c⋆ flesh and bones

29. she/her. art & music

[shamebats]

Emos & scene kids got this close to abolishing gender for real. I try not to think about it too much.

[shamebats]

The idea of a popular teenage subculture where girl & boys pretty much all dress the same feels impossible now but for a while it was reality and it was beautiful.

[champagneholland]

Oh to be the lesson Jack Abbot can't seem to learn.

The young pretty resident who recently joined the night shift and also his wildest fantasies. The shift from dream to reality did not take long; your hot attendant was, in fact, the first thing you noticed as soon as you arrived.

Jack likes to remind you that whatever has happened between you two can't happen again, yet he is the one who finds the silliest excuses to touch you in some ways and pushes you in the first empty room to kiss your skin.

As you put your scrub back on as soon as you can, Jack likes to remind you of his favourite words "Can't happen again". At the millionth time you hear that, you just roll your eyes and ignore the old man.

"Same time tomorrow?" you ask.

To which Jack finds himself nodding faster than he likes to admit.

You kiss him quickly before leaving the room.

"Tomorrow is the last time" Jack tells himself and he knows he is lying.

[lesbianshepard]

if an archaeologist says an artifact was probably for “ritual purposes” it means “i have no fuckin clue”

but if they say it was for “fertility rituals” they mean “i know exactly what it was for but i dont want to say ‘ancient dildo’”

[thecringeandwincefactory-deacti]

Back in the day I worked at a certain very famous and very high caste art museum in the US as a junior curator. Part of my job was to catalog the objects in the museum database. This includes details like provenance, measurements, and a visual description of what the object looked like.

Like I said, the museum was a pretty snotty institution. It’s got a LOT of objects it’s way famous for possessing, but nobody knew about the absolutely massive collection of Moche erotic pottery it had because the curators were totally embarrassed by this stuff.

Some examples:

Pretty hot shit, right? They never, ever put any of this stuff on public view or published it in any catalogues but - we legit had like several hundred pieces of Moche ceramics in the “dirty pots” category. Anyway, I was left alone to just do my job with regard to the database for several years, ok? And I figured, well, these’re accessioned objects in the museum’s collection - better get down to bidness. 

I catalogued every goddamn bestiality, necrophiliac, cocksucking, buttfucking, detached penis, and giant vulva drinking cup in that collection. I’d be like, 

A drinking vessel in form of a standing man wearing a tunic and cap. He holds an oversized erection in his hands and stares into the distance (note I did not say “like he’s hella-constipated”). The vessel has a hole at both the tip of the penis as well as around the rim of the figure’s head, thus forcing the drinker to drink only from the penis or risk spilling wine all over themselves from the top of the vessel. Red and orange slip covers the surface of the piece.

Pretty straightforward, right? Apparently the deep seated fear of these objects that the curators exhibited was meant to spread to me as well, but - no one ever gave me that memo, because I guess Midwesterners reproduce asexually. When the curators understood that I had catalogued all of these objects in addition to the other, non-sexy pieces in the collection, they were apparently livid, but knew they had no legs to stand on in terms of getting pissed at me for it. 

I visited the museum’s online public access database a few years back and - every single description I wrote of these pieces has been totally neutered to say something like Male figural vase. 

Long story short? Just call a dildo a fucking dildo. It’s all gonna be ok, I swear.

[workfornow]

This is absolutely the MOST unusual reblog I have ever tagged with what is probably my second-favorite tag, “talk to me about your work.”

Plus it’s hilarious.

[talontarget]

jkr is literally posting upskirt photos to her social media. when will it finally get through to harry potter fans that their support makes her feel confident and correct enough to do things like this

[dodykeahedron]

If the holocaust denialism SOMEHOW wasn't enough for you to shut up about your favourite kids book as an adult; JK Rowling just committed a sex crime IRL against a transgender woman.

When do we start to care.

[abbotverse]

ER wallflower - jack abbot.

in which jack abbot is the first to notice the wallflower resident of the ER.

summary; reader has always been used to being left behind, and eventually stopped trying to make space for themselves. she doesn't think anyone notices her, until jack abbot starts paying attention.

warnings; fem!reader. use of y/n, use of she/her, probably medical inaccuracies bc all my medical knowledge comes from shows lol, also NO AI used !!! i use em dashes sometimes but i PROMISE this is strictly a no-ai account!! also reader has a cat bc i said so

i might make a part two of this tbh but i wont label it as a series bc then my brain will start procastinating and i'll lose all motivation to write it LOL

The noise of the ER buzzed around you. The muscles in your neck ached, begging to be stretched and massaged. One of your hands came up to gently rub on your neck, the other slowly typing out the chart of your latest patient.

Some of the interns were huddled together, giggling to each other about something. It had become a habit of yours to listen in on them— on whatever gossip they had going on this time. Sometimes, you liked to pretend that you were part of it. That you got to gossip with friends just like they do.

That'd never been the case for you. In your intern year, you were the only one. Already feeling alienated, you struggled to find your place in the ER. Everyone seemed to already know who they were, aside from you.

For a while, you tried. You tried to include yourself. You joined the others when they went for a beer after a heavy shift. But as time went on, you didn't feel any closer to belonging. It didn't feel like anyone was making room for you either. So, you stopped showing up. And no one said anything.

Now, you just worked. You took all the patients no one else wanted. You stayed a little later to make sure another coworker could get home on time. You helped in traumas, then slipped away as soon as it was done.

This routine worked. It'd been your routine for years now. It wasn't that you were a bad doctor, no. You just didn't fit in.

A small wince covered your features as you rubbed your neck again. You truly couldn't wait to get off shift, and go home. You know your cat must already be sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for the sight of you walking through the door.

"Nice catch, earlier." You heard a gruff voice behind you— one you recognized as your attending, Jack Abbot. Being the eavesdropper you are, you waited to hear the response of the person he was complimenting. You wondered if they'd be humble or gleeful. You know that if you were complimented like that, you'd be over the moon.

The light of the monitor made your eyes burn a little, but you just had to push through this last chart.

Then, you felt a hand tap your shoulder.

"Kid?" Dr. Abbot hummed, looking down at you, the corner of his lips quirking into a small smile. "Did'ya hear me?"

Your eyes go wide, and you swear you can feel your heart jumping up into your throat, making your breath hitch. He was talking to you. No one ever bothered talking to you, not if it wasn't necessary.

"I— er- sorry, what did you say, Dr. Abbot?" You cleared your throat, trying to get your heart to return to a normal pace, the chart all forgotten now.

