Hello! I love love love your writing! I have a request for a Jack Abbot x younger reader! Reader finally brings Jack home to meet her family at a big family gathering despite being super anxious about how it will go. At one point they separate and reader’s father approaches him without knowing who he is to reader, and assumes he is one of his sisters husbands or something like that, so he starts trying to gossip with Jack about reader. Telling Jack things like he doesn’t think she’ll ever find love cause she’s so needy, and how her anxiety is annoying, and that he thinks she’s emotional just for the attention. All these negative things. And Jack is just sitting there seething until he finally reveals he’s there with reader and rips the father a new one! Ty ty!!! 💚
💞Plot💞: You know that saying ‘that may be your daughter, but that’s also my girl’? Jack Abbot lives by that quote..
💞Characters💞: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: I Can Handle Her
💞A/N💞: you are way too sweet!! Thank you sm, and I really hope you like it. Love yall!
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
“Oh! No! Put that down!” Y/N fusses as she rushes back into the kitchen, heels hanging from one hand while both hands work on trying to put in an earring. Jack looks up from his feast. It was one cookie! He couldn’t help it if he loved his girl’s baking!
“One more bite!” He defends as he runs from her to the other side of the kitchen counter, mouth full of already half the snickerdoodle.
“Jack! That’s not for right now!” Y/N says as she chases him. She should’ve known his offer of using his oven last night so she could ‘sleepover’ was just an excuse for this..
“It’s so good..” He grumbles happily, mouth still full as he finishes the cookie before finally catching his girl by the waist with a soft chuckle.
“Jack..” Y/N complains as she brushes at his fresh navy blue polo. “You got crumbs..-“ He cuts her off as he gently tilts her chin.
“It’s just crumbs. I still look good, and you…” He backs away to spin her a bit. “You look perfect..” He says.
“Flattery will not distract me..” Y/N states firmly. He chuckles softly and pulls her back in.
“I can try..” He plays along before kissing her tenderly. She can’t help herself, giving in almost instantly as her arms wrap around his neck.
See, whereas Jack worked in the ED, dealing with life and death day in and day out, he always swore Y/N had the harder job. She worked in PEDs on the fourth floor. The two had met during a patient hand off. She’d been the one to go downstairs and get said patient, and something about her.. It woke Jack up after a twelve hour shift.
Maybe it was the bright, ‘Cinderella’ themed scrubs she was wearing. Maybe it was the fact that her tired face brightened the second she was in front of the child in order to make them feel less nervous. Maybe it was her smile. But.. Jack left the hospital that day knowing he was gonna remember her name.
Nurse Y/N..
And six months in, her name had changed. From Nurse Y/N to just ‘Y/N’, then again to the first letter of her name, to now… ‘Boop’.
As in Betty Boop.
He said he called her that because whenever she fussed or panicked, she was very animated with it. Like how Betty Boop would be. She rolled her eyes the first time he explained it to her, saying that wasn’t true. But he took note of her little foot stomp when she said that. And.. Bashfully, so did she..
She’d always been told she was too much. But.. Jack was the calm she needed. Panicking and fussing around him was like… Freaking out in a padded room. It was safe and contained and no judgement would ever be put on her afterwards.
Six months in, and she was about to introduce him to her family. Everyone was getting together at her old childhood home for her grandmother’s 70th birthday, and she wanted to make everything perfect..
She had even picked out everything Jack was wearing. And as always, he let her fuss about, but still calmly stood by for when she needed that assurance that she was doing great and everything would be fine.
“Today is gonna go great, Boop.” He whispers against her lips. She sighs softly as she sheepishly fusses with his collar, mostly to have something to do..
“Look at me..” He says softly as a way to get her attention. She grumbles softly but gives in fairly quickly, looking up at him. He smiles softly.
“Let me worry about meeting your family today. Okay? That’s for me to carry. Only thing I want on your mind is.. How excited you are to be seeing all your relatives.” Jack says, voice as calm as ever. It makes Y/N take a deep breath, relishing in his soothing tone and warm hands that rub along her arms.
“Okay..” She says finally.
“Good.” Jack states as he backs away a bit. “Only worry you should have is me finishing that bowl before we get to the house.” He jokes a bit as he nods towards the Tupperware of cookies.
“Jack!” Y/N warns, but a smile tugs on her lips as she quickly grabs the bowl from the counter to get it away from him.
He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he goes to get his keys..
*
*
*
Jack is able to distract her with some music on the radio, blasting as they sing along to it. It gets her laughing and by the time they pull up, Y/N is excitedly rushing to the backyard, leaving her anxiety in the passenger seat like an infection that seeps into Jack instead.
He takes a deep breath. All he could really do now is turn on the charm.
And turn it on he did..
Y/N’s arms wrapped around his bicep was an anchor for him. A safety rope. The two moved around the entirety of the backyard, introducing him to every family member in sight.
Back in high school, Jack remembered being told by a teacher that he was so charming, he’d be able to talk his way out of a murder charge. He kept that in mind as he spoke to everyone he met, hoping he’d talk his way into being seen as a man that was more than worthy enough for Y/N…
At a certain point of the grill out, Jack watches from his place on the backyard patio as Y/N begins playing with the children at the party, setting up a game of hide and seek. Jack had really hit it off with her uncles and cousins, so here is where he stood, by the grill, cracking jokes and watching his girl be her average amazing self..
At a certain point, all the men were pulled away for something, and Jack had taken it upon himself to start cleaning up the grill area a bit. Mostly to make himself useful. As he gathers up the pans and tongs and spatula used, a man moves over to his side instantly.
“If anybody asks, I’ve been here the whole time helping you out..” The man smirks at Jack, making him pause for only a moment before nodding slowly.
“Sounds about right to me.” Jack finally agrees before holding out a hand while balancing the dirty dishes on his free arm. “Jack Abbot..” He says politely.
“Sam. Sam Y/L/N..” The man says, and Jack slows his thoughts in slight astonishment.
Oh.
Y/N’s father..
While giving the rundown of her family, she’d brushed past her dad a bit, saying he’d probably be too busy to attend. So, Jack wasn’t given anymore information on the man.
Crap..
“That look on your face. Let me guess, you’ve heard of me..” Sam jokes. Jack cracks a small smile, mostly to save face.
“Funny enough.. No. Not much..” He says assuringly as Sam laughs while shaking his head.
“No, it’s alright. I get it. Now, I’ll only be worried depending on who you got your information from..” He teases as he slips his hands into his pockets while gazing out into the backyard. Jack sets the stuff down now, deciding it’s best to make a first impression without dirty dishes clinking around in his grasp.
“If you got it from my sister Sandra, just know I did pay her and her husband back. She just loves saying I didn’t..” Sam snorts with an amused shake of his head.
Jack pauses before trying to open his mouth, being cut off again.
“My brother Thomas has no room to talk. I let him sleep on my couch while he was between jobs.” He continues as Jack keeps up a small smile even though he’s beginning to feel a bit… Put off by the man. He shakes off the feeling. He still had to make a great impression.
“And.. If you got any stories from my ex-wife…” He trails off. “Well. You know what they say, ‘you wanna put a man away for life, make the defendant his ex-wife’..” Sam jokes. Jack stiffens a cringe, instead laughing along with Sam, nodding as if agreeing with the dreadfully cliché ‘bitter ex-wife’ narrative.
Jack had met Y/N’s mom while helping to set up, and the woman was a beautiful spirit. It was clear to him that that’s where Y/N got her heart. Watching Sam, now.. It made Jack wonder what the hell Y/N got from him?
“Let me guess. You’re Maddie’s new man?” Sam asks, speaking about his baby sister now. Jack chuckles at that, feeling iffy on correcting him. No one at the party had brought it up, but Jack knew the age difference was very much apparent.
“Actually-“ Sam cuts him off.
“Don’t get all shy. I get it. Meeting the older brother. But.. It’s all good. I’m not gonna judge.” Sam shrugs. Jack straightens his shoulders a bit as he realizes who’s really standing in front of him.
Jack has met a man like him in the past. Many men, actually. A man who got by on the false image they shined out on to the world that couldn’t be further from who they actually were. A man who used shiny objects to distract from their sour mindset. A man who thought any failure they faced was due to the world and not from their own actions. In short, Sam Y/L/N was just a man.
A man who liked to hear himself talk.
Jack clears his throat a bit as he gazes back out into the backyard. “I should actually-“ Sam cuts him off again, this time stepping a bit closer as he puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Don’t scurry away now. You seem like the most fun person here. I mean, you leave me, I have no one.” Sam snickers. Jack’s eyes narrow slightly. He says it as a joke, but.. Jack has a hunch there’s truth in that.
“Who else can I talk with, hm?” He continues anyways.
“Maybe your daughter..” Jack offers, giving Sam a pointed look.
“Oh. God..” Sam chuckles and Jack stiffens, turning to him.
He didn’t like the sound of that..
“What?” Jack asks slowly.
“I love that girl. I do. But.. Between you and me? She can be…” Sam shakes his head. Jack moves away from his grip slowly, crossing his arms as he corks his head a bit. A voice in his head was telling him to keep calm.
“Can be… What?” Jack asks, voice getting tight.
“The girl is too… Sensitive. That’s all her mother’s doing. She’s always been so.. I don’t know how to describe it. Needy? Clingy?” Sam shakes his head, not knowing how to put it into words.
“All I’m saying is..” He finally says instead, leaving the attempt where it’s at, not caring to continue his train of thought. “Lord help the man who she latches on to..” He jokes with a heavy sigh.
Jack clenches his jaw now. He needed to walk away..
“I should go.” He says again, this time meaning it for Sam’s safety.
He didn’t want to swing on this man. Not when he should be making a good first impression.
“Oh, come on! Don’t go yet..” Sam chuckles as he stops Jack again. “Look.. I love my daughter. But.. There’s times where she can be.. Too much, ya know? Too.. Too..” He snaps his fingers as he thinks, free arm wrapped around Jack’s shoulders.
“Dramatic!” He says as it finally pops into his head. “That’s the word! Dramatic..” He nods. “I used to tell her ‘what are you gonna do in the real world’, you know what I mean? If you’re stressed out in the fifth grade, I can’t imagine you when you’re actually paying bills..” Sam laughs as he shakes his head.
“I think she’s doing real good for herself..” Jack finally states, unable to hide the glare on his face. Sam doesn’t pick up on the mood shift between the two, watching as Y/N chases around the kids while he shakes his head.
“Still the same attention seeker though. And now she’s this uh.. Baby nurse, I think.” Sam continues on with a shrug. As if not impressed.
“Pediatric Nurse Practitioner..” Jack mutters, tone tense.
“What?” Sam asks looking at Jack now.
“Your daughter…” Jack begins slowly. “Isn’t a ‘baby nurse’.” He states as he watches Sam closely, his fists clenching a bit at the belittling name given to her career. “She’s a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner..” He corrects.
Sam blinks a bit, as if not knowing what to say for a moment. Then he smiles a bit. “Yeah. Same thing.” He tries with a shrug as Jack watches him closely, letting those three words sink in.
He’d gotten his answer now.
Y/N had gotten something from Sam.
She’d gotten her self-doubt.
Y/N hadn’t gotten her father’s eyes, or laugh, or even smile.
No.
She got his insecurities. His fears, his shortcomings. She carried around his words and they weighed her down everyday.
All she’d gotten from her father.. Was an anxiety of never being good enough. And out into the world, he sent her. To stumble and fall and claw at her own skin out of a desperate attempt to escape his perception of her.
But she never could.
Because if he looked away from her, he’d have to then face a mirror. And he wasn’t ready to do that.
But Jack wasn’t waiting..
“No. It’s not.” Jack says. Sam pauses, finally sensing the tension. He tries to chuckle in order to lighten the mood a bit, but Jack only stares at him.
“Okay..” Sam finally says. “Alright, noted..” He says. “Don’t have to get all serious about it..” He tries to joke as he nods at Jack to lighten up.
“Well, when someone makes light of my girl’s accompaniments, I tend to get serious.” Jack finally says. Sam’s smile slowly drops as he realizes who he’s been talking to.
“You’re..” Sam pauses as Jack moves closer, placing a firm hand on his shoulder now.
“Let’s get some things straight here for next time...” He begins, voice low as he leans a bit closer to Sam’s ear. “Y/N isn’t a ‘baby nurse’. She is an advanced practice registered nurse who specializes in the healthcare of children. In an emergency setting, at that.” He says slowly as he watches Sam. “She’s not clingy or needy, she’s human. Her emotions.. Are what make her an amazing nurse to those kids. She’s doing great things for herself, and she’s doing it all on her own. Which is a miracle, because that means that somehow, even with your shitty parenting, she’s managed to stay a beautiful, bright, and honest young woman with her heart on her sleeve.” Jack says, not holding back now. He backs away from Sam, rolling his shoulders a bit to get the rest of his aggression out.
“I’ll give you some time to get right before you go and say hi to your daughter.” Jack says softly, turning to walk away before pausing. “Oh!” He says, turning back to a now silent and brooding Sam. “And.. Just so you know.. I’m not swinging on you out of respect for Y/N. She’s been looking forward to this party all month. But the next time I hear anything leave your mouth about my girl.. You’ll be on the floor.” Jack says certainly, nodding his head slightly to show that’s a promise.
Sam clenches his jaw slightly, watching as Jack walks down the patio steps and into the backyard. “I’ll be seeker!” He announces as the kids cheer at that. Y/N smiles brightly, walking over to him.
“Having fun?” She asks eagerly.
“A blast.” He smirks at her before tenderly kissing her forehead.
hey! i was wondering if you could please do a jack x wife!reader where they have a toddler daughter and while jack is alone with her in the park or the beach someone mistakes her for his grandchild and then he gets really insecure, reader finds out through the daughter and comforts him
Today you and Jack decided to take your four year old daughter, Aria, to the park for a family day.
Jack had worked more than normal this week and you felt he just needed a day to get out of the house and enjoy a good day outside.
“Who’s excited for the park?” you ask, looking in the rear view mirror at your daughter.
Small eyes identical to Jack’s look at you with excitement.
“Meeee! I want to go to the slide with daddy! And then the swings!” she rambles on with a smile.
“Don’t worry baby,” you smile back at her “you’ll get to do all of that.”
Jack enterwines your hands and brings it up to place a gentle kiss as his eyes stay focused on the road.
“I’m glad to have you both to myself for the day.”
You squeeze his hand briefly “We’re glad to have you too J. You deserve a break.”
He smiles as he thinks of the relaxing day ahead of him with his girls.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
The walk from the parking lot to one of the open field areas is a good twenty minute walk.
Jack has a cooler bag of drinks and snacks while you carry Aria and a bag of her things she may need and some toys.
Once you guys find a decently shaded spot with a few people, Jack lays down a light blanket and sets everyone’s stuff down.
You set Aria down and look through your bag.
“Shit” you mutter quietly, still rummaging in the bag.
Jack looks up from his seated position on the blanket as he grabs some water from the cooler.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I forgot the sunscreen in the car.”
He nods “Well, we’ll just play mostly in the shade. It’s okay.”
You look at your husband with the classic ‘are you serious’ face.
Jack Abbot,” you start “you and your daughter are the most sunburn prone duo on the planet. If you want to risk it with never ending teasing from Robby, go for it. But our daughter is not leaving here looking like a tomato and in pain.”
He chuckles at the tomato reference “Okay sweetheart, be safe and hurry back.”
You run your hand through his grey curls as you pass him.
“Will do, J.”
—---
As Jack waits for you to get back, he has his full attention on Aria as she tells him about the Bluey episode she watched that morning.
“You know I was sitting there with you silly” he laughs as he tickles her side gently.
She erupts in giggles as he continues and attacks her face with kisses.
“You and your granddaughter are adorable” a voice says from the walking path a little bit in front of him.
His eyes furrow a bit as he looks up at the older woman walking her dog.
“I’m sorry?”
Did he hear her right?
She points at Aria with a smile “Your granddaughter,” she says again “she’s just a cute little thing.”
Jack forces a smile at the words.
“She’s actually my daughter.” he corrects politely
He sees the exact moment when the woman realizes.
“Oh my! I am so sorry hun, I-I didn’t mean anything by it. I just assumed th– I’m so sorry. You and your daughter have a great day.”
She waves briefly before continuing on her way down the path. Once she’s out of sight, the smile Jack had been faking falls immediately.
Granddaughter? Did he really look that old?
He was nearing fifty in a few years and you were a good eighteen years younger than him.
Did people think you were his daughter?
Did people make comments like that to you?
Were you upset about things like that? That he was so much older?
