nurse!ex!reader, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, 2.9k
𝘚𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦: 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳, 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭 & 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳
smau, a year of your relationship with dennis told in four parts- one for each season
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘕𝘰𝘸
falling in love or more so realizing it's already happened, fluff, 1.6k
𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵: 𝘗𝘵. 1, 𝘗𝘵. 2
smau, take a peek into date night with the pitt's favorite couple
𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 & 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯
multi chapter, you and dennis were happy together until everything came to a screeching halt, and now eight years later, you're stuck in a situation that has you both coming to terms with years of pent up feelings
𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴
a collection of my personal opinions about who dennis is and how he became that way
You don’t realize how much you take for granted using two arms until suddenly everything you do seems to take twice as long, and it’s driving you crazy.
But unsurprisingly, that’s just one of the few things that has you considering how detrimental it would be if you just dropped everything and made your escape to who the hell knows where. Just some place different. You’ve run from your problems before, though, and all you really got were new ones to take their place, so you don’t bother trying again. You’ll deal with these few somehow. You think. You hope.
Only time can really tell.
It’s two weeks into your six week recovery period when you finally cave and message Dennis. You’ve been dwelling on it and dodging Trinity’s questions for too long. If you don’t do it soon, you never will- something she pointed out the last time she texted you, just ten minutes ago.
It takes you five more minutes to type out your first message.
“Hey Dennis, it’s y/n. Are you free to talk?”
The formality of the message makes you cringe, but you don’t know how else to go about it.
You don’t expect to get a message back anytime soon, but you get one almost instantly.
“Hey, I’m free. Is everything okay? Your arm doing alright?”
You puff out your cheeks. It’s been so long since you’ve seen his name in your notifications that it almost seems wrong. Maybe it is. You don’t want to think too hard about it
“Yeah yeah. Arms all good.”
You hesitate and then send another message.
“I mean talk about us.”
“What happened at the hospital?”
“All of it.”
Your phone is ringing before you can take a proper breath.
“Hey.” Your voice comes out so small.
“Hey,” There's a pause. “How do you want to do this?”
You chew on the inside of your cheek as you try to find the right words. Then, you disregard every thought to ask, “What did I do wrong?”
“Not even a second passes before he’s responding, sounding so sure it rattles your bones. “Nothing. Ever. You were- are perfect.”
“I’m not.”
“You are to me,” He says, and you can’t doubt how genuine he is.
You shift your phone against your ear. “Maybe I was. I’m different now. It’s been-”
He cuts you off, sounding exasperated. “Eight years. I know. I don’t care.”
You don’t say anything. You just let the weight of his words hang between you.
“I miss you.” There’s a waver to his voice that makes it seem like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to say this. In a way, you feel like he shouldn’t, but you don’t stop him. You need to hear it as much as he needs to say it. “I miss my best friend. I still don’t have anyone who understands me like you did. Not even Trinity. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t let myself open up to anyone else because I knew no one would get me like-”
You interrupt, and there’s a hint of a smile on your lips. You don’t know why this makes you smile. Maybe it’s that he’s been no better off than you. Maybe it’s because you finally feel seen. “Like me. I’m the same. I hate it, but I stopped trying. It felt useless.”
You picture him nodding along because he doesn’t say anything in response.
A silence falls over you that feels more charged than awkward. Then, you whisper out, “I miss you too.”
You hear the sigh of relief he lets out. It makes you feel good, both because he reciprocates the thought and because you know he’s been dwelling on it for a while now.
“What do we do now?” He asks. You can hear him tapping his knuckles against something in the background, and familiarity settles heavy over you. Old habits die hard.
“We try to know each other again. See where that goes. Maybe friends.”
It doesn’t sound like much, but to both of you, it’s an opening. A hope for more than you are now. A chance to reclaim a bit of yourselves. Maybe even the closure Trinity had been talking about back at the hospital.
“We could get dinner?” He offers up. “One night after my shift.”
You shake your head before you remember he can’t see you. “Dinner is too much. It’s too date-ish. Coffee on your next day off?”
