summary: working at the hospital morgue didn't exactly endear you to the emergency room staff, especially when you're always cracking jokes. you think Jack might be warming up to you, but are quickly proven wrong when he berates you in front of the department after an ill-timed joke.
tags/warnings: sfw just a steamy kiss, big time angst, morgue technician!reader, socially awkward reader, discussions of death and grief (seriously, a lot of talk about death and grieving), mean Jack :(, age gap (not specified, but i wrote her as being between 28-30), mean girl nurses, medical inaccuracies probably
wc: 8.9k
a/n: baby's first request!!! feeling very nervy about this one as its my first time writing angst so please be kind <3 it turned into much more of a meditation on death than i expected but i hope you enjoy the jack angst!! also please go read @nightpitt's take on this request!!! it was incredible <3 (and in the future please don't send me requests that you've sent to multiple other authors, it makes me uncomfy)
credits: gif credits to @vanillarot <3
Majorie Deacons, 83. Survived by her husband, Harold, of 62 years, her three children–Mary, Thomas, and Steven–and 10 grandchildren. Worked as a paralegal for 48 years before retiring to the Poconos with Harold. Moved back to Pittsburgh when she got sick. Died from sepsis as a result of her cancer-weakened immune system.
That was all you knew of the woman laying in front of you, her skin pale and body unnaturally still. You thought about her life as you removed her engagement and wedding ring, the crucifix pendant around her neck, the diamond bracelet around her frail wrist–all logged securely for the family to pick up at their convenience.
You thought about her life, about the 83 years she spent on this earth. Where did she grow up? Was Harold her high-school sweetheart, or did they meet in college, or a bar? Did they travel? What sights did they see, how many sunsets did they share? Did she remember exactly where she was when Kennedy was assassinated, like most older folks did? Did she like red lipstick or pink? When did her hair turn white–did she hate it or did she embrace it?
Did she feel welcomed by death, or did she fight it kicking and screaming?
83 years, such a long life and yet still not long enough for the people who loved her.
You spent a lot of time grieving people you’d never met before as a morgue technician. It was a tough job–one spent with people on the worst days of their lives. Sure, you weren’t the one responsible for saving lives–didn’t have a relationship with the patient while they were living–but sometimes you thought maybe it was worse in a way. You learned about these people from their families, from the people so deeply grieving their loved one that often all you felt was gut-wrenching sadness for the hole that now lived in these people’s hearts. You didn’t get the benefit of seeing them interact with their loved ones, didn’t get to know their personality or see their quirks. All you experienced was the grief their loss wrought, not the joy their life had created.
You liked being there for people, though. Death is not something Americans are accustomed to talking about openly, the aftermath of losing a loved one often impersonal and shrouded in mystery. Especially at the hospital, it often felt more clinical than anything else, with procedure and policy often taking center stage over the deceased.
You liked bringing a sense of humanity to the process; liked to have the families reminisce about their loved ones, liked getting to know them through the people who cherished them the most despite the deep ache it sometimes left in your chest.
You learned about Marjorie upstairs, from the family as you collected the body, and you’re looking forward to learning more about her when the family comes to collect her effects. You found that getting people to talk about the person they lost made it easier to discuss funeral and transport arrangements. You didn’t want them to feel like they were just another box to check off your to-do list.
A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.
“Hey, we got another one upstairs. Transport’s been taking forever tonight,” Elise, your boss, said, rolling her eyes. “They have one job: get the body from point A to point B. What gives?”
You shrugged, sighing as you finished cataloging all of Marjorie's effects. “I’ll be back soon,” you said, squeezing her hand gently before making your way to the elevators, up to the emergency department.
Transport was supposed to, well, transport the body. But they were often backed up for one reason or another, and delays in moving the body meant a valuable room remained occupied when it could otherwise be used for another patient. So, more often than not, Elise sent you up to grab the body and bring it back down for processing. It was faster that way, and often gave the family some peace knowing that their loved one wasn’t just sitting in the emergency room.
You didn’t mind, exactly. As much as you enjoyed the quiet and solitude of the mortuary, you liked peaking your head up in the ED and seeing the hustle and bustle there, the way it teemed with life as well as death, even at night.
And it didn’t hurt that the senior night shift attending was perhaps the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d had a crush on him since you met him, your introduction being maybe one of the most embarrassing moments of your life.
It was your first time up in the emergency department, the incessant beeping and constant chatter a stark difference to the quiet morgue–if people were talking down there, something was seriously wrong.
You’d been taken on a brief tour by the charge nurse, Lena, who gave you a rundown of the transport procedure. You met a few of the residents, Dr. Ellis and Dr. Crus, and a handful of nurses, all of whom seemed nice enough.
But you almost stopped dead in your tracks when you met the kind hazel eyes of the graying, curly-haired man standing at the nurses station.
“And this is Dr. Abbot, senior night shift attending. You’ll need his or Dr. Shen’s signature whenever you transport a body,” Lena introduced you, “Dr. Abbot, this is the new morgue technician. She graciously offered to help with transport.”
You held your hand out, brain nearly turning to mush when he shook it. His palm was rough, calloused from many years of working with his hands, and unbelievably warm. His hand also dwarfed yours, which sent a tingle down your spine.
“New morgue technician?” he asked, “Well, no offense, but I hope we don’t see you too much around here,” he joked with an easy smile on his face.
“I guess that remains to be seen,” you said, and followed it up with a ‘ba dum tss’ sound effect and finger guns. Yes, you really did that.
The joke didn’t land; they never did. Jack cocked his head to the side, an almost-smile gracing his lips, and shot you an inquisitive look, like he was trying to figure you out.
His intense stare made your cheeks heat and your tummy swirl. You weren’t sure if you were aroused or uncomfortable, or some combination of both.
You couldn’t get out of there sooner.
It felt like you could never get your foot out of your mouth when Jack Abbot was around. And so the cycle began: get called up to retrieve a body, make an ill-timed joke, embarrass the hell out of yourself, and return back to the safety of the morgue as quickly as possible.
You never made jokes in front of patients or families; you knew that it was something strictly reserved for your peers, people you thought understood the challenges you all face in healthcare–and deathcare.
You weren’t sure why it seemed physically impossible for you not to use humor as a defense mechanism. Part of it was the nature of your job–gallows humor was a coping mechanism you latched onto and couldn’t seem to shake off. It was the same way some people laughed when they were nervous or panicked–a reaction to pent up emotions and stress that manifested as humor instead of as tears.
But you’d also always been like this, trying to diffuse uncomfortable situations with humor instead of meeting them head on, or making a joke at your own expense before someone else could. It hurt less that way, if you could subvert something painful into something lighthearted.
You’d always been admonished for it, by your parents, friends, partners. Had been told that it was inappropriate and that you were too crass, too loud, too much. Which was probably true. It confused you, though, how some people did bond over humor, in the occasional callousness of it, when you were criticized for it. That was something you’d never been able to work out, how it was always wrong when you did it; why you’d never been able to bond with people the same way others did. Well, there was a reason you worked the night shift at a morgue, after all.
You pushed those thoughts away and instead tried to talk yourself up as you stood in the elevator, willing yourself not to be weird.
“Hey, Lena, heard you got another customer for me?” you grinned at her, leaning against the nurses station.
“Sure do, sweets. Her name is Cary West,” she replied with a soft smile. Lena, at least, seemed to like you. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She pointed you to the correct room, where Mateo was cleaning up the body. You stood silently as he finished, taking a moment to honor the person they were and the people they’re leaving behind. These moments always felt weird–liminal, in a way. No longer a patient, but not yet ready for the funeral home–they were entrusted in your care in the meantime.
There was no family in the room, which wasn’t abnormal for night shift. Folks had gone home, to sleep or cry or do whatever else one does to process the grief. You always hope you’ll meet the family of the deceased, but you’re not holding on hope on this one. It was 4am, the family would likely be back during the day to take care of funeral arrangements and Ms. West would be long gone by then. Still, though, you thought about her life, her wants, her dreams–tried to insert some humanity where it had been lost.
“Sorry you had to come back up so soon, I know you just got down there with Ms. Deacons,” Mateo said quietly, pulling the sheet over her head.
“Oh no worries, I don’t mind. It's not like she’s gonna talk my ear off.”
He just shook his head at your joke, unimpressed and unamused.
“Looks like Dr. Abbot is at the nurses station. C’mon, and we’ll get the transfer paperwork signed,” he said, holding the door open for you to push the gurney through.
Dr. Abbot looked worn out. His eyes were tired, and the kind smile he usually sported was replaced by a slight frown and a furrow between his brows. His shoulders were drawn up tight, the tension built up there almost looking painful. It must have been a rough night.
You greeted him with a soft smile, and handed over the clipboard for his signature, which he promptly filled out.
He handed you the clipboard before turning his attention back to the gurney. His jaw was clenched tight, a pained look on his face as he squeezed Ms. West’s hand peeking out from the blanket.
“Treat her well for us, please,” he said, voice hoarse.
“Always do, I wouldn’t want to know what the reaper-cussions would be if I didn’t,” you joked before you could think better of it, cringing internally at your lack of tact.
There was a split second of silence, the tension simmering hotly before fully boiling over.
“Jesus fucking christ, can you be serious for one fucking second? This is a hospital, not a fucking comedy club. There are people grieving here. You need to learn to be an adult and keep your fucknig mouth shut,” he boomed, his face red and chest heaving.
He was looming over you now as he spit out, “get the fuck out of my ED.”
Your ears were ringing. You weren’t sure if the department had actually fallen silent or if you’d just temporarily lost the ability to hear.
You couldn’t breathe, oxygen not flowing properly into your lungs. It felt like you’d been punched in the gut, all the air sucked out and replaced with lead.
“S-sorry,” you stuttered out, cheeks burning and throat closing in on itself. Tears were building up quickly in your eyes, but you weren’t going to cry in front of these people; you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.
You gripped the edge of the gurney and pushed ahead, desperate to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. No one stopped you, no one offered any apologies or sympathies, just watched your humiliated form disappear into the elevator.
The minute the elevator doors closed the tears fell, the hot trails burning your face as you tried to conceal your sobs.
“I’m s-sorry, Ms. West, I shouldn’t be crying like this. I don’t really have much to be upset about in comparison,” you apologized to the corpse, feeling guilty for being so upset when you were literally transporting a dead woman.
You managed to calm yourself down before you reached the morgue. You didn’t want to explain what happened to Elise, didn’t want to recount every embarrassing detail that was already replaying in your head.
You soothed yourself with routine, with the repetitive motions of logging personal effects, filling out reports, and contacting the funeral home to make arrangements.
By the time 7AM rolled around, you were more than ready to get the hell out of there.
The sun is blinding against your puffy eyes. The past two days were a blur, mostly spent crying and replaying the incident over and over. You called out of work, citing a stomach bug. Which wasn’t all that untrue–the thought of encountering anyone in the hospital did make you feel violently ill.
You had already put in for a transfer to day shift, feigning some excuse about your school schedule changing. You couldn’t wait to finish your studies and officially become a mortician. You’d leave the hospital and start your own business, helping people through the grieving and burial process in your own way.
