I have a request for Jack abbot, so him and the reader are a couple and the only people that know are robby and Dana (robby is readers brother). Reader is in a car accident Dana is first to find out and tells people to keep jack and robby out they only find out when paramedic gives them the readers bracelet or something. Had this one in my head for a while also I love your fics :).
💞Tags/Warnings💞: slight age gap relationship, secret workplace relationship, hurt/comfort, ( slight ) angst, Worried!Jack Abbot, OlderBrother!Robby
💞Plot💞: At one point or another in their careers, both Robby and Abbot have had to tell a patient’s loved ones to hang in there and let the doctors do their work. But when Y/N is involved in a car crash, they’ll find it doesn’t feel good being on the other side of those words..
💞Characters💞: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: Waiting Room
💞A/N💞: Thank you sm! I really hope you like it!!
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
For as long as Y/N Robinavitch could remember, she was constantly behind her brother.
Most times it was literal. Sometimes though… It was a nagging feeling she’d get in the deepest parts of her chest.
Being raised by their strict, single, ER Nurse of a grandmother in downtown Pittsburgh wasn’t as easy as it sounded. And Robby heard the phrase ‘take your sister with you!’ more times than he’d like. Y/N would always stand somewhat behind their grandmother, smiling hopefully. Hoping this time he wouldn’t roll his eyes or argue back.
Or make her walk ahead of him and his friends.
She couldn’t remember when he started acting nice to her. But at a certain point in her late teen years and Robby’s early 20s, he began to actually like spending time with his baby sister.
He never really knew how much he inspired her to be better. To grow from where they came from. And so, even in her grown age.. Even with all her accomplishments..
Y/N was always behind her brother.
And not many people saw her there. His opposing frame hid her most of the time. But one man did.
Jack Abbot.
It had been a simple moment. One that Y/N wondered if Jack even remembered. Or even realized how significant it was.
One morning, she’d been at her desk after being told something by Robby. He’d walked over to check on her and then leaned in close to her ear. ‘Don’t listen to Robby. You’re doing. Fucking. Amazing..’
Those words.
They were casual enough to any outsider, but the look he’d given her afterwards, it had caused a blush to boil up to the surface. From then on, Y/N had a crush.
This wasn’t her first time having a crush on one of Robby’s friends. But this was the first time one of Robby’s friends made it clear they had a crush on her too. Jack found himself remembering the small things. He trained himself at being fluent over understanding the looks on her face.
Lips pressed tight? She’s thinking hard.
What does she need? Someone to listen to her idea.
Slight pout? She’s feeling drained.
What does she need? Coffee. Specifically from the deli a block away from the hospital because their coffee is stronger than the hospital’s.
Squeezing her eyes? She’s trying not to cry.
What does she need? Not you asking her what’s wrong. She’ll just say she’s okay. She’s Robby’s little sister after all. No, just get her something that’ll make her smile. Her favorite snack. Set it on her desk when she’s not looking. She’ll accept it only then.
Jack became an expert at reading Y/N like a book. And there were always new pages to explore. And then one night, drunk in the park from a terrible shift, Y/N made her move. The kiss ignited Jack. But he had to cut it short, much to her dismay. It had made him chuckle a bit. ‘If I’m gonna kiss you.. I’m gonna do it the right way..’
The very next day, Jack sat with Robby on the roof. And told him everything. Flat out. It wasn’t easy. They did fight. But once Robby let himself listen… He realized just how much Jack cared for her.
See… Life is too short. Being in this line of work, you get that. Robby could die tomorrow. He was the only family Y/N had left. And… It brought him some peace to know that even if it was his time to go… Y/N would still have someone. She’d have Jack.
Robby never thought about it the other way around though. He never considered that maybe one day… He’d lose the only family he had left..
And Y/N was guilty of this too.
Until she watched the red and black Subaru Outback run a red light and head straight for her…
*
*
*
“Where’s your better half?” Robby asks the minute Jack steps off the elevator. Jack slows his footing, eyeing Robby with humor clear on his face.
“First of all.. Ouch.” Jack taunts. “Secondly,” He continues as he walks over to his friend. “What are you talking about? She’s officially back on day shift..” He says to jog Robby’s memory. Robby frowns at that. If that was the case.. Y/N was late. Really late.
The red phone at the nurse’s station rings as Robby checks his phone. Usually there’d be a string of texts from her, apologizing and explaining why she’s running late.
But.. Nothing.
In fact, their last text thread had been from last night. Y/N had asked if Robby knew why Jack was acting so odd lately. Robby tried to push out the image of the ring his friend had shown him earlier this month, instead texting back ‘You know Jack. Could be anything..’
The two had ended their conversation with a goodnight and then an ‘I love you’ from Y/N’s side which Robby had replied to with a playful thumbs up emoji. Y/N had sent back a thumbs down, her last text being ‘You never say it back!’
Robby pockets his phone as Jack checks his. “I’m sure she’s okay. Uh… She left real early this morning. Something about uh… Your grandmother’s grave? I think? I think she was gonna go visit her..” Jack says softly. Robby frowns softly. She only went to visit their grandmother when she needed to rant about something. Probably about Jack acting weird lately.
“Sweet Jesus…” Dana breathes out as she gets the description of the two individuals coming in from a bad car accident just seven blocks away from the hospital. “Fuck.” She mutters as her eyes instantly move to the two men of Y/N’s life. Taking a deep breath, she gets off the phone with paramedics and rubs her forehead.
“Okay!” She finally shouts, needing all eyes on her. “We’ve got two incoming. Car accident. One code blue. One code green but intoxicated…” She shouts.
“You and me?” Jack asks Robby as he nods. Dana quickly walks over to them. “You two get the code green.” She orders. The two men frown at that. “Mel! Langdon! Code Blue incoming. Prep.” She orders them. They nod and run off to get ready.
“Shouldn’t we handle-“ Dana cuts Robby off.
“Shouldn’t you listen to me? Go. Prep.” She says to them, hoping they’d miss seeing Y/N get rolled in. They shake it off and go to get ready. Dana heads outside to the ambulance bay and paces a bit as the first ambulance pulls up.
“Male. 37. You can smell the drinks from here.” A female paramedic says as they jump out of the van and head to the back. Dana tries to keep the anger off her face.
Everyone deserves medical treatment…
Robby and Jack come rushing over, guiding the paramedics on where to go from here. The guy keeps slurring things like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Came out of nowhere’ as they wheel him to an operating room.
Ambulance two pulls up and Dana can’t look, but she owes it to Y/N. “Female. (your age). Unresponsive on scene…” A male paramedic says as Mel and Langdon come rushing out but freeze as they see who it is.
“Not a fucking word to Robby or Jack. You hear?” Dana mutters to both shocked doctors as they quickly nod, knowing time is too precious to hesitate. “Go! Work!” Dana orders. They guide the paramedics to another operating room, focusing on Y/N as if she was just another patient.
But she was so much more…
Jack and Robby pull in Santos to help out. The guy’s got two broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, and a laceration to his spleen from the seatbelt and impact. They work to stabilize him, and only when they’re sure he’s okay enough to head up to the OR, do they leave him in the hands of Santos and now Javadi.
The two men step out into the hallway and with a heavy sigh, Robby checks his phone again. Still nothing. Dana watches from behind the nurse’s station as Jack tries calling her phone finally. The ringtone comes from a paramedic’s back pocket.
It’s like time stands still.
Robby has heard that phrase before from people. He’s never questioned what that means exactly. He just always assumed it felt how it sounded.
But here’s how it feels..
Everything around you… Is barely moving now. You are barely breathing now. Hell, you don’t even know when your last breath was. But you think you can go longer.
No breathing.
If you don’t breathe, it won’t hurt. He doesn’t remember the paramedic handing over Y/N’s phone. He doesn’t remember taking it. He doesn’t remember walking over to the other operation room.
He’s on the outside looking in for the first time in his career. And he doesn’t like this position. He doesn’t like the view. Jack and Dana try to stop him. He can’t say how he slipped away from them. He’s moving in slow motion. Or at least that’s how it feels. He hears nothing but a loud ringing in his ears as he enters the room.
Have you ever watched a scary movie?
Maybe you’re in the audience. Watching on the big screen as a figure stands in the middle of a room with a blanket over them. The main character inches closer.
The tension builds.
Maybe your shoulders tense as you mumble a quiet ‘no’. And then the sheet is yanked back. And you feel a jolt through your heart and travel down your body. That was Robby.
Watching his actions. Watching his body on autopilot as he finally pulled the blanket back and saw who was being worked on.
His baby sister..
“No!”
The word leaves a mouth, but it’s not Robby’s. It’s Jack’s. He grips Robby, standing in front of him to hold him back and only then does reality seep back in to Robby’s head. He’s crying.
When did he start crying?!
It’s like he’s broken through the surface again, gasping without meaning to.
Fuck, it hurts.
Jack holds him back, pushing him out of the operating room. He still had enough sanity to know Y/N needed to be worked on. And him or Robby in that room would do more harm than good.
“You two gotta go. You can’t be here.” Dana says as Jack gets Robby out of the room and back into the hallway. Robby feels like the whole ED is spinning. And then his eyes land on the operation room where their Code Green was still in. Laid out comfortably while he waited for his turn in the OR.
“Son of a bit-“ Dana cuts Robby off.
“Hey! Hey..” She gets in his way. “That won’t help a thing. I need you to go have a seat. And let the doctors do their job..” She says.
It’s like a blow to the gut.
Robby clenches his jaw at those words. Words that have left his mouth in the past with ease. What a cruel thing to hear now..
He slowly gives in when Dr. Al-Hashimi walks closer to lead him away. Jack’s feet stay rooted though. It’s as if now that he’s not holding Robby back, he actually has to face the reality too. That on that operating table is the love of his life…
“Jack. You should go too..” Dana whispers as she touches his shoulder. He shakes his head fast, eyes welling up. It’s like a rope is tightening around his neck.
“No..” He quietly whispers, practically mouthing it. “Not her…” He manages to wheeze out. He slowly looks at Dana, breaking her heart. “It’s not her..” He mutters. If he says it enough times it’ll be true.
That’s not his Y/N. It can’t be.
“Go sit down..” Dana tries again as he lets her lead him away from the operating room and towards the break room instead.
*
*
*
Robby can’t sit down. And Jack can’t stand up.
The irony of it, really.
Two of the most capable doctors of this Pitt, completely at the mercy of fate.
And both men know.. Fate can be cruel…
The break room door opens and Mel rushes in first. She freezes though when she sees what Jack is staring at in silent mournfulness. She’s still wearing her bloody scrubs. “Oh. Uh…” She quickly yanks at the white coverup and sheepishly hands it over to an awaiting Langdon. She then looks back at Jack and Robby.
“She’s a fighter.” She begins with a soft nod to assure them. Jack shuts his eyes. It feels like he’s been plunged into an ice bath. He breathes shakily as Robby rubs his sweaty face, also allowing those three words a moment to breathe in the silence.
“She pulled through real well.” Langdon says, voice a bit rough with emotion. Like he could just imagine the panic and pain of today for these two men. “Obvious signs of a concussion though. Slight whiplash of the neck, fractures of one rib, and.. The most concerning thing is a bruised lung, but…-“ Jack cuts Langdon off.
“Where is she?” He asks. He just wanted to see her. See her with his own two eyes.
“She awake?” Robby asks.
“She might be? She got moved upstairs…” Mel says softly as she fidgets a bit, watching both men with a deep frown.
They two rush out of the room before anymore can be said. Up to the eight floor they go. With heavy arms, they step off the elevator. And from the look the girl who’s running the nurse’s station up there gives them, it’s clear word has spread on who Y/N is..
She nods towards a room without having to be asked and Jack is faster than Robby. He wants to push past him though. Wants to get to Y/N first.. But he knows deep down Jack can only act strong for so long. He watches from outside the room as Jack drops to his knees by Y/N’s bed, grabbing her hand ever so softly so he can hold it to his cheek. He turns his back to give his friend this moment…
*
*
*
No one bothers Jack.
No one brings up how odd it is that he has yet to leave Y/N’s side.
No one brings up how odd it is that Robby came back down to work instead.
No one… Except for Princess, that is.
Robby sits at his desk trying to focus on the task at hand when he hears her and Perlah walking over to the nurse’s station together. “I’m telling you. I think they’re dating. 10 bucks on it..” Princess says.
“You really think that?” Perlah asks in surprise.
“Why else is he up there?” Princess raises an eyebrow back. “It’s obvious..” She shrugs. Robby has heard enough.
With a low huff, Robby gets up from his desk and walks over to the two women as they stand by the nurse’s station. “I didn’t know Dr. Y/N’s personal life was apart of your job description, ladies.” He states sharply as he watches the nurses. Princess stiffens a bit, as if she didn’t expect him to be here.
“I… Am so sorry, Dr. Robby..” She mumbles as he eyes both women.
“Why don’t we focus on work.” He suggests shortly before walking past. Dana watches the interaction from afar, sighing to herself.
Robby knew sitting in that room, watching Y/N in that bed, wouldn’t help him in any way.
He needed to keep moving.
He needed to keep busy.
So he worked.
He worked until 7:40pm or so. He kept his head down as he did, until he’s practically shoved out of the ED by Shen who had heard everything from day shift.
Stepping off the elevator, he nods politely to the night nurse at the nurse’s station. He moves over to Y/N’s room pausing as he sees Jack stroke her face and push back her hair to tenderly kiss her forehead. Y/N is awake and the two seem to be having a moment. He averts his eyes to give them some privacy before he finally taps on the glass door to make himself known.
Jack looks over and so does Y/N. She smiles a bit, some cuts on her face and a bruise on her left shoulder, but she smiles.
And Robby feels settled..
She slowly lifts her left hand with a slight wince, showing off the ring on her finger. Robby keeps his emotions down enough to whisper a soft ‘congratulations’ to them both. Jack eyes the siblings. “I… Uh… I’m gonna get you more pillows..” He says. Y/N gently touches his cheek before letting him go.
Robby watches Jack leave before looking back at his sister. “No more driving for you.” He says simply. She goes to chuckle and then winces, coughing as she touches her chest. She grabs a notepad on her bed tray.
‘Don’t make me laugh! Hurts!’
Robby reads it and chuckles quietly. He shakes his head at that. “Y/N..” He whispers, getting slightly choked up. She frowns softly and places her finger to her lips in order to stop him from talking before she goes back to writing. She turns the notepad towards him.
‘I’m glad you two had each other today..’
Robby stares at the sentence for a while as it begins to really sink in. See… Life is too short.
Being in this line of work, you get that.
Robby could die tomorrow, and he was the only family Y/N had left. It brought him some peace to know that even if it was his time to go one day, Y/N would still have someone.
She’d have Jack.
Robby never thought about it the other way around though. And as he watched Y/N, he realized the same thought brought her peace too.
The thought that if anything happened.. He’d have Jack too.
Smiling softly, Robby slowly sits down by her bedside.
“Let’s see that ring. It better be expensive.” He finally jokes, making Y/N smile as she lays back in the hospital bed, showing off her left hand again..
Hi!! How about nurse!reader who just returned from maternity leave, and jack can’t keep his eyes off her new mom body
** I got a bit lost in the sauce and accidentally made her a resident...oops! So sorry, but hope you still enjoy!
Mommy Makeover
Jack Abbot x f!young wife!reader
Warnings: suggestive talk!, Jack being an obsessed husband, fluff, illusions of sex, but not explicitly stated, italics, and a whole lot of foul language...lmk if I'm missing anything!
Starting your first night shift back from maternity leave was truly spiritual warfare. You didn’t know what you were thinking leaving your new baby in your mom’s hands. Not that she was a bad sitter, she’s watched your siblings children a billion times and you truly trusted her with your life. Literally.
She was still your emergency contact even after you had been married to your husband, Jack, for two years.
You just couldn’t bear the thought going from spending every waking moment with her since she was born, bonding, the barely coherent newborn smiles, the newborn scent, and changing her diapers, to working the night shift again, 30 min from her, til sun up.
You came to the conclusion you not only have severe attachment issues for your husband but now your daughter together. That was a given.
“She’s back!” Dana called from the nurses station. Wide smile on her face.
“Whoop whoop!” Pearla and Princess shouted alongside her. You smiled widely at them, feigning small bows and curtesys for them as you made your way to the lockers.
You smiled fondly at the kind gesture your husband had left for you when you got here. He showed up early, something about ‘charts from my GSW patient’ that needed to be updated. So your mom had dropped you off.
A small lilac sticky note, with “Welcome back, honey. Have a great day, I love you :),” written on it. You couldn’t get enough of this man.
Today is gonna be a good day. You thought to yourself, unloading your bags into your locker, preparing for your first shift.
You made your way back to the hub to prepare for rounds that started in the next 10 minutes. You couldn’t even make it to the counter before Robby snuck up on you, a hug that lifted you into the air, eliciting a small yelp. It got the attention of everyone from the day shift, their excitement to see you back, not being hidden.
“Hi! I missed you guys. I feel like I've been gone too long." You hugged the day shift, not knowing how deeply missed you were.
"Finally, Jack will be less tense." Parker came up, just now arriving for her shift. "He was going nuts." He hugged you from behind, her arms coming across your shoulders.
"He couldn't have been that bad." You gave her a look, not believing your husband had been that much of a hard ass since you've been home.
"He was. Seems like he'll have bigger problems at hand." She motioned to your whole figure. Sizing you up. "Looking good, mama." She seemed very giddy at your appearance. You knew it wasn't objectifying, I mean, she had been your best friend, so this was just purely pre-shift hyping up.
You gave her a spin, the other women at the nurses' station giving their oohs and aahs. Dana agreed, "Yeah, got that new mom bod goin'. You look fabulous."
You noticed your hips got wider, your ass got thicker, and you had more to work with when it came to your boobs. You noticed the change a few weeks after giving birth. Jack was loving it, not that he hadn't before, clearly. But he hadn't seen you in scrubs since your last shift, pregnant belly being the only thing filling your work attire.
Now your scrubs were hugging all the right places. You blushed at everyone's affection, already excited for the new day.
You had been well into your shift, falling back into place like you had never left. You had repaired lacerations from an MVC, unfortunate freak accidents, and even did a few sutures down in triage. You were feeling really good.
Now, you were charting, sitting idly in a chair next to the nurses' station. You hadn't noticed your husband a few feet away, his feet carrying him in your direction. Perhaps that's cause he was moving slowly, taking in the sight of you.
He'd obviously worked with you in some of the traumas that came in earlier in the night, his gaze lingering when you bent over to grab stuff out of the crash carts. But this time, he could appreciate what he was seeing in its fullness. Literally.
He approached you, taking in the sight before him. Your legs close together, the fullness in your thighs looking like they could break free from the scrubs, he silently and selfishly wished they did.
The way you looked so delectable doing absolutely nothing. "Hey, baby, how's your shift going?" He spoke lowly, only so you could hear. His eyes were raking over just about every inch of your figure before he finally made eye contact.
"Hi," You smiled at him. You had missed him. "It's going pretty good so far, forgot how much I missed the ED." You grabbed his forearm, his hand tucked away in his pockets as he took the space next to you.
As fast as you placed it, you removed your hand. He desperately wanted you to put your hand back, not being able to control himself.
"I might die seeing you here." He stated, eyes trained on your charting, not actually paying attention to what it says, though. He couldn't. How could he?
"What?" You looked at him, a soft chuckle escaping your full lips.
"You're literally giving me heart palpatations sitting here, looking like that, and you don't even care." His hand started from your upper back, slowly making it's way to the base of your neck while he spoke. "Forget that I have a smoke show for a wife."
"Oh, Jack. Please. You'll live. You see me every day at home." You rolled your eyes, very playfully. Hiding the blush settling in your cheeks.
A trauma rolled in, Shen calling for Jack, which seemed like a lot, and he couldn't find Ellis. "Yeah, but this," He motioned to you as he started walking away, barely able to rip his eyes off you long enough to see where he was going. "This is heavenly. Maybe I've finally died and gone to heaven."
You couldn't take him sometimes. The dramatics seemingly been increasing over the last few months.
Now, you were assisting in their trauma, standing on one side of the bed, Shen on the other. You had been called in, just to observe watching Jack do his thing. You forgot how good he looked when he was in his zone. Calm, cool, and levelheaded.
But he was pulled away for a brief conversation with the surgeon; you didn't have time to try and hear before Shen was immediately asking for your assistance to take Jack's place.
"His BP's dropping. We need to intubate so they can prep him for the OR." You grabbed the chest tube, angling yourself behind the patient's head, hoping to get the best angle you could. You slid it in, feeding it through the patient's airway, your arms coming closer together as you watched the slack descend.
Jack's conversation was over, and he was now standing a few inches to your right. He should be supervising, watching, and making sure you haven't lost your touch in the four months you had off. He was, but he was also watching the way that your arms closed in on your chest, making your boobs look insanely good.
Of course, there was no cleavage out to the naked eye, though he partly wished there was, but he had seen you naked and in any clothing that left little to the imagination enough times to know exactly what you looked like under.
He was singing your praises at your work as the patient was successfully intubated and ready for transport to the OR, and he just didn't care. Not when you're standing shoulder to shoulder now, and you look the way you do.
He was gawking at his wife, treating patients, and supervising. A lot to do at once, but Jack was a man of efficiency and skill. So who said a man can't multitask at work?
Jack was in the break room, brewing his what, fourth cup of horrible coffee when you had walked in.
A heavy sigh left your lips, you hand in your hair, taking out the ponytail you had put in, deciding to rest comfortably for your little break.
Jack just watched the way you moved. The way your legs carried that beautiful body that gave him a beautiful baby girl, the way when you huffed just seconds ago, your lips settling in their perfect shape, the way your top was literally making you look crazy angelic even though you have mystery fluids adorning the inseams.
You could be wearing a trash bag right now, and he still would be tracing your every move. He was so lost in the way you just existed in his space, in his lifetime, and he was lucky enough to be the one you went home to with, that he hadn't heard you greet him. "Hm?"
You sat perched in the chair he appeared to be sitting in before your arrival. "I said, Hey, baby." Your hair fell onto your shoulders, making you look tirelessly pretty in this godforsaken lighting.
"Hi, sweetheart." He walked over and gave you a kiss. Quick but still sweet.
"I loved your little note you left me in my locker. You're such a cute husband." You giggled as he took the seat next to you, his hand instinctively finding a place on your thigh.
You two didn't care about the closeness and the intimacy now. You two were in a private room away from patients and other coworkers, not like they care, but you and Jack refused to get another HR visit.
Not after you two so carelessly disappeared for a bit too long in one of the on-call rooms. You both definitely went over the possibility that that's how you two conceived your daughter. But you both just let it go.
"Good, I knew you would. Just needed you to start the shift off right." Jack downplayed his affection to merely acts of bare minimum service. You loved him doting on you. He's done it since you both met, you think that's why you fell inlove with him so quickly.
His little acts of affection, whether they were small gifts, little notes like the one he left you this morning, or just doing things he knows you'd appreciate without being asked to.
You kissed his cheek, laying your head on his shoulder. You figured since you had him here, what else to do than to use your husband as a pillow for your resting eyes during your small thirty-minute break.
The silence in which you both sat was completely ruined the second Shen walked in. "There's the new momma." He smiled widely. He hadn't been able to properly greet you, both of you being thrown into traumas and focused on being doctors rather than any formalities.
"Hello." You smiled, your eyes tired, half-opened, but more than welcoming to this conversation.
"You look great, are you sure you just had a baby?"
"Ugh, stop it. Thank you." You swatted a hand his way, blushing incessantly, hiding your face in Jack's neck.
"I see, you somehow get ten times prettier and Jack gets so old he forgot how razors work." He poked fun at his friend.
"Hey, watch it. It only happened once, and I was insanely hungover." He rolled his eyes, you and Shen giggling at his embarrassment.
"I think it looks great. I love the scruffy look." You grabbed his chin, your fingers dancing over the prickly hairs that grew longer by the day on your husband's face. You kissed the corner of his mouth softly.
"Clearly, last time he had it that long, you two announced your pregnancy a week later." Shen rolled his eyes, now disgusted that he remembered that piece of information. "Ew, I actually don't need to be reminded that my older attending's sex life is better than mine."
