Sorry what was that you said Robby? Abbot doing nude yoga at sunrise?
DEAR READER
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Sorry what was that you said Robby? Abbot doing nude yoga at sunrise?
me after spending 2 hours GROVELLING for snippets from shawn hatosy’s quinn audiobook on tiktok
I’m on fire - Bruce Springsteen
Female reader x off duty Jack abbot
Synopsis: After a work meeting, you go out in Pittsburgh for the night, you might as well. The clubs were shitty, and so you go looking for something better, and find more than you were looking for. Jack abbot. He takes you on a tour of the city until you get coaxed into going to his favourite spot. One thing leads to another and let’s just say you end up wanting to spend another night in Pittsburgh, more specifically, Jack’s bed.
Content: swearing, flirting, sex in multiple forms, and cute romcom moments. 🤗 also mentions of alcohol from the get-go. Not proofread.
Authors note: this is smutty, like to a degree that isnt like anything I’ve written before. So it’s sort of a trial run for this type of writing. Enjoy.
————————————————————————
After four shots with these girls, you knew it was time to detach yourself. They’d reached the point of drunkenness where they began to bitch about each other, and then their shitty boyfriends, and then each other again. It was too early in the night for that, far too early.
“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You yelled at the group of girls you’d met that night. They were alright, you supposed. You were passing through the city, only here for a work meeting you’d had earlier that day. Pittsburgh was nice enough. Good bars, you’d heard, but the clubs were a little worse for wear. If you looked past the influencers adorned with the best of whatever fast fashion had in, and the tacky cocktails named after ‘White boys of the month’, you could see that this really wasn’t what it was trying to be. A failed homage to what once was.
You slipped through the crowd, the multi-coloured lights illuminating a path for you to go through. Music pounded through you, beating as though you had grown a second heart. This scene wasn’t really you anymore, though you couldn’t pin down what was. A drifter maybe, someone who floats through life barely present. Even money couldn’t make you excited anymore. Not to mention you haven't been laid well enough to feel anything in months. You needed a spark, some kindling to re-ignite whatever you used to be.
The cold air gripped you as you stepped out into the night. You pulled your phone out, scrolling through google maps. There were a lot of bars in Pittsburgh, a lot. You lacked the energy to pick one, reluctantly slipping it back into your handbag with a shivery sigh. You began the trek. It was only half ten, still lots of time to enjoy three or four whiskeys and head back to your hotel room to fall asleep to reruns of Seinfeld. This whole night was shaping up to be shitty, maybe it was time to just call it.
One more street, you told yourself, one more street and the next bar you saw, you were going in. As you turned the corner, a small building tucked in-between a laundrette and a tapas restaurant, had a luminous neon sign sticking out. “The full tap”, it read in neon blue letters. Wrapping your hand around the handle, you pushed the door open and walked inside. The smell of whiskey and peanuts welcomed you in like an old friend, warming you up as you went to perch on a barstool. Resting your handbag on your lap, you looked around you. A glowing legion of orange-hued lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the dark-walled room. It was cozy and old, you could tell it had been passed through generations. Quiet too, only a couple in the far corner and one other man sat a few seats away from you.
He caught your glance for a second before it was pulled away and towards the bartender. An older woman with a tired, but warm expression on her face. She smiled at you, resting her hands on the wooden bartop.
“What can I get you sweetheart?"
You looked behind her at the list of drinks on a chalkboard. Thank god these drinks were normal.
“A gold rush please.”
“Comin’ right up.”
You folded your hands neatly over your handbag, absently fixing your gaze on a mini-fridge near where the bartender was standing. The guy at the other end of the bar kept looking back to you, you could see his head swiveling in your peripheral vision. After two more of his glances, you turned and faced him. He wasn’t bad looking, not by a long shot. His face was splashed with freckles, as though someone had knocked a paintbrush and he’d been in range. Part of you couldn’t help to wonder how far those freckles tracked down his chest, or whether they snaked a pattern around his legs.
“I haven’t seen you around.” He says, his arms supporting his leaning weight on the counter.
The bartender passes your drink over the counter, turning back to the sink.
“I’m just passing through.”
He smiles, taking a swig of his drink. “How long are you here for?”
You shrug. “Just tonight.” Smiling back, you take a sip of your own. The alcohol hits the back of your throat with a sting, making you wince. That would be your last one.
“Is your husband with you?” He asks, “I always see couples sightseeing.”
Chuckling softly, you shake your head and hold up your ringless hand.
“I’m surprised.” He scoffs, taking another sip. “You’re far too beautiful to be unmarried.”
“And you’re too charming to be married.”
He laughs softly, but bites at his lip a little bit. “I used to be, but she passed a while ago.”
Your eyebrows raise and your hand reaches out instinctively across the bartop. “I’m so sorry. It was a stupid joke.”
“No, no, it was a good joke.” He scoffed, staring at your outstretched hand. “I liked it.”
You nurse your head in your hands, shaking it. “I’m sorry, I’m already a little drunk.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He laughs again, taking the final swig of his drink.
“No, I flirt when I’m drunk.”
“Again, nothing wrong with that.”
You gaze at him. Maybe it’s just the bourbon talking, but you really didn’t want to leave this bar without him.
“I’m done here. You wanna go for a walk?” he asks. “I can show you the sights.”
You chug the last few drops of your drink and slide a ten dollar bill towards the bartender.
“Thanks.” you say to her and turn back to the man. “Yes I’d like that very much.”
He walks the road side of the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. You just rested yours in the pockets of your bomber jacket, your handbag slung over your shoulder.
“I’m Jack, by the way.” He stated. “Though we probably should have told each other our names before we left the bar.”
“Why’s that?”
“I feel like it's just a thing people do” He chuckles, shrugging. “You know, not walking out with random strangers.”
“Well I’m not people.” You teased, “And anyway, I’m selective with the strangers I walk out of bars with.”
“I’m glad I made the cut then.”
“Should be.” You smarted, walking a little ahead of him and turning back to face him, walking backwards. You told him your name.
“What sight should I see first?” You ask excitedly, tilting your head at him.
He hummed, and walked a little faster so that you returned to his side.
“It’s not exactly a classic sightseeing spot..” He ventures. “But I think you’ll like it.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The two of you walked along the sidewalk, hands barely missing each-other. The sky had somehow darkened even more, and the air had turned threatening. Rain was imminent, and you were dressed for anything but rain. A small black dress and a long brown trenchcoat wasn’t going to hold up well. The first few drops fell, and you shivered a little. He turned to you and gave you a small grimace, bracing against the growing winds.
The rain drops got heavier and heavier, and started slowly turning into tiny balls of hail.