And maybe you’d never have to see Jack Abbot ever again. The thought was as relieving as it was devastating, because you liked him. And you were starting to think maybe he liked you too–at least as a friend or acquaintance.
It was a slow night, which you were thankful for. It meant there weren’t any bodies in the morgue–that there weren’t any deaths so far tonight. So you weren’t too bent out of shape when you got shipped up to the ED to collect a body.
You found Dr. Abbot quickly, signed the necessary paperwork, and wheeled the body out to central.
“Thanks for picking up, I don’t know what the hell’s going on with transpo tonight,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it, we’re actually empty right now. There’s no body there,” you said, a cheeky grin crossing your lips.
And Jack laughed. A full-on, deep-throated laugh. It was one of the most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard. Your chest swelled with pride, and all you could think about was making him do it again.
He shook his head at you, smile still lingering on his face, “what makes a girl like you want to work night shift at the morgue?”
“Girl like me?” you asked coyly, raising your eyebrow at him.
He assessed you, eyes flitting over your face, “yeah, young, smart… pretty.”
You flushed at that, your body getting all warm and tingly, “well, I’m not a mourning person, for one,” you joked, earning another laugh from Jack.
“I, uh, I’m in school for mortuary science,” you continued, giving him a real answer, “I want to be a mortician when I’m done.”
“That’s… admirable,” he said, “you don’t get the glory of saving lives but you do get all the dirty work. Good for you.”
Jack’s attention made you feel like you were on fire–like a white hot ball of flame that would spread given the littlest bit of ammunition. His stare was brazen, unapologetic–you couldn’t look away if you tried.
You cleared your throat, breaking some of the tension, “I guess I should probably get him downstairs,” you said, gesturing to the gurney in front of you.
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” Jack said, moving to stand by your side. He rested his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the elevators. The touch was electrifying–you could feel the warmth radiating from him through the layers of scrubs. He was close enough now that you could smell the warm amber of his cologne mixed with his own musky scent. You felt dizzy, and all you wanted to do was press yourself against him, to nestle yourself in the crook of his neck and inhale.
He pressed the button for the elevator when you arrived and helped you wheel the gurney in.
“It was good seein’ you, pretty girl,” he said, and just as the elevator doors were closing, he winked at you.
You were surprised you didn’t turn into a puddle right then and there.
Your chest twisted at the memory. Maybe that’s why his words hurt so much–why they’d sunk into the marrow of your bones, confirming that he thought as lowly of you as you already thought of yourself. He’d given you hope, shown you kindness where no one else in the ED had.
It was stupid, anyway. Thinking that a man like Jack Abbot could feel anything other than disdain for someone like you. Of course the hot, older, accomplished attending wouldn’t want anything to do with the awkward morgue technician.
Every time you thought about it, your heart ached, a dull pang ringing through your chest and reverberating through your body. Tears pooled in your eyes at the mere thought of the incident. It felt like you were back in high school, asking Alex Williams to the school dance just to have him laugh in your face and say he wasn’t going to go with a freak.
You couldn’t dwell on it, though. You had a job to do, bills to pay. You could only hope that day shift was better, or that you could whip yourself into shape and keep your comments to yourself.
“Jesus, why is the body in north 2 still there?” Jack asked, eyes trained on the board ahead of him. Wait times were astronomical and chairs was full to the brim–the sooner they moved the deceased out, the sooner they could move a new patient in.
“Not sure, I called transpo an hour ago, but you know how concerned they are with being timely,” Lena responded.
“What about the morgue? Why haven’t they sent anyone to collect the body?”
Lena looked at him over the top of her glasses, an unimpressed look on her face.
“Oh, you mean that sweet girl who helps us out by transporting bodies when transpo is dicking around? The one you screamed at in front of the entire department? Gosh, I can’t think of a reason she’s not chomping at the bit to come up here,” she deadpanned, fixing Jack with a glare. “Last I heard she switched to day shift. Said she had some personal schedule conflicts, but I think we both know that’s not true.”
Jack winced, guilt coursing through him. He hadn’t meant to make such a scene, to be so cruel. It had just been such a monumentally horrible day, his chest wound so tight and hackles raised that your little joke set him off. It was stupid, too, because Jack had easily made far worse jokes at far more inappropriate times.
It could have easily been anyone else that he snapped at, would have been, if you weren’t there. But you were, and so you bore the brunt of his wrath.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been replaying the look on your face, the way it crumpled and tears welled up in your pretty eyes. He remembered how your breath hitched, how you shrunk in on yourself and ran away as fast as you could.
It made his chest ache to think about. He wanted to find you, to apologize, but he thought he might just make it worse. And selfishly, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the conversation that would ensue. He assumed he’d see you up here at some point, where he could take you aside and beg for forgiveness–he didn’t think you’d rearrange your entire work schedule just to avoid seeing him.
He wasn’t sure why he acted so indifferently toward you. Or rather, he did–he just didn’t want to acknowledge the way you made him feel. You made him feel giddy–made his face warm and his heart race, like a teenage boy flirting with a pretty girl for the first time. He briefly tried flirting with you, but he was pretty sure you were oblivious to it–either that or you didn’t feel the same. He was hoping for the former.
He hadn’t felt this way about someone since he started dating his wife. Frankly, it made him uncomfortable to think about, made him feel like he was betraying her in some way. He knew that wasn’t true, knew that his wife would want him to be happy, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling.
He’d been talking about it with his therapist, trying to cope with these feelings–trying to get up the courage to ask you out.
And the kicker was he was going to, he was getting bolder, complimenting you and finding any excuse to, respectfully, put his hands on you. And now he’s fucked it all up.
“Shit,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands down his face.
“Yeah, shit. I suggest you take your ass down there and apologize. Properly.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” he said absent-mindedly, already wracking his brain for the right words to say to you.
The change to day shift was brutal. Your body wasn’t used to waking up when you were supposed to be going to bed, and vice versa. You were also working less hours to accommodate your school schedule, which was the reason you were on night shift to begin with. But you took it in stride the best you could. Lemonade out of lemons, and all that.
You’d been up to the ED a couple times since the incident, feeling as awkward as ever even though most of them weren’t on shift when Dr. Abbot berated you. You covered day shift a few times, so you weren’t completely unfamiliar with the staff. Dr. Robby seemed nice enough, though you never stuck around long enough to build rapport. It was in and out from now on, speaking as little as you could before you retreated back to the morgue.
You wished you could flat out refuse to go up there, but you didn’t want to punish innocent people just waiting for a bed. The sooner you got the bodies to the morgue, the sooner someone else could be seen by a doctor.
Right now, though, you were sat at your desk, filling out log reports and finishing up paperwork before you inevitably got another body. It was monotonous work, yes, but calming in a way. The mindless action gave your brain a break between decedents–gave you a chance to mourn the person and compartmentalize it away before it ate away at you.
You faintly heard the door at the end of the hall open and close, and assumed Elise was taking her lunch break.
That is, until you heard a painfully familiar voice call out, “Hello? Anybody in here?”
Oh no, why is he here? Attendings rarely visited the morgue–usually only if there was a particularly complex cause of death that they wanted to further examine. But there were no such cases right now, the only bodies currently in custody being a run of the mill STEMI and a GSW to the head–both pretty self-explanatory.
And the night shift hadn’t started yet, the clock reading 5:34pm. There’s no plausible reason for Jack Abbot to be down here right now.
His steps were getting louder–he was almost at your office now.
You panicked. That is the only explanation you have for scrambling up from your desk and darting into the small storage closet to your left. You pressed yourself against the wall to the side, out of view of the frosted glass window. Was this the mature course of action? Absolutely not. But you weren’t sure you could handle seeing him right now. You hadn’t seen him since the incident, had done everything in your power to avoid any and all interactions.
He called out again, and you could see his silhouette standing in the doorway of your office.
Eyes closed, you took deep breaths to try and calm your rapidly beating heart. Hopefully he’d see the empty room and take his leave quickly.
It was quiet, and for a moment you thought he’d left until–knock knock.
“I could be crazy, but I’m pretty sure I heard someone stumble into this closet and slam the door shut,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
You didn’t answer, hoping maybe you could convince him he was crazy.
The doorknob rattled, and you instinctively grabbed it, pulling it with all the force you could muster to keep it closed. You weren’t sure why–surely he was much stronger than you and could rip the door open if he really wanted to. And god, why was thinking about how strong he was making you flustered?
It’s not that you were scared of him, you were just… woefully unprepared for this conversation. Despite ruminating over the incident itself, you hadn’t actually pictured a scenario where you’d ever speak to him again. Hadn’t had time to go over it a million times in your head, coming up with the best comeback and constructing the perfect barb to lodge in his soft underbelly, the way he’d done to you.
He sighed, resting his forehead against the glass. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for the other day, if you’ll give me the chance.”
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, considering. You’re not sure that an apology will do much for you, not sure that it’ll quell the pit in your stomach that’s opened and doesn’t show any sign of closing.
You nodded to yourself anyway, letting out a quiet, “go ahead.”
He chucked lightly, “face-to-face, if you don’t mind.”
Damn him, you groaned internally. Taking a deep breath, you slowly opened the door. Jack stood opposite you, hands tucked into the pockets of his scrubs. You crossed your arms and fixed your gaze on your scuffed up shoes, the thought of looking him in the eye daunting and exciting at the same time.
He let out a deep breath, “I’m really sorry for how I acted the other night. It was an exceptionally shitty night, and it wasn’t your fault but I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have.”
You nodded, appreciated the effort it took to come down here and apologize. It did little to soothe your bruised heart, though. There was still a painful twinge in your chest, his words having already wormed their way into your brain and confirmed every worst thought you had about yourself.
“Thank you, Dr. Abbot, apology accepted,” you said curtly, moving past him to get back to your desk.
He stopped you, his hand resting on the bare skin just above your elbow. Goosebumps prickled against your skin from the roughness of his palm. You hated how your body craved more, how you wanted him to slide his hand up to your neck, tilt your head back and kiss you. Traitor.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw, “that woman that night, the one you picked up, she died of ovarian cancer,” he said. He looked conflicted, eyes flinty and mouth twisted to the side like he was warring with himself as he bit out the next words, “that’s how–my wife–she died of ovarian cancer.”
Oh. You didn’t know that, didn’t even know he had a wife. Your eyes drifted to his left hand and saw the slightly lighter patch of skin there. Your heart ached and your defenses softened just a tad at the revelation. You could only imagine what it would feel like to lose a patient in the same manner you lost the person closest to you, could imagine the ugly emotions it would pull out of you. It didn’t make what he said okay, but you understood the circumstances that led him to say it.
“And before that we had a kid who died from drowning, and a couple close calls, and a bunch of Dr. Google bullshit. And your joke was just… the straw that broke the camel’s back. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, not like that and not in front of everybody. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m truly sorry,” he said, and you could feel the sincerity dripping from his words. His eyes were soft and pleading as he looked at you, and once again you found yourself unable to look away.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that–about your wife,” you said softly, not wanting to make it any more painful than it already was, “and I’m sorry about the joke. I know it’s not appropriate, and I’ve been trying to stop, but you know how hard it is to quit unhealthy coping mechanisms,” a small smile lifting the corner of your lips.
