summary: you admit something to jack in your half-sleep and it leads to a conversation you never thought you'd ever have to have.
content: 18+ / mdni - reader is female (with inferred female parts) and over 40 - no y/n - discussions of pregnancy and family plans - emotional fluff plot
a note: as you can tell, this has become somewhat of a little ongoing series with only minor additions or subtractions to our reader's identity. i do hope that each part is readable as a one-off, but if you'd like to consider it a continuing story, i'm okay with that, too. so long as you enjoy.
You never heard Jack come in. You didn't feel him sit on the bed to remove his prosthetic; you didn't hear the shower; you didn't even notice when he crawled in beside you, his heavy, strong arm draping over you as he nuzzled into the back of your neck.
You only realized you weren't alone when your own sleep-talking woke you up and Jack's interrupted snore followed behind.
"Hey, you okay, Sunshine?" His voice was soft, warm, just hazy enough to pass for conscious.
You struggled to remember what the words you'd said — or dreamt — might have been, but it was gone with the thoughts it was inspired by. "Yeah, sorry, Jack," you murmur, yawning deeply. You roll over, onto your back as Jack rests his head on the front of your shoulder, his curls brushing up over your lower jaw. "Just a dream, I guess."
Jack's thumb curled over your belly, his palm resting on your hip. "You said something about having a baby," he said gently.
"I did?"
"Yeah." He fought to open his eyes when he felt you shift to look down at him. "Are you...?"
You shake your head immediately. "No. No, the implant is doing its job," you confirm. "No babies here."
Jack's lips quirk into his patented half-smile. "Could have one if you wanted," he says. His voice is clearer now, his eyes a little brighter in the darkness. When your face betrays your silence, he presses his lips together. "Sorry. Shouldn't have said that."
"No, no," you reply, your hand slipping around him and carding through his hair. "It was a thought, a long time ago. But I think the time has passed for me. I'm not so young anymore, and neither are you, and I don't think that's fair to a baby."
"Mm. I'd be at the very least sixty-eight when the kid graduates college. Yeah, I think I understand you."
You smile. This is an easier conversation than you'd expected. "Still the sexiest dad there, I'd bet."
He's silent for a few moments. "I had a friend a while back who got married late. They realized after a few years that they really did want a kid, so they looked into older child adoption for the same reasons you're worried about — they didn't want to be elderly parents to a teenager. Took a bit of time to be matched with the right kid, but once they did, it was like peanut butter and chocolate. Robin is sixteen now and probably more well-adjusted than any kid I've ever met."
Jack sits up straighter and meets your eyes in the moonlight through the window. "I'm not pushing you, Sunshine," he offers. "I'm just saying. I could see us having a kid one day, even if they're one we chose and not one we made."
You smile despite yourself. You really do think your time has passed and there's not much want or need for you to have a child now.
But you also look at Jack and you realize that a huge part of you would love to see him as a dad. To see him raising a kid, teaching them about sports and outdoor life and medicine and the military. To share the love between the two of you with another person, another life.
So you smile, leaning in to kiss him before resting your forehead against his.
summary: on a rare day off, you teach jack the wonders of self-care. he makes sure you're not left out.
content: 18+ / mdni - reader is female (reader is female with typical female parts) - no y/n - porn with fluff plot
It's after noon when Jack finally pads into the living room, his salt and pepper curls wild with sleep and hard water from the hospital shower. He has his palm buried in his eye, yawning while his other hand clutches the crutch propped under his arm.
"Hey there, gorgeous."
You love the way his face pinks up when you compliment him, his pale freckles popping against the color, his ears going even redder. If the hospital staff knew how easy it was, they'd never leave him alone. (You threatened to tell them often, or at least whenever he pissed you off.)
"Hey." He falls onto the couch beside you, his hand immediately slipping over your cheek to pull you in for a kiss. "Good...morning? Afternoon? Whatever. Hi."
You grin, your eyes searching his sparkling green-brown ones. "Afternoon," you confirm. Another kiss, this one a bit more lingering. "Tell me again how you got a whole entire weekend off?"
