You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. When you arrive at the Mansion you become friends with Logan, and soon develope feelings for him. Meanwhile Logan is infatuated with Jean, so both of you bond over being heartbroken.
The one thing you can’t heal is a broken heart.
[Takes place around X2, but Jean doesn't die]
The one that got away:
Your boyfriend Ben leaves you to go after "the one that got away", breaking your heart in the process. You don't think you'll be able to move on any time soon, until you start spending time with your new neighbor: Logan.
Confessions of a Night Shift Nurse - The Pitt SMAU - PT. 11
+18 MDNI
pt. 10 / pt. 12
summary: reader gets an abbot intervention from the nightcrawlers. + a cute little flirty blurb! 3 week time jump.
content: nurse!reader, fem!reader x jack abbot, age gape (reader is late 20s/early 30s), lewd conversations, jack and reader are an hr nightmare fr, the night shift being terrorized by the horniness, jack & reader flirting!!!!
a/n: okay when i tell you im still giggling over the blurb i wrote for this 😭 i am in love with this fictional man fr. also, if you have any blurbs you want written for this series, let me know! ill see if i can fit it into the story.
tags: jack abbot x reader, younger reader (late 20s), resident reader, fangirldotcom's full pope cody debut, jack thinks pope wants that cookie (reader), jealous jack abbot, reader tries not to explode with basically jack-squared in one room, pope is just there for the ride
notes: okay funny thing is I had this almost completed before I changed gears to write doppelbangers (which if you want to read click here) but I at least wanted to get this published because I love Pope, and I cannot wait to start writing for him! so please enjoy, and if you'd like to be added to my permanent tag list, please comment on this post!
word count: 6.8k
The chairs had always felt vaguely cursed to you, even on good days.
On bad days—days where the waiting room smelled too strongly of antiseptic and drying blood, where somebody’s kid was crying near the vending machines, where a grown man was acting like a child as he yelled about missing insurance—it felt like corporal punishment in its purest form. You’d been down there for nearly two hours already, bouncing between triage and lacerations and flu symptoms and a man who had somehow managed to staple his own thumb at work only fifteen minutes into his shift.
By the third anti-vax mom, your patience had worn thin. And being exiled to chairs now felt less like staffing necessity and more like karmic retaliation. How were you supposed to know Robby was right behind you, listening in on very important Pitt gossip, and that he believed in the whole “if you had time to talk, you had time to work.”
Thus, you’d been sent off to chairs until Robby deemed you cleansed of your sins.
Because, unfortunately, chairs happened to be the closest thing the Pitt had to purgatory: the perfect place for hellfire and fractures and a waiting room from hell. People were packed shoulder to shoulder while irritated family members grumbled and complained about the temperature. The television in the corner played daytime reruns at an offensively loud volume, and every few minutes somebody new approached the desk asking how much longer the wait would be for something as simple (or ridiculous) as a cut hangnail. Their questions made you believe they thought you personally controlled time itself.
Which, if you did, you would have made your shift go by a lot faster.
But no. You did not control time. Time and a chief attending named Michael Robinavitch controlled you, and you hated every second of it.
By the time you pushed back through the waiting room doors with another chart in your hand, a mechanical smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes plastered across your face. Your eyes glued to the tablet in front of you with the name Mrs. Hill stuck between your teeth.
However, the name died in your throat after you glanced up.
There, in the corner, near the far wall, sat Jack Abbot, all hunched over in one of the molded plastic chairs with his elbows on his knees, body stiff as a board almost as to not touch the chair at all, and hood pulled over his head despite the warmth of the waiting room. Your brows pinched, confusion plastered all over your face. For a second, Jack sitting there genuinely made no fucking sense.
He was the night shift attending. He could walk through the ambulance bays whenever he needed. He’d be prioritized because the Pitt didn’t just look over one of their own and ban him to the chairs off all places to sit and wait with the rest of the common people.
Jack also never sat still enough to like a garden statue. Even through exhaustion, even post-shift, you noticed that he carried this restless energy about him, like if he stopped moving for too long, he might actually wither away.
You stared at him for another beat before walking over, Mrs. Hill be damned.
“What the fuck, Dr. Abbot,” you hissed, stopping in front of him. “What happened to you, and why didn’t you walk through the back?”
Jack slowly lifted his head, and a small something snagged uncomfortably in your chest. The feeling wasn’t alarming, and it wasn’t that guy from TikTok running back and forth across a field with an overly large flag yelling Red Flag! Red Flag! either. The cause of this feeling was the small curls peaking below the hood.
Jack’s hair had always been salt-and-pepper for as long as you’d known him in the Pitt, causing the very serious nickname of a true “silver fox” to be tossed around when he wasn’t listening. But right now, Jack’s hair was dark, richer, and auburn almost. Near his temples, the deep, reddish-brown curls were flat under the fabric.
But even with the recent hair dye, his face was Jack’s, your brain filling in the gaps automatically to the point you didn’t notice the way he was missing his sun spots and wrinkles that Jack normally dawned in the sexiest ways.
“Hit my head,” he finally replied quietly.
Even his voice sounded the tiniest bit off, however, your concern for him outweighed the missing features your Jack normally had.
You frowned, couching slightly so you could get a better look at him, Robby’s “words of wisdom” about getting on the patient’s level ringing in your head.
“Okay, that explains why you look like you got dragged behind an ambulance,” you said before reaching up to gently cup his face.
This time, you didn’t miss the way he flinched under your palms before settling as you tilted his head to find the injury.
“Did you pass out? Throw up? How long ago did it happen” You didn’t really wait for his answers before continuing, already slipping deep into assessment mode. “Actually, hold on, no, don’t answer all that because your pupils are clearly telling me you’re very concussed, and if you start slurring your words, you and I won’t get anywhere with delayed responses.”
Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as you talked to him, and the weird feeling bloomed under your skin again. When his hazel met yours again, you let his face go and stood to full height.
“C’mon, Dr. Abbot,” you sighed, motioning for him to stand. “You’re not sitting out here looking like a murder suspect all afternoon. Let me get you into a room before Robby sees you and starts berating me as to why you’re still out here.”
His eyes lifted to yours fully, and the intensity almost stopped you cold. Jack looked at people all the time—quick glances, assessing looks, sharp little observations hidden behind sarcasm—but the way he was looking at you now was different. This Jack, looking at least fifteen years younger, looked directly as you with a heavy kind of focus that should’ve felt unsettling, like he was trying to learn your family’s history with once glance. Unlike your Jack (which you were still convinced was sitting right in front of you), he felt almost dangerous in how still he was and how carefully he watched.
When he didn’t stand up to follow, you asked, “You gonna pass out if I make you walk?
“No.”
“Is your leg bothering you? I can get you a wheelchair if you need.”
“I can walk.”
“Great. Love your confidence.”
He stood slowly, hands never touching the handles, body towering over you once he straightened fully. Again, another disjointed feeling washed over you. Jack was tall, yes, but he was now carrying himself so opposite of how he normally did. Here, he seemed disconnected from the room, like feeling the air was inconveniencing him. Now standing, you caught another glimpse of bruising near the edge of his jaw as you guided him through toward an empty room down the hall.
His silence was starting to get uncomfortable, so you found yourself talking just to fill the unusual quiet between you, even if talking had gotten you banished to chairs in the first place.
“You know, Dr. Abbot, most people with concussions demand to be sent through immediately even if they aren’t an attending. Please tell me this isn’t you trying to not look weak in front of everyone? I bet they would rather you come through walking and talking than someone giving you a wellness check and finding you dead because you didn’t follow concussion protocol.”
Behind you, he stayed silent.
You busied yourself by pulling gloves on, still talking as he sat on the very edge of the exam bed, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists on his thighs.
“Seriously though, Dr. Abbot, you scared me for a second out there. You looked half-dead sitting in that chair, which, honestly, kind of impressive for you because you usually can’t keep still. I guess that’s why you do SWAT and stuff, huh? One of these days you’re going to find out you’re not actually immortal even though people talk like you are. But what would I know, I’m just a nurse while you spend your free time getting shot at.”
Finally, like broken pottery, the smallest smile cracked through his face. You blinked at him while his eyes refused to move anywhere but your face.
“Okay,” you said slowly. “You are being deeply weird today. Are you okay?”
His gaze dropped briefly before returning to your face. “Head hurts.”
“That would be your concussion talking.”
You stepped closer, gently tilting his head toward the light to examine the molted bruise near his temple. Unlike in the chairs, he didn’t flinch under your fingers this time. Up close like this, Jack’s differences stood out more. The lighting in the waiting room made everything seem worse under shadows, but the direct light washed away the wrinkles and lines around his eyes.
And still, he kept staring at you with an unwavering intensity that made your knees go weak and made a warmth creep up your neck.
“You’re very stare-y today,” you murmured distractedly while checking his pupils.
“Sorry.”
Your hands paused for a half a second at his promptness for an apology.
As far as you knew, Jack never apologized that fast.
However, the though slipped through your mind before you could stop it, but again, the concussion explained enough that you ignored every strange feeling creeping higher in your chest. Head injuries changed behavior sometimes. Personalities softened, reactions slowed, and people became emotional, subdued, clingy, and disoriented. You’d seen it first-hand countless times.
Still.
You moved back slightly to jot something onto the chart. “Any nausea?”
“A little.”
“Blurred vision?”
“Yeah.”
“Memory issues?”
His eyes stayed on you. “Maybe?”
“Can you tell me where you are?”
“Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital.”
You snorted softly. “Using the full government name. I see you Dr. Abbot. I’ll give you a gold star for incredible patient participation.”
He didn’t laugh or smile at that this time. You continued to fill out his chart: name, birthdate, allergies. Thankfully, most of it was already in the system. Your eyes rose back to his when you finished up, chart getting tucked under your arm as you pulled the gloves off.
“Okay, let me go get Robby since I highly doubt you’d want anyone else in here—”
“Can you not tell anyone I’m here?”
You cocked your head. “What?”
His jaw tightened slightly, gaze flickering briefly toward the closed door before returning to you. “Don’t want people knowing.”
Concern replaced every single weird feeling. Embarrassment after injuring wasn’t uncommon, especially with doctors, and even so more with attendings who weren’t used to being the ones under care. God knew Jack hated appearing vulnerable in front of his coworkers.
“You do know they’re not going to make fun of you for getting a concussion. Robby might poke fun, but you are like his best friend.” Your eyes glanced toward the door. “Okay, maybe his only friend,” you added on with a mutter.
He didn’t answer right away.
You leaned against the counter, studying him for moment. The intensity was still there in the way he watched you, but his eyes held a sadness you’d never seen before. The hazel hues dripped with a scarcity that made your heart clench.
After a moment, you conceded. “Okay. Fine. Your secret is safe with me, Dr. Abbot.” You pointed at him with your pen. “But only because you’re looking at me like that. Special privileges are frowned upon here.”
The faintly cracked almost-smile appeared again.
And God help you, it looked surprisingly pretty on him, making you want more of it.
_______________________
Purgatory had ended the moment you stepped out of the room and went diving head-first into the incoming trauma after Robby grabbed you by the shoulders and physically steered you into Trauma Room One. The entire department had gone from irritatingly busy to borderline catastrophic after a minor highway pileup flooded intake with a dozen patients and emergencies that clogged up the CT scan because their necks felt “a little weird.”
Softened and concussed Jack Abbot fleed from your mind as you called out BP’s and administered correct dosages. You’d spent most of the last hour speed-walking between rooms with granola bar shoved into the pocket of your scrub jacket, half-finished notes beneath your arm, and a headache steadily building behind your eyes by the sterile light that never gave up buzzing for even a second.
At one point, Dana moved you toward the break room and ordered you to eat something before you passed out in front of a patient.
At another, Whitaker had nearly stepped into a pile of vomit while reading a chart, which honestly might have been the funniest thing you’d seen all week.
Through it all though, you kept thinking about softened and concussed Jack. Every time you passed through the hallway leading toward his room, your eyes drifted toward the closed door, checking without meaning to whether he was still there. And honestly, you were surprised Robby hadn’t yelled at anyone—you—for taking up a room and not having a resident check in.
When you finally nudged the exam room door open again with your shoulder, two awful vending machine coffees balanced carefully in your hands, the room was dimmer than before. He must have lowered the lights while you were gone, and you silently cured yourself for not doing that on your way out.
To your surprise (or horror) he was sitting exactly where you’d left him on the exam bed, shoulders straight, back even straighter, hands still glued to his thighs like he didn’t know he was allowed to touch the bed beneath him.
His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening, hitting you with that look before you could even mentally prepare for it.
Most people only half paid attention after hours in an ER room. Patients looked tired, distracted, and uncomfortable; doctors were worse. Jack especially had always operated at a hundred miles an hour, his attention split between six different thoughts at once even when he focused on you. Here in the exam room, he looked at you completely like he was tracking every little expression crossing your face the second you walked into the room.
The familiar warmth climbed embarrassingly fast into your chest and sat there.
“Oh, good,” you said quickly, mostly because the silence suddenly made you self-conscious. “You’re still alive. I was starting to think you’d turn into a statue or died sitting up in here. That would really make my paperwork worse, so I’m very glad you’re still breathing.”
His gaze dropped to the coffee cups in your hands before dragging up back to your face.
“You brought me one.”
The way he said it almost made it sound like he couldn’t quite believe why the hell you’d go out of your way to get one for him.
You shrugged, cross the room toward him before holding one out carefully. “I use the word coffee loosely here, because I’m pretty sure the machine actually dispenses motor oil, but you looked miserable earlier, and caffeine fixes at least eighty percent of human suffering.”
His fingers brushed yours when he took the cup. The contact lasted maybe a heartbeat, but it sent chills ripping up your arms. You turned away before he could possibly notice, pretending on the monitor beside him while taking a sip of your own coffee and instantly regretting it.
“Damn,” you muttered. “That’s genuinely horrific. I change my mind; this only fixes about 30 percent of human suffering and adds to the other percentage.”
A faint hint of amusement crossed his face, and the sight made you beam.
“You look handsome when you smile,” you blurted before you could even stop it. Your hands clapped over your mouth to the point it hurt. “I don’t know why I just said that.”
Jack cocked his head, eyes still burning into your face. “Do I not normally?”
Your heart clenched as you lowered your hands. “Um, I mean you do? But normally it’s when you’re about to say something so sarcastic it makes me want to pull my hair out.”
His brows pulled together slightly at that, like he was trying to remember through the lingering fog of his concussion.
You kept talking before he could say anything, words spilling naturally into the quiet space. “Actually, let me rephrase that. Usually you do smile, and it’s very nice, but it’s not normally after something I say. Also, is your head still hurting? You’re still staring at me like I’m a dessert you just want to eat, and that’s so unfair because I normally look at you like that and—”
Another hand slap to your mouth.
“Please ignore everything I’ve said in the past fifteen seconds. Or better, I’ll just stand here and wait for the floor to swallow me up. I’m talking way too much.”
You found yourself fidgeting under his stare before stepping closer, coffee cup placed gently on the counter. “Is your head any better? Or still hurting?”
“Hurting a little.”
“Have you gotten dizzy?”
“Yeah.”
“Still feeling nauseated?”
He nodded once instead of answering, and you wondered if he had hit his word limit for the hour. You sighed sympathetically while typing notes onto the chart.
“If I had to spend hours in a chair listening to daytime TV and screaming children, I’d probably feel that way too. Your concussion doesn’t help either.”
Another tiny smile quirked his lip even though he didn’t say anything else. You “allowed” him to stare at you while you finished updating the chart, his silent presence settling under your skin as you worked. The way he looked at you should have made you reach out for Robby the minute Jack started acting this way, but the intimidating way his droopy eyes never left your figure felt strangely calming.
Which probably said concerning things about your taste in men, but the whole ER was pretty much putty in Jack Abbot’s hand. You were the white sheep in the flock, and you’d follow Shepherd Abbot anywhere.
You turned away from the chart and leaned against the counter. “You know, Dr. Abbot, you’re allowed to talk in here. I know I tend to carry the entire social interactions, but this is kinda exhausting for me. Usually, I can barely get a sentence in around you.”
His mouth twitched faintly. “Why’s that?”
Your cheeks burned. “Well, um, medically that’s not important.”
His eyes lingered on your face and the small area around your mouth longer than necessary, and once again you felt like melting and dramatically draping yourself across a Victorian fainting couch to blubber about your feelings for the concussed attending.
To compensate for these feelings and the sterile quiet, you started talking more.
“So chairs officially became a nightmare while you were hiding her, by the way,” you told him. “Some guy tried convincing triage he needed immediate treatment for a paper cut, which would’ve been annoying enough on its own except he kept trying to squeeze blood out of it like he was in a Victorian tuberculosis ward. Then Dana yelled at me for skipping lunch again, which, in my defense, I fully intended to eat until somebody—probably Ogilvie, that fucker—stole my yogurt from the fridge. Again. At this point I think he’s specifically targeting me.”
The entire time you rambled, Jack listened without interrupting. He watched you pace while talking, energy buzzing unpleasantly beneath your skin from the nonstop pace outside.
“And then this woman asked if I was old enough to be a nurse, which somehow turned into her husband asking if I were single while she was standing right here! Emergency medicine should qualify as psychological warfare.”
The last tidbit made a quiet laugh escape, and the sound pulled your attention back toward him.
“At least you think I’m funny,” you said, pointing at him with exaggerated triumph. “Robby never thinks my jokes are funny. Don’t tell him I told you, but I think someone’s swapped him with a robot or AI engine that’s trying to convince everyone he’s a functioning person under all that brooding trauma.”
His face softened, and for some reason that affected you more than the laugh had. The warm in your chest spread outward before you realized you’d been talking almost nonstop for several minutes.
“Oh fuck,” you groaned, dropping your head briefly into your hands. “I’m doing it again.”
Jack sat up a bit straighter if somehow possible. “Doing what?”
“Talking too much.” You laughed awkwardly. “You’d think after enough years in medicine I’d learn when to stop speaking, but apparently not.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly embarrassed by how much space you’d filled with your own voice. “Sorry. You probably have a splitting headache and want to nap, but I’m over here narrating my entire day.”
When you finally looked back up, his gaze was still resting on you with steady attentiveness.
“I don’t mind it,” he admitted, tone close to a whisper.
You blinked rapidly.
“Your talking.”
Something about the way he said it in the sincerest and honest way made your chest tighten. He glanced down at the coffee cup in his hands before looking back into your eyes.
“Room’s less quiet when you’re here.”
A bright smile tugged at your lips. “Thank you for listening then.”
_______________________
The night shift always arrived like a storm rolling through the Pitt.
While the ER was the ground, and the day shift staff floated around with enough caffeine to possible kill a small animal, the night shift trickled in like the rain, refreshing and very much welcomed to take over the atmosphere. The residents, including you, handed over your charts with sluggish movements, desperate to go home and sleep the day and loss of patients away.
Normally, somewhere in the middle of all that transition, you and Jack inevitably found each other. Sometimes it was purely by accident; others it absolutely wasn’t. He’d appear beside you while you were finishing your charts just to bother you. You’d steal his coffee when he stopped paying attention. Always, there was some running commentary between the two of you, whether it be playful arguing or just an update on how social life outside the Pitt was going.
Tonight, though, you barely noticed the shift change happening around you since you’d ended up back in his room again almost without realizing. Through the last few hours, checking on him had stopped feeling entirely professional. You still used plenty of legitimate excuses, of course; his concussion needed monitoring in case his symptoms changed. You were also technically responsible for him until discharge, but if you were being honest with yourself, looking after him had become dangerously easy.
While the rest of the Pitt felt loud in comparison, his room felt quiet.
You’d sit perched sideways on the rolling stool near the exam bed, updating charts while absentmindedly talking through how your shift was going. He listened quietly from where he sat on the raised bed, legs swishing back and forth now, his hoodie abandoned sometime during the last hour.
Still, every now and then, your brain caught onto his staring and stumbled.
“You know,” you said while typing notes, “Dana threatened to physically drag me into the break room earlier because apparently surviving on caffeine and spite isn’t medically advisable. Which honestly is very hypocritical considering more than half the staff here are one inconvenience away from cardiac arrest.”
You looked up from the chart in time to catch a small smile.
“I’m glad you still think I’m funny even with brain damage. The cryptic staring can only last for so long.”
His eyes stayed steady on you. “Maybe.”
You giggled. “Still terrible at conversations, though. Truly tragic.”
While you were keeping him company, across the department, Jack Abbot had just walked into the Pitt, dressed in his scrubs and already talking.
“Tell me somebody restocked trauma two, because if I have to hunt down another chest tube tonight, I’m filing a formal complaint against humanity.” His voice carried easily across the department.
He shrugged out of his jacket while walking, salt and pepper curls slightly windblown from outside, already grinning at something Dana said near the nurses’ station.
“Four minutes late, by the way,” Dana informed him when he got closer.
“Still counts as on time in emergency medicine.”
“For an attending, you sure are incredibly wrong some of the time.”
“Key word being some and not all the time.”
Robby looked up from a chart with visible exhaustion. “I need you both to come down from a level eight to a level zero.”
Jack chose to ignore him, eyes already scanning around the room. When he didn’t find who he was looking for, he frowned slightly. “Where’s she at?”
Dana smirked before Robby could respond. “Interesting that you looked for her before your patients.”
“She’s less mean to me,” he replied without thinking, tossing his bag onto the counter.
“She’s been in one room half the afternoon,” Dana responded casually. “Concussed male.”
The minute her words ended, something subtle shifted in Jack’s chest. It probably wasn’t noticeable to people who didn’t know how Jack Abbot ticked, but Dana noticed, and her smirk turned downright evil.
“Aww,” she drawled. “Somebody jealous?”
Jack scoffed a tad too quickly to sound convincing. “I’m not jealous; I’m concerned.”
“Sure you are.”
Jack rolled his eyes hard enough to qualify as a medical even before pushing away from the counter. “I’m going to make sure she hasn’t adopted another emotionally damaged patient.”
Even as he said it, irritation had already begun creeping unpleasantly under his ribs.
One room all afternoon.
He knew how you got with certain patients; you were too soft-hearted for your own good sometimes, despite how hard you tried to pretend otherwise. But something about imagining you tucked away somewhere for hours giving another man the kind of attention you usually guarded carefully made something territorial and irrational bubble under his skin.
Back inside the room, you were still smiling down at your chart when you finally pushed yourself upright from the stool.
“All right,” you sighed. “I should probably go check whether the Pitt has fully descended into anarchy without me.”
His eyes followed you as you moved toward the door. “You’ll come back?”
You stopped for half a second, turning lightly and fully surprised enough by the quietness of his question that warmth spread through your being.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’ll come back.”
Your stomach flipped when his expression changed from a tight, worriedness to a soft, placated expression. Needing to escape before you could embarrass yourself further, you swung the door open and stepped into the hallway, holding the chart to your chest while talking over your shoulder toward him.
“Seriously, though, if you try sneaking out before I get back, I’ll actually—”
You voice cut off when your eyes landed Jack standing halfway down the hallway staring directly at you. It was almost like your brain hit the power mode and shut down completely, because Jack Abbot—your Jack Abbot was standing right in front of you.
Alive.
Healthy.
Definitely not concussed unlike the Jack—now not-Jack—you had spent hours sitting beside.
Your pulse dropped so hard it almost hurt.
Behind him, Robby slowed slightly, noticing the way all color drained from your face. Jack’s teasing grin faded into confusion as he took in the way you stared at him like you’d just seen a ghost.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said slowly, concern beginning to edge beneath the nickname. “You okay?”
You couldn’t answer as your eyes darted toward the closed room behind you, then back to Jack, then back again, then back to Jack one more time. Him standing there was impossible, so entirely impossible. Your heartbeat climbed into your throat.
Jack took another small step closer when you failed to answer. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
You blinked once before bolting back into the room.
“What the hell—” Jack muttered, following after you without hesitation while Robby moved right behind him.
He was the first through the doorway and stopped right as he went in. The air dropped almost noticeably. The man sitting on the exam bed had lifted his head slowly at the sound of the door opening, and for one disorienting second, it genuinely looked like Jack was staring at another, younger version of himself.
The man’s auburn hair caught warmly in the lighting while bruising shadowed one side of his face. He sat completely still on the bed, one hand loose around a cup Jack knew you had brought him at some point, his expression unreadable as he stared back at Jack.
Jack didn’t move, and you stood frozen near the corner, chest rising too fast while your brain desperately tried to recover from the fact that somehow—somehow—you had spent nearly an entire shift accidentally flirting with a completely stranger wearing Jack Abbot’s face.
Silence stretched painfully.
Behind Jack, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely not,” he muttered under his breath. “Secret twins are above my pay grade. My sabbatical cannot come sooner enough.”
And before any of you could stop him, he turned around and walked directly back out of the room, letting the door click shit behind him, leaving only you, Jack, and the stranger sitting on the exam bed staring at one another in stunned silence.
_______________________
Nobody moved.
You still stood frozen near the corner clutching the chart so tightly your knuckles were white, while across the room Jack remained rooted just inside the doorway staring at the man like he genuinely could not process what he was seeing.
The resemblance was worse with both of them in the same room. They weren’t identical, but close enough that your brain kept trying to overlap them anyway with their same eyes, same mouth, same build. The now-stranger looked like someone had taken Jack and stripped ten years off him, softened the gray from his hair, and carved away some of the sharpness age and multiple years as an ER attending had left behind.
And suddenly you felt violently aware of every single thing you’d said over the last several hours. Heat flooded your face so quickly you thought you might actually die from humiliation right then and there.
To break the cursed silence, Jack finally spoke first. “What . . . the hell . . . is this?”
The stranger’s gaze shifted toward him calmly. Unlike you, he didn’t seem particularly unsettled by the situation. If anything, he looked mildly tired. The concussion probably wasn’t helping matters, but even beyond that there was still the same strange unwavering presence about him. You found yourself staring at him helplessly.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” you blurted, voice climbing in disbelief as you looked at him. “I spent like almost twelve hours calling you Jack.”
He looked back at you for a moment before answering. “My name’s Andrew.”
Jack let out a sharp disbelieving laugh. “Andrew?”
You shook your head. “Okay, no. You had so many opportunities to correct me, and you’re just now telling me your name?”
Andrew’s expression shifted slightly into something more apologetic. “Tried to.”
“You absolutely did not!”
“A little.”
“You said maybe four words all day!”
“You talked fast.”
You dropped your face into one hand, mortification crashing over you in waves now that the shock had worn off enough for your brain to start replaying the day in horrifying detail. “I told you that you were handsome.”