He shook his head, “please don’t, you have nothing to apologize for. Gallows humor is how we all get by; I can’t tell you how many off-color jokes I’ve told in my day. It was really the pot calling the kettle black, if I'm being honest,” he said, “If it wasn’t you who set me off, it would’ve been Ellis or Shen, or some other unsuspecting person. I promise you it had so much more to do with me than it did with you.”
You nodded, accepting his explanation. You felt a little lighter, a little less burdened by his words.
“I’d like to make it up to you, if you’ll let me,” he said, “maybe coffee or dinner, if you’re up for it?”
You shook your head, “That’s really not necessary, Dr. Abbot. I meant it, I accept your apology, you don’t have to do anything else.”
He nodded at that, looking a little deflated but otherwise satisfied that you’d accepted his apology.
Jack felt the need to make it up to you anyway.
It started with coffee after his shift ended. The first time, he brought you the most insane coffee order you’d ever seen–a mocha cappuccino with 5 extra shots of espresso, pistachio syrup, vanilla cold foam, caramel AND white mocha drizzle, and salted caramel topping–a monstrosity borne from a recommendation from the woman ahead of him in line. You’re not sure how you didn’t immediately get cavities in all of your teeth.
You couldn’t lie, though, the fact that he made the effort to go out and get coffee after his 12 hour shift was endearing, and once you gave him your coffee order, he got it right each and every time.
It became routine over the next month for Jack to bring you coffee, and even though you didn’t have much time to talk in the morning, you began looking forward to the 10-15 minutes of conversation you shared with him each morning. You never discussed what this was, if it meant anything or if it was just a kind gesture between friends. You certainly hoped it meant something, but you weren’t going to get your hopes up.
You were catching up on paperwork when his text came through.
Jack: Can’t make it for coffee this morning, sweetheart, how about I bring you lunch later?
Your cheeks heated at the pet name. He hadn’t called you that before, and you hoped you weren’t reading into it.
You: sounds great, see you later :)
You spend the morning counting down the minutes until Jack showed up. It only slightly hindered your progress on your paperwork, your mind only occasionally wandering off to think about his pretty pink lips.
It’s noon before you know it, and someone’s rapping their knuckles on the door frame to your office.
“Knock, knock,” Jack said, shooting you a smile as he walked over to your desk. He set down a truly alarming amount of food. You laughed as he took out container after container, the sack resembling a clown car more than a fast food bag.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a variety,” he said, a little bashfully, “you can take home whatever’s left for dinner or lunch tomorrow.”
You selected what you wanted from the smorgasbord he presented you with, and settled into the chair next to him.
It was a little awkward at first. Most of the conversations you’d had with him up to this point were pretty surface level. Even your coffee chats were light-hearted affairs that didn’t really go deeper than what you did over the weekend.
But Jack didn’t let it stay awkward for long, as if he knew that once you started talking, he’d be hard-pressed to get you to stop.
“So, I realized that despite our coffee talks, I don’t really know that much about you. How long have you been a mortuary tech?”
“About a year and a half. I got the job after I started school for mortuary science. Before that I taught for a little bit, but I didn’t really like it and I don’t think I was much good at it. I was a bartender for a long time too.”
“So what made you make the jump to mortuary school?”
“I studied anthropology in college and death culture always really fascinated me, especially the way different cultures deal with grief and the burial process. America is so sanitized, so averse to looking at death straight on. We think death needs to be palatable, that the deceased need to look exactly as they did in life to avoid accepting the fact that our bodies are fundamentally different after death–that they are on their way to being absorbed back into the earth.
“I think the way we treat people in death is just as important as how we treat them in life. To some people, that person on the table is just an assemblage of bones and flesh, but to others that was a friend, a mother or daughter, father or son. And I figured as a mortician, I’d be in a position to offer families the kind of support that helps them work through their grief, not just hide it behind pretty floral arrangements.”
You felt a little shy at the rapt expression on Jack’s face. He was giving you his undivided attention, listening intently to every word that came out of your mouth. You’re not sure any man has ever listened to you as attentively as he was now. Yes, the bar was in hell, but it didn’t make it any less hot.
“Sorry, that was a lot, I didn’t mean to info dump on you,” you said sheepishly.
He shook his head, “Please info dump, I could listen to you talk all day,” he said honestly, “do you want to continue working at the hospital when you’re done or do you want to start your own practice?”
“I don’t think I’ll stay here. I mean, I like helping people through the immediate grief, but I think I just want to help grieving families lay their loved ones to rest in a way that honors the life they lived. I don’t care about selling fancy caskets or high-dollar cemetery plots, I just want to narrow it down to what really matters to preserving and celebrating the individual that was lost.”
Jack nodded, “I don’t remember a lot about planning my wife’s funeral–Robby helped a lot with that–but I do remember it being really… almost commercial, in a way? Like, ‘do you want cedar or oak for the coffin? Do you want the casket lined in silk or velvet?’” he said, laughing bitterly, “like it was a fashion show or something, not the vessel my wife was going to be buried in. I couldn’t give less of a fuck what the damn thing was lined in.”
You laid your hand on top of his, giving it a comforting squeeze as he continued. It made your heart swell that he felt comfortable enough to talk about his wife with you.
“I mean, they were very compassionate, but it always felt like a business–which I get, we’re a capitalist society, but that’s not exactly what you want to feel when you’re burying someone,”
You nodded, “that’s probably the thing that bothers me the most about this industry. Sometimes it seems like profit is the priority, and the real, hurting people come second.”
Jack just looked at you with soft eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he smiled at you. He turned your hand over in his, tracing the lines of your palm with his thumb.
“I think you’re going to be an amazing mortician,” he said, without an ounce of amusement or teasing, just pure honesty. “I think you’re exactly the kind of person that people want around them when they're going through the worst days of their lives.”
You couldn’t help the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. It was the kindest thing someone had said to you about your career path, except maybe Elise. And it was nice to shed happy tears over something Jack Abbot said instead of embarrassed ones.
You talked long after your lunch break was over, but Elise was out and you didn’t have any pressing work to get to at the moment, so you figured there was no harm, no foul.
But eventually he had to leave to get ready for his shift, and you did have work to do, though you’d gladly forsake it for a few more minutes with him.
You got up to dispose of your trash and walked him to the door.
“Lunch was really nice,” he murmured, resting his hand on your arm, right above your elbow.
Your breath hitched at the contact and goosebumps prickled up and down your arms. You gaze was locked on his, unable to look away, “yeah, I really enjoyed it,” you said breathily, your heart already racing.
He moved closer, settling his hands on your waist, and backed you up slowly until the back of your knees hit your desk.
You leaned back against your desk, widening your stance to allow Jack to step between your legs. His body was warm against you, his hands running up and down your sides soothingly.
“Is this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. You could feel his breath against your lips, so close but still so far away.
You nodded, a pathetic mewl leaving your lips without permission. It was embarrassing how badly you wanted to kiss this man.
He pressed closer, his lips just barely grazing yours, his nose slightly bumping your cheek. You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as you moved to close the miniscule distance between your lips–
CLANG!
The door down the hall slammed shut, and hurried footsteps approached your office.
You nearly jumped out of your skin and stumbled back onto the desk, out of Jack’s grasp. He seemed just as shocked, his hand clutching his chest in surprise.
A second later Elise came rushing into the room, saying something about a mass casualty event and how you needed to make as much room down here as you could to prepare for the inevitable. You nodded, turning to Jack to apologize, but he beat you to it.
“Shit, I gotta go, sweetheart, they’re probably gonna call all-hands-on-deck,” he said, a genuinely mournful look on his face.
“Yeah, of course. I hope it’s not too bad,” you said, equally as disappointed, but understanding. Duty calls.
He wrapped you up in a tight hug, your cheek resting against his firm chest. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to savor his embrace for a moment before he had to go.
“We’ll finish this later, yeah?” he asked against your hair, his hand rubbing circles on your back.
You smiled against his chest and nodded, “yes, please.”
He pulled away and planted a chaste kiss to your cheek before heading out.
“What was that all about?” Elise questioned, raising her eyebrows at you.
You didn’t say anything–your hot cheeks and dopey grin were worth a thousand words.
You were called up to the ED several times, each time worse than the last by the looks of the staff. It still felt a little awkward being in the emergency department. Even though most of the people here weren’t on shift when Jack yelled at you, it still felt like the department went still when you walked in, people stopping and staring like you were some sideshow circus freak.
You were back up here collecting yet another soul, waiting for someone to sign off on the transfer. It seemed like things had calmed down, the worst of it over now. You were lost in thought at the nurses station, picking at the skin around your nails anxiously.
You hoped Jack would be the one to come over and sign the paperwork–hoped you’d catch another glimpse of him before your shift was over. All you could think about all day was that almost-kiss you shared with him. You couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face every time you thought about it, which meant you basically had a permanent grin affixed to your face.
You’re only pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of hushed voices to your left. You glanced over and saw two nurses you didn’t recognize taking a break and engaging in some friendly workplace gossip. Or so you thought.
“–so happy about?” a nurse whispered incredulously.
“Probably daydreaming about Dr. Abbot,” another said, her tone most likely accompanied by an eye roll.
“God, when is she going to get a grip? Her fawning over him is not cute.”
“Yeah, I think he just doesn’t know how to let her down… I mean when he yelled at her she changed her whole schedule, he probably feels guilty.”
“True. Maybe she’ll realize how embarrassing it is to be so down bad for a man she has no chance with.”
You stopped listening after that, crestfallen and heartbroken all over again. The illusion of the past month shattered and the feelings from before came roaring back full force.
Your chest twisted painfully–like someone had grabbed ahold of your heart and squeezed, the squishy flesh bulging between their fingers. Your throat ached, tears surely not far behind.
You knew you shouldn’t put too much stock in what these two random nurses were saying. You knew that they likely had no idea what they were talking about, that they were just mean girls blowing off steam and you seemed to be the target of it–like always.
But there was the little gremlin in the back of your brain, the one that told you everything they said was true. That Jack just felt guilty, that he was making himself feel better for the way he treated you. Insecurity wrapped itself around you like a vise, squeezing around you like a boa constrictor, until it was the only thing you could feel.
And that almost-kiss? Well, he was a man, after all. Maybe he was just overcome with the physical urge to kiss you, get in your pants if he could. But he wasn’t that kind of man, was he? You didn’t want to think so, but all rational thought was obscured by the hurt blooming in your chest that you couldn’t be sure.
You startled at the hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see Dr. Robby standing there, brows furrowed in concern. Squeaking out an apology, you handed him the transfer paperwork.
“I called your name three times, you okay?” he asked, flipping through the pages and signing where appropriate.
“Fine,” you smiled, not trusting your voice not to break.
He looked skeptical, but didn’t push.