You and Jack laughed heartily at that, watching him excuse himself and get back to work.
"For the record, you did get ten times prettier. I don't know how anyone is acting normal about this." He nipped at your jaw, peppering kisses anywhere he could. He seriously had a problem.
"Maybe that's because they just see me at work, not in all the ways that make our relationship different from the ones I have with them." You gave him a pointed look, "You're also my husband, you have to say that."
"I absolutely do not. I'm just speaking the truth. Didn't know there were levels to you being so hot." You had to stop Jack from kissing you before this turned into another on-call room fiasco. You could not sleep with your husband at work on your first day back.
"Okay, cool it, Dracula. You cannot eat me alive in this break room." You tried to swat his face away. Failing miserably.
"Can't I? Show everyone why you let me put a baby in you?" You literally choked on the sip of coffee you had stolen from him. You laughed out loud, neck growing redder by the second. Now you really had to leave.
"Absolutely not, Jack. I'm going to work before you baby trap me." You already had a baby together, so there was no use in fighting it.
"I'll let you baby trap me any day. No, seriously, what's this about liking the scruff?" You got up from your seat, indulging as you actively started heading towards the door.
"I think you look very handsome with salt and pepper everywhere." You winked as you looked down. Insinuating something very inappropriate.
"Oh yeah? So does this mean if I keep it, you'll give me another one?" You sighed, not even ready for that type of commitment yet. You just had Tatum; the last thing you were thinking about was having another baby.
"Goodbye, honey." You walked out of the room, leaving Jack, not too far behind, though. But far enough, you didn't have to listen to his nonsense.
Your shift was about to be over, you were just doing a quick once-over of your charts, preparing for the swap as Jack collected your guys' things.
You had been minding your business when you heard someone talking to you. "Excuse me, ma'am. Do you happen to be seeing anyone? Cause you're like so beautiful," You rolled your eyes, already recognizing the gravel in his low voice.
You smiled at your husband. "You're so pretty, you make the angels in heaven jealous. So can I, like, get your number?" He caged you in the counter. Both his arms on either side of you.
He already had your bag and his, his jacket covering his scrub top. "Hm, I don't think so. I have a hot husband that I refuse to let look at another woman." You shrugged.
"Oh, do tell."
"Yeah, he's an army vet, turned ER doctor. He's super hot and jacked. His muscles are so sexy, it's even sexier when they're wrapped around my neck when we-" You were cut off by a now amused but very scared and embarrassed Jack. You loved making him flustered in public settings. You spent your whole MS3 year doing just that; that's why he put a ring on it. He secretly enjoyed it too.
You had been lucky that there was no one close enough to hear your hushed whispering. "Alright, I'll take the hint. Lucky guy." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You had discarded the tablet, now following your husband out of the ER.
"Yeah, even gave him a baby." You punched his ribs softly as you two walked to your car. His eyes were watching as he opened the door, and you got in. He truly loved the way motherhood was sitting with you.
You guys had driven to your mother's house. You picked up your baby and were finally headed home. You loved that this was your new normal. Car rides with not just you and Jack, but a little piece of both of you. The constant reminder of the love you two shared for each other.
"Isn't she so cute?" You said as you watched your baby coo at you in the back seat. You hadn't really said it for a response, just throwing it out in the open that your baby was the cutest thing you've ever seen.
Jack had been looking in the rearview, silently agreeing with you on what you had been talking about, but also just looking at you. "Yeah, she is." His eyes stayed on you. You looked up. Meeting his gaze.
"Eyes on the road, old man. We have precious cargo." You blew him a kiss before he looked away. He smiled softly to himself.
"Yes, ma'am."
He got you all home safely, of course. You expected nothing less. You settled into your quiet home, putting the baby in her nursery, before you and Jack cooked something to eat.
You ate, had conversations about your shift, the comments that you got after being back, and all he could do was watch the way your eyes lit up at the praise and how you missed being back at work. "Are you even listening?" You said, getting up and collecting the bowls from your guys' meal.
"Yeah, of course I am." He was, he really was. But he was back to watching the way you sauntered off into the kitchen, still in your scrubs, and he still had all those thoughts about how you looked unbelievable in a work uniform.
"Really? Cause you've been giving me the same look all day. Like you haven't seen me in my scrubs since I started working in the Pitt." You smiled softly. Rinse the bowls, opting to wash them later.
"There's something about the way you look right now. I'm insanely turned on." His straight face, which he maintained throughout the whole conversation, was comical.
"Jack," You perched yourself on his lap, your waist slightly brushing against the table, your legs off to one side as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were peppering kisses all over his face.
"You're being dramatic. I look the same in my work clothes."
"Nuh uh. You look like those hot doctors I used to have in my wet dreams." He kissed your neck, finally able to do something about this image he's had of you all day.
"Oh, wow. You're insane."
"You like it." His whispers were getting lost in the trail of kisses he was leaving down to your collarbone.
"Mhm."
"You know what's even better than seeing you in your scrubs again?" His eyes met yours now. Your breath fanning his face, still dazed by the slow sleepy drunk kisses he was leaving on you seconds ago.
"What is that?" You dipped your head, matching his desire as you started kissing everywhere your lips could reach.
"The fact that I'll be taking them off you." You squealed when he lifted you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your shared bedroom.
"Oh? Figured you want me to keep these on since you're so hellbent on ogling me all day."
"Wait...that's an option?"
"No, Jack. Take me to bed or lose me forever." An endless stream of giggles you left in your wake as Jack quickened his speed.
Warnings: really just tooth-rotting, sweet fluff. A small warning alluding to sex at the end and having another baby but other than that, it's soft.
Author's Note: This idea came to me very late and even though I am busy with a shit work schedule this week and college, I had to get this out of my head. I was also insired by the latest pics of Shawn 🤪 Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! For my besie @josephs-quinns
Between raising a daughter and working nights as an ER attending, Jack Abbot rarely had a moment to himself. Yet no matter how long the hours or how heavy the exhaustion settled into his bones, he always made time for his daughter and you. Somehow, he never stopped showing up. Today was no different.
After twelve relentless hours at PTMC, Jack was running on little more than caffeine and stubborn determination. Yet as he stepped out of his truck and looked toward the warm glow of the house, a small smile tugged at his lips. He knew exactly what was waiting for him on the other side of that door.
With a tired sigh, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and grabbed the stainless-steel tumbler that had carried him through the night. Empty now, it swung lightly from his hand as he climbed the front steps. With his free hand, he fished around in his pocket until his fingers found the familiar shape of his key.
He eased the key into the lock and slipped through the front door as quietly as he could. Chances were you and his baby girl were still asleep, and he intended to keep it that way. The house was peaceful, and after the chaos of the emergency room, he found himself reluctant to disturb it.
He dragged a hand down his face, feeling the coarse stubble that had taken over his jaw over the last few days. Shaving had fallen somewhere near the bottom of his priority list.
Easing out of his tennis shoes, he left them by the door and carefully set his backpack beside them. The house was quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that only existed in the hours before the rest of the world woke up.
He crossed the hardwood floor on silent feet and slipped into the kitchen. Setting his tumbler in the sink, he winced at the faint metallic clink that broke the stillness, then paused to listen. When no movement followed, he continued on, relieved he hadn’t disturbed anyone.
He decided a quick shower downstairs was in order before making his way upstairs. Then he’d crawl into bed beside you, burying himself in the familiar comfort of your arms and the scent of your shampoo before exhaustion finally claimed him. It had become a rountine neither of you ever spoke about, but one he looked forward to after every shift.
In a few hours, you’d wake before he did. You always did. While he caught up on the sleep he’d sacrificed all night for strangers, you’d keep your daughter occupied downstairs, filling the house with breakfast, cartoons, and quiet laughter so Daddy could rest a little longer.
As the hot water poured of him, Jack felt some of the day’s weight begin to slide from his shoulders. Twelve hours of chaos, fluroscent lights, and life-or-death decisions swirled down the drain along with the soap and sweat.
By the time he shut off the water, the knot between his shoulder blades had loosened, if only a little.
He grabbed a towel and dried himself off, the familiar scent of fresh detergent clinging to the fabric. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.
You always made sure the towels smelled good.
Dressed in a pair of sleep pants, he paused in front of the mirror and studied his reflection. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and several days worth of stubble covered his jaw,.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath.
He looked exhausted.
Worse than exhausted, really. Worn down. Like the last few weeks had caught up to him all at once.
It felt worse than when his daughter had first been born. At least back then, there’d been a reason for the sleepless nights. Tiny cries at three in the morning. Bottles. Diapers. The indescribable joy of holding his little girl against his chest.
This?
This was just work. Endless, exhausting work.
He decided—one again—that shaving could wait. Another day. Maybe two. At this rate, he might accidentally end up with a beard.
The thought made him huff out a quiet laugh.
Leaving the bathroom behind, he made his way upstairs, careful to avoid the creaky spots he knew by heart. The house remained silent around him as he climbed the staircase and headed down the hall toward the master bedroom.
The door was closed.
Of course it was.
You always slept with the door shut. Whether it was for privacy, comfort, or simply habit, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore. He’d stopped questioning it years ago. Now the sight of the closed door waiting for him at the end of a long shift felt oddly comforting—a small sign he was finally home.
He took a deep breath as his hand settled on the doorknob. Turning it carefully, he eased the door open, mindful not to disturb the peaceful scene he was certain awaited him on the other side.
As the door cracked open, you came into view.
You were curled up on your side of the bed, buried beneath the blankets, your hair spread across the pillow.
A smile immediately tugged at Jack’s lips.
Then his gaze shifted, and the smile grew.
Nestled beside of you was your four-year-old daughter, fast asleep and sprawled halfway across the mattress as if she owned it. One tiny hand rested against your shoulder, her favorite stuffed animal trapped beneath her arm.
Of course she’d ended up in your bed.
She must have wandered in sometime during the night after another bad dream or a sudden need for Mommy cuddles.
The sight alone was enough to melt away what remained of the exhaustion clinging to him. After twelve hours spent dealing witht he worst moments of other people’s lives, this felt like stepping into a different world entirely.
His world.
Jack quietly crossed to your side of the bed and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His fingers slopped through your hair, brushing a few stray strands away from your face.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured.
You let out a sleepy hum, your eyes still closed.
“Mornin’,” you mumbled.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You awake?”
“Barely.”
Your hand drifted up, finding his jaw. The moment your fingertips brushed the rough stubbe there, you paused.
A sleepy frown crossed your face.
“Ow.”
Jack snorted. “Ow?”
You rubbed your thumb against his jaw again. “Your face is scratchy.”
“I just got home.”
“Mhm.” Your voice was thick with sleep. “And still haven’t shaved in days.”
He laughed quietly. “Is that a complaint?”
“It’s an observation.”
Your eyes fluttered open just enough to look at him. “A very, sexy concerning observation.”
Jack shook his head. “It isn’t that bad.”
“It absolutely is.” You yawned. “You kissed me and I thought a cactus had attacked my forehead.”
That earned a geniune laugh from him.
His gaze drifted down to your daughter, curled uop between the two of you, her stuffed rabbit tucked tightly against her chest.
“What happened here?”, he whispered.
You glanced down at her, your expression immediately softening. “Bad dream.”
His smile faded into concern. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Came into our room around two in the morning crying about a monster in her closet.” You brushed a hand through your daughter’s messy hair. “I checked three times, but apparently sleeping with Mommy fixed everything.”
A sleepy chuckled escaped Jack. “Sounds serious.”
“Oh, extremely serious. The monster was apparently ‘this big’.” You held your fingers a few inches apart. “Terrifying stuff.”
He smiled, watching his daughter sleep peacefully now. “My poor baby girl.”
Careful not to wake her, Jack leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.
The moment his stubbel brushed her skin, your daughter scrunched up her face in her sleep and let out a displeased little whine.
“She was okay after a few cuddles.” You glanced back up at him. “Though she did steal your side of the bed.”
Jack looked at the little girl sprawled diagonally across the mattress and huffed a laugh. Her tiny hand came up and rubbed the spot on her forehead before she burrowed deeper into the pillow, still fast asleep.
You immediately bit down on your lip, fighting a laugh.
“Even she thinks it’s scratchy.”
Jack groaned. “She’s four.”
“And yet she still agress with me.”
“I will shave soon,” Jack sighed, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Mhm.”
“I will.”
“That’s what you said three days ago.”
Then your hand found his jaw again. “I do mean it, though.”
Jack looked back at you. “What?”
“The stubble.”
A sleepy smile curved your lips.
“It’s sexy.”
His chest warmed instantly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, almost makes me want another one of these with you.”
You nodded towards your daughter.
“Maybe we can arrange that. Later.”, he laughed before kissing you on the lips.
“But seriously,” you began, breaking the kiss. “If it gets much longer, our daughter is gonna start introducing you as a mountain man.”
Jack laughed hard enough that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from waking her.
“Now come to bed, mountain man”, you whispered, lifting the comforter for him. “Before you fall asleep standing up.”
Jack carefully climbed beneath the blankets, trying not to disturb his daughter. The moment he settled in, she instinctively scooted toward him in her sleep, throwing a leg across his waist.
You snorted. “Looks like she missed you.”
Jack wrapped an arm around her tiny frame and smiled, careful to kiss her hair this time. “Missed her too.”
There was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE MANIFESTING A GOOD JUNE
Please i have request 😩where Reader drops by Jacks office/ the hospital to surprise him, only to find a female coworker sitting at his desk, acting overly familiar and joking about being his "work wife" to the Reader's face. The Reader leaves feeling replaced and insecure. When Jack finds out what happened, he’s furious that his professional kindness was mistaken for something else. with happy ending with Jack setting boundaries with the coworker saying he only has 1 wife 😩🙏🏽
The Work Wife
Jack Abbot x wife!reader
Description- Inspired by this request (with a few creative liberties). You pay your husband Jack a visit at the PTMC to drop off some snacks for him and the other nightcrawlers. Before you can find him, though, you run into one of his coworkers, who refers to herself as his work wife and gushes about how special he is to her. No physical descriptors are given for the reader other than having hair, and there's no use of "Y/N" If you're my roommate, stop reading here. I see you girl
CW- relationship insecurity, momentarily feeling in conflict with another woman, lots of mentions of banana bread, light teasing about an implied age gap, one mention of slapping dat ass
AN- I didn't realize how much the banana bread is talked about until right now, but you know what, I have no regrets. It's a damn good food
You were feeling proud of yourself when you strolled into the PTMC. It had been a while since you’d surprised your husband at work, and when you had rooted around in the overstuffed freezer at home, desperate to find a way to fit the ice cream you’d picked up to celebrate Jack’s first full weekend off in months, it felt like divine inspiration had struck. You dared anyone to find a better plan that freeing up freezer space for one treat by making another, and so you’d pulled out a bag of overripe bananas that Jack had wanted to throw out last month but you had insisted on peeling and freezing.
“They’re just bananas,” he had said, giving you a look that said I love you but you look insane right now. “Easily one of the most affordable fruits. I can just buy more.” Maybe he had a point with his look, you acknowledged. It certainly felt strange to take mushy bananas and save them like they were a treasure to be used later, but it was something you stood your ground on.
“I have no doubt that you could,” you countered, not looking at him as you focused on the task at hand, trying and failing to remove the little stringy bits you always found annoying. “Believe it or not, I have banana-buying money too, even without a doctor’s salary.”
That earned an eye roll from Jack, but you didn’t have to look up from your task to know that he was wearing a smile matching your own. He paced around the kitchen island, hands landing on your hips and sliding around your waist in a loose hug as he dipped his head to kiss your shoulder.
“I’d buy you as many bananas as you could ever want,” he murmured against the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. You chuckled, leaning back against his chest for a moment and craning your neck to press an awkward kiss to his temple.
“You’re going to be late,” you chided, glancing at the microwave clock behind him.
Jack exhaled dramatically. You’d think he was going off to war for a second time, not meeting Robby to watch a Steelers game.
“Robby can wait.” His hands landed on your hips again, spinning you around before you had time to process or put up a halfhearted fight. His lips found yours, any protests you had planned to raise dying on your tongue as his found yours, the entire world disappearing until it was just the two of you. His grip on you tightened, a low sound coming from the back of your throat and your hands moved instinctively, one curling into the fabric of his t-shirt while the other fisted at his hair. Only when you realized the weird sticky feeling on your fingers did you pull back, pressing back against his chest with your wrists to prevent further damage.
“Jack,” you all but whined, “I banana-ed you.”
He laughed, full bellied and loud, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder and his arms circling your waist loosely again.
“It’s not funny,” you protested, unable to hide the laugh from your own voice. “You can’t go over there with banana goop all over your shirt. And your poor hair!” You patted at the beautiful mixture of dark and silver curls with the back of your hand, as if apologizing to them for sullying them with your sticky banana-laced fingers.
Jack only pulled back for a moment, still grinning but looking down at you with that familiar smug look you’d fallen for so long ago.
“Believe it or not, they have this great new invention for that,” he drawled, ducking his head to peck you on the cheek. “It’s called shampoo,” he murmured. “Supposed to really be something.”
You rolled your eyes, half heartedly pushing him off so you could wash your hands. “It’s only new to you, old timer.”
You felt almost silly walking through the ED with a paper plate of banana bread muffins, all wrapped up in saran wrap. The clean antiseptic smell in the air stung your nostrils, and you could hear crying from down the hall. It always amazed you how Jack could come back to this, day after day and night after night. It wore him down, sure, no one could leave completely unaffected by the things they saw, but he remained steadfast and stubborn, the same headstrong man who insisted on your fourth date that you’d be married someday with the confidence of a man who knew he was right.
You paused as you neared the central desk, looking around and trying to decide where the best place was to drop off the muffins. You hoped you’d see Jack, just to say a quick hello and tell him about the treat you’d made for him, but you didn’t want to distract him when there was work to be done and lives to be saved. The staff lounge was always a safe bet, but you hadn’t thought to bring a note to leave with them. You didn’t want them sitting there untouched, knowing only a few of the staff who’d been there for years would recognize your form of offering to the kind and dedicated staff of the Pitt. Even the med students deserved a muffin though, especially after the stories Jack had told you about the new recruits struggling with proper nutrition, shoving a few protein bars into their bags at the beginning of their shift and hoping it would be enough to sustain them for 12 hours.
Not on your watch. You would find some spare paper and a pen, and make sure everyone knew they were welcome to a snack. You might even draw an embarrassing heart or write a love letter and slip it into Jack’s locker for him to find at the end of shift.
You were hugging the wall, looking around for Lena or another familiar face not wearing anything bloodstained when someone approached you.
“Excuse me?” the woman asked. “Ma’am, you can’t be here. Only active patients are allowed back here, you have to wait your turn in chairs until someone brings you back.”
You laughed. This wasn’t the first time you’d been mistaken for someone drifting through the wrong door just to end up in the middle of the ED.
“Oh no,” you started, “I’m not a patient. I’m actually here to see a doctor.”
The woman, a pretty woman you’d guess to be somewhere in her forties, glanced over you, as if she was weighing the odds between believing you or not. The plate of securely wrapped muffins in your hands seemed to sway her in your favor.
“Which doctor?” she asked, suspicion leaking into her voice.
“Dr. Jack Abbot,” you answer. “He’s my-”
“Oh, Jack!” she all but squealed, instantly brightening at your husband’s name. “I love Jack, he’s practically my work husband.”
The warm smile on your face flickered at that, a bitter taste forming in your mouth that you weren’t familiar with.
“Is that so?”
The woman, Cheryl, it said on the ID badge clipped to her pocket, seemed to need very little prompting to launch into a tirade of reasons to love Jack. All of which were right, you knew, but somehow that did little to stop the growing knot in your stomach.
“Jack’s the best,” she said, guiding you towards the desk she must have been occupying when she noticed you standing by the wall. “He’s always helping me with my patients, checking it to make sure I’m doing alright, making little jokes just for us,” she looked down almost bashfully, a faint pink rising to her cheeks, though she found no issue continuing to talk.“He walks me to my car at night sometimes. He’s just always there, helping me, looking out for me.”
“Y-yeah,” you fumbled for words. All of that sounds like Jack, in a way. “He’s a great attending. The PTMC is lucky to have him.” You realized with a clench in your stomach that his coffee mug was on her desk, the same goofy travel mug that read Best Doctor on One Leg that you’d gotten him as a joke Christmas present one year. You’d just washed it the night before, still shocked he still used the damn thing outside of the house.
Cheryl snorted a quiet laugh. “Yeah,” she said, leaning across the desk and speaking with an almost conspiratorial hush. “But he’s really here for me in particular, if you know what I mean.” If she can tell from your expression that your stomach drops, the plate of muffins now set aside on the central desk because they feel too heavy for your tired wrists, she doesn’t give any indication. “It’s crazy, it’s like every time I look behind me he’s just staring at me.”
She seemed to remember she was at work and not with her friends at a bar gushing over the cute boys they liked, suddenly looking a bit sheepish.
“So, why are you here to see Jack? Did he treat you?”
You plastered on a fake smile, suddenly wishing you’d taken those acting classes in high school. “Oh, uh, no. No, I just know him. I wanted to bring these by for everyone working today,” you tap the plate of muffins, your hands feeling too unsteady to risk holding them. “I figured I would say hi if I saw him, but he’s got to be busy, y’know, saving lives!”
Cheryl gave you an odd smile then, noticing for the first time that something was wrong. There was something concerned in her eyes, almost pitying, that made you want to crawl out of your skin.
“Okay, well, I’ll tell him someone stopped by,” she offered, using a comforting tone usually reserved for children and people more upset than the situation called for.
Someone. You were “someone.”
You nodded, too sharply, already turning on your heels. “Thanks, you do that.” You grimaced as you began to walk away, cursing yourself for everything that had happened in the last ten minutes.
You were curled up on the couch when Jack came home the next morning. It wasn’t unusual for you to be up so early, preparing a quick breakfast for your husband so you’d be sure he actually ate something and took some time to rest before heading to the gym to work off some stress or collapsing in bed after a quick shower. This morning you’d done none of that though. You had slept like shit, laying awake on Jack’s side of the bed, head pressed to his pillow to breathe in the smell of his shampoo and something distinctly him, watching the ceiling fan spin in endless circles above you. You’d tossed and turned, only slipping under for a few hours at a time before you realized with an uncomfortable ache that you were awake again.
By four in the morning you’d given up, hauling yourself unceremoniously out of bed and trudging to the couch. With a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a book in hand, you collapsed with a huff, wincing as you turned on the lamp on the end table, even the low light feeling like a sudden intrusion. You stared at the lamp once your eyes adjusted, taking in the smooth porcelain and the small imperfections in the glaze. It was a gift, you remembered, something off your and Jack’s wedding registry. You had loved the set of lamps you’d found at a local farmer’s market, the other part of the pair sitting on a table at the far end of the couch, where you usually sat tucked under your husband’s arm, pressed against his chest to listen to his heart beating, but you had a hard time justifying the cost. Weddings were already so expensive, and even with the modest way you’d chosen to have your ceremony, you didn’t want to go overboard. Jack had laughed at you, teasingly daring you to find handmade lamps at a better price anywhere else, let alone ones that had you so immediately enamored. It wasn’t until two years into your marriage that Jack had admitted during a quiet moment, curled up around each other in bed, that he had been the one to buy the lamps. He had given you that easy smile, all crinkled edges and sleep-tussled hair, when he explained it like it was simple. You had wanted them, but didn’t think you’d deserved them. He disagreed, and, being Jack Abbot, went about fixing it in the most him way possible, treating you with the kindness you’d always yearned for even though you hadn’t even realized it at the time.
You still loved the lamps. Imperfections and all.
Jack kicked off one of his shoes at the door, leaving the other on his prosthesis until he could sit down. He shrugged off his heavy army backpack, laden with all the tools you knew he carried and hoped he never needed, and rested it in the seat of one of the dining room chairs. He moved towards the couch, stepping unevenly at the height difference from still having one shoe on.
“Goodmorning, beautiful.” His hands swept through your hair, gently brushing it out of your face. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, lingering for a moment before straightening back up.
“Have you slept at all?”
You shrugged lazily, giving him a weak smile.