He watched you for a moment, his gaze softening from playful to a more gentle one. "I said..." His hands gripped both ends of his stethoscope, the one he always had around his neck, "Good catch earlier. With the silent heart attack patient. Not many of us could've caught that."

The apples of your cheeks shifted into a deep red color, your eyes darting from him to your keyboard, then to your water bottle, the floor, keyboard, him...

"Oh- um, yeah, thank you, sir." You nodded in response, already mentally degrading yourself for being so awkward. This is your attending, for gods sake. You should be professional.

But that easy grin rested on his face, and he nodded. "Oh, sure, kid. You're one hell of a doctor. Keep it up." He gently squeezed your shoulder, and walked off. And that was that. He complimented you like it was nothing.

That simple compliment swam in your head the entire day. It made you smile as you prepared your lunch for work at home that evening. It made you hum with content as you settled into bed, curtains drawn shut to hide the rising sun.

Good catch earlier.

It started happening more and more. Abbot would pull you into traumas with him, let you take the lead on them, and then give you a small compliment, and one of those warm smiles. He'd linger when you charted, always trying to spark up small talk.

You never came out of your shell, though. It was driving him insane. He tried everything. But you always shut it down and got back to work. For a while, he thought you might just dislike him. But he could see the small smiles you gave him, and the pink tint in your cheeks at his compliments.

So, he tried asking the other residents about you. Imagine his shock when no one knew anything about you. Everyone just responded off-handedly.

'Oh, Y/N? Yeah, she's a quiet one. Dunno much about her.'

'Y/N? Great doctor. Haven't talked to her much.'

'Saw her a few times in her first year of residency. Then she stopped coming out.'

No one knew anything. That's what made Jack perk up a little more. He tried to subtly keep notes on you throughout the day. See who you spoke to. If maybe you left with someone. Maybe discussed patients. But he got nothing.

You were all alone.

The last straw was when he spotted you slipping into the abandoned wing of the hospital, settling yourself on the dusty staircase, and opening your lunchbox. You even hid away to eat.

He had to fix that.

So, he became a little more persistent. He'd ask you to eat lunch with him, and before you had a chance to decline, he'd already led you into the breakroom, making you sit down with one pinned stare.

He could tell you were a little anxious. So he always made the first move. He'd ask questions that required more than a nod for an answer, just to get you talking. And he would listen. Full attention, eyes glued to you the entire time you spoke.

No dismissive nods, no hums of acknowledgement in a way to just make you feel heard, no. He made sure you knew he was listening. When you mentioned your cat, he asked for its name. He asked to see pictures. When you made an offhanded complaint about the hospital coffee, he asked what your favorite coffee place was.

The next day, a coffee from said place was waiting for you.

[asliceofoceanmist]

She's so crazzzzzzzy! Love her!!!

[diirty--chaii]

How is that fic problematic? Curious.

okay so i will admit most of this went down on pitt twitter and i only lurk there i don't really tweet or anything but this lovely post by @hatosyscurls details what happened

basically this white author wrote a stereotypical latina character (jack's dead wife) and when she was called out for it blocked (and potentially harassed people according to other users here and here - open the threads)

i never talked to emily i don't know what kind of person she is in real life, but it seems like this is a classic case of a person showing problematic behaviour (racially biased writing) and rather than reflecting and correcting, instead ignored the problem. and when that didn’t solve anything it just erased and deflected instead of doing the work to unpack her bias.

i never acc read the fic when it was being published on ao3 but now that it's a book and knowing her past with stereotypes i want to read it as a desi woman to see how she writes samira because lord knows i have very low hopes (i get samira being a virgin is the whole point™️ of the story but it really feels like we're going to get some bad racial stereotypes about nerdy indian women or some shit)

(the stuff below this is going more into a personal rant about the publishing industry so feel free to ignore)

the romance industry is so fucking annoying these days. i like romance books and yet like80% of the shit posted post 2020 is just fanfic slop (obviously i am not shitting on fanfic lets be so explicitly clear rn) - stories that were good as fanfiction because they were fanfiction but once you try to sever the original story it doesn't stand alone.

like this is how the book is marketed from emily's own instagram/website

samira to AMARA

it's like she picked the first vaguely brown name and went "good enough"

this is literally mohabbot - not vaugley mohabbot, not "mohabbot but with a twist" just mohabbot

doctors age gap army vet workaholics doctors - couldn't even make them veterinarians to give some distance

[diirty--chaii]

still not sure if this is official book art or if she just reposted mohabbot fan art and then got told by her team to take it down but this was on her website for a while

girl the lawsuit??

[trashshart]

[gayelectro]

[strawberrycherrycola]

Belly belly belly belly belly belly

[bluetimeombre]

Very important person...

synopsis when your and Robby's son joins PTMC he sees just how much his parents have to deal with, including Myrna, the gift that just keeps on giving, and she thinks trading in the older model for the younger is a good investment (4.1k words)

warning language. parents reader with robby, mom!reader, preganant reader! general hospital stuff, allusions to smut, allusions to sex work!

authornote a very lovely anon pointed out that Myrna would love to tease Carter because he looks so much like his dad and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I love Myrna. I tried finding out more about her for this and all I could find was that she's apparently a sex worker? I don't know how true that is but there's hints to it in this fic. Thanks to anon for the idea! robby gif credit to @emziess, john carter gif credit to @erotizmas

pitt masterlist! part one 'the kids aren't alright'!

“VIP, room twelve asking for you,” was never a good thing to hear. VIP's meant family and friends, or on the other hand - frequent flyers that had been in enough to know their favourite doctors and nurses faces and names and who to ask for.

You hung your head and sighed before dragging your feet over that way.

“Might want to take the cuffs,” Dana added, sending you on your way.

You pushed open the door to twelve and was greeted with cigarette breath and stale perfume.

“Hey, sugar tits!”

“Myrna,” you greeted. “I thought we agreed we'd stop meeting like this.”

She chuckled, showing off teeth that weren't particularly white anymore, stained by years of smoking and drinking. “What can I say? I can't get away from you hot stuff.”

Myrna was around enough you were shocked she didn't have her own room. She did have her preference of wheelchairs, the one that had the smoothest wheels she deemed that made pushing around the Pitt and chasing doctors easier.

“What are we in for today?” you asked, folding your hands over her age old chart and keeping to the end of the bed.

Her brows rose. “Aren't you gonna come any closer?” she teased, crooking a finger into her as best she could from where they were restrained softly to the bed.