Without thinking, you grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him as you ran under the nearest shelter you saw.
“Quick!” You yelled, sprinting across the road as the hail crashed down onto you both.
You ran to a drugstore on the other side of the road that had scaffolding sheltering the door, pulling Jack flush against you as you backed against the wall. His hands pressed against the brick either side of you, chest rising hard and fast. For a few seconds you just gazed at each-other, small smiles crawling onto both of your faces.
Your hand gingerly graced the side of his face, wrapping around his cheek before you pulled him gently in towards you. He leaned forwards and planted a soft kiss on your lips, and then withdrew to gauge your reaction. He didn’t actually have that much time to examine your expression, as you pulled him straight back, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“You know” He whispered in between pecks, “I really saw this happening at the spot I had planned.”
You grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure we can still figure something out.”
“We better.”
You’d hailed a cab, and he’d told the driver an address. The rain was still pounding down outside, pattering at the windows. Silence sat between you in the car, though not a bad kind. Holding your desire close to your chest has often worked well for you, using it as leverage with lovers. You’d found the less you gave, the more they’d want - but you didn’t want to do that for Jack. You wanted to give him everything. It sounded stupid, but when you’ve been so deprived of that warm, burning pit inside of you, any spark gives you hope.
His hand was wrapped around your eyes as he guided you inside a building, his other settled at the small of your back.
“Almost there.” He whispered, easing you up some stairs.
“This is the start of almost every slasher film ever, Jack.” You grumble, “You do know that right?”
He presses a kiss into your neck. “You’re going to love it. I promise.”
Walking you further into the building, you feel him slowly press your shoulders down and move his hand down to your hip.
“Sit.”
He removed his hand, and before you stood a massive window, one of the biggest you’d seen in an apartment. It practically replaced the wall. The stars of a thousand cities shone back at you, all blinking independently. A hundred thousand lives all living right before you. An overwhelming sense of sonder overcame you. Each light was turned on by someone, would be turned off again, it counted for something. You could see whole lives, right here.
“It’s so simple, but you can really see the whole city from here.” He muses. “It sounds stupid, I know, but you never quite feel lonely when you can see all this light.”
You stood up, walking over to the glass and resting your palms on it. Mouth gaping open slightly, you looked down.
“Not stupid, definitely not stupid.” You whisper.
He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Leaning into his touch, you swivelled around to face him.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“I figured you should see the best view.”
Standing on your tip toes, you kissed him, delving into his lips with yours so deeply, you could have sworn you were drowning. He gripped your back, pulling you flush against him.
You groaned into his mouth, arching your back a little as his cock hardened against you.
“Fuck.” He moaned into your neck, pecking at your skin softly.
You tenderly pushed him backwards, driving him onto the couch. Straddling him, you began to unbutton his shirt, kissing down his chest as you went. He did the same to you, prising the dress straps from your shoulders. His cock was bulging against his trousers, straining to be set free. As your hands wrapped around his belt buckle. You began salivating, biting down on the inside of your mouth. It sprang free, leaking pre-cum on the inners of your bare thighs.
“You want to fuck me?” You whispered into his ear, hovering your sopping cunt over his crotch. “Do you?”
He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you down, easing you onto his tip. You grinded down slowly, riding his cock.
“You have no fuckin’ idea, baby.” He groaned, raising his hips to meet yours as you bobbed up and down. “Are you sure you’re only staying for one night?”
“Stop talking” you moaned, increasing the speed at which he was thrusting into you.
“You should stay longe-” He began, but was cut short as you slapped your hand over his mouth. “Oh fuck!” He muffled into your palm. “I’m gonna-”
You dragged your movements, truly riding him over, and over, and over again. You could tell he was close, you could feel him shaking inside of you.
“Fuck!” He groaned, releasing himself into you.
You rolled off of him, slackening on the couch, chest heaving up and down. Feeling a little thumping sensation between your legs, you slipped your fingers down onto your clit. You rubbed your thumb around in small circles, squeezing your legs over your wrist.
Jack sat up, staring at you.
“What are you doing?” He puffed, still trying to regain his breath.
“What does it look like?”
“No-” He grunts, standing up and moving to the floor. “I meant, I was going to do that.”
You were confused, so confused. “Touch yourself?”
“No,” He laughs, closing his eyes. “I was going to touch you, you didn’t come.”
“Oh.”
“It’s only fair.” He smirks, kneeling before you and gently easing your hand away from yourself and replacing it with his own. Setting his thumb on your clit, he began rubbing vertically, whilst simultaneously slipping his ring finger in and out of you. You writhed away from him instinctually in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his upper back.
“How the-” You groaned gutturally, raising your arms above your head and gripping onto the back of the couch. “Fuck!”
He ran his fingers down your soaking folds and brought the wetness back up the clit as lubrication. “Is this good?” He whispered unassumingly, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, and yet he still had the nerve to pretend like you weren’t about to fall off of the earth at any given moment.
“Give it to me” You gasp, running one of your hands through his hair. “Fucking give it.”
“It’s coming, don’t you worry.”
His fingers gained speed, and you felt the electrifying build up, one that you hadn’t felt in years. “I’m-” your walls contracted in on themselves, squeezing so tightly and releasing with such unparalleled tension.
“Jesus Christ." You huffed, resting your hands on his shoulders for stability. “Maybe I will stay for another night.”
“I can show you the proper sights tomorrow?” He asked, standing up and grabbing a blanket to give you.
“Let’s see if I can walk by tomorrow, and we’ll go from there?” You laugh, still trying to catch your breath.
————————————————————————
❣️❣️❣️❣️
I’m on fire - Bruce Springsteen
Female reader x off duty Jack abbot
Synopsis: After a work meeting, you go out in Pittsburgh for the night, you might as well. The clubs were shitty, and so you go looking for something better, and find more than you were looking for. Jack abbot. He takes you on a tour of the city until you get coaxed into going to his favourite spot. One thing leads to another and let’s just say you end up wanting to spend another night in Pittsburgh, more specifically, Jack’s bed.
Content: swearing, flirting, sex in multiple forms, and cute romcom moments. 🤗 also mentions of alcohol from the get-go. Not proofread.
Authors note: this is smutty, like to a degree that isnt like anything I’ve written before. So it’s sort of a trial run for this type of writing. Enjoy.
————————————————————————
After four shots with these girls, you knew it was time to detach yourself. They’d reached the point of drunkenness where they began to bitch about each other, and then their shitty boyfriends, and then each other again. It was too early in the night for that, far too early.