Jack shrugs halfheartedly. "Shen owed me a favor. Finally decided to take him up on it."
"Mm, I'm glad." You slip your arm behind his head on the couch and run your fingers through the back of his hair. "What's your plan for it all?"
"Do I need a plan?"
You grin. "Jack, there is no way you and I are just sitting here all weekend doing nothing."
"Well, we don't have to do nothing," he hums, his hand slipping up over your thigh.
"Besides that."
"You're no fun," he groans playfully, his movement stopping but his fingers still just below the hem of your shorts. "What do you suggest then, Sunshine?"
You think silently for a second, feeling his eyes on you as you make a show of considering the options. "How about a bit of self-care?"
"Self-care?" Jack snorts. "Babe, I think I'm a little too old for that."
You purse your lips at him. "It's not an age thing, Jack," you shoot back. "I do it."
"Listen. I love you and you know I'll do anything for you, but you are not getting me into a face mask and body lotion."
This time, your response is a pout. "Oh, but you'd be so damn sexy," you tease. He raises an eyebrow tauntingly, and you swat at his arm. "Okay, I have an idea. Give me five minutes and then meet me in the kitchen."
"Now just what the hell are you planning?"
You turn away from your task to see Jack, crutch discarded and prosthetic on, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you. His eyes flit over the counter you're standing in front of, intrigued.
You've kept the lights off, instead lighting several candles. Ray LaMontagne is singing softly in the background, and there's a chair pulled up to the sink, back against the edge. You lean against the counter, one hand set on your hip. "Shirt off, Jack."
"Excuse me?"
"You have your expertise, this is mine." You gesture, holding out your hand and raising it, palm up. "Off."
Shaking his head with a smile, Jack obeys. You ignore the warmth in your chest as your eyes linger on his chest. More freckles, more scarred skin...
"Now what?" Jack asks, his tone of voice telling you you've been caught staring.
"Sit," you say, voice a bit more strangled than you intend. You shake it off as Jack sits, determined to keep to your plan. "Now put your head back, close your eyes, and relax."
Jack, once again, does as he's told, leaning back to rest his neck on the towel you've folded at the edge of the sink. "You're out of your mind, babe."
"I said relax." You pick up the little plastic bowl you'd set out, filling it with warm water. "You ready?"
"Mm. In your capable hands."
You take your time, watching as Jack loosens up more and more with each minute. You carefully get his hair wet, combing through his curls with your fingers to get out any tangles. Carefully coating both hands with some minty, woodsy shampoo, you begin to work it through his short hair.
"Mm," he mumbles. "Smells good."
"A sample I've been saving for the right time," you reply.
"'M honored."
You smile, making sure to get the soap behind his ears and at the back of his neck. As you lean over to get some more water, he presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat. "Jack!"
"Sorry. Couldn't resist," he laughs.
You tug on a curl in response and he winces overdramatically. "Behave yourself."
His smile is crooked, teasing. "Yes, ma'am."
Knowing Jack is absolutely not the kind of guy to sit for five minutes while the conditioner works, you instead brush it in with a comb and then move yourself so you're straddling his thighs.
"Hey."
He opens his eyes. "Hey. You done?"
You shake your head, your turn to give him a smirk. "Nope. Gotta let that conditioner sit."
"Sunshine, I..."
Sitting down on his lap, you pull his arms around your waist and letting your hands fall on either side of his throat. "We let it sit."
Before he can try to argue again, you lean in and slip your tongue past his lips, silencing both his voice and — you assume — his brain. His hands make their way under your shirt, his fingertips pressing into your skin. You pull your mouth from his, watching his dazed eyes before you nip at his lips once before moving to kiss his throat. His breath comes a little more harshly, his touch slipping lower on your back, and you can feel him fidgeting under your ass.
After a few more moments of making out, you finally release Jack, swinging yourself off his lap as he stares at you. "See? Was that so bad?"
"Oh, you're gonna pay for that."
You grin, grabbing your little water bowl once more. "It made you sit still."