“Myrna you know I'm married.”

“Happily?”

“Sadly.”

“To the fruitcake?”

“Still,” you said with an amused smirk. Sometimes when you wanted to annoy Robby you'd call him fruitcake and watch his face twist up.

Myrna scoffed. “Pathetic.”

“You had another seizure?” you asked, knowing already her usual tricks.

“Yeah.”

“Who brought you in?”

“Some guy.”

“And what was his name this time?”

“Antonio. Italian. Handsome,” she said with a drool. “Looked great in his uniform.” Myrna pulled at her restraints again as you walked around her, checking the vitals another nurse (most likely Dana) had already took. “Are these really necessary?”

“They are when police bring you in.”

“Is this because I grabbed fruitcakes ass?” she asked.

“No, Myrna,” you said, checking her IV. “It's because you grabbed my ass.”

As if she were proud of herself, Myrna grinned and chuckled.

The door behind you pushed open gently, two bodies, one tall and lean and the other slightly rounded blocking the doorway.

“And this is, Myrna. Seizure activity, or so she says,” said Robby as he gestured from his son next to him to the lady in the bed.

Carter's med student days had been spent mostly in Presby, in order to avoid such conflicts of interests like working with his mom and dad in the ED. However, Presby was closed for up to two weeks due to a viral outbreak and quarantines that Robby insisted Carter come do days in the Pitt.

Carter was pressed in his fresh and light coloured scrubs, a polished stethoscope slung over his shoulders and a pep in his step. Looking at him, you wouldn't have thought he was roaming the halls he ran through as a child, talking to Dana as if he didn't use to babble incoherently at her.

“Myrna, say hello,” said Robby, passing you a nod.

Instead, Myrna dragged her tongue over her teeth and growled.

Carter all but jumped back.

“Fruitcake, you've multiplied,” she smirked.

“Don't worry, Carter,” you said. “She's harmless.”

“She's-she's tied to the bed.”

“Exactly. So she's harmless,” you said. “Just don't get too close if you're examining her, she bites.”

At first Carter laughed but when nobody- not even Myrna- laughed with him, he fell silent, looking between his dad and you. Robby only nodded, confirming that fact.

“Who is this tall, lean, fresh blood?” Myrna asked, eyeing him up.

“Myrna, this is Carter. Our kid. He is doing a emergency medicine rotation and is here to learn,” said Robby.

Carter's chest puffed out, his hair that was soft to the touch and bounced around like Robby's used to do, fell in front of his eyes.

Myrna shifted in her bed. “You need to do a physical, huh?”

“He does not,” said Robby. “Rest easy, we'll be back soon.”

Robby held the door open, letting you and Carter out first as if to protect you from her 'abuse', but he didn't close it quick enough, the nicknames sugar tits and fruitcake floating out behind you.

“What-what was that?” asked Carter, frowning at the names he could have sworn he heard.

“Nothing, don't think about it,” said Robby, a firm had clamped on his shoulder and stirring him away.

“Fruitcake?” he laughed, probably thinking of every way he could use it against him.

“I said don't ask.”

“Don't worry about Myrna, just keep your distance,” you advised.

Carter looked between you and Robby, the both of you in doctor and nurse mode. It was the sort of thing he'd caught glimpses of throughout his life but never seen so much of. The both of you shed the scrubs like skin when you got home, pulling off the medical practices and putting on everything you'd learned about being parents. It was a fine line, Robby had decided, between happiness and work and he wasn't going to drag the dead and the sick into the home he'd created.

“You guys put up with her a lot?” he asked.

Robby huffed. “She comes in to avoid the cops.”

“She's here so often we're thinking of inviting her to thanksgiving next year,” you teased.

“But she doesn't actually bite, does she?” asked Carter, laughing at the very idea.

You and Robby shared a look, ignoring him.

“Just don't find out the hard way, son,” advised Robby, leaving him to it and letting him go.

Carter nodded. “Is she the reason you came home with a bite mark on your shoulder last week?”

He regretted asking almost immediately as he watched your cheeks grow pink and watched Robby fight a smirk down at you. He reached for you, turning you around as you walked away laughing.

“Yeah, sure, son.”

Carter was at the nurses station, leaning over the cool counter and watching the rest of the ward work. He watched nurses float around him, Dana be called off on different ventures, traumas being wheeled in and pushed through doors. Nobody was calling his name. He was waiting to be called, to be rushed into the action.

At some point he watched you and his dad be called around, the two of you taking patients like it was a tag team mission. He watched Robby's hand ghost the small of your back as he directed you around, he watched your careful words console him after tough patients.

So, that's what love was.

The squeak of wheels from behind him sounded, dragging over the floor closer and closer.

“Doctor, doctor, I got a bad case of loving you,” said the drag of a voice.

Carter turned, looking down at the wheelchair. “Oh, I'm not a doctor. I'm a med student.”

“Younger, even better,” she smirked, licking her lips.

“You're Myrna, right?” said Carter, looking around him for help before he was cornered by her.

“Call me mama,” said Myrna.

Carter gulped, eyeing the handcuffs that gleamed in polished silver. She was attached to the wheelchair. Could she still bite him? “Is there anything I can help you with, Myrna?”

“You could make my time worth while,” she said with a lur of desire.

Presby had been a different kind of chaos to PTMC. There'd been a blur of patients and an over crowded hall way of equipment, less put back and clean and darker than here. He could see Myrna in daylight, the ragged pull of a dressing gown which seemed to be strictly hers. The dark colour of exhaustion under her eyes. Hadn't he been told she came here to hide from the cops?

“I need the bath room hot-stuff,” she said, as if catching his hesitation.

“Oh. Right. Yes, course, let me just-” Carter looked around desperately, hoping to catch a face he could put a name to. He drew a blank.

“Come on, sweet-cheeks,” she said, a low droll of her voice. “Never seen a real woman before?”

If he said yes would word get back to his mom? If he said no would word get back to his dad?

Finally, a small doctor in a neatly combed-back braid and glasses walked by, focused and clear of mind.

“Hey! Um, hey! Wait, Can I-Can I get some help?”

She looked back to him, eyes alight. “Oh, Doctor Robby! I mean not-not our Doctor Robby, a Doctor Robby, our third, really,” she frowned at herself and shook her head. “I'm Mel, D-Doctor King.”

“Hey, nice to meet you, Doctor King,” he greeted with a bright smile. “Myrna needs the bathroom and I-”

Mel caught on quick and took over the charge of Myrna who was less than enthusiastic later.

