Welcome to my blog! My name is Via, I’m 19, I go by she/her, I’m Canadian (get me out of here 😖). I’m going into my first year of university in the fall, hoping to major in psych! I’ve been wanting to start writing for the past year or so, but now I just don’t know where to start! If you have any requests for the fandoms I’m in, don’t be shy! I have been on Tumblr for about 2 years, but just as a reader (x reader is my guilty pleasure, don’t play with me).
I’ll most likely use this blog to write for my current hyperfixations, which right now is The Pitt, but my year-round fixation is the MCU. I am no stranger to the criminal minds fandom; I also dabble in the acotar fandom (Gwynriel is my personal winner).
Jack's home is unsually quiet at this time of the day. It's past lunch time, and his sun blocking curtains are still down. You turn on the lights so you don't stumble as you make your way towards his bedroom.
He had shift last night as most of the nights, but he is never ever asleep this long, and that worries you.
"Jack?" You call out as you head upstairs. You get no response, and that begins to worry you.
You basically fast walk the rest of the distance, trying not to panic. Maybe the exhaustion finally got to him, and he decided to sleep in.
But when you open his bedroom door, and see the sweat soaked bedsheets, you know it's not just exhaustion. Jack is sick.
You pad towards him on silent feet, and crouch down next to his bed. You reach out with your arm towards his forehead, and just like you thought, it's burning up.
"Angel?" Jack wakes up at your touch, a small, tired smile finds it's way to his face.
"Hi, handsome. You sick, huh?" You look him over. You've never seen him this tired, not even after pulling a double at the hospital.
"Just a cold. You should go home, I don't want you getting sick because of me." His groggy voice sounds painful, and there's no water on his bedside table.
"Right." You reply, before you start moving. First you make your way downstairs and fill up a glass of water for him. You make him his favourite tea as well, and bring it up to the bedroom.
"Angel, you still here? I thought you left." He says quietly, voice tired.
"No chance, Jack. I'm not going anywhere. And now stand up, we need to change these sheets."
Jack stands up with your help, and even offers to help you change them. But you just usher him towards the bathroom, and tell him to shower and change his pyjamas (aka his sweatsoaked t-shirt and boxers).
"So young, and yet so bossy." He mutters under his breath as he listens to your words, and drags his achy body to the shower. You just giggle at his complains.
Ten minutes later, the bed and Jack are all clean again. And as Jack limps from the bathroom, he heads straight for you and not the bed.
"Thank you, angel." He says as he brings you in for a tight hug, and rests his chin on the top of your head.
"You should have called me." You counter as you take in the smell of his shampoo. It's the one you bought for him (with his money, of course, he's not letting you spend your money on him).
"As I said, I don't want you to get sick, too." He states once again, giving you a kiss on the forehead. You savour it because you know that there's no way he's kissing you on the mouth today.
"Well if I do, I know a great doctor to take care of me," you tease him.
"I'll always take care of you." Is his response to your teasing. The cold is making him less teasing and playful than usual so you take it as a hint and pull him back into the bed.
"Stay?" Jack asks, looking up at you as he makes himself comfortable.
"I'm just gonna make you some chicken broth first."
"Let's just order it and you stay here." He offers instead, already pulling you down after him and grabbing his phone from the nightstand.
"Can I take your leg off?" You ask as you climb over him to make yourself comfortable on your preferred side of the bed.
"You don't have to-" but you are already moving. You take it off, and gently massage his leg as you have done a million times before. It always makes Jack fall in love with you even more.
"Thank you for taking care of me, angel." Jack says, voice a little choked up. He's still getting used to being taken care of like this by you.
"I love you, Jack." You reply because that's the thing. You love him and you are happy to be there for him.
"I love you, too." He says as you snuggle close to him. You watch him open the take-out app before you turn your gaze on his pale but still handsome face.
"Did you take any pills?"
"Just something for the temperature. I already feel much better with you here." He admits as his fingers fly all over his screen.
"Let's get some fluids into you and then you can tell me how you feel." You reply. Your hand finds it's way into his silver curls, and you begin to softly play with it.
Your attention gets snagged by the sound of the payment, and your eyebrows go up when you see the total.
"Jack, one chicken soup does not cost sixty dollars."
"Yeah, well I promised you a lunch date and we are in bed. I can't have my girl going hungry on me. What if you get cranky and leave me here all sick?" Jack teases you. He puts the phone away, and his hands surround your body, hauling you on top of him.
He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and you can feel his cheeky smile against your skin.
"You are the one that gets cranky, old man." A wicked smile appears on your face, you love pulling his leg like that.
"Old man? You are asking for it, huh?" He says, pinching your sides playfully. You squeal as you try to get away from him. But he doesn't let go.
"Sorry, sorry. I meant older man." And as he groans from your words, you just laugh giddily.
"We'll see if you are still laughing like this when I don't feel this bad anymore." His voice drops, and a heat pools at your lower belly.
"Is that a promise?" You reply like the little minx you are.
"You are impossible." Is all Jack says before he's pinning you under him, and attacking your sides with tickles until you beg him to stop.
DESCRIPTION: In which Ogilvie has moved to the night shift, and you're the resident assigned to teach him. But when things start to get more and more frustrating, you rely on your husband/attending, Jack Abbot.
WORD COUNT: 4k
WARNINGS: Married/Established Relationship. Senior Resident!Reader. Fluff! Emotional hurt/comfort. Vomit mentioned. Ogilvie is insensitive. (I hate him but also acknowledge he's a complex character).
EXTENDED WARNING: The patient they treat has an ED. Reader can be insinuated to have a past regarding DE, but it is not delved into. No eating or disordered behavior is shown. Much love to anybody out there experiencing this. I'm in recovery myself.
READ ON AO3! - MASTERLIST
Why, oh why, did Ogilvie have to switch to the night shift? Y/n had been excited at the prospect of teaching a new med student. She always was. Especially compared to the other residents? They were always throwing the new interns and med students her way so they wouldn’t have to deal with them.
Plus, she was a good teacher. Patient. Encouraging. Kind. Something her husband, Jack, always admired about her. They both were very invested in keeping up good morale. Working the night shift was hellish, but the Abbot’s always made sure everyone was getting through okay. From Jack calling the crew ‘The Nightcrawlers’ (something Gloria from HR couldn’t stand). To her, packing on-the-go snacks for everyone (god forbid, someone passed out on them). They worked together to keep the cogs in the machine oiled and running.
Robby had texted them that the night shift was going to be gaining new hands, which was always good news. She had hoped that they’d get the new nurse, Emma, or even the girl with the photographic memory, Joy…
But instead, she walked down the hallway with Ogilvie hot on her trail. And he never. Stopped. Talking.
“I mean, my first day here was during the cyber attack last month. So I feel like that really prepared me for the worst possible scenario.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that coughed out of her. He tilted his head, confused.
“Well, this is the night shift. Whatever you’ve been seeing during the day? Double it. Make it weirder. Make it worse.” She said, crossing her arms as she walked, “Because if someone is dragging themselves to the ER in the middle of the night? There’s gotta be a hell of a good reason to.”
She walked him to the patient board, just as Jack walked by. He looked as handsome as always in his black scrubs. And he looked the most awake- used to staying up all night.
“Well, take a look at our new night crawler!” He eyed him up and down with a friendly smile.
Jack hadn’t interacted with him much on the day shift. He had seen him around, but nothing more than getting the day shift case handoffs. In his opinion? The guy looked like he’d work well on the night shift. Seemed eager. Seemed like a student his wife could mold.
Ogilvie scrunched his face, “Huh?”
She chuckled. His confusion was understandable.
“Sorry, that’s just the term of endearment my husband likes to call us night shifters.”
His eyes widened, “Wait- you’re married?”
“Ever wondered why I go by Dr. Y/n and not my last name? Things would get quite confusing with two Dr. Abbot’s.”
He nodded, “Right. That makes sense. Well, Dr. Y/n and Dr. Abbot, I am excited to learn all that I can today.”
Jack nodded in respect. “I like that attitude.”
Shen walked up to them, having just clocked in, coffee tray in hand. “Y/n! My favorite Abbot.”
Jack gave him a done look while his wife laughed and took her coffee from him.
“Got your favorite.” Shen continued, “Iced vanilla latte with the strawberry syrup.”
“I don’t like that you have my wife’s coffee order memorized.” Jack joked, pointing a finger. “Ogilvie, this is Shen. He will get you a coffee if you survive until the next shift. In the meantime, we have free coffee in the break room.”
She snorted at Jack volun-telling Shen to get Ogilvie coffee next shift. Shen hung his head down, but nodded in agreement.
“Dr. Abbot, can I get your second opinion on my patient in West 13?” He asked
“Catch me up?” He looked over to his wife and Ogilvie, “Good luck. Don’t break any legs.”
He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes with a blush.
“Love you.” He said, walking away
She waved him off, “Yeah. Yeah.”
Jack turned around, “I saiiiid I love you.”
“I love you too. Go away!” She said through a beaming grin.
He smiled and turned back around, listening to Shen as they walked towards the west wing. She watched him walk away, feeling warm and happy-
“Does HR know about your relationship?” Ogilvie asked
That snapped her back to reality. She nodded.
“Bit of a personal question, but it makes sense to ask.” She decided to turn it into a teaching lesson, “Yes, they do know. But that’s cause Jack and I were married before I transferred over to this hospital. I would highly not recommend dating in the workplace, okay?”
Ogilvie nodded, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not that stupid.”
Her smile turned into more of a grimace at the slight insult.
She smacked her lips. “Okay! Well. Let’s go to the patient board, shall we?”
They walked up to the patient board and looked up. Ogilvie drummed his hands on the counter.
“My record for intubations in one shift is two. I’d like to see if I can get to three-”
“Hey. We don’t wish for intubations, okay?” She said, her nerves already going a little haywire around this kid, “It’s bad juju. Now, why don’t we check on Mrs. Starker in South 20 with the intense sunburn?”
Ogilvie stood up straight, “No, what about Mr. Banks with the headache. Could be a stroke-”
“Or mild dehydration. Mrs. Starker came in first. They have the same level of priority, and we can’t let people wait.”
She started walking, not taking his ‘suggestion’. He reluctantly followed.
“Damn it. I was really hoping to get to do a burr hole-”
She shot him a look, “What did I just say about wishing?”
He shut up, and a little ball of guilt began to build. She didn’t like being strict with the students. Making mistakes was a usual part of this process. Hell, it felt like she had made every mistake possible when she was an intern. But this kid was a talker.
Ogilvie’s behavior got old… VERY quickly. Halfway through the shift, her eyebags were heavier than usual, and she had less patience when responding to questions and requests… Especially because Ogilvie wanted to do every single procedure with little to no experience.
They walked up to North 4, where a patient they had done blood work on was waiting. The patient, Ms. Cade, was experiencing easy bruising, weakness, fatigue, and dizziness after fainting at a party. She had a gut feeling that it’d be due to disordered eating, and with the low vitamin levels, she was nearly confirmed correct. After briefing her thoughts to Ogilvie, she felt ready to get Ms. Cade the help she needed. They just needed to be gentle with the conversation.
She opened the curtain, “Hi, Ms. Cade. We’re back. How are you feeling?”
The woman wore a bulky sweater and sweatpants. She held her arms across her chest as she lay back. She looked to be around her early 20s. Around the same age as Ogilvie.
“Tired… It’s cold in here.” She said, gently.
“I know, right. I always pack a hoodie in my bag.” She related as she sat down on the spinning stool. Ogilvie stood right behind her.
“I’m always cold.”
She nodded slowly, “I’m sorry about that.”
Suddenly, Ogilvie butted in, “That’s probably due to the malnutrition we found. Your metabolism is slower, which means less heat production.”
Both she and Ms. Cade froze. The patient looked to Ogilvie-
“My metabolism is slowed?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that-” She started, trying to repair the damage.
“Is it? Because when you starve your body, it goes into starvation mode and holds onto the fat, slowing your metabolism. It’s pretty cut and dry.”
Ms. Cade’s eyes started to water, “What do you mean? I’m not burning anything? I-I’ve just been on a diet for a bit. I’m working really hard because I have a pageant coming up.”
Y/n tried to speak again, “Ms. Cade, I’d like for you to speak to a member of our amazing psych and nutrition team. They can explain how to help you feel less cold and dizzy-”
“What is there to explain? Ms. Cade, you just need to eat more.”
“OGILVIE.” Her voice was shrill as she stood up, the rolling stool shifting.
The room completely stilled.
From outside the curtains, Jack froze, overhearing his wife’s snapping tone. Boy, did he feel sorry for the kid now. Ellis raised her brows, looking over at him. She gave him a side eye and leaned in.
“I don’t think I’ve heard her get that angry before.” She said in a hushed tone
Jack nodded, filling out a lab order. “It’s rareeee.”
