Jack Abbot has only fainted once in his life, when he lost his leg.
The only time he came close to passing out again was when he found out you were having triplets. His hand squeezes yours as a way to ground himself, maybe to tell you he's here for you too, but there's no words as Lexie, your OB, smiles at you with the sudden news.
He doesn't remember the rest of the appointment, and he's sure as hell you don't remember either. You hold onto your ultrasound scan for dear life as Jack guides you to the elevator. His hand is steady on your back and might be the only thing reminding you about where you are.
The silence is deafening inside the elevator, you feel like throwing up, or that, if you look at your husband right now, you'll fall apart. And you wanna make it to the car at the very least before allowing yourself to process the great news.
As you step out, you feel your legs turn to jello, and Jack might feel the same.
You aim for the nearest chair, which is Dana's spot. Jack stands up next to Robby before burying his head between his arms.
"I see you finally came to terms with your parenthood," Robby jokes, but his smile disapears whe Jack looks up, pale and teary eyed. "Fuck, is everything good?"
Robby turns back to look at you, Dana is talking to you with a softness she only has for certain people. She turns back to Emma, who scurries away immediately.
"Oh, I'm fucked," Jack whispers, and looks at Robby. "It's triplets."
Robby can feel the blood drain from his face too.
"What?" that's all he manages to say. "Did you do IVF?"
"No?" it sounds like he's asking himself the same question, did he and just forgot?
Behind him, Robby can hear Dana gasp and ask "as in three?", but he has no time to pay attention to them because Jack is holding onto his arm for dear life.
"Three car seats, three cribs, three fucking babies," he whispers, Robby still doesn't know what to do so he just pats Jack's back.
"Okay, okay, just not on the floor," Dana says, handing you an emesis bag when you start to throw up. Emma is right behind her with a cup, probably with water. "Need me to grab you something for the nausea?"
Jack feels his energy coming back to him when he hears you throw up, he peels off Robby's shoulder and moves with intent towards you.
"Three times more puke, dirty diapers, crying," Robby laughs before he feels Dana elbow him right in his ribs. "Ouch!"
"Leave them alone, they're already in a crisis," she laughs too. "I just lost $50 dollars."
"You were betting on my pregnancy?" you manage to say, but couldn't speak more because you felt like throwing up again.
"Ha! I lost $100," Robby rolls his eyes. Jack looks up to look at both of them, but he knows he can't complain because he also lost money there.
"Can't believe Mel won," Dana looks at Emma, who's still awkwardly behind you in case you need anything. "I say all girls."
"Stop with the bets!" you say again.
"I mean they're kinda fun," Jack smiles at you.
"Shut up and hold my hair before I kill you."
"All boys," Robby shakes Dana's hand.
"Bet."
You wanna say something, instead, you squeeze Jack's hand harder than you should, making him complain.
"Get ready for that too."
a/n: should i turn this into a series? also, i need to stop writing just jack hehe
jack abbot x fem!reader, TW: DISCUSSIONS AND PORTRAYAL OF MISCARRIAGES AND GRIEF. divider by: @/strangergraphics
"Maybe it's me."
"No, I don't think it's you."
The bedsheets from the hospital underneath you feels harsher than usual. You're used to them, taking naps here and there, or just feeling them when you're interacting with patients. Today, its like microscopic needles are prickling your legs even when you're not moving. The only softness you are able to touch is Jack's calloused hand squezing yours.
Everything feels different when you're the patient, and somehow, its worse. Because when Dr. Ellis, your coworker and friend, tries to act like nothing is going on while she says 'let's wait for your OBGYN', you already know what's happening. So does your fiance.
Your pregnancy wasn't planned, nothing that led to this moment was planned at all.
Less than 6 months ago, you were still talking to Jack about having children. He was worried about becoming old and not being there for them like he would want. Despite how athletic he was, deep down, he knew it was very possible for his children to mourn him at a relatively young age.
You look at Ellis, she's biting the inside of her cheek as she walks away. She looks defeated, and you almost ask Jack to look at the ultrasound for you. But you can't move and so can't he.
"I'm old, it was totally me," you look at his hand, the other one is fisted on his lap. You're not even sure if he's looking at you because you can't move, just talking feels monumental.
"I'm the pregnant one," you have half a mind to correct yourself and say was, but you don't. "We don't know if something bad happened yet," you say instead, but it feels like a lie.
This shouldn't be happening, less than an hour ago you were in the bathroom wondering if the spotting and cramps were something to be worried about. But as you drove to the hospital, you could feel like you were bleeding more and more. Before you could even process it, you had a hospital gown on, and the fluorescent lights you were so used to started to hurt your eyes.
Lena's on the phone, but you can still feel her gaze on you and Jack. The seconds feel like hours, so you have to look up so you don't go crazy. Big mistake.
Jack is staring at you, he's frowning, making the grumpy face he does where it almost looks like he's pouting. His eyes are red and glossy but there's not a single tear on his face, not until you let go of his hand and cradle his face.
"Oh my god, you look so sad," it's meant to lighten the mood, but your thumbs start to wipe his tears immediately. "I'm sorry baby, I knew you were so excited."
"Jesus, I should be the one comforting you," his hands come to your wrists. "You're crying too."
It's not something you notice until he points it out, because you don't even feel like sobbing, just crying in silence, holding each other.
"There was no heartbeat, right?" you ask, he blinks slowly. "Okay."
