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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞
𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐚 𝐔𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬:
𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 [𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐞 [𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] 𝐈 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭 [𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 [𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]
Differential Diagnoses
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader
Word Count: 1.9k
Summary: A new med student documents a series of differential diagnoses to your and Jack's relationship as she tries to figure out what exactly the dynamic is.
Warnings: Fluff, Miscommunication
Notes: This was just a fun, silly little fic to write. I hope you enjoy! As always, tysm for reading! :P
It was the first day that interns were able to do rotations through the Pitt during the night shift. In the short time that Amara had been there, she was able to observe a lot of things. So many cases were ones that she had spent years learning about from different textbooks. There was one case that she couldn’t quite figure out though: what was going on with you and Dr. Abbot.
Amara had many different differential diagnoses:
Divorced
Situationship
Enemies
Telepathically Connected
Siblings
Unfortunately, all of the evidence she had gathered supported each of the options equally, which made every moment more confusing than the last.
Hour One
Dr. Abbot seemed nice. His whole “Nightcrawlers” speech was a little weird, but overall endearing; especially for the new interns. Amara walked up to him directly after he was done speaking to everyone and most people had shuffled away.
“Hi Dr. Abbot, it’s my first rotation here tonight, I was just wondering who I should stick with?” She asked.
Dr. Abbot opened his mouth to respond, before you interrupted him.
“I can’t believe you, you know that?!” You almost yelled, shoving your finger in Dr. Abbot’s chest.
Amara jumped at the sudden intrusion with wide eyes, watching the scene before her play out.
He smirked looking down at you as he crossed his arms, “Oh, really?”
“Yeah! Really!” You say, “You ate my fucking leftovers!”
“They were in the staff fridge.”
“You knew they were mine! I put them there!”
“Seems like a design flaw, princess.”
You looked one second away from committing an unethical war crime against Dr. Abbot. He seemed entirely unbothered.
Amara schooled her face as quickly as possible when Dr. Abbot turned back to her to respond as you stormed away with a huff.
Differential Diagnosis:
Enemies
Hour Two
Amara tried to stay out of your way after the first interaction she saw you have with Dr. Abbot. But, the ER was a small place, and it wouldn’t do well to try and avoid you for too long. When a trauma came in from a MVC, she stuck by your side to watch as you ran the entire show.
Dr. Abbot was there too. Amara was in awe. She had studied for years how different kinds of resuscitations worked. The communication each code required from everyone. She had never seen anything like this.
When things started to go badly, the room almost went silent. She watched as you and Dr. Abbot both worked on the patient like one cohesive unit. Neither of you needed words to let the other know what you needed, or where you needed them. It was a fluid procedure, flawless.
Differential Diagnosis:
Telepathically Linked
Hour Three
A nurse had asked if Amara could go grab something from one of the supply closets. It took her a while to find the right one because she was still finding all of the different ins and outs of the Pitt.
Finally, she came across the supply room in question. Before her hand could even turn the handle, the door swung open.
You were there. Cheeks flush, breath heavy, hair tousled. Dr. Abbot was behind you, she saw his neck was pink, and he was in the process of tying his scrub pants.
“Oh! I- uh…” Amara started, too embarrassed to form a complete sentence.
You froze. Jack froze. Amara looked mortified.
Time stood still for one long moment.
Finally, you cleared your throat, “Did you need something?”
“Oh! Yes! Uh…the nurse, she uh…”
You followed her gaze to Jack’s hands, still working on tying his scrubs. You closed your eyes and questioned every moment that had led up to this. You took a deep breath in as you glared at him silently communicating your frustrations.
“What were you looking for?” You asked, trying to refocus Amara’s attention.
She looks at you and shakes herself out of her haze.
“Tape! The tape without the latex…”
“Third shelf back, second from the top.” Jack says coolly.
“Okay,” Amara nodded.
“Okay,” Jack said.
A pause.
“Thanks,” she whispered as she grabbed the tape and scurried away.
Differential Diagnosis:
FWB (Confidence: HIGH)
Hour Six
Six hours into her shift, Amara finally got to use the restroom. It wasn’t unusual that she would be on her feet all day, but nothing could have prepared her for the absolute chaos that was the PTMC’s emergency department. There wasn’t a moment to spare, and as an intern she kept getting pulled in every direction.
When she finally had a moment of peace in the restroom, she gathered her thoughts about the day thus far. Everyone seemed great! Crus was a phenomenal teacher, some of the other students were fun to work with, and Lena seemed to be a great heart at the center of it all.
She still couldn’t work out what the situation was with you and Dr. Abbot though. And that bugged her. She had worked her ass off to get in to med school, she’d be damned if she couldn’t read the room and figure out what the situation was with the two of you by the end of the night.
On her way back from the restroom, she saw the two of you in an empty patient room.
“You forgot to pick her up?” Jack asked.
“I thought you were going to pick her up!” You replied.
“It’s not my weekend! It’s yours!”
“It’s like every weekend is my weekend! You always pick up shifts or volunteer with the SWAT team. How do you think she feels? Huh?”
The wheels in Amara’s head turned. She tried piecing the puzzle together, but it felt like every hour brought forth new evidence that contradicted the last! Now it sounded like a custody battle was happening in room 16. First, she saw you nearly rip Dr. Abbot’s head off, then she saw how flawlessly the two of you worked together, which was promptly followed by what seemed to be a quickie in the supply closet, and now you were arguing about who’s weekend it was for some unknown kid?
Differential Diagnosis:
Divorced
Hour Eight
“Hey are you guys still recruiting?” Lena asks from across the nurse’s station.
You and Jack look up from the chart you’re working on.
“No, we stopped.” You say disappointed.
“Decided it was probably best for us to act normal.” Jack says.
You and Jack exchange a look. One that only comes from years of being bonded together.
Amara’s brows furrow in confusion. What would two doctors be recruiting for? It’s not like they’re the ones who are hiring everyone. There’s managers for that. They couldn’t possibly be part of an MLM, Amara was sure the salary of an attending could let them afford to live comfortably on their own.
As she tried harder and harder to wrack her brain for any more context about the conversation, it hits her. Recruiting. There was really only one option that explained everything she had seen earlier that morning.
The arguing. The silent communication that came from years of knowing each other. The secret supply closet meetings. The custody agreements. The recruiting.
It was so obvious, she wasn’t sure how she didn’t see it all before.
Differential Diagnosis:
Cult Leaders
Hour Eleven
The longer the shift drug on, the more Amara was determined to understand what exactly was going on with you and Dr. Abbot. She didn’t think about the fact that running on only four hours of sleep, sheer determination, and at least 300mg of caffeine was the only thing keeping her going right now. That wouldn’t impair her judgement at all. Right?
She went to grab a granola bar from the breakroom when she saw you and Dr. Abbot in two of the chairs.
“Jack. Give me my jacket.”
Jack looked down at the garment, “This isn’t your jacket.”
“Yes it is. It quite literally has my name on it.”
“It’s our jacket then”
“No.”
“Besides,” Jack starts, “You left it at my house.”
“More like you stole it from me.” You grumble.
“I borrowed it.”
“For eight months? Really?”
“Semantics…”
You huffed.
Amara could practically see the lightbulb that illuminated above her head. Of course! The only way she could possibly believe that either of you could get on each other’s nerves like this, or have access to each other’s houses, or understand each other in the unsettling way it seemed you did, would be to understand that you must be siblings!
She listened in as you continued to bicker.
“Jack.”
“Not happening.”
“Jack, I swear to god…”
“Nope.”
“You are literally fifty years old.” You deadpan.
“All the more reason I should have the Jacket and not you, you spring chicken.”
Differential Diagnosis:
Siblings (DEFINITELY)
Hour Thirteen
The shift ended more hectic than anyone expected. A massive MVC made sure that all hands were on deck until the morning crew was fully ready to take over. Amara had learned a lot in her first day. She just needed confirmation about one final case before going home.
“Uh…Lena? I have a question before I leave.”
Lena looked up from the computer where she was talking to the day shift charge nurse, Dana.
“What’s up, hun?” Dana automatically responded.
“Well I uh, I just was curious about two of the doctors.”
Both nurses' brows furrowed. It was never a good sign when someone started blatantly questioning things on their first day, even if they were ultimately right in the end.
“Go on,” Lena urged.
Amara looked down at her notes before making eye contact again, “I just wanted to know about Dr. Abbot and…” She looked over at you and nodded her head in your direction.
Both Dana and Lena’s eyes tracked toward you.
“What about them?” Dana said with a knowing smirk hiding just under the surface.
“They’re siblings right?” Amara asked.
As Lena took a sip of tea, it immediately sprayed over the keyboard as soon as she comprehended what amara was asking. Dana tried, and failed, to hide the big grin on her face.
The commotion made you look over and walk toward the nurses station.
“Everything okay? Was there something you needed, Amara?” You asked, “You should go home and get some rest. It’s been a long night.”
Dana and Lena both laugh as they look between you.
And in that moment, Amara believed that fate was real. And it had a vendetta against her. Because Jack came up and immediately wrapped his hands around your waist from behind. You instinctively leaned into his touch. He spun you around and pulled you in for a gentle, but knowing kiss.
Amara’s jaw was on the floor. Dana and Lena couldn’t stop laughing. You looked concerned for everyone.
“She thinks you guys are siblings!” Lena howled.
Your eyes widened and cheeks involuntarily turned a shade of pink.
“I didn’t mean-”
You and Jack both break out in laughter now as well.
“I was trying to get a read on you all day and I couldn’t figure it out!” She said.
“Aw, sweetie,” You said kindly, “We’re just married.”
“Yeah,” Jack interrupted, “For too damn long.”
You slapped his shoulder. He smiled down at you.
It all made sense. The fighting, the steamy closet session, the bickering, and silent communication.
No telepathy.
No cult.
No divorce.
Just…marriage. Everything that happened wasn’t pointing to some differential diagnosis Amara had believed to be true at different points in the day. They all pointed to you and Jack, two peas in a pod who apparently were good at confusing the interns.
Dangerous information for the next incoming class.
Andrew pope Cody fluff? The pleaseee
Yes!! I’m in a deep episode of writers block rn but when it passes, pope and Sammy will be the first ones up!
Remarkably Bright Creatures dir. Olivia Newman | 2026
Have you watch ready or not 2 ? I never watch the first movie but knowing shawn hatosy is on the 2nd film is making me want to try it just to see him hihihihihihi😛
I have!! They’re good!
Both movies are pretty violent/gore heavy, so if those are things that make you queasy, I wouldn’t watch. Shawn’s also really good in the second one!
Titus is like the toxic boyfriend you just can’t let go of… he looks sooooo good in it too!
the heart skips a beat
date night gets interesting when robby unknowingly interrupts yours and jack’s dinner with a date of his own—and no one is more nosy than the Abbots.
contents: smut, references to erectile dysfunction (i couldn’t help myself, sorry), being lil judgy and sexy together 🫶, a whole lotta fluff and smut tbh, lighthearted bullying of robby (he deserves it sometimes).
[jack abbot x fem!reader; wc: 6.0k ]
masterlist | other jack abbot fics
The restaurant was crowded for a Tuesday night.
Clinking glasses and consistent chatter, it would have been easy to get lost in the noise but when Jack was in front of you, smiling with those eyes that never seemed to leave you, it was practically impossible to be distracted by anything but him.
“…So Henderson came around looking around for an attending and of course—” Jack gestured to himself proudly and you scoffed over the rim of your glass.
“How humble of you.”
“Of course.” You motioned for him to continue, biting the side of your lip to disguise the effect of his charm.
“He takes me to this guy, maybe thirty years old, who can’t sit down. The reason? He lost a bet and shoved a piece of wood up his asshole.”
“Jesus, Jack!” You shushed. Your eyes darted around to the surrounding tables. “We’re in public!”
“And I’m a doctor,” he replied casually. “Things happen. I can’t keep them bottled inside or I’ll implode. Besides, this was like… a ‘you need to know this kind’ of thing.”
You lifted your glass again to wash the taste of his story out of your mouth. “I think I want to be left out of the ‘need to know’ from now on. Save that discussion for Dr.—”
Just as you felt the wine hit your tongue enough to muffle his therapist’s name, you caught a figure over Jack’s shoulder. Tall and unmistakable, the wine shot out from your lips and back into the glass like a waterfall.
“Holy shit,” you mumbled.
“What?” Jack asked concerned. His hand flashed across the table, clattering with your utensils. “What’s wrong?”
“Robby.” You coughed, “He’s on a date. Here.”
Jack’s neck careened in question as if he didn’t catch your words. You tried not to bring attention to the table, muffling your coughs with a napkin, and Jack took the glass from your hand carefully.
“He didn’t say anything at rounds this morning.”
“I’m not kidding.” You put the napkin back down. “He’s literally right there. Did you tell him we were coming here?”
“No.” Jack shook his head. He spared a fraction of a second to glimpse over his shoulder and clock Robby and his date near the host stand at the front of the restaurant.
Goddamn. Perlah was right. The rumors, which he had always taken with a grain of salt, were true.
“I thought he wasn’t dating anymore.”
Jack shrugged. “Every time he dumps someone he swears it off. But he’s a shit liar and gossip spreads fast whenever he makes eyes at someone.”
Your face curled in aversion of Robby’s romantic life. Just the thought of him… yeah, it made you want to seek out therapy too.
Michael Robinavitch was a serial dater—or, a serial wine, dine, and “leave someone behind” type of guy. Nothing ever worked out for him and you were always glad to give him a list of things to work on when he and Jack watched a Steeler’s game in the garage.