You both make a point not to acknowledge the concept of a coffee date. That would just ruin everything.
“I’m free Saturday.”
You let out a dramatic gasp. “A weekend off as a doctor? Unexpected.”
He laughs, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face.
“I know, right? So..Saturday at ten?”
“Sounds like a plan. Have Trinity pick the place. She’s got good taste,” You say, your fingers tapping on your phone in time with his knuckles.
You can’t see him roll his eyes, but you can feel it. You can hear his smile when he speaks. “She’ll love to know you think so highly of her.”
“How could I not? You should’ve seen her the night we met. Left a really lasting impression.”
“Oh, I’m sure she did,” He says. “I’ll ask her where we should go.”
“Good,” You say with a nod. “I’ll see you Saturday then.”
“I’ll see you Saturday,” He echoes.
As you hang up the phone, it’s as if suddenly your entire body feels lighter. You take a moment to enjoy the feeling before pulling up your messages. You keep it short and sweet.
“Thank you”
Trinity responds within minutes with a photo of Dennis leaning against what must be their kitchen counter. He’s smiling like an idiot down at his phone, completely oblivious to her. The sight gives you something similar to butterflies, but much more erratic. It gives you moths bouncing around a light fixture.
“You’re welcome.”
You send back a heart and then set your phone down for the night.
Dennis has a complicated relationship with his family
His father was very stern- almost emotionless most of the time. He’s hard on his boys, but he does love them. He’s not good at showing that though.
Dennis can count on one hand how many times he’s heard “I love you” or “I’m proud of you”.
His mother was the warmer of the two. She was very traditional in how she acted. She kept the house, cooked the meals, and watched the boys. She was sweet but strong. She would help around the farm as needed, and disciplined the boys if necessary.
His father dealt out the harsher punishments- anything physical really. He would hit them from time to time when they were younger if a spanking from their mother wasn’t enough. A lot of the time, the punishment was extra chores around the farm.
His relationship with his brothers is messy. He loves them, but they haven’t made things easy. There were more issues when they were all younger, but they still give him a hard time.
Dennis was not planned, so the age gap between him and his brothers is pretty large. The oldest is nine years older, the next is seven, and the last is six. Because there is such a distinct gap, it took until he was older for them to get along.
He grew up as the butt of every joke they made, and more or less was their punching bag.
Now that he doesn’t live nearby, they’re all closer.
Most of the tension Dennis has with his family stems from feeling inadequate compared to them.
His brothers excelled in sports, and while Dennis wasn’t unathletic, he preferred academics. It wasn’t unnoticed, but it didn’t carry the same importance as his brothers’ accomplishments.
When Dennis told his family he wanted to go into medicine rather than work on the farm, they all tried to talk him out of it. Eventually, they came around, but he’ll never forget how it felt to hear them dismiss his dreams.
Even though he rarely makes the trip home, he keeps in contact with his mother fairly regularly. He’ll call her to check in whenever he has the chance.
He adores all his nieces and nephews. Being “Uncle Dennis” is one of his favorite things. They’re a big part of the reason he ever makes the trip home.
Dennis misses Broken Bow, but his is so grateful he’s had the opportunity to see more than just the small town. It’s helped him come into himself in ways he couldn’t have at home.
He grew up quieter- more thoughtful- and it had him being overlooked more often than not. He wasn’t weak, just unnoticed.
Now, he’s more outward with things. His confidence has grown. He’s still just as quiet as ever, but now he doesn’t fade as easily into the background.
Dennis gives off the air of an open book, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
He gives people enough so they know about him, but don’t know him.
Gerran said in an interview that Dennis makes himself open to others issues, but won’t share his own (poorly paraphrased version of his actual statement), but I think a part of this is based on feeling inadequate if he isn’t useful to others or if he’s showing too many flaws. His family issues have more of a hold on him than he’d ever like to admit.
Just like how he doesn’t share his issues, Dennis keeps a lot of personal information to himself. It’s a habit that developed when he was younger. If he said too much at home, it became ammo for his brothers. If the wrong person in town heard something, all of Broken Bow would know by sunset.