“Should you go check on her?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head in a ‘I don’t know’.
“I will. Probably not… immediately, since she’s still in mama bear mode.”
“Whatever it is, you'd better side with her.” Ellis chuckled, “Happy wife. Happy life. I’d like to see you alive next shift.”
Jack chuckled and finished signing off the order. He looked up at his friend.
“Pretty easy when your wife’s always right.”
“Correct answer,” Ellis said
They both chuckled at that, and he shrugged, a small smile on his face at the thought.
“It’s just true.”
Y/n dragged Ogilvie to an empty room on the opposite wing. She shut the door and dragged her hands down her face. Ogilvie looked at her, arms crossed defensively. The nurses' station got a perfect view through the glass door and window.
“I’m confused on why we stopped-”
“Because, Ogilvie, I had told you that Ms. Cade likely had an eating disorder, and you told her she was holding onto fat and prescribed her to eat more.”
He slowly nodded, “Yeah, because it’s the simple solution-”
“Oh, my god. If it were simple, she wouldn’t be in here!” She barked, “Did it not cross your mind that she already knows?”
He threw his hands up, frustrated. “I’m just confused on how someone could be so-”
“Do not finish that sentence.” She threatened, “I need you to shut the fuck up and learn some empathy really quick if you’re gonna survive working with me.”
“It’s not that I’m unempathetic. I just don’t understand why someone would do that when all she needs to do-”
“STOP. OGILVIE.” She laughed in disbelief, “FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, STOP AND FUCKING LISTEN.”
He finally stopped, putting his hands down to his sides. The guy towered over her, but she was much, much more intense, giving the illusion that she could take him on in a fight.
“I don’t give a shit if you don’t understand. Do I understand why people come in here, with gunshot wounds or overdosing, or with glue on their skin or household items in their stomachs? NO. But I still show up to be someone who understands. Not just human Google.” She explained, “You are an MS4, and I need you to knock yourself down a fucking peg before dishing out fucking advice.”
Her eyes started to water. Fuck. This always happened when she got angry. Her throat tightened, and it felt like she had choked out the last sentence.
Ogilvie looked to her, “Did I hit something personal for you?”
“You really need to learn what is and isn’t your business.” She stormed out, wiping her eyes.
Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She hiccuped, tears threatening to spill. She pushed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and squeezed her thumb in a fist. Something she had taught herself back when she was a med student. It started to work as she could take a wavering breath.
Ellis saw her and stood up from her work station, “Hey, hey, hey, you okay?”
“Someone take Ogilvie and teach him the Pyxis.” Her voice cracked, “Got a patient in South 19 that has a prescription needing to be filled.”
Her shoes squeaked as she walked as briskly as possible. Ellis followed, a worried look struck across her face. This wasn’t typical behavior of her.
“What happened?”
“If Abbot asks, I’m going for some fresh air.” She called out, not answering, “I’ll be back in five to check on my patient in North 4.”
The night chill was striking this time of year. It made her want to go back inside, but she also just wanted to go home. She leaned against the brick of the ambulance bay. It was quiet, though with her belief in superstitions, she wouldn’t say that out loud. If she breathed in hard enough, the scent of Dana’s cigarette breaks still lingered.
She took a wavering breath and stretched her back. Maybe she was just grumpy due to her back pain? She had been standing for a long time… Then she thought about it a little harder, and nope… it was definitely Ogilvie.
She had only been standing outside for a minute or so when Jack came out, head turning both ways to look for her. Once he spotted her to the side, he put one hand in his pocket.
“So… New student hasn’t become the master?” He scratched the back of his neck.
She didn’t look at him.
“I want him transferred back to day shift.”
“C’mon. It’s his first night. Besides, unfortunately, we gotta ask Robby.”
He walked over and leaned on the wall next to her. She was quiet. Instead of her usual smile, she had a faraway look. A small pout on her face, but not the kind he liked to see when he was teasing her… This was a real frown. A holding-it-together frown.
“What happened? Talk to me. I know that it’s something about not listening because our walls aren’t soundproof.”
If she started talking, she was gonna cry. But she couldn’t just… not tell him. Not only because he was her husband. But because he was her attending, who should know what’s going on in his ED.
“We had a patient who showed clear signs of disordered eating. I briefed him on that theory. He then proceeded to tell the patient to eat more and talked about how her metabolism is probably lowered.”
He leaned his shoulder against the wall to face her more, “You’re fucking kidding me.”
She ran her hands over her face. Shaking her head, she let out a frustrated groan.
“No. No, I’m unfortunately not. He still doesn’t understand where he went wrong because I couldn’t keep my cool.” She said, her voice softened, “And I- I could’ve maybe taught him the proper way to go about this, but I just got so heated. And he’s been like this all night-”
Her voice started to crack again. Jack pulled her in for a hug immediately. They usually strayed away from too much physical touch at work. But right now, he couldn’t help it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry. But the valiant effort was wasted as tears slid down anyway.
“Sorry. I’m just frustrated.” She exhaled.
He kissed her forehead, “Don’t be sorry. I’ll take over teaching him for the rest of the shift, okay? I’ll talk with him…”
“Thanks.” She pulled back and wiped her face with her palms.
He wiped the remaining tear residue with his thumb.
“Hey. We got a few more hours. Then we’ll be home. New TV episode to put on. Got ice cream in the fridge.” He gentled her.
She nodded. That was true. There was a silver lining beyond the horizon.
She got back to work and immediately headed to North 4 to firstly apologize, and then try to have a much more compassionate conversation with her.
Meanwhile, Jack walked back in, scanning the floor for Ogilvie. He spotted the tall guy standing with Ellis by the Pyxis. He walked over, and Ogilvie straightened up a little at his presence. Jack tried to keep it neutral.
“Showing the kid the Pyxis?”
Ogilvie nodded, “I’ve used it before. But Ellis was telling me how the code to access it changes at a certain time.”
“That’s right.” He crossed his arms, “Ogilvie, you’re gonna be working with Dr. Ellis and I for the rest of the shift.”
His shoulders slumped. “Is this about my disagreement with Dr. Y/n?”
“No, it’s about ‘variety being the spice of life’ as Dr. Shen likes to say.” Abbot said, “Though, if I were you, I would stay out of her way for the rest of the night.”
“May I say, I believe Dr. Y/n to be a tad too emotional to be senior residen-”
“No, you may not say that,” Abbot said through gritted teeth.
Ellis’s eyes widened, “Kid, I know you did not just say that about his wife.”
“It’s just a statement from what I’ve observed. To be a doctor, you should be logical and to the point-”
Jack laughed in his face. He was starting to see why his wife got so frustrated, and she had somehow managed to work with him for hours by this point.
“To be a doctor, you have to be aware. Something that you’re clearly still working on.” He said, “Come with me, Mr. Garfield has food poisoning and needs an IV.”
“South 20? Right? Tense abdominal signs from the convulsions, extreme vomiting, and sweat from the exertion causing him to dehydrate.”
Abbot pursed his lips and slowly nodded, “Sounds like you know what I’m talking about. Go grab the bedpan in case his vomiting comes out the other side.”
“On it.” He nodded and left.
Ellis closed the drawer to the Pyxis and started bagging up a medication. She started to laugh to herself.
“Kids got balls. And they’re gonna get chopped if he keeps running his mouth.” She looked at him, “Looks like you and the missus swapped good cop bad cop routine today.”
It was true. Usually, his wife was the one much more patient and professional with students. Distracting them with tasks to do instead of getting mad. But now, Jack had to be the one to do that today… Even though he wanted to tell the guy to shut his fucking mouth.
“Well, we can’t both be bad cop, and maybe this is an exercise in restraint.”
“From killing him?” Ellis stapled the bag shut.
Jack just nodded and left to go find Ogilvie.
Their shift was almost over, and Jack was indeed getting tired of Ogilvie. He let him do an emergency intubation and let him watch a crike. The guy had no tact, but he was clearly eager to learn and try new procedures, which was the opposite of many med students. He had to give him props for at least being brave enough to ask and try.
After finishing up their (hopefully) last patient of the night, Ogilvie approached Jack as they watched their trauma patient get rolled out of the room.
“Dr. Abbot? Can I ask you something about your wife?”
“Is she single? Fuck no.” Jack joked, then looked to him, “It depends. Are you gonna claim she shouldn’t be a doctor again?”
“I-I didn’t mean to come across like that.”
“Well, you did. Shoot.”
Ogilvie swallowed and nodded, gathering the courage to ask. “Why does she take the approach she does? I feel that if I were a patient here, I’d want the most factually based answer to my question.”
“You’re not everyone. Here, look.” Abbot said, gesturing him out of the room.
They both stepped out of the trauma bay and out to the hallway. Waiting on a stretcher in the hall was an abandoned little girl. The entire floor knew about it. Mother came in to bring her seven-year-old daughter with the flu. Next thing they knew… the mother had vanished. The cops were called, but they were waiting on social services, hoping that the mother may return.
Y/n sat on the stretcher next to her, holding a few different toys. Some Barbies and alphabet blocks from the pediatric waiting room. She played with the little girl, and the girl’s laugh reverberated down the hallway.
Jack’s heart warmed at the sight, but he broke through to explain to Ogilvie.
“Do you want to be the person to tell that little girl her mother isn’t coming back?”
Ogilvie swallowed, “If I had to be.”
Jack shook his head, “Now… imagine you told her. She starts sobbing for her mother. Loudly. Not stopping for hours in the middle of this whole ED. It’s a shit storm… and then her mom comes back. She fell asleep in the car because she’s exhausted with two sick kids. You’ve made everything worse for no reason.”
They continued to watch her. The little girl held out one of the Barbies and a tiny dress that went with her. She took it and helped her change Barbie's clothes. Ogilvie started to nod, understanding.
“There are a lot of moments where you need to be straight to the point. But at the same time… you need to be aware of every word that comes out of your mouth. Every way that your sentence can be misconstrued, changed, or misunderstood.” Jack explained, “It’s better not only for the patient… but for everyone on the floor. Capiche?”
Ogilvie nodded, “Capiche.”
“Awesome. Finish your charts and go to bed, dude.” He said
The med student nodded, eyebags deep. “Yes. Yes. Thank you.”
Jack and Y/n walked out of their shift together. The sun rose on the horizon, painting the sky a lazy orange and pink. They walked through the parking lot, a heavy trudge in their footsteps. They did it. The shift was finally-
“Dr. Y/n!” Ogilvie’s voice came from behind them.
She sighed and grimaced. She was too damn tired for this. But… she turned around anyway.
“Yes, Ogilvie? You should be fast asleep by now.”
The tall med student rocked back and forth on his heels, “I’m sorry. For the way I handled Ms. Cade. You were right. I should’ve been more careful. An upset patient is beneficial to no one, and I really should’ve figured that out by now-”
“It’s okay.” She said, feeling like a weight was off her shoulders, “You’ll do better next time. You’re a smart med student. You’ll figure it out.”
“Thank you. Good night or-” He looked out at the sunrise, “I guess, good morning to you both.”
Ogilvie walked away. The couple looked at each other with soft smiles. Part of them wanted to laugh. The guy had a lot to learn. But he was too genuine in his apology for either of them to be mean about it.
Jack reached down to hold her hand, “I’ll talk to Robby about switching him back.”
She shook her head, “Let’s give it a week, okay? He’s clearly learned a lot in his first night shift.”
“Oh?” He smiled
“A week. If he’s not better, boot him back to day before I go insane.”
They laughed, and they walked over to Jack’s Jeep. He opened the passenger door for her, but she paused before she got in.
“You did a good job teaching today.” She said, “Thank you for taking over.”
She rubbed her hands up his chest and rested them over his shoulders.
“Anytime, sweetheart. You may be the best teaching resident, but even the best teachers aren’t completely invincible to…”
“Eager students.”
“Eager. Yes. That’s the word we are going to use.”
They laughed again, and he leaned down and kissed her. Both of their shoulders laxed. The touch was a soothing balm over the rough night they had just had.
“Drive-thru breakfast. Then sleeping alllllll day. How’s that sound?” He murmured against her lips before kissing her again.
She pulled back, “That would be perfect.”
“Earlier, Ellis said, ' Happy wife, happy life.’”
“And what’d you say back?”
“That it’s easy when my wife’s always right.”
She smiled, and it spread contagiously to him as well.
