hi you!! this is really weird but i got the idea from a movie i watched. so Brendon and reader have been married for sometime, they both work in the hospital and itâs been a rough few months so theyâve been distantâŚin bed you know, like they donât do that at all and reader feels guilty and thinks that if they donât sleep together again heâll cheat on her if he doesnât already (of course heâs not)
Your day goes by in a haze. Work was the same as always but youâre distracted.
Youâve been distracted a lot recently.
The last few months have felt heavy. Not only has work been overwhelming but your husband, Brendon, well, thatâs been the heaviest part.
Between both of your jobs becoming busier, you both havenât had much time together.
You both used to have ample time in a week to meet up for lunch, go explore downtown, go out to dinners, have date nights, and everything in between. But lately these things have become dry, especially in the bedroom.Â
During your five years of marriage, this has never been a problem. Not to this extent.
You didnât think much of it until it had stopped completely. Some days you were too tired or other days Brendon was tired too or busy working and not home as much.Â
The few times you had been eager to be under him, it never made it past a heavy makeout and some groping.Â
You acknowledged it had been a combination of you both not being up to it but then your mind began to wander.
Recently you had been trying to get things back to how they were only to have your advances turned down. Brendon either acted oblivious, was asleep before anything happened or ended up working late.
You thought it had been a mutual disinterest at the time but now?
 Youâre not so sure.
Was it you?
Maybe he was bored of you?
He did spend a lot of time at the hospital these last few months. And again you guys hadn't had sex in maybe a month or two?
No, no Brendon wouldnât do that.
Right?
Maybe you could really initiate it. Buy new lingerie, get your nails and hair done.
The next day is your day off and you decide to put your plan into action.
You get your hair refreshed and styled first. Then you go to the nail salon and pick out his favorite color.
Perfect.
Your last stop was a lavish lingerie store in downtown Pittsburgh. The selection was a bit overwhelming but then you find a winning piece.
It accentuated your breasts and made your ass look fantastic. A bonus was that it matched the color of your nails.
He wouldnât be able to resist.
Once youâre home you fix your hair a bit and apply a light makeup before changing into the lacy material.
â-
About thirty minutes later you hear the front door unlock from your spot on the bed. You adjust your hair and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your hands.
Heavy footsteps make their way down the hall towards the bedroom.
Brendon steps through the doorway, scrubs in disarray and a slight frown on his face.
âHey babyâ you say gently.
He briefly looks up as he drops his bag by the dresser.
âHey.â
Youâre taken back a bit.
Hey?
Just hey?
You knew things had been a bit rough these last few months but this is the most distant he's ever seemed.
Like he just acknowledged a roommate and not his wife.
You donât let the dry greeting deter you.
You stand up and walk up to him.
Running your hand up his bicep and the other up on his shoulder.
âEverything okay Bren?â
He huffs a bit sarcastically âIs it ever?â
Ouch.
You bring your hand from his bicep to his face.
âMaybe I could help you relax, hmm?â
You see a ghost of a grin but as soon as itâs there, itâs gone.
âThatâs nice but not tonight.â
He gently moves your hands off of him and walks around you to the walk-in closet.
You stand in the same spot for a moment. Your heart drops into your stomach and a chill runs down your spine.
What. Just. Happened.
Is this it?
Does he not find you attractive anymore?
Is heâŚ.
Is he gonna leave you?
You hold back the tears and make your way to the ensuite bathroom and lock the door.
Gripping the counter and leaning against it, you look into the mirror.
Donât cry, donât cry, donât cry.
One tear falls, and then another.Â
Then another until you canât stop them from falling.
You hold both hands over your mouth to quiet the sobs that rack your body.
You back up until you meet the wall and slide down.
Your chest heaves from the sobs and agonizing pain in your heart.
Brendon cracks his neck as he walks back out from the closet, scrubs discarded and now changed into fresh pajamas.
He sees your side of the bed empty but then sees the bathroom door closed and hears the shower running.
He lets out a sigh and gets into bed as he waits for you. All he wants is to get some rest and have you cuddled up against him.Â
Brendon knew things had been a bit strained lately and he felt a bit guilty for not being as present in your relationship like usual but things were starting to get better at work and he hoped you guys could get back to normal now.Â
Today has been rough like the last few months but things would change come his next shift.
He just needed to recuperate from today and then heâd have a good talk with you and apologize. Maybe take you out for dinner and a movie.
He smiles at the thought.
ââ
Itâs been over an hour before Brendon still sees youâre not in bed.
He goes up to the bathroom door and presses his ear against it.
The shower is still on.
Weird.
He canât hear anything else.
âSweetheart,â he knocks lightly âyou good in there?â
No response.
âBaby?â He grabs the door handle to open it but he finds it locked.
Panic starts to seep into his veins.
âBaby please open the door.â
Heâs still met with silence.
Brendonâs heart starts to race as he reaches a hand up on the top of the door frame and grabs the spare key sitting there for emergencies.
Once he has the door open he looks around and then towards the shower.
His blood runs cold.
âSweetheart!â
He runs to the shower where your naked form is sitting, slumped inside against the wall.
He practically rips the glass door off its hinges as he gets into the shower still fully clothed.
On his knees he grabs you by the shoulders and turns your face towards his.
Heâs met with puffy, red rimmed eyes staring back at him.
âHey, hey whatâs wrong baby? Are you hurt? Did you fall?â
His fingers press gently but quickly around your head looking for any blood, bumps or injuries.
You slowly shake your head.
âMâfineâ you mumble.
He furrows his eyebrows at your quiet words.
âYouâre gonna have to do a lot better than that to convince me. Câmon letâs get you out of here. Itâs freezing.â
He scoops up your cold body and sits you on the counter by the sink.
He grabs your favorite fluffy towel and wraps it around you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to help warm you up.
His heart breaks at your sad demeanor.
âBaby,â he lifts your chin up to look at him âWhat happened? Whatâs wrong?â
Tears build in your eyes and your chin trembles.
âPlease donât leave me.â
Then the tears fall as you lean your head into his shoulder.
Sobs rack your body and Brendon holds you, tears building in his eyes.
âLeave you?â He asks confused
âWhy on earth would I do that?â
âY-You donât want m-me anymore.â You manage to say between the tears.
âWhat?â he leans you back and gently holds your face in his hands.
âWhy wouldnât I want my wife?â
âYouâve b-been distant. I th-thought maybe we could just have s-some fun tonight but then you didnât want me a-and Iâm scared you donât want m-me at all. That you want someone else..â
The words completely shattered Brendonâs heart.
Had he really withdrawn from you that much that you felt he didnât love you anymore?
That you thought heâd leave you?Â
For someone else?
Fuck.
He had to fix this, quick.
âSweetheart, look at me.â
Your tired eyes meet his.
âFirst, hear me and hear me clearly. Iâm never leaving you. I fucking love you. So damn much.â
He takes a deep breath.
âSecond, Iâve not been honest these last few months. Gloria has been making big cuts. Letting go lots of staff, including surgeons and attendings. I heard my name was up on the list of potential ones to go. It got to me and Iâve been hauling ass every fucking day for my job. I didnât want to admit that I was scared. Iâm supposed to support you and give you everything. Give you the worldâŚI couldnât let you down.â
A tear falls down his cheek and without thinking you reach up and wipe it away.
âLastly, Iâm so fucking sorry. Iâm sorry I let all of that affect our marriage and make you think I didnât love you. That Iâd leave you. I swore in my vows Iâd love you forever and I meant that. Every word.â
You sniffle and take a shaky breath.
âThen whyâd you turn me down tonight?â
âI was so upset earlier over everything. I found out Iâm for sure not getting let go but I was angry. Angry my name was even brought up for it to begin with. I didnât want to take that out on you in any form, especially sex. But I think I already did with the lack of it over these last few months. Which again Iâm sorry. I just was so overwhelmed with everything and didnât want to force things and fake it with you. I never want that for us.â
He closes his eyes, willing himself not to cry in front of you.
Then he feels you wrap yourself around him.
âBrendon. I love you. You could never let me down. Even if you did lose your job, I wouldnât think less of you, be disappointed in you or love you any less. I know that stuff can be scary but next time please just talk to me. This is a marriage. Iâm here for you as much as youâre here for me. I canât support you and be there for you if you donât let me in. If youâre not in the mood for a conversation or sex or anything, just tell me. Iâll always understand. But I really thought you were gonna leave.â
He shakes his head rapidly.
âGod no, baby. Never happening.â
âGood. Because I donât think Iâd survive it.â
He grabs your face and kisses you slowly.
âAlso I know I didnât say it earlier but you did look hot as hell. Iâm sorry I ruined that for you.â
You chuckle a bit.
âYou can make it up to me later Bren. Right now I just want to get in bed and cuddle my husband.â
Summary: A minor incident leads to an argument about touring schedules that seem to work around everyone else's family and lives, except for Ashton's.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Leaning to his left, Ashton glanced down at his phone when the dial tone of Talk Fast started to blare out over the light strumming of the guitar he was playing at the moment.
A grin spread across his lips when he saw that it was Michael ringing him and he sank back against the sofa. The guitar balanced uneasily on his thighs, gripping the neck as he answered the call and put it on loud speaker.
"Hey. I'm glad you called actually, I need your opinion on this new melody."
As much as Ashton enjoyed coming up with new music on his own, it was better when he had someone around to listen to the melodies and bounce ideas back and forth with. And right now with (Y/n) being out, he was home alone, and Michael seemed to have rung just in time as Ashton wasn't too sure about this new song.
"Are you busy?" Michael spoke as if he hadn't heard or taken in what Ashton had said, and there was a nervous tone to his voice that made Ashton tense up immediately.
His eyes cast down to his phone though he wasn't sure why because it wasn't a video call but a regular phone conversation.
He could feel a frown forming on his lips; that wasn't the kind of tone he was used to and it made Ashton nervous when any of the band were anxious or upset. "Not particularly, why? What's up?"
"Right don't panic, but I'm with (Y/n) and she's alright now-"
"Now? She's alright now, what does that mean?"
He didn't like the sound of that. Saying she was alright now meant that she hadn't been alright earlier on, it meant something had happened or she was ill or something had gone wrong.
The guitar on his lap was quickly set aside on the cushion next to him and Ashton reached down for his phone, grappling to hold it closer to his face despite it being on speaker. He needed to hear Michael properly and figure out this situation and whether or not he had any need to panic.
"She passed out for a minute, but she's come back around and she's feeling a bit better. But we don't want her driving home, can you come pick her up, she's at our house."
Shudders crawled down Ashton's spine as he hastily got to his feet, uttering "I'm on my way."
He knew (Y/n) had said something about popping by Michael's place on the way home to see him and the girls for a bit, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise that (Y/n) was now at Michael's house. But it was worrying that she had passed out. (Y/n) wasn't prone to fainting spells or collapsing or feeling so unwell that she blacked out, it just wasn't like her.
He tripped oer his feet as he stumbled into the hallway, hurrying to put on his shoes before he remembered he was still on the phone.
"Why'd she pass out, what happened? You sure she's okay now?" He grabbed his keys from the side table and made his way out of the house, aiming for his truck, the phone still gripped tight in his fist.
"I don't know. One minute she was talking in the kitchen, then she was out cold. She still looks a bit drowsy to me."
Ashton wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he reached Michael's house, but (Y/n) seemed both better and somehow different to how he'd expected.
She didn't look as drowsy as Michael implied she had been earlier, though there was a faraway look in her eyes that were focused on something or nothing near the window. She was indeed awake and alert now which stopped Ashton's heart from racing and pounding like his bass drum on overdrive.
Her arms were coiled around her chest and her cheek was pressed up against the back of the sofa, one leg brought up near her stomach like she was trying to curl in on herself and become as compact as possible.
When he reached the sofa, Ashton went down on his knees and folded both arms over the armrest. His chin perched on top of his arm and a soft smile graced his lips when he looked up at her. He could see the tiredness behind (Y/n)'s eyes when she looked down at him, blinking in surprise as if she hadn't even heard Michael open the door or show Ashton inside.
When (Y/n) reached down and brushed her finger along Ashton's cheek, he sighed softly and leaned into the touch.
"Are you okay?"
(Y/n) resisted the urge to reach her hand up and rub her temple for what would hae been the hundredth time since she sat down in here, but the headache behind her eyes was one she wished to rid from her temple.
"Just a headache⌠and I think I jarred my elbow," her eyes cast down to her right arm as if to prove her point.
She wasn't sure what had happened. One moment she was in the kitchen being offered a drink, halfway through a conversation, and the next, her mind seemed to switch itself off. She woke up laid on her side on the tiled floor, Michael's concerned face hovering over her while the girls were ushered and taken out in the garden to play.
Her elbow must have caught on the counter or spasmed when she hit the floor because it felt stiff and aching, but it was a dull ache that (Y/n) could ignore and put to the back of her mind.
Her eyes locked back on Ashton when he reached out to curl his hand around her thigh as if gently trying to snag her attention back again.
"You scared me."
"Sorry."
Her eyes followed Ashton as he leant forward and pecked her thigh before he slowly got to his feet and extended his hands down to her. He wasn't looking for an apology, he knew (Y/n) couldn't help it, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried about her.
"Shall we go home?" When her hands slotted into his, Ashton carefully pulled her up to her feet.
He studied her for a minute when he saw that inquizitive look in her eyes and saw the way that she bit down on the corner of her mouth. There was something on her mind, something she wanted to say.
"I- I guess I'll leave my car here?" (Y/n) glanced over her right shoulder towards Michael who was stood just behind the sofa.
She had driven herself here after being out all morning, and now Ashton had come here to take her home. She had tried arguing with Michael, telling him she could drive herself home after a while when she felt better, but he wouldn't hear of it. He said that either he called Ashton to come pick her up, or he drove her home, it was her choice.
"Come by whenever you want to pick it up; when you're feeling better. You couldn't drive home feeling like that."
(Y/n) knew it wouldn't have been a good idea to drie herself home, but she didn't want to be an inconvenience to anyone. She would just have to get a lift back here tomorrow to come get her car and drive it back home.
Her head was still spinning when they said goodbye and headed out to Ashton's truck.
The drive home wasn't much better. (Y/n) kept her arms enveloped around her middle like she was giving herself a comforting hug and her head pressed against the window. The cold seeping through her skin and doing something to relieve the headache she was suffering from.
This day just kept getting better and better.
When she felt Ashton's hand curl around her knee and his thumb began to graze over her skin, she reached down and held onto his wrist, though she continued to stay quiet and stare aimlessly out the window.
Whenever he could, his eyes would leave the road for a few seconds to glance in her direction, but she was constantly staring out the window. Ashton knew something wasn't right, (Y/n) wasn't usually this quiet and distant, but he couldn't be sure whether it was down to feeling unwell and what had happened today, or something else entirely.
Ashton's eyes followed (Y/n) intently once they were back home and she headed inside. She looked like she was moving on autopilot, like she wasn't really thinking about what she was doing or where she was going.
She aimed for the living room and sank down on the sofa like her legs had given out on her. There was a strange look in her eyes, and Ashton's chest tightened when he watched her reach out for one of the cushions beside her and pull it to her chest. Her arms bound around it, pressing it into her middle like it was a teddy she was clinging to for comfort.
With a sigh he aimed towards her and perched down beside her, sitting close enough that his knee nudged into hers.
"Baby what's the matter? Do you feel sick?" Stretching his arm across, Ashton gently pressed the back of his hand against her temple in case she had a temperature.
She hadn't mentioned feeling or being sick and Michael only said she had passed out for a minute and came back around soon enough. But perhaps she had passed out because she was sick or coming down with something and if that was the case then Ashton would rather she took some meds, even went to bed if she felt that unwell.
He didn't like how little she was talking to him. He was used to (Y/n) telling him when she wasn't feeling great or seeking comfort in him.
When his hand dropped from her temple it moved to curl around her arm, both of which were compressed into the pillow like she was trying to mould it into part of her being.
For a few seconds (Y/n) continued to stare down at her hands, but then she finally lifted her head, although her gaze wouldn't meet Ashton's eyes when she spoke.
"Michael showed me the tour schedule you've all agreed on; you didn't mention it."
Her voice was quiet, like the words didn't matter and this was no big deal, but it was. It was to (Y/n). When Michael casually brought it up in conversation while (Y/n) had been playing with Lua, she thought she had misheard him. She had to feign innocence and pretend she probably forgot that Ashton had mentioned it, when really he hadn't said anything about it at all.
The schedule was already set, it wasn't a proposition from the way Michael was speaking, it was already made and set in stone. He'd shown it to (Y/n) when she asked, and she smiled and said it looked good, because it did. They were doing a full world tour again, well over a hundred shows on the list.
A frown worked its way onto Ashton's lips and he pulled his hand back so he could knot his fingers together and rest his hands on his parted thighs.
"I⌠I guess I didn't, why what's that matter?"
So maybe he hadn't said that it was all agreed on, but (Y/n) knew all about the tour, where they planned to go, that it was going to be a big one this time and start at the beginning of the year. It wasn't like Ashton had hid anything from her, he just hadn't shown her the complete list, he would have gotten round to it at some point when it crossed his mind and he remembered.
"You didn't show or run it past me, Ash. You didn't think I needed to know that you're gonna be on the road for most of the year."
Rubbing at her temple, (Y/n) turned to look at Ashton on her left while she straightened up and sat forward.
This really wasn't the time to be having this conversation, but he had asked what was wrong and this was what (Y/n) had playing on her mind. The fact that she hadn't been asked or even shown it before it was all agreed on. She was his wife, she thought it would have been curteous to be shown the dates and ask fi there were any that conflicted something important for her and Ashton.
"It's a world tour, babe, you knew it was gonna be a big one-"
"That- that's not my point." An ache built up behind her eyes that was so profound (Y/n) was sure she was going to be sick.
This time when Ashton reached out for her, she turned her back to him and curled further around the pillow, but it wasn't helping.
"Then what is?"
Her lege shook when she pushed up to her feet, leaving the cushion in her place. A numb tingling sensation spread down her legs right to her toes and she sank her teeth into her lower lip, trying to control the irritation rising within her that made her feel even worse.
There was a slight tremble in her hands when she headed into the kitchen and got the juice out from the fridge. Something with a bit of sugar might perk her up and make her feel better.
(Y/n) could feel Ashton's presence behind her as she poured a drink and took a few small sips, not wanting to down it just to overwhelm herself and throw it back up again. She didn't have to turn around to know he was right behind her, to know that he was close enough that she could almost feel the rise and fall of his chest and the tension that seemed to be radiating off of him.