Dennis has always been stronger than he looks mentally and physically.
You cannot be weak and work on a farm. It’s just not possible with everything that’s necessary.
He can handle a lot thrown his way- it’s why Trinity works well for him. That being said, he’s working on not just letting everything slide. Boundaries are important even if he can tolerate almost anything. (See Langdon conversation)
Dennis is bisexual
His first crush on a guy happened when a new youth pastor joined his church. He didn’t realize it was a crush and not just admiration for a really long time.
It took him a while to accept his sexuality. Some days he still struggles with it.
His family doesn’t know and he doesn’t plan on telling them. He doesn’t want to find out what would happen.
The first person he actually felt comfortable coming out to was Trinity. It didn’t feel like it was some big, heavy secret. That being said, she was not the first person he came out to.
In college, he experimented with guys to try and become more at ease with himself.
I’m not sure he’s slept with a guy, but he has messed around.
He’s not a virgin.
He’s had sex. He likes sex. He’s comfortable and gets more comfortable when he’s pleasing his partner.
He’s been in a few serious relationships.
It wasn’t until med school that he stopped dating to focus on his classes, and because that’s when he became unhoused and it embarrassed him that he didn’t have the funds to take his partner out.
He’s a good partner, but the big issue with most of his relationships is his struggle to open up.
He has a difficult relationship with religion.
He was raised in a religious family. All his brothers have biblical names- he was named for his mother’s grandfather who passed while she was pregnant with him- and he makes a joke to himself that that is the reason he doesn’t practice anymore.
He doesn’t know what he believes. He got his minor in Theology in an attempt to better understand his perspective on religion, but he’s still not sure.
The last time he prayed was during Pittfest. Not because he really thought it would help, but because he hoped that if there is a god, he’d help those people.
He had an emo phase for sure, but not in the traditional sense.
He didn’t change how he looked at all- that would have gotten him bullied to high heavens.
His phase was all in the music he listened to.
He didn’t have a phone until he was older, but he did have an ipod that he’d download music to.
His mother constantly lectured him about his headphones being too loud.
The nieces shirt Dennis owned until he moved in with Trinity was a plaid, long sleeve button down.
Anytime he was expected to dress nice when he was younger, he’d wear one. Holidays, church, special events- you name it, he’s there in plaid.
Trinity helped him develop his own style, but it’s still very laid back.
He has a single pair of boots that he wears every time he goes back home.
ok hear me out!! icky pervy gross hyperspermia!Stepdad!Robby who confides in reader about his condition. who convinces her that it just gets SO painful if he doesn’t get off regularly. and, y’know, his hand just hasn’t been getting the job done recently, and with your mom being gone all the time for work… what he really needs is a warm body to help him out. and you don’t want your dear old stepdad to be in pain, right? so you’ll be a good girl and help him out however he needs, won’t you? 🫣
ughhh 🤤 and u just know he’s so whiny about it too!!
stepdad!robby has ‘blue balls’
cw: dubcon (coercion and manipulation)
your mom has been away on some business trip for weeks now, leaving you all alone with your stepdad robby.
your stepdad robby who hasn’t stopped complaining about how horny he is since the day she left. at first it was funny when he’d make a flippant comment about his bad case of ‘blue balls’—he’s a doctor, he knows its not really a thing so you kind of just thought he was joking.
until week 2 of your mothers absence when his complaining became unbearable. whining nearly every two seconds about how he just needs to get off, how it’s all he can think about, how much ‘pain’ he’s in.
you told him multiple times that “porn is literally free” and “you’ve got a hand, don’t you?” to which robby would just roll his eyes and mutter something about it not being the same.
he was never going to outright ask you, he couldn’t, knew that would be too far so he hoped his incessant whining would eventually break you down.
which it did.
“fuck, i’m dyin over here, feel like i might actually explode if i don’t—” robby starts another one of his annoying complaints, but this time you’d have enough.