“Knew you’d like that.” He nudged her nose with the side of his index finger. He gave her lips a peck, “Now, c’mon. Breakfast is waiting.”
just saw a tiktok abt this guy who carries a picture of his gf while he's deployed, so now it's got me thinking abt jack who kept a picture of mrs. abbot in his hat while he was away. even after she passed, and he retired, he still kept it. whether in his pocket or wallet. pretty much anywhere he could see it. it was now sun damaged and bent, and there's a tiny rip in the corner, but he's not able to function without it on his person.
jack never thought that he would fall in love again. he'd been on a few dates here and there, even the occasional one night stand. but the ladies were never right for him. until he met you, the new transfer on the night shift.
fast forward a few months, and the two of you are now dating. there's now a picture of you in his wallet. it was a taken the day you two became an official couple. he took you shopping, to your favorite restaurant, and then finished the day with ice cream in the park. the picture is you smiling with a twinkle in your eyes. you know, the one somebody has when they're in love.
he still has the picture of his wife, but he keeps it taped in his locker. not because he's ashamed. he just doesn't want you to see it and assume that he's still hung up on her and flip out on him. which is a stupid thought. you're not like that at all. but better safe than sorry.
but one day, it's really cold in the ptmc and you forgot your sweater, so jack let's you grab his from his locker. you almost miss the photo at first, but right before you close the locker, you notice it. you recognize the woman as jack's wife almost immediately.
when you later find him during one of the quiet moments, you ask him about the photo. it takes a little convincing, but after a while, you're able to get the truth out of him. in the end, you're not mad at him. not one bit. if anything, you're a little disappointed that he believed you, out of all people, would be upset that he kept a picture of his dead wife in his wallet.
"she came before me, baby. so she deserves a place on that wallet just as much, if not more, than i do. you're not stuck in the past, you're honoring her. and i have no issue with that."
later, before you and him leave to go home together, he puts the picture of her back in his wallet, right beside you. his two girls. the girl who showed him what love was, and the girl who made him believe in love again.
summary: you just loveeeee teasing Steve every chance you get
warnings: allusions to sex, fluff
As the sun's early morning rays entered your room, you rolled onto your back. Yawning, you sat in bed, stretching your limbs, cracking your joints to get some mobility back in your body. The cracking sounds resulted in a groan from the secondary resident of the bed.
Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, otherwise known as your boyfriend, otherwise known as your loyal devotee, lay beside you, bare torso catching the sun's light perfectly to show off the plethora of scars on his defined torso. Torso, you had been…exploring the night before.
Your cheeks reddened slightly, and you forced your eyes to move upwards to his face; his beautiful, perfect face that you rarely, if ever, saw peacefully at rest. Steve lay on his back, auburn hair spilling onto his forehead, chest rising and falling from deep breaths. You longed to lay your head on his chest and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. Instead, you opted to simply admire his features so you wouldn’t rouse him from his slumber.
Mornings like this were your favourite. Seldom did you get to see Steve sleeping peacefully by your side. Normally, he would be the one to wake you up, and usually, you would fall asleep before him and wouldn’t notice when he snuck into your room during the night. Tht had become a habit a few months into dating. You'd leave your window unlocked for Steve so he could climb in as he pleased. His parents were neglectful and never in Hawkins, leaving Steve feeling quite lonely on some nights, and you had welcomed him with open arms and an unlocked window, which he took full advantage of.
However, today, you would take the opportunity to see his handsome face at rest. During the week, he was always stressed for one reason or the other (mostly because of you), so this peace did not show up often.
You reclined your body, propped up on one elbow with your head resting on your fist, and you simply took in Steve’s features. He occasionally let out adorable little snores that warmed your heart beyond measure. You loved that he felt safe enough to be able to sleep peacefully next to you, and you just wanted to protect him at all costs.
Suddenly, his breathing became quiet which meant he was waking up. He changed positions, turning to face you now. Your hand came up and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes before settling on his cheek where your thumb stroked his cheek lovingly. He smiled slightly before opening his eyes and was met with the sight of you with your sleep-mussed hair and a sleepy smile, looking down at him. Out of all your looks, this had to be his favourite. The one where you looked like you had just gotten out of hibernation when you looked well-rested and stress-free with messy hair and sleepy eyes.
“Good morning,” he murmured sleepily.
Your smile only grew at the sound of his morning voice, butterflies ticking your stomach at the deep baritone.
“Good morning,” you whispered back.
You let your fist fall away and rested your head against the wall while your other hand came to play with Steve’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and tugging at the strands. He hummed contentedly, moving closer to your embrace and nuzzling his face into your neck. You wrapped your arm around him while one hand continued to play with his hair, and rested your cheek on his head.
He deeply inhaled, taking in your comforting scent, and pressed a kiss to your neck. Then another. And another. And another until you were giggling and blushing while lying on your back.
Steve pulled away with a bright smile, resting on his forearms and looking down at you with lovesick eyes.
“God, I love that sound,” he said, then leaned down to kiss you.
You gently cupped his face in your hands as you gladly kissed him back. He slowly rested his full weight on top of you, and your still bare legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs to pull him closer.
Steve pulled away to look at your face and you both had huge smiles on your faces. He bumped his nose with yours before resting his head on your chest.
He inhaled deeply, then sighed. “I love you,” he muttered into your neck.
You smiled, held him tighter, and whispered, “Love you, too.”
Steve lifted his head from your chest and asked, “Who?”
“Huh?” You looked at him confused.
“Who loves me?” He asked.
“I do,” you answered with your brows furrowed.
“Then say that,” he said.
“I just did,” you replied, laughing slightly.
“No,” he shook his head. “You said ‘love you, too’ but you didn’t specify who loves me.”
You stared at Steve for a good ten seconds before replying, “But if it’s coming from me, doesn’t that mean it’s me who loves you?”
Steve’s brows furrowed. “No, Dustin also tells me every day he loves me. You could be talking about Dustin for all I know. You need to specify who loves me,” he ended with a huff.
You pursed your lips, trying to suppress a smile, and nodded. “Okay, Stevie. If you say so.”
He nodded in approval then said, “Good. Now, I love you, Y/n.” He nudged his nose against your cheek with a smile.
You giggled. “Love you, too, Stevie,” you replied.
His head snapped up from your neck to look at you with a stern expression. Once again, you pursed your lips to suppress a smile.
“We just talked about this, Y/n,” Steve huffed, sounding borderline annoyed. This is why you were mostly the reason Steve didn’t seem at peace. You got a thrill out of annoying him.
“Sorry,” you muttered, kissing his nose. “Retry?”
Steve looked at you with narrowed, skeptical eyes and said, “Fine. I love you, Y/n.”
You gave Steve a charming smile and watched that lovesick look come over his features once again. You brought your hand up to stroke his cheek lovingly and looked deep into his coffee eyes.
“Love you, too, Stevie,” you said and shoved him off, dashing to the door.
“Hey! Get back here!” Steve yelled, getting off the bed and coming after you. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him right as you were about to open the door.
He pulled you onto the bed, getting on top of you and pinning your legs with his. His knees went around your hips and he held your wrists by your head so you’d stop moving.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Or else…”
“Or else what?” you demanded, challenge in your face and tone.
“Or else this,” Steve yelled before attacking your sides with tickles.
You screamed, laughing and trying to push Steve’s hands away, but he was relentless with the torment until you gave in to what he wanted.
“Say it,” he demanded.
Finally when it was hard to breathe you gave in.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated while laughing, and Steve ceased the tickles.
You inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath, still smiling brightly up at Steve. He mirrored your expression, looking at you with adoration before he gently cupped your face in his hands and leaned down to kiss you lovingly.
He rested his forehead on yours and muttered one last time, “I love you,” to which you replied, “I love you more.”
a/n: I wrote this because my writing brain is broken 😔 please enjoy ily dearly 😔❤️
Masterlist
~~
The day was awful. For everyone.
The air conditioning in the lower levels of the hospital gave out, slowly wheezing to a tragic end that made way for grouchy patients and overheating staff. The ambulance bay doors were propped open to allow some airflow, which then also allowed a flock of birds to terrorize the Pitt and crack the glass door in south 15. And then Gloria came by with wonderful news that there was still no resolution for the nurse’s strike at Presby, and many of their patients were being rerouted to PTMC to alleviate the burden there.
It was great. Everything was great. Your shift was almost over, and your underscrubs were clinging to the back of your neck, and everything was great. You wished—silently and greedily—that Jack would call out for the night so you could bask in your woes as he held you and spoon-fed you ice cream, but the Pitt needed Jack tonight, desperately, so you couldn’t ask him to baby you.
Well, you could ask, but he would probably say yes, and you liked the night shift staff too much to do that to them.
“What the hell happened in here?” you heard Ellis ask, her backpack slung over her shoulder with casual air. You envied her rested face. “Why’s it so damn hot?”
You grimaced, the expression making your head hurt. “What didn’t happen here?”
“That bad, huh?”
“I mean, I’m sure there’s been worse days. Not sure when those would have happened. Maybe before electricity and the discovery of germ theory.”
Ellis leaned her forearms on the counter by your computer, raising a brow. “Germ theory bad? Damn.”
You finished your blessed last note and slammed the key to lock your account. “Just—maybe screen some patients for bird flu if they’ve been here all day. All I’ll say.”
Ellis blew out a breath as you leaned back in your chair and pressed a hand to your forehead. You needed to drink about a gallon of water to abate the headache permeating along your temples—or maybe three. Jack liked to keep those gross electrolyte packets at your place for days like these, and while you usually had to choke them down and beg him to leave you alone, the sour peach flavor was calling your name.
And so was about 14 hours of sleep wrapped in that hoodie Jack got from some national park you couldn’t remember the name of.
“Let me know when you’re ready to do handoffs,” you called as residents and trickled in, your face in your hand and your eyes barely open. “I’ll be here.”
“And don’t you just look so excited?”
Jack’s voice sent a tiny jolt of energy through you—a really tiny, almost neuron-firing-level of energy. You cracked an eye wider and saw your boyfriend standing where Ellis once was, his expression far fonder and far less filled with disgruntled trepidation.
“I’m thrilled,” you droned out, fighting off the smile working onto your face.
“Yeah, I can tell.” Jack rounded the nurse’s station and leaned over your shoulder, pressing his lips to your temple in a chaste kiss that jostled you around. “Are you good to drive home, or do you need me to have Shen take over for the first half hour?”
“I can drive home,” you scoffed. “I’m tired, not incapacitated.”
Jack hummed by your ear, spinning your chair and touching your forehead with the back of his fingers. “We should get an ice pack on the back of your neck before you head out.”
You swatted at his hand with a breathy laugh, rolling away from his assessment. “You should go get ready for report. Sooner you do that, the sooner I can leave.”
“You told me the AC went out nine hours ago. When’s the last time you drank water?”
“Will you leave me alone?” you exasperated, still laughing, still the happiest you’d been all shift. “Go find Robby. He’s in an awful mood, and if he’s distracted, I can slip out and take care of myself, Dr. Overbearing.”
Jack knocked his head to the side as he looked at you, the fondness still open on his face. He reached into the side pocket of his bag and tossed you his water bottle, giving you a pointed look as he backed away and headed to the lockers.
The day was awful, but as you took a large sip of that damn electrolyte water and thought about the way Jack always looked at you, it felt a little less awful.
Until Robby burst through the elevators with a vendetta.
His ambush started on an uneven playing field. You had a clipboard in hand as you rattled off the vitals of a woman presenting with a kidney infection, the eager intern beside you nodding intently. The air had kicked on about five minutes into your rounds, and you silently cursed it for working just as you were leaving.
“Another hour of observation and she should be good to go. Needs a ride due to the morphine dose,” you rattled off.
“Got it,” the resident relayed back. “For the fracture in north 12, did you say—”
Robby’s voice interrupted the flow of your rounds.
Your name was a harsh strike through the air, and you jumped at his curt shout, your clipboard rattling. The intern stared at you with wide eyes as you waited for the telltale signs of Robby’s approach, but they never came. He wanted you to go to him. That wasn’t great. You’d also never heard him say your name with so much vitriol before, and you couldn’t pinpoint anything throughout the day that would have warranted such a call.
“Um,” you paused. You shot your gaze to the side and considered pretending that you hadn’t heard him, but the entire room had paused when he shouted, so there was really no pretending. “Why don’t you catch up with Dr. King’s handoffs? I only had a few left.”
The intern looked like she wanted to say more, maybe offer encouragement as you went off on your final mission in life, but she only nodded and scurried away, leaving you to parade yourself awkwardly into the hall.
Robby did not look patient or kind or understanding when you got there. He had his hands on top of his head and was staring at the ceiling, his weight bouncing on his toes until the door to the Pitt closed, and you were alone with his frustration. He took in a large breath and looked at you, brows raised.
The silence dragged.
“You know I don’t treat you differently just because of your relationship with Jack,” Robby started, kissing his teeth. “I told you that when you started dating.”
You blinked, unsure where the conversation was heading. You weren’t even sure if half the staff at PTMC knew you were dating Jack; special treatment was not an expectation nor a perk, and you had only recently become more lax in keeping your relationship private.