“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” You yelled at the group of girls you’d met that night. They were alright, you supposed. You were passing through the city, only here for a work meeting you’d had earlier that day. Pittsburgh was nice enough. Good bars, you’d heard, but the clubs were a little worse for wear. If you looked past the influencers adorned with the best of whatever fast fashion had in, and the tacky cocktails named after ‘White boys of the month’, you could see that this really wasn’t what it was trying to be. A failed homage to what once was.
You slipped through the crowd, the multi-coloured lights illuminating a path for you to go through. Music pounded through you, beating as though you had grown a second heart. This scene wasn’t really you anymore, though you couldn’t pin down what was. A drifter maybe, someone who floats through life barely present. Even money couldn’t make you excited anymore. Not to mention you haven't been laid well enough to feel anything in months. You needed a spark, some kindling to re-ignite whatever you used to be.
The cold air gripped you as you stepped out into the night. You pulled your phone out, scrolling through google maps. There were a lot of bars in Pittsburgh, a lot. You lacked the energy to pick one, reluctantly slipping it back into your handbag with a shivery sigh. You began the trek. It was only half ten, still lots of time to enjoy three or four whiskeys and head back to your hotel room to fall asleep to reruns of Seinfeld. This whole night was shaping up to be shitty, maybe it was time to just call it.
One more street, you told yourself, one more street and the next bar you saw, you were going in. As you turned the corner, a small building tucked in-between a laundrette and a tapas restaurant, had a luminous neon sign sticking out. “The full tap”, it read in neon blue letters. Wrapping your hand around the handle, you pushed the door open and walked inside. The smell of whiskey and peanuts welcomed you in like an old friend, warming you up as you went to perch on a barstool. Resting your handbag on your lap, you looked around you. A glowing legion of orange-hued lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the dark-walled room. It was cozy and old, you could tell it had been passed through generations. Quiet too, only a couple in the far corner and one other man sat a few seats away from you.
He caught your glance for a second before it was pulled away and towards the bartender. An older woman with a tired, but warm expression on her face. She smiled at you, resting her hands on the wooden bartop.
“What can I get you sweetheart?"
You looked behind her at the list of drinks on a chalkboard. Thank god these drinks were normal.
“A gold rush please.”
“Comin’ right up.”
You folded your hands neatly over your handbag, absently fixing your gaze on a mini-fridge near where the bartender was standing. The guy at the other end of the bar kept looking back to you, you could see his head swiveling in your peripheral vision. After two more of his glances, you turned and faced him. He wasn’t bad looking, not by a long shot. His face was splashed with freckles, as though someone had knocked a paintbrush and he’d been in range. Part of you couldn’t help to wonder how far those freckles tracked down his chest, or whether they snaked a pattern around his legs.
“I haven’t seen you around.” He says, his arms supporting his leaning weight on the counter.
The bartender passes your drink over the counter, turning back to the sink.
“I’m just passing through.”
He smiles, taking a swig of his drink. “How long are you here for?”
You shrug. “Just tonight.” Smiling back, you take a sip of your own. The alcohol hits the back of your throat with a sting, making you wince. That would be your last one.
“Is your husband with you?” He asks, “I always see couples sightseeing.”
Chuckling softly, you shake your head and hold up your ringless hand.
“I’m surprised.” He scoffs, taking another sip. “You’re far too beautiful to be unmarried.”
“And you’re too charming to be married.”
He laughs softly, but bites at his lip a little bit. “I used to be, but she passed a while ago.”
Your eyebrows raise and your hand reaches out instinctively across the bartop. “I’m so sorry. It was a stupid joke.”
“No, no, it was a good joke.” He scoffed, staring at your outstretched hand. “I liked it.”
You nurse your head in your hands, shaking it. “I’m sorry, I’m already a little drunk.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He laughs again, taking the final swig of his drink.
“No, I flirt when I’m drunk.”
“Again, nothing wrong with that.”
You gaze at him. Maybe it’s just the bourbon talking, but you really didn’t want to leave this bar without him.
“I’m done here. You wanna go for a walk?” he asks. “I can show you the sights.”
You chug the last few drops of your drink and slide a ten dollar bill towards the bartender.
“Thanks.” you say to her and turn back to the man. “Yes I’d like that very much.”
He walks the road side of the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. You just rested yours in the pockets of your bomber jacket, your handbag slung over your shoulder.
“I’m Jack, by the way.” He stated. “Though we probably should have told each other our names before we left the bar.”
“Why’s that?”
“I feel like it's just a thing people do” He chuckles, shrugging. “You know, not walking out with random strangers.”
“Well I’m not people.” You teased, “And anyway, I’m selective with the strangers I walk out of bars with.”
“I’m glad I made the cut then.”
“Should be.” You smarted, walking a little ahead of him and turning back to face him, walking backwards. You told him your name.
“What sight should I see first?” You ask excitedly, tilting your head at him.
He hummed, and walked a little faster so that you returned to his side.
“It’s not exactly a classic sightseeing spot..” He ventures. “But I think you’ll like it.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The two of you walked along the sidewalk, hands barely missing each-other. The sky had somehow darkened even more, and the air had turned threatening. Rain was imminent, and you were dressed for anything but rain. A small black dress and a long brown trenchcoat wasn’t going to hold up well. The first few drops fell, and you shivered a little. He turned to you and gave you a small grimace, bracing against the growing winds.
The rain drops got heavier and heavier, and started slowly turning into tiny balls of hail.
Without thinking, you grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him as you ran under the nearest shelter you saw.
“Quick!” You yelled, sprinting across the road as the hail crashed down onto you both.
You ran to a drugstore on the other side of the road that had scaffolding sheltering the door, pulling Jack flush against you as you backed against the wall. His hands pressed against the brick either side of you, chest rising hard and fast. For a few seconds you just gazed at each-other, small smiles crawling onto both of your faces.
Your hand gingerly graced the side of his face, wrapping around his cheek before you pulled him gently in towards you. He leaned forwards and planted a soft kiss on your lips, and then withdrew to gauge your reaction. He didn’t actually have that much time to examine your expression, as you pulled him straight back, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“You know” He whispered in between pecks, “I really saw this happening at the spot I had planned.”
You grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure we can still figure something out.”
“We better.”
You’d hailed a cab, and he’d told the driver an address. The rain was still pounding down outside, pattering at the windows. Silence sat between you in the car, though not a bad kind. Holding your desire close to your chest has often worked well for you, using it as leverage with lovers. You’d found the less you gave, the more they’d want - but you didn’t want to do that for Jack. You wanted to give him everything. It sounded stupid, but when you’ve been so deprived of that warm, burning pit inside of you, any spark gives you hope.
His hand was wrapped around your eyes as he guided you inside a building, his other settled at the small of your back.
“Almost there.” He whispered, easing you up some stairs.