"What's the issue here? This is my job, the cycle of it. Write the album, produce it then tour with it, it's no different to all the other times." There was a calm, composed tone to Ashton's voice because he wasn't trying to start a fight, he was just trying to understand what it was he had done wrong.
This was the way things were, the way it had always been and he couldn't see how it was any different or how it was causing a problem, but there was one because he knew (Y/n) was upset.
"My issue is that you didn't tell me, you didn't show me the schedule before you went and agreed on it." Why was that so much to ask? Why was it so hard to Ashton to fathom that (Y/n) would of liked to be asked, consulted, thought of first before he blindly agreed?
When she turned around with her hips pressing back into the counter and her glass held shakily in her hand, she found Ashton staring at her with narrowed eyes and an upturned upper lip.
"You'll be coming with me." There was a sense of urgency in his voice as he held his hands out in front of him like he couldn't make his point any clearer.
(Y/n) always came on tour with the band even before she and Ashton got married. It wasn't like she would be staying at home and he would be off in other countries with them both separated for most of the year. (Y/n) would be there with him, even if she couldn't stay for the whole tour, she would be there for a good majority of it.
They always worked it out, sat down and went through the dates and figured out when (Y/n) could be there. Her job was flexible and remote, she could work during the day and when they were travelling as long as she had internet signal to send emails and send all her work across.
Tears sprung up in (Y/n)'s eyes as her lips pinched together both to try and keep her composure and stop her from saying something she shouldn't.
She knew that even if work commitments meant she couldn't make all of the tour, she would be there for some of it. That still wasn't her point, it was that she hadn't been consulted and furthermore, she had seen all the tour dates and the breaks in between.
When Ashton shook his head as if to signal for her to say something and his hand stretched out towards her, she set her glass down and kept her hands gripping the counter behind her until it cut into her palms.
"I've seen the dates!" Her tone was exasperated and her shoulders began to shake from the force of trying to remain composed.
"So?"
"So I've seen when there will be breaks, when the tour will end. It's been perfectly worked around everyone else but you. Breaks for Luke's family dates, it ends right before Michael's girls birthdays, I know Calum and his sister's birthdays are during that two week break near the middle of the tour. You didn't ask me if there was any dates you needed to pencil in, any specific times you needed the tour to avoid."
It wasn't just herself that (Y/n) was upset for, it was Ashton too. Deep down she knew it wasn't intentional, but it had been worked perfectly around everyone but Ashton.
Luke's anniversary, his daughter's birthday, those dates happened to be during the breaks in between the tour dates. Michael's anniversary didn't have any tour dates on and the tour miraculously ended before both his daughter's birthdays meaning he could be home with them. Even Calum's special dates were accomodated.
But Ashton hadn't asked (Y/n) if there were any dates or anything she would need him to avoid, any dates that she had something pressing or had planned something that included him.
As much as she could understand the guys wanting to be home and present for their kid's birthdays, that didn't mean that Ashton couldn't be accomodated for as well. This tour was about all of them.
A deep sigh rumbled through Ashton's chest like a thunderstorm and his hand rose to run across his face while his other hand curled around his hip. When he opened his eyes again, they were intently focused on (Y/n) as if he were waiting for some kind of revelation.
"Go on, what date have I forgotten? Tell me."
A stray tear escaped (Y/n)'s eye as she shook her head. This wasn't how she wanted to have this conversation, this wasn't how she wanted to tell him and this wasn't her arguing with him that he had forgotten something, that wasn't what she was doing.
"It's not about you forgetting Ash. I need- I need you, okay? I'll need you⌠all those fucking dates on tour and I can't-" every emotion seemed to bubble up within (Y/n)'s chest until her throat felt clogged and she couldn't get the words out properly.
"Need me⌠what? I'll be with you, you'll be on the tour babe what-"
"The tour that's slotted around everyone else's family but yours." (Y/n) snapped back, hating how selfish it made her sound even as she said it and knew it was the truth.
Even Ashton seemed to know it because his shoulders slumped and his foot stopped its incessant tapping against the floor.
"It has to work around them, they've got kids to think about-"
"So will you I'm pregnant!"
(Y/n) clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as she said it, wishing she could take it back. She didn't want to tell him during an argument. She'd tried so hard to come up with a more endearing way to tell him, to give him some kind of surprise or present to open and reveal the news.
Telling him in the middle of a disagreement like this wasn't how (Y/n) was supposed to do it, but the words fell out before she could register them or contain them.
Luke and Michael weren't the only ones with families to consider. (Y/n) was pregnant now, she was going to have a baby and that would happen smack bang in the middle of this new tour which was why she had wanted Ashton to talk to her about the dates.
She would have given him some surprise with the news and then he could have talked to the band and worked out a better schedule. One that gave him some dates off for when (Y/n) would be due to give birth and then to spend some time with her before finishing up the tour. Now it had caused a conflict without meaning to.
When (Y/n) dared to open her eyes as she sighed through tepid breaths, she found Ashton staring directly at her like he had turned to stone.
There was a strangely blank expression on his face, like it had been wiped clean of all emotion. His pupils had expanded, blown wide until they were almost fully black with no other colour in them. His lips were parted, jaw hung slightly loose while he stood frozen, his hands still outstretched towards (Y/n) like he had been put on pause.
"You, you'reâŚ"
(Y/n) tried to get the right words to form in her mind as she nodded, an apology of coming outright with it like that, on the tip of her tongue when Ashton suddenly became unstuck.
Within the blink of an eye he was there in front of her, arms around her and lifting her with little effort until (Y/n)'s feet left the floor and she was at his mercy as he spun her around in his arms.
"Oh!"
She was quick to loop her arms hastily around the back of Ashton's neck, clinging to him to make sure she stayed in his arms and wasn't at risk of being dropped. Her lips instantly curved into a grin she couldn't hide, the tears still welling up in her eyes, but for a completely different reason this time.
"Really? You're really pregnant?" There was an air of astonishment in Ashton's voice as his wide eyes stared up at her, begging her to tell him that this wasn't some prank or a joke that had gotten out of hand. This was real, this was happening.
(Y/n) nodded again, unable to stop herself from gasping when Ashton shifted his arms around her with his hands finding purchase on the back of her thighs. He lifted her up higher until she was able- and had no choice but to wrap her legs around his torso, sitting on his hips as he held her against his chest and stared adoringly up at her.
His smile was so radiant that (Y/n) was sure she was going to be blinded, though she found herself closing her eyes the moment Ashton's mouth was on hers in a searing kiss.
"I didn't wanna tell you like that," she murmured quietly against his mouth, her fingers toying with the short curls at the back of his neck.
He hummed against her mouth but she wasn't sure if he had actually taken in or understood what she said. He was that intent on stealing all the air from her lungs and kissing her until she felt lightheaded enough that she was glad she was held up by his strong arms and not back on her own two feet.
"I'll be due before the tour reaches Sydney, and I don't really wanna give birth without you."
That was why she had been worried and had an issue when Michael showed her the dates. She was happy and fine to travel with the band, but that meant travelling when she was close to her due date. Then she would either have to give birth in a foreign country and travel the remainder of the tour with a newborn. Or she would have to go home and possibly risk having the baby without Ashton there by her side.
There was a look of alarm that flashed across Ashton's face when those words finally sunk in and he realised why this little argument had come about in the first place.
"Oh you're not doing that; you're not having her without me. Nope, no way."
(Y/n) grinned, stroking her finger up and down the back of his neck until he was shivering and tilting his head back into the touch.
But (Y/n) suddenly went over Ashton's words in her head and her eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. "Her?"
"Yeah, I reckon it's a girl; every kid so far has been for the band." He had a deep-rooted feeling that they were going to have a girl, that seemed to be the way with the band at the moment.
They were an all boy band who seemed to be having all girl offspring, it seemed only right that Ashton follow that tradition and that he would end up with a daughter too. It sounded right to him and he would bet his money on it.
(Y/n) murmured "Oh is that how it is," and stole another kiss from his lips, feeling better already.
"I'll have a meeting with the guys, get the schedule updated so there's a break in there for us too. For them," he amended, making sure he was holding (Y/n) up in one arm so his other hand could ghost across her stomach. "I promise, baby, I promise. I won't miss a thing."
Summary: When a brief argument with Michael ends with the implication that (Y/n) doesn't have fun, she goes out to try and prove him wrong. The night doesn't end well and the band are worried.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Uncertainty washed over (Y/n) and she found herself shaking her head, again, declining the offer Michael was prompting.
As much as she was grateful for the offer, she didn't want to. She didn't want to be added to the participating group for an escape room; nor did she want to be added to the team for paintball next month.
It was sweet that she was always invited, always asked to join in, but there were many times where (Y/n) declined the offers and invitations. This was one of those many times.
"Oh come on, it'll be fun."
Her teeth sank down into her lower lip when Michael tipped his head back against the sofa to look over at her where she was stood near the dining table. She wasn't sure who it was who had messaged him; someone was setting up an escape room for later on this week. She figured it was his brother.
"Not for me it won't." She shook her head once again and reached down to clear away the remnants of drawings she had been doodling earlier.
(Y/n) couldn't imagine how it would be fun. She couldn't see how her panicking and overthinking and truly believing she was never going to get out, would be classed as fun. And it all depended on what kind of escape room it was, if it was a logical, scientifical one, then maybe she could contribute. But if it was about gaming or music or history or something else, then she might not be able to help solve the clues to get out.
And the last thing she wanted was for everyone joining in to think of her as the panicking one in the corner who couldn't even help them. Nothing about that situation would be fun for (Y/n).
"Yeah, well that's because you're not," the words died down on Michael's tongue when he realised what he said, and that (Y/n) was now a few feet from the sofa with such an unreadable look on her face.
He hated the look in her eyes, that glossing, churning look like the stars always captured within them had finally burned out.
He hadn't meant it like that, he hadn't meant to say it at all, not really.
"What, I'm not what?" (Y/n) found her hands curling at her sides until her nails were piercing into her palms when Michael didn't answer. So she answered for him. "I'm not fun?"
Even if he had been speaking in jest or off-handedly or if it didn't seem like such a bad thing in Michael's head, that wasn't how it felt to (Y/n).
She was used to people making comments about her. Commenting on what she wore, her hobbies, how she didn't join in on activities or going out all night drinking and partying. She thought Michael understood, after all he always felt like he was different, like he stuck out in a crowd and could never truly involve himself or be a part of anything.
The last thing (Y/n) wanted was for Michael to say or think that she was boring, that she wasn't fun or didn't try and participate because she did. There were so many times she had tried different games and activities and days out, but they weren't her thing. They weren't entertaining or 'fun' and she felt like a sore thumb. It seemed better not to go at all than to go and be the odd one out.
"That's not what I'm saying-"
"You don't have to say it; that's what you're implying." Raw hurt cut through (Y/n)'s words and immediately her words made Michael's stomach clench and rotate like a cement mixer.
"I'm not, I'm not saying that. It's just⌠you don't like what I do for fun. Sometimes you seem like you're avoiding it."
He cringed as he spoke because even he could hear that he wasn't explaining this well. Maybe it was selfish to think that (Y/n) wasn't as fun when she didn't like or enjoy or participate in the things that he thought were fun. But Michael liked it when he got to do things and (Y/n) was there with him. She was his partner, she was someone he found his other half with, someone who understood him and knew him like the back of her hand.
He didn't feel so outcast or alone or uneasy when he was doing something with (Y/n). It didn't matter if his friends or family were joining in, he still liked to have (Y/n) there. And when she wasn't there, it felt like she was missing out. And when she was missing out by choice, then it seemed like she was avoiding the fun or that she didn't have much fun of her own.
He clamped his mouth shut before anything else could pass his lips and cause more of an argument or upset (Y/n). The last thing he wanted to dow as upset her, but that seemed to be what he had already done.
She wouldn't look at him, her eyes were downcast towards the floor and her hands were closed into such tight fists that her arms were starting to shake.
Hurt flashed through both of their eyes. When (Y/n) finally lifted her head, she made sure to keep her sights set far away from Michael as possible.
It was like something had suddenly set off in her mind because she turned and walked out of the room so quickly that Michael blinked as if he had been imagining her presence all along.
His legs shook as he pushed himself up from the sofa, socks ruffling and bunching beneath his feet as he hurried out of the room to follow in her wake and see what she was doing. His panic didn't dwindle down at all when he watched (Y/n) sling her bag onto her shoulder and grab one of her jackets from the hooks in the hall. And he realised she had put her heels on- rather quickly he might add- and was aiming for the front door.
Oh God what had he done?
"Baby, baby what're you doing?"
"Getting some air."
(Y/n) didn't look back over her shoulder as she opened the door and stepped out before she could stop herself, because she knew if she looked back at Michael, then she wouldn't get one foot out the door. Looking at him would break the resolve and the hardening façade building up within her. If she looked at him her eyes would gloss over and she would want to stay and talk.
She would want to tell him how what he'd said had hurt and ask if he really thought like that about her. If he really thought she was no fun at all and if that was such a horrible thing. And (Y/n) wasn't sure she wanted the answers to the question she would ask him.
As she headed out of the house and walked briskly down the path- hoping that Michael wouldn't follow- she fished her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her contacts. Once her eyes set on Luke's contact, she clicked the dial button before she could think better of it.
"Hey. Get dressed, we're going out," she took a deep breath to try and keep her tone level and calm, "we're gonna go have some fun."
Michael could join them later by all means once he found out where she had gone and what she was about to go and do. He could join them wherever they ended up to go and have a night out somewhere.
He could be utterly shocked and taken back when he found out that (Y/n) was going out, that she was going to go to a club or a bar and get drunk and dance and do whatever she could that would prove to him that she wasn't some boring hermit who never wanted to leave the house or do anything remotely interesting.
She would show him just how fun she could be.
Michael's leg began to jitter up and down until his knee was violently bashing into his elbow and causing his hand to knock against his mouth and chin where his chin had been perched on top of his clasped hands.
The jitters wouldn't stop, not when the anxiety dwelling through him was starting to get more and more violent and overwhelming.
Where was (Y/n)? What was she doing? Was she alright?
She said she was going out to get some air, but that felt like a lifetime ago. She hadn't answered any of Michael's messages and when he rang her she just let it ring out until he hung up. He wanted to know she was okay, he wanted her to come home so he could apologise and make it up to her any way he could.
He hadn't meant what he said to come out like it did and he hadn't meant it as a horrid or a bad thing. He needed (Y/n) to know that, to know that he wouldn't change her or have things any other way. He loved her just the way she was and he hadn't meant to make her feel bad or self-conscious or upset in any manner.
Adrenaline spiked his heart that almost broke free from his ribs when his phone went off. He lunged forward, hands grasping for the phone on the coffee table which rattled and shook as he wrenched the phone close to his eyes to see what she had finally messaged him.
A horrible ache swelled through his chest when he saw the nickname that flashed on his lockscreen. It wasn't (Y/n) who messaged him afterall; it was Calum.
*Hey, what did you do?
One text, simple enough, but it made Michael frown in confusion and before he could stop himself he clicked the call button. He couldn't talk for long, he needed to try ringing (Y/n) again and wait for her to message and let him know that she was okay and when- if- she was coming back home.
But Michael couldn't be bothered with back and forth texts to Calum over whatever joke he was going to try and pull. Usually a message like that would lead to a big rant or explanation over something, and right now Michael didn't have the time nor the patience for that.
"What does that mean?" Those were the first words that fell from Michael's lips.
Not 'hey you okay' or an introduction or anything as simple as 'hello'. He jumped straight into the waters at the deep end and let the conversation flow.
For a few seconds Michael didn't get an answer, clearly Calum had been expecting a greeting, not a straightforward question like that. And for those first few seconds, all Calum could hear was music.
Not the kind of music Calum would have playing through his speakers in the background of his apartment. It wasn't Calum's kind of music, nothing he would play along to or start singing or dancing to. There weren't any lyrics to it, the music sounded more like a simple riff with a drumbeat in the background.
It was loud, whatever was playing and whoever was playing it must have been deaf. Michael wasn't sure Calum would have been able to hear what he'd just said and wondered if that was why he was so silent.
"Where are y-"
"What did you say to (Y/n)?"
They both spoke at the same time, but Michael's voice faded into oblivion when he heard what Calum said.
He knew something had happened. Had (Y/n) rang or texted him? Was she speaking to the rest of the band but not to Michael? Was she with them? That meant Calum had to know whether she was okay or not and where she had gone. Michael needed to know, he had to know she was alright because he was going out of his mind with worry here at home.
"Has she messaged you, is she okay?" Worry flooded Michael's tone but he didn't care as long as he got the answers he needed.
He found himself sitting forward on the sofa until he was at risk of sliding off onto the floor. His feet were aching from how he was pressing all his weight down onto them and swaying from his heels to his toes every time he moved, but it was nothing compared to the fear growing in his chest like a swam of bees that were about to strike him down.
A bubbling laugh left Calum's lips in response. "She went out with Luke to a club, he rang me when he had trouble stopping her from climbing on top of a table. When I got here she was at the bar ordering cocktails- I don't think I've ever seen her drink. She's rambling on about showing us she's fun or something; she's here without you, what did you say to her?"
Although Calum didn't quite know what was going on, he was sharp enough to understand that if (Y/n) was here at a club, without Michael but she had asked one of the band to go with her, then that meant something was up between the couple.
(Y/n) would never come out somewhere like this without Michael. She wasn't the kind of person to be out at a club at all, not unless it was a group event and she was tagging along to be polite.
Usually she would be sat beside Michael, zoning out into her own world with Michael's hand on her thigh to keep her grounded to reality and as a form of comfort.
But here she was having invited Luke out to join her. Calum thought it had been a joke when Luke rang him, having to shout to be heard over the music, asking if he wanted to come and join them because Luke wasn't quite sure (Y/n) was alright. He'd never seen her so boysterous and when she tried to climb on the table, Luke had a hard time convincing her it wasn't a good or safe idea.
Now Calum was here, joining them with shots and drinks, though he had never seen (Y/n) go out on the dance floor or drink so much. He wasn't sure he could remember ever seeing her have more than one drink to be polite. Something was up and he thought it best to ask Michael about the situation and maybe get his help on this too.
A groan rumbled through Michael's chest and throat as he rubbed his hand up and down his face.
What had he done? This was his fault. (Y/n) was doing this to prove to him that he had been wrong. She didn't have to do this but she was, and Michael couldn't just sit here at home and worry because anything could happen or go wrong.
"Where are you, I'll come down."
***
It didn't take Michael long to find the pair of them when he headed into the club. He thought he would be searching round for a while, but the people crowding, pointing and hovering near a specific booth like flies, led Michael right to his band mates. The only one missing was Ashton.