“What? Robby, I know that. I would never—”
He was already shaking his head, the quickness of his words overpowering your rebuttal. “You fucked up. You fucked up, and I can’t make concessions for you just because of your relationship with an attending. I told Jack that if you were going to make your relationship public, you had to be perfect. If you weren’t perfect, it would—”
“Wait—you told Jack? Why are you talking to him about my career? And you never told me that I needed to be perfect. I didn’t realize my relationship suddenly gave me unreachable contingencies.”
Robby shrugged. “It makes sense. If you make mistakes, it looks bad on him. If you aren’t disciplined properly, it looks like favoritism.”
“Disciplined? What have I done to warrant being disciplined?”
Your body was heating up despite the air feeling cooler than it had all day. Your hands clenched into fists as you ran through the decisions you made throughout the shift, all the patients you’d treated and discharged. Nothing was alarming. It had been the environment, not the caseload, that made this day so chaotic.
“You tell me,” Robby posed, and his nonchalance was starting to piss you off.
An entire day of everything going wrong, and you kept a positive attitude. You had led the interns and taken the grunt work, and you had only eaten about half of a granola bar throughout your shift because of it. You could only recall one major trauma from the day, and you’d been pulled from the hall to assist with it. You hadn’t been part of the intake or the transfer. Everything else had been run-of-the-mill injuries and angry, sweaty patients.
You opened your mouth and closed it a few times. “I—I have absolutely no idea.”
Robby nodded, and you could tell from the redness working up his neck that he was about to blow. He’d been a ticking time bomb all day, something—maybe the heat or the multiple shifts—eating away at him. And you, alone in the hall, were about to be the victim of that repression.
It all blew up at once. Robby was jutting his hands out as he yelled about improperly ordered labs and a missed CT. Then there was something about an incident in the hall with the same patient and letting a med student perform a procedure you shouldn’t have. He paused for a moment when your eyes became glassy, but started up again with a shake of his head because you were a doctor. You needed to know when to take criticism.
He threw his hands up when he shouted about legal action and pressed his tongue into his cheek when you couldn’t answer a question about charting. He didn’t let you get a word in to answer him, but there was also the issue that the case wasn’t yours. You distinctly remembered Santos complaining about the situation earlier in the shift, med student intervention and all, but apparently, Robby was just getting word about it. And you had been incorrectly tied to each mistake.
Silent tears were running down your cheeks as he made the final blow.
“You know, maybe this isn’t where you should be. You’re sloppy now—distracted by your personal life. That’s not what a doctor is. Figure. It. out. Or I’m recommending a transfer because I can’t run my ED with an incompetent—”
“Hey, whoa!” Jack was quickly jogging down the hall, and you blinked at the ground to steady yourself. More tears fell. He stepped in front of you, fingers tenting against Robby’s chest and pushing slightly. You hadn’t realized how close he had gotten while he yelled. “Wanna tell me why the hell you’re talking to her like that?”
Robby laughed—a mean laugh. “Fuck, how ironic. You come to her rescue when she can’t handle it? She messed up, Jack. Multiple times. She deserves to hear it.”
You saw Jack’s shoulders tense through your blurry gaze.
“What the fuck are you talking about? We don’t talk to any of our doctors like that. Calling her incompetent—what’s going on with you?”
“She missed basic signs. Didn’t run the tests she was supposed to and couldn’t figure out how to teach the med students the fundamentals. She’s been too busy cozying up at your apartment to—”
“Watch yourself,” Jack snapped in a low tone. “This is about the medicine, but it could pretty quickly be about something else.”
You let out a shaky breath, begging the tears to stop, but it was like a dam had cracked from the stress of the day, and being yelled at for several minutes was not something your nervous system could regulate. You clutched your scrub top in your fists and counted your breaths, feeling pathetic and angry in each of your movements.
“Can’t seem to separate them with her,” Robby accused. “Even now. I can’t teach my senior resident without her boyfriend getting in the way.”
“That wasn’t teaching. You were berating her in the hallway. She never cries, and she hasn’t stopped since I got here, so, Robby, you need to back the hell up and reassess.”
There was more silence, the two men staring each other down, and then Robby slapped his hands against his thighs and shot out a quick “find me when she’s ready to take accountability,” before harshly pushing his way back into the Pitt. Your tears had finally begun to slow as the heat in the hallway dissipated, but you felt them well up again when Jack turned to you and hushed out a gentle sound.
“C’mere, it’s alright,” he muttered, yanking you against his chest. You pressed your face into his shirt and tried again to calm your breath, latching onto the soap and detergent and the feel of his body against yours. He held you for a moment and then spoke close to your ear. “The hell was that about?”
You gripped the material along his back. “Wasn’t even my case,” you hiccuped, words uneven. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“Probably because you had the shift from hell and then got screamed at.”
You felt Jack tuck your hair back from the stickiness of your face and kiss you where his touch lingered. Your eyes fluttered shut. “Maybe I deserved it.”
Jack pulled away, a frown etched on his face. “You just said it wasn’t yours.”
“It wasn’t.” You bit into your lip and looked down at his sure hands along your waist. “But maybe he was right, and I’m distracted by our relationship—being a bad doctor and not working how I’m supposed to. I mean, you’re here, comforting me, and anyone else would have had to take what Robby said and get over it.”
“Robby wouldn’t have had that argument to use against anyone else,” Jack countered, palms running flat along your head until they cradled the back of your neck. “He’s pissed about something else, not you. You’re a damn good doctor. If workplace relationships jeopardized that, he would be an issue too.” Jack’s jaw flexed, and he muttered a quiet, “Hypocrite,” to the air beside him.
You were vaguely aware that Robby hooked up with a nurse from admin. Some of your anger flickered back to life at the reminder of his distracting relationships, but your head was pounding, and Jack kept scanning your face for any sign of happiness, his brows furrowed and his face wincing, so you sighed and tried to play along. When the twitch of your smile was mirrored on Jack’s face, it felt worth it to try and forget.
“Are you comparing me to Robby’s late-night hookups?”
“Never,” Jack whispered, pulling you closer and slotting his mouth against yours. “You’re my whole world, baby.”
You huffed, clutching his wrists. “Yeah, well, your whole world has a puffy face and just got reamed out by your best friend, so I need a couple of minutes before I can finish my handoff report.”
“Want to sit in my truck for a while?”
“Do you still have the gushers I left in there?”
“Why do you think I offered?”
You sat in Jack’s truck for approximately ten minutes, eating every last one of the gushers in the oversized bag Jack bought you on a road trip a couple of weeks ago. The air conditioning blasted the heat from your face, and you downed an entire water bottle he had left for you in the door. And while you recalibrated, Jack found Robby.
“Got a sec?” Jack barely asked, sweeping past Robby to meet back up in the hall. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his friend to let the door swing behind him.
“Look—” Robby started. “I get that she’s your girl, and it can be difficult to—”
“Wasn’t her case,” Jack interrupted, expression as neutral as he could get it. “It was Santos’. She wasn’t going to tell you that, but I will.”
Robby paused, nodding jerkily. “Okay. Okay, my bad. I’ll talk to her.”
“You will.”
Robby eyed Jack. “But my point still stands. She needs to be able to take whatever this ED throws at her. She can’t have you swooping in to protect her.”
Jack pursed his lips, nodding back at Robby to make the space feel equal. “Robby, I respect you. A lot. You’re one of the few people left that I’ve cared about for most of my life.” He took a step closer. “But I’ll protect her from what she needs protecting from.”
The air between them was heavy and uncomfortable, and Jack couldn’t remember a time it had ever felt like that. Maybe a few months after his wife died and he lashed out. Maybe when Robby wouldn’t ask for help and Jack forced it a little too hard. Or maybe it had never felt like this—with Jack on the offensive, unwilling to let anything slide.
Robby must have felt it too. “Heard,” he affirmed.
“Good.” Jack went to leave the hall, patting Robby’s shoulder as he went. But he felt there was more to say, so Jack paused, looking at the wall behind Robby’s head. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “And if you ever make her cry like that again, I will beat the shit out of you.”
Robby’s head turned to look at his friend fully, and Jack met him there. He lifted the side of his mouth in a fleeting smile, patted him on the shoulder once more, and then left Robby in the hall.
jack abbot with a controversially young work crush! 𓂃۶ৎ
jack abbot who has no idea how to react when ellis introduces the new night shift nurse, who's freshly out of college and a world away from him.
jack abbot who flirts with everyone for fun but when it comes to you he just gives you a soft look.
jack abbot who avoids you like the plague in the first weeks because he feels icky about being attracted to you, and he feels even more icky when he catches himself having regular libido after years just from watching you work.
jack abbot who's patient with your mistakes, and is always encouraging and praising you for your work even when he doesn't realize.
jack abbot who makes a tiktok account named user391030840 - because he doesn't know how to name it - to stalk your social media and your reposts (shen tried to explain what it means and he gets it but also he doesn't at the same time).
jack abbot who yearns from a distance because he feels like you will never like him because of his age, him being an amputee, a widow - he just feels like you deserve better because he doesn't want to be a burden.
jack abbot who tries to understand what people in their 20s like these days so he has something to talk about with you when you two get a few minutes off.
jack abbot who starts to get boners during work like a teenager when he sees you check in, or when he can smell your perfume.
jack abbot who starts having wet dreams, and jerking off in his shower chair because he just can't help but dream what you look like underneath your scrubs, or after a long shift with soap all over your body.
jack abbot who gets more confident about himself once his cock starts to work on its own again, and flirts with you one night without thinking.
jack abbot who freezes when he realizes you heard him and sees a small sly smile on your lips followed by you softly biting your bottom lip.
jack abbot who's 100% sure he's absolutely down bad for you.
summary: You've been with Jack for almost a year, and haven't yet told him about just how bad your mental health can get. After the worst possible work day, he finds and comforts you in a moment of vulnerability. Without any other choice, you come clean about everything you're going through.
contents: jack abbot x gn!reader, pediatric oncologist!reader, angst, patient (child) death, reader has a panic attack, depression, anxiety, mentions of self-harm, passing mention of suicide, established relationship, no use of y/n. (I'm almost sure I missed something please tell me)
wc: 1.8k
a/n: i was feeling angsty while listening to beyoncé, and as such i've decided to make it everyone's problem. plus when i suffer, you get to suffer with me. not even a little proofread so if there's something wrong tell me but also i might get butthurt and ignore you!
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
You were starting to doubt that you’d chosen the right profession.
You’re far too emotional for this shit. Sure you’d wanted to be a doctor for about as long as you’d been alive, but going into pediatric oncology was setting yourself up for fucking failure.
Getting to watch your patients ring that bell, and then – with luck – never have to see you again was undoubtedly the best feeling in the world. Witnessing the light in the little one’s eyes when you got to tell them and their parents they were cancer free made for the best days. Devising methods of treatment that didn’t suck the life out of them, and kept their routine as normal as possible? That was what you lived for.
But the bad days? The ones where you had to break the news to parents that their kid wasn’t improving? The days where you spent half your time on shift bawling in the bathroom because you couldn’t help feeling like you weren’t worth the scrubs on your body? That shit sucked. Veritably.
And then there were the days where you had to deal with the impossible; the ones where patients didn’t make it, and you had to hold it together to tell someone that they’d have to bury their baby. You barely spoke those days.
You barely survived those days.
Losing a patient is hard on any doctor, losing a kid even worse. For someone like you, who was on a first name basis with every single kid you saw, though, it was different. You were the kind of doctor who devoted so much time and effort to your work that you counted your patients among some of your closest friends. Your days became highlighted by the seconds you could sneak away to colour with them as they underwent whatever round of chemotherapy this was. Your patient satisfaction scores were off the charts, not that it mattered to you in the slightest.
Still, the worst of days for you looked different than they did for everyone else. You were someone whose hard days took on a suicidal edge in high school that you could never quite shake. Compound that with losing a patient, and you were almost catatonic every time you got home afterwards.
Today was a terrible motherfucking day.
Your head was heavy, your heart was racing, and you’d run out of tears. You closed your apartment door behind you and collapsed to the floor, already losing all concept of where you were, the sound of your sobs deafening and overwhelming. You hadn’t noticed the extra pair of shoes by the door, why would you?
You’re hyperventilating now. Where’s your bag? Fuck. This jacket is too tight. You need to call someone. Who the hell would you call? You don’t get to call anyone. A kid died today. It’s your damn fault. Couldn’t you be better? Breathe quieter! The fucking neighbors will hear you. You don’t deserve company. You get to fucking suffer. This is all your fault. A kid is dead.
A kid is dead.
A kid is dead.
You did this.
“Baby?”
Fuck.
Jack is here. Jack isn’t supposed to see this. Why the hell is he here? God you really have to breathe quieter. This is so embarrassing. Shut up!