“Strip down and get on my bed, sailor!” she yelled.

Carter's cheeks blazed.

It was one of those days where things seemed quiet for you and Robby. Where patients came in with small complaints that could be handed off to med students and residents, carefully supervised of course.

So carefully supervised from Robby's place in the lounge, you perched on his lap with his arms tightly around you. You were only blocking his view a little bit, he'd know if anyone was dying at least, it was basically a sixth sense.

But with you in his lap, tracing patterns in his hands, Robby didn't seem to care if outside was on fire.

“You know, if this one's another boy,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder, hands pressing into the small, nearly un-noticeable swell of your stomach. “We might have to call him Jack.”

You smirked. It was a running joke that with three sons and one daughter not one of them was named after Jack, even if he was there for the births of them. Once when Robby was not.

“He might start thinking we hate him.”

“But if we have a girl I am not calling her Jaqueline,” you said.

Robby huffed a laugh into your shoulder. “No, definitely not.”

“I think if it's a girl, we should call her Stacey,” you suggested.

“Stacey?” asked Robby, trying to go through everyone you knew to understand why Stacey was an important name. He came up blank.

“So I can be Stacey's mom.”

Robby knew there was a joke there that he didn't understand.

You backed up, peering at him. “You don't know Stacey's mom?”

The door squeaked open, flashes of the Pitt startling the two of you as Dana walked in, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

“There you two are! Hiding out here while the rest of us do your dirty work!” she said, smiling at the sight.

“Is somebody dying, Dana?” asked Robby, smug and still secure with you in lap.

She scoffed. “Yeah, your kid.”

You shuffled in Robby's lap, sitting up straighter. “Carter?” anxiety clawed at your nerves, turned over the little breakfast you'd eaten.

“Myrna's got her claws in him, poor kid,” she said with a show of no sympathy. The truth was all of them had to put up with Myrna at some point. It was always best to get it out the way in the early days. Let Myrna have her fun then she usually left you alone.

Except you. And Robby. By a common trend, Carter might not be so lucky either.

Robby's hands squeezed your thighs, a subtle signal that you were both going to have to get up. “All part of the hazing programme.”

The three of you crept to the door, huddled close and looking out the slim window at the door.

In his scrubs still yet to be strained, Carter was crowded at the counter, Myrna and her wheelchair up to his feet, practically rolling over his toes in the trainers you'd brought him. He was laughing awkwardly and trying to climb up the counter to get away from her. You'd never seen someone so afraid of an elderly woman in a wheelchair.

Robby's chest rumbled in a chuckle as he lingered over you. “He's your son.”

You swatted his chest.

“C'mon,” tutted Dana. “He's doing good. Says he wants to go inter surgery.”

“We taught him where the money is.”

Across the way the three of you noticed you weren't the only one watching the show. Hiding by an exam room, a curtain pulled close you could see Santos and Whitaker watching. Trinity was doing a bad job at hiding her grin while Denis was a decent guy, he looked bad.

“Shouldn't we be helping him out?” you pondered.

“Are you kidding?” smirked Dana. “This is the most fun I've had in years.”

“You think he gets treated better at Presby?” you asked.

Robby shook his head. “Presby doesn't have a Myrna.”

Carter had just stitched up a gruesome cut in a leg, finally staining his scrubs in a speck of blood. It was small but made him feel like a real doctor.

He was just walking past an exam room when he heard calling. He supposed it was for him, though it wasn't his name.

“Hey! Pussycat!”

He paused past the exam room, hand grasped at the doorframe to steady him. Sweet-cheeks. Hot-stuff. Pussycat. Carter dreaded to think what she could come up with next.

Carter stepped back. “It's-It's Carter, or Robinavitch.”

“Yeah, yeah, plenty of them,” she said, holding up her arm as far as she could while restrained. “I got an itch.”

“Okay?”

Her restraints jangled again as she proved a point. “I can't reach.”

He was stuck in spot, wondering if Myrna had been paid by his parents to make his day harder. With a sigh he took a step in at her bed side, making an exaggerated move in tugging on powderless, latex gloves.

She watched and rolled her eyes.

Carter was tempted to pull on a mask to prove a point. “Where's the itch?”

Myrna tugged a little at her gown, exposing the curve of her thigh. “Right here,” she said, as seductive as she could.

Carter stared down at the skin, veins a deep blue and a wide purple bruise forming over where she needed the itch. He drew a stool closer and settled, drawing a delicate circle around the mark. “When did this happen?”

“When the cops caught me, itch!”

Gently, Carter started to drag his fingers over the mark she emphasised. He eyed the bruise still, trying to find the best way about it. Had anyone else examined her? “I could get you a band for that,” he said. “To help with the inflammation. Some elevation and that-”

“Higher!” she said.

Carter looked to see if she had listened to him. It seemed she had not. He moved half an inch further, knowing where his hand would end up if he went any more, or even if she shifted.

“You know know one's been this high up to me since my third husband,” she said.

“What happened to the other two?”

“I killed them!”

When Carter looked up at her she seemed only smug and proud of herself. It was impossible to tell what was a lie.

Myrna rose her brows in challenge.

Carter itched a second more before slowly taking away his hand, yet she latched on like a snake sinking in its claws when his hand brushed hers. “Is your... itch satisfied?”

“Not yet sugar,” she smirked. “You want to see my Vagina?”

Carter felt his cheeks rise up in heat.

“Myrna,” you appeared in the doorway, leaning there with your pleasing smile, the sort reserved for patients. At home, the kids got a different one. And Robby got another one. “Are you behaving?”

“Me? Please. I'm a good girl,” she said with a wink, releasing Carter.

He fell to your side quickly, like you could protect him.

“Really? Cause we've had a complaint from a nurse saying you grabbed his ass,” you said.

Her face fell. “That grey-haired pussycat? There was nothing there for me to grab, please.”

“So you're keeping your hands to yourself?” you asked.

“Urm, mom- I-I mean Nurse Robinavitch,” said Carter with a clear of his throat. “Miss- Mrs, er-”

“It's just Myrna, Carter.”

“Oh, okay.”

“She won't tell us her last name,” you added, looking to her pointedly.

“It changes!”

“Myrna has a pretty bad coloured bruise on her thigh,” he said. “I suggested a band to help with the swelling and elevation.”

You nodded. “She knows all of this. We put a band on her when she came in with the bruising, she just choses not to.”

“You want to see my vagina?” asked Myrna.

Carter looked back to you. “And she keeps asking that.”