He weaved around the people hovering and generally standing in the way, knowing he was getting a few looks from a lot of people as he went past.
He wasn't exactly dressed for a club. A pain grey shirt that was two sizes too big with a dozen safety pins clipped to one shoulder, a pair of baggy black cargo pants and thick platform boots. His right candy-red hair slightly stuck out in places and needing a good combing through. He didn't look like he was ready for a night out, but then again, did he ever?
He took to messing with one of the many piercings he had, fiddling with the one on his eyebrow as if to make sure there was no hair catching on it, but really it was just an anxious habit he was used to doing.
The booth seemed like the heart of the club with how all eyes seemed to aim towards it and people were looking and pointing towards it.
When he reached the booth, a swell of disappointment hit Michael like a train and he almost stumbled back on his heels.
(Y/n) wasn't there.
His glossed black and white nails pierced into the leather backing of the booth and he sank down with a bang into the seat opposite Calum.
Where was his girlfriend? She was the one he was here to see, she was the one who Michael wanted to give all his attention to and shower with apologies. So where was she?
It must have been written across Michael's face that he was nervous, that he wasn't here for a night out or for a good time. He wasn't happy, he was glum and serious and unsettled, everything he shouldn't be when sitting in a boombox club like this with high energy and deafening music and spilled drinks on every surface imaginable.
With a swift glance to his left, he locked eyes with Luke who was slouched back in the corner, knees parted wide beneath the table and his hands tapping and messing about on the tabletop. He looked slightly drunk, just over the edge of tipsy but not quite in the threshold of being wasted. He still had his senses and a lot of self-control left to lose.
"She wasn't joking when she said she wanted to have a good night," Luke reached for his glass and down the last mouthful of vodka before continuing. "She was almost up here dancing."
His hand patted the table almost affectionately after he put his glass down and looked towards Michael with a dopey kind of grin that showed off his teeth and made his eyes crease at the corners.
Now Michael truly felt horrid. He was the reason (Y/n) was here, he was the reason she had been feeling bad enough to come out and do this, to prove to everyone that she could be fun, that she wasn't boring or predictable or one to stay home and do nothing. This was his fault.
With an expression of utter gloom, Michael sat forward and grabbed one of the drinks from the middle of the table where there was a tray of quickly dwindling glasses. He downed it, grimacing at the bitter taste of too much schnapps, not enough vodka and only a morsel of juice, but he finished it all quickly to try and drown his own sorrows and make himself feel better.
When he'd finished the drink and set the glass down, he glanced around but his eyes didn't catch on the one person he was here to see. "Where is she?"
"Went to the toilet⌠probably at the bar by now." Calum made a vague gesture behind him to indicate to the bar.
(Y/n) had been gone a while, that was likely where she had gone because she knew their supply of drinks was dwindling down fast. And she was intent on staying here for a lot longer, so she would have gotten another round ready to keep them here and satisfied.
"I need another round, I'll go find her." With some effort, Luke pushed himself to his feet and weaved around the table, almost falling onto Calum's lap as he weaved around him to get out of the booth.
If (Y/n) was delayed or didn't know what to order, Luke would go and give her a hand. He was ready for another drink, and probably some shots now that Michael had joined them.
His fingers tangled in his hair, arms stretching up as he aimed through the throng of people towards the other end of the club where the toilets and the bar were located. He kept his head level, resisting the urge to look down at his feet because he knew he would bump into people if he did that.
He ignored the hands reaching out for him, trying not to shrug or elbow anyone and cause upset or make enemies. As long as Luke weaved around them and stepped to the sides, it was all good.
He was a few feet from the bar, ignoring the multiple different voices calling out his name when they knew who he was and recognised him, when something caught his eye and had his lips pulling down into a frown.
His eyes narrowed, head angling to the right as if it would help clear his vision and get a better look at what had caught his eye from the left corner of the vast club. His feet were already carrying him in that direction before he made the decision, the bar now long forgotten as Luke aimed for the little comotion and crowd that were forming in the corridor.
The corridor wasn't very large, it could barely fit three people in before the walls were closing in and it felt as cramped as a tin of sardines. There were vibrant green signs hanging from the ceiling signalling that there was both an emergency exit down this corridor and the toilets.
Luke didn't need to get far down the corridor to find the issue. A few feet towards the first set of toilets was enough for him to see what was going on, and it made his blood run cold.
(Y/n).
She seemed to be in the middle of the throng of people who were hovering, gathering and bypassing the situation. Some wanting to help, some just wanted to observe and witness, and others pushing by like it was nothing so they could get to the toilets or aim for the bar or dance floor.
It amazed and irritated Luke how it didn't seem to strike many people as odd or worrying that there was a girl, (Y/n), partially collapsed on the floor. Over half the people gathered round were just watching with half-bored expressions or drunken eyes that couldn't truly correspond to their brain what they were seeing. And the people who were just walking away and barging past really got on Luke's nerves, though he had no time to tell them this or make a scene.
(Y/n) was slumped awkwardly on the floor, a mixture between kneeling and slumping her weight on her right hip. She had her back against the wall and her right had trying to press into the wall to steady herself but she was slowly sliding down towards the floor, almost fully laid out on the scruffy tiled floor.
Her eyes weren't open and though she looked like she wanted or was trying to say something, her brain wasn't cooperating, no words left her lips.
Then there was her left arm, tightly snatched in some stranger's grip that he was using to try and drag her up to her feet to get her off the floor.
It was clear from one glance that this person wasn't trying to help (Y/n). No one saw a collapsed person on the floor and immediately tried to drag them up by their arm and pull them away. Whatever this guy was doing, he didn't have even the slightest of good intentions behind him.
"- babe come on, let's go."
A deep-rooted frown carved its way across Luke's lips when he caught those last few words.
He couldn't help himself. As he surged forward, his hand slammed into the guy's chest and forced him back a good two feet. "Whoever you are, you need to back off."
With that being said and with a slight mist from the alcohol washing over his mind, Luke slumped down to his knees in front of (Y/n). Her left arm was still dangling in the air, her hand flapping to try and get the guy to let go of her and leave her alone. Even in this kind of partially unconscious state, she knew something wasn't right. She knew this person wasn't trying to help, she knew he wasn't a good person or someone to be around in a panic.
Luke managed to prize the stranger's fingers from around (Y/n)'s wrist, watching her arm drop instantly back down to her side with a bang. He was sure she would have bruises in the morning from his viper grip.
"She's my girlfriend-"
"Then tell me her name or show me one picture of her in your phone." Luke rose a brow, looking up at the guy over his shoulder as he waited.
His words seemed to do the trick because the stranger didn't put up a fight or an argument and tell Luke he was an idiot. He didn't insist on 'helping' (Y/n) or try again to get her up to her feet. He was backing away, almost stumbling over his feet to lose himself in the crowd and aim for the main part of the club again.
He knew he had been bested; he knew if he stayed here then he would get himself into trouble. It was clear that out of them both, Luke was the one who knew the unconscious girl on the floor and he was going to look out for her and protect her.
"(Y/n), are you with me?"
Terror and worry manifested within Luke as one hand rested on (Y/n)'s shoulder and the other fished around in his pocket for his phone. There was no way he could leave her here like this, not even to run back towards the booth and get the others.
She couldn't have been here for long and that stranger had already tried swooping in and 'saving her' to make her go with him. If Luke left for a few more seconds, who knew what other creeps might crawl out of the woodwork and try to prowl around her?
It was Calum's contact that came up first, as he had been the one Luke had messaged earlier on in the night. He didn't have time to type out a proper message, so he settled for one simple word that would hopefully make Calum move and get his attention.
*Toilets!
Calum didn't know what to make of the message he received. If it was a code word, then he didn't understand it. If it was a joke, he didn't get the punchline and if it was an instruction, he had no idea what he was supposed to do.
He showed his phone to Michael with furrowed brows and pouted lips before both of them scrambled out of the booth and headed past the dance floor in the direction of the toilets.
It was Michael who was moving first, who hurried up until his boots were threatening to break through the tiled floor with his heavy steps. He was practically running at this point until he ended up beside Luke, crashing down to his knees so harshly that shockwaves went all through his skeletal system and he was shuddering on the floor.
"What the fuck?!"
Why was his girlfriend on the floor? Why was she barely conscious? Why was there a crowd of people around her but no one- other than Luke- actually trying to help her? What had they all been doing?
His hair fanned around his face like curtains on a stage play but Michael didn't bother to try and brush them aside; his focus was on (Y/n).
His hands carefully cupped over her features, palms cradling her face like she was the most precious jewel in the world that he was afraid of breaking. His thumbs brushed and smoothed beneath her eyes, trying to coax her to open them and to get her to look up at him.
He was gentle when he turned her head so her face wasn't angled down towards the floor, but up at him as he knelt over her to the point he was almost about to fall on top of her.
"Baby, (Y/n), open your eyes. Look at me." There was an urgency in Michael's voice as he narrowed his own eyes and tried to check her over.
When her eyes fluttered, he could barely see her pupils that were constricted before all he could see was the whites of her eyes as they rolled towards the back of her head. Her eyelids kept fluttering, but she clearly didn't have the energy or the power to keep them open.
Her hand trembled horribly as her fingers brushed along the inside of his wrist and down his arm, desperate for some kind of touch, but she couldn't manage much when she could barely lift her arms that felt like bars of gold.
"She's- this isn't drunk, she's not just drunk." There was a certainty to Michael's voice that no one would have disagreed with even if they thought he was wrong.
He had seen (Y/n) when she was drunk. Granted, it didn't happen on many occasions, but he had still been there. She had never been like this; unresponsive, trembling on the floor, barely coherent. This wasn't her being too drunk, if it was then luke and Calum would have noticed the signs before Michael arrived, before (Y/n) went to the toilets.
Something must have been in her drink; someone could have slipped her something when she had a drink at the bar or she was having a bad reaction to one of the alcohols she had tasted. Something was happening, and it wasn't simply too much fun and drinks.
"I- I didn't see every drink she had." Luke sounded so apologetic and sympathetic that it was a surprise that he wasn't already in tears.
He hadn't been able to see every drink (Y/n) consumed, he hadn'e been the one to buy all the drinks tonight. Sometimes (Y/n) went up to the bar herself, alone, sometimes their drinks were brought to the table and God knows how many people could have tampered with them before they reached the table.
"We should get her out of here." It was Calum this time, his hand resting on Michael's shoulder as he leant over them like a bodyguard trying to make sure that no one else got close.
Whatever was going on, it couldn't be helped or sorted here in the club, they needed to get (Y/n) out of here, take her to a hospital or get her home and see how she fared. Anywhere away from here.
"Let's get you up baby."
With his hands leaving her face, Michael held onto her wrists, thumbs softly stroking along her skin as he lifted her arms and circled them around the back of his neck. He was careful when he then moved his arms beneath her chest and slid her closer to him until he was leant over with his chest almost glued down against hers.
He reeled back, lifting (Y/n) with him until she was no longer laid out on the floor but leant on his lap with their chests meshed together.
Her face burrowed into his shoulder and Michael felt his stomach tightening when he felt tears soaking into his shoulder. She was crying; she was afraid and upset and this was all his fault. If he'd never of said anything earlier, then (Y/n) never would have come here and this situation wouldn't be happening right now.
His left arm curved protectively around her lower chest and back while his right arm hooked beneath her bent knees. And with Calum's hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder as if to make sure she was stable and not about to get hurt, Michael very slowly pushed up from his knees to his feet and straightened up.
He could feel (Y/n) whimpering into his skin, her shaky breaths making his blood run cold as he walked with Calum and Luke on either side of him, trying to form a shield around the couple so no one could see or stare or try and take pictures and reach out for them.
(Y/n) didn't bother trying to keep her eyes open, with her face tucked into Michael's neck, she felt content now. All she wanted to do was sleep.
She knew something hadn't been right when she'd gone to the toilets and threw up. Her head had been spinning like she was on the waltzers and she couldn't see properly when she tried to stumble out the bathroom. Then her legs had given in completely and she was sliding down to the floor, trying to ignore and push away anyone who helped.
All she wanted was to be back home with Michael; and now he was here holding her in his arms. It felt too good to be true, it felt like a dream, and (Y/n) was sure she was going to wake up at any moment, still on the floor or in an alley behind the club surrounded by strangers.
She wasn't sure what she muttered into Michael's neck, but she did feel him shiver against her and his hands clutched at her tighter before he whispered his response against her damp temple.
"We're leaving now, it's okay."
He could hear a few odd words here and there as he tried to hurry and get out of the club as quickly as possible. He was sure (Y/n) was uttering 'sorry' which made nails scratch and rake down his spine, but his heart severed into the pit of his stomach when she whispered "N- not fun," against his throat.
Tears glistened in Michael's eyes as he turned his head, smothering his lips against her temple near her hairline as he held her closer to his chest, if that were even possible.
"I know, I know and I'm sorry baby. I'm so sorry I said anything."
Why had he opened his mouth at all? Why had he said anything? Michael was going to spend the rest of his life regretting this moment, he was never going to be able to forget this.
Part of me is like âneat. Reblog,â and part of me is like âI understand now why impressionism took off, because thereâs a 0% chance the artist wasnât like âfuck this shitâ by the halfway point.â
Thinking of just doing something about Sid and Reader next, with less Pitt crew involvement, like their first time meeting or something! Idk, let me know what you think!
Now that your coworkers had seen your relationship twice in person, they wanted to know more. After seeing the typically stoic captain go soft for you, they constantly asked you questions.
To say it was annoying would be an understatement.
Because now everybody treated your relationship like community property. And you know this is a champagne problem, but you and Sidney valued your privacy deeply. And your coworkers were making it very hard to hold up to your usual standard.
âYou never actually told us if he cooks,â Dana said, spinning in her desk chair.
âI answered that one already,â you hadnât even looked up from the notes you were taking, and your tone was portraying your disinterest in the conversation.
âNo, you said he âtries.â Thatâs not the same thing,â she said, tapping her chin curiously.
Whitaker looked up from his charting across the nursing station, âdoes he still do the hockey-player thing where he eats that chicken dish before every game?â
You continued writing, choosing to ignore them.
âAnswer the question,â Dana said beside you.
Before you could respond, Robby walked into the nursesâ station holding his phone, saved by the bell⌠or so you thought.
âYour boyfriendâs ruining my department,â he said dramatically, placing his palm on the counter besides you and leaning.
You frowned, âwhat could he have possibly done?â
Robby tossed his phone on the counter so that it was facing you. Six tickets.
Six seats in your usual row and section. For tonightâs Penguins game.
The entire station exploded with excitement.
âNO WAY.â
âAre those real?â
âOh my god.â
Dana grabbed the phone dramatically. âI take back every bad thing Iâve ever said about Sidney Crosby.â
âYouâve literally never said a bad thing about him,â Javadi pointed out.
âBecause theyâre usually said in the comfort of my home after a bad game,â she answered obviously, looking between you and Javadi.
You groaned as everybody immediately started arguing over carpooling.
You pulled out your phone.
You: tickets⌠really?
His text bubble popped up almost immediately.
Sid: should you be texting at work dr? And just had to thank them for taking care of you after you passed out.
You rolled your eyes.
You: should you be texting from the rink, captain? And you didnât have to do that⌠but theyâre excited to say the least.
Sid: :) love you. See you tonight drâ¤ď¸
You smiled, trying to hide it, before sliding your phone back into your scrub pocket.
âHe didnât have to do that,â you muttered quietly, trying and failing to continue hiding your smile.
Robby noticed instantly. âThere it is,â he said, pointing. âThat stupid little smile she gets.â
âYou people are exhausting,â you rolled your eyes, for what felt like the millionth time in this shift alone.
âAnd yet weâre all going to the game,â he said with a smirk.
âWho exactly,â Dana started, âis getting one of these six tickets?â
Robby huffed a laugh, âme, you, Langdon, because he would murder me if he didnât,â he looked around the room of hopeful nurses and residents, âJavadi, because why not,â she âyesedâ dramatically in celebration, âWhitaker and Santos.â
Some disappointed grumbles were heard amongst the nurses and other doctors.
âThis is the best day of my life,â Langdon whispered to himself, walking to his next patient.
You had taken yourself to the game, needing some peace prior to spending the evening with the same people you spent your entire day with.
You also needed time to perform your pregame ritual and change into your lucky jacket that Side demanded you wear. Put your hair in a bun because thatâs what was currently working, and making sure the gold s was hung perfectly around your neck.
You took a deep breath as you sat in the friends and family parking lot, before willing the courage to meet your coworkers inside.
You could not let their presence mess up the routine, because if they lost, you knew Sidney would never let them come to another game.
By the time everybody reached the arena, the Pitt crew had somehow become more chaotic than the actual hockey fans.
Frank looked one step away from cardiac arrest.
âI have never sat this close before,â he whispered, staring down at the glass seats, âI can practically smell the ice.â
Dana rolled her eyes at him, âYouâre embarrassing yourself.â
âI donât care, and thatâs brave coming from someone wearing a sweatshirt thatâs older than me,â Frank quipped back, glancing down at her faded and ripped Penguins hoodie.
She scoffed, âI had this on when they won the cup and real hockey fan knows you canât wash the luck out.â
âDid you just admit that you havenât washed that in ten years?â Frank said with a look of disgust.
Dana murmured âamateurâ under her breath before bringing her attention back to warm ups.
Whitaker was already taking pictures of the rink, âthis is my first hockey game and this is insane.â
Warmups had just started when Dana looked around suddenly. âWait. Whereâs Mrs. Crosby?â
You were gone.
Frank frowned. âBathroom maybe?â
âNo chance,â Javadi said immediately, âshe was right here and then she disappeared suspiciously.â
Robby sighed, âyou guys are worse than middle schoolers.â
Then Frank abruptly grabbed Robbyâs arm hard enough to nearly dislocate it.
âOh my God,â Frank said slowly.
âWhat?â Robby asked, prying Frankâs fingers from his forearm.
âLOOK,â Frank pointed down towards the ice.
Everyone turned toward the glass.
You were standing down near the boards by yourself in what looked like one of Sidneyâs old jackets.
And directly in front of you, still in warmup gear, Sidney skated over to the glass.
âOh my GOD,â Dana laughed, âthis is so effin cheesey.â
âHe came right over to her,â Javadi cooed.
âLook at his face,â Whitaker said with a smile.
The commotion actually made Santos glance up from her phone and fake a gag at the sight.
âWhy did you even come?â Her roommate asked her.
She shrugged looking down at her phone again, âRobby said he would buy us drink.â
Dennis shook his head at her.