The cogs in Jack's clearly aroused brain are working as you rinse his hair out one last time. He grumbles a little at the cooler water, and you passingly comment that it's better for his curls before grabbing the other towel you've had stashed behind you. With his hair as short as it is, it only takes a bit of careful work to get it passably dry.
As Jack sits up straight, you stand in front of him, back against the wall, smiling. "How did that feel?"
He runs a hand over his damp head. "Can I hire you to work in the hospital showers? For me alone, that is. I ain't sharing you."
You laugh. "The hair wash is the best part of the salon," you admit. "I thought it might be just as relaxing for you."
"It was." He leans forward, elbows on his knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes. "Now, as for your little trick..."
"Trick?" you ask innocently, realizing that he's already getting to his feet.
"Yeah." He's standing now, and your lips curve in a smile as you step sideways and run out into the living room, hearing Jack's guffaw behind you.
For a few laugh-filled moments, you and Jack circle your couch, predator and prey. It's when you try to trip him up by feigning right and instead going left that Jack finally catches you. With one arm around your waist, he catches your chin in his palm and pulls your face up so you're looking into his eyes.
"Got you," he says, his voice almost a growl. You don't even get the words in your mind before his lips are on yours, bruisingly, desperately. You whimper, your hands falling to his waist as he moves the one on your face to the back of your neck.
"Jack..." you gasp against him.
He pulls his lips away, resting his forehead on yours. "Since our self-care day has turned into...well, not self-care, I think it's your turn to," he carefully runs his tongue over the shape of your upper lip, "relax."
You don't know how you got to your bedroom. Jack's mouth was on yours the whole time, his body guiding you carefully even as he expertly distracted you from the movements. All you know now is that you're lying back on the bed, Jack's body is pressing you into the mattress as his tongue explores your mouth. You start to move your hands so you can run them over the expanse of Jack's still-bare back, but he grunts, breaking the kiss to shake his head at you. His hands move to grab your wrists, keeping them both pressed to the bed above your head with one palm while the other traces a finger over your cheek. "Mm-mm. Nope. My turn to do all the work."
He isn't lying. Only releasing your wrists to get your shirt over your head, he immediately traps you again, deftly using just one hand to relieve you of your shorts. You gasp as he runs his hand over your belly, up to the side of your breast. "Fuck, sometimes I forget how beautiful you are."
Your heart skips. Jack tells you all the time how much he loves you, how gorgeous you are, how lucky he is...but it never gets normal. You hope it never does. "Jack," you whisper. "Please."
"'Please' what, Sunshine?"
You squirm as his thumb flicks over your nipple. "Please... Please use your mouth on me."
"Thatta girl." He smiles wickedly. "If I let go of your hands, you don't touch, okay?" You nod, and when he releases you you immediately clutch the sheets, trying to prove to him you're doing what he asks. He takes note, shoots another raised eyebrow at you, and fucking winks.
You want to kill him.
That is, until his mouth finds the same peaked nipple his thumb had teased a few seconds before. You gasp, your body reacting immediately and arching up to meet him. You feel his smile against your skin, even as his hands now slip under your back and press you up even closer to him. Your brain feels like it's on a malfunctioning carousel, spinning wildly with stimulation and lust as Jack releases one breast and moves to the other. You desperately want to touch him, to weave your hands into his hair (fuck, if he's sweating as much as me we'll have to wash it again, you think), but you don't want him to stop.
Eventually, Jack moves to leave a sticky, wet trail down to your belly before he glances up at you. His eyes, their blown-black pupils obscuring his beautiful hazel color, meet yours as you pant both from arousal and expectation. "Okay?" he asks, and you nod, hoping he sees the desperation in your gaze.
When his lips curl around your clit, you nearly tear holes in the sheets. Without thinking, you curl your legs around his shoulders, locking your ankles to keep him there. There's a brief, glittering thought of does this count as touching? before your brain whites out as his tongue enters you.
