Summary: You and Stan have to deal with constantly being around each other after Stan has made it very clear he wants nothing to do with you anymore. Will you guys work it out, or will the relationship between you be forever broken?
Warnings: None I believe?? It is x fem!reader though!!
Notes: I honestly don’t even know how to work this app so like if you got some tips let me know LOL. I’m also sorry if this is terrible like I said it’s my first fanfic 💔
Words: 4K+
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You remember the first time you met Stan. Little you was mesmerized by him, watching him walk through the front door right behind his dad. It was your first time being introduced to him after officially living with Robby for two weeks.
Robby had adopted you after deciding he needed someone else in his life—someone he could look after, raise, and love unconditionally. You got to be the lucky one he picked.
Robby was truly an amazing man loving, caring, and always concerned over every little thing. Maybe it was the doctor in him, or maybe he just feared he'd mess this up like so many other things he felt he'd messed up in his life.
So when Robby came to you and told you that you'd be meeting his friend, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was about to introduce you to Jack, one of the most important people in his life, and by introducing you, it made everything feel real. He really did this. He adopted a kid. He had a child of his own now someone to raise, protect, and love.
You were six when you met Stan, and he was seven. To say he was shy would be an understatement. He walked in like someone had just told him he was going skydiving for the first time.
Of course, Jack was the first to introduce himself to you, as confident and smug as ever.
“Hey there, kiddo. I’m Jack, but between you and me, I’m really just Robby the cooler version of him.”
That made you break out into a fit of giggles, along with Jack, who was chuckling at his own joke.
A joke that Robby most definitely heard.
“Hey, stop feeding her nonsense, Jack!” Robby yelled from the kitchen, followed by, “Trust me, his charm eventually wears off!”
“No, it doesn’t,” he said with a smirk on his face.
“I like Robby he’s super cool, and he reads me stories before bed every night!” you said with full enthusiasm.
“Yeah?” he said, clearly amused by the fact Robby read bedtime stories every night. Suddenly, Jack remembered the presence standing quietly behind him. “Stan, don’t be rude. Introduce yourself.”
Stan mumbled a quiet “hello” that you’d almost miss if you weren’t paying attention—but you don’t miss it. You make sure you don’t. After that small greeting, you’re all over him, asking if he wants to play out in the yard or maybe watch his favorite shows on TV since you don’t know many shows, because foster care really only had two DVDs you could watch.
Jack watched the whole scene unfold, you practically shaking with excitement from being around his shy son who’s afraid to even play on the playground if other kids are present. Robby eventually stepped out of the kitchen to stand next to Jack, both of them watching the sweet scene unfold in front of them. They stayed silent for a minute until Jack finally turned to face Robby and spoke.
“You’re doing amazing, just like I said you would. She clearly loves it here and is comfortable enough to act like an actual kid.”
Robby stayed silent, afraid that if he spoke, this suddenly wouldn’t be real anymore and he’d wake up and realize none of it was real.
And as if Jack read his mind, he spoke again.
“Hey, this is real. It’s going to be okay. This is a good thing.”
“This is good for you.”
Robby turned to Jack, his face full of emotion, looking like he wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.
“Thank you, Jack.”
“Anytime, brother.”
________________________________________
Ever since that day, you and Stan had been completely inseparable—practically connected at the hip. You were to blame for that because you would not leave Stan alone if your life depended on it. He did eventually warm up to being around you so much, and with you guys being over each other’s houses, it really was unavoidable.
You guys were best friends and did everything together. Everyone knew that wherever one of you was, the other would also be there. Everything was so good for so long, and there was no doubting that you were in love with Stan Abbot you had been since the very beginning. Of course, you never mentioned anything; it was just a silly crush you always tried to brush off, and over the years it seemed Stan just saw you as a best friend, so you never let yourself want more.
Eventually, you guys got to middle school, and that’s when things started to change more specifically, seventh grade. Stan started to become distant. Like, very distant. He started hanging out with new people, stopped eating lunch with you, and didn’t wait up for you after school anymore.
Of course that hurt you. It hurt you so much. He was your best friend, and really the only person you hung out with, so watching him slowly leave you behind as if you didn’t matter was killing you on the inside.
Things started to get really awkward at home too because Jack was always over, or vice versa, and obviously Stan would come along. Robby and Jack noticed the change, how couldn’t they? One day you all went from having to be pulled apart when leaving each other’s sides to sitting on opposite ends of the couch, scrolling on your phones and acting as if the other wasn’t there.
They thought you were just going through a phase. Every teenager did. It was no big deal.
You tried really hard not to dwell on the
situation. It wasn’t like he was dead he was very alive and well. So you were just mourning someone who was still alive. Instead, it felt like you were the dead one. Dead to him.
This goes on for years. By senior year, he continues to act like you don’t exist. He joins the football team as head captain and gets together with Delilah, who thinks she’s hot shit
He only ever acts somewhat decent toward you when he’s at your house or you’re at his, and even then it’s obvious from the look on his face that he wants nothing to do with you. Truthfully, you know he only continues to stay around you to make his dad happy, because he knows how much you and Robby mean to him.
Over the years, you tried talking to him trying to figure out if you did something wrong, or if someone said something to him. You bugged him about it for so long that it wasn’t until freshman year that he finally snapped.
“Look, the only reason I continue putting up with you is for my dad. I don’t want to mess shit up for him just because I can’t stand you,” he said angrily, whispering, after you tried again to figure out what you did wrong.
Yeah… you took that as your sign to move on.
After all those years of thinking you were best friends, it all just crumbled, and you were so fed up with even trying with him. You eventually did make a new friend, Zeke Tyler. He was extremely smart, yet never actually used that to his advantage instead he sold homemade drugs to junkie teens and would hardly show up to class.
If someone had told younger you that he would eventually take Stan’s spot as your best friend, you would’ve laughed in their face and asked if they were crazy. Yet here you are, sitting at lunch waiting for him to show up.
That’s when you hear someone call your name from behind, so you turn around and see Zeke.
“Yo, my fault I hadn’t realized it was so late into lunch already,” he said a bit lazily, trying to seem like he hadn’t tried out his own stash in the storage room.
“Yeah, okay, Zeke. You look like you wouldn’t even know your own name if someone asked you.”
“Well, tell me what is my name? You can make me remember. Just give me five minutes, tops.”
You roll your eyes at his obnoxious joke while he sits there with the biggest smirk, already reaching over to take the chips Robby had packed for you.
It’s normal for Zeke to make flirtatious jokes like that. You knew he didn’t really mean it— he saw you as family. Plus, you knew he was secretly hooking up with that one teacher you cannot be bothered to remember the name of, because frankly, the situation was… weird.
“I’m no expert or anything, but I think your little boyfriend Stanley is staring extremely hard over here.”
You look up from your tray and follow his gaze. Sure enough, Stan is staring in your direction with a look of distaste and annoyance. He’s clearly not listening to whatever Delilah is bitching about.
It makes your chest ache. You still love Stan—you don’t know if you’ll ever stop. So seeing him stare at you after years of pretending you don’t exist makes you feel sick.
He doesn’t look away until Delilah clearly snaps at him for not paying attention.
“He was staring over here so intensely it was kind of freaky. But hey, what would I know? I don’t even know my own name, apparently.”
“Shut up, he’s not my boyfriend—and would you stop calling him that ridiculous nickname? This is why I can’t tell you things, you jerk,” you say, but there’s no real malice behind your words.
You had told Zeke pretty early on in your friendship the history behind you and Stan. You knew you could trust Zeke. He had become your best friend when you unfortunately had to sit next to each other in freshman-year science class. He never really left you alone despite not talking to many people, he for some reason took a liking to you and decided he wasn’t going to leave you alone.
Not that it bothered you, even if you acted like it did. You needed the change after what happened with Stan, and you didn’t really have anyone else, so you made do with what you had.
“We’re still on for later, right? Because I already asked my dad and told him you’re going to be my ride home.”
“Yeah, as long as your dad’s cool with me staying over.”
“I mean, he said yes to you staying over, but is he ecstatic about it? Probably not.”
Robby had met Zeke a while ago and had made it very clear he wasn’t his biggest fan. Not that he would interfere in your life just that you should be careful.
Even now, it still made you want to cry how much Robby still worried about you, the same way he had when you were younger. You were scared he would get distant as you got older, especially with his crazy shift hours, because you’d heard a lot of dads do.
But he hadn’t. He still loved you exactly the same as the day he brought you in. You had never been more grateful for him, and everything he’d done for you. You’d never do anything to jeopardize the relationship you built with him, so if that meant keeping Zeke in check so you could stay friends, you’d do that.
“Ughhh, why can’t your old man just love me already? I’m so sweet. He’s going to be there, right?”
“Hahaha, aren’t you just so funny,” you said sarcastically. “You really think my dad would let you stay over with no adult around? Of course he’ll be home.”
The bell for lunch rang, signaling your time together was over.
“Whatever. I’ll see you in the parking lot by my car. If I get there before you, I’m leaving your ass,” he said as he got up and started walking away.
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too! I’ll see you later!” you shouted after him.
A couple people turned to stared at you because, let’s be real, nobody loves anyone yelling in a hallway, especially right next to them.
You headed off toward class, ready for the day to just end already.
________________________________________
Luckily, you get to Zeke’s car before he does, so by the time he gets there, you’re both ready to go.