“This is the start of almost every slasher film ever, Jack.” You grumble, “You do know that right?”
He presses a kiss into your neck. “You’re going to love it. I promise.”
Walking you further into the building, you feel him slowly press your shoulders down and move his hand down to your hip.
“Sit.”
He removed his hand, and before you stood a massive window, one of the biggest you’d seen in an apartment. It practically replaced the wall. The stars of a thousand cities shone back at you, all blinking independently. A hundred thousand lives all living right before you. An overwhelming sense of sonder overcame you. Each light was turned on by someone, would be turned off again, it counted for something. You could see whole lives, right here.
“It’s so simple, but you can really see the whole city from here.” He muses. “It sounds stupid, I know, but you never quite feel lonely when you can see all this light.”
You stood up, walking over to the glass and resting your palms on it. Mouth gaping open slightly, you looked down.
“Not stupid, definitely not stupid.” You whisper.
He came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Leaning into his touch, you swivelled around to face him.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“I figured you should see the best view.”
Standing on your tip toes, you kissed him, delving into his lips with yours so deeply, you could have sworn you were drowning. He gripped your back, pulling you flush against him.
You groaned into his mouth, arching your back a little as his cock hardened against you.
“Fuck.” He moaned into your neck, pecking at your skin softly.
You tenderly pushed him backwards, driving him onto the couch. Straddling him, you began to unbutton his shirt, kissing down his chest as you went. He did the same to you, prising the dress straps from your shoulders. His cock was bulging against his trousers, straining to be set free. As your hands wrapped around his belt buckle. You began salivating, biting down on the inside of your mouth. It sprang free, leaking pre-cum on the inners of your bare thighs.
“You want to fuck me?” You whispered into his ear, hovering your sopping cunt over his crotch. “Do you?”
He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you down, easing you onto his tip. You grinded down slowly, riding his cock.
“You have no fuckin’ idea, baby.” He groaned, raising his hips to meet yours as you bobbed up and down. “Are you sure you’re only staying for one night?”
“Stop talking” you moaned, increasing the speed at which he was thrusting into you.
“You should stay longe-” He began, but was cut short as you slapped your hand over his mouth. “Oh fuck!” He muffled into your palm. “I’m gonna-”
You dragged your movements, truly riding him over, and over, and over again. You could tell he was close, you could feel him shaking inside of you.
“Fuck!” He groaned, releasing himself into you.
You rolled off of him, slackening on the couch, chest heaving up and down. Feeling a little thumping sensation between your legs, you slipped your fingers down onto your clit. You rubbed your thumb around in small circles, squeezing your legs over your wrist.
Jack sat up, staring at you.
“What are you doing?” He puffed, still trying to regain his breath.
“What does it look like?”
“No-” He grunts, standing up and moving to the floor. “I meant, I was going to do that.”
You were confused, so confused. “Touch yourself?”
“No,” He laughs, closing his eyes. “I was going to touch you, you didn’t come.”
“Oh.”
“It’s only fair.” He smirks, kneeling before you and gently easing your hand away from yourself and replacing it with his own. Setting his thumb on your clit, he began rubbing vertically, whilst simultaneously slipping his ring finger in and out of you. You writhed away from him instinctually in pleasure, wrapping your legs around his upper back.
“How the-” You groaned gutturally, raising your arms above your head and gripping onto the back of the couch. “Fuck!”
He ran his fingers down your soaking folds and brought the wetness back up the clit as lubrication. “Is this good?” He whispered unassumingly, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, and yet he still had the nerve to pretend like you weren’t about to fall off of the earth at any given moment.
“Give it to me” You gasp, running one of your hands through his hair. “Fucking give it.”
“It’s coming, don’t you worry.”
His fingers gained speed, and you felt the electrifying build up, one that you hadn’t felt in years. “I’m-” your walls contracted in on themselves, squeezing so tightly and releasing with such unparalleled tension.
“Jesus Christ." You huffed, resting your hands on his shoulders for stability. “Maybe I will stay for another night.”
“I can show you the proper sights tomorrow?” He asked, standing up and grabbing a blanket to give you.
“Let’s see if I can walk by tomorrow, and we’ll go from there?” You laugh, still trying to catch your breath.
————————————————————————
❣️❣️❣️❣️
got a fic idea about the reader being trapped in the hospital during a snow storm, and having to sleep in the same room with her fellow attending because all the other beds were taken…..
First day? - part two
Resident female reader x attending Jack abbot
Your grumpy new attending is sending you the most mixed signals you’ve ever had. Is there something beyond his exterior, or is Jack abbot just a world class asshole?
What would become of your rough first day? Was there more to his rock solid exterior than just unpredictable emotions and shitty glances? First impressions count, but what does it matter when your new superior seemingly hates you?
Find part one here
Content warnings: graphic description of vomiting and nausea, and description and mention of self harm and suicide.
The dark started to leave you just as quickly as it came, and through the ringing in your ears, you could hear shouting.
“Jesus Shen, what’d you do?” Lena calls out.
“She just fell over, I don’t know!”
Why were they shouting? You tried to get up to stop the noise, but you found that none of your limbs moved when you tried. Will someone just stop the shouting?
An arm slid under your knees and supported your back, picking you up.
“I need a bed.” Someone said gruffly.
Take her to the hallway, Jack.” Lena’s worried voice drifted in and out of your mind. “We’re stacked in here.”
The grip on your body tightened. You groaned a little in response.
“Fuckin’ Abbot’s gonna kill me.” You whine softly, screwing your face up in a preparatory wince.
“Would appreciate a little less of the ‘Fucking’” He replied. “Can you get Mateo to bring a monitor out there, as well as some ringers solution?” He shouted over your head.
“I’ll get on it, just take her through.” Lena replied quickly.
As you moved through the ED, the world began to spin. Fluorescent lights strutted the ceilings in-between heavy blinks. The smell of tea-tree drifted through your nostrils, tickling your nose. You swayed, and swayed and swayed. Maybe you were dancing with someone. Maybe it has all been a dance.
You stopped dancing, as your head hit the pillow, bringing you back to some degree of consciousness. The nausea hit again, stronger this time, and came rolling in waves. You gagged a little and tried to sit up. Saliva filled your mouth, the familiar salty taste of nausea.
“Stay down.” The man you now could see as Abbot, had his hands positioned on each of your shoulders. They weren’t forcefully holding you down, but they weren’t exactly letting you up either.
“Sick” you gargled, “Gonna be sick.”
Before Abbot could move out of the way, you lurched forward and vomited over yourself and him, drenching your legs in warm bile, and catching his scrubs.
You eased yourself up on the pillow and exhaled.