Jack’s head snapped toward you so fast it was almost comical. “You what?”
“Not talking to you Jack,” you shot back.
He stared at you in open betrayal. “I walk in here and find out you’ve been flirty with my concussed doppelganger all day?”
“I DIDN’T KNOW HE WASN’T YOU! HE’S LITERALLY WEARING YOUR FACE! WHAT WAS I SUPPOED TO DO?”
“Um, I don’t know, sweetheart, check first that it was actually me?
Andrew watched the entire exchange quietly, and to your absolute horror, there was the faintest hint of delight on his face.
You looked between the two men. “This is actually my worst nightmare.”
“Mine too,” Jack muttered before his eyes narrowed slightly when he looked back toward Andrew. “Hold on. You seriously never corrected her?”
Andrew was quiet as he kept looking at you. “I liked listening to her.”
Something fluttered in your chest. His words weren’t necessarily romantic, but he said it with such earnest that you couldn’t help but melt a bit. Jack clearly felt something too because his mouth pinched in irritation. You recognized it as the look he got whenever another one of the radiologists flirted with you for too long at the nurses’ station.
Jack Abbot was reeking with actual jealousy.
He looked away first, jaw tightening slightly before he exhaled through his nose and pointed vaguely toward the hallway. “Sweetheart.”
You tore your gaze from Andrew to look at him. “What?”
“Go do your handoffs.”
Your brows lifted. “Jack—”
“Go,” he repeated, still watching Andrew instead of you. “Before Dana starts a manhunt.”
You hesitated, sensing the almost openly hostile vibe Jack was giving off. It was certainly heavy enough that you suddenly felt like you were standing in the middle of something private. Andrew sat watching Jack with the same unreadable stillness while Jack looked back at him with visible suspicion. It genuinely felt like watching two wolves silently size each other up.
You pointed between them uncertainly. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”
“No promises,” Jack muttered.
Your eyes rolled back deeply. “You are unbelievably exhausting.”
Then, after one last glance toward Andrew and a silent wave goodbye, you slipped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind you.
Jack crossed his arms slowly over his chest, leaning back against the closed door while studying the man in front of him more carefully now that the initial shock had worn off. Up close, the differences stood out more clearly, but enough resemblance lasted to make the situation deeply irksome.
Andrew continued to stare, though his lips had quirked up well before you had left the room.
Jack exhaled sharply and shook his head. “You know, most people would correct someone after the fifth time they got called the wrong name.”
Andrew’s gaze drifted over his shoulder like he could almost see you through the wooden door. “She was nice. Didn’t want to upset her. She looked like she was enjoying the idea of getting to take care of you.”
An unpleasantly possessive feeling twisted deep in Jack’s gut at the quiet sincerity of his answer. He understood why the man in front of him had gotten such a reaction from you. Andrew didn’t deflect; he said simple truths in a low steady voice that was somehow worse than flirty in his eyes.
Jack rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Did you flirt back?”
Andrew considered the question for a moment. “Didn’t have to since she did all the talking.”
And to his credit, he didn’t smirk afterward or act smug about it. If anything, he almost looked sad as he stood slowly from the exam bed. Even concussed, he carried himself with a height that made Jack very aware of the man when he moved. Jack puffed his chest out without meaning to, an instinctive reaction to the man who had held your attention for an entire day.
Andrew stepped close enough that now they both could look each other in the eye at the same height, making Jack almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
“You have a good girl,” Andrew said quietly, never looking away from hazel eyes that mirrored his own. “Don’t let someone else get to her first.”
The fact that Jack could picture you getting swept off your feet by another man felt like a punch directly to his chest. He’d been hiding behind teasing remarks and heavy sarcasm and blatant flirtation because it was easier than admitting how badly he wanted you. He couldn’t fathom the idea of someone, much softer and gentler than he might ever be, taking the chance he was too scared to. Andrew was an example of that man, someone who sat still long enough and quiet enough to let you feel seen and heard without interruption.
Because while he was falling behind, some concussed stranger who happened to share his exact face had managed to make you blush just by listening carefully.
Jack stared at Andrew for another long moment before muttering, “You know, I really don’t like this.”
“Do you not like this because I’m making you uncomfortable? Or do you not like this because I’m finally a wakeup call?” Andrew answered before stepping past him toward the door.
Jack whirled around. “Where are you going?”
Andrew opened the door with one hand. “To get discharge papers. Even though I enjoyed hearing her talk, I do not want to sleep in a hospital bed.” He paused. “You could probably go talk to her. Never know if another one of us might waltz through that door.”
The door swung shut behind him a second later, leaving Jack standing alone in the suddenly too-quiet room. For maybe three seconds, he stayed there staring at the empty doorway before he swore softly under his breath and headed out after you.
He found you near the nurses’ station halfway through handoff, leaning over a chart while Dana talked beside you. The second you noticed him approaching, your entire expression shifted somewhere between lingering embarrassment and outright panic. He didn’t slow down.
“Dana,” he interrupted the blond charge nurse mid-sentence.
She stared at him over her nose. “What?”
“I need her for a second.”
Her eyes tracked between him and you for a beat, and disappeared, though not before throwing you a deeply interested look over her shoulder. The moment she was gone, silence settled between you and Jack in a rather awkward way.
You looked down at your hands. “So.”
“So,” he echoed.
A soft groan pushed through your lips while your hands covered your face. “I cannot believe I spent an entire afternoon thinking your doppelganger was you with a concussion.”
“I can’t believe you called him handsome and still thought it was me when he didn’t do anything.”
“Hey,” you whined, lips jutting in a pout. “I was under emotional distress because I thought you had a severe concussion!”
“You know he liked you,” Jack teased with a smirk for half a second before his face dropped into a more serious look. “I don’t blame him, though.”
You swallowed once. “Jack—”
“I’m serious. And honest? I’m jealous as hell that he got to spend an entire shift with you.”
Warmth rushed to your face. “You’re jealous of your own face?”
“I don’t think that was my point, sweetheart.” He stared down at you. “I think I’ve been screwing this up for a while and seeing him just made me very aware of it.”
Your chest tightened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said slowly, “I keep joking around with you because if I actually said what I’ve been feeling, I’d probably mess it all up.” He ran a hand through his curls, almost frustrated by the lack of words to describe his feelings. “I like you,” he admitted finally. “Like . . . really like you.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly under your breath in disbelief. “It took your twin from another universe getting a concussion for you to finally say that?”
“Apparently, yeah.”
Your smile widened helplessly, and Jack’s gaze briefly dropped to your mouth before lifting back to your eyes.
“Can I kiss you?”
The fact that he asked nearly ruined you on the spot. You nodded once before your brain could catch up enough to overthink it. But apparently that’s all Jack needed because the next moment, his warm hands slid carefully against your waist as he pulled you closer. Unlike all the teasing flirtation that existed between you for months, the kiss itself felt so intensely severe your knees almost buckled.
There were no games, no smug comments, just Jack kissing you like he’d wanted to for a very long time, his concussed double finally being the last straw to do so.
By the time you finally pulled apart, both of you were smiling a little stupidly.
And somewhere down the hallway, you were almost certain you heard Dana yell, “FINALLY!”
The very brief flashback we get of Logan in X2 where he's remembering what happened to him at Alkali Lake really captures the visceral horror of what was done to him. As much as I love the campy tomfoolery of Origins, they way they handled this didn't show how horrific something like this would surely be. Especially when Logan is breaking free - those few seconds of him being absolutely horrified by what has been done to him, not knowing what to do with his hands, the blood...so good.
Anyway....this fic is a bit of a what happened after he escaped.
Warnings: none, mentions of blood, pain.
****
This was just what you needed. A few weeks away, a beautiful cabin in the woods, lots of walks, decompressing. So when you heard a crash downstairs in the middle of the night, your body flooded with every ounce of stress and anxiety you’d managed to get rid of in an instant. You sat up in bed, shaking and trying to keep your breathing steady. Failing. You didn’t want to switch on the light but you figured whoever it was would know that there was someone here anyway, so it made no difference. You reached for your phone, getting ready to call the police but when you looked at the screen – no service. Something you’d loved for the past five days but now…
Another crash. Then…a moan? A moan of pain. And was that crying? You knew you shouldn’t, every fibre of your being was telling you not to, but you pushed back the covers and shifted to the edge of the bed. Slipping your boots on, you walked as softly as you could to the door. Of course it creaked when you opened it. You might as well have let off an air horn to give the intruder every chance to locate you. You waited, expecting whoever it was to run upstairs but no one came. You opened the door fully and stepped out onto the landing. You stood and listened. You could hear a whimpering. Was it an animal, maybe? A bear or something that had broken in? Injured and disoriented with pain? You stepped towards the stairs and slowly made your way down them.
Halfway down the stairs you saw that had made the noise and it made you gasp out loud.
Slumped in the middle of the rug in the large open lounge was a man. Naked, legs and feet covered in dirt and grime. And blood. Blood over his torso, his arms and hands. He was breathing rapidly and was staring at his hands. Hands, out of which jutted knives. You blinked then looked again. He wasn’t just holding the knives, they were coming out from between his knuckles. The blood, you assumed, was from where the knives had pierced through the skin. It didn’t look like he really knew what to do with his fingers. They were splayed, and he didn’t seem to want to move them, lest he cut himself. His eyes were wide, scared.
You walked all the way down the stairs and stood looking at him.
‘Are you okay?’ you asked, realising it was the stupidest thing in the world you could have said.
The man’s head whipped around, his eyes focusing on you.
‘Help me…’ he whimpered then passed out.
***
The man finally came around, jerking awake, disorientated and confused. You couldn’t move him other than to put him into the recovery position, so you’d found a blanket and pillow and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. You’d jumped away when you noticed the blades in his hands retracting slowly back into his arms. You watched as the cuts between his knuckles healed and the bleeding stopped. As you tucked the blanket around him, you wondered what the hell had happened. He was obviously a mutant but this guy, those blades - that didn’t seem like it was an entirely natural part of any mutation he may have had or that you’d ever heard about. It didn’t seem like he was entirely used to them either.
He sat up, looking wildly around the room. You knelt on the floor, a little way from him and made sure to talk in a low, calm voice.
‘Hey, you’re okay. You’re inside and you’re safe,’ you said. He looked at you. He was handsome, even with his hair sweated slick to his head and face, a face bracketed by thick mutton chops. He wore a set of dog tags around his neck. You’d taken a look at them while he was out cold. Logan they said, and Wolverine, and a number. You assumed that Wolverine was a code name, the number being his army number. You told him your name.
‘Yours is Logan, right?’ you said, pointing at the tags.
He looked down at his chest, taking the tags up in shaking fingers, still covered in blood.
‘Yeah....’ he said, his voice rough, unsure.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’
He looked at you.
‘I...I don’t know.’
You moved a little closer.
‘That’s alright. How about we try and get you cleaned up? I can see if there are any clothes here that would fit you. This isn’t my house, I'm just staying here, but I can take a look. Then maybe we can call someone?’
At that his head whipped up and he looked terrified.
‘No!’
‘Okay, okay that’s fine,’ you soothed, ‘let’s just focus on cleaning you up first, alright?’
He nodded. You stood and went to help him up. He was heavy, unusually so. While he was tall and muscular, there was a denseness to him that felt alien, not a weight that came from his natural shape and size. As he stood, he wobbled slightly and you found yourself taking him around the waist. It was not lost on either of you that he was still very naked. Once he got his footing you started to move, only holding onto his arm.
‘There’s a bathroom downstairs, just over there.’
You headed towards a short hallway, and there for the bathroom. You sat him on the toilet seat while you ran some water into the tub. You didn’t think he would be able to stand up under a shower without help. You helped him to the bath and helped him to step into it. He sank down into the water, a small sigh escaping from him. You passed him a washcloth and some soap, putting a bottle of shampoo on the side of the bath.
‘Give me a shout if you need any help,’ you said. The man, Logan, just nodded.
You went back to the lounge. It was daylight now, nearing 6am. Your eyes felt gritty and you rubbed at them. You should probably go and get dressed yourself, then make something to eat. Then...what? What were you supposed to do with this strange naked mutant who had broken into your holiday cabin? First, you needed to find him some clothes. You hoped that there might be something in one of the other rooms. Indeed, a few minutes searching around garnered a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. You knocked then popped your head around the door of the bathroom and left them on the floor. Logan was laying back in the bath, clean now, hair washed and slicked back from his face, eyes closed, one hand rubbing at his temples. You shut the door and left him to it.
***
By the time he emerged, you’d dressed and were just pouring some coffee.
‘Thanks,’ he said as he padded to the kitchen, ‘for all this.’
You pushed a cup over to him and a glass of water and motioned for him to sit down.
‘Not a problem,’ you smiled.
Logan quirked a brow and took a sip of the coffee.
‘It’s a pretty big problem. Thank you for not calling the police.’
You sat down opposite him.
‘Not much service around here and besides, it was clear you needed help, not to be arrested.’
‘Even so. I’ll drink this and be on my way.’
You looked at him.
‘And where would that be?’ you asked.
His brow furrowed.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What do you know?’ you continued, ‘what happened to your hands? You were wielding some pretty heavy metalwork when I found you.’
Logan put his hands in his lap, looking down at them, seemingly ashamed.
‘Weren’t you scared?’ he said towards them.
‘Yes. But you seemed just as scared of them.’
He glanced up at you.
‘They didn’t used to be metal,’ he said simply.
It was clear that Logan wasn’t sure what had happened to him beyond that. He wasn’t sure of much. He just remembered blood and pain and running. He’d come across this house and forced his way in.
‘I didn’t know anyone was here,’ he said, ‘not sure I was really thinking clearly.’
You’d have been more concerned if the naked bloody man with knives in his hands had been thinking clearly.
‘Are you hungry?’
Logan nodded.
‘Starving.’
You’d not bought many groceries with you but had been planning to go into town today to get more. Even so, there was enough to put together some sandwiches. As you worked at the counter, you glanced back at him. He was examining his hands. You watched as he made a fist and the three blades shot out from his knuckles. He let out a grunt, you couldn’t imagine how painful it must have been. You watched as he ran a finger along the edge of one of them. The cut on his fingertip disappeared almost immediately.
‘Is that your mutation?’ you asked.
He looked at you.
‘Yeah.’
‘Useful.’
Logan retracted the claws with a sharp hiss.
‘Most blessings are actually a curse,’ he muttered.
You put a plate in front of him and he took a huge bite from the sandwich.
‘You said they didn’t used to be metal,’ you said, pointing at his hands, ‘what did they used to be?’
Logan swallowed and flexed his hand again.
‘Bone. Bone claws.’
Bone claws and accelerated healing. Neat.
Or…not. You watched Logan eating. Everyone assumes that having a superpower or something like that would be a brilliant thing but from where you were sitting, it looked like a burden.
‘Why does your tag say Wolverine?’
He touched where they lay under his t-shirt.
‘I was a soldier. Am a soldier. It’s what they called me.’
You pondered this. If he was military, did that mean he was AWOL? Were you going to be having military police showing up at your door?
‘Did they do this to you? The army?’
‘I think so. I might…I think I let them.’
‘Why would you do that?’ You asked.
He let out a short laugh.
‘Been trying to work that one out myself, sweetheart.’
Logan finished the sandwich and sat back in his chair.
‘You said you’re just staying here?’
‘Yeah. Just a couple of weeks' vacation. Been hiking and getting some good air in my lungs.’
He nodded a little.
‘Bit unusual for a gal like you?’
‘A gal like me?’ You asked quirking a brow.
He blushed a little and you laughed.
‘I just meant…wouldn’t you rather be baking on a beach somewhere?’
‘No,’ you shook your head, ‘I needed peace and quiet and a lack of other people. Present company accepted.’
‘Sorry to intrude.’
You looked at him.
‘You needed help,’ you said simply.
‘I’m grateful for that,’ he said after a while, ‘but I really shouldn’t stay.’
No, he probably shouldn’t but you could only repeat your previous question – where was he going to go?
You knew that you should have called the authorities the second you found him, and if not then, you should have done it by now. And yet you didn’t. You also knew that letting a strange man, a strange mutant, into this house was not wise, but looking at him now you couldn’t turn him out. He looked exhausted, haunted even. Something had happened to him, something clearly traumatic. What sort of asshole would you be if you threw him out now? Chances are he’d end up in custody somewhere, shipped off back to the army where they would do God knows what else to him.
‘My grandfather was a mutant,’ you said after a long silence. Logan looked up at you, ‘he could control electricity. Neat party trick,’ you smiled, ‘but he was ashamed of it. Never really talked to anyone about it, except me.’
‘Why you?’
‘I think he thought I was like him,’ you said sadly, ‘I’m not, but I used to wish I was. So, I’m not scared of you being a mutant. I know how much it took from my grandfather to be ‘acceptable’’ you made quotes in the air, ‘and I know how much it hurt him when people shunned him for something he couldn’t help. I’ve got another week or so here, should be time for us to figure something out, do you think?’
Logan looked, and felt, pathetically grateful. All he could remember was being out in the snow, naked, finding this place and now...you. Someone who wasn’t flinching from him, wasn’t scared and wasn’t trying to hurt him. He still felt cautious, he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust you, but he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone anymore.
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I appreciate that.’
You smiled. First point of order was to try and find him some more clothes, some shoes and then maybe try and get some sleep.
‘There’s another room,’ you said, directing Logan to the smaller bedroom, ‘make yourself comfortable and I’ll go and see if I can hunt out some more clothes.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, sitting down on the bed.
By the time you returned, he was laying down, fast sleep, snoring softly. He twitched slightly, like a dog did when it slept, making little noises, yelps and groans. You placed the clothes on top of the dresser and closed the door.
Summary: After a pediatric patient panics during an IV start, you end up in the ED with a dislocated shoulder, a lot of pain meds, and absolutely no filter. The day shift learns three things very quickly: Jack Abbot is your husband, you picked that one, and apparently, his forearms are medically relevant.
Warnings: established relationship, married Jack and reader, injury, shoulder dislocation, medical procedure/reduction, pain medication/loopy reader, swearing, suggestive humor, sexual jokes, Jack being hot as a clinical intervention, Robby being Robby, fluff, crack treated seriously, hospital setting, peds nurse reader, very unserious wedding lore
Author’s Note: This is very much the sister fic in spirit to Where Is My Husband? Same deeply married chaos, same loopy wife energy, same Jack Abbot being forced to endure public affection against his will. Except this time, Robby discovers that “sexy doctor husband” is not just a title — it is, unfortunately for Jack, a clinically useful intervention. This one is ridiculous, soft, unhinged, and honestly exactly the kind of nonsense I love putting these two through. Jack is trying so hard to be a serious, worried husband; Robby is having the best shift of his life; Dana is quietly enabling chaos under the guise of professionalism; and Reader is simply telling the truth. Loudly. On medication.
You’re welcome.
Xoxo, Del
The first rule of pediatrics was that fear moved faster than pain. You had learned that early.
Pain made kids cry. Fear made them bolt.
Eli Mereiter had been trying very hard not to do either for almost twenty minutes.
He sat in the center of the peds exam bed with his knees tucked under the thin blanket, his left wrist cradled against his chest, his cheeks blotchy from the effort of pretending he was fine. His mother stood near the head of the bed, one hand on his shoulder and the other twisting the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
“You’re doing great,” you told him.
Eli looked at the IV tray and swallowed. “No, I’m not.”
You crouched beside the bed so you were closer to eye level.
“You are. Great doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. It means you’re still here with me even though you are.”
His eyes flicked to yours.
The honesty helped. It usually did. Kids could smell a lie faster than adults could dress one up.
“It’s gonna hurt,” he said.
You nodded.
“It’s going to pinch. I won’t call it nothing.” You rested one hand on the mattress, close but not touching him without warning. “But it’ll be fast, and you don’t have to watch.”
His mouth trembled once before he pressed it flat. “I don’t want it.”
“I know.” You gave him a serious nod. “That’s fair. We can hate it together.”
Eli looked at you like that was suspicious. “You hate it?”
“I hate it when kids have to do scary things,” you said. “But I like when they get through them and realize they were braver than they thought.”
His mom made a quiet sound behind him.
You glanced up at her and gave a small, reassuring smile before looking back at Eli.
“How about this,” you said. “You pick where you look. Mom’s face, the ceiling tile that kind of looks like a potato, or me.”
Eli’s brows pinched together. “The ceiling tile doesn’t look like a potato.”
You looked up. “It absolutely does.”
He glanced up despite himself. For one second, his attention shifted. Not enough to make him calm, but enough to give him somewhere else to put the fear.
“That one?” he asked.
You nodded. “Very potato.” His mom gave a wet little laugh.
The nurse beside you finished prepping the IV with practiced quiet. You saw Eli clock the movement anyway. His eyes cut to the tourniquet. Then the alcohol wipe. Then the catheter.
His breathing changed. You leaned in slightly. “Eli. Look at me.” His gaze snapped back to yours.
You kept your voice low and even. “Can you breathe in with me?”
He tried. His breath caught halfway.
“That’s okay,” you said. “Again. Smaller this time.”
The nurse reached for his arm. Eli saw the flash of the needle. Fear got there first.
“No,” he said.
His mother tightened her hand on his shoulder. “Eli—”
“No!” He jerked backward, fast and hard, trying to get away from the tray, from the nurse, from the whole room.
“Hey, hey.” You moved with him. “You’re okay.”
But he was already twisting. His sneaker slid against the paper sheet. His hip caught the edge of the mattress. The bed rail was down on your side because you had been sitting there with him, and his small body tipped toward the open space between the bed and the floor.
You moved before thought could catch up.
Your hand caught the back of his gown. Your other arm shot across his chest, bracing him before he could fall.
For half a second, you had him. Then his weight hit your shoulder wrong. Something shifted. Not cracked. Not snapped.
Slipped.
White-hot pain tore through your shoulder and down your arm so violently that the room went gray at the edges. You made a sound you did not recognize.
Someone grabbed Eli from the other side.
“I’ve got him,” the other nurse said. “I’ve got him.”
Good, you thought. That was good.
You went down hard on one knee, your right arm hanging wrong, breath gone from your chest.
Eli was crying now. Not the scared kind. The guilty kind.
“I hurt her,” he sobbed.
You tried to lift your head. Bad idea. Pain slammed up the side of your neck and behind your teeth.
“No,” you forced out. Your voice sounded thin. Far away. “No, honey. You didn’t.”
A hand touched your back. “Don’t move,” someone said.
You tried to breathe through your nose. “Is he okay?”
“He’s okay,” she repeated, firmer this time. “We have him.”
Eli’s mother had him against her now, both arms wrapped around his shaking body. His face was turned toward you, wet and horrified.
You managed to focus on him. “Eli.”
His crying hitched. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” You swallowed down nausea. “I know you didn’t. You got scared. That’s different.”
His face crumpled harder. You looked at his mom. “Tell him I’m not mad.”
“We will,” she said quickly.
You closed your eyes for half a second. “Please tell him.”
“We will,” the nurse said beside you. “But right now, we need to get you downstairs.”
You opened your eyes. “No, he needs—”
“He has his mom,” she said gently. “And he has Megan. We’ve got him.”
You wanted to argue. Your shoulder pulsed once, deep and sickening, and the rest of the sentence disappeared. Someone called down to the ED before they moved you. You heard pieces of it through the pain and the blood rushing in your ears.
“Staff injury coming down from peds.”
“Likely right shoulder dislocation.”
“Caught a pediatric patient who panicked during IV prep.”
“Vitals stable.”
“Severe pain.”
Nobody said your name. Or maybe they did, and it got swallowed somewhere between the exam room and the elevator. Either way, by the time they got you into a wheelchair, your scrubs were damp at the collar, your vision kept narrowing at the corners, and your arm had become a separate, terrible country you refused to look at.
You hated being the patient.
You hated it so much you almost missed the part where you were terrified. Almost.
The elevator ride downstairs felt both too fast and too slow. Someone kept telling you to breathe. Someone else kept asking your pain number. You gave a number that was probably too low because saying the real one made it feel more real.
The ED doors opened.
The familiar noise hit first. Monitors. Shoes. Voices. The distant roll of a cart.
Robby was already at the mouth of a bay when they wheeled you in, tablet in hand, chief-of-the-ER face on. Dana stood beside him with gloves already pulled on, calm and unsmiling in the way that meant she had already cleared the room in her head. Santos hovered just behind her like she could smell a procedure from three bays away. Princess was at the computer, and Javadi stood near the supply cart, trying very hard to look like someone who was not internally rehearsing every step of a shoulder reduction.
“Peds called down,” Robby said. “Likely right shoulder disloca—”
Then he saw your face. The chief of the ER expression dropped clean off.
For one second, he was not chief of anything. He was just your friend. “What the fuck, dude?”
You tried to glare at him. “Great bedside manner.”
Robby was already moving. He came to your side, one hand bracing the wheelchair arm, his eyes sweeping over your face.
“Look at me,” he said. “You with me?”
You blinked at him through the pain. “No, Robby, I thought I’d dissociate recreationally.”
His jaw tightened. “Answer me like less of a pain in my ass.”
You sighed. “I’m with you.”
“Good.” He glanced at the peds nurse behind your chair. “They called down a peds nurse. They did not say it was you.”
“Would that have changed your medical plan?” you asked.
“No.” His eyes flicked to your shoulder, and the doctor came back into him all at once. “It would have given me thirty more seconds to emotionally prepare for both my friend being injured and Jack killing me.”
“Jack is not going to kill you,” you replied.
Dana made a quiet sound. Robby pointed at her without looking. “Do not contribute.”
Dana lifted both gloved hands. “I said nothing.”
“You thought loudly.”
Santos leaned slightly to see your arm better. “Is it anterior?”
You swallowed through the pain. “Is Eli okay?”
Robby’s attention snapped back to you. Then he looked to the peds nurse. “Eli is the kid?”
The peds nurse nodded quickly. “Eight-year-old. Wrist injury. He’s okay. Megan stayed with him and his mom.”
Your eyes closed. “Did someone tell him I’m not mad?”
Robby went still for half a beat. His expression changed again. Softer this time. Worried in a way he could not hide behind sarcasm fast enough.
“Yeah,” he said. “They told him.”
“He won’t believe them,” you murmured.
Robby looked at you. “He might.”
“He’s eight.” Your voice thinned around the pain. “Eight-year-olds think everything is their fault.”
