “Well?”
Jack swallowed with effort. It was worse than he expected. It was sweet in a way that felt personally aggressive. It tasted like someone had taken a blueberry muffin, drowned it in melted ice cream, panicked, and added more sugar.
Jack looked at both of you. “Well, that’s horrific.”
You gasped. “Jack.”
Jack grimaced, “It tastes like someone liquefied a blueberry muffin, panicked, and added more sugar.”
Shen took the bucket back and considered that. “Not inaccurate.”
You pointed at him. “Do not side with my actual boyfriend against me.”
Jack’s head turned. Actual boyfriend. That helped. He hated that it helped.
He was not jealous of John Shen. He was not jealous of the drink. He was not jealous of the cheek kiss, the work husband title, or the fact that Shen apparently had a detailed working knowledge of your coffee preferences. Jack was simply opposed to nonsense.
That was all.
You smiled up at him. “Yes. Actual boyfriend.”
Shen lifted one hand. “Work husband acknowledges the hierarchy.”
Jack looked at him. “Temporary husband.”
Shen blinked. “I don’t remember agreeing to temporary.”
“You don’t need to agree,” Jack replied.
Shen frowned, “I feel like I should.”
“You shouldn’t,” Jack said.
You took the bucket back from Shen. “For legal accuracy, the arrangement is currently suspended.”
Jack looked down at you. “The arrangement.”
You nodded solemnly. “Until further notice.”
“Or forty,” Shen added.
Jack’s gaze moved slowly back to him. “Excuse me?”
Shen took a careful breath, like he was about to present lab results. “If neither of us is married by the time we are forty, we’ve agreed to enter a mutually beneficial domestic partnership.”
You nodded. “For practical reasons.”
Jack stared at you.
“Tax benefits,” you said.
“Shared expenses,” Shen added.
“Emergency contact efficiency,” you said.
“Mutual tolerance,” Shen added.
Jack looked between you. “You rehearsed that.”
You and Shen said, “No,” at the exact same time.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. You smiled. Shen sipped the drink.
Jack looked toward the ceiling.
Dear God, he thought, then stopped himself. Not yet. He could still handle this.
“You’re not single,” Jack said.
You patted his chest. “I know.”
“So the pact is void.” Jack continued.
Shen lifted one finger. “Suspended.”
Jack pointed at him. “Void.”
“Suspend—”
“Void.” Jack cut him off.
You sighed softly. “This is a difficult day for the marriage.”
Shen nodded. “We’ll need time to heal.”
Jack stared at the two of you. “Marriage.”
“Future potential marriage,” you clarified.
Jack frowned, “Not better.”
Ellis, who had been pretending not to listen from two feet away, slowly lowered her chart.
“Do I want to know?” Ellis asked.
“No,” Jack said.
“Yes,” you and Shen said together.
Jack looked down at you. You smiled up at him, bright and delighted and absolutely unrepentant.
Ellis’s eyes landed on the bucket. “Is that coffee?”
“Allegedly,” Jack said.
Shen lifted the container. “Blueberry Cobbler Iced Latte. Forty-eight ounces.”
Ellis blinked. “That sounds disgusting.”
Jack pointed at her. “Thank you.”
You gasped. “Ellis.”
Ellis glanced at Jack’s face, then at Shen, then at you. “Why does this feel like I walked in on something personal?”
“Because you did,” Jack said.
Shen shook his head. “It’s not personal. It’s a product review.”
Jack looked at him. “You announced a suspended marriage pact.”
Ellis’s face lit up. “A what?”
You waved a hand. “It’s not active.”
“Not active,” Shen agreed.
Jack’s eyes shifted to him.
“Void,” Shen corrected.
Ellis blinked. “Do you two have paperwork?”
You nodded solemnly. “A shared note.”
Shen added, “Reviewed annually.”
Jack looked at him. “You have annual paperwork?”
“To assess the health of the union,” Shen said.
“Coffee compatibility,” you said.
“Update emergency contact information,” Shen added.