You’d seen it hundreds of times. Well, maybe not hundreds of times but enough for you and Jack to both come to the conclusion that Robby was never going to be one to marry. It wasn’t in his cards because he made stupid decisions and you, more than Jack, felt terrible for the women who fell into Robby’s little trap.
But you were a woman. There were some things that even if Jack tried his absolute best to understand, he wouldn’t be able to.
“So the woman is…?” You asked curiously.
As they stood behind rows of tables and decor, Robby and his date conversed differently than you and Jack did. It was new, a little nervous, and complete with a layer of discomfort anyone with a soul could feel 20 feet away. The uneasiness of their stature didn’t surprise you in the slightest. After a certain age, what people expected out of dating wasn’t the same as if they were young and without commitments. Robby had a million of them, you’re sure the woman did too, and that’s a tricky path to navigate.
“Noelle Hastings,” Jack said flatly before grabbing a piece of bread from the basket at the center. He ripped it in half and handed you one.
You took it without thought. “Who is…? Jack, you gotta be more specific here.”
“She’s a nurse—more often a case manager of insurance cases that fall through. She’s a rain cloud in a suit but works a lot of days so I don’t see her much.”
“High praise,” you droned and he sighed, chewing hard on the bread.
“One of the day shift nurses said it’s been goin’ on for a while.”
“And he didn’t tell you?”
Jack shook his head. The glass of water in front of him was suddenly more interesting than the conversation and you quirked a brow. His morose imitation of disappointment was cute.
Maybe they weren’t really good friends, he thought disappointedly. Was he really going to be stuck with his friends at the VA, some first responders, and the six elderly women who harassed him, sweetly, at the YMCA?
He didn’t even want to think about the women of your once-a-month book club.
He didn’t need to read about hockey players who fucked and World War II nurses who fell in love with soldiers.
You had a soldier right in front of you. You could just live out those fantasies with him instead.
“Are you upset that he didn’t tell you he was dating again?” You asked him and Jack pursed his lips in annoyance.
“No.”
“Yes,” you corrected with a chuckle.
“I think it’s a dick move not to tell your best friend that you’re dating someone.”
“Just like it was a dick move to not tell him about your little blue pill incident?” You pried with a smile and he met your eyes in a flash. Jack’s finger pointed at you accusingly.
“Hey now,” he warned. “I’m drinking water on purpose this time for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to, honey. I’m only joking.”
“That’s unconvincing.”
“Okay, soothsayer.” You grinned, elbows on the table and chin resting against your locked fingers. “You think you know everything? Let’s play a game then.”
“Baby, this was supposed to be a nice dinner.”
“A game won’t ruin it.”
Jack breathed in hard. He loved the dramatics; acting like the world was going to fall to pieces if he wasn’t one hundred percent present in the moment. It was a game, not a blindfolded eating contest where he’d accidentally eat a bug instead of his steak.
“What kind of game?” He settled instead.
“Better strangers.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“That’s not a why.”
“I don’t really want to imagine whatever the fuck Robby is talking about just to get into that woman’s pants,” Jack explained but it was choppy and his eyes bounced around the tables behind you rather than look directly at you.
“You’re so jealous, Mr. Abbot,” you gave a playful accusation. “They’re being sat—should I call them over? Let them join date night instead?”
Jack’s fingers dug into his eyes. “Why are you such a menace today? After all I do for you?” His tone lifted. “And what happened to Doctor? I’ll also option Staff Sergeant or Professor—for your choosing, of course.”
“Jack,” you lamented. “You worked two doubles and two SWAT shifts this week. I’m allowed to be a pest.”
Touché.
He was the one who made the reservation to make up for his absence in the first place. Jack knew, he always did, when he wasn’t being the A+ worthy husband he should be. It was a casualty of his species, or, perhaps just his sanity, but he knew what to do to make you feel wanted when his career shifted things around.
“Fine. We can play.”
“Kinky, Dr. Abbot,” you winked. “Just beware. They’re sat in a booth—” you counted the tables with your eyes “—seven tables away.”
“Well it’s not like I’m gonna scream Robby’s fictional conversation across the room.”
You picked up another piece of bread and repeated what Jack had done before.
“Save the screaming for later. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
“Now who just said that in a public place?” Jack tipped his head to the side, accepting the air kiss you sent hurling in his direction as a result.
“You know it’s true.”
“Yeah,” he murmured lowly. Jack’s eyes crinkled at their sides, appreciating the light he’s caught you in at the moment.
Robby’s presence couldn’t ruin date night. It was an intrusion into your bubble, sure, but Jack would swim through a million Robby’s to reach your shore and he would play a thousand silly games with you to hear you laugh. If you wanted to make shit up about Robby and Noelle? Fuck it. He did too.
“So…” you tapped your fingers on the table. “What do you think they did before they got here?”
Jack sipped on his water in consideration. “I think Robby worked until 7 but she got off a little earlier or didn’t work today. He showered at work, brought his stupid sweater with him, and picked her up on the way here.”
“Solid choice.”
“How do you think they met?” He asked you.
“Work, obviously,” you said, matter-of-fact.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Jack snickered. “I meant… romantically.”
“I think someone set them up on a blind date. Maybe someone from her side of the hospital—not someone from the ED.”
Jack nodded and caught the server returning to your table with your dinners in hand. Over Jack’s shoulder, you watched the back of Robby’s head turn to their own server and order drinks.
You didn’t think for a second that your constant glancing in their direction would be an issue.
With thanks, the server left you both to eat but the questions kept going.
“Alright.” You halved the portion of hericots verts on your plate and scooped them onto Jack’s one-note plate. “Why do you think they’re at this same restaurant, right here, right now?”
Jack ate one of the beans first. “Destiny.”
“That’s a lame answer.”
“I thought it was transcendent and that’s your opinion.”
“You really think it’s destiny? To be at the same place as his very annoying, very married, friends?”
“He might have a problem with himself getting married but I don’t think he hates hanging out with us. It’s like a little family of sorts.”
“Ah yes,” you awed. “The child I never wanted to have: Michael Robinavitch.”
“I don’t know,” Jack replied truthfully this time. “It’s a pretty popular place and not far from our work so I think it was probably out of convenience. Do you think he’s in love with her?”
You laughed, audibly, and not quietly. Eyes flicking back to the booth and accidentally catching Noelle’s gaze at the same time.
It didn’t change your answer.
“Fuck no.”
“I agree,” Jack smiled. “Fuck no.”
“But I’ll give him a chance,” you admitted, sipping on your drink. “He deserves to be happy with someone… even if it’s hard to imagine.”
Jack cut a piece of his steak and held his fork out to you. “What do you think they’re talking about?”
“Work.” You eyed the piece of meat to see if it was cooked enough but you should have known Jack would have cut up his entire dish to find the one piece you’d eat.
“Boring,” Jack heckled.
“Were you not talking about a piece of wood up someone’s—” you motioned with your fist “—you know?”
“That’s different.”
Your eyes narrowed in a challenge. “Not really, honey. It’s basically the exact same thing.”
“Well it’s different because we’re married. And when you’re married, you can talk about boring stuff.”
Now your eyes rolled. Jack smirked, cutting up another piece for himself.
“I wish I knew that when you talked about MREs.”
“You wound me,” Jack quipped. He popped the steak into his mouth and chewed when you came back with:
“No—an IED did that for me.”
He just about choked.
“Careful,” you warned him casually. The light glint in your eye didn’t disappear. “You can’t die on me yet. We have plans later.”
“What the fuck happened to the game?” He asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Why am I catching these strays, baby?”
“Catching strays? Did you learn that from the kids at your work?”
“They’re like twenty-two,” Jack corrected. “And yeah, I did. I think I used it correctly.”
“Mhm,” you hummed and finished off your wine. “What do I think they’re talking about? My answer hasn’t changed: work.”
“Still boring.”
“Agreed.” You nodded.
A quiet lull met the table as the food became more important. For all the nights you had to eat alone, having Jack present was a gift enough. He silently invaded your space. Filling every nook until shapes of him left indents in places he hadn’t existed before—at the kitchen table, on the couch, a second toothbrush in the holder, and a dip on his side of the bed.
As you ate, your gazes would meet across the table for brief moments in time.
No one ever looked at you like Jack did. Whatever he was feeling, you saw it in the curve of his eyes. The lines, as they stretched in pleasure and listened to you animatedly talk about anything, grew in adoration the longer you were together.
You imagined by the time you are old and the wrinkles have overtaken what you looked like in the present, Jack would still see you in the same light.
And not everyone is that lucky.
Jack cleared his throat and reached out his left hand onto the table top. You grabbed it as his thumb ran back and forth over your knuckles.
“Sorry about picking up the extra shifts.”
Two doubles. Two SWAT shifts in one week.
“Sometimes I don’t realize that I’m even doing it,” he admitted.
“I just want my husband home, Jack,” you squeezed his hand. “I think you need to start putting your schedule on the fridge.”
“Maybe… do you think Robby ever apologizes for not being a great… partner?”
“Oh hell no,” you amused. “He’s never apologized for anything in his life.”
“No he has not.” Jack agreed with a grin. “But really, sweetheart. I’m sorry about that.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you, you know that?”
“I think you’ve told me once or twice.”
“Possibly a few times more.”
“Yeah,” he hummed. “I love you too.”
Seven tables away, Noelle Hastings was trying not to overthink on her fourth date with Robby.
Her hands folded over her napkin thrice in two minutes and as they waited for their beverages, she couldn’t help but feel the nerves of dating begin to catch up to her. Robby had been nothing but a gem—different from what she had heard and seen around PTMC and unexpected, based on the looks she’d been getting the last few weeks whenever she stepped foot into the ED.
Noelle took in the restaurant. She observed the people in the room to calm herself down—people watching, it was easy. She could imagine their lives and not focus so heavily on her own before she spiraled completely.
There was a gaggle of friends in a booth on the opposite side of the room chatting animatedly; an elderly pair of sisters catching up at a table in the center of the room, and then, a pair she couldn’t stop looking at.
The first thing she noticed was the smile on the woman’s face. Noelle was never the most confident in her abilities to read exactly what people wanted, but she knew what it was like to be in love and to feel it in every ounce of your body. She knew the ways in which a smile could stretch across a face, blurring your vision during fits of laughter. Noelle knew when a woman leaned across a table to take the hand of her lover’s in hers—only to press a kiss into his palm and bring it back down—was something only those truly at peace with their adoration did.
And she couldn’t stop staring.
The ring on the woman’s finger glinted every time she talked. Occasionally, also with a knife waving around unknowingly—to which the partner (the assumed husband) would try very hard to make her put down. Noelle glanced down at her own barren finger and wondered if that would ever be her fate if she kept chasing men like Robby.
“You alright?” Robby asked her after fifteen minutes of spotty conversation.
Noelle nodded, straining a wry smile. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”
Robby accepted the excuse. “Shifts have been long lately?”
“Very. It doesn’t make for great conversation though. I’d rather not go over the mountains of Medicare paperwork sitting on my desk right now.”
“I don’t blame you.” Robby shook his head, picking up his glass and holding it out to her to toast.
“To a week done and a… weekend free of distractions.”
Their glasses clinked softly in the space around them. As Noelle drank, her eyes strayed from Robby again and landed back to the table of the married pair but as she looked, the woman caught her eye and lost it in an instant.
“You know,” Robby started. “I’m not really believing you when you said everything was fine.”
“It is. I just—nothing. It’s fine. Truly, it is.”
“Then why do you keep looking everywhere else but at me?”
Noelle looked at the table again, catching the woman’s sight another time before Robby followed the trail. Like a hound on a scent, he turned around, arm perched on the back of his booth seat, and fell on the table of Noelle’s attention.
“Oh, fuck.”
Noelle’s face dropped. “Do you know her?”
Robby turned back around and ran a hand over his beard. His head wobbled from side to side before deciding on the easiest way to answer.
“Yes, I know her,” he said slowly.
“Okay,” she nodded just as deliberately. “And is this like an… ex-girlfriend situation or…”
“Oh no,” Robby blurted. “Hell no. I would never—she’s,” he laughed “I would be six feet under if I even had an inkling of a thought about her.”
“Well she keeps looking over here, so.”
Robby glanced back over at you and Jack.
“See the man she’s with?” Noelle acknowledged it. “That’s her husband—Dr. Abbot, from the night shift.”
“Oh,” Noelle said. “The Abbots, then.”
“Mhm. And from where they’re sitting, they’re probably just as confused.”
“Confused about what?”
“You see, Jack there, he’s a friend. A good friend. Maybe my best friend but I don’t know… you know I don’t have a ton of those. I told him that I wasn’t looking for anyone right now because I didn’t want him to—”
“Know about us?” She finished for him.
Robby agreed with a bob. “Yep.” He popped the ‘P’ and drew his finger around the lip of his scotch glass.
“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t told anyone about us either.” It did make him feel better.
“Do you mind if I?” Robby gestured with his thumb to your direction.
“Are you going to ask them to join our dinner?” Noelle asked jokingly. Robby’s mouth quirked but he ignored it because of course not. The last fucking thing he wanted was for you and Jack to start interrogating him about his love life.
He had married friends. He had married co-workers. But you and Jack? Together? It was like he was handling a live grenade and if it went off, half of it was for the amusement of you both and the other was out of spite for his… lackluster history.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Shit, Jack,” you sputtered. “I think Robby saw me.”
Jack put his fork down and rose his eyebrows. “You weren’t being very subtle, baby. Every five seconds you’re looking over there.”