“Sorry.” You grumbled, wiping your mouth.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a torch and shined it into both of your eyes, moving with you as you jerked away from the light.
“What do you think?” he asked you, suddenly soft. He ignored the wet patch on his scrubs.
“I don’t know?” You snap, rubbing your forehead “You’re the doctor.”
“Technically, as of today, you are too.” He said flatly as he put his stethoscope to your chest, staring down at the bottom of the wall next to your bed. “How long have you worked today?”
“Around sixteen hours?” You guessed.
“No-one needs the money that bad.”
“You’d be surprised how much cafeteria smoothies are.” You deadpan, gazing into your lap.
“Legs out straight.” He commands. “I didn’t realise we had a comedian with us tonight.”
“I’m surprised Robby didn’t tell you.” You laughed, nursing your head in your hands as you do as he says. He lifts your legs and rests both of your ankles on one of his shoulders, holding them in place with his hand. Before you can pretend to be disgusted, he speaks first.
“To keep the blood going to your head. Wouldn’t want you fainting again.”
“If you say so.”
He cleared his throat, indicating that whatever that was, was over.
“And how much water, teas, coffees?”
“Not enough.” You replied begrudgingly.
“From the vomit, I can't see any obvious food ingestion, so I’m going to assume you haven’t eaten that much either.”
“There’s just no time.”
“Find time. I’m going to admit you for Orthostatic Hypotension, just stay here for the next few hours.” He stated, resting your legs back on the bed.
Again, he was confusing the shit out of you. Did he like you? That certainly indicated that he did to some degree, or perhaps he was just checking that you were perky enough to not flop over again.
Mateo rolled a monitor in, a nurse behind him carrying a tray of IV bags.
“How’s she doing?”
You watched Abbot rub his jaw as he looked at you. Nothing in his eyes indicated any pity, nor care. It was as though you had just become another name to check off on his never-ending list.
“Dilation is fine, but bilious vomiting.” He replied dryly, making a swooping gesture with his arm towards your sick-covered legs. “She’s hypotensive, just keep checking in on her.”
“Will do.”
“Also, if you wouldn’t mind hooking her up and giving her five-hundred millilitres of the ringer, that would be great.”
“Of course.” Mateo replied, moving to insert an IV.
“And ask Lena to bring in some clothes.”
Abbot gave you one last look before walking out of the room. It was quick and fleeting, nothing there. Right?
The smell of your own vomit added to the feverishness you felt. You didn’t have the energy to converse with Mateo, only enough to offer him sheepish looks as he wiped a dry cloth over your legs to try and mop up whatever hadn’t soaked in.
“Your vitals all look good.” He says softly as he looks up at the screen. “You’re stabilising.”
“It’s just dehydration.” You stated, “I’m never working a double again.”
“Maybe that’s for the best.” he replied, giving you a small smile. “What’s your deal with Abbot?”
You sighed.
“No deal, no deal at all.
He shrugged and nodded as though he believed you. Gossip in the ER spread like the flu, he’d find out the real reason soon enough.
“He’s been off recently anyway.” Mateo mentioned. “Something happened on one of the last shifts with a patient.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, he had a guy walk out of the ED and straight into traffic. Died before we could even get him back inside.”
“Jesus.”
“I know.”
Mateo left the room after finishing up on your leg, giving you his number to text him if anything changed.
Your gaze had fixed on the bag of clothes that Lena had brought in, some jeans it looked like, and a tank top? Why couldn’t you just wear scrubs? It had been three hours since you’d passed out, and you felt strong enough to get up. The shift was almost over anyway. You slipped the jeans over your legs, the top over your head. The privacy in the dark hallway was non-existent. But the open space was deserted, so you took your chance. After you had changed, you went back to the locker-room to grab your stuff. The last person you could possibly want to see was sat on the centre bench.
You paused at the door, sighing loudly. He glanced up briefly, and for a second you were sure that he was going to ask you something. You noticed his hand clench around his phone, and how the skin around his eyes tensed a little as he looked at you.
“Feeling better?” He ventured, looking back down at the screen.
“Great.” You snapped, fiddling with your locker code.
“Sounds like it.” He added, biting back a smirk.
You stayed facing the locker, grinding your wrist into the metal.
“I’m not doing this again.”
He looked up, cocking his head to the side a little.
“What, passing out or working nights?” He asked with mock sincerity.
You bite your lip and spin on your heels, facing him.
“I don’t understand you.” You say, tilting your head, almost perfectly matching his angle.
“Well it’s good to know my mystique is working.”
“No seriously.” You say, turning back around to face the locker. “You ignore me, or act pissed, and now you’re making jokes?”
He takes a deep breath and stands up, raising his eyebrows and looking anywhere but your face..
“All part of the charm.” He jokes weakly.
“Can’t say I'm familiar with that kind of charm.”
He waits before responding, flexing his jaw as he did earlier. Before he can, you get there first.
“I know why you were pissed earlier.” You begin, looking to the floor. “Mateo told me about that guy that walked into traffic.”
He exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. Part of you was scared to look at him, scared as to what you might find. At least now you know he isn’t always this emotionally turbulent. Perhaps there was a different side worth meeting. Seeing him this sullen was weird. Even though you’d only known the man for one shift, it's surprising what seven hours of trauma and blood can do to two people who’d only just met.
“I was being stupid earlier.” He replies, letting his head hang a little. “I’m not usually like this, ask Robb-”
“I’m a new resident, but it’s not my first time working with this sort of shit.” You say, “Last year,” You swallow, before taking a breath. “I had a guy who slashed his wrists with a pair of scissors that I’d accidentally left within reach of him.”
Abbot looked down at you, his gaze easing.
“Did he..?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
You rub the inners of your eyes, sighing.
“Point is, it fucks you up. Bad.”
“It does.” He muses.
The air in the room had become swollen with the words you’d exchanged. The weight of everything you’d been shutting out for months now felt agonisingly close. At least you weren’t alone. You can’t really smother that sort of pain, and it was as clear as day on both of you.
After a few seconds of him biting the inside of his mouth as he stood facing you, and you trying not to notice, he grabbed his bag and started walking towards the door.
“Walk?”
“Sure.”
After a few minutes of silence, he gave a small chuckle, rubbing his hand over his stubble.
“You know that charm I was talking about?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think it would help if you became familiar with it over a drink, perhaps?”
“Hm, I don’t know.” You reply as you turn out of the ED. “Does the charm pay?”
“I think it does, yeah." He nods, a great big smile plastered across his face.
Maybe this wasn’t the worst shift ever.
First day?
Resident reader x attending Jack Abbot
Part two here
Your grumpy new attending is sending you the most mixed signals you’ve ever had. Is there something beyond his exterior, or is Jack abbot just a world class asshole?