"Okay."
You stay there in silence until Ellis shows up with the OBGYN, and you wish you would remember what happened but you don't. Jack offers to take you home and stay with you for the rest of the night. It would be easier for both of you to not be under a magnifying glass at your workplace.
Home care, bleeding, pads, cramps, and more words that feel meaningless as you try to wrap your head around what just happened.
"You have work." you try to say, before you see Robby standing outside your room, yawning and scratching his head. "Jack! It's his day off!"
"Oh, he can manage," he smiles and you and kisses your cheeks. "I don't think I can continue to work tonight."
Somehow, he convinces you. You leave on his truck, only making a quick stop to a 24/7 fast food restaurant. Both of you order full meals to go that will get cold and moldy in a few days because you don't want to eat, move or even breathe.
He helps you to bed, even if you don't need the assistance. Offers a bath and you say no, he doesn't shower either. As soon as you hug him, the tears come back in full force.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he says over and over again, barely audible. "We were so excited for this, I'm sorry."
You want to say something, to apologize to him, or get mad at whatever caused this, even if you know that it could be nothing you could've prevented.
"I was really excited to make you a dad," you explain and feel his grip getting tighter. "I'm sorry."
"You will, I know you will," he replies. "We'll have 10 children one day, I promise."
"Ten?" you stop, lifting your head to look at him. "Why do you want me to birth a whole soccer team?"
He laughs.
"A soccer team has 11 players."
"We're not having 11 children," you wipe the tears from your face, half laughing, half crying. "Four at best."
"Six."
"Four."
"Five."
"Two."
"Okay, I accept four."
He pulls you in for a kiss and you feel like crying again.
It starts with something innocent, like everything you do. Jack has been complaining about the [lack of] good food at the hospital, and coincidentally, you've wanted to make food content on your tiktok account for a while. So, you start to test the waters, slowly.
You have some leftover lasagna, so it doesn't start as a big gesture, just something nice enough to make his day easier, he would've picked up some for himself no matter what.
"Oh, I packed you some leftovers for your shift tonight, baby," you try to sound indifferent to it, but nothing goes missing under Jack Abbot's gaze.
"Ow, you're always taking such good care of me darling," his voice sounds lower than usal as he presses his body to yours and kisses your cheek. "Thank you."
Next morning, when he comes back from work, there's a gift card for clothes sitting right where the lunchbox you made was. The lunchbox, along with the tupper inside is cleaned and already in its place.
This is why you need to ease him into making something nice for him, because Jack had the tendency of spoiling you over the smallest thing, and as much as you liked it, sometimes it felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness.
Two months after that day, his lunchbox is almost the size of his backpack. Your tiktok account is about to hit 20,000 followers and he can't be happier, the huge lunchbox was his idea as he slowly started to ask for more food, you were sure he would cry if you asked him to get something for himself.
At first, you thought he was sharing the food with his staff and making you believe it was all him, but Lena said he would sometimes walk aroung with his food and ate every single thing you packed. Not even Shen dared to steal something from you.
"That smells so good", he says, his head peeking from behind you, his hand reaches to grab a french fry and you slap him off, it all gets captured on camera dn you already know your followers will beg for a face reveal endlessly and your excuses won't be enough to stop them.
"Hey!! No peeking," you laugh, and you should know better, you really should.
It's not hard for him to grab you by the waist and pull you away from the counter, and before you know it, he already took a massive handful of fries and there's nothing you can do about it as he shoves half of them into his mouth.
"I'll make it up to you," he whispers and kisses your cheek, now covered in salt and seasoning.
"Don't eat your lunch at home, that's how you make it up to me," he kisses your lips, probably to distract you so he can eat the rest of his fries. "You really don't want to share with your coworkers?"
"The minute I start feeding my residents they will never stop begging for more food and might show up here begging for more," he kisses you again. "You can send them cookies."
"I love you so much," you kiss his cheek a couple of times. "Can I send more for the shift change?"
"Jesus Christ," he laughs. "Just make sure I don't look crazy."
He does look crazy when he leaves.
Besides his lunchbox, he leaves with about four dozen chocolate chip cookies for his staff, and he really thinks he's gonna come back with half of the cookies. He should know better, he really should.
He forgets the small detail of his staff bein nothing short of hungry feral animals, because the tray is completely empty after 20 minutes. Damn, he didn't even get a cookie for himself!!
"You better be taking good care of your wife, Abbot," Lena says as she takes a bite of her cookie. "I'm staying with her if you ever divorce."
"Would you betray me like that, Lena?" he says, fake anger in his voice.
"Is she happily married, or just married?" Santos asks from behind him and Abbot has to control every muscle on his face to not look at her in disgust. "Does she need a wife?" she asks, laughing, two cookies in her hand.
"Hey! One cookie per person!" he complains.
"This is for huckleberry. Let me know if your wife says yes," she mumbles, still laughing as she walks away.
He comes back the next morning, as he sits on the couch, defeated and waits for you to come over, he's still savoring the cookies he never got to try.
"How was work, dear?" you ask, he pulls you into his lap and waste no time straddling him.
"They want more cookies, and asked if you can make cupcakes," he replies, nuzzling his head on your neck. "I didn't get a cookie."
"Owww, I'll bake a dozen just for you," you promise him.
"Thank you for the burgers, they were delicious," he whispers, and sounds truly defeated. "But I got no dessert."
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