“I was trying to be,” you explained.
“Let me just—”
From your peripheral, Robby slid out of the booth and straightened out his sweater before pivoting on his feet and walking toward your direction.
“—he’s coming over here.” You gave Jack a giant smile. “Do I have anything in my teeth? Jack.” He wasn’t looking fast enough. “Teeth?”
Jack squinted, barely able to see a speck of anything because of the lighting—he had to pull out his readers to even read the menu. “No you’re fine.”
“Robby?” You feigned innocence, dazzlingly him with a toothy grin. “What a small world.”
“Hey!” Jack played it off too. Fairly well, you thought. He could have been an actor. “What are you doin’ here?”
Robby’s eyes bounced between you and Jack. He thought it was slightly hilarious how, even though he’d caught you staring, that the niceties and horror-like smiles the two of you were giving were cute.
“Oh you know,” he started, “just on a date.”
“Really?” You gasped, suddenly interested and Jack kicked you under the table with his bionic foot. “You’re dating again?”
Robby shrugged. “Here and there.”
“Well good for you. Really.”
“I came over here because—” he cleared his throat and dipped his head as he stepped closer to the table, “—you’re being really fucking weird to my date.”
You scoffed, seeking out Jack who sat back against his chair casually. Your eyes shrunk in distrust that he was going to make you fend for yourself.
“Please. I was just shocked to see you, that’s all.”
“And you, Jack?” Robby asked.
“I didn’t even know you were here,” Jack said and you kissed your teeth.
“Really?” Robby laughed. “That’s funny.”
“A small world after all.”
“Alright, alright.” Robby didn’t believe either of you. You two were also shitty liars. “Actually, Jack, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something anyway. I heard it a few months ago and I just never got around to it.”
Jack glimpsed at you in caution.
“Yeah, brother, what’s up?”
Robby glanced at you, quirking his head to decide whether or not it was worth it. “You know what… nevermind.”
“You sure?” Jack asked with a critical stare.
Robby thought on the rumors he’s heard and the uncontrollable embarrassment that would follow Jack. The man would be mortified to have those words, the idea of him exposed for the sake of Robby’s pettiness.
“It’s nothin’ that can’t wait until next shift.”
“That’s in a few days.”
“Still,” Robby said. “It can wait.”
“So a co-worker?” You asked Robby not meaning to be overly judgmental. “Again.”
“And you’d rather see me with one of your reading friends, huh?” Robby observed dryly.
“Not sure.” You placed your napkin onto the table beside your finished meal. “I just think that someone outside of the field might give you peace of mind.”
“Well, maybe if you met her, your perspective might change.”
Robby looked back over his shoulder at Noelle and gave her a tight smile. Jack shook his head, disbelief washing over him at Robby’s assumption that this one will stick.
“You gonna let her eat by herself or do you wanna pull up a chair?” Jack wondered aloud.
“I just want to make sure that our… business won’t be intruded upon.”
“Business?” You couldn’t help the laugh that came out. “Shit, Robby. Do not call her ‘business’ ever. You’ll never get her to come out with you again.”
“And how did Jack get you to go out with him more than once, let alone marry him?”
Now he was just being petty.
“Have you seen him?” You feigned trivial spite. “He could be mute and still have more charisma than you.”
“I think we see Jack in two different lights.”
“Jack is right here,” Jack spoke up. “Please include said man in your conversations. And I bagged her, she didn’t bag me, brother. A good man knows that.”
Jack sent a wink tumbling into your direction and you felt your cheeks warm.
“You two are… something.”
“We’ll leave you alone,” you told Robby. “We’re almost done here anyway.”
“Thank you,” Robby said half-heartedly.
“Now go back to her. She’s probably more bored than she was before,” Jack waved him off.
Robby retreated back to his table and Noelle gave him a coy face as they settled back into their date and you and Jack made amends with the end of half of yours.
“And that’s why we don’t play games at dinner,” Jack followed Robby’s absence with.
“Oh, please,” you mourned with a flair. “Don’t act like you didn’t like getting to knock him down a peg.”
“I’d much rather—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, Dr. Abbot.” You warned.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Maybe it’s time to leave, huh?” You pushed your plate further away from the edge. “Move on to something…new.”
“Yeah?” Jack said wisely. “Got any ideas?”
“A few.”
He dug into the pocket of his dinner jacket and flipped open his wallet before the check had been printed. Jack’s mind began to wander to a million different places, impatient to make it to the car and speed home for the sake of his own wants.
“What if we just dine and dashed?” He asked seriously.
“And be banned here forever? I can already see the headline: local veteran flees establishment for sex.”
“They don’t know it’s ‘for sex,’ though.”
Your eyebrows lifted in incredulity. “Sure, Jack. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“I think we will both sleep very well.”
“Is that a challenge?” You asked him, leaning forward on your elbows.
Absentmindedly, Jack rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt and your eyes locked onto his arms immediately. Anyone else there, Robby and his date, be dammed. What the fuck were you thinking? A game to guess whatever Robby was talking about when you had a fucking feast of a husband right in front of you?
Dipshit. You scolded yourself the more time he took rolling the fabric over each crease.
Jack nodded lightly. His head barely moved.
“I’ll have you out like a light by ten.”
You short circuited for a second. A glitch in your matrix running scattered, barely coherent thoughts by your brain.
“Where the hell is our server?”
It had taken Jack a long time to love his body after he came home. Though it had been many years and he’d come to accept that his memory of self would never be the same, when he was naked beside you, there was nothing to protect him from his thoughts.
And after the many attempts at trying the little blue pill? He performed sporadically and each time was a shot in his armor already scuffed with damage.
Yet you held his face in your hands so gingerly that it paved over the cracks in his facade. It helped build him up, strengthening his conviction that he was still worthy to be the man who pleased you and was able to satisfy you in the end.
A softness in your countenance made the muscles in his back contract. You felt him tense beneath your fingertips, the sides of his torso drawing rigid. You loved so deeply. It poured from every ounce of you but most in the way you looked at Jack. He witnessed you in vulnerability; the sheen of sweat on your forehead a testament to it. Your eyes flicked down between your bodies and he grunted as your reflex made your walls constrict around him.
Your breath hitched. Hands sliding from the sides of Jack’s face to his neck, pulling him in closer until one inch more would contort your view. His gaze turned hooded. The side of his mouth pulled, lines forming as he thought about you and nothing but you.
Jack’s pace picked up, challenging himself and his position. Leg be dammed—he’d deal with the soreness later. He pressed his thumb in the spot behind your ear; the joint of your jaw moving it as your mouth fell open softly, a whine he hadn’t heard in awhile meeting the audible thwop of his cock thrusting into you. It was an obscenity he’d welcome time and again so long as it meant he could feel you like this, have you between his hands, and loving him all at once.
“Shit,” you let out a quiet, warm laugh that tickled his face. “Holy shit, Jack.”
He kissed the side of your mouth and let his lips linger there.
Your chest blossomed with tenderness that nearly hurt. You loved him. You loved the curls on his head and the way his heart burned with empathy; his drive to keep moving forward amidst nights where his memories consumed every bone in his body. Jack was unyielding in his support of you and God, you could feel it in the way he moved.
“Keep breathing, love,” he whispered.
A hand fell down to grasp his forearm hovering above your chest. Small indents of crescent shaped moons met his graying hairs and defined veins before smoothing out. Your hand was damp with toil, seeking to mark him with remnants of you he’d never want to wash away.
His voice was honeyed around words of soft reassurances. Jack’s eyes rarely left yours when so vulnerable. Even when your body was arching into his, chasing after a high only he could help you reach, he watched you and your lips and your sighs.
His teeth pulled back on his bottom lip as he drank you in. And before he even realized he had let go, your hand was splayed against his jaw, thumb gliding over the same lip.
Jack leaned forward, pushing his mouth against yours. You opened up for him without him needing to ask. His tongue slipped against yours, pulling a sound from you that the heavens created just for his ears. Jack took the your hand resting against his face and guided it back to the pillow above your head. His fingers slotted between yours as he slowed down his hips, rocking his cock into you as deeply as it could go.
“Oh fuck,” you careened. Eyes fluttering and rolling with your head tipped back against the pillow.
Jack’s free hand slinked from your head to between your breasts to your clit where it settled with pressure. He bobbed his head at you, urging you to continue down that path.
“Baby,” he said lilted. “I got you. I got you.”
“Ja—” you started but he nodded as though he knew what you were going to say. His fingers moved fast and rough with the help of the lube that left its residue around you.
“You’ve got me too, yeah?” Jack said lowly and it vibrated within your bones.
“Of course,” you exhaled.
Jack’s muscles trembled in an effort to hold himself back because he knew you weren’t there yet. He felt your toes curl in as they brushed the back of his legs. Your left leg dug into the mattress behind the clean line of what existed before and the other into his thick calf.
His voice continued barely above a whisper. “God, I fucking love you. So much. I love you so fucking much.”
Maybe it was the tone, or combination of his hands and his unrelenting pace but you groaned, a cry of appreciation, straight into Jack’s heart.
“You almost there, baby?” He begged. “I’m there. I’m there. I wanna feel you. I’m gonna wait for you.”
You couldn’t remember the last time you finished together. Usually it was half and half. Jack would get you off, then you’d fuck and he’d come later. Swap it a million different ways but it still didn’t happen together frequently. Except it had been days. Long, tiring days of wishing to be beside one another and finally you were as close as you possibly could be.
And Jack pleaded for you.
He coaxed an orgasm from your body that had been dormant for days. Your shoulders trembled, quivering when you felt the delicate pulsing of his own fill you as his hand in yours nearly crushed the feeling left in it. His fingers removed themselves from your clit and grasped your hip tightly.
Jack’s mouth captured yours immediately.
You both chased the electricity that sparked on all nerves. There was no time to allow breaths to catch up. Every second that surpassed as the high faded into a tired relief lingered in a gentle preserve of desire.
You bit down gently on his lip and tugged. Jack’s hand loosened its grip on yours but didn’t let go completely.
His eyes stayed closed.
He listened to you recover and felt himself soften against the spasms you had no power over. There was no rush to clean up, to change the sheets, or lay down completely. Jack held you close and reminded himself that his time outside of your union could be reduced for the sake of these moments.
Your hands ran up his back and around his shoulders, pulling him closer. They burrowed into the back of his head and into his hair damp with sweat.
“I’m so proud of you,” you sighed.
For all that he’s done, all that he’s given, and whatever might come next. A small piece of him rewarded himself on not needing his support in the back of the medicine cabinet for the first time in months—a strange, selfish reason to be proud of himself. But you were proud.
And he prided himself in that.
“Come on.” He rubbed his thumb into your hip. You shook your head, placing your lips to his again.
“I don’t wanna,” you murmured against his mouth. “Five more minutes.”
“If we shower, you can wash my hair,” Jack suggested as though it would move you—it didn’t. Nevertheless, he still kissed you back.
“Lay with me, Jack.”
Five minutes turned into ten… then you got to wash his hair.
And you were asleep by 10:05, just like he promised.
Four days later, Robby arrived in the ED with a newfound pep in his step. Everyday was unpredictable for him lately and the good days were far and few between, so, he took an inch and made it last a mile when the satisfaction rattled through his soul.
Jack was already talking to Dana at a computer about a patient in South 17 when Robby joined them, setting his bag down on the floor where Jack’s was already packed and ready to go.
“Did I miss hand offs already?” Robby asked both of them.
“Jack asked me to come in early so he could get a jump start home,” Dana detailed and Jack logged out.
“I’ve got places to be, people to see,” Jack said causally. Robby scoffed, eyes looking around the hub at his staff.
“You mean your wife.”
Jack nodded once. “And if I get out of here in—” he glanced down at his watch “—five minutes I can catch her before she gets out of bed.”
“Isn’t that sweet,” Dana cooed. “Take notes, Robinavitch. You might need it someday.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Robby put his glasses on, dipping them low on his nose. “Abbot might not have the best advice.”
Jack saddled his bag onto his shoulder. “Did the date not go well?” His brows lifted in no apology. “It was quite a fun thing to experience, if I do say so myself.”
Robby laughed an “uh oh” as though he were being challenged.
“Well, I’d hate to be on the other side of what dates look like.”
Jack narrowed his eyes, gazing at his friend with speculation before walking out of the hub. Dana backed off as Princess came snooping with an air of gossip waiting to be unleashed.
Robby gave Jack a few steps head start before jogging up to catch him.
“It actually went very well, if you care,” Robby said quietly. “We’re getting drinks after work tonight.”
Jack stopped. He looked at Robby’s face and knew in an instant that he was being honest. He did like Noelle—even if he had a strange way of showing it.
“Good for you, brother.” Jack slapped a hand on his back. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks…” Robby tilted his head. “Is she?”
“Is she what?” Jack asked. “Who?”
“Is your wife happy?”
Jack’s enjoyment broke. “What?”
“Oh, sorry,” Robby chuckled. He shook off an imaginary thought. “I was gonna talk to you about this, remember? I heard from someone a few months back that there was a little… problem? An age related one?”
“An—“ Jack paused, lightly offended. “What the fuck are you on about?”
“I don’t know… just this like… little blue pill problem?”
God. Jack’s face lit on fire. Who the fuck blabbed?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Who the hell talked? Who told the only person that Jack specifically wished never knew about his Viagra problem?”
“No?” Robby’s mouth quirked into an amused frown. “Okay, so nothing’s wrong in that department?”