Would you prefer someone younger?
“Daddy!”
A small body falls into his lap, pulling him from his downward spiral of thoughts. He plasters a convincing smile as he goes back to playing with Aria.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
You hurried to the car as quickly as you could and hurried back. You see Jack tossing a foam ball back and forth with Ari. She giggles as it bounces out of her hands and to the side.
She sees you first.
“Mama!” she squeals as she runs towards your legs.
You pick her up and kiss her cheek “Hey baby. Were you playing with daddy while I was gone?”
“Yes yes yes!” she cheers while clapping her hands.
You laugh as you set her down on the blanket.
“Okay sunscreen time for you both.”
You look towards Jack and see him looking ahead with a slight frown.
“Babe, everything okay?” you ask softly
You see him immediately give a half smile that’s not convincing.
“Yeah honey, I’m good.”
He’s definitely acting weird.
You raise an eyebrow “You sure, J?”
He nods as he sits Ari in his lap.
“Alright” he says “lets get some sunscreen on our little monster” he attacks her with tickles.
You can’t help but smile at them but you’re still not convinced Jack’s okay.
You let it go for now but you’ll get him to tell you what’s wrong in a little while.
—---
You guys have had a great time spending the day entertaining one another with Aria.
After finishing the lunch you had packed for everyone, Jack wipes his hands off.
“M’gonna find the bathroom. I’ll be back sweetheart.”
“Kay, be careful” you say as he walks past you.
While he’s gone you talk to Ari.
“Are you having a good day with mama and daddy today?” You smile
Ari grins big, looking more and more like her dad every day.
“Yes!”
“Good, baby.”
You go to grab your drink when her little voice speaks up.
“Daddy sad.”
You face her quickly with furrowed brows.
Huh?
“What baby? Why’s daddy sad?”
Maybe she saw what had happened.
You pick her up and hold her in your lap.
Ari leans the side of her head against your chest and gets comfortable.
“What happened baby?”
She looks around and then points at something.
You look and see an older lady with a dog walking.
“Who’s that?” You ask gently
Ari snuggles closer to you.
“Her and doggy said hi.”
“They talked to you and daddy?”
Aria nods against your chest.
Bingo.
What the hell happened when you left earlier?
Jack comes back a few minutes later.
“Alright Abbot girls, do we want to make our way home soon? Maybe get someeee ice cream on the way?” He says in a silly voice to Aria.
“Ice cream daddy!” she claps in excitement.
“Okay baby, we will soon.” he grins at her
You set her down in front of you where some of her toys are.
“J,” you say quietly
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
You grab his hand “Are you gonna tell me what happened earlier?”
He noticeably stiffens at your question and shakes his head briefly.
“Nothing happened?” you press.
“So,” you turn to look for the lady “that woman over there didn’t come over and talk to you and Ari?”
He follows where your finger points and you see his fists clench and unclench.
“Baby, please… tell me what happened?” you plea.
He takes a deep breath.
“When you went to the car, she was walking by and said… something.”
You look at him silently waiting for him to continue.
“She uh, thought I was Ari’s grandfather.”
You tilt your head in confusion.
“She thought Ari was your granddaughter?”
He nods not making eye contact with you.
“Well J, we know that’s not true. So what’s the matter baby?”
“It… it just made me think. Does everyone see it that way?” he shrugs “Do I look that old? Do you think I look too old? Would you want someon—“
“Jack Abbot don’t you dare finish that question.”
His face looks defeated.
“But would you?”
With wide eyes you reassure him “Jack, I would never.”
Your heart breaks at how the interaction upset him.
“Jack listen, I understand where those insecurities can come about but babe…” you pause briefly
“there is no one else on this earth I want more than you. I chose you because you’re funny, you’re considerate, a gentleman, mature, passionate, and talented. You’re also so fucking handsome. Incredibly hot.” you wink
“But most importantly, I chose someone who would make not only the most amazing husband but also the most amazing father to our kids. And I'm not always the best at choosing things, we know this” you laugh softly
“but I couldn’t have chosen someone better for those roles than you. You’re it babe and you’re stuck with me and Aria forever. Ari also doesn’t care about your age, she just loves her dad.”
“Isnt that right, Ari?” you look at your daughter whose attention is being held by the toys in front of her.
You gently pick her up and set her in your lap.
“Where’s daddy?” you ask as you hold her.
She points at Jack with a smile.
“Tell me something you love about daddy.”
She giggles as you blow raspberries against her cheek.
Jack can’t help but grin at his two favorite girls.
“He plays with me and he, he kisses my boo boos and and he’s nice to you. I love daddy.” she rambles.
You look at Jack with a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘see, I told you’.
His eyes water at his daughter’s words.
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
Ari starts to move in your lap and reaches her arms out to Jack.
“Daddy! Hold meee!”
Jack reaches over and takes her from you.
She immediately wraps her arms around his neck, squishing her cheek against his. The action grounds him, melting away the remaining insecurities from earlier.
The sight melts your heart.
You grab your phone and snap a quick picture.
“Anytime you feel down about this again,” you show him the picture you had just taken
summary: Jack Abbot has one very expensive habit: Spoiling his girlfriend.
𝒘 — Jack Abbot & Fem! Reader ⟢ ( 1k-ish ) proofread. age gap. (not mentioned, but r is like 25-30.) established relationship. fluff.
Dior, Miu Miu, Tom Ford, Chanel, and Prada are all brands that have somehow invaded your bedroom. Perfumes stacked neatly on a sterling silver stand on your dresser. Charlotte Tilbury palettes on your vanity, and Tiffany diamonds sparkling on your jewelry tray.
Despite your best efforts to tell him you really don’t need any of it, Jack Abbot buys you quite literally everything you show the tiniest amount of interest in.
It isn’t that you can’t afford it, you absolutely can. Years of medical school and brutal residency shifts had earned you a salary you were more than proud of, which made Jack’s habit of paying for everything simultaneously frustrating and endearing.
It started small. You’d pause a second too long in front of a perfume display, eyes widening at the price tag as you muttered something about how insane it was. The bottle would appear on your bathroom counter the next morning.
You’d complain that your work tote was falling apart. Three days later, a brand new leather one arrived at your apartment with your initials hand-stitched on the side in dainty gold thread.
You’d compliment a necklace in passing, and somehow Cartier already knew your address.
At first it was sweet. Then it became excessive. Which is why you now have enough designer items in your home to pay off someone’s mortgage.
And somehow… that still wasn’t enough for him.
・・・۶ৎ・・・
You’re standing in the Sephora checkout line, fully intent on spoiling yourself for once. Jack stands close by your side, seemingly distracted by his phone, squinting down at a text from Robby. You make a mental note to increase the font size later when he isn’t looking.
As the person in front of you finishes, you see his hand slip into his pocket out of the corner of your eye, reaching for his wallet.
“Jack,” you huff quietly, no real heat behind it.
“Hm?”
“Put your wallet away. I told you, I’m paying.”
He glances up from the screen, expression perfectly innocent. “Why?”
You turn to face him fully, arms crossed. “Because these are my things. I can buy my own makeup, Jack. You’ve already bought me three things today.”
His eyebrow lifts just slightly, that calm, steady doctor look settling over his features. He steps closer until his chest brushes your shoulder, voice low and warm against your ear.
“I like taking care of my girl. Why wouldn’t I?”
The cashier is smiling politely, pretending not to listen. Your cheeks are hot, fairly certain that they’re tinted a faint shade of red.
“Jack,” you warn, softer this time.
“You gonna stand here and argue with me, baby?” His hand settles lightly at the small of your back, thumb stroking once, slow and deliberate. “Or are you gonna let me pay?”
You exhale a defeated laugh, cheeks burning.
A small, satisfied smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That’s what I thought.”
He slides his card into the reader before you can make any move to protest again. While the cashier rings everything up, his arm stays looped around your waist, holding you close like it’s his favorite thing in the world.
・・・۶ৎ・・・
The drive home is quiet at first, city lights sliding across the windshield. You keep glancing down at the heavy Sephora bag in your lap, then over at him.
“You promised you’d let me pay today” you say, gently poking his arm.
Jack’s hand leaves the gear shift to rest on your thigh instead, squeezing gently.
“I said I’d try,” he corrects, voice low with amusement. “There’s a difference.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “You’re ridiculous. We’re both doctors, y’know? I don’t need you dropping half your salary on me every time we leave the house.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thumb brushing back and forth over your leg as he drives.
“You work harder than anyone I know,” he says finally. “Longer hours than me sometimes. You come home exhausted and still make time for us. Let me take care of you, sweetheart. It makes me feel good. Like I’m doing something right.”
Your chest flickers with undeniable warmth. You reach down and lace your fingers with his. “You do plenty right, Jack. You don’t have to buy me half of Sephora to prove it.”
“I know.” He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles without taking his eyes off the road. “But I want to. And I like seeing my baby have pretty things.”
The words settle warm and heavy in your stomach. Your eyes are soft as you study the side of his face.
・・・۶ৎ・・・
Back at your apartment, Jack carries the bags inside like they weigh nothing. You kick off your shoes and start unpacking the new products on your vanity, admiring the sleek packaging.
He leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with that soft, focused look that always makes your heart feel 10 pounds heavier.
“You’re staring,” you tease, fighting off a genuine smile.
“Can’t help it.” He pushes off the doorframe and comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder. “You happy?”
You lean back into his chest. “Yes. Thank you… even though you have no self-control.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrates low and warm against your neck. “Good.”
You turn in his arms, looping yours around his neck. “But next time, I’m paying. I will hear no arguments.”
Jack hums, pretending to consider it. “We’ll see.”
“Jack.”
“Alright, alright,” he says, lips brushing your forehead. “I’ll behave.”
You narrow your eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
・・・۶ৎ・・・
Forty minutes later you’re curled up on the couch together when your phone buzzes. A notification from the jewelry store you’d walked past earlier on the way to Sephora.
Order confirmed. Your custom initial pendant will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
You sit up slowly, staring at the screen, then turn to look at him.
Jack doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. He just pulls you back against his chest with a lazy grin, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.
“You said you’d behave,” you whisper, half-laughing, half-exasperated.
“I did behave,” he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your temple. “For a whole forty minutes. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
cw: f!reader, pregnant!reader, unspecified age gap, they have a kid
If Jack could go back in time and ask his younger self what his future would look like, he would have never guessed that this is how his life turned out. He was a veteran struggling with his own mind, a widower who missed his wife every day, an amputee, and working one of the most stressful jobs imaginable.
But for all the objective negatives, there were also a ton of positives. He was a home owner, as stressful and awful as his job could be, he did love it and he loved how fulfilling it was. It was where he had met you after all, one of the most surprising yet deeply cherished addition to his life in the last decade. Your night out had unfortunately ended with you joining your friend in the emergency room after a very unlucky catch of her heel in the sidewalk.
You were younger than he was, a lot of people were, but as much as he' tried to dissuade you, and even himself, you were stubborn. You didn't care about his age. You didn't mind his odd working hours and you sure as hell didn't mind how he tried to push you away. You stayed patient, gave him his space when he needed it, and gave him more reassurance than he ever deserved after the useless distance he'd forced between the both of you those first few months of seeing each other.
Five years later and Jack found out there was still plenty of life left to surprise him. You were no longer the woman he was dating with guilt sitting heavy in his stomach, you were his wife. You were the mother of his even bigger unexpected gifts, his kids. A first time dad in the second half of his 40s and soon to be second time dad at 50 years old. Talk about unpredictable life events.
You had waltzed into Jack's life and turned it on its head in the best way possible. For all the bad he'd experienced, you'd shown him that there was still so much good to look forward too — unexpected good, but good nontheless.
Tonight you were waddling across the kitchen, pregnant with your second child, as you worked to assemble dinner for your toddler. He was busy building a castle with his magnet tiles and singing along to Jack's playlist in his seat while Jack walks around the house, gathering his things to head out for his shift.
"Dinner is almost ready, Bub. Ready to set the blocks aside in... five minutes?" You ask the three year old as you slice up his usual serving of berries.
"Five minutes," he nods obediently, eyes focused on carefully placing a triangular tile.
Jack strides into the kitchen, a smile gracing his features at the sight of the toddler at the counter. Jack grabs his lunch bag, one of the many amazing changes you'd made in your time together — making sure he had real food during his shift.
"Alright, I'm off," Jack breathes out, pressing a kiss against his son's temple, "be a good boy for Mama."
"The best boy," the boy nods with a bright smile, leaning in to smack a wet kiss on Jack's scruffy chin.
Jack smiles warmly, ruffling his son's hair before making his way over to you. He presses his lips against your own briefly, "be good, take it easy, get some rest, and do not touch any laundry. I'll handle it tomorrow." He bends at the waist to talk to your bump, hands on either side of your stomach, "be good for your mom."
"Bye, Daddy! I love you!" Your son yells, stacking the magnetic tiles as Jack slings his backpack over his shoulder.
"We love you, babe! Go make—" you're interrupted from your usual farewell by your son.
"Go make that money, honey!"
Jack's eyes widen, his body turning to look at you, but you're looking at him with an identical look of astonishment. "What was that, Bub?" Jack asks with a soft tilt of his head.
"Go make that money, honey!" The boy giggles, eyes alight with pride, "like Mama always says!"
You are hardly doing a good job of holding back your laughter, a hand cupped over your mouth as your shoulders shake while your free hand scoops mac and cheese onto the silicone plate. Jack's face breaks out into an endeared smile of his own, "that's right, Bub. Gotta go make that money for my honeys."
You place the plate in front of your toddler, brushing his unruly curls from his forehead with a gentle hand and a fond smile. You glance up to meet Jack's equally adoring gaze as you lean your cheek against the crown of your son's head, "we love you, Jackie. Be safe."
Jack's heart skips a beat, swallowing down the sudden knot in his throat at the sight in front of him. He nods once, smiling at you lovingly, "thank you. I love you. Both of you."
feedback is appreciated! divider from cursed-carmine <3
── .✦ ANDREW 'POPE' CODY and his nympho girlfriend
★ˎˊ˗ CONTENT WARNINGS 18+ MDNI fem reader, reader has breasts, hypersexual / sexually insatiable reader, established relationship, oral sex (male receiving (except not receiving? don't know how to describe it)), edging / orgasm denial themes, mild degradation language (pope being condescending) spit/bodily fluid imagery, rough handling, very light humiliation / praise-kink mix)
MASTERLIST | RULES | INBOX
Pope is still locking the front door when you brush past, bare feet padding across the hardwoods, skin glowing as though you've been hoarding sunlight all day just to pour it on him.
He swears he doesn't deserve it.
The shirt you stole from his drawer, an old skate tee with the collar chewed to hell, slides over your body and lands in a loose heap on the floor. Your tits bounce lightly as they're freed.
Fuck. He could stare at them for hours, probably has, memorizing every curve and shadow with the grim focus he brings to anything he loves too much.
“Easy, baby,” Pope warns, even though his heart is tearing through him, dragging every dirty possibility in its wake. “I bought groceries. At least let me put the milk —”
“Later.” You tug the plastic bag from his hand, thunk it onto the entry table, and hook a finger through his belt loop. “Kitchen’s close enough.”
The fridge whirs, oblivious, while you drag him backward until thighs hit cool marble.
Pope can smell cilantro, gasoline from his truck, the sweet-and-salty rush in your sweat. You taste it, too, licking the hollow beneath his ear like a kid sneaking frosting.
“One track mind,” he mutters, masking a thick swallow when his jeans tent under your touch.
You pull back just far enough to look at him.
“That's not true. I think about a lot of things. They all just end —” Your hand settles over the hardening shape in his pants. “— here.”
He laughs a little, but it dies when you kneel.
You slip two fingers beneath the waistband, teasing skin before tugging down. Fabric puddles at his feet, leaving him bare and aching. You move to trace the underside with your tongue, a lazy path from root to head, then look up through your lashes.
“You leave me alone for hours.” Your hand tightens at the base of his cock, possessive. “What else am I supposed to wait for but you coming home and letting me have this?”
Pope guides himself to tap against your tongue. You happily oblige with an open mouth.
“Yeah? You wait all nice and good for me, princess, or did those needy little fingers wander?” He feigns a thoughtful hum. “Sheets looked a little rumpled when I walked in.”
He watches your mouth struggle to form words, tension fluttering in your cheeks where he fills them.
“Tried,” you admit, voice thick with obstruction. “Made it ‘til lunch before I… got impatient.” Your palm glides up his length in apology. “Does that still count as waiting?”
He winds your hair around his knuckles and tugs until you’re staring straight up at him, guiding your mouth off him with a soft pop.
