ER wallflower - jack abbot. (2)
in which jack abbot is the first to notice reader, who has always been used to being left behind and ignored.
contents; fem!reader, probs medical inaccuracies all my knowledge comes from shows lol, not proofread & english is my third language so if there's grammatical errors i apologize </3
a/n; im so glad sooo many ppl liked the first part!!! i love writing stuff like this (mainly bc i heavily relate to reader LMAO), so im so happy you all like them too!! <33 comment 2 be added to the jack abbot fic/blurb taglist!
It had been a hellish day. Sweltering heat from outside had crowded the waiting room, slowly wafting into the ER. Patients were more aggravated than usual— that’s what heat does to people, you figured.
That’s what you kept telling yourself, at least. That everyone’s just tense and irritated from the heat— none of the abuse patients spewed at you was personal. They were just having a bad day.
But as more and more hours passed by, convincing yourself felt harder. You’d also gotten majorly embarrassed earlier in a trauma— you were trying to decide on how to treat the patient, and had stuttered through half your sentence. They went with someone elses idea instead. As soon as the patient was stable, you dipped out of the trauma room out of shame.
Jack had been there. Attendings often oversee traumas, obviously. He was trying to listen to your idea of treatment, when someone spoke over you. They were louder, which got the attention of the other doctors.
He saw you shrink back into yourself, and his heart broke a little. This was the first time he’d seen you try to take lead in a trauma for a while, and to see you get shut down like that? It made him angrier than he’d like. He tried to find you after, but no luck.
”There y’are…” He hummed quietly, hands behind his back as he approached you, watching your from hunched over the computer, typing up a chart (rather annoyedly, if he says so himself).
Your head tilted slowly, eyes catching his, before you turned back to the computer with a small hum. This had been your routine lately. He’d find you throughout the day, trying to spark up conversation.
You barely responded— still a little wary of him. It’s like you kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. As if he needed a reason to be talking to you.
”Y’know…” He gruffed, pulling up a stool to sit down next to you, eyeing the screen, ”I heard what you suggested in that trauma today. It was a really good plan.”
Like clockwork, your cheeks tinged pink. Like they did every single time Jack complimented you.
”Thank you.” You murmured, hands halting on the keyboard, as you angled your body just slightly toward him, ”But um…I think Ogilvie’s plan of treatment was good, too.”
Jack shrugged, a small frown on his face. ”Well, yeah. But, I think yours was better.” He whispered quietly, as if it was a secret between you two.
You couldn’t fight the small smile lifting up your lips. This is what Jack did. He made you feel seen and heard. He pulled you into traumas with him, leaned closer to hear you speak, to let you share your opinion.
Jack's eyes stayed on your for a while longer, before his teeth dipped into his lower lip, his gaze moving to the screen now instead, studying your notes. "Your charts are neat. Easy to read, nice job." He gently patted your shoulder then, before standing up with a small groan and walking off.
It took you another five minutes to recalibrate your brain and focus back on the chart.
The next time you saw Jack was in the breakroom— a sacred space that you were lucky enough to have a little time for. You weren't expecting Jack, though. You can hardly relax around him.
But it's weird. He doesn't make you anxious in the way others do. It's hard to explain what you feel around him. Safety? No, no, that's nonsense. He's just your attending. He has to praise you. That's how you learn, right?
You open the fridge and grab your little lunch box, the top of it decorated with all sorts of stickers, all mirroring your interests. You can practically feel Jack's eyes burning into you, as you sit down by the table, right across from him.
There's a small tremble to your hands as you pop open the box, simultaneously pulling your water bottle from your bag— that you'd grabbed from your locker.
"That's all you're having?" Jack murmured, eyeing the small sandwich and handful of crackers in your lunchbox.
You didn't want to tell him that that's all you could scrape together. How your rent was raised again, and you're too anxious to talk to your landlord about it. Or how you're still stuck paying your mother's car off, because you know she won't listen if you ask for her to start paying her own bills.
"Yeah." You nodded, taking a small bite out of the sandwich, "I had a big meal before work. So this'll hold me over, until I get home." The lies from you came naturally, something you were far too comfortable with.
Lying is safe. You don't want people to see what a lonely mess your life actually is. As if being a pushover at work isn't enough, you're a pushover all over.
Being stuck so deep in your thoughts, you barely register the fact, that Jack had gone all quiet, watching you with that ever-familiar furrow in his brows. You avoided his gaze, making quick work of finishing your small lunch, just so you could escape.
Something about Jack is unsettling. Not in a bad way. It's just...safe. Too safe. You almost find yourself wanting to unclench your jaw, to actually tell him the truth. But he's the one person whose noticed you, and you can't risk pushing him away with your baggage.
"See you out there." You murmur as soon as your lunch is finished, the empty lunchbox shoved back into your bag, as you hurry out of the breakroom with your water bottle in hand.
The next few hours go by in a blur. You can definitely feel a little gnaw in your gut, the pitiful sandwich not really satisfying your hunger. But you had to make do. Just for now, right?
Jack noticed. He noticed the small frown on your face, and the way your hand would settle on your stomach when it threatened to rumble. He saw you eyeing the vending machine, or looking dreamily at the other lunches in the fridge.
You were so obvious. He thought it was cute, really. But also sad. You were so used to being ignored, you were sure no one would notice anything you do. But he notices.
And Jack also knew you'd never ask for anything. But he's not sure if he can take any more of your sweet puppy eyes looking at the vending machine. The food in that machine is mediocre, at best. You deserve more.
So yes, maybe Jack did order food. And maybe he 'accidentally' ordered too much, and begged you to split the food with him. He didn't want it to go to waste, he says...
You reluctantly agree. You hate taking things from people, but you hate wasting food even more, so you sat down to eat with him. He handed you more and more, swearing that he wasn't even that hungry.
An hour later, you see him buying a sandwich from the vending machine.
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