“N-no.” Jack could have slapped himself for the stutter. “But it’s not fucking age related, Robinavitch. And you’re older than me, fucker. So, don’t even go there.”
“I’ve never had a problem.” Robby shrugged and Jack began walking away before anymore questions could be asked.
“At least I’m married!”
“See ya, Abbot!” Robby bid easily as Jack threw up his middle finger. “Mind your own business next time!”
“Fuck off, Robby!”
And the ambulance bay doors closed behind him with a swish.
a/n: jack has such vibes that i simply can’t resist him. he’s an itch we can’t (don’t want to) scratch.
reblogs, comments, and likes keep writers writing. thank you for reading! plus reblogging is like… super cool tbh
and if you’re looking for a little more jack abbot erectile dysfunction lore that can totally be tied in here, check out fic: i got a bad desire
this is the first fandom where I’m literally reading my own fics for fun
I love this new era of reader me
nothing says being a writer like planning out 15 fics, drafting some, and then hitting writers block again
Ain’t got nothing appropriate to say, lord forgive me..👀
i love researching for fics because I spend hours reading other people’s interpretations of characters, literally internalize all knowledge about them, rewatch episodes like mad, and then thirst over gifs.
pretty much heaven
ᴀᴘʀɪʟ fic recs
💌 my personal faves that I read this month + shameless self promo :) please remember to give some love to the writers (that means comments and reblogs, not just likes) 💌
includes... BRENDON PARK JACK ABBOT MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH RABBOT CLARK KENT LOGAN HOWLETT DEAN WINCHESTER BUCKY BARNES
⟢ Brendon Park 𓂁 Brendon Park with an ex-wife that he hasn’t gotten over at all by @basiccortez Daddy Shark by @/basiccortez Code: Baby Shark. by @mareenaauditore Shark's wife makes an ER visit by @totallynotashieldagent intimating but soft shark by @titus-danforth YOU OWE HER AN APOLOGY by @/deactivated (reidscardigans) smutty drabble by @blnondex pregnant!reader by @justalittlepitt Traumapatientwife!reader by @gingerhouseplant drunk hookup drabble by @starlord-s blurb by @f1amejob wild night by @midnightprentiss
⟢ Jack Abbot ⚕ drabble by @weinthepitt The Great War by @dearwalker Baby Fever by @morguesiren sleepy girl by @carbonfiction Thinking about Jack Abbot who excels in aftercare by @/carbonfiction taste back by @abbotly tiktok drabble by @zivistardust when the age gap isn't just hot but also angst-inducing by @richeeduvie switcharoo by @/richeeduvie can't pay the rent drabble by @littlebatx old man smut by @/littlebatx shortcake!reader by @strwbryshortcakeprincess i got a bad desire by @inknopewetrust Baby-Shark by @/lovebugism jack with a chronically online younger!reader by @jackabbotsgf Dom!Jack by @buckygasm bsf&bf jack by @/buckygasm Thinking about Jack abbot seeing you cry after sex by @burgundysnow eater jack by @dirtygir1 i care about her, too by @annsfics accidental sugar daddy jack. by @margottenenbaum222 prone bone by @unmarlou property of by @imaginesofwonder stubborn by @batslovebite Hidden bruises by @shadeofpeach Take me home by @/shadesofpeach jack checking your vitals after sex… by @misspossexxive daddy!jack by @nastydogpublishingco Salt and Pepper by @asawanitrinitysantos jack “i’ll pay for it” abbot by @loves-alibi
⟢ Rabbot ❤︎ Jack talking you through it when Robby's balls deep in your pussy by @buckygasm You are Jack and Robby's midlife crisis by @/loves-alibi We're here now by @/annsfics
⟢ Michael Robinavitch 𑣲 not clingy by @lazysoulwriter savior complex by @lovebugism several unrelated observations about a man named justin by @mariasont toxic!husband!robby by @/loves-alibi robby in love by @/starlord-s robby's wife by @/starlord-s PreK teacher girlfriend by @se7entyrell
⟢ Clark Kent ⎚-⎚ Everything that is important by @citrusxbees Painted Pretty by @l3nore crying during sex by @little-miss-dilf-lover
⟢ Logan Howlett ⦮ ⦯ drabble by @lostinlovingrevery
⟢ Dean Winchester ⛧⃝ Wherever you fit by @wendichester
⟢ Bucky Barnes ✪ mob!Bucky by @buckyscaptain KINDA LIKE SUNSHINE by @/buckyscaptain
NEW IN DREAM'S LIBRARY @barnesdreamcatcher
⟢ Clark comes to your rescue ⟢ Clark comforts you when you feel odd ⟢ camgirl!reader drabble (joel miller) ⟢ fuzzy surprise (jack abbot) ⟢ engagement and marriage (jack abbot) ⟢ There's only me and you (jack abbot)
dream yapping: um. what the heck, i read sooo much??? can you tell that uni started again and i'm heavily procrastinating? anyway, a lotta goodies this month. jack abbot currently occupies my brain the way the us occupied germany after ww2. i'm so down bad, it's embarrassing. highlight of the month was definitely the quinn episodes. i've listen to them an unhealthy amount of times.
Anyway. This is your monthly reminder to reblog the stuff that you read, pleaseee :)
💌 fanfic writing is slowly dying and it's because no one reblogs anymore. it doesn't take that much time to give just a little bit of feedback/love (a nice gif, a keyboard smash, your favourite line in italics, etc). please remember that writers are real people who take time out of their day to produce content that you consume without having to pay for it. to reblog means to kiss the writer's forehead. 💌
How do you think Jack feels about his woman having tattoos? 🙂↕️🤭(I’m heavily tattooed so that’s why I ask) Love your fics btw 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
OoO I feel like he probably knows a lot of people with them (co workers, people from his service) so he’d totally be cool about it
and I think if his lady had a few little antidotes that were references to her & jack or just himself, he’d feel so loved by it.
And thank you so much!! 🩷🩷
sammy deserved a cheating storyline where he won something out of it
tammi did not deserve him
— 𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝖿𝗍. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗮
now that we’re in the ✨jack abbot off season✨ maybe I’ll write for sh’s other characters?
pope cody, anyone? sammy bryant?
Deserved to be your most liked fics🙌
That fic is truly one of if not best Jack Abbot fics i've ever read. Jack's and reader conversation with one and another is so smooth and the others cameos as well put the cherry on top of a very good 10/10 cake.
You write so damn well, Im sure myself and the others are so happy and excited to see whatever you write💞
Thank you so much!!
Writing for Jack over the last couple weeks has been a highlight of my writing recently, and I can’t wait to keep doing so!
i got a bad desire
sex had never been a problem for jack—until now.
contents: smut! twitter was asking for an erectile dysfunction fic so i started drafting and well, this might have been my calling. ED, a little blue pill, drug talk (jack’s on depression meds), some wine consumption, a whole host of second-hand embarrassment for jack, world’s best wife in the reader, and of course ED wasn’t enough… loosely inspired by 02x02.
[jack abbot x fem!reader. wc: 7.2k ]
masterlist | other jack abbot fics
He was a doctor—of course he read the side effects of his pills. Right?
Right?
God. Jack could barely think for himself let alone think what the fuck was on the prescription label. He especially couldn’t think straight when you were on top of him, fingers carding through his curls, and your chest pressed against his own.
Everything would be fine. Everything is fine.
It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him and when Jack Abbot’s internal alarm bells went off, anyone in a ten mile radius could hear them. All it took was one look, a not fully present kiss, and you knew something was amiss.
“Jack?” You murmured softly in his ear. He loved the feel of your breath; the warmth your body brought to his.
He swallowed hard. His jaw tensed as his chest shuddered in immediate nerves and your hands moved to cradle his face instead. Jack’s eyes avoided you like the plague, sticking to a spot over your shoulder in the direction of the tv.
“Yeah?” He barely whispered.
“Are you okay?”
Oh, goddamnit. Shit.
Everything was really not fucking fine.
Jack hated when his shifts never lined up with your schedule. Summer’s were easier, so were those few breaks you’d get during the year, but most weeks it felt like you were ships passing in the night.
You were his wife, not a “sometimes companion” depending on the day. So, when he had off, there was nothing he loved more than being at your side. Watching mindless television, going to the grocery store, listening to you complain about your job, and everything in between. He loved it. Jack never thought that chance would come again and when it did, he promised himself that the time he gave to you would be nothing short of devotion.
And, when the time to “love” became a little more intimate, Jack gave you everything you could ask for. You’d never had a more generous lover, in all sense of the word.
He cared so deeply about you that he was too easily forgetful about his own needs. Jack never liked when you tried to make it all about him—he’d had enough attention in the last twenty years to last him a lifetime in solitude. In return, Jack’s altar was beside you, on top of you, under you, and anywhere near you.
Therefore, when he sacrificed his time away from you to save the lives of strangers, it was only right for him to recompense through the most natural form of intimacy.
But it had been five days. Five days of back to back night shifts where he left you sleeping in bed and you left him walking out the door with your work bag in hand. There had been a light in the distance, Saturday, when his schedule finally broke and you were both off to enjoy each other’s company.
He cooked, you cleaned, and then you’d both retired to the sofa where your feet landed in his lap and a movie you’d seen a thousand times played quietly as days-long lodged conversations started to flow.
Then, you shuffled into his lap and Jack knew something was wrong before even started.
His lips met yours and you melted. You’d been so quick to fall into him, wrapping your arms around him, and pressing down into his lap that it felt needy. Tilting his head back, your fingers pulled at his curls to open him up to you. His kiss deepened and you couldn’t fight the smile on your face.
You laughed, breaking apart.
“What?” Jack asked incredulously. His eyes darted between yours as your hand brushed back his hair.
“Nothing.” You shook your head. “I just love you.”
Jack’s hands ran up and down your sides gently. “Well now it’s cheesy if I say it back.”
“No.” Your nose bumped into his. “You could never make it cheesy.”
“I’m pretty sure I could,” Jack admitted with a peck. He let his hands wander down your sides, feeling the skin of your ass before smoothing down your legs and holding them down on himself. “I love you.”
“How much?”
“Eh. ” He shrugged causing you leaned back and swat at his chest immediately before pressing into his pecs with your palms.
“Cruel,” you gasped. “You’re just evil.”
“I don’t know about that.” He removed his hands from you and placed his on top of yours. “But I don’t think a measurement exists for how much I really do.”
Not cruel. Just utterly adoring beyond comprehension.
You leaned in, kissing him again and again and each one ended longer than the last. He brought your hands back to his hair and encouraged a rougher grip. Jack’s tongue was the first to ask for silent permission to which you welcomed it with your own.
You couldn’t remember the last time you made out like teenagers on the couch.
And for ten minutes, you did only that.
Lips swollen and blood rushing in your body, there was something exhilarating about having waited so long to have sex this week. Five days wasn’t a world record for either of you but it felt like a necessary end to it.
Only you were expecting to feel something after ten minutes.
One of your hands slipped from his shoulders and entered the few inches of space between your bodies to grope him above his sweats. You had felt that simply being on top wasn’t enough—you would have felt his erection if you did—but this was the second time in three weeks that grinding on him didn’t work in getting him aroused.
Jack’s attention broke away from your lips and to your neck. His stubble grazed your skin with a roughness you’d only accept from his face. He lathered and sucked, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you feel his desire through his lips.
As you met his groin, you felt the outline of his cock still limp between his spread legs. Gently trailing to the head, you molded your hand around it and rubbed to the base. Jack’s forehead fell to your shoulder and you couldn’t help but be satisfied, leaning your own into him.
Jack. Your Jack.
Your hand never stopped going. Slowly, you felt the minutes pass and you put more pressure in your grip and the air around Jack began to change. His kisses stopped, your fingers intertwined with his curls at the base of his head weren’t met with the same sighs, and his own hands loosened their grasp.
On the inside, Jack was having an existential crisis.
He knew it was going to happen.
It was the same goddamn thing from three weeks ago and he’d wrote it off as some kind of fluke. He was tired. He’d worn himself thin from a bad night and three weeks ago, sex wasn’t in the cards he’d been dealt. But now? Again?
Jack dug his forehead further into your shoulder to think—which was practically impossible for him to do in this state. Yet he tried. He thought back on any changes to his body and any signs he might have missed but the only possibilities he could think about were his age and his meds.
If it was his age, he was just about ready to croak off now. 50. Jack was only 50 fucking years old and he never imagined what the hell life would be like with erectile dysfunction at this age. He’d take it to his grave, he swore to God, but there was one other problem that he just couldn’t shake.
Those meds.
A switch from his therapist a few appointments ago to Zoloft, which was what he was supposed to be taking for years. But just like good medicine, sometimes finding the right balance was hard and it took time.
His therapist had warned him, right?
He was a doctor—of course he read the side effects of his pills. Right?
Right?
God. Jack could barely think for himself let alone think what the fuck was on the prescription label. He especially couldn’t think straight when you were on top of him, fingers carding through his curls and your chest pressed against his own.
Everything would be fine. Everything is fine.
It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him and when Jack Abbot’s internal alarm bells went off, anyone in a ten mile radius could hear them. All it took was one look, a not fully present kiss, and you knew something was amiss.
“Jack?” You murmured softly in his ear. He loved the feel of your breath; the warmth your body brought to his.
He swallowed hard. His jaw tensed as his chest shuddered in immediate nerves and your hands moved to cradle his face instead. Jack’s eyes avoided you like the plague, sticking to a spot over your shoulder in the direction of the tv.
“Yeah?” He barely whispered.
“Are you okay?”