“I'd be worried if she didn't.”

“Can I see yours?” she asked.

Carter suddenly really didn't want to be in that room.

You patted his shoulder, gently leading him out the room. “When you become a doctor, Myrna and I have a problem you'll be the first I go to, I promise.”

You closed the door behind you and chuckled quietly, shaking your head.

“Is she- is she a real patient?” Carter asked. “Or has dad paid her to do all this?”

“Myrna is as real as they get. Just wait till you meet Earl.”

“Who's Earl?”

“Don't ask.”

It was only one hour later when Carter knew what all the warnings about Myrna had been about. Why Jesse had complained about her hand and his butt. He knew it in the cigarette breath, the scratch of a wheelchair against the floor and the pinch in his ass.

“Ah- what the-”

Myrna was still looking down at him when Carter turned, biting his tongue. “You have a much better ass than your daddy.”

“Okay, Myrna, that's-”

Before he could erupt about how wrong it was to flirt, to pet name, to touch, two doctors slid up on either side of her.

“Hey, pussycat,” said Santos, taking the bars of the wheelchair and pushing her away. Next to her Javadi accompanied and Carter followed slowly to see what happened to her. “We've got your discharge papers.”

“Fuck off,” she grumbled.

“Ah, my own term of endearment.”

“So you're like-” started Javadi next to Carter. “The prince of this place?”

Carter was surprised it had taken this long for someone to bring up his name. To bring up the fact he was a Robinavitch. “I mean, I don't know about prince.”

“Please,” said Santos with a scoff as she pushed the door open to Myrna's room with her back. “You're set to inherit this place when Robby retires. Or if.”

He didn't think Robby would ever retire. There were days his dad relaxed, always easier when with you. If the both of you had days off, which seemed to be the only days you and Robby took off, Carter could usually find the two of you at each other's side. It was all romantic but as the child to witness the stolen kisses in the kitchen, the moments you both thought you were being sneaky in making excuses as to why Casey shouldn't come in their room for ten minutes, it was also embarrassing.

In PTMC it didn't seem to change that much.

Robby still touched you all the time. Still looked for you when he left every exam room, still called for you at every trauma. He almost envied anyone else ever trying to get in Robby's good books because your name took up the whole thing.

Robby wasn't leaving this place without you.

“I'm thinking about surgery, actually,” he said.

Victoria's eyes widened. “Surgery. Woah. That's- that's really cool,” she said with a dusting of pink on her cheeks.

Santos's eyes rolled. “Surgery, yeah, great.”

“She's got a lover up in surgery,” said Myrna as she moved herself back into bed.

Carter's brows rose. “O-oh?”

“You know,” said Javadi as he looked back to her. She was staring up at him, a sparkle in her eyes. “It's-it's like they copy and pasted Doctor Robby.”

“Yeah, I- I get that a lot.”

“Goin’ into medicine like them?” Said Myrna with a cheap Ha! Punctuated at the end. “What’s the point? I won’t be around forever to watch out for you Robinavitch’s.”

“Don’t say that, Myrna,” Trinity said with an air of boredom, like she’d had this conversation a hundred times before. “You’re gonna live forever.”

Myrna chuckled dryly.

“I-I’m thinking of psychiatry,” said Victoria, still to Carter. “Emergency psychiatry.”

Carter nodded. “Cool.”

“You think so?” She blushed.

“Crash, you can’t flirt with Carter,” said Santos. “That’s like flirting with Robby.”

Victoria stuttered, ponytail swooshing as she looked between her and Carter. “I’m-I’m not flirting. What? No, I-I would never and that’s totally- totally-”

“Honey,” said Myrna. “This is painful.”

With some dull excuse, Javadi scrambled away quickly, Carter still trying to figure out just what had happened as he watched her go.

Santos looked at where she’d left. “Damn. Crash crashed.”

You were hunched over at the nurses station, chasing up labs for Robby as he always knew how to ask sweetly. In the dim reflection of the glow of the screen you saw Myrna creeping closer, regular clothes adorned.

“Myrna,” you warned.

“Can't a girl say hello?”

“So long as your hands are to yourself.”

“Then how are we supposed to shake hands?” she hummed, the gruff sort.

You shook your head and fought of a smile as you slowly turned to her. “I'm sure you'll be shaking something. Are you going home?”

Myrna smirked. “The city doesn't sleep for anyone.”

It wasn't a secret to you what Myrna did that had her being brought in so often enough you typically always had a gown and room ready, even her favourite snacks in the lounge. She'd maybe never said it in so many words but you knew the streets were her domain, the hospital her sanctuary. You'd offered to help, dropped of pamphlets on her first few visits before you realised she only used it to dump her gum.

“So, I'll be seeing you soon?”

“You know I can't stay away from you, Sugar Tits.”

“Don't I know it,” you said, walking her out to the doors. The real VIP treatment of passing through the ambulance bay.

“Your kid is good,” she grumbled.

You smiled to yourself. “You think so?”

“He's on a tight leash. You must have warned him about me?”

“That we did.”

She rolled her eyes, her mascara smudging at the edges. “He'll be an annoyingly good doctor. Just like his daddy.”

“Who knows, maybe the next time you're here he'll be around to patch you up.”

The automatic doors slid open as you walked her outside, letting her give her flirtatious smiles and winks to the paramedics on call and a special blow of the kiss to Ahmed.

“Yeah,” said Myrna in the dying light of the day. “I left him a little something to remember me by, just in case he forgets me.”

You chuckled. “I don't think he'll be forgetting you.”

When she was far away enough, Myrna popped a cigarette between her cracking lips and lit it up. Though she may have squeezed the asses of any hospital worker close enough, she respected the rules enough to stand out of the no smoking zone and light one up.

“Well, see you around sugar tits!”

You watched her slowly walk off, the click-clack of her heels fading as she went.

The doors behind you sounded and Robby's arm slowly slid over your shoulders.

“Was that Myrna?” he asked.

“Yeah, she's off to fight crime and defend our streets,” you teased.

“You worry about her?”

You worried about everything. Really, it was your job as a nurse. Your regulars who came in, Earl with his sandwich requests, Louis and his stories, Myrna with her nicknames. You worried that every time you saw them it would be your last.

Robby drew you in closer to his chest, caving you in in his warmth. “She'll be back, then you'll be sorry.”

Behind you the ambulance bay doors slid open and closed again and a distressed voice called out.

“Why is this in my bag?”