“Some. Definitely not enough though.” You patted the space on the couch next to you, uncurling your legs to make room for him.
Jack joined you on the couch, lowering himself down carefully with a faint grimace. His hands moved to his pant leg, tugging up the fabric to undo the fastenings of his prosthesis. Once it was off, and he’d let out a deep sigh of relief he’d never let anyone else hear, his artificial limb propped up to stand on the floor beside him, he held an arm out to you. You eagerly moved towards him, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulder to draw you closer and press a whiskery kiss to your temple.
“Welcome home,” you said, giving him an easier smile as you settled into your spot against him. He leaned back into the couch, letting the soft cushions welcome him like an embrace.
“I missed you,” you continued, no longer trying to hide just how tired you were, physically and emotionally. “I always sleep better when you’re here.”
“I know, sweetheart.” His hand moved soothingly up and down your arm. “I sleep better with you too.”
“Shen said he saw you during our shift.”
There was no accusation to his statement, just a light lilting tone of confusion. You’d never go in and not ask to see him, even if you only had time to press a kiss to his cheek and tell him how proud you were of him before sending him off again with a cheeky wink and the occasional slap to his ass if no one was around.
“Yeah, I made some banana bread muffins and thought you and the troops could use a pick me up.”
Jack didn’t acknowledge how you side stepped the question he hadn’t asked.
“So I saw. They were delicious, by the way,” he added. “We almost had to intervene so Joy wouldn’t get too territorial over them. Thank you, for bringing them in.” Another kiss was pressed to your temple, lingering a little longer than the last. “I’ve gotta admit, I had my doubts when you started freezing bananas, but I stand corrected.”
You chuckled softly. “Damn right you do,” you murmured into his scrub top. The antiseptic smell still clung to him, but you could pick up enough of him that it didn’t matter. “Never question my freezer organization skills against mister.”
Jack chuckled, his nose pressing into your hair and drawing in a deep breath. His hand drew lazily up and down your arm for a few moments as you sat in silence, just taking each other in again after a long day.
“Want to tell me why you didn’t wait to see me today?” Jack’s voice was quiet, his low tone rumbling in a way you always loved. There was no pressure in his question, just genuine interest and a tinge of concern. You could tell him no, and he’d accept it, just draw you into a firm hug and hold you until he went to shower before joining you back in bed.
“It’s stupid,” you confessed. You toyed idly with the drawstring of his scrub pants, knowing your frown looked more like a pout than you wanted it to.
“Nothing about you is stupid,” he said seriously, tipping his head a bit lower to press his forehead against the crown of your downturned head. “Sometimes questionable in the moment,” he continued, that gruff humorous lilt coming back, “but if we’ve learned anything from the bananas, you have your reasons.”
You rolled your eyes, lifting your head to look at him. He had a self-satisfied look on his face, giving you a sweet smile and a quick peck on the lips when you shook your head at him.
“You haven’t had, like, a super terrible day, right?” You would kick yourself later if you didn’t ask. Some days he came home barely able to do anything but shrug and mumble responses, the ED bleeding him dry of any semblance of emotional energy.
Jack smiled softly. “No, sweetheart. Just regular terrible.” His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not so terrible I can’t hear about yours.”
You gave him a small but appreciative smile, returning the squeeze of his hand.
“I ran into one of your coworkers before I could find Lena,” you began, voice coming out slightly quieter than usual. Even with his reassurance, you felt silly acting like it was a real problem. “She was nice. New, I think. I’d never met her before, anyway, and I don’t think you’ve mentioned her.” Jack hummed, his broad hand slowly rubbing your back, urging you gently when you paused. “I was going to ask if you were around, but she didn’t really give me a chance. She was talking about you, how great you are and how much she loves being around you.”
Jack kept his expression neutral, his brow still furrowed as he nodded along, not letting the praise get to him or stroke his ego.
“Obviously she’s right to think all that and say all that,” you add, giving your husband a shy smile to say that it was okay to smile or joke about it. “Honestly, you deserve way more than anything she or I could ever say, but…I don’t know. Something about it felt off.”
Jack frowned. “Off how?” he prompted.
You shook your head, trying to guide the pieces together in your sleepless mind.
“It felt personal to her,” you settle on. “Almost intimate.” You scowled before you could help yourself. “She called herself your work wife. Said you spent more time with her than the others, that you were always looking at her and hovering around her.” You shook your head again, trying in vain to dislodge the ill feelings that were blooming in your chest again.
“And I know you’re a diligent teacher,” you added, looking up at Jack’s concentrated frown. “I know you stare when you don’t mean to, and you have more of a presence than you know-”
“This is starting to feel like an attack,” Jack interrupted, soft grin spreading across his tired face.
You scoffed, hand moving up to cup his cheek, already prickly with the ghost of morning stubble.
“I love your staring and your presence,” you said, firm enough for him to know you meant it, but soft enough to still be teasing. You kissed him once for good measure, enjoying the humorous glint in his eye when you pulled back.
“But they’re for you,” he supplied, putting together the threads between your ramblings. “Not her.”
You gave a small nod, gaze dropping again as a wave of guilt washed over you. You didn’t want to be the person movies and books had trained you to hate for so long, the jealous woman who lashed out when someone looked at her man too long. You didn’t want to be possessive, or read into things that weren’t there, or even worse, punish Jack, your dear Jack, just because you couldn’t get a grip on your own insecurities.
“I don’t want to be crazy,” you all but whispered, hand finding the draw string on his scrubs again and spinning the knot idly between your fingers. “But I didn’t like it. She looked at me like decided she had me all figured out. And it felt like she thought she really had a chance with you, and…I don’t know. Maybe I still don’t feel like I deserve you. Maybe I’ve just been missing you more with all the doubles you’ve had to pull. And I know that’s not fair-”
Jack cut you off with one finger held to your lips, shushing you like a child in a way that had your eyes narrowing and looking up to find his. When you did, you found an endearingly soft smile on his lips, looking just as in love with you as he did the day he’d proposed.
“First off,” he said, speaking like he was instructing a new medical student, using only objective facts, “your feelings are always fair. They’re never crazy, or overblown. They always have their reasons, even if you can’t see them right away. Reactions are what matter, and you’re reacting perfectly normally by telling me this so I can help. Alright?” He looked at you, corner of his lip quirking up when you gave a reluctant nod, but raised his eyebrows, giving you a cocky look that you knew meant he wanted a verbal answer. You huffed dramatically, but gave him what he was looking for.
“Yeah.”
He gave you a real smile, hand squeezing your upper arm as a reward.
“Second, you’re not crazy. No one should be talking about me like that at work, even if I was single. And certainly not when I have a foxy wife at home.” His broad hands gripped you as you scoffed out a laugh, dragging you onto his lap so he could wrap his arms around you, smiling smugly at the genuine laugh he’d earned.
“Don’t you dare laugh at that,” he’d added, poking you gently in the ribs. “No one laughs at my woman, not even my woman.”
You grin stupidly wide, arms circling around his neck in a show of surrender.
“Your woman?” you question, clicking your tongue scoldingly. “Guess I’m not the only possessive one then.”
Jack shook his head, his even gaze never leaving yours. “Far from it.” His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face where it had fallen from his manhandling. They lingered on the apple of your cheek, gently holding you as you leaned into the touch.
“I’ll say no to any more doubles for a while,” he said, barely above a whisper. Your brow furrows, but you don’t interrupt as he continues. “I didn’t realize how long it had been since we’ve gotten time for us. I’m sorry about that.” You could see that he meant it, his face serious as a ghost. You leaned forward, kissing the tip of his nose.
“Okay,” you agreed. “I think you need the break, if I’m honest. You’ve been stiffer recently, and I’ve been worried about you.”
Jack let out an exaggerated groan, stretching his legs underneath you.
“God, you’re right,” he sighed, settling a little lower on the couch, and pulling you down with him.
You grinned. “I’m always right.”
He nodded. “That’s why I married you.”
“And my baking skills,” you added, holding up a finger defiantly.
Jack shrugged, pretending to think about it.
“You’ve developed skills,” he settled on.
You gasped drastically, mustering up as much betrayal as you could in your fatigue, clutching your chest as if he’d wounded you.
“Developed?”
“Yeah. You’ve gotten better.”
You scoffed. “You don’t deserve my muffins.”
His voice was low. “Hey now-”
“Next time I’ll make a sign, For anyone but Jack,” you pretended to write across the air, voice trembling with laughter at the way his jaw dropped open.
“That has to be a violation of your wedding vows.”
You smirked. “No sirree, Jack-ass.” He groaned at the nickname usually reserved for when he was being extra pestering. He slumped his head forward, burying his face in your neck as you continued. “Sickness and health, richer or poorer, but nothing about when your husband doesn’t appreciate homemade muffins made with very resourceful banana preservation tactics.”
The side of your neck warmed from the sudden laugh he let out, muscled arms tugging you tighter to his chest.
“Robby will even get to take home the leftovers.”
Jack feigned a cry at that, raising his head and giving you the most betrayed look he could.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
You paused, trying to find it in you to continue the bit when he looked at you so sweetly, eyebrows knit together like his best friend stealing the muffins his wife made would wound his heart beyond repair.
You deflated with a small sigh.
“No,” you admitted, a smile pulling at your lips at how quickly he brightened. “But I might leave a note saying Cheryl doesn’t get any if you don’t get a work divorce.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh, it was Cheryl?”
You nodded, giving him a confused smile. “That change things?”
He hummed in thought. “Doesn’t change them, but it does explain them. She’s new to the Pitt. Doesn’t have a lot of friends, it seems. Don’t remember where she transferred from, but they had different practices, so we’ve been watching her pretty closely to make sure she follows proper procedure.”
You nodded slowly, putting together the pieces in your mind. The feeling like he was watching her, the hovering and checking in, it all made sense. Not that you had doubted his intentions for even a moment. Even if she was the most beautiful woman on the planet, Jack was a man with a strict moral code, and adultery lay far outside the scope of his rules.
“Is it going to be weird working with her? Now that you know everything she said about you?”
Jack frowned. “Nah. I’ll go to HR at the start of next shift, file an anonymous report. They’ll sort things out with her, not make a scene or embarrass her. WIth any luck the whole thing will blow over.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll make sure the work marriage is annulled, sweetheart. Can’t be a workplace bigamist, can I?”
You sighed wearily. “You can try, but if you open that door, every woman, man, and person in between is going to try to jump your bones, doc.” You gave him an overly concerned look. “You think your old joints can handle all of that at once?”
He had the good grace to look offended at that, giving you only a moment to look pleased with yourself before his hands were on your hips, giving you a great heave to flip you both so you were pinned beneath him on your back. You yelped at the sudden motion, but one of his hands made its way behind you, bracing you to cushion your fall on the already soft couch. His full weight trapped you, pressing you firmly into the cushions.
“What was that you were saying?” he teased, the tip of his nose grazing yours.
You could feel your cheeks warm.
“If you think I’m able to think at all like this, you don’t know me very well, Jack.”
His lips twitched again, too busy taking in your expression to give a proper reaction of his own.
“Or I know you too well.” He leaned closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your temple down your neck and to your chest. His breath came hot against your skin when he spoke again. “Why would I ever want a work wife when I have you?”
working nights in the morgue means you’ve gotten used to being overlooked. quiet ones always are. but dr. jack abbot notices you anyway.
he notices your careful hands, your lowered eyes, the way you fluster when he says your name. and somewhere between late-night charting, fluorescent lights, and exhausted confessions whispered in empty hallways, jack realizes he wants something he probably shouldn’t.
CHAPTER ONE — NINE ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ completed ❪ 18.9k words ❫
⊹ ࣪ ˖ act one follows the reluctant tension-filled evolution of jack abbott and a quiet, anxious morgue tech. it begins with exhaustion, mutual annoyance, and an unfortunate first impression. it ends ( temporarily ) in confessions, broken rules, and hands brushing too long by the trauma bay sink and a single earth shattering kiss. best read in descending order for understanding!
⟢ cold and predictable
⟢ cold storage
⟢ a cold shoulder
⟢ too cold to touch
⟢ cold cut
⟢ caught in the cold
⟢ cold hands
⟢ left out in the cold
⟢ let in from the cold
CHAPTER TEN — NINETEEN ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ongoing ❪ tbd words ❫
⊹ ࣪ ˖ act two follows post-confession. you’ve admitted too much. jack’s heard too much. and yet neither of you knows what to do with the silence that follows. you keep pretending. he keeps showing up. the hospital keeps getting hotter. best read in descending order for understanding!
⟢ heat source
morgue notes - 001
⟢ heat on contact
morgue notes - 002
⟢ after the heat
⟢ heat in your hands
⟢ the sound of heat
morgue notes - 003
⟢ held in heat
⟢ heat flash ( coming soon )
⟢ heat bitten ( coming soon )
morgue notes - 004
⟢ heated words ( coming soon )
morgue notes - 005
⟢ heat of the moment ( coming soon )
morgue notes - 006
morgue notes - 007
morgue notes - 008
˚₊‧ 𐙚 THE APPENDIX ⊹ ࣪ ˖
⊹ ࣪ ˖ NIGHT SHIFT — MORGUE NOTES
˚₊‧ 𐙚 *part one
˚₊‧ 𐙚 part two
˚₊‧ 𐙚 *part three
˚₊‧ 𐙚 *petnames from jack
˚₊‧ 𐙚 *petnames for jack
Wanted to participate in the SKZ Pop Up but it wasn't in your city? Maybe you were willing to dive 3+ hours to get to the nearest one only to see that they're charging $40 for a notebook and won't even give you a single PC unless you spend at least $75? Or maybe you saw the lack luster attempts at decorating and poor management and just decided to spend your money else where!
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DESCRIPTION: At your cousin's baby shower, you're bringing a partner to meet your family for the first time. It turns out Jack Abbot is the perfect person to bring.
WORD COUNT: 3k
WARNINGS: FLUFF. TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF. Age gap- not specified but big enough to be noticed. Established!relationship. Reader's family is slightly judgy at first. Jack Abbot gets baby fever. Talks of potential kids (though unlikely). Talk of marriage.
READ ON AO3! - MASTERLIST
It was an early morning. They had a long drive ahead of them to their first extended family function of Y/n’s. Jack buttoned up his polo shirt and did that little head tilt he did when he wanted clarification on something. His upper lip curled.
“Whose baby shower are we going to again?
She chuckled as she pulled up the straps on her little blue spring dress. Ornate flowers ran up and down the fabric. She had researched what to wear to a baby shower and figured this was nice enough without overshadowing the mother-to-be.
“My cousin Sandra, remember?”
His brows furrowed, “Are we… close to this cousin?”
She blushed at that. ‘We’. ‘We’ as in her family was his, and his was hers. Granted, he didn’t have much family left these days. But she appreciated him including himself. They had been dating for a little over a year now, and while he had met her parents, he hadn’t met any of her extended family.
“Not really, but I still wanna support her. Can you zip up my dress, dear?”
He chuckled a little to himself as he strutted over. His fingers hung on the zipper for a moment.
“I much prefer to zip it down.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, smart ass. We don’t have the time for that.”
“You’re underestimating how quick I can be.” He murmured but obediently zipped her up. He patted her hips, looking up at their reflection in the mirror that hung on her closet. “You look beautiful.”
Her face fully reddened, and she shook her head gently, “You’re crazy.”
His face contorted as if she had just said something so incredibly offensive. His hands glided from her hips to across her stomach, so she was more in a bear hug as he leaned his head against her shoulder.
“I’m not at all. I’m saying the truth.”
She gave him a pity chuckle and looked down at the floor. He turned to look at her now, not in the reflection. And his real-life gaze was much more intense.
“Hey… what’s got my pretty girl all like this?”
With a little scoff, she waved it off, trying to seem nonchalant.
“I’m fine. It’s just my cousins will all be there, and they’re… literally models. I mean it. Like one of them is as a profession. And they always bring their boyfriends, so this is the first year that I’m…”
“Bringing someone.” He slowly nodded. “Is there anything I should know, baby?”
She shook her head, “Just that they may be a bit judgy because of the… you know…” she put her face in her hands, worried to admit this.
“The age gap.” He chuckled, “Baby, I already expected this. And when it comes to your cousins being models, who cares? You’re so beautiful. Comparing apples to oranges.”
He planted a kiss on the crook of her neck and squeezed her hips reassuringly.
Walking up to the little blue house, Jack held the big gift bag, which carried a quilted play mat, and he held her shaky hand with his free one. The door was wide open, so they peeked their heads inside. The sound of chattering and laughter drifted from the backyard. Inside was covered in lacy, frilly decor. It looked as though the baby section of the department store had exploded. With blue bears everywhere, it was safe to say that it was going to be a boy.
At the sound of Jack shutting the door, Sandra walked through the kitchen holding her swollen stomach. Her eyes lit up.
“Y/N! My goodness, it’s been ages. You look fantastic!”
“I can say the same to you! Congratulations.”
Jack held up the present, “Where can I put this?”
Sandra’s attention drifted, and her mouth stayed ajar as she processed for a moment. She suddenly seemed to remember that it was rude to stare at the handsome older man in front of her.
“Oh- just on the dining table.” She made up for it with a smile.
Jack nodded with an awkward no-teeth smile and shifted through the entryway to place the gift on the table overflowing with tissue-papered presents. Sandra watched him, then looked over to her with wide eyes. She mouthed a quick ‘wow’ before going,
“Is this your…?”
She smiled proudly as Jack started making his way back over. “Boyfriend. Yes. This is my boyfriend, Dr. Jack Abbot.”
He chuckled and scratched his neck as he reunited with her side.
“Quick braggin, sweetheart.” He put his hand out to Sandra, “Hi. Congratulations.”
Her cousin shook it and looked between the two.
“A doctor! Wow, Jesus. Grandma’s gonna love him, huh?”
And in that moment, she realized that this wasn’t going to be bad at all. This was actually going to be so completely and utterly perfect. For the first time in her entire life, she was going to prove that she was just as beautiful and capable of having a perfect boyfriend as her cousins and relatives.
After some awkward introductions, Jack felt stiffer than usual. He tried his usual charisma, and it worked for the most part. Her grandma certainly was all over him. But there were a few weirded-out glares and stiff conversations from her older cousins and relatives. They all certainly fit her description. They had a ‘better than you’ air around them that would suffocate Y/n’s welcome until he showed up behind her like a guard dog. Then it would completely dissipate when he’d introduce himself and tell them he was a doctor. They were then left with an overall feeling of suspicious approval.
As he sipped a beer, he sat with some of her uncles who were closer in his age range, though still older than him. He managed to win them over a little more by discussing his military service. Though he refused to reveal his leg. It wasn’t that he felt embarrassed by it. But the attention was already heavily on him, and he’d rather not take any more of it. Though as they sat in the heat, he was starting to regret the choice of khaki pants.
The other men talked about the football season starting up in September, and Jack didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation. So instead of trying to pretend he cared, he let his eyes drift over to his girl sitting on a patio chair. She had been dragged by her youngest cousins to go play with them across the yard. He watched as she held a one-year-old girl in her lap while talking to a little boy who couldn’t be more than nine. She was a clear favorite, considering the kids didn’t seem to bother any of her other cousins, who were much too busy with their own boyfriends. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled and laughed at the boy describing a scribbled drawing to her, the construction paper crinkled. It was as if she was genuinely interested in whatever nonsense he was probably spouting.
His heart clenched. It had to be the baby shower theme. It had to be the decorations and the ultrasound pictures and the constant talk from the women in her family. But seeing her with the kids was making him feel something dangerous. He knew he couldn’t have kids. Not at 50. But Jesus, did the sight of her brushing that little girl's hair through her fingers make him want to change his mind.
Suddenly, she pointed at him, clearly distinguishing him to the kids in front of her. They were talking about him. He broke out of his thoughts and pointed to himself with raised brows. She laughed and waved him over to the other side. Part of him felt guilty for not excusing himself, but he wasn’t about to ignore this for some stupid talk about ESPN hosts.
He walked over and crossed his arms with a playful arch of his brow.
“My ears were burning. Now who’s talking about me?”
The little boy grinned and pointed to Y/n. “She was!”
She gasped, “Jax! You asked who he was. You can’t throw me under the bus.”
“Well, who am I then, Jaxon?” Jack asked lightly
He shrugged and knelt down by the patio table. He put his paper down and returned to a set of sprawled-out crayons.
“An old guy.” He said innocently
Ouch.
She lightly smacked Jaxon’s shoulder, “Hey. Be nice.”
The kid smirked, and the little girl on her lap gurgled a laugh. Suddenly, another little girl appeared. She had been slowly making her way over, wringing her hands in her dress. It was clear she wanted to be with her cousin, but was also hesitant about the older man there. Y/n waved her over.
“Hi, Janie.” She said in a much softer voice. A much different voice than she had with Jaxon.
“Hi.”
“Let me do introductions.” She said, looking between everyone, “This is Jaxon, Janie, and their little sister Judy.”
Jack smiled, “A lot of J names around her.”
Janie nodded and looked down at the floor. Jack decided the best course of action was to squat down and sit by the patio table as well. Though his good knee let out a slight crack as he did so. Janie looked at him, suspicious, but didn’t run away.
“Well… It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m Jack.”
Jaxon looked up from his paper with wide eyes, “YOU HAVE A J NAME TOO.”
“That’s right.” He nodded and snuck a look at the Transformer that the boy was drawing, “Look, I’m new here. So how about we make a J name pact?”
Jaxon’s face contorted, “What’s a pact?”
Y/n chuckled as she grabbed a small bowl of Cheerios to let Janie snack on in her lap.
“A pact is like a promise.”
Jack nodded, “Like a promise. That us J names have each other’s backs, alright? I need some protection. People watching my six.” He pointed to Janie, “You included. I need all the help I can get.”
Janie giggled at the idea of her protecting him. “I can’t help. I’m too little.”
“Sure, you can. You’re the toughest person here.”
The kids giggled, and Y/n smiled at the interaction. She didn’t know Jack was so good with kids. She knew he dealt with them at work time to time, but she had never witnessed him in action. And he was somehow charming her little cousins, who usually didn’t trust too easily.
Judy cooed and reached her hands out, and Jack gave her a little side eye.
“She’s a close second.”
Soon, the kids were all over him. He hadn’t realized that his girlfriend was basically the glorified babysitter at these events until now. Jaxon was clinging to his good leg (thankfully). And Janie was bossing them around on how to play this game, which Jack was having a hard time telling what the exact rules were.
Y/n sat busied with doting on little Judy. She watched Jack with a heart so full, knowing Jack was probably being drained a bit by the kids. Though he was doing the exact same to them, and their mothers would be thankful once they were napping on the car ride home.
Her aunt called the kids to eat some real food, and they begrudgingly started to calm down. Jack ruffled Jax’s head.
“Go eat. You need protein to beat the lava monster.”
With that totally sound logic, the kids practically booked it to grab a plate from their mom. And Jack limped back to his girl and sat next to her, Judy still in her lap. He winced and rubbed at the back of his prosthetic knee where skin met silicone.
She reached over and rubbed his shoulder, “Your leg bothering you?”
He shook his head in a ‘so-so’ manner, not wanting to worry her.
“It’s just sweaty, and when it sweats, it starts to chafe.” He grimaced a bit. “Just need to sit down for a bit.”
She laughed at that, “I’m sorry. My cousins are like that once they’re comfortable with someone… Or once they find a target that’ll play with them.”
Jack shook his head and looked down at Judy, who was biting her fist. He gently reached over and pinched the little rolls of her doughy arms.
“Don’t apologize. They’re great.” He looked down and made an overly excited face at Judy, making the baby squeal with laughter. Oh, that sound was like the bells of heaven ringing. “You’re great, huh?”
She bounced the baby on her knee, making her laugh more. “You wanna hold her?”
He didn’t drop his face, keeping it happy looking to entertain Judy, “Only if she wants to.”
Well, in convenient timing, the baby reached out and made grabby hands at Jack.
“I think she wants to.” She smiled and handed Jack the baby.
He made a little groan as he wrapped his hands around her tummy and quickly positioned the almost toddler onto his lap. Judy clapped her hands and looked around for approval. Y/n quickly started clapping and letting out a little ‘Yay!’