“you know, if you want me to help you out all you need to do is ask” you interrupt, turning to him from where you’re sat next to him on the couch.
robby pretends to look shocked at your offer, “oh i don’t think, jeez uh- we couldn’t—”
“come on, you’re obviously in pain, you need to fuck and i’m right here…not like mom would ever find out”
and that’s all the convincing robby needs, he fucks you right there on the couch, groaning when he finally sinks inside your tight, warm cunt.
in all fairness to him, he was incredibly pent up and much to your dismay he only lasts a couple of minutes before he’s spilling himself inside of you. and when he does cum, it’s a lot. you can feel it filling you up, feel it in your tummy, feel it spilling out of you, seeping out around where his cock is still inside of you, dripping down your ass all over the couch.
“fuck, you’re the best stepdaughter ever” robby huffs, his sweat dripping off his forehead as he presses his against yours.
“i know,” you quip, a somewhat satisfied smile on your face—just because it was only a couple of minutes didn’t mean the sex wasn’t great. “feelin’ better?”
robby huffs out an exhausted laugh, “yeah, much”
want to be added to my fauxcest taglist .ᐣ reply to this post ᝰ.ᐟ all tags come from @robinavitchslut-updates ᯓ★
It’s a few weeks after meeting Trinity that you find yourself sitting in the waiting room of PTMC. You wish you could say it was because you were waiting to have a fun girls' night after she finishes her shift, but your arm and the deformed way it looks cradled against your chest says otherwise. The hastily applied bandage on your forehead serves to further the idea that this is not a visit for enjoyable reasons.
They say waiting in the emergency room is a good thing, and deep down you know that’s true, but you’ve been here forever, and your head and your arm hurt, and you just want to go home.
By the time you begin to accept that you might just live here now, someone calls your name. You follow a nurse past a dozen injured patients and busy doctors before you’re being dropped off in a curtained area. You sit on the hospital bed, staying as still as possible for the sake of your arm. Before long, a different nurse joins you.
Despite your pain and exhaustion from waiting, you can’t help but smile at her. She’s pretty, and there’s something about her that just feels comforting. Not in a motherly way, but like that of an older sister. When she introduces herself as Princess, you can’t help but think that the name is almost too fitting.
After her initial assessment and your embarrassing explanation of falling off your kitchen counter, Princess begins to leave the curtained area, but you stop her just in time.
“Sorry, but is Dr.-” you hesitate, suddenly aware that you, in fact, do not know her last name. “Trinity working today?”
Princess looks at you for a moment and then smiles. “You mean Dr. Santos? Yeah, she’s here. Are you a friend of hers?”
You nod, and she seems to brighten up even more.
“I’ll let her know you’re here. See if we can get you taken care of a little sooner.” She winks as she heads out, and you feel just a smidge better about your situation.
You wait again, and then you wait some more, and then you wait even more before the curtain stirs again. You sit up, expecting to see Trinity or maybe Princess again.
What you don’t expect is a mop of dishwater blonde curls and blue eyes that you’ve seen more in the last month than you have in years.
“This is a nightmare,” you think.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Whitaker. Dr. Santos is caught up right now, but she asked me-” he pauses when he finally looks up at you.
“This is a nightmare,” you say out loud.
There’s a million emotions flashing across his face before they all die out in favor of tense professionalism. He walks towards the computer, scans his badge, and then looks at you as if he’s only just met you today.
“Looks like we’re waiting on X-rays still and a CT. It’s not uncommon for those to take a while. Your chart says you fell off a counter?”
Something inside you dies when he speaks to you like that, but all you can do is nod.
You watch him type something up before he steps away from the computer and towards you. Your entire body tenses.
“No dizziness or nausea?” He asks as he moves to pull back the bandage on your forehead. You move away.
“I’m not going to say anything,” he mutters. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
He looks at you, practically pleading with his eyes. You cave because you always have when he looks at you like that, and allow him to peel the bandage away.
“It’s bleeding a lot, but it’s not too deep or too long, so you should be good without stitches.”
You hold your breath until he moves back, gathering a few things to clean and rebandage the wound. The bandage had been changed by Princess not that long ago, so both of you know it’s not entirely necessary, but neither of you says anything either.