Synopsis: Your first day as a resident was sure to be quite something, especially as you had been coaxed into covering Ellis’s shift – the night shift. In addition to a whole day shift, you now had a whole new ball game to contend with. An early cock-up by you had skewed your one-night attending, Jack Abbot’s impression of you. It didn’t phase you though, you had learned long ago to not push for acceptance where you’re not wanted.
You want to do well so badly, but what happens when you push it just a little too far? Who will be there to catch you (literally)?
Content: medical inaccuracies, mention of blood and broken bones if that’s triggering for you. Sleep deprived writing, very possible it’s shit but Im obsessed with this man so we move.
Author’s note: Still getting back into the habit of writing fan fiction, so I am working on ironing out the flaws and curating what I want my writing to read like, which means there may be some lack of organic-ness in the way that it reads or the characters speak. Thank you!
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“You just going to watch me?” An attending grunted at you; his arms wrapped around the chest of an unconscious elderly man. “Grab his lower half.” His voice was harsh and commanding, almost mean. You’d never seen him before, he must be on the night shift. He had that sort of exhausted look that Santos had jokingly told you to watch out for. The hint of eye-bags, something sharp piercing out at you behind his pupils. Something that you hoped wouldn’t begin to inhabit you too. There was too much riding on this job for you to fall into one of your ‘Episodes’ again and be bed-ridden for the next two months like last time.
Your patient had collapsed right after walking out from the ED–-practically as soon as he was past the threshold that you were so desperate to stumble over yourself. Something Murphy, if you remembered correctly. He’d been admitted for heatstroke, and you’d insisted on him going upstairs where he could recover fully, but being what he was, an unwaveringly stubborn old man, he’d apparently decided to sneak out once you’d left to check another patient.
“Right. Sorry.” You flustered, rushing forward to grab his legs. Great, first day as a resident, and you were already embarrassing yourself in front of your superiors. Nice one. As you helped carried him back in, you could see Robby’s gaze following you, itching to scold you for not keeping an eye on whoever the fuck Murphy. He’d been waiting to find a fault with you all day, and you’d just served it to him on a silver platter.
“Don’t.” You grunt as you help the attending pile him onto a bed. Robby had followed you two in, his fist already pressed against his mouth, ready to give some lecture or another about how the old ones are the ones to watch, that they’d lived long enough to know how to dodge past a doctor or two. He throws his hands up; a small grin plastered across his face.
“Told you.” He gently scolds, and turns to the other attending, taking a deep breath. “Glad you’ve had a chance to meet our newest resident.” He says as he nods towards you.
“Made quite the impression.” He says curtly as he faffs around the side of Murphy’s bed.
Part of you wasn’t surprised by his less-than forgiving comment. You’d only been with him for a few minutes at most, and perhaps it was just the shift, or a shitty nights sleep, but he gave you the impression of a man that had a small capacity for mistakes. Not the best approach for a doctor working in a training hospital.
Brushing it off, you move to sanitise your hands. “Let’s cool him down.” Focus on the patient. Focus on anything but the painfully awkward silence in the room. Focus on anything but him.
Robby observes the two of you for a few seconds, waiting for the other man to introduce himself – an introduction that never arrived.
“This is Doctor Abbot.” He declared, still looking between the two of you. “Jack will be your attending tonight.”
He gives Robby a look that you can’t quite decipher and goes to leave.
“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” He asks you, lobbing his gloves into the bin. “The handover finished an hour ago.”
You move to grab some cooling pads from a box on the tray. Not looking up from your patient as you rest them on his bare chest, you sigh softly enough so that only you can hear.
“I’m covering for Ellis.”
“Good luck.” Was all he said as he made a swift exit back onto the ER floor, his words as brash and forced as they were when he first spoke to you.
“He’ll warm to you.” Robby assured you as he helped you with the cooling pads.
“He thinks I’m an idiot.” You reply, rubbing your forehead with your free arm. God it was hot.
Robby smirks, “Didn’t put you down to care what others thought.”
“Well, you aren’t stuck with the man for another seven hours.”
He checks the chart and nods slowly, seemingly not hearing your reply.
“He doesn’t have a history of heatstroke on here, but ask him anyway.” Robby said, scrolling down on the monitor. “And have Ahmad keep an eye on this door.”
A nurse entered the room, re-inserting Murphy’s IV.
Robby threw his gloves into the bin, landing on top of Abbott’s. “Alrighty, I’m off. Call me if you need anything, kiddo.”
“Will do.” You said, giving him a tight smile.
Taking on Ellis’s shift was a ballsy move, even for you. Head in hands, groaning, you snatched your stethoscope from the table and walked back out into the jungle.
You were finishing up some charting at the hub around an hour later, the buzz of the night crowd still strong around you. You brought your hand to your face, rubbing away the sleep that had started to gather around the inners of your eyes. As you moved your fingers over your eyelids, you caught a glimpse of Abbot, over by trauma one. He looked barely ruffled even though it was halfway through the shift. Something about him was pulled back, restrained. The way his jaw flexed backwards slightly when he spoke, and even his smile, unwaveringly dry as he conversed with another one of the residents. He looked older, late thirties, early forties perhaps, this didn’t take away from his edge though – the more you stared at him, the more handsome he started to look, and the more irritated you got.
“I need help over here!” A paramedic shouted, rolling a stretcher through the doors.
“Pedestrian collision with car goin’ twenty. Open tib-fib fracture with an active haemorrhage. He’s tachycardic at 120, and BP is 104 over 60.”
Nurses rushed over as Lena signalled them into trauma two. Through the chaos, you briefly meet Abbot’s eyes before he followed the group of people into the room. “Go get em’ kid.” Lena urges you as she sits back down with a huff.
Taking a deep breath, you fast-walk in, quickly slotting your arms into a plastic apron. You grab a small torch from the nurse by the door and walk over to the patient, opening his eyes and flashing the light to check for pupil reactivity. There was definite constriction, a great sign. “Normal constriction.” You say, looking to Abbot, whose hands are already wrapping gauze over his leg wound which is weakly spraying blood over his chest. No reply. He could get away with this with something like this, but he couldn’t ignore you forever.
“Airway’s clear!” Shen says, giving him a sternum rub at the same time. “Sir? Sir can you hear me?”
He comes into consciousness, crying out in pain.
“You were in an accident,” You begin, “a part of your leg is broken and the broken bones are breaking through the skin.”
“Am I going to die?” The man whines, gripping the sides of the bed.
“Not if we can help it.” Abbot answered quickly, flashing the patient a terse smile as he stood back a little, looking up at the monitor.