The both of you turned to Carter who was pink in the cheeks and hands trembled as he held up a thin and stringy lingerie set. It was pink with bows, saggy in all the wrong places and teared slightly at the seems.

You chuckled as Robby stared, almost as alarmed as Carter. “That's Myrna's gift. From her to you.”

You had a felling she'd be back for that.

taglist (if you want to be added or took off just say the word!): @oldbaddies, @mafercita101,@tiddieshakeshownu, @mismwaa, @annabethpotter221b, @elizamoe133, @delicatedragonflower, @mysatnin, @cherbicdollie, @macbaetwo, @cod-guys-slvt, @rach2602

[bluetimeombre]

EXTRA, EXTRA !

synopsisyou just wanted to be helpful, robby's helpful girl, you didn't realise that helping out might've exposed robby in an un-expected sort of way... (2.1k words)

warningssmutish, mention of sex, mention of big dick (it's robby, duh) condom, language

authornotei just absolutely was obsessed with this ask, i loved it so much. it's a big short, just a little thing, lowkey i think it's ass but it was fun. (gif credits to @timothyolyphant)

Pitt masterlist. Last Robby fic!

“I need a condom,”

It wasn't the typical greeting you were used to, really, it wasn't a usual sentence you heard in the ED. Especially not from Samira, flushed in the cheeks with her hair scraped back into a bun.

She'd rushed to you and Santos as you stood outside exam room three, discussing a patient when she joined the two of you, making the statement a little louder than she probably intended. Samira looked around the space behind her and besides you.

Trinity smirked, eyeing Samira up and down. “Okay, Mohan.”

“No, no, not for me, my patient,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Please, I wish it was for me.”

“Why do you need a condom for a patient?” you asked, amused almost. “Is he hot?”

“What? No? My patient, he's HIV but apparently very, very active and he doesn't have condoms. He says he-he prefers it without and I've explained everything to him but there's no condoms in the draw where we keep them!” explained Samira.

“We have a condom draw?” asked Trinity, taking only that as the necessary information from Mohan's ramble.

You handed her the chart. “You sleep with women.”

“What? So I'm not allowed in the condom draw?”

“It's for sex ed teachings, people who are young and having sex,” you shrugged. “Stuff like that. Come on, I can help you out.”

The nurses desk was practically vacant. Around you everyone busied themselves with greeting the nigh shift and getting them out, taking away patients like the changing of the guard. It was almost too early to be dealing with tough patients who wouldn't protect themselves.

You led the way around the counter, Mohan and Santos (who took an invitation for herself) followed you over to the desk as you reached down for Robby's bag, propping it up.

It was no surprise to them that you were reaching for his bag, reaching for his stuff like it was yours. What was Robby's was yours. The real surprise had been when Mel found the two of you eight months ago making out in the storage room, shrieking and dropping a bag of blood that then splashed all over you.

And obviously at the scream everyone ran over and found the two of you rather compromised and covered in blood. You still weren't really done living that down.

You fished around in Robby's bag, the owner somewhere not there to see as you brought out an opened box of condoms. “Here,” you said handing her a thick strip as Santos laughed.

Samira took them wearily, a small dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Won't you... miss these?”

“No,” you said, rocking on your heels, suddenly feeling the familiar creeping heat of embarrassment. “We have... more.”

Santos smirked. “Keeping Robby in shape, huh?”

Samira shuddered. “I really don't want to think about my boss like that, but thank you!” you said, waving the strip like it was a flag and rushing off before her patient could walk off. She was a good doctor, dedicated you knew and you were just happy to help her reach her potential.

Distracted by watching her leave you failed to notice Trinity sneak over to Robby's bag, peeking inside like a nosy cat.

“Hey!” you lectured, pulling the zipper shut on her hand.

“What? Just wanted to know what else you got in there? Does he keep a pair of panties? Vibrator if it gets quiet,” she teased.

You blushed, shaking your head and looking down to the bag. “You have no shame, that's your boss you're talking about.”

She made a pfft noise. “You're the one screwing him.”

Yes, you were. Proudly and happily.

Javadi slid up next to you, practically shoving you a tablet and asking for your advice. You were somewhere deep in your residency, one of the first they were introduced to on their hell of a first day. Not as scary as Robby, easier to talk to than Langdon. It was typical for the Pittlings and Mohan to come to you when they needed advice. You liked it really, as much as Santos teased you and as much as Mohan and Javadi doubted themselves.

“Hey Crash,” said Trinity, all but giddy with the new knowledge she had about Doctor Robby's contents in his bag. “You wanna know what's in this bag of secrets.”

“No,” you chastised.

Javadi's eyes lightened up. “Is that Doctor Robby's bag?”

“It doesn't matter,” you said, pushing it back down to your feet.

“Hey,” Samira joined the group of you again, handing you back the strip of condoms. “He said he can't take these.” The rest of the doctors and nurses hustled around the Pitt, un-knowing of the personal dilemmas being aired out.

You lifted your shoulders. “You needed condoms, those are condoms.”

“Yes but they're not the right size,” said Mohan. “He says they wouldn't fit, they're too big.”

Oh.

Perhaps at some point you'd been shocked at the size of Robby. Before you'd only had your imagination and hints of him beneath his scrubs. The times when he'd brush past you in the teasing beginning of your relationship and you'd feel something prod at you. The first time he'd dragged you to his bedroom, lips seething in heat and teeth nipping in want to only lay you out on his bed and drag his pants and underwear down to show all of him- then you'd been shocked. Mouth watering so.

Over the months the shock transformed to desire, reaching hands and an eager mouth that you stopped thinking about the size.

You didn't think anything of it when you handed Mohan a strip of five extra-large condoms.

Standing at the nurses station it may as well have been a deserted island and you stared down at the condoms like it was your first offering of food.

“Uh-”

Javadi snatched the condoms from Samira first, staring down at them with mouth agape. “Oh my god.”

“Javadi-”

“Holy shit!”

You looked back and Santos had pulled out Robby's bag again, pulling out the box and staring at the size stamped on the front. “Santos!”

“No wonder you walk in limping.”

“I do not- I do not walk in limping!”

“Well, there was that one time-” said Mohan.

“No, there wasn't!” you argued. “I'd bruised my ankle.”

Mohan chuckled to herself. “Sure.”

Trinity smirked. “Bruised something.”

Javadi was still staring at the strip of condoms in wonder. “How do they even get this big?”

You snatched them away from her the way you might have if a child found them. Quickly you stuffed them in the box, threw them back in Robby's bag and kept it behind your back.