“Baby, I need you to breathe for me.”
He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He simply gets down to your level and keeps talking.
“Breathe for me, Sweetheart. Deep breath in,” he inhales, long and slow, modelling it for you as your thoughts continue to whirl. “And out,” he exhales, his breath falling over you. He keeps breathing, narrating, and your shaky breaths slow to match his.
Your pulse calms, and you become cognizant of your body, still in a heap on the floor. You feel the heat of him approach, and hear him ask, ever so delicately “Can I touch you?”
You nod, and become aware of his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. You still feel like shit, the emotional toll of the day no lighter, but at least you’re no longer fighting the impending doom of a panic attack.
He’s still rubbing your back, not advancing any further, sensing that you aren’t quite ready for it, when you come to the alarming realization that fuck, you just had a panic attack in front of Jack.
You’d been together almost a year, but had managed, mostly, to keep the reality of your mental health struggles to yourself. Not because you’d wanted to keep it secret, but rather because it felt like a herculean feat for you to explain to your trauma ER doctor boyfriend, who was much better versed in patient death than you were, due to the nature of his job, that when you lost a patient, it sent you into a depressive spiral.
You’d met Jack at a conference for Pittsburgh hospital employees, both of you having drawn the short stick for your respective departments, him for the PTMC ER, and you for Peds overall at UMPC Presbyterian. You’d hit it off immediately, managing to make it work somehow, regardless of the chaos of both your schedules, and your shared workaholic tendencies. Over the course of ten months, some time between his night shifts and your long days at Presby, you fell into a comfortable routine. Tonight was his night off, and he almost always spent them at your place, not that you’d remembered it in your mental state, just rushing to get home and break down in peace.
You lift your gaze to meet his, coming to terms with the fact that the darkest of your secrets had finally come to light. You aren’t sure how he’ll handle it, and though he’s seen it in action, you still have some explaining to do. When you meet his eyes, though, you’re not met with anything other than his loving stare, concern marring his features, but none of the negativity you’d already prepared in your head to face.
Seeing it for certain in his eyes, that his feelings for you haven’t changed, you make your way up to your knees, and bury your face in his chest. His arms come up around you, holding you to him in a comforting embrace, and you feel him say into the top of your head “I love you, and I’ve got you. It’s you and me, always.”
“I guess we’ve got some stuff to talk about, huh?” your voice is muffled as you speak into the cushion of his body.
“Only when you’re ready, I’m not going anywhere.”
You disentangle from him then, making to get up. He stands alongside you, never leaving your side as he watches you take your shoes off and gather your things from where they’re scattered on the floor. Jack leads you past the living room, where he had set up the TV on your favourite movie, walking you all the way to your bedroom.
His presence is a balm, reminding you that you aren’t alone, and that, if all else fails and you really hate yourself right now, he wants to be here with you because he loves you. Neither of you speak, content to work in companionable silence, and somehow in every action, you can hear him say it. I love you, his warm hands say as they help you into your comfiest set of pajamas. I love you, as he hands you your favourite water bottle, already perfectly set on the nightstand. I love you when he crawls into bed, leaned so that your head has a perfect spot on his chest.
Only once you finally settle into bed for the night, sprawled on top of him like a mentally unstable throw blanket, his arm curled around you protectively, do you finally begin to speak. You tell him about little Darcy, the sweet girl you lost today, how she loved all things gold and had the most magnificent green thumb, her room decorated with as many potted plants as you and her parents could smuggle in.
You tell him of your battles with depression and anxiety, how badly your self-worth suffers some days, and you feel like the worst doctor in the world. Jack feels your tears as they fall, but your voice stays steady.
That is, until it doesn’t.
Jack hears the hitch in your voice when you tell him how bad it gets on days like today, how you fight with yourself to make it through the night. You show him your scars, old and new, from clawing at your own skin, and his heart breaks. His own tears hit his cheeks when you explain how empty your heart feels, the space for self-love leaky and impossible to patch. And you tell him how alone you feel, not when you’re with him, never then, but how crushing it is to go at your most difficult days all by yourself.
“I know I'm loved, in my head I know that, but sometimes my heart just can’t be convinced.”
You inhale a deep, albeit reedy breath, and snuggle further into him.
“Can I tell you something?” Jack asks tentatively, his voice still a little choked.
You try to affirm, but your voice catches in your throat, tired from all it’s been through today.
“I am nothing without you. It has been almost a year, and I cannot remember who I was before I met you. It’s me and you, your love healed me, and that’s all I’ve got. When your days are like this, when they look so low you can’t even see the sun, call me, please. I will come to you, no matter what. I will pull you in close, and I will love you enough for the both of us. I wish I could fight right alongside you in that big, beautiful brain of yours, but the best I can do is be here for you, so please, let me. You don’t even have to let me in, but let me be here for you, for my own sake.
“You are so abundantly good at what you do, beyond your impressive professional merits. I guarantee you that you are the best part of hospital visits for every single person that gets to see you at Presby. You were made to do what you do, and even though there will be patients that you can’t save, you improve your patients' lives, day in and day out, you improve their parents lives, knowing that they are leaving their children in the kindest, most capable hands.”
If you weren’t entirely drained, you’d start bawling anew. As it stands, however, you just get to fall asleep, guard down, letting his love heal you for now, bit by little bit. You begin to drift off, and as you fall into dreams, you swear you hear Jack’s voice say “It’s me, and you. That’s all we need when the day is through.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖
p.s. Darcy is near and dear to me, mostly because she's basically my late grandma but whatever.
p.p.s. if the end seems disjointed, it's because i was in flowstate and then kept getting interrupted. anyways lmk what you think!!
summary — your boyfriend has a way about him that draws women in like bees to honey. it’s never bothered you before, but after a bad shift and an ill-timed bet, you are quickly reaching the limit of what you can handle. (5.4k)
featured — dr. jack abbot / fem!reader, dr. parker ellis, ahmad zidan, mateo diaz, lena handzo, dr. samira mohan (mentioned)
content — no spoilers for s1 or 2, heavy FLUFF v light angst, jealous!reader, jack is obsessed w you, established relationship but you and jack are keeping it a secret, ahmad's betting pool, prob some medical inaccuracies, he calls you love, there’s a made up nurse named julia in this im sorry if your name is julia
(cross-posted on ao3)
9:30p.m.
You can tell from the way she’s looking at him that she’s already under his spell.
You call it the Abbot Effect. All the silver fox has to do is breathe the right way toward a woman and they’re already planning their nuptials.
It’s not like Jack doesn’t make it worse with his sweet smiles, charismatic jokes, and his genuine compliments to anyone who cares enough to listen. When you first witnessed it as a young third year resident you’d thought it was actual attraction. You quickly learned, though, it’s just his personality.
So that’s why you don’t even blink when you notice him leaning across the counter talking to a pediatrics nurse from upstairs, his pearly teeth glittering beneath the fluorescent lights as he lets out a soft laugh. He looks unfairly handsome, especially at this time of night. His dark scrubs fit him a touch too well, and it is a bit hard for you to focus when he moves in your peripheral because your eyes are drawn to the fabric stretching around his forearms. You’ve definitely reached crazy girlfriend status, you think, standing just feet away, trying to look focused on the empty patient chart in front of you but quietly listening into their conversation.
The nurse from pedes lets out a high-pitched, nasally laugh at that very moment and you swear your ears are ringing from the assault. You bring your eyes up to see if you could figure out what was so funny, but her hand’s on his forearm and you suddenly feel dizzyingly sick.
Jack is a good attending, there’s no doubt about that. You started working for him a year ago. He would casually flirt with you in a way that he didn’t with other women. The path to dating followed after that quickly. Soon, you and Jack were spending almost every hour outside of work together. When things got serious–and they did, quickly–some ground rules had to be set.
A year ago, you thought that keeping your relationship a secret would be the best option for you. You thought that it would alleviate any issues involved with HR or people thinking you had slept your way through your residency. You were beginning to think, though, that you would rather have the rumors over having to watch every woman within a quarter mile flock to him.
“If you stare any harder, your eyes might pop out of your skull.”
You flinch when Dr. Parker Ellis’s voice interrupts your train of thought. You turn around to see the woman standing behind you, smacking a piece of gum in her mouth.
“What are you, a ninja? I thought you were with a patient?”
“I was with a patient,” she replies with a mischievous smile, “but as I was leaving, I couldn’t help wondering why you weren’t with one”--she lowers her voice conspiratorially–“could it have something to do with the new pedes nurse hanging out with Dr. Abbot?”
You wrinkle your nose in your best attempt at seeming disgusted by the notion. “I’ve told you before…” you chide the woman, “I’m not into Jack.”
“Sureee,” Dr. Ellis says. “That’s why you’re hiding behind that empty chart in the middle of rush hour. Because you don’t like Abbot.”
“Maybe I’m actually trying to get work done,” you tell her, “like, maybe it’s actually good I’m not playing around when I should be working.”
Dr. Ellis smirks like she knows something you don’t. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone this far in denial before.”
You roll your eyes at your friend’s comment. Dr. Ellis seems amused by your irritation and that only makes you more annoyed.
She looks like she’s going to say something else, but then her eyes get caught at something behind you. She ducks her head down as if trying to seem busy and her lips barely move as she mumbles: “incoming.”
“--And here are some of my wonderful residents.”
You turn your head so fast toward the voice that you worry you’ve gotten whiplash. You immediately cringe at your overenthusiasm when you remember you’re trying to play it coy. Jack and the nurse stand there, wearing near-identical smiles on their faces.
Jack’s eyes linger on you for a moment too long. They soften and trail down your face. You clench your tablet so hard you’re afraid it will crack under the pressure.
Ellis shoots a nonchalant nod toward them. You just smile, hoping it doesn’t come across as robotically as you think it does.
Jack grins proudly as he gestures to you both. “Julia, meet Dr. Ellis and—“
“Hey, sorry, I’ve got a patient I have to check on,” you interrupt with your best attempt at a pleasant smile, “nice to meet you, though, Jackie.”
The new nurse frowns. “It’s Julia.”
You look over at your boyfriend, who stares at you like you’ve got two heads. You grit your teeth and give the nurse a closed-mouth smile before you duck your head and step away.
Good job playing it cool, you think to yourself as you head toward Central 11. Why are you such a bitch? It’s not Nurse Jolene’s fault Jack is so… himself.
“Hey, wait up—“ Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
You stop and look back at Jack as he lightly jogs toward you. Behind him, Nurse Joy looks around confusedly, probably wondering what soap opera she’d mistakenly stumbled into.
“I was just about to see how my scarlet fever patient is doing,” you tell him even though you know that is not why he stopped you. Perhaps a small part of you hoped that was what he’d ask.
“What was that back there?” Jack says, his light eyes sweeping over your face as if trying to read it like a book. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine… how are you doing?”
“Fine…” he trails off, eyebrows furrowed. You notice, peculiarly, that his eyes seem wider than normal. They dart in between the two of yours like a tennis ball jumping a net.
“Well I’m glad that’s settled.” You turn to walk away when he doesn’t immediately say anything else. “And if that’s all you needed…”
He grabs your arm before you can turn your back and turn tail, and you jolt at the pressure. When he’s got your attention, he immediately lets go. You automatically look to see if anyone noticed the transgression, swallowing nervously.
“Sorry,” he says immediately, “I just… I want to make sure you’re okay.”
You feel yourself soften at the admission. You step closer, but not too close in fear someone might think it improper. You offer him a smile.
“I should be the one that’s sorry,” you say, “I’m just a little on-edge, that's all.” You decide not to tell him that when you saw that nurse put her hand on his arm, you had wanted to kiss him in front of the entire ER staff. Now is not the time for grand admissions like that.
Jack looks relieved. A quick smile flits across his face. “Well, the ER will do that to you.”
“You would think four years in, I’d be used to it,” your words are closely followed by a small laugh.
“Sorry to say, love, but it never gets easier,” he says with a coy grin and your chest flutters at the nickname, “unless you somehow figure out how to turn your empathy off.”
“I hope I never do that.”
There’s a lapse in conversation for a moment too long. You furrow your brows when you notice him looking at you, studying you like you’re a puzzle.
You touch your hair subconsciously. “Something wrong?”
His response is immediate. “No, no, there never is with you,” he says. He leans forward and his voice lowers. “I just can’t get over how fucking hot you are.”
“Jack,” you groan. Despite your attempt at pretending to be annoyed, a small smile pulls at your lips.
“There’s something about you in your scrubs and work mode that really gets me going,” he tells you. “All studious and shit.”
“--I’m leaving,” you say, turning your back. A smile lingers on your lips as you turn away. “Bye, Jack.”
“Bye, love,” he says just loud enough for you to hear as you step away. “Have a good shift.”