“Long-term tax strategy,” you finished.
Jack stared at you. “You’re making that up.”
You and Shen said, “No,” at the exact same time.
Jack’s eyes narrowed.
Ellis looked delighted. “What else is in the paperwork?”
Jack pointed at her. “Do not encourage them.”
Shen cleared his throat. “There is the intimacy clause.”
Jack went completely still. Ellis’s chart lowered another inch.
“The what?” Jack asked.
“The intimacy clause,” you said, very seriously.
Shen nodded. “One night of passionate lovemaking per calendar year to maintain the marriage.”
Jack stared at him.
You nodded along solemnly. “For the health of the union.”
“And morale,” Shen added.
Jack’s head turned toward you. “Morale.”
“It’s important,” you said.
“Vital,” Shen agreed.
Jack pointed at the bucket. “Dunkin.”
Shen blinked. “Yes?”
“Never use the phrase ‘passionate lovemaking’ in a sentence about my girlfriend again.”
Shen considered him. “Would ‘annual intimacy maintenance’ be better?”
Jack looked at him, “No.”
You pressed your lips together. “Less romantic.”
Jack looked down at you. “You are not helping.”
“I’m grieving the clause,” you said.
Jack stared at you.
Ellis made a strangled sound behind her chart.
Shen took a slow sip from the bucket. “This is difficult for all parties.”
Jack closed his eyes. Dear God, grant me patience, Jack thought. Because if you grant me strength, Shen is not making it out of this emergency department.
Then Shen set the bucket down and hooked an arm around your shoulders. You did not miss a beat. You slid your arm around Shen’s waist and leaned into his side with a grave little nod. “Privacy would be appreciated during this difficult transition.”
Jack opened his eyes. Ellis’s mouth opened slightly.
Jack pointed between you and Shen. “Separate.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
“Immediately,” Jack said.
Shen looked down at you. "Our bond threatens him.”
“I am threatened by nothing,” Jack said.
You patted Shen’s stomach. “It’s okay. He’s processing.”
Jack’s jaw flexed. “You have three seconds.”
Shen’s arm stayed exactly where it was. “Before what?”
Jack smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
Shen removed his arm.
You removed yours too, biting your lip hard enough that Jack could see the fight not to laugh all over your face.
“Smart,” Jack said.
Shen picked up the bucket again. “For the record, that separation felt hostile.”
Jack looked at him. “Good.”
You let the moment hang for exactly one second. Then you slid right into Jack’s side, your body fitting against his like that was where you had meant to be the whole time.
Jack’s eyes dropped to you.
Your smile went soft and wicked at the same time. “Better?”
Jack held your gaze. He was still annoyed. He was still trying not to look pleased. He was still failing.
“Marginally,” he said.
You hummed and smoothed your hands over his scrub top. “Only marginally?”
His hand settled at your waist before he could pretend he wasn’t going to touch you. “You’re pushing it, sweetheart.”
You grinned. “Don’t worry, Jack. You’re hotter than him.”
Shen’s head lifted. “Rude.”
Jack didn’t look away from you. “Dunkin.”
“Yes?” Shen replied.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Drink your muffin soup.”
You laughed into Jack’s chest. His mouth twitched despite himself, and his hand tightened gently at your waist.
“Better,” he admitted, quieter this time.
Ellis finally gave up pretending she was working. “Can I try the divorce coffee?”
Jack’s eyes shifted to her. For the first time since Shen walked in, Jack looked almost pleased.
“Divorce coffee,” he repeated.
You brightened. “Oh, that’s good.”
Shen nodded. “Accurate, but emotionally painful.”
“It is not emotionally painful,” Jack said. “It’s legally clarifying.”
Ellis held out a hand. “So can I try it?”
“Don’t,” Jack warned.
“Yes,” you and Shen said together.
Jack looked down at you. You smiled up at him, bright and delighted. Jack looked at the bucket. Then at Shen. Then at you. Then he exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Okay,” Jack said.
You blinked. “Okay?”