Pope clicks his tongue, pity painted on like cheap gold leaf.
“Aw, sweetheart. Must've felt like torture, didn’t it?” His thumb smears the shine across your swollen lip, then lifts so you can see the string of spit stretch. “Don't worry, I'll help you learn some real patience... after you watch me finish what you couldn't wait for.”
MARIA NOTE happy tuesday besties! wishing u love in your heart and freakiness in your spirit! stay cunty! stay hot!
"I can't do this right now. I'm going for a ride to clear my head." Jack announces loudly with an angry sigh.
There has been a silly argument going on for at least 10 minutes now, and nobody is easing up. The frustration only grows bigger and bigger with each word.
And you both hate it. Jack hates your watery eyes and small pout. Even if your words are heated, your face is all soft and upset, it makes Jack feel bad and sick at the same time. He hates fighting with you, it doesn't happen often, but it makes his guts squeeze every time.
Jack doesn't give you time to say anything to it as he grabs his car keys and stalks towards the garage.
You stand in the middle of the kitchen for a few seconds, deciding on what you should do.
Sure, he really pissed you off, but at the same time the only person that can bring you comfort is him. And you don't want to be all alone and sad in his big house. You hate being away from him, even if you are mad at him.
You pad on your bare feet towards the garage, and stop in the doorway unsurely. Jack's already in the car, waiting for the garage door to roll up.
He sees you fiddle nervously with your sleeves before you finally walk up to the car. He rolls the window down because yeah, he might be mad but he'd never just blatantly ignore you.
"Can I... C-Can I come with you? Please. I'll sit in the back and I promise I won't say anything. I just...Can I?" Your wet, big eyes practically plead to let you in. To not be left here. You're scared that maybe if you let him go all alone, he might realise he doesn't want you one night.
Jack's eyes soften a bit, and you hear the lock open on the door. You immediately jump inside the car, not giving him a second to change his mind.
You quietly sit in the back as Jack backs out of the garage and starts driving down the road.
It doesn't take long for Jack's pent up energy to sizzle out. Especially, when he hears you sniffle with your runny nose every once in a while.
Jack tries to catch your eyes in the mirror but you just won't look his way, eyes strained on the road. And he can't have his best girl looking so, so down. Especially because of him. So he pulls into the nearest parking lot.
Jack kills the engine and jumps out. He rounds the car, opens your door all while you watch him with confused, but hopeful gaze.
"I'm so sorry, angel. I shouldn't have let it get so heated. And I shouldn't have tried to leave. I'm an idiot." It's his defence mechanism, he'd rather leave and cool down before he'd say something and regret it later.
Jack's hands hover inches away from you, holding onto the cushions next to your thigh.
"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for yelling. And for making you take me for the ride with you, I was just...." You stop talking before you can say too much. You don't want to sound crazy.
You turn to him, and his hands immediately move and settle on your hips.
"What is it?" Jack's thumb brushes your exposed tummy. He softly urges you to answer his question. You both need to talk it out even if it can hurt.
"I was worried you might not want to be with me anymore." You explain sheepishly, eyes everywhere but on him.
"Wait, baby." He frowns at you. "Do you always worry about that after an argument?" He can remember all of the times you two argued, and every time you didn't let him go cool off alone. It's basically a routine by now that after you argue, you two go for a ride together.
You just nod, embarrassment settling in. "Why didn't you say something?" God, it pains him so much to think about it.
"Don't know. I was just worried." You shrug, but it's far from casual. You look like you might die from embarrassment any second now.
"Fuck, sweetheart. You know, that no matter how much we fight, I'm not leaving. You're it for me baby. There's nobody else I'd rather be upset with."
"Don't you think it's annoying though? Me being so...so clingy." Jack thinks that surely you must be joking. You look so uncomfortable at your skin as you ask him that, that Jack's swears he must be doing something wrong if you feel like that.
"Sweetheart, if it was up to me, we'd literally be attached to hip 24/7. I love being with you. You're my favourite person ever." Jack states, words all lovey and honest. Your eyes water from it, it overwhelms you for a second because it was exactly what you wanted, needed to hear.
"You're my favourite person, too." You mumble out, your hands sneaking out of your long sleeves to squeeze his. Jack chuckles because only now he notices it's his big-ass hoodie you have on.
"I love you, angel. So all is forgiven?"
"Yes." You nod quickly and lean in for a very much needed kiss.
You can barely even remember what the fight was about as his lips move against yours, and both of your bodies finally relax.
"I love you too, Jack." You breath out against his lips. He pulls away with a gentle smile and wipes away the left wetness on your cheeks with tender hands.
"Do you want to go get ice-cream?" Jack suggests, and your face lights up as you nod sheepish.
"Okay, c'mon, need my girl next to me." He scoops you up before you can protest and manages to put you in the front seat, all while you giggle at him.
Save to say, you and Jack might argue sometimes, but your feelings for each other never change.
pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader ( no use of y/n )
summary: in which jack abbot gives you your first kiss.
content warnings: age gap ( reader is a resident ) kissing, use of petnames, shy!reader, reader is sort of a high achiever
a/n: hai guys. i miss jack abbot a lot, which i guess is obvious considering this fic is wayyyyy too long. i hope you like it regardless!! gif credits to the lovely @wesandresons !! <3 credit to @cursed-carmine for the divider <3
wc : 6.5k
The date was nice. Of course it was. It was always nice with him, and you were beginning to suspect that had less to do with the activity itself and more to do with Jack.
It wasn't the usual normal date. Not that you had a vast catalogue of dating experience to draw from, but you'd consumed enough media and heard enough stories from your fellow residents to know what dating typically looked like.
Dinner and a movie. Drinks at a bar. Maybe coffee if you were keeping it casual.
You'd had exactly three official dates with Jack so far, stacked on top of years of friendship and working alongside each other and none of them had been particularly typical. The fourth date, the one you were currently on, was a tad silly for both of you.
He wanted to make pizzas with you.
It was fun and very unusual for a resident and her boss.
You always expected Jack Abbot to be the mundane normal guy. He had all the external markers of it. Military man, doctor, older white man. You'd assumed, when you first started entertaining the idea of him as something more than your attending, that he would be typical in his dating approach too. Restaurant dates. Wine tastings if he was feeling adventurous. That was what old men usually did, wasn't it?
And he did that at first.
The first date was a restaurant. It was lovely and exactly what you'd expected. You'd gone home that night with a warm feeling in your chest and the taste of pasta, thinking that this was nice and exactly what dating Jack Abbot would be like.
The second date, he took you to the fair, like you were teenagers. He took you on the Ferris wheel and everything. You'd looked out over the lights spread and felt like you were fifteen again.
You'd accidentally let it slip during that first restaurant date that the restaurant date had been your first date ever. You'd spent your entire adolescence and young adulthood with your nose buried in books, skipping parties to study, missing social milestones because there was always another exam.
He hadn't reacted much at the time, while you'd been mortified, certain you'd just revealed yourself to be hopelessly inexperienced and naive, but he'd simply talked about his first very awkward date and the moment had passed.
But the fair came next and you wondered, watching him win you a stuffed animal, if he was deliberately giving you the experiences you'd missed.
On your third date he took you to play Mini golf. You were approximately ninety percent sure he only chose it so he could get close to you. He'd asked you a couple days beforehand if you'd ever golfed before, and you'd shaken your head no, and he'd seemed delighted.
And he did teach you. Oh, he taught you thoroughly. He got all close to you, standing behind you to adjust your grip on the club, his chest pressing against your back, his hands warm over yours as he guided your swing. You were approximately ninety percent sure he knew exactly what he was doing. The other ten percent was just you being generous.
After the golf, he'd gotten you ice cream from a little stand near the park, and you'd walked together. Your shoulder kept bumping against his arm as you walked, and neither of you made any effort to create more space between you. It made you feel giddy to see him.
Giddy. A word you hadn't used to describe your emotional state since you were a child.
And you couldn't help but appreciate him and his thoughtfulness so much.
You'd been in a lull for so long. Years and years of studying, studying, studying, all your life really, missing out on everything and now you were finally a resident.
And you still had nothing.
Well, not nothing. You had your job and your career, but in terms of relationships and romance there was nothing until Jack.
You'd flirted with him, then and there, but you hadn't thought much of it at first. You didn't think much of the instances where he'd complimented your hairstyles or your glittery pens. Really anything that made you you, he seemed to notice and appreciate.
And now here you were in his apartment standing in his kitchen with flour dusted across your forearms and dough in front of you.
"I can't get the dough flat," you complained, looking down at your sad lump of flour and water. He grinned, but made absolutely no move to help you. You looked at his perfect dough and you sighed. "Why are you good at everything?"
His grin widened, a comment ready on the tip of his tongue and you got flustered immediately. "Oh, shut up," you mumbled, turning your attention very deliberately back to your dough so you wouldn't have to look at his smug face anymore.
"Didn't say anything," he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice even without seeing it.
Before you knew it, he'd left his pizza abandoned, coming around to help you with yours. You moved aside and he took your place in front of your sad little lump of dough.
"You have to add lots of flour so it won't stick to the counter," he explained, sounding like the teacher he usually was in the ER.
You were absolutely not listening to a single word he said.
You were straight up staring at his face watching him with so much fondness that would have been embarrassing if you'd had any self awareness left to be embarrassed. His silver hair flopped a bit as he pressed the dough back onto the counter and it looked so endlessly soft. You really, really wanted to touch it and find out if it was as soft as it looked or if it was coarser than you expected.
It was so curly too. You liked curly hair or maybe you just liked his curly hair. You weren't entirely sure anymore where the general preference ended and the Jack specific obsession began.
And his stubble. You wondered how scratchy it was. If you ran your fingers across it, would it hurt you? Would it be rough and abrasive against your skin? And if it was, if it left your fingertips tingling and sensitive, would he kiss it better?
You were officially going insane. You needed to be studied. You needed to be written up in a medical journal as a case study in acute romantic fixation.
There were light freckles across his face too. They had probably been darker when he was younger and had faded over the years.
You wanted to lean in and count every single freckle. You wondered where else he had freckles. If his shoulders were dusted with them. If his back was full of them. You wondered if any of them were traceable, if you could drag your fingertip from one to the next connecting them like stars in the sky. Orion on his shoulder blade. The Big Dipper across his collarbone. Cassiopeia scattered down his spine.
Would he like that? If you traced his freckles like constellations? Would he lie still for you? Would he hum gently if you did it and lean into your hands?
You wondered a lot of things, frankly an alarming number of things for someone who was supposed to be learning how to flatten pizza dough from their date ( slash boss ).
And you didn't hear anything. Your auditory processing had apparently been completely hijacked by your visual processing, which was currently fully occupied with memorizing every single detail of Jack's face.
His head tilted gently as he looked at you. "Sweetheart?"
He looked concerned and you figured you hadn't given him lots of opportunities to see what you looked like lovesick.
You weren't like Shen, who had a date every other weekend and always came back to the hospital on Monday morning bragging about how amazing his girlfriend was. Everyone knew lovesick Shen. It was practically his default setting at this point. The other residents teased him about it relentlessly, and he took it with good humor because he was too happy to be embarrassed.
But you'd never ever been in love. The only thing you dreamed about on a regular basis was your bed and tiramisu sometimes.
It felt like you were falling, just as long as Alice did in Alice in Wonderland when she went down the rabbit hole. And People did say you had an Alice in Wonderland quality about you, a different way of thinking when it came to approaching patients. It was sweet when they said it and it made you feel special.
"Yeah?" you asked, as if you hadn't just taken an extended mental vacation to a fantasy land where you were tracing constellations on his bare skin.
"Kinda just spaced out there," he said softly. His eyes swept over your face, checking to see if you were okay. "Everything good?" he asked, and you watched him resist the urge to touch you because his hands were covered in dough and flour.
"Yeah," your voice coming out a bit shaky despite your best efforts. "Sorry. I think I kinda just suck at this."
You attributed your mental absence to disappointment in yourself rather than the actual cause. It was believable. Jack knew you were the type of person who sometimes fell apart whenever she was disappointed in herself. He'd seen you pick apart everything you'd done wrong while ignoring everything you'd done right at work.
"You don't suck at this," he said gently. He moved away then, stepping back to give you space to work again. "I've done this a hundred times and it's your first time," he said, wiping his flour covered hands on a kitchen towel. "It's okay to not be good on your first try," he added softly, and there was something in the way he said it that made you think he wasn't just talking about pizza dough anymore.
"And," he continued, and his voice took on a lighter tone, " it gives us a chance to do this many, many times."
Your lips lifted into a smile. "Guess so," you said softly, and you couldn't quite keep the pleased little lilt out of your voice.
Jack smiled back at you, seemingly relieved that you were excited about spending time together as much as he was.
The date continued with lots of giggles and chattering. You got so caught up in talking that you completely forgot about the pizzas. They were just laying out on the counter, instead of being in the oven where they belonged.
You were leaning on one side of the counter, your elbows propped on the surface in a way that would have made your mother tell you to stand up straight, and he was on the other side. You sipped on your drink, the glass cool against your fingers. Both of you had chosen not to drink any alcoholic beverages.
You'd never had this before and you wanted to feel every single nerve wracking and heart pounding feeling about being in the same kitchen as the guy you liked. You wanted to remember every single detail.
And so did he. He wanted to remember everything about you and your sweet and shy demeanor.
You giggled as he recounted what had happened in his math class once, your hand came up to cover your mouth and he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.
After a while, you glanced at the pizzas. "I think we were supposed to put those in the oven," you smiled as you set your soda aside on the counter. The condensation from the glass left a wet ring on the surface, and you wiped it away with your sleeve.
Jack glanced at the pizzas, following your gaze to the forgotten food, and smiled. He'd hoped it would take you longer to notice that you hadn't put them in the oven. The longer you didn't notice, the longer he got to spend time with you.
He grabbed them and slid them into the oven. He set the timer because you'd both probably forget about them again if he didn't.
Once he did, he led you to his couch. You settled down shyly at the edge. Your posture was stiff, your hands folded in your lap, your feet planted firmly on the floor.
"So," Jack murmured, settling down next to you on the couch but keeping his distance. "D'you have any embarrassing high school memories?" he angled his body slightly toward you, one arm draped across the back of the couch.
"All of it?" you smiled at him. Your socked feet moved restlessly on his carpet.
"Anything specific?" he pressed gently. He wanted to know everything and anything about you.
He could never get enough of you. Every day he looked forward to seeing you, excited to discover something new about you. It was one of the great pleasures of his life now. Whether it was a small detail about how you'd treat an injured child or how you'd hold your pen. Everything about you was interesting to him.
You thought about his question, sifting through your memories of high school, trying to find something worth sharing. You'd been so focused on your studies that moments that seemed to define other people's teenage years had mostly passed you by or maybe they'd happened and you just hadn't noticed, too buried in textbooks to realize you were supposed to be mortified.
"Don't think so," you said, embarrassment flickering across your face before you looked down at your hands in your lap. You felt guilty for not being interesting enough for him.
But he shook his head. "Lucky you."
And just like that, he made you comfortable immediately again. It was a gift he had, this ability to smooth over your awkwardness without making you feel self conscious about having been awkward in the first place.
You knew this sucked. You knew, on some level, that you were being quiet and not at all the kind of fun date that someone like Jack deserved. You were young, but wasn't this supposed to be the time to have a bunch of things to tell? Weren't you supposed to have stories? Weren't you supposed to rave about the things you planned on doing and the crazy things you'd experienced?
It felt weird to tell Jack how boring you'd been all your life. How you'd spent your weekends in libraries. How your biggest adventure in college had been pulling an all nighter to finish a research paper. It made you feel inadequate, like you were letting him down by being exactly who you were.
And it was hard to make up for it in the moment. You couldn't suddenly become interesting just because you wanted to be.
You wanted to apologize for it, but then again, you thought you might just make it worse if you pointed out how shy you were being. Maybe it was better to pretend you were totally relaxed and not at all spiraling about whether you were interesting enough for him.
You couldn't possibly know how much he was adoring your shy demeanor. You couldn't see inside his head, couldn't witness the way his heart swelled every time you ducked your head or stumbled over your words or smiled that embarrassed little smile. You had no idea that he was sitting there thanking the universe that he was able to provoke a reaction from you, that your shyness wasn't indifference but the exact opposite, proof that you cared enough to be nervous.
But then he got something. He asked you about your favorite class and your eyes lit up. You started talking about your English teacher and you went on and on.
You wouldn't stop raving about her. It was so endearing and he didn't see that happen often. At the ER, you were careful. Every word that came out of your mouth always seemed so thoughtfully considered.