You sigh momentarily and look up to the ceiling. Being treated by someone this coarse couldn’t be good for his patient satisfaction scores. Working with him was bad enough.
Thank god this was your only night shift – no way would you volunteer to cover again.
The next five hours flew by, patients in and out, doctors came and went. As you walked down the hallway, leaving the patient you had just discharged to collect their stuff and get changed out of her hospital gown, you felt almost floaty. Too floaty. Not the kind of floaty that you get when you’ve done your job correctly, but the kind that makes your legs buckle and your vision start to fade. You practically fell into the break room chair, feeling that little rush-like sensation you’d get when you moved too quickly. The room began to spin, and your vision was clouded by those see-through wormy things you see when you look at the sky.
“Fuck.” You mutter, leaning forward onto your knees, rocking slowly. Your scrubs were sticking to your skin, somehow already drenched in sweat.
Nausea had begun to collect in the pit of your stomach; this really was building to be the worst shift you’d had. At least it could only get better from here.
You tried to think about what you were experiencing, trying to rationalise your symptoms, but it seemed that your thoughts hit an imaginary wall almost as soon as they’d entered your mind. “Confusion, nausea, visual disturbances”, you repeated under your breath, trying to summon a permanent thought in your head. Repeating and repeating manically as though you’d reach a breakthrough if you kept going. “Confusion, nausea, visual disturbanc—”
“What hour are we on?” Shen groaned as he entered the room, stretching his back out as he walked over to the sink. “Gotta be over soon, surely.”
To the outside perspective, you were just slumped over slightly, symptomatic of only a deep pep talk you were giving to yourself, or perhaps a little cry as you neared the end of a shift, both of which had happened many, many times in that break room - even with yourself excluded. You tried to lift your head, but it felt as though all the blood in your body had sunk to the top of your downturned scalp, dragging you to the floor.
You groaned loudly, or at least loudly to you.
“Exactly how I feel.” Shen muttered, still facing the sink. “Work has been killing lately.”
His last few words didn’t even make it to your ears, let alone register in your head. Your eyelids began to droop, and harnessing the last of your already drained reserve of energy, and managing to shift your weight forward, you came crashing down into a heap on the floor.
And as the floor met you with clammy darkness, you could have sworn you saw Abbot walking in your direction. Fuck.
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Part two soon? I have an exam tomorrow so it may be a little while…..
I went a little insane but I’m insane over them so it’s ok
The Kiss but Mohabbot ✨🦢🐇
The Pitt + the internet (1/?) — Onion headlines
“And then he showed me what is love” - ‘Paul’ by Big thief
Relationship - resident female reader // attending Jack Abbot
Context: you and Jack had been ‘dating’ for seven months, but the secrecy had more than begun to eat away at you. Sex and rushed breakfasts after a long shift wasn’t what you needed, what either of you needed. Should you bring it up? How will this work in the long term? You have milestones you want to reach but you cannot be public with him because of the power imbalance. You are growing tired, and the world doesn’t look half as smiley as it did last year.
Content warnings: this isn’t smut, just heavy angst — I listened to a fuck ton of boygenius and phoebe bridgers whilst writing this
- I’m awful at writing context don’t let that put you off ;)
Never written a Jack fic and haven’t even written one in a while also i wrote this in like the span of two hours and didn’t properly proofread so…..the grammar is horrendous but at least it has a little heart-i think…..
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Jack Abbott wasn’t like anyone you’d ever been with. From the get-go he’d been radically different, and it pained you to know that one day it would have to end, that the happiness would cease and the bliss spent with him would sit and stagnate in your journal like rotting fruit. He hated to talk about it, you did too. If either of you ever brought it up, it would put you both in a foul mood for the rest of that day. So, you both sort of decided to not let it get too serious, not let yourselves get too close.
“I really do need to get that pressure fixed.” he grumbled as he walked from the bathroom, clad with nothing other than a grey towel. Your gaze carefully followed him as he slipped on some boxers and his favourite joggers, the fabric catching slightly on his prosthetic. You’d already cleaned yourself up, but you two got straight into it after he got off work, so it was only fair that he got the first shower.
“Mhm.” you hummed in response. Mind entirely somewhere else.
“What is it?” he asked softly, still facing the dresser as he yanked a loose t-shirt over his head. God, see this was what got you. His ability to just pick up on anything, quite literally anything. You perked up, wiggling up the headboard and stretching your legs out. Here we go.
“Nothing!” you reply with an almost comedic level of falsity, and even as you were saying it, you knew he would see right through it. Crossing your arms, you looked up and found a dusty spot on the ceiling that suddenly looked very interesting. Jack walked to your side of the bed and took your upturned face in his burly hand. The earthy smell of his shower-gel drifted up your nose, it was unfair really - he knew what freshly-showered him did to you.
He sighed more than deeply and tilted his head to the side a little.
“Tell me.”
“No, it is really nothing, I promise.”
“Tell me.” he repeated, rubbing gentle circles on your chin as though he was trying to ease the truth from you.
You slowly pulled away from his grasp and stood up from the bed, next to him.
“Just tired.” You shrugged as you strode out of his bedroom and into the living room.
Jack groaned a little and followed swiftly after, leaving wet footprints on the glossy wooden floor.
“Come on,” he called out from behind you. “You’ve been sleeping most of the day– you can’t be tired.”
You flopped onto the couch, the leather squeaking as you made yourself comfortable.
“How do you know I haven’t been…” you replied, trying to think of something strenuous. “Running?”
“You hate running.”
Shit. He’d got you there. You did hate running.
“I’m just tired,” you lied. “About to go on my period.”
He stood behind the couch, biting at his lip. Something wasn’t right.
“Okay.” he finally said, a little despondently as he went to leave the room. “Want anything from the kitchen?”
“I’m alright.”
After a warm shower and two hours of laying with him on the couch, he’d fallen asleep with his arms wrapped tight around your stomach, gripping your figure through the hoodie you were wearing. Your fingers were numbing as you channel surfed, trying desperately to find something worth watching, but it genuinely seemed as though the only things on were Mormon dating shows and reruns of Friends. You reluctantly flicked the TV off.
“Jack.” you whispered, slowly swinging your legs off the couch and slipping out of his hold. “I’m just getting a glass of water.”
“Only if you want.” he slurred, sleep talking. “Just don’t forget to chart him.”
You shook your head, smiling as you walked towards the kitchen. He was exhausted. Dana had called you whilst you were sleeping earlier that night, something about a helicopter crash. Two collided, and of course the Pitt was closest to the accident. It was bad to say, but you were glad that you missed the call. Work had been grating at you more than usual, and it was becoming harder to get up in the early evening to go in.