Frank looked deeply emotional already, âthis is beautiful. My very own coresident, dating the man of my dreams.â
Robby turned his head, slightly confused and not even sure if Frank knew what he just said out loud.
Sidney tapped the glass twice with his glove and you smiled immediately.
Not your polite work smile that you gave to patients to make them feel better. Youâre actual smile.
The one the ER only saw occasionally, when he called you, or when you were all out to drinks and you let a little loose.
Then Sidney pulled a puck from his pocket.
Dana gasped dramatically, âNO.â
âHeâs giving her the puck?â Frank asked.
Sidney mouthed something through the glass they couldnât quite hear from afar.
You laughed and shook your head.
Then he tossed the puck over carefully.
You caught it easily.
The entire section around them started cheering immediately, all the surrounding fans whistling and hollering.
Frank clutched his chest, âI canât handle this.â
Whitaker narrowed his eyes suspiciously, âwait. That looked practiced.â
âOh it absolutely was,â Dana agreed.
Sidney lingered for another second at the glass, eyes fixed on you with that same unbearably soft expression he always had.
Then one of his teammates skated by and shoulder-checked him hard enough to make him stumble.
You could actually hear the teammate yelling from the seatsâ
âQUIT FLIRTING!â
The row erupted in laughter, and your cheeks burned bright red.
Sidney flipped him off without even turning around. He gave a shy wave and you blew him a kiss as he skated off.
By the end of the second period, everybody had decided bullying you was more entertaining than watching the game.
Dana pointed accusingly with her french fry, âso. The puck thing.â
âWhat about it?â You asked nonchalantly, shifting in your seat nervously because of the close score.
Whitaker nodded, âit was very rom-com coded.â
You rolled your eyes, âitâs not romantic.â
âHE LITERALLY GAVE YOU A GAME PUCK,â Frank shouted across everyone from where he was seated.
You rolled your eyes and sighed. âThereâs a superstition.â
Frank leaned forward immediately. âA hockey superstition?â
You sighed, already regretting opening your mouth.
âSid says if he sees me before warmups and gives me a puck, he plays better,â you shrugged, trying to act like it wasnât your favorite thing he had ever said to you.
âHeâs obsessed with you,â Santos said casually, with an eye roll.
âYouâre his emotional support doctor,â Javadi said sweetly, âthis would be a really good hockey novel. Thereâs a whole genre for that now.â
You hid your face in your hands while everyone laughed.
Robby looked entirely too entertained. âHow long has this been going on?â
âA while,â you said, looking at your popcorn.
âA WHILE?â Dana screeched. âHow many pucks do you have?â
ââŚI donât know,â you looked up, as if thinking about it, âI guess probably 72.â
Frank looked horrified, âthatâs not a guessing number. Thatâs an âIâm countingâ number.â
You muttered into your hands, âplease let the ice swallow me whole.â
Javadi was crying laughing now, âthis man has hockey rituals about you.â
âHeâs Canadian,â you defended weakly. âTheyâre weird about hockey.â
âYou are dating the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins and he performs girlfriend-based sports rituals,â Dana said dramatically, âhonestly, whatever works.â
Your phone buzzed against the table.
Sidney: stop letting them make fun of meâŚ
You immediately looked down toward the ice.
Sidney was staring up at you from the bench already, where he had just returned from the locker room. The smile he wore immediately gave him away.
Dana noticed instantly, âoh my god he texted her.â
Frank looked ready to ascend into another plane of existence, âhe canât text during games.â He said offended, as if he were the coach himself.
You shrugged, holding up your phone, âhe can text me.â
Although they made fun of you for what felt like the longest hockey game of your life, you would be lying if you said you didnât enjoy having them there.
Three days later, you thought you were going to dinner with Sidney.
That was it. It was your birthday, and you didnât want anything over the top. You just wanted to spend time with him. Since he was in Pittsburgh and had two days of no games, it felt like the perfect chance to actually celebrate your birthday.
Being born during hockey season and dating a professional hockey player usually made it impossible to do something. But, for the first time since dating, you got lucky.
So, he had agreed to just dinner. And you thought that was it, at least until he drove past the restaurant entirely.
You frowned, âSid.â
âHm?â He said, eyes still focused on the road.
One hand casually on the wheel, the other mindlessly drawing shapes on your thighs right where your skirt falls.
âIs that not where we were going?â You asked confused.
âChange of plans.â He said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.
You narrowed your eyes immediately.
Then he pulled into the driveway of his own house and you knew something was wrong because there were way too many cars there.
ââŚSidney,â you said questioningly.
He looked painfully pleased with himself, smiling before turning to face you. âHappy birthday, baby.â
He hopped out of the car, jogging over to your side and opening your door before you could. You took his hand and let him guide you up the path to the front door.
The front door opened before you could react.
âSURPRISE!â
You jumped so hard you almost dropped your purse.
The entire living room erupted into cheers. It was filled with your friends, family, coworkers, and over half the Penguins roster.
You stared in shock while Sidney laughed beside you.
âYou planned a surprise party?â You asked, looking over at him, âfor me?â
He shrugged, âyou said you never had one before.â
Emotion climbed into your throat so fast it caught you off guard, âoh,â you said softly, âyeah⌠thatâs true. I didnât think you caught that.â
He pulled you against his side while everyone continued cheering.
You made your rounds while tucked into Sidneyâs side, hugging your friends and family.
One of his teammates appeared with a glass of champagne for you and a beer for him, making you smile.
Frank appeared suddenly looking seconds from fainting.
âYou did not tell me your boyfriendâs house looked like this,â he whispered, as Sidney talked to one of his teammates.
âItâs just a house,â you said, bringing your champagne to your lips trying to act like Frank wasnât being weird.
Frank pointed wildly across the room. âEvgeni Malkin is standing by the chips.â
You started laughing, âgo getâem tiger.â
Frank grabbed your shoulders dramatically. âDO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS TO ME?â
He stomped away to go make small talk and try his best to act normal.
Across the room, several Penguins players were already openly amused by the Pitt crew, Dana and Robby were animatedly explaining their best ER stories.
Sidney disappeared briefly to grab refills, kissing your cheek as he moved and the second he walked away, Dana appeared and leaned toward you immediately.
âHeâs in love with you,â she said while wiggling her eyebrows.
You snorted, âyou say that every day.â
She simply shrugged before making her way back to her group.
Then Sidney returned, sliding an arm easily around your waist while handing you a drink.
âYou okay?â he asked quietly, âI know youâre not big on the party thing. But everyone wanted to celebrate you. And you deserved it.â
The softness in his voice immediately made you smile. âYeah,â you admitted softly, âyou really surprised me. I had no idea â
A tiny smile tugged at Sidneyâs mouth, âgood surprise?â
You looked around the room.
At your coworkers laughing with his teammates. At Frank still visibly malfunctioning. At the decorations Sidney had clearly spent way too much time setting up.
Then back at him.
âYeah,â you said quietly. âReally good surprise.â
His hand squeezed gently at your waist. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. For a moment, all the noise faded into nothing and it was just you two standing in his living room.
And then from across the room Frank suddenly yelledâ âSIDNEY! GENO SAID YOU CAN SIGN MY JERSEY!â
He pulled away from the kiss, you whipped your head around and glared at Frank.
The entire house burst out laughing.
Sidney sighed dramatically. âFrank.â
âYou said we were friends now!â Frank said, throwing his hands up defensively. You groaned, leaning your head on Sidneyâs shoulder.
And although it was chaotic, and somehow Whitaker and Santos had taken control of the aux, everyone you loved was there, and you had never felt more thankful.
Summary: After a pediatric patient panics during an IV start, you end up in the ED with a dislocated shoulder, a lot of pain meds, and absolutely no filter. The day shift learns three things very quickly: Jack Abbot is your husband, you picked that one, and apparently, his forearms are medically relevant.
Warnings: established relationship, married Jack and reader, injury, shoulder dislocation, medical procedure/reduction, pain medication/loopy reader, swearing, suggestive humor, sexual jokes, Jack being hot as a clinical intervention, Robby being Robby, fluff, crack treated seriously, hospital setting, peds nurse reader, very unserious wedding lore
Authorâs Note: This is very much the sister fic in spirit to Where Is My Husband? Same deeply married chaos, same loopy wife energy, same Jack Abbot being forced to endure public affection against his will. Except this time, Robby discovers that âsexy doctor husbandâ is not just a title â it is, unfortunately for Jack, a clinically useful intervention. This one is ridiculous, soft, unhinged, and honestly exactly the kind of nonsense I love putting these two through. Jack is trying so hard to be a serious, worried husband; Robby is having the best shift of his life; Dana is quietly enabling chaos under the guise of professionalism; and Reader is simply telling the truth. Loudly. On medication.
Youâre welcome.
Xoxo, Del
The first rule of pediatrics was that fear moved faster than pain. You had learned that early.
Pain made kids cry. Fear made them bolt.
Eli Mereiter had been trying very hard not to do either for almost twenty minutes.
He sat in the center of the peds exam bed with his knees tucked under the thin blanket, his left wrist cradled against his chest, his cheeks blotchy from the effort of pretending he was fine. His mother stood near the head of the bed, one hand on his shoulder and the other twisting the strap of her purse so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
âYouâre doing great,â you told him.
Eli looked at the IV tray and swallowed. âNo, Iâm not.â
You crouched beside the bed so you were closer to eye level.
âYou are. Great doesnât mean you arenât scared. It means youâre still here with me even though you are.â
His eyes flicked to yours.
The honesty helped. It usually did. Kids could smell a lie faster than adults could dress one up.
âItâs gonna hurt,â he said.
You nodded.
âItâs going to pinch. I wonât call it nothing.â You rested one hand on the mattress, close but not touching him without warning. âBut itâll be fast, and you donât have to watch.â
His mouth trembled once before he pressed it flat. âI donât want it.â
âI know.â You gave him a serious nod. âThatâs fair. We can hate it together.â
Eli looked at you like that was suspicious. âYou hate it?â
âI hate it when kids have to do scary things,â you said. âBut I like when they get through them and realize they were braver than they thought.â
His mom made a quiet sound behind him.
You glanced up at her and gave a small, reassuring smile before looking back at Eli.
âHow about this,â you said. âYou pick where you look. Momâs face, the ceiling tile that kind of looks like a potato, or me.â
Eliâs brows pinched together. âThe ceiling tile doesnât look like a potato.â
You looked up. âIt absolutely does.â
He glanced up despite himself. For one second, his attention shifted. Not enough to make him calm, but enough to give him somewhere else to put the fear.
âThat one?â he asked.
You nodded. âVery potato.â His mom gave a wet little laugh.
The nurse beside you finished prepping the IV with practiced quiet. You saw Eli clock the movement anyway. His eyes cut to the tourniquet. Then the alcohol wipe. Then the catheter.
His breathing changed. You leaned in slightly. âEli. Look at me.â His gaze snapped back to yours.
You kept your voice low and even. âCan you breathe in with me?â
He tried. His breath caught halfway.
âThatâs okay,â you said. âAgain. Smaller this time.â
The nurse reached for his arm. Eli saw the flash of the needle. Fear got there first.
âNo,â he said.
His mother tightened her hand on his shoulder. âEliââ
âNo!â He jerked backward, fast and hard, trying to get away from the tray, from the nurse, from the whole room.
âHey, hey.â You moved with him. âYouâre okay.â
But he was already twisting. His sneaker slid against the paper sheet. His hip caught the edge of the mattress. The bed rail was down on your side because you had been sitting there with him, and his small body tipped toward the open space between the bed and the floor.
You moved before thought could catch up.
Your hand caught the back of his gown. Your other arm shot across his chest, bracing him before he could fall.
For half a second, you had him. Then his weight hit your shoulder wrong. Something shifted. Not cracked. Not snapped.
Slipped.
White-hot pain tore through your shoulder and down your arm so violently that the room went gray at the edges. You made a sound you did not recognize.
Someone grabbed Eli from the other side.
âIâve got him,â the other nurse said. âIâve got him.â
Good, you thought. That was good.
You went down hard on one knee, your right arm hanging wrong, breath gone from your chest.
Eli was crying now. Not the scared kind. The guilty kind.
âI hurt her,â he sobbed.
You tried to lift your head. Bad idea. Pain slammed up the side of your neck and behind your teeth.
âNo,â you forced out. Your voice sounded thin. Far away. âNo, honey. You didnât.â
A hand touched your back. âDonât move,â someone said.
You tried to breathe through your nose. âIs he okay?â
âHeâs okay,â she repeated, firmer this time. âWe have him.â
Eliâs mother had him against her now, both arms wrapped around his shaking body. His face was turned toward you, wet and horrified.
You managed to focus on him. âEli.â
His crying hitched. âI didnât mean to.â
âI know.â You swallowed down nausea. âI know you didnât. You got scared. Thatâs different.â
His face crumpled harder. You looked at his mom. âTell him Iâm not mad.â
âWe will,â she said quickly.
You closed your eyes for half a second. âPlease tell him.â
âWe will,â the nurse said beside you. âBut right now, we need to get you downstairs.â
You opened your eyes. âNo, he needsââ
âHe has his mom,â she said gently. âAnd he has Megan. Weâve got him.â
You wanted to argue. Your shoulder pulsed once, deep and sickening, and the rest of the sentence disappeared. Someone called down to the ED before they moved you. You heard pieces of it through the pain and the blood rushing in your ears.
âStaff injury coming down from peds.â
âLikely right shoulder dislocation.â
âCaught a pediatric patient who panicked during IV prep.â
âVitals stable.â
âSevere pain.â
Nobody said your name. Or maybe they did, and it got swallowed somewhere between the exam room and the elevator. Either way, by the time they got you into a wheelchair, your scrubs were damp at the collar, your vision kept narrowing at the corners, and your arm had become a separate, terrible country you refused to look at.
You hated being the patient.
You hated it so much you almost missed the part where you were terrified. Almost.
The elevator ride downstairs felt both too fast and too slow. Someone kept telling you to breathe. Someone else kept asking your pain number. You gave a number that was probably too low because saying the real one made it feel more real.
The ED doors opened.
The familiar noise hit first. Monitors. Shoes. Voices. The distant roll of a cart.
Robby was already at the mouth of a bay when they wheeled you in, tablet in hand, chief-of-the-ER face on. Dana stood beside him with gloves already pulled on, calm and unsmiling in the way that meant she had already cleared the room in her head. Santos hovered just behind her like she could smell a procedure from three bays away. Princess was at the computer, and Javadi stood near the supply cart, trying very hard to look like someone who was not internally rehearsing every step of a shoulder reduction.
âPeds called down,â Robby said. âLikely right shoulder dislocaââ
Then he saw your face. The chief of the ER expression dropped clean off.
For one second, he was not chief of anything. He was just your friend. âWhat the fuck, dude?â
You tried to glare at him. âGreat bedside manner.â
Robby was already moving. He came to your side, one hand bracing the wheelchair arm, his eyes sweeping over your face.
âLook at me,â he said. âYou with me?â
You blinked at him through the pain. âNo, Robby, I thought Iâd dissociate recreationally.â
His jaw tightened. âAnswer me like less of a pain in my ass.â
You sighed. âIâm with you.â
âGood.â He glanced at the peds nurse behind your chair. âThey called down a peds nurse. They did not say it was you.â
âWould that have changed your medical plan?â you asked.
âNo.â His eyes flicked to your shoulder, and the doctor came back into him all at once. âIt would have given me thirty more seconds to emotionally prepare for both my friend being injured and Jack killing me.â
âJack is not going to kill you,â you replied.
Dana made a quiet sound. Robby pointed at her without looking. âDo not contribute.â
Dana lifted both gloved hands. âI said nothing.â
âYou thought loudly.â
Santos leaned slightly to see your arm better. âIs it anterior?â
You swallowed through the pain. âIs Eli okay?â
Robbyâs attention snapped back to you. Then he looked to the peds nurse. âEli is the kid?â
The peds nurse nodded quickly. âEight-year-old. Wrist injury. Heâs okay. Megan stayed with him and his mom.â
Your eyes closed. âDid someone tell him Iâm not mad?â
Robby went still for half a beat. His expression changed again. Softer this time. Worried in a way he could not hide behind sarcasm fast enough.
âYeah,â he said. âThey told him.â
âHe wonât believe them,â you murmured.
Robby looked at you. âHe might.â
âHeâs eight.â Your voice thinned around the pain. âEight-year-olds think everything is their fault.â
Robby looked at you for one second too long. Then he nodded once, like he was putting that away for later. âOkay,â he said. âWeâre going to get you on the bed. Slow. Dana, support the arm. Javadi, do not look terrified.â
Javadi straightened. âIâm not terrified.â Robby looked at her.
You hated the careful hands and the count of three and the way pain still broke through your teeth when they moved you.
You hated that Robbyâs face stayed calm. That meant it looked bad.
Once you were on the bed, Dana slid a pillow under your arm with the clean precision of a woman who did not waste motion. Princess clipped a monitor to your finger. Javadi asked about allergies, her voice only a little too bright. Santos hovered at the foot of the bed, watching your shoulder with open interest until Dana glanced at her.
Santos lifted her hands. âIâm not touching anything.â
âCorrect,â Dana said.
Robby looked up from your shoulder. âPain number.â You hesitated.
He gave you a look. âDo not make me ask like I donât know you.â You told the truth.
Robbyâs mouth tightened. âThank you for not lying to me twice.â
âI lied once,â you admitted.
Robby shook his head. âYou lied badly once.â Your breathing hitched. âDid someone tell Eli?â
The peds nurse, still lingering near the curtain, nodded. âMegan did. His mom did too.â
âBut did he believe them?â you pushed.
Robby braced one hand lightly on the bed rail. âDo not try to sit up.â
You looked at him. âI wasnât.â
âYou thought about it,â Robby replied.
Your eyes narrowed. âYou canât prove that.â
âIâm chief of emergency medicine,â he said. âI can prove anything if I chart creatively.â
A laugh tried to escape you. It did not make it past the pain. Robby saw that too. His voice shifted.
âIV, x-ray, then pain meds before we reduce it,â he said. âLetâs get films and make sure we know exactly what weâre dealing with.â
âLove being discussed like a broken chair,â you muttered.
Robby leaned over you, penlight in hand. âI have never met a chair this mouthy.â
Princess found a vein in your good arm. You looked away while she taped the line down. That felt ridiculous, considering you had started hundreds of IVs yourself, but today your body had decided to be dramatic, and you were not giving it more material.
Robby watched your face. âYou okay?â
âNo,â you answered honestly.