Robby looked at you for one second too long. Then he nodded once, like he was putting that away for later. “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to get you on the bed. Slow. Dana, support the arm. Javadi, do not look terrified.”
Javadi straightened. “I’m not terrified.” Robby looked at her.
You hated the careful hands and the count of three and the way pain still broke through your teeth when they moved you.
You hated that Robby’s face stayed calm. That meant it looked bad.
Once you were on the bed, Dana slid a pillow under your arm with the clean precision of a woman who did not waste motion. Princess clipped a monitor to your finger. Javadi asked about allergies, her voice only a little too bright. Santos hovered at the foot of the bed, watching your shoulder with open interest until Dana glanced at her.
Santos lifted her hands. “I’m not touching anything.”
“Correct,” Dana said.
Robby looked up from your shoulder. “Pain number.” You hesitated.
He gave you a look. “Do not make me ask like I don’t know you.” You told the truth.
Robby’s mouth tightened. “Thank you for not lying to me twice.”
“I lied once,” you admitted.
Robby shook his head. “You lied badly once.” Your breathing hitched. “Did someone tell Eli?”
The peds nurse, still lingering near the curtain, nodded. “Megan did. His mom did too.”
“But did he believe them?” you pushed.
Robby braced one hand lightly on the bed rail. “Do not try to sit up.”
You looked at him. “I wasn’t.”
“You thought about it,” Robby replied.
Your eyes narrowed. “You can’t prove that.”
“I’m chief of emergency medicine,” he said. “I can prove anything if I chart creatively.”
A laugh tried to escape you. It did not make it past the pain. Robby saw that too. His voice shifted.
“IV, x-ray, then pain meds before we reduce it,” he said. “Let’s get films and make sure we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Love being discussed like a broken chair,” you muttered.
Robby leaned over you, penlight in hand. “I have never met a chair this mouthy.”
Princess found a vein in your good arm. You looked away while she taped the line down. That felt ridiculous, considering you had started hundreds of IVs yourself, but today your body had decided to be dramatic, and you were not giving it more material.
Robby watched your face. “You okay?”
“No,” you answered honestly.
Robby almost smiled. “Good answer.”
Princess glanced up from your IV. “Do you want us to call someone?”
“Yes,” you said immediately.
Robby’s eyes narrowed like he already knew where this was going.
Princess kept her hands near the computer. “Who should we call?”
“Jack Abbot.”
The room did not stop. Not yet. Princess typed, then paused.
Her eyes moved from the screen to you. “Dr. Abbot?”
You breathed through your teeth. “Yes.”
The room went a little too quiet. You opened one eye. “What?”
Santos looked from you to Robby. “Night-shift Abbot?”
“How many Jack Abbots do you know?” you asked.
Javadi made the mistake of whispering, “Dr. Abbot is her emergency contact?”
“He’s my husband,” you said, like that explained the entire universe.
It did, actually. Just not to the room. Santos stared.
Javadi looked like someone had changed the laws of physics in front of her.
Princess’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Dana, somehow, did not move at all.
Then her eyes narrowed. “The sandwich.” You closed your eyes. “Dana.”
Santos looked at her. “What sandwich?”
Dana didn’t look away from the monitor. “Shift change. Three weeks ago. Abbot was coming off nights. She was passing the desk with a stack of peds charts.”
Princess leaned around Javadi. “I remember that.”
“He had half a sandwich in his hand,” Dana said. “Tore the crust off without breaking conversation, held it up, and she took it on the way by.”
You breathed carefully through your teeth. “I was hungry.”
“You said thanks,” Dana added.
Santos blinked. “That’s it?” Dana finally looked up.
“That’s the point.” A beat passed.
Then Princess pointed toward you. “Wait. The parking lot.”
You opened one eye. “Please don’t.”
“I saw you two by the employee parking last month,” Princess said. “He switched sides with you near the cars.”
Javadi blinked. “Switched sides?” Princess looked at her like this was obvious. “The sidewalk rule.”
Javadi’s brows pulled together. “The what?”
“When the guy walks closer to the street,” Princess said. “Protective thing. Old-school. Very romantic if he’s hot.”
Santos made a face. “That sounds fake.”
Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord. “It’s not fake.”
Princess pointed at Dana. “Thank you.”
You stared at the ceiling. “Can we not analyze my husband’s walking patterns while my shoulder is in another fucking zip code?”
“And he had your bag,” Princess added.
“It was heavy,” you said.
She looked at you. “It had little strawberries on it.”
Robby’s mouth twitched. “Jack carried a strawberry bag?”
You gave him the best glare you could manage while lying flat with your arm attempting secession. “You are supposed to be my doctor.”
Santos’s face changed. “Oh, my god. The fire alarm drill.”
“No,” you said.
“You had his jacket,” she said.
“It was cold.”
“No.” Santos pointed, too delighted to stop herself. “He put it around your shoulders before you asked.”
Dana’s gaze sharpened with recognition.
Santos nodded hard. “And took your clipboard so you could get your arms through the sleeves.”
Princess looked at Robby. “You knew?”
Robby held up one hand. “I was at the wedding.”
The room shifted again. Javadi whispered, “There was a wedding?”
You stared at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think day shift needs hobbies.”
Robby looked at you, and this time his humor was gentle around the edges. “You married a night-shift attending and then wandered around this hospital accepting crustless sandwich halves like that was normal.”
“It is normal,” you replied.
“For married people,” Dana said.
Santos looked personally offended. “I am usually very good at noticing things.”
You swallowed through another pulse of pain. “Sorry my marriage was inconvenient for your brand.”
Robby pointed at you. “Pain has not made her less mean. Excellent prognostic sign.”
Princess was still looking at you like she had discovered treasure. “So Dr. Abbot is your husband.”
“Yes.”
“And he brings you coffee,” Princess added.
You inhaled. “Yes.”
“And the sandwich,” she continued.
“Yes.”
Princess’s eyebrows rose. “And the parking lot.” You closed your eyes. “I would like drugs now.”
Robby’s smile faded enough for his concern to show again. “Soon,” he said. “We’re moving.”
Then he held out his hand toward Princess. “I’ll call him.”
You looked at him. “You don’t have to.”
“I do, actually,” Robby replied.
“Why?”
Robby’s face softened around the edges, just enough that your chest hurt for reasons that had nothing to do with your shoulder.
“Because he’s going to be worried,” he said. “And if a stranger calls him, he’s going to scare somebody.”
You sighed. “Jack doesn’t scare people.”
“No,” Robby said. “But when he’s worried about you, he gets very concise.”
Dana hummed. “That’s true.”
You closed your eyes. “Tell him not to speed.”
Robby shook his head. “I’m not promising that.”
“Robby,” you said, trying to sound reasonable.
He sighed. “I’ll suggest moderation.”
Robby stepped a few feet away from the bed and tapped Jack’s contact. You watched him through the pain, sweat cooling at the back of your neck. He pointed at you without lowering the phone. “Try not to dislocate anything else while I’m gone.” The call rang once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, Jack answered.
His voice came rough with sleep and irritation. “What, Robby?”
Robby glanced back at you. You were pale on the bed, jaw tight, your good hand fisted in the sheet while Dana adjusted the monitor.
“Your wife is in the ED,” Robby said. “She’s fine. I’ve got her.”
The line went silent. Then Jack’s voice came back low and awake. “What happened?”
“Right shoulder dislocation,” Robby said. “Peds incident. She caught a kid before he fell and took the force the wrong way. She’s conscious, stable, and pissed off, which I’m taking as a good sign.”
Another pause. Jack breathed out once, sharply. “Of course she caught the kid.”
“Yeah,” Robby said, softer. “That was my reaction too.”
You lifted your head an inch off the pillow. “Tell him not to speed.”
Robby looked over his shoulder. You stared back, sweaty and serious.
“She says not to speed.”
Jack was already moving. Robby could hear it through the phone: sheets, a drawer, something hitting the floor. “Tell her I’m coming.”
“Jack,” Robby said carefully.
“I heard her,” Jack said sharply.
Robby nodded once. “Good.”
“Thanks, brother. I’m on my way,” Jack replied.
Robby’s mouth softened. “Yeah,” he said.
He ended the call and came back to the side of the bed. “He’s coming.”
You let your head fall back against the pillow. “Good.” The word came out smaller than you meant it to. Robby heard that too. For a second, he was quiet.
Then he nodded to Princess. “Now give her the good stuff before she remembers she’s trying to be reasonable.”
Princess pushed medication into your IV. Warmth moved up your arm a few seconds later, strange and soft. The pain did not vanish, but the edges of the room began to loosen. The lights blurred a little. The monitor beep sounded farther away.
You blinked. “Wow.”
Santos leaned closer. “How’s that?”
You turned your head toward her slowly. “You have two faces.”
Robby’s mouth twitched. “Better?”
You inhaled. “I can still feel my skeleton making bad choices.”
“So, somewhat.” Robby grinned.
You looked toward the curtain. “Did someone tell Eli I’m not mad?”
Robby exhaled. “Yes.”
“I’m not mad,” you repeated.
“I know.”
You blinked hard. “No, but he needs to know.”
“He knows,” Robby replied gently.
You frowned. “You’re just saying that.”
“I am saying many things,” Robby said. “This one happens to be true.”
You tried to sit up. Every person in the room reacted.
Dana touched your good shoulder. “Nope. Stay back.”
“I should tell him,” you told her.
“You should keep your shoulder still,” Robby said.
You frowned at him. “You’re being bossy.” Robby shrugged. “It’s on the mug.”
“Jack has a mug that says World’s Sexiest Doctor,” you replied without thinking. The pain meds were softening things too much now. Words had started wandering into places you had not invited them.
Robby slowly turned his head. “I’m sorry. He has a what?”
You winced. “It was a joke. I got it for him when we were dating.”
Princess looked delighted. “And he kept it?”
You breathed through another pulse of pain. “He drinks out of it every morning.”
Santos stared. “Abbot drinks coffee out of a World’s Sexiest Doctor mug?”
Dana, dry as dust, added, “That explains more than I wanted it to.”
Robby pressed his fingers to his mouth like he was trying to hold in actual joy.
You glared at him. “You’re supposed to be my doctor.”
“I am,” Robby said. “And this is healing me.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. The ED lights drifted above you. Your body felt heavy against the bed, but your mind kept circling the same places. Eli crying. Your shoulder slipping. Jack coming. You blinked slowly. “Did someone tell Eli?”
Dana adjusted the blanket around your legs. “Yes.”
“Did someone tell Jack?” you asked.
Robby’s mouth twitched. “Yes.” You nodded, satisfied for exactly one second.
Then you frowned. “Which one is coming to see me?”
Robby stared at you. “What?”
“Eli or Jack?” you asked.
Princess turned toward the computer with suspicious speed. Santos looked openly delighted. Robby’s expression brightened with pure, terrible affection.
“Oh,” he said softly. “This is going to be a great drug for you.”
You frowned. “Don’t be weird.”
Robby patted the bed rail. “Try not to say anything incriminating before your husband gets here.”
Your eyes closed, but you could still hear the smile in his voice. “Jack already knows everything.”
Robby made a thoughtful sound. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s test that.”
Robby stayed beside the bed after Princess pushed the medication. One hand rested on the rail. His eyes moved from your face to the monitor, then to your shoulder, then back to your face again. He was not joking as much now.
You hated that. “Stop looking worried,” you said.
His mouth twitched, but it did not quite become a smile. “Stop giving me reasons.”
You blinked at him, the lights blurring softly around the edges. “Rude.”
“Consistent,” Robby said.
Dana adjusted the blanket over your legs, brisk yet careful. “That’s one word for it.”
The medication had made the room strange. Softer, but not kinder. The monitors sounded farther away, and the overhead lights had started to bloom at the edges. Your shoulder still hurts. Not as sharply as before, maybe, but it was there under everything, pulsing and wrong. You tried to shift away from it. Your body disagreed. “Bad,” you muttered.
Robby leaned in a fraction. “Pain?”
You shook your head. “Existence.”
He nodded once. “Fair.”
Dana checked the line of your IV, then glanced at him.
Robby’s eyes returned to yours, and something in his face softened. “Hey,” he said. “World’s Sexiest Doctor.”
You frowned. “What?”
“The mug,” Robby said, voice lighter on purpose. “You said he drinks out of it every morning.”
Your face softened before you could stop it. “He does.” Princess turned from the computer with immediate interest. Santos, who had been pretending not to hover near the foot of the bed, stopped pretending. Dana’s expression did not change, but her eyes flicked toward you.
Robby leaned one forearm against the rail. “Still can’t believe he committed to the bit.”
“It’s not a bit,” you said.
Robby’s eyebrows lifted. “No?”
You looked at him like he was missing the obvious. “It’s true.”
Santos’s mouth curved. Dana looked down at the monitor. Princess pressed her lips together like she was holding something very large behind her teeth. You blinked at the ceiling, dreamy and annoyed all at once. “He is the sexiest doctor.”
Robby drew back like you had slapped him. “Rude.”
You turned your head toward him slowly. “You’re right.”
His expression softened. “Thank you.”
“Ellis is pretty hot, too,” you murmured happily.
Robby froze. Princess made a sound and turned sharply toward the computer. Santos whispered, “Wow.”
Dana closed her eyes. Robby stared at you. “That was not the correction I was requesting.”
You considered him through the pleasant fog around your thoughts. “You have nice hair.”
Robby’s hand went to his chest. “That was devastatingly lukewarm.”
“It is nice.”
“Nice hair,” he repeated, wounded. “That’s what I get after years of friendship.”
“You’re my friend,” you said.
His expression shifted. For one second, the joke left his face. “I know.”
You watched him through the blur. “You’re a good doctor.”
Robby’s hand tightened slightly on the rail. “You’re on excellent medication.”
“I mean it.”
“I know,” he said, quieter.
Dana looked away first. Santos suddenly found the supply tray very interesting. Robby cleared his throat and straightened. “Okay,” he said, his voice returning to a steady tone. “Let’s get ready.”
The words landed wrong. Your smile faded. The room shifted back into medicine too quickly. Gloves. Positioning. Dana adjusting the bed. Santos watching Robby’s hands intently. Javadi standing too still by the supplies, trying to look prepared. Your stomach dropped through the medication. “Wait.” Robby looked back at you. “Yeah?”
Your good hand tightened in the sheet. “You’re doing it now?” His expression softened. “Soon.”
“No.”
Dana’s hand settled lightly near your good shoulder. Not holding you down. Just there.
Robby stepped closer. “I know.”
“No, Robby.” Your voice stayed even, but barely. “I don’t want to do it.”
Robby did not flinch. “I know you don’t.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you mean it.”
You swallowed hard, throat suddenly tight. “I don’t want it to hurt.”
Robby’s face changed again, not much, just enough to show you he hated this part too. “I’m going to be as gentle as I can.”
You frowned. “That’s what people say before they do stuff that sucks.” Santos muttered, “Accurate.”
Dana looked at her. Santos lifted both hands. “I’m validating.”
Robby ignored her and kept his eyes on you. “It is going to suck,” he said. “But the longer it stays out, the worse it’s going to feel. I want to get it back where it belongs.”
Your breathing went shallow. The medication had made everything loose except the fear. That stayed sharp. Clear. Mean. You looked toward the hallway. “Fine.” Robby waited. You glared at him, sweaty and medicated and angry enough to hide behind it. “I’ll do it if Jack is my doctor.”
The room paused. Dana looked at Robby. Princess looked at the hallway. Javadi looked like she had just realized this was not covered in any textbook.
Robby let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he said carefully. “That’s not how this works.”
You frowned at him. “He’s a doctor.”
“He is.” Dana’s voice stayed calm beside you. “He’s also your husband.”
You looked at her like she had helped your case. “Exactly.” Robby’s mouth twitched despite himself.
Before he could answer, Jack’s voice cut through the department. “Where is she?”
Your head turned. Completely. All the thoughts in your brain scattered like startled birds. Jack was halfway down the hall, moving fast and trying not to look like he was moving fast, a hoodie under his unzipped jacket. His hair was sleep-rough on one side. His jaw was tight, his eyes already searching, already locked on the room. The second he saw you, his pace changed.
Your good hand lifted off the sheet. “That one.”
Robby followed your gaze. For the first time since the reduction tray came out, true humor broke through his worry. “Oh,” he said softly. “Okay.”
Jack stepped into the bay. You pointed at him, certain now. “I want that one.”
Jack froze for half a second. His eyes moved over you. Face. IV. Monitor. Shoulder. Robby. Dana. Back to your face.
Then he was at your side. “Baby.”
The word hit the room like a dropped instrument. Santos stared very hard at the floor. Princess pressed her lips together. Javadi’s eyes went wide, then wider, like she was watching hospital folklore become sentient.
You smiled up at him. “Hi.”
Jack took your good hand, his palm warm and familiar around yours. “Hi.”
His thumb moved once over your knuckles. You exhaled. You felt it happen before you could stop it. Your shoulders did not relax, not really, but your breathing changed. Your grip loosened from the sheet. The sharp edge of panic moved back by an inch.
Robby saw it. His eyes flicked to the monitor, then to Jack’s hand. “Interesting.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Don’t.”
“I’m observing.”
“You observe too loudly.”
Robby’s mouth curved. “I am her physician.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “You are enjoying being her physician too much.”
“I was worried,” Robby said.
The joke thinned for a second. Jack looked up. Robby held his gaze. “Still am.”
Jack’s face shifted.
You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do serious faces.”
Jack looked back down at you. His thumb moved again. “Sorry.”
You studied him, hazy and affectionate. “You came.”
“Of course I came.”
You turned your head toward Dana, solemn and proud. “I picked that one.”
Dana’s mouth twitched. “So I’m hearing.”
Jack closed his eyes. “What did you give her?”
“Pain control,” Robby said. “Not enough to explain all of this.”
You tugged lightly on Jack’s hand. “He’s being rude.”
Jack looked at Robby. “Stop being rude.”
Robby pointed at him. “You weren’t even here.”
“I believe my wife.”
Princess turned toward the computer again, but not fast enough to hide her smile.
Santos murmured, “That was hot.”
Dana said, “Santos.”
“What? It was,” Santos replied with a shrug.
Jack ignored all of them and leaned closer to you. “How bad?”
“Bad.”
His face softened. “Yeah?”
You nodded, then regretted it. “Don’t let me do head stuff.”
“I won’t,” Jack promised.
You frowned. “Having a head is bad.”
“I’ll make a note,” Jack said with a soft smile.
Robby stepped closer to your injured side. “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to try Cunningham.”
“No.” Your response was immediate.
Jack’s hand tightened around yours. Robby did not react like the word surprised him. “I know.”
“No, I don’t want Cunningham. It sounds smug,” you told him.
Robby’s brow raised. “It’s a reduction technique, not a man at a country club.”
You frowned at him. “Still smug.”
Jack’s thumb brushed your knuckles. “Look at me.”
You turned your eyes back to him. “No.”
Jack’s eyes softened. “You’re already doing it.”
You glared. “That’s annoying.”
His mouth almost smiled. “I know.”
Robby looked between you and Jack. Then his eyes moved to the monitor again. A thought entered his face.
Jack saw it immediately. “No.”
Robby blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”
Dana adjusted the bed so you were sitting up more, angled slightly back against the raised mattress. The movement sent a pain-sparking sensation down your arm. “Fuck.” Your eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, this is worse than my fucking IUD insertion.”
The room went silent. Jack’s thumb stilled against your hand. “Okay,” he said carefully.
You opened your eyes and glared at the ceiling. “I thought I knew pain. I was wrong.”
Dana’s mouth twitched near the monitor. Princess turned very deliberately toward the computer.
Jack leaned closer. “Baby.”
“No.” You turned your glare on him. “This is your fault.”
His brows pulled together. “My fault?”
“Yes.”
Jack blinked once. “How is this my fault?”
“Because,” you said, furious and medicated, “if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t know this was worse.”
Robby looked up. Jack did not move.
“I was doing fine,” you continued. “I was in my celibate phase. I was at peace.”
Jack’s face changed by exactly one dangerous millimeter. “You were not at peace.”
“I was close.” Your eyes narrowed. “Then you came along with your stupid handsome face and your stupid arms, and then I got the stupid IUD, and I thought that was pain. But no.”
Robby nodded slowly. “That is a clinically fascinating chain of blame.”
Jack did not look away from you. “So your shoulder hurts because I’m handsome.”
Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.” Your face softened immediately.
Jack noticed. His eyes dropped back to yours, something warm cutting through the mortification. “What?”
You blinked up at him, drug-soft and suddenly pleased. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”
Jack’s thumb moved once over your hand. “Yeah, baby.”
A small smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.”
Robby looked from you to Dana. Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. “What?”
“You’re enjoying this,” Robby said.
“I am maintaining room discipline.”
“You called her Mrs. Abbot.”
Dana’s mouth barely moved. “That is her name.” Your smile widened.
Jack looked at Dana, then back at you, and his face softened despite himself. Dana glanced at the monitor. “See? Therapeutic.” Robby’s eyes dropped to Jack’s sleeve.
Jack saw it happen. “No.”
Robby smiled. “I didn’t say anything.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You looked at my sleeve.”
“Clinically,” Robby replied.
Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
You blinked up at Jack, still angry, still hazy, still betrayed by the entire medical system. “He does have nice forearms.”
Jack stared at the ceiling. Robby nodded toward Jack’s arm. “Roll up your sleeve.”
Jack looked at him. “Excuse me?”
“She’s tensing.”
Jack gave Robby a look. “You want me to roll up my sleeves.”
“I want patient compliance,” Robby corrected.
Jack looked at Dana. Dana glanced at the monitor, then at you. “It would probably help.”
Jack’s face went flat. “Not you too.”
Dana shrugged. “I’m practical.”
Robby looked delighted. “See? Medicine.”
Jack exhaled through his nose, then dragged one sleeve of his hoodie up his forearm. Your eyes followed the movement immediately. You hated yourself a little. Not enough to look away. His forearm flexed as he pushed the fabric past his elbow, tendons shifting under skin, the veins at his wrist standing out when his fingers curled once around the bed rail. Your mouth went soft.
Robby pointed at you. “There.”
Jack’s eyes cut to him. “Do not point at my wife while she’s objectifying me.”
“I am pointing at a response to treatment,” Robby replied with glee.
You looked at Jack’s arm. “Treatment is good.”
Princess made a strangled sound. Javadi stared straight ahead like a resident determined to survive rounds with her soul intact.
Jack leaned closer to you. “You are making this very difficult.”
You blinked. “Me?”
“You.” His thumb brushed your cheek. “Very stubborn. Very pretty. Extremely bad at being a patient.”
The giggle came before you could stop it. Soft. Helpless. Embarrassing. Jack’s eyes warmed. Robby looked like he had just discovered a new antibiotic. “Oh, that’s excellent.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Ignore him.”
“You think I’m pretty,” you said.
“I married you,” Jack replied.
“That’s not an answer.”
His mouth curved. “Yes, baby. I think you’re pretty.”
You melted. Completely. It was humiliating. It was also his fault. Robby adjusted your injured arm, careful and slow, guiding your hand toward his shoulder. The position made pain spark hot and immediate. “No.” You tried to pull back. “No, fuck this.”
Jack’s face sharpened. Robby’s tone stayed calm. “I need thirty seconds.”
“I don’t want thirty seconds,” you said, frowning.
Robby’s expression softened, “I know.”
“No, I want that one to do it,” you said, looking from Robby to Jack.
Jack leaned closer. “You have that one.”
“I want that one to doctor me.” Your lower lip jutted out.
Robby, far too cheerful, said, “We’ve covered the conflict of interest.”
You frowned at him. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack looked at Robby. “Fix her shoulder.”
Robby looked at Jack’s hoodie. Jack saw it. His whole body went still. “No.”
Robby lifted both hands. “I didn’t say anything.” Jack stared at him.
Robby smiled. “She responded well to forearm.”
“Forearm is not a drug,” Jack shot back.
Robby shrugged. “It is today.”
Jack dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck me.”
You, who had been blinking hazily at the ceiling, turned your head with alarming speed. “Yes.”
The room stopped. Completely. Jack’s hand froze halfway down his face. “No.”
You frowned, offended. “Rude.”
Princess turned toward the computer with the focus of a woman fighting for her life. Santos stared at the floor, shoulders shaking.
Dana checked the monitor. “Heart rate response noted.”
Jack looked at her. “Dana.”
She did not look up. “I report data.”
Robby pressed his lips together. “For the record, that was the fastest she’s oriented to verbal stimulus since the medication.”
You reached weakly for Jack’s hand. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy from medication and pain, your good hand tight around his, your face still trying so hard to stay mad because scared was too vulnerable, and both of you knew it. His irritation lost some of its shape. “Fine,” he muttered. Robby brightened. Jack glared at him. “Don’t look so happy.”
“I’m a scientist observing results,” Robby replied, delighted.
Jack stood beside the bed and reached back, fingers catching the sweatshirt at the back of his neck. Your eyes locked onto the movement. He pulled it over his head in one smooth drag, the hem catching for half a second on the white T-shirt underneath. The shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders when he lifted his arms. His biceps shifted under the fabric. His forearms flexed as he dragged the sweatshirt free.
The room went very quiet. You stared. Completely gone. Jack paused with the sweatshirt in one hand. Just for a second. Long enough to let you look. His mouth tilted, barely. “Better?”
You nodded slowly. “Wow.”
Robby made a sound that might have been spiritual.
Jack dropped back into the chair beside you and took your hand again. “Eyes on me.”
You obeyed immediately. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Good Lord.”
Robby looked at the monitor, then at Jack. “That was outstanding.”
Robby grinned. “You removed clothing, and her heart rate stabilized.”
“That is not what happened,” Jack replied with a sigh.
Dana glanced at the monitor. “It sort of is.” J
ack looked betrayed. “Dana.”
She shrugged. “I report data.”
Robby gestured toward you, far too pleased with the entire clinical situation. “Magic Mike: ED Edition.”
Jack’s head snapped up. “No.”
Robby’s grin spread slowly. “I don’t know, brother. You danced at your wedding. Pretty risky, if memory serves.”
Jack’s stare went flat. “Robby.”
“There was a certain Eminem song involved,” Robby continued.
Your head turned on the pillow. “Shake That.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Do not help him.”
Robby pointed at you, delighted. “That’s the one.”
Dana looked up from the monitor. “You danced to ‘Shake That’ at your wedding?”
“No,” Jack said immediately.
You turned toward him with surprising speed. “Jack.”
His eyes opened. “Baby.”