You’re exhausted. You had Mr. Tate for your last class, and he was being extra irritating today. Of course, you have to complain to Zeke all about it while he laughs at your misery.
“Just because you’re never in class doesn’t mean you can laugh at me. If you actually went, you’d experience exactly what I went through. It. Was. Torture.”
“Next time, skip class with me. I’ve offered to take you somewhere.”
“So my dad can see I wasn’t in class? No thanks, I’ll pass.”
“You’d survive. Anyways, I’m getting McDonald’s first. I’m starving, then we’ll head to your place.”
“Of course you want to get McDonald’s. You should’ve eaten at lunch.”
Zeke just scoffs and heads toward the drive-thru to get his food.
________________________________________
As you guys pull in, you see a very, very familiar car in the driveway.
There was no sign of Robby's car. Where was he? Why was Jack here? Does that mean Stan is here too?
God, you were spiraling.
It’s not like you aren’t around Stan all the time when he’s at your house, but Zeke is never there when Stan is over you make sure of it. It would be extremely awkward. More awkward than it usually is between just you and Stan.
Fuck, you are so fucked.
“When did your dad get a new car?”
“He didn’t...” you sighed. “It’s Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Stan’s dad.”
“Oh shit, no way.”
It’s silent for a few seconds until Zeke suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter, smacking the steering wheel as he laughs his ass off.
“What the hell is so funny?”
“Nothing. Just the fact that the guy who was staring us down is probably sitting on your couch as we speak.”
You get out of the car without saying anything and slam the door shut. You start walking toward the front door, and Zeke follows, his laughter dying down into quiet giggles.
When you reach the door, you freeze for a second, really taking in the gravity of the situation. Part of you wishes you’d just drop dead right there.
You feel a slight nudge against your shoulder.
You know it’s Zeke’s way of comforting you, silently telling you it’s okay to go in.
Taking a deep breath, you open the door.
The first thing you notice is the smell of food. Jack is probably cooking dinner now that you’ve gotten home.
As you walk in, your eyes immediately drift toward the couch.
Sure enough, Stan is sitting there, focused on whatever’s on his phone, seemingly unaware that you and Zeke just walked in.
He doesn’t look up until he hears a quiet snort from behind you.
You whip your head around so fast you’re sure you got whiplash, shooting daggers at Zeke with your glare.
“My bad,” he mutters.
Now Stan’s staring between the two of you with an expression you can’t quite place, but one thing is obvious he’s not happy.
You decide not to greet him. It’s easier that way.
Instead, you grab Zeke’s free hand and drag him toward the kitchen to ask Jack where Robby is and why he’s here.
Jack hears your footsteps and is already facing you by the time you walk into the kitchen. He’s stopped chopping the garlic, clearly waiting to give you a hug.
It’s sweet.
Jack has always treated you with so much love, as if you were one of his own.
You walk over and hug him before stepping back, leaving Zeke standing awkwardly at the kitchen entrance.
“Hey, kid. How’ve you been? Life treating you right?”
“I’m good, thanks. Life’s the same, you know? It’s like living the same day over and over again.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Don’t I know that feeling.”
Then he smiled.
“You seen Stan yet? He should be on the couch.”
Your body immediately stiffens.
“Uh... yeah, I saw him. I didn’t really want to bother him, though, so I came to see you.”
Jack just gives you a Really? look.
He knows that isn’t the real reason.
“Soooo...” you say, trying to change the subject. “Where’s my dad? He was supposed to be here since I have a friend over.”
“Oh yeah. They called him into work today. He didn’t want you to cancel your plans, so he asked me to come over and keep an eye on you since I’m off today.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I would've just canceled. I don’t want to be a burden, and Zeke would've been fine.”
You frown, feeling guilty for taking up Jack’s free time.
“Nah, don’t worry about it, kid. It’s not a burden at all. I’m here most of the time anyway.”
As he says that, his eyes drift past you, presumably trying to get a look at your friend.
Of course, Zeke has already set his McDonald’s on the counter and started eating.
Jack looks back at you with one eyebrow slightly raised.
This is the first time he’s ever met Zeke.
You can only hope he likes him more than Robby does.
Then again...
That probably isn’t going to happen.
You’re already zoning out, trying to think of every possible way to make Zeke seem like a decent person, when you hear Jack start speaking again
“Boyfriend?” he asked, with a questioning tone.
“I’m sorry?”
“That your boyfriend? It’s rude not to introduce me to him.”
“WHAT?!” you and Zeke both yelled in unison.
“No, no, no— you’ve got it all wrong, I swear! He’s just my friend. I wouldn’t even look his way if my life depended on it!” Because you really wouldn’t. You love him, but definitely not like that.
“Hey, what the hell?” you heard Zeke say from where he was still perched at the counter, mouth full of food.
Jack just stood there watching, clearly enjoying you defending yourself that Zeke was absolutely not your boyfriend, and Zeke being mildly offended that you wouldn’t get with him even if your life depended on it.
Jack took your distraction as an invitation to introduce himself to Zeke.
“Hey, I’m Abbot,” he said, holding out his hand for a handshake. Jack didn’t really let people call him Jack unless you were close to him. It was probably the military in him or the attending in him. Probably both, to be honest.
“Zeke. Nice to meet you,” he said, firmly shaking his hand.
“Likewise. Well, I should finish cooking. You guys should go see what Stan’s doing lord knows he needs the distraction from his phone.”
Zeke mumbled something about it probably being Delilah bitching about school headings no one’s even going to read. You glared at him because he had never been quiet when mumbling little comments like that. Either that, or he just didn’t care.
You were almost certain Jack heard him and if he did, he was clearly pretending he didn’t. You knew he didn’t like Delilah he just never voiced it out loud. He didn’t want to upset Stan about his girlfriend, and she hadn’t really done anything directly to upset him. It was just the fact that she was extremely snarky and bratty.
You knew this because you had overheard Robby and Jack talking about it once over the phone. Robby always had his phone on speaker, so he could multitask. So yeah… sometimes you listened.
With that, you took Zeke with you to the dining room, internally panicking.
What exactly were you supposed to do?
“Hey Stan, want to hang out with us and watch all these shitty movies we were planning on watching all night?” Absolutely not you were not about to ask him that.
How were you going to pull this off without Jack realizing you and Stan weren’t interacting? Because from what you knew friends talk when they hang out. So what would Jack think when he saw none of you interacting? He would definitely sense the tension.
“Just ask him if he wants to watch movies with us. No big deal. You’re always around him anyway.”
Wow. What a bright idea.
What a brilliant smart idea. How could someone so smart be so stupid?
“So smart, Zeke. And what will his dad think when he sees none of us talking and acting like friends?”
“You got hot air instead of a brain in that pretty head of yours or what? Listen think about it. We’re going to be too focused on the movies to even talk.”
Wait.
Maybe he was a genius.
And to think you thought he had some dumbness to him… no, well, he definitely did, but that didn’t matter right now. Right now, he was a genius.
“You’re a genius. Oh my God, I could kiss you.”
“I wouldn’t even look your way if my life
depended on it,” he shot back playfully. “Come on, let’s get this over with and ask him.”
You roll your eyes and follow him toward the living room. With each step, the closer you got, the more nervous you became.
He could completely reject the idea of hanging out. This might be one of the first times in years that Stan would actually agree to plans.
It made your heart thump with anticipation.
You were so caught up in your head you didn’t realize you’d reached the living room until you heard Zeke speak.
“Hey man, want to watch some movies with us since you’re already in here?”
Stan just stared at you both with the same expression from earlier only now more annoyed that you were even talking to him.
“Look, I don’t even want to hang out with you, trust me you’d be the last person. I just don’t want to look like a total ass in front of your dad by not including his son. And if it concerns you so much, I won’t tell anyone. Frankly, I don’t want people knowing I was around you either,” Zeke said toward Stan.
Stan scoffed and let out a quiet, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“Perfect.”
Well… that went a lot better than expected.
No it didn’t. You wanted Stan to say yes happily. That was foolish even to dream about.
Zeke took the middle of the couch so there would be a gap between you and Stan. He knew you well enough to know you’d want that.
It was little things like that that made him your best friend. He didn’t always show it, but he acted on it.
Like that one time you cried to him about how hard it was to be around Stan at home and act like everything was fine. You sat there sobbing, tear stained face, repeating the same thing over and over, and all he did was sit with you and hold you, knowing words wouldn’t help.
You sat on the opposite end of the couch, away from Stan. The movie started.
Halfway through, you pulled your feet up onto the couch to get comfortable. Zeke did the same, eventually leaning against you, and without thinking, you started running your fingers through his hair. It was normal for you both something you always did when hanging out. Nothing weird. Just comforting.
At the end of the shitty movie, Jack called out that dinner was ready, and Stan shot up so fast it startled you.
“Jesus, he has some serious issues,” Zeke muttered as he sat up and held his hand out for you to take so he could help you up too.
Dinner went as smoothly as expected, with Jack doing most of the talking and trying to get to know Zeke better. Zeke answered every question with the most bullshit responses.
You chimed in occasionally, but mostly just listened.
Stan barely spoke at all only answering when Jack directly asked him something. Jack thought he was just being shy like he used to be around new people when he was younger.
You, on the other hand, could tell he wanted nothing to do with this situation.