“Wait, why do you have a box of condoms for work?” asked Javadi.

“Oh please,” said Santos with a groan. “They're always at it in work. Better safe than sorry.”

“We are not always at it at work,” you defended.

“The storage closet?” asked Mohan, apparently abandoning the venture of finding fitting condoms for her patient.

You held up a finger. “That was one time.”

“The toilets,” added Santos, sadly remembering the time you and Robby had hid yourselves in the bathroom for a break. A break that was only supposed to be comforting touched turned hot and reaching quickly.

“That one time in the exam room where we thought we were examining a broken hip for a Mrs Driscoll-” began Javadi.

“Okay! Okay, I get it!” you interrupted.

“I think it's nice,” Trinity quipped her lip, arms crossing over her chest. “Get some dick when you can right.” She patted your shoulder like a proud sister as she left the group of you, laughing quietly to herself.

Victoria and Samira followed suit, leaving you with the ramifications of your own embarrassment. So what your boyfriend was largely endowed, wasn't it a compliment? Weren't you the luckiest girl in the world to have Robby with soft and tender touches turned to almost hateful thrusts with how hard he loved you.

You made sure Robby's bag was tightly closed before sliding it back under the desk.

The day brought the same usual storm the ED always brought. Enough to distract you from the mornings events and the package sitting inside of Robby's bag. You were left with only a creeping heat crawling up your neck, the last dregs of your doctors eyes on you and their giddy smiles.

You'd only managed to make it to the staff lounge for a coffee by mid day, taking the mug that was yours, marked with an inside joke and given one secret Santa round.

“Hey.” Robby slipped into the room, leaning his back against the sink and standing next to you.

“Hey yourself.”

For a moment there was a silence where you poured coffee for the both of you, handing him his mug.

Robby's fingers grazed yours, the simplest touch sending shivers through your skin. “Can I ask you something?”

You hummed, head tucked away. He wouldn't have heard about the mornings teasing's, would he?

“Santos has been... off today,” he said.

He would.

You gulped, a feign of concern falling to you. “She has?”

“Keeps looking at me and smirking. She's doing this thing with her hands where she-” he demonstrated, spreading his hands to different distances, some small, some bigger. His hands wavered around the imaginary object between his hands.

You were left groaning.

Robby's head tilted toward you. “Do you know anything?”

In attempts of hiding away the story your head ducked and shook side to side.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you said.

Robby's fingers were slightly calloused but no less humble as he pinched your chin, realigning his gaze with yours. His brows rose, gaze pouring into yours. He didn't even have to ask you again.

You sighed. “This morning Mohan had a patient with HIV and she wanted to give him condoms but there was none where they usually are so I gave her some of ours. But they weren't exactly... the right size.”

There was a small furrow of confusion in his face as he waited for you to elaborate.

You turned your body into his, lowering your voice. “Not everybody can fit into an extra large, Robby.”

The furrow gave and a small grin split his cheeks as he glanced down to your shoes, a pink blooming under his beard and to his cheeks. It was different from your own embarrassment. He was more pleased with himself.

Robby straightened, hands wavering. “So how does... this connect to-”

“Santos was there this morning when Samira asked.”

He chuckled, tongue poking out into his cheek as he shook his head in amusement.

“It's not funny,” you said, nudging him.

He rocked on his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Your coffee was turning lukewarm in hand, the bitter taste suddenly too sweet as you made to walk away from him and stew in your own humiliation.

Robby's fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged, using you to pull himself in closer. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he teased, voice dropping into the low drag in his condescending way. The sort of voice he used to coax you down into bed with his darkening eyes and lustful approach. “Is my dick too big? Do I fuck you too good?” His hands grabbed at your hips, bringing you into him, tongue darting out to your neck.

Your body wriggled in his hold, trying to escape as his arms grew strong around you. “Stop!” You laughed.

“Make me.” He nipped at your neck, licking over the sting he caused.

The door was pushed open and Langdon stumbled in the doorway, catching sight of the two of you tangled in arms and laughter.

“Are you two doing it in the lounge now?” he asked.

You guessed you just should've been thankful Langdon wasn't there that morning, otherwise there would have been competitions between him and Santos on who could make the best jokes out of your misery.

Slowly, Robby moved away from you, pulling himself up straight and pulling at his hoodie before leading the way out the room.

McKay was wheeling a patient away to x-ray, Samira was giving aftercare instructions to an elderly couple and Mel was somewhere lurking in a corner talking to Dana.

Santos, however, was still being the most productive, sitting across from Javadi and still trying to make sense of some invisible size between her hands.

You watched, un-able to stop as Robby walked behind Santos and spread her hands apart just a little, enough to leave more than enough inches between her hands.

Robby walked away, satisfied.

taglist (if you want to be added or took off just say the word!): @oldbaddies, @mafercita101,@tiddieshakeshownu, @mismwaa, @annabethpotter221b

[killerqueenmp3]

[laura-the-swarming]

My mans unlocked a higher level of synesthesia

[yrkanho9]

[sammy-bryant]

[local-dragon-haunt]

Has this been done yet

[impactmintsfreshagain]

Can't hide forever babygirl

Summary: After a small kitchen accident you have to sneak into the Pitt to have the wound taken care off before Jack finds out and bans you from using knives or something equally insane. Poor Javadi gets the wrong idea, and Robby is stuck in the middle.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.6k

You watched the blood start to stain the outermost layer of cloth wrapped around your hand and cursed. It was going to need stitches. You’d considered sitting in chairs but as soon as your name went into the intake system the game would be up, you’d have to sneak in. It wouldn’t be hard, almost anyone would just assume you were here to see Jack. Or you hoped they would. Deep breath you though, before marching yourself into the Pitt. 

You saw Jack immediately, it was always like that. No matter the room or how crowded, you could always find him. And him you. That was the issue. But lady luck was on your side as you watched him quickly duck into a room, shouting orders in a way that did not have you rubbing your thighs together. 

It had been a minute since you had visited Jack but you were surprised to see so many new faces, you were quick to grab the first passing warm body with a stethoscope around their neck. 

“Hi Doctor…” you trailed off looking at the younger woman.

“Um Doctor Javadi?” She looked around confused. “Sorry, can I help you?”

“Yes. Please. I need you to put me in a room and find Robby. Please just Robby.” You held her gaze hoping she would understand you. 

“I’m sorry, you need to go back out there and wait to be called, you shouldn’t ha-” 

“I know! I wouldn’t normally do this but please I promise Robby will sort everything I just can’t be here” you gestured to the open floor. “Please”. There must have been something convincing enough in your tone because the woman sighed and quickly took you towards the empty room. 

