you hate fighting with Robby. Because when you do, it gets out of control fast and neither of you thinks fast enough to swallow back hurtful things and take a moment to breathe
when Jack is there, it sometimes tones down to some bickering and eye rolls and everything is forgotten in half an hour. When he's not though...
You've retreated into the guest room no one ever uses, still dressed in Robby's stupid shirt and crying stupid tears because of stupid Robby. The fight was stupid too, you can't even remember what started it.
But before you knew it, his voice got louder and so did yours and he called you pushy and you said he didn't even want to get better
Both of you had slammed the door behind yourself. Jack is at work. Hours pass where you both don't come out to reconcile.
At some point, you fell asleep and you wake up to the soft feeling of knuckles brushing the tears away, nearly making you flinch stubbornly because for just a second, you think it's Robby
"What happened, sweetheart?" Jack looks at you, without judgement but with the frown on his face only you and Robby are able to bring out. The fight is written all over the quiet apartment. He did not even have to talk to Robby first.
"I don't want to talk about it." Your voice is still wobbly and you want to squirm away, but Jack is already there, not letting you.
"You don't have to tell me anything, baby. Tell him."
"No."
He leaves the guest room for now with a deep sigh. It's seven in the morning and here he is, trying to mend the broken pieces you two have left. Robby and you should've been pressed together underneath the covers, your cheeks rosy from Robby's body heat while he held you close, not like this. Not apart.
Jack can tell Robby has been crying.
The two of them stare at each other for a moment, silently communicating. Jack knows Robby feels fucking awful before he even opens his mouth.
"She's right there, man. Just talk to her. Make it right. She's been crying. Just- you gotta love her. You've gotta. Otherwise this won't work."
"I do. Fuck, I- of course I love her. It's just-"
"Is it so hard to believe she loves you too? That she cares?"
Jack leaves him with that question. While he's making three cups of tea, exhaustion clinging to his shoulders, Robby silently crossing through the living room past him and disappears into the guest room.
Jack doesn't need to eavesdrop. He's close enough to her mumbled words and a few shaky sobs before the bed squeaks and Robby and you hug it out, his large hand stroking your hair while you bury your face in his chest and cry
And when he sees Robby coming out with you in his arms, kissing your temple like you're the most precious thing in the world, he knows it'll be enough for today.
HIGHLY recommended putting a pillow in the backseat of your car because today i took a 45 minute long nap during my lunch break. when i returned i learned my boss had been running around all lunch looking for me to ask me a work question and i had inadvertently avoided All That by being unconscious in the parking lot #winning
now that it is SUMMER and some places get HOT AS BALLS my guide to being in your car during lunch and not passing away is the following:
if it truly is too hot, don't do it. or bite the bullet and turn your AC on during lunch
if you have shade to park in, do that. unfortunately my entire work parking lot is a wasteland of direct sun
crack your windows in the morning before you go in. hopefully you work in a place where this is safe, but this will help keep the car cooler during the day
get a GOOD REFLECTIVE SUNSHADE for the front of your car, this too will help keep the temp in the car cooler
get a good reflective sunshade for the REAR window and also whatever SIDE window gets the harshest sun exposure. once again this will help cut the temp inside the car
leave a door OPEN while you're inside during lunch. I don't leave mine open all the way I just wedge an empty disposable water bottle in the door or prop it open with my foot to keep it open during my lunch break. this is to make sure while you are actively inside the car the temp is as low as it can be and you have airflow and most importantly do not die
i actually don't usually fall asleep inside the car when it is super hot (safety and frankly also comfort reasons) but having a 100% private sensory deprivation space where i don't have to mask and can just lie down and chill is IMO invaluable to Surviving The Workplace
cw use of baby, pretty, sweetheart. kisses and cuddling !
âč dean lets you trim his hair. he sits on the closed toilet lid with warm hands holding your hips, looking up at you with shiny eyes, feeling much too fuzzy inside. he likes the feel of your fingers brushing over his scalp. you'll hook a couple beneath his chin to tilt his head this way and that, and he leans into the touch completely.
"you're good at this, baby."
he loves how close you are, how soft you feel under his palms. when you finish and set down the scissors, he draws it all out, not wanting to get up yet, and presses his face to your stomach. gives soft, chaste kisses to your navel.
"couple minutes," he mumbles. "wanna stay here, pretty."
âč dean likes washing dishes with you. bumps his shoulder to yours and loves the way your smile blooms all pretty, your quiet laugh. he listens to you talk about your day, so fond, it spreads fast through his chest. silence is good, too. it lasts until he flicks water onto your cheek with his fingers.
âč mornings are very slow with him. you often wake with his nose shoved against your neck, his body partially curled over yours, radiating amber heat. his lashes only flutter when your fingertips petal down the light freckles of his bicep.
"sweetheart," he breathes. "y'smell good."
he keeps you in bed for a long, long while.