Your brow furrowed, “Don’t you dare deny that.”
Princess pressed both lips together and turned toward the computer as if it had suddenly become fascinating. Santos stared between you and Jack, openly thrilled. You lifted your good hand as much as the IV allowed and pointed at him. “That moment changed my brain chemistry.”
Jack looked toward the ceiling. “Good Lord.”
Robby nodded solemnly. “For the record, I was there. It changed several people’s brain chemistry.”
Jack’s head turned slowly. “You cried during the father-daughter dance.”
“You and your wife offended decent people everywhere with that dance,” Robby said.
You nodded, glassy-eyed and completely unashamed. “Yep. My grandma left.”
Jack looked down at you, horror flickering across his face. “Your grandmother left?”
You blinked up at him. “You didn’t know that?”
“No,” Jack said. “I did not know that.”
“She came back for cake,” you added.
Jack looked at you. “That does not make it better.”
Robby’s grin widened. “I’m just saying. It was a lot of wedding.”
Jack’s eyes cut to him. “You ended that night with half your shirt unbuttoned because a bridesmaid took your tie off with her teeth.”
Santos’s head snapped up. “With her teeth?”
Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat wedding lore.”
Princess turned from the computer, delighted. “Did he go home with her?”
Robby pointed sharply at your shoulder. “We have a patient.”
Jack’s mouth curved, barely. “He did.”
Robby stared at him. “Betrayal.”
Jack shrugged. “You started this.”
“I started a medical discussion,” Robby defended.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “You called me Magic Mike.”
Robby frowned. “In a medical context.”
You looked between them, soft and dreamy now, the medication turning the memory warm around the edges. “It was perfect.”
Jack’s expression shifted. “Our wedding?”
You nodded. “You danced. I danced. Robby got slutty.”
Robby pointed at you. “For the record, ‘Robby got slutty’ is not medically relevant.”
Your eyes drifted back to Jack. You studied him for one long, medicated second. “You got slutty.”
Jack’s brows lifted. “I did not.”
You gave him a look. “Tell that to your hips.” You kept looking at Jack, still dreamy and deeply serious. “And hands.”
Jack closed his eyes again.
Santos made a tiny sound. “He got slutty.”
Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”
Your face softened immediately. Jack noticed. Of course, he noticed. His thumb moved once over your hand. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”
“I heard,” Jack said, quieter now.
A small smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.” Jack’s expression softened before he could stop it.
Robby looked from you to Dana. “You’re enjoying this.”
Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. “I am maintaining room discipline.”
Jack looked at you slowly. He looked down at you, and something in his expression changed. Not embarrassed now. Worse. Amused. “You know, baby,” he said, voice low, “I didn’t hear you complaining that night.”
Your mouth parted. For one blessed second, the medication actually managed to quiet you.
Robby looked delighted. “Oh, that worked.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Don’t.”
You blinked up at Jack, soft and glassy-eyed and deeply sincere. “I was thoroughly enjoying it.”
Dana closed her eyes. Princess turned fully toward the computer.
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. “That is a lot of marriage for a workplace.”
Jack’s jaw flexed, but his thumb moved over your hand again. “Trouble.”
You smiled faintly. “You started it.”
Robby pointed at Jack. “She’s right.”
Jack looked at him. “You started it.” Robby nodded. “Also true. Still worth it.”
Dana adjusted the bed, then looked at both of them. “Shoulder now. Wedding crimes later.”
You frowned. “They’re not crimes if everyone had fun.”
“Your grandmother left,” Jack said.
“She came back for cake.”
Robby nodded. “Strong recovery.”
Jack looked at him. “You are done.”
Robby smiled. “Brother, I have barely begun.”
Dana’s voice cut through, calm and final. “Robby.”
Robby lifted both hands. “Shoulder now.”
Jack leaned closer to you, resigned and soft all at once. “Eyes on me, trouble.”
You looked at his white T-shirt, then his face. “I am looking,” you said. “That’s the problem.”
For half a second, he looked like he might say something that would make the entire situation worse.
Robby must have seen it coming, because he clapped once, sharp and quiet. “Okay,” he said. “Shoulder.”
Jack’s eyes stayed on yours. “You heard the man.”
You frowned at him. “I don’t like the man.”
Robby adjusted his gloves at your injured side. “The man is hurt by that.”
Dana moved closer to the bed, one hand resting near your good shoulder. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said, calm and even. “We’re going to sit you up a little more.”
Your face softened immediately. Jack saw it again. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You like that.”
You blinked at him. “Like what?”
His voice went quieter. “Mrs. Abbot.”
A small, helpless smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.”
Jack’s expression changed. Not enough for anyone else to call him out on it, maybe, but enough for you to feel warmer than the medication could explain. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “That’s you.”
Robby looked at Dana. Dana kept her face neutral. “Therapeutic,” she said.
Jack did not look away from you. “Do not note that.”
Robby shrugged. “I have a whole mental chart now.”
“Delete it,” Jack shot back.
Robby grinned. “HIPAA doesn’t apply to my thoughts.”
Dana raised the bed before Jack could answer. The motion sent your shoulder into a hot, mean pulse. Your good hand tightened around Jack’s. “Nope.”
Jack stepped in closer immediately. “I’ve got you.”
“Nope,” you said again, sharper this time. “I changed my mind.”
Robby’s voice stayed steady from your side. “You can hate it.”
“I do hate it. I hate the concept. I hate whoever invented Cunningham,” you groaned.
Robby nodded once. “Probably fair.” You went on, “I hate that his name is Cunningham.”
“It is a useful medical procedure,” Robby replied.
You turned your glare on him. “Don’t defend Cunningham to me right now.”
Jack leaned into your line of sight. “Look at me.”
You looked at him. Mostly because he was very close. Also, because the T-shirt was still doing hateful things across his chest. Jack’s eyes narrowed faintly, like he knew exactly where your attention had gone.
“My face,” he said.
You sighed. “Your face is also a problem.”
Robby glanced at the monitor. “Problem appears effective.” Jack turned his head a fraction. “Robby.”
“Data,” Dana said.
Jack gave her a betrayed look. Dana’s brows lifted. “I report it.”
Robby slid your injured hand carefully toward his shoulder. The second your arm shifted, pain sparked bright and fast down your side.
“Fuck.” Your eyes squeezed shut. “No, no, no, fuck that.”
Jack’s free hand came to your cheek. Warm palm. Steady fingers. No pressure, just contact. “Hey.”
You shook your head. “No, Jack, I really don’t—”
“I know.”
Robby paused, his hands still supporting your arm.
Jack’s thumb moved once beneath your cheekbone. “I know, sweetheart.”
You opened your eyes. His face was right there. Close enough to blur at the edges. Worried in that contained way that made your chest hurt. Soft in the places no one else knew to look.
“I don’t want it to hurt,” you whispered.
Jack’s expression gentled. “I know.” Your throat tightened. “I’m being so stupid.”
“No,” he said immediately.
Robby’s voice came from your side, quieter now. “You’re not.”
Dana’s hand stayed light near your shoulder. “You are allowed to be in pain, Mrs. Abbot.”
Your mouth trembled. That was rude of her, honestly. Using the name like that.
Jack watched your face, and something in him settled. “Be mad,” he said softly. “Swear at Robby. Insult Cunningham.”
Robby lifted one hand. “I would like to opt out of one third of that.”
Jack ignored him. “But keep looking at me.” You swallowed. “You’re bossy.”
“I know.” Jack smiled softly.
You narrowed your eyes. “You like being bossy.” His mouth curved, barely. “With you?”
Your eyes widened a little. Jack’s thumb moved along your cheek. “Yeah.”
The room went dangerously still. Robby’s face brightened. “Oh, that was good.”
Jack’s eyes cut toward him. “Do not grade me.”
“I’m not grading. I’m appreciating the technique.”
Dana looked at the monitor. “Heart rate improved.” Jack exhaled through his nose. “Good Lord.”
You stared at him, caught between pain and medication and the unfair fact of him. “Sexy doctor husband.”
His jaw flexed. “Apparently.” Robby moved your elbow another careful inch. You tensed immediately.
Jack’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair. “Eyes on me.”
You tried. You really did. Your gaze dropped to his mouth first.
Jack noticed. His mouth twitched. “My eyes, trouble.”
“I’m trying,” you groaned.
He smirked. “You’re doing terrible.” You made a small, offended sound.
Jack’s thumb stroked lightly at the base of your skull. “But you’re very pretty while you do it.”
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it. It came out wet, shaky, and ridiculous.
Robby froze. Dana glanced at the monitor. Princess made a tiny sound near the computer.
Santos looked like she might need to sit down. Jack’s eyes softened. “There she is.”
You frowned at him. “You’re flirting medically again.”
“I am not,” Jack replied.
Robby adjusted his grip on your elbow. “You are.”
Jack kept his face angled toward you. “No one asked you.”
“I did,” you said.
Jack looked back at you. “You did not.”
“I spiritually asked,” you said with a sigh.
Robby pointed at you. “She gets me.”
Jack’s hand tightened carefully at the back of your head. “That is what worries me.”
The laugh that tried to leave you broke into a gasp when Robby began working at the muscles around your shoulder.
Pain rose again, deep and threatening. “No,” you said, voice thin now.
Jack’s teasing vanished. Just gone. His face steadied. “Breathe with me.”
“I don’t want to breathe.”
He raised a brow. “Do it anyway.” You frowned. “That’s mean.”
“I know,” Jack agreed.
“Fuck, Jack.”
His eyes held yours. “I’ve got you.”
Robby’s voice came low and focused. “Good. Just like that. Try not to fight me.”
You turned your eyes toward him in outrage. “Try not to fight you?”
Jack’s hand at the back of your head guided you back. “Me.”
You sucked in a breath. “Robby is saying stupid things.”
“I know.” Jack nodded.
“I can hear you,” Robby said.
Jack’s thumb swept once under your eye. “Ignore him.”
“He’s touching my shoulder,” you said, miserable.
Jack tilted his head closer to you. “Because he’s fixing it.”
“I don’t like him,” you said with a frown.
Jack smiled softly at you. “You love him.”
“Not right now,” you said, brows furrowed.
Robby nodded without looking up. “Temporary friendship suspension. Accepted.”
Dana looked at you. “Hold still, Mrs. Abbot.”
The name hit exactly where it had before. Your breathing hitched, but this time it hitched softer.
Jack saw it. Robby saw it. Dana absolutely saw it. Robby looked at Dana. “You’re good.”
Dana didn’t look away from the monitor. “I know.” Jack leaned closer. “You’re doing good.”
You stared at him. “I am?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
Your eyes burned. “I’m making this difficult.” Jack nodded once. “You’re scared.”
“I’m swearing,” you continued.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”
“I told everyone about our wedding crimes.” Your lower lip wobbled.
His mouth moved like he was fighting a smile. “That one we’ll discuss later.”
“You got slutty.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Not now.” Robby’s shoulders shook once.
Jack’s eyes opened. “Do not laugh during my wife’s reduction.”
Robby’s expression snapped back into focus. “Guilty.”
Pain flared again, sharper this time, and your whole body tried to pull away.
Jack’s hand held steady at the back of your head. Not forcing you. Keeping you with him. “Look at me.”
You blinked away tears. “I am.”
“No.” His voice dropped. “Really look.”
You did.
His eyes were dark and close and worried. His thumb moved against your cheek, slow and sure.
“There you go,” he murmured. “Stay right there.”
Your breath shook. “This fucking sucks.”
“I know,” Jack murmured.
You went on. “Cunningham is a bad man.”
“Probably.” Jack nodded with a soft smile.
Robby glanced up. “Cunningham did not personally do this to you.”
You glared at him through tears. “He knows what he did.” Robby nodded. “I’ll allow it.”
Jack’s mouth brushed the edge of a smile.
You caught it. Even through pain. Even through fear. Even through the medication making the room swim around the edges. “You’re laughing.”
“I’m not,” Jack replied.
You glared at him. “You are.”
“Only because you’re mean on drugs,” he said, smiling softly at you.
You inhaled sharply. “I’m allowed to be mean right now.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, impossibly soft. “You are.”
Robby’s hands shifted. The pressure changed. Your body knew before your brain did.
You went rigid. “No.” Jack’s face sharpened. “Baby.”
“No, no, no, I don’t want—” You shook your head despite the pain.
His hand cupped your face more firmly. “Look at me.” Your eyes found his. “I am looking.”
“Good,” Jack said, his voice low and steady.
Your eyes burned as you stared up at him. “Jack.”
His hand stayed firm at the back of your head, fingers threaded carefully into your hair. “I’ve got you.”
You swallowed hard, trying not to pull away from Robby’s hands. “I hate this.”
“I know.” Jack’s thumb moved along your cheek.
Your breath hitched, half pain and half panic. “I hate your stupid face for helping.”
His mouth curved just enough to ruin you. “Use it.”
“What?”
“My stupid face.” His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “Look at it instead of your shoulder.”
You stared at him. “I hate that that works.”
“I know,” Jack murmured.
You glared at him. “Your face is medically annoying.” Robby murmured, “Groundbreaking terminology.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Not now.”
Robby’s hands shifted again. You felt the pressure build. Slow, careful, awful.
Jack saw you brace. Of course he did. His voice dropped. “Be good for me.”
Your face went soft immediately. “Oh, that’s unfair.”
Jack’s thumb brushed beneath your eye. “I know.”
“You’re cheating.” You tried to glare at him, but the medication and his hand in your hair made it a weak attempt.
His mouth curved, barely there and deeply unrepentant. “I know.”
Robby, without missing a beat, said, “Cheating is medically allowed right now.”
Jack’s jaw flexed. “Do it now.”
For one suspended second, there was only Jack’s face, his hand in your hair, his thumb on your cheek, and Robby’s steady pressure on your arm.
Then the joint shifted. Not violently. Not with a dramatic crack.
Just a deep, sickening slide, followed by sudden release. You gasped.
The wrongness vanished all at once. Your whole body folded toward Jack on a broken little sob.
He caught you carefully, one hand still cradling your head, the other braced at your good shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he said immediately. “I’ve got you.”
Robby exhaled. “Shoulder’s back.”
You breathed hard against Jack’s white T-shirt, your face pressed into the warmth of his chest, tears leaking more from relief than pain now. “Holy shit.”
Jack’s mouth brushed your hair before he seemed to remember there were witnesses. “Yeah.”
“That was awful,” you breathed, tears falling.
Jack kissed your head. “I know.” You turned your face enough to look up at him. “You were helpful.”
His expression softened. “Yeah?”
You nodded, still floating, still furious, still very much on drugs. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Robby pulled off his gloves with great satisfaction. “For the record, Cunningham with targeted husband exposure: wildly effective.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Document that and die.”
Robby smiled. “Brother, this is medicine now.”
You blinked up at Jack, wet-eyed and dazed. “I picked that one.”
The room went quiet around the softness in your voice. Jack’s thumb moved once along your cheek. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
You stared at him for another long, drug-soft second. “I picked good.”
His face changed. Not a lot. Enough. “Yeah, baby,” he said quietly. “You did.”
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. “I need everyone to know I am handling this with incredible maturity.”
Dana looked at him. “You are not.”
“No,” Robby agreed. “But I almost did.”
Jack’s hand stayed against the side of your face for another second before he seemed to remember the rest of the room existed.
“Post-reduction films?” he asked, glancing toward Robby.
Robby pulled his gloves off and dropped them into the trash. “Already ordered.” Jack nodded once.
Robby gave him a look as he stepped back to your injured side. “Neurovascular was intact before. Checking again now.”
“I know you are,” Jack said.
Robby lifted his brows. “Do you?” Jack’s mouth flattened. “I’m standing right here.”
“Great,” Robby said. “Then stand there husbandly and let me be her doctor.”
You turned your head slowly against Jack’s palm. “You’re both doctors.”
Robby leaned closer, careful as he checked your hand. “Only one of us is currently allowed to practice medicine on you.”
You looked at Jack. “I vote that one.” Jack closed his eyes. “Baby.”
Robby did not look up from your fingers. “Your vote has been received and rejected by the ethics committee.”
You frowned at him. “I don’t like the ethics committee.”
“The ethics committee is me,” Robby said.
You blinked at him. “That tracks.”
Santos made a tiny sound near the foot of the bed. Dana glanced at her. Santos pressed her lips together and looked at the floor.
Robby touched your fingers gently. “Can you wiggle these for me?” You wiggled them.
Robby nodded. “Good. Any numbness or tingling?”
You stared at him, still dazed. “Just in my dignity.”
“That is not innervated by the axillary nerve,” Robby said.
You blinked. “Show-off.”
Jack’s thumb moved over your cheek again. The motion was small. Your body noticed anyway.
Robby saw that too, because of course he did, but for once he did not comment.
Dana adjusted the sling on the tray beside the bed. “We’ll get her immobilized once Robby’s done checking you,” she said. Jack’s attention shifted to the sling. His jaw tightened by a fraction.
You saw it even through the medication. “You’re doing the face.”
Jack looked back down at you. “What face?”
“The face,” you said.
Robby glanced over. “Oh, I know the face.” Jack did not look at him. “No one asked you.”
Robby’s voice stayed light, but not careless. “It’s the face he makes when he wishes he could make it easier for you.”
Jack went quiet. So did you. Your fingers tightened around his. “You did,” you said.
Jack looked down at you. “What?” Your smile was small and drug-soft. “You made it easier.”
His thumb moved once over your hand. “Yeah?”
You nodded, eyes glassy and sincere. “Yeah. Because you’re hot. And a doctor. And smart. And sexy. And my husband. And I love you.”
The room went very still. Jack’s face softened all at once.
Then you added, very seriously, “And you’re hot.”
Robby’s mouth opened. Dana looked at the monitor like it had become essential to her survival.
Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Is that all?”
You blinked up at him, exhausted and earnest. “No.” His mouth curved. “No?”
You shook your head once, barely. “But I’m tired and drugged.”
Jack’s expression warmed into something painfully fond. “Okay, baby.”
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. You swallowed, the edges of the room still warm and watery.
“And Eli?”
Robby’s expression gentled before the joke could get there.
“Megan called down while we were getting the films ordered. He’s okay.”
You stared at him. “She told him?”
“She told him,” Robby said. “His mom told him. He knows you’re not mad.”
You blinked hard. Jack’s hand tightened around yours.
Robby leaned a hip lightly against the counter, his voice quieter now. “He drew you a picture.”
Your throat closed. “He did?”
“Apparently it’s you with a cape,” Robby said.
Princess smiled from the computer. “And a very large arm.”
You made a sound that tried to be a laugh and almost became something else. “Is it anatomically correct?”
Robby looked at Princess. Princess shook her head. “Not even close.” You closed your eyes. “Good.”
Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles.
Your eyes burned again, but softer this time. “He doesn’t think I’m mad?”
Robby shook his head. “He thinks you’re a superhero.”
You went very still. Jack felt your hand tighten around his. Then your face crumpled. “Oh, no.”
Jack leaned in immediately. “Baby?” Your eyes filled too fast for you to stop them. “I’m leaking.”
Jack’s expression softened all at once. “You’re crying.”
“I know.” Your mouth trembled. “I don’t want to.”
“That’s okay,” he murmured.
You shook your head. “It’s embarrassing.”
“No, it isn’t,” Jack replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You sniffled. “It is in front of the day shift.”
Robby’s face softened from the counter. “Day shift can handle feelings.”
Santos looked suspiciously focused on the floor. Princess turned toward the computer, blinking too much.
Dana adjusted the sling on the tray without looking up. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said evenly, “day shift has seen worse.”
Your smile wobbled through the tears. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”
Jack’s thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching a tear before it reached your cheek. “Yeah, baby.”
You looked up at him, wet-eyed and overwhelmed. “He thinks I’m a superhero.”
Jack’s face changed. Not a lot. Enough to make you cry harder. “He’s right.”
Your chin trembled. “Jack.”
“He is,” Jack said, voice low. “You protected him.”
A tear slipped hot down your cheek. “I scared him.”
“You helped him.”
The words landed so gently that they hurt. You made a broken little sound and tried to wipe your face with your good hand, but Jack caught your fingers before you could tug at the IV.
“I’ve got it.” He brushed another tear away with his thumb.
You sniffed. “I’m leaking a lot.”
His mouth softened. “I know.”
You exhaled. “I hate this drug.”
“No, you don’t.” He smiled gently.
You thought about it, tears still sliding down your cheeks. “I kind of love this drug.”
Robby nodded from the counter. “There she is.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Let her leak.”
Dana smiled gently. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said, crisp and even, “I’m going to help support your arm while we get this situated.”
Your eyes opened the rest of the way. A smile pulled at your mouth immediately, even through the tears.
Jack looked down at you. “There it is.” You blinked at him. “What?”
He brushed one knuckle lightly along your jaw. “That smile.”
You looked toward Dana, pleased and hazy. “She called me Mrs. Abbot again.”
Dana did not look up from the sling. “That is your name.”
Robby pointed at her. “You’re doing it on purpose.” Dana kept her hands steady. “I am doing my job.”
“You are weaponizing legal marriage,” Robby said.
Dana fitted the strap carefully behind your neck. “I am supporting patient cooperation.”
You sighed happily. “It is working.”
Jack’s mouth twitched. “Clearly.”
Dana adjusted the sling around your injured arm. “This may pull a little.” Your smile vanished.
Jack saw it instantly. “Hey.”
“Nope,” you said.
His hand found your good one again. “Look at me.”
You frowned. “I already did that.”
“Do it again.”
You looked at him.
His eyes stayed steady on yours while Dana adjusted the last strap. There was a brief tug, a hot little spark of discomfort, and then your arm was held against you, supported and still.
You exhaled shakily. Jack’s thumb brushed once over your hand. “There you go.”
You swallowed. “I swore a lot.”
Jack’s mouth softened. “You were allowed.”
You leaned and whispered poorly. “In front of Dana.”
Dana stepped back from the sling. “I’ve heard worse, Mrs. Abbot.” Your smile came back immediately.
Jack glanced at Dana. “Therapeutic.”
Dana picked up the chart. “Accurate.”
Robby checked the sling with a quick glance, then nodded to Dana. “Looks good.”
Dana stepped back. “It’ll do until ortho tells her the same thing in a more expensive voice.”
Princess laughed under her breath. Santos rocked back on her heels.
“So she’s going home?” Santos asked.
Jack looked at Robby before Robby could answer, the same question reflected in his eyes
Robby lifted his brows. “You asking as her husband or as the night attending who has forgotten he is not on shift?”
Jack stared at him. “Husband.”
Robby smiled. “Good choice.”
Jack’s jaw flexed. “Robby.”
“We’ll watch her a bit after the follow-up films, make sure pain is controlled, then yes,” Robby said. “Home. Ice. Sling. Ortho follow-up. No lifting. No heroic catching of children for a while.”
You frowned at him. “That feels targeted.”
“It is,” Robby confirmed.
Your frown deepened. “Eli was falling.”
“And you caught him,” Robby said. “And now your shoulder is in a sling.”
You looked away. Jack’s voice softened. “You did good.”
You looked back up at him. “I broke myself.”
Jack shook his head. “You protected him.”
You pressed your lips together. “That sounds like something you say when I broke myself.”
Jack held your gaze. “It can be both.”
You considered him through the medication. “You’re very pretty when you’re reasonable.”
Robby made a wounded sound. “Not this again.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Thank you.”
Your smile went soft. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack lowered his head for half a second like he was gathering strength.
Dana picked up the chart. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”
Santos closed her mouth so fast her teeth clicked.
Princess turned toward the computer, shoulders shaking. Robby looked between Dana and the monitor.
“Therapeutic and preventative.”
Dana’s eyes flicked to him. “Exactly.”
Jack gave her a long look. “I don’t know whether to thank you or be concerned.”
“Both is usually safest,” Dana said.
A little while later, after the films confirmed what Robby already knew, after Princess brought discharge paperwork, after Santos was banished from asking any more questions about the wedding, the room finally thinned out.
Dana left with one last check of your sling and one more calm, devastating, “Take it easy, Mrs. Abbot.”
You smiled so hard your eyes closed.
Jack watched Dana go, then looked down at you. “She did that on purpose.”
You leaned into the pillow. “She likes me.”
“She likes making me suffer,” Jack said.
You nodded solemnly. “People contain multitudes.” Jack huffed a quiet laugh.
Robby came back with the discharge papers and a pen. “Okay,” he said. “Because apparently I am the only person in this room still committed to medicine.”
Jack was sitting beside your bed now, his sweatshirt back on but unzipped, one hand wrapped around yours. “You loved every second of this.”
Robby held up the paperwork. “I loved several medically relevant seconds of this.”
“You called me Magic Mike,” Jack said.
Robby nodded. “In a medically relevant context.”
“You threatened to chart targeted husband exposure,” Jack added.
“I still might,” Robby said.
Jack stared at him. Robby smiled. “I won’t.”
“You better not,” Jack warned.
“I’ll save it for the group chat,” Robby said with a shrug.
Jack’s expression went blank. “There is no group chat.”
Robby looked at you. “He thinks there’s no group chat.”
You turned to Jack, horrified. “You think there’s no group chat?”
Jack looked between you and Robby. “I hate this family.”
Your smile went dreamy. “You said family.”
Robby’s expression softened before he covered it with a cough.
Jack looked down at your joined hands. “I did.”
The air warmed around that. For one second, nobody ruined it.
Then Robby clicked the pen. “Anyway,” he said. “Sling stays on. Ice twenty minutes at a time. Pain meds as prescribed, not as creatively interpreted by the patient. Ortho follow-up within the week. No work until cleared.”
You opened your eyes. “No work?” Jack’s hand tightened.
Robby looked at you. “No work.”
“But peds is short,” you replied.
“Peds will survive,” Robby said.
You frowned. “You don’t know that.”
Robby leaned closer, his sarcasm gone soft around the edges. “I know you cannot care for children with a freshly reduced shoulder.”
You looked at Jack for backup. Jack shook his head. “No.”
“You didn’t even let me ask,” you said, brows furrowed.
Jack just gave you a look. “I know where you were going.”
“You always know where I’m going,” you sighed.
Jack shrugged. “Usually because it’s somewhere you shouldn’t.” Robby nodded. “Marriage.”
You sighed again and let your head fall back against the pillow. “This is oppressive.”
“This is discharge planning,” Robby said.
“Oppressive discharge planning,” you mumbled.
Jack stood slowly, keeping hold of your hand. You looked up at him. “We’re leaving?”
He nodded. “Soon.”