“Alright, all done. Hopefully that’ll be it, at least from the mass cas,” he said, handing back the paperwork. “We have a trauma counsellor available if you need to talk to someone,” he said before backing away to move onto the next patient.
You chuckled at that. Of course he thought you were troubled by the amount of death that occurred today. But no, here you were, post mass casualty, and you were more concerned about a man than you were about the people that had died tonight. How fucked up were you?
Jack showed up with coffee the next morning like usual, setting the paper cup down on your desk, “here you go, sweetheart.”
“Thank you,” you said without looking up from your paperwork. You tasted acid in your throat, the words from the nurses station echoing in your head in an ugly cacophony. You’d memorized them by heart over the past 12 hours, twisting and turning in bed as they invaded your mind against your will.
He just doesn’t know how to let her down.
He probably feels guilty.
Her fawning over him is not cute.
You cleared your throat, “you really don’t have to do this anymore, you know,” you said nonchalantly, like it wasn’t tearing your heart out to say.
He was quiet for a moment. “I know… I do it because I want to, because I like spending time with you,” he said, head cocked and brow furrowed.
“Sure,” you muttered under your breath.
“What was that?”
You sighed and set your pen down, shifting your full attention to him, “I’m just saying you don’t have to prostrate yourself in front of me because you feel guilty, Jack. You’ve done your penance, if that’s all this is. You’re forgiven, no hard feelings.”
Your throat was tight, but your voice didn’t waver. You blinked back tears furiously as he stared at you, mouth agape. He looked a little more disheveled than usual, his eyes tired and the lines on his face a little more pronounced, like he’d been frowning all night. Obviously, he worked like 16 hours last night. You felt another wave of guilt rush over you–he was wasting his much needed rest time to come placate you.
He crossed his arms, shaking his head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”
You stood up and started behind your desk, feeling restless and hurt and foolish.
“You just–you don’t have to hang around me because you feel bad or something,” you said, “you’ve more than apologized. I just wish you didn’t make me feel like–like…” you trailed off, ragged breaths tearing through your chest. It was getting harder to force the words out, tears falling down your cheeks in earnest now.
“Like what?”
“Like this means something!” you choked out. God, you felt so silly. Aw, is someone upset that their crush doesn’t like them back?
He looked at you in disbelief, “It does mean something,” he said, rounding your desk and stopping in front of you–effectively ceasing your pacing.
“Please don’t lie to me,” you hiccuped, your bottom lip trembling violently, “I know I’m too much, I know no one at the Pitt likes me–you don’t have to pretend you do.” You fixed your gaze to the floor–you didn’t think you could handle the pitying look that was undoubtedly in his eyes.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” he said, cupping your face between his large hands. You tried to wiggle away, but his grip was unwavering–he wasn’t going to let you look away from him. He brushed away your tears, “I don’t know what ideas you’ve gotten into that pretty little head of yours, but if you think I’m anything but smitten with you, you’re dead wrong.”
You laughed weakly, “who’s making bad jokes now?”
He didn’t take the bait, didn’t let you deflect from the topic at hand. He pinned you with his eyes, his gaze steady as he delivered his next words.
“I’m serious. I need you to know that I’m being honest with you when I say this: I’ve been scared for a long time to make a move on you, and I’m not letting anything–not even you–get in the way now, okay?
“I’ve liked you for a while now, pretty girl. You’re the best part of my day, the only thing keepin’ me going some days. I love your smile, your laugh, the way your face lights up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. I love the way you care about people, alive and dead, and I love your jokes, even if they can be a little off color.
“And I can’t tell you how much I regret how I treated you. The only silver lining is that it kicked my ass into gear, made me realize I’ve been an idiot for waiting so long to make you mine. You’re not too much, and even if you were, I’d want more–I want everything you’re willing to give me.”
You almost couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of his mouth, but he was nothing but sincere. His eyes pleaded with you to believe him, to give him a chance–and you desperately wanted to.
“You mean that?” you asked, gnawing at your lip anxiously. You didn’t want to get your hopes up just to have them crushed again.
“With all my heart,” he said, grabbing your hand and placing it over his heart. It was racing just as fast as yours was. “This is how I feel every time I see you, sweetheart. Feel like I should be hooked up to a monitor sometimes,” he joked.
“I…I like you too. I have since the day I met you. But I’m scared,” you swallowed thickly, voice small as you finished, “I don’t want to get hurt.”
“I know, sweetheart, I am too. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this–haven’t since my wife–and I don’t want to fuck it up. We’re in this together, as long as you’ll have me,”
“I want you,” you whispered, placing your hand on the side of his neck tentatively.
He grabbed your waist and backed you up against your desk, replicating your previous position from yesterday.
“Can I kiss you now, sweetheart? Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since we were interrupted,” he asked, thumb stroking your cheek.
You nodded, “me either,” you said, heart pounding as he leaned in.
His lips were soft when they met yours. It was tentative–just a slow, gentle press of his lips against yours, like he was trying to maintain some level of decorum.
He started to pull back, and you whined at the loss of contact. You fisted your hands in his scrub top and pulled him back in, your mouths meeting in an uncoordinated mash of teeth. He chuckled against you, “greedy girl,” he murmured, steadying your head in his hands and deepening the kiss.
He tamped down your eagerness but didn’t erase any of the heat building between you–just kept you right where he wanted you. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you readily opened your mouth for him, desperate to taste him. He licked into your mouth, tongue hot as it tangled with yours. You were greedy, sucking and lapping and nipping at his tongue and lips, getting messy with it and thoroughly forgetting where you were and how inappropriate a setting this was.
You were like horny teenagers, hands grabbing at whatever bits of flesh they could reach, tangling in each other’s hair, and moaning louder than was appropriate.
When you finally pulled back, you were both gasping for air, chests heaving against each other. Jack rested his forehead against yours as he caught his breath. You didn’t want to waste another moment not kissing him, though, so you began peppering his face with kisses–to his nose, cheeks, chin, wherever you could reach.
He laughed at the onslaught, craning his head to the side to give you access to his neck, which you happily latched onto, “you’re insatiable, aren’t you?”
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” you replied as you pulled away, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes at him.
He shook his head fondly at you, “Now, as much as I’d like to do very, very inappropriate things to you right now, I came here this morning planning to ask you out to dinner. Would you allow me to ask you out properly now, sweetheart? Let me be a gentleman?” he asked, thumbs stroking your jaw.
You nodded, still dizzy from his kiss–still reeling from the fact that Jack actually liked you.
“Would you please make me the happiest man in the world, and accompany me to dinner at Altius tomorrow night at 7?”
“I’d love to,” you grinned, pulling him in for another kiss.
“And after, we'll see just how insatiable you are.”
A/N: shoutout to my fellow anthropology majors lol glad that my degree is coming in handy for something cause its certainly not a job
Summary: And how endearing it is as Jack goes crazy about missing you.
Part 2 of Realising it too late.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x past nurse! reader
Word count: 1,7k
a/n: Finally I wrote the part 2 of Realising it too late. I was in the mood to write this next part since I had already procastinated a lot to write this. And my drafts are a mess. Anyway, I hope you like the last part. And maybe I'll write an aftermath of this part, but no promises. As always, English is not my first language, so sorry about any typos along the way. Have a good read.
⋆
Time and time again Dr. Abbot stopped himself from calling your name when he needed tests made or charts updated. And slowly but surely, that frustrated him more than he could count on.
"Evening Jack, we got some hard cases in the ER today. I got Lena in on everything. Two ICU patients, car accident victims, then at least three old fellows on medication waiting for discharge papers." Dana continued to explain before she noticed his frown. "Something the matter? Lena told me you have been acting weird during the shift." Dana crosses her arms and leans her hip on the table, looking at Jack.
"Everything is fine, Dana." He dismissed it as Lena had already insisted on him taking more breaks since he was doing more than necessary, most nights, since you left. Lena said he was "overcompensating" or something along those lines. He didn't really pay attention since he buried himself in work.
"And I'm Jesus Christ! Of course everything is alright." Dana sighed and looked in his eyes after he finally looked up at her sarcastic comment.
Abbot gives out a tired smirk. "I told you everything is alright. Everything is under control. I've got it."
Lisa that was going by shook her head to Dana and Crus, indirectly telling them Jack was indeed, not fine.
From that week on, rumours went by as to where you could have gone or if you would even come back to visit in the future.
And Jack? Jack turned a blind eye to the rumours even if he made it seem like he didn't really care when deep down, his stoic attitude and nonchalant rhythm crumbled when he heard your name escape the lips of colleagues or the patients you used to work with when they came for check ups.
In a blink of an eye and heavy hearts, you were being remembered less once someone new came in your place. A year went by with your memory and not enough updates coming from Lisa, who usually exchanged messages with you or from Lena that wanted to check in just to see how you were doing in your new life, maybe new job.
For Jack, yeah, it wasn't as easy as he wanted it to be. The conversation you had on the rooftop replayed every month in his head as he catched snippets of your name coming from Lisa.
"She is doing fine. She told me she was expecting a license for a studio or something"
or
"Y/n told me she had new plans for her business. I'm excited to see what she is working on."
or even
"I saw her two weeks ago. We went out for coffee. She seemed brighter."
Those little updates or comments coming from your old colleagues made Jack's heart settle. You were doing fine, working on yourself. Building your future.
Without him.
Jack shakes his head at what just came through his mind. Why would he think about it like that? You were great colleagues, maybe even friends, some would say, but you barely talked.
Jack was not like Lisa or Lena that were permanently on your side or talked with you every shift. Or like Matteo who you used to talk with daily about nerdy things or the best restaurant you two had found in a month. He was the observer, the guiding wall or exchange gifter.
You used to communicate with glances and head signals more than conversations. Yet you both seemed to work it out so well that the rhythm fell in place. It was the moment of peace Jack understood he had in the middle of all the chaos the night shift was and that he lost when you left.
Now it feels almost empty without you. Not that Janette wasn't a great nurse and awesome person, but for him, it didn't feel the same way.
A new patient had come in the ER to get his heart checked out after his pacemaker showed a peak in the monitor early that evening. To everyone's surprise, the elder male had the same last name as you. And for what you had shared before, your parents lived alone up North in the country. Not thinking too much of that, Jack and the others start to analyse the case of the patient, Leroy Y/l/n.
After they discovered Leroy had to get heart surgery to fix his pacemaker, they called their first contact on the list. Safe to say that the people who appeared at the hospital were your aunt and mother. The semblance was uncanny, and how Jack suddenly had to double take to make sure it was not you made his brain stutter before he explained the simple procedure. As the hours went on, Matteo noticed Jack looking at the ER doors more often than usual. He walked around the nurses’ station to get a specific chart while he watched Jack look at the door again.
“Waiting for someone?” Matteo lifted his eyes to glance at Abbot for a second before he went back to look through the charts.
“Not…really.” Jack's face slowly turned to look at Matteo. “How’s everyone doing? I already made some rounds.”
“They are doing accordingly.” Matteo shrugged. “No sudden changes on any patients.”
Jack hums in response as his eyes go back to the doors.
Matteo leaned to Lena and nudged her arm. “He’s got the longing face back on.”