Robby almost smiled. âGood answer.â
Princess glanced up from your IV. âDo you want us to call someone?â
âYes,â you said immediately.
Robbyâs eyes narrowed like he already knew where this was going.
Princess kept her hands near the computer. âWho should we call?â
âJack Abbot.â
The room did not stop. Not yet. Princess typed, then paused.
Her eyes moved from the screen to you. âDr. Abbot?â
You breathed through your teeth. âYes.â
The room went a little too quiet. You opened one eye. âWhat?â
Santos looked from you to Robby. âNight-shift Abbot?â
âHow many Jack Abbots do you know?â you asked.
Javadi made the mistake of whispering, âDr. Abbot is her emergency contact?â
âHeâs my husband,â you said, like that explained the entire universe.
It did, actually. Just not to the room. Santos stared.
Javadi looked like someone had changed the laws of physics in front of her.
Princessâs mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Dana, somehow, did not move at all.
Then her eyes narrowed. âThe sandwich.â You closed your eyes. âDana.â
Santos looked at her. âWhat sandwich?â
Dana didnât look away from the monitor. âShift change. Three weeks ago. Abbot was coming off nights. She was passing the desk with a stack of peds charts.â
Princess leaned around Javadi. âI remember that.â
âHe had half a sandwich in his hand,â Dana said. âTore the crust off without breaking conversation, held it up, and she took it on the way by.â
You breathed carefully through your teeth. âI was hungry.â
âYou said thanks,â Dana added.
Santos blinked. âThatâs it?â Dana finally looked up.
âThatâs the point.â A beat passed.
Then Princess pointed toward you. âWait. The parking lot.â
You opened one eye. âPlease donât.â
âI saw you two by the employee parking last month,â Princess said. âHe switched sides with you near the cars.â
Javadi blinked. âSwitched sides?â Princess looked at her like this was obvious. âThe sidewalk rule.â
Javadiâs brows pulled together. âThe what?â
âWhen the guy walks closer to the street,â Princess said. âProtective thing. Old-school. Very romantic if heâs hot.â
Santos made a face. âThat sounds fake.â
Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord. âItâs not fake.â
Princess pointed at Dana. âThank you.â
You stared at the ceiling. âCan we not analyze my husbandâs walking patterns while my shoulder is in another fucking zip code?â
âAnd he had your bag,â Princess added.
âIt was heavy,â you said.
She looked at you. âIt had little strawberries on it.â
Robbyâs mouth twitched. âJack carried a strawberry bag?â
You gave him the best glare you could manage while lying flat with your arm attempting secession. âYou are supposed to be my doctor.â
Santosâs face changed. âOh, my god. The fire alarm drill.â
âNo,â you said.
âYou had his jacket,â she said.
âIt was cold.â
âNo.â Santos pointed, too delighted to stop herself. âHe put it around your shoulders before you asked.â
Danaâs gaze sharpened with recognition.
Santos nodded hard. âAnd took your clipboard so you could get your arms through the sleeves.â
Princess looked at Robby. âYou knew?â
Robby held up one hand. âI was at the wedding.â
The room shifted again. Javadi whispered, âThere was a wedding?â
You stared at the ceiling. âIâm starting to think day shift needs hobbies.â
Robby looked at you, and this time his humor was gentle around the edges. âYou married a night-shift attending and then wandered around this hospital accepting crustless sandwich halves like that was normal.â
âIt is normal,â you replied.
âFor married people,â Dana said.
Santos looked personally offended. âI am usually very good at noticing things.â
You swallowed through another pulse of pain. âSorry my marriage was inconvenient for your brand.â
Robby pointed at you. âPain has not made her less mean. Excellent prognostic sign.â
Princess was still looking at you like she had discovered treasure. âSo Dr. Abbot is your husband.â
âYes.â
âAnd he brings you coffee,â Princess added.
You inhaled. âYes.â
âAnd the sandwich,â she continued.
âYes.â
Princessâs eyebrows rose. âAnd the parking lot.â You closed your eyes. âI would like drugs now.â
Robbyâs smile faded enough for his concern to show again. âSoon,â he said. âWeâre moving.â
Then he held out his hand toward Princess. âIâll call him.â
You looked at him. âYou donât have to.â
âI do, actually,â Robby replied.
âWhy?â
Robbyâs face softened around the edges, just enough that your chest hurt for reasons that had nothing to do with your shoulder.
âBecause heâs going to be worried,â he said. âAnd if a stranger calls him, heâs going to scare somebody.â
You sighed. âJack doesnât scare people.â
âNo,â Robby said. âBut when heâs worried about you, he gets very concise.â
Dana hummed. âThatâs true.â
You closed your eyes. âTell him not to speed.â
Robby shook his head. âIâm not promising that.â
âRobby,â you said, trying to sound reasonable.
He sighed. âIâll suggest moderation.â
Robby stepped a few feet away from the bed and tapped Jackâs contact. You watched him through the pain, sweat cooling at the back of your neck. He pointed at you without lowering the phone. âTry not to dislocate anything else while Iâm gone.â The call rang once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, Jack answered.
His voice came rough with sleep and irritation. âWhat, Robby?â
Robby glanced back at you. You were pale on the bed, jaw tight, your good hand fisted in the sheet while Dana adjusted the monitor.
âYour wife is in the ED,â Robby said. âSheâs fine. Iâve got her.â
The line went silent. Then Jackâs voice came back low and awake. âWhat happened?â
âRight shoulder dislocation,â Robby said. âPeds incident. She caught a kid before he fell and took the force the wrong way. Sheâs conscious, stable, and pissed off, which Iâm taking as a good sign.â
Another pause. Jack breathed out once, sharply. âOf course she caught the kid.â
âYeah,â Robby said, softer. âThat was my reaction too.â
You lifted your head an inch off the pillow. âTell him not to speed.â
Robby looked over his shoulder. You stared back, sweaty and serious.
âShe says not to speed.â
Jack was already moving. Robby could hear it through the phone: sheets, a drawer, something hitting the floor. âTell her Iâm coming.â
âJack,â Robby said carefully.
âI heard her,â Jack said sharply.
Robby nodded once. âGood.â
âThanks, brother. Iâm on my way,â Jack replied.
Robbyâs mouth softened. âYeah,â he said.
He ended the call and came back to the side of the bed. âHeâs coming.â
You let your head fall back against the pillow. âGood.â The word came out smaller than you meant it to. Robby heard that too. For a second, he was quiet.
Then he nodded to Princess. âNow give her the good stuff before she remembers sheâs trying to be reasonable.â
Princess pushed medication into your IV. Warmth moved up your arm a few seconds later, strange and soft. The pain did not vanish, but the edges of the room began to loosen. The lights blurred a little. The monitor beep sounded farther away.
You blinked. âWow.â
Santos leaned closer. âHowâs that?â
You turned your head toward her slowly. âYou have two faces.â
Robbyâs mouth twitched. âBetter?â
You inhaled. âI can still feel my skeleton making bad choices.â
âSo, somewhat.â Robby grinned.
You looked toward the curtain. âDid someone tell Eli Iâm not mad?â
Robby exhaled. âYes.â
âIâm not mad,â you repeated.
âI know.â
You blinked hard. âNo, but he needs to know.â
âHe knows,â Robby replied gently.
You frowned. âYouâre just saying that.â
âI am saying many things,â Robby said. âThis one happens to be true.â
You tried to sit up. Every person in the room reacted.
Dana touched your good shoulder. âNope. Stay back.â
âI should tell him,â you told her.
âYou should keep your shoulder still,â Robby said.
You frowned at him. âYouâre being bossy.â Robby shrugged. âItâs on the mug.â
âJack has a mug that says Worldâs Sexiest Doctor,â you replied without thinking. The pain meds were softening things too much now. Words had started wandering into places you had not invited them.
Robby slowly turned his head. âIâm sorry. He has a what?â
You winced. âIt was a joke. I got it for him when we were dating.â
Princess looked delighted. âAnd he kept it?â
You breathed through another pulse of pain. âHe drinks out of it every morning.â
Santos stared. âAbbot drinks coffee out of a Worldâs Sexiest Doctor mug?â
Dana, dry as dust, added, âThat explains more than I wanted it to.â
Robby pressed his fingers to his mouth like he was trying to hold in actual joy.
You glared at him. âYouâre supposed to be my doctor.â
âI am,â Robby said. âAnd this is healing me.â
You narrowed your eyes at him. The ED lights drifted above you. Your body felt heavy against the bed, but your mind kept circling the same places. Eli crying. Your shoulder slipping. Jack coming. You blinked slowly. âDid someone tell Eli?â
Dana adjusted the blanket around your legs. âYes.â
âDid someone tell Jack?â you asked.
Robbyâs mouth twitched. âYes.â You nodded, satisfied for exactly one second.
Then you frowned. âWhich one is coming to see me?â
Robby stared at you. âWhat?â
âEli or Jack?â you asked.
Princess turned toward the computer with suspicious speed. Santos looked openly delighted. Robbyâs expression brightened with pure, terrible affection.
âOh,â he said softly. âThis is going to be a great drug for you.â
You frowned. âDonât be weird.â
Robby patted the bed rail. âTry not to say anything incriminating before your husband gets here.â
Your eyes closed, but you could still hear the smile in his voice. âJack already knows everything.â
Robby made a thoughtful sound. âSure,â he said. âLetâs test that.â
Robby stayed beside the bed after Princess pushed the medication. One hand rested on the rail. His eyes moved from your face to the monitor, then to your shoulder, then back to your face again. He was not joking as much now.
You hated that. âStop looking worried,â you said.
His mouth twitched, but it did not quite become a smile. âStop giving me reasons.â
You blinked at him, the lights blurring softly around the edges. âRude.â
âConsistent,â Robby said.
Dana adjusted the blanket over your legs, brisk yet careful. âThatâs one word for it.â
The medication had made the room strange. Softer, but not kinder. The monitors sounded farther away, and the overhead lights had started to bloom at the edges. Your shoulder still hurts. Not as sharply as before, maybe, but it was there under everything, pulsing and wrong. You tried to shift away from it. Your body disagreed. âBad,â you muttered.
Robby leaned in a fraction. âPain?â
You shook your head. âExistence.â
He nodded once. âFair.â
Dana checked the line of your IV, then glanced at him.
Robbyâs eyes returned to yours, and something in his face softened. âHey,â he said. âWorldâs Sexiest Doctor.â
You frowned. âWhat?â
âThe mug,â Robby said, voice lighter on purpose. âYou said he drinks out of it every morning.â
Your face softened before you could stop it. âHe does.â Princess turned from the computer with immediate interest. Santos, who had been pretending not to hover near the foot of the bed, stopped pretending. Danaâs expression did not change, but her eyes flicked toward you.
Robby leaned one forearm against the rail. âStill canât believe he committed to the bit.â
âItâs not a bit,â you said.
Robbyâs eyebrows lifted. âNo?â
You looked at him like he was missing the obvious. âItâs true.â
Santosâs mouth curved. Dana looked down at the monitor. Princess pressed her lips together like she was holding something very large behind her teeth. You blinked at the ceiling, dreamy and annoyed all at once. âHe is the sexiest doctor.â
Robby drew back like you had slapped him. âRude.â
You turned your head toward him slowly. âYouâre right.â
His expression softened. âThank you.â
âEllis is pretty hot, too,â you murmured happily.
Robby froze. Princess made a sound and turned sharply toward the computer. Santos whispered, âWow.â
Dana closed her eyes. Robby stared at you. âThat was not the correction I was requesting.â
You considered him through the pleasant fog around your thoughts. âYou have nice hair.â
Robbyâs hand went to his chest. âThat was devastatingly lukewarm.â
âIt is nice.â
âNice hair,â he repeated, wounded. âThatâs what I get after years of friendship.â
âYouâre my friend,â you said.
His expression shifted. For one second, the joke left his face. âI know.â
You watched him through the blur. âYouâre a good doctor.â
Robbyâs hand tightened slightly on the rail. âYouâre on excellent medication.â
âI mean it.â
âI know,â he said, quieter.
Dana looked away first. Santos suddenly found the supply tray very interesting. Robby cleared his throat and straightened. âOkay,â he said, his voice returning to a steady tone. âLetâs get ready.â
The words landed wrong. Your smile faded. The room shifted back into medicine too quickly. Gloves. Positioning. Dana adjusting the bed. Santos watching Robbyâs hands intently. Javadi standing too still by the supplies, trying to look prepared. Your stomach dropped through the medication. âWait.â Robby looked back at you. âYeah?â
Your good hand tightened in the sheet. âYouâre doing it now?â His expression softened. âSoon.â
âNo.â
Danaâs hand settled lightly near your good shoulder. Not holding you down. Just there.
Robby stepped closer. âI know.â
âNo, Robby.â Your voice stayed even, but barely. âI donât want to do it.â
Robby did not flinch. âI know you donât.â
âI mean it.â
âI know you mean it.â
You swallowed hard, throat suddenly tight. âI donât want it to hurt.â
Robbyâs face changed again, not much, just enough to show you he hated this part too. âIâm going to be as gentle as I can.â
You frowned. âThatâs what people say before they do stuff that sucks.â Santos muttered, âAccurate.â
Dana looked at her. Santos lifted both hands. âIâm validating.â
Robby ignored her and kept his eyes on you. âIt is going to suck,â he said. âBut the longer it stays out, the worse itâs going to feel. I want to get it back where it belongs.â
Your breathing went shallow. The medication had made everything loose except the fear. That stayed sharp. Clear. Mean. You looked toward the hallway. âFine.â Robby waited. You glared at him, sweaty and medicated and angry enough to hide behind it. âIâll do it if Jack is my doctor.â
The room paused. Dana looked at Robby. Princess looked at the hallway. Javadi looked like she had just realized this was not covered in any textbook.
Robby let out a slow breath. âYeah,â he said carefully. âThatâs not how this works.â
You frowned at him. âHeâs a doctor.â
âHe is.â Danaâs voice stayed calm beside you. âHeâs also your husband.â
You looked at her like she had helped your case. âExactly.â Robbyâs mouth twitched despite himself.
Before he could answer, Jackâs voice cut through the department. âWhere is she?â
Your head turned. Completely. All the thoughts in your brain scattered like startled birds. Jack was halfway down the hall, moving fast and trying not to look like he was moving fast, a hoodie under his unzipped jacket. His hair was sleep-rough on one side. His jaw was tight, his eyes already searching, already locked on the room. The second he saw you, his pace changed.
Your good hand lifted off the sheet. âThat one.â
Robby followed your gaze. For the first time since the reduction tray came out, true humor broke through his worry. âOh,â he said softly. âOkay.â
Jack stepped into the bay. You pointed at him, certain now. âI want that one.â
Jack froze for half a second. His eyes moved over you. Face. IV. Monitor. Shoulder. Robby. Dana. Back to your face.
Then he was at your side. âBaby.â
The word hit the room like a dropped instrument. Santos stared very hard at the floor. Princess pressed her lips together. Javadiâs eyes went wide, then wider, like she was watching hospital folklore become sentient.
You smiled up at him. âHi.â
Jack took your good hand, his palm warm and familiar around yours. âHi.â
His thumb moved once over your knuckles. You exhaled. You felt it happen before you could stop it. Your shoulders did not relax, not really, but your breathing changed. Your grip loosened from the sheet. The sharp edge of panic moved back by an inch.
Robby saw it. His eyes flicked to the monitor, then to Jackâs hand. âInteresting.â
Jack did not look away from you. âDonât.â
âIâm observing.â
âYou observe too loudly.â
Robbyâs mouth curved. âI am her physician.â
Jackâs jaw tightened. âYou are enjoying being her physician too much.â
âI was worried,â Robby said.
The joke thinned for a second. Jack looked up. Robby held his gaze. âStill am.â
Jackâs face shifted.
You squeezed his hand. âDonât do serious faces.â
Jack looked back down at you. His thumb moved again. âSorry.â
You studied him, hazy and affectionate. âYou came.â
âOf course I came.â
You turned your head toward Dana, solemn and proud. âI picked that one.â
Danaâs mouth twitched. âSo Iâm hearing.â
Jack closed his eyes. âWhat did you give her?â
âPain control,â Robby said. âNot enough to explain all of this.â
You tugged lightly on Jackâs hand. âHeâs being rude.â
Jack looked at Robby. âStop being rude.â
Robby pointed at him. âYou werenât even here.â
âI believe my wife.â
Princess turned toward the computer again, but not fast enough to hide her smile.
Santos murmured, âThat was hot.â
Dana said, âSantos.â
âWhat? It was,â Santos replied with a shrug.
Jack ignored all of them and leaned closer to you. âHow bad?â
âBad.â
His face softened. âYeah?â
You nodded, then regretted it. âDonât let me do head stuff.â
âI wonât,â Jack promised.
You frowned. âHaving a head is bad.â
âIâll make a note,â Jack said with a soft smile.
Robby stepped closer to your injured side. âOkay,â he said. âWeâre going to try Cunningham.â
âNo.â Your response was immediate.
Jackâs hand tightened around yours. Robby did not react like the word surprised him. âI know.â
âNo, I donât want Cunningham. It sounds smug,â you told him.
Robbyâs brow raised. âItâs a reduction technique, not a man at a country club.â
You frowned at him. âStill smug.â
Jackâs thumb brushed your knuckles. âLook at me.â
Robby looked between you and Jack. Then his eyes moved to the monitor again. A thought entered his face.
Jack saw it immediately. âNo.â
Robby blinked. âI didnât say anything.â
Dana adjusted the bed so you were sitting up more, angled slightly back against the raised mattress. The movement sent a pain-sparking sensation down your arm. âFuck.â Your eyes squeezed shut. âFuck, this is worse than my fucking IUD insertion.â
The room went silent. Jackâs thumb stilled against your hand. âOkay,â he said carefully.
You opened your eyes and glared at the ceiling. âI thought I knew pain. I was wrong.â
Danaâs mouth twitched near the monitor. Princess turned very deliberately toward the computer.
Jack leaned closer. âBaby.â
âNo.â You turned your glare on him. âThis is your fault.â
His brows pulled together. âMy fault?â
âYes.â
Jack blinked once. âHow is this my fault?â
âBecause,â you said, furious and medicated, âif it wasnât for you, I wouldnât know this was worse.â
Robby looked up. Jack did not move.
âI was doing fine,â you continued. âI was in my celibate phase. I was at peace.â
Jackâs face changed by exactly one dangerous millimeter. âYou were not at peace.â
âI was close.â Your eyes narrowed. âThen you came along with your stupid handsome face and your stupid arms, and then I got the stupid IUD, and I thought that was pain. But no.â
Robby nodded slowly. âThat is a clinically fascinating chain of blame.â
Jack did not look away from you. âSo your shoulder hurts because Iâm handsome.â
Dana did not look away from the monitor. âDo not repeat Mrs. Abbot.â Your face softened immediately.