The baby let out a huff, and Jack looked down at her.
“Yeah. Long day, huh?”
That made the both of them laugh. Jack casually squeezed her little doughy arms and reached over to grab the small bowl of puff snacks on the table. He handed it to her, and Judy shrieked excitedly. Jack smiled, proud of himself for making his girlfriend’s little cousins happy.
“This is so so dangerous, sweetheart.” He murmured.
She smirked a little knowingly, “How so?”
“We’re too good at this.” He shook his head with a nervous smile, “Makes me think of things.”
Her eyes widened despite having put two and two together. The idea of kids was something they didn’t talk about much, but the general idea was that he was too old, and she liked her independence. She had always been that way. She liked being able to put herself first, and if she became a mother…she could never be selfish ever again. But the idea of kids with HIM? With Jack Abbot? For some reason, that was a lot more attractive. And more than attractive… it felt doable.
She shook off the thought and smiled with a blushing face.
“Yeah… Me too.” She admitted, watching Judy shove little star puffs into her mouth. “How about we revisit this when we’re…” She looked around at all the baby shower decorations. The little clothes and footie pajamas hanging around. The ultrasound pictures. The cutesy stuffed animals. “... more immune to propaganda.”
Jack chuckled, looking around himself. “I completely agree.”
A little later into the evening, it was getting close to leaving time, and all the adults sat at a long picnic table outside. The heat at least seemed to be settling down as the high noon sun set a little more. She and Jack had played a few of the baby shower games. Watched Sandra open presents with her beau. And did their best to get some time away from the little cousins.
One of her cousins squeezed her boyfriend’s hand, directing her half-lidded eyes to Y/n. “So… how did you meet Jack?”
She smiled, unfazed, “Our mutual friend, Dana, set us up.”
Jack scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah. Basically, a blind date, and I nearly passed out because Dana had failed to mention how freaking gorgeous you are.”
“Oh shut up.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, taking a sip of her drink.
“It’s true!”
Her aunt piped up and pointed between the two of them, “And you two aren’t bothered by the… well, by the age gap? I feel like I’d have nothing in common with someone like that.”
It was a bit of a sting, but the two of them were used to it.
She shrugged.
“We’re not really bothered. And it’s not like I’ve ever been overly trendy or anything. Honestly, I haven’t seen a big difference other than he’s more mature than any man my age.” At that, her older cousins looked at each other. It wasn’t meant to be a dig, but if the shoe fits.
Her aunt let out a little, “Huh,” and leaned back in her chair.
Suddenly, her grandma tapped the table, “Well, that just means you gotta get started on the grandbabies right away!”
Both her and Jack choked on their drinks.
“GRANDMA!” She laughed in shock as the rest of the table died in laughter, “Look, we’re not even married yet. Let that wait for just a bit more, okay?”
Under the table, she felt Jack reach down and squeeze her thigh. His grip a mix of fabric and skin. She flushed and bit her lip through her smile, trying to seem totally cool. Jack had been getting on her about getting married for the past month, so she knew she was in for the best kind of trouble when she got home.
Sandra rubbed her stomach, “Well, I wish you guys luck with everything. I’m sure whatever you decide will be best. Clearly, you’ve brought home a big catch.”
The table laughed again, and Jack raised his hands, waving them off.
“No, no… If anything, I’m the lucky one. Every day I wake up, and I can’t believe that a woman like your Y/n is with a guy like me.”
At that, all the girls swooned. The cousins. The aunts. They were all definitely won over by the handsome Dr. Jack Abbot. And she felt so completely satisfied.
“Thank you. You’re crazy, baby.” She chuckled and leaned over to give him a quick peck.
The kids watching from the end of the table let out a ‘EWWWWW’ and she shook her head with a laugh. Jack pointed to them.
“Hey, the J Name Pact. Remember?”
They giggled mischievously and returned their attention to their activity books. And with her whole family won over, she felt not only like she had made them proud. But that she was so incandescently happy to have Jack in her life and in her future, wherever that led.
TAG: @theariespov
Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of labor, birth, etc. If I forgot anything, let me know. Also, if anyone knows who this gif belongs to, let me know and I will add credit!
Author's Note: I proof read this but I am exhausted between college and work so pleaseu ignore typos or mistakes. I might have made Jack OOC but I needed to get this out of my head. For my bestie @josephs-quinns
By the time summer began to fade, neither of you could quite remember where it had gone. After the Fourth of July, life settled into a relentless rhythm of work schedules, nursery preparations, and endless lists that seemed to grow longer by the day. The anticipation of your baby’s arrival filled every corner of the house, leaving little room for you and your husband, Dr. Jack Abbot, to simply be husband and wife.
Much to your dismay, Jack had insisted you begin maternity leave weeks earlier than planned. The long twelve-hour shifts at PTM, once exhausting but familiar, were suddenly behind you. Trading the controlled chaos of the emergency department for quiet days at home had proven more difficult than you’d excpected. Nursing had always given your days purpose and structure. Yet every time you protested, Jack would simply smile, press a hand to your growing belly, and remind you that there was another job waiting for you now—the most important one you’d ever have: becoming a mother.
The excitement had only grown after you learned you were having a little girl. Suddenly, the spare bedroom became a nursery, shopping lists doubled in length, and every conversation seemed to drift back to the daughter you and Jack were so eager to meet.
It was late, the house wrapped in a comfortable silence. For once, Jack wasn’t working. Your due date was only a few days away, though you had a feeling your daughter had other plans. Between the occasional cramps, the relentless pressure in your lower back, and the way your daughter seemed determined to use your ribs as a jungle gym, it felt as though she might decide to make her entrance at any moment.
Jack stepped into the bedroom and immediately noticed the loon on your face. Your features were pinched with discomfort, one hand braced against the small of your back while the other rubbed slow circles over your swollen belly.
He couldn’t help but smile.
“What’s she doing now?” he asked, crossing the room and settling onto the edge of the bed.
As if she heard him, your daughter answered with a sharp kick that made you wince.
“Terrorizing me,” you muttered, shooting your stomach an accusatory look. “She’s running out of room. I swear she’s trying to claw her way out.”
A quiet laugh escaped him as he rested a hand against your belly, waiting to see if she’d offer him the same treatment. “Funny. She always seems much nicer when I’m around.”
“Because she’s already a daddy’s girl,” you sighed, settling father against the headboard.
Jack’s hand moved slowly across your belly, his touch gentle and familiar. The moment he spoke, the relentless kicks seemed to ease, as if your daughter recognized the sound of his voice.
You narrowed your eyes. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
A smug grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Smart girl.”
You rolled your eyes, though a reluctant smile followed. “She’s not even born yet and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”
“Can you blame me?” he asked, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.
Another flutter ripplied beneath his palm, softer this time.
Jack’s expression immediately softened. The teasing disappeared, replaced by the quiet wonder that still crossed his face whenever he felt her moved.
“Not much longer now,” he murmured.
The room fell quiet for a moment, both of you focused on the tiny life nestled beneath his hand. Only a few days remained until you finally got to meet the little girl who had already managed to completely change your world.
You let out a breathless laugh. “Easy for you to say.”
His brows furrwoed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You hesitated, picking at the edge of the blanket.
“A few weeks before I went on leave, there was a woman who came into the ER,” you said quietly. “She was in labor. Everything was supposed to be routine until it wasn’t.”
Jack’s expression softened immediately.
You swallowed hard. “I still remember how scared she looked. How scared her hsuband looked. Everybody was moving so fast….” Your hand instinctively tightened over your stomach. “I keep thinking about her.”
The room fell silent.
“I’m the one who has to push her out,” you muttered after a moment. “The closer it gets, the more I keep thinking about everything that can go wrong.”
The admission hung in the air between you.
Jack shifted closer, slipping an arm around your shoulders.
“Hey.”
You looked over at him.
“I know,” he said softly.
You frowned. “You do?”
“Of course I do.” His thumb brushed gently over your shoulder. “You worked in that ER for years. You’ve seen people on some of the worst days of their lives. You know better than most how quickly things can change.”
Your eyes dropped to your lap.
“But that’s exactly why you’re scared,” he continued. “You’ve seen the exceptions. The emergencies. The cases that stuck with you because they went wrong.”
He waited until you looked back at him.
“What you don’t see are the thousands of deliveries that go exactly the wya they’re supposed to.”
You were quiet.
“Every appointment you’ve had has been good. Every scan has been good. Our daughter is healthy. You’re healthy. Your OB isn’t worried.”
His hand settled over yours on your stomach.
“Believe me, if there was something to worry about, you’d know. Neither of us would be able to stop your doctors from talking about it.”
A reluctant smile flickered across your face.
“That’s true.”
“Very true.”
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“I can’t promise labor will be easy,” he said. “I can’t promise it won’t hurt. But I can promise that you’re not walking into it unprepared. You’ve got a great medical team. You’ve got people who know you. And you’ve got me.”
His fingers intertwined with yours.
“I’ll be there the entire time Every contraction. Every complaint. Every time you squeeze my hand hard enough to break a bone, telling me you hate me for getting you pregnant.”
A small laugh escaped you. “And when it’s over?”
His eyes softened. “When it’s over, you’re going to be holding our little girl.”
The thought alone made your chest tighten.
Jack smiled, resting his forehead briefly agaisnt yours. “A few days from now, all of this waiting and worrying is going to be replaced by a tiny human who keeps us both awake at three in the morning.”
The time, your smile came easier.
“There she is,” he murmured, squeezing your hand. “That’s the woman I know.”
You leaned against him, letting your head rest on his shoulder.
For the first time all day, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosened just a little.
Jack’s hand drifted lazily over your belly, his thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of your night gown. Beneath his touch, your daughter gave a gentle kick, as if reminding you both she was still there.
“You need some sleep.” he said softly.
You wanted to argue, but the exhaustion sitting heavy in your bones made it difficult. Between the constant discomfort, the endless trips to the bathroom, and your mind’s refusal to stop worrying, a full night’s sleep had become a distant memory.
“I’m not that tired,” you mumbled.
Jack raised an eyebrow.
The look alone made you huff.
“Okay, maybe a little.”
“A little?” he repeated, amused.
You rolled your eyes.
Without another word, he helped adjust the mountain of pillows that had somehow become necessary for sleeping. Once he was satisfied, he patted the mattress beside him.
“Lay down,” he instructed gently. “Get comfortable.”
You shifted with a groan, settling onto your side as carefully as your very pregnant body would allow. The moment your head touched the pillow, you realized just how exhausted you truly were.
“There we go,”, Jack murmured.
His hand found your stomach again, rubbing smooth circles over the curve of your belly.
The room was quiet except for the ceiling fan.
“You know,” he said quietly, “ a few days from now, we’re probably going to wish we could get this much sleep.”
A sleepy laugh escaped you. “Speak for yourself.”
His chest rumbled with a soft chuckle.
You snuggled closer, your eyes already growing heavy.
“I love you,” he murmured.
Jack pressed a kiss into your hair.
“I love you too.”
With his hand still resting protectively over you and your daughter, it didn’t take long before sleep finally began to pull you under.
You weren’t sure how long it had taken you to fall asleep, or when Jack had finally drifted off beside you. At some point during the night, the two of you had shifted beneath the blankets, settling into the unconscious search for comfort that came with sleep.
A sudden wet sensation jolted you awake.
Your eyes flew open.
For a moment, you lay perfectly still, disoriented by the darkness and lingering haze of sleep.
Then you felt it again.
Your heart immediately began to race.
“Jack.”
Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
Beside you, he stirred.
“Jack.”
This time it was sharper.
He sat up almost instantly, years of being in the army and being an ER doctor made him a light sleeper.
“What is it, baby? What’s wrong?”
You pushed yourself upright, staring down at the damp sheets beneath you.
“I think….” You swallowed. “I think my water just broke.”
For a second, neither of you moved.
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, suddenly nervous. “I was asleep then I woke up because everything felt wet.”
The baby shifted inside you, earning a hand pressed instinctively against your stomach.
Jack reached over and switched on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft golden glow.
Your eyes met.
The reality of it hit both of you at the same time.
This was it.
The waiting was over.
Your daughter was on her way.
He glanced down at the soaked sheets before looking back at you. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Your water broke.”
For a moment, neither of you moved.
The words seemed to settle over the room.
Your water broke.
It was such a simple sentence, yet it changed everything.
Your hand drifted to your stomach as your heart began to pound.
“No, no, no…” you whispered.
Jack's eyebrows shot up. “No?”
You shook your head, tears unexpectedly burning behind your eyes.
“We're not ready.”
A soft smile tugged at his lips as he reached for your hand. “The nursery's done.”
“I know.”
“The car seat's installed.”
“I know.”
“The hospital bag has been sitting by the front door for three weeks."
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped you.
“I know.”
His thumb brushed across your knuckles. “We're ready.”
You swallowed hard.
A few hours ago, you'd been lying awake worrying about labor and everything that could go wrong. Now the moment was here, and somehow that felt even more overwhelming.
Jack seemed to understand.
He moved closer, cupping your face gently. “Hey,”he said softly. "Look at me."
You did.
His eyes were warm, steady, and reassuring.
“You've carried her for nine months. You've taken care of her every single day. You've done everything right.”
A tear slipped down your cheek.
“You can do this.”
Your lower lip trembled. “What if I can’t?”
His expression immediately softened. “Then I'll remind you that you can.”
Another tear followed the first.
Jack brushed it away with his thumb.
“You're not doing this alone," he said. "Not for a second. I'm going to be right there with you.”
You let out a shaky breath. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
The baby shifted beneath your hand, earning a small laugh through your tears.
“Apparently she's ready,” you murmured.
Jack glanced down at your belly and smiled before placing his hand over yours. “Yeah.”
His smile grew softer. “I think she's tired of hearing us talk about her.”
That earned another laugh.
The tension in your chest eased enough for you to breathe again.
“Okay,” you said quietly.
“Okay?”
You nodded. “Okay.”
Jack stood and immediately slipped into doctor mode—not panicked, just focused.
“Let's get you changed out of those wet clothes.”
You watched him move around the room, grabbing your hospital bag from the corner and double-checking things that had already been checked a dozen times.
The sight made your chest ache in the best way.
This was really happening.
In a matter of hours, it wouldn't just be the two of you anymore.
Jack caught you watching him.
“What?”
You smiled. “Nothing.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
Your gaze drifted to your stomach before returning to him. “We're going to meet our daughter.”
The words stopped him in his tracks.
For the first time since waking up, his composure cracked.
Emotion flashed across his face, quick but unmistakable.
“Yeah,” he said softly.
He crossed the room, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, we are.”
And suddenly, for the first time that night, the nerves were accompanied by something stronger.
Excitement.
The next few minutes passed in a blur.
One minute you were sitting on the edge of the bed trying to process the fact that your water had broken, and the next Jack was helping you change into dry clothes while reminding you not to rush.
"Slow down," he said for what felt like the tenth time.
You shot him a look.
"Easy for you to say."
“I’m not the one trying to sprint to the front door nine months pregnant."
“I am not sprinting."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
You ignored him.
A few minutes later, hospital bag in hand, you found yourself standing in the hallway.
The house was quiet.
Still.
For some reason, your feet refused to move.
Jack noticed immediately.
"What's wrong?"
You glanced down the hall. The nursery door was cracked open.
Without a word, you made your way toward it.
Jack followed.
The room was dark except for the soft glow of the nightlight plugged into the wall. Everything was waiting.
The crib. The rocking chair. The stack of books on the shelf. The tiny clothes folded neatly in the dresser.
For months, this room had represented the future.
Now it felt impossibly close.
Your throat tightened.
"The next time we're in here..." you began.
Jack's arm slipped around your waist.
You looked up at him.
"The next time we're in here," he finished softly, "she'll be with us."
Tears immediately filled your eyes.
"Oh, great," you muttered, wiping at them. "Now I'm crying."
"You've got a pretty good excuse."
You laughed weakly.
Jack leaned down and pressed a kiss against your temple. “Ready?”
You took one last look around the room.
The empty crib. The stuffed rabbit sitting patiently in the rocking chair. The blanket folded over the side.
Everything waiting for her.
For your daughter.
A deep breath filled your lungs.
This time when you nodded, you meant it. “Ready.”
The drive to the hospital was strangely quiet.
Not uncomfortable. Just quiet.
The roads were mostly empty at this hour, streetlights casting long stretches of gold across the windshield. You sat with one hand resting on your stomach and the other wrapped around a bottle of water Jack had insisted you bring.
Every few minutes he glanced over. "You okay?"
You nodded.
Three minutes later:
"You okay?"
Another nod.
A minute later:
"Jack."
"What?"
“You asked me that already.”
His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "Sorry."
The admission made you smile. "You nervous?"
He laughed softly. "A little."
"A little?"
"Okay, a lot."
That earned a genuine laugh.
"You're an ER doctor."
"Yeah."
"You deal with emergencies every day."
“Yeah."
You watched him for a moment.
“You seem scared.”
His eyes stayed fixed on the road.
"I wouldn't say scared."
You waited.
After a few seconds, he sighed. "We're about to have a daughter."
The words settled warmly in your chest.
His voice softened. "I've wanted this for a long time."
You turned to look at him.
For a moment, he was quiet.
"When I was younger, I always assumed I'd have kids someday." A small smile crossed his face. "I thought there'd be plenty of time."
You knew exactly what he meant.
Life hadn't turned out the way he'd expected.
His late wife had gotten sick, and somewhere between hospital rooms, treatments, and trying to hold everything together, the future he'd imagined had slowly slipped away.
"I stopped thinking about it after a while," he admitted. "Or at least I told myself I did."
Your chest tightened.
Jack glanced over at you before returning his attention to the road. "Then you came along."
A tear immediately burned at the corner of your eye.
His smile grew. "And now here I am, in my fifties, driving to the hospital in the middle of the night because my wife is about to have our daughter."
Emotion thickened his voice just slightly. "I don't think I've ever been happier to be scared."
Your eyes stung.
Jack reached over and found your hand.
"I've wanted to meet her for months," he said softly. "I've imagined what she'll look like. Whether she'll have your eyes or my nose. Whether she'll hate my music and think I'm embarrassing."
You laughed through the tears threatening to spill."She definitely will."
"Yeah, probably."
His thumb brushed across your knuckles.“I just want you both okay.”
You squeezed his fingers. "We will be."
For the first time since leaving the house, some of the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.
A contraction rolled through your abdomen then. Not terrible. Just stronger than the ones before.
You sucked in a sharp breath.
Jack's head snapped toward you. “You okay?”
You laughed despite yourself.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The doctor."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
The contraction faded. You settled back against the seat.
A few minutes later, the familiar outline of PTMC came into view against the night sky.
Your heart skipped. This was it.
After months of waiting, worrying, planning, and dreaming—you were finally about to meet your daughter.
The moment Jack pulled into the hospital parking lot, everything suddenly felt real.
Not nursery-real.
Not baby-shower-real.
Not "we should probably finish packing the hospital bag" real.
Real.
You stared up at the familiar building as Jack parked the car.
For years, PTMC had simply been where you worked. Tonight, it was where your daughter would be born.
"You okay?" Jack asked quietly.
You nodded.
Then immediately shook your head. "I don't know."
A soft smile touched his lips. "That's probably the most honest answer you've given all night."
Before you could respond, another contraction tightened across your abdomen. Stronger this time.
You closed your eyes and breathed through it.
When it finally passed, Jack was already out of the car and opening your door.
The cool night air hit your face as he helped you out.
"You know," you muttered as you slowly straightened, "I used to walk into this place for twelve-hour shifts without a second thought."
“And?”
You looked up at the building. "I'm terrified."
Jack immediately slipped an arm around your shoulders."You’re not doing this alone, baby.”
Easy for him to say.
Still, you leaned into him as the two of you made your way toward the entrance.
The automatic doors slid open.
Within seconds, a familiar voice rang out.
"No way."
You froze.
Jack groaned.
A nurse from the emergency department looked up from the nurses' station and immediately pointed.
"Oh my God. It's happening."
Within seconds, it seemed like half the department had noticed.
The news spread fast.
A few nurses hurried over.
One of them immediately wrapped you in a careful hug.
"Look at you!"
Another glanced at your stomach.
"Finally. We were starting to think she'd never come out."
You laughed.
Jack sighed dramatically. “This is exactly why I wanted to sneak in.”
"You work here," one of the nurses said. "What did you think was going to happen?"
"You work here too," another added, pointing at you.
That only made everyone laugh harder.
A contraction interrupted before you could answer. Your smile vanished. You grabbed Jack's arm.
Instantly, the teasing stopped.
His hand settled against your back."Okay?"
You nodded through clenched teeth.
A familiar nurse's voice spoke up. "She's definitely in labor."
"No kidding," Jack deadpanned.
The contraction passed.
You let out a shaky breath.
The group immediately shifted from coworkers to professionals.
Within minutes, someone had called Labor and Delivery. Someone from transport appeared with a wheelchair despite your insistence that you could walk.
"Absolutely not," the nurse said.
"I can walk."
"Sure you can."
"I can."
The nurse pointed at your stomach.
"You are carrying an entire human."
You opened your mouth to protest. Then closed it. “Fine.”
"Smart woman." Jack looked entirely too pleased with that outcome.
A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened onto Labor and Delivery.
The atmosphere was completely different from the emergency department.
Quieter. Softer. Anticipatory.
You were guided into a labor room while nurses introduced themselves and began asking questions you'd answered a hundred times before.
Name. Date of birth. How far apart were the contractions? When had your water broken?
Through it all, Jack stayed beside you. Never more than a few feet away.
Eventually the room settled. The monitors were in place. The paperwork was done. The nurses stepped out to give you both a moment.
For the first time since arriving, silence returned. You looked around the room.
The hospital bed. The clear bassinet tucked beside the wall. The tiny pink hat folded neatly on a nearby counter with the white blanket.
Your breath caught. Jack followed your gaze. Neither of you said anything for a moment.
Then quietly: “That's for her.”
You nodded. A lump formed in your throat.
In a few hours—or maybe less—that bassinet wouldn't be empty anymore.
Your daughter would be here.
Jack pulled a chair closer and sat beside the bed.
Without a word, he took your hand.
The monitor continued its steady rhythm beside you. For a while, neither of you spoke.
You simply sat there together, listening to the sounds of the floor and feeling the weight of everything that was about to change.
Finally, you looked at him. "Nervous?"
Jack let out a small laugh. "Terrified."
You smiled. "Good."
"Good?"
"If I'm scared, you should be too.”
That earned a genuine laugh. The kind that eased some of the tension sitting between you.
Then his expression softened. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. A simple gesture.
But one that said everything.
No matter what happened next, you wouldn't face it alone.
The room remained quiet for awhile. The steady beep of the monitor filled the space as Jack sat beside you, his thumb lazily brushing over the back of your hand. You were just beginning to relax when another contraction hit.
This one made you suck in a sharp breath.
Jack immediately straightened. "That one's stronger."
You nodded. “Yeah, a lot stronger.”
The contraction lingered longer than the others had. By the time it eased, you felt slightly breathless.
A knock sounded at the door before one of the Labor and Delivery nurses stepped back inside."How are we doing in here?"
You glanced at Jack. "Tired."
The nurse laughed knowingly.
"Well, unfortunately, I can't fix that part."
She checked the monitor before looking back at you. "Dr. Myers is on the way, but I'd like to see where we're starting if that's okay."
You knew exactly what she meant. A cervical check.
You nodded. "Okay."
A few minutes later, the nurse finished and stepped back.
"Well."
The single word immediately made your stomach drop.
Jack noticed. "What?"
The nurse smiled. It's not bad."
You stared at her. "That's not exactly reassuring."
She laughed. “You're four centimeters and completely effaced.”
You blinked. "Really?"
"Really."
Jack's eyebrows lifted.
For someone who spent his days around medical emergencies, he suddenly looked remarkably proud.
"See?" he said. "You've already done part of the work."
You rolled your eyes. "I hate when you sound optimistic."
"Good thing you married me anyway."
The nurse grinned. “I’ll let you two argue about that.”
After she left, Jack settled back into his chair. "You okay?"
You nodded. For now, you were. Still nervous. Still uncomfortable. But okay.