Lena looks up from the materials cart she has been restocking and her eyes follow Matteo’s. “Yes, but he would never admit to that. He’s been like that for the past hour or so.” Lena turns back to the cart. “Have you seen the pacemaker? Leroy? Y/n’s mom came earlier to make sure her father was fine.”
Matteo’s hummed. “So, they really are her family after all. I thought I was tripping when I saw them. Do you think she is coming?” Matteo sounded hopeful to see his friend again.
“Maybe. She is close with her family and pretty sure they are here to visit.” Lena walked away to help Lisa.
Unknown to both, Abbot had one ear on their conversation and his eyes trained on the door before he moved away to check on, now half confirmed by Lena, your father.
The surgery had gone well. Your father was asleep as your mom stayed and your aunt had to go back home, consequently, calling you to come stay with your family.
In your defense, work in the studio was chaotic today so you held the fort as much as you could before your aunt called you. Luckily, you were already finishing and driving to the hospital, fast.
Once you arrived, you had to take a deep breath. Old feelings hitting like a punch to the gut everytime you go by the hospital in your daily life or even now. It made you nervous to go back in. Definitely not because of visiting colleagues (you went on little outings with Lisa, Ellis or Matteo, every now and then), it was more the smell of antiseptic and the disposition of things. Would anything have changed since you left?
Without any more waiting, you step inside as a gust of medical air went through you, and involuntarily, bringing back some memories. “Hey Lena. I am here to see my dad, Leroy Y/l/n.” A smile comes to your face as you watch the others smile back at you. It felt…normal.
No complicated feelings, no more stress. Just familiarity.
As that was happening, and Lena told you the number of your father’s room, Jack stopped in place as he walked by. All night since your family came, he was focused on those doors waiting for you to enter. Wanting to see you again and maybe this time, keep you at arms length, give you his personal number.
Dr. Ellis was about to consult with Dr. Abbot when all his discretion was thrown in the deepest hole on Earth. All the nonchalant, soldier posture and smirks were gone once his legs moved on their own and his arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you extremely close.
Several people turn their attention to what just happened. It was uncharacteristic of Dr. Jack Abbot to show his emotions. It was shocking, to say the least, and the faces of Dr. Ellis still with tests in hand, and Mattheo's were priceless.
“Dr. Abbot!” You wrap your arms behind his back and pat it. “Hello to you too. Didn’t know you had missed me this much.” It came out as playful but dear Lord he had missed you for real.
“You don’t even know how much.” He picked you up, not thinking twice about how tired he was and how the prosthetic was going down with the extra weight, tightening the embrace.
His embrace was warm. Secure. How you had felt when you two had talked on that fatidic night on the rooftop before you quit. After a bit more thought, you hug him back. Not only has a silent thank you but also wanting to give back some tenderness.
In the background, Matteo passed Crus twenty dollars. “I told you Abbot liked her.” Crus gets a bit cocky as he walks away with twenty dollars.
Lena, Lisa, Matteo and Ellis were still with their mouths wide open looking at both.
“I have so many questions.” Ellis scoffs and leans on the nurses’ station.
“You and me both.” Lisa added as Dr. Abbot put you back on the floor and grinned down at you as his hand brushed a piece of your hair away from your face frame.
Lena gave them a knowing look. “Dana and I were suspecting that he had something for her since she left. He changed his work method.”
Both woman and Matteo glance at Lena before training their gaze back on how Jack was treating and hoovering close to you.
“I have to talk with Y/n about this later.” Lisa said as she began to walk away.
“We should. Crus said they would be together in a month." Matteo added before he went back to work after the sudden distraction.
When you pulled away from a quick conversation with Jack to, finally, go to your father, his face said everything.
Dr. Jack Abbot was smitten, after so many years of him repressing his emotions, you became the only exception.
Summary: The every day or the shift that got you thinking if your life is going the right direction and where Jack Abbot takes concern for you. Maybe a little too late.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x nurse! reader
Word count: 1,7k
a/n: Feeling burden comes to everyone and so this was an inspiration of a few other one shot I read sometime ago. It was kind of difficult to write this one so bare with me for part 2.
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In the Pitt, you never expect the best, always the worst.
Probably came with your own perception of life until now, or maybe it was all the time you ever doubted yourself to be able to continue in medicine.
It was a rough shift every day, every night. Being a nurse, you always said it could be easier than to become a doctor, and how wrong were you when right at that moment, you were over a patient, doing chest compressions like there was not tomorrow.
Sweat going down your forehead, hair tie falling on the ground - Santos got it for you- almost giving up and switching up with someone else, when the child below you got her pulse back. Santos eased you down from the little girl as Jack and Lena worked on stabilising the girl.
Eyes, trained on her. Legs collapsing. Head full.
You stepped out of the trauma room, barely arriving at the bathroom, throwing up the nothing you had on your stomach for hours of not eating. No food, just bile.
A movie went over your head. You. As a little girl. A hospital scenario much like this one. A vacation day gone wrong.
6 years old, you and your family had gone camping, found a nice spot after hours of searching, it was close to the riverside, fresh both in the morning and night. Easy access to the park cabins.
You had made a friend that summer. Her name was Judith. Same age as you.
One day, you both went to the riverside alone. Both wanted to explore and play fairies together. Innocence. Adventurous. Until everything went quiet.
You both separated from each other and when you had come back to the cabins, all adults were around an ambulance. Her parents were screaming for her well-being, and you froze in place.
Tiny steps until you reach the ambulance where the paramedics are trying to bring her back. Minutes went by. You reached for her hand that had fallen from the stretcher. She was cold.
Your parents pulled you back and hugged you. Worried sick about you too. Yet, you stood there, not crying, looking at the ambulance and feeling your hand freeze with the past touch on Judith's hand.
You didn't know why, maybe guilt, maybe hope, maybe rebuilding. Judith was the reason you wanted to become a nurse or a doctor, you didn't know yet.
You snap back as the bathroom door opens. Lisa, a younger nurse must have seen you run inside, distressed face, and she followed you. In seconds she was brushing your back and holding your hair up.
The night stood still for you after the little girl came back but had to be directed to the ICU, upstairs.
Many came to check on you. Santos gave the hair tie back before she left the shift, which she already had stayed back for too long after her original one.
Crus brushed your back as he came by the nurses' station once or twice. Dr. Ellis had brought you chamomile tea in the middle of the shift.
Everything slowed down, the hours didn't seem to end. Your hands worked automatically and your brain focused on the tea taste. The outside world became white noise while you kept going until the end of the shift.
Someone coughed in the distance.
Dr. Ellis's voice sounded tired but hanging there as she stood next to a distressed patient. Dr. Abbot's claps were in slow motion as he passed through the nurses' station where you were charting. Motivational words being shot in the air to the medical professionals.
Your eyes landed on his. No emotion, just tiredness and sluggish strength. Three seconds that felt like a whole minute.
By the end of the shift, you punched in your ID and grabbed your bags. Instead of going home, you climbed to the rooftop.
You walk to the edge and sit down, your legs dangling down the railings. A gap between the pumping of adrenaline as you lean forward and the soul resting when you lean back.
There were times like this. When ending it sounded like the easier route. A moment that once you closed your eyes people would still be in your life. Not alone. Alive.
"This is usually my spot, you know?" His voice had woken you up from the light sleep you had succumbed to.
Still feeling the weight on your shoulders, you look up at his approaching figure.
"Hey, Dr. Abbot, sorry for occupying your space." You rub your eyes and sigh.
"Hey, hey, there is enough space for both of us, right?" His usual smoulder laced with exhaustion settled down as he sat beside you.
"Right." The slight breeze helps the incoming headache. Your hands brush your hair back as the city lights reflect from your eyes.
There was a moment of shared silence. The weight of the shift is noticeable between you two.
His eyes travel from the cars, lights and stars back at you. "Rough night?"
A nod. No words needed.
"You did good, tonight. I saw you with the little girl at the beginning of the shift." He tilts his head back, leaning on his palms. "It's never going to get easier. Better, yes. Perfect, never."
"I didn't think this through. I don't even know what I am doing here.” Finally, you were able to be honest with yourself. Not quite answering him back but spitting the words to the air. "It's been months. And I never found myself. I just...work. I started with a purpose in mind but now, I don't believe I can keep this going."
He looked at you. Stared. Eyebrows furrowing. "You are an amazing nurse, Y/n. What do you mean not made for this?" His words sounded curious but mostly concerned. "You have been working with Lena for a year and with Dana for a few more months. You are always the first to react."
"Would that mean anything if I said I only did it to make myself feel better about the past? Try to solve my problem while taking care of others? It seems like the greatest motivation in the beginning, to never forget the ones I lost. To try and save them, even though I couldn't bring them back." Your back meets the concrete as your eyes find the stars.
"Y/n, it doesn't matter the motivation. Selfish or not. You helped people along the way. A lot of patients mentioned you." He moved closer to you. Hand lifting brushing your shoulder.
"It doesn't matter. It never did. I can't bring them back." The tears ran down your cheeks, an arm over your eyes to hide the sadness from Jack. From the world.
Jack risks it and brushes the back of his hand up and down your arm. He didn't speak. Yet he knew how it felt. To lose people. To lose the ones you love.
He used to be you, if not, he still had that gap over his heart, but he learned with the passage of time.
Some days later, Jack always made sure to check on you. Glances over charts, steps slowing down behind you as you check on a patient. He seemed to be concerned after that conversation on the rooftop. He knew how good of a professional you were and losing such a great nurse would be hard, this technically speaking. Now, his thoughts that usually drifted to you very briefly were on you, constantly.
He barely knew how to function with this weird sensation on his chest. Not even therapy seemed to help, not the nights he spent on the rooftop alone or with Robby's company.
During the next shifts he had noticed your down sided shoulders, the smile that didn't reach your eyes like always, the mistakes you made. A medical charts falling, you bump on others, the constant sneak aways with the excuse you were feeling hungry.
One night, he arrived at his shift, earlier as always. After he gets out of the locker room his eyes automatically search for a certain dark blue ribbon you always used in your hair, the smell of the sweet yet calming perfume you use, or from your detergent, he didn't really know, or didn't care.
No sign of you. You haven't gone past him, or he would have noticed. You weren't charting or at the nurses' station.
Without looking at Lena or any of the nurses at their station, he leans his back against the counter. "Hey, Lena? Where's Y/n?"
Lena, the head nurse for the night shift stops her conversation with Dana, which was leaving, and turns to face Jack. "Oh, Dr. Abbot, she left."
His eyes dart to the nurses behind his shoulder. "She worked the morning shift today?" His gulp going down his dry throat as he waited to be right.
"No one told you, Dr. Abbot? Y/n left the hospital this morning. She terminated her contract with the Medical Centre." Lena's voice softens as she tells him about your decision. It stung. Not only for you but to all of them. You were loved there. A sweet nurse and even better person.
So, when Jack heard you were gone, and gone for good his head snaps back to look at every single nurse. You were gone. His shoulders tighten as it did his jaw. "Did she give a reason?" He didn't want to believe you were gone, just like that. Not now he started to show how you mattered. To ED and also to him.