Once you were inside the young doctor stood awkwardly hovering by the door. “Um look he’s going to ask me what this is about so can you at least let me look at your hand?” You winced trying to weigh up your options about exactly how pissed you wanted him to be when he found you. Javadi watched you nibbling on your lip nervously, only adding to the growing concerns in her head. “Listen if you don’t want someone to know your here-” she was cut off by your sharp laugh. 

As Javadi tried to move closer to you again, you saw a blonde familiar woman walk pass the glass in the door. And walk back. She looked at you through the glass for half a second before barging in. 

“Absoluely not!” She pointed her finger in your direction, as you gave her a sheepish grin. “I swear to god this is the last time, do you hear me!”

“Yes ma’am” you said in a quiet voice. She shook her head at you, before sticking her head out of the room and shouting for Robby. 

You used your good hand to rub your eye, the stinging pain really starting to get to you now. It wasn’t unbearable but you were tired and almost wished you had asked for Jack now. 

Robby was quick to shuffle into the room, lighting up as he saw you. “Hey kid, what you doing in my house?” You waved your bloody stump of a hand at him pouting. “That looks like it hurts, can I have a look?” He was gentle with you unwrapping it to look at the cut winching. “That looks like it will need stitches, kid.” He looked up at you and something wordless seemed to pass between you before you shook your head. 

Doctor Javadi opened her mouth to offer to do the stitches, there was no need for the chief of the department to do that, but Dana just took her arm firmly and guided her out off the room.

When the door was closed she turned to the older woman. “I think something is going on. With the patient.”

“With her and Robby?” Dana laughed.

“No, she was really scared, I think maybe there’s something wrong with her home life?” Dad sighed.

“What she is, is spoiled. I promise. You did the right thing raising your concerns to me, but that” she jerked her thumb towards your room, “isn’t fear. We’ll not like your thinking anyway”. She laughed walking off.

Javadi tried to keep distracted but her mind kept wandering to the mystery woman. Jack walked over to her by the board, “hey have you seen Robby?” and she couldn’t stop her eyes flashing to trauma 3 where he was still with that woman. Jack looked back at the board to see that room listed as empty before walking towards it before she could say anything. Javadi bit her lip and contemplated for half a second before following behind. 

“Who exactly was going to tell me that my WIFE was in the ER?” She had never heard Jacks voice so furious, as she quickly entered the room behind him. The woman was now clinging onto Robby and quickly to hide behind the other man, while Robby was stood near the head of her bed. 

“Oh don’t worry, wife of mine, I see you there and we will be having a talk after.” 

There was a quiet squeak of “okay” from the woman in the bed, but from this angle Javadi could see the wide grin on her face.

“Look brother, she asked me to stitch up her hand so you wouldn’t know she cut it open with a knife.”

“Hey!” you called out indigently at your partner in crime giving you up under no pressure. “Next time I’ll ask the nice doctor over there to help me then”. You punched Robby lightly in the arm, as Jack gaze turned to Javadi who gulped. “Leave her alone Jackie she didn’t even know who I was. Go back to yelling at Robby!”

Robby turned with his hand over his heart in mock hurt. 

“Everyone out”. Robby bent down and kissed your head before walking out, winking at Javadi as they both left. You started to climb out of your bed, “not you” Jack said in a voice that absolutely didn’t have your heart doing summersults. 

Outside Javadi looked at the older man, “so she isn’t being abused?” It wasn’t professional but her mind was racing. Robby laughed so hard she was worried the old man was going to fall over and she’d need to get someone to help lift him up.

“Oh god no, you won't find anyone more loved and spoiled. That’s partly the problem. Jack is terrified of her being hurt and wants to protect her from the world. And when he can’t and she gets hurt she doesn’t want him to know. Partly because it upsets him, partly because he’s now going to insist that if she wants to cook he will do all the chopping”. 

“Isn’t that kinda overbearing and controlling?” she was really crossing some personal boundaries here but Robby started it.

“Eh” he said shrugging, “ask her if she minds”, and he left.

Javadi saw a few more patients, getting updates and discharging as quickly as she could but her gaze drifting to trauma 3 several times. Finally Jack found her, “I am about to head off but she wants to speak to you quick while I pack my shit up” he nodded towards your room as if there was any doubt who he was talking about and left.

She knocked on the door, you turned, smiling at her and waving her in, your hand now significantly less stumpy. “Hey thanks for seeing me. I am sure you are super busy. It’s just Dana mentioned that you thought I was scared of um of Jack?” You trailed off, not too sure how to have this conversation.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I just. I mean when you came in, I um. I am sorry”, it tumbled out her mouth so quick it was hard to follow. You reached forward grabbing her hands.

“No! Not at all. I am sorry, I must have given you the worst first impression” you laughed. “It’s just I don’t like to worry Jack. So I usually sneak in and get Robby to fix me up.” 

“He um, he mentioned.” She hummed, a questioned written all over her face.

“Go on hun, ask me whatever it is thats eating away at you.”

“It’s just Robby mentioned that Jack probably won't let you cook now?” You laughed harder at that. Why is this all so funny to everyone Javadi thought. 

“Probably not” you sighed, “at least not while he’s home.” 

“It’s that frustrating” you sat down on the edge of your bed and patted the other side for the doctor knowing she could use a few minutes off her feet.

“I, like most, have some issues from childhood. And I always found it hard to believe when people cared about me. I have never second guessed or doubted Jack’s feelings for me. The way he loves, is the way I need to be loved.” It seemed so simple when you put it like that.

“But why hide it? Especially today, you must have known that you would need stitches. Did you think he wouldn’t notice?” She watched your face light up again, this time with a smug grin on your face.

“Doctor, if I have to explain that bit too you, I am afraid you’ve not met the right person.” you said winking. Before she could ask another embarrassing question, Jack barged into the room with his bag slung low over his shoulder. He nodded at Javadi, before standing in front of you. 

“Come on then trouble, lets get you home so we can finish our chat.” You stood but before you could walk around him, Jack dipped down and picked you up over his other shoulder. You screamed and giggled kicking your feet as Jack walked passed Javadi with a smug grin on his face like the the cat who got the cream.

Javadi watched them go, slightly less confused than before. “So how did you like meeting Mrs Abbot?” Dana asked from the door.

[crittaslink]

I gotta hand it to sandler that this scene is exactly what listening to that song feels like.