âč taking care of you comes very naturally to him. whenever you fall sick, he makes sure you're resting properly and bestows very careful kisses to your dewy cheeks and forehead. he replaces tissue boxes once emptied and tucks close to your side when you pull him in. doesn't care if he catches the bug, just wants to make you feel better.
cw use of baby, pretty, sweetheart. kisses and cuddling !
âč dean lets you trim his hair. he sits on the closed toilet lid with warm hands holding your hips, looking up at you with shiny eyes, feeling much too fuzzy inside. he likes the feel of your fingers brushing over his scalp. you'll hook a couple beneath his chin to tilt his head this way and that, and he leans into the touch completely.
"you're good at this, baby."
he loves how close you are, how soft you feel under his palms. when you finish and set down the scissors, he draws it all out, not wanting to get up yet, and presses his face to your stomach. gives soft, chaste kisses to your navel.
"couple minutes," he mumbles. "wanna stay here, pretty."
âč dean likes washing dishes with you. bumps his shoulder to yours and loves the way your smile blooms all pretty, your quiet laugh. he listens to you talk about your day, so fond, it spreads fast through his chest. silence is good, too. it lasts until he flicks water onto your cheek with his fingers.
âč mornings are very slow with him. you often wake with his nose shoved against your neck, his body partially curled over yours, radiating amber heat. his lashes only flutter when your fingertips petal down the light freckles of his bicep.
"sweetheart," he breathes. "y'smell good."
he keeps you in bed for a long, long while.
âč taking care of you comes very naturally to him. whenever you fall sick, he makes sure you're resting properly and bestows very careful kisses to your dewy cheeks and forehead. he replaces tissue boxes once emptied and tucks close to your side when you pull him in. doesn't care if he catches the bug, just wants to make you feel better.
Jack Abbot plays Candy Land with his kids and will allow them to beat him because he likes how excited they are to beat Daddy. However, his kids are pretty happy when he wins too. His babies are sweet and will clap and celebrate Dad winning even if that means they lost. When the kids get a little older and they start to play Monopoly Jack Abbot has been known to team up with at least one of his kids with the only goal in mind being to beat Mom...Reader is good at Monopoly...and she plays for blood...so they gotta beat her.
Dad Jack Abbot buys his kids one of those plastic doctor play kits and has maybe come into work with a Barbie or a Dinosaur band aid directly on his foreheadâŠit was for his diagnosis of cooties dude, pls respect the medical professionals he consulted
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who sits for hours with his son playing with plastic dinosaurs. He remembers which dinosaur is his sonâs favorite, itâs the stegosaurus.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who is pretty relieved that his son has zero interest in the plastic army men Readerâs brother well meaningfully buys for the kidâŠJackâs army career can be a sensitive subject and Jack Abbot is relieved when Reader places the ignored army men in a donation pile with a few other toys their son ignores.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who has to convince his son to please not bring any frogs into the house. Please take them out of your pockets and please son put the earth worms back. The animals belong outside. They wonât be happy in the house.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who is kind of psyched when his son gets into legos and will spend too much time building elaborate cities with his kid. They build a mini Lego Pittsburgh.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who teaches his son to cook cause itâs a life skill and heâll need to know how to feed himself one day.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who teaches his son to be gentle with other people. He doesnât tolerate the boys will be boys bs. His son should treat others with kindness and respect, being a good man means caring for others.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who preens when people call his son his twin and a Jack clone.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who teases his son when he goes through the girls have cooties phase, that âMommy is a girl and she definitely doesnât have cooties.â Reader who insists that âDad has a lot of cooties but I like them.â
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who cringes realizing his son had inherited his risk taking behavior. He deals with plenty of scrapes and bruises from climbed trees and the injuries gained once the kid gets a skateboard.
Boy Dad Jack Abbot who wants his son to grow up to be a good man who looks out for those who need protection.
Reader who reassures him their boy will be just fine. Heâs got a pretty good role model in Jack.
Imagine you're an intern at SI, your Laptop breaks so you put in an IT Ticket and half an hour later the old CEO strolls in with dark circles and greasy jeans, demanding to see your Laptop.
pairing; Jack Abbot x Reader (implied to be socially awkward)
warning; mild angst, lowk self-sabotaging, depression, self-isolation, reader is oblivious and an overthinker, Abbot tries his best!! NOT PROOFREAD!!!
It first started small.
Losing interest in your hobby. Maybe it got boring, you thought. Maybe it was time to change things up a little!
And then, feeling like every nights rest lasted 20 minutes max despite sleeping for 10 hours. Some days youâd call sick for work just to sleep longer. When you were back there, in the ER building. Where the lights were so bright youâd think they were screaming at you. The smell so sharp it cut through all the thoughts you brought to the table.
You never really knew why you changed over to Night shift. It just came as an opportunity so sweet you couldnât miss it. Sleeping all day and working all night. It sure sounded fulfilling to you, depressing to others. Who needs to know that detail though? Learning as you go, theyâd tell you youâll make an excellent doctor.