Lisa steps up, chart in hand. "She wasn't feeling well while she worked, and I think we all noticed. I just wished we could have done something more for her. She is really kind..." Lisa's voice breaks. You were her helping step as Lisa was only starting as a nurse. Maybe because of closer age range or simply because you made space for her. That's why Lisa was feeling so affected.
Jack's eyes travelled to Lisa, then back at Lena. He didn't believe in you leaving. Even after that rooftop conversation, he thought he had convinced you to stay. And yet, he lost you.
"Okay. Alright. Thanks..." He nods at the nurses before he takes a random tablet and walks away, still in his head space.
Summary: Spencer came back from prison and even if you worried things started going South.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Agent fem! reader
Word count: 2,1k
a/n: I was going to write about another person but I swear I needed some angst and Spencer always stucks to my mind. I hope you enjoy it and remember English is not my first language so sorry for any typos.
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You and Spencer had had a “weird” kind of relationship since the beginning.
You liked some of the same stuff. Exchanged quiet conversations and jokes between cases and overall relished in each other’s company. With that, it was not a surprise to the team when you two started going home together, hanging out outside of work and your lives started to intertwine beyond your job.
One random day, after a particular exhausting case and one where Spencer couldn’t be present because of taking care of his mom, you sat on your desk ready to write the case report and updates, before you’ve heard JJ on the phone. It was a ushed tone, but you could make out “Spencer” and “prison” in the same sentence. At that time, you were praying you heard it wrong. It could be him arresting someone off duty, but JJ’s face said everything you needed to know. Something was awfully wrong.
One hour of waiting, JJ told the others what was happening with Spencer, and you couldn’t believe it; you refused to. Spencer Reid, the sweet man that became your other half, had just been arrested for something he didn’t do. The team was speaking about what was happening, but the ringing in your ears blocked any, still active, neuron receptors.
You had to physically grab the small teddy keychain he had given you after much of your nagging since the keychain smelled like strawberries, and you needed it.
Since then, you have never left that thing behind. It reminded you of him, because it was the same colour as his hair and had a little wool vest and scarf too.
The news came as a shock, but the next week after that has been devastating. Your mind was constantly on him. Every minute, every hour, every dream, every single thing at his desk.
Taking your first day off felt wrong. Doing nothing at home while your friend/crush was in prison experiencing what the unsubs you arrested experienced. So, a decision was made. Looking for something, anything, to get him out.
When he came back, he felt different. He didn’t let you get close, barely spoke softly like before, ending up screaming or flinching at people’s reactions.
Your eyes were the only thing that seemed to reach him somehow. Exchanging one second looks, and with luck at least one full minute in his “good days”.
It was the third case you and the team investigated since he came back. It was a rather normal and straight to the point case. Taking advantage of that, you walk to Spencer and stop by his side just to double check some information for the profile.
“Hey, Spencer, I just want you to verify this information. I was writing them down, but something could have escaped my mind. Could you review it, pl-” You flinch at the punch on the table in front of you. The papers got folded so badly with scare.
Spencer looks up at you. Tight jaw, dark eyes, shoulders, tense. It was hard to keep eye contact. Something that before felt so simple.
You could feel his posture sink and his eyes softening moments after he processed what he had just done. He gets himself straighter and adjusts his tie in his unusual suit. His hand came up to your hair, yet you flinched back. You didn’t mean to, but strong or loud noises always made you react like that.
He stopped and lowered his hand down.
“Are you scared of me?” He was surprised. Utterly and genuinely concerned for you and what he had just done. How did it affect you. “Answer me...” His voice is much softer now.
“I just...loud noises. Here... have the papers.” Papers were thrown onto the table right before you left. You need time.
Spencer stood there, focusing on your retreating shadow walking away from the bullpen.
Some days later, Spencer had invited you over to his apartment like you used to do before prison and all the exhausting cases of everyday life.
Tara had told him that you weren’t feeling great these last few days. Avoiding gatherings, which frankly, you stayed for food or listen rather than engage in conversation. Yet, they were your daily escape from working with the team in a professional environment.
As far as the information followed, there was also something related to his stay in prison and how his reactions could be scaring you away from wanting to talk. And that frustrated the hell out of him. He was pissed with himself rather than with your distance. It was his fault after all. The guilt was heavy on his shoulders, especially because he rarely saw your sparkle now. No random rumbling about you current favourite tv show or about the new coffee shops you visited after work was over.
His trance broke when the bell rang. You have only rung the bell in the beginning of the relationship but after that, he gave you the key to his apartment. The bell sounded distant. A wall put up by you.
“Come on in...” His voice direct as he looked at you standing at his apartment door, groceries bags on either side of your body. “You didn’t have to bring anything...”
You excuse yourself so you could start putting the groceries away in their places since the apartment flow was maintained clean and regulated because of your weekly visits when he was in prison.
After some time, he started to move to help you unpack the things you bought for him. His glances didn’t last more than a couple of seconds as you both put the things away in silence.
A casual cleaning of his throat made you look up at him, eyes finding yours. Both looking away, way too quickly.
You spoke softly and were almost afraid of starting anything. “I brought you things because I never saw you go grocery shopping since you came back and... I used to manage your apartment while you were away.” Away. Like, it was not a prison. Like a quick trip somewhere. Unfortunately, it took almost 4 months for him to come back.
“I mhm... thanks. I... I didn’t know that you came here during my time away.” Spencer truly didn’t know because he barely spoke to you. The current conversation made him stop and lean against the counter as he followed your movements. He didn’t have the heart to speak if you didn’t start it first.
“I had to. I had to find a method that made me closer to you, somehow.” You fumbled with the milk cartoons as you put them in their specific place, all in line.
“Closer to me? Well...you could have visited me. I would have...liked that.” You blinked and squeezed the paper bag in your hands.
A soft yet sarcastic chuckle came out of your lips at his words. “That is funny. You didn’t want to see anyone after 2 weeks. I tried to visit you, but you did not receive any visits. The guards told me.”
“I didn’t want any of you to see me defeat and in those clothes. I was losing my mind there. I couldn’t stop thinking about my mother and how stupid I was to be in the wrong place because of hope.” Oh, he was spilling everything. It was like a stream ready to go back to flow after a long winter. “It was not like me. To just do it. I... I still cannot understand how. And then everyone wanted to come to see me. It was too much y/n.” His voice raised and his hands were gripping the stone countertop.
“We wanted to make sure our friend was fine. That is why we wanted to go see you. To ask what happened. It was what JJ and Emily did.” Everything you were feeling was suddenly “challenged” by his tone. You have had enough. You came here to talk, so that was what you were doing. “I was freaking worried about you, everyone was! And we went far and beyond to get you out, especially Penelope and Emily. They risked a lot. So, telling us we couldn’t visit you was absurd. And you! You let JJ go to you. Why couldn’t I-” You caught yourself. Taking a deep breath before you would flip. It was hurting, fear, jealousy, and longing.
Spencer’s eyes were wide. Looking at you like you had physically punched him. You were worried. You were scared. And it was the situation and his fault that made you lose yourself. He was trying to process your feelings but handling accusations from you was hard. You never judged him in the past. Always open to listen to his rambles and conclusions and now you were telling him, someone who was under a lot of pressure while in prison that he had to let you come see him when all he wanted was to end his life in that cell. “I did what I had to do to stay alive! You really don’t understand what I went through do you?” His tone reached higher and higher. And it only kept going. “I was there for 4 MONTHS! I WANTED TO GET OUT! I COULDN’T LET ANYONE IN.”
“Spencer...” A whisper and a step back. That was all you could do.
“No one understands, y/n/n.” He was desperate. Hands on his messy curls. Eyes blood shot with unshed tears. It broke him to act the way he did. To see you flinch in his voice and any slight movements he did.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the prison. I’m sorry to worry and try to check on you these past few days. I. still. care. I wish we could have taken you out of there much quicker. No one wanted you to suffer the way you did and the way you are right now.” Tears welled in your eyes and your voice broke as you tried to explain. “Living without you made me want you more. Want you to be safe and come home... And believe me when I say I’m trying, trying to be part of your life again. You just... don’t make it easy.” Heart beating faster with each word and confession. You brought your hand over your chest because it hurt.
He strutted towards you, engulfing you in a tight hug. Arms around your back, slightly going down to straddle your waist. His head, burying in the crook of your neck. Searching for comfort but also trying to compensate all the yells and sudden moves that made you so hesitant to come back to him.
“I’m sorry too. For yelling and pushing you away. I didn’t want any of this to happen.” His voice muffled by your skin as his lips moved on your neck. Fresh tears coating your shoulder. His chest was quick and unsteady.
Both stayed in the embrace for minutes and minutes with no end. It didn’t mean full recovery, but it was the vulnerability you both needed.
You were the first to slide your arms away from his tight ones around you. Bringing your hand to sooth down his hair while the other hand brushed his wet cheek.
“I love you. Even with all the new weight you have to carry. And you are lucky because I like to fix broken things and I can be quite good at it.” You spoke soothingly and calmly. Honest. “It’s not pity, genius. It’s me trying to get you back to me. I’m not trying to bring old Spencer back. I want you back. I missed you like crazy.” You finally tighten your arms around him. “And I don’t think I would be able to ever leave you behind. You are too precious, Spencer.”
That. That made Spencer break down and pull you in for a soft, wet, and slightly unhygienic –according to his old standards- kiss. You both wanted each other; it was just a matter of time until it happened.
He takes a deep breath as his hands cup your face as he pulls away from the kiss. “I’m never letting you leave. Gosh, I missed you too.” His eyes open to lock in yours.
You both were red and gross from crying your eyes out, but in that moment, nothing could make you pull away from each other.
Quiet sniffs from both sides. You tilt your head into his hands while his thumbs brush your cheeks.
“I love you too, y/n/n. I love you and thank you for staying.”
After cleaning up, you both snuggle on the couch. Slowly enjoying the close proximity over all the longing, you both went through. And Spencer? At last, he found peace once again.
Summary: A sudden adventure with Newt Scamander that takes a turn. Being worried and in love can make things a bit easier to unveil. And in the end, you both knew it would work.
Pairing: Newt Scamander x Witch fem! reader
Word count: 3,1k
a/n: I am going to be truthful. Did it turn out the way I would have liked? No. Does it seem poetic that it took a turn in the narrative since the story is about that? Yes. It could be much better since I was going for something shorter like 1k or half of that, instead I got a bit lengthy with more details. Anyway, I hope you guys like it because Newt Scamander, to me, is a bit like I described him to be in this story and maybe in the future I will write more of him.
Reminding you wonderful people that English is not my first language so I’m sorry about any typos. Enjoy the one-shot.
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Running through the streets of New York, Newt Scamander was supposed to go there for his book, get the final materials, discover new creatures and now because of a slip, he was now being accused by the Ministry of Magic. Once again.
He ran and apparated from place to place...and you? Followed after him.