Honestly, you wanted the night to be over just as much as he did.
You could tell Zeke noticed too by the look on your face, because near the end of dinner he decided it was time to go.
“So soon? You guys only got through one movie. I thought you had more planned,” Jack said.
“My mom’s going to want me home soon. She texted earlier during the movie I just told her I’d finish it first,” Zeke said smoothly.
You knew that was a lie. He didn’t even know where she was. He didn’t know where either of his parents were. They barely respond when he’d send a text. He joked sometimes that they might as well be dead.
You felt for him. Truly.
You had been alone for the first six years of your life you couldn’t imagine being older and still feeling that same kind of abandonment.
“Here, let me walk you out so I can say goodbye,” you said.
“Thanks. Well, again, it was nice meeting you, Dr. Abbot. Hopefully we can meet again. I’ll see you guys later.”
You walked Zeke out to his car.
You guys silently walked to the car. The silence on the way wasn’t uncomfortable it was just… heavy, letting everything that happened settle between you.
When you guys reached his car, he unlocked it and looked at you.
A few seconds passed before you both suddenly burst out laughing.
“Oh my God, that was horrible you should’ve seen how stiff Stan was.”
“I think I’d rather not,” you laughed breathlessly. Then you remembered. “I’m so sorry this got cut short. If I’d known, I would’ve rescheduled.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. But I do have to say… how is Dr. Abbot so handsome and Stan so… baby-like?”
That made you laugh again.
“What do you mean baby-like?”
“You know, he’s got such a baby face. ‘Handsome’ is not a word I’d use for him. Maybe for his father,” he paused. “Not that I’d use any of those words for Stan at all.”
“Jeez, I really can’t stand you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“If you even show up to school. But yeah.”
“Bye.”
“Bye, Zeke.”
You hug him goodbye, then step back so he can leave.
You wait until his car disappears before going back inside.
The second you open the door, you stop dead in your tracks.
Stan is standing there, waiting for you.
Same expression. Same annoyance he’s had all day.
You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.
Summary - Doctor Abbot is always around when you need a bit of stress relief, that is until you overhear a conversation that was definitely not meant for you.
Warnings - Large age gap (Jack in his late 40’s, reader in her late 20’s), power imbalance, SMUT (oral + fingering, dirty talk), pet names (no use of y/n), miscommunication, workplace tension.
Word count - 9142
Notes - First post on tumblr omg?? Guys I can not stress enough that the medical practice is definitely not accurate at all. The idea came at me out of nowhere and I started writing without figuring out the basics. YES there will be a part two!!
You’d had an awful night, truly awful.
Working in the Emergency Department was never a walk in the park. You deserved to have a little downtime with someone who understood that just as much. At least, thats what you told yourself as you tangled your fingers in the salt and pepper curls that belonged to your attending.
Jack Abbot knew the ins and outs of the department, knew the stress it caused. So who was he to turn down helping one of his students relax? His favourite one at that.
He had always managed to keep an eye on you, check in mid shift, clock the way your body tensed under pressure. And now, with the department finally behind you and the weight of the night shift beginning to melt away, he was paying attention just as closely. Which was why he knew you were close from the way your thighs tensed on either side of his head.
His face stayed buried in your pussy, tongue lapping at your clit as he listened to the muffled whines you let out from beneath your hand. He didn’t like that—Jack Abbot was the type of man who wanted to hear just how good he made his woman feel.
He lifted his mouth off of you, despite your frustrated huff of disappointment, and let his fingers trail over the insides of your thighs. He was certain that he would never get over how soft you felt under his touch.
“Jack? Why’d you stop?”
Your voice came out a little breathless—strained, almost as if you couldn’t speak through the lump in your throat. You always got a little teary when you were about to cum, it was one of the things Jack loved seeing most in the world—that and your smile.
He let out a quiet chuckle as he pressed a quick kiss to the crease of your inner thigh, breath ghosting over your skin in a way that made you tense beneath him.
“You know I like hearing you, yeah?”
You nodded your head in agreement but he quickly cut off the movement with a harsh pinch to your outer thigh.
“Words, Sweetheart.”
“Yes! Yes, I know you like it.” You whined out—skin burning from the pinch, stomach still tense from the orgasm that was ripped away from you.
“Then you know not to cover your mouth when I’m making you cum, yeah?” He grumbled, leaning back in to place a gentle kiss over your clit. He revelled in the gasp that tore through your throat and the tremor that shook your body, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.
“God, look at you. You’re so needy, baby.” Jack teased as he dipped his fingers through your folds. “You want me to make it better? Want me to make you cum?”
Your head nodded rapidly as you blindly reached down for his hair again, hips squirming further into his touch.
“Yes, please, Jack. I need you.”
“Then you gotta be good.” He sent you a pointed look from his place between your legs, one brow raised. “You gotta be my sweet girl and let me hear all of those pretty sounds, Honey.”
With that he dove back in.
Jack’s mouth found its place back on your pussy, lips sealing around your clit as his fingers circled your entrance and gathered the slick leaking from it. He moaned against you as he heard the loud whine that spilled from your lips, eyes transfixed on the way your breasts heaved with every breath you took.
Your legs trembled once again as you felt both of his thick fingers push inside you. If there was one thing about Jack Abbot that no one could beat, it was his hands. You’d watched those hands close delicate facial lacerations with effortless precision, every stitch perfectly spaced. Somewhere between watching him save a frightened young woman’s smile and feeling his fingers curl inside you, you’d developed a very serious problem.
He pushed his fingers deeper and sucked on your clit a little harder as your back bowed off of the mattress.
“Jack! Oh god- Oh my God, I’m so close!” The moans spilled from your lips one after the other—a helpless blabbering through the sobs and squeals.
“Thats it, Sweetheart. Let go f’me. Come on” He mumbled against you, hot breath fanning your skin. He could feel the thin layer of sweat covering your body, could smell you everywhere. His fingers curled against that soft spot inside you, rewarding him with the feeling of your walls fluttering and clamping down on him.
A part of him wished it was his cock inside you instead, but he knew he would get to that soon enough.
He lifted his gaze, staring at you through hooded eyes as he watched your orgasm take over your body. He watched the way your eyes rolled back, watched the way your mouth fell open in a silent cry, watched the way your fingers twisted into the sheets beside your head until your knuckles turned white. He worked you through the orgasm effortlessly, pumping his fingers and licking at your weeping pussy until you were pushing his head away with a breathless “too much”.
Jack just chuckled as he finally pulled back, gently easing his fingers from inside while glancing back up at your face for any sign of discomfort. Of course he didn’t find any, all he saw was pure bliss.
“You with me, Honey?” He asked as he shuffled his way up your body and laid beside you, one hand reaching out to push back the strands of hair stuck to your forehead.
You turned your head slowly with a small nod, eyes already fluttering shut as your body, that had been tense all week, finally relaxed and melted into your bedsheets. “I’m okay, I’m good.” Your words were slightly slurred as you turned your face into Jacks hand and pressed a kiss to his palm.
For a long moment neither of you spoke.
The room had settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breathing and the faint hum of traffic somewhere beyond the bedroom window. The frantic edge that had clung to you when you’d walked through his front door was gone now, replaced by the heavy, content exhaustion that always seemed to follow a difficult shift.
Jack watched you quietly.
Your eyes were already half closed, your body sinking further into the mattress with every slow breath. There was something almost unfair about how peaceful you looked now compared to the tense, wound-up version of you he’d watched running around the emergency department only a few hours earlier.
He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your forehead.
“You still with me?”
“Mhm.” Your lips curved into the sleepiest little smile as you reached a hand out to settle over his bare chest, fingers twirling around the fine grey hairs.
“‘Mhm’ isn’t an answer.”
That earned him a tiny groan.
“I’m here,” you mumbled, eyes fluttering open just enough to find his. “Promise.”
“Good.” His thumb traced absentmindedly along your temple before resting against your cheek. It had become second nature to check on you like this, whether you’d had a difficult procedure, a rough patient, or simply forgotten to eat during a twelve-hour shift.
Tonight was no different.
“You feeling better?”
“So much better.” You nodded lazily and shuffled close enough to lay your forehead against his shoulder.
“You sure?”
You gave him another quick nod. “I don’t think I’ve moved in,” You paused, blinking slowly as if the thought itself had drifted away. “Like… five minutes.”
Jack laughed properly this time, the chesty laugh you had grown to feel giddy at.
“I noticed.”
“It’s nice.”
“It is?”
“Mhm.”
“You planning on staying there forever?”
“If you’ll let me.”
His smile softened, those perfect puppy eyes sparkling as he stared at you in the dim light of his bedroom.
“I reckon I can make room.”
You smiled without opening your eyes, instinctively turning your face into the warmth of his hand. It was such an unconscious little gesture that he doubted you even realized you’d done it.
His heart did something deeply inconvenient. He’d spent months convincing himself this was simple. Two people blowing off steam after impossible shifts. Nothing more, nothing less. No expectations, no promises, and definitely no complications.
Except somewhere along the way you’d started leaving a toothbrush in his bathroom. He’d started buying the coffee you liked without thinking. You knew exactly how he took his tea. He knew which side of the bed you always fell asleep on. You complained when he skipped lunch. He reminded you to call your mom.
None of that belonged in something casual.
