⋮⟢ drabble: jack abbot and his controversially young gf who’s overly possessive (and he loves every second of it!)
⋮⟢ feeling tired couldn’t write a full fic so here’s a self-indulgent thought!
jack dating a girl who hasn’t quite kicked her petty and possessive tendencies™. it’s definitely a learning curve for both of you, and the fact that he is objectively the most charming man you’ve ever met implies that he definitely comes across as that to everyone else doesn’t help your case. what does help, though, is how keen he is on showing you he’s spoken for, has been for a while, and is not planning on looking anywhere else.
he’s both endeared and confused by it. he’s confused when it pops up at random times. he was also confused about how when it first showed up in your relationship – when you started giving him the silent treatment after a barista left a little heart on his coffee – and he felt so giddy proving to you that he’s only got eyes for you. he’d lit up like a christmas tree on the inside at the idea that you’d gotten mad over him. there was probably something wrong with him.
he knew someone else may have considered this somewhat of a red flag. but jack, instead, found that kissing you all over underneath a tree outside the coffee shop – your cheek, your neck, the corner of your cute scowl, hands holding your waist until the sulk gave out – undid you inside of ninety seconds. it also undid him considerably faster.
he’d thrown out the cup without mentioning it, tucking you both into the dappled shade. the bark of the tree caught roughly against his palms where his arms braced your head, and he was too busy watching the tightness drain out of your pretty face to notice the sting of it. he felt the exact second your fists uncurled from where they’d been pressed against his chest, fingers finding the collar of his shirt, forgetting what they were mad about.
this would not be a problem, he’d decided. he’d take about four hundred more of what people considered a ‘red flag’ if it meant you were entirely his to soothe.
he’d be scanning the groceries at self-checkout, and you’d turn to see one of the workers looking at him. your spine went stiff, a frown marring your face. and then you’d start tugging on his sleeve from beside him, telling him to hurry, hurry up, hurry up, let’s go.
“who wants to have their way with me now?” he’d mumble, bumping his hip into yours, still not looking away from the register.
“no one,” you’d say. you didn’t want to boost his ego anymore. “just fucking hurry up now.”
“who is it?”
“me. i do. let’s go home so i can have my way with you.”
he clicked his tongue. “liar. you’re just gonna yell at me.” still, he turned his neck slightly to where yours was, murmuring a small “ah” to himself.
you groaned, but he did speed up. with bags in hand, he turned to walk out with you, placing himself behind you, free palm on your shoulder, thumb finding the curve where your neck met it. you’d come face-to-face with the poor woman you’d theorized was already in love with jack.
“hey, my girlfriend here really wants some lottery tickets. can you let my girlfriend know where she can find them?”
he couldn’t help it! he loves the little way the corners of your mouth curves up whenever he makes it clear that he’s taken.
the woman would blink, an obvious wedding band catching under the lights (jack would snort softly from behind you), as she pointed toward the front counter, entirely married, entirely not the threat you’d decided she was.
“good,” you murmured later, grabbing the lottery ticket as it printed.
his free palm would settle on your waist and he’d murmur, “did i make you happy back there?”
“yup.”
and jack would smile because he truly did feel like he’d won the lottery. he’d watch you over your shoulder as you fussed out a coin, brow furrowed as you did the scratch-off.
“i won two dollars,” you’d say after revealing the last symbol. you’d twist in his arms, ticket held up with a smile like you’d just told him you were pregnant with triplets instead of two dollars richer.
“lucky girl,” he’d say, matching your smile. his mouth would brush your hairline.
“uh-huh,” you’d say, letting him stay there, nose tucked against your hair.
“c’mon then, let’s go.” he’d put his hand on the small of your back after a minute, turning you around, to lead you out. clearly still hanging onto your short burst of jealousy. “before someone else decides to steal me.”
“don’t.”
“i’m vulnerable,” he’d tease.
or you’d go to pick him up in the morning, watching him handover the shift to robby, and then he’d go and say goodbye to one of his patients who thanked him profusely.
when he’d come back out, you’d roll your eyes and turn your back to him, already walking to the exit. “aren’t you just a ladies man?”
robby’d look at jack slightly confused and maybe even a bit put off, but jack would just wet his lips as he watched you leave, looking completely and utterly delighted.
“your girlfriend’s got a jealous streak, i think.”