Jack noticed. His eyes dropped back to yours, something warm cutting through the mortification. âWhat?â
You blinked up at him, drug-soft and suddenly pleased. âShe called me Mrs. Abbot.â
Jackâs thumb moved once over your hand. âYeah, baby.â
A small smile pulled at your mouth. âThatâs me.â
Robby looked from you to Dana. Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. âWhat?â
âYouâre enjoying this,â Robby said.
âI am maintaining room discipline.â
âYou called her Mrs. Abbot.â
Danaâs mouth barely moved. âThat is her name.â Your smile widened.
Jack looked at Dana, then back at you, and his face softened despite himself. Dana glanced at the monitor. âSee? Therapeutic.â Robbyâs eyes dropped to Jackâs sleeve.
Jack saw it happen. âNo.â
Robby smiled. âI didnât say anything.â
Jackâs eyes narrowed. âYou looked at my sleeve.â
âClinically,â Robby replied.
Jack shook his head. âAbsolutely not.â
You blinked up at Jack, still angry, still hazy, still betrayed by the entire medical system. âHe does have nice forearms.â
Jack stared at the ceiling. Robby nodded toward Jackâs arm. âRoll up your sleeve.â
Jack looked at him. âExcuse me?â
âSheâs tensing.â
Jack gave Robby a look. âYou want me to roll up my sleeves.â
âI want patient compliance,â Robby corrected.
Jack looked at Dana. Dana glanced at the monitor, then at you. âIt would probably help.â
Jackâs face went flat. âNot you too.â
Dana shrugged. âIâm practical.â
Robby looked delighted. âSee? Medicine.â
Jack exhaled through his nose, then dragged one sleeve of his hoodie up his forearm. Your eyes followed the movement immediately. You hated yourself a little. Not enough to look away. His forearm flexed as he pushed the fabric past his elbow, tendons shifting under skin, the veins at his wrist standing out when his fingers curled once around the bed rail. Your mouth went soft.
Robby pointed at you. âThere.â
Jackâs eyes cut to him. âDo not point at my wife while sheâs objectifying me.â
âI am pointing at a response to treatment,â Robby replied with glee.
You looked at Jackâs arm. âTreatment is good.â
Princess made a strangled sound. Javadi stared straight ahead like a resident determined to survive rounds with her soul intact.
Jack leaned closer to you. âYou are making this very difficult.â
You blinked. âMe?â
âYou.â His thumb brushed your cheek. âVery stubborn. Very pretty. Extremely bad at being a patient.â
The giggle came before you could stop it. Soft. Helpless. Embarrassing. Jackâs eyes warmed. Robby looked like he had just discovered a new antibiotic. âOh, thatâs excellent.â
Jack did not look away from you. âIgnore him.â
âYou think Iâm pretty,â you said.
âI married you,â Jack replied.
âThatâs not an answer.â
His mouth curved. âYes, baby. I think youâre pretty.â
You melted. Completely. It was humiliating. It was also his fault. Robby adjusted your injured arm, careful and slow, guiding your hand toward his shoulder. The position made pain spark hot and immediate. âNo.â You tried to pull back. âNo, fuck this.â
Jackâs face sharpened. Robbyâs tone stayed calm. âI need thirty seconds.â
âI donât want thirty seconds,â you said, frowning.
Robbyâs expression softened, âI know.â
âNo, I want that one to do it,â you said, looking from Robby to Jack.
Jack leaned closer. âYou have that one.â
âI want that one to doctor me.â Your lower lip jutted out.
Robby, far too cheerful, said, âWeâve covered the conflict of interest.â
You frowned at him. âSexy doctor husband.â
Jack looked at Robby. âFix her shoulder.â
Robby looked at Jackâs hoodie. Jack saw it. His whole body went still. âNo.â
Robby lifted both hands. âI didnât say anything.â Jack stared at him.
Robby smiled. âShe responded well to forearm.â
âForearm is not a drug,â Jack shot back.
Robby shrugged. âIt is today.â
Jack dragged a hand down his face. âFuck me.â
You, who had been blinking hazily at the ceiling, turned your head with alarming speed. âYes.â
The room stopped. Completely. Jackâs hand froze halfway down his face. âNo.â
You frowned, offended. âRude.â
Princess turned toward the computer with the focus of a woman fighting for her life. Santos stared at the floor, shoulders shaking.
Dana checked the monitor. âHeart rate response noted.â
Jack looked at her. âDana.â
She did not look up. âI report data.â
Robby pressed his lips together. âFor the record, that was the fastest sheâs oriented to verbal stimulus since the medication.â
You reached weakly for Jackâs hand. âSexy doctor husband.â
Jack looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy from medication and pain, your good hand tight around his, your face still trying so hard to stay mad because scared was too vulnerable, and both of you knew it. His irritation lost some of its shape. âFine,â he muttered. Robby brightened. Jack glared at him. âDonât look so happy.â
âIâm a scientist observing results,â Robby replied, delighted.
Jack stood beside the bed and reached back, fingers catching the sweatshirt at the back of his neck. Your eyes locked onto the movement. He pulled it over his head in one smooth drag, the hem catching for half a second on the white T-shirt underneath. The shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders when he lifted his arms. His biceps shifted under the fabric. His forearms flexed as he dragged the sweatshirt free.
The room went very quiet. You stared. Completely gone. Jack paused with the sweatshirt in one hand. Just for a second. Long enough to let you look. His mouth tilted, barely. âBetter?â
You nodded slowly. âWow.â
Robby made a sound that might have been spiritual.
Jack dropped back into the chair beside you and took your hand again. âEyes on me.â
You obeyed immediately. âSexy doctor husband.â
Jack closed his eyes. âGood Lord.â
Robby looked at the monitor, then at Jack. âThat was outstanding.â
Robby grinned. âYou removed clothing, and her heart rate stabilized.â
âThat is not what happened,â Jack replied with a sigh.
Dana glanced at the monitor. âIt sort of is.â J
ack looked betrayed. âDana.â
She shrugged. âI report data.â
Robby gestured toward you, far too pleased with the entire clinical situation. âMagic Mike: ED Edition.â
Jackâs head snapped up. âNo.â
Robbyâs grin spread slowly. âI donât know, brother. You danced at your wedding. Pretty risky, if memory serves.â
Jackâs stare went flat. âRobby.â
âThere was a certain Eminem song involved,â Robby continued.
Your head turned on the pillow. âShake That.â
Jack closed his eyes. âDo not help him.â
Robby pointed at you, delighted. âThatâs the one.â
Dana looked up from the monitor. âYou danced to âShake Thatâ at your wedding?â
âNo,â Jack said immediately.
You turned toward him with surprising speed. âJack.â
His eyes opened. âBaby.â
Your brow furrowed, âDonât you dare deny that.â
Princess pressed both lips together and turned toward the computer as if it had suddenly become fascinating. Santos stared between you and Jack, openly thrilled. You lifted your good hand as much as the IV allowed and pointed at him. âThat moment changed my brain chemistry.â
Jack looked toward the ceiling. âGood Lord.â
Robby nodded solemnly. âFor the record, I was there. It changed several peopleâs brain chemistry.â
Jackâs head turned slowly. âYou cried during the father-daughter dance.â
âYou and your wife offended decent people everywhere with that dance,â Robby said.
You nodded, glassy-eyed and completely unashamed. âYep. My grandma left.â
Jack looked down at you, horror flickering across his face. âYour grandmother left?â
You blinked up at him. âYou didnât know that?â
âNo,â Jack said. âI did not know that.â
âShe came back for cake,â you added.
Jack looked at you. âThat does not make it better.â
Robbyâs grin widened. âIâm just saying. It was a lot of wedding.â
Jackâs eyes cut to him. âYou ended that night with half your shirt unbuttoned because a bridesmaid took your tie off with her teeth.â
Santosâs head snapped up. âWith her teeth?â
Dana did not look away from the monitor. âDo not repeat wedding lore.â
Princess turned from the computer, delighted. âDid he go home with her?â
Robby pointed sharply at your shoulder. âWe have a patient.â
Jackâs mouth curved, barely. âHe did.â
Robby stared at him. âBetrayal.â
Jack shrugged. âYou started this.â
âI started a medical discussion,â Robby defended.
Jack narrowed his eyes. âYou called me Magic Mike.â
Robby frowned. âIn a medical context.â
You looked between them, soft and dreamy now, the medication turning the memory warm around the edges. âIt was perfect.â
Jackâs expression shifted. âOur wedding?â
You nodded. âYou danced. I danced. Robby got slutty.â
Robby pointed at you. âFor the record, âRobby got sluttyâ is not medically relevant.â
Your eyes drifted back to Jack. You studied him for one long, medicated second. âYou got slutty.â
Jackâs brows lifted. âI did not.â
You gave him a look. âTell that to your hips.â You kept looking at Jack, still dreamy and deeply serious. âAnd hands.â
Jack closed his eyes again.
Santos made a tiny sound. âHe got slutty.â
Dana did not look away from the monitor. âDo not repeat Mrs. Abbot.â
Your face softened immediately. Jack noticed. Of course, he noticed. His thumb moved once over your hand. âShe called me Mrs. Abbot.â
âI heard,â Jack said, quieter now.
A small smile pulled at your mouth. âThatâs me.â Jackâs expression softened before he could stop it.
Robby looked from you to Dana. âYouâre enjoying this.â
Dana adjusted the pulse ox cord with perfect neutrality. âI am maintaining room discipline.â
Jack looked at you slowly. He looked down at you, and something in his expression changed. Not embarrassed now. Worse. Amused. âYou know, baby,â he said, voice low, âI didnât hear you complaining that night.â
Your mouth parted. For one blessed second, the medication actually managed to quiet you.
Robby looked delighted. âOh, that worked.â
Jack did not look away from you. âDonât.â
You blinked up at Jack, soft and glassy-eyed and deeply sincere. âI was thoroughly enjoying it.â
Dana closed her eyes. Princess turned fully toward the computer.
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. âThat is a lot of marriage for a workplace.â
Jackâs jaw flexed, but his thumb moved over your hand again. âTrouble.â
You smiled faintly. âYou started it.â
Robby pointed at Jack. âSheâs right.â
Jack looked at him. âYou started it.â Robby nodded. âAlso true. Still worth it.â
Dana adjusted the bed, then looked at both of them. âShoulder now. Wedding crimes later.â
You frowned. âTheyâre not crimes if everyone had fun.â
âYour grandmother left,â Jack said.
âShe came back for cake.â
Robby nodded. âStrong recovery.â
Jack looked at him. âYou are done.â
Robby smiled. âBrother, I have barely begun.â
Danaâs voice cut through, calm and final. âRobby.â
Robby lifted both hands. âShoulder now.â
Jack leaned closer to you, resigned and soft all at once. âEyes on me, trouble.â
You looked at his white T-shirt, then his face. âI am looking,â you said. âThatâs the problem.â
For half a second, he looked like he might say something that would make the entire situation worse.
Robby must have seen it coming, because he clapped once, sharp and quiet. âOkay,â he said. âShoulder.â
Jackâs eyes stayed on yours. âYou heard the man.â
You frowned at him. âI donât like the man.â
Robby adjusted his gloves at your injured side. âThe man is hurt by that.â
Dana moved closer to the bed, one hand resting near your good shoulder. âMrs. Abbot,â she said, calm and even. âWeâre going to sit you up a little more.â
Your face softened immediately. Jack saw it again. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. âYou like that.â
You blinked at him. âLike what?â
His voice went quieter. âMrs. Abbot.â
A small, helpless smile pulled at your mouth. âThatâs me.â
Jackâs expression changed. Not enough for anyone else to call him out on it, maybe, but enough for you to feel warmer than the medication could explain. âYeah, baby,â he said. âThatâs you.â
Robby looked at Dana. Dana kept her face neutral. âTherapeutic,â she said.
Jack did not look away from you. âDo not note that.â
Robby shrugged. âI have a whole mental chart now.â
âDelete it,â Jack shot back.
Robby grinned. âHIPAA doesnât apply to my thoughts.â
Dana raised the bed before Jack could answer. The motion sent your shoulder into a hot, mean pulse. Your good hand tightened around Jackâs. âNope.â
Jack stepped in closer immediately. âIâve got you.â
âNope,â you said again, sharper this time. âI changed my mind.â
Robbyâs voice stayed steady from your side. âYou can hate it.â
âI do hate it. I hate the concept. I hate whoever invented Cunningham,â you groaned.
Robby nodded once. âProbably fair.â You went on, âI hate that his name is Cunningham.â
âIt is a useful medical procedure,â Robby replied.
You turned your glare on him. âDonât defend Cunningham to me right now.â
Jack leaned into your line of sight. âLook at me.â
You looked at him. Mostly because he was very close. Also, because the T-shirt was still doing hateful things across his chest. Jackâs eyes narrowed faintly, like he knew exactly where your attention had gone.
âMy face,â he said.
You sighed. âYour face is also a problem.â
Robby glanced at the monitor. âProblem appears effective.â Jack turned his head a fraction. âRobby.â
âData,â Dana said.
Jack gave her a betrayed look. Danaâs brows lifted. âI report it.â
Robby slid your injured hand carefully toward his shoulder. The second your arm shifted, pain sparked bright and fast down your side.
âFuck.â Your eyes squeezed shut. âNo, no, no, fuck that.â
Jackâs free hand came to your cheek. Warm palm. Steady fingers. No pressure, just contact. âHey.â
You shook your head. âNo, Jack, I really donâtââ
âI know.â
Robby paused, his hands still supporting your arm.
Jackâs thumb moved once beneath your cheekbone. âI know, sweetheart.â
You opened your eyes. His face was right there. Close enough to blur at the edges. Worried in that contained way that made your chest hurt. Soft in the places no one else knew to look.
âI donât want it to hurt,â you whispered.
Jackâs expression gentled. âI know.â Your throat tightened. âIâm being so stupid.â
âNo,â he said immediately.
Robbyâs voice came from your side, quieter now. âYouâre not.â
Danaâs hand stayed light near your shoulder. âYou are allowed to be in pain, Mrs. Abbot.â
Your mouth trembled. That was rude of her, honestly. Using the name like that.
Jack watched your face, and something in him settled. âBe mad,â he said softly. âSwear at Robby. Insult Cunningham.â
Robby lifted one hand. âI would like to opt out of one third of that.â
Jack ignored him. âBut keep looking at me.â You swallowed. âYouâre bossy.â
âI know.â Jack smiled softly.
You narrowed your eyes. âYou like being bossy.â His mouth curved, barely. âWith you?â
Your eyes widened a little. Jackâs thumb moved along your cheek. âYeah.â
The room went dangerously still. Robbyâs face brightened. âOh, that was good.â
Jackâs eyes cut toward him. âDo not grade me.â
âIâm not grading. Iâm appreciating the technique.â
Dana looked at the monitor. âHeart rate improved.â Jack exhaled through his nose. âGood Lord.â
You stared at him, caught between pain and medication and the unfair fact of him. âSexy doctor husband.â
His jaw flexed. âApparently.â Robby moved your elbow another careful inch. You tensed immediately.
Jackâs hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair. âEyes on me.â
You tried. You really did. Your gaze dropped to his mouth first.
Jack noticed. His mouth twitched. âMy eyes, trouble.â
âIâm trying,â you groaned.
He smirked. âYouâre doing terrible.â You made a small, offended sound.
Jackâs thumb stroked lightly at the base of your skull. âBut youâre very pretty while you do it.â
A giggle escaped you before you could stop it. It came out wet, shaky, and ridiculous.
Robby froze. Dana glanced at the monitor. Princess made a tiny sound near the computer.
Santos looked like she might need to sit down. Jackâs eyes softened. âThere she is.â
You frowned at him. âYouâre flirting medically again.â
âI am not,â Jack replied.
Robby adjusted his grip on your elbow. âYou are.â
Jack kept his face angled toward you. âNo one asked you.â
âI did,â you said.
Jack looked back at you. âYou did not.â
âI spiritually asked,â you said with a sigh.
Robby pointed at you. âShe gets me.â
Jackâs hand tightened carefully at the back of your head. âThat is what worries me.â
The laugh that tried to leave you broke into a gasp when Robby began working at the muscles around your shoulder.
Pain rose again, deep and threatening. âNo,â you said, voice thin now.
Jackâs teasing vanished. Just gone. His face steadied. âBreathe with me.â
âI donât want to breathe.â
He raised a brow. âDo it anyway.â You frowned. âThatâs mean.â
âI know,â Jack agreed.
âFuck, Jack.â
His eyes held yours. âIâve got you.â
Robbyâs voice came low and focused. âGood. Just like that. Try not to fight me.â
You turned your eyes toward him in outrage. âTry not to fight you?â
Jackâs hand at the back of your head guided you back. âMe.â
You sucked in a breath. âRobby is saying stupid things.â
âI know.â Jack nodded.
âI can hear you,â Robby said.
Jackâs thumb swept once under your eye. âIgnore him.â
âHeâs touching my shoulder,â you said, miserable.
Jack tilted his head closer to you. âBecause heâs fixing it.â
âI donât like him,â you said with a frown.
Jack smiled softly at you. âYou love him.â
âNot right now,â you said, brows furrowed.
Robby nodded without looking up. âTemporary friendship suspension. Accepted.â
Dana looked at you. âHold still, Mrs. Abbot.â
The name hit exactly where it had before. Your breathing hitched, but this time it hitched softer.
Jack saw it. Robby saw it. Dana absolutely saw it. Robby looked at Dana. âYouâre good.â
Dana didnât look away from the monitor. âI know.â Jack leaned closer. âYouâre doing good.â
You stared at him. âI am?â
âYeah,â he replied.
Your eyes burned. âIâm making this difficult.â Jack nodded once. âYouâre scared.â
âIâm swearing,â you continued.
He shrugged a shoulder. âIâve heard worse.â
âI told everyone about our wedding crimes.â Your lower lip wobbled.
His mouth moved like he was fighting a smile. âThat one weâll discuss later.â
âYou got slutty.â
Jack closed his eyes. âNot now.â Robbyâs shoulders shook once.
Jackâs eyes opened. âDo not laugh during my wifeâs reduction.â
Robbyâs expression snapped back into focus. âGuilty.â
Pain flared again, sharper this time, and your whole body tried to pull away.