“Are you taking me home?” you asked, hopefully.
His expression softened. “Yeah, baby.”
Your whole face relaxed. “Good. I want that one.”
Robby pressed the paperwork to his chest. “She’s still doing it.”
Jack took the papers from him. “She’s on medication.”
He folded the paperwork and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
Robby watched him for a moment, the humor easing out of his face. “You good to get her home?”
Jack looked at you. You were blinking slowly, exhausted now, the adrenaline finally draining out of your body.
His voice gentled. “Yeah.”
Robby nodded. “Call me if anything changes.”
Jack met his eyes. “I will.”
The two men looked at each other for half a second longer than the words required.
You noticed even through the fog. “You two are having feelings.”
Robby looked down at you. “We are absolutely not.”
Jack’s mouth twitched. “No feelings.”
“Lies,” you murmured.
Robby pointed at you. “Pain meds have made her too powerful.”
Jack helped you sit up carefully. The room tilted as soon as you moved. You made a small sound and grabbed for him with your good hand.
He was already there. One arm came around your waist, careful not to jostle the sling, his body solid beside yours. “I’ve got you.”
You leaned into him. “I know.”
That seemed to hit him somewhere. His hand spread warm at your side. Robby stepped closer, but Jack had you steady.
“Slow,” Jack said.
“I am slow,” you grumbled.
The room tilted. You caught Jack’s shirt with your good hand, and his arm came around your waist before you could wobble any farther.
His mouth twitched. “That’s why I said go slow.”
You rolled your eyes. “Smartass.”
Robby nodded from beside the bed. “Fair assessment.” Jack shot him a look.
“Supportive environment,” Robby said.
Jack eased you carefully off the bed. Your knees felt uncertain, and the room stayed too bright, but his arm held you steady.
Dana reappeared at the curtain like she had sensed movement. “You good?”
Jack nodded. “I’ve got her.”
Dana looked at you. “Mrs. Abbot?”
Your smile came back, sleepy and immediate.
“I’m good.”
Dana’s mouth barely moved. “Clearly.”
Robby narrowed his eyes at her. “You did it again.”
Dana checked the hallway. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You absolutely do.”
Jack adjusted his hold at your waist. “Can we leave before anyone learns anything else about my wedding?”
Princess, still at the computer, lifted one finger. “I have follow-up questions.”
“No,” Jack said.
Santos leaned against the counter. “I have several.”
Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Robby grinned. “I have photos.”
Jack went still. You gasped softly. “You have photos?”
Robby’s grin widened. “And videos.”
Jack pointed at him. “Delete them.”
“Never,” Robby responded immediately.
“You have videos of the dance?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.
Robby gave you a look. “You think I would witness neurological history and not document it?”
Your eyes went glassy again. “Can you send them to me?”
Jack looked down at you. “Baby.”
“What? I was there. I should have them,” you defended yourself.
Robby tapped his phone. “Already sent.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Good Lord.”
Your phone buzzed somewhere in the plastic belongings bag.
You looked up at Jack, delighted. “Brain chemistry.”
Dana held up one hand before Santos could speak. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”
Santos sighed. “I didn’t even say it.”
Dana looked at her. “You thought loudly.”
Jack shook his head and started guiding you toward the hallway. “We’re going home.”
You leaned into him, warm and sore and still floating enough that the ED lights looked like stars smeared across glass. “Home with you?”
Jack glanced down. His face softened. “Yeah.”
You smiled. “I picked good.”
This time, there were no monitors beeping too loud, no hands at your shoulder, no room full of witnesses waiting for the next outrageous thing you might say.
Just Jack’s hand at your waist, his body steady beside yours, his voice low near your ear.
Summary: After a pediatric patient panics during an IV start, you end up in the ED with a dislocated shoulder, a lot of pain meds, and absolutely no filter. The day shift learns three things very quickly: Jack Abbot is your husband, you picked that one, and apparently, his forearms are medically relevant.
Warnings: established relationship, married Jack and reader, injury, shoulder dislocation, medical procedure/reduction, pain medication/loopy reader, swearing, suggestive humor, sexual jokes, Jack being hot as a clinical intervention, Robby being Robby, fluff, crack treated seriously, hospital setting, peds nurse reader, very unserious wedding lore
Author’s Note: This is very much the sister fic in spirit to Where Is My Husband? Same deeply married chaos, same loopy wife energy, same Jack Abbot being forced to endure public affection against his will. Except this time, Robby discovers that “sexy doctor husband” is not just a title — it is, unfortunately for Jack, a clinically useful intervention. This one is ridiculous, soft, unhinged, and honestly exactly the kind of nonsense I love putting these two through. Jack is trying so hard to be a serious, worried husband; Robby is having the best shift of his life; Dana is quietly enabling chaos under the guise of professionalism; and Reader is simply telling the truth. Loudly. On medication.
You’re welcome.
Xoxo, Del
The first rule of pediatrics was that fear moved faster than pain. You had learned that early.
Pain made kids cry. Fear made them bolt.
Eli Mereiter had been trying very hard not to do either for almost twenty minutes.
He sat in the center of the peds exam bed with his knees tucked under the thin blanket, his left wrist cradled against his chest, his cheeks blotchy from the effort of pretending he was fine. His mother stood near the head of the bed, one hand on his shoulder and the other twisting the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
“You’re doing great,” you told him.
Eli looked at the IV tray and swallowed. “No, I’m not.”
You crouched beside the bed so you were closer to eye level.
“You are. Great doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. It means you’re still here with me even though you are.”
His eyes flicked to yours.
The honesty helped. It usually did. Kids could smell a lie faster than adults could dress one up.
“It’s gonna hurt,” he said.
You nodded.
“It’s going to pinch. I won’t call it nothing.” You rested one hand on the mattress, close but not touching him without warning. “But it’ll be fast, and you don’t have to watch.”
His mouth trembled once before he pressed it flat. “I don’t want it.”
“I know.” You gave him a serious nod. “That’s fair. We can hate it together.”
Eli looked at you like that was suspicious. “You hate it?”
“I hate it when kids have to do scary things,” you said. “But I like when they get through them and realize they were braver than they thought.”
His mom made a quiet sound behind him.
You glanced up at her and gave a small, reassuring smile before looking back at Eli.
“How about this,” you said. “You pick where you look. Mom’s face, the ceiling tile that kind of looks like a potato, or me.”
Eli’s brows pinched together. “The ceiling tile doesn’t look like a potato.”
You looked up. “It absolutely does.”
He glanced up despite himself. For one second, his attention shifted. Not enough to make him calm, but enough to give him somewhere else to put the fear.
“That one?” he asked.
You nodded. “Very potato.” His mom gave a wet little laugh.
The nurse beside you finished prepping the IV with practiced quiet. You saw Eli clock the movement anyway. His eyes cut to the tourniquet. Then the alcohol wipe. Then the catheter.
His breathing changed. You leaned in slightly. “Eli. Look at me.” His gaze snapped back to yours.
You kept your voice low and even. “Can you breathe in with me?”
He tried. His breath caught halfway.
“That’s okay,” you said. “Again. Smaller this time.”
The nurse reached for his arm. Eli saw the flash of the needle. Fear got there first.
“No,” he said.
His mother tightened her hand on his shoulder. “Eli—”
“No!” He jerked backward, fast and hard, trying to get away from the tray, from the nurse, from the whole room.
“Hey, hey.” You moved with him. “You’re okay.”
But he was already twisting. His sneaker slid against the paper sheet. His hip caught the edge of the mattress. The bed rail was down on your side because you had been sitting there with him, and his small body tipped toward the open space between the bed and the floor.
You moved before thought could catch up.
Your hand caught the back of his gown. Your other arm shot across his chest, bracing him before he could fall.
For half a second, you had him. Then his weight hit your shoulder wrong. Something shifted. Not cracked. Not snapped.
Slipped.
White-hot pain tore through your shoulder and down your arm so violently that the room went gray at the edges. You made a sound you did not recognize.
Someone grabbed Eli from the other side.
“I’ve got him,” the other nurse said. “I’ve got him.”
Good, you thought. That was good.
You went down hard on one knee, your right arm hanging wrong, breath gone from your chest.
Eli was crying now. Not the scared kind. The guilty kind.
“I hurt her,” he sobbed.
You tried to lift your head. Bad idea. Pain slammed up the side of your neck and behind your teeth.
“No,” you forced out. Your voice sounded thin. Far away. “No, honey. You didn’t.”
A hand touched your back. “Don’t move,” someone said.
You tried to breathe through your nose. “Is he okay?”
“He’s okay,” she repeated, firmer this time. “We have him.”
Eli’s mother had him against her now, both arms wrapped around his shaking body. His face was turned toward you, wet and horrified.
You managed to focus on him. “Eli.”
His crying hitched. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” You swallowed down nausea. “I know you didn’t. You got scared. That’s different.”
His face crumpled harder. You looked at his mom. “Tell him I’m not mad.”
“We will,” she said quickly.
You closed your eyes for half a second. “Please tell him.”
“We will,” the nurse said beside you. “But right now, we need to get you downstairs.”
You opened your eyes. “No, he needs—”
“He has his mom,” she said gently. “And he has Megan. We’ve got him.”
You wanted to argue. Your shoulder pulsed once, deep and sickening, and the rest of the sentence disappeared. Someone called down to the ED before they moved you. You heard pieces of it through the pain and the blood rushing in your ears.
“Staff injury coming down from peds.”
“Likely right shoulder dislocation.”
“Caught a pediatric patient who panicked during IV prep.”
“Vitals stable.”
“Severe pain.”
Nobody said your name. Or maybe they did, and it got swallowed somewhere between the exam room and the elevator. Either way, by the time they got you into a wheelchair, your scrubs were damp at the collar, your vision kept narrowing at the corners, and your arm had become a separate, terrible country you refused to look at.
You hated being the patient.
You hated it so much you almost missed the part where you were terrified. Almost.
The elevator ride downstairs felt both too fast and too slow. Someone kept telling you to breathe. Someone else kept asking your pain number. You gave a number that was probably too low because saying the real one made it feel more real.
The ED doors opened.
The familiar noise hit first. Monitors. Shoes. Voices. The distant roll of a cart.
Robby was already at the mouth of a bay when they wheeled you in, tablet in hand, chief-of-the-ER face on. Dana stood beside him with gloves already pulled on, calm and unsmiling in the way that meant she had already cleared the room in her head. Santos hovered just behind her like she could smell a procedure from three bays away. Princess was at the computer, and Javadi stood near the supply cart, trying very hard to look like someone who was not internally rehearsing every step of a shoulder reduction.
“Peds called down,” Robby said. “Likely right shoulder disloca—”
Then he saw your face. The chief of the ER expression dropped clean off.
For one second, he was not chief of anything. He was just your friend. “What the fuck, dude?”
You tried to glare at him. “Great bedside manner.”
Robby was already moving. He came to your side, one hand bracing the wheelchair arm, his eyes sweeping over your face.
“Look at me,” he said. “You with me?”
You blinked at him through the pain. “No, Robby, I thought I’d dissociate recreationally.”
His jaw tightened. “Answer me like less of a pain in my ass.”
You sighed. “I’m with you.”
“Good.” He glanced at the peds nurse behind your chair. “They called down a peds nurse. They did not say it was you.”
“Would that have changed your medical plan?” you asked.
“No.” His eyes flicked to your shoulder, and the doctor came back into him all at once. “It would have given me thirty more seconds to emotionally prepare for both my friend being injured and Jack killing me.”
“Jack is not going to kill you,” you replied.
Dana made a quiet sound. Robby pointed at her without looking. “Do not contribute.”
Dana lifted both gloved hands. “I said nothing.”
“You thought loudly.”
Santos leaned slightly to see your arm better. “Is it anterior?”
You swallowed through the pain. “Is Eli okay?”
Robby’s attention snapped back to you. Then he looked to the peds nurse. “Eli is the kid?”
The peds nurse nodded quickly. “Eight-year-old. Wrist injury. He’s okay. Megan stayed with him and his mom.”
Your eyes closed. “Did someone tell him I’m not mad?”
Robby went still for half a beat. His expression changed again. Softer this time. Worried in a way he could not hide behind sarcasm fast enough.
“Yeah,” he said. “They told him.”
“He won’t believe them,” you murmured.
Robby looked at you. “He might.”
“He’s eight.” Your voice thinned around the pain. “Eight-year-olds think everything is their fault.”
Robby looked at you for one second too long. Then he nodded once, like he was putting that away for later. “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to get you on the bed. Slow. Dana, support the arm. Javadi, do not look terrified.”
Javadi straightened. “I’m not terrified.” Robby looked at her.
You hated the careful hands and the count of three and the way pain still broke through your teeth when they moved you.
You hated that Robby’s face stayed calm. That meant it looked bad.
Once you were on the bed, Dana slid a pillow under your arm with the clean precision of a woman who did not waste motion. Princess clipped a monitor to your finger. Javadi asked about allergies, her voice only a little too bright. Santos hovered at the foot of the bed, watching your shoulder with open interest until Dana glanced at her.
Santos lifted her hands. “I’m not touching anything.”
“Correct,” Dana said.
Robby looked up from your shoulder. “Pain number.” You hesitated.
He gave you a look. “Do not make me ask like I don’t know you.” You told the truth.
Robby’s mouth tightened. “Thank you for not lying to me twice.”
“I lied once,” you admitted.
Robby shook his head. “You lied badly once.” Your breathing hitched. “Did someone tell Eli?”
The peds nurse, still lingering near the curtain, nodded. “Megan did. His mom did too.”
“But did he believe them?” you pushed.
Robby braced one hand lightly on the bed rail. “Do not try to sit up.”
You looked at him. “I wasn’t.”
“You thought about it,” Robby replied.
Your eyes narrowed. “You can’t prove that.”
“I’m chief of emergency medicine,” he said. “I can prove anything if I chart creatively.”
A laugh tried to escape you. It did not make it past the pain. Robby saw that too. His voice shifted.
“IV, x-ray, then pain meds before we reduce it,” he said. “Let’s get films and make sure we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Love being discussed like a broken chair,” you muttered.
Robby leaned over you, penlight in hand. “I have never met a chair this mouthy.”
Princess found a vein in your good arm. You looked away while she taped the line down. That felt ridiculous, considering you had started hundreds of IVs yourself, but today your body had decided to be dramatic, and you were not giving it more material.
Robby watched your face. “You okay?”
“No,” you answered honestly.
Robby almost smiled. “Good answer.”
Princess glanced up from your IV. “Do you want us to call someone?”
“Yes,” you said immediately.
Robby’s eyes narrowed like he already knew where this was going.
Princess kept her hands near the computer. “Who should we call?”
“Jack Abbot.”
The room did not stop. Not yet. Princess typed, then paused.
Her eyes moved from the screen to you. “Dr. Abbot?”
You breathed through your teeth. “Yes.”
The room went a little too quiet. You opened one eye. “What?”
Santos looked from you to Robby. “Night-shift Abbot?”
“How many Jack Abbots do you know?” you asked.
Javadi made the mistake of whispering, “Dr. Abbot is her emergency contact?”
“He’s my husband,” you said, like that explained the entire universe.
It did, actually. Just not to the room. Santos stared.
Javadi looked like someone had changed the laws of physics in front of her.
Princess’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Dana, somehow, did not move at all.
Then her eyes narrowed. “The sandwich.” You closed your eyes. “Dana.”
Santos looked at her. “What sandwich?”
Dana didn’t look away from the monitor. “Shift change. Three weeks ago. Abbot was coming off nights. She was passing the desk with a stack of peds charts.”
Princess leaned around Javadi. “I remember that.”
“He had half a sandwich in his hand,” Dana said. “Tore the crust off without breaking conversation, held it up, and she took it on the way by.”
You breathed carefully through your teeth. “I was hungry.”
“You said thanks,” Dana added.
Santos blinked. “That’s it?” Dana finally looked up.
“That’s the point.” A beat passed.
Then Princess pointed toward you. “Wait. The parking lot.”
You opened one eye. “Please don’t.”
“I saw you two by the employee parking last month,” Princess said. “He switched sides with you near the cars.”
Javadi blinked. “Switched sides?” Princess looked at her like this was obvious. “The sidewalk rule.”
Javadi’s brows pulled together. “The what?”
“When the guy walks closer to the street,” Princess said. “Protective thing. Old-school. Very romantic if he’s hot.”
Santos made a face. “That sounds fake.”
Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord. “It’s not fake.”
Princess pointed at Dana. “Thank you.”
You stared at the ceiling. “Can we not analyze my husband’s walking patterns while my shoulder is in another fucking zip code?”
“And he had your bag,” Princess added.
“It was heavy,” you said.
She looked at you. “It had little strawberries on it.”
Robby’s mouth twitched. “Jack carried a strawberry bag?”
You gave him the best glare you could manage while lying flat with your arm attempting secession. “You are supposed to be my doctor.”
Santos’s face changed. “Oh, my god. The fire alarm drill.”
“No,” you said.
“You had his jacket,” she said.
“It was cold.”
“No.” Santos pointed, too delighted to stop herself. “He put it around your shoulders before you asked.”
Dana’s gaze sharpened with recognition.
Santos nodded hard. “And took your clipboard so you could get your arms through the sleeves.”
Princess looked at Robby. “You knew?”
Robby held up one hand. “I was at the wedding.”
The room shifted again. Javadi whispered, “There was a wedding?”
You stared at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think day shift needs hobbies.”
Robby looked at you, and this time his humor was gentle around the edges. “You married a night-shift attending and then wandered around this hospital accepting crustless sandwich halves like that was normal.”
“It is normal,” you replied.
“For married people,” Dana said.
Santos looked personally offended. “I am usually very good at noticing things.”
You swallowed through another pulse of pain. “Sorry my marriage was inconvenient for your brand.”
Robby pointed at you. “Pain has not made her less mean. Excellent prognostic sign.”
Princess was still looking at you like she had discovered treasure. “So Dr. Abbot is your husband.”
“Yes.”
“And he brings you coffee,” Princess added.
You inhaled. “Yes.”
“And the sandwich,” she continued.
“Yes.”
Princess’s eyebrows rose. “And the parking lot.” You closed your eyes. “I would like drugs now.”
Robby’s smile faded enough for his concern to show again. “Soon,” he said. “We’re moving.”
Then he held out his hand toward Princess. “I’ll call him.”
You looked at him. “You don’t have to.”
“I do, actually,” Robby replied.
“Why?”
Robby’s face softened around the edges, just enough that your chest hurt for reasons that had nothing to do with your shoulder.
“Because he’s going to be worried,” he said. “And if a stranger calls him, he’s going to scare somebody.”
You sighed. “Jack doesn’t scare people.”
“No,” Robby said. “But when he’s worried about you, he gets very concise.”
Dana hummed. “That’s true.”
You closed your eyes. “Tell him not to speed.”
Robby shook his head. “I’m not promising that.”
“Robby,” you said, trying to sound reasonable.
He sighed. “I’ll suggest moderation.”
Robby stepped a few feet away from the bed and tapped Jack’s contact. You watched him through the pain, sweat cooling at the back of your neck. He pointed at you without lowering the phone. “Try not to dislocate anything else while I’m gone.” The call rang once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, Jack answered.
His voice came rough with sleep and irritation. “What, Robby?”
Robby glanced back at you. You were pale on the bed, jaw tight, your good hand fisted in the sheet while Dana adjusted the monitor.
“Your wife is in the ED,” Robby said. “She’s fine. I’ve got her.”
The line went silent. Then Jack’s voice came back low and awake. “What happened?”
“Right shoulder dislocation,” Robby said. “Peds incident. She caught a kid before he fell and took the force the wrong way. She’s conscious, stable, and pissed off, which I’m taking as a good sign.”
Another pause. Jack breathed out once, sharply. “Of course she caught the kid.”
“Yeah,” Robby said, softer. “That was my reaction too.”
You lifted your head an inch off the pillow. “Tell him not to speed.”
Robby looked over his shoulder. You stared back, sweaty and serious.
“She says not to speed.”
Jack was already moving. Robby could hear it through the phone: sheets, a drawer, something hitting the floor. “Tell her I’m coming.”
“Jack,” Robby said carefully.
“I heard her,” Jack said sharply.
Robby nodded once. “Good.”
“Thanks, brother. I’m on my way,” Jack replied.
Robby’s mouth softened. “Yeah,” he said.
He ended the call and came back to the side of the bed. “He’s coming.”
You let your head fall back against the pillow. “Good.” The word came out smaller than you meant it to. Robby heard that too. For a second, he was quiet.
Then he nodded to Princess. “Now give her the good stuff before she remembers she’s trying to be reasonable.”
Princess pushed medication into your IV. Warmth moved up your arm a few seconds later, strange and soft. The pain did not vanish, but the edges of the room began to loosen. The lights blurred a little. The monitor beep sounded farther away.
You blinked. “Wow.”
Santos leaned closer. “How’s that?”
You turned your head toward her slowly. “You have two faces.”
Robby’s mouth twitched. “Better?”
You inhaled. “I can still feel my skeleton making bad choices.”
“So, somewhat.” Robby grinned.
You looked toward the curtain. “Did someone tell Eli I’m not mad?”
Robby exhaled. “Yes.”
“I’m not mad,” you repeated.
“I know.”
You blinked hard. “No, but he needs to know.”
“He knows,” Robby replied gently.
You frowned. “You’re just saying that.”
“I am saying many things,” Robby said. “This one happens to be true.”
You tried to sit up. Every person in the room reacted.
Dana touched your good shoulder. “Nope. Stay back.”
“I should tell him,” you told her.
“You should keep your shoulder still,” Robby said.
You frowned at him. “You’re being bossy.” Robby shrugged. “It’s on the mug.”
“Jack has a mug that says World’s Sexiest Doctor,” you replied without thinking. The pain meds were softening things too much now. Words had started wandering into places you had not invited them.
Robby slowly turned his head. “I’m sorry. He has a what?”
You winced. “It was a joke. I got it for him when we were dating.”
Princess looked delighted. “And he kept it?”
You breathed through another pulse of pain. “He drinks out of it every morning.”
Santos stared. “Abbot drinks coffee out of a World’s Sexiest Doctor mug?”
Dana, dry as dust, added, “That explains more than I wanted it to.”
Robby pressed his fingers to his mouth like he was trying to hold in actual joy.
You glared at him. “You’re supposed to be my doctor.”
“I am,” Robby said. “And this is healing me.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. The ED lights drifted above you. Your body felt heavy against the bed, but your mind kept circling the same places. Eli crying. Your shoulder slipping. Jack coming. You blinked slowly. “Did someone tell Eli?”
Dana adjusted the blanket around your legs. “Yes.”
“Did someone tell Jack?” you asked.
Robby’s mouth twitched. “Yes.” You nodded, satisfied for exactly one second.
Then you frowned. “Which one is coming to see me?”
Robby stared at you. “What?”
“Eli or Jack?” you asked.
Princess turned toward the computer with suspicious speed. Santos looked openly delighted. Robby’s expression brightened with pure, terrible affection.
“Oh,” he said softly. “This is going to be a great drug for you.”
You frowned. “Don’t be weird.”
Robby patted the bed rail. “Try not to say anything incriminating before your husband gets here.”
Your eyes closed, but you could still hear the smile in his voice. “Jack already knows everything.”
Robby made a thoughtful sound. “Sure,” he said. “Let’s test that.”
Robby stayed beside the bed after Princess pushed the medication. One hand rested on the rail. His eyes moved from your face to the monitor, then to your shoulder, then back to your face again. He was not joking as much now.
You hated that. “Stop looking worried,” you said.
His mouth twitched, but it did not quite become a smile. “Stop giving me reasons.”
You blinked at him, the lights blurring softly around the edges. “Rude.”
“Consistent,” Robby said.
Dana adjusted the blanket over your legs, brisk yet careful. “That’s one word for it.”
The medication had made the room strange. Softer, but not kinder. The monitors sounded farther away, and the overhead lights had started to bloom at the edges. Your shoulder still hurts. Not as sharply as before, maybe, but it was there under everything, pulsing and wrong. You tried to shift away from it. Your body disagreed. “Bad,” you muttered.
Robby leaned in a fraction. “Pain?”
You shook your head. “Existence.”
He nodded once. “Fair.”
Dana checked the line of your IV, then glanced at him.
Robby’s eyes returned to yours, and something in his face softened. “Hey,” he said. “World’s Sexiest Doctor.”
You frowned. “What?”
“The mug,” Robby said, voice lighter on purpose. “You said he drinks out of it every morning.”
Your face softened before you could stop it. “He does.” Princess turned from the computer with immediate interest. Santos, who had been pretending not to hover near the foot of the bed, stopped pretending. Dana’s expression did not change, but her eyes flicked toward you.
Robby leaned one forearm against the rail. “Still can’t believe he committed to the bit.”
“It’s not a bit,” you said.
Robby’s eyebrows lifted. “No?”
You looked at him like he was missing the obvious. “It’s true.”
Santos’s mouth curved. Dana looked down at the monitor. Princess pressed her lips together like she was holding something very large behind her teeth. You blinked at the ceiling, dreamy and annoyed all at once. “He is the sexiest doctor.”
Robby drew back like you had slapped him. “Rude.”
You turned your head toward him slowly. “You’re right.”
His expression softened. “Thank you.”
“Ellis is pretty hot, too,” you murmured happily.
Robby froze. Princess made a sound and turned sharply toward the computer. Santos whispered, “Wow.”
Dana closed her eyes. Robby stared at you. “That was not the correction I was requesting.”
You considered him through the pleasant fog around your thoughts. “You have nice hair.”
Robby’s hand went to his chest. “That was devastatingly lukewarm.”
“It is nice.”
“Nice hair,” he repeated, wounded. “That’s what I get after years of friendship.”
“You’re my friend,” you said.
His expression shifted. For one second, the joke left his face. “I know.”
You watched him through the blur. “You’re a good doctor.”
Robby’s hand tightened slightly on the rail. “You’re on excellent medication.”
“I mean it.”
“I know,” he said, quieter.
Dana looked away first. Santos suddenly found the supply tray very interesting. Robby cleared his throat and straightened. “Okay,” he said, his voice returning to a steady tone. “Let’s get ready.”
The words landed wrong. Your smile faded. The room shifted back into medicine too quickly. Gloves. Positioning. Dana adjusting the bed. Santos watching Robby’s hands intently. Javadi standing too still by the supplies, trying to look prepared. Your stomach dropped through the medication. “Wait.” Robby looked back at you. “Yeah?”