Yeah right. Who wants a Doctor that makes educated guesses and not really having an idea? Luck you called it. Thatâs what it is, getting far with luck. You didnât pass those exams with full scores, just enough to be a passing grade. âWhatâs the point of a full score anyway besides it looking good?â
Something you told yourself during med school anyway. Maybe to keep yourself sane from all the studying. But being an average type of smart in a room full of people above average left a sour taste in your mouth. You knew it was silly, youâre a doctor. All doctors are smart. But what if it was luck that made you pass? Maybe you were faking it? Faking knowledge? Thatâd surely make you a fraud!
âScrapsâ,
they called you. It was Dr Robby who started with it, back when you were still doing days. It came from picking up the cases most people dreaded and filling up your plate. It was a term of endearment, so they say. It didnât take long for it to become your second name. You never said anything. It was annoying but at the same time you didnât really care about it.
âItâs just a wordâ youâd repeat to yourself. Words have no meaning. Not to you at least. People always say things to talk. Whether itâd be to fill silence, make conversation, tease and or explain. Actions on the other hand had a physical impact on you. Theyâd truly scar.
Then there was your night shift attending, Dr. Jack Abbot. He never made you feel stupid nor did he use that nickname. You couldnât tell if you liked him because he was nice to you or because heâd actually made an impact.
You liked Parker. She was honest and didnât beat around the bush. You didnât like people edging things on and making you act like a detective listening in on conversation just to make an opinion on someone. You didnât mind her calling you âScrapsâ she said in a teasingly way, that was better than Robbyâs condescending tone.
You sometimes wondered how sheâd react once she found out you were a fraud. Maybe sheâll look at you with her signature smirk and say âWe all knowâ or maybe sheâll react angrily and tell you to let HR know. Maybe sheâll react understanding? Maybe even sympathetic?
You didnât talk to anyone else as frequently as you did to those two. Conversation didnât come easy when it was with Mckay or Santos. Not that you disliked them. You just were unsure of what to say.
However, Jack Abbot clearly had a thing for you and it was obvious to everyone but you. He himself felt uncertain at times by your reaction, he thought maybe the feeling wasnât mutual. Or that he had scared you off on the days you werenât at work.
To you, your relationship with Abbot was strictly professional. He was only interested because you were the type to use methods that were rather creative than mere textbook.
Lena would reassure him that you were just shy and still getting used to the environment of the ânight crawlersâ as he called it.
Jack Abbot argued against that. Clearly you had no problem talking with Shen or Parker. He had even made a move on you when you came to the ER without your scrubs because you were simply retrieving something you had misplaced that shift!
That day, you called sick but to your dismay you left your charger there. After contemplating for about 3 hours if it was worth it to go back there and grab it you decided to put on your big girl pants and just go and retrieve it.
You wore anything you could find whilst trying not to look too messy. Youâve even done your make up to look a bit presentable.
.
.
.
The worst part was actually entering the building. You were yet again stuck in your car trying not to chicken out and drive back home. Logically, none of the night shift people were in anyway!! They wouldnât know you werenât working that dayâŠâŠ
But you simply couldnât get out of your car! As if a phantom force pulled you down and yelled at you that embarrassment would be waiting for you behind the doors. Despite your inner conflicts you managed to leave your car. So anxious that if someone were to touch your hand they might have gotten frostbite
It was going so smoothlyâŠyou were so proud âŠuntil you saw him.
Of course he had gotten in early today, of course.
He was the first to notice too, greeting you and simply saying
âyou look prettyâ
All you could do was give him a thumbs up before scurrying to grab your charger from your locker and with the same tempo going back to your car avoiding everyone.
Safe to say you were mentally beating yourself up over your reaction. Who gives a thumbs up to a compliment!? Now I look like an asshole!
Seaweedâs comment â> Thatâs it for now, maybe Iâll make this into a series if people like it !! Could you tell that Iâm sad ALSO I COULDNT MAKE IT AESTHETICALLY PLEASEUNG BC FORMAT NOT SUPPORTED BOOđđđ
It's nearly nine when Jack walks behind Trinity and Dennis at the hub, peeking at whatever they're looking at on her phoneâa post of some trendy commodity thatâs gone viral for the month.
He stops in his tracks and chuckles, âOh, my wife loves those.â
They practically snap their necks to look at him, confused. âYour wife?â Trinity asks, incredulous.
Jack nods toward a vague direction in front of them, and their eyes lead to you, yawning your way through charting at a desk. In the middle of it, you put your head down to sneak a few seconds of shut-eye.
The two slowly turn their heads back to him, with Trinity squinting her eyes at his affectionate gaze to you.
âI thought you guys had only been seeing each other for, like, a month.â
Jack shrugs. âIâm, uhâŠwhat do you kids call it? Manifesting.â He pats Dennisâ shoulder. âFinish your charts and go home. It's late.â
He walks away, leaving them more confused than before. They watch him round your desk, kiss your head, and murmur something to you. You sigh and lift your head, visibly a bit lighter.
Trinity gags. âJesus Christ.â
âHey, I think it's nice!â Dennis nudges her with his elbow.
âYou seriously did not just say that.â
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