After far too long of silence, he speaks again. “So you live in Pittsburgh now?”
You side-eye him. “You said you weren’t going to say anything.”
He gives you a look, and you sigh.
“Yeah..” you mumble. “Needed a change of pace.”
He nods. “How do you like it?”
“Are you seriously making small talk?”
He moves away, having finished dressing your wound. “Would you prefer we sit in silence?”
He waits for you to roll your eyes because he knows you’re going to. He knows your mannerisms too well even after all this time. “How do you know Santos?”
“We met at a bar a few weeks ago. If I’d known she was your coworker-”
He cuts you off. “Roommate.”
You pause, and then you let out a much too loud laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re Huckleberry?”
His cheeks go pink.
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that your roommate wanted to hook us up. God- I’ve just got the best fucking luck.”
His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “She what?”
You nod. “Apparently, we’ve been deemed so pathetic she thinks we’d be a perfect match. Thank fuck I said no.”
His brows furrow, and his entire expression screams everything from confusion to annoyance to devastation.
“She told you I’m pathetic?” He asks, eyes meeting yours.
“Among other things,” you say, a humorous lit still leaking into your tone. None of this is really funny, but if you don’t pretend it is, you may end up on a psych hold.
“What other things?”
You shrug and then wince at the way it disturbs your arm. “She said you were whiny and weren’t over me. That you said it was a mistake, and you miss me. I mean, I didn’t know that she was talking about me in the moment, but now that I do…”
He looks embarrassed, and you feel just a little bad. “It was. I do. You were my best friend.”
“That doesn’t change what you did.”
He nods. “I know.”
You open your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a new voice.
“They’re ready to get your scans now,” Princess says, oblivious to the tension in the room until she catches sight of you and Dennis and the awkwardness that radiates off the two of you in waves. She pauses and then smiles anyway. “You ready?”
Yes,” you say a little too quickly.
All Dennis can do is watch as you’re taken away for your scans. His heart aches. Then, he sees Trinity charting at central, and the ache shifts. Now, with misplaced anger settling over him in waves, he makes his way over to her.
“Did you know?” He less asks and more accuses. He knows she didn’t because if she did, then you would’ve, and if you knew, this whole situation would have been avoided.
Trinity smiles, not quite picking up on his tone, or expression for that matter, as she barely spares him a glance. “How did I know that she was your type? She just gave off Huckleberry energy. It was something in her sad, pretty eyes.
“No,” he says, trying not to think about your pretty eyes and how they’ve looked the last several times he’s seen them. “Did you know she’s my ex?”
Trinity turns to him as if to say something dripping with sarcasm before she freezes. “The ex?” She asks, and he nods. “But that means- oh, you really are a fuckleberry.”
Dennis sighs and drops into the seat beside her. “I know.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
The question hits him in a way he can’t quite explain. “What do you mean? I tried apologizing. I tried to explain it all, and she didn’t want to hear it. I don’t blame her for that either. I wouldn’t want to. There’s nothing else to do but just deal with it.”
Trinity sighs this time before giving him a look that he has come to recognize as meaning “You’re a fucking idiot”.
“You both moved to Pittsburgh with no clue the other would end up here. You both went home at the same time without there being a holiday or any real reason to. You’re both still hung up on a relationship that lasted less time than you’ve been apart. And, she ended up at your job during your shift.”
“That last one is because of you.” She gives him a dirty look, and he shuts up instantly.
“After a certain point, it’s not a coincidence anymore. It’s a sign,” she says, and then, without missing a beat. “Right, Crash?”
Victoria, who thought she’d gone unnoticed in her eavesdropping, jumps as she is addressed. “I mean- without the full story, I can’t really say much.”
Trinity spins in her seat to face the girl, and Dennis cringes in anticipation.
“He dumped his childhood best friend and girlfriend of four years because he didn’t want her to be miserable, which he didn’t explain, before he fucked off for school and didn’t speak to her for eight years. Didn’t even give her an excuse either. Did I miss anything?” She says, glancing back at him. He shakes his head, and she turns back. “You’re all caught up now.”