His fingers lingered against your cheek for a second longer than they needed to. “You know,” he said quietly, “you looked about ready to throw a trolley at someone earlier.”
A sleepy laugh escaped you.
“It was a printer.”
“Right. My mistake.”
“It wouldn’t print blood labels.”
“Monstrous.”
“I agree.”
“I’ll make sure to write it up.”
“You’re making fun of me.” You cracked one eye open just enough to look at him.
“Little bit.”
“Horrible old man.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Your hand found his beneath the blankets, weaving your fingers through his almost absentmindedly. “Thanks.” You mumbled under your breath, voice barely above a whisper.
He looked down at your joined hands and froze for a moment before regaining his composure.
“What for?”
“For,” You shrugged, searching for the words, all of a sudden becoming more shy than you’d ever been. “This.” Your voice was so quiet he almost missed it. “For making the week feel less heavy.”
Jack swallowed hard, blood rushing and heat creeping up his neck as he squeezed your hand once.
“Any time.”
You smiled again, already drifting back toward sleep.
“I know.”
Those two words settled somewhere deep in his chest. He watched you for another few moments, wondering when exactly this had stopped being convenient and started becoming something he was scared to name. Because the truth was becoming impossible to ignore.
He didn’t just enjoy taking care of you. He looked forward to it. And that realisation frightened him far more than he was willing to admit.
The room was quiet. Not the oppressive silence of an empty apartment, but the comfortable kind that only settled after exhaustion had finally won. Thin strips of late afternoon sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, painting pale gold lines across the rumpled duvet.
You blinked awake slowly. For a few seconds you simply lay there, trying to remember where you were. Then the familiar scent of Jack’s laundry detergent and the solid warmth radiating from the man asleep beside you brought everything rushing back.
The shift, his apartment, the night you’d had, the way he’d looked after you until every ounce of tension had melted from your body.
A small smile tugged at your lips. You rolled onto your side, propping your head up on your hand as you studied him. Jack Abbot looked nothing like the attending who commanded a trauma bay with quiet authority.
Asleep, the lines of responsibility had softened from his face. His curls were flattened on one side from the pillow, his mouth slightly parted as he breathed steadily, one arm lazily stretched across the mattress where you’d been tucked against him for most of the afternoon.
He looked peaceful. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look peaceful. At work he was always moving, always thinking, always watching six things at once.
Here, he was just Jack.
You couldn’t stop looking at him. Your gaze drifted over the faint silver threading through his curls, the freckles scattered across his face and shoulders that disappeared beneath the fabric of his T-shirt he’d pulled on before falling asleep.
Your heart squeezed. Which wasn’t good, not good at all. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This arrangement had rules. Unspoken ones, maybe, but rules all the same.
Blow off steam. Sleep. Go to work. Repeat.
No feelings, no expectations, no complications.
Except somewhere between impossible night shifts, takeaway dinners and falling asleep wrapped around each other, you’d gone and fallen for him, hopelessly.
You let out the quietest sigh.
“See something you like?”
You damn near jumped out of your skin.
Jack hadn’t opened his eyes but a lazy grin spread across his face anyway. “You’ve been staring at me for, what…” His voice was rough with sleep. “Three minutes?”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Hm.” Finally he cracked one eye open, amusement dancing there despite the obvious sleep still clinging to him. “So you’re just inspecting me?”
“I was making sure you were still breathing. You know, since you’re so old...”
“Very noble of you.”
“I know.”
His grin widened enough for him to look like the fucking Cheshire cat.
“You drooled on my pillow.”
“I did not.”
“You did, Sweetheart.”
“I don’t drool.”
“You definitely do.” He let out a quiet laugh that rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest before reaching across the bed and gently hooked a finger beneath your chin. “So defensive.”
“I’m being slandered.”
“Oh, is that what this is?”
“Mhm.”
“I’ll have Gloria draft up a statement.”
“I hate you.” You snorted as you shook your head, swatting his hand away from your face. Or, at least, attempting to.
“Liar.” He tugged you the last few inches across the mattress until your forehead bumped gently against his. “You like me.”
You tried to roll your eyes, but the smile already creeping onto your face gave you away.
“A little.”
“A little?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll take it.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was the kind of kiss that came from people who knew each other well enough not to feel the need to impress.
You kissed him back instinctively, your fingers finding the soft curls at the nape of his neck.
Jack sighed softly into your mouth, parting his lips a little wider and letting his tongue brush against the plumpness of your lower lip. You immediately opened up for him, pressing your tongue against his in a way that had his fingers tightening against your cheek.
When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his for another moment before glancing toward the digital clock on the bedside table.
5:12 PM.
“Oh, shit.” Your eyes widened, almost popping out of your sockets.
Jack followed your gaze and immediately winced.
“…Ah.”
“We’re on tonight.”
“We always are.”
“We have to leave here in like…”
“A couple of hours, Honey.”
“We should definitely be adults.”
He groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back onto the pillow while his arm stayed curled around you. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
You laughed, pushing lightly at his shoulder.
“Come on, Doctor Abbot.”
“Oh, now it’s Doctor Abbot?”
“You’ll survive.”
“So charming.”
“I learned from the best.”
He sighed before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. You sat quietly for a moment as he reached for the prosthetic resting neatly beside the nightstand. He’d never made a production out of it. Never asked for help unless he genuinely needed it. It was simply part of the routine.
You gave him the same privacy you’d always appreciated him giving you. Sliding out of bed, you gathered one of his oversized T-shirts around yourself and padded toward the bathroom.
“I’ll be quick,” you called over your shoulder. “Bathroom’s all yours after.”
“Take your time, sweetheart.”
The familiar nickname warmed your chest far more than it probably should have.
You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you closed the door behind you. Your hair was a mess. There were faint pillow creases across your cheek. You looked thoroughly exhausted. And despite all of that, you couldn’t stop smiling.
You splashed cool water over your face, trying—and failing—to wipe the lovestruck expression away. This arrangement was supposed to be simple. You had a sinking feeling it hadn’t been simple for a very long time.
You’d washed away the last traces of sleep, pulled your hair back into something vaguely presentable and slipped into a fresh pair of scrubs that smelled unmistakably of Jack’s detergent. You smiled to yourself as you tugged the drawstring tight. A few weeks ago, you’d accidentally left a spare set of scrubs at his apartment after staying over between shifts. Instead of telling you to take them home, he’d simply washed them, folded them neatly and tucked them into one of his spare drawers. Now they practically lived there and neither of you had ever acknowledged it.
You padded back into the bedroom, finding Jack just finishing fastening the sleeve over his prosthetic before standing to test his balance. He looked up as soon as he heard you.
“You alright?”
“Mhm.” You nodded towards the ensuite. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” He stretched his shoulders with a quiet groan.
“I know I am.”
His lips twitched as he fought back the laugh that threatened to escape. He had always found your dry humour endearing, even before this whole ordeal. It was one thing to physically keep up with his fast paced teaching in the ED, but mentally? With your sharp wit and easy comebacks? Yeah, he was obsessed.
“I’ll go jump in the shower.”
“I’ll make coffee.”
Jack paused halfway to the bathroom. “You don’t have to.” He gave you that small smile as if to say ‘you’re too good, kid.’
“I know.” You shrugged casually. “But if I don’t, you’ll spend ten minutes trying to remember where you put the coffee filters.”
“I know exactly where they are.”
“You looked in the fridge for them last week.”
“That happened once.”
“It was funny.”
“It was sleep deprivation.”
“It was hilarious.”
He pointed a finger at you as he backed towards the bathroom. “You are dangerously close to losing privileges to my kitchen.”
“That’s just not true, you love my coffee and breakfast.”
Jack just rolled his eyes as he stepped through the doorway. The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, and a second later the shower came to life.
His apartment was quiet in a way hospitals never were—no beeping monitors, no hurried footsteps racing towards a trauma bay. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant rush of water from down the hall. You moved around the kitchen almost without thinking.
Mugs.
Coffee grounds.
Kettle.
Sugar.
You knew where everything lived now. It wasn’t because Jack had ever shown you, you’d been here enough times to learn. That was another thought you quickly shoved to the back of your mind.
By the time the coffee had finished brewing, the shower had stopped and a few minutes later you heard drawers opening and closing in the bedroom, then footsteps coming down the hall.
You glanced up just as Jack rounded the corner in his fresh scrubs, stethoscope already slung lazily around his neck. His hair was still slightly damp, curls refusing to behave despite whatever effort he’d made. He looked unfairly attractive for someone about to work another twelve-hour night shift.
His eyes immediately landed on the mug waiting beside the coffee machine and he made his way over.
“You spoil me, Sweetheart.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“No?”
“You had a rough day yesterday.”
“So did you.”
“I wasn’t the one who nearly fell asleep standing at the nurses’ station.”
“I was resting my eyes.” His eyebrows lifted in mock offence as he leaned his hip against the kitchen counter.
“You were basically snoring.”
“See, that’s a lie.”
“Parker took a picture.”
“She what?”
You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress your grin. You loved teasing Jack, loved the way his eyes widened and lips parted when he was genuinely shocked by what you had said. The sight almost reminded you of one of those stupid cat memes that would get sent in the night shift group chat.
“I’m kidding.”