You don't know how long Jack eats you out, but you're pretty sure you've come three times before his mouth finds yours again and your own taste meets your senses via his tongue. You can feel him wiggling as he kisses you languorously, and you hear the thunk of his prosthetic followed by the scratchy sensation of his leg hair against your thigh.
"I'm gonna fuck you now." It's not a question, not that you'd have a negative answer if it was. With surgical precision, he slides into you, bottoming out quickly thanks to his diligent foreplay. You cry out, unable to stop your hands from curling into Jack's shoulders.
Once you're accustomed to his cock inside you, he rolls you both onto your side, giving him a bit more balance on his good leg. He hitches your own knee over his waist, thrusting up into you slowly, achingly slowly, pulling nearly all the way out with each move.
"J-Jack," you pant. "Please. Faster. Harder. I can't take this."
He buries his face in your shoulder, his teeth scraping your skin as he moves faster. The sensations are overwhelming — his chest bumping yours in time with his thrusts, his leg hair chafing you where your leg drapes over him, his mouth so tight against your shoulder you know you'll feel it later, and his cock stretching and filling you so well you wonder how the fuck you managed before him.
You gasp as he shifts a little and hits just the right spot inside you. "Fuck," you hiss. "Oh, Jesus... Jack, I... Fuck."
His mouth moves to the shell of your ear. "Come for me, baby. I wanna feel you come all over my cock. Let fucking go."
Jack's voice is usually so smooth, so soft, that the gravel you hear in it now turns you on even more than you thought possible, and the combination of that and all the other physical and mental feelings sends you over the edge. The sound of your apex is chaotic; it's your guttural cries, Jack's groan as you squeeze everything out of him, and the wetness of your orgasm as Jack slams into you, dragging you to the finale.
"Jack," you manage to pant as your brain begins to slow. "Jack, did you...?"
As if your climax was all he was waiting for, Jack falters, groans, and you feel him fill you — hot and thick and shuddering. Finally, he collapses onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You realize your hearts are racing in tandem, and you smile, pressing your lips to his collarbone.
You've both long since cleaned up, and Jack is coming back from the kitchen, still naked as a jaybird. He hands you a bottle of water and sits down on his side of the mattress, propping his crutch up against the wall before swinging over and stretching out beside you.
Instinctively, you brush your fingers through his hair as you down a mouthful of water. "Mm, still feels soft after all our exertions," you muse.
"Bummer. I thought I'd get to weasel another one outta you," he replies, taking the water and swigging it.
You laugh. "Next time," you poke his chest, "you fuck me before I waste the good shampoo on your hair."
summary: jack comes home from a rough night shift to your warm embrace and listening ear.
content: 18+ / mdni - reader is female (in any way you'd like to imagine that) - no y/n - (emotional) hurt/comfort - simple kisses and touches - no smut (this time) - discussions of young patient loss and medical trauma
You're long awake, sitting up in bed against your pillows, reading a news report on your phone when you hear the front door of the apartment creak open.
"Babe?"
"In the bedroom, Jack," you reply, shutting off the phone screen and placing it on your bedside table.
When he appears in the doorway, your heart skips. Jack had spent nearly eighteen hours in the emergency department, and despite his clear exhaustion, he is still one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen. He offers you a small smile as he moves across the space between you.
"Good morning, handsome," you smile as his lips meet yours. Even his kiss is tired. You catch his hand as he starts to pull back, tugging him down on the bed. His weight lands on you, but you don't mind, shifting so he can settle beside you, his head tucked under your chin. "Long night, huh?"
He grunts lightly in response. "Bad night," he murmurs, one of his hands slipping across your hip, his thumb beginning to draw small circles on the bare skin just under your shirt. "Too many losses, not enough saves."
You sigh softly. "You did your best, Jack?"
"Always."
"Then it's not on you." You stroke your fingertips through his silver curls, soothing.
He breathes against you for a few moments, the silence sharp but comfortable. Then, "I lost it, Sunshine."
You don't miss a stroke of his hair, but internally, you brace. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"
Finally, he pushes away from you, sitting up near your knees and folding his arms across his own. In turn, you sit forward, curling one knee against his hip so you can get closer without moving too much. You rest your cheek on his bicep and curl your hand over his forearm.