Oh, goddamnit. Shit.
Everything was really not fucking fine.
He was falling apart. Jack couldn’t even look you in the eye because now he couldn’t have sex with his beautiful fucking wife and the world was basically ending.
“Yeah,” he barely squeaked out.
You saw through him and he could feel the pity in the way your thumbs rubbed softly on his cheeks.
“I think I need to use the bathroom,” he blurted out and discarded you to the side of the couch.
In his first attempt to stand, Jack struggled to gain momentum off the couch and the redness of embarrassment from another one of his problems inched up the back of his neck like a rash.
Holy shit, he thought. This is the worst day of my life.
He tried harder the second time to avoid your helping hands and rushed off to the bedroom, shutting the door so hard it reverberated throughout the house. Beelining for the sink, Jack’s hands strained the edges of it until his knuckles were white.
“What the fuck!” He scolded himself in a brash whisper. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
This wasn’t happening to him. This was all a dream. A really, god awful, terrible, no good dream that would be over in a matter of minutes. He’d wake up, sun shining, and never deal with this again.
He slapped a hand across his face. It was not a fucking dream.
“Holy shit,” Jack’s words were now nothing but saddened, pathetic whimpering. “This is not fucking happening to me right now.”
From outside the door, you leaned against the frame and let him wallow. Those little blue pills in the back of the cabinet had been pushed away out of spite and this time, you knew he just needed to face the reality of his situation. But that reality was hard to fathom after a lifetime of one activity never having been a problem. He couldn’t have just this one thing?
Jack opened the cabinet and pulled out his Zoloft bottle. Unraveling the prescription label, his eyes raced down to side effects and right there “Erectile Dysfunction” laughed at him. He tossed the bottle in the sink.
“Jack?” You knuckles rapped against the door. “Are you alright in there?”
“Fine!” He replied too quickly.
“Can I come in?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’d rather you not.”
“You’re not gonna dump your meds are you?”
“No,” his tone was still sad. “That’s probably a bad idea.”
Jack could hear your hum. He imagined the look on your face and how you’d probably kick him to the curb now that he was completely defective.
“Jack, I think you need to talk to me about this.”
“No,” he drug out the word. “I don’t think so.”
“Honey.”
He said your name firmly in return.
“I’m coming in.” You didn’t give him any time because as soon as he got a syllable out, the door was open.
Jack’s eyes caught yours in the mirror.
“It’s okay, Jack.”
He shook his head. “It’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well that’s easy for you to say,” he couldn’t help the attitude that slipped out. “You don’t have a broken fucking dick.”
“I don’t have a dick but I do have a libido.”
“It’s not that, baby,” Jack sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex. I do. Very badly, might I add. But it’s like this—” he pointed to his brain “—just doesn’t want to work and tell the other parts of my body to do their jobs.”
Your brows furrowed in concern. “Is it the nightmares again?”
“No.” He shook his head and realized that you didn’t fully grasp it because of two things: you weren’t in healthcare and you didn’t have PTSD like he did. “They’re fine. They’ve been fine.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, Jack.”
You approached him, settling for resting your hand along his back and feeling his tense muscles underneath the fabric of his tee.
“A side effect of the meds,” he gestured weakly to the bottle in the sink. “I can’t get it up.”
“That’s one way to put it,” you mumbled and picked up the bottle.
“My doctor gave me—“ Jack didn’t want the words to form.
Your rubbed soothingly on his back. He loved you so much.
“What did he give you?”
Jack reopened the cabinet and shuffled items to the side before landing on a small white bottle with VIAGRA plastered in blue on the front. His stomach lurched at the thought of needing to take one. Jack held it tightly in his fist in a refusal to show you.
You saw the bottle immediately when he brought it home. Jack was never as sly as he thought he was. He tried hiding your engagement ring for six weeks before proposing but you found it the day after the purchase because he stuffed it the garage where he kept all the spare keys.
He just hadn’t thought that maybe you’d lock your keys inside of the house one day.
Still, he clutched onto the white bottle as though if he dropped it, his problem wasn’t real. He could keep trying. Maybe it would just take a little bit longer than normal but eventually, he’d get hard and you could sail smoothly into the night.
“Are you gonna show me?” You asked patiently.
“I don’t really want to.”
“I’m not embarrassed if you need to use one, you know?”
His eyes pinched closed. “I feel like a fucking failure.”
You exhaled deeply, placing your hand over his fist, and dipping your head to better look at him.
“Look at me, Jack.”
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“Jack,” you pressed once more. “Look at me.”
“This has never been a problem,” he said lowly. Jack’s tone lingered on disappointment but aired a frustration that sounded sexier than he meant it. “I don’t know why I can’t be normal in this one fucking way but of course not! Of course not. No… the goddamn leg just wasn’t enough. The stupid fucking depression and the nightmares and my joint pain isn’t enough!”
Jack rarely yelled. He bottled everything inside until it was ready to explode and it was just leaking out of him like a dam bursting.
“None of that is your fault,” you assured.
“What does it matter if it was?” He loosened the grip on the bottle and it rolled into the sink beside the Zoloft.
“Jack. I don’t care if we have sex tonight, okay? It’s not the end of the world for me.”
“It sure fucking feels like it for me.”
“I know it does,” you empathized. “But if you’re not ready to try the pills, then we don’t have to do anything. I can wait for you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Jack whispered. “This is so inconvenient.”
“What would life be without them?”
He breathed in as your hand continued to rub his back and calm him down. Jack glanced down at the bottle, cursing the elephant in the room. He mumbled underneath his breath and even though you were standing beside him, you didn’t catch it.
“What?”
“It takes…” his words were muffled again.
“Are you having a stroke?” You asked honestly.
“No,” he heaved. “If I take one… it would take around an hour to work.”
“Okay,” you replied cautiously. It was his choice, you made that clear.
“And it’s not like… magical. Plus we had a whole bottle of wine with dinner and that might make it worse.”
“Trying to get hard or the erection?”
“Both?” He said like it was a question. He’s the doctor. He should know.
“If you wanted to try it, and it doesn’t work out, then you never have to use one again.”
Jack hummed. “I might have to eat you out for awhile.”
“Jesus,” you laughed. “Don’t try to be sly about it.”
His lips quirked into a small smile, one you’d missed seeing in his despair. Jack picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cap.
“I swear to God that if anything goes wrong, I will jump off the fucking roof.”
“You can’t say that,” you lamented. “You’re literally the last person who should joke about that.”
“I’m kidding.” He popped a pill into his mouth. “I can’t let you fall in love with someone else.”
“How kind of you to think about me.”
Jack flipped on the sink, cupped his hands under the faucet, and swallowed the pill in one gulp. There was no turning back now.
“Well?” You asked him as he wiped his mouth dry.
“Well what?”
“You want to finish what you started?”
He locked eyes with you in the mirror and opened his mouth to object to the statement. You climbed into his lap. You kissed him first. But he saw a glimmer of hope that maybe the little blue pill would be a good thing for the both of you tonight and forgot about it. Jack nodded instead.
“Get on the bed.”
Whatever the little blue pill did, it gave Jack an ounce of courage back and fuck, could you feel it.
Jack had been on you from the moment you laid down on the bed. In silence, he stripped off your clothes one by one and settled between your thighs ready to give. And for the past thirty minutes, you’d been close twice before he drew back and smiled at you as his cheek rested against your leg.
Every time he did, you had to look away.
He was so sweet. Jack, the man who does anything for anyone, looked at you like you held the moon.
You fought a grin by biting down on your lip and had your arm flying over your eyes to shield his own impenetrable stare from reaching you. And then his mouth was on you again, tongue lightly flicking your clit as he slipped two fingers inside.
You writhed, body shaking lightly in pleasure as his hands grew more firm around your thighs and minimized any distance between you. Jack figured if he could lay atop the mattress and grind into it that it would replace the need for you to jerk him off for five minutes, and he was right.
The combination of periodically rutting against the mattress, listening to your sweet sounds, and feeling you squeeze his fingers was sheer poison.
He curled his fingers up inside of you, sliding them in and out in the same direction until your moans turned into a whine that spelled out his name.
“Jack,” you breathed in heavily.
Your hand fell from your eyes and trailed over one of your breasts, squeezing it, pinching the nipple just hard enough before fanning out on the comforter. Jack removed his fingers to let his tongue sink lower, pushing into you softer and wetter than before. His mouth devoured you; a sickening slurp of his saliva and your wetness had your mouth falling open, silent in disbelief that not an hour ago, you didn’t think this was going to happen.
“S-shit, Jack.”
He slowed down, sparing a glance at your face before deciding to back off. His pointer finger replaced where his nose was grazing your clit. Jack pressed down there, moving in small circles as your hips moved with him.
“That feel good?” He asked softly.
“I think that fucking pill gave you superpowers,” you spat out fast. “Holy shit.”
“Magical” his ass. It was certifiably otherworldly.
“Might just have been a long time since we’ve done this.”
You agreed, moaning a “yeah” in reply.
“Sweetheart,” Jack said like a question. “I hate to do this to you…”
“What?” You sat up so quickly that you got a little dizzy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jack couldn’t hide his blush. There was no easy way to say “I’m hard now, let me fuck you” after having a meltdown.
His throat bobbed and you caught it.
“You ready?”
Jack nodded and you retuned it with a nod of your own. “Okay, yeah. Alright—”
“Why does this feel like I’m losing my virginity again?” He joked. His laugh barely sounded like one because the second he sat up on his knees, his erection was all he could look at.
Jack had never been embarrassed by his cock before.
“If this is how you lost your virginity, I’d be a little nervous,” you scoffed. “Sit back against the headboard.”
He didn’t argue with you which was a rarity it terms of control. Nothing was really in his control right now and it was making his anxiety shoot through the roof.
Jack shuffled back to the headboard and slipped off his shirt. He helped you pull down his sweats carefully and even though he didn’t feel like you had to be, he was grateful for your gentleness. At the sight of his prosthetic, you tipped your head knowingly at him.
“Why didn’t you take this off yet?”
“I forgot,” he feigned innocence.
“Mhm,” you judged and took it off for him. “Sure you did.”
With his prosthetic resting on the floor against the bedside table, you resumed your position in his lap and wrapped an arm around his shoulder while your free hand wrapped around him. You’d never been with someone who needed to take a Viagra before. Jack felt different and you knew how he felt in your hands.
His dick felt firmer—less like his own and more like one that was being controlled.
Your hand went from tip to base and back and he jolted.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s like my nerves are on fire.”
“Does it feel bad?”
His nose brushed yours as he shook his head. Jack didn’t tell you to stop so you kept pumping him mildly.
“It feels really fucking good, actually.”
“Yeah?” You smiled.
“Yeah.”
Jack kissed you with everything he could muster. He gripped your bare hips tightly, sinking his fingers into your skin until he felt like you weren’t going to disappear. You put more tension in your fist and he groaned, precum escaping him and making your job easier.
“Do you feel like you’re ready?” You kissed him lazily, pulling on his bottom lip enough for it to bounce back.
He chased your lips. “What if—”
“Honey,” you soothed. “We’ll get there, okay?”
“Okay,” he accepted. He nodded, looking you in the eye and giving you the reassurance he also needed.
Lifting up in his lap, you guided him to your entrance and sunk down slowly. The feeling was overwhelming and you both needed time to adjust. Jack’s head fell back against the bed frame as far as he could go, clenching his jaw enough where the muscles strained on his face.
“You’re fine, Jack,” you cooed in his ear. Soft pants met his cheek as his hardness was unlike anything you’d experienced. “Breathe, baby.”
Your nails raked the base of his skull.
“Keep going,” he bit out. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”
“I guess we’ve both been ‘rejuvenated,’ huh?”
Jack wasn’t overly appreciative of your humor but you moved anyway, testing the waters of your bounces and grinds before settling into a rhythm that suited you. His cock stretched you wide and every time you sank back down, it was as though he never filled you in the first place. A spark of exhilaration bloomed. This was so different, so minutely different, that it felt new.
Jack’s hands groped your ass to help ease the strain on your thighs the longer you went. His lips swapped duties between connecting with yours and finding the skin of your neck, collarbone, and chest peppered with affection. Jack listened to your soft mewls. He soaked in the whispers of sweet nothings and the shaky gasps you couldn’t help.
He wanted you close.
Jack needed you to mold into him like he was showered in rain. He pulled you close; arms wrapped up around you so tight there was no escaping his embrace.
He nipped at your chin. Low and rough, Jack spoke to you. “I love you so much.”
Jack’s nose trailed up your cheek, bumping into yours and seeking your lips again.
“You have no idea how much I love you.”
“Jack,” you whined with a grin. A shake in your legs had him running his hands over your back, soothing you now instead.
“I know you’re ready, baby.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m close.”
“What do you need from me?” He asked willingly.
You shook your head. “I-fuck, nothing. I just—”
Jack bent his knees the best he could and the angle his cock was hitting changed on a thrust. Deep and unforgiving, your fingernails dug into his skin hard. Jack murmured appreciation, egging you on to the finish line and neglecting himself.
You were too wrapped up in the feeling. The building of a week, the racing of your heart, to think for a second that he was nowhere near close to his orgasm.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
He felt the falter in your hips.
Your orgasm shook you from Heaven to Hell and back—even if believing it was hard to fathom. Jack’s hand flew to the back of your head, holding you into him as the aftershocks of muscle spasms lingered seconds after your breathing began to settle. You returned his kisses with your own against his neck and shoulder. The freckles on his body were reminders of all the places he had ever been kissed and you were adding to that—on top of ones that already existed, beside them, and in the spaces that laid empty of any.