You weren’t the kind of person to admit you were burning out; you never had been. The problem was, neither was Jack. The worst part of the whole ordeal was that you couldn’t even offer each other support in the ED. A resident and an attending dating? Princess would spread it like wildfire, and before you know it, Gloria would have to formally ask the pair of you to stop before it could tarnish the hospital’s shining reputation. Neither of you could deal with the whole damn place knowing you were sleeping together, you were private people.
The water ran down your fingers a little whilst it was filling the glass. You turned to face him. One leg was stretched out, hanging off the armrest. You closed your eyes tight. It wasn’t sustainable. This love, if that’s even what it was. More of a dependency if anything. The glass was overfilling, dribbling down your arm now. No, no. You couldn’t think like that. It was casual, that is what you told yourself. You fuck, sometimes sleep over, but nothing too touchy-feely. Nothing too close. Absolutely no public dates. These seven months had brought you closer to Jack than you'd ever been to anyone. This night was anomalous, usually, you’d just go straight home after you’d had sex. The thing about Jack, he was just easy, at least in comparison to the boys you’d dated before. There was no mess about the place, he looked after you properly, kissed you goodnight when you slept over. He was everything right about the world all stuffed into one man.
Your hand swatted the tap to the right, and the water stopped. Once you’d washed and dried the cup, you went to put it back in the cupboard, but to your left, stuck to the inside of the cupboard door, barely two inches from your face, was a picture of you. From a while back, but it was you.
Must have been at that cookout that Robby hosted, the one where you got so horrendously drunk that Jack had to practically carry you to his car and drive you home. This was taken by Whitaker, if you remember correctly. He had a little polaroid camera that he insisted on shoving in each person’s face and taking their portrait. In the picture you were wearing a blue dress, a little above the knee because the summer was getting too hot for anything else, and you were posing against Robby’s garage wall. Your arms were outstretched against the brick. A gloriously happy expression on your face. Yup, definitely that drunk cookout. You remember perfectly now.
You looked back at Jack, still sound asleep on the couch.
Then it all came crumbling down.
You slowly dropped to the floor, gripping the counter for balance, you crouched and hung your head low. It didn’t matter, you thought. He couldn’t see your despair, your caring.
He had a picture of you. In his cupboard. That wasn’t casual. That wasn’t “Fuck me and go home, see you at work!” That was more. A small sob escaped your throat, nausea following soon after. Why would he do this? Why would he ruin it? Why would he steal the one constant you had, and melt and grind it into something you could never have? Tears ran down your face, his tears. He did this. An anger so unplaceable that it made you cry even harder. You felt so spoiled, so stupidly childish as you crouched there, knees aching and heart even more so. What a problem. He loved more than you wanted, boo fuckin’ Hoo.
But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that he had a picture of you in his fucking kitchen cupboard. It was that you couldn’t have it. You couldn’t have what you wanted most in this godforsaken world. You’d started your residency last year, leaving you at least three more years of pretending to not see Jack staring at you from across a patient’s bed, or the way that his hand lingers on yours when you pass him something. You couldn’t live with only seeing him on top of you, all breathless and tangled limbs. Nor eating takeout whilst hiding from the sunrise in your apartment. You needed rings, nights spent dancing with friends, out in the open. Yes, it was three years of waiting. But three years of waiting that you’d bet that the two of you wouldn’t survive. He’d grow bored, and you’d slink even further into whatever hole you were sure headed for. Point is, he was escalating something, a secret, that only grew more painful the more attention you gave it.
You’d agreed to keep it normal, to not get attached. He breached the contract, tore up the imaginary paper right in front of your eyes. It burned, you couldn’t let yourself imagine all the milestones you could reach with him, not to mention the stinking embarrassment you felt even having a thought process like this. You were too clingy. Needy.
He called your name, drowsily at first. Then drastically more concerned the second.
“What is it?” He called out, his voice getting closer.
“Tell me what's wrong.” He urged, running into the room and instantly coming down to your side. “What is it? Where are you hurt?”
You just tearily shook your head and launched yourself onto him, wrapping your shaking arms around his neck. “I don’t care if you want me to go,” you began, in-between sobs, “I know this is too much, but I can’t do this anymore.”
He didn’t know what else to do other than stroke the crook of your neck, thumb nestled on a bump at the top of your spine.
“I can’t love you in secret!” you whisper into his shoulder. “I don’t know the solution, but I can’t wait three years Jack, I just can’t.”
He shushes you, rubbing your back. He doesn’t reply though, he doesn’t have a solution either. In-between humming into your shoulder, he glances up and his gaze finds the open cupboard door. He curses under his breath.
“We can wait,” he promises. “We can wait until you're an attending, and we will be normal, I promise you.”
You shake your head, sobbing still.
“Don’t even fucking say that, Jack.”
He was confused, screwing up his face slightly. “Wha-”
“You’ll get bored.” you snap, backing away from him and resting against the dishwasher door. “You’ll get bored and I’ll finish my residency and move away because I won’t be able to bear looking at you every night. Looking at what I can’t have.”
He is on his knees before you, staring incredulously.
You continue.
“And don’t try and say that you won’t because I know you! I know you will find some other girl, Samira maybe.” you trail off.
He tries to butt in, but you don’t let him.
“I can’t keep mourning a relationship I cannot even have.” you cry out, “It’s not fair!”
“I know.” He soothes, “I know.”
Your sobs begin to die out, and you just sit slumped against the cold plastic of his dishwasher, staring at him. He slides from his position on the floor and sits next to you, facing the living room. The silence lasts its while, sitting heavy like a brick on both of your chests.
“I wouldn’t get bored.”
You say nothing.
“I wouldn’t find anyone else.” He insists.
Still, you sit facing forward. It feels as you if you were to look at him, you would only break down again.
“I only have you.” He whispers, lifting his hand and holding it out in the space between you. “I would only ever need you.”
You take his offering, as clammy and tear-covered yours are, he grasps it tightly.
“Do you need to take time off?” he asks softly, giving your palm a squeeze.
He’d noticed you slipping more each shift, your usual relatively optimistic gaze had turned vacant in recent weeks. He took that night as a symptom of what he’d been seeing for a while.
You hummed weakly in response and curled your body towards him. You were actually tired now, after simmering quietly for so long.
“I’ll ask Dana about the paperwork tomorrow.”
Before you could butt in about how she would connect the dots, Jack squeezed your side.
“If anyone can keep a damn secret in that ER, it’s her. Okay?”
He stood up, pulling you up with him. Those next few hours were the most peaceful you think you’d ever had. You finally had a plan, and a plan was all you’d ever needed. He was all you’d ever needed.