Jackâs hand held steady at the back of your head. Not forcing you. Keeping you with him. âLook at me.â
You blinked away tears. âI am.â
âNo.â His voice dropped. âReally look.â
You did.
His eyes were dark and close and worried. His thumb moved against your cheek, slow and sure.
âThere you go,â he murmured. âStay right there.â
Your breath shook. âThis fucking sucks.â
âI know,â Jack murmured.
You went on. âCunningham is a bad man.â
âProbably.â Jack nodded with a soft smile.
Robby glanced up. âCunningham did not personally do this to you.â
You glared at him through tears. âHe knows what he did.â Robby nodded. âIâll allow it.â
Jackâs mouth brushed the edge of a smile.
You caught it. Even through pain. Even through fear. Even through the medication making the room swim around the edges. âYouâre laughing.â
âIâm not,â Jack replied.
You glared at him. âYou are.â
âOnly because youâre mean on drugs,â he said, smiling softly at you.
You inhaled sharply. âIâm allowed to be mean right now.â
âYeah,â Jack said, impossibly soft. âYou are.â
Robbyâs hands shifted. The pressure changed. Your body knew before your brain did.
You went rigid. âNo.â Jackâs face sharpened. âBaby.â
âNo, no, no, I donât wantââ You shook your head despite the pain.
His hand cupped your face more firmly. âLook at me.â Your eyes found his. âI am looking.â
âGood,â Jack said, his voice low and steady.
Your eyes burned as you stared up at him. âJack.â
His hand stayed firm at the back of your head, fingers threaded carefully into your hair. âIâve got you.â
You swallowed hard, trying not to pull away from Robbyâs hands. âI hate this.â
âI know.â Jackâs thumb moved along your cheek.
Your breath hitched, half pain and half panic. âI hate your stupid face for helping.â
His mouth curved just enough to ruin you. âUse it.â
âWhat?â
âMy stupid face.â His thumb brushed beneath your eye. âLook at it instead of your shoulder.â
You stared at him. âI hate that that works.â
âI know,â Jack murmured.
You glared at him. âYour face is medically annoying.â Robby murmured, âGroundbreaking terminology.â
Jack did not look away from you. âNot now.â
Robbyâs hands shifted again. You felt the pressure build. Slow, careful, awful.
Jack saw you brace. Of course he did. His voice dropped. âBe good for me.â
Your face went soft immediately. âOh, thatâs unfair.â
Jackâs thumb brushed beneath your eye. âI know.â
âYouâre cheating.â You tried to glare at him, but the medication and his hand in your hair made it a weak attempt.
His mouth curved, barely there and deeply unrepentant. âI know.â
Robby, without missing a beat, said, âCheating is medically allowed right now.â
Jackâs jaw flexed. âDo it now.â
For one suspended second, there was only Jackâs face, his hand in your hair, his thumb on your cheek, and Robbyâs steady pressure on your arm.
Then the joint shifted. Not violently. Not with a dramatic crack.
Just a deep, sickening slide, followed by sudden release. You gasped.
The wrongness vanished all at once. Your whole body folded toward Jack on a broken little sob.
He caught you carefully, one hand still cradling your head, the other braced at your good shoulder. âIâve got you,â he said immediately. âIâve got you.â
Robby exhaled. âShoulderâs back.â
You breathed hard against Jackâs white T-shirt, your face pressed into the warmth of his chest, tears leaking more from relief than pain now. âHoly shit.â
Jackâs mouth brushed your hair before he seemed to remember there were witnesses. âYeah.â
âThat was awful,â you breathed, tears falling.
Jack kissed your head. âI know.â You turned your face enough to look up at him. âYou were helpful.â
His expression softened. âYeah?â
You nodded, still floating, still furious, still very much on drugs. âSexy doctor husband.â
Robby pulled off his gloves with great satisfaction. âFor the record, Cunningham with targeted husband exposure: wildly effective.â
Jack did not look away from you. âDocument that and die.â
Robby smiled. âBrother, this is medicine now.â
You blinked up at Jack, wet-eyed and dazed. âI picked that one.â
The room went quiet around the softness in your voice. Jackâs thumb moved once along your cheek. âYeah,â he said. âYou did.â
You stared at him for another long, drug-soft second. âI picked good.â
His face changed. Not a lot. Enough. âYeah, baby,â he said quietly. âYou did.â
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. âI need everyone to know I am handling this with incredible maturity.â
Dana looked at him. âYou are not.â
âNo,â Robby agreed. âBut I almost did.â
Jackâs hand stayed against the side of your face for another second before he seemed to remember the rest of the room existed.
âPost-reduction films?â he asked, glancing toward Robby.
Robby pulled his gloves off and dropped them into the trash. âAlready ordered.â Jack nodded once.
Robby gave him a look as he stepped back to your injured side. âNeurovascular was intact before. Checking again now.â
âI know you are,â Jack said.
Robby lifted his brows. âDo you?â Jackâs mouth flattened. âIâm standing right here.â
âGreat,â Robby said. âThen stand there husbandly and let me be her doctor.â
You turned your head slowly against Jackâs palm. âYouâre both doctors.â
Robby leaned closer, careful as he checked your hand. âOnly one of us is currently allowed to practice medicine on you.â
You looked at Jack. âI vote that one.â Jack closed his eyes. âBaby.â
Robby did not look up from your fingers. âYour vote has been received and rejected by the ethics committee.â
You frowned at him. âI donât like the ethics committee.â
âThe ethics committee is me,â Robby said.
You blinked at him. âThat tracks.â
Santos made a tiny sound near the foot of the bed. Dana glanced at her. Santos pressed her lips together and looked at the floor.
Robby touched your fingers gently. âCan you wiggle these for me?â You wiggled them.
Robby nodded. âGood. Any numbness or tingling?â
You stared at him, still dazed. âJust in my dignity.â
âThat is not innervated by the axillary nerve,â Robby said.
You blinked. âShow-off.â
Jackâs thumb moved over your cheek again. The motion was small. Your body noticed anyway.
Robby saw that too, because of course he did, but for once he did not comment.
Dana adjusted the sling on the tray beside the bed. âWeâll get her immobilized once Robbyâs done checking you,â she said. Jackâs attention shifted to the sling. His jaw tightened by a fraction.
You saw it even through the medication. âYouâre doing the face.â
Jack looked back down at you. âWhat face?â
âThe face,â you said.
Robby glanced over. âOh, I know the face.â Jack did not look at him. âNo one asked you.â
Robbyâs voice stayed light, but not careless. âItâs the face he makes when he wishes he could make it easier for you.â
Jack went quiet. So did you. Your fingers tightened around his. âYou did,â you said.
Jack looked down at you. âWhat?â Your smile was small and drug-soft. âYou made it easier.â
His thumb moved once over your hand. âYeah?â
You nodded, eyes glassy and sincere. âYeah. Because youâre hot. And a doctor. And smart. And sexy. And my husband. And I love you.â
The room went very still. Jackâs face softened all at once.
Then you added, very seriously, âAnd youâre hot.â
Robbyâs mouth opened. Dana looked at the monitor like it had become essential to her survival.
Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles. âIs that all?â
You blinked up at him, exhausted and earnest. âNo.â His mouth curved. âNo?â
You shook your head once, barely. âBut Iâm tired and drugged.â
Jackâs expression warmed into something painfully fond. âOkay, baby.â
Robby pressed a hand to his chest. You swallowed, the edges of the room still warm and watery.
âAnd Eli?â
Robbyâs expression gentled before the joke could get there.
âMegan called down while we were getting the films ordered. Heâs okay.â
You stared at him. âShe told him?â
âShe told him,â Robby said. âHis mom told him. He knows youâre not mad.â
You blinked hard. Jackâs hand tightened around yours.
Robby leaned a hip lightly against the counter, his voice quieter now. âHe drew you a picture.â
Your throat closed. âHe did?â
âApparently itâs you with a cape,â Robby said.
Princess smiled from the computer. âAnd a very large arm.â
You made a sound that tried to be a laugh and almost became something else. âIs it anatomically correct?â
Robby looked at Princess. Princess shook her head. âNot even close.â You closed your eyes. âGood.â
Jack brushed his thumb over your knuckles.
Your eyes burned again, but softer this time. âHe doesnât think Iâm mad?â
Robby shook his head. âHe thinks youâre a superhero.â
You went very still. Jack felt your hand tighten around his. Then your face crumpled. âOh, no.â
Jack leaned in immediately. âBaby?â Your eyes filled too fast for you to stop them. âIâm leaking.â
Jackâs expression softened all at once. âYouâre crying.â
âI know.â Your mouth trembled. âI donât want to.â
âThatâs okay,â he murmured.
You shook your head. âItâs embarrassing.â
âNo, it isnât,â Jack replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You sniffled. âIt is in front of the day shift.â
Robbyâs face softened from the counter. âDay shift can handle feelings.â
Santos looked suspiciously focused on the floor. Princess turned toward the computer, blinking too much.
Dana adjusted the sling on the tray without looking up. âMrs. Abbot,â she said evenly, âday shift has seen worse.â
Your smile wobbled through the tears. âShe called me Mrs. Abbot.â
Jackâs thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching a tear before it reached your cheek. âYeah, baby.â
You looked up at him, wet-eyed and overwhelmed. âHe thinks Iâm a superhero.â
Jackâs face changed. Not a lot. Enough to make you cry harder. âHeâs right.â
Your chin trembled. âJack.â
âHe is,â Jack said, voice low. âYou protected him.â
A tear slipped hot down your cheek. âI scared him.â
âYou helped him.â
The words landed so gently that they hurt. You made a broken little sound and tried to wipe your face with your good hand, but Jack caught your fingers before you could tug at the IV.
âIâve got it.â He brushed another tear away with his thumb.
You sniffed. âIâm leaking a lot.â
His mouth softened. âI know.â
You exhaled. âI hate this drug.â
âNo, you donât.â He smiled gently.
You thought about it, tears still sliding down your cheeks. âI kind of love this drug.â
Robby nodded from the counter. âThere she is.â
Jack did not look away from you. âLet her leak.â
Dana smiled gently. âMrs. Abbot,â she said, crisp and even, âIâm going to help support your arm while we get this situated.â
Your eyes opened the rest of the way. A smile pulled at your mouth immediately, even through the tears.
Jack looked down at you. âThere it is.â You blinked at him. âWhat?â
He brushed one knuckle lightly along your jaw. âThat smile.â
You looked toward Dana, pleased and hazy. âShe called me Mrs. Abbot again.â
Dana did not look up from the sling. âThat is your name.â
Robby pointed at her. âYouâre doing it on purpose.â Dana kept her hands steady. âI am doing my job.â
âYou are weaponizing legal marriage,â Robby said.
Dana fitted the strap carefully behind your neck. âI am supporting patient cooperation.â
You sighed happily. âIt is working.â
Jackâs mouth twitched. âClearly.â
Dana adjusted the sling around your injured arm. âThis may pull a little.â Your smile vanished.
Jack saw it instantly. âHey.â
âNope,â you said.
His hand found your good one again. âLook at me.â
You frowned. âI already did that.â
âDo it again.â
You looked at him.
His eyes stayed steady on yours while Dana adjusted the last strap. There was a brief tug, a hot little spark of discomfort, and then your arm was held against you, supported and still.
You exhaled shakily. Jackâs thumb brushed once over your hand. âThere you go.â
You swallowed. âI swore a lot.â
Jackâs mouth softened. âYou were allowed.â
You leaned and whispered poorly. âIn front of Dana.â
Dana stepped back from the sling. âIâve heard worse, Mrs. Abbot.â Your smile came back immediately.
Jack glanced at Dana. âTherapeutic.â
Dana picked up the chart. âAccurate.â
Robby checked the sling with a quick glance, then nodded to Dana. âLooks good.â
Dana stepped back. âItâll do until ortho tells her the same thing in a more expensive voice.â
Princess laughed under her breath. Santos rocked back on her heels.
âSo sheâs going home?â Santos asked.
Jack looked at Robby before Robby could answer, the same question reflected in his eyes
Robby lifted his brows. âYou asking as her husband or as the night attending who has forgotten he is not on shift?â
Jack stared at him. âHusband.â
Robby smiled. âGood choice.â
Jackâs jaw flexed. âRobby.â
âWeâll watch her a bit after the follow-up films, make sure pain is controlled, then yes,â Robby said. âHome. Ice. Sling. Ortho follow-up. No lifting. No heroic catching of children for a while.â
You frowned at him. âThat feels targeted.â
âIt is,â Robby confirmed.
Your frown deepened. âEli was falling.â
âAnd you caught him,â Robby said. âAnd now your shoulder is in a sling.â
You looked away. Jackâs voice softened. âYou did good.â
You looked back up at him. âI broke myself.â
Jack shook his head. âYou protected him.â
You pressed your lips together. âThat sounds like something you say when I broke myself.â
Jack held your gaze. âIt can be both.â
You considered him through the medication. âYouâre very pretty when youâre reasonable.â
Robby made a wounded sound. âNot this again.â
Jack did not look away from you. âThank you.â
Your smile went soft. âSexy doctor husband.â
Jack lowered his head for half a second like he was gathering strength.
Dana picked up the chart. âDo not repeat Mrs. Abbot.â
Santos closed her mouth so fast her teeth clicked.
Princess turned toward the computer, shoulders shaking. Robby looked between Dana and the monitor.
âTherapeutic and preventative.â
Danaâs eyes flicked to him. âExactly.â
Jack gave her a long look. âI donât know whether to thank you or be concerned.â
âBoth is usually safest,â Dana said.
A little while later, after the films confirmed what Robby already knew, after Princess brought discharge paperwork, after Santos was banished from asking any more questions about the wedding, the room finally thinned out.
Dana left with one last check of your sling and one more calm, devastating, âTake it easy, Mrs. Abbot.â
You smiled so hard your eyes closed.
Jack watched Dana go, then looked down at you. âShe did that on purpose.â
You leaned into the pillow. âShe likes me.â
âShe likes making me suffer,â Jack said.
You nodded solemnly. âPeople contain multitudes.â Jack huffed a quiet laugh.
Robby came back with the discharge papers and a pen. âOkay,â he said. âBecause apparently I am the only person in this room still committed to medicine.â
Jack was sitting beside your bed now, his sweatshirt back on but unzipped, one hand wrapped around yours. âYou loved every second of this.â
Robby held up the paperwork. âI loved several medically relevant seconds of this.â
âYou called me Magic Mike,â Jack said.
Robby nodded. âIn a medically relevant context.â
âYou threatened to chart targeted husband exposure,â Jack added.
âI still might,â Robby said.
Jack stared at him. Robby smiled. âI wonât.â
âYou better not,â Jack warned.
âIâll save it for the group chat,â Robby said with a shrug.
Jackâs expression went blank. âThere is no group chat.â
Robby looked at you. âHe thinks thereâs no group chat.â
You turned to Jack, horrified. âYou think thereâs no group chat?â
Jack looked between you and Robby. âI hate this family.â
Your smile went dreamy. âYou said family.â
Robbyâs expression softened before he covered it with a cough.
Jack looked down at your joined hands. âI did.â
The air warmed around that. For one second, nobody ruined it.
Then Robby clicked the pen. âAnyway,â he said. âSling stays on. Ice twenty minutes at a time. Pain meds as prescribed, not as creatively interpreted by the patient. Ortho follow-up within the week. No work until cleared.â
You opened your eyes. âNo work?â Jackâs hand tightened.
Robby looked at you. âNo work.â
âBut peds is short,â you replied.
âPeds will survive,â Robby said.
You frowned. âYou donât know that.â
Robby leaned closer, his sarcasm gone soft around the edges. âI know you cannot care for children with a freshly reduced shoulder.â
You looked at Jack for backup. Jack shook his head. âNo.â
âYou didnât even let me ask,â you said, brows furrowed.
Jack just gave you a look. âI know where you were going.â
âYou always know where Iâm going,â you sighed.
Jack shrugged. âUsually because itâs somewhere you shouldnât.â Robby nodded. âMarriage.â
You sighed again and let your head fall back against the pillow. âThis is oppressive.â
âThis is discharge planning,â Robby said.
âOppressive discharge planning,â you mumbled.
Jack stood slowly, keeping hold of your hand. You looked up at him. âWeâre leaving?â
He nodded. âSoon.â
âAre you taking me home?â you asked, hopefully.
His expression softened. âYeah, baby.â
Your whole face relaxed. âGood. I want that one.â
Robby pressed the paperwork to his chest. âSheâs still doing it.â
Jack took the papers from him. âSheâs on medication.â
He folded the paperwork and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
Robby watched him for a moment, the humor easing out of his face. âYou good to get her home?â
Jack looked at you. You were blinking slowly, exhausted now, the adrenaline finally draining out of your body.
His voice gentled. âYeah.â
Robby nodded. âCall me if anything changes.â
Jack met his eyes. âI will.â
The two men looked at each other for half a second longer than the words required.
You noticed even through the fog. âYou two are having feelings.â
Robby looked down at you. âWe are absolutely not.â
Jackâs mouth twitched. âNo feelings.â
âLies,â you murmured.
Robby pointed at you. âPain meds have made her too powerful.â
Jack helped you sit up carefully. The room tilted as soon as you moved. You made a small sound and grabbed for him with your good hand.
He was already there. One arm came around your waist, careful not to jostle the sling, his body solid beside yours. âIâve got you.â
You leaned into him. âI know.â
That seemed to hit him somewhere. His hand spread warm at your side. Robby stepped closer, but Jack had you steady.
âSlow,â Jack said.
âI am slow,â you grumbled.
The room tilted. You caught Jackâs shirt with your good hand, and his arm came around your waist before you could wobble any farther.
His mouth twitched. âThatâs why I said go slow.â
You rolled your eyes. âSmartass.â
Robby nodded from beside the bed. âFair assessment.â Jack shot him a look.
âSupportive environment,â Robby said.
Jack eased you carefully off the bed. Your knees felt uncertain, and the room stayed too bright, but his arm held you steady.
Dana reappeared at the curtain like she had sensed movement. âYou good?â
Jack nodded. âIâve got her.â
Dana looked at you. âMrs. Abbot?â
Your smile came back, sleepy and immediate.
âIâm good.â
Danaâs mouth barely moved. âClearly.â
Robby narrowed his eyes at her. âYou did it again.â
Dana checked the hallway. âI donât know what you mean.â
âYou absolutely do.â
Jack adjusted his hold at your waist. âCan we leave before anyone learns anything else about my wedding?â
Princess, still at the computer, lifted one finger. âI have follow-up questions.â
âNo,â Jack said.