“Holy shit,” Victoria breathes out. “Whitaker, you’re kind of an asshole-”
He winces. “I know.”
She gives him a sympathetic look, and her voice softens. “Santos is absolutely right, though.”
Trinity’s face screams “I told you so”.
He sinks down further into his chair and drags a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
The pair of them share a look, silently communicating for far too long. Long enough, he almost considers just leaving because, really, he can’t imagine anything that can be done to fix this.
“Since I’m such a good person,” Trinity begins, earning herself a look from them both. “We’ll help you fix your fuck up.”
“We?” Victoria asks, eyes going wide. Then, she glances at Dennis, and a guilty look settles on her features. “I mean, yeah. Of course we will.”
Dennis shakes his head and leans against the station on his elbows, “You guys really don’t need to do anything. I’ve accepted what happened. I’m not trying to cause her any more problems.”
“I don’t know if it would be more problems. Just... an extension of an existing one,” Victoria says with an attempt at a reassuring smile.
“Just leave it,” He says, standing from his seat and taking a deep breath. “It is what it is. You should take over as her doctor. I’ve got other patients to check on.”
For once, Trinity doesn’t say anything as he walks away. That is, until he’s out of earshot.
“I cannot take him mopping around the apartment for the rest of our lives. I don’t think I can last until the end of the week at the rate he’s going,” She says as she turns to Victoria again.
Victoria gives her a look of disbelief. “How do you expect to actually do that?”
Trinity simply shrugs. “No idea. We’ll figure it out, though.”
You’re discharged by Trinity a few hours later with a cast, an apology, and a promise to get dinner the next time you two hang out. You aren’t too sure when or if that will actually happen, but you don’t turn down the offer.
“I can’t believe it. You and Huckleberry,” She says as she walks you toward the exit.
You raise an eyebrow. “Before today, you were trying to hook us up.”
She bumps the shoulder of your non-broken arm. “That’s different. That was before I knew about all the fuckery.”
“Yeah,” you say and then draw in a breath. “Lots of fuckery.”
She pauses as you both get closer to the exit. “Have you ever tried to talk through it?”
You stop beside her and start to pick at your cast. She smacks your hand away, and you pout ever so slightly. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Bullshit,” She says as she looks at you. “I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.”
You stop her. “But I’m not sorry. I don’t have anything to be sorry about.” You don’t deny the other two statements. It goes unmentioned but not unnoticed.
“You didn’t reach out either.” She starts walking again, leaving you to stare for a moment before rushing to catch up.
“And that was my job?” You ask as you make it to her side again.
“Maybe,” She shrugs. “I’m just saying you could have. You should now. At the very least for closure.”
The word “closure” short-circuits your brain just a bit. You’ve never really seen that as an option, but here it is- presenting itself to you like a slap to the face.
“I’ll consider it,” You mumble, and she seems like she believes it. For now, at least.
She smiles at you and pats you on the back with just a bit more force than expected. “Good. I’ll send you his number.”
You mutter out a thanks, though, unless he’s changed his number, you still have it.
She runs through the discharge instructions again, making you promise to come back when it’s time, with the fear that she will hunt you down if you don’t. You genuinely believe she will, so you assure her you’ll be back before finally escaping the hospital and heading home.
does miss lawyer ever get bratty at work? If so how does Jack deal with? Does it pull her into a room alone to check her? hopefully this makes sense!
no bc i fear her on a bad day.. ed does not wanna fuck w that. u've been dealing w dumbass people, dumbass LAWS (im not just saying this bc i just got out of my law class and had a freak out over the fact that section 30 subsection 5(d) doesn't do enough to cover the case im analysing), dumbass shiiit and maybe her heels r hurting bc !! ur human! heels hurt sometimes! and u get a bit snappy ohhh man and jack is putting a stop to it i fear ! its bad energy for the nightcrawlers!
“guess what i watched recently,” jack hums as he wanders over to the nurses’ station, coffee balanced in one hand, chart in the other.
you barely glance up from the contract sprawled across the counter.
“i don’t know,” you mutter. “what?”