Your good hand tightened in the sheet. “You’re doing it now?” His expression softened. “Soon.”
“No.”
Dana’s hand settled lightly near your good shoulder. Not holding you down. Just there.
Robby stepped closer. “I know.”
“No, Robby.” Your voice stayed even, but barely. “I don’t want to do it.”
Robby did not flinch. “I know you don’t.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you mean it.”
You swallowed hard, throat suddenly tight. “I don’t want it to hurt.”
Robby’s face changed again, not much, just enough to show you he hated this part too. “I’m going to be as gentle as I can.”
You frowned. “That’s what people say before they do stuff that sucks.” Santos muttered, “Accurate.”
Dana looked at her. Santos lifted both hands. “I’m validating.”
Robby ignored her and kept his eyes on you. “It is going to suck,” he said. “But the longer it stays out, the worse it’s going to feel. I want to get it back where it belongs.”
Your breathing went shallow. The medication had made everything loose except the fear. That stayed sharp. Clear. Mean. You looked toward the hallway. “Fine.” Robby waited. You glared at him, sweaty and medicated and angry enough to hide behind it. “I’ll do it if Jack is my doctor.”
The room paused. Dana looked at Robby. Princess looked at the hallway. Javadi looked like she had just realized this was not covered in any textbook.
Robby let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he said carefully. “That’s not how this works.”
You frowned at him. “He’s a doctor.”
“He is.” Dana’s voice stayed calm beside you. “He’s also your husband.”
You looked at her like she had helped your case. “Exactly.” Robby’s mouth twitched despite himself.
Before he could answer, Jack’s voice cut through the department. “Where is she?”
Your head turned. Completely. All the thoughts in your brain scattered like startled birds. Jack was halfway down the hall, moving fast and trying not to look like he was moving fast, a hoodie under his unzipped jacket. His hair was sleep-rough on one side. His jaw was tight, his eyes already searching, already locked on the room. The second he saw you, his pace changed.
Your good hand lifted off the sheet. “That one.”
Robby followed your gaze. For the first time since the reduction tray came out, true humor broke through his worry. “Oh,” he said softly. “Okay.”
Jack stepped into the bay. You pointed at him, certain now. “I want that one.”
Jack froze for half a second. His eyes moved over you. Face. IV. Monitor. Shoulder. Robby. Dana. Back to your face.
Then he was at your side. “Baby.”
The word hit the room like a dropped instrument. Santos stared very hard at the floor. Princess pressed her lips together. Javadi’s eyes went wide, then wider, like she was watching hospital folklore become sentient.
You smiled up at him. “Hi.”
Jack took your good hand, his palm warm and familiar around yours. “Hi.”
His thumb moved once over your knuckles. You exhaled. You felt it happen before you could stop it. Your shoulders did not relax, not really, but your breathing changed. Your grip loosened from the sheet. The sharp edge of panic moved back by an inch.
Robby saw it. His eyes flicked to the monitor, then to Jack’s hand. “Interesting.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Don’t.”
“I’m observing.”
“You observe too loudly.”
Robby’s mouth curved. “I am her physician.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “You are enjoying being her physician too much.”
“I was worried,” Robby said.
The joke thinned for a second. Jack looked up. Robby held his gaze. “Still am.”
Jack’s face shifted.
You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do serious faces.”
Jack looked back down at you. His thumb moved again. “Sorry.”
You studied him, hazy and affectionate. “You came.”
“Of course I came.”
You turned your head toward Dana, solemn and proud. “I picked that one.”
Dana’s mouth twitched. “So I’m hearing.”
Jack closed his eyes. “What did you give her?”
“Pain control,” Robby said. “Not enough to explain all of this.”
You tugged lightly on Jack’s hand. “He’s being rude.”
Jack looked at Robby. “Stop being rude.”
Robby pointed at him. “You weren’t even here.”
“I believe my wife.”
Princess turned toward the computer again, but not fast enough to hide her smile.
Santos murmured, “That was hot.”
Dana said, “Santos.”
“What? It was,” Santos replied with a shrug.
Jack ignored all of them and leaned closer to you. “How bad?”
“Bad.”
His face softened. “Yeah?”
You nodded, then regretted it. “Don’t let me do head stuff.”
“I won’t,” Jack promised.
You frowned. “Having a head is bad.”
“I’ll make a note,” Jack said with a soft smile.
Robby stepped closer to your injured side. “Okay,” he said. “We’re going to try Cunningham.”
“No.” Your response was immediate.
Jack’s hand tightened around yours. Robby did not react like the word surprised him. “I know.”
“No, I don’t want Cunningham. It sounds smug,” you told him.
Robby’s brow raised. “It’s a reduction technique, not a man at a country club.”
You frowned at him. “Still smug.”
Jack’s thumb brushed your knuckles. “Look at me.”
You turned your eyes back to him. “No.”
Jack’s eyes softened. “You’re already doing it.”
You glared. “That’s annoying.”
His mouth almost smiled. “I know.”
Robby looked between you and Jack. Then his eyes moved to the monitor again. A thought entered his face.
Jack saw it immediately. “No.”
Robby blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”
Dana adjusted the bed so you were sitting up more, angled slightly back against the raised mattress. The movement sent a pain-sparking sensation down your arm. “Fuck.” Your eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, this is worse than my fucking IUD insertion.”
The room went silent. Jack’s thumb stilled against your hand. “Okay,” he said carefully.
You opened your eyes and glared at the ceiling. “I thought I knew pain. I was wrong.”
Dana’s mouth twitched near the monitor. Princess turned very deliberately toward the computer.
Jack leaned closer. “Baby.”
“No.” You turned your glare on him. “This is your fault.”
His brows pulled together. “My fault?”
“Yes.”
Jack blinked once. “How is this my fault?”
“Because,” you said, furious and medicated, “if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t know this was worse.”
Robby looked up. Jack did not move.
“I was doing fine,” you continued. “I was in my celibate phase. I was at peace.”
Jack’s face changed by exactly one dangerous millimeter. “You were not at peace.”
“I was close.” Your eyes narrowed. “Then you came along with your stupid handsome face and your stupid arms, and then I got the stupid IUD, and I thought that was pain. But no.”
Robby nodded slowly. “That is a clinically fascinating chain of blame.”
Jack did not look away from you. “So your shoulder hurts because I’m handsome.”
Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.” Your face softened immediately.
Jack noticed. His eyes dropped back to yours, something warm cutting through the mortification. “What?”
You blinked up at him, drug-soft and suddenly pleased. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”
Jack’s thumb moved once over your hand. “Yeah, baby.”
A small smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.”
Robby looked from you to Dana. Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. “What?”
“You’re enjoying this,” Robby said.
“I am maintaining room discipline.”
“You called her Mrs. Abbot.”
Dana’s mouth barely moved. “That is her name.” Your smile widened.
Jack looked at Dana, then back at you, and his face softened despite himself. Dana glanced at the monitor. “See? Therapeutic.” Robby’s eyes dropped to Jack’s sleeve.
Jack saw it happen. “No.”
Robby smiled. “I didn’t say anything.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You looked at my sleeve.”
“Clinically,” Robby replied.
Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
You blinked up at Jack, still angry, still hazy, still betrayed by the entire medical system. “He does have nice forearms.”
Jack stared at the ceiling. Robby nodded toward Jack’s arm. “Roll up your sleeve.”
Jack looked at him. “Excuse me?”
“She’s tensing.”
Jack gave Robby a look. “You want me to roll up my sleeves.”
“I want patient compliance,” Robby corrected.
Jack looked at Dana. Dana glanced at the monitor, then at you. “It would probably help.”
Jack’s face went flat. “Not you too.”
Dana shrugged. “I’m practical.”
Robby looked delighted. “See? Medicine.”
Jack exhaled through his nose, then dragged one sleeve of his hoodie up his forearm. Your eyes followed the movement immediately. You hated yourself a little. Not enough to look away. His forearm flexed as he pushed the fabric past his elbow, tendons shifting under skin, the veins at his wrist standing out when his fingers curled once around the bed rail. Your mouth went soft.
Robby pointed at you. “There.”
Jack’s eyes cut to him. “Do not point at my wife while she’s objectifying me.”
“I am pointing at a response to treatment,” Robby replied with glee.
You looked at Jack’s arm. “Treatment is good.”
Princess made a strangled sound. Javadi stared straight ahead like a resident determined to survive rounds with her soul intact.
Jack leaned closer to you. “You are making this very difficult.”
You blinked. “Me?”
“You.” His thumb brushed your cheek. “Very stubborn. Very pretty. Extremely bad at being a patient.”
The giggle came before you could stop it. Soft. Helpless. Embarrassing. Jack’s eyes warmed. Robby looked like he had just discovered a new antibiotic. “Oh, that’s excellent.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Ignore him.”
“You think I’m pretty,” you said.
“I married you,” Jack replied.
“That’s not an answer.”
His mouth curved. “Yes, baby. I think you’re pretty.”
You melted. Completely. It was humiliating. It was also his fault. Robby adjusted your injured arm, careful and slow, guiding your hand toward his shoulder. The position made pain spark hot and immediate. “No.” You tried to pull back. “No, fuck this.”
Jack’s face sharpened. Robby’s tone stayed calm. “I need thirty seconds.”
“I don’t want thirty seconds,” you said, frowning.
Robby’s expression softened, “I know.”
“No, I want that one to do it,” you said, looking from Robby to Jack.
Jack leaned closer. “You have that one.”
“I want that one to doctor me.” Your lower lip jutted out.
Robby, far too cheerful, said, “We’ve covered the conflict of interest.”
You frowned at him. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack looked at Robby. “Fix her shoulder.”
Robby looked at Jack’s hoodie. Jack saw it. His whole body went still. “No.”
Robby lifted both hands. “I didn’t say anything.” Jack stared at him.
Robby smiled. “She responded well to forearm.”
“Forearm is not a drug,” Jack shot back.
Robby shrugged. “It is today.”
Jack dragged a hand down his face. “Fuck me.”
You, who had been blinking hazily at the ceiling, turned your head with alarming speed. “Yes.”
The room stopped. Completely. Jack’s hand froze halfway down his face. “No.”
You frowned, offended. “Rude.”
Princess turned toward the computer with the focus of a woman fighting for her life. Santos stared at the floor, shoulders shaking.
Dana checked the monitor. “Heart rate response noted.”
Jack looked at her. “Dana.”
She did not look up. “I report data.”
Robby pressed his lips together. “For the record, that was the fastest she’s oriented to verbal stimulus since the medication.”
You reached weakly for Jack’s hand. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy from medication and pain, your good hand tight around his, your face still trying so hard to stay mad because scared was too vulnerable, and both of you knew it. His irritation lost some of its shape. “Fine,” he muttered. Robby brightened. Jack glared at him. “Don’t look so happy.”
“I’m a scientist observing results,” Robby replied, delighted.
Jack stood beside the bed and reached back, fingers catching the sweatshirt at the back of his neck. Your eyes locked onto the movement. He pulled it over his head in one smooth drag, the hem catching for half a second on the white T-shirt underneath. The shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders when he lifted his arms. His biceps shifted under the fabric. His forearms flexed as he dragged the sweatshirt free.
The room went very quiet. You stared. Completely gone. Jack paused with the sweatshirt in one hand. Just for a second. Long enough to let you look. His mouth tilted, barely. “Better?”
You nodded slowly. “Wow.”
Robby made a sound that might have been spiritual.
Jack dropped back into the chair beside you and took your hand again. “Eyes on me.”
You obeyed immediately. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Good Lord.”
Robby looked at the monitor, then at Jack. “That was outstanding.”
Robby grinned. “You removed clothing, and her heart rate stabilized.”
“That is not what happened,” Jack replied with a sigh.
Dana glanced at the monitor. “It sort of is.” J
ack looked betrayed. “Dana.”
She shrugged. “I report data.”
Robby gestured toward you, far too pleased with the entire clinical situation. “Magic Mike: ED Edition.”
Jack’s head snapped up. “No.”
Robby’s grin spread slowly. “I don’t know, brother. You danced at your wedding. Pretty risky, if memory serves.”
Jack’s stare went flat. “Robby.”
“There was a certain Eminem song involved,” Robby continued.
Your head turned on the pillow. “Shake That.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Do not help him.”
Robby pointed at you, delighted. “That’s the one.”
Dana looked up from the monitor. “You danced to ‘Shake That’ at your wedding?”
“No,” Jack said immediately.
You turned toward him with surprising speed. “Jack.”
His eyes opened. “Baby.”
Your brow furrowed, “Don’t you dare deny that.”
Princess pressed both lips together and turned toward the computer as if it had suddenly become fascinating. Santos stared between you and Jack, openly thrilled. You lifted your good hand as much as the IV allowed and pointed at him. “That moment changed my brain chemistry.”
Jack looked toward the ceiling. “Good Lord.”
Robby nodded solemnly. “For the record, I was there. It changed several people’s brain chemistry.”
Jack’s head turned slowly. “You cried during the father-daughter dance.”
“You and your wife offended decent people everywhere with that dance,” Robby said.
You nodded, glassy-eyed and completely unashamed. “Yep. My grandma left.”
Jack looked down at you, horror flickering across his face. “Your grandmother left?”
You blinked up at him. “You didn’t know that?”
“No,” Jack said. “I did not know that.”
“She came back for cake,” you added.
Jack looked at you. “That does not make it better.”
Robby’s grin widened. “I’m just saying. It was a lot of wedding.”
Jack’s eyes cut to him. “You ended that night with half your shirt unbuttoned because a bridesmaid took your tie off with her teeth.”
Santos’s head snapped up. “With her teeth?”
Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat wedding lore.”
Princess turned from the computer, delighted. “Did he go home with her?”
Robby pointed sharply at your shoulder. “We have a patient.”
Jack’s mouth curved, barely. “He did.”
Robby stared at him. “Betrayal.”
Jack shrugged. “You started this.”
“I started a medical discussion,” Robby defended.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “You called me Magic Mike.”
Robby frowned. “In a medical context.”
You looked between them, soft and dreamy now, the medication turning the memory warm around the edges. “It was perfect.”
Jack’s expression shifted. “Our wedding?”
You nodded. “You danced. I danced. Robby got slutty.”
Robby pointed at you. “For the record, ‘Robby got slutty’ is not medically relevant.”
Your eyes drifted back to Jack. You studied him for one long, medicated second. “You got slutty.”
Jack’s brows lifted. “I did not.”
You gave him a look. “Tell that to your hips.” You kept looking at Jack, still dreamy and deeply serious. “And hands.”
Jack closed his eyes again.
Santos made a tiny sound. “He got slutty.”
Dana did not look away from the monitor. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”
Your face softened immediately. Jack noticed. Of course, he noticed. His thumb moved once over your hand. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”
“I heard,” Jack said, quieter now.
A small smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.” Jack’s expression softened before he could stop it.
Robby looked from you to Dana. “You’re enjoying this.”
Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. “I am maintaining room discipline.”
Jack looked at you slowly. He looked down at you, and something in his expression changed. Not embarrassed now. Worse. Amused. “You know, baby,” he said, voice low, “I didn’t hear you complaining that night.”
Your mouth parted. For one blessed second, the medication actually managed to quiet you.
Robby looked delighted. “Oh, that worked.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Don’t.”
You blinked up at Jack, soft and glassy-eyed and deeply sincere. “I was thoroughly enjoying it.”
Dana closed her eyes. Princess turned fully toward the computer.
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. “That is a lot of marriage for a workplace.”
Jack’s jaw flexed, but his thumb moved over your hand again. “Trouble.”
You smiled faintly. “You started it.”
Robby pointed at Jack. “She’s right.”
Jack looked at him. “You started it.” Robby nodded. “Also true. Still worth it.”
Dana adjusted the bed, then looked at both of them. “Shoulder now. Wedding crimes later.”
You frowned. “They’re not crimes if everyone had fun.”
“Your grandmother left,” Jack said.
“She came back for cake.”
Robby nodded. “Strong recovery.”
Jack looked at him. “You are done.”
Robby smiled. “Brother, I have barely begun.”
Dana’s voice cut through, calm and final. “Robby.”
Robby lifted both hands. “Shoulder now.”
Jack leaned closer to you, resigned and soft all at once. “Eyes on me, trouble.”
You looked at his white T-shirt, then his face. “I am looking,” you said. “That’s the problem.”
For half a second, he looked like he might say something that would make the entire situation worse.
Robby must have seen it coming, because he clapped once, sharp and quiet. “Okay,” he said. “Shoulder.”
Jack’s eyes stayed on yours. “You heard the man.”
You frowned at him. “I don’t like the man.”
Robby adjusted his gloves at your injured side. “The man is hurt by that.”
Dana moved closer to the bed, one hand resting near your good shoulder. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said, calm and even. “We’re going to sit you up a little more.”
Your face softened immediately. Jack saw it again. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “You like that.”
You blinked at him. “Like what?”
His voice went quieter. “Mrs. Abbot.”
A small, helpless smile pulled at your mouth. “That’s me.”
Jack’s expression changed. Not enough for anyone else to call him out on it, maybe, but enough for you to feel warmer than the medication could explain. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “That’s you.”
Robby looked at Dana. Dana kept her face neutral. “Therapeutic,” she said.
Jack did not look away from you. “Do not note that.”
Robby shrugged. “I have a whole mental chart now.”
“Delete it,” Jack shot back.
Robby grinned. “HIPAA doesn’t apply to my thoughts.”
Dana raised the bed before Jack could answer. The motion sent your shoulder into a hot, mean pulse. Your good hand tightened around Jack’s. “Nope.”
Jack stepped in closer immediately. “I’ve got you.”
“Nope,” you said again, sharper this time. “I changed my mind.”
Robby’s voice stayed steady from your side. “You can hate it.”
“I do hate it. I hate the concept. I hate whoever invented Cunningham,” you groaned.
Robby nodded once. “Probably fair.” You went on, “I hate that his name is Cunningham.”
“It is a useful medical procedure,” Robby replied.
You turned your glare on him. “Don’t defend Cunningham to me right now.”
Jack leaned into your line of sight. “Look at me.”
You looked at him. Mostly because he was very close. Also, because the T-shirt was still doing hateful things across his chest. Jack’s eyes narrowed faintly, like he knew exactly where your attention had gone.
“My face,” he said.
You sighed. “Your face is also a problem.”
Robby glanced at the monitor. “Problem appears effective.” Jack turned his head a fraction. “Robby.”
“Data,” Dana said.
Jack gave her a betrayed look. Dana’s brows lifted. “I report it.”
Robby slid your injured hand carefully toward his shoulder. The second your arm shifted, pain sparked bright and fast down your side.
“Fuck.” Your eyes squeezed shut. “No, no, no, fuck that.”
Jack’s free hand came to your cheek. Warm palm. Steady fingers. No pressure, just contact. “Hey.”
You shook your head. “No, Jack, I really don’t—”
“I know.”
Robby paused, his hands still supporting your arm.
Jack’s thumb moved once beneath your cheekbone. “I know, sweetheart.”
You opened your eyes. His face was right there. Close enough to blur at the edges. Worried in that contained way that made your chest hurt. Soft in the places no one else knew to look.
“I don’t want it to hurt,” you whispered.
Jack’s expression gentled. “I know.” Your throat tightened. “I’m being so stupid.”
“No,” he said immediately.
Robby’s voice came from your side, quieter now. “You’re not.”
Dana’s hand stayed light near your shoulder. “You are allowed to be in pain, Mrs. Abbot.”
Your mouth trembled. That was rude of her, honestly. Using the name like that.
Jack watched your face, and something in him settled. “Be mad,” he said softly. “Swear at Robby. Insult Cunningham.”
Robby lifted one hand. “I would like to opt out of one third of that.”
Jack ignored him. “But keep looking at me.” You swallowed. “You’re bossy.”
“I know.” Jack smiled softly.
You narrowed your eyes. “You like being bossy.” His mouth curved, barely. “With you?”
Your eyes widened a little. Jack’s thumb moved along your cheek. “Yeah.”
The room went dangerously still. Robby’s face brightened. “Oh, that was good.”
Jack’s eyes cut toward him. “Do not grade me.”
“I’m not grading. I’m appreciating the technique.”
Dana looked at the monitor. “Heart rate improved.” Jack exhaled through his nose. “Good Lord.”
You stared at him, caught between pain and medication and the unfair fact of him. “Sexy doctor husband.”
His jaw flexed. “Apparently.” Robby moved your elbow another careful inch. You tensed immediately.
Jack’s hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair. “Eyes on me.”
You tried. You really did. Your gaze dropped to his mouth first.
Jack noticed. His mouth twitched. “My eyes, trouble.”
“I’m trying,” you groaned.
He smirked. “You’re doing terrible.” You made a small, offended sound.
Jack’s thumb stroked lightly at the base of your skull. “But you’re very pretty while you do it.”
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it. It came out wet, shaky, and ridiculous.
Robby froze. Dana glanced at the monitor. Princess made a tiny sound near the computer.
Santos looked like she might need to sit down. Jack’s eyes softened. “There she is.”
You frowned at him. “You’re flirting medically again.”
“I am not,” Jack replied.
Robby adjusted his grip on your elbow. “You are.”
Jack kept his face angled toward you. “No one asked you.”
“I did,” you said.
Jack looked back at you. “You did not.”
“I spiritually asked,” you said with a sigh.
Robby pointed at you. “She gets me.”
Jack’s hand tightened carefully at the back of your head. “That is what worries me.”
The laugh that tried to leave you broke into a gasp when Robby began working at the muscles around your shoulder.
Pain rose again, deep and threatening. “No,” you said, voice thin now.
Jack’s teasing vanished. Just gone. His face steadied. “Breathe with me.”
“I don’t want to breathe.”
He raised a brow. “Do it anyway.” You frowned. “That’s mean.”
“I know,” Jack agreed.
“Fuck, Jack.”
His eyes held yours. “I’ve got you.”
Robby’s voice came low and focused. “Good. Just like that. Try not to fight me.”
You turned your eyes toward him in outrage. “Try not to fight you?”
Jack’s hand at the back of your head guided you back. “Me.”
You sucked in a breath. “Robby is saying stupid things.”
“I know.” Jack nodded.
“I can hear you,” Robby said.
Jack’s thumb swept once under your eye. “Ignore him.”
“He’s touching my shoulder,” you said, miserable.
Jack tilted his head closer to you. “Because he’s fixing it.”
“I don’t like him,” you said with a frown.
Jack smiled softly at you. “You love him.”
“Not right now,” you said, brows furrowed.
Robby nodded without looking up. “Temporary friendship suspension. Accepted.”
Dana looked at you. “Hold still, Mrs. Abbot.”
The name hit exactly where it had before. Your breathing hitched, but this time it hitched softer.
Jack saw it. Robby saw it. Dana absolutely saw it. Robby looked at Dana. “You’re good.”
Dana didn’t look away from the monitor. “I know.” Jack leaned closer. “You’re doing good.”
You stared at him. “I am?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
Your eyes burned. “I’m making this difficult.” Jack nodded once. “You’re scared.”
“I’m swearing,” you continued.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”
“I told everyone about our wedding crimes.” Your lower lip wobbled.
His mouth moved like he was fighting a smile. “That one we’ll discuss later.”
“You got slutty.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Not now.” Robby’s shoulders shook once.
Jack’s eyes opened. “Do not laugh during my wife’s reduction.”
Robby’s expression snapped back into focus. “Guilty.”
Pain flared again, sharper this time, and your whole body tried to pull away.
Jack’s hand held steady at the back of your head. Not forcing you. Keeping you with him. “Look at me.”
You blinked away tears. “I am.”
“No.” His voice dropped. “Really look.”
You did.
His eyes were dark and close and worried. His thumb moved against your cheek, slow and sure.
“There you go,” he murmured. “Stay right there.”
Your breath shook. “This fucking sucks.”
“I know,” Jack murmured.
You went on. “Cunningham is a bad man.”
“Probably.” Jack nodded with a soft smile.
Robby glanced up. “Cunningham did not personally do this to you.”
You glared at him through tears. “He knows what he did.” Robby nodded. “I’ll allow it.”
Jack’s mouth brushed the edge of a smile.
You caught it. Even through pain. Even through fear. Even through the medication making the room swim around the edges. “You’re laughing.”
“I’m not,” Jack replied.
You glared at him. “You are.”
“Only because you’re mean on drugs,” he said, smiling softly at you.
You inhaled sharply. “I’m allowed to be mean right now.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, impossibly soft. “You are.”
Robby’s hands shifted. The pressure changed. Your body knew before your brain did.
You went rigid. “No.” Jack’s face sharpened. “Baby.”
“No, no, no, I don’t want—” You shook your head despite the pain.
His hand cupped your face more firmly. “Look at me.” Your eyes found his. “I am looking.”
“Good,” Jack said, his voice low and steady.
Your eyes burned as you stared up at him. “Jack.”
His hand stayed firm at the back of your head, fingers threaded carefully into your hair. “I’ve got you.”
You swallowed hard, trying not to pull away from Robby’s hands. “I hate this.”
“I know.” Jack’s thumb moved along your cheek.
Your breath hitched, half pain and half panic. “I hate your stupid face for helping.”
His mouth curved just enough to ruin you. “Use it.”
“What?”
“My stupid face.” His thumb brushed beneath your eye. “Look at it instead of your shoulder.”
You stared at him. “I hate that that works.”
“I know,” Jack murmured.
You glared at him. “Your face is medically annoying.” Robby murmured, “Groundbreaking terminology.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Not now.”
Robby’s hands shifted again. You felt the pressure build. Slow, careful, awful.
Jack saw you brace. Of course he did. His voice dropped. “Be good for me.”
Your face went soft immediately. “Oh, that’s unfair.”
Jack’s thumb brushed beneath your eye. “I know.”
“You’re cheating.” You tried to glare at him, but the medication and his hand in your hair made it a weak attempt.
His mouth curved, barely there and deeply unrepentant. “I know.”
Robby, without missing a beat, said, “Cheating is medically allowed right now.”
Jack’s jaw flexed. “Do it now.”
For one suspended second, there was only Jack’s face, his hand in your hair, his thumb on your cheek, and Robby’s steady pressure on your arm.
Then the joint shifted. Not violently. Not with a dramatic crack.
Just a deep, sickening slide, followed by sudden release. You gasped.
The wrongness vanished all at once. Your whole body folded toward Jack on a broken little sob.
He caught you carefully, one hand still cradling your head, the other braced at your good shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he said immediately. “I’ve got you.”