Santos leaned against the counter. âI have several.â
Jack shook his head. âAbsolutely not.â
Robby grinned. âI have photos.â
Jack went still. You gasped softly. âYou have photos?â
Robbyâs grin widened. âAnd videos.â
Jack pointed at him. âDelete them.â
âNever,â Robby responded immediately.
âYou have videos of the dance?â you asked, unable to contain your excitement.
Robby gave you a look. âYou think I would witness neurological history and not document it?â
Your eyes went glassy again. âCan you send them to me?â
Jack looked down at you. âBaby.â
âWhat? I was there. I should have them,â you defended yourself.
Robby tapped his phone. âAlready sent.â
Jack closed his eyes. âGood Lord.â
Your phone buzzed somewhere in the plastic belongings bag.
You looked up at Jack, delighted. âBrain chemistry.â
Dana held up one hand before Santos could speak. âDo not repeat Mrs. Abbot.â
Santos sighed. âI didnât even say it.â
Dana looked at her. âYou thought loudly.â
Jack shook his head and started guiding you toward the hallway. âWeâre going home.â
You leaned into him, warm and sore and still floating enough that the ED lights looked like stars smeared across glass. âHome with you?â
Jack glanced down. His face softened. âYeah.â
You smiled. âI picked good.â
This time, there were no monitors beeping too loud, no hands at your shoulder, no room full of witnesses waiting for the next outrageous thing you might say.
Just Jackâs hand at your waist, his body steady beside yours, his voice low near your ear.
Summary: Nobody in the ER knew that John Shen was married. Mostly because John Shen never talked about himself. So when a woman walks into the department carrying a Dunkinâ tray and casually kisses him on the cheek like itâs the most normal thing in the world⌠the entire staff short-circuits.
The ER was chaos.
Not unusual chaosâjust the normal kind.
Phones ringing. Monitors beeping. Nurses moving quickly through the halls while exhausted residents tried to keep up.
And in the middle of all of it, John Shen was charting with the same calm expression he always wore.
Focused. Quiet. Efficient.
Dana had once joked that she was pretty sure the man didnât blink.
Then the ER doors opened.
And suddenly, everyone learned two things at once.
One: John Shen apparently drank Dunkinâ religiously.
And twoâ
John Shen had a wife.
You walked into the department balancing one of those cardboard drink trays from Dunkinâ Donuts with practiced ease, scanning the room until your eyes landed on John.
Instant smile.
âThere you are,â you said warmly.
Several heads lifted immediately.
Because nobodyânobodyâtalked to John Shen like that.
John looked up from his charting, and the second he saw you, his entire face softened in a way nobody in the department had ever witnessed before.
Actually softened.
Not polite.
Not professional.
Soft.
It stunned everyone into silence.
âYou brought coffee,â he said, standing up immediately to take the tray from you.
âObviously,â you teased. âYou forgot breakfast again.â
A few nearby nurses exchanged looks.
Whitaker nearly dropped a chart.
You reached up automatically, fixing the slightly crooked collar of Johnâs scrubs before kissing his cheek lightly.
And thatâ
That was the moment the entire ER collectively lost its mind.
âWHAT?â someone blurted from across the desk.
You blinked.
John sighed quietly like he already knew exactly what was happening.
Summary: A night out with Robby, Santos, Whitaker, Javadi, and Mel takes a turn when you get drunk, refuse to leave the bar, and start loudly demanding to know where your husband is. Santos calls Jack. Jack arrives. Unfortunately for everyone in the bar, you are drunk and do not immediately recognize him as your husband.
Warnings: alcohol use, drunk reader, suggestive jokes, reader being extremely horny for her own husband, Jack being responsible and not engaging sexually while reader is drunk, soft caretaking, lots of teasing, lots of âhell yeah.â
Author's Note:
I donât know what to tell you. Sometimes a woman gets drunk, forgets she is married, and tries to hit on her own husband in public. Sometimes that husband happens to be Jack Abbot. Sometimes he has to provide ring verification every five minutes while trying to get her to drink water.
This is love.
Xoxo, Del
By the time Santos called Jack, you had been singing for twenty-three minutes.
Not continuously.
There had been pauses.
Important pauses.
One pause to tell Robby he was doing the background vocals wrong. Another to inform Whitaker that his attempt to close the tab was âemotionally hostile.â Another to point at a man near the jukebox and announce, with deep conviction, that he was not your husband because your husband had better shoulders.
Mel had tried water.
Javadi had tried fries.
Whitaker had tried logistics.
Robby had tried joining in, which had only made everything worse.
And Santos, because she had the glare of a woman who had spent years keeping doctors from making stupid choices, and no patience left, finally pulled out her phone.
You were standing beside the booth with one hand braced on the table, swaying to the beat of a song that was no longer playing.
âBaby! Woo-hoo, where the hell is my husband? Woo-hoo! What is takin' him so long to find me? Woo-hoo!â
Robby lifted both hands as if he were conducting you. âGreat projection.â
Santos pointed at him. âStop encouraging her.â
Robby shrugged, âSheâs an artist.â
âShe is refusing to leave a bar because she thinks her husband has been misplaced,â Santos replied.Â
You turned sharply. Too sharply. Mel caught your elbow before gravity could make a compelling argument.
âHe is not misplaced,â you said.
Santos lowered the phone slightly. âNo?â
You frowned, âHe is missing.â
Javadi nodded from the end of the booth, phone in hand, filming with the calm detachment of someone documenting history. âThe distinction is important.â
Whitaker rubbed both hands over his face. âIt is not.â
You slapped one palm gently against the table. âMy husband is handsome and tall and sexy and has doctor hands.â
Robby leaned toward Mel. âDoctor's hands is specific.â
Mel nodded. âAnd accurate.â
âAnd,â you continued, because you were not finished and everyone needed to understand the scale of the emergency, âhe has very serious pecs.â
Santos closed her eyes.
Robby whispered, âHere we go.â
You pointed at him. âRespect the pecs.â
âI do,â Robby said immediately.
Whitaker slid your glass of water toward you. âCan we respect the pecs from the parking lot?â
You shake your head quickly, âNo.â
âWhy?â He groans.Â
You point towards the door, âBecause my husband is not in the parking lot.â
Santos pressed Jackâs contact and lifted the phone to her ear.
You gasped. âAre you calling him?â
She nodded, âYes.â
âNo!â You exclaimed.Â
Santos looked at you. âNo?â
You shook your head, âI donât want to call him.â
âYou have been singing for him for twenty-three minutes,â Santos said.
You rolled your eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world, âI want him to appear.âÂ
Robby slapped the table once. âThat is marriage.â
Santos ignored him and turned slightly away as the call connected.
Jack answered on the second ring. âEverything okay?â
His voice came through low and alert, and you froze.
Santos looked at you.
You stared at her phone like it had become sacred.
âAbbot,â Santos said.
There was a small pause on the other end. âSantos?â
âYou busy?â She asks.Â
âAt home.â Jackâs voice sharpened. âIs she okay?â
You grabbed Melâs wrist and whispered very loudly, âIs that my husband?â
Mel patted your hand. âYes, honey.â
You looked down at your left hand.
Your wedding rings gleamed under the warm bar lights.
You gasped. âI have wife jewelry.â
Robby bent forward with a wheeze. âWife jewelry.â
On the phone, Jack went quiet. âWhat was that?â
Santos looked at you as you lifted your hand in front of your face and admired your rings with genuine awe.
âShe is okay,â Santos said carefully.
Jack exhaled. âDefine okay.â
You turned toward the booth again, apparently remembering your mission. âOh, baby, where the hell is my lover?â You pick up your song.
Jack went silent.
Robby threw his head back and supplied a terrible echo. âWoo-hoo!â
Santos pinched the bridge of her nose.
Jack said, âIs that her?â
âNo,â Santos said. âThat is the jukebox haunting me.â
Jack sighed, âSantos.â
âYes, thatâs her.â
âIs she hurt?â He asked.Â
âNo.â
âSick?â He continued.Â
âNo.â
Jack exhaled, âCrying?â
You pointed at a man near the pool table. âNot him. My husband has a better ass.â
Mel covered her mouth with a hand.
Santos stared at the ceiling. âNo. Not crying.â
There was a pause.
Then Jack said, dry as hell, âDid she say something about my ass?â
Robby lunged across the table, trying to get closer to the phone. âTell him she said better.â
Santos shoved his forehead back with two fingers. âShe is refusing to leave until her husband comes to collect her.â
You leaned toward Santosâs phone. âTell him to wear the gray sweatpants.â
Santos pulled the phone away from you. âAbsolutely not.â
Jack made a sound that might have been a cough. âIâm leaving now. Send me the address.â He was already moving.
In the background, Robby shouted, âTell him sheâs been reviewing his ass for twenty minutes!â
Jack went silent again.
Santos closed her eyes. âIâm hanging up now.â
You reached toward the phone. âWait, I want to talk to him.â
âNo,â Santos said, ending the call.Â
Your lower lip trembled, âBut heâs missing.â
âHeâs on his way.â She told you.Â
That stopped you. Your mouth fell open. âHeâs coming?â
Santos slid her phone into her pocket. âYes.â
You laid a hand on your chest, âTo me?â
âYes.â Trinity nodded.Â
You pressed both hands to your cheeks. âOh, fuck.â
Whitaker nodded toward the door. âGreat. Now we can go.â
âNo,â you said immediately.
His shoulders dropped. âWhy not?â
You looked at him like he had just asked the stupidest question in recorded history. âI have to be here when my husband appears.â
Robby raised one hand. âI support her.â
Santos snapped, âNo one asked you.â
You sat back down in the booth and folded your hands on the table like you were waiting for a job interview.
Mel slid the water toward you again. âDrink some water while you wait.â
You stared at the glass.
Then at Mel.
Then at Santos.
âWhat if he gets here and Iâm drinking water?â You ask.Â
Javadi tilted her head. âWould that be bad?â
You frowned, thinking hard. âNo. Hydration is sexy.â
Whitaker looked at the ceiling. âThank God.â
You picked up the glass, took one sip, and set it down with a proud nod.
Then you leaned toward Robby. âDo you think he knows heâs my husband?â
Robbyâs face lit with dangerous joy.
Santos pointed at him. âDo not.â
Robby held up both hands. âI didnât say anything.â
Her eyes narrowed, âYou were about to.â
Robby frowned deeply, âI have never done anything wrong in my life.â
Javadi looked up from her phone. âThere are videos.â
You tapped your rings against the table, watching them sparkle. âIâm going to ask him.â
Mel smiled. âAsk him what?â
âIf heâs my husband.â You answer.Â
Whitaker muttered, âThis will be efficient.â
âIt will not,â Santos said.
And it wasnât.
Because when Jack walked in seven minutes later, everything in you stopped working.
He came through the door in jeans, sneakers, and a dark hoodie under his jacket, like he had pulled on the first clothes he found and driven over without thinking about anything except getting to you. His hair was messy, his expression serious, and his eyes scanned the bar once before landing on your booth.
On you.
You stopped mid-hum.
Your hand tightened around Melâs wrist. âOh no.â
Mel followed your gaze. âWhat?â
You pointed. âThat man has pecs like my husbandâs.â
Robby twisted in his seat so fast he nearly knocked over Whitakerâs drink.
Santos sighed. âThat man is your husband.â
You shook your head slowly, eyes fixed on Jack as he crossed the bar. âNo.â
Javadi kept filming. âDenial phase.â
Jack reached the table and looked you over first, quick and clinical, because he was Jack. No visible injury. No tears. No panic. Just you, drunk and bright-eyed and staring at him like he had been sent from some divine catalog of bad ideas.
His shoulders eased. âHey, baby.â
You blinked. Then slowly turned to Santos. âHe called me baby.â
She nodded slowly, âBecause he is your husband.â
You whipped back toward him. âYou are?â
Jackâs mouth twitched.
He lifted his left hand without hesitation.
His wedding band caught the bar light.
You looked down at your own rings.
Then back at his.
Then at your rings again. âOh, my god.â
Jackâs face softened. âYeah?â
You beam. âWe match.â
âWe do.â He replied.
You looked him up and down, with a long pause at his chest. âHell yeah.â
Robby slammed both hands on the table. âAnd weâre off.â
Jack pointed at him without looking away from you. âDonât.â
You leaned toward Mel, still staring at Jack. âHe has very serious pecs.â
Jack closed his eyes for half a second.
Melâs shoulders shook. âI know, honey.â
âDo you think he works out?â You whispered to Trinity.Â
Santos answered before Jack could. âOccasionally.â
You nodded solemnly. âItâs working.â
Jack opened his eyes. âOkay. Time to go.â
You frowned. Then looked him up and down again. âHey, soldier.â
The whole booth went quiet.
Jack stared at you.
Santos slowly turned her head. âOh, my god.â
You gave Jack what you clearly thought was a seductive smile. âYou come here often?â
Jackâs mouth twitched again, despite his best efforts. âTo retrieve my drunk wife from a bar? No.â
Your eyes went wide. âWife?â
He lifted his hand again.
You looked at his ring.
Then yours.
Your whole face lit up. âHell yeah.â
Javadi, still filming, said, âThe verification system remains functional.â
Jack looked at her phone. âAre you recording?â
âYes.â She answered instantly.Â
Jack groans, âWhy?â
âDocumentation,â Victoria answered.Â
âItâs behavioral science,â Robby added.
Jack ignored all of them and reached for the water glass instead of you. âDrink.â
You froze. Then you sat up straighter, eyes suddenly sharp with drunk discovery. âHuh.â
Jack paused. âHuh?â
You pointed at him. âAttending voice.â
Robby made a delighted noise. âOh, she clocked it.â
Jack gave him a flat look. âDo not participate.â
You leaned toward Santos, whispering very loudly. âHe said drink like he was about to order labs.â
Santos nodded. âHe did.â
âI did not,â Jack said.
Mel patted your shoulder. âYou kind of did.â
Jack pushed the glass closer. âThree sips.â
Your lips parted. âOh, fuck me.â
Jack closed his eyes. âPlease just drink the water.â
You picked up the glass with both hands, still staring at him. âYouâre very bossy for a stranger.â
Jack opened his eyes. âIâm not a stranger.â
You narrowed your eyes.
Then you looked down at your rings again.
Jack lifted his hand.
You inspected his wedding band with deep seriousness.
âRight,â you said. âHusband.â
âYes,â Jack confirmed.Â
You took one sip.
Jack nodded once. âGood.â
You set the glass down too hard. âNo.â
His brow furrowed. âNo?â
âYou canât say âgoodâ with attending voice.â You frowned.Â
Robby dropped his forehead onto the table. âSheâs right.â
Jack pointed at him. âNot another word.â
You finished the water because Jack stood there with crossed arms and serious eyes, and the world had become a place where hydration was suddenly compelling.
When you set the glass down, Jack picked up your coat. âArm.â
You inhaled sharply.
Santos pointed at him. âThat one was attending voice.â
Jackâs jaw flexed. âI need her arm in the sleeve.â
You looked at him, dazed. âYou need my arm?â
Jack took a slow breath. âBaby.â
You melted back against the booth. âOh, Jackie.â
That got him. Just a little. His expression shifted, the stern line of his mouth almost breaking.
Santos saw it immediately. âDonât reward her.â
âIâm not rewarding her,â Jack said.
âYou liked Jackie,â Santos replied.Â
Jack held the coat open and looked at you. âArm.â
You stared at him. Then slid one arm into the sleeve. âBossy.â
He guided the coat around your shoulders. âOther arm.â
You looked at Mel. âHe wants the other one too.â
Mel nodded, fighting for her life. âCoats usually do.â
You gave Jack your other arm. He pulled the coat into place and zipped it halfway with careful, practical hands. You looked down at the zipper. Then up at him. âThat was hot.â
âIt was a zipper.â Jack deadpanned.Â
You sighed happily, âYou did it like a procedure.â
Robby lifted his head. âSterile field: wife edition.â
Jack did not turn around. âRobby.â
âSorry.â Robby lowered his head once more.Â
Santos stood and grabbed her bag. âWe are leaving before she proposes to him.â
You froze. Then your head turned slowly toward Jack. âI proposed?â
Jackâs expression softened at once. âNo, baby.â He lifted his left hand before you could even ask, wedding band, catching the bar light. âI proposed.â
You looked down at your rings. Then at his. Then up at him, stunned and pleased and drunk-happy. âYou wanted to marry me?â
Jackâs mouth twitched. âStill do.â
Your whole face lit up. âHell yeah.â
Robby dropped his forehead back to the table. âTheyâre disgusting.â
Jack crouched slightly in front of you and offered his hand. âStand up.â
The booth went silent. You stared at him. Then you looked at Santos. âAttending voice.â
Santos nodded. âFull attending voice.â
Jackâs eyes flicked briefly to the ceiling. âI am trying to get you upright.â
You nodded, âYouâre doing it with authority.â
âYou are drunk in public,â Jack replied.Â
You clicked your tongue, âYouâre hot in public.â
Mel made a small sound into her hand.
Jackâs ears went faintly pink.
You saw it. âOh my god,â you whispered. âJackieâs blushing.â
Jack shook his head, âI am not.â
âYou are.â You squeal with delight.Â
Jackâs hand stayed steady in front of you. âUp.â
You pressed one hand dramatically to your chest. âFuck.â
Santos stood and grabbed her bag. âWe are leaving before she discovers a military kink.â
Jackâs head snapped up. âSantos.â
She shrugged, âWhat? Sheâs halfway there.â
You tilted your head, considering. âA what?â
âNope.â Jack took your hand and helped you stand. âWeâre going home.â
For one glorious second, you were upright and triumphant.
Then the room tilted. Jack caught you by the waist.
Your entire body went still. âOh, fuck.â
âBalance,â he said.
You stared up at him. âYou said that like an order.â
âIt was an explanation,â Jack replied.Â
You smiled up at him, âDo it again.â
âNo,â Jack answered immediately.Â
Robby lifted his head. âSheâs not wrong.â
Jackâs eyes cut to him.
Robby lowered his head again. âWithdrawn.â
You touched Jackâs chest lightly with one finger. âResponsible soldier husband.â
Jack looked down at your hand. Then at your face. âDoctor husband. Former soldier.â
You nodded solemnly. âDoctor husband with command voice.â
Mel laughed into her hand.Â
Jack took a slow breath. âArm over my shoulder.â
Your eyes went wide. âJackie.â
âArm,â he repeated, then pointed to his shoulder. âHere.â
You looked at Santos. âHe pointed.â
âI saw.â She answered.Â
You licked your lips. âHe pointed and said here.â
Trinity nodded solemnly, âYouâre going to survive.â
You shook