The reality was finally beginning to sink in. This wasn't a false alarm. You weren't getting sent home. You were having a baby.
Another contraction interrupted the thought.
You squeezed Jack's hand.
Hard.
His eyes widened slightly. "Wow."
"Don't."
"I'm just saying."
"Jack."
He immediately held up his free hand. "Not another word."
The contraction faded.
You leaned back against the pillows and closed your eyes. Exhaustion still clung to you.
It was sometime in the middle of the night—or maybe early morning by now. You weren't entirely sure.
Time felt strange. Minutes stretched. Hours disappeared.
At some point, Jack convinced you to drink water.
Then he convinced you to eat a few crackers.
Then he convinced you to stop apologizing every time you squeezed circulation out of his fingers.
“You know," he said, adjusting the blanket over your legs, "most husbands don't get to watch their wives work this hard."
You opened one eye. "Most husbands are the reason their wives are working this hard."
A laugh burst out of him. A soft smile crossed his face.
"There's my girl."
Another contraction arrived before you could enjoy the victory. This one was different. Your breath caught.
The pressure was stronger. Sharper. You instinctively curled forward.
Jack was immediately on his feet. "Hey."
His hand found yours before you even reached for it. You gripped his fingers tightly as the contraction rolled through you. And kept rolling.
Longer than the others. Stronger.
Your breathing faltered. You squeezed your eyes shut.
Jack stayed close, one hand wrapped around yours while the other rubbed slow circles against your back. "That's it," he murmured softly. "I've got you."
You nodded, unable to speak. The pressure continued to build.
For a moment, frustration and exhaustion crashed into you all at once. Tears slipped free before you could stop them.
Immediately, Jack leaned closer. "Hey, hey."
His voice was gentle. "So good, sweetheart. You're doing so good."
You shook your head weakly. "It hurts." The words came out smaller than you intended.
His expression broke your heart a little. Not because he looked scared. Because he looked helpless. Like if he could take every ounce of pain from you himself, he would do it without hesitation.
"I know," he said quietly.
He brushed a tear from your cheek. “I know.”
The contraction finally began to ease.
You sagged back against the pillows, exhausted. Jack didn't let go of your hand.
Instead, he lifted it and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. A simple gesture. One he'd done a thousand times before. But somehow it felt different now.
More emotional. More meaningful.
Because in a matter of hours, the two of you wouldn't just be husband and wife anymore. You'd be parents.
“Ow.” The sound escaped before you could stop it.
Jack's expression changed instantly. That single word had sounded different. Like something had shifted.
The nurse must have noticed too because she appeared a few moments later.
“Talk to us, baby,” Jack breathed. “tell us what’s going on.”
You took a breath. "They're stronger. They hurt so bad.”
The nurse nodded. "Let's take another look."
Jack remained beside you while the nurse prepared for another exam. You tried to focus on your breathing, but your heart was already racing. The contractions had changed.
You could feel it. Everything felt different now.
The nurse checked your progress while you stared at the ceiling, waiting for some kind of answer.
At first, she didn’t say anything. Then her eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Well."
Your stomach immediately dropped.
Jack leaned forward. "What?"
The nurse finished and pulled away, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"That explains why things are feeling more intense."
You looked at her expectantly. "How far am I?”
She glanced between you and Jack. "Take a guess."
You groaned. "Please don't make me guess."
The nurse laughed. "Fair enough."
Your heart pounded.
"You're six centimeters."
For a second, you were convinced you'd heard her wrong. “What?”
"Six centimeters."
You blinked.
"Six?"
"Six." she confirmed.
Jack looked just as surprised. "Already?"
The nurse nodded. "Already."
You stared at the wall for a moment, trying to process it.
Just a little while ago you'd been four centimeters. Now you were six.
Labor wasn't just happening anymore. It was moving. Fast.
A strange mixture of excitement and panic flooded your chest. Six centimeters. You were more than halfway there.
Another contraction began building low in your abdomen, and suddenly the number felt very real. You gripped Jack's hand as it intensified.
He immediately squeezed back. “You're doing great,” he said quietly.
You laughed breathlessly. "I don't feel like I'm doing great."
"Trust me.” he smiled. “You are.”
The contraction finally eased. The nurse adjusted the monitor before looking at both of you.
"My guess?" she said. "You're going to be meeting your daughter sooner rather than later."
The words settled over the room. Neither of you spoke right away. The nurse gave you both a knowing smile before stepping out to update the rest of the team.
As soon as the door closed, silence filled the room again. Your eyes found Jack's. His found yours. For a long moment, neither of you seemed capable of saying anything.
Because suddenly this wasn't some distant event waiting somewhere in the future. It wasn't a countdown on an app. It wasn't another doctor's appointment. It was happening. It was now. Your daughter was on her way.
Jack let out a slow breath and shook his head slightly, almost like he couldn't quite believe it.
"Six centimeters," he murmured.
You nodded. "Six centimeters."
A smile slowly spread across his face. The kind that was equal parts joy, disbelief, and awe. And for the first time all night, neither of you looked nervous. Just a mix of excited and overwhelmed.
The contractions became stronger. Closer together. Sleep became impossible.
At some point the nurses dimmed the lights. At another point, someone convinced you to drink water. Then came another contraction. And another And another.
By early morning, you had completely lost track of time. Another contraction began building, each one becoming more relentless than the previous. The nurse was in and out. So many times that you had lost count.
You gripped Jack's hand and focused on your breathing. The monitor beside the bed continued its steady rhythm.
Then suddenly—A different sound. A sharp beep. The nurse's attention immediately shifted toward the screen.
Your stomach dropped.
Jack noticed it too."What is it?"
The nurse didn't answer right away. Instead, she stepped closer to the monitor. The silence was enough. Every terrible thought you'd spent weeks trying to ignore came rushing back.
The woman from the ER. The fear in her husband's eyes. The way everyone had started moving faster.
Your heart immediately began to race. "What's wrong?" you asked.
The nurse looked over. “Nothing's wrong.”
But she was still watching the screen. Which wasn't exactly comforting.
A second nurse appeared in the doorway. Then a third. Not rushing. Not panicked. Just…there. The sight made your pulse spike anyway.
Jack's hand tightened around yours. “Is she okay? Is our daughter okay?”
Things were a lot easier when it wasn’t happening to you. In the ER, you both could remove yourselves from the situation. It wasn’t personal.
The nurse glanced between you both. "Her heart rate dipped a little during that contraction."
Your entire body went cold.
The nurse immediately continued. "Which can happen."
You stared at her. "Can happen?"
She nodded. "Sometimes labor puts temporary stress on the baby. We watch for it.”
The monitor continued to beep. A few seconds felt like a lifetime.
Then one of the nurses smiled. "There she goes."
Everyone's attention shifted back to the screen. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The tension evaporated.
The first nurse looked back at you. "See? She's recovering beautifully."
You let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
Beside you, Jack did the exact same thing. He lifted your hand to his mouth to place a soft, reassuring kiss.
The nurse pointed gently toward the monitor. "Strong heartbeat. Strong recovery. She's doing exactly what we want her to do."
Your eyes immediately filled with tears. Not because something was wrong. Because for a few terrifying seconds, you'd thought it might be.
Jack leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead. "She's okay."
You nodded. "She's okay."
You were trying to convince yourself.
The nurse smiled. “She's already keeping all of us on our toes."
That earned a watery laugh from you. “Sounds like my daughter.”
"Definitely our daughter," Jack agreed.
The scare passed, but it left both of you quieter afterward. Every kick. Every heartbeat on the monitor. Every contraction. You noticed all of it.
As the hours passed, exhaustion had settled deep into your bones. Another cervical check. Then another.
Until finally—"Nine and a half."
You stared. “What?"
The nurse laughed. "Nine and a half centimeters."
Jack blinked. "Seriously?"
He thought he might be hearing things or hallucinating…..maybe he needed his morning coffee. He wasn't a morning person after all.
"Seriously."
For the first time all day, the finish line felt real.
Not long after, the pressure changed. Heavier. Stronger.
The nurses noticed immediately.
One of them stepped back into the room and took a look at your face. "Feeling pressure?"
You nodded. "A lot of pressure."
The nurse smiled knowingly. "That's what I thought."
Jack straightened beside you.
You pointed at him.
"Don't."
“I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
His mouth twitched. “I was not.”
The nurse laughed. "You two are adorable."
You groaned before rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. “I’ve been in labor for twelve hours. I'm not adorable.”
Jack immediately shook his head. “For the record, you're still beautiful."
You stared at him. "Jack."
"I'm serious."
"I look like I've been hit by a truck."
"You look like the woman who's bringing my baby girl into the world."
The softness in his voice made your chest tighten. His thumb brushed across your hand. "And I think you're beautiful."
Heat crept into your cheeks despite everything. “You are unbelievably biased."
"Absolutely."
A little while later, the nurse checked again. You were getting more irritable each time. Jack could tell, giving your hand a gentle but reassuring squeeze. But then the nurse smiled.
"You're complete."
Ten centimeters. You were finally ready.
And before you knew it, the room became busier. Purposeful. Nurses brought in an infant warmer along with a tray full of tools. They were intimidating to see when you were the one about to give birth.
Your OB, Dr. Myers arrived.
Equipment was checked. The bassinet was moved closer. And before long, it was time.
Time became strange after that. Minutes blurred together. Contractions. Pushing. Breathing. Jack's voice.
The encouragement from the nurses. The pressure. The exhaustion. Part of you wanted everything to stop. But you knew you had to do this.
Every time you opened your eyes, Jack was there. Every single time.
At one point, your forehead rested against his. "I can't."
His eyes immediately met yours."Yes, you can."
"I'm serious, Jack.”
“So am I. You’re so close,” he breathed before kissing your damp forehead. “You’re almost done, baby. You’ve done so good.”
A tear slipped down your cheek. Frustration and exhaustion coming to a head. "I'm tired."
His expression softened. "I know."
His thumb brushed the tear away. "I know, sweetheart."
Then he smiled. The kind of smile that made your heart ache. "She's almost here."
The words settled over you. Your daughter. A real baby girl. A little girl who would call him Dad. A little girl who would call you Mom. Emotion tightened your throat.
For all the years he'd spent convincing himself fatherhood wasn't going to happen...He was only moments away from holding his daughter.
The nurse glanced toward. Dr. Myers. Then back at you.
"One more good push."
The next contraction built quickly. You pushed.
The room erupted with encouragement.
Then suddenly—
"Oh,” Dr. Myers smiled. "Look at that."
“What?” you breathed.
Jack had already looked. His expression changed instantly. Wonder. Pure wonder.
"Oh my God." Emotion cracked his voice.
"What?" you asked louder this time.
The nurse laughed. "She has a lot of hair."
A surprised laugh escaped you. Another push. Another breath. Another.
Then—Relief.
The pressure vanished. And a sound filled the room. Small. Sharp. Beautiful.
A cry. Your daughter's cry.
Everything stopped.
For one perfect second, the world stood still.
The tiny cries filled the room.
Your eyes immediately flooded with tears. "Oh my God."
Jack wasn't any better. He never cried. But today, he did. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at the tiny baby being lifted into the world.
For years he had dreamed about this. Wondered if it would ever happen. And now she was here.
Real. Healthy. Perfect.
A laugh broke through his tears. "That's our girl."
A few moments later, they carefully placed her on your chest. She was crying, obviously shaken up by her transition into the bright, loud world. No longer in her mommy’s warm, safe womb. Warm. Tiny.Perfect. The instant she touched you, everything else disappeared.
There was only her. Your daughter. One impossibly small hand stretched outward. Tiny fingers. Tiny fingernails. Tiny everything.
You stared. Completely overwhelmed. Nine months. Nine months of carrying her. Wondering about her. Dreaming about her.
And now she was here.
"Hi, baby girl,” you whispered.
Jack moved closer. His hand shook slightly as he reached out and touched her back.
Just one finger. Almost like he couldn't believe she was real.
Your eyes lifted to him.
Every dream he'd ever had of becoming a father was written across his face.
"She's beautiful," he whispered. “Just like her mother.”
The little girl shifted against your chest, letting out a tiny sound.
Jack laughed softly through his tears. "She definitely has your eyes.”
You smiled. “And daddy’s nose.”
A nurse smiled from across the room. “Have you decided on a name yet?"
You and Jack exchanged a look. The answer had been decided months ago. Still, saying it out loud suddenly felt monumental. Real.
You looked down at the tiny girl resting against your chest.
A smile touched your lips. "Lainey."
Jack's eyes immediately softened.
"Lainey Abbot,” he repeated. “My beautiful baby girl.”
The name sounded different now.
Not a name on nursery decorations. Not a name whispered during late-night conversations. It belonged to someone. It belonged to her.
You looked down at your daughter. At Lainey.
Jack leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. Then another against yours. His hand settled over both of you. His girls.
A quiet, emotional laugh escaped him. "Welcome to the world, Lainey."
And for the first time since she arrived, your daughter opened her eyes. As if she was saying hello right back.
Tag list: @generation-zero @nyxmoretti @rkentzler9 @robbyxabbot @kidd3ath @purplekitty2019
Request - Hello! I really really love your work, and I was wondering if you could write a self-indulgent fic with Robby, where the reader overhears or is told that line from the last episode "i wish someone would swaddle me"? It doesn't have to be with a pregnant reader, but rather focused on Robby finally admitting he needs help and tenderness.
You had been looking for Robby for almost twenty minutes. The shift had officially ended nearly half an hour ago, at least for the people lucky enough to leave on time, but PTMC was PTMC and Robby was Robby, which meant neither of those things seemed to apply to him most days.
You had checked the ED. Checked his office. Checked the trauma bay. Checked the break room where he occasionally sat for exactly forty-seven seconds before somebody interrupted him. Nothing.
The hospital had settled into that strange middle ground between day and night, the fluorescent lights feeling softer somehow, conversations quieter, footsteps less hurried. The chaos never stopped entirely, but it changed shape. You knew enough about Robby by now to recognize when he disappeared.
Usually it meant somebody needed him. Sometimes it meant he needed a minute. You followed the sound of a distant monitor down the pediatric hallway, your shoes quiet against the floor, and when you spotted the partially open door near the end of the corridor you immediately recognized the broad shoulders sitting in the rocking chair.
You almost called his name. Almost. Then you heard his voice. So soft you nearly missed it.
You stopped. Not intentionally. Not because you were eavesdropping. Just because something about the sound of him made your feet refuse to move.
Inside the room, Baby Jane Doe slept against Robby’s shoulder. She couldn’t have been more than a few months old. Tiny. Fragile. Wrapped in a hospital blanket. A little knitted hat covering most of her head. One impossibly small hand fisted against the collar of Robby’s scrub top.
The rocking chair creaked quietly. Back and forth. Back and forth. And Robby just held her. No rushing. No charting. No pager in his hand. No doctor voice.
Just Robby. The man underneath everything else.
“You got a pretty good setup here, kid,” he murmured.
The baby made a sleepy noise. You smiled despite yourself. Robby smiled too. The expression looked tired.
“You eat when you’re hungry.”
Rock.
“You cry when something hurts.”
Rock.
“Everybody comes running.”
The smile faded. Not completely. Just enough. The kind of change nobody else would notice. You did. Your stomach tightened. The rocking continued.
Slow. Steady. Comforting. For the baby. For him too, maybe.
“You don’t gotta pretend you’re okay.”
His voice was quieter now. The words almost swallowed by the room.
“You don’t gotta make anybody comfortable.”
You felt your throat constrict. Because suddenly it didn’t sound like he was talking to her anymore. Or maybe he was. Maybe he was talking to both of them.
Robby adjusted her carefully against his chest. The tiny hand remained tangled in his scrubs. His eyes followed it. Then he laughed. A small laugh. A tired laugh. The kind people made when they were standing too close to something painful.
“Wish somebody would swaddle me.”
The words hit you like a punch. Not because they were dramatic. Not because he sounded devastated. Because he sounded sincere. Because it sounded like something he’d been carrying for a very long time. Your eyes immediately filled with tears. Inside the room, completely unaware he had an audience, Robby lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss against the baby’s hat.
“You got it figured out, Jane Doe.”
His voice cracked just slightly. Enough. Enough for you to hear it. Enough for you to understand.
You loved Robby. God, you loved him. You loved the way he laughed. The way he rolled his eyes. The way he stole your fries and then claimed he wasn’t hungry. You loved his stubbornness. His kindness. His ridiculous inability to buy new shoes. You loved him.
But standing there outside that room, watching him rock a sleeping infant while quietly wishing somebody would take care of him for once, something inside you shifted. Because suddenly you understood something.
Robby spent every day carrying people. Patients. Families. Nurses. Residents. Friends. You. Everyone.
And somewhere along the way nobody had noticed how heavy it had become.
Your hand covered your mouth. Inside the room, Robby leaned back in the chair. Exhaustion settled across his face the moment he thought nobody was looking. You had seen him tired before. This was different.
This looked older. Deeper. Like fatigue that sleep couldn’t touch. For a second he simply closed his eyes. Not sleeping. Just resting. Just existing.
The baby tucked safely beneath his chin. And your heart absolutely shattered. You stepped back before the floor could creak.
Before he could notice you. Before he could put the mask back on. Because somehow that felt important. You didn’t want him to know you’d heard. Not yet.
You made it halfway down the hallway before the tears finally slipped free. By the time you reached the locker room you had wiped them away. By the time you reached the lobby you had composed yourself. By the time Robby eventually found you waiting near the exit, his jacket slung over one arm and exhaustion hidden behind a familiar smile, you almost convinced yourself you imagined the whole thing. Almost.
“There you are,” he said.
You looked up. His smile widened immediately. The real one. The one reserved for you.
“There she is.”
There it was. The mask. So practiced it hurt. You stood and slipped your hand into his. His fingers immediately tightened. Automatic. Comforting. For both of you.
“Took forever,” you teased softly.
“Had stuff to finish.”
You nodded. Because of course he did. Because there was always stuff to finish. Always one more patient. One more chart. One more problem. One more person needing something. You started walking together toward the parking garage.
The silence between you felt different now. Not uncomfortable. Just heavier. You glanced at him. Robby caught you looking.
“What?”
You forced a smile.
“Nothing.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“That was definitely a something face.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It was.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It absolutely was.”
A small laugh escaped you. Robby smiled victoriously.
“There she is.”
You looked away before he could see the tears threatening again. Because suddenly all you could think about was that rocking chair. That baby. That tired laugh.
Wish somebody would swaddle me.
You squeezed his hand. Robby glanced down. Then back up at you. The smile softened.
“You okay?”
The question nearly broke you. Because even now. Even now. After everything. He was checking on you. You swallowed hard.
“Yeah.”
His thumb brushed across your knuckles.
“You sure?”
You looked at him. Really looked at him. At the shadows beneath his eyes. At the exhaustion hidden behind practiced charm. At the man trying so hard to be okay. For everyone. Especially you. And for the first time, you wondered just how long he’d been carrying all of it alone.
“Yeah,” you whispered.
Then you leaned closer and rested your head briefly against his shoulder as you walked. Robby immediately kissed your temple. Completely unaware that for the first time since you’d met him, you weren’t the one being comforted. You were watching the person you loved slowly come apart at the seams. And you had no idea yet how to help him.
******
The walk home should have felt normal. That was the thing that stayed with you afterward. Nothing happened. No argument. No confession. No dramatic moment where Robby finally collapsed beneath the weight of everything he carried.
The city moved around you exactly the way it always did. Traffic lights changed. Cars passed. People hurried along sidewalks. The world kept spinning. And beside you, Robby talked about absolutely nothing.
That was what hurt. Because now you could hear it. You could hear how hard he was trying.
“So Dana owes me twenty bucks.”
You blinked.
“What?”
Robby grinned.
“I told her Whitaker would absolutely steal somebody’s lunch this week.”
“Did he?”
“Turkey sandwich.”
“That’s not stealing.”
“It was from the resident fridge.”
“That’s definitely stealing.”
“Thank you.”
You laughed despite yourself. Robby immediately smiled. That look again. That tiny flash of relief every time he made you laugh. Like he was checking a box.
Your chest tightened. The apartment wasn’t far from the hospital. Most nights the walk felt comforting. Tonight it felt revealing.
You found yourself watching him instead of listening. Watching the way he rolled his shoulders. Watching the stiffness in his gait. Watching how often he rubbed at the back of his neck. Watching exhaustion drag at every movement when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
Then every time you looked directly at him, he’d straighten. Smile. Crack another joke. The mask would slide back into place. Effortless. Because you weren’t sure he’d even realized he was doing it anymore.
“You are staring at me.”
You nearly jumped. Robby smirked.
“Caught you.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I was not.”
“You looked at me like you were trying to diagnose something.”
“Maybe I was.”
His laugh warmed the cool evening air.
“Good luck. Every doctor who’s tried has failed.”
The joke landed. But something about it lingered. You wondered if he knew. You wondered if there was a part of him screaming for somebody to notice. Or if he had buried it so deeply he genuinely believed this was normal.
When you reached a crosswalk, Robby automatically moved closer to the traffic side of the sidewalk. Another habit. Another instinct. Protecting you. Always protecting you.
The signal changed. You started walking. Robby’s hand found the small of your back. And suddenly your eyes burned again. Because even exhausted, even carrying whatever darkness he kept locked away behind those tired eyes, he was still taking care of you.
The man never stopped. Not for anyone. Not even himself.
“Hey.”
You looked up. Robby frowned slightly.
“What?”
“You got quiet.”
“So did you.”
“I asked first.”
His mouth twitched. You shook your head.
“I’m just tired.”
His expression softened immediately. There it was again. Concern. The instant shift. No matter what was happening with him, he always made room for somebody else.
“Tough day?”
You almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it wasn’t. Because the irony nearly knocked the breath out of you. Tough day. You had overheard his soul cracking open in a pediatric room less than an hour ago. And somehow he was still asking about your day.
“It was okay.”
“Okay isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.”
“It was fine.”
His eyes narrowed. The same way they always did when he thought you were hiding something. You wondered if he’d ever realize he was projecting.
“You wanna talk about it?”
There it was. The offer. The thing Robby gave everybody. You stopped walking. He stopped too.
The city noise hummed around you. Traffic. Voices. A distant siren. Robby looked genuinely confused.
“What?”
You stared at him. At the exhaustion hidden behind the concern. At the lines etched deeper around his eyes lately. At the man who had spent years making sure nobody else carried anything alone. And somehow ended up carrying everything himself.
“You know,” you said quietly, “you’re allowed to have a bad day too.”
Something flickered across his face. Gone almost instantly. But you saw it. You saw it because now you were looking for it.
“I have bad days.”
“No.”
The word slipped out before you could stop it. Robby blinked. You immediately softened your tone.
“I mean… you don’t.”
A small smile appeared. Confused. Patient. Like he thought you were working through a thought.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you don’t let yourself.”
His expression changed. Not much. Just enough. Enough for you to know you’d landed somewhere sensitive. The smile faded slightly. His gaze dropped briefly to the sidewalk. Then returned.
“I complain constantly.”
“You joke constantly.”
His eyebrows lifted. You continued.
“That’s not the same thing.”
For a moment neither of you spoke. Then Robby exhaled a laugh. A real one. But there wasn’t much humor in it.
“Trust me. Everybody knows when I’m having a bad day.”
“No.”
You shook your head.
“They know when you’re frustrated.”
The words came more easily now.
“They know when you’re annoyed.”
You swallowed.
“They know when you’re angry.”
Robby’s eyes remained fixed on yours. Quiet. Listening.
“But nobody knows when you’re hurting.”
The city seemed to disappear. Just for a second. Everything else faded. His face went still. Completely still. You watched him absorb the words. Watched something behind his eyes tighten. The reaction lasted maybe two seconds. Three at most. Then it vanished.
The walls slid back into place. The smile returned. Smaller this time. More fragile.
“You sound like a therapist.”
Your heart sank. Deflection. You recognized it immediately. The conversation wasn’t over. It was just too close. Too close to something he wasn’t ready to touch. So you let it go. For now.
The rest of the walk passed quietly. Not uncomfortable. Just thoughtful. When you finally reached the apartment, Robby held the building door open for you. You stepped inside. Warm air wrapped around both of you.