“you gotta guess, sweetheart. that’s the whole game.” he sips his coffee. “otherwise i’m just reporting information.”
usually, that gets at least a smile out of you.
tonight, though, you just sigh sharply through your nose and keep scribbling notes into the margins hard enough the pen nearly tears through the paper.
jack notices immediately.
“…world war two documentary?” you guess flatly.
he huffs softly. “no.”
“then what?”
“suspiria. the 2018 one you told me to watch.”
that gets your attention for maybe half a second.
“the dakota johnson one?”
“pretty sure there’s only one dakota johnson.”
you hum distractedly, eyes already dropping back to the paperwork.
“the dancing was good,” he continues casually, still watching you instead of his chart. “movie was weird as hell. but... good.”
“you should watch the original too.”
“mhm.” his head tilts slightly. “you alright there?”
“fine,” you answer too quickly. “just reviewing a stupid contract written by stupid people who apparently learned healthcare compliance from a cereal box.”
you stab your pen against the page for emphasis.
jack’s eyes flick down to the contract.
then back to you.
“need a break?”
“no.”
“you’ve been glaring at that thing for like forty minutes.”
“because it’s wrong.”
“you called shen ‘spiritually illiterate’ ten minutes ago.”
“he was hovering.”
right on cue, shen passes by carrying a chart and points immediately at you.
“see? mean.”
“i’m not mean.”
“you’re bein’ a little mean,” jack says mildly.
you finally look up at him then, narrowing your eyes.
“well maybe everybody’s annoying me tonight.”
jack just watches you for a second.
calm. assessing. annoyingly steady. normally, you like that about him. tonight it feels like he’s being reasonable at you. which somehow makes everything worse.
you look back down at the contract with exaggerated focus.
“alright,” jack says after a beat. “you eaten anything?”
“i had a coffee.”
“not a food.”
“debatable.”
his eyes narrow slightly.
you ignore him completely, circling a clause so aggressively the pen squeaks.
jack sighs quietly through his nose.
“okay.”
then somebody yells his name from trauma and he disappears back into the noise of the ed before you can say anything else.
you immediately feel guilty.
which only irritates you more.
the night just seems to keeps going like that. little moments.
jack checking in. you snapping unintentionally. him letting it roll off his back with the kind of patience that only makes you feel worse afterward.
by midnight, lena’s avoiding you entirely.
by one, parker mutters, “good luck, man,” under her breath when jack heads toward the nurses’ station again.
you hear it.
you pretend not to.
jack, meanwhile, just slides a granola bar across the counter toward you while reviewing labs.
you stare at it suspiciously.
“what’s this?”
“food.”
“i know what food is.”
“questionable tonight. and you're welcome.”
you glare at him.
jack doesn’t even look up from the chart in his hand, and gets back to work, leaving you as quickly as he arrived.
—
by two in the morning, the printer jams for the third time.
you stare at it in silence for five full seconds.
then smack the side of it with your palm.
“i swear to god—”
“alright.”
jack’s composed voice cuts through the hallway behind you.
you turn sharply. “what?”
he takes one look at your face, then at the printer hanging halfway open with paper spilling out of it.
“and you’re about thirty seconds away from putting that printer through a wall.”
jack walks closer. he reaches past you easily and plucks the crumpled stack of papers from your hands.
“jack—”
“room. now.”
there’s still no edge to his voice. no raised volume, steady, gentle, almost.
you stare at him for a second too long before following him down the hall.
he guides you into one of the spare consult rooms and shuts the door softly behind you.
the quiet hits immediately.
muted overhead pages. distant footsteps. the low hum of fluorescent lights.
you fold your arms tight across your chest.
“i’m fine.”
“mhm.”
“i am.”
jack leans back against the door for a moment, studying you. really studying you.
ink over your forearms. your tense shoulders. the way your jaw keeps tightening.
“wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” he asks.
“nothing’s going on.”
“really?” he says mildly. “because you, notoriously sweet as candy, have been terrorising my department for six hours.”
you look away immediately.