He enjoyed it so much that he took the chance to scoot closer on the couch until his knee was almost touching yours.
And you barely noticed. Instead, you turned more toward him, your knees lifting onto the couch cushion and then your knee was pressing against his thigh. His eyelashes fluttered slightly at that, delighted to finally receive your sweet touch.
He admired you with a smile, asking a couple questions here and there that kept you talking without interrupting your flow. He was so gentle about it so careful to not interrupt you.
After a while, you stopped rambling and smiled at him and it seemed like you'd finally relaxed.
Every day it always took him a bit to open you up again. It was like an eggshell that you built around yourself every week and he always had to break it again. You'd arrive at work slightly distant, and he'd spend the first part of the shift chipping away at your shell with small talk and gentle teasing. To his luck, the shell got thinner every week. What used to take an entire shift now took an hour. What used to take an hour now took minutes.
And now, tonight, it seemed he had it all open. Shell pieces scattered across the floor of his living room.
You smiled at him, and he smiled back, and for a moment neither of you said anything at all.
He saw your eyes flicker down to his lips and he saw the way you seemed almost embarrassed for doing it in the first place and he knew that you knew that he'd noticed.
He figured he'd help out. He'd kiss you and spare you the agonizing decision of whether or not to kiss him. His eyes flickered down to your lips. Your lips were still glossy despite having drunk your soda. He'd noticed your lip gloss earlier and had spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about it during work. It made your lips look soft. It made him wonder what they'd feel like against his.
His eyes flickered back up, meeting yours, and he held your gaze for a long moment and then he leaned in. One arm braced against the side of the couch as he closed the space between you inch by inch. You could probably feel his breath on your face now.
It was a testament to your shyness truly that it took you ages to do anything.
Jack had his nose touch yours before you pulled back, your eyes going wide with something that looked an awful lot like panic. He pulled back as well. His hands came up and he created as much distance as he could without actually leaving the couch.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said softly, letting you know he wasn't upset, because he knew it would be your first thought. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
He felt a sensation in his chest he hadn't felt in decades, not since he was oh so young and still learning that love sometimes meant getting hurt.
God, he'd been so certain that you wanted this too, but maybe he'd misread everything. Maybe he was just an old man making a fool of himself over a girl who was too polite to tell him she wasn't interested.
"No, you're fine," you said quietly.
"I'm sorry," he said again, because he didn't know what else to say. "You don't have to stay if I made you uncomfortable." He tried to catch your gaze as you looked away, tried to find some sign in your expression that would tell him what you were feeling.
But you shook your head, biting your lip, your teeth pressing into the soft flesh until it hurt. "No, it's fine," you whispered.
Jack stared at you and the way you avoided his eyes. He watched the way your gaze skittered around the room. You were pulling back into yourself, the shell reconstructing itself around you.
"Sweetheart," he said softly, his voice carrying all the tenderness he felt and all the regret he couldn't quite express, "it really would be fine if you left. I won't be upset."
He was worried your shyness was preventing you from telling him the truth, that you were too polite to admit that he'd made you uncomfortable in his home.
You met his eyes finally and it just came out of you. "Please don't judge me."
"I'm not judging you for anything, sweetheart," Jack said softly. "If you want, we'll just ignore everything that happened in the last five minutes."
As he spoke, he reached out very carefully. His fingers found your hand, where you had been biting your nails and guided it away from your mouth. You dropped your hand into your lap, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment and then you blurted it out.
"I've never kissed anyone before."
And Jack didn't say "it's fine" as if your inexperience was some mistake that needed forgiving. Instead he just smiled softly.
"Makes me crowding you like this a bit worse," he grinned, gesturing vaguely at the space between you.
You stared at him for a second, startled by his casual reaction, but then you smiled . "No, you're fine," you said absolutely delighted.
You traced a finger across your thigh for a second, back and forth, back and forth and then you looked up again. You couldn't imagine the last time he'd been told by his date that she had no experience dating whatsoever, but his reaction was perfect. He was watching you with a careful expression, clearly still concerned for you.
You finally made the decision to speak and he smiled gently as if saying go ahead.
"I'm fine with you kissing me," you said quietly. "I just wanted to let you know in case—" you stuttered for a second. "In case I'm not as good. But I don't mind if you want to kiss me," you added softly, and even as the words left your mouth you felt regret creeping into your voice.
You were terrified that this would erase his entire urge to ever want to press his lips against your pretty ones.
You were dead wrong.
He still wanted you like before. He didn't think anything of your confession besides maybe that he should be gentler with you when approaching everything touching.
"I want to kiss you," he said softly. "But I won't do that until you're ready."
And then he reached out, fingers brushing against your temple, and he pushed your hair behind your ear which made you smile. He let his thumb rest on your cheekbone for a second, then he dropped his hand, letting it fall back to his lap.
"I am ready. I want it to be you." And then, because you knew him you added, "I've thought about it before." You knew he'd want to make absolutely certain that this wasn't a spur of the moment decision and that you weren't just saying what you thought he wanted to hear, because you felt bad.
"You've thought about it?" he asked and a grin spread across his face.
"Very funny," you mumbled, looking down at your lap, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face.
"No, no, I'm flattered," he grinned, clearly happy to finally be teasing you gently again.
You shot him a look. "Don't act like you haven't either."
His eyebrows shot up, surprised at your bold reply, but it made him laugh. "No, you're right. I have."
Once you both stopped smiling like two lovesick idiots you asked the question. "So? Will you?"
He stared at you for a while, his head tilted slightly to one side. And you let him, in fact, you appreciated it a lot. It was nice to know that he wasn't just rushing to it and that your first kiss was just as important to him as it was to you.
"You're sure?" he asked once again, eyes scanning your face for any sign of hesitation.
You shot him a look, that said you'd made your decision and you needed him to trust that you knew your own mind.
"Okay, okay," he smiled, a lopsided smile that tugged up one corner of his mouth more than the other.
You saw his eyes flicker away for a second and it was a sweet realization to recognize what it meant. He was nervous about kissing you.
"You'll have to guide me through it." you said softly.
"I can do that," he said. He had guided you through so many procedures and so many difficult conversations with patients. You knew his teaching would be the best and you knew he would take care of you through this too.
"Can I sit in your lap? I think that's most ideal for me."
Your eyebrows were furrowed slightly as you spoke as if this was a medical procedure you were planning out. He assumed that's why you weren't as shy about asking. To you this was like the ER, something that needed to happen in the most perfect way possible.
Jack stared at you. He wanted to say something about how you were supposed to relax and how you shouldn't approach it the way you were right now, but he figured that if this way of thinking relaxed you, who was he to stop it?
"Make yourself comfortable," he said instead, and he laid back against the couch back, his shoulders settling against the cushions, his arms resting loosely at his sides.
You swung one leg over his body and then the other, settling down with your thighs on either side of his hips, your knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of him.
"Okay?" you asked quietly.
"More than okay," he said, and the absolute happiness in his voice made you laugh.
He sat up a bit, careful not to have you fall off. His hands hovered near your hips and he looked at you for a second, and you could see the effort it took for him to focus on your face and not on the fact that you were in his lap.
"First," he said softly, and his voice took on that teacher tone you knew so well. "If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you just get off my lap and stop everything." His eyes were serious now. "No matter what's happening, you're allowed to push me off." He paused, making sure you understood. "Got it?"
You nodded, but he didn't accept it.
"I prefer words, sweetheart," he said softly.
You shot him a look, a little flash of exasperation mixed with affection, but he was serious. He knew you were a shy person and he wasn't going to just take your expression for an answer. He needed to know that you could use your voice and that your shyness wouldn't prevent you from speaking up if something felt wrong.
"Got it," you added, once you realized why he wanted words.
"Okay, good," he said gently. "Second," he continued, and his voice lightened, took on a gentler quality that made your shoulders drop slightly from where they'd been tensed up near your ears, "this is supposed to be fun."
He allowed himself to touch you now, finally. He reached up and brushed hair out of your face. His fingers were warm against your temple and you tilted your head further down, silently asking for more. And he happily complied, both hands coming up to your face now, his fingers threading through your hair, brushing it back completely from your face.
You got closer to him on his lap as he worked. You smelled nice. Vanilla perfume and it made him want to lean in closer and breathe deeper. He wondered if your lip gloss was vanilla too. Guess he was about to find out.
"Is it fun?" you whispered quietly. Your heart was pounding and your palms were sweating and fun felt like a very distant concept. "I'm scared."
"That's okay. I was too." he said gently.
But you shook your head as you glanced down at his lap, and your fingers found his button up shirt. You started picking at one of the buttons, flicking it open and closed open and closed.
"You were a kid then, probably," your eyes still fixed on the button. "I'm an adult. I'm not supposed to be this nervous. I'm not even supposed to be in this position." There they were. Your insecurities all out in the open.
He shook his head, his hands wandering up to your waist, and he brushed up and down your sides. "You're allowed to be nervous and so what?" He shrugged. "So you've never kissed anyone before. No big deal."
He said it with such a convincing tone that you couldn't help but smile. He made it sound so simple and you really really liked that.
"No big deal," you repeated and he squeezed your waist in agreement.
"Now what?" you asked softly, and despite the nerves still fluttering in your stomach, there was eagerness in your voice now too.
"The big moment," he said, sitting up more properly, straightening his spine against the couch back. He emphasized the words in such a silly tone that it made you giggle. Exactly his goal.
He lifted his hand and tilted your head lightly, his palm warm against your jaw as his thumb came to rest on your cheekbone. "So we don't bump noses," he mumbled. You smiled nervously, your lips curving up despite the butterflies doing acrobatics in your stomach.
He stared at you gently, his hazel eyes searching your face one last time, giving you one final chance to change your mind. "You're sure?" he whispered. You nodded, and this time he accepted it because he'd already established that you could use your words if you needed to.
"Very," you said softly, and your eyes glanced down at his lips.
"You want me to lean in, or d'you wanna take the first step?" he asked softly, his thumb still resting gently against your cheekbone.
He'd never had to guide anyone through a kiss before. He wasn't sure how much exactly to guide, how much instruction was helpful versus overwhelming or how much space to give you versus how much to lead.
"Can you?" you whispered.
"Yeah, of course," his voice coming out a little rougher. "You can put your hands on my neck," he said quietly. He reached forward gently, his fingers encircling your wrists with the lightest touch, and guided your hands up to the sides of his neck. He placed them there himself, positioning your palms against the warm skin just above his collar. His heart was racing and you felt it.
"You're warm," you blurted out. It was such a random thing to say, of course he was warm, he was a living breathing human being with blood circulating through his body.
He laughed and it made his shoulders shake slightly beneath your hands. "Not warm, just blushing, honey," he mumbled and the butterflies in your stomach multiplied.
You let out a sound between a scoff and a laugh, because the idea of Jack Abbot blushing because of you was both ridiculous and wonderful.
"I've got the prettiest girl in my lap and she wants to kiss me," he said, aware you didn't believe he was flustered. "I've got more than enough reasons to be blushing."
The words made you smile again. It was like your body was incapable of not being full of joy when you were near him.
You brushed gently under his jaw and his eyelashes fluttered at the touch and then your hand wandered to the back of his head, your fingers threading into his hair. His hair was just as soft as you thought it would be.
"Soft," you whispered.
He gave you a shy smile. "Reminds me of someone," he mumbled, and the comparison was so random that it made you smile again.
"I'm going to kiss you now, yeah?" he whispered, and it wasn't really a question anymore.
You nodded, your hands still tangled in his hair, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. His breath hit your lips first and he waited, pausing with his lips just a breath away from yours, looking at you with those hazel eyes. Do you still want this?
He saw you nod softly and then he pressed his lips against yours. It was softer than you'd imagined. His mouth was really warm and gentle. You immediately tightened your hands in his locks, because the feeling of his mouth on yours was making your head spin and your thoughts scatter. He squeezed your waist gently in response.
You weren't sure what to do. The mechanics of kissing had always seemed straightforward in theory, but now that you were actually doing it, you found yourself second guessing everything. Were you supposed to move your lips? How much pressure was too much? You decided to just press back a bit, because you were supposed to do that, right?
And based on his hum, it seemed you were right.
His hands traveled up from your waist, sliding slowly up your back until they reached your neck. His fingers pressed against the back of it, pulling you closer.
It didn't last long and then he pulled back, just far enough to look at you, his nose still almost brushing yours.
His hand came up to brush the hair that had fallen down back in your face away from your face. His fingers were gentle as they swept across your forehead, tucking strands behind your ear.
"How was that?" he asked softly, and his voice was a little rougher around the edges. He seemed nervous and worried. He was hoping he'd made it good for you.
Your eyes, which had been staring at his lips the entire time he was talking, finally lifted to meet his. It took effort to drag your gaze away from his mouth that had just been pressed against yours.
"Nice," you whispered, and the word felt inadequate for what you were actually feeling. "Really nice." You paused, and then a disbelieving sound escaped your lips. "I just had my first kiss."
You pressed your fingers to your own lips and a smile spread across your face.
He smiled back, and the relief that flooded his veins was visible. He'd given you your first kiss and he hadn't somehow ruined it or made it weird or disappointed you.
"Yeah, you did," he said and he watched you press your fingers to your lips with an expression of pure adoration. "Did you like it?"
You nodded, your fingers still resting against your mouth. "Yeah."
And then you looked at him, hesitating for just a moment. "Did you?" you asked nervously.
"Very much so, sweetheart," he mumbled, and the words came out slightly slurred with affection. He was already staring back at your lips. He couldn't help it. One kiss had not been nearly enough for him.
You were already thinking the same thing.
"Can we kiss more?" you asked, and your fingers were brushing through the curls at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft silver strands, making his eyelids droop with pleasure.
"Please," he mumbled, and he didn't bother to hide his desperation whatsoever.
He kissed you again, but this time when his mouth met yours, his lips captured your bottom one, drawing it gently between his own in a way that was decidedly more than the soft press of lips you'd experienced the first time. It was a proper kiss.
You pulled back, your eyes going wide. You stared at him, and he stared back at you with heavy lidded eyes, his lips still slightly parted from where they'd just been pressed against yours.
"You can do the same," he mumbled quietly, almost too lovesick to explain it further in detail.
You leaned back in, pressing your mouth to his, and this time you were the one who captured his bottom lip. It was a little clumsy, your inexperience showing in the way you fumbled slightly with the angle. But it was easy once you started doing it and nice. His lip was soft between yours and the way he responded to your effort made your stomach flip.
He hummed again. It was sweet to know that Jack Abbot hummed during kisses.
That went on for ages or maybe it just felt like ages. What you knew for certain was that you spent a long time in his lap, exchanging kisses that ranged from soft and sweet to something a little deeper. He tried to stop you for a second, pulling back just far enough to check in, but you shook your head.
You were having fun. He was right. He'd told you this was supposed to be fun, and he'd been right all along. Kissing Jack Abbot was the most fun you'd ever had in your entire life.
You pulled back after a while, absolutely shining. Your eyes were bright and your lips slightly swollen. You were undeniably happy and that made Jack's heart squeeze with happiness.
Jack was more dazed as he stared at you. His breathing was uneven and his hair was chaotic from where your fingers had been tangling in it, but he looked just as happy as you.
"You taste like vanilla," he mumbled as he licked his lips.
"My lip gloss is vanilla," you smiled, confirming the suspicion he'd had earlier when he'd first caught the scent of your perfume. Vanilla perfume and vanilla lip gloss. You were vanilla all the way through, sweet and warm and comforting, and he couldn't get enough of it.
"Tasty," he mumbled and that made you laugh. He looked pleased with himself at the sound.
Your hands let the soft strands of his hair slip through your fingers one more time, before moving around to the front. Your fingertips traced along his jawline, feeling his stubble. You brushed across his cheeks softly that was as soothing for you as it was for him.
Jack simply adored you with his big hazel eyes. His eyes tracked your face with love. Being adored by you was the best feeling he'd experienced in longer than he could remember.
You kept going for ages, but eventually he wrapped his fingers around yours and pulled them away from his face. "Careful," he mumbled. "You're about to get beard burn."
He glanced down at your fingertips, and sure enough, they were slightly red from all the attention you'd been giving his stubble. He shot you a disappointed look, as if it was your fault his beard was razor sharp.
But then he pressed a kiss to your fingers anyway. The gesture was so romantic, that it made you want to cry. He kissed each fingertip and you smiled the entire time.
It didn't stop you, though. The moment he dropped your fingers, you reached up again. You found his light freckles and started connecting them like constellations.