“You’re evil.” Jack narrowed his eyes suspiciously, not believing you for a second. He knew you and Parker were up to no good, more often than not. You were like two peas in a pod.
“I’ve learned from the best.”
He wandered closer until he was standing beside you, shoulders brushing lightly as he reached for his mug. Neither of you moved away and the kitchen suddenly felt much smaller than it actually was.
“You remembered, you always do.”
“Hm?”
“One sugar.”
You blinked as if he was suddenly speaking another language. How could you not remember? You had spent enough time around him—on top and beneath him too—to know how he took his coffee.
“Of course I did.”
Jack smiled into his coffee before taking a sip. It was exactly how he liked it. He also knew exactly how much sugar you took (a concerning amount), and that there was oat milk in his fridge despite him never drinking it himself.
Tiny habits, tiny pieces of each other, accumulated over months. Neither of you seemed brave enough to ask what they meant so instead, you stood together in comfortable silence, sipping your coffee while the evening sunlight stretched across the kitchen floor.
Eventually you glanced at the clock on the oven.
6:05 p.m.
“We should probably head out.”
Jack sighed dramatically. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.” He muttered as he ran a hand over the scruff of his stubble. He had been meaning to shave but had noticed the way you dragged your nails over it while he plowed into you a few weeks back. You never did that when he was clean shaven.
“We’re doctors.”
“I know.”
“We’re supposed to be responsible.”
“I know.”
“You literally tell your staff not to cut it fine.”
“I know.”
“And yet?”
“And yet” he echoed with a grin, “I’d quite happily spend another hour pretending the emergency department doesn’t exist if it meant I had you in my kitchen. Maybe even face down on my bed.”
Your smile softened as you gave him a small shake of your head. “So would I.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.
Jack looked at you for just a fraction longer than normal and something warm settled behind his eyes. Then, just as quickly, he smiled again and reached for his keys.
“I’ll see you there?”
You nodded and quickly finished the coffee that was still steaming in your mug.
“Yeah.”
It had become another one of Jack’s unspoken rules; never arrive together, never leave together. It wasn’t because he was ashamed. More so because hospitals were built on gossip, especially this one. You grabbed your bag from beside the front door while Jack held it open for you.
“Drive safe.”
“You too.”
For a brief second, neither of you moved. It would’ve been so easy for you to lean up on your tippy toes and press a soft kiss to his lips, to run your fingers through his curls until he melted into your touch. Instead, you settled for a small smile.
“I’ll beat you there.”
“In that little hatchback of yours?” Jack scoffed with a roll of his eyes.
“It has character.”
“It has about eighty horsepower.”
“It’ll still beat your old man truck.”
He laughed, shaking his head as you disappeared towards your car, sending him a cheeky grin over your shoulder. A minute later, the two vehicles pulled away from the apartment complex one after the other—not together, never together. Just close enough that, every time you stopped at a red light, you could see the familiar outline of Jack’s truck waiting a few cars ahead.
By the time the familiar silhouette of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center came into view, the warmth of the evening had already given way to the bright fluorescent glow spilling from the ambulance bay. The emergency department never really slept, it simply changed shifts.
You parked a few rows away from Jack’s truck, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat before locking the car. Across the lot, Jack climbed out at almost the exact same time, keys already twirling lazily around one finger.
He spotted you immediately. “You weren’t kidding.” He said with that same cheesy grin he would give you when he backed you up against walls in his apartment, when he stood behind you in the kitchen and pressed kisses to your bare shoulders.
“Hm?” You looked over, already attempting to suppress the heat creeping up your neck.
“You beat me.”
“I told you.” A smug smile spread across your face, your head cocking to the side slightly.
“My truck’s getting old.”
“No,” you corrected, falling into step beside him. “You’re getting old.”
Jack placed a hand dramatically over his chest as he scoffed out a laugh of feigned disappointment.
“That was unnecessarily personal.”
“You walked right into it.”
“I’ve got at least another decade before you can call me old.”
“You make noises every time you stand up.”
“They’re distinguished noises.”
“They’re old man noises.”
“You are absolutely impossible.” He let out a laugh, bumping your shoulder lightly with his.
The automatic doors slid open before either of you could say anything else and just like that, the atmosphere shifted. The familiar sounds swallowed you both whole—monitors beeping, phones ringing, the overhead speaker paging another trauma activation, stretchers rattling across the polished floor, conversations happening six at a time.
Jack’s posture straightened almost instinctively, the teasing smile softening into quiet focus. His eyes were already scanning the department before he’d even reached the desk.
“Evening.”
Dana looked up from the computers at the nurses station, glasses slipping down her nose slightly.
“Abbot.”
“Anything fun?”
She gave him a look, the kind of look that only dana could manage. One that showed just how done she was with everyone else’s stupidity.
“When has ‘fun’ ever been the answer to that question?”
“Fair point.” He smirked.
You couldn’t help smiling to yourself. Watching Jack switch into attending mode was almost fascinating. He wasn’t louder or harsher, if anything, he became calmer. More deliberate. Like every movement suddenly had purpose. It was one of the reasons everyone trusted him.
You slipped away towards the lockers while he headed straight into hand offs with the day shift. By the time you rejoined the department a few minutes later, he was already discussing bed availability with Robby while simultaneously reviewing blood work on one of the computers.
Without looking up, he gave you a quick, “Morning.”
You blinked in confusion, wondering if either of you had hit your head while he was fucking you into oblivion just hours ago.
“It’s seven at night.” You deadpanned, voice void of any amusement.
“It’s morning somewhere.”
“You’ve worked too many nights.”
“Probably.” Only then did he glance over, eyes not so subtly trailing up and down your body. It wasn’t anything special. Nothing like the eyes he would give you or the sweet compliments he would let slip. Yet somehow it warmed your chest more than they should have.
The first few hours of your shift disappeared in a blur. There was a teenager with appendicitis, an elderly man in rapid atrial fibrillation, a construction worker needing twenty-three stitches after introducing his forearm to an angle grinder, a little girl who had an asthma exacerbation who insisted on showing everyone pictures of her pet rabbit between nebulisers.
Jack floated between rooms with the same effortless confidence he always had. Sometimes he had you beside him, sometimes Ellis, sometimes Shen. Most of the time he would have some of the residents. He never seemed rushed. Even when the department was overflowing.
You’d just finished closing the final stitch in the construction worker’s arm when Jack looked over your shoulder.
“Tension’s good.”
“Thanks.” You tied the final knot with a nod of your head.
“I didn’t compliment you.”
“What?” You looked up at him, completely dumbfounded.
“I complimented the suture.”
You narrowed your eyes a little, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a tight frown.
“I hate working with you.”
“No you don’t.”
“No… I don’t.” You snipped the final strand. “I really don’t.”
“I know.”
His cocky grin only grew.
Later, Parker found you leaning against the nurses’ station inhaling what remained of a protein bar. “Incredible dinner.” She raised an eyebrow, eying your mouth stuffed full.
You looked down at the crushed wrapper and quickly swallowed before speaking.
“Gourmet.”
“You’ve got chocolate on your chin.”
“Liar.”
Parker reached over without hesitation, wiping the tiny smear away with her thumb before licking it off of her skin.
“There.”
“That was humiliating.”
“Just a little.”
“I was hoping nobody noticed.”
“You were basically eating upside down.”
“I was charting.”
“You were multitasking badly.”
“I miss having dignity.” You sighed dramatically.
Parker laughed and leaned against the desk you were sat at, arms folded over her chest.
“Wrong profession to be missing dignity.”
The two of you had settled into an easy friendship over the past few months. It wasn’t loud or overly sentimental. It was mostly teasing. Shared eye rolls whenever Shen started one of his stories. Trading snacks halfway through the shift. Quietly covering each other’s patients when someone desperately needed five uninterrupted minutes to eat. You trusted her, she trusted you. Simple as that.
Parker nodded towards Trauma Two where Jack was currently bent over a gurney working on a patient.
“You and Abbot came together today?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Parker.”
“I’m saying nothing.”
“You’ve got that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’re definitely thinking something.”
She lifted both hands innocently as if she didn’t have the most shit eating smirk slapped across her face.
“I just think you two work well together.”
“He’s my attending.”
“I know.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” She smiled into her coffee. “I just said you work well together.”
You rolled your eyes and went back to reading over your charting until the words began to blur together.
“You are insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Before you could reply, Shen called across the department. You looked over, eyes wide and forgetting all about your charting.
“Yep?”
“Abbot wants you in Trauma Two.”
“Yeah he does.” Parker hid another smile behind her coffee cup, trying not to laugh and choke on the scalding liquid.
You shot her an irritated look before jogging away. She watched you leave for a second, then looked across the department to where Jack already halfway into Trauma Two, one gloved hand holding the curtain open as another nurse rushed past carrying blood products.
Parker smiled to herself. She’d never seen Jack pay quite that much attention to any other resident.
By the time you jogged into Trauma Two, the room was already alive with controlled chaos. Nurses moved around the gurney with practiced efficiency, monitors beeped steadily somewhere over your shoulder, someone called out a set of observations while another wheeled in an ultrasound machine. The patient looked frightened more than anything else, eyes darting around the room as unfamiliar faces surrounded them.
Jack barely glanced up as you approached. “There she is.” He muttered fondly before sweeping his gaze back over the patient.
“What’ve we got?” You slipped a pair of gloves on and made your way to the opposite side of the gurney.