Jack nodded toward the other end of the nurses’ station. “You’re coming with me.”
Your mouth fell open, offended and delighted at the same time. “What?”
“I have been very patient,” Jack said.
“You have,” you said solemnly.
He continued, “I tried the muffin soup.”
“You did.” You agreed.
“I tolerated the cheek kiss,” Jack added.
You nodded, “You did.”
“I tolerated the work husband,” Jack said, almost with a grimace.
“Barely,” Shen said.
Jack pointed at him without looking away from you. “Temporary husbands do not get commentary.”
Shen nodded. “Understood.”
Jack looked back at you. “And now I’m taking my girlfriend ten feet that way so I can remember why I love her without Shen making tax comments.”
You glanced back at Shen, then at the bucket in his hand. Your face went dramatically mournful.
“No,” you whispered. “My husband. My coffee.”
Jack went completely still. Ellis made a sound behind her chart.
Shen looked down at you with grave sympathy. “I’ll miss you.”
Jack’s head turned slowly toward him. “Dunkin.”
Shen lifted one hand. “Right. Sorry.”
You pressed your lips together, shoulders shaking.
Jack looked down at you. “You are walking away with me, or I am confiscating the coffee.”
Your eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would,” Jack replied.
You frowned, “You hate it.”
“I hate many things about this situation,” Jack said. “That has not stopped me yet.”
Shen hugged the bucket closer to his chest. “For the record, I object to seizure of communal property.”
“It is not communal property,” Jack said.
“It’s divorce coffee,” Ellis said.
Jack pointed at her. “Helpful.”
Ellis smiled. “Thank you.”
You slid your hand into Jack’s. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Jack’s fingers closed around yours. “Thank you.”
“But under protest.” You added.
Jack nodded once, “Noted.”
“And I want visitation rights.” You said.
Jack looked at you. “To Shen or the coffee?”
You looked genuinely torn. Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“The coffee,” you said quickly.
Shen nodded. “Hurtful, but wise.”
Jack tugged gently on your hand. “Move.”
You let Jack lead you away, still laughing under your breath. Halfway down the nurses’ station, you glanced back over your shoulder.
Shen mouthed, I miss you.
You coughed to hide your laugh.
Jack stopped walking. You froze.
He looked down at you. “What did he do?”
You replied quickly. “Nothing.”
Jack turned. Shen looked immediately busy with a chart, one hand still wrapped around the bucket.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Dunkin.”
Shen did not look up. “Yes?”
“Do not make me come back there.”
Shen nodded, still not looking up. “Of course.”
Jack stared for another second, then turned back to you. You smiled up at him, innocent and hopelessly pleased. Jack shook his head, but his hand squeezed yours.
“You’re trouble,” he said.
Your smile brightened. “You love me.”
“I do,” Jack said.
You stepped closer, sliding your free hand up his chest again. “And I love you.”
Jack’s irritation loosened instantly. He hated how fast it happened.
No, he didn’t.
He loved it. Loved the way you could tug him out of himself with three words and one hand on his chest. Loved the way you smiled at him like he was exactly where you wanted to be, like Shen and the coffee and every ridiculous thing you had said were only funny because Jack was there to react to them.
“Even if John brings me forty-eight ounces of coffee,” you said.
Jack’s mouth twitched.
“Even if he’s my work husband.” You continued.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Former work husband,” you corrected.
Jack nodded once, “Better.”
You smiled and rose onto your toes, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re my actual everything.”
Jack went very still.
Behind you, Shen called, “Rude.”
Jack didn’t look away from you. For once, he didn’t even answer Shen. His hand slid more firmly around your waist, and his voice dropped low enough that only you could hear it.
“Yeah?”
You nodded, still smiling. “Yeah.”
Jack’s expression softened completely. Then he dipped his head and kissed you, quick but warm, like he couldn’t help it. When he pulled back, he looked almost annoyed with himself for melting so fast.
You grinned. “Better?”
Jack exhaled, thumb brushing once at your waist. “Much better,” he said.
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