He let his eyes fall shut as your fingertips connected the dots on his skin, the vanilla from your kiss still lingering on his lips and he never wanted this moment to end.
summary: as a fourth year resident in the Obstetrics department at PTMC, and the wife of jack abbot, calls down to the ER almost always brighten your day. certified wife guy jack abbot loves to see his girl in action.
content warnings: MDNI! graphic descriptions of medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, a lil angst, husband jack abbot banter and fluff with his favorite person, you ;)
word count: 3.3k
authors note: just a little something that popped into my mind rewatching that season 2 case. pretty medical heavy but drop a comment if you enjoyed :)
“Hey, Dr. Abbot,” Medic Nguyen says, pulling out the heavily pregnant woman on the gurney from the back of the rig, “this is Judith Lastrade, 36 weeks pregnant with two days of headache, now a 10 out of 10 with blurred vision. BP 174/120, heart rate 92. No relief with fentanyl.”
“Judith, I'm Dr. Abbot,” Jack says calmly, “any weakness in your arms or legs?”
“No, no. Is this a stroke?” She says, resting her hand on her stomach.
“We need to check for everything,” Jack says, pushing her gurney into the ER with Robby and the medics.
“Where are you doing your prenatal care?” Robby asks.
“Nowhere.” Judith says, firm and defensive. “It's a wild pregnancy. I want a free birth.”
“Uh, ok,” Jack says, exchanging a charged glance with Robby as they push her into trauma two. “Mateo, Nazely, Henderson, with me. Lena, call up to OB, ask for-”
“I know who to ask for,” Lena says, smiling, phone already to her ear.
“CTG is on,” Mateo says, adjusting the strap on Judith's belly.
“CTG?” Judith says, looking up at him.
“Cardiotocography. Measures the baby's heart rate and checks for contractions.” Jack says, crouching forward, reading the stats on the machine, “fetal heart rate 128. Normal range, Nazely?”
“110 to 160,” Nazley says.
“So the baby's OK?” Judith says.
“Right now, yes.” Henderson says, “128 is reassuring,”
“Your next move, Crus?” Jack asks.
“20 of labetalol, IV push over two minutes,” Crus says, pulling the meds from the nearby drawer.
“Uh, what's happening?” Judith asks, the monitors beeping rhythmically in the background.
“You have a condition called preeclampsia,” Nazley offers gently.
“And how did it happen?” Judith says, voice laced with worry.
“Uh, nobody really knows, actually,” Jack says, looking out the glass doors towards the hub, wondering where you are, “it affects about 10% of the pregnancies. High blood pressure, headaches, protein in the urine, and swollen ankles.”
“Ok, well, it's a wild pregnancy, so that means no medical care,” Judith says,
“Then why are you here?” Robby says, no concern in his voice.
“I just need to get rid of this headache,” she says, tears starting to well in her eyes,
“Well, if we don't lower your blood pressure and treat with magnesium, there can be problems.” Abbot says gentler, trying to correct Robby’s harsh tone.
“Like what?” Judith sniffs.
“Seizures, bleeding, even death, for you and the baby,” Crus says.
“Oh, my God,” Judith cries.
“Robby,” Dana says, poking her head in the room, “need you in trauma one,”
“OK,” Robby says, following Dana out of the room, “you good?”
“Yeah, I'm good. I got it. With my eyes closed. But I won't. Maybe one eye.” Jack clicks his tongue as he winks at Judith.
“Jesus, Jack, she’s already pregnant,” you say, a cheeky smile on your face as you push through the back door of the trauma room. His whole face lights up as you walk into the room, your jade green scrubs hugging your hips just the way he likes. He shoves his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to you and squeezing your waist.
“She’s the other Dr. Abbot?” Nazley says under her breath to Crus, “she’s so much younger than him,”
“Yeah,” Crus murmurs back but you and Jack don’t hear them, the two of you in your own world for a moment, “they kinda don’t give a fuck,”
“Hey,” Jack says, his voice dropping to something much softer. He’s in awe of how beautiful you look under the harsh fluorescences of the ER.
“Hi, Dr. Abbot,” you smile, shaking your head, rubbing in the purell on your hands. The little group of nurses and doctors gather around you. You nod hello to Crus and Mateo, pausing on Nazely, “I don’t think we’ve gotten to work together yet,” you hold out your hand to her introducing yourself.
“Nazley Toomarian, intern,” she says, “I- I just started tonight,”
“Jesus and they put you on the night shift?” You turn to Jack, “free her.”
“I didn’t assign her to the night shift,” Jack holds his hands up in self defense.
“Well, it’s really nice to meet you Dr. Toomarian,” you say, “you’ve got a good teacher here,” you wink at Jack.
“You’re not biased or anything,” Jack smiles.
“Not at all,” you roll your eyes playfully, “whaddya got for me?”
“This is Judith. G1, P0 with no prenatal care. Preeclampsia with severe hypertension,” Nazley says, standing up a little straighter as she speaks to you, before turning back to Judith, “How's the headache?”
“Still a 10,” Judith moans.
“More fentanyl?” Crus asks.
“Yep,” Abbot says, trying to suppress the smile that wants to form on his face now that you’re in the room. He leans into you and murmurs under his breath, “missed you,”
“Jack, you saw me two hours ago,” you smile, "remember? We carpooled from our house?”
“BP's good,” Crus says, eyes on the monitor, “another fifty,”
Your eyes linger on Jack as he beams at you while you walk over to the patient's bedside.
“Hi Judith,” you say softly, “I’m Dr. Abbot from OB,”
“I thought he was Dr. Abbot,” Judith looks towards Jack.
“He is. I- uh- am too,” you smile at her, “we’re married,”
“Oh,” Judith sighs, “that’s nice. That you get to work together I mean. Do you have kids?”
“No,” you say, and you don’t have to turn your head to see that Jack has walked up next to you, to feel the tension radiating off Jack at her question. Thankfully Crus intervenes before Jack boils over.
“Some jelly on the belly. Gonna take a quick look with ultrasound.” Crus says, handing you the wand and gel.
“No, no, no.” Judith wraps her arms around her stomach, “ultrasound can harm the baby.”
“Not true.” Jack says curtly.
“I understand that you feel scared but not doing the ultrasound can end up harming you and the baby,” you say gently, “I want to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Ok,” Judith huffs, dropping her arm, “just do it as fast as you can,”
“Why no prenatal care, Judith?” You say, no judgment in your voice, squirting the gel on her stomach.
“I wanted a free birth,” she says defensively, “no doctors, no hospital, no medicine.”
“Mm,” Jack says from beside you, “you have a midwife? A birth doula?”
“No, I don't need one,” Judith says, as you drag the wand over her belly, “women have been having children on their own for thousands of years.”
“Yeah,” Jack says, clearly getting irritated, “with an infant mortality rate of 30% for most of those thousands of years,”
“You know Judith,” you say, cutting off your husband, speaking softly while keeping your eyes on the screen, “for a lot of those years birthing was a community event. Women relied on midwives and the other women in their lives to help them during childbirth.”
“What is this good cop bad cop?” Judith moans.
“I know this isn’t how you envisioned it,” you say, turning to her, “but there are a lot of people here who are more than happy to help you, if you’d let us.”
“Dr. Abbot is the best doctor in this hospital,” Jack says, feeling his heart swell at the patience and care you’re offering such a difficult patient, “I’d listen to her if I were you,”
“Femur length seven centimeters,” you say to Jack, “37 weeks. I’d induce.”
“What?” Judith says, panicked, “no, no, no. Absolutely not.”
“At 37 weeks, the cure for preeclampsia is to deliver the baby,” Jack says firmly, but with a little less bite, “we need to get you upstairs so Dr. Abbot can induce labor to save you and your baby.”
“No.” Judith sits up, shaking her head. “No, no, no.”
You stand, exchanging a knowing look with Jack before walking over to the phone and calling up to the OB department for a room.
“Labs are coming back.” Nazley says, pulling the labs up on the computer, “Hemoglobin 7.5, platelets 40. LFTs are sky high.”
“HELLP syndrome,” Jack shakes his head, looking at the results.
“Hemolytic anemia, elevated liver enzymes, and low platelets,” Crus explains to Nazley.
“They're cleaning a room,” you say, hanging up the phone, “I can bring her up in ten minutes.”
“How you doing, Judith?” Jack says, walking back to her bedside.
“I- I-” Judith’s eyes roll back, her body starts to spasm.
“Oh, she's seizing,” Nazely says.
“Oh, shit,” you say, moving next to Jack, “10 of IV diazepam. Have another 10 ready,”
“With all the movement, we can't get a fetal heartbeat,” Mateo says, checking the CTG.
“Putting on 15 liters by mask. Should we intubate?” Crus asks.
“Hold intubation. Let's try to break this. We don't want to mask seizures with paralysis unless we have to,” you say to Nazley, explaining your rationale.
“Nazely, what's the diagnosis?” Jack asks.
“Um, with the seizure, now it's eclampsia,” Nazely says.
“Fetal heart rate is about 90,” you shake your head, “way too low,”
“Mom's sats are going down,” Mateo says, his eyes on the monitor.
“Time to tube her?” Crus asks, looking between you and Jack. The two of you stare at each other, seeming to telepathically communicate.
“Set up for it, but wait,” you speak for the pair of you, “another 10 of diazepam. Push 4 grams of Keppra.”
“Pulse ox is 88,” Mateo says, shaking his head.
“Dr. Abbot?” Crus says, looking at Jack, “Intubate?”
But Jack looks at you.
“Let’s do it,” you say.
“Nazely, what do you suggest for rapid sequence induction?” Jack says.
“Etomidate and roc,” Nazely offers her best guess.
“Mm, not quite, Dr. Toomarian,” you say, snapping on a pair of gloves, “120 of propofol, 60 of succinylcholine.”
“Why is that, Crus?” Jack says, pulling on his own pair of gloves.
“Propofol for the anti-seizure effect, sux to avoid prolonged paralysis so we can check her neuro exam.” Crus says.
“Exactly,” Jack nods.
“Pushing the propofol,” Mateo injects the medication into Judith’s IV.
“Once she's flat for intubation we need to displace the uterus to the left,” you say across the table to Jack.
“Nazely, that's you. Big hug, both arms. Get the baby off the vena cava.” Jack mimes the movement, guiding her.
“What's she had so far?” Shen says, walking in the room.
“30 of diazepam, a full load of mag, Keppra, and propofol,” Jack says, eyes on the monitor.
“Damn.” Ellis’ eyes follow Jack's, “What's your next step?”
“Any ideas?” Jack asks the room, “Nazely?”
“Dilantin? Valproate?” Nazely offers.
“Infusion is too long. Push 100 of ketamine. That's had results with refractory status,” you say, nodding at Nazely. She injects the ketamine into the IV and immediately the heart rate picks up, but not as much as you’d like, “little better.”
“Yeah. She should be upstairs with the rest of OB,” Shen shakes his head.
“Best of OB is down here with us,” Jack says, looking at you with adoration. You smile and shake your head at his compliment. The phone in the room rings and Ellis moves to pick it up.
“Ok, got it.” she says, “OB says send her and Dr. Abbot up. They have an OR ready.”
“This one looks like it took a turn for the worse,” Robby says walking into the room, and as if he spoke it into existence, Judith’s heart starts to fail, “fuck. V-fib”!
“Chest compressions, Dr. Toomarian, Charge to 200,” you say, commanding the room, “Prep the belly. Get a baby warmer. Call the NICU. Start a timer.”
“Charged. Clear.” Mateo says. Everyone raises their hands off Judith and steps back. A shock jolts her body but her heart doesn’t pick up again on its own, “continue compressions!”
“Gown up, baby, it's you and me.” Abbot looks across the table at you and you give your head a little shake at the pet name in this dire circumstance.
“Dr. Toomarian, do you know the four-minute rule?” You ask as Mateo helps you slip on a gown.
“Uh, not sure.” Nazely says, tying Jack’s gown for him.
“Pregnant patient with a viable fetus, you have four minutes after cardiac arrest to save the baby.” You say, sliding your goggles up your nose.
“And the mom,” Jack adds, “we don't call it a postmortem C-section anymore. It's a resuscitative hysterotomy to try to save them both.”
“But she doesn't want any medical intervention.” Nazley says tepidly.
“Doesn't matter. Mom and baby are both dead if we do nothing.” You say. “OK, charge to 200. One more rhythm check and then Jack and I are gonna cut. Ellis, you and Crus on Mom resuscitation. Shen, you and Nazely take the baby. OK, hold compressions.”
Everyone steps back, raising their hands off Judith’s limp body.
“Still V-fib.” Crus shakes his head.
“We need to get this baby out right now,” Jack says to you, and you nod, “let’s have eyes on Dr. Abbot, this is a priceless demonstration we’re about to get,”
“Ok, ten blade,” you say, holding out your hand, grateful you’re masked up so the trauma room can’t see you blush. Mateo places the scalpel in your hand.
“First incision is from the xiphoid to the pubic symphysis through the skin to the linea alba.” You say, dragging the blade down her belly.
“Second incision goes through the peritoneum, exposing the uterus,” you’re laser focused, making an identical incision on the deeper layer of skin.
“Ellis, gentle traction,” Jack says, pulling back his retractor and she mirrors his movements.
“Ok, making a small vertical incision through the lower uterus so as not to cut the baby,” you say, taking the scissors from Mateo, “using scissors to extend superiorly.”
“Ellis, hand retract the uterus with me.” Jack says, knowing what you need before you have to ask.
“Amniotic fluid looks good,” you say, as it spills out, “give me some fundal pressure.”
“Breech position,” Jack says, as you reach into her uterus.
“Baby's out. It's a girl!” You say, and Jack can hear the smile in your voice. He knows that this is your favorite part, usually much more joyful and with the mother conscious.
“Ok, blue and flaccid. We got mommy, you take baby,” You say to Shen. Everyone works in frantic precision. You pull out the placenta in a smooth motion, getting it all out in one go.
“Hold compressions.” Jack says.
“I got a weak carotid.” Mateo says, and you breathe out in relief.
“No seizure activity on the EEG.” Crus says, eyes on the monitor.
“Ah!” Shen calls from across the room, “Baby girl just scored the winning point! APGAR of 8 is pretty normal.”
“Holy shit,” Dr. Pettyfer, your OB colleague pushes in the room, “what did I miss?
“Eclampsia with status, HELLP syndrome, cardiac arrest, resuscitative hysterotomy.” Jack says, resting his hands on his hips.
“I was in the OR with a septic twin C-section,” Pettyfer says, looking between you and Jack, “got your text 12 minutes ago.”
“Shit happens fast down here,” Jack shrugs.
“Dr. Abbot did a resuscitative hysterotomy in 36 seconds.” Crus says, awe in his voice.
“Impressive,” Pettyfer crosses his arm, looking down at Judith.
“You’re not gonna ask which one?” Jack says, crossing his arms.
“I don’t have to,” Pettyfer smirks.
“NICU's sending a team down,” Mateo says, hanging up the phone.
“Alright well I can take mom along with my star resident,” Pettyfer nods at you before turning to the ER crew, “you guys are rock stars,”
“We like to be referred to as crawlers of the night,” Jack says, a playful lilt in his voice.
“My god,” you roll your eyes at him, before turning back to Pettyfer, “can I meet you up there in five? I wanna wait for NICU to come get the baby,”
“Yeah, no problem,” Pettyfer says as Crus and Ellis help him roll Judith out of the room, the rest of the ER staff clearing out leaving you and Jack alone. You lock eyes and let out a long, deep breath.
“You were amazing,” Jack says, walking towards you, the tip of his boot bumping against your sneaker.
“I fucking hate anti-vaxx, make america healthy again bullshit people,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Jack teases as he moves his arms around your body, holding you against him. You pinch his side and he yells out a little yelp.
“She was scared,” you say, breathing in his smell, “idiots can be scared too, Jack,”
“So true, baby,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down your back, “you were good with her,”
“I was,” you sigh.
“I didn’t like it when she asked if we had kids,” Jack says into your hair.
“She was just scared, looking for a little connection,” you say, pulling back so you can look your husband in the eye, “it’s ok that we’re doing things our own way. We’re allowed to not want kids.”
“I love you so much,” he says, squeezing your hip.
“I love you so much,” you echo.
“Fuck kids,” Jack says.
“Fuck kids,” you say so enthusiastically Jack can’t help but laugh, “...for us though. For other people it’s super important to my livelihood.”
“Right,” Jack nods in mock seriousness. You smile at him, running your hands up his arms, locking your fingers behind his neck.