He gave you a quick rundown as the patient was transferred across onto the trauma bed. It was nothing you couldn’t handle. By the time he’d finished speaking, he was already stepping back.
“You’re running this one.”
You blinked once, taken aback by the sheer confidence in his tone.
“I am?”
“Mhm.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m just supervising.”
You looked at him for a second, then nodded once. The room seemed to quiet around you as you settled into your role. Not literally—the alarms still beeped, people still spoke, equipment still rattled. But your focus narrowed until all that existed was the patient in front of you.
You introduced yourself, your voice calm despite the familiar flutter of nerves beginning to build in your stomach. Jack stayed just behind your right shoulder, close enough to step in if he needed to but far enough back that everyone in the room knew you were leading. He never interrupted, never took over. He simply watched.
You worked through your assessment methodically, talking aloud as much for your own benefit as everyone else’s. Every now and then your eyes flicked towards him. Not because you needed permission, but because somewhere along the way he’d become your point of reference.
He met your gaze every time—a tiny nod, a slight tilt of his head. Nothing more. He gave just enough to tell you you were on the right track.
As the assessment continued, you hesitated over one part of your examination and Jack noticed immediately, he always did. He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear.
“What’re you thinking?”
You explained your thought process, not fumbling once, and he listened without interrupting. When you finished, he nodded once.
“Good.” He muttered, elbow brushing just below your shoulder. “You’ve got this, keep going.”
Something inside your chest settled.
A few minutes later he leaned in again, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours as he looked over the patient’s observations.
“What else?” He asked, clasping his hands together behind his back and looking down at you.
You frowned thoughtfully as your mind raced through everything you’d learned, everything he’d taught you. You caught yourself beginning to second-guess and Jack recognised it instantly.
“You know this, Doc.” His voice stayed calm. “No rushing.”
You took another breath, looked back at the patient and started connecting the dots again. Seconds passed before you finally snapped your head up, eyes landing on Jacks reassuring gaze.
“I think I’ve got it.”
“Go on.” His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
You explained your reasoning from beginning to end. This time you didn’t stop halfway through to question yourself, you simply trusted your judgement.
The corner of Jack’s mouth lifted and he gave a single approving nod. He knew you’d figure it out along, you always did.
“Atta girl.”
The words were so quiet they barely carried past the two of you. Yet somehow they settled warmly in your chest and made space for the pride to bloom.
He turned towards the rest of the team and nodded to them, that was all he needed to do. Instantly the room moved, investigations were ordered, treatment plans adjusted. People dispersed with renewed purpose. Only once everyone else was occupied did Jack glance back at you.
“See?”
You couldn’t hide your smile as you turned to face him, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet.
“I nearly talked myself out of it.”
“You always do.”
“I know.”
“And every time,” He reached past you to grab a chart from the end of the bed, his forearm brushing lightly against your back as he did. “You’re right.”
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.
“I don’t know about every time.”
“No,” His eyes flickered towards you with that familiar amused look. “Just most.”
The next patient came less than twenty minutes later, then another, and another after that. Hour after hour, the two of you moved through the department almost effortlessly. Sometimes he had you taking the lead. Sometimes he’d demonstrate something before handing it straight back to you. Sometimes he’d simply stand behind you, observing in silence while you worked through a patient from beginning to end.
His teaching style had always been different. He never embarrassed you for getting something wrong, never snapped, never made you feel stupid. If you missed something, he’d steer you gently back towards it.
“What’re we forgetting?”
“What else could explain this?”
“Talk me through your thinking.”
Every correction felt like an invitation rather than a criticism. Every success was met with quiet praise.
“There you go.”
“Good job.”
“Nice thinking.”
“That’s it.”
“C’mon, you’ve got this.”
By now, he knew exactly when your confidence would start to wobble. He’d notice it before you even realised it yourself. He’d see the slight pause before answering, your brows drawing together, the way you’d chew the inside of your cheek when you started overthinking.
That was usually when he’d drift a little closer. Sometimes you wouldn’t even realise he was standing directly behind you until you felt the warmth of him at your back. He was never crowding, never taking over. Just there, solid and steady. If he was watching you perform a procedure, he’d stand beside you, occasionally close enough that his shoulder would brush yours as he watched your hands. If he needed to correct something, he’d quietly murmur the adjustment, never making a show of it in front of the rest of the team.
“There.”
“Just like that.”
“Little higher.”
“Perfect.”
And every single time you fixed it, he would be right there with the praise.
“There you go.”
“Good job, Doc.”
“Atta girl.”
The praise was never exaggerated, never patronising. Just genuine like he was proud of the doctor you were becoming.
The rest of the department had started noticing it, too. Jack never favoured you with easier cases. It was quite the opposite. He trusted you with some of the most challenging patients that came through the doors. He pushed you harder than he pushed most of the residents. Asked more questions, expected more from you. He knew you were capable of meeting those expectations.
To everyone else, it looked like an attending investing heavily in one of his strongest trainees. Only the two of you knew that, beneath every quiet “Good job, Doc,” and every reassuring “You’ve got this,” there was something neither of you had quite found the courage to name.
The emergency department settled into its usual rhythm again, controlled chaos. The waiting room remained full, ambulances still rolled through the bay every few minutes, and somewhere down the hall a toddler wailed loudly enough to echo off the ceiling tiles.
You’d barely had time to grab a sip of your rapidly cooling coffee before Mateo called across the department.
“Hey, Doc?”
You looked up from the computer.
“Yeah?”
“Got a little one with a chin laceration. Mom’s pretty anxious.”
“I’ll take it.”
You tucked the abandoned coffee behind the nurses’ station and headed towards triage behind Mateo, already smiling as you caught sight of the tiny boy sitting proudly on the examination bed with a blood-stained dinosaur clutched tightly against his chest.
Across the department, Jack watched you disappear through the doors before returning his attention to the chart in front of him. He rested one forearm against the nurses’ station, typing steadily as Parker stood opposite him updating another patient’s notes. Shen wandered over a moment later, balancing a half-finished iced coffee he’d almost certainly forgotten about hours ago.
“You’ve been glued to that chart for ten minutes,” Parker observed without looking up.
Jack hummed in acknowledgment, already knowing where the conversation was going.
“Trying to make my handwriting legible.”
“You type.”
“I know.”
Shen leaned against the counter with a grin, sloshing around the ice in his cup.
“So…”
“No.” Jack didn’t even look up.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I’ve worked with you long enough.”
Parker smiled into her screen, shaking her head in amusement.
“He’s got you there.”
Shen ignored him and kept pushing.
“So… our favourite resident.”
Jack’s fingers paused for the briefest moment over the keyboard, mind already filled with images of you.
“What about her?”
Shen’s grin widened like he had hit a jackpot.
“I dunno.”
“Then what’s your point?”
“I just think it’s cute.”
“Cute?” Jack finally looked up with a deadpan expression.
“The way you two work together.” Shen elaborated.
“It’s kind of ridiculous.” Parker added in agreement, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What is?” Jack frowned in confusion.
“You finish each other’s sentences.”
“We do not.”
“You do,” Parker replied. “Half the time she knows what you’re about to ask before you’ve even opened your mouth.”
“That’s called efficient teaching.”
“Mhm.”
“And every time she starts second-guessing herself,” Shen added, “you somehow appear out of thin air.”
“I supervise all my residents.”
Parker exchanged a quick glance with Shen, the both of them clearly in tune with their accusations.
“Not like that.”
“You two spend far too much time watching other people.” Jack huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he returned to his notes.
“We spend a lot of time watching you.”
“You should find a hobby.”
“We have one.”
“Then maybe do the job you’re paid to do.” Jack sighed. For a few moments, the conversation dissolved back into the familiar soundtrack of keyboards clicking and phones ringing. He assumed that was the end of it.
He assumed wrong.
“I’m just saying,” Shen nudged Parker lightly with his elbow. “I’ve never seen Abbot hand-hold a resident the way he hand-holds her.”
“I don’t hand-hold anybody.” Jack’s head lifted again, brows furrowed so hard the wrinkles became even more prominent.
Parker raised an eyebrow and let out a small disbelieving laugh.
“You literally just stood behind her for twenty minutes in Trauma Two.”
“I was supervising.”
“Mhm.”
Jack opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to defend himself. He knew what they were trying to say, and the worst part was that they were right.
“She’s a good doctor.” Jack muttered as he let out a tired breath and shook his head.
“We know.”
“She works hard.”
“We know.”
“She’s exactly where she should be for her year.”
“We know.” Shen folded his arms. “So why do you look like a proud dad every time she gets a diagnosis right?”
Jack laughed once through his nose. He had no idea what to say. They called him out on his shit and he had no defence.
“I don’t.”
“You really do.”
“You two are unbelievable.”
“We think it’s sweet.” Parker smiled. It wasn’t a sweet smile, more of a sly ‘you’re never living this down’ smile.
“It’s called mentoring.”
“Mhm.”
“And if she wasn’t one of the strongest residents in the department?”
“Then I wouldn’t push her as hard.” Jack answered almost automatically.
There was a brief pause between the three before Parker tilted her head.
“You push her harder than anybody.”
“Because she can take it.”