“she does, doesn’t she?” jack would still be watching the doors you’d gone through, tugging the lanyard off his neck. “i love her. i gotta go.”
robby would rub his chin as he watches the man he’s known for too long look utterly delighted to get chewed out and wonder what the hell was going on in your home.
meanwhile you’d be at the car with your arms crossed, watching jack walk toward you with a little smile on his face that should’ve been wiped off with the long shift.
“i’m sorry,” he’d say immediately, slightly out of breath because he’d sped up to find you. “she thought i was her son,” he said about the patient, an eighty-year-old woman who truly did think he was her son. “but i’m sorry.”
“you’re too old to be her son.”
“too old to be a lotta things.” he’d back you gently into the passenger door, hands finding your hips. “not for this, though.”
and you’d keep going anyway, muttering how he was too nice, that he should only smile at you, that it wasn’t fair, that he was doing it on purpose.
“tell me to shut up,” you’d say out of nowhere, in the middle of your rant, furrowing your brows as he let you go on and on.
“no.” he’d rear his head back like he was confused by the demand. “i’ve wanted to hear your voice for the last twelve hours.”
you’d stare up at him with your mouth slightly open and nothing at all to say. his thumb would come up to press gently on your chin, keeping the expression there.
“there she is,” he’d murmur, pleased. “quiet at last.”
in the car, on the way home, he’d respond to bits of your rant.
“all my patient satisfaction scores are gonna go down.”
“so those are more important than me?”
his hand would land on your thigh as he kept his eyes on the road. “nope. i like the girl more than the scores.”
a lot of the time with you, he’d feel like a puppy getting a trick right. which is why he’d started doing it on purpose; introducing you before he introduces himself, texting you the logistics of his life unprompted, taking your hand in the condiments aisle for no reason, calling you after physical therapy simply because his physical therapist – sam – had touched his arms during the lesson and – like he’d been pavlov’d, some conditioned little bell going off in his head that only you were allowed to touch him – jack felt an immediate pressing need to hear your voice.
he knew that he was only feeding into it, selfishly craving more of your teeth in his shoulder and your fingers wrapped around his forearms in public even if your positioning hardly ever allowed for it.
it was getting out of hand. on a night off, when he’d come in with swat during the day and stayed until the end of day shift, robby and dana asked him to come to the bar and get a drink.
“yeah – let me just ask her if she can come, too.” he immediately said, already pulling out the phone to ask you.
except you were on shift till nine p.m., and you’d said so – go!!! have fun!!! tell dana i said hi!!! – when he texted you. jack made a small noise in his mouth.
“i can’t,” he’d said.
“she’s not letting you go?” robby asked curiously.
no, you’d in fact told him the opposite of that. but he didn’t want to say that, quite liking the idea of you having that hold on him. so, he’d say, “somethin’ like that,” hoisting his bag over his shoulders. “i’m gonna sit in her bar till she gets off. you’re welcome to grab a drink there.”
“so we can all watch your girlfriend make drinks?”
dana would simply chuckle, shaking her head, already knowing that jack would somehow manage to convince half the staff clocking out to come watch you work.
he’d never felt as doted on and claimed as you made him feel. you’d swapped out the ancient bar of soap in his shower for something that smelled like you. there were bobby pins in every crevice of his car now. you’d somehow become his emergency contact, too, leaving robby a little stunned.
you’d spend all night leaving small marks on his body (the crescent of your nails at his shoulder, your teeth marks just below his collarbone that would be evident with one wrong movement under his scrubs) and he loved finding each of it randomly while getting ready.
this is also why he’s so confused when dana brings up your jealousy and how a little bit of couples counseling could help. nothing feels wrong about the relationship at all!
he’d go through all the questions he assumed a therapist would ask.
was he unhappy? not at all. he was actually stupidly happy. he’d started humming in the car and coming home early.
was he worried? about what – that you’d give him the silent treatment for twenty minutes and then hold onto his bicep for hours just to make up for it? that you’d get a bit vicious about someone and then fall asleep on his chest like an overheated animal?
that you sat tucked him in the corner in restaurant booths so you could see the whole room and he could only see you? jack hardly thought there was anything worth looking at besides you anyway.
“even the healthiest couples do it,” dana would say.
“what would it do?” jack would ask curiously, indulging her.
“well.” dana would settle in, elbows on the desk, warmly concerned. “it’ll help with her being less possessive, for starters.”
jack would just look at her, head tilted, genuinely lost. then he’d rub his thumb along his jaw, feeling eerily unsettled by the words. “it’d make her stop?”