"Jack, tell me."
"It's so much. It's so fucking much."
You and Jack have been together two years, married two months. You've been through a lot with him already, but you're not sure you can remember hearing him sound so sad. It's even more shocking when you feel a tear fall on your fingers. You choose not to push, instead holding tight to him and giving him time.
"She was thirteen," he whispers. "A hit and run. We thought it was so easy, so routine. But every time we fixed one thing, another popped. They called for me...so many times. So. Many. Times." His right hand slips up and finds yours on his arm. "I thought we'd finally gotten it. I thought we'd saved her. And then..." He swallows, sighs, swallows again. You know he's trying to stop crying, but he's losing the battle. "And then her heart stopped. Just...stopped. And we tried everything. I tried everything. I couldn't let her..." He rolls his neck, refusing to meet your eyes, instead refocusing on your joined hands. "I did compressions for...far too long. I don't know what came over me, but I couldn't let her go. I even screamed at Mohan to help or get out. It wasn't until... Until Robby came in. He had to...to physically pull me off her."
You're holding back your own tears, determined to stay strong for Jack. Your free hand has moved up his spine, settling just in at the top where you can feel his racing heartbeat. You press lightly, a grounding reminder that he isn't alone.
"He threw me in an Uber as soon as I had my gloves off. Told me to come home to you." You bite back a smile. Robby is the only one who knows you've gotten married; Jack has repeatedly insisted that the hospital staff doesn't need to — or deserve to — know. "I just... I tried so hard and I couldn't save her."
You turn your head to press your lips to his arm. He smells of antiseptic and the body wash he keeps in his work bag and something warm and delicious that is just quintessentially Jack. Your hand doesn't let go of his, doesn't move from his back, but you rest your chin on his shoulder and keep your voice low.
"You, Dr. Abbot, are a miracle worker. You have saved more lives and more families than anyone could ever be expected to, regardless of career. But even you have to realize that — well, sometimes the stars aren't aligned." You squeeze his fingers a little bit tighter. "The universe has a really fucked up sense of justice. Sometimes, it's the little girls whose clocks run out first, even when others might seem like they should be next on the list." He turns now, his hazel eyes finding yours. "Sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes you get the clock running again. But even you, my sweet man... Even you have to lose sometimes."
His face is red, tears still sliding down his cheeks and disappearing into his stubble. "I just... Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it."
"It is, Jack." You move the hand on his back up to the back of his neck. "Because for every patient you lose, there are so many more you save. You are an angel to those families, and I can bet even to the ones who don't get to take their loves home because you tried. You did everything you could to save their babies, their parents, their spouses. And even if you failed, you're the one who tried. Who gave your all."
Jack falls silent again, closing his eyes and trying to control his breathing. You unfold your legs, climbing off the bed. In a few smooth moves, you've got his sneaker off and his prosthetic close behind.
"Lay down," you urge softly. He obeys, the tears on his face still wet but no longer falling. When he's settled, you slide back in beside him, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and your ankles around his good leg. "Listen to me, Jack. I am so, so sorry you lost that girl today. But it's not on you. And I need you to accept that."
"I — "
"Say it," you insist. "Please. You'd make Robby say it. So say it for me."
"It's... It's not on me."
"Good." You lift your lips and press a long, lingering kiss to his. "You, sweetheart, are a gift. To those patients and to your coworkers. You're a fucking blessing." You smile. "And to me? You're a goddamn superhero."
There's a twinge in Jack's mouth that could almost be called a smile. His right hand comes up to settle on your waist, his left moving to cup your cheek before sliding back under his own.
"I love you, Sunshine," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. "So much."
"I love you, too, Jack," you reply. "Now sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."
And as he settles in, eyes fluttering closed almost immediately, you curl in closer, nose buried in his shirt, listening to his easy breaths and his now-steady heartbeat, and you smile.
Jack, your Jack, here at home with his heart on his sleeve and his love out in the open... Jack feels like daybreak.