He wouldn’t remember them in every lifetime but you liked to imagine that all of his freckles were kisses from you.
As your brain recovered from the fuzzy glow and you realized that Jack was still rock hard inside of you.
“Do you want me to—”
“No,” Jack cut you off. “No, it’s fine. It’s just… I think it takes time.”
“But now you haven’t even…” you trailed your response with a flick of your eyes downwards. “I can’t leave you like that.”
“Baby, it could take an hour.”
You glanced at the alarm clock on his side of the bed. The time read 11:47.
“We’ve got time.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m not gonna let you give me a handy for an hour.”
“Hey,” you tugged on his earlobe lightly. “I’ve got a mouth too.”
“It’s fine,” he reassured but you weren’t buying it. His mouth quirked to the side in thought. “Would you hate me if I asked you to clean up alone?”
You ran your thumb along his jawline.
“I could never hate you, Jack. I’ve lived this long, I think I can handle one less aftercare shower.”
“It makes me feel like an asshole.”
“You’re not. I promise you.”
Carefully, you lifted up from his lap and let him slip out. You avoided looking at him so he didn’t find another reason to be embarrassed about something that impacted millions of men—especially those who were on medication for concerns far more important than simply erectile dysfunction.
He watched you disappear into the bathroom and shut the door with a click before he put his pillow to his face and yelled into it.
The prescription tag read as follows:
Prolonged erection greater than 4 hours and priapism (painful erections greater than 6 hours in duration) have been reported infrequently since market approval of VIAGRA. In the event of an erection that persists longer than 4 hours, the patient should seek immediate medical assistance. If priapism is not treated immediately, penile tissue damage and permanent loss of potency could result.
Jack had to put his readers on to even see the label.
“… if priapism is not treated immediately, penile tissue damage and permanent loss…” he repeated the label back to himself to make sure he read it correctly.
His eyes flitted to his phone, touching the screen to light up a big 7:30 AM and a picture of both of your smiling faces beaming back at him.
This might not have been the actual worst day of his life but it was second.
His crutches clicked against the floor as he approached your side of the bed. He hated waking you up when you were clearly dead to the world. Laid face first into your pillow, he rested a hand on your back and shook you gently.
“Baby?”
You barely bristled. He repeated the action, calling out your name louder.
“Hm?” You grumbled in slight annoyance.
Jack shifted uncomfortably on the bed, wincing as he turned wrong and made his sweatpants tighter than they already were.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he started and realized how quickly those were the wrong words. You sat up abruptly, face twisted in concern as he tried not to cry from the pain his fucking dick won’t stop causing.
“What!?” You searched his face for an answer. “What happened!?”
“You gotta calm down.” Jack moved his arm to block your view.
“About what? What’s wrong?”
“I seem to be having a little… complication.”
Your brows furrowed. “A complication?”
Jack clicked his tongue with a nod. Your eyes darted down too obviously to his pants and back to his face. His erection was blatant. It practically waved at you from behind his arm.
“Does it have anything to do with that?” You said above a whisper. “Why do you have such bad morning wood?”
Jack groaned, again, completely at odds with himself.
“Remember when we had that bottle of red with dinner?” You nodded. “Well it turns out that sometimes while meds can cause the problem, mixing alcohol with the little blue pill causes… other problems.”
“And this can’t be solved with an orgasm?”
“Not after more than six hours.”
Your eyes bugged out of your head. “Six hours!? Jack, what the fuck!”
“I thought it was going to go away!”
You swiftly moved out of bed and shrugged on a sweatshirt. Jack watched you pilfer the room for socks and shoes and leggings and just sat there helplessly on the edge of the bed with his crutches one inch from sliding off of it. You didn’t say anything and that made it worse for him.
“I’m sorry,” Jack spoke up.
“What are you sorry for?” You opened his drawer and pulled out a fresh tee. “It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like it is.”
“Well it’s not, Jack. So stop apologizing and get your leg on.”
“I can’t bend over.”
You tossed the shirt to him. “We’re going in.”
“Where?”
“The ED.”
“No,” he said with a nervous laugh. “No the fuck we are not.”
“You say that like you have a choice, Mr. Abbot.” Oh. He didn’t like that. “Turns out that doctors are truly the worst patients. Your night shift is gone, Robby’s gotta be—”
“I am not letting Robby see me like this.” The thought repulsed him so badly that it made his skin crawl.
“Then someone else will help us,” you clarified. “The longer we wait the worse I’ll assume it will be for you. I’m not driving you to Presby or Mercy when I know the ones that can help you the best.”
“I’ll never live this down.” His eyes filled with ashamed tears and every now and then, you’d seen Jack down on his luck.
A terrible shift, a long week, anniversaries he’d rather not have… but he stared at you from the bed and he looked so small. His salt and pepper hair was flat from restless sleep and the scruff on his face couldn’t hide the jumble of thoughts pouring out of him. You moved to stand in front of him, grasping his face between two hands, and forcing him to look you in the eye.
“You are the strongest, most resilient man I have ever met. You’ve taken care of me more times than I can count and now, it’s my turn to help you the best way I know how. This is bad now, yeah… it is,” you nodded in agreement, “but it’s not forever. After this, you’ll call your therapist and tell him what happened and we will try again when things are better.”
A tear steamed down his cheek and you wiped it away with your finger.
“It’s okay to be embarrassed, honey.”
“I’m gonna make this up to you,” Jack settled. “I promise.”
“Okay.” You didn’t need him to. However, if it made him feel better, sure. Your hands tapped his face twice before letting go. “Let’s go, Soldier.”
The PTMC Emergency Room wasn’t an unfamiliar sight, but it wasn’t one you frequented.
It bustled with far too much chaos and while your own career had its fair share, there was something about Jack’s place of work that made you feel ill just looking at it. Death, hurt, pain, and suffering wrapped up in four walls, some windows, and doors.
And now Jack sat outside of it in a wheelchair because he refused to go in on his crutches.
“Just go in and tell Dana I’m out here.”
“Someone is going to have to come and get you anyway, so just come with me.”
Jack begged, “please.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Luckily, Dana was talking with a young nurse at the hub when the ambulance bay doors opened wide. You kept in a straight line to her, not distracted by the sounds and the yelling coming from one of the many rooms. Dana was halfway through a sentence when she glanced over her shoulder and did a double take.
“Hey stranger,” she beamed. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
The young nurse beside her, Emma, smiled at you in the awkward way you did when you didn’t know someone’s friend.
“Hi Dana,” you greeted.
“Jack’s not here,” her eyes questioned you. Jack had been scheduled off for the next couple days so there was no telling where he’d be other than at his house.
“Well,” you let out a loose, barely amused chuckle, “funny you should say that.”
“Is he okay?”
“Not really… I just—we just—need this on the down low, alright? He really doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here.”
She nodded understandingly and grabbed an iPad from the counter. “Where is he?”
“Out in the ambulance bay. I put him in a wheelchair.”
“Should I get Robb—”
“No!” You said loudly and shook your head. “God, no. Sorry.”
Emma jumped at the sound and her eyes darted to the bay. “Can I help?”
Your face scrunched. Jack would rather not traumatize a new nurse so early in the shift.
“Is Donnie around? Or Dr. Al-Hashimi?”
“Yeah.” Dana patted Emma on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em and we’ll put Dr. Abbot in Room 7.”
Dana rounded the hub and put a hand on your shoulder. As she stepped further away, she pressed about the situation.
“You know, you two aren’t getting any younger. You can’t go at it like rabbits.”
“Dana,” you scolded with a smile. “That’s—that’s not it.”
“What happened?”
All that was needed to be said were three little words:
“Little blue pill.”
Jack heard the hiss of the ambulance bay open and Dana walked up to him with a laugh buried in her throat. Jack was wearing a hat and glasses like a superhero in disguise and his backpack flipped over so no one could see the name angled in his lap.
“Don’t fucking say it, Evans. Don’t.”
“I’m not!” She held up her hands in defense.
“Dana said she’s gonna help. No one needs to know.”
You grabbed his crutches off the wall and followed closely as Dana wheeled him into Room 7 and pulled the curtains. She left still fighting amusement as Donnie entered with Baran.
“Dr. Abbot,” she said fondly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“I think we both had different ideas about how today would go.”
Jack took off his glasses and hat, passing them off to you. The bag stayed lumped in his lap.
“So, what brings you in today?”
There was a second of silence and then:
“I seem to have a bit of a… priapism problem.”
Baran’s eyes widened and Donnie hesitated putting on his second glove.
“And how long has the erection lasted?” Jack hated how she pronounced the word loud and clear. He looked at you, shrugging for a loose approximation of time.
“Maybe around… since 11 or so?” You informed.
“So somewhere around 8 hours?” She asked and motioned for Donnie to put the bed rails down. “Does that seem accurate?”
You both nodded. Donnie wheeled Jack over to the bed and he hesitated, looking at you to help him instead. You handed Jack his crutches and as he stood, both Donnie and Baran tried to be respectful and looked away from Jack’s body.
“Dr. Abbot, I’m going to have to ask you some questions about your medical history, medications, and so forth. Is that okay with you?”
“I think you can just call me Jack now,” he grunted as he shuffled onto the bed.
“Can you tell me what medications you take?”
“I-uh, take um, 100 mg of Zofolt, 3 mg of Prazosin for sleeping, and Cyclobenzaprine as needed, 5 mg three times a day, but I haven’t needed it lately.”
“And for the priapism problem?” She slipped on her own gloves.
“I took one Viagra.”
“Have you taken one before?”
“No,” Jack admitted. “My therapist changed one of my medications to Zoloft two months ago and ordered it as a precaution.”
Baran nodded in understanding and as she sat down on a stool and rolled closer, Jack’s hand shot out to yours and squeezed tightly.
“Did he explain the side effects of taking those medications together?”
“Yes,” Jack recalled. “But we must have had… three glasses of wine last night and I’m pretty certain that’s the reason it won’t go away. A reaction, if you will.”
“You’re not wrong.” She smiled at him kindly, then to you.
“How long have you been married? I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
“Six years,” you told her. “And it seems we’re always finding something new to experience together.”
“It’s a good thing,” Baran assured. “Imagine living a life where it’s normal and boring all the time. At least you’ll be able to laugh about it later.”
Her eyes found Jack’s and he knew she needed to look at him more closely.
“What happens in this room, Dr. Abbot, stays in this room. Got it?”
He nodded and focused on a spot across the wall as Donnie hovered behind Baran. Your hand covered his, rubbing gentle circles to ease the discomfort.
“Was this a special occasion or something?” Donnie asked Jack. “Or just a regular Saturday night for you two?”
“Just a Saturday night,” he said shyly. Jack, being bashful? You relished it.
“I gotta say Doc, your wife’s a lucky woman. Who knew Dr. Abbot hit the genetic lottery.”
The blush that overtook his body was a deeper red than his penis. Your hand flew to your mouth, covering the choked laugh before it could escape but Donnie was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and keeping it in was practically impossible. Baran bit down on her tongue.
But Jack knew how to bite back too. “If your idea of the genetic lottery is a guy with 1.75 legs, then sure. Whatever floats your boat.”
“Okay.” Baran finished her inspection.
“I have a feeling this isn’t a cold compress kind of procedure,” Jack wished.
Baran shook her head.
“We’re going to need to aspirate.”
Jack was back on his crutches after an hour with a soreness that would last hours.
“I don’t think I need to tell you what you can and cannot do in the next 24 hours,” Baran opened up the curtain and immediately Jack locked eyes with Dana.
“No, you don’t.”
“Maybe also speak to your therapist about the prescription the next time you go?”
Jack gave you a closed mouth smile. “I already heard that from this one.”
“She knows what she’s talking about it seems,” Baran nodded in approval.
The door opened up and Donnie held it for Jack to escape from. The RN held out his fist, asking Jack wordlessly to bump it.
Jack obliged.
“My man,” Donnie grinned. He slapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder before walking to a computer.
“I’m never filling in for day shift again, ever,” Jack told you over his shoulder.
“All good, Jack?” Dana asked from the hub as you both passed by.
“Never better.” Jack kept going towards the door.
“Thanks Dana for your help,” you said appreciatively. “If he never tells you, he’s thankful too. And I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
The doors to Trauma Bay 2 opened with a whoosh. Jack, still on the slow run on his crutches out of the ED never looked back, but Robby caught sight of him as he sanitized his hands.
“Woah!” He exaggerated. “What’s Jack doing here?”
“He’s going home,” Dana informed and you gave a small wave to Jack’s work wife. He hated when you called Robby that but it didn’t make it any less true.
“Just a little accident.”
“Jack!” Robby called after him but Jack didn’t care.
“Adios! Goodbye!” He said your name loudly followed by a “hurry up!”
You tapped the counter. “Sorry. The princess needs a ride home.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to call him that,” Robby laughed.
“It’s the least of his problems right now.”
They watched you trail behind your husband who, once through the second door, turned and waited for you patiently. You kissed him gently before walking out of view and inside of the PTMC, the world continued to turn.
Robby looked at Dana with a question and Baran walked away before he could ask her anything remotely related to Jack. But Donnie… Donnie just can’t keep anything to himself.
He turned to Robby in his swivel chair.
“Did you know Abbot’s packin’ heat down there?”