“it’s just...” you stop yourself, frustrated already. “every contract’s a mess, legal’s breathing down my neck, jane rewrote half my recommendations without telling me, and everybody in this hospital suddenly needs something from me tonight.”
jack listens quietly.
“and,” you continue, more irritated now that you’ve started, “i know i’m being a bitch.”
“a little.”
you glare at him instantly.
he shrugs mildly. “you asked.”
you try not to smile.
it almost works.
“ah, there she is,” he murmurs.
you roll your eyes immediately. “don’t.”
“what?”
“that... damn thing you do.”
he raises his brows, waiting for you to elaborate.
“where you act all…” you gesture vaguely at him. “cool and composed and… authoritative and- whatever.”
jack snorts softly.
“sorry. i’ll start throwing equipment around with you.”
“thank you.”
silence settles for a second.
then jack pushes off the door and walks closer.
not crowding.
just close enough that you can smell coffee and soap and the faint clean scent of his aftershave underneath the hospital air.
“here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says quietly. “you’re gonna take a breath, eat something with actual nutritional value, finish your contract, and then go home.”
you poke your cheek with your tongue, eyes dropping to your shoes.
jack waits.
quiet.
you can feel him looking at you.
“alright?” he says softly.
you nod once.
“can you look at me and say it?”
your stomach tightens embarrassingly fast at that.
you sigh through your nose, reluctant.
jack reaches out then, fingers hooking lightly beneath your chin until you finally look up at him.
his brows lift slightly.
steady.
expectant.
“…alright,” you concede.
his nostrils flare subtly. approval, maybe.
his fingers trail once along your cheek before he lets go, tapping lightly against your skin.
“there we go, not so hard is it?” he murmurs absentmindedly.
your breath catches so fast you hope he misses it.
“you been buying fewer handbags lately or something?” he asks casually.
you blink at him, scandalized. “excuse me?”
“i’m serious. usually when you get like this, there’s been some kinda aesthetic deprivation involved.”
“that’s ridiculous.”
“is it?” he asks mildly. “last month you were snappin’ at everybody for two days straight and then i found out you talked yourself outta buying those ridiculously expensive boots.”
“they were archival vintage.”
“they looked exactly like your other boots.”
you look genuinely offended now. “they absolutely did not.”
jack’s mouth twitches faintly.
“would you stop actin’ like a brat if i bought them for you?”
you scoff immediately, folding your arms tighter across your chest.
“wow.”
“what?” he tilts his head slightly, watching you too closely. “too patronising?”
you glare at him because, annoyingly, yes. exactly that.
“i think you like being patronising,” you say honestly.
“maybe.” he shrugs lightly. “male ego thing, likely. least im not half as bad as robby sometimes though...”
you roll your eyes.
jack’s gaze drifts slowly over your face, calm and knowing.
“think you like it a little too, though.”
you let out an offended little exhale through your nose, looking away from him again before he catches how warm your face suddenly feels.
“don’t spend more money on me,” you mutter after a second, quieter now. “i’ll be fine.”
that gets a different look out of him.
smaller. steadier.
jack blinks once, slow, the teasing easing out of his expression just a little.
“hey,” he says softly.
you look back at him.
“take a minute, alright?” his voice stays low and even. “law’s slow. nobody’s dying over a contract. you don’t gotta work yourself up this damn much.”
something in your chest loosens at that. he says it so simply. like it’s obvious you deserve softness when you’re overwhelmed.
you nod once.
outside the room, the ed keeps moving — muffled overhead pages, ringing phones, footsteps rushing down hallways, somebody laughing too loudly near the nurses’ station.
but in here, with jack standing close enough that you can feel the warmth coming off him, everything feels quieter.
smaller.
his thumb brushes once against your cheek again.
gentle. grounding.
“people are idiots,” you mutter finally.
“some of them,” he allows.
you exhale slowly, shoulders finally starting to unclench.
“there we go,” he murmurs.
you hate how much you like when he talks to you like that. like he’s got you handled already.
jack watches your face for another second before speaking again.
“alright,” he says quietly. “gonna survive the rest of the night?”
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