The elevator ride was silent. Robby leaned against the wall. Head tipped back. Eyes closed. Not sleeping. Just resting. The exact same way he had in that rocking chair.
Something inside you twisted painfully. The doors opened. Robby pushed away from the wall immediately. The mask returned. Like magic. Like muscle memory. Like breathing.
You unlocked the apartment. The moment you stepped inside, Robby bent to untie his shoes. A grunt escaped him. His hand pressed briefly against his lower back. Then he stood. Smiled.
“Pizza?”
You stared. He stared back.
“What?”
“You look exhausted.”
“I am exhausted.”
The answer came easily. Without hesitation. Because physical exhaustion was safe. Physical exhaustion was allowed. You folded your arms.
“Then why are you smiling?”
Robby blinked. Actually blinked. Caught off guard.
“What kind of question is that?”
“A real one.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out. The silence stretched. Long enough for something vulnerable to peek through. Just for a second. Then he shrugged. The movement looked heavier than it should have.
“Because you’re here.”
The answer destroyed you. Not because it was romantic. Because it was honest. Because he meant it. Because somewhere along the way, Robby had convinced himself that loving you meant making sure you never saw how much he was struggling.
His smile returned. Gentle. Tired. And for the first time you realized something that made your chest ache. Robby wasn’t pretending to be okay because he didn’t trust you. He was pretending because he loved you. Because he thought protecting you meant hiding the worst parts of himself.
And standing there in your apartment, watching him hold himself together with sheer force of will, you made a quiet promise. You were going to love him through this. Not around it. Not despite it. Through it. Even if he fought you every step of the way. Especially then.
******
Three nights later, you found Robby sitting in the dark. Not completely dark. The city lights spilled through the apartment windows in soft bands of gold and blue, illuminating pieces of the living room without ever fully brightening it. The television was off. The kitchen light was off. The lamp beside the couch remained untouched.
Just darkness. And Robby. You stopped in the hallway. For a moment, he didn’t notice you. Which was unusual. Robby usually noticed everything. The sound of your keys. The creak of a floorboard. The shift in your breathing.
Years in emergency medicine had sharpened him into something almost impossible to surprise. Tonight he was staring out the window. Lost somewhere far away. His forearms rested on his knees. His hands hung loosely between them. His shoulders curved forward. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough for you to recognize the difference. Enough for you to know he was tired in a way sleep couldn’t touch. Your heart immediately squeezed.
“Hey.”
His head turned. The expression that crossed his face nearly broke you. Relief. Instantaneous. Unfiltered. Gone so quickly you almost convinced yourself you’d imagined it.
Then the smile appeared. Familiar. Automatic. The mask.
“There she is.”
You leaned against the doorway.
“How long have you been sitting in the dark?”
Robby glanced around the room.
“As long as it took you to make that sound incredibly judgmental.”
You laughed softly. He smiled. The smile reached his eyes for exactly half a second. Then disappeared. There it was again. The slipping. Not with you. Never with you. Except now it was happening anyway. And you weren’t sure he realized it.
You crossed the room and sat beside him on the couch. Close enough that your knees touched. Neither of you spoke. The silence settled comfortably between you. Outside, distant traffic drifted through the partially cracked window. Inside, the apartment remained still. Robby exhaled slowly. You felt it more than heard it.
“You eat dinner?”
The question was so typically him that you nearly smiled. There he was. Checking on you. Again.
“You asking because you care about me or because you forgot to eat too?”
His mouth twitched.
“Caught me.”
You nodded.
“I figured.”
Another silence. This one heavier. Not uncomfortable. Just honest. For the first time in days, neither of you seemed interested in pretending. You studied his profile.
The exhaustion was becoming harder to ignore. The dark circles beneath his eyes. The tension locked permanently into his shoulders. The way he looked older lately. Not physically. Emotionally.
Like the weight of every patient and every tragedy had begun collecting interest. You wondered how long he’d been carrying it. Years, probably. Maybe longer.
“You know,” you said quietly, “most people turn lights on when they get home.”
“I was thinking.”
“That usually ends badly.”
A small laugh escaped him.
“Fair.”
You shifted slightly.
“Want to tell me what you’re thinking about?”
His jaw tightened. Almost imperceptibly. You saw it anyway.
“Nope.”
The answer came immediately. Too immediately. You nodded.
“Okay.”
That seemed to surprise him. His head turned.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Aren’t you gonna push?”
You considered that.
“A little.”
Robby sighed. There was no irritation in it. Just resignation. The kind reserved for people who knew you too well.
“There it is.”
You smiled softly.
“There it is.”
He looked away again. Back toward the city. Back toward whatever thoughts had followed him home. You let another minute pass. Then another. Finally you spoke.
“I heard you.”
The words landed quietly. No accusation. No pressure. Just truth. Beside you, Robby froze.
Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Enough for you. The room felt suddenly smaller. His gaze remained fixed on the window.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You closed your eyes. Of course. Of course that was where he’d go first. Not because he was lying. Because he was scared. Because acknowledging it meant acknowledging everything attached to it.
“You do.”
Nothing. The silence stretched. Robby’s hands clasped together. Unclasped. Then clasped again. A nervous habit. One he probably didn’t even know he had.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
His voice was quiet. The admission felt enormous. You swallowed.
“No.”
His head dipped. Just slightly. The city lights reflected in the glass ahead of him.
“I didn’t know anybody was there.”
“I know.”
Neither of you moved. For several seconds the only sound came from traffic below. Then Robby laughed. A hollow sound. Humorless. Embarrassed.
“That’s great.”
“Robby—”
“No, seriously.”
He rubbed a hand across his face.
“Fantastic.”
His voice carried frustration now. Not with you. With himself.
“Fifty-two years old and I’m talking to an infant about my feelings.”
Your heart cracked. Because there it was. The shame. The immediate instinct to make himself the joke. To make himself ridiculous before anybody else could. You reached for his hand. His fingers immediately intertwined with yours.
“Hey.”
He didn’t look at you.
“Hey.”
Nothing. You squeezed his hand. Harder this time. Finally his eyes met yours. And God. The exhaustion there. The sadness. The loneliness. You felt all of it.
“You know what I heard?”
His expression tightened.
“What?”
“I heard a man who’s tired.”
Robby immediately looked away. You expected that. You continued anyway.
“I heard somebody who’s been carrying too much for too long.”
His throat worked. Once. Hard. Still he said nothing.
“I heard somebody who takes care of everybody else.”
You shifted closer.
“I heard somebody wishing somebody would take care of him.”
The room went completely silent. The words hung there. Neither of you moving. Neither of you breathing much. Then finally Robby spoke.
“So what?”
The question was barely above a whisper. Your chest tightened.
“So what?”
His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
“So what if I’m tired?”
The words started coming now. Slowly. Like water through a crack.
“So what if some days suck?”
His jaw clenched.
“So what if I have bad nights?”
You could hear the anger underneath. Not at you. At himself. At the situation. At everything.
“What am I supposed to do about it?”
His voice finally broke. Just a little. Enough. Enough to hurt.
“What am I supposed to do?”
The question echoed through the apartment. Raw. Honest. Terrified. You moved without thinking. Turning toward him. Taking both of his hands.
Waiting until he finally looked at you. Waiting until those tired eyes met yours. Then you said the thing you’d been carrying since the pediatric floor.
“I don’t know.”
The answer surprised him. You saw it immediately. You continued.
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
Your thumb brushed across his knuckles.
“I don’t know how to make any of it easier.”
His eyes never left yours now. Not anymore.
“But I see it.”
Something shattered behind his expression. Not completely. Just enough. Enough for you to see. Enough for him to stop pretending for one second. One precious second.
“I see you, Robby.”
The words emerged softly. Steadily. Like something sacred.
“I see how hard you’re fighting.”
His eyes glistened immediately. Not tears. Almost tears. The dangerous kind. The kind he spent years avoiding.
“I see how tired you are.”
His breathing faltered.
“I see how much this costs you.”
The apartment felt impossibly quiet. Like the entire world had paused. Waiting. Listening. And for the first time since you’d known him, Robby didn’t argue.
He didn’t joke. He didn’t deflect. He didn’t change the subject. He simply sat there. Holding your hands. Looking at you. And allowing himself to be seen. Maybe for the first time in a very long time. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded smaller than you’d ever heard it.
“I didn’t want you to know.”
The confession landed directly in your chest. You swallowed hard.
“Why?”
A sad smile appeared. Tiny. Heartbreaking.
“Because you’re the one thing in my life that doesn’t hurt.”
The tears came instantly. You couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. Robby noticed immediately. Of course he did. Immediately shifting forward. Immediately reaching for you. Immediately trying to comfort you. Even now. Even here.
You caught his wrist gently. Stopping him. His eyebrows furrowed. Confused. Then you shook your head. Just once.
“No.”
His face softened. You slid closer. Wrapped your arms around him. Pulled him against you. And for one of the only times in your relationship, Robby let himself be held.
Not because he was weak. Not because he was broken. Because he was exhausted. His forehead settled against your shoulder. His eyes closed. You felt him exhale. Like he’d been holding that breath for years. And while neither of you spoke again that night, you knew something had changed.
Not fixed. Not healed. Changed. Because for the first time, Robby wasn’t carrying it completely alone anymore.
******
You woke up before Robby. That alone felt strange. For as long as you’d known him, Robby existed in a state of perpetual motion. Even on his days off he somehow managed to be awake before the sun, answering emails, drinking coffee, doing laundry, making breakfast, finding a hundred little ways to keep moving before his brain had the chance to catch up with him. Movement had always been his favorite form of avoidance.
This morning he was still asleep. Your eyes opened slowly. The apartment remained quiet. Gray morning light spilled through the curtains. And Robby was curled toward you. Not dramatically. Not in a way anybody else would notice. Just slightly.
Like sometime during the night he’d unconsciously drifted closer. His arm rested across your waist. His face was buried against your shoulder. The position made your chest ache. Because it looked vulnerable. And vulnerability on Robby was rare.
You carefully brushed your fingers through his hair. He didn’t wake. The dark circles beneath his eyes were still there. The exhaustion was still there. The difference was that now you knew it wasn’t just fatigue.
Now you knew what lived underneath it. You watched him sleep for another twenty minutes. Then thirty. The city outside slowly came alive. Eventually Robby stirred. His brow furrowed first. Then his shoulders shifted. Finally his eyes opened. For a second he looked disoriented. Then he saw you. The corner of his mouth lifted.
“There she is.”
The familiar phrase should have felt reassuring. Instead it nearly made you cry. Because it sounded softer today. Less practiced. More real.
“Morning.”
His voice was rough with sleep.
“Morning.”
For several seconds neither of you moved. Neither of you seemed eager to break whatever fragile thing had settled between you overnight. Then Robby sighed. Long and slow. The sound carried the weight of somebody waking up to problems that hadn’t disappeared while they slept.
You knew that feeling. He knew it too.
“You hungry?”
There it was. The reflex. The immediate attempt to redirect. To care for somebody else. To place himself second. You smiled sadly.
“A little.”
“I can make breakfast.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
His answer came quickly. Automatic. Then he paused. A strange look crossing his face. Like he’d heard his own words. Like he’d recognized the habit. The silence stretched. Finally he rubbed a hand across his face.
“I’m sorry.”
You blinked.
“For what?”
“For trying to change the subject.”
The honesty startled you. Robby laughed softly. Not because anything was funny. Because he seemed almost embarrassed.
“Apparently I’m not as subtle as I thought.”
Your hand found his.
“I never thought you were subtle.”
That earned the smallest smile. A real one. The kind that lasted a second longer than usual. Then it faded. The apartment fell quiet again. Eventually Robby sat up. You followed. Neither of you rushing.
The morning felt delicate. Like one wrong move might send everything scattering. He disappeared into the kitchen. You watched him make coffee. Watched him move around the apartment. Watched the stiffness in his shoulders. The heaviness in his posture. The weariness that seemed to have seeped directly into his bones.
A few minutes later he handed you a mug. Then settled into the chair across from you. The sunlight caught his face. And for the first time in a long time he looked every one of his years. Not old. Just tired. Deeply tired. The kind of tired people earned. The kind nobody deserved. You wrapped both hands around your coffee.
Robby stared into his. Neither of you spoke. Then finally…
“The hospital’s amazing.”
You looked up. His eyes remained fixed on the mug. His voice stayed quiet. Measured. Like he was carefully choosing each word before allowing it into the world.
“The people are amazing.”
You nodded.
“They are.”
“The work matters.”
“It does.”
A humorless smile touched his mouth.
“I still love it.”
The confession hurt. Because of course he did. Of course he loved it. That was part of the problem. If he hated the job, leaving would be easy. If he resented the work, setting boundaries would be simple. Instead he loved it. Loved it enough to sacrifice pieces of himself for it. Loved it enough to keep returning.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Robby swallowed. Then finally looked at you. And there was no mask left. No smile. No joke. No distraction. Just honesty.
“The hospital’s a home.”
You held his gaze.
“Yeah.”
His jaw tightened. The next words seemed physically difficult to say.
“But it’s killing me.”
The room went completely silent. You felt your heart crack. Not because the sentence surprised you. Because hearing him say it out loud made it real. Robby looked away first. Toward the window. Toward the city. Toward anything except you.
“I don’t mean physically.”
“I know.”
“I don’t mean I’m quitting.”
“I know.”
A sad laugh escaped him.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I know.”
The silence returned. Then Robby leaned back in his chair. Exhaustion settling over him. Not hidden anymore. Not disguised. Just present.
“There are days I walk home and I can’t remember half the shift.”
Your chest tightened.
“There are nights I wake up hearing monitors.”
His eyes remained distant.
“There are patients I still think about from twenty years ago.”
The admission landed heavily.
“There are kids whose names I remember better than some family members.”
His throat worked. Hard.
“And every year I tell myself I’ve figured out how to carry it.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“Then something happens and it all gets heavier.”
You felt tears gathering again. Robby noticed. Of course he noticed. But for once he kept talking. Maybe because he needed to. Maybe because if he stopped now he wouldn’t start again.
“I don’t know who I’d be without it.”
The words emerged quietly. Fearfully.
“It’s a part of you.”
His eyes finally met yours.
“I think that’s what scares me.”
You frowned.
“What does?”
“The fact that I know it’s hurting me.”
He laughed softly. Brokenly.
“The fact that I know I can’t keep doing this forever.”
Your heart squeezed.
“But I don’t know who I am if I’m not doing it.”
There it was. The real wound. Not the exhaustion. Not the trauma. Identity. Purpose.
The terrifying possibility that after decades of saving people, he no longer knew where the work ended and he began.
You stood. Crossed the room. Knelt beside his chair. Robby immediately reached for you.
Instinct. Need. Love.
You took both of his hands. Held them tightly.
“You don’t have to figure that out today.”
His eyes searched yours.
“You don’t.”
The tears were visible now. Not falling. Threatening. Dangerously close. For both of you.
“You don’t have to solve the next ten years.”
Your thumbs brushed across his knuckles.
“You don’t have to decide who you are without the hospital.”
His shoulders sagged. Just slightly. Enough.
“You just have to take care of the man sitting in this chair.”
Robby closed his eyes. The words seemed to hit something deep. Something bruised. Something neglected. For a long moment neither of you spoke.
“What if I don’t know how?”
Your heart shattered. Because he wasn’t asking about therapy. Or boundaries. Or work. He was asking how to take care of himself. Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe nobody had ever taught him. You leaned forward. Pressed your forehead against his. And whispered the only truthful answer you had.
“Then we’ll learn.”
His breathing hitched. Just once. When he opened his eyes again they were shining.
And for the first time since you’d overheard him in that pediatric room, you saw something new in his expression. Not certainty. Not healing. Permission. Permission to stop pretending he was okay. Permission to admit he needed help. Permission to believe that maybe loving someone wasn’t the same thing as protecting them from every broken piece of yourself.
******
A few days later, when you gently mentioned therapy over takeout containers and cold coffee, Robby didn’t laugh. He didn’t change the subject. He didn’t make a joke. He simply sat there quietly for a very long time. Then nodded once. And said the words that changed everything.
“Okay.”
Not because he believed it would fix him. Not because he thought one conversation would erase years of accumulated grief. Because for the first time in his life, he was willing to let somebody help carry the weight. And that was enough. For now.
******
The first therapy appointment lasted fifty-three minutes. You knew because you’d checked the time seventeen times. Not that you were counting.
You absolutely were counting.
The coffee shop sat three blocks from the therapist’s office, tucked between a bookstore and a florist. It wasn’t particularly busy that afternoon. A few students occupied corner tables with laptops. An older couple shared a muffin near the front window. Soft music drifted through the speakers overhead. You hadn’t heard a single song. Your attention kept returning to the door. To the clock. To your rapidly cooling coffee. Back to the door. Back to the clock. Then back to the door again.
The appointment had started at two. At two-thirty you convinced yourself everything was fine. At two-forty-five you started imagining worst-case scenarios. At two-fifty you wondered if Robby had walked out. At two-fifty-two you wondered if he’d hated it. At two-fifty-four you wondered if he was angry with you for suggesting it in the first place. At two-fifty-five you wondered if he was sitting in a parking lot somewhere questioning every life choice that had led him here.
Which, honestly, felt the most realistic. You looked down at your phone. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.
Your knee bounced beneath the table. The woman behind the counter smiled sympathetically when your gaze drifted toward the entrance for what was probably the hundredth time. You smiled back weakly. Then the door opened. And there he was.
Your breath caught immediately. Not because he looked dramatically different. Not because some magical transformation had occurred. Because he looked exactly like Robby.
The same jacket. The same messenger bag. The same tired eyes. The same stubborn mouth. The same man you’d fallen hopelessly in love with. For one terrifying second you couldn’t read his expression.
Then he spotted you. And the smallest smile appeared. Your shoulders immediately relaxed. Robby crossed the room. You stood before you could stop yourself. The moment he reached the table, your arms wrapped around him. No hesitation. No thinking. Just relief.
Robby let out a surprised huff of laughter. His arms came around you immediately. Holding you close. Holding on. You buried your face against his shoulder.
“You okay?”
The question slipped out before you could stop it. Robby was quiet. For a moment you thought he might dodge it. Deflect. Make a joke. Do something. Instead he squeezed you tighter.
Then quietly said, “Yeah.”
The answer wasn’t convincing. The honesty was. You pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes looked red. Not crying red. Emotional red.
The kind that came after difficult conversations. After truths dragged into the light. After walls started cracking. Your chest tightened. Robby must have seen the concern on your face because he immediately reached up and brushed his thumb across your cheek.
“There she is.”
You laughed softly. The familiar phrase no longer sounded like a shield. Now it sounded like affection. Now it sounded like home.
The two of you sat. Robby wrapped both hands around the coffee you’d ordered for him earlier. It had gone cold. He drank it anyway. Of course he did. You watched him carefully. Waiting. Giving him space. Trying not to push. Trying not to ask a thousand questions. Eventually he noticed. His mouth twitched.
“You look like you’re trying to defuse a bomb.”
“I am.”
That earned an actual laugh. A real one. Small. But real. The sound alone felt like a victory. You leaned forward.
“How was it?”
Robby stared into his coffee. The smile disappeared. Not unhappily. Thoughtfully. His fingers tightened around the cup. The silence stretched. Long enough that you started wondering if he would answer.
“Hard.”
One word. Simple. Honest. Your heart squeezed. You nodded.
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Robby looked out the window. People passed on the sidewalk outside. Cars rolled through the intersection. The world continued moving. Meanwhile he seemed to be sorting through emotions he’d spent years avoiding.
“It was weird.”
You smiled gently.
“I imagine it was.”
“I hated parts of it.”
“That tracks.”
A laugh escaped him. This one softer. Less guarded. Then his gaze dropped again.
“But some of it…”
He stopped. Searching. Trying to find language for something unfamiliar. You waited. Eventually he exhaled.
“Some of it felt good.”
The admission seemed difficult. Like he wasn’t entirely comfortable saying it. Like enjoying the experience somehow felt like losing an argument. You reached across the table. Your hand found his. Robby immediately intertwined your fingers.
“What felt good?”
His eyes remained fixed on your joined hands. The answer came quietly.
“Telling the truth.”
The words settled between you. Simple. Devastating. Beautiful. You swallowed hard. Robby continued before you could respond.
“I spend so much time making everybody else feel better.”
His voice stayed calm. Measured.
“But for an hour nobody needed anything from me.”
Your eyes immediately filled with tears. He noticed. Of course he noticed. The corner of his mouth lifted. Not teasing. Just fond.
“You gotta stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Crying every time I have a feeling.”
You laughed through the tears.
“Then stop having them.”
“Impossible.”
The smile lingered. Then faded. Not because something was wrong. Because something was real.
“I talked about the hospital.”
You nodded.
“I figured.”
“I talked about the kids.”
Another nod.
“The losses.”
Your throat tightened.
“The things I remember.”
His eyes drifted toward the window again.
“I talked about things I haven’t said out loud in years.”
The weight of that statement settled heavily. You couldn’t imagine how many stories lived inside him. How many names. How many faces. How many ghosts. Robby squeezed your hand. Just once.
Then looked back at you. And for the first time since this whole journey had begun, you saw something different.
“I think I’m gonna go back.”
The tears spilled instantly. You laughed. Embarrassed. Emotional. Completely unable to stop yourself. Across the table Robby shook his head affectionately.
“What did I just tell you?”
You squeezed his hand. Hard.
“You are impossible.”
“I know.”
The smile he gave you then was unlike any you’d seen before. Still tired. Still carrying more than any person should. Still healing. But lighter. Just a little.
As if somebody had finally helped him set down one corner of the burden. The afternoon sun filtered through the coffee shop windows. Warm against the table. Warm against your joined hands. Outside, the city continued moving. Inside, neither of you rushed to leave. There would still be hard days. There would still be grief. There would still be shifts that followed him home and nights when sleep refused to come.
Therapy wouldn’t fix everything. Love wouldn’t erase decades of accumulated pain. Neither of you expected it to. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Robby wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
For years he’d been the person holding everyone else together. The person doing the comforting. The rescuing. The swaddling.
Now, finally, he was learning how to let someone do the same for him. Robby lifted your joined hands and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. A quiet gesture. Tender.
Then he smiled. A real smile. One that reached his eyes. One that looked less like survival and more like living. And sitting there across from him, sunlight warming the table between you, you realized something that made your chest ache in the very best way.
For the first time since you’d overheard him whispering to Baby Jane Doe, he didn’t look like a man trying desperately to hold himself together. He looked like a man finally allowing himself to heal. And somehow, that felt even braver.
When a new EMT rolls into the Pitt, Jack can't get over it. He knows her. He just doesn't remember who she is. When the truth is finally revealed, Jack has to reconcile the past with the present.
CW: Fluff, Traumatic background with low detail, eventual smut.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.
Your eyes tracked the unfamiliar face the moment you walked into the Pitt. The man walking up to the patient with Shen was a new face. Dark hair. Tall. Sharp jawline. Cheekbones that could cut glass. Even as you made your way over to the nurses’ station, you could see his dark eyelashes beneath his protective glasses. You can’t help but observe him as he moves smoothly, calling out orders in a deep but warm voice. He exuded confidence and competence. It reminded you a little of how Jack held himself.
You turn to the nurses and are unsurprised to see them gossiping and watching the newcomer. “New attending?”
Dana nods, “Fresh meat.”
Whitaker appeared at your side. “Doctor Eli Morales. He started yesterday.”
“Former army medic, single, never married, and a dog person,” Princess rattled off like she was reading off a checklist.
“Why do you—ya know what, I know better than to ask,” you laughed to yourself.
Santos came up to your other side and raised her brow. “Don’t tell me that Dr. McSteamy over there has caught your eye, too? Don’t let Abbot see. You should just look longingly into my eyes instead.”
You shoved Trinity, laughing brightly at her playful flirting.
“Wait, she hasn’t noticed yet,” Whitaker said.
“Noticed what?” Javadi joined them.
“The badge reel.” Whitaker grinned.
“Oh, yeah. You like Pokémon, right? It looks like Dr. Morales is also a fan. Maybe you could trade cards or whatever it is you nerds do.” She teased you.