Shen looked pointedly towards triage where you were crouched down to eye level with the little boy, animatedly pretending to examine the dinosaur before even looking at the cut beneath his chin. The child giggled and his mother visibly relaxed.
“She’s good.” Shen smiled.
Jack’s gaze drifted across the department almost unconsciously. You hadn’t even noticed he was looking. You were completely focused on your patient, listening intently as the little boy explained—with enormous seriousness—that Rex had also bumped his chin.
Jack smiled to himself. “Yeah,” he murmured quietly. “She is.”
Parker caught it immediately and smirked through another laugh.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad.”
“What?” Jack blinked.
“That look.”
“What look? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Parker didn’t answer, she didn’t have to. Jack looked back towards triage again, eyes finding you immediately. You were laughing now. Not loudly, just enough to make the little boy beam despite the blood drying on his chin.
His chest tightened unexpectedly.
She’s good with everyone.
Patient’s trusted you. Children adored you. Nurses asked for you by name. You stayed late without complaining. You brought coffee for people who’d forgotten to eat. You celebrated everyone else’s successes before your own.
He’d watched you grow from a nervous student who second-guessed every answer into a doctor he would happily trust with his own family. Pride swelled in his chest. Then, almost immediately, something colder followed. His smile faded.
What are you doing?
The question appeared so suddenly it almost caught him off guard. He was forty-six years old while you were barely into your thirties. He was your attending. You were his resident. There were rules for a reason—boundaries, professionalism, power dynamics.
Jack felt his stomach twist hard.
When had he started buying that oat milk you liked? When had you started leaving spare scrubs at his apartment? When had “come over after shift” become almost every week? When had he stopped seeing it as something casual?
He thought about this morning, you making coffee and knowing exactly how he took it. Standing in his kitchen like you belonged there. He’d liked it far too much.
His chest felt suddenly tight.
This has gone too far.
It wasn’t because of you, it was because of him. He was supposed to know better, supposed to protect you, protect your career. If anyone found out, if someone reported it, the whispers alone could destroy everything you’d worked for. You deserved an attending who believed in you because of your ability. Not because he’d become incapable of separating admiration from affection.
His jaw tightened and without realising it, he’d been staring across the department the entire time.
Parker followed his line of sight then looked back at him. Her teasing smile softened, replaced by something more thoughtful. She couldn’t hear the argument raging in his head, but for the first time all evening Jack Abbot no longer looked amused. He looked worried.
The waiting room had finally started to thin, but not by much. There were still patients lining the hallway, nurses weaving between stretchers and monitors chirping somewhere in the distance, but the frantic pace of the night had eased into something manageable. The clock above the nurses’ station read 6:03 a.m. One hour, one more hour and the night shift would finally be over.
Jack rubbed tiredly at the back of his neck as he stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him. He’d read the same sentence three times. None of it had registered.
“You’re spelling your own name wrong.”
Jack blinked tiredly as he looked up, readers sliding down his nose. Robby stood beside him, coffee in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his fleece.
“…Huh.” Jack glanced back down at the chart.
“You wrote ‘Abbott.’”
“That’s embarrassing.” Jack let out a humourless laugh.
“It would be if you hadn’t looked half-asleep.”
“I’m fine.”
Robby didn’t answer immediately, he simply took a sip of his coffee and looked Jack dead in the eye.
“I’ve known you too long for that one to work.”
“I’m just tired.” Jack sighed quietly, pulling off his readers and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Mhm.”
“And something else.” Jack looked away.
Across the department you were still in triage, sat beside woman who had managed to slice her hand open while trying to open a beer bottle. You looked happy, completely unaware of his spiral.
His chest tightened again just as Robby followed his gaze.
“Her?”
“Yeah.” Jack’s jaw flexed.
Robby waited a moment before nudging jack over to one of the empty exam rooms. The two men stood in silence for a while, trying to figure where the conversation should go. Eventually Jack spoke.
“So,” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve done something incredibly stupid.”
Robby stayed quiet.
“We’ve been,” Jack hesitated, searching for the right words as if it would lessen the inevitable blow. “Seeing each other.”
Robby’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
“For how long?”
“A few months.”
“And?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be anything.” Jack laughed softly to himself. “Just two people blowing off steam after shifts.” He shrugged. “No expectations, no relationship, no complications.”
“And now?” Robby nodded and folded his arms over his chest.
Jack looked down at the floor, almost ashamed.
“Now I don’t know.” He swallowed hard, one hand coming up to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. “I like having her around.”
It was definitely more than that. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.
“I look forward to seeing her.” He laughed again, this time without any humour behind it. “She practically lives at my apartment between shifts. We have coffee together. She knows where everything is in my kitchen. I’ve got spare scrubs for her. I buy fuckin’ oat milk because she likes it.”
Each sentence seemed to make the knot in his stomach tighter.
“It stopped feeling casual a while ago.”
Robby listened without interrupting, sighing ever so slightly and running his fingers through the scruff of his beard.
“And people are noticing.” Jack sighed. He gestured vaguely towards the department. “Shen and Ellis. They were joking earlier, saying I’ve got a soft spot.”
“They’re right.” The admission was barely above a whisper. “I do.”
His eyes drifted back to you. You were smiling at something the woman had said, carefully adjusting the dressing beneath on the palm of her hand before giving her forearm a gentle squeeze.
Jack couldn’t help smiling too, even if it disappeared almost immediately.
“I’m her attending.” The words landed heavily between them. “I’m supposed to be teaching her. Looking out for her.”
He shook his head and rolled out his shoulders, hands coming up to adjust the stethoscope around his neck.
“I am forty-six, she’s got her whole career ahead of her. If anyone found out…” He didn’t finish the sentence, he didn’t need to.
Robby already knew. After a long moment, he asked quietly, “Do you want it to be something more?”
Jack answered so quickly it almost sounded rehearsed. “No.” The word came out sharper than he’d intended. “No.” He shook his head again. “It can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Jack exhaled slowly. “Because the second it becomes something more, it becomes real.”
“And that’s a problem?” Robby frowned slightly.
“It’s,” Jack searched for the words again. “It’s stressful. I’d spend every day worrying someone would find out. Worrying she’d lose everything because of me. Worrying I’d ruin her career.”
He laughed bitterly and shook his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat.
“I’m supposed to make her life easier. Not be the reason it falls apart.”
Robby studied him carefully. He had seen his best friend spiral before, had been there through every up and down—the loss of his wife, the therapy. It never got any easier to watch.
“So what are you going to do?”
Jack was quiet for a long time. Long enough that Robby wondered if he hadn’t heard the question. Finally he spoke, a slight tremor in his voice that hadn’t been there in a long time.
“I think I need to end it.” The words tasted wrong, painfully wrong. “It has to stay what it was.”
He shook his head as soon as the words settled, face screwing up slightly.
“No. Not even that. I don’t think it can.”
“So you’re going to walk away.” Robby’s expression softened.
“Yeah.” Jack closed his eyes briefly. “Before one of us gets hurt.”
The irony of the sentence hung in the air between them.
You had been heading back through the department after finishing up on the patient in triage, weaving around nurses pushing stretchers and healthcare assistants changing over beds. The corridor beside Exam Four was quieter than the rest of the department. The door wasn’t completely closed.
Your steps faltered as you walked past hearing Jack’s voice, low and gruff.
“I’ve done something incredibly stupid.”
Robby answered, though you couldn’t quite make out what he said.
“We’ve been seeing each other.”
Your breath caught. You weren’t trying to listen, really, you weren’t. But hearing those words made your feet stop of their own accord. Jack sounded tired, more tired than you’d heard him in a long time. Sure there had been days where you would both cone home exhausted, where you would both just collapse onto his bed and just lay in silence. But this was something else.
You frowned as your grip tightened around the chart.
Inside the room there was a pause, then Robby’s voice rang out.
“Do you want it to be something more?”
The silence after lasted just long enough for your heart to begin beating a little faster. A small part of you, a stupid part of you, wanted to believe that Jack would say yes, that he would admit he was as crazy about you as you were for him.
Just as quickly as you had gotten your hopes up, you felt your heart shatter.
“No.”
Jacks answer was firm and certain, like he didn’t have any doubts about it. Something in your chest cracked, Jack continued speaking but you couldn’t stomach anymore. Every word seemed to hit harder than the last.
You stared at the floor. Your fingers had gone numb around the edge of the clipboard. Your throat tightened painfully as you listened to him talk about how it had to be just sex or nothing, about how he needed to end it before it became something more.
The corridor suddenly felt impossibly small. You couldn’t hear Robby anymore, couldn’t hear the monitors, couldn’t hear the phones. Couldn’t hear anything except the pounding of your own heartbeat.
He was ending it. Not because he’d stopped enjoying being with you. Because he’d decided, alone, without ever asking what you wanted, without even giving you the chance to have the conversation.
Your stomach twisted again. That hurt almost more than the words themselves. Somewhere in the last few months, he’d stopped being just your attending. Stopped being just someone you slept with after difficult shifts. He’d become… Everything. And apparently he’d decided you weren’t even worth talking to before throwing it all away.
A bitter laugh almost escaped you. So that was it? That was all you’d get? Months of late-night conversations. Coffee in his kitchen. Falling asleep wrapped around each other. Gentle kisses before work. Learning each other’s routines. Looking after one another. Reduced to a decision he’d already made.
You blinked rapidly.