“I want you all to myself,” you whisper, leaning up, quickly biting his ear lobe. Jack grips down on your waist and lets out a small, soft groan.
“You got me,” he rasps.
“I know,” you smile, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I gotta get back upstairs my love,”
“Ok,” he says, trying not to be so disappointed, especially after getting to spend a little extra time with you.
Jack shoves his hands in his pockets as the pair of you walk towards the elevators, knowing he’d be too tempted to take your hand if he didn’t.
“If I give you constructive feedback will you still love me?” You say, as the pair of you move slowly through the pitt.
“I’ll love you no matter what,” Jack hums.
“You should try to call Nazley Dr. Toomarian,” you say, clasping your hands behind your back, “she just became a doctor. And I know you have your whole fun-attending-night-crawlers thing but… she worked hard to get here and I think it could mean a lot. Especially because the night shift down here is kind of a boys club,”
“We have Ellis!” Jack says.
“Jack…” you stop in front of the elevator giving him a somewhat incredulous look,“Ellis is the head of boys club,”
“Point taken,” he laughs, pausing, letting his eyes run over your face. “Ok. I’ll work on that. Can I give you some constructive feedback?” He pushes the elevator button for you.
“Of course,” you smile. Jack leans towards you, letting his finger brush against the back of your palm, against your wedding band.
“Your ass… looks amazing in those scrubs,” he whispers.
“Jack!” You laugh, as the elevator dings open, starting to walk through the doors.
“Hey,” Jack says in almost a whine, grasping your hand in his.
“What?” You smile.
“No kiss?” He says, his eyes wide and puppy-like.
“We are at work,” you smile, squeezing his hand and he gives you this look like he knows you want to kiss him just as badly. You sigh, “fine. A little one,”
“Just a little one,” Jack says, crinkling his nose, leaning towards you, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You giggle against his mouth, turning your head away.
“That’s all you get,” you smile, pulling away, backing into the elevator.
“I’ll see you later,” Jack says, the tips of his ears red, burying his hands in his pockets.
“Bye, Dr. Abbot,” you say, drawing out his name with a flirty twang.
“Bye Dr. Abbot,” he nods at you with that smoldering look you love so much. You blow him a little kiss before the elevator doors slide shut. He catches it and presses it against his heart. It’s gonna be a long shift.
☁︎ Check out @butyoudidthis4whatrecs for fics, art, gifs, edits, etc.!
Interact with the posts linked below to get on that character’s tag list!
Each tag list is separate, so be sure to interact with each post for each character you’d like to be tagged for! Keep in mind that if you change your username you’ll need to re-interact with each post if you’d still like to be tagged!
☁︎ Jack Abbot ☁︎ Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody
☁︎ Brett Richards ☁︎ Titus Danforth
☁︎ Grant Reilly ☁︎ Robby Robinavitch
☁︎ Rabbot (x Reader) ☁︎ Charlie Reid
pope cody who hates baz’s stupid and complicated espresso machine. he just wants coffee. but as soon as you start staying over he teaches himself to make cappuccinos, practicing pulling the shots and frothing the milk dozens of times so he can wake his girl up with her favorite drink.
of course, you’ve never brought it up, always happily sipping on your cup of regular coffee whenever you’re at the cody residence in the morning. so when pope wakes you up on a random tuesday with a perfect, frothy cappuccino, dusted with cinnamon just how you like you can’t help but set the hot mug down on the bedside table and pull him into a long, sleepy kiss, smiling into him as your heart flutters.
he’s anxious for you to try it, watching your face closely as you bring the cup up to your lips, your eyes locked on his over the rim of the mug. he feels his chest loosen when you let out a low moan, closing your eyes at the rich, creamy taste.
“good?” he says, fingers twisting into the duvet where its rest on your thighs.
“mm,” you hum, pulling back from the cup, a little white mustache of foam on your upper lip, “sooo good, my love.” and he just beams, leaning forward kissing the frothy milk from your lips.
im having a nothing thought about single mom!reader who's kid really wants to learn how to skateboard.
i'm thinking about this sweet little kid watching andrew skate. this grown man rocking it on the skateboard - your little boy immediately sees himself in this grown man.
and, of course, because kids are fearless, your little boy asks andrew to teach him. he's that age between just learning to talk and learning to be shy.
and andrew just naturally great with kids (something he finds out in that moment).
and you're grateful enough to buy him a coffee. and that coffee turns into dinner. and that dinner turns into the sitter calling you because your son is having a meltdown.
so, andrew ends up back at your place. your son ends his meltdown and is so happy to see andrew (he seriously adores him, and andrew adores your kid).
so the night ends with your kid asleep in andrews arms. he's drooling on his shoulder while you settle with a cup of tea each.
andrew is a natural when he puts your kid down and tucks him in. you ask him the dreaded question after that. on your sofa, knees touching his leg as you face him instead of the nature documentary quietly playing. have you got any kids?
and andrew has to confess that no, he doesn't. but he's always dreamed of having kids, just hasn't yet found the right person.
and somehow that has you climbing onto his lap and kissing him. has him grabbing your hips to hold you there, as close as possible.
You’ve seen plenty of photos of Jack when he was younger and more auburn-haired; when he was softer, more naïve, untouched by the traumas of war and his subsequent disability—but he’s barely seen any of you.
The realization comes quickly to him, and he figures it's the perfect night to rectify that.
“Baby.”
“Yeah?” You glance at him from your peripheral, looking away from the book you're reading.
You feel him lean closer to you from his spot in bed. “You’ve never shown me pictures of yourself before med school. Besides those baby pics you had.”
A scoff escapes you, and you quickly dip your head down in shame. Your fingers fidget and crease a page. “You wouldn't like it. I was ugly. And I wasn’t happy.”
He physically recoils, a frown pulling at his face. “That's not true. Why wouldn't I? It's you, c’mon.” He tries to pinch your cheek to draw a giggle out of you, which usually works, but not this time. “At least let me see. I won’t say anything.”
You sigh. “Jack.”
“Please?”
After a bit of prodding, you huff and give in; you open your photos app, scroll to several years before, and hand him your phone. He's your boyfriend—partner, he prefers, because boyfriend sounds juvenile—after all. It should feel safe. It should feel easy.
Instead, it feels like pinpricks in your eyes and a deep ache in your chest. You barely took photos of yourself before med school for a reason. Insecurity, which is the only one.
You hide yourself from Jack’s reaction. But while you're stewing away a few inches from him, he’s in awe of how beautiful, glowing, cute you looked in college, high school, and before that. It worsens his already bad desire to scoop you up and kiss away all your troubles, if it’ll help a little bit.
“Sweetheart?”
His voice, gruff yet softer than usual, draws you out. “Hm?”
Dry lips press at your temple, and an arm pulls you closer by the waist. “Don't know what you were worried about. Looked just perfect to me. You've always been."
You allow yourself to relax a little, and you feel Jack smile against your hair.
But can you IMAGINE Jack doing the ‘dad walk’ when leaving the hospital with your newborn? He insists on taking the carrier, leading the way downstairs while the labor and delivery nurse follows with your wheelchair. He’s walking proudly through the halls in a well fitting tee - maybe with his military branch emblem - a pair of joggers, tennies, and a backwards hat. He’s using his other arm to carry both your overnight bags. You get outside and he goes to pull the car around, beaming that he got the carrier in on the first try.
“I’ve got it from here, thank you guys for everything,” Jack says to the nurse. He helps you into the car, going as far as leaning over to buckle you in. Before he closes the door he gives you a soft kiss on the crown of your head. “You okay baby? Comfortable?” You smile and nod your head. He pats your thigh gently and closes the passenger door. The whole ride home he can’t stop smiling, holding your hand in your lap and squeezing it with excitement. “So proud of you, honey. So in awe of you,” he whispers sweetly. Damn that six week rule.
DESCRIPTION: In which Ogilvie has moved to the night shift, and you're the resident assigned to teach him. But when things start to get more and more frustrating, you rely on your husband/attending, Jack Abbot.
WORD COUNT: 4k
WARNINGS: Married/Established Relationship. Senior Resident!Reader. Fluff! Emotional hurt/comfort. Vomit mentioned. Ogilvie is insensitive. (I hate him but also acknowledge he's a complex character).
EXTENDED WARNING: The patient they treat has an ED. Reader can be insinuated to have a past regarding DE, but it is not delved into. No eating or disordered behavior is shown. Much love to anybody out there experiencing this. I'm in recovery myself.
READ ON AO3! - MASTERLIST
Why, oh why, did Ogilvie have to switch to the night shift? Y/n had been excited at the prospect of teaching a new med student. She always was. Especially compared to the other residents? They were always throwing the new interns and med students her way so they wouldn’t have to deal with them.
Plus, she was a good teacher. Patient. Encouraging. Kind. Something her husband, Jack, always admired about her. They both were very invested in keeping up good morale. Working the night shift was hellish, but the Abbot’s always made sure everyone was getting through okay. From Jack calling the crew ‘The Nightcrawlers’ (something Gloria from HR couldn’t stand). To her, packing on-the-go snacks for everyone (god forbid, someone passed out on them). They worked together to keep the cogs in the machine oiled and running.
Robby had texted them that the night shift was going to be gaining new hands, which was always good news. She had hoped that they’d get the new nurse, Emma, or even the girl with the photographic memory, Joy…
But instead, she walked down the hallway with Ogilvie hot on her trail. And he never. Stopped. Talking.
“I mean, my first day here was during the cyber attack last month. So I feel like that really prepared me for the worst possible scenario.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that coughed out of her. He tilted his head, confused.
“Well, this is the night shift. Whatever you’ve been seeing during the day? Double it. Make it weirder. Make it worse.” She said, crossing her arms as she walked, “Because if someone is dragging themselves to the ER in the middle of the night? There’s gotta be a hell of a good reason to.”
She walked him to the patient board, just as Jack walked by. He looked as handsome as always in his black scrubs. And he looked the most awake- used to staying up all night.
“Well, take a look at our new night crawler!” He eyed him up and down with a friendly smile.
Jack hadn’t interacted with him much on the day shift. He had seen him around, but nothing more than getting the day shift case handoffs. In his opinion? The guy looked like he’d work well on the night shift. Seemed eager. Seemed like a student his wife could mold.
Ogilvie scrunched his face, “Huh?”
She chuckled. His confusion was understandable.
“Sorry, that’s just the term of endearment my husband likes to call us night shifters.”
His eyes widened, “Wait- you’re married?”
“Ever wondered why I go by Dr. Y/n and not my last name? Things would get quite confusing with two Dr. Abbot’s.”
He nodded, “Right. That makes sense. Well, Dr. Y/n and Dr. Abbot, I am excited to learn all that I can today.”
Jack nodded in respect. “I like that attitude.”
Shen walked up to them, having just clocked in, coffee tray in hand. “Y/n! My favorite Abbot.”
Jack gave him a done look while his wife laughed and took her coffee from him.
“Got your favorite.” Shen continued, “Iced vanilla latte with the strawberry syrup.”
“I don’t like that you have my wife’s coffee order memorized.” Jack joked, pointing a finger. “Ogilvie, this is Shen. He will get you a coffee if you survive until the next shift. In the meantime, we have free coffee in the break room.”
She snorted at Jack volun-telling Shen to get Ogilvie coffee next shift. Shen hung his head down, but nodded in agreement.
“Dr. Abbot, can I get your second opinion on my patient in West 13?” He asked
“Catch me up?” He looked over to his wife and Ogilvie, “Good luck. Don’t break any legs.”
He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes with a blush.
“Love you.” He said, walking away
She waved him off, “Yeah. Yeah.”
Jack turned around, “I saiiiid I love you.”
“I love you too. Go away!” She said through a beaming grin.
He smiled and turned back around, listening to Shen as they walked towards the west wing. She watched him walk away, feeling warm and happy-
“Does HR know about your relationship?” Ogilvie asked
That snapped her back to reality. She nodded.
“Bit of a personal question, but it makes sense to ask.” She decided to turn it into a teaching lesson, “Yes, they do know. But that’s cause Jack and I were married before I transferred over to this hospital. I would highly not recommend dating in the workplace, okay?”
Ogilvie nodded, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not that stupid.”
Her smile turned into more of a grimace at the slight insult.
She smacked her lips. “Okay! Well. Let’s go to the patient board, shall we?”
They walked up to the patient board and looked up. Ogilvie drummed his hands on the counter.
“My record for intubations in one shift is two. I’d like to see if I can get to three-”
“Hey. We don’t wish for intubations, okay?” She said, her nerves already going a little haywire around this kid, “It’s bad juju. Now, why don’t we check on Mrs. Starker in South 20 with the intense sunburn?”
Ogilvie stood up straight, “No, what about Mr. Banks with the headache. Could be a stroke-”
“Or mild dehydration. Mrs. Starker came in first. They have the same level of priority, and we can’t let people wait.”
She started walking, not taking his ‘suggestion’. He reluctantly followed.
“Damn it. I was really hoping to get to do a burr hole-”
She shot him a look, “What did I just say about wishing?”
He shut up, and a little ball of guilt began to build. She didn’t like being strict with the students. Making mistakes was a usual part of this process. Hell, it felt like she had made every mistake possible when she was an intern. But this kid was a talker.
Ogilvie’s behavior got old… VERY quickly. Halfway through the shift, her eyebags were heavier than usual, and she had less patience when responding to questions and requests… Especially because Ogilvie wanted to do every single procedure with little to no experience.
They walked up to North 4, where a patient they had done blood work on was waiting. The patient, Ms. Cade, was experiencing easy bruising, weakness, fatigue, and dizziness after fainting at a party. She had a gut feeling that it’d be due to disordered eating, and with the low vitamin levels, she was nearly confirmed correct. After briefing her thoughts to Ogilvie, she felt ready to get Ms. Cade the help she needed. They just needed to be gentle with the conversation.
She opened the curtain, “Hi, Ms. Cade. We’re back. How are you feeling?”
The woman wore a bulky sweater and sweatpants. She held her arms across her chest as she lay back. She looked to be around her early 20s. Around the same age as Ogilvie.
“Tired… It’s cold in here.” She said, gently.
“I know, right. I always pack a hoodie in my bag.” She related as she sat down on the spinning stool. Ogilvie stood right behind her.
“I’m always cold.”
She nodded slowly, “I’m sorry about that.”
Suddenly, Ogilvie butted in, “That’s probably due to the malnutrition we found. Your metabolism is slower, which means less heat production.”
Both she and Ms. Cade froze. The patient looked to Ogilvie-
“My metabolism is slowed?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that-” She started, trying to repair the damage.
“Is it? Because when you starve your body, it goes into starvation mode and holds onto the fat, slowing your metabolism. It’s pretty cut and dry.”
Ms. Cade’s eyes started to water, “What do you mean? I’m not burning anything? I-I’ve just been on a diet for a bit. I’m working really hard because I have a pageant coming up.”
Y/n tried to speak again, “Ms. Cade, I’d like for you to speak to a member of our amazing psych and nutrition team. They can explain how to help you feel less cold and dizzy-”
“What is there to explain? Ms. Cade, you just need to eat more.”
“OGILVIE.” Her voice was shrill as she stood up, the rolling stool shifting.
The room completely stilled.
From outside the curtains, Jack froze, overhearing his wife’s snapping tone. Boy, did he feel sorry for the kid now. Ellis raised her brows, looking over at him. She gave him a side eye and leaned in.
“I don’t think I’ve heard her get that angry before.” She said in a hushed tone
Jack nodded, filling out a lab order. “It’s rareeee.”
“Should you go check on her?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head in a ‘I don’t know’.
“I will. Probably not… immediately, since she’s still in mama bear mode.”
“Whatever it is, you'd better side with her.” Ellis chuckled, “Happy wife. Happy life. I’d like to see you alive next shift.”
Jack chuckled and finished signing off the order. He looked up at his friend.
“Pretty easy when your wife’s always right.”
“Correct answer,” Ellis said
They both chuckled at that, and he shrugged, a small smile on his face at the thought.
“It’s just true.”
Y/n dragged Ogilvie to an empty room on the opposite wing. She shut the door and dragged her hands down her face. Ogilvie looked at her, arms crossed defensively. The nurses' station got a perfect view through the glass door and window.
“I’m confused on why we stopped-”
“Because, Ogilvie, I had told you that Ms. Cade likely had an eating disorder, and you told her she was holding onto fat and prescribed her to eat more.”
He slowly nodded, “Yeah, because it’s the simple solution-”
“Oh, my god. If it were simple, she wouldn’t be in here!” She barked, “Did it not cross your mind that she already knows?”