You squinted your eyes when Morales turned, and you spotted his badge reel immediately. It was a freaking Fidough. A Fidough. The cute bread dog. Not even Pikachu.
“You can see her inner nerd clawing to the surface,” Santos whispered to Javadi.
“He’s also got a Pokémon card in his phone case,” Whitaker added. “You’ll never guess which one.”
So far, Whitaker had been the only one to admit to a similar interest in the pocket monster hobby. A hobby you never really mentioned around Jack, except for when he shook his head at your binders when he was helping you move in.
“He’s a hot nerd,” Princess announced dreamily.
“Who’s a hot nerd?” Jack said, appearing before them. “Hey, Chip. You’re in early today. Have you eaten?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you shot back.
Jack eyed you for a moment. “Come to the break room, I packed some of that apple granola shit you mentioned. You can’t go running around in an ambo on an empty stomach.”
His hand settled automatically against your lower back as he steered you toward the break room. Everyone at the nurses’ station exchanged looks.
“Who’s that?” Dr. Morales’s breathy voice asked as he approached the station. Everyone could see how his eyes tracked your form and how his lip twitched at the corner.
--------------------
In the break room, Jack pulled a portable parfait cup from his pack in the fridge and handed it to you.
“Jack, what about you?” You pouted.
“I have another one, and I bought more of that trail mix from Trader Joe’s. I’ll be fine.” Jack assured you, patting your head affectionately.
“Doctor Abbot, I was hoping for a consult on the patient in trauma one.”
Doctor Morales appeared at the break room door, hair perfectly coiffed. His smile was perfectly white and dazzling. There was grey hair at his temples, but otherwise it was thick and dark.
“Sorry to interrupt. I’m Eli Morales. I’ll be one of the new attending physicians here in the ED.”
His dark brown eyes, framed by dark lashes, were annoyingly captivating. You took his hand for a firm shake. You introduced yourself. “But don’t call me Chip.”
“Sure, but why not?”
“Only he gets to call me that,” you pointed at Jack, but laughed softly as you continued, “Santos will do it no matter what I say, though.”
“Chip?” He asked.
“Nickname. You want to tell me about the case?” Jack interrupted, stepping slightly between the two of you.
“Oh yes! Here I took some photos of the lesion.” Morales lifted his phone.
“No fucking way!” You gasped.
“Chip, what the hell?” Jack startled.
“Is that?” You pointed to the back of his phone, where a Pokémon card sat in the sturdy plastic.
He laughed, full-bodied and delighted. “You know cards? Yeah, it’s exactly what you think it is.”
“And you just walk around with it on your phone?” You took the phone when he handed it to you. “I can’t believe I’m seeing one in person.
“Oh, this is a Pokémon thing,” Jack chuckled. He looked over your shoulder and took in the card. It looked like two bird things doing the heart shape that swans make when they mate. It was cute.
“Jacky, this is like a holy grail card. I’ve wanted one forever.” You exclaimed.
“It’s a piece of cardboard.”
“It’s art!”
“It’s just two birds.”
“They are dragon types.”
“My mistake, two cardboard dragons.”
“Worth more than the teak chairs you bought me.”
“What–”
There was a knock at the door. You all turned to see Princess standing in the doorway. “Your partner is looking for you. Dispatch is calling for an ambo nearby, and you’re the closest.”
“Shit! Okay,” you handed Morales back his phone. “Thank you so much for letting me see it, Doctor.”
“Call me Eli,” he said warmly.
“Eli,” you smiled at him.
“You should head out, Chip,” Jack grumbled.
Immediately, you turn and hug him, “Thanks for the food. I owe you one.”
He pressed a kiss to your hair and then pushed you toward the door. “Go on. Be safe.”
“Sure thing, old man!” You winked, waved goodbye, and then were on your way.
“Come on then, Morales. Tell me about that trauma,” he commanded.
Morales nodded, “She seems nice.”
Jack didn’t reply as he headed out of the break room toward Trauma One, cracking his neck as he walked.
“Hustle up, Morales.”
The younger attending fell into step beside him.
Jack glanced at the ambulance bay doors as he headed in the opposite direction.
-----------------
“I swear to you, I don’t think she’s noticed,” Santos whispered heatedly to Javadi.
“Willing to bet on it, Trini?” Mohan challenged as she walked by.
Santos watched from across the ED as Robby walked up to you and Jack, taking the older man’s attention. Almost as if he was called, Morales appeared at your side, smiling charmingly and standing very close. You took an unconscious step back to lean against Jack’s back. Morales took a step closer.
“I’ll take that bet,” Trini called out to Mohan’s retreating figure.
—----
You were showing Eli pictures on your phone as you chatted about some ‘new release’ happening soon. Jack was far enough away to look like he was doing some charting, but still close enough that he could hear what was said.
“I have a friend who gets me ETBs at MSRP. Otherwise, I buy singles.” You said. Jack’s typing faltered when he realized he didn’t really understand that sentence. But it seemed like Eli did.
“I try to get to a card show once a quarter. Get it out of my system by buying packs to open later, and singles for sets I have planned. I haven’t been to one here yet.” Eli ran a hand through his stupidly perfect and shiny hair.
There is one at the end of May at the convention center. It’s a big one, so if you want to spend a ton there, it's the place to do it. Have any holy grails you’re looking for?”
On and on you went. You were supposed to be here having lunch with him. Instead, Jack was trying to finish up some charts while Eli kept you company. He tried to ignore the ease with which you and the new attending conversed. The man was friendly. Just yesterday, he and Jack had been talking about tennis during a slow night. He’d had fun. It wasn’t hard to like the guy. Morales was smart, experienced, and the same kind of unhinged that Jack was. They both knew the same shortcuts because of their army medic backgrounds. He could count on him during a heavy trauma.
The greatest flaw of Eli Morales was that he took your focus away from Jack.
“Hey, Jacky, the sandwiches will get cold.” You had appeared at his side, gripping his forearm familiarly. When you had time to stop by for lunch, you’d always bring sandwiches from a specific Italian spot you both loved. Then you’d eat it in his car, stepping away from the ED for a moment of calm while you chatted. “Should I just get them? We can eat them in the break room.”
“Sorry, Chip. I’m almost done.” Jack said.
“It’s ok. I’ll grab them from my car. Just meet us in the break room.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, Eli and I were talking about that con I told you about. I’ll have your sandwich ready. Don’t you dare skip your meal.”
Jack’s jaw clenched as he watched you disappear down the hall with Morales. Although silent, his reaction had not gone unnoticed. When he finally left the station to go to the break room, money was exchanging hands in the nurses’ station.
—-----
Jack could see the sweat dripping down the side of your face as the gurney was rolled into the ED. You were performing CPR on the young woman, and had been for the 20 minutes it had taken you to reach the hospital.
“Hey, you can switch. We got this,” Morales was already directing the bed to Trauma 2. “Sweetheart, you can come down.”
Jack buried the green flare in his chest and moved between you and Morales. His hand slid up your back until he squeezed your shoulder. “Chip, kid. You’re past the point of tired. Morales will take over.”
“I fucked up, Jack.” You choked out. “I didn’t see the bracelet. It had fallen off.”
“I know, chipmunk. But you gotta let us take over.” Jack’s voice was calm and low. He circled your waist with his arms. “Lean on me. We’re gonna pull away on three, then Morales will take over. Can you do that?”
You hadn’t stopped compressions. Tears were rolling down your face. Jack wasn’t even sure you could see what you’re doing. He held you close, letting your back press against his chest. In your ear, he spoke, “Chip, baby girl, you have to get out of the way if you want us to fix this.”
You sobbed harder, then finally nodded your head. Your voice was thick and rough, “O-on three.”
“One. Two. Three!” Jack pulled you completely off the bed, holding you up against him as your legs gave out. Morales was working on the patient the moment he had an opening. Jack held you tight and pulled you out of the trauma bay.
After they stabilized the patient, Morales asked Lena where you were. “Don’t worry, Doctor, she’s in excellent hands. Jack took the rest of the night off and is taking her home.”
The handsome doctor nodded, still looking worried, but continued to the next patient.
—------
“Heard the dynamic duo put on a bit of a show last night,” Robby said when he approached the nurses’ station in the morning.
Dana took off her glasses and nodded. “The patient had an allergy to painkillers that they gave her on the way to the hospital. Her allergy bracelet had fallen on the ambulance floor. By the time they figured it out, she was in cardiac arrest. Chips Ahoy was on top of her, doing compressions for nearly 30 minutes. Jack had to pull her off. Like, literally wrap his arms around her and convince her to count down so they could continue once they got her out of the way.”
Robby whistled. “How’s the patient?”
“Stable and upstairs in a room.”
“And they are?” He glanced around.
“Jack took her home and took the rest of the shift off.” Lena chimed in.
“I’m guessing Morales took over as shift lead?”
“Yep,” Santos said. She rolled over to them from behind a computer. “I got called in early. Poor guy. He’s trying so hard.”
“He’s doing great as a new attending,” Robby said, confused.
“No, she means he’s trying so hard to get close to our favorite EMT. Then this happens. Jack swoops in like Superman and takes her home.” McKay said. She had also come in early.
“You think Morales likes her?” Robby ran a hand through his hair.
“I insinuated once, and she laughed it off as if I were the crazy one. To be fair, I’ve heard her say she looks like a potato, so we can’t really trust her judgment on her date-ability.” Santos sighed. “She’s one of those who will never believe it.”
“Who won’t believe what?” Eli asked tiredly.
“Nothing.”
“No one.”
He looked at the group and just shook his head. “Keep your secrets then.”
Dana watched him walk away, “Does he not realize that she doesn’t know?”
Robby rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to know.”
--------------------
“Wanna grab coffee with me after shift? You and Shen have been hyping up that new place so much that it made me curious. I also gotta give you back those fishing poles I borrowed.” Morales said as they both grabbed their things from their lockers.
“Sure, man. Catch anything on your trip?” Jack chatted with him as they walked side by side toward the parking lot.
“Nothing too big. Enough for a few fancy dinners. Those poles came in clutch. Thanks for lending ‘em. I wouldn’t have booked the trip if I’d known mine were damaged in the move.”
It was an easily flowing conversation between two coworkers. Post shift jokes. Random questions. A little bit of complaining about patients.
Then it shifted.
“Jack, can I ask you something?” Morales seemed contemplative. He didn’t look him in the eye and fiddled with a napkin.
Jack knew already. How could he not?
“Is she seeing anybody?”
Jack paused. Furrowed his brow.
“You know, the Pitt’s favorite EMT. Is she single?”
“No.”
Morales blinked. “No, she’s not single?”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “No, she isn’t seeing anyone. And yes, she’s single.”
“Good.” Morales breathed out. Then a bright smile swept across his stupid, perfect teeth.
-------------------------
The first post-shift coffee turned into a weekly thing. Jack didn’t know why he let it happen. Despite his growing unease over Morales’ interest in you, he was exactly the type of guy that Jack got along with.
They’d lost family during and after their tours in the Middle East. They had both gone to the same medical school; he did it ten years before Morales did. They cheered for the same sports teams and kept up with each other intellectually.
But they rarely talked about you. Until Morales asked how you’d met. Jack had told him most of the story, wanting to make it known that his connection to you ran deep.
“You should be proud of her.” Morales took a swig of his beer. “Not a lot of former patients end up doing what she did. She even tracked you down. She wanted to make sure you knew you impacted her life.”
“Yeah,” Jack said quietly, “she’s pretty amazing,”
“I’ve got a patient who just sent me a graduation announcement. First kid in their family to finish college.” He shrugged and glanced at Jack. “Almost brought tears to my eyes. I don’t have kids, but I imagine it’s got to feel like that.”
Jack choked on the comparison. Is that what they thought? He could understand being seen as your mentor.
But a father figure?
Was he really that old?
Morales was only 10 years younger than him. Which still made him older than you.
Jack felt sick as Morales talked more about the kids he had helped and how they showed their appreciation.
You weren’t a kid anymore. He kept reminding himself, even as the doubt trickled in.
-------------------------
It was a late night in the ED. Slow as a snail, and Jack had been staring hard at the screen in front of him, unblinking, for nearly an hour.
Santos, having finally caught up with her charting, went up to him.
“What’s eating at you, boss? Missing our Chips Ahoy while she’s on day shift rotation?” She tried to coax him out of his funk.
Jack sighed. “Be honest with me for a second.”
“So honest they could make me a saint. What’s eating at you?”
“Do you think I give off ‘father figure’ energy?”
Santos blinked. “Uh. No, not really. I mean, you have the stern voice down, but that’s from being in the army. You do too much cool shit, like SWAT and risky procedures, while arguing with Doctor Walsh. It’s more like ‘cool uncle’ energy.”
“Still old though?”
“Age is relative. What are you too old for?”
“Nothing.”
“Exactly. But ya know the pharmacists have a nickname for you.”
“Do I want to know–”
“Doctor Daddy.”
“Shut up, Santos.”
“So maybe ‘Daddy figure’ vibes.”
“I’m going to go drown myself in the break room sink.”
-------------------
You were hanging out at the ED on your day off. As crazy as that sounds. But you and Jack had been on alternating shifts for a few weeks and hadn’t been able to hang out as much as you would have liked.
Handover for the night shift had started when Eli pulled you aside. You were waiting for Jack, who was talking to a few residents while pointing at the board.
“I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime, if that’s something you’d be into?” You could tell he was a little nervous. But he was genuine. Annoyingly handsome in his street clothes.
You still looked past him to Jack, who was obviously looking around the ED for you. Your eyes locked. Jack seemed to take in the scene; the proximity between the two of you.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now. Took a bit of time to build up the courage.” Eli diverted your attention. He looked like a puppy waiting for a command. Your eyes glanced towards the nurses’ station. Jack was gone, but everyone was pretending not to be watching.
If you said ‘no,’ then you’d humiliate him. He’d been so nice since he’d started there. He was objectively handsome. And he’d asked you out when Jack never had. You replied, “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”
—------
You sat together on your couch, like you always do on movie nights. You’re both off for the next few days, so you really wanted to milk this time with your favorite person. But the earlier exchange had turned the familiar setting into a minefield.
“Jack, what do you think about Eli?” You asked finally. You both knew you weren’t paying attention to the movie.
Next to you, Jack stiffened. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees. “He’s a good guy.”
You looked at him expectantly. “Go on. You two have been friendly. Give me the truth.”
Jack sighed, “He’s funny. Smart enough to keep up with you. You guys have that Pokémon thing as a mutual interest. So far, everyone likes him, including our patients.”
“He wants to take me out to dinner in a few days,” you explained.
“I gathered,” Jack said, leaning into the sofa with his arm along the back of it, tilting himself to face you. “He’s annoyingly perfect. I’d say he’s a catch, and he’s been into you for a while now.”
“Oh. I hadn’t really thought of him like that,” you admitted.
“You should give him a chance. He’d be lucky to have you. I also think you’d have fun making all the nurses in the hospital jealous,” he tried to lighten the mood, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah,” you felt your heart clench at his encouragement. “Princess might shun me.”
The sound of the TV filled the space between them.
“Hey, Chip?” Jack broke the silence.
“Yeah, Jacky?” You turned to him, big eyes looking up at him in the dim light.
“Ya know that shelf of binders. The ones you keep your cards in?” He said, gesturing at one bookcase he had assembled for you. The top shelf was filled with colorful zip binders of various sizes.
“You mean the ones you teased me about because they were ‘neurotically’ organized?” You frowned, but the lilt in your voice told him you weren’t mad.
“I stand by that observation,” he ruffled your hair affectionately. The tension broke. Jack stood and pulled down a dark green binder. “Why does this have my name on it?”
“Wait, no! Give me that!” You jumped up and tried to snatch the binder away from him as he unzipped it.
“It has my name on it!” Jack dodged you and vaulted over the sofa. You both dissolved into manic giggles as you chased him around until finally he collapsed back onto the couch. “I surrender! Jesus, Chip. Is there contraband in here?”
You took the binder and flopped onto the couch next to him, tucked against his side. The awkwardness of earlier had vanished. “If I show you, you can’t make fun of me.”
His arm came around you as he rubbed your shoulder. “I promise to be respectful.”
The boyish smile he gave you made your heart flutter. You averted your eyes and opened the binder. Jack pulled the binder into his lap as he took it all in. He’d seen the cards in some of your other binders, and they were all cute and thematic. One was filled with cute cat-like monsters. Another was filled with various rodents. But this one was filled with fierce dragon-like Pokémon. Some looked like they were made of rocks, while others breathed flames. Jack flipped through the binder, pointing out some of the ones that caught his eye.
“I know you aren’t really into it. But I’m a firm believer that you just haven’t found the kinds you like. So I put this together. I know it’s childish,” you explained.
“You picked all of these for me?”
“I looked for ones you might like. Like these,” you flipped to a page and pointed at the top row. “Geodude and all the evolutions kind of remind me of when you’re in your SWAT uniform. There’s a spread for the legendaries because, well, you’re just that cool.”
Jack flipped through the pages and stopped on a spread. “Who’s Brock?”
“Well, he studies to be a Pokémon doctor.”
Jack smiled. “Alright, what about all these pink ones?”
“Well, Chansey, Blissey, and Audino are basically nurses,” you replied.
“So this whole binder is full of cards that remind you of me?” Jack’s heart melted as he leaned into you, hugging you close.
“Yeah, I actually had to ask Eli for some more stereotypically ‘masculine’ cards because I only keep the cute ones.” Your mention of the other doctor was nonchalant, but you felt Jack stiffen. He pulled away, cleared his throat, and then closed the binder.
“I’m sorry I made jokes about your hobby before. I was being a dick.”
“Yeah, you were. But we can like different things. I wasn’t going to drag you to a card show or anything.” You took the binder and walked it over to a shelf.
“You could.”
“Or if things go well with Eli, we can go together,” you said, not turning back to look at Jack. You didn’t see the pained look on his face. He couldn’t see the wistful look in your eyes.
—-----------
It was so easy to talk to Eli Morales that you sometimes wondered if you shared a brain. You shared opinions on issues. You had the same sense of humor. He was gorgeous in fitted black pants and a dark purple shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
He’d picked you up from your apartment and had the date completely planned. Dinner at a nice restaurant, but not too nice. Eli asked all kinds of questions about you. It was easy for you to do the same with him. He’d reached over and taken your hands a few times, and you’d let him.
The dinner was drawing to a close as you both sipped wine and nibbled on a shared dessert. Hours had passed, and the restaurant was dying down. You laughed as he finished up a story about a dog running loose through your last hospital.
“Oh my god! I have to tell Jack about this,” you breathed out between giggles. You froze, realizing what you said.
That thought wasn’t supposed to come out of your mouth. It was supposed to stay buried in your psyche like all the other little thoughts you’d had tonight.
Jack would love this place.
He wore purple. How did Jack guess?
I should take Jack here one of these days.
You were on a date with a good man. A really good date. But he wasn’t Jack.
Eli blinked slowly and looked away.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring someone else up,” you tried to explain.
“Hey, it’s okay. I get it,” Eli smiled sadly. “He’s important to you.”
“We were having such a nice time.” You dropped your head, annoyed at yourself.
Eli observed you for a moment, shaking his head. “And we still are. I knew when I asked you out. I figured since he said you were single that he wasn’t planning on making a move. I took my shot.”
“What are you saying?”
“You talk about him like he hung the moon and stars for you.”
“Then why ask me out?”
“I didn’t want to have any regrets.” Eli stood, “I’ll go pay off the tab. I’d like to stay friends. Who else am I supposed to be nerdy with?”
You took his hand. “I’m sorry, Eli.”
He leaned down and kissed your knuckles. “Don’t be. Just tell him the truth.”
You watched him walk away.
—----------------------
The light in your living room was on, but Jack was sprawled across your sofa, fast asleep. He’d waited for you like he did when he knew you were pulling a double. You kicked off your heels quietly and walked around to the front. There was a book lying open on his chest. His glasses had slid to the tip of his nose.
Carefully, you perched on the edge of the cushion and looked down at him. In sleep, his laugh lines flattened, the furrow in his brow was less prominent, and his jaw was loose, making his teeth just barely visible. He was softness personified. You wanted to crawl into his chest and never leave.
A greying curl was falling forward on his forehead. He felt the featherlight touch of you brushing it back. Blinking awake, Jack stretched and closed the book on his chest.
“Hey, chipmunk,” he said, “how was your date?”
You bit your lip and sighed, “...good.”
Jack nodded, “Okay. Anything else?”
Your eyes roamed over his face. The eyes that had been a vision of comfort for so long were now looking at you with worry.
“Chip?”
You traced a finger up his forearm, averting your eyes from his intense gaze.
“What happened? Did he do something?” He was already on alert. Your hand on his forearm tightened.
You swallow thickly. “He told me I should be honest.”
Jack raised a brow and settled back. “Well, that seems like sound advice.”
“Yeah.”
“If you like him, tell him.” Jack’s voice was low. He was looking down at your hand on his arm. You could practically see him shuttering his feelings. You flipped your hand and entwined it with his.
“Jack, look at me,” you commanded quietly.
He didn’t move.
“Please look at me. Let me be honest with you.”
That caught his attention. Your eyes met. Your voice cracked. “Jack Abbot, it's always been you.”
“What?” Jack stared at you like you’d spoken a different language. But disbelief made way for understanding.
He whispered your name. Your real name, and for once, it felt like a blessing and not a curse.
For the first time, you saw desperation in his eyes. Desperation to understand. To know that your words were real. His eyes dilated and flicked to your lips. You surged forward, holding his face between your hands, and your lips met his in a firm kiss.
Jack didn’t respond. Your stomach dropped, and the icy, cold hand of rejection wrapped around your throat. You tried to pull away. Jack muffled a groan of protest by deepening the kiss. The slide of his lips and tongue made your knees weak. His hands found your waist, pulling you in close. You reached for him in return. Your nails dragged up the nape of his neck and into his cropped curls.
Jack’s strong arms pulled you onto his lap. The feel of his capable hands moving restlessly across your thighs, hips, and waist pulled a moan from your throat. You both came up for air, foreheads pressed tightly together. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathing. In the dark of the living room, everything felt a little surreal.
You smiled when you felt his nose brush against yours.
He pulled back just far enough that he could look you in the eyes. “Do you really mean that?”
Your heart filled to bursting at the apprehension in his eyes. “Oh, Jack. I don’t think I’ve ever been more honest than I am now.”
A breathless whimper fell from his lips. His arms tightened around you while his kiss-bitten lips found yours again. Jack moved your arms to loop around his shoulders as he buried his face against your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin. His fingers found the hem of your dress and pushed it up to your waist.
“So soft, sweetheart,” he groaned.
You rocked against him, feeling his hardness through the grey sweats he wore. “I love your hands on me. I love it when you touch me.”
“Yeah?” Jack’s voice broke as you cupped his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, so filthy it left you both grinding against each other.
The heat was building. The desire overflowed. The hem of his t-shirt was found, and it soon fell to the floor.
“Jack,” you moaned, dragging your blunt nails down his chest and to his abs. Meanwhile, he’d pulled the zipper of your dress down your back. Your lips met again as you worked together to push the dress off your arms and let it pool at your waist. Your chest was bare only for a moment before Jack’s hands were on you, followed by the wet heat of his mouth and tongue.
He pressed his face against the swell of your breast, flicking his tongue across the stiff nub as he inhaled against your skin. “You taste so good. Smell so good. Feel so good.”
You rocked against him. “I need you, Jack.”
“Patience, baby.” The words were muffled against your skin. He palmed your ass, slipping his hands under your panties and squeezing your supple cheeks. Jack’s movements guided your rocking against the tent on his lap. You soaked through your panties and left a dark, wet spot on him.
You held his face to your chest, gasping when he brought one hand forward and cupped your wet pussy. Jack cursed, eagerly pushing your panties aside and gliding his fingers through your slick folds. “So wet.”
That strangled admittance had a dizzying effect on both of you. Your hands raked down his chest, fumbled with the tie on his pants, and then delved straight into his underwear. Jack kissed you in the same moment that he thrust two fingers into your welcoming heat, and you wrapped your hands around his cock, thumb grazing his tip.
