he/him, over 21 autistic racists/homophobes/transphobes not allowed gayest gay to gay SAVE THE USPS i love men currently obsessing over dancing with the stars
Summary: A heatwave strikes Pittsburgh, and Jack Abbot comes home to a concerning display.
Warnings: heat exhaustion, soft jack abbot, so many pet names, mentions of taking medication, non-sexual nudity, gender neutral reader, no use of Y/N
Wordcount: 1,226 words
A/N: In honour of Ireland’s freak heatwave, enjoy this. I wish my reality was as sweet as this, this 25° weather is going to put me in an early grave.
Abbot gif is from @ho-ii
The sweat beaded down your cheeks at what you considered to be an alarming rate. You fanned your hand at your face, groaning when all that seemed to come back was hot, stale air. The heat was absolutely unbearable and unfortunately for you, it seemed to plan on staying all week.
You had never been able to tolerate the heat. As a baby, the Summer made you cranky and fussy. Toddler-you suffered frequent heat exhaustion and the odd heat-stroke. You endured brutal migraines due to the heat for your entire life. This heat-intolerance only worsened when you were put on long-term anxiety medication a few years ago.
The clock read 6:31AM. Jack was still working hard, probably on the verge of passing out in this heat, if he was anything like you. You had been trying to sleep all night and were starting to give up on getting even a few hours. Jack had these drowsy antihistamines that he left out for you, but even after taking those you were wide awake. You had opened the bedroom windows, turned the fan on (and off again, it really was so loud), had read a few chapters of your book, watched some TV. You didn’t know what else to do to lull you to sleep. This heat was a fucking killer.
You swung your legs off the bed, movement quick from irritation. Too quick, apparently, as you immediately felt very dizzy and had to sit down. You took a moment, blinking long and hard to try and reorient yourself. After a minute, you got up again - slower, this time - and walked to the dresser. You pulled out one of Jack’s old t-shirts. One of the ones that are light, airy and so old that they are fraying in several spots. You pulled it on over yourself, not wanting to walk around only in your underwear.
You looked down at your phone as you walked to the kitchen, the forecast foretold today was capping out at 92° and that it was currently 86°. This week might kill you.
You filled a glass with ice and water before rummaging through the freezer for one of your cold caps. The thermal beads were nice and icy cold and you wasted no time strapping it to your head. You immediately exhale in relief. In your vague cold-seeking state-of-mind, the best place you could think of to enjoy your water was on the bathroom floor. The cool tiles called your name seductively and boy, did you answer.
You floated towards the room, unceremoniously laying down in a starfish position. You lifted your head slightly to take a sip of your glass of water that was placed beside you (if you felt more in your body at that moment, you would have freaked at its placement).
For the first time that night, you felt so peaceful. And so, so, so sleepy. You didn’t even feel yourself drift off.
—-----------------
The door clicked open softly and Jack quietly trudged through. He took off his sweaty work shoes, leaving them outside the front door. He couldn’t wait to get out of these disgusting scrubs and take a cold shower. He felt a pang of sympathy for his lover. If this heat was annoying him, it must be killing you.
He padded through the halls like a man on a mission. His prosthetic sock was so fucking itchy and his leg was aching, he couldn’t wait to get it off. He walked thoughtlessly past the bathroom, before furrowing his brow and back-tracking. Was that a foot? He stood in the doorframe for a moment, staring down at you spread out on the floor.
He borderline dove down to you, practiced hands searching for a pulse immediately while calling out to you. You groaned and yawned, reaching up a hand to touch his. He laughed shakily.
“Jesus Christ, baby. ‘The hell are you doing?” His fingers remained on your pulse point despite yours trying to tug them away.
“‘S so cool, Jackie. You should lie down too.” You murmured. Jack laughed again, reaching up to take the cold cap off of your eyes. His hands went to cheeks and frowned.
“Oh honey, you’re on fire.” He said, face going serious.
“Trust me, I know.” You groaned, yawning again. Your eyes remained closed and he shook your head with his hands gently.
“Open your beautiful eyes for me, sweetheart.” He cooed, voice honey-sweet and impossible to deny. It took a lot of effort, but you did as he requested.
“Ohhh, there you are.” He pressed two short kisses to your cheeks, and one long one to your lips. You laughed and kissed him back.
“You’re running a little too hot for my liking, sweet thing. We gotta fix that.” He rasped, giving you one last kiss before getting up. You closed your eyes again, your body felt so heavy. You heard water running.
“Are you hopping in the shower, honey?” You asked quietly, and he hummed in response.
“We are hopping in the shower. I’m gross and you’re overheating. Have you taken your temp yet?” You didn’t answer, you didn’t really need to. Jack was over you with a thermometer before you could even open your mouth. The second you did, he interrupted.
“Under your tongue, you know the drill.” He instructed, moving off once it was snug. You were content to lie there and let him work around you. He shimmied your underwear off of you and you listened to him go into the bedroom to strip off. He came back in and checked your temp. He clicked his tongue, getting the t-shirt off you.
“Not great. I should have called you during the night to take a cold shower. I know how you get when it’s this hot.” He heaved a sigh, before picking you up in his arms.
“This could suck. Sorry, my love.” You didn’t respond, floating between sleep and consciousness. You felt yourself being lowered down when suddenly, your eyes shot open. It was cold. Actual freezing cold, cold. Your posture hardened for a moment, before softening once more.
“This is so fucking good, babe.” You moaned in relief as he sat you down in the bathtub. He sat behind you, and you felt his laugh rumbling in his chest.
The bath stayed relatively quiet after that, his concerns put to rest by your sudden lucidity. He took the liberty of washing you both, scrubbing and lathering and rinsing until you both were shiny. You felt steady enough to stand on your own, no longer the fawn you felt like earlier. You towel dried Jack’s hair while he massaged a muscle relaxant cream onto his leg. You saw the prosthetic dumped by the bath, dripping wet. You narrowed your eyes and pinched his ear, ignoring his ‘hey!’ in response. Your glass of water was moved to the sink counter and you fought back a stupid smile.
You lowered your head, kissing his cheek before leaning your head against his. You helped him stand, supporting half of his weight as you walked back to the bedroom. Both of you knew that despite the heat, you would have no trouble catching a power nap now.
It wasn’t long at all before the two of you were snoring your heads off, content and cooled down.
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