12:00a.m.
You think the signs that your shift is about to go from bad to worse lies in the empty coffee maker in the break room.
No good shift starts with an empty coffee maker. It’s just one of those superstitions that you believe in that inevitably and inexplicably ends up coming true. Tonight is no exception.
Your scarlet fever patient barfed all over your scrubs when you shined your light down her throat. She’s only five, so you just have to force a smile and try not to combust. Right after you change your scrubs, an emergency comes in that you have to jump on. It's a stabbing victim. You can’t resectate her. You’re there when Shen tells her parents. Their cries ring in your ears for an hour afterward. Another young kid comes in with a nose bleed that turns into hemorrhaging that you have to seal up–unfortunately, blood gets all over your arms and you have to clean all that off and get tested for Hep B, C, and HIV.
An hour later, you’re clued into the bet.
You’ve just gotten the blood cleaned off, a bandage wrapped around the crook of your elbow where the nurse had drawn your blood. You’re shuffling from room to room, staying on top of patient charts on your quick breaks and updating diagnosis and treatment plans.
You let out a heavy sigh when you feel the back of your neck begin to cramp, the telltale signs of overwork pulling at your muscles.
It’s safe to say that the very last thing you need to hear is what you do next.
You bump into the security guard on shift, Ahmad, when you’re walking. You immediately apologise, but he just shrugs.
“I didn’t know you were on the night shift tonight,” you say to him.
He shrugs. “Yeah, been trying to get some extra hours.”
You give him a pat on the arm. “Just make sure not to overwork yourself, okay? I’d hate to have you end up as a patient.”
“Okay, mom,” Ahmad laughs. “Maybe you should take your own advice sometime, huh?”
You hadn’t realized your overtime had been noticed by anyone other than Jack, who always complained about your absences. You offer a smile and go to walk around him when you notice him going to say something else.
“Have you gotten in on it yet?” he asks. He gestures to a whiteboard in his little office behind him, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.
You can’t help the reciprocal delight that comes across your face. Ahmad’s gambling pools have been a thing since you first started as a resident at PTMC. They weren’t often, but whenever they started up you were always happy to participate. It provided a fun distraction to an extremely bleak work environment.
“What’s it about?” You suddenly grin as you remember something you saw on the way into work that morning. “Oh, is it about what caused that powerline to fall outside the park?”
“Nah,” Ahmad tells you, “it’s about Abbot.”
You freeze. You hug your tablet to your chest in an attempt to keep your hands from fidgeting. Abbot? What could that be about? Do they know…
“Abbot?” you echo. You put on your best attempt at a genuine smile. “What’s he done now?”
“It’s not so much what he’s done, as what he might do,” Ahmad says. You cock a curious brow. “We’re betting on what woman in the PTMC will ask him out first.”
Your blood runs cold. You try to force yourself to smile, but you think it might come off as a grimace instead. You caused this, you try to tell yourself, you were the one that made it a secret.
“Surely there aren’t that many women to list.”
“Eh, you’d probably be surprised,” Ahmad continues, “we have at least twelve right now. People keep adding candidates.”
Twelve. Twelve women that people in this ER think would make a better partner to Abbot. You tug at your stethoscope and your eyes subconsciously dart to your feet. You don’t want to know more, you don’t think you can take more, but Ahmad continues.
“I think most people are voting for Dr. Mohan, but there have been quite a few for… hey, you okay?”
You hadn’t realized your eyes had gotten foggy with tears. You force a smile on your face.
“Sorry, uh, I’m not going to participate,” you tell him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, “it’s not like I have a bunch of extra cash laying around.” (That part is technically true, but it’s definitely not the reason you’re crying.)
Ahmad continues to look at you like he knows you’re hiding something. He doesn’t press on it, and he nods slowly. You take that as permission enough to leave.
You weave around Ahmad and pretend you don’t feel his eyes staring holes into the back of your head as you do. Nurses and doctors move around you like schools of fish navigating deep oceanic waters, and you’re a shark that they automatically go to avoid. You set your expression as you head over to Ahmad’s office. You glance up and down the busy hallways before you stop completely, peering in through the slats of the blinds to the board.
You see the names Doctor Mohan, Nurse Julia, Doctor Al-Hashimi–it goes on. Your name is the very last addition. There’s only a few dollars under you. Your heart sinks and you feel disappointment roll over you like a tidal wave.
You mull in the feeling for a moment too long, then you force it away. You remind yourself that at the end of the day, you were the one that asked for this. Jack has no role to play in your own self-imposed misery. You, and only you, had been the one afraid of what others might think. You made your bed, now you have to sleep in it.
You don’t want to face this fact, so you instead open up your tablet to check for any new updates on your patients.
4:00a.m.
You stare at the red numbers flashing on the microwave in front of you with bleary eyes. It lets out a high pitched chiiiirp when the meal you’d packed is done being reheated. You grab the container and take a seat near the back of the breakroom.
You put your forehead into your hand and begin to fork through the food you’d packed with a heavy sigh.
The scarlet fever patient was in the ICU now. Her fever had spiked and after the emergency ice bath, she still hadn’t fully woken up from it despite her temperature being lower. A teenage boy had been shot in the shoulder and had waited an hour before coming in. He ended up being fine, but it was so stressful your hands still trembled for thirty minutes after. An older woman woke up with chest pain and rushed to the hospital. She died on your emergency table.
You force another bite of your food into your mouth.
Suddenly, the door to the breakroom opens and Jack waltzes in with that same nurse–Julia–-on his heels. You stab a piece of food particularly hard with your plastic fork at the sight.
“Isn’t that crazy? I mean, I wonder what it is that is making people think we’d be good together,” she says, a huge smile pulling at her lips.
Jack looks over at you immediately as he walks in. You meet his eyes and flinch at the concern on his face. He twists his lips and turns to pull his lunch out of the fridge. You had packed it for him. Jack always insisted you didn’t have to, but you liked doing it, so you always did.
“I think the whole thing is silly,” he tells her. She doesn’t get the hint he’s giving her and lets out another giggle.
You know what they’re talking about–it has to be the betting board. You had checked it at least three times over the past hour. Pure curiosity, of course. It’s not like you were secretly a masochist or anything.
The last you’d checked, Julia’s pool had officially surpassed the lead’s. Yours still hovered around the same amount. A part of you had wanted to put some money down on your name just to get in the running, but you thought it’d probably look weird to see you betting on yourself.
Instead of taking a seat at the other table, Jack walks over to you. “Hey, got room here?”
You look over at Julia and cock a brow. You shrug a shoulder lazily. “Sure, I’m just about to wrap up.”
They take the seats across from you, and you shoot a small smile toward your boyfriend. He rolls his eyes and gestures slyly to Julia, who’s currently discussing all the cases she’s had today to nobody but herself. You laugh under your breath at his annoyance. Knowing Julia now, you wonder if the ER staff’s hypothesis that pedes makes you go crazy was true after all.
He pops open his lunch and you notice him pick up the note you’d carefully written. He smiles lovingly down at it, stroking the creases from where it had been folded. You bite your lip to hide your smile and look down at your food.
“Who’s that from?”
Julia reminds you of her presence by asking the question. You flinch and your eyes shoot up to look at her. She’s staring at the note in Jack’s hands with furrowed brows.
You stop eating mid chew, staring at Jack’s reaction. He hesitates, eyes darting up to meet yours. His lips part, then close, then part again. Julia looks between the two of you confusedly, jealously. The anger at her audacity to feel jealousy roars up out of you before you can control it.
“It’s from me.”
Jack’s eyes widen to an almost comical size. Julia’s mouth drops open.
“You two are…?”
“Yep,” you supply, standing up from the table with a sharp jolt. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept that information to yourself. Oh, and if you could, please stop flirting with my boyfriend.”
Julia nods slowly.
You grab your lunch and dump the rest into the trash. As you put the empty container back in the fridge, you hear him standing, giving apologies to Julia about your behavior before slipping up behind you. You notice Julia leaving the break room as you turn around.
“I need to go,” you say, trying to weave around him.
He just steps in front of you. His arms are crossed in that delightfully sinful way he knows you like, a cocky grin on his face.
“So was I going to be told we are telling people about our relationship now or…?”
You look up at Jack and try to smile but it just feels as stretched thin as you do. You notice him deflate when you pinch your nose bridge in between your fingers.
“I’m sorry,” you tell him, “I should have told you. It was more of an in-the-moment type of thing.”
“You got jealous, didn’t you?” he continues grinning at you like he’s won the lottery. He stretches his hand out to softly stroke your upper arm. You feel your skin tingle where he touches.
“I mean, what girl wouldn’t, seeing her boyfriend get treated like a piece of meat all day?” you scoff, frustration flaring up with your words but falling away with the gentle strokes on your arm. “I think I should be rewarded for lasting as long as I have.”
He tilts his head. “Really?” a grin pulls at his lips. “How would you like to be rewarded, love?” A mischievous flirtation pulls at his words, his strokes now leaving hot imprints on your skin.
You duck your head, a smile pulling at your lips despite yourself. “Jack.”
He lets out a laugh and pulls his hand away. You mourn the touch the second it leaves your skin.
“I still think we should wait,” you tell him softly, “at least until the shift is over. Anything that comes after that can be handled, but I don’t need to have any more distractions today. It’s been bad enough having to see Joanna hanging off your arm all day.”
“Julia,” Jack corrects. You shoot him a faux glare. He chuckles.
“Well, it might be hard…” Jack says, “I mean, I’ve already waited 12 months to tell people you’re mine.”
You pat his arm unsympathetically. “Well, that means you can wait a few more hours, can’t you?”
“You’re really going to make me put up with those flirty EMTs the rest of the night,” Jack deadpans.
“I’m sorry?” you really don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Being in a secret relationship works both ways, love,” he tells you, walking backwards to the door, “you have to be jealous about nurses, I have to be jealous about hot first responders. We both got it bad.”
6:45a.m.
“Waaait, where aaam I?” the young, blonde, completely shitface-drunk college girl asks, her eyes wide and bloodshot to all Hell.
“You are in a H-O-S-P-I-T-A-L, hospital. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center,” Nurse Mateo says from where he adjusts the blood pressure cuff on her forearm.
You stifle a laugh. Sure, Mateo’s a bit grumpy with the girl, but she had tried to throw a chair at him when she was first admitted. She missed by about two feet, but the intent was there enough that Ahmad insisted on putting a pair of handcuffs around one of her wrists to her bed.
The girl just frowns. “Why’m in a h-o-sss…”
You lean over and pull up one of her eyelids, flashing your pin light into her left eye. It retracts normally, but she hisses like a vampire and pulls away with all her strength.
“You fell and hit your head,” you tell her, “almost got run over by a car. You’re lucky some friendly samaritans stopped to help you.”
She doesn’t reply. She stares at something over your shoulder. You take her distraction as an opportunity to look closely at the cut along her hairline.
It’s got quite a bit of dirt and gravel in it, and is certainly deep enough to require stitches.
“Well, hon, I know you’re drunk out of your mind right now, but I'm still going to let you know what we have to do,” you tell her, trying to get her to meet your eyes, “we are going to have to clean and put some stitches in that laceration on your head so it doesn’t get infected.”
The girl just stares past you. You finally turn. You look through the window to see Jack there, reading a patient chart on his tablet.
Your eyes roll without you even meaning to. Of course, yet another woman is interested in your boyfriend. You’re starting to think you’ll need to get him a neon sign to hang around his neck that says taken.
“She might listen to him better,” Mateo offers, “or I can sedate her. I am not trying to get another code hoola-hoop.”
You look back at the girl who’s clearly very out of it–staring at your boyfriend, even though it’s unlikely she could fully make him out–and let out a heavy sigh. You shrug one shoulder and snap off your gloves in the same swift movement. You stand and leave the room, headed to where your boyfriend stands next to desks.
Once you reach his side, you don’t have to say anything to grab his attention because he suddenly looks up like he sensed your presence. You offer him a weary smile and he returns it in full, turning his body to offer his full attention.
“What’s up?” he asks.
He’s in Dr. Abbot the ER attending mode now, all professionalism and seriousness. You smile to yourself at the memory of your first few shifts as a resident, crushing furiously like half the other women on the night-shift.
“I have an incredibly drunk twenty-one-year-old, BAC of .16%, large forehead contusion,” you say, “and… she’s been making goo-goo eyes at you since she first came in. She’s been fairly combative, so maybe you could come in and ‘work your magic’?”
“What I’m hearing is you want to use me as eye candy?” Jack’s words end in a soft laugh. “Man, maybe I should go to HR…”
You laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds. Just a few hours ago, you’d been upset at the very idea of your boyfriend being looked at by another woman. Now, you were using his good looks to win patients over. Screw it, your shift’s almost over. Anyone who tries to take your boyfriend in the last hour of your shift will have hell to pay.