A/N: i wrote this straight over three days after not writing for about a year. crazy how that works, huh?
i hope the twitter divas find this.
comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! it keeps us writing!
a loose sequel has been posted: the heart skips a beat
tumblr, I can’t believe you made this my highest liked fic ever.
in disbelief. 🥰
um hello 7,000 followers!
dancing in the dark
jack learned to deal with all of his problems alone. when he finds someone to help shoulder his burdens, he falls deeply, unconditionally head over heels for you—and he loves coming home.
Contents: smut. SOMETIMES jack needs to talk shit about Robby and fuck his wife in the kitchen. discussion of sex over 35, fluff & smut, a healthy marriage is a sexy marriage, blue pill mention.
[jack abbot x fem!reader. wc: 5.4k ]
Masterlist | Other Jack Fics
When Jack couldn’t sleep, he found a solution.
Those solutions built up over the years and as his therapist put it: “were concerning, ‘not real’ activities to help him.” He didn’t listen. Instead, kept chugging along when weather churned his emotions into a mature storm.
It built. Heavy and hot and angry every day. For every minute Jack spent without a break, the boiling point seemed to climb.
And then when he got home, he crashed.
Bag dumped onto the floor, feet dragging louder every step as he followed the light into the kitchen and tried not to think about how at eight in the morning, all he wanted was to fuck his frustration out.
It was eight. He didn’t want to burden you with having sex with him just because he was combusting with weeks of problems.
He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and watched you pour a cup of coffee from behind. Jack leaned, with relief, into the wall and shut his eyes for a moment.
“Do you want one?” You asked aloud. He hadn't said a thing and you were already helping ease the tension behind his brow.
Jack shook his head. “Not if you want me like the energizer bunny.”
“Oh, oh,” you exhaled. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
A short, airy chuckle escaped Jack’s lips as his head dipped. He was exhausted—you could see it in the frame of his body and the way his shoulders drooped like a person who had given up on the day when you turned around. With the mug to your mouth, you blew on the steaming coffee carefully.
“Rough night?”
Jack nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you,” you began to breach slowly, “want to talk about it?”
Your eyes fluttered around his face for an answer before he gave it. He chewed on the inside of his lip before hovering, his right fingers twisted his ring on the left. Probably a female patient stuck on his conscious, you imagined.
Jack only ever got in a funk about patients that reminded him of himself, the men he served with, children, or women who reminded him of you.
He'd argue that the ones "like you" were the worst. For you, it all looked relatively the same.
“Robby came in early and this woman…” he trailed. A shake of his head followed the click of his teeth. “He really fucking pissed me off about her care.”
“Oh?”
“He’s been such an asshole lately.”
“I’ve heard.” Your eyebrows raised in acknowledgement. “He’s been an asshole for months, apparently.”
“Try a fucking year,” Jack scoffed. He lifted from the wall and ran his hands over his face. “He stalled too long and by the time Neuro came down, they berated me for waiting so long to page. It’s not my fucking fault. I told Robby what the course of action was and all he did was argue about it.”
The steam began to roll.
“He’s just—” Jack huffed “—is so dense sometimes it makes my blood boil.”
“Sounds like you need to go to couples therapy,” you replied lightly and his shoulders dropped further at the retort. “They must have a platonic co-worker, bestie session somewhere.”
“Funny,” he panned. “Robby needs fucking therapy. He’s gonna get me into a lawsuit that I have no reason to be apart of.”
“You’re gonna need more therapy for Robby’s lack of it.”
“And you know what?” Jack exasperated. He held up a pointer finger and wagged it around to make a point. “He’s a know-it-all too.”
“Aren’t you all?” You looked at him seriously. “Isn’t the whole point of your job to be the biggest know-it-all for your staff?”
“He’s an ass about it though. I’m not. I’m like… cool. Like a coach or something… he’s… he's just an asshole.”
“Then don’t ask for his opinion, Jack. Rely on your residents, your seniors, before falling back to him. Robby isn’t the chosen one, you know.”
“I know.”
“Then why act like it?”
Jack shook his head. “Maybe because he does. He’s a fucking… wolf in sheep’s clothing and every time it pops out, I wonder why the hell I listen to him in the first place sometimes.”
“He can be a bully,” you agreed from what you knew of Robby and what Jack debriefed to you in confidence.
He loved his friend, truly, but even friends can be a larger stressors of life. In Jack’s line of work, it was more probable than not that Robby and Jack’s friendship would ebb and flow over time. Robby was hitting a low—and everyone always suffered when the great Michael Robinavitch hit rock bottom.
“I just wish he’d just knock it off.”
“You know that it’s not that easy.”
Jack concurred. “Doesn’t mean it’s not frustrating when other people don’t accept it.”
“Why won’t he?”
“I really don’t have a clue, honey.”
Your mouth quirked a smile to one side. “Then fuck ‘em right now. As much as I care about Michael’s well being, I really don’t want to talk about him when you’re home.”
“I know you don’t.” Jack breathed in. He shook off Robby and the patients and looked at you truthfully. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you returned.
He paused, gazing at you with a refreshed appreciation. Jack’s eyes softened easily. You’d been home alone without him for an entire night and while he knew you didn’t mind his deflation of work drama, it really wasn’t what you wanted to hear this early.
Let alone when you’re in his presence again, on an off day, with a whole day to waste.
“How was your night?”
“Fine,” you gave a vague, noncommittal motion. “Didn’t do much. Watched the news, I told you I didn’t want to make dinner so I had a bowl of cereal… went to bed, but I don’t like sleeping without you.”
Neither did he. Jack hummed. He nodded in listening and his eyes trailed down your body shamelessly. The shorts you wore to sleep always bunched weird—your own reasoning—when you walked. A shape he could only identify as an upside down heart narrowed his attention to the apex of your thighs. It targeted Jack’s mind with a reminder that he was home.
There was nothing more to worry about at work.
He was at ease under a roof to share with you.
You. You. You.
And his body sure knew it.
“Is that all you did? Sleep?”
You narrowed your eyes at him. The time on the microwave read 8:36 and for anyone else, maybe it would be too early for this. But for Jack, time was an illusion of practice.
He slept for four hours a day and devoted himself to a million different tasks to escape the quiet. However, when you were home together on a Saturday, Jack couldn’t help the way his brain immediately shifted into one mode. He missed you. He missed being close to you on nights where he imagined you tossing and turning because he wasn’t around to hold you.
“Why?” You said warily. “What did you imagine me doing other than sleeping?”
Jack’s tongue wet his lips; it ran over his bottom lip before he bit down to stop himself from blurting out the first thing that came to mind. He wasn’t seeking to be so fucking dirty minded at the break of goddamn dawn, but one look at you and he was always on the brink of exploding.
He thought you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. The kind where sailors of old were bewitched by sirens in the water... empires surely fought over you in another life. You looked so simple and refreshed in your pajamas and robe as you stood in front of the window that looked out into the backyard. The sun had risen, painting a swirl of Valentine’s colors in place of its generic blue.
He loved you. Immensely. And all of that love often transpired in every room of the house.
Jack’s mouth frowned in dismissal. “Nothing…” he scoffed. “Just like… did you read a book? Watch a… movie… or something? An audiobook?”
“Jack.”
“Maybe you watched a couple of episodes of—”
“I didn’t!” You were quick to defend. “I told you I’d wait for you to be off!”
He waited for seconds to pass. “So… nothing then?”
“Jack.” You set the mug down beside the sink. “Are you trying to ask me if I did something dirty?”
“Well that makes me feel and sound like I’m 10.”
“You’re kind of acting like you’re 10.”
“Rude,” he joked. “I… I guess so.” He answered your question.
“You wanna know what I do in bed without you when you’re ten minutes away and so frustrated about your job and all you can think about is fucking me?”
“Now you’re just being lewd.”
Jack stepped toward you and caged you with his hands stretched onto the counter beside you. Your hands landed on his stomach, smelling the antiseptic that always traveled home with him.
“Don’t you want to shower?” You inquired as his chin tutted out in observance of you.
“Don’t you wanna tell me what you did?”
“You have an imagination, Dr. Abbot,” you breathed. “Maybe you can use it to figure it out.”
Your hands smoothed over his sides. His breathing leveled out from his ire against Robby. Building the walls of his home around his heart, Jack hands gripped onto the counter hard. The strain of his muscles pulled on the veins of his arms that made you weak in the knees. Every bit of the man was attractive to you—everything.
“I think you were a little… cold,” he suggested. Your eyes lingered on his lips before meeting his own that seemed to pin you to the counter. “And you needed something to warm you up.”
“Oh,” you frowned, “so very cold.”
Your hands drifted higher. In a break from their internal memorization of Jack’s body, your hands traced his biceps and forearms, bumping over the shallow ridges of veins.
Jack rumbled. “Was it your hands? Or our friend in the drawer?”
Your eyes flickered back to his lips. Jack’s dick twitched in his scrub pants. Fuck. You were just perfect.
“A little bit of both, I guess.”
“You guess?” His face inched closer, noses brushing against one another. “Need a reminder?”
“Why would I?” You mumbled quietly. “You’re here now.”
“Hasn’t stopped you before.”
Jack’s nose danced across your cheek and to the side of your face where he sucked in the scent of you. Your hands brushed up to his pecks and back down, threatening to go lower at the bottom of his top. His breath hit your ear and your head lulled away from him playfully.
“That’s not what I want. It’s not what I wanted, either.”
“I was thinkin’ bout you last night,” Jack rasped against your ear, “how much I wanted to be here. All the things I wanted to do you.”
“Oh yeah?” You smiled as he placed a kiss on the side of your face. It was barely a kiss, a brush of his lips, but it was there. “You gonna tell me about it or do I have to guess.”
“Well you know how I feel about these shorts, honey.”
Jack backed away from your face and looked down between your bodies. He could see your nipples peaking at the fabric and the way your legs pressed together as he gazed. He wet his lips hungrily.
“Who knew sunflowers could be so fuckin’ sexy, huh?”
You laughed. He grinned like a schoolboy at the sound.
“I might only wear them just for you,” you said with a lazy smile. “They’re like my ‘Jack Trap’ I suppose.”
“Jack Trap?”
“Mhm,” you bit down on your lower lip. “Guaranteed romance with them on.”
“Guaranteed?” He joked and pretended to pull away. You tugged him back without resistance.
“Honey,” he lamented casually. “There is no trapping me. Ever. You got me. On my knee or not. Prisoner of your heart for life—honestly.”
“A prisoner?” You gagged. “In the world’s most cozy prison then.”
“Well I’ve never been to any so I wouldn’t know.”
You pushed against his stomach and he shook his head smiling before returning to blocking you in.
“I think about you every minute of the day,” he brought back. “Even if I know you’re working or reading or just making a sandwich, I’m thinking about you.”
The sincerity in his eyes killed you. He was certain death. Your certificate would read: CAUSE OF DEATH—HUSBAND’S LOVE, and it would be correct.
“Why don’t we put all that thinking to good use now?” You proposed.
You pushed up to him and planted a quick, easy kiss to his lips.
“For all the time I missed you at work,” another kiss, “and for all the time you missed me while you were at work.”
You kissed him again, longer.
“I think you have really good ideas.”
“That’s why you married me.”
“No,” he shook his head but his lips landed on yours. “I married you because you’re my best friend. And that you put up with all of my shit and still somehow love me.”
“Eh,” you shrugged, “that too.”
Jack kissed you deeply in return.
You sunk into a warm place because of it. His mouth commanded you to fall into him every time. A routine of adoration, his tongue was fast to escalate the scene to one of cuteness to one of craving. Chasing an itch that could never be fully scratched, Jack’s mouth devoured yours.
Shallow, hushed shaky breaths filled your ears when he chose to let them go. His left hand left the counter to cup your face gently. In a stark difference from his kiss, his thumb traced over your bottom lip, then top, resting in the center where your lips parted.
You locked eyes with him. Jack’s thumb breached your lips and your warm mouth accepted it. A mixture of your combined saliva coated his thumb and as he retracted, your teeth grazed his skin. Jack used his wet thumb to coat your lips before pulling your face back to his and kissing you once more.
It was thoughtless. A mindless warping of his body into yours and no one needed to think about anything except where hands went and how lips moved. Jack pushed his body into yours to lessen any possible space. Your back dug into the counter, quick to remind you that you weren’t 25 and sex outside of soft spaces wasn’t always easy.
But it was exciting and different and new.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had sex with Jack that wasn’t in bed. As much as your imaginations sought spaces that seemed sexy or exhilarating, the reality of it was that sex was a bodily maneuver that over time, became prisoner to age. It didn’t only matter if someone’s sexual prowess was dimmed by time. Knees ached, a back’s soreness frequented, and the longevity of the act became sporadic with hormone imbalances.
Jack’s twelve hour shifts and leg also didn’t always allow for more adventurous loving. But you were both satisfied with what you could do. You didn’t need to have pornographic levels of acrobatic flexibility to enjoy having sex with each other. Simple lust and attraction did all the heavy lifting where kinesthetics just didn’t work out.
Yet he kissed you like all of it was possible every time. His mouth moved against yours with fervor. Devoted to one task only: Jack wanted you to feel him. To sense one’s intent through only a kiss seemed useless—Jack gave every ounce of himself in it. Your lips nearly puckered with a grin, hands moved to cling to his scrub top as his hand tipped your head back.
His right leg wedged itself between yours. Jack’s hand that had lodged itself stiff against the counter slid between the opening of your robe and smoothed over your back before grasping your ass so hard you moved to grind against his leg. Your lips never released his, alternating between chasing his dominance and giving into it.