“Fuck, Chip. Fuck. I haven’t done this in so long. I don’t know if I’m going to last if you touch me like that.” His head was thrown back against the sofa as he let you touch him. You were grinding down on his still fingers as you pulled his cock free from his pants.
“You won’t have to last, Jack. This is only the first night. We’ve got all the time in the world.” The whispered reassurances banished any insecurities that had cropped up. “Lie back and let me do this.”
Jack’s eyes were lazy with lust as they tracked your movements. You stood and stripped your dress and panties off. Then you helped him with his sweats while pressing teasing kisses to his exposed skin. When you came to the end of his leg, you remembered his prosthetic. “Oh, good. It’s already off, so you’ll be comfortable.”
The easy way you’d brushed off the glaring disability in favor of running your tongue up the length of his hard cock would have made him fall in love if he wasn’t already.
“Let me move a bit, then you can come up here, sweetheart,” Jack said. He shifted from leaning against the arm of the sofa to the back, planting his foot on the floor for leverage. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as he took your hand and guided you to straddle him.
You hovered over his thick shaft, rubbing your wet cunt along the length of it while your hands tugged at his hair and you nipped at his lips. The soft whimpers and groans Jack was letting loose were more than you could bear.
Catching his chin, you looked him in the eye. “Look at me, Jack.”
His hazel eyes were a storm of desire and affection. The familiar brow furrow appeared when you reached down and lined up his cock to your slick hole.
“Don’t close your eyes.” The breathy command came out in a deep growl as he suddenly pulled you down and thrust up.
You trembled at the fullness. Neither of you moved. His hands flexed on your hips, holding himself back.
“Kiss me,” you pleaded.
His lust softened, pulling you tighter against him as he leaned back into the sofa. Your torso was flush against his as you started to ride him. But Jack was far from passive. His hips rolled in time with yours while his hand buried itself in your hair, maneuvering you for a soul-deep kiss. You held on tight as you moved like it wasn’t your first time coming together like this. The pleasure built in an accelerating crescendo.
Your hands found purchase on the back of the couch as you rode him in earnest. The slap of damp skin on damp skin was loud in the quiet of your apartment. Jack was thrusting into you from below with quick, pointed strokes. Another flood of wetness wept around his cock as you neared your peak.
“It’s okay. You can cum, sweetheart. I’m barely holding on,” Jack growled into your ear. “Cum for me.”
You fell off the ledge a moment before he followed. Pleasure so overwhelming that you both kissed and sucked and fucked in a sensual dance, stretching your release until you collapsed against each other. You were both sucking in air like you had run a mile.
When the sweat had dried on your skin, and you’d been cuddled up for too long, Jack finally coaxed you to get up. “We should clean up and try to get a few hours of sleep in.”
You stretched like a cat against him, stole a kiss, then finally pulled away from him. You pouted a little at the loss of his heat.
“Fucking hell,” Jack groaned as he propped himself up. His hand was on his lower back.
You couldn’t help but giggle as he grumbled.
“You laughing at me, sweetheart?”
“You’re cute, old man.”
“True, but I’d prefer to be called ‘your man’.”
You shook your head in amusement as you crossed the room, still naked, and grabbed the crutch he kept in your apartment. You lay it within his reach.
“I’ll go start a bath for us. Take your time.” You pressed a kiss to his lips. Jack watched your swaying hips, reaching out for the crutch without a second thought.
==============
Your first day back on the job was standard until your first drop-off, when Jack was there to receive your patient now that he was on shift.
Jack was next to you in the blink of an eye as you followed the usual routine, listing off stats rapid fire as Santos and Princess came up to assist.
When you were done reporting, trauma two was in full swing. You moved out of the way. But not before sharing a long look with Jack. Trinity caught that look and gasped. Only to be scolded by Princess to focus on the intubation.
You stopped by the Pitt at the end of your shift, as usual. But when you walked through the doors, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, even if they pretended not to be watching. You tried not to let it get to you as you found Jack.
“Is it just me, or is everyone looking at us?” You whispered out of the side of your mouth.
“Not just you,” he murmured, turning away from his tablet. “Give it a couple of minutes, Santos wants to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
“CHIPS AHOY! I cannot believe you chose him over me!” Santos practically slammed into your side, gripping your arm.
“Trini!” you gasped, surprised.
“And not only that, but I owe Whitaker thirty bucks because you two couldn’t hold out for one more week.” Santos pouted.
Whitaker laughed loud enough to make you turn your head. He was waving around a not inconsiderable wad of cash. “I told you that her going on a date with McSteamy would get his ass in gear.”
“Hey! I’m still your attending Whitaker!” Jack scowled.
“Aww, what gave it away?” You whined, turning to Jack.
“You had those ‘fuck me’ eyes earlier. But we confirmed it when Princess caught Jack texting you and calling you ‘baby’,” Santos answered.
“But the most damning? That was when Samira walked in on Jack changing his shirt and saw the scratches and hickies.” Javadi looked embarrassed as she said it.
Your hands covered your face in mortification. Jack looked unbelievably smug. “Yeah, but that could have been from anyone.”
“Nope! Nope! LALALALA. I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOU IN BED, ABBOT. I’VE ALREADY PLAGUED MYSELF WITH THE COLLAR!” Santos screeched as she plugged her ears.
Jack looked mortified.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Whitaker sighed. He stepped away, but pivoted back to the two of you. Handing you each a couple of twenty-dollar bills, he smiled. “Thank you, and I’m happy you two figured it out.”
Jack looked at the money, shrugged, then pocketed it.
“On that note, I should head out. I just wanted to check in.” You smiled at Jack, but before you could move, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.
The look he gave you afterwards and the bright smile that you wore as you walked out weren’t missed by anyone.
Summary: Jack Abbott’s wife rarely visits the ER so when she arrives during his birthday shift carrying homemade baked treats, the entire department becomes fascinated by the soft version of Jack that only exists around her.
Content Warnings: Fluff and romance, kissing scenes, teasing coworkers, hospital setting and workplace stress, reader insert.
Wc: 1.7k
An: in this I’m imagining Jack switched to day shift for his b day so he can spend the evening w his wife… hope ya like x also im so hungover pls forgive errors x
⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹
Nobody in the emergency department understood how Dr Jack Abbott had managed to get married.
It was not that he was unattractive. Quite the opposite, unfortunately. Tall(er than some), permanently exhausted and carrying the kind of quiet intensity that made half the hospital nervous around him. He was competent to an almost frightening degree and so deeply emotionally repressed that most residents thought he reproduced through mitosis.
Then occasionally, every few weeks, his wife appeared.
Always quietly.
One moment the department would be drowning in noise and movement then suddenly she would be standing near the nurses’ station with a tote bag over her shoulder and that soft smile that seemed wildly out of place in a trauma centre.
Nobody missed the way Jack changed when he saw her.
It was subtle if you did not know him well. His shoulders loosened slightly. The hard line between his brows eased. His voice lost some of its edge.
For everybody else, Jack Abbott was all sharp corners.
For her, he softened.
“She’s like a cryptid,” Santos whispered one night while pretending to update charts. “People claim she exists but sightings are rare.”
“She brought in coffee last month,” King replied.
“You spoke to her?”
“She apologised because I moved out of her way too quickly.”
Santos stared at her. “Jesus. She’s polite too.”
Jack looked up from his computer. “Do either of you have work to do?”
“No,” Santos answered honestly.
By the time Jack’s birthday arrived, half the department had become weirdly invested in the existence of his marriage. Jack himself wanted absolutely no acknowledgement of the day whatsoever.
“It’s just another shift,” he said flatly when Collins made the mistake of mentioning cake.
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m not interested in being fun.”
“See, this is why your wife is everyone’s favourite.”
Jack looked deeply unimpressed by that statement though a faint flush crept up the back of his neck anyway.
The day itself turned brutal before midday.
A multi vehicle collision flooded the department with patients. Every trauma bay filled within minutes. Nurses moved at impossible speed while monitors beeped continuously beneath the sharp smell of antiseptic and adrenaline.
By three in the afternoon Jack looked like he had not sat down once.
His scrub top was wrinkled. There was dried blood near the cuff of one sleeve and a coffee stain on the front pocket from a drink somebody had knocked into him hours ago. He moved through the chaos with clipped efficiency, exhaustion buried beneath professionalism.
Then the ambulance bay doors opened.
Conversation near the nurses’ station slowed almost instantly.
You walked inside balancing three bakery boxes carefully against her chest.
Warm air followed you in from outside along with the faint sweet smell of vanilla and brown sugar. She looked slightly windswept, hair escaping from its clip and cheeks pink from the cold.
Santos straightened so quickly she nearly fell out of her chair.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “The cryptid returns.”
Jack looked up from a chart.
Everything in his face changed.
Not dramatically. He was still Jack. Still tired and restrained and impossible to read half the time.
But his eyes softened immediately.
“There you are,” you, his wife said gently.
Jack crossed the station before she could properly adjust the boxes in her arms. One hand settled automatically against her waist while he took the stack from her.
“You drove here in this weather?” he asked quietly.
“It’s your birthday.”
“You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“I know,” you replied. “I wanted to.”
The residents watched the interaction like it was live theatre.
Jack glanced down at the boxes. “What is all this?”
“Well, I started at midnight and nearly cried over buttercream at two in the morning.”
Something unexpectedly tender crossed Jack’s face then.
Not amusement exactly.
Something softer.
His thumb brushed briefly against your hip before he stepped back enough to set the boxes on the counter.
The department descended instantly.
Within seconds the lids were open and the smell of fresh baking spread through the station. Somebody made an emotional noise over the brownies.
“These are homemade?” King asked in disbelief.
You nodded. “I wasn’t sure what people liked.”
Santos looked genuinely moved. “I would die for you.”
“A bit dramatic,” Jack muttered.
“I’m being sincere.”
You laughed softly at that and every person within range noticed the way Jack looked at her when she laughed.
Like it physically caught him off guard every single time.
The rest of the afternoon shifted strangely after that.
The department was still chaotic. Ambulances still arrived. Patients still cried behind curtains while residents sprinted between rooms.
Yet every time Jack passed the nurses’ station, his gaze found his wife first.
She stayed tucked beside the counter sipping terrible vending machine tea and chatting quietly with the nurses between emergencies. Every now and then Jack brushed past her just close enough for his hand to skim her back.
Small touches. Automatic ones.
The kind people only did when affection had become instinct.
“You’re telling me this man has a spice rack organised alphabetically?” Santos asked later while eating her third brownie.
You smiled into her tea. “By height too.”
“I hate this information,” Jack said from across the desk.
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” he admitted tiredly.
The confession startled half the residents more than the marriage itself.
Later the department finally slowed enough for everyone to breathe again.
Jack emerged from trauma looking exhausted down to the bone. He scrubbed a hand over his face while reading something on a patient chart, shoulders tight beneath fluorescent lighting.
You watched him for a moment before quietly stepping into his path.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I had half a granola bar.”
“That was eleven hours ago.”
Jack exhaled softly through his nose. “You’re very annoying.”
“You married me anyway.”
Something in his expression cracked then. Not fully but enough.
His hand settled briefly at the back of your neck, fingers disappearing into the soft hair there. Intimate enough that conversation around the desk dipped noticeably quieter.
“You should go home soon,” he murmured.
She tilted her head slightly. “Do you want me to?”
The answer arrived instantly.
“No.”
The honesty in it seemed to surprise even him.
A slow warmth spread across your face and suddenly Jack looked away first, jaw tightening slightly like he regretted saying it out loud.
Unfortunately Santos witnessed the entire thing.
“Oh, he’s down horrendous.”
“Stop talking,” King hissed.
Jack’s wife laughed quietly and touched his wrist. “Can I steal you for five minutes?”
Jack looked towards the department automatically, already checking whether anybody needed him.
Collins waved him away without looking up from a chart. “Go before you start diagnosing people with your face again.”
Jack gave him a flat stare though he finally allowed his wife to lead him down the quieter corridor near radiology.
The further they walked from the main department, the quieter everything became. The constant noise faded into distant monitor alarms and muffled voices through walls.
An empty exam room sat partially open near the end of the hall.
The second the door closed behind them, Jack’s entire posture changed.
The exhaustion hit him visibly all at once.
He leaned back against the wall with a long exhale while his wife stepped closer, fingertips brushing gently beneath his eyes.
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
“Come here.”
Jack made a rough sound somewhere low in his throat and pulled her against him immediately.
The kiss landed hard enough to steal her breath.
All the restraint he carried through the department disappeared the second his mouth touched hers. One hand slid firmly around her waist while the other tangled into her hair, tilting her head back so he could kiss her deeper.
She tasted faintly of lemon icing and tea.
Jack kissed you like he had been thinking about it for hours.
Slow at first then suddenly hungry.
His wife laughed softly against his mouth when he backed her against the counter, his body settling between her knees instinctively.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” she whispered breathlessly.
“I am resting.”
“That’s not what this looks like.”
Jack kissed her again before she could finish speaking. Longer this time. Messier.
Weeks of missed mornings and late shifts and exhausted goodnight kisses poured into it. His hands moved over her like reassurance. Like memory.
“You have any idea,” he murmured against her lips, “how distracting it was watching you stand out there all day?”
She smiled faintly. “I was literally handing out brownies.”
“You wore my jumper.”
“That old thing?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
His mouth moved along her jaw and she felt the way he exhaled against her skin when her fingers slipped beneath the collar of his scrub top.
Outside the room a trolley rattled past.
Neither of them noticed.
Jack lifted his head only long enough to look at her properly.
Her lips were swollen from kissing and her hair had fallen loose around her shoulders. She looked warm and happy and entirely his.
The expression on his face softened so suddenly it almost hurt.
“There she is,” he said quietly.
Your chest tightened. “What?”
“My girl.”
The words came out absentmindedly. Honest enough that he probably had not meant to say them aloud.
You kissed him before he could recover from the admission.
This time Jack melted into it completely.
One hand cupped your face while the other stayed secure at her waist, holding her close enough to feel the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath wrinkled scrubs.
When they finally pulled apart both of them were smiling slightly.
“You should probably go save lives again,” your murmured.
Jack rested his forehead against hers with a sigh. “Unfortunately.”
Another soft knock sounded suddenly from outside the room.
“Dr Abbott,” Santos called through the door, “we have respectfully decided to ignore whatever’s happening in there but somebody needs you in trauma two.”
Jack closed his eyes briefly.
You, as his wife, burst into helpless giggles against his shoulder.
From outside the door Santos added, “Also your wife’s brownies changed my life.”
Jack looked heavenward like he was searching for patience.
Then he glanced back at his wife and despite everything, despite the exhaustion and chaos waiting outside that door, he smiled.
Summary: Workplace banter turns into a debate about marriage, money, and shared finances.
A/N: Requests are welcome! This work is entirely mine and has been proofread with Grammarly.
Masterlist
It was one of those rare moments in the staff lounge that only happened when there were too many attendings on shift at once.
Coffee cups everywhere. Some full, most empty. Half-eaten vending machine snacks were scattered across the table.
Langdon was currently on his tenth complaint in the last twenty minutes.
“I’m telling you,” he said, pointing across the room at Dana, “shared bank accounts are dangerous.”
Dana snorted from beside the coffee machine. “You say that because your wife caught you buying unnecessary things for a dog she didn’t even want.”
“He needed toys.”
“The dog already had toys.”
“They were on clearance.”
Langdon threw his hands up slightly. “I don’t understand why every purchase has to be talked about.”
Dana didn’t miss a beat. “That’s what being married is. It’s not her fault you make dumb purchases, so you actually have to talk about them.”
“But why does it need to be a discussion?” Langdon shot back immediately.
Dana gave him a look over the rim of her coffee cup. “Because if you’re spending shared money like it’s unlimited, someone has to be the responsible adult.”
Langdon pointed accusingly. “I bought dog toys, and suddenly I’m no longer trusted with money.”
Santos, halfway through her sandwich, looked between them. “Do most married people actually share accounts?”
“Depends,” Dana said with a shrug. “Some do. Some don’t.”
“Shared is still insane,” Langdon muttered.
Then Whitaker looked toward the far corner of the room.
“Abbot?”
Jack sat in his chair reviewing charts, completely uninterested in the conversation until his name got dragged into it.
“What?”
“Shared or separate bank accounts?”
“Shared.”
Langdon immediately straightened up. “What? Why?”
Jack flipped a page in the chart. “My wife makes more money than me.”
The room went quiet.
Then Langdon actually laughed once. “No, she doesn’t.”
Jack finally looked up, expression flat. “Yeah. She does.”
“You’re a trauma attending,” Langdon said, like that should’ve ended the argument. “There’s no way. That doesn’t even make sense.”
“And?”
“And your wife makes more money than you?”
Jack held his gaze for a beat, unbothered. “Do you need to see our pay stubs, or are you good just taking my word for it?”
Langdon opened his mouth, paused, then continued. “What does she even do?”
Jack leaned back slightly in his chair. “IT.”
“IT?” Langdon repeated, like it was personally offensive.
“Yes.”
“You’re telling me someone in IT makes more than you?”
Jack gave a slow blink, like he was reconsidering whether this conversation was worth the effort. “She oversees hospital software systems used across the entire state.”
Langdon scoffed. “So she types on a keyboard all day and makes more than a doctor?”
Jack’s eyes lifted again, calm but a little sharper now. “If that’s how you think software runs, I’m not surprised you’re confused.”
Dana let out a quiet laugh from the coffee machine.
“Would you rather go back to paper charts and handwritten orders?”
“...no.” Langdon leaned back, shaking his head. “Well, then your opinion on shared bank accounts doesn’t even count.”
Jack finally looked at him properly. “Why.”
“Because you’re basically a sugar baby.”
The room went dead for half a second.
Santos nearly spit out her sandwich.
Jack stared at Langdon for a long beat, expression unreadable.
“I’m a trauma attending at this hospital,” he said evenly.
“And yet,” Langdon replied, leaning back, satisfied, “your wife makes more than you.”
Jack didn’t even blink.
“Damn right she does,” he said, a small, cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
That was it. End of discussion.
He closed his chart, stood up, and walked out of the room like there was nothing left to say.
based on this request
wc: 1.2k
pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader
summary: jack has always liked privacy, but one of his biggest secrets is revealed one random afternoon.
c.warning: established relationship (married); mentions of minor injury and minor car accident; reader is a mother; no other warnings i think but if i missed something let me know!
a/n: gooooood it's been so long since i last wrote for jack. i missed him so much! i hope you liked this!
masterlist | requests
for years, jack’s personal life has been locked inside a vault. of course he’d mention you, his wife, from time to time. but always in passing and never waiting too long for his coworkers to asks any personal questions. and it’s not because he doesn’t love you, god knows he’s obsessed with you. but a small, overprotective part of him thinks that by distancing himself from you and your kids when he’s at work he manages to keep you away from the hospital.
he has spent a decade building a wall between his grueling work and the life he cherishes waiting for him back home.
but tonight, the universe has different plans for him.
you sit on the edge of the crinkling paper of the examination table in exam room 4, a dull, throbbing ache radiating down the left side of your neck. every time you try to tilt your head, a sharp reminder of the sudden impact flashes through your muscles. a minor fender-bender on the way home from your daughter's hockey practice left you with a stiff, aching neck, but thankfully, nothing more. next to you, your twelve-year-old daughter is swinging her legs off a plastic chair, her hockey gear bag resting by her feet. she’s still wearing her team jersey and, next to her, your five-year-old son is entirely unbothered by the clinical surroundings, happily coloring on a piece of scrap paper. the minor accident had sent your heart into your throat, but as you look at your children, the overwhelming wave of maternal relief keeps you grounded.
"it seems to be nothing more than a little muscle strain," dr shen says softly, his gloved hands expertly palpating the base of your skull, his expression a soothing balm to the lingering adrenaline in your veins. shen steps back, charting something on his tablet with a soft, reassuring smile. "the kids are completely clear, not a single mark or tender spot on either of them. i’m going to order a mild anti-inflammatory for you and then you are free to go home and rest."
"thank goodness," you sigh, reaching down to ruffle your son's hair. "i just wanted to be absolutely sure they were okay."
outside the glass doors of the exam room, jack is walking fast, clipboard in hand, listening to an intern rattle off a patient's vitals.
“send for dr. fitz, he’ll know what to do. and call me when you get the results. what’s the state of the girl in bay one?”
jack turns then towards the intern as she starts listing the latest lab results on the young patient that just arrived a few minutes ago. he is in full doctor mode. focused, distant, and professional.
that is, until he passes the curtain of your bay, a sudden movement catching his eye. it’s a high, dark auburn ponytail swinging back and forth. a very specific, familiar ponytail.
the same one he usually fights with on his days off as he helps his daughter get ready for practice, earnestly trying to avoid any bumps or stay hairs hanging from the ponytail. jack stops dead in his tracks, causing the intern to almost crash into his back.
jack looks through the pale curtain, eyes widening. the clipboard in his hand feels suddenly too heavy. and it only gets worse once he notices a second head poking though the curtain, this time his baby boy. his entire world is sitting right now in exam room 4.
he abandons the intern mid-sentence, pulling the curtain aside, his usual collected demeanor completely evaporating.
"jack?" shen looks up, surprised by his sudden entrance.
but jack isn't looking at him. he rushes straight to the side of the table, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, wide with a rare, raw panic. "what happened? are you okay? are the kids okay?"
"hey, breathe," you say instantly, reaching out to catch his hand. your fingers lace into his, and the grounding touch immediately lowers his shoulders, though his chest is still heaving. "we're okay. i promise. just a stupid little bumper-to-bumper on the way home from the rink. someone short-braked ahead of us."
your daughter rolls her eyes playfully. "mom took the hit like a champ, dad. you should be proud."
"daddy!" your five-year-old chirps, abandoning his coloring page to scramble off the chair and throw his arms around jack’s leg.
jack immediately drops to one knee, wrapping his strong arms around your son, burying his face in the boy's hair for a brief, fiercely protective second. he looks up at your daughter, reaching out to squeeze her knee. "you're sure you're both okay? nothing hurts?"
"we're totally fine, dad," she reassures him, giving him a warm smile.
only then does jack stand back up, turning his attention fully to you, eyes glowing with adoration and relief. his hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing across your cheekbone. "and you? your neck?"
"just a little stiff," you murmur, leaning into his touch, completely accustomed to how deeply he cares for his family, even if he keeps it hidden from the rest of the world. "dr. shen was just checking me out. he says we’re good to go."
speaking of which… the room is entirely silent as four sets of eyes turn to the doctor.
you look past jack’s shoulder and notice that dr shen is standing there, his jaw slightly slack. on the other side of the curtain, the intern who had been following jack is staring open-mouthed, and a bunch of other nurses, including lena, have paused in the hallway, completely transfixed by the scene.
the great private dr. abbot is currently looking at you with a softness none of them knew he possessed, his hand resting tenderly on your waist while a local little league hockey player calls him dad.
jack blinks, finally realizing the audience he has gathered. he straightens up, but he doesn't let go of your hand, the other one resting on top of your son’s head. he clears his throat, the faint trace of a rare, boyish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks at his stunned colleague.
"john," jack says, his voice regaining its usual steady cadence, though it's much warmer now. "i believe you've met my wife. and these are our kids."
shen blinks, a massive grin suddenly breaking across her face. "your kids? jack, you have a whole family!”
“i do,” he says, smiling softly.
“and you didn’t think of sharing that information with the group.”
"i like my privacy," jack defends himself. he looks down at his kids, then back to you, the sheer relief of knowing you are all safe overtaking any awkwardness about his secret being out. he leans down, pressing a lingering, sweet kiss to your lips right in front of the entire observation window. " i'm glad you're all safe."
"we are," you whisper, smiling against his lips. "now, can you sign our discharge papers, dr. abbot? we want to go home."
"consider it done," jack says softly. he turns to the staring interns outside with a mock-stern raise of his eyebrows, and they instantly scramble back to work, whispering excitedly among themselves.
as jack helps you down from the table and gathers your son into his arms, you know his quiet, mysterious reputation at the hospital is officially over, but seeing the proud, contented smile on his face as he walks his family out, it’s clear he doesn't mind one bit.
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