He threw his hands up, frustrated. “I’m just confused on how someone could be so-”
“Do not finish that sentence.” She threatened, “I need you to shut the fuck up and learn some empathy really quick if you’re gonna survive working with me.”
“It’s not that I’m unempathetic. I just don’t understand why someone would do that when all she needs to do-”
“STOP. OGILVIE.” She laughed in disbelief, “FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, STOP AND FUCKING LISTEN.”
He finally stopped, putting his hands down to his sides. The guy towered over her, but she was much, much more intense, giving the illusion that she could take him on in a fight.
“I don’t give a shit if you don’t understand. Do I understand why people come in here, with gunshot wounds or overdosing, or with glue on their skin or household items in their stomachs? NO. But I still show up to be someone who understands. Not just human Google.” She explained, “You are an MS4, and I need you to knock yourself down a fucking peg before dishing out fucking advice.”
Her eyes started to water. Fuck. This always happened when she got angry. Her throat tightened, and it felt like she had choked out the last sentence.
Ogilvie looked to her, “Did I hit something personal for you?”
“You really need to learn what is and isn’t your business.” She stormed out, wiping her eyes.
Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She hiccuped, tears threatening to spill. She pushed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and squeezed her thumb in a fist. Something she had taught herself back when she was a med student. It started to work as she could take a wavering breath.
Ellis saw her and stood up from her work station, “Hey, hey, hey, you okay?”
“Someone take Ogilvie and teach him the Pyxis.” Her voice cracked, “Got a patient in South 19 that has a prescription needing to be filled.”
Her shoes squeaked as she walked as briskly as possible. Ellis followed, a worried look struck across her face. This wasn’t typical behavior of her.
“What happened?”
“If Abbot asks, I’m going for some fresh air.” She called out, not answering, “I’ll be back in five to check on my patient in North 4.”
The night chill was striking this time of year. It made her want to go back inside, but she also just wanted to go home. She leaned against the brick of the ambulance bay. It was quiet, though with her belief in superstitions, she wouldn’t say that out loud. If she breathed in hard enough, the scent of Dana’s cigarette breaks still lingered.
She took a wavering breath and stretched her back. Maybe she was just grumpy due to her back pain? She had been standing for a long time… Then she thought about it a little harder, and nope… it was definitely Ogilvie.
She had only been standing outside for a minute or so when Jack came out, head turning both ways to look for her. Once he spotted her to the side, he put one hand in his pocket.
“So… New student hasn’t become the master?” He scratched the back of his neck.
She didn’t look at him.
“I want him transferred back to day shift.”
“C’mon. It’s his first night. Besides, unfortunately, we gotta ask Robby.”
He walked over and leaned on the wall next to her. She was quiet. Instead of her usual smile, she had a faraway look. A small pout on her face, but not the kind he liked to see when he was teasing her… This was a real frown. A holding-it-together frown.
“What happened? Talk to me. I know that it’s something about not listening because our walls aren’t soundproof.”
If she started talking, she was gonna cry. But she couldn’t just… not tell him. Not only because he was her husband. But because he was her attending, who should know what’s going on in his ED.
“We had a patient who showed clear signs of disordered eating. I briefed him on that theory. He then proceeded to tell the patient to eat more and talked about how her metabolism is probably lowered.”
He leaned his shoulder against the wall to face her more, “You’re fucking kidding me.”
She ran her hands over her face. Shaking her head, she let out a frustrated groan.
“No. No, I’m unfortunately not. He still doesn’t understand where he went wrong because I couldn’t keep my cool.” She said, her voice softened, “And I- I could’ve maybe taught him the proper way to go about this, but I just got so heated. And he’s been like this all night-”
Her voice started to crack again. Jack pulled her in for a hug immediately. They usually strayed away from too much physical touch at work. But right now, he couldn’t help it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry. But the valiant effort was wasted as tears slid down anyway.
“Sorry. I’m just frustrated.” She exhaled.
He kissed her forehead, “Don’t be sorry. I’ll take over teaching him for the rest of the shift, okay? I’ll talk with him…”
“Thanks.” She pulled back and wiped her face with her palms.
He wiped the remaining tear residue with his thumb.
“Hey. We got a few more hours. Then we’ll be home. New TV episode to put on. Got ice cream in the fridge.” He gentled her.
She nodded. That was true. There was a silver lining beyond the horizon.
She got back to work and immediately headed to North 4 to firstly apologize, and then try to have a much more compassionate conversation with her.
Meanwhile, Jack walked back in, scanning the floor for Ogilvie. He spotted the tall guy standing with Ellis by the Pyxis. He walked over, and Ogilvie straightened up a little at his presence. Jack tried to keep it neutral.
“Showing the kid the Pyxis?”
Ogilvie nodded, “I’ve used it before. But Ellis was telling me how the code to access it changes at a certain time.”
“That’s right.” He crossed his arms, “Ogilvie, you’re gonna be working with Dr. Ellis and I for the rest of the shift.”
His shoulders slumped. “Is this about my disagreement with Dr. Y/n?”
“No, it’s about ‘variety being the spice of life’ as Dr. Shen likes to say.” Abbot said, “Though, if I were you, I would stay out of her way for the rest of the night.”
“May I say, I believe Dr. Y/n to be a tad too emotional to be senior residen-”
“No, you may not say that,” Abbot said through gritted teeth.
Ellis’s eyes widened, “Kid, I know you did not just say that about his wife.”
“It’s just a statement from what I’ve observed. To be a doctor, you should be logical and to the point-”
Jack laughed in his face. He was starting to see why his wife got so frustrated, and she had somehow managed to work with him for hours by this point.
“To be a doctor, you have to be aware. Something that you’re clearly still working on.” He said, “Come with me, Mr. Garfield has food poisoning and needs an IV.”
“South 20? Right? Tense abdominal signs from the convulsions, extreme vomiting, and sweat from the exertion causing him to dehydrate.”
Abbot pursed his lips and slowly nodded, “Sounds like you know what I’m talking about. Go grab the bedpan in case his vomiting comes out the other side.”
“On it.” He nodded and left.
Ellis closed the drawer to the Pyxis and started bagging up a medication. She started to laugh to herself.
“Kids got balls. And they’re gonna get chopped if he keeps running his mouth.” She looked at him, “Looks like you and the missus swapped good cop bad cop routine today.”
It was true. Usually, his wife was the one much more patient and professional with students. Distracting them with tasks to do instead of getting mad. But now, Jack had to be the one to do that today… Even though he wanted to tell the guy to shut his fucking mouth.
“Well, we can’t both be bad cop, and maybe this is an exercise in restraint.”
“From killing him?” Ellis stapled the bag shut.
Jack just nodded and left to go find Ogilvie.
Their shift was almost over, and Jack was indeed getting tired of Ogilvie. He let him do an emergency intubation and let him watch a crike. The guy had no tact, but he was clearly eager to learn and try new procedures, which was the opposite of many med students. He had to give him props for at least being brave enough to ask and try.
After finishing up their (hopefully) last patient of the night, Ogilvie approached Jack as they watched their trauma patient get rolled out of the room.
“Dr. Abbot? Can I ask you something about your wife?”
“Is she single? Fuck no.” Jack joked, then looked to him, “It depends. Are you gonna claim she shouldn’t be a doctor again?”
“I-I didn’t mean to come across like that.”
“Well, you did. Shoot.”
Ogilvie swallowed and nodded, gathering the courage to ask. “Why does she take the approach she does? I feel that if I were a patient here, I’d want the most factually based answer to my question.”
“You’re not everyone. Here, look.” Abbot said, gesturing him out of the room.
They both stepped out of the trauma bay and out to the hallway. Waiting on a stretcher in the hall was an abandoned little girl. The entire floor knew about it. Mother came in to bring her seven-year-old daughter with the flu. Next thing they knew… the mother had vanished. The cops were called, but they were waiting on social services, hoping that the mother may return.
Y/n sat on the stretcher next to her, holding a few different toys. Some Barbies and alphabet blocks from the pediatric waiting room. She played with the little girl, and the girl’s laugh reverberated down the hallway.
Jack’s heart warmed at the sight, but he broke through to explain to Ogilvie.
“Do you want to be the person to tell that little girl her mother isn’t coming back?”
Ogilvie swallowed, “If I had to be.”
Jack shook his head, “Now… imagine you told her. She starts sobbing for her mother. Loudly. Not stopping for hours in the middle of this whole ED. It’s a shit storm… and then her mom comes back. She fell asleep in the car because she’s exhausted with two sick kids. You’ve made everything worse for no reason.”
They continued to watch her. The little girl held out one of the Barbies and a tiny dress that went with her. She took it and helped her change Barbie's clothes. Ogilvie started to nod, understanding.
“There are a lot of moments where you need to be straight to the point. But at the same time… you need to be aware of every word that comes out of your mouth. Every way that your sentence can be misconstrued, changed, or misunderstood.” Jack explained, “It’s better not only for the patient… but for everyone on the floor. Capiche?”
Ogilvie nodded, “Capiche.”
“Awesome. Finish your charts and go to bed, dude.” He said
The med student nodded, eyebags deep. “Yes. Yes. Thank you.”
Jack and Y/n walked out of their shift together. The sun rose on the horizon, painting the sky a lazy orange and pink. They walked through the parking lot, a heavy trudge in their footsteps. They did it. The shift was finally-
“Dr. Y/n!” Ogilvie’s voice came from behind them.
She sighed and grimaced. She was too damn tired for this. But… she turned around anyway.
“Yes, Ogilvie? You should be fast asleep by now.”
The tall med student rocked back and forth on his heels, “I’m sorry. For the way I handled Ms. Cade. You were right. I should’ve been more careful. An upset patient is beneficial to no one, and I really should’ve figured that out by now-”
“It’s okay.” She said, feeling like a weight was off her shoulders, “You’ll do better next time. You’re a smart med student. You’ll figure it out.”
“Thank you. Good night or-” He looked out at the sunrise, “I guess, good morning to you both.”
Ogilvie walked away. The couple looked at each other with soft smiles. Part of them wanted to laugh. The guy had a lot to learn. But he was too genuine in his apology for either of them to be mean about it.
Jack reached down to hold her hand, “I’ll talk to Robby about switching him back.”
She shook her head, “Let’s give it a week, okay? He’s clearly learned a lot in his first night shift.”
“Oh?” He smiled
“A week. If he’s not better, boot him back to day before I go insane.”
They laughed, and they walked over to Jack’s Jeep. He opened the passenger door for her, but she paused before she got in.
“You did a good job teaching today.” She said, “Thank you for taking over.”
She rubbed her hands up his chest and rested them over his shoulders.
“Anytime, sweetheart. You may be the best teaching resident, but even the best teachers aren’t completely invincible to…”
“Eager students.”
“Eager. Yes. That’s the word we are going to use.”
They laughed again, and he leaned down and kissed her. Both of their shoulders laxed. The touch was a soothing balm over the rough night they had just had.
“Drive-thru breakfast. Then sleeping alllllll day. How’s that sound?” He murmured against her lips before kissing her again.
She pulled back, “That would be perfect.”
“Earlier, Ellis said, ' Happy wife, happy life.’”
“And what’d you say back?”
“That it’s easy when my wife’s always right.”
She smiled, and it spread contagiously to him as well.
“Knew you’d like that.” He nudged her nose with the side of his index finger. He gave her lips a peck, “Now, c’mon. Breakfast is waiting.”
content warning: jack abbot x gn!reader. no use of y/n. fluff!!!! reader is referred to as 'bunny' once.
word count: 0.4k.
"so, you hate me?" you ask, straightening up as jack walks right past you in the kitchen. you were bent down to get something from the cabinet beneath the sink — he walked right behind you... and didn't slap your butt.
not even a soft pat.
that obviously means your boyfriend hates you.
because not once since you've been going out, for a good chunk of months now, had this man walked past you and did not slap your ass. every single time. washing the dishes? slap. making dinner? slap. sweeping? slap. drinking water? slap. if you two were simply hanging out on the couch, the moment you stand up, slap. jack is simply obsessed with your ass, and it shows. sometimes even in public — those were obviously less of a slap and more of a gentle pat. like he just needed to put his hands on you, and somehow, it always on your butt.
jack stops mid step, turning around to face you. his handsome, wrinkled face has confused written all over it. "what?"
"you didn't slap my butt," you say, as if it's obvious. "you hate me."
"sweetheart—"
"you don't love me anymore!" you cut him off dramatically, throwing your arm up like a damsel in distress.
jack watches you, trying to figure out if you're serious or not. when he catches that slight tilt of your lips, he huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head. he walks back into the kitchen with that slow gait that makes you weak in the knees. because he knows the effect he has on you.
"i hate you, mhm?" jack says when he's close enough, trapping you between his body and the counter behind you. your heart picks up the pace, but you're not gonna let him throw you off just yet.
you tilt your chin up defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. "yes, you do—" now, you're the one being cut off. by his lips.
jack grabs your jaw with one of his big hands, bringing you to his lips so he can devour you. his kiss is demanding, his tongue licking the seam of his lips. his other hand trails down your body, down to you hip. he grabs your ass, squeezing the flesh there. you melt against him, all that defiance leaving your body.
the bastard laughs into the kiss when you moan softly at his handling, his other hand going down to grab at your ass, too. he's rough, and you yelp against his lips when jack smacks your ass-cheek. "ouch,"
"you asked for it, bunny," he says, kissing down your neck.
summary: When getting ready for a fundraiser, Jack Abbot finds himself suddenly feeling self conscious, his salt and pepper hair and aging skin worming their way into his brain. You remind him just how gorgeous he is.
warnings/themes: doctor!reader, engaged couple/established relationship, self-doubt, body image issues (not reader), reader basically dominates jack into reassessing himself lmao, jack likes listening to his woman, written in one sitting so I could get it out of my brain, self-indulgent as fuck, hurt/comfort, self-deprecation, sexual tones but not inherently NSFW, could be read as part of the same universe as my last abbottale, age gap but not significant
notes: I see Jack as being normally unbothered by age, but we all get those moments of insecurity. Also nails. Love nails. This man does too.
_____
Jack Abbot didn’t often think about his age. Of course he knew, in the back of his mind, that he’d been on God’s green earth for just shy of 50 years. He’d outlived many friends and family members. Even a wife. It just wasn’t something he dwelled on - he was a busy man with better things to do than lament the aging process that he was, frankly, lucky enough to experience. But standing there, in the low light of the hotel bedroom, in front of the ornate floor length mirror, he felt a twang in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long while.
He took in his reflection, a pair of well tailored dress pants gracing his lower half, one leg rolled up just enough to access his prosthetic. He would change his socket sleeve before he left for the fundraiser, knowing it would be a long night. A crisp white button up sat, perfectly ironed, on the plush bed behind him. He ran a hand through his greying- no, he stopped his thought - fully grey, hair and let out a soft sigh, rolling his shoulders.
Jack smelt your perfume before he saw you emerge from the bathroom. A soft, velvety scent filling the room and sinking into his pores. White florals and pink peppercorn, he could hear your voice repeating, delighted at a new addition to your collection. Then he looked up, catching your reflection in the mirror.
You were finishing putting an earring in, pearl drop grazing your neck for a second as you craned it. Your bare feet were silent on the carpet as you pattered over to him, catching his eye in the reflection. The dusky blue silk of your dress spilt over you, falling to graze your ankles and catching in all the right places on the way down. Smoky brown shadow framed your eyes, your smile even more catlike than usual.
“Never thought I’d see the day that I’m having to wait for you to get ready,” you teased softly, grabbing his shirt.
At the sight of you, the doctor’s breath hitched. The great Doctor Abbot, esteemed combat medic and ER doctor, was feeling like a teenager having his first crush. Fuck, you were beautiful.
Then the strange, unwanted twang wriggled its way back into his chest.
Jack knew, logically, that he was in much better shape than most men his age. Scrap that, better shape than half the ED. He often teased Robby in their younger days for being a gangly beanstalk. He was in the gym every other day before or after a shift. He was aware of the puppy dog eyes that followed him, new - and even some established - PTMC staff members giggling shyly amongst themselves as he came by. Hell, he had scored you, the large rock on your finger - which Lena and Dana alike had both approvingly nodded at - glistening in the lamp light.
You weren’t that much younger than him, despite your teasing about retirement homes and him needing sponge baths. No one bat an eyelash when your relationship became public. You were a fully formed adult, confident, capable and knowing. All but an equal in your mutually chosen field.