Robby exhaled. “Shoulder’s back.”
You breathed hard against Jack’s white T-shirt, your face pressed into the warmth of his chest, tears leaking more from relief than pain now. “Holy shit.”
Jack’s mouth brushed your hair before he seemed to remember there were witnesses. “Yeah.”
“That was awful,” you breathed, tears falling.
Jack kissed your head. “I know.” You turned your face enough to look up at him. “You were helpful.”
His expression softened. “Yeah?”
You nodded, still floating, still furious, still very much on drugs. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Robby pulled off his gloves with great satisfaction. “For the record, Cunningham with targeted husband exposure: wildly effective.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Document that and die.”
Robby smiled. “Brother, this is medicine now.”
You blinked up at Jack, wet-eyed and dazed. “I picked that one.”
The room went quiet around the softness in your voice. Jack’s thumb moved once along your cheek. “Yeah,” he said. “You did.”
You stared at him for another long, drug-soft second. “I picked good.”
His face changed. Not a lot. Enough. “Yeah, baby,” he said quietly. “You did.”
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. “I need everyone to know I am handling this with incredible maturity.”
Dana looked at him. “You are not.”
“No,” Robby agreed. “But I almost did.”
Jack’s hand stayed against the side of your face for another second before he seemed to remember the rest of the room existed.
“Post-reduction films?” he asked, glancing toward Robby.
Robby pulled his gloves off and dropped them into the trash. “Already ordered.” Jack nodded once.
Robby gave him a look as he stepped back to your injured side. “Neurovascular was intact before. Checking again now.”
“I know you are,” Jack said.
Robby lifted his brows. “Do you?” Jack’s mouth flattened. “I’m standing right here.”
“Great,” Robby said. “Then stand there husbandly and let me be her doctor.”
You turned your head slowly against Jack’s palm. “You’re both doctors.”
Robby leaned closer, careful as he checked your hand. “Only one of us is currently allowed to practice medicine on you.”
You looked at Jack. “I vote that one.” Jack closed his eyes. “Baby.”
Robby did not look up from your fingers. “Your vote has been received and rejected by the ethics committee.”
You frowned at him. “I don’t like the ethics committee.”
“The ethics committee is me,” Robby said.
You blinked at him. “That tracks.”
Santos made a tiny sound near the foot of the bed. Dana glanced at her. Santos pressed her lips together and looked at the floor.
Robby touched your fingers gently. “Can you wiggle these for me?” You wiggled them.
Robby nodded. “Good. Any numbness or tingling?”
You stared at him, still dazed. “Just in my dignity.”
“That is not innervated by the axillary nerve,” Robby said.
You blinked. “Show-off.”
Jack’s thumb moved over your cheek again. The motion was small. Your body noticed anyway.
Robby saw that too, because of course he did, but for once he did not comment.
Dana adjusted the sling on the tray beside the bed. “We’ll get her immobilized once Robby’s done checking you,” she said. Jack’s attention shifted to the sling. His jaw tightened by a fraction.
You saw it even through the medication. “You’re doing the face.”
Jack looked back down at you. “What face?”
“The face,” you said.
Robby glanced over. “Oh, I know the face.” Jack did not look at him. “No one asked you.”
Robby’s voice stayed light, but not careless. “It’s the face he makes when he wishes he could make it easier for you.”
Jack went quiet. So did you. Your fingers tightened around his. “You did,” you said.
Jack looked down at you. “What?” Your smile was small and drug-soft. “You made it easier.”
His thumb moved once over your hand. “Yeah?”
You nodded, eyes glassy and sincere. “Yeah. Because you’re hot. And a doctor. And smart. And sexy. And my husband. And I love you.”
The room went very still. Jack’s face softened all at once.
Then you added, very seriously, “And you’re hot.”
Robby’s mouth opened. Dana looked at the monitor like it had become essential to her survival.
Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Is that all?”
You blinked up at him, exhausted and earnest. “No.” His mouth curved. “No?”
You shook your head once, barely. “But I’m tired and drugged.”
Jack’s expression warmed into something painfully fond. “Okay, baby.”
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. You swallowed, the edges of the room still warm and watery.
“And Eli?”
Robby’s expression gentled before the joke could get there.
“Megan called down while we were getting the films ordered. He’s okay.”
You stared at him. “She told him?”
“She told him,” Robby said. “His mom told him. He knows you’re not mad.”
You blinked hard. Jack’s hand tightened around yours.
Robby leaned a hip lightly against the counter, his voice quieter now. “He drew you a picture.”
Your throat closed. “He did?”
“Apparently it’s you with a cape,” Robby said.
Princess smiled from the computer. “And a very large arm.”
You made a sound that tried to be a laugh and almost became something else. “Is it anatomically correct?”
Robby looked at Princess. Princess shook her head. “Not even close.” You closed your eyes. “Good.”
Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles.
Your eyes burned again, but softer this time. “He doesn’t think I’m mad?”
Robby shook his head. “He thinks you’re a superhero.”
You went very still. Jack felt your hand tighten around his. Then your face crumpled. “Oh, no.”
Jack leaned in immediately. “Baby?” Your eyes filled too fast for you to stop them. “I’m leaking.”
Jack’s expression softened all at once. “You’re crying.”
“I know.” Your mouth trembled. “I don’t want to.”
“That’s okay,” he murmured.
You shook your head. “It’s embarrassing.”
“No, it isn’t,” Jack replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You sniffled. “It is in front of the day shift.”
Robby’s face softened from the counter. “Day shift can handle feelings.”
Santos looked suspiciously focused on the floor. Princess turned toward the computer, blinking too much.
Dana adjusted the sling on the tray without looking up. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said evenly, “day shift has seen worse.”
Your smile wobbled through the tears. “She called me Mrs. Abbot.”
Jack’s thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching a tear before it reached your cheek. “Yeah, baby.”
You looked up at him, wet-eyed and overwhelmed. “He thinks I’m a superhero.”
Jack’s face changed. Not a lot. Enough to make you cry harder. “He’s right.”
Your chin trembled. “Jack.”
“He is,” Jack said, voice low. “You protected him.”
A tear slipped hot down your cheek. “I scared him.”
“You helped him.”
The words landed so gently that they hurt. You made a broken little sound and tried to wipe your face with your good hand, but Jack caught your fingers before you could tug at the IV.
“I’ve got it.” He brushed another tear away with his thumb.
You sniffed. “I’m leaking a lot.”
His mouth softened. “I know.”
You exhaled. “I hate this drug.”
“No, you don’t.” He smiled gently.
You thought about it, tears still sliding down your cheeks. “I kind of love this drug.”
Robby nodded from the counter. “There she is.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Let her leak.”
Dana smiled gently. “Mrs. Abbot,” she said, crisp and even, “I’m going to help support your arm while we get this situated.”
Your eyes opened the rest of the way. A smile pulled at your mouth immediately, even through the tears.
Jack looked down at you. “There it is.” You blinked at him. “What?”
He brushed one knuckle lightly along your jaw. “That smile.”
You looked toward Dana, pleased and hazy. “She called me Mrs. Abbot again.”
Dana did not look up from the sling. “That is your name.”
Robby pointed at her. “You’re doing it on purpose.” Dana kept her hands steady. “I am doing my job.”
“You are weaponizing legal marriage,” Robby said.
Dana fitted the strap carefully behind your neck. “I am supporting patient cooperation.”
You sighed happily. “It is working.”
Jack’s mouth twitched. “Clearly.”
Dana adjusted the sling around your injured arm. “This may pull a little.” Your smile vanished.
Jack saw it instantly. “Hey.”
“Nope,” you said.
His hand found your good one again. “Look at me.”
You frowned. “I already did that.”
“Do it again.”
You looked at him.
His eyes stayed steady on yours while Dana adjusted the last strap. There was a brief tug, a hot little spark of discomfort, and then your arm was held against you, supported and still.
You exhaled shakily. Jack’s thumb brushed once over your hand. “There you go.”
You swallowed. “I swore a lot.”
Jack’s mouth softened. “You were allowed.”
You leaned and whispered poorly. “In front of Dana.”
Dana stepped back from the sling. “I’ve heard worse, Mrs. Abbot.” Your smile came back immediately.
Jack glanced at Dana. “Therapeutic.”
Dana picked up the chart. “Accurate.”
Robby checked the sling with a quick glance, then nodded to Dana. “Looks good.”
Dana stepped back. “It’ll do until ortho tells her the same thing in a more expensive voice.”
Princess laughed under her breath. Santos rocked back on her heels.
“So she’s going home?” Santos asked.
Jack looked at Robby before Robby could answer, the same question reflected in his eyes
Robby lifted his brows. “You asking as her husband or as the night attending who has forgotten he is not on shift?”
Jack stared at him. “Husband.”
Robby smiled. “Good choice.”
Jack’s jaw flexed. “Robby.”
“We’ll watch her a bit after the follow-up films, make sure pain is controlled, then yes,” Robby said. “Home. Ice. Sling. Ortho follow-up. No lifting. No heroic catching of children for a while.”
You frowned at him. “That feels targeted.”
“It is,” Robby confirmed.
Your frown deepened. “Eli was falling.”
“And you caught him,” Robby said. “And now your shoulder is in a sling.”
You looked away. Jack’s voice softened. “You did good.”
You looked back up at him. “I broke myself.”
Jack shook his head. “You protected him.”
You pressed your lips together. “That sounds like something you say when I broke myself.”
Jack held your gaze. “It can be both.”
You considered him through the medication. “You’re very pretty when you’re reasonable.”
Robby made a wounded sound. “Not this again.”
Jack did not look away from you. “Thank you.”
Your smile went soft. “Sexy doctor husband.”
Jack lowered his head for half a second like he was gathering strength.
Dana picked up the chart. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”
Santos closed her mouth so fast her teeth clicked.
Princess turned toward the computer, shoulders shaking. Robby looked between Dana and the monitor.
“Therapeutic and preventative.”
Dana’s eyes flicked to him. “Exactly.”
Jack gave her a long look. “I don’t know whether to thank you or be concerned.”
“Both is usually safest,” Dana said.
A little while later, after the films confirmed what Robby already knew, after Princess brought discharge paperwork, after Santos was banished from asking any more questions about the wedding, the room finally thinned out.
Dana left with one last check of your sling and one more calm, devastating, “Take it easy, Mrs. Abbot.”
You smiled so hard your eyes closed.
Jack watched Dana go, then looked down at you. “She did that on purpose.”
You leaned into the pillow. “She likes me.”
“She likes making me suffer,” Jack said.
You nodded solemnly. “People contain multitudes.” Jack huffed a quiet laugh.
Robby came back with the discharge papers and a pen. “Okay,” he said. “Because apparently I am the only person in this room still committed to medicine.”
Jack was sitting beside your bed now, his sweatshirt back on but unzipped, one hand wrapped around yours. “You loved every second of this.”
Robby held up the paperwork. “I loved several medically relevant seconds of this.”
“You called me Magic Mike,” Jack said.
Robby nodded. “In a medically relevant context.”
“You threatened to chart targeted husband exposure,” Jack added.
“I still might,” Robby said.
Jack stared at him. Robby smiled. “I won’t.”
“You better not,” Jack warned.
“I’ll save it for the group chat,” Robby said with a shrug.
Jack’s expression went blank. “There is no group chat.”
Robby looked at you. “He thinks there’s no group chat.”
You turned to Jack, horrified. “You think there’s no group chat?”
Jack looked between you and Robby. “I hate this family.”
Your smile went dreamy. “You said family.”
Robby’s expression softened before he covered it with a cough.
Jack looked down at your joined hands. “I did.”
The air warmed around that. For one second, nobody ruined it.
Then Robby clicked the pen. “Anyway,” he said. “Sling stays on. Ice twenty minutes at a time. Pain meds as prescribed, not as creatively interpreted by the patient. Ortho follow-up within the week. No work until cleared.”
You opened your eyes. “No work?” Jack’s hand tightened.
Robby looked at you. “No work.”
“But peds is short,” you replied.
“Peds will survive,” Robby said.
You frowned. “You don’t know that.”
Robby leaned closer, his sarcasm gone soft around the edges. “I know you cannot care for children with a freshly reduced shoulder.”
You looked at Jack for backup. Jack shook his head. “No.”
“You didn’t even let me ask,” you said, brows furrowed.
Jack just gave you a look. “I know where you were going.”
“You always know where I’m going,” you sighed.
Jack shrugged. “Usually because it’s somewhere you shouldn’t.” Robby nodded. “Marriage.”
You sighed again and let your head fall back against the pillow. “This is oppressive.”
“This is discharge planning,” Robby said.
“Oppressive discharge planning,” you mumbled.
Jack stood slowly, keeping hold of your hand. You looked up at him. “We’re leaving?”
He nodded. “Soon.”
“Are you taking me home?” you asked, hopefully.
His expression softened. “Yeah, baby.”
Your whole face relaxed. “Good. I want that one.”
Robby pressed the paperwork to his chest. “She’s still doing it.”
Jack took the papers from him. “She’s on medication.”
He folded the paperwork and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
Robby watched him for a moment, the humor easing out of his face. “You good to get her home?”
Jack looked at you. You were blinking slowly, exhausted now, the adrenaline finally draining out of your body.
His voice gentled. “Yeah.”
Robby nodded. “Call me if anything changes.”
Jack met his eyes. “I will.”
The two men looked at each other for half a second longer than the words required.
You noticed even through the fog. “You two are having feelings.”
Robby looked down at you. “We are absolutely not.”
Jack’s mouth twitched. “No feelings.”
“Lies,” you murmured.
Robby pointed at you. “Pain meds have made her too powerful.”
Jack helped you sit up carefully. The room tilted as soon as you moved. You made a small sound and grabbed for him with your good hand.
He was already there. One arm came around your waist, careful not to jostle the sling, his body solid beside yours. “I’ve got you.”
You leaned into him. “I know.”
That seemed to hit him somewhere. His hand spread warm at your side. Robby stepped closer, but Jack had you steady.
“Slow,” Jack said.
“I am slow,” you grumbled.
The room tilted. You caught Jack’s shirt with your good hand, and his arm came around your waist before you could wobble any farther.
His mouth twitched. “That’s why I said go slow.”
You rolled your eyes. “Smartass.”
Robby nodded from beside the bed. “Fair assessment.” Jack shot him a look.
“Supportive environment,” Robby said.
Jack eased you carefully off the bed. Your knees felt uncertain, and the room stayed too bright, but his arm held you steady.
Dana reappeared at the curtain like she had sensed movement. “You good?”
Jack nodded. “I’ve got her.”
Dana looked at you. “Mrs. Abbot?”
Your smile came back, sleepy and immediate.
“I’m good.”
Dana’s mouth barely moved. “Clearly.”
Robby narrowed his eyes at her. “You did it again.”
Dana checked the hallway. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You absolutely do.”
Jack adjusted his hold at your waist. “Can we leave before anyone learns anything else about my wedding?”
Princess, still at the computer, lifted one finger. “I have follow-up questions.”
“No,” Jack said.
Santos leaned against the counter. “I have several.”
Jack shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Robby grinned. “I have photos.”
Jack went still. You gasped softly. “You have photos?”
Robby’s grin widened. “And videos.”
Jack pointed at him. “Delete them.”
“Never,” Robby responded immediately.
“You have videos of the dance?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.
Robby gave you a look. “You think I would witness neurological history and not document it?”
Your eyes went glassy again. “Can you send them to me?”
Jack looked down at you. “Baby.”
“What? I was there. I should have them,” you defended yourself.
Robby tapped his phone. “Already sent.”
Jack closed his eyes. “Good Lord.”
Your phone buzzed somewhere in the plastic belongings bag.
You looked up at Jack, delighted. “Brain chemistry.”
Dana held up one hand before Santos could speak. “Do not repeat Mrs. Abbot.”
Santos sighed. “I didn’t even say it.”
Dana looked at her. “You thought loudly.”
Jack shook his head and started guiding you toward the hallway. “We’re going home.”
You leaned into him, warm and sore and still floating enough that the ED lights looked like stars smeared across glass. “Home with you?”
Jack glanced down. His face softened. “Yeah.”
You smiled. “I picked good.”
This time, there were no monitors beeping too loud, no hands at your shoulder, no room full of witnesses waiting for the next outrageous thing you might say.
Just Jack’s hand at your waist, his body steady beside yours, his voice low near your ear.
Din Djarin finding the strength to smash a huge rock over a droid's head moments before he loses consciousness, after essentially being fatally bitten by a huge poisonous water worm, is like the most On Brand thing imaginable for his character... even on the verge of death he'll never miss up an opportunity to be a droid hater
Asa and Anthony are certain about their feelings. However, there’s a difference between knowing and saying it out loud. A surprise from Anthony might just give them the push they need to confess their feelings.
Notes
The question is: who will be the first to say the words?
On Ao3
Rating G - 2246 words
"Asa, I think the spine of that book is clean now. You’ve taken it out and wiped it down with that cloth three times already."
Asa was snapped out of his thoughts by Derek’s voice and blinked when he saw the book in his hands.
He put it back where it belonged.
"Sorry..."
Derek raised an eyebrow and asked, "Something on your mind? Need to talk?"
Asa looked down and asked casually, "How do you tell someone you love them?"
Derek snorted. Asa, feeling annoyed, started to head toward the back of the bookshop. But Derek stopped him, saying in a soothing tone, "Asa, stay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. Your question just caught me off guard. I assume you’re talking about Anthony."
Asa shrugged and sighed. "Who else?"
Derek continued, "Are you sure about how you feel?"
Asa nodded vigorously and chuckled softly.
"Oh, as far as my feelings go, I have absolutely no doubt. It's more a matter of expressing them. I want him to know, but I don’t know how to tell him."
Derek nodded thoughtfully.
"I see."
After a few moments of silence, he said gently, "You know, Asa, that day, I was really hoping something like this would happen."
Asa raised a questioning eyebrow and asked, "What do you mean?"
Derek replied just as gently, "I didn't have much to do that day. Just a little nudge, a bet, if you will. I’m old. I’ve seen a lot of relationships form and fall apart. What I saw between you two that day is something I didn’t want you to lose out of fear. I’m really glad you found the courage."
"What courage?"
"The courage to go after him. To fight against yourself for what you wanted. Love is a risk, and you took it."
Asa recalled the moment that changed his life.
"Well, thank you."
Asa noticed a hint of hesitation in the other man’s attitude, but by the time he did, the man was already turning away.
Don’t go. Not yet.
Asa watched the handsome man until he disappeared behind the door.
"Soooo, that was Professor Anthony Crowley."
Derek’s voice snapped Asa out of his reverie.
"How’d you know that?"
Derek smiled slightly and pointed at the book Asa was still holding. "Well, his name’s in big letters on it."
He really was the king of idiots, wasn't he?
"Aren’t you going to go after him?"
Asa looked at Derek, looking almost shocked.
"Why would I go after him?"
He knew his question to Derek was more bravado than anything else. Derek knew it, too.
The older bookseller pressed on: "Well, you liked him. And it looked very much like he liked you."
It was the second part that Asa hadn't been sure of.
But Derek had seen it.
Asa hadn't imagined the connection between them. That his interest might not be one-sided.
He grabbed his blazer and, with the book in his hands, was about to leave when he changed his mind. He rummaged in his pocket, placed a few bills on the counter, and said to Derek, "For the book."
Derek took the bills and smirked. Asa wasn’t paying attention anymore, though. He was already running down the street when he saw the professor’s silhouette at the very end.
Anthony Crowley.
He knew his name.
But the professor didn’t know his.
As he ran, Asa called out to him, "Oii... I mean, excuse me, stop."
The professor turned around and looked surprised. He stopped as soon as Asa caught up to him.
"Oh, sorry, did I leave something? Is everything okay?"
Then, he saw that Asa was holding out a book, and his expression changed as if he were disappointed.
"Oh... I told you, two boxes..."
Asa called himself an idiot for the umpteenth time and replied, panting, "No, I know....Um... sorry, a bit puffed."
He panted several times and added, "Um, no, I bought it."
Asa handed the book to the professor and asked, a little more calmly though still nervous, "Would you...er...could you sign it for me?"
"Of course."
Phew! The beautiful smile was back.
The professrot asked immediately, "What's your name?"
"Fell. Asa Fell. With an S."
After searching himself, he held out his hand to Asa and asked, "Um, do you have a..."
"Oh! Yes, sorry."
Asa reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and immediately pulled out a pen. He handed it to the other man, who began writing with his head bowed over the book.
This was the moment.
In a slightly hesitant voice, Asa said, "I need you to write your number down, too." He paused briefly, then added, glancing at the professor, "For me."
Just as the professor looked up and met his gaze, Asa added, "So I can ask you to dinner."
The professor looked at him in silence and blinked once. Asa continued, "And... you’ll say no, and, um... but at least I’ll have asked."
There.
I did it.
At least I’ll have tried.
The hope was stronger than anything else, blooming.
The professor had his head down, humming, before looking up and saying, "I’m not going to give you my number."
Of course!
What did you think, Asa?
Keep smiling.
He stammered, "No, no, no, no. Sorry."
"I'll wait for you."
What? He what?
Asa was almost speechless and didn’t dare hope, but then the professor continued, "Where are we having dinner?"
Nothing could stop the smile from blooming on Asa’s lips.
The joy he felt at that moment!
The moment Anthony’s smile mirrored his own.
Nothing could have matched it.
At first, Asa was afraid that it would all come crashing down, but the more he got to know Anthony, the stronger his feelings became.
Ever since then, everything had been a continuation of that moment of grace.
"Asa?"
Asa answered sheepishly. "Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts again. You were right to push me that day. Anthony... he is... well... um..."
Derek chuckled softly. "He is who he is to you. I can see he makes you happy. So, to answer your question, how do you tell someone you love them? Asa, tell him what’s in your heart. If Anthony is who you say he is, you just have to be yourself. There’s no magic formula. There are no right words or specific moment. You'll know when you're ready to say it."
It sounded easy.
He went back to work, but now the question was when, not how, to tell Anthony how he felt.
The vibration of his phone in his pocket snapped him out of his thoughts.
It was a message from Anthony.
Small change of plans for tonight.
I’m not coming to pick you up at the bookshop.
Asa felt disappointed, but a second message followed immediately.
I’ll pick you up at your place a little later tonight.
Around 7:00 p.m."
Asa sent a message back, surprised.
Where are we going?
The reply came immediately.
Surprise!
Asa could almost picture his lover’s face, and he chuckled.
Do I need to do anything special?
The reply came quickly.
Put on some warm, comfortable clothes.
I’m really intrigued now.
The only response he received was a series of wink emojis, and he knew he wouldn't receive any more.
The doorbell at thebookshop rang, signaling a customer's arrival and forcing Asa to focus on his work.
Four hours later, he was back home, rummaging through his closet for something warm and comfortable to wear.
He chose a pair of brown corduroy pants and a thick, beige sweater. With his parka, that should be okay.
His phone vibrated.
I'm here.
He put on his parka and shoes, grabbed his keys, and hurried down the stairs to meet his lover.
Anthony was waiting by his car and holding the passenger door open.
When Asa reached him, Anthony bowed gracefully and motioned for him to get in.
Asa didn’t get in right away, though. He came closer to Anthony and asked playfully, "May I have a kiss from the driver first?"
"With pleasure."
Anthony quickly obliged, and a few moments later, Asa, slightly out of breath, fastened his seatbelt as Anthony started the car.
"Where are we going?"
Anthony winked.
"I told you, it's a surprise."
Asa glanced at his lover and, seeing how happy he looked, decided not to ask any more questions. Instead, he questioned Anthony about his afternoon classes.
Lulled by Anthony’s voice and the music from the car radio, Asa must have fallen asleep, because, when he opened his eyes, they were well out of town. Anthony was pulling the car over to the side of a country road where the trees gave way to a vast open field.
Asa stretched and watched, intrigued, as Anthony got out of the car and opened the trunk.
Asa got out of the car as well, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. "Anthony? Where are we?"
"You’ll find out very soon, though where we are is less important than what we’re here to do," replied the professor with a playful smile, his eyes shining with excitation.
He pulled out a thick wool blanket and carefully unfolded it on the ground a little further out in the field. Once settled, he invited Asa to lie down beside him.
Asa complied somewhat hesitantly before tilting his head back to gaze at the sky. His breath caught in his throat. The sky was a majestic vault, a canvas of stars so dense that it made his head spin.
"Wow..." Asa murmured, unable to say more.
He was beginning to understand why his lover had brought him there.
Anthony moved closer to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, prompting Asa to rest his head on his shoulder. Then, his lover raised his hand toward the sky and pointed to a star. "Look over there, toward the south. That’s Antares, the heart of Scorpio. Do you see that reddish hue? It’s a red supergiant. If we placed it in the Sun’s spot, it would engulf the orbits of Mercury, Venus, Earth, and even Mars..."
Asa listened intently, following Anthony’s finger as he mapped out the sky and showed Asa what he saw with wonder. But more and more, his gaze turned to his lover’s face. It radiated a joy that made him gorgeous. Even more than usual.
Asa felt himself overwhelmed once again with love for him, a feeling so intense that it brought a lump to his throat. His whole being vibrated, and he felt his heart beat faster, aware of his lover’s presence, his passionate voice, his face, and the warmth of his body against his own. Everything that was Anthony.
His love.
At that moment, Asa knew.
It was the perfect moment.
"I love you."
Though his voice was nearly inaudible, his words seemed to echo through the night.
He froze instantly, his heart pounding.
A heavy silence hung in the air.
Anthony didn’t move. He remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the night sky. Then, very slowly, he turned his head toward Asa. The moon lit his face, but his expression was indecipherable.
"Asa…" Anthony began.
Asa instinctively replied, "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to ruin the moment. It's just that..."
Anthony interrupted him by placing his fingers on his lips.
"Once again, you've left me speechless, just like on the first day."
He propped himself up on one elbow, towering over Asa. "I love you, Asa. More than I can say."
A sigh of relief and happiness escaped Asa’s lips. His eyes filled with tears in response to the raw, nearly painful emotion he felt, and a lump formed in his throat, preventing him from speaking. Without a word, he slid his hand behind Anthony’s neck and tangled his fingers in his hair to pull him closer.
Their lips sought each other with tender urgency and the exhilaration of their feelings finally confessed, a silent explosion of desire and relief. The kiss lingered and grew hungrier as Anthony’s hands rested on Asa’s waist, holding him firmly against himself. They forgot the starry sky for a moment, and when they parted, breathless, Anthony fell back onto his back and pulled Asa down with him.