“All I need is for her to be distracted enough that I can put some stitches in her cut,” you tell him with a grin. “Shouldn’t be that hard for you to stand there and look appealing, right? I mean, that’s what you do all the time anyway.”
Jack lets out a chuckle, but he nods his head and gestures for you to lead the way. You grin and walk him to the patient’s room.
The girl’s eyes immediately widen as she sees Abbot step into the room, like she’s looking at a movie star or something. You can’t fault her. Jack in his form-fitting scrubs and hair all disheveled is really a sight to see.
“I got your boyfriend,” you tell the girl, shooting an amused glance to Jack, “now how about I look at that cut on your forehead, hm?”
She continues to smile all dopey and lovestruck as you put on a new pair of gloves and Mateo wheels a cart near you. The spot’s been numbed for hours, so she won’t feel a thing.
As soon as you reach to probe it, though, she shoots away from you.
“Wait, waaait,” the girl says urgently. You stop, eyebrows furrowed as you look at her. “Can’t he do it?”
You sigh and look over your shoulder at your boyfriend. Jack shoots you a smile and a shrug as if to say “I don’t mind” and you can’t say you’re opposed to the idea. Anything you can do to get this girl treated and gone is what you’re going to do.
“Sure,” you tell her, “but play nicely.”
You stand and move toward where Jack stands, gesturing with a slightly annoyed smile toward the girl. “She’s all yours.”
Jack settles down in the rolling stool you abandoned and the girl immediately lets out a high-pitched, excited giggle.
You watch Jack and the girl quietly talking together; him asking her what she was celebrating, her replying that it was her birthday, him asking what she’s studying, her telling him she’s in law school. All through the applying of the cleaning of the wound, the sutures, and then the bandage, the girl is calm and patient. Watching Jack work so nicely, so empathetically toward the girl reminds you why you fell for him in the first place. You stifle the fond smile pulling at your lips. You look over at Mateo and he gives you a shrug.
Your eyes get drawn back to your boyfriend as he stands from the chair and walks your way.
He stops in front of you and crosses his arms. “She’s all patched up.”
You nod. “I’m thinking I might order a head CT just to rule out any head injury.”
Jack smirks like he’d been hoping you’d say that. “Attagirl.”
You follow him out of the patient’s room and into the main foyer. You look around at all the doctors standing by desks and mentally prepare yourself for switching shifts. Dana’s already catching up with Lena, Javadi and Mohan are chatting and updating patient charts from their previous shifts.
You look over at Jack, whose body is angled toward you next to desks.
“You hungry?” he asks you. He’s looking at his tablet to give the impression to any nosey Nancys that he’s not talking to you. You bite back your smile.
You nod, thinking back to the small meal you’d had a few hours ago. “I could eat.”
“Chinese or Italian?”
You angle your body toward him. You draw a hand to rest upon his bicep. He turns his head toward you, surprised.
“I could eat an entire gallon of fried rice right now,” you tell him, a small smile curling on your lips. “How about you?”
Jack’s too preoccupied with the hand on his arm to answer immediately. “Uh, I guess I could get a stir fry.” As he speaks, his eyes draw up to meet your own. You squeeze his arm gently and he leans forward. “Are you coming onto me, Doctor?”
“If I was?” you say with a small smile curling at your lips.
“I’d tell you we still have ten minutes left on our shift,” he says teasingly, “I thought you didn’t want any distractions?”
You pull your hand away from his arm to rest back on the desk in front of you. “I don’t know about you,” you say, filling out the order form for the CT scan as you do, “but I'm tired of hiding.”
Your boyfriend chuckles softly from beside you.
You put the completed form into the outtake area. You go to turn toward Jack when your eyes get caught on a gathering of people near the front of desks. You pat his shoulder to get his attention and then follow the crowd forming near the front.
Ahmad’s at the center of the formation, and he has a big grin on his face. You watch confusedly as Jack weaves through bodies to get to Ahmad.
Your heart drops, now realizing the cause of the big commotion. Ahmad wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulder as he looks around the crowd. “And I’m happy to announce that the person with the highest bids is none other than our wonderful—“
You catch a glimpse of the paper in Ahmad’s hand as he gesticulates to the crowd and the words come tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. “It’s me?” you say, surprised.
Pleased cheers go around the room. You look between Ahmad and Jack confusedly. Who’d put you in the lead? Last you checked an hour ago, Mohan was still the highest.
“In a stunning turn of events, an anonymous donor broke the tie and put her in the lead,” he continues.
You frown for just a moment as you look around the gathered faces, wondering who would do that, before realization strikes you like lightning. You grin as your eyes dart to Jack who innocently shrugs when your gaze lands on him.
Something comes over you in that instance that has you moving through the crowd to your boyfriend. You gently grasp his face in your palm and place a chaste kiss on his lips. You don’t have a chance to savor it before a few more cheers ring out and you pull away, embarrassed by the display. Jack wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives you a side hug, leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.
“Okay, okay,” Lena says as she breaks through the crowd, “this isn’t an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You all have patients to see.”
The crowd disperses quickly after that. People give each of you thumbs up and congratulations as they leave, Ellis tells you to ‘find her later’ — obviously displeased about not being the first to know, and soon you and Jack are left alone.
“Well that didn’t go as bad as I expected,” Jack says, squeezing your shoulder once more before releasing you.
You cock a brow. “If you think that’s the last of it, you’re sorely mistaken. Robby hasn’t even found out yet and I think Ellis is going to brawl me in the parking lot.”
Jack lets out a soft laugh.
You look up at him with soft eyes, a small, flirtatious grin curling on your lips. “I’ll see you after rounds are shifted over. Want to order the food so we can have it back at my place?”
“If I ever say no to coming over to your place,” Jack says, “you can just shoot me, okay?”
You let out a barking laugh as you go to leave. Before you get more than a few steps, you look back at him over your shoulder.
“Oh, and tell any women who flirt with you that you’re off the market,” you say, “I’d hate to be fired because I assaulted a patient.”
Summary: Your husband gets worried when he gets a call that you're in his ED (wc 1.5k)
A/N: Little blurb cause this man has taken over my mind. The stronghold Shawn Hatosy has on me.
“Alright miss-” She stops mid sentence when she pulls back the curtain of the room looking up from her chart. You can tell she’s disappointed.
“I swear if that chart says GSW- It’s a graze that's not even that bad.” You say sitting on the bed.
“Yeah it says GSW. I was wondering why you wouldn't be in a trauma room,” She puts hand under the hand sanitizer dispenser, “thought it would be more interesting.” She puts on gloves to start looking at your arm. You already have your shirt off leaving you in just a tank top to give the doctor better access to, what you would consider, a very small graze that you would argue doesn’t even warrant a hospital visit.
“Sorry to disappoint you.” You quip back at her. You’re finally able to get a glance at her badge, Dr. Santos.
“How did you get this?” The bleeding already stopped a while ago before you got to the hospital. She starts to take the dressing you put on it off. You wince a little at the contact. She says sorry under her breath.
“Occupational hazard.” She quirks her eyebrows up, unsatisfied at your response. “I’m a CSI and I was training a new technician, when the idiots thought it would be a good idea to come back to make sure the job was done. They didn’t realize that the cops had already been called and were there. Anyways guess they got nervous and decided the best course of action was a shoot out. Made sure to cover my new tech and got grazed in doing so.” She swabbed the wound to send for testing, being more careful than she was initially. “I didn’t want to even come here but since it’s work related I was forced too.”
“It doesn’t look bad, I’ll send a sample for cultures just to be sure, clean and dress it for you.” She replies.
“Where is she?!?” You can hear your husband’s voice through the thin curtain. You can only assume Dana points him in your direction cause you can hear him stomp towards your bed. You’re bracing for impact cause you already know he’s upset. He tears the curtain open to see you on the bed with Santos sitting at your side.
“What happened? Are you okay?” His body relaxes a little when he can process that you're fine, but you can tell he’s still on edge.
“Dr. Abbot,” Santos stands up stiff as a board.
“What happened.” He repeats himself, still staring at you waiting for an answer.
“It’s nothing, a little graze that’s barely there.” You’re trying to comfort him…it’s not helping a lot.
“Why did I get a call from the hospital that my wife had a bullet graze and not from you?” You can hear that he’s upset by his voice, his eyes never leaving you.
“Wait, wife?” Santos asks, “but the last name…”
“It’s hyphenated, I use my maiden name for legal and work.” You explain.
Jack finally moves towards you once he decides that you look well enough. He glances at the wound and can tell that you were right, it’s not bad. He’s at your other side looking down at you, still checking over your face to see if he missed anything.
“She’s stubborn,” he adds, “why didn’t you call me? I freaked out when Dana told me what happened. Broke a few traffic laws getting here.” He’s quieter now and worry still lacing his voice. His hand goes up to touch your face, making sure you’re still here with him. Reassuring himself that you’re okay. You lean into his touch. He’s always so warm.
“I’m fine Jack,” you move your hand to cover his on your face, “I didn’t want to worry you, and they pushed me into a squad car before I even realized it, left my phone in my jacket at the scene.” You take his hand off your face and just hold it in your lap.
“I know how much you hate those cars.” His other hand goes to tuck a piece of your behind your ear. He’s moving like you're made of glass. “But really how did you get shot?”
“I wasn’t shot, I was grazed.” You correct him. “Apperently the cops don’t know how to close a scene correctly. Perp came back, saw cops and started firing.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the stupidity of what should have never happened.
He finally takes his eyes off of you and looks over at Santos. “Did you send for culture test?” He’s sterner when he talks to her. You feel bad that she was the one that got stuck with you. Having one of your patients being your attending’s wife can’t be easy.
“Yes. I was just about to start cleaning and dressing it.” You can tell this situation makes her a little nervous.
“Jack, she’s done everything correct, don’t scare her.” His eyes softening when he looks back at you. His stubble is a little longer than usual, and his curls are unruly. He probably jumped out of bed and rushed to his truck as soon as he got the call. He’s wearing a shirt you know was on top of the laundry hamper.
“Just double checking.” At his words Santos goes to clean and dress the wound, very diligently you note.
Jack stays at your side the entire time, hand still in your lap. He squeezes your hand anytime you wince, checking in on you to make sure you’re okay. His eyes are tired from lack of sleep but the look on his face is pure adoration for you. You pull him a little closer so you can lean your head on his broad, sturdy chest. You want to suck all his warmth out of him due to the chill in the ED, and knowing him, he’d let you.
“I was scared.” Jack whispers to you.
“How do you think I feel when you go out with the SWAT team? This is a once in a blue moon for me, it feels like you’re always getting shot at.” You crane your neck so you can look at him while you say that.
“So is date night just dodging bullets for you guys?” Santos says as she’s finishing up.
You and Jack both huff out a laugh. “No, he’s a little more romantic than that.” You reply.
“A little?” Jack pushes away a little to look at you and raises his eyebrows. “If I remember correctly, you bragged to your friends about ‘how romantic’ my proposal was.” He has a smirk on his face at the fact.
“I should have never told you that, it went to your head.” You roll your eyes and pull him back closer to you.
“Yeah but you did.” He kisses your head as he says it. He is one of the most romantic people you know when he tries. You love that about him, how thoughtful he is and how he really sees you. He knows you inside and out. He makes the most mundane parts of life exciting just by being there with you. He’s made you the happiest woman in the world and he knows it. You never miss an opportunity to let him know.
“Okay I’m going to get discharge notes and instructions but I’m sure you don’t need them.” Santos says and she starts to walk out of the room.
“I like her.” You say once she’s out of the room and you start to put your other shirt back on.
Jack steps back a little to give you room to do so. “Santos? She’s one of Robby’s, haven’t been around her too much. He says she’s good though.”
You start to stand up when Jack puts his hand out for you to use to help you up. Once you’re standing next to him, you give him a quick peck on the lips. You step back a little after, but not for long. Jack is quick to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a hug. You instinctively wrap your arms around him and melt into his warmth. His other hand goes up to cradle your head, as he puts his head right in the crevice of your neck.
“I love you. Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Jack mutters into your neck.
“No promises.” He pinches your side when you say that.
“HEY!” You yelp out barely moving due to his grip on you. “I promise to call next time.” You concede.
“I’ll take what I can get.” He replies right before giving you a little kiss on your neck.
…
Trinity walks up to Whitaker at the hub so she can start writing up the discharge notes. “Did you know Dr. Abbot is married?” She asks him.
“Umm, yeah I think so? He wears a wedding ring right?”
“Guess I never noticed,” she hums out, “his wife was just one of my patients. You should see the rock on her hand.”
synopsis: you do a bar crawl with the night shift as a new couple with jack abbot and he’s concerned about your blood sugar
cw: established relationship (they’ve gone on one off screen date) flirting, reader is being babied by Jack a little if you squint, Ellis and Mateo are here too! Oh mention of cannabis (smoking and being semi high!)