But in that moment, he truly felt the 15 years between the pair of you. The salt and pepper scruff of his hair versus the endlessly soft, dark swirl of your updo. He felt the stiffness in his skeleton, in the joints of his legs, both bionic and flesh. You moved fluidly, holding his shirt open for him to slip an arm in. His skin was sun weathered, not a single inch of skin unfreckled, forearms tanned and hardy. Leathery. Your skin felt like nothing but satin, smooth and even, brushing against him as he slipped the shirt on, you adjusting his collar. The wrinkles of his face, smile lines and worry lines present and deep in equal measure, looked back at him. His leg suddenly felt even more like a heavy, dead weight than it normally did, the scar tissue littering his body suddenly a dull, insistent presence.
And so he looked away from his reflection, with just enough haste that you caught it. And he noticed that you noticed his sudden movement, narrowing your eyes slightly as you handed him the box of cufflinks.
“Why look at an ugly old dog when I have something so much more beautiful to look at, mmm?” He busied himself with the mother-of-pearl cufflinks (an engagement gift from your parents which he had originally secretly thought were ridiculous, until you pointed out that they had intended them to be complimentary to your love of pearls), taking you in but carefully avoiding meeting your eyes.
You paused for a second, the light tone of his sentence not quite masking something underneath. You knew Jack Abbot better than that.
“And what do you mean by that, sweetheart?”
He paused buttoning up his shirt, the top two buttons unfastened as he reached for your waist, strong hands pulling you into him. His heart stuttered as you gazed up at him through your dark lashes.
“I mean that I get to have the most stunning doctor on my arm, and with my ring on her finger, and sharing my house,” he buried his face in your neck, breath warm and minty. “And my bed…” His voice was muffled by the skin of the dip between your bare neck and shoulder.
You made a soft sound of faux protest. You weren’t falling for his distractions, no matter how suave, until you got to the bottom of this.
“Y’know…” You took half a step back, grasping his collar. “If you wanted me to collar you, you could just ask.” You, a tad more than gently, tugged it to be straight, threading the un-tied bowtie through the back of it. “You don’t need to call yourself an ‘ugly old dog’ to do it.” You pointedly jabbed a sharp, mirror-shiny dark blue nail at the bare skin of his chest.
Jack started to say something, the words dying in the back of his throat as you stepped back, looming behind him. A manicured hand gently but firmly grabbed his chin, tilting his head to better see his side profile.
“Look at your fucking jawline.” Your voice wasn’t harsh, but it was demanding. The hair on the back of his neck prickled at the tone. Following your directive, he begrudgingly looked at his reflection. You did have a point. It was refined, strong.
Blood rushed all kinds of places as you dragged your nails down his neck, and he wished with every thread of his body that you could be afforded the luxury of having your nails done more than working in the ED provided. Your hands passed briefly over the bare skin of his chest, before moving down.
“And how often have I sunk my teeth into your gorgeous arms?” Your hands found his biceps and then forearms, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. “I want to bite them every second of every stupid shift I have to deal with you in your stupid scrubs. Half the hospital wants to. I’ve seen the way the admin ladies in pedes look at you. I’ve seen how Robby looks at you.” Jack poorly suppressed a grin.
The nails moved again, tracing across his shoulders and down his back. Grazing the fabric-covered litany of scars, some newer than others.
“I don’t love your love of getting into trouble. But I do love a good story.” Your thumb caught the newest addition to the collection on his shoulder. “...and you are nothing if not covered in stories.”
“And you’d be a hypocrite if you told me not to get into trouble.” He muttered under his breath, smiling.
“We’re not talking about me right now, Doctor Abbot.” You pressed a finger to his lips, tutting softly.
He quietened down.
You stepped in front of him, now standing between him and the mirror. Your eyes looked at him properly now, something softer and deeper in them as your fingers found his hair. Jack leaned into the sensation of your nails against his scalp, eyes closing for a moment.
Your fingers moved to trace the features of his face, across wrinkles and freckles alike. Jack found himself looking at his reflection for a second, before looking back at you, something so achingly sincere in your expression.
“You are so impossibly beautiful.” Your voice was a purr, warm and wrapping around the man in front of you. “All of you.” Your right hand remained cupping his face. One hand reached down to grasp one of his, pressing it to your own cheek.
“And you are such a good man. Such a good doctor.” You huffed, a smile slowly spreading on your face. “Beauty and brains. It would be unfair if you weren’t mine. And you best believe I will continue to make sure that the ladies in pedes remember that you are mine.” The corner of your lips stretched outward like the Cheshire Cat.
“Look at yourself again.”
Jack obliged, dragging his eyes from your fluttering lashes and glossy lips to his own reflection.
“Have I said anything untrue, Doctor Abbot?” He shook his head. “Words, Jack.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good.” You dropped his hand, and your hand from his cheek in turn, expression now serious. Jack felt every cell of his body light up the second your nails grasped his jaw, pulling his face down to yours. Fuck, maybe he wasn’t so old after all.
“I don’t take kindly to people bad-mouthing my husband-to-be.”
You pressed in for a moment, just far enough for him to feel your breath on his face, your own lips just a fraction of an inch away from being against his. He moved in as you pulled back, grinning.
“Hurry up, handsome. Before your pretty face makes us late.”
Jack's been on a health kick ever since he turned fifty. So much so, he decides to drag you along with him to the gym.
A/N: Finally back!!!
Warnings: SELF-INDULGENT! Reader is female/fem presenting. A bit of backstory for this reader: she forged a doctor's note, her mum is a nurse practitioner, past insecurity (she's still insecure, but a little less), implication of reader being chubby, important-ish flashback, understandable hatred for cross-country. Self-deprecating jokes. Lots of leg jokes. Jack is 50, reader's age isn't specified, but around early thirties. Jack and reader live together, but aren't married (yet). Flirty Jack, what's new? Reader daydreams about Jack; kinda suggestive, but nothing you can't read in public. Mostly correct tenses, your girl's a genius! Half-assed ending because I have not been able to post anything lately and I'm having the jitters!
WC: 2.1k
You were never the athletic type, considered ‘weird’ in your younger years.
Cross-country was the worst.
Not only were you forced to unnecessarily run seven and a half miles, but must train daily to prevent muscle stitches and cramps. During the dead of winter, no less.
Convinced it was torture; you forged a doctor’s note just to escape.
And it would’ve earned you a four-week suspension, too.
The principle was furious, obviously well-read on your hatred for any physical activity.
You overheard his secretary murmur about a possible expulsion – just imagining it caused you to spiral.
Luckily, your mother claimed the clinic’s printer at was defective, the ink often exploding, deeming the documents illegible. So, to alleviate the situation, she chose to print the note at the department store instead.
Suspicion was evident on the principle’s face, but how was he supposed to argue that? He had no proof that your mother was fabricating the story – she was a law-abiding citizen of the community!
Not to mention, she was a nurse practitioner. Who works at said clinic.
You got off scot-free that day. For the most part.
Slamming the car door, causing the windows to rattle, “Grounded. For three months!” Your mother screeched, a mere inch away from cursing at your face.
“You’ve made a liar out of me!”
The lecture continued for a majority of the drive. You stared out the window, eyes welling, barely containing sobs.
Your mother noticed. She always did.
Her eyes softened at the sight of you picking the skin of your lip.
Stroking your cheek with her knuckles, she gently asks, “Why’d you do it, honey?”
“Because I look stupid.” You sniffled, rubbing mucus across the sleeve of your hoodie. “I get so gross after running. My hair’s a mess, my clothes soaked with sweat, and my breathing so laboured it’s the reason Antarctica's icecaps are melting!”
She snickers, “That’s to be expected, bub.”
“No, it’s not! You don’t get it, mum. All the other girls finish training looking like Victoria Secret models; running with their hair down, clothes completely dry, and without so much as a lick of sweat on them! It’s as if they remained still.”
“Then they aren’t doing it right,” your mother huffs, parking the car in your garage.
Waterworks were always effective when it came to your mother. She couldn’t stand the sight of her little girl (you’re still her baby, no matter what) weeping, especially if she raised her voice beforehand.
So effective that it lessened your grounding from three months to a week.
You never forged again.
However, you did plead your mother to write up a sick note whenever cross-country rolled around.
It surprises you that the memory returns nearly two decades later.
All because your fifty-year-old ‘boyfriend’ (he feels far too old for that term) proposes that you accompany him to the gym.
Jack’s been on a health kick ever since he hit the big five-zero, determined to remain agile for as long as possible. Protein shakes, vitamins, supplements, and nutritious meals are commodities in your household.
“This is all for you, sweetheart. If doing all of this will grant us more time together, every disgusting salad I eat will be worth every bite.”He says with a wink, grimacing while taking a large gulp of his green smoothie.
Jack never said he enjoyed eating healthily.
But hitting the gym regularly? That he can do.
He usually follows a PPL routine: Push, Pull, Legs (or in his case, just Leg), Mondays are for cardio, and Fridays focus on full body (somewhat, anyway).
He spends hours on the power rack, lifting almost double your weight – and it shows. You can see it when he crosses his arms; shirt straining at the motion, and you swear you can hear threads snapping.
Or when he kneels to pick something up, his left calf bulging due to the amount of muscle. To be honest, it scares you sometimes. It looks as if it could pop under the slightest pressure.
And don’t get started on his torso. You relish at the thought of it.
So, while you don’t participate in rigorous exercises like Jack, you can appreciate the effort he puts in to look delectable while keeping his body in good shape.
That is, until today.
“Although… you gotta suffer with me, buttercup. It’s only fair. In sickness and in health, right?”
“Hold on! First, we aren’t married-”
“Yet.”
“-and second, you choose to do this! So, in return, I should get the choice to opt out of it.”
The older man shakes his head, “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”
Placing his smoothie on the marble countertop, he drops his hands onto either side of your hips, “Just think about it! You get to ogle me, and I get to ogle you. The both of us hot and heaving, getting some exercise in. It’s a win-win situation,” Jack moves his thumbs back and forth, massaging the plump skin of your waist.
Your eyes dart to the cupboard behind Jack’s head, pondering his offer. On one hand, you’d be delighted to watch the magic happen in front of you, rather than just witnessing the aftermath.
On the other... the same emotions you felt all those years ago come rushing back. Feeling inadequate for not being as fit as your peers, anxiety coursing through your veins when putting on sports gear - the curvier sections of your body suddenly exposed – looking like a soggy meatball after every P.E. class.
But this is Jack we’re talking about.
Your Jack.
The same man who dreaded revealing his amputation when you first met; worried it would scare you, worried it would show how damaged he is, worried you’d leave him for someone complete.
Always so critical of himself, while adulating every detail of your existence – each tucked away in the depths of his heart, cemented there, perpetually storing new information.
Flitting your gaze to meet his, you cave.
Sighing, you tug at his silver curls, "Fine. But if you find yourself thinking I look like an obese swine while working out, it’s your fault.”
Jack’s breath hitches at the pull, “Buttercup, if I ever think like that I want you to smack me into next Tuesday, you hear?” He arches a brow, urging you to comply.
“Oh, I’d do far worse than that, hon.” You retort, mockingly patting his chest.
He titters, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple, “Good.”
Upon entering the ginormous gymnasium, the little confidence you had dissipates.
Brawny men and women surround the space, performing various activities that make you shrink inside.
You barely know how any of the machines function; resembling torture devices from the Renaissance period, or death-traps designed by Jigsaw himself.
“Stay with me now.” A snap echoes through your ears, Jack eyeing you with a concerned expression.
He slots his fingers between your shoulder blades, “This doesn’t have to be a whole thing, okay? If you just wanna jog on a treadmill today, that’s totally fine. I don’t expect you to throw yourself into the deep end.”
Jack’s got that love-sick smile on his face, the kind that conveys more than words ever could.
‘I’m proud of you for trying.’
‘You being here is enough.’
‘Thank you for entertaining my silly ideas.’
The calming effect is instantaneous; better than any herbal tea or white noise you’ve tried.
Suddenly, the task didn’t seem so daunting.
Despite Jack’s encouragement, it resumes to feel like a humiliation ritual.
Truly.
You’re currently running (if you could even call it that) on a treadmill, per his advice, feeling like an absolute buffoon.
Feet ablaze, heels of your shoe gnawing at your ankles, socks sopping thanks to heavy perspiration. Breathing is agony; like your lungs are the size of twisty balloons, hardly expanding from the harsh intake of oxygen. With every step, you anticipate a burst.
What an experience, am I right?
You can’t recall the last time you were this drained - you’d rather cosy up with a book or binge twenty-season TV shows as a pastime.
But most humiliating of all, Jack’s putting the other gym-goers to shame. He’s executing his routine with extreme precision, with very few intervals between sets.
There’s a sheen of moisture coating his physique, casting a youthful glow.
If the treadmill wasn’t already rendering you breathless, you’re sure just the sight of Jack would leave you winded.
A trail of dampness falls down his chest and back. His navy-blue singlet is an entirely different shade – in fact, if you had no idea what colour it was originally, you’d think it’s black.
God, the things you’d do to swipe back his ash-grey hair. It’s sticking to Jack’s forehead, and he makes no move to fix it.
Thoroughly ‘in the zone,’ as he’d say.
~
Shifting your attention from your quaking legs, you will yourself to picture more pleasurable situations.
Particularly about Jack.
Maybe if you’re lucky, he’d allow you to pat him down later. Dabbing a towel along his form, removing any leftover residue or grime. Then, you’d give him a massage to relieve his aching muscles – focusing on Jack’s nub.
Just the way he likes.
Soft gasps would escape his lips, eyelids falling shut, the back of his head melting into the mattress. When you hit a spot that’s too tender, he’d grab your wrist in a frenzy – halting your actions. He’d practically beg, ‘Don’t stop. Just... be gentle.’
Better yet, washing his hair in the bathtub. You’d lather it up with his favourite shampoo (your vanilla shampoo), and knead into his temples. He’d be humming and praising you the whole time; rambling sleepily about how he ‘needed this.’
At the peak of relaxation, Jack would lean his head back - situating himself on your kneecaps - and he’d ask for a kiss, all sweet-like. Yearning apparent in his eyes, a desire for his buttercup to know just how much he loves her.
And who are you to deny him?
Hunching your back, you’d let your lips meet his. Jack would grin into the kiss, the velvety exchange flooding his body with warmth. ‘I love you,’ he’d whisper, toying with your fingertips.
~
A click shatters your stupor; hundreds of pinpricks riddling your limbs. Your foot misses the running belt, stomping on the thin deck lining the sides of the machine. The sole of your shoe catches onto the tiny divot between the components, creasing the rubber.
Balance faltering, your palms scrape against the surface of the treadmill’s console, narrowly evading a tumble. Scrambling to release your sneaker, you stretch a leg to the floor – anchoring half of your body, preparing to yank the trapped foot.
With the belt still circling, it makes it near impossible to free yourself. Groaning frustratedly, you reach over, slamming the bright red ‘STOP’ button with a balled fist.
“I need to stop envisioning these scenarios before I twist my ankle!” Scolding yourself, clasping onto the handlebars, eyes downcast.
You just wish this ordeal would end, never wanting to be in a gym again.
If Jack wants you to exercise so bad, he can buy as much equipment he wants. Creating a personal gym would come with so many perks!
Like being able to gawk at Jack in the privacy of your home.
Goodness knows it’ll be cheaper in the long run – these memberships pile up even with his military discount.
Jack’s aware of the way your eyes linger on his biceps whenever they flex - it’s why he’s been on the pull-up bar for the entire duration of your session. All the while grunting much louder than needed; even detaching his prosthetic to heave himself higher.
Is he meant to be using the leg-press today? Yes, but Jack isn’t gonna miss seeing his pretty girl openly gawking at his figure for the world.
‘Leg day can wait; besides, I only have one.’ He muses.
He’s also aware of your lack of concentration, silently observing your unsteady gait and glossy eyes – often spacing out while staring in his direction, lips slightly parted.
You’re exactly where he wants you.
Hopping off the bar, Jack tips onto a railing on the wall, stabilising himself just enough to grab the bottom half of his leg. Slipping it on swiftly, dashing to your side once it’s secured.
“Whoo! I think we deserve a break, don’t you?” He huffs, leaning all his weight onto his forearm, causing the plastic of the control panel to creak.
“Thank God.” You utter under your breath.
“Hah, you look positively spent, buttercup.” Jack pulls the bottom of his singlet to his face, wiping the excess sweat, exposing his abdomen.
You stifle a groan at the action, eyes tipping upwards to the ceiling.
Lord have mercy.
“You are so getting it when we get home.”
The man only giggles, leaving his shirt half-off on his chest – looking like the pinnacle of mischief. “Holdin’ you to it, hon.”
Feels Everywhere @fab-notfat - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