Jack’s hand prompted you to move. Switching to hold onto your bare thigh and sinking his fingers into your flesh, he asked your hips to roll without words. Heat rose to your cheeks when he let out a sound of appreciation.
It was something “new” he offered during times like these.
He’d always been vocal about praising you during sex—it was a non-negotiable for you when you first met so many years ago. This wasn’t a silent game. It wasn’t an unimportant encounter that could be quietly passed over until the next. Sex was sex. It was vulnerability in a bottle and fuck, if you were gonna let him see all of you, he better show that appreciation audibly.
So, when he followed up with a quick and low: “just like that baby,” your heart picked up a few extra beats.
However, Jack had become more aware of it over the last year. When he wasn’t able to give all of himself during intimacy because of his meds, he resorted to focusing on your pleasure alone and doubled down on the vocal praise. It added onto a long list of things that made Jack irresistible for you. He moaned more, let himself feel more openly, and sometimes, he talked you through it.
He was always willing to learn.
If someone asked him what makes his marriage to you work, Jack would say it was that he never stopped learning about you. People change. All the time. And just because you think you know someone in and out, it doesn’t mean that things become stagnant.
He never stopped dating you just because he married you. Jack learned, listened, and adapted when he needed to because that’s what good people did.
So, he knew when something needed to change and he knew when something clicked.
The kitchen? It’s doing it for him. It clicked.
It’s where he hoped he’d find you when he walked through the door and it was a magnificent feeling mixed with his anger to witness.
The gentle roll of your hips against his thigh was sending shockwaves throughout his body. His hand gripped your thigh harder, the other firmly grasping the back of your head as if to tell you telepathically to keep going. You leant your body on a diagonal away from him, pushing your hips down where the seam of your shorts began to press into your clit just right.
Shit. He really did love those fucking shorts.
Jack’s lips deserted yours. He looked down between your bodies, letting your face fall forward and down too, to watch you grind down on his scrub pants like a fucking machine. All you could feel, however, was the thickness of his thigh underneath it.
He loved that it being his right leg didn’t bother you.
And he thanked fucking God that he was a stronger goddamn soldier than the thought because he wasn’t sore, shaking, or ready to collapse under the pressure.
“Oh fuck,” he said your name breathlessly. “That’s so…”
“Mhm,” you hummed with a huff. “I knew you had a thing for these fucking pajamas.”
Both his hands landed on your waist, just above your hips.
“Is it bothering you?” You asked a bit softer. Still, your breath was catching.
Jack shook his head. “Think you can get off like this?”
“You’re not gonna fuck me?” Your hips faltered.
“Oh,” Jack’s voice dragged out like a cautious warning. “I’m gonna fuck you.”
Jack moved his hands underneath your pajama shirt and to your breasts. He palmed over your nipples before kneading them in his hands.
“You’re gonna come like this first.”
“You think I can?” You knew you could.
The seam of the shorts outlined your pussy perfectly. You “forgot” underwear whenever you wore these but under the guise of “she needs to breathe.” Jack didn’t argue. He didn’t argue as Dr. Abbot and he sure as hell didn’t argue as Mr. Abbot. The friction it gave felt better after every grind made them tighter. Soon, they were barely considered shorts and you hoped that the wetness building on his pants wasn’t going to wear down the fibers of it.
But Jack didn’t give a shit.
He’d buy a thousand pairs of pants if it meant you orgasmed on them.
“Yeah,” he murmured and your breath hitched. “You can, baby. I know you fucking can. You feel this?”
Jack left one of your breasts to guide your hand over his cock. He was hard, fully, without any assistance from the little blue pill.
“If you can do this to me?” He placed your hand along his covered shaft and your hand molded quickly. “Then yeah, you can fucking come on my thigh.”
You rubbed his length slower than you humped him. Nevertheless, you encouraged your bones to keep going. Jack watched your chest rise and fall more rapidly every minute that passed. It used to take no time for him to get you to the finish line but with time, that changed.
Your needs changed. He’d been rough, gentle, and everything in between but it varied from day to day what was needed.
This… this was working wonders.
“You feel so good,” you whined. “F-fuck me.”
“I will, be patient.” Jack’s head dipped to your neck where he nipped at your skin. He pressed kisses into the column of your neck and moved his hands back to the counter for support.
“Tell me if it’s too much Jack,” you said shakily. “I’m not going to leave you hurting.”
“You could take my other leg and it would hurt less than you stopping.”
“Jack,” you said seriously and hesitated moving again.
“Did I say you could stop?”
Jack lifted his head to look you in the eyes. You were taken aback by the boldness—you aren’t sure he’s ever said that before. Your mouth, against your heaving breaths, fell open into a small O.
“Did I,” he repeated, “tell you that you could stop?”
“N-no,” you sputtered.
“I know you’re close.”
“So? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not,” he assured. “But if you don’t get moving, my fucking erection is gonna hurt from not blowing my load into you.”
“Romantic,” you muttered dryly. “You’re not gonna fuck me if I stop? What happened to thinking about me all day?”
Jack moved his thigh instead and your chest stuttered.
“I told you that you need to finish first,” he nearly demanded. He said your name resolutely. “You gotta move, baby. Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen if you’re not moving.”
You tested the waters and realized that it only jolted you back into place.
“You’re kind of mean, do you know that?”
“Something new.” He kissed your cheek. “Does it work?”
“A little.”
“Good.” He helped you pick the pace back up.
Not thirty seconds later, his hands left yours and pinched the back of his scrub top. He lifted it up and over his head before taking his tee off too.
“Does seeing these help?” He asked honestly about his pecks and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” Jack’s eyes matched the furrow in his brow. “I’m serious.”
“I know,” you chuckled. He was so sweet.
You placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed your thumb over his skin softly. “You’re just so damn charming.”
“And you’re everything,” he replied.
“Yeah?”
He nodded and brought your hand from his face to the dip where his abs started.
“What’s everything?” You asked.
He didn’t even have to think. “You’re beautiful,” he started, “and kind. You’re always the most pleasant person in the room even when you’re a little bit bitchy. You take care of me when I need it the most and even when I don’t, you’re always there.”
Your head shook in agreement but Jack knew that’s not what it was. You were close. Hearing what he loved about you was sending your body into overdrive and the hand that was still on his cock loosened from distraction.
“You’re so good at your job and everyone loves you. But I love you the most, I think. Pretty sure on that one. And you’re so sexy. So, so, so fucking sexy that I can barely keep my hands to myself every time we’re in the same room. Your body is magnificent. Just a fucking smoke show of a wife.”
Your lips fought a smile.
“And I think you really want to come on me. I can see it, baby. I know you want to. You can do it. I’ve got you.”
“Yeah?” It sounded near pathetic coming out of your mouth.
“Yeah,” he affirmed. “Don’t stop, baby. Don’t fucking stop. I wanna watch you.”
Jack’s hand grasped your chin tightly. He locked eyes with you, never letting you out of his sight. His head nodded up and down as you whined and then shook once, twice, and wrapped your hands onto his arm as tight as a vice.
The lights seemed to flash brightly inside of you and your hips jolted against him.
“There you go,” Jack tutted. “There you go. Good fucking girl.”
“Oh what the fuck, Jack.” You stated. Your head dipped into his chest. “Good girl? Shit.”
“You like that one?” You could hear the smile in his tone.
“You know I fucking do.”
“Do you know what I like?” Jack asked you and helped lift your head. “Hm?”
“The idea that you’re gonna fuck me into the counter now?”
“No,” he shook his head. “You.”
“You’re so cheesy. You’re the cheesiest person I think I know.”
Jack scrunched his nose and ran his hands up your sides as your leg fell to the floor and you slumped against the counter.
“It’s a cute cheesy, right?”
“A hot cheesy. Like a Philly Cheesesteak kind of hot.”
“Disrespectful to Pittsburgh, but okay.”
Jack guided you to turn around. He helped slip off your robe before discarding it onto the counter so it didn’t get dirty on the floor. His hands went to the waist band of your shorts before sliding them down and palming your ass for the sake of it.
“Are you ready to go?” He asked softly. He guided his body to slot against yours.
He was as hard as rock from just watching you dry hump his goddamn thigh.
“Yeah,” you sighed in. “I’m ready.”
“Good.” Jack’s hand lightly slapped one cheek.
You backed up, leant forward onto the counter and having spread your legs enough to where he whistled at the view.
“Honey,” he swooned. “Why haven’t we done this sooner?”
“We usually don’t have sex when you walk through the door.”
“We might have to from now on.”
Jack lowered his scrub pants and pumped himself from balls to head as he zoned in on your glistening pussy from behind. One hand glided to your hips to position you right, his good foot nudging you closed just enough.
“I don’t know if I’m gonna be nice, baby.” Jack huffed low. “I’m still pretty fuckin’ pissed inside.”
You pushed closer to him. “And I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”
“Such a good girl,” he praised. His cock lined up nicely. Jack guided his tip along your folds and closed his eyes at the sensation of it mixing with you. “I think I told you that? Right?” He suddenly couldn’t remember.
“Drunk on it already?” Jack’s hand ran up your back as he began to sink in.
Both of you lost words at the feeling. It was always like this—and you’re relieved that never changed. Jack fit inside of you like a hand in a glove. He was made for you, if that was a possible thing to manifest. Enveloped in your warmth, Jack let out a loud reset sigh with a satisfactory moan.
“Fuck. You feel so good.”
“Give me a minute,” you told him as your forehead fell against your arms on the counter.
Even if Jack fit you well, he was still big. You didn’t engage in this position much. It wasn’t practical 90% of the time with how much you’re both on your feet, plus it wasn’t the most comfortable setting. No one wants marble countertops digging into their stomach and arms. No one wants to be standing for however long it takes to come.
But when lust overtakes the both of you, it’s impossible to think of the consequences down the line.
“You’re good, baby,” he encouraged. Jack’s palms cupped your hips and sides.
“Okay,” you were ready. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah?” Jack tested it by pulling out a fraction and slowly going back in. “Sure?”
“Positive.”
Jack thrusted in and out carefully the first few times before gradually snapping his hips harder. The grasp on your waist tightened, fingers telling you that his upset hadn’t disappeared completely and it was rapidly creating a mask of attention diverting from you.
You felt his cock deeper every time. He was hitting you in the spot that made you see stars; head lulling back to your arms and up to the window, the early morning blues and greens meaning nothing when all you could focus on was Jack’s thrusts impairing your senses.
“Baby,” he said out of breath. “Give me your hand.”
You wordlessly obeyed and slid one of your hands back where he grabbed it fast. His hand entwined with yours and now pulling your shoulder back too, he picked up his pace further. Harder, all consuming where the thoughts were truly lost. Jack’s hips slammed into your ass and the sound of his cock pushing into your ecstasy made your eyes roll. His growls came at a close second.
“Shit.”
The words came spewing out of Jack’s mouth the closer he became.
“Fuck.”
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he gasped when your walls squeezed uncontrollably. “Oh, just like that. Yeah… you’re taking me so well. Your pussy feels so fucking good.”
You let out a meek sound of disbelief.
“Oh my God, Jack.”
“I know,” he hissed. He repeated your name like a prayer.
His cock was immensely hard and he pounded into you just as much. You’d surely have a bruise or two on your arms, but it wasn’t something you were peeved about. Jack wasn’t hurting you. He would never hurt you.
“Fuck,” he gritted through his teeth. “I’m not gonna last long baby.”
“Neither am I,” you replied just as lost.
A follow up orgasm was on your horizon. Jack’s cock clipped your clit, sliding out of you for a moment of reprieve before he recorrected and pushed on. He never let go of your hand.
“I love you so much.”
You bit your cheek. “I love you, Jack.”
“I don’t think you know how much I love you,” he grunted. His hips shuddered. “I love you so goddamn much. You’re just fuckin’ perfect. My perfect fucking wife—that’s right, my fucking wife.”
The hand he held onto was your left. He would never get over the feeling of your ring on his skin.
“Oh you have no idea.” He sighed loudly.
“Come with me, Jack,” you begged him.
You were so close again. You squeezed your muscles around him, relishing the way it made his effort slow just enough for a moan to escape his lips.
“I’m right there.” Jack was starting to lose the rhythm.
“Oh fuck,” you groaned, feeling the precipice hit you again and making your legs quake in the process. You were suddenly overstimulated by the feeling and whined loudly as he chased his high.
“I’m there,” Jack repeated like a mantra. “I’m there, I’m there, baby—shit. F-fuck baby—”
Jack’s hand slipped from your grip and his hands planted themselves on your back as he rutted to stillness. His finish pushed into you with every thrust after it was over and he began to calm down his racing heart. The rush of his hands on your back soothed the overstimulation that continued to shake your legs.
Jack shushed you sweetly as he stayed buried inside.
“What the hell, Jack,” you mumbled almost incoherently into your arms.
He laughed but continued to rub your back. Around where his cock was softening, he felt a slow release of his ejaculation coming back and drip onto the floor between your feet.
He’d clean it up later.
“You okay?” He asked quietly.
“Yeah,” you were still catching your breath. “I just don’t think I need my coffee anymore.”
“No?” Jack asked amused.
“Wake me up fully like this everyday and maybe I won’t ever need it again.”
His hands gave one more appreciative swipe at your body before he gently removed himself for you and you could stand up straight again. Jack tucked himself back into his scrubs and then helped you back into your shorts and robe.
Your dazed eyes met his.
Christ. You simply loved him… maybe a little too much.
A/N: shawn doing a quinn app story maybe MAYBE inspired the fact this takes place in the kitchen. MAYBE. like probably greater than 99%.
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