Maybe you’re a little too dressed up for a bar crawl with the night crew, but you couldn’t care less. You’ve got on a red and black patterned slip dress that you’ve hemmed to sit just a couple centimeters under your ass, and cherry red boots on.
You’ve got a dramatic Smokey eye and red lips and a pair of sunglasses that should’ve retired two hours ago, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
You smell like tangerine and tobacco, and your skin glistens from your lotion.
You look hot, and you feel it, especially when you catch Jack’s eyes roving over you like a wolf stalking prey.
You and Ellis have made it a game to see how many free drinks you can get at each bar, and you’re currently on your fifth shot of tequila and your third Long Island Iced Tea.
“I bet you that girl is gonna come up and offer to buy us lemon drops to get your attention.” You’re slurring, but only slightly, and you watch Ellis smile as she sees the girl you’re talking about.
“You’re such a good wing woman,” she says and you smile, beckoning the girl over. She turns to tell her friends something before coming over.
“I try!” It doesn’t take long to chat the girl up between you and Ellis, before you’re sipping a drink and turning your back to Ellis and the girl whose name you learnt is Diana.
As you turn to give them some privacy, you notice Jack stalking towards you with a tray in his hand.
You can’t make out what he’s holding, besides your pretty black bag, but it seems important because he’s walking straight over, not caring who he bumps into.
“Eat something,” he grumbles by your ear as he sets the tray down on the bar counter.
“Where did you get these?” You stare at the chicken strips before picking one up.
“There was a fast food place still open. Eat one, sweetheart.” His hands are shoved into his pocket to stop himself from pulling the strands of hair currently stuck to your glossy lips.
“M’not hungry though. Have you ever heard never to mix food and alcohol? I thought you were old enough to know that at least, Jack.” Your cheeks are hot when you sneak a glance at him and find him fighting a smile.
“You’ve been drinking for the past three hours, princess. Your sugar is through the roof and it’s almost at 360.”
You frown, “How do you know that for sure?”
Even drunk you want to go back and forth with him; Jack could kiss you.
“Your password is your birthday,” you sense some sort of judgement there but you shrug, it’s easy to remember all the time. “Just humor me, yeah?”
His hand falls to the small of your back and he looks at you with those huge green gray eyes and who are you to resist the call of the foggy forest?
“I’m only having one.”
You have three and then pass the rest to him, resigned to sipping your now watered down drink.
“You haven’t said how good I look.” You state it frankly, watching Ellis and the girl from before stalk off to a corner.
Jack scoffs, “You’ve got hickeys up and down your neck, baby. You know how good you look.”
You give him a smile, watching as he drains his beer and his Adam’s Apple works with his swallow.
“Still is nice to hear.”
He shakes his head, leans in close and tucks his nose under your jaw. Pressing a line of kisses there till your earlobe that he takes a nip at. “You smell and look good enough to eat.”
You giggle happily, “I know.” The song changes and you gasp, “Come dance with me? This is my favourite song!”
Jack pushes off the counter immediately.
You don’t last long dancing with just him, Ellis comes to get you, then Mateo, then Walsh and all Jack can do is stand and watch you enjoy yourself with your friends.
You last four songs and then you’re finding him with a drink in your hand and your hair gathered up off your neck.
“I’m so hot,” you whine as you stand in front of him, his hands falling to your thighs. He can’t see, but he can feel the pearls of sweat on your skin. You let him take a tissue to your damp skin, drying you off a little as you sip your drink.
Jack can hear you humming along to the music and though you try to stay still, your hips move slightly to the beat. He needs another date night.
“Tinkerbell!” Your head whips in the direction of your nickname being yelled across the club.
Mateo’s holding something between two fingers and waving you over.
“I’ll be twenty minutes.” You promise to Jack, smearing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You notice Ellis searching her pockets. “Maybe half an hour.”
Jack nods, kissing your lips properly before letting you go. “Don’t throw up.”
You scoff before walking backwards towards your friends, “You wound me, Abbot.”
He finds all three of you on the curb outside the club 45 minutes later, eyes bloodshot and silent.
“Jackie boy!” You squeal, stubbing the butt of the roll on in the cement. You hold your arms out to him and he joins you, tugging your calves over his thighs when he sits.
Mateo shakes his head, “This is still the weirdest thing ever.”
Ellis nods as she unwraps a stick of gum. “How’d the hottest R3 get stuck with him?”
Jack can feel your skin flush under the compliment. “I’d tell you but you’d never speak to me again.”
You sound so grave as you say it that they all can’t help but laugh. Silence descends again, comfortable and relaxing until you break it with a gasp.
“I have chocolate chip cookie dough in my freezer!”
Mateo laughs and turns to Abbot, “You’ve got about twenty minutes before her munchies actually kick in and you’re stopping at every fast food restaurant for a soft serve ice cream.”
His eyes widen, “Don’t tell me she got you and Ellis driving her around the city for ice cream before.”
You fake offense, “Don’t forget Mel! Mel loves the contact high every then and now.”
Ellis and Mateo laugh, “Now and then, babe.”
You save a hand at them, “Whatever, I just want my cookies.” You look up at Jack with most pathetic puppy dog eyes you can muster.
He turns to Mateo and Parker, “You guys need a ride?”
Ellis shakes her head, “I’m sticking around for a bit.”
You smile, “You’re taking Diana home aren’t you?”
She shrugs as she walks towards the door, “You’re going home with Abbot, what’s the difference?”
She’s got a point there.
You turn to Mateo, “Are you meeting Javadi after?”
He nods, “Heading home to sleep and then go get her. I’ll Uber though, I’d prefer not to get a backseat view of whatever you two get up to.”
Jack scoffs, “Don’t act like a saint. We’d keep it PG.”
Mateo rolls his eyes, “Nobody’s talking about you Abbot.”
You grumble out a weak, “Hey!” Before telling Mateo, “Text me when you get home.”
He nods, “You too, Tinkerbell.”
You salute as you watch him leave to order his Uber, your eyes bleary as you turn to Jack.
“Can we go? I can bake them before the high kicks in if we hurry.”
He pays your thigh before standing and then helping you up.
“Are you having them with milk?” He asks and you pretend to gag as he opens the car door for you.
“Milk is my number one enemy, Jackie boy.”
You say it so gravely he can’t help but laugh as he watches you buckle your seatbelt. “You’re so fucking strange it’s endearing.”
He starts the car and within seconds you’re rattling off every thought that pops into your mind. “Do you think an ice cream sandwich will push the blood sugar over the edge?”
Jack spares you a glance and calculates where your sugar should be mentally, “Not really. All the dancing and the chicken strips should have you at about 200 which is your norm.”
You fist bump, “M’gonna have three ice cream sandwiches.”
You have half of one before the high takes over and you’re mumbling about feeling static behind your eyes and then falling asleep on Jack’s shoulder.
Tags: Jack abbott x Resident!reader, reader having a panic attack (unknown cause), Jack having a soft spot for reader, avoidant reader (me asf), comfort from Jack. Jack calms the reader down. Widowed Jack. miscommunication, FWB at first.
Warnings: angst, feelings of panic,
Word count: 1.1K ish
A/N: very loosely based on the song " Promise " by Laufey
Flashbacks are noted with the date
═════════════════════════════════════════════
July 4th, 2026, present day.
9:00pm, Hour 15 into your shift. (that was supposed to end 2 hours ago)
The halls feel too small. Sterile walls. The world is spinning. You have to get out of here. Where is the damn door? Everything is falling apart. Maybe that's just how things go; inevitable, like the unravelling of your relationship. If you can even call it that. You and Jack were a couple of fuck buddies who pretty much used each other to decompress after a rough shift. That's not technically a relationship. Not in this modern world. With stupid, unspoken rules that hurt people. You and Jack had an unspoken agreement that, yes, you could have said no after the first time it happened. But you had been in love with the infamous Dr. Jack Abbot since your first shift as an R3 at PTMC. That was around a year ago. Give or take a couple of months. You can't tell anymore.
His flirty personality was for sure a cover-up for something deeper. Hell, he wore a wedding band, but never mentioned having a wife or family. He never took the ring off; in fact, you've never seen him without it. It started grating on you. The other woman. How could you have let yourself become the second choice? When it was one of your worst fears, not being chosen.
You and Jack didn't make a move until a couple of months after your arrival at the PTMC, after yet another grueling shift of idiot people coming through the ED.
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
October 13, 2025.
11:00am
Jack had tagged along with the day-shift crew to the bar named Melrose, just down the block from the PTMC. Tipsy, you were a lot more confident than when sober. Waking up in an apartment that was not yours and Mel’s was not on your bucket list for this year. You ended up at his very nice brownstone apartment the next morning with a pounding headache.
“Good morning,” Jack mumbled from the doorway of his room, sipping a steaming cup of what is assumed to be coffee.
You squeeze your eyes shut, whole face tightly grimacing, “fuck my life,” you mutter under your breath, dragging your hands down your face dramatically. You had woken up in your attending’s house, in his bed. Good god, you thought, can this get any more embarrassing?
Clutching the bed sheet up to your chest, trying to maintain the very little dignity you have left. Letting out a groan of pure mortification, you sit up looking for your clothes that were, thankfully, on your side of the bed. Pulling the shirt over your head haphazardly, you stand up, scanning the room.
Looking through his lashes at you, “You okay, hun-?” He cuts himself off.
The almost nickname pulling on your heartstrings, “Other than the fact that I'm mortified? Yeah! Totally fine!” voice tight and too high to be ‘fine’.
“Riiight,” Jack drawled.
“I am gonna get out of your hair once I find my pants, and maybe my dignity is here somewhere too, unless I left that at the bar,” rambling, you pause to take a short breath. “Okay, my dignity definitely is not here, but my pants thankfully are! Heh.” Getting out of bed, you jump into them as quickly as possible.
Walking over to the dresser that was at the opposite side of his room, Jack sets down his coffee. “Sweetheart,” his voice soothing like honey. “I am not kicking you out; you can stay for as long as you like.”
“Wha-” Brain malfunctioning, you stand utterly still, frozen in place.
“I’m on my way to the police department downtown. I just wanted to let you know.” Brushing past you, placing a hand on your hip, and grabbing the fatigues that were neatly placed on a slim table, over by the hamper under his bedroom window.
“Police department?”
He shrugs, “I suck at golf.”
﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵
July 4th, 2026
9:02pm
Finally finding the exit, stumbling, gasping for air in the ambulance bay. Trying to calm your breathing proved to be more difficult than expected. You had made yourself a promise. Sixteen days ago. To distance yourself, or cut yourself off completely, finally realising you were irrevocably in love with Jack. Walking out of his apartment two weeks ago after breaking things off had been one of the hardest things you've done. It wasn't healthy for anyone to stay in a relationship where only one person was in love with the other. It never leads to anything really. It never lasts. Someone always breaks, that someone being you, in this current moment. Knees buckling, the ground comes up at you, knocking the wind from your lungs. You bury your head between your legs, tears streaming down your face. When did you start crying?
Time is standing still and moving a million miles a minute. Sensing some movement around you, you look up from the safety of the cradle you have around yourself. Jack, he must've seen you. Fuck.
His voice is distorted, “Baby,” worry striking his handsome face, he lowers himself to your level. Sitting with you on the hard concrete. Your breathing quickens. “Hey, hey, hey..” He coos, resting a hand on your back, letting you know he's there, but not to overwhelm you more. “Just breathe, Angel,” pulling you into his side, tucking your head under his chin. His hand wanders up and down your spine, sending shivers and goosebumps throughout your body.
Placing a chaste kiss on your temple, he speaks after your breathing evens out slightly. “Talk to me, Angel, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?” Resting his head atop yours.
“I don’t know,” you say feebly. “I.. I felt fine a couple of minutes ago.”
“Yeah?” he tilts his head, brow pinching slightly.
Offering him a slight nod, you look at him. It's hard not to admire the man in front of you. The crinkle near his eyes seems more prominent now, his freckles darker since it's summertime, his bright eyes a little dimmer than usual.
“...Why did you break things off?” he asks gently.
Stiffening within his embrace, avoiding his piercing gaze, “You’re married. You never took off the ring, so I took myself out of the equation..”
He looks at you, dumbfounded, “Angel.. While you’re not wrong about me being married, per se,” he pauses, thinking about what to say. “My wife... died years ago, so to not let it consume me, I try not to mention it.”
“..oh”
“My therapist thinks I find comfort in the darkness, but you, Baby, you brought a new light into my world I didn’t know was possible after my wife’s passing.”
It hurts to be something; it's worse to be nothing with you.