“ideally, yeah. that’s the idea.”
oh, he hated that thought. he knew your possessiveness didn’t come out of you being insecure. he knew that it was easy to assume some poor anxious girl white-knuckling her way through the relationship, checking his phone, counting the women, but that wasn’t it.
it came out of you picking him up and putting him in your pocket. you’d simply decided that jack abbot was yours, and so what if you got a little feral when the world got too near him?
“nah,” he’d say, shaking his head as he pressed his lips together. “we’re alright.”
“you may be fine with it. but, she’d have healthier relationships in case – ”
jack’s eyes would widen, and dana would look a little caught off-guard, realizing what she’d said.
“no.” he’d make a small sound, shaking his head again. “we don’t need that, then.”
“jack –”
“she’s not goin’ anywhere.” he’d knock the desk twice. “neither am i.”
“you know what,” dana would say, blowing out a breath. “i believe that.”
later that afternoon, he’d settle on the couch beside you, mind still reeling from the idea of there being an after him for you. his arms would go around your shoulders, pulling you in impossibly close. one hand would fit around the back of your neck, thumb under your jaw, tipping your face up until you had nowhere to look but at him.
“never gonna leave me, right?” he’d ask.
your brows would pull in together, the corners of your lips curving downwards.
“why?” you’d drawl. “planning on doing something bad?”
“nope,” he’d say. “just askin’”
your jaw would tighten as you tried to gauge his expression. “then stop. nobody’s leaving anybody.” you fixed him with a pointed look. “you’re not going anywhere.”
“damn right i’m not,” he’d say. his hands would slide up your neck and into your hair, fingers spreading wide. “say it again.”
you’d laugh shortly. “you’re not going anywhere.”
“mm.” his thumb would drag along the column of your neck as he felt you go pliant under his hold. “again.”
“jack – ”
“humor me, angel,” he’d say, the words coming out in a barely-hidden plea.
“you’re not going anywhere,” you’d say, humoring him, half breathless and the other exasperated. he’d kiss you on the last word, catching it in his mouth before it finished.
the other hand would come down at your lower back and haul you across to settle on his lap.
both your knees would land on either side of him, and his hands would immediately settle on your hips.
“you’re being so strange today,” you’d say, chin tilting up as his mouth dragged down your neck.
“yeah.” he’d smile against your skin. “gonna hold it against me?”
you’d laugh, surprised at the dramatics. and he would smile so hard and spend the entire day proving to you he would never. which mostly meant he let you do whatever you wanted for eleven straight hours.
you’d put a face mask on him. he’d sit there on the couch, a decorated combat medic, and let you take four photos he’d only found out you’d posted when javadi and santos looked at him funnily during handover. he’d let you try different colors of polish on his nails, and then paint yours with the one you liked best.
he’d watch you scroll on your laptop through different clothes, pointing out things he liked, which you’d taught him to do while being visibly delighted the one time he’d said “this one’s nice.” now he did it constantly, never quite holding himself back from voicing his opinions (it was often, he thought everything would look great on you).
jack is exactly where he wants to be! and people would just have to grow used to your claws and your terrible manners spawning out of nowhere, because the man they came out for had no intention of asking you to put them away.
Saw someone say they think the person in the foreground of this shot is Steve and if it is it makes the poses and expressions on Sam + Bucky's faces so much funnier.
I DESPERATELY hope they do not soften or sweeten parker ellis in s3. like. she dgaf. if a patient has a stupid injury she's laughing. she's probably the type that gossips with john and would be gossiping with princess and perlah. (trying to figure out what was going on between trinity and frank in s1)
she's a good person clearly, I'm not saying that she isn't, but empathetic patient care doesn't seem to be her strongest suit. (passing the suicide attempt patient to trinity in s1, not really caring) and I hope it isn't. I hope she's great in a trauma room, quick thinking, intelligent and perceptive. she does have emotional intelligence as well, but like... she's not so super sweet.
her talk with trinity in s1, "you tired? the patient doesn't give a shit." like she's not the type to sugarcoat. even her pep talk to Mel in s2 was firm, not soft. "this isnt a discussion. it's a monologue, so shut up and listen." idk I'm just hoping they stay true to her character and don't coat her in niceties. I'm soooo excited to see more of her and yes I DO need princess perlah parker interactions so bad
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