3 Times You Knock and the 1 Time He Knocks (Jack Abbot x Reader)
Main Master List || Misc Master List
Warnings: 18+, date rape drug mentioned, sexual harassment, illusion to SA, language, one sexual comment, mutual pining, idiots in love (they don't know it), work trauma
The first time you knock on his door you know youâre in trouble. Not necessarily from knocking on your attendingâs door well past acceptable hours, but by the fact that you have a stranger holding you upright â and judging by a hand slipping lower and lower down your back â you know he doesnât have the best intention. âYou sure this is your place?â He asks in a husky voice, breath tainted with alcohol and you resist the urge to vomit. Itâs not your place, per say. Your place is a few doors down, but you had enough common sense to not lead him directly to where you live. So, Jack is your next best bet.
âYep, me and my boyfriend,â you slur, knocking on the door again as the manâs eyes darken.
âSeems like no one is home,â he comments, hand groping your ass as the door swings open, revealing a disheveled Jack.
Without a second thought you launch into his body, arms wrapping around his neck as they support the weight of your inebriated body. âJackie! I missed you.â You can tell Jack is taken aback by your body against his, but with his perceptiveness, he immediately picks up on the fact that something is wrong.
âHey baby. I thought you would be home earlier.â He has no clue where you were. You and him donât really talk about outside life while working. Wrapping an arm around you, Jack tucks you into his side, head tilting up as he stares down the man that brought you home. Jack isnât dumb. Jack knows what that man was possibly thinking. And you know that Jack knows. âSup man, thanks for taking her home, I wouldnât want anything bad happening to her.â
The man stands in the doorway, anger causing his veins to pop out of his neck but he swallows it down. âItâs no problem,â he grunts, âmaybe you should accompany her next time.â
Jack scoffs, pulling you closer than you thought possible and you revel in his warmth, inhaling the trace of his woodsy cologne. âI will,â Jack slams the door shut, locking it with his free hand and waits for the man to leave before turning to face you. â(Y/N) What happened?âÂ
You barely hold the tears back as your face finds itself in Jackâs chest. Itâs highly inappropriate for a resident to be seeking comfort from their attending, but you find that you donât really care about that right now. âI- I donât know. I was getting drinks with the girls. I started talking to that guy. He bought me a drink, and then the world started getting fuzzy,â you try to explain through heaves as he guides you to his couch, sitting you down gently. âI tried to find Santos or Mohan but that guy he⊠he started leading me out the door and his grip was strong.â Jack doesnât say anything as his hand rubs your back in circles, trying to soothe you. Looking up at him through drunken vision and tear soaked lashes, you note that heâs in pajamas and his eyes sport dark circles underneath. âIâm sorr-â you hiccup and Jack gets up, heading to his kitchen before pouring you a glass of water, rejoining you on the couch as he holds out the glass.
âDrink this. Youâll feel better.â The liquid soothes your throat and forces you to calm down as his hand finds purchase on your back again.
âIâm sorry Abbot, I didnât mean to wake you up by pounding on your door.â He smiles down at you, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear.
âYou donât need to apologize for anything. You were smart to come to me.â There is a tense pause in the room as Abbotâs eyes look around, his teeth tugging at his lip. âI hate to ask, but⊠he didnât try anything did he?â
Shaking your head you finish the water. âNo, but I knew thatâs where it was going. I didnât want him to find out where I lived, which is why I knocked on your door.â
Jack wordlessly refills the glass. âIt was smart, but we should get you down to the hospital for a tox screen and some fluids. Is that ok with you?â
The thought of spending your evening (whatâs left of it) in the ER where people know you sends a shiver down your spine. Shaking your head, you grab his forearms, noticing how thick and warm they are in your hands and filing that away for later. âPlease not the Pitt. Can we go to Presby or literally anywhere else?â
Jack smiles softly and stands up, extending a hand for you to take as he pulls you up into him. âYeah, we can go to Presby.â
The second time you knock on his door itâs for a silly reason. In your tiredness, you had sat down on your couch after starting a bath and dozed off, only to wake up two hours later with your bathroom completely flooded. âFucking shit!â You rush to turn off the faucet as water splashes around the floor, surely damaging the trim. âWell, there goes my deposit.â
After a quick google search on how to fix an overflooded apartment, you sigh in defeat. It will take until Monday for a person to assess the damage and youâre too low on funds to buy a fan to air it out. With a frustrated sigh you leave the apartment and storm over to Jackâs. Itâs not like you want to bother your attending on one of his days off, but you also donât want to have your place smell of mildew for the foreseeable future.Â
With a short, terse knock, you wait with a huff as seconds pass by before the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Jack in crutches.
âOh, um. Shit,â you rapidly turn to look away, oblivious to the fact that Jack is staring at you with a smug grin. âSorry Abbot for intruding. My place flooded and the maintenance wonât get here til Monday and I donât have a large enough fan to dry out the bathroom. Do you happen to have a fan I can use?â Your eyes are on his socked foot as blood flows to your face. You know that he is an amputee, but you have never seen him without his prosthetic on, let alone shirtless without it on.
âHowâd you manage that?â He asks with a cocked head, finding amusement in the situation.