This friendship started way back once he got out of Hogwarts. The two of you found yourselves in the middle of a forest, one searching for creatures and the other taking notes of the herbs and plants in the area. Since that day, you and him kept finding each other, ending up working together in the writing of his books.
A collaboration that solidified friendship but also turned into something much deeper than that. You cared for creatures as much as he did. Which made Newt instantly like you even more. Besides the help you provided when it came to finding new herbs for potions and spells.
From finding each other to working together and then moving on together. Excused to say, feelings between both were hard to ignore but never impossible to avoid since Newton and you were two peas in a pod when talking about feelings.
"Hey Newt, are you okay?" You were both panting after apparating twice in the matter of minutes. It had started to rain. The cold air, even if not close to London, it entered your lungs. Crispy. Too much with all the running.
"Yes, I am. We just have to find a safe place to stay and then we can go get the Occamy." You slip his case into your hands.
He let it go, always trusting you with it. He takes a break to breathe as you look around the streets. Posters, only visible for wizards, with Newt's face on it.
You bend down to pick one up and read it. "Wanted criminal...Considered dangerous and baring a wand..." For a moment, a smile escaped your lips. Sooner a laugh. "Oh, yes. Extremely dangerous! The most dangerous wizard in history."
Newt furrows his eyebrows as he rests his chin on your shoulder. "They are saying I'm dangerous? Again?"
"What do you mean again? Were you sentenced before I met you?" Eyes still focused on the poster.
"Long story. Remember when I came to New York years back while you took care of my cottage? Well, we had that big trial, and then Jacob got involved and it is a long story...A really long one." His hand rubs his neck and looks in your eyes. "When I finish the book, I'll let you read it first."
Even if you knew each other for long, Newt had had his adventures individually. Sure, news travelled fast in the Wizarding world but years back you were more focused on maintaining a consistent work life and taking care of Newt's creatures back in his house, and it wasn't often that the man gave you updates, so you stayed in his cottage, in the middle of nowhere, without any news.
Apparently, he was much more important and a troublemaker than he made himself to be, at least in your eyes.
"You need to tell me all of that when we get this figure out. And maybe send a message to your brother explaining the situation? He could help." You take his hand and start to briskly walk to a neon sign on a local inn.
"I... I don't want to bring Theseus into this. You know he has more important things to do. Plus, this is nothing compared to last time." One hand fidget with his overcoat while the other squeezed yours.
"Newt, this is all a misunderstanding. Pretty sure the people in the Ministry already know who you are. Why chase you? Send an owl to your brother and explain to him that the muggle affair department can chill because we have everything under control. There were only two Occamys escaping." You sighed as you dragged him inside the poorly illuminated inn.
In the room now, taking off wet jackets. A break to breathe. While Newt wrote the letter to Theseus, you opened the case. "I'm going down there to check on the babies."
Newt stops writing, glancing back at you. His shoulders relax as he sees you enter the case. "Alright. Check if all the nifflers are together with their brothers. Also, check on Dougal, he might need some comfort and verify the food and environments. Pretty sure the moon in the mooncalf's enclosure was acting up-"
You close the bag and walk towards him. Hands landing on his shoulders before you kiss his forehead. The worry about the creatures and the Occamys were making Newt crash right in front of your eyes. "Go there yourself, I'll finish writing the letter to your brother."
Newt gets up and pulls you in a tight hug. Hands resting on the end of your back and lips finding your temple. "Thank you. I'll be quick!"
Once he comes back from the bag, you have already sent your owl with the message to Theseus. Of course, he already knew your owl, by the time you and him got together with Newt for dinner once a month. "How is everyone down there?" Eyes travelling Newt's body.
He ruffles his hair. The messy white shirt and loose classical pants seemed different after he took care of the creatures. "They are all good. No one seems agitated."
"We ran so much and they are all good there? Wow, that's more than fantastic." you said.
"Yeah. They are all fed and ready to sleep." He slides beside you in bed, sitting beside you.
"Are you really not going to tell me about your adventures?" You tilt your head and take a lost leaf of his hair.
"I'll tell them...when I finish the book. It has been years since I started and I'm starting to think it will get nowhere. I always have something to add, and it keeps getting longer and longer." You could see the frustration in his face.
It really has been years since he was able to breathe about this book. Sleepless nights not wasted ones but equally draining. Proofreading? You could do it and you have been doing it for years now. Some parts, essentially. Your hands came to rest on top of him and checked for injuries.
He sighs. Eyes landing on you as his hands were inspected by his assistant and friend. The someone who has been with him since the beginning of his ideas. The one that loved creatures as much as he did and the ones that respected not only him but his babies.
By all the observation you were doing, any other day he would have pulled away because of embarrassment or not wanting to burden you. It would have been like that if he wasn't looking at you like you held the moons and stars in your eyes.
The last time he felt this affected was with Tina. She had been a romantic fling, at least that's what Theseus told him, since he and her had kissed only twice and only have been together because of the constant dangers for Credence and the Wizarding World. With you? It was different. A precious friend and a more beautiful woman. Always listening, understanding, even if you would at times throw some truths on his face.
Because of you, life has been a bit more exciting and less lonely.
He smiles, his shy smile of always, as his eyes didn't leave yours as healing magic travelled through his fingers, hands, arms and then over his body. Relaxing, he brings a hand to brush your hair away from your eyes. "Your hair is getting longer.” Fingers cradling hair pieces between them.
"Mhm, it is. Maybe, I'll cut it again. Once we get the registers for the book and end our current problem too." Eyes landing on his before looking at his lips. You shake your head and freeze as he kisses your cheek.
"What was that for?" A small smile appears on your face.
He shrugs and slides down on the bed. An arm pulling you down with him. "Let us sleep before we have to run away again."
The day after tomorrow, Theseus finally answered. His answer simply said that he would take care of the problem for you and send you his regards. He also mentioned he wished Newt would stop getting into situations and that he was glad you were there to check on Newt.
He signed with hugs and told you to get Newt a little gigglewater so he would stop overthinking.
And in fact, you took care of Newt. Gladly.
Not only because he got you where you are now, but also because you love spending time with him and the creatures. For you, Newt was the embodiment of sunshine personalised with care, a sprinkle of obliviousness, love for his people and creatures and to end he was kind. A lot kinder than most people you ever knew.
"Hey, Newt, we have to pack. I heard spells being casted." You shake him slightly, waking him up.
He got up from your shoulder and hair all over the place. He nodded and got up, still sleepy but getting dressed on autopilot.
You did the same. Even if Theseus told both of you that he would take care of it, business in the Ministry takes time to solve.
Bags packed, beasts safe, two occamys to get. You both get out of the inn, running away between alleyways to apparate.
As you were getting ready to apparate, someone grabs your shoulder.
Newt and you cross glances as you are apparated with the unknown person. He tried to stop it, but he couldn't. His hand grazes yours but it was too late.
Safe to say. He panics.
Between the doubt of getting his occamys back and getting you, he takes a deep breath and apparates to a building where he knew he could get to the Ministry.
You find yourself in a tucked away cell. Low lights outside of it. Strange noises coming from both sides.
A man in a suit stands in front of you. An auror.
"Excuse me, sir? There's been a misunderstanding. I am a witch but I'm a good one." Hand on your chest as you explain yourself to the unknown auror.
"Ma'am, you and your partner have been causing unnecessary tumults around the streets of New York. You will remain here until I get him too." Grave voice, eyes still. Surprisingly blue.
Wait! Wait, don't go... We let two creatures escape, it was an honest mistake, plus they are okay if left alone. And, and pretty sure you are from the Wizard and Muggle control, right? Well, do you know Theseus Scamander? Yeah, high-end auror? His brother is my partner so get me out of here. Please?" You tilt your head and put your hands together in pleading.
"Theseus Scamander? Why would I believe you?" He crosses his arms.
"Go get him for me! Don't be afraid to call a higher-up." It was taunting yet sincere.
"Ma'am, I won't be doing that." He begins to walk away.
"Wait!" You yell but there was no way he would go back. "Bastards." You lean against the wall.
Meanwhile in a random London building...
Newt hurries inside the building where the Wizard Entrance sign hangs above his head. He be-lines to the information desk of the Ministry.
"Hello, hi, I am looking for Theseus Scamander. Could I see him?" Newt fidgets with his bag at hand, Pickett sneaks out of his jacket pocket only for Newt to shush him back inside. "Ma'am, can you hurry? I'm kind of in a hurry."
"Theseus Scamander is not available, sir. You can wait until his lunch break." The witch looks up at him twirling her wand so the papers on the counter fly to their assigned place.
"I cannot wait. It's a... a family emergency." Newt nods expectantly.
"You are family? We can't do anything, you will have to wait, sir." Newt sighs and turns around defeated. He walks around the Ministry' s entrance before he makes a run for it and takes one of the elevators. No way he would wait to get to you.
He runs out of the elevator to get to Theseus' department. Hopefully no one will recognise him, or he will have to make another run for it.
Pickett looks around, the creatures inside his case jumble softly. His breath itches, people walk by, going past him, and suddenly, he feels observed.
"Hey!" A distant voice sounds behind him. He freezes for a second before he starts to sprint down the corridors. "Hey, Newt!" Looking over his shoulder, immediate relief as he sees Theseus.
"Theseus". His voice came out softly before Theseus hugged him. Newt pats his brother back before he pulls back.
"It was bold of you to appear in the Ministry when you are being hunted again. I heard of her and you. So, you need my help?" Theseus pockets his hands and smiles at Newt.
"Someone took her, Theseus! I need you to help me find her. We were apparenting and someone apparated her somewhere. She was right there-"
"Let me stop you there. Sweet y/n was kidnapped? Come on, we are checking the Ministry's prison."
Newt didn’t need to be told twice. He was already walking in front of Theseus. He had been there too. Arrested without foundation. That was, until Dumbledore was there for him.
You were almost asleep before your eyes landed on Pickett. "Pickett buddy, where's your dad?"
A big smile appears on your face, suddenly exhaustion or hunger are far away. Newt crouched down next to Pickett as the small creature opened your cage.
"Oh, my Lord!" You have to brace yourself for Newt pulling you to an immediate hug. You lose your footing and Newt ends up on top of you.
Theseus clears his throat. "Not the time or place to get kinky, brother."
Newt couldn't care less about his brother teasing as he got you back. He would not almost lose you like he almost lost Tina in the past. And this time he worried. He worried in double. Because you were worth worrying about.
"Hey, Newt? Pickett is struggling in your pocket." You chuckle as you extend your hand to help Pickett of the soul crushing hug.
Newt adjusts his collar and brushes his clothes down as he gets up. He offers his hand for you to take and helps you get up.
You three stay in the prison corridor. Looking side to side.
"What now? You said you would take care of it, Theseus." Your eyes land on Theseus smile.
He was about to explain how you only had to get the Occamys back in the bag and he would handle the rest when the first Auror that had gotten you inside that cage appears and freezes in place.
"Sir..." You smirk at the surprised Auror.
"I warned you, mister Auror. Brothers, Newton Scamander and Theseus Scamander." You pointed at both.