No. Absolutely not.
If he wanted to end things, fine. That was his choice. But he wasn’t making that choice for you. Not after everything. Not after letting you fall this hard without so much as asking how you felt.
Your jaw clenched and the hurt slowly gave way to something else. Anger. It wasn’t loud or explosive. It was the quiet kind. The kind that settled deep in your chest and made your eyes sting.
You straightened the chart in your hands, took one slow breath, then another. By the time you stepped away from the doorway, your face had settled back into perfect professionalism.
If Jack Abbot wanted this to be nothing more than sex, then from this moment onwards, he’d have exactly what he’d asked for.
Nothing more.
Thank you all so much for reading!! Part two will be out soon <3
Not so hot take, if you’re into fauxcest you’re weird and we all already know you probably fantasize about your family because genuinely why would you want to pretend your partner is related to you.
I think fauxcest is extremely weird, and it's not something I'm into. In my opinion, pretending to be related while being in a romantic or sexual relationship just isn't something that should be so normalized.😣
ʚᯓ ᴀʙʙᴏᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ x ʀᴏʙʙʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ who absolutely can't stand each other, but are forced into close proximity because their fathers are best friends. — WC; 1.8k
tw; adoption mention (reader is adopted by robby), alcohol mention
cred; @cannedibal on tiktok
pt. i
Benjamin was an asshole to say the least, and an absolute fucking douchebag to say the most.
If your father didn't have a practically codependent relationship with his dad, Dr. Abbot, you would not be here right now, sitting on their couch while your dads cracked open the third beer of the night.
Ben was sitting beside you, manspreading like his life depended on it, and playing some random first-person shooter game.
You scoffed and curled closer into yourself on your corner of the couch and fumbled with your phone in your hoodie pocket to try and occupy yourself.
"Hey, kid, what's wrong?"
Your head perked up at the voice, your father, of course. His footsteps were practically silent compared to Dr. Abbot's whose gait was slightly off and would clink with his prosthetic.
"Nothing, Dad, just.. tired," you sighed, tucking your phone into your lap.
Your father cocked a brow and stared at you over those ridiculous glasses he always wore. "You're lying," he commented without hesitation. The man always found your tells and could see right through you.
You looked between him and Ben briefly before fixing him with a look, your silent signal for "I want to go home, I don't like him".
Your dad nodded in understanding before ruffling your hair and patting your shoulder, his own silent signal for "Hold out a little longer and try to get along", before walking back to the dining room where Jack was giving him a curious look.
Ben finally died in his game then and looked over at you with a furrow in his brow and an upturn in his upper look that conveyed something like annoyance. "You made me lose with that freaky silent talk thing you do," he complained.
You raised a brow. "Then you must suck if silent talk made you lose your game," you retorted with a scoff before grabbing your phone from your lap to return to mindless entertainment.
Ben stared for a moment longer at your uninterested expression before mumbling something eerily similar to "piece of work" under his breath before returning to his game.
A few minutes of silence passed until that familiar gait caught your attention and you looked up to see Jack coming behind Ben's spot. The idiot was too immersed in his game to realize his father was behind him and he jumped when Jack's hands smacked right against his shoulders, making him lose instantly.
"Bro! You're actually so lame, Dad!" Ben groaned as he turned to face his father.
The two were so identical, it made you wonder what his mom looked like because her genes put in absolutely no work. Ben was every bit his father except his hair was a mousy brown shade while Jack had long since been salt-and-peppered and Ben had significantly more freckles from time in the sun– no one could fault Jack for that though, then man ran the night shift and therefore was a night owl.
"Tell our guests bye and go up to shower. I swear you haven't had one in two weeks," Jack replied, his dry voice holding a hint of teasing.
Ben's cheeks pinkened and he stumbled over his words before placing his controller down and looking over at you for a moment. "Bye," he muttered.
You nodded in acknowledgement before unfurling from your crumpled spot on the couch to leave. "Bye, Mr. Jack, see you later," you spoke politely before rounding the edge of the couch to find your own father in the foyer, pulling his shoes back on.
"Bye, kiddo!" Jack called back before looking back to his son and smacking him across the back of his head.
You stifled a laugh as you slipped your shoes back on and followed your father out of the Abbot's house and to his truck.
The night air was cool against your cheeks and you shivered lightly, more than eager to enter the warmth of the old pickup.
"So, Benji's having his birthday party next week. You should go," your dad spoke once the two of you were settled in the truck.
You quirked a brow. "Dad. No. No way–" you scoffed, trying to figure out if he was actually being serious.
"Oh, c'mon, kid. It won't be that bad. It'll be hot, they have a pool, plenty of Jack's barbecue," he began to list, trying to convince you.
"Dad, no– why would I want to go to his birthday?" You argued.
You had gone to Ben's birthday every year since you could remember because Jack and your dad were convinced the two of you would be best friends because they were. Every birthday party ended with the two of you fighting, though.
On his tenth birthday he pushed you into the pool and you pulled him in with you, leading to the two of you almost drowning by trying to fight each other to the surface.
On his fourteenth birthday, you slammed his face into his cake after he threw a water balloon on your new lace dress you had gotten from a box of your birth mother's things.
And of course you never forgot on his seventh birthday when he found out you were adopted and made fun of you with all his friends. You rode home crying that night and didn't see Jack or Ben for almost three months.
Your father sigh from the driver's seat caught your attention again and you looked back at him.
"I know you don't like him, kid.. but give this party a chance," he requested, looking over at you. "For your old man?"
You huffed as he pulled that card. Of course he would.
You laid in your bed that night, contemplating it. It was his eighteenth birthday and the two of you were graduating this year. If you went, this would be the last of his birthdays you'd ever have to go to and if he humiliated you, at least you'd barely see him around and could live down the shame at a college out of state where no one went to.
You rolled over to stare out the slightly ajar window before sighing. You would go. If only for your dad's sake.
The party was lively, and the scent of Jack's cooking wafted through the back yard that could barely contain the sheer amount of people invited.
Of course the extended Abbot family was there, but also so was the entire football team it seemed. You brushed past people, attempting to stay close to your dad so you didn't risk the chance of running into Ben.
"Hey! There's my bonus kid!" Jack grinned as you and your dad found him. The two shared a brief hug before Jack hugged you as well– always one to be affectionate to the ones he cares about.
"Look at this, all grown up," he sighed as he pulled back to grasp your shoulders. "Don't let any of these boys here ogle you," he added in a mock authority tone before patting your shoulder and going to his conversation with your father about kids growing up so fast or something along those lines.
You hovered, but looked around awkwardly, trying to find familiar faces that weren't people who asked you for the answers during class.
As you were preoccupied with searching the crowd, Ben came up to his dad and began asking questions about food.
You turned at the sound of his voice and saw him in just a pair of swim trunks, torso glistening like he'd just come out of the pool. Despite yourself, your gaze lingered, eyeing the slight chub on his bones from bulking and trailing the thousands of freckles that littered his skin. You were about to look away when his head turned and he met your gaze.
Fuck.
He smirked, because of course the idiot smirked, and returned to his conversation like he didn't just catch you sizing him up like he was a porterhouse.
You felt your cheeks get hot and you looked away to try and take your mind off that interaction because why did Benajmin John Abbot make you flustered? This was your mortal enemy! The bane of your existence that called you a piece of work!
But God, he was a really sexy enemy who grew into his body really well.
You shook the thought from your head before deciding maybe a dip in the pool would do you some good.
You headed inside and walked upstairs to the bathroom so you could set your clothes somewhere they'd stay dry and safe.
While you were tucking your clothes away in a safe spot in the cabinet with your purse and shoes, you heard a knock on the door.
Assuming it was a stranger, you cleared your throat and called out, "Occupied!"
There was a small chuckle on the other side. "It's me. Are you decent?"
Ben. Because of course.
Your brows furrowed and you felt your pulse leap into your throat. "Still occupied!" You yelled again.
"Dude, just let me in, I wanna talk," he replied. The words were followed by a small thud that sounded like his forehead hitting the door.
You sighed and closed the cabinet door before opening the door to reveal Benjamin standing there with a shit-eating grin, wet curls sticking to his forehead and a towel thrown around his thick neck.
"Wow, nice rack," he muttered, staring down at your bikini top, leading you to shut the door in his face. "Hey I was joking!" He called from behind the wood.
You contemplated shutting yourself in the bathroom for the rest of the party for a moment before slowly relenting and opening the door.
"Thank you," he hummed once the door opened again. "Besides, I only think it's fair from how you were looking at me earlier," he added in a teasing tone.
You sputtered for a moment, trying to come up with a valid excuse for practically drooling at the sight of him.
"Hey," he began defensively, holding his arms up. "It's a compliment from Miss Hates Me," he continued with another grin, this one softer.
Your cheeks burned again and your grip on the doorknob tightened. "Do you want me to slam this door in your face again?" You spoke, trying to keep your voice steady.
"No, sorry–" Ben quickly replied, rubbing the nape of his neck.
You rolled your eyes before looking at him, expecting him to say something– fess up the real reason he was here, for one.
Ben just stared unknowingly, brow quirked. "There– you're doing that freaky silent talk thing again!" He pointed out, making you groan.
"Why are you here?" You asked bluntly this time.
Ben's face morphed into one of realization before he grinned again. "Because you like me."