âI went to start a bath and then fell asleep,â you admit bashfully as he chuckles softly, opening the door wider.Â
âYou can take my fan, I just need it back once youâre done,â he gestures towards his bedroom, leading you down the hall as you try to keep your gaze on the walls and not his toned back and arms, flexing with each move of the crutches. âDonât electrocute yourself and donât short circuit the fan, okay?â
Rolling your eyes, you pick up the fan and wrap the cord around the base. âDonât worry old man, Iâll make sure to watch youtube videos on how to properly plug it in without shocking myself,â you tease as he laughs, a brevity of calmness settling between the two of you. âThank you, Jack. I swear I donât intend on making it a habit to rely on you for help.â
He smiles softly, pursing his lips and lowering his head, his hazel eyes piercing yours. âDonât worry about it. I will always help you out.â
The third time you knock on his door itâs well past midnight and youâre starving. Itâs not like you donât have food in your apartment, because you do, itâs just that itâs expired save for one singular box of mac and cheese. And you donât have any milk. Your stomach grumbles in vengeance as you let out a sigh. Itâs really pathetic that you are walking to your attendingâs door to ask for milk.
Your hand curls into a fist as it raps against the door. Despite it being past midnight, Jackâs light is on and you can hear some moving around behind the door as he opens it, revealing a mouth watering scent. âWhat do you need help with this time,â he teases, leaning against his door frame, biceps straining against an old shirt as he crosses his arms, intentionally flexing.
It takes a second for you to wrap your head around the fact that he answered, mind preoccupied with trying to decipher whatever he was cooking as it makes your stomach rumble.
âI- uh, Iâm out of milk, do you have some to spare?â Your eyes flicker past his face and see his kitchen counter, somehow organized despite there being utensils and flour everywhere while Gordon Ramsey plays on his tv in the background. âWhat are you cooking?âÂ
He looks back for a second before returning his attention to you. âSpaghetti carbonara. Would you like to join?â
âOh, no, I couldnât,â but Jack doesnât accept that for an answer as he gently grabs your arm and pulls you inside.Â
âI have more than enough, come on.â
âSo like, what donât you do?â You ask, shoveling some pasta into your mouth with a moan that doesnât go unnoticed by Jack. Swallowing the food, you set your fork down onto the now empty plate. âYouâre an ER doctor, a SWAT medic, you do yoga, you workout, you cook, so what donât you do?â
He smiles as he wipes his face, napkin laying discreetly over his lap. âI donât go out,â he offers, taking a sip from his wine glass, his eyes trailing your face.Â
Shrugging your shoulders, you lean back, stomach pudging out from the food that you ate. âWell, I donât know where you learned to cook, but man, that has got to be the best food Iâve had in a while.â Your eyes land on his face, softening in appreciation. âThank you Jack. I really appreciate you feeding me.â
âItâs no problem,â he stands from his chair, collecting his and your plate before plopping them in the sink and you take that as a sign to start heading out the door. âIf you run out of food non expired food again, just let me know and Iâll make you something.â
The next morning a knock echoes through the apartment and in the doorway is a man who youâve never seen with arms full of bags filled to the brim with groceries. âAre you (Y/N)?â
âHereâs your order,â he hands the bags of groceries off and leaves without much of an explanation. Looking down at the groceries, you take note of a piece of paper lodged into one of the bags.Â
Something other than mac and cheese and not expired. Dinner at my place before work?
Jack
The one time he knocks on your door itâs on a morning where your schedules donât line up. The knock is heavy as it wakes you from a fruitless slumber. With tired eyes, you drag yourself out of the bed and wrap a robe around your frame, shuffling toward the door.Â
What you donât expect to see is Jack leaning against the frame, eyes sunken in and bag at his feet. âJack?â You know he has rough shifts, who doesnât have rough shifts in the ER, but he has never once sought you out. Robby is normally the go to comforter on the roof of the hospital. Not that you know that of course, because you donât.
Jack looks down to his feet, unsure of himself. âCan I come in?â You move to the side and he kicks his bag in, much to your shock. Jack Abbot is normally a collected individual, always keeping his cool under stressful situations, but you havenât seen this side of him.Â
With wary eyes, you watch as he situates himself onto your couch, hands fiddling with his prosthetic and trying to get it off. âHere, let me,â you jump into action, kneeling in front of him and removing his hands. You know that whatever state heâs in right now he is only going to harm himself trying to get the prosthetic off.Â
He scoffs but obliges all the same, âif I had known that this would have gotten you on your knees for me, I wouldâve come to you more often.â The words slip out of his mouth before he can process them as you freeze, hands seemingly glued onto the outer shell of his socket as your eyes widen. âFuck shit, sorry, I didnât mean that.âÂ
It takes you a second to recover from his words as you remove his leg from the socket, setting the prosthetic to the side. âAre you ok?â Your eyes try to find his but heâs staring at your wall, refusing to meet your gaze. âDo you want some water?â He doesnât say anything as you move to stand. Before you can get away into the kitchen his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, pulling you in between his legs as his face buries into your stomach, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.Â
Even though you have known Jack for three years now as a friend and a resident, never has he hugged you, and if youâre honest with yourself, you hope that he hugs you again, and not just in a seeking comfort manner. âCan you just hold me?âÂ
Putting aside the fact that you and him have been teetering on the brink of being something more than friends and the fact that heâs your attending, you allow your hands to find purchase in his salt and pepper curls, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as he lets out a strangled sigh. It doesnât take long for you to hear the occasional sniffle or for you to feel a damp spot seeping through your robe but you make no comments on it.Â
A few minutes later Jack pulls away, wiping his tears with the back of his hands while you take a seat next to him, hand resting on his thigh as he collects himself. âIâm sorry for barging in like this.â
Shaking your head, your hand reaches back and rubs soothing circles into his back. âDonât even sweat it. Iâll always be here for you.â
He smiles for what you donât know is the first time since before his shift started. âAnd I you.â