Theseus crossed his arms looking at the Auror. Newt steps in front of you, protectively.
A long conversation with the Ministry higher-ups later, both of you were supposed to get the Occamys in twelve hours or they would capture them.
Newt obviously almost petrified half the council at the threat before you agreed, taking Newt's hand and getting out of there.
Saying goodbye to Theseus and apparating back to New York. Which was hard and disgusting to do since throwing up and dizziness was on the menu, but you had no other choice. Taking the boat would take too long.
Since the moment you arrived, and even in the rain, both followed the small destruction sights. Newt knowledge also beginning to appear. He would do anything to save them.
Luckily, ten hours and some cockroaches later, the two Occamys were back in his bag, secure. And for the first time since you met Newt you saw it. The worry, the dedication, the heart he had on his sleeve when it came to his family and his passion. It only solidified your love and admiration for him.
Walking home now. New observations acquired for his book together with another adventure to write about.
"Newt?" Your eyes were focused on him since the moment the boat arrived at land.
His head doesn't turn to look at you. An only hum broke the silence between you.
"You never told me about your adventures but after getting snippets of it as I proofread your book and also living one of them, I have got to say, you are even more amazing that I thought you were."
Newt stops walking, leaving you to walk alone, past him to the cottage. It has been a stressful research vacation. Losing two precious creatures, almost losing you too, and you were there, telling him that it was amazing? Telling him how amazing he was for being loyal and worry about everything that happened? It didn't sit right with Newt.
The crunch of leaved beneath your boots stops. You turn to look at him, tilting your head and waiting for him with hands behinds your back.
"Are you coming?" A simple smile and Newton Scamander snapped back to look at the assistant, friend, the girl he fancies, stand in front of him, moments after she speaks an atrocity.
Determined, he walks up to you. A hand grabs your cheek, cradling it like the most precious of creatures and the flowers around the meadow around the cottage. He leans in and bring his lips to yours.
His grip tightening around the bag as he moved his lips softly and sweetly. It was nothing extravagant or far more planned like he used to construct in his head, but it was truthful and perfect.
You, him, the creatures, the cottage. He couldn't ask for more.
When you open your eyes from the aftermath, a shy smile bloomed followed by a tug on his jacket and a real kiss, full and passionate.
"I have been wanting to do this for decades." A whisper against his lips that made him not only melt for a second time, first being your audacity and love for kissing him so deep, but also how warm those words made him feel. How, for the first time in years he thought that maybe writing about anything else besides his creatures was worth it.
To write your story was like living an infinite way of experiencing everlasting devotion together. Much like loving creatures and not being afraid of adventures. To him you were the personified happiness that followed him all along.
Just we two... Ooh, that would be wonderful | Jack Abbot
Summary: You are a teacher who needs a favour from your boyfriend, who will do anything for you, but not without some convincing beforehand. Another domestic time with You and Jack Abbot, in your daily lives.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x teacher fem! reader
Word count: 1,8k-ish
a/n: I had this idea some time ago and I wanted to write it so bad because I’m such a sucker for domestic povs, so here it goes another one-shot of our man and you being cuties.
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Thursday afternoon, 1 PM, you and Jack are at home now, preparing for lunch and for classes, respectively.
“Hey, love of my life, king of my kingdom, husband to my delusions?" You said, sitting on the couch in your living room.
"Yes, love of my life? What do you want?” Jack turns around from cooking, hands on his waist, and apron on. "I already know it's a favour. Lay it on me." He gestures with two fingers so you would come to him.
"So, remember I told you about my students and how they are learning about jobs? Well, I already brought in a writer, an illustrator and I was thinking...since none of my other emails were answered that you could do me a little favour." You fumble with the papers in your hands.
He leans on the counter and crosses his arms as you walk in front of him.
"Do you want to come say hi to them and maybe explain how you do your job? Pretty please?" You tilt your head, letting go of the papers and slowly circling your arms around him. "For me?"
He sighed and lowered his head on yours. "Is it a morning class? Or an afternoon class?”
"Afternoon, 3 PM. 3rd grade." You explain quickly.
"And when exactly am I supposed to go?" He leans back and his eyebrows shot up.
"Tomorrow." You brush his back and lean your chin on his chest, looking up.
"Tomorrow...mhm." His eyes go back to yours. A lazy hand coming up to brush your hair back. "Tomorrow, 3 PM. So, 4 hours of sleep for me and then deal with kids? What do I get in exchange?" His lips find yours in a soft peck.
"Glad you asked. A massage. Shoulders, back, your legs?" You grin.
"Might as well be mine for the day. No?" He leans back in and kisses your lips, painfully slow, this time.
The next day, once he arrived home, you left him some food ready and clean sheets for him to rest for those 4 hours.
As you changed the classroom around, while the kids were playing outside, he called you.
“How was your sleep, love?” You lean your phone on the pencil holder in front of you as you accept the face time call.
“Very nice. I’m getting ready to go to you.” After you finish getting the classroom tidy up, you sit on your chair. You look at the phone as you watch him get his hair to stick up after he showered.
“Trying to look presentable for the kids?” You smile and lean your head on your hands.
“Of course. Have you seen kids for the first time? They are hard critiques.” He chuckles and takes the phone with him as he walks to the room to get his clothes on.
“Honey, did you forget that I’m a teacher? I get hard critiques every day.”
“On your appearance? You shouldn’t. You are gorgeous, through and through.” He smiles at the camera before he gets a clean shirt on.
“Will you be here in 10? If yes, call me when you arrive, so I can open the door for you.”
“Yes, given or taken. Love you. Be there in a bit.”
He hangs up the phone, getting his stethoscope around his neck like he would do in the hospital and got his shoes on before leaving the house. Meanwhile, you were preparing a Q&A sheet so the pupils could get everything down after they talked to Jack.
“Class, come on, take your seats. Miss L/n has another surprise for today.” You clap as you watch them walk to their seats. Some already knew about what you were talking about the moment they heard surprise, but it was so gratifying to see their happy faces when they saw the Q&A sheet on their tables.
“Miss L/n, do we have another guest today?” One of the little ones looks up from his Q&A sheet.
“Yes, Igor, we do! And this is another very special guest. This guest is a very good friend of Miss L/n, so please go easy on him and remember-”
“If we put our finger up, everyone can talk. If we listen to everyone, the guest will keep coming!” Half of the class starts to say in a quiet tone.
“Thank you, my loves. Now, let’s remember.” You touch your head three times with each syllable. “We have a few questions ready on your sheets. If you want to make a new one, you write it, read it in your head, and then put your hand up to answer.” You explain once again just to remind them of what to do. “Any doubts, ask miss.”
“Yes, Miss L/n.” Some of them agree and you start the class. First, you always give some vocabulary that the guest could end up using when talking, and it was way easier this time since you warned Jack about potential questions that could appear and the vocab you were about to explain.
“So, today, we have Dr. Jack Abbot with us.” You all clap for Jack as he walks in. You stay up as you give him your chair and desk.
He looks up at you and pulls the chair to the middle of the classroom. He smiles and gives you a wink before scooting over. You chuckle softly as you hear him start his introduction to the kids.
“Hello kids, my name is Jack Abbot and I’m a doctor at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center and I help people when they are feeling bad or sick.” A simple introduction to all since they are still learning new words.
“As always, Miss L/n starts with a question and then you all can start your own questions.” You stop beside one of their tables. “Doctor Abbot, what is your favourite thing about your job?”
Jack raises his eyebrows before he smiles and focus on you. “I like to help people and mostly to work with my team. I have a very nice team and there are a lot of nice people at the hospital too.”
Most of the kids are focused on writing their own questions on the papers so they can all read them before asking them. You thank Jack for his answer and supervise around the classroom.
“Who has a question for Doctor Jack?” Automatically, seven little fingers stick up, high to the ceiling, anxious to ask their questions.
“Pietro?” You call the little one.
“What type of socks does doctors use? My mommy said they cannot have giraffes.” You laugh and bring a hand to cover your mouth. Your eyes search for Jack’s, and you see it, the smile reserved for children.
“Pietro, right? You can tell your mommy that doctors can use socks with giraffes. Or even with stripes, or with those little animals, you know?”
Pietro smiles brightly and nods as he starts to right down the answer on his paper.
Between a lot more questions about what kind of food do doctors eat and how long do they work; there were always those students who wanted to be funny and asked about poop and nasty episodes which started to turn the classroom into a giggle fit. You had to take measures to calm them down sometimes, but a few looks and it became calm again.
They all get up after snack time and went to thank Jack for coming and of course, the huggers of the classroom didn’t wait to give him a big hug and tell him, “Good luck”.
After they leave for recess, Jack comes to you, as you are organising your desk to move classes. His arms come from behind you, circling your waist, and leaving a kiss on your shoulder, after moving your hair out of the way.
“You were good with the kids. Very nice, my love. Thank you for coming.” Papers slamming on the desk to put them swiftly back in your bag.
“They seem like good kids. What class are you having now? First graders, right?” He asks as his lips travel through your shoulder.
“Jack, honey, can you not kiss me like this here? The kids can still come into the classroom if they want. And yes, it is the first graders, and then I get to go home.” Your eyes found his as you turn your head around to look at him over your shoulder.
“You should start giving me those looks at home. They are quite sexy.” He turns you around and pecks your lips in a quick movement. “Maybe I should start to misbehave”.
“Jack...” It was too late. Mary and Lilly were looking up between the two of you and then it came.
“Doctor Jack and Miss L/n are kissing!!” They yelled as they ran back to recess, forgetting their lunch boxes inside.
“I told you to be careful! Now look at what you did, mister Abbot.” Exhaling, you turn your head to look at him. A stupid grin on his face.
“Mr Abbot? Really? I know my hair is grey but- ouch! Don’t kill the messenger, my love.” He massages his chest after you hit it with your fist.
“When we get home, we will talk. Now I’ll have them pressuring me before I leave school.” An exasperated sigh escapes your lips as you tilt your head back. Jack sees an opportunity to kiss your neck.
“Oh, please do. Kill me with those eyes of yours.” That stupid smile on his lips, eyes looking up at you from your neck as he squishes your sides.
“You are lucky I love you.” You slightly pout before a smile takes place on your lips and you two kiss. One of those simple but slow kisses just for reassurance and love.
“Yes, future Mrs Abbot. I’m listening, I’m listening.” He lets got and steps back, giving you space to move around and get your stuff to get to the other classroom. “And don’t forget that massage you promised me.” He follows after you.
“I didn’t forget.” Walking the corridors, saying hi to students and then entering the next classroom. “Are you going home now?”
“I can wait for my girl. One more hour and you are out, so I’ll drive us home.” His hand brushes your lower back as you take a bite of your quick pancake snack between classes.
“Thank you, love.” You sigh and his lips found your temple.
“Good job today. We can cuddle when we get home if you want. After our shower.” He tilts his head to look at your downside eyes. “Does that sound good, honey?” He gives you a quick smile, waiting for confirmation.
“Perfect!” You lean on his side, taking some minutes for yourself, while he stands there by your side, for as long as you like.
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