They caught their breath, lying against each other in comfortable silence for a long time, both relishing the feeling of loving and being loved in return.
A little later, Asa lifted his head. Resting his chin on his lover’s chest, Asa gazed at Anthony and asked softly, "If you saw a shooting star right now, what would you wish for?"
Anthony shook his head slowly and replied in a hoarse voice, "I won't make a wish. I don't need to. Not anymore. What more could I want than you and your love?"
Asa felt his eyes mist over again at the sincerity in Anthony’s voice. He snuggled closer to his lover, feeling for the first time in his life exactly where he belonged.
After a few moments of silence, he let out a stifled laugh against Anthony’s chest.
"What?"
"For a scientist, you're really romantic, you know?"
"Only with you, I promise," Anthony replied, tightening his embrace.
He pressed a long kiss to his lover’s temple, silencing any protest, before turning toward the sky.
For a long time, they gazed at the stars, nestled close together.
They had nothing to wish for, for each was what the other wished for.
The one that got away (final part) | Wolverine x fem!reader
Summary: You were just starting something with Logan, when your ex-boyfriend decided to come back to your life. After Ben interrupts your makeup session with Logan, you're decided to move on.
This is based on this Reddit story
Part 1 - Part 2
Warning: this chapter is spicy! I’m not good at writing smut, so bear with me: PiV, oral (female receiving), a little bit of dirty talk. There's also a lot of fluff! Mature language, Wade Wilson being a menace. Bad writing (please remember English is not my first language, so if you notice something odd please write to me privately).
Tagging @aheadfullofsteverogers because she’s the only person reading this story XD
You stared at Ben expectantly while he looked everywhere but you. You both stood in your kitchen, the kitchen island putting a few good feet between you. After Ben rudely interrupted your little makeout session and asked to speak to you in private, Logan returned to Wade's apartment looking both angry and hurt. Your heart ached for him, not wanting him to be upset, especially not at you after such a great night.
“How did you get in?” You finally asked.
“I still had my key.” Ben replied.
“Damn, I forgot about that...” You mumbled angrily.
“I’m glad you did. It gave me hope.” Ben must've noticed the confusion in your eyes, so he explained “I thought maybe you were waiting for me to come back home.”
You frowned.
“Come back?... Ben, what are you doing here? Why did you come?” You pushed, your patience running thin.
“I want us to get back together.”
Your jaw dropped to the floor.
“You can't be serious. Ben, you broke up with me to be with someone else.”
Ben looked embarrassed.
“I know, I know, but hear me out. I made a mistake. She is not who I thought she was, I fell for an illusion, I really thought she was the one for me, the one that got away. But then I realized I was so much happier with you and I'm a fool for leaving.”
You were in complete and utter disbelief.
“You're kidding me, right?”
“We can work this out.” He pleaded.
“How on Earth can you possibly think that?” You asked. “You left me for another woman, there's nothing to work out, you made sure of that.”
Ben shook his head, not ready to give up yet.
“There's nothing between me and her anymore, I ended things.” He said and you scoffed. “I swear, I'm done with her.” Ben tried to take a step closer to you, but then you stepped back.
“That's not the point, Ben!” You yelled as you started pacing around the apartment. “This is not about her! This is about YOU! You gave up on us. YOU threw me away as if I was nothing. How could I ever believe you won't do it again?”
“I swear to you, I learned my lesson, I'm never making that mistake again.” He pleaded again.
“It was so easy for you.” You said, your voice turning low and sad. “To walk out on me… on us… as if we hadn't been planning our future together, or entire lives!” Tears started filling your eyes. “As if I meant nothing to you.” Ben's shoulders dropped, he knew there was no way he could ever make things up to you. “You didn't love me enough to stay. You didn't love me enough to realize you didn't want to be with another woman. The second you two started talking you should've shut down any possibility of something happening between the two of you, out of love for me. Out of loyalty. But you didn't.” Your lip trembled and tears rolled down your cheeks, but your voice didn't waver.
“I don't want to be with another woman, ever again.” Ben assured you and you resumed pacing around. “I know I hurt you, but I also know we can work it out. I'll do anything you ask. I'll go to couples’ counseling with you.” You scoffed. “I'll even let you sleep with that guy one more time.”
At that you froze and turned to face him fully.
“Excuse me?”
Ben sighed.
“I left to be with another woman, you're clearly moving on with another man. So let's even out the scores. Sleep with him one more time, get it out of your system and then…”
You slapped Ben so hard, his face turned to the point you thought he would break his neck. The sound it made echoed on the walls. Your palm started to sting really bad, you could only imagine how bad Ben's cheek was hurting now.
“Logan is not some rebound I can use and throw away, let alone to get back with you. He's a good man and doesn’t deserve to be used like that. He’s done nothing but treat me right and help me realize I can do much better than you.” You were practically hissing the words. “Not that it is any of your business but I didn’t sleep with him. I was too busy grieving our relationship, but now that I know what piece of shit you are, moving on from you should be much easier.”
Ben looked at you with emptiness in his eyes, his cheek already forming an imprint of your hand.
“Get. The fuck. Out.” You told him. Defeated, Ben turned to the door. “Wait.” He stopped. “Leave the key.”
-
After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, Logan decided that staying in bed was useless. Instead he sat on the couch with a bottle of scotch and a cigar.
He couldn't help but wonder… Were you with Ben? Was Ben in your bed with you right that moment? Were you two getting back together?...
The kiss you two shared was the first thing to bring him real joy in a long time. Saving the timeline was a real achievement and one to be proud of, but even then, nothing would ever surpass feeling loved and cared for, something Logan only felt a handful of times during his long life. And to lose it so quickly made his stomach churn.
Did he lose you already?
A sound caught his attention, and when he looked up he saw Mary Puppins scratching the window.
“What are you doing?” He asked, as if the dog could give him a straight answer. She barked and scratched the window again. “There's nothing out there, bub.” Logan frowned and got up. Outside the window was a firescape, nothing else. “You wanna go out? Is that it?” Mary Puppins looked at him and wiggled her tail. “Alright, don't go far.”
The second he opened the window the dog ran outside and started yapping.
“Sweet little puppy.” Logan heard your voice. He quickly poked his head out the window and found you there.
You were sitting on your window frame, a blanket on your lap, a steaming cup in one hand and the other giving Mary Puppins a belly rub. You were so beautiful.
“So this is why she wanted to come out so bad, must've heard you out here.” Logan said.
You smiled softly at the dog.
“Or she sensed I needed some company.”
Logan frowned.
“So Ben isn't here with you?” He asked.
You scoffed and shook your head.
“Hell no, I kicked him out as soon as I could. I'm done with him, he's not worth my time.”
Logan couldn't help but smile with relief.
“What are you doing awake then? It's really late.”
“I was too angry to sleep. So now I'm planning on watching the sunrise. Wanna join me?” You offered.
Without even thinking, Logan stepped out the window and sat next to you. Meanwhile the puppy laid down by your feet.
“Why are you angry?” He asked.
“Because I was having such a lovely evening before he ruined it. Everything was going so well.” You then looked at Logan shyly. “I'm so sorry, Logan.”
“Hey…” Logan took your hand. “There's nothing to be sorry about. You didn't do anything wrong.”
You looked at your hands together, your other hand coming to caress Logan's knuckles. Logan swallowed hard, moved by the fact you were lovingly caressing something everyone else feared. His hands were weapons, not meant to receive loving care.
“What about you? Why can't you sleep?” You asked.
Logan looked away awkwardly. He was so bad at talking about his feelings. But if he wanted to keep you around, he knew he needed to at least try.
“I was thinking about you… About you and Ben, I thought maybe you two were working things out.”
You quickly shook your head, your heart breaking at the thought that you hurt him.
“I'm so sorry-” Logan shook his head, interrupting you.
“Don't. It's okay.”
“I never meant to hurt you.” You reassured him.
Logan then lifted your hand and kissed it.
“I know, sweetheart.”
You smiled, feeling your heart flutter at his actions.
“Does that mean we're still going on a date?” You asked hopefully.
Logan smiled and nodded.
“We'll go on as many dates as you want.”
You chuckled.
“I'd like that.”
A cool breeze flew by and made you shiver. Logan took the blanket from your lap and wrapped it around you before placing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. You leaned your head on his shoulder and smiled when you felt his lips kissing the top of your head.
As the sun started to come up, your eyelids started going down. You were slowly falling asleep on Logan's shoulder.
“Let's get you to bed, gorgeous.” He whispered, but you just pressed yourself more against him.
“No, please, just a little bit longer.” You pleaded and nuzzled his neck. “I don't want this to end.”
Logan felt a tug in his chest. You wanted to be with him and he was so grateful, but he didn't want you to fall asleep like this. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and kissed your forehead.
“Come on, sweetheart, you need to rest.” He easily picked you up and carried you inside. Once in your bedroom he gently placed you on your bed, covered you and pushed your hair away from your face, admiring you in silence. You felt his fingers against your skin, tender and moving slowly, as if he was afraid of breaking something.
Before he could step away, your hand reached out and held onto his arm.
“Stay with me.” You whispered, eyes barely open.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
You hummed and nodded your head against the pillow.
“I don't want you to go.”
Logan smiled softly and caressed your cheek.
“I'm not going anywhere, sugar.” He said before getting under the covers with you and laying on his side.
Instantly you turned to press yourself against his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, while the other slid under your neck and you used it as a pillow. You fit perfectly against him, as if the two of you were two pieces of a puzzle.
Something moved at the foot of the bed, and when Logan looked over the covers he found Mary Puppins laying down by his feet.
It felt like home.
-
You slept the entire morning, waking up just around noon. A little bit of sunlight came through the curtains and gave your bedroom a golden tint. At some point during the night you rolled to your other side and Logan, without even realizing, scooted closer and spooned you. So when you woke up his chest was pressed against your back, his nose buried in your hair, and one strong arm was wrapped around your waist.
You carefully rolled over to face him, trying really hard not to wake him up. But Logan was a light sleeper, always alert, so his eyes fluttered open.
“Shhh… go back to sleep.” You whispered, your hand cupping his cheek and caressing it softly. He simply rolled on his back and fell asleep again.
You laid there for a while, watching Logan sleep. The morning light cast a soft glow on his peaceful face. His strong jawline, usually so defined and commanding, now relaxed in the tranquility of sleep. His dark lashes rested against his skin, and a gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only movement in the still room. You couldn't help but smile as she watched him, there was something so vulnerable, yet incredibly powerful, about seeing him like this, completely at ease with you by his side.
You felt so safe with him around. So peaceful. You knew he came from a violent world, where he lived an even more violent life, but here? All that seemed so far away.
“I can feel you staring at me.” Logan suddenly said with his eyes still closed.
Your face warmed up, embarrassed at being caught.
“Sorry.”
Logan opened his eyes and you smiled softly.
“It’s kinda hard not to stare at you, you’re so beautiful.” you said.
Logan didn’t know how to feel. He had never been called beautiful. Handsome? Yeah, maybe… but beautiful?
“YOU’RE beautiful.” He said, deflecting.
“I feel beautiful when I’m with you.” You confessed. Logan stared at you for a moment before pulling you closer and kissing you.
You returned the kiss but quickly pulled away.
“I have morning breath!”
“You think I give a fuck?” Logan asked as he tickled your sides. You started laughing, trying to slap his hands away from you. “How dare you deny me a kiss? After I caught you staring!”
“Okay! Okay! Sorry!” You laughed.
“You’re beautiful ALL the time.”
Logan climbed on top of you, holding his weight on his elbows and setting his hips between your thighs. You sighed contently, loving the feeling of him above you.
He kissed you again, this time slow and deeply. Your hands ran up his arms to his neck, then your fingers tangled in his hair.
Humming happily against your lips, Logan pressed himself against you, just enough to cover most of your body, but not enough to crush you. You stayed like that for a while, kissing each other softly, hands wandering all over each other’s bodies.
It was sweet. It was tender.
Logan moved his lips down your chin, up your jaw and then to your neck. When he reached a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear, you closed your eyes and let out a whimper.
Your hands moved down his back, pushing him even closer to you, and then you felt it. His throbbing hardness pressing against your panties. Out of instinct you rocked your hips against his, your legs lifting in the air and wrapping themselves around his hips.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” Logan growled against your neck.
“Logan…” You whimpered. “Logan, please, touch me.”
You felt his big, strong hand move between your bodies and slip under your panties. His fingertips made their way between your folders and spread your wetness before finally burning themselves deep inside you.
Logan pulled back a little and looked at you.
“Take your shirt off.” He said. You quickly obeyed, throwing the shirt to the floor. With his hand still deep between your thighs, and the other holding him above you, Logan leaned in and covered one of your nipples with his mouth.
“Oh god!” You moaned as Logan sucked the tender skin hard.
Your hands tugged at his hair and his shirt, wanting more.
“You're so fucking beautiful.” He growled before moving to the other nipple. Your hips rocked against his hand, pressure building up in your lower belly.
Logan suddenly pulled away and knelt between your legs.
“Let me see you.” He said before rolling your underwear down your legs. “Fucking gorgeous.” He added and pressed your panties against his nose. He then took a deep breath and growled, almost like an animal.
If you weren't so horny and needy for him, you would've been mortified.
“You're still dressed and I'm not, it's not fair.” You pouted cutely.
Logan smirked and took his wife beater off.
Your heart dropped.
In front of you was the most gorgeous, muscular, ridiculously good looking man you've ever seen. Logan was a protein shake in human form.
“For fucks sake!” You threw your arm over your eyes. “It's like you're photoshopped! I could wash clothes on those abs!”
Logan laughed and gave your leg a little tug.
“Get up, I want you to sit on my face.” He said before laying on his back, his gray sweatpants doing nothing to cover his massive manhood.
“You sure?” You asked shyly as you knelt on the mattress.
“Yes I'm fucking sure, now get here.” He replied while getting comfortable and throwing a pillow away. You would be lucky if he didn't break the bed.
You crawled on top of him and positioned right above his mouth. You tried to hold your weight on your knees and by holding onto the headboard, but then you felt his hands grabbing you by your hips and pulling you down.
“When I tell you to sit on my face, you sit on my fucking face.” He commanded you.
“I don't wanna crush you.” You said, a bit embarrassed.
“You won't.” He was right and you knew it. But before you could say anything he pressed his mouth to your throbbing cunt.
“Fuck!” One hand gripped the headboard, while the other tugged his hair. He seemed to enjoy it as he growled against your skin. His fingertips dug into your thighs and pressed you more against him. How did he breathe, you didn't know.
Logan ate you out like a pro, tongue going in and out of you, licking up and down your sensitive folds before stopping to circle and suck your clit. All of that at a fast pace that left you breathless. Blessed be the women that came before you, because they clearly taught him well.
“Jesus! Fuck!” You moaned, hips moving against him needed more, more, more… “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” Your legs went rigid and your body twitched violently was you reached your climax. You had to hold onto the headboard tight just so you wouldn't fall out of the bed or on top of Logan.
You were still trying to catch your breath when Logan moved from beneath you, threw the rest of his clothes to the floor and got behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against his chest, and kissed your neck.
“Got a condom?” He asked.
You shook your head. After being with your ex for so long, you stopped using them.
“I'm on the pill.” You said. “And I'm clean. You?”
You felt Logan smile against your skin as kissed your ear and temple.
“Same. One of the perks of being a mutant. I never catch anything.” One of his hands sneaked between your bodies, took a hold of his cock and started gliding it against your slit, coating it with your juices. “I could get used to this.” He said against your ear. “Rawdogging you, filling you up so good.” He nibbled your neck, his free hand cupping your breast. “Make you smell like sex and cum all day…” He growled at the thought.
Your head rested on his shoulder and you looked at him.
“Do it.” you said, eyes half closed. “I want you to fucking ruin me.”
Logan growled and gave you a hard, messy kiss, the type that leaves you breathless and your lips bruised.
He finally pushed his big, hard cock inside you. You knew he was big, having noticed it under his gray sweatpants, but this was more than you expected. Could this man be any more perfect? Not even Viking gods could compare.
“Fuck!” You hissed. It hurt, but it was a delicious type of pain, one that didn't last long.
“You good?” He asked and you nodded.
“You're so big.” Your words stroke his ego.
“You don't think you can handle it, babygirl?” He teased you.
“I told you, I want you to ruin me. Split me in half, tear me apart.”
“Jesus Christ, woman. You'll be the death of me.”
One hand held you by the hip, the other moved down between your legs and caressed your clit. And then he proceeded to give you the pounding of your life. The headboard banged the wall as you kept your grip on it, using it to push yourself back, your ass smacking against Logan's hips as he thrusted inside you.
More and more moans came from you. You had never been this vocal in the bedroom. Usually you would try to keep quiet, not wanting the neighbors to hear you, but there was something about Logan that made you lose control. Your jaw hung open, your eyes rolled back, wet sound echoing the walls in the room as flesh met flesh.
“Fuck! Logan! Yes! Yes! Yesyesyesyes!” It didn't take long to reach a second orgasm. Pressure built and built in your lower belly until it released the most intense ecstasy you've ever felt. Your back arched against his chest and Logan held you, still thrusting into you, helping you ride your climax.
You arrived at the conclusion that Logan liked manhandling you when he threw you on the bed, landing on your back. So far he had done to you whatever the fuck he wanted, and you weren't complaing. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards the edge of the bed before placing one of your legs against his chest. In one swift movement he was inside of you again.
Logan looked so beautiful like that, standing over you tall and broad, covered in sweat, hips snapping against yours. You could watch him like this all day, every day.
You didn't know at the time but Logan was taking you in as well, hair all messy and sticking to your face due to the sweat, nipples hard and perked up.
“Fucking gorgeous.” He growled. “Give me one more, babygirl, I wanna see your face when you come around my cock.”
At this point Logan fucked you stupid, you couldn't come up with a single coherent thought. You gripped the bedsheets, trying to ground yourself somehow. You couldn’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good, but to be fair, you couldn't remember your own name at the time.
“G-God! You feel so good!” you moaned, back arching against the mattress. Logan leaned over you and kissed you hard. With your leg still against his chest, this position gave him a new angle, one that had you whimpering and moaning for more against his lips. Your hands tangled with his hair and pulled hard, earning you an animalistic growl. You loved that sound.
“I'm c- I'm cuming…” You managed to gasp out. Logan picked up the pace, fucking you hard and fast into the mattress.
“Come on, gorgeous, give it to me.” He told you, pulling back enough to look at your face. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
You let out the filthiest moan of your life as you came undone, body thrashing and trembling against his. Needing to hold onto something, your nails dug into Logan's shoulders, leaving marks that healed far too fast for his liking. Your walls clenched around him, practically milking him as he kept going.
Logan felt himself getting closer to his own climax and buried his face on your neck, grunting with each thrust. You ran a hand down his back to his ass and gave him a firm squeeze, the other moved to the back of his neck and pulled at his hair. With that Logan came. Hard.
You both were a trembling mess, covered in sweat, too spent to move for a moment, except from the sudden twitches your body made. Suddenly the room was very quiet.
Eventually Logan lifted his head from your neck and kissed you. It was a slow, sweet kiss, a contrast from the previous ones.
He pushed himself away and pulled out of you. You hissed, still getting used to his size and looked up at him. He looked so satisfied as he watched his cum drip out of you.
“What a pretty little pussy.” He said before running his thumb up the folds to the clit. You trembled. Logan looked around the room before picking your still wet panties. He used them to clean you up before smelling it again.
“I'm keeping these, by the way.” He said and dropped them on top of his clothes.
You giggled. No man had ever shown so much interest in you this way.
Logan lifted you up a little to get you more comfortable on the bed and laid next to you. You wrapped yourself around him, your face nuzzling his neck.
“Well, you did it. You fucking ruined me.” You sighed happily. Logan chuckled and kissed your forehead. “I'm serious, I don't think I'll be able to walk for a couple of days.”
“Am I hearing you complain?” He teased you and you laughed.
“Fuck no.”
“I aim to please.” Logan said satisfied. Then he pushed some of your hair away from your face and smiled at you. “I meant what I said, I could get used to this.”
You smiled back.
“Me too.”
Suddenly you heard a dog's bark. You both opened your eyes widely before looking up. On a chair in the corner of your bedroom was Mary Puppins, tail wiggling happily.
“Oh… my… god…” You said mortified. “Was she here the whole time?”
“I forgot she was here.” Logan said.
“Do you think we traumatized her?”
Logan laughed.
“Being Wade's dog, I'm sure she's seen worse.”
When you exited your bedroom Logan was fully dressed and holding Mary Puppins while you were wrapped in your fuzzy robe. As promised, your panties were safely tucked inside his pocket.
“I better take her home. Wade will lose his shit if he comes back and she's not there.”
You walked him to the door and smiled.
“Will I see you soon?” You asked shyly. Logan looked at you like you had just said the dumbest thing in the world.
“Do you really need to ask? After what we just did?” He said and you chuckled. “I promised you a date, didn't I? I'll pick you up tonight, 7 sounds good?”
You nodded.
“Sounds perfect.” Logan smiled and leaned to kiss you. When he pulled back you sighed happily.
“See you tonight, gorgeous.” He said before walking to his apartment.
-
Wade was sitting at the table, eating cereal, when Logan walked in.
“Morning, peanut! Did you have a good night?” He asked with the biggest, goofiest smile. “I recognize a walk of shame when I see it.”
“I'm not ashamed.” Logan protested, only confirming Wade's suspicions.
“You would think getting laid would make you less grumpy, color me surprised.”
Logan simply growled and ignored him, placing Mary Puppins on the ground. She quickly ran towards Wade and jumped into his arms.
“Come to your papa.” Wade said before kissing her head. “What's that, Mary?” He then asked, pulling her closer to his ear, as if she was saying something. “Uncle Logan got lucky last night? I know, I think the whole building heard them.”
“Your dog is a pervert.” Logan said, walking towards the bathroom.
“Just like her papa.” Wade said proudly.
Logan shut the bathroom door and got ready for a shower. As he undressed he pulled your panties from his pocket and smiled. He couldn't wait to take you out on a date.
may i humbly suggest a small snippet of when jack walks in on the wannabe werewolf patient asking sunshine if he'd let him bite her to become his werewolf bride? i'm still giggling over the latest update! this is such a fun smau
The American Werewolf in Pittsburgh - a Confessions of a Night Shift Nurse blurb
+18 MDNI
~718 words
a companion to COANSN pt. 6
content: jack being protective, werewolf guy shooting his shot, reader (& writer) wanting to chomp jack abbot's ass
a/n: literally thank you so much for requesting this?????? i loved writing it. + named the werewolf guy after Scott McCall from MTV's Teen Wolf because I used to love that show so bad (and lowkey still do ngl) and thought it would be funny lol. i hope you like!
“So once a month you shapeshift?”
“Yes! It’s very liberating. You know, I really appreciate you wanting to hear about werewolf culture.”
You give him a comforting smile, checking his IV.
“And you’re so beautiful…”
“Aww Mr. McCall, you’re so kind. Thank you!”
“Could I interest you in becoming my werewolf bride? Lycanthropy would look good on you.”
“Oh! Well I’m not sure…”
Of all the things this man could’ve said to you, this was at the bottom of the list. You can’t say you were expecting a marriage proposal at 3 o’clock in the morning, from a man going through some sort of psychosis, when you came into work today.
If you were being honest, you were kind of flattered…
“The only thing is, I’d have to bite you-”
Just as Mr. McCall was saying THAT, a certain handsome-with-an-edge night shift attending decided to make an appearance.
“Uh… what’s going on in here?”
“Oh hey Dr. Abbot! Scott here was just asking me for my hand in marriage!”
“....and that includes biting?”
Scott pipes in at that. “Yes! It’s a whole marking thing. I’d bite her, she’d bite me. Then we’d be mates for life.”
The look on Jack’s face… priceless. It was like his brain was rebooting for a second before his expression fell into what can only be described as ‘flabbergasted’, with a touch of horror.
“Okay Mr. McCall, I’m going to have to ask you to not bite any of our nurses.” Jack says in a firm tone, moving closer to you protectively.
“Sunshine, would you step out into the hall for me?”
Before you can protest, Jack has his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the room. The heat of his touch making you flush.
“It was nice meeting you, Scott!” you call over your shoulder.
Jack guides you over to the hub, checking you over. Gently inspecting your arms and neck. Your heart skips a beat.
“Jack, I’m fine! Nothing even happened.” scoffing lightly.
“Something could’ve…” his voice falling off at the end, like he knows he’s over reacting.
You raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a teasing smile.
“I’m just making sure.” Raising his hands up in playful surrender.
“He didn’t even do anything!”
“He was smelling you.” Jack deadpanned.
“Uh, yeah, duh. That’s what werewolves do.”
The corner of Jack's mouth twitched upward, fighting a smile.
“Sunshine, I’m serious.”
You roll your eyes playfully at the older man, patting his chest (maybe only slightly squeezing his pec)
He shakes his head in amusement. (he may or may not be thinking about making your eyes roll for a different reason)
“I like you when you’re protective, Abbot.” You say with a wink, before walking away with a little sway to your hips.
︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ After Shift… ⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵
You’re by the lockers, getting ready to head home, when Jack approaches you.
“Hey, you good?”
You furrow your brows at him, “Yeah?... Why?”
“The werewolf guy?” he looks at you expectantly.
“You’re still thinking about that? Is someone jealous?” Giving him a teasing smirk.
He shakes his head, letting out a soft chuckle.
“Don’t make fun of me, kid. I just want you to feel safe at work.”
You tilt your head, giving Jack a sweet smile. Feeling your heart warm and butterflies flutter through your stomach.
“Jack, I’m good. You’re sweet to worry.” You bring your hand up to rub his (very firm) bicep.
A blush shoots up his neck and to the tips of his ears.
Clearing his throat and giving you a lopsided smile, about to say something else, before Shen and Ellis come around the corner.
Jack steps back slightly.
“Okay, you gotta tell me about the American Werewolf in Pittsburg.” Shen says chuckling.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunshine.” Jack says with a wink and a nod.
“See you, Dr. Abbot.” giving him a flirty smile and flipping your hair slightly.
Shaking his head, he departs, bidding goodbyes to your coworkers.
You hated to see him leave, but damn, that ASS.. You just want to… CHOMP.
“Okay okay enough ogling the old man, tell me about this marriage proposal?” Ellis says laughing, eyebrows raising to her hairline.
“You know, he wasn’t too bad looking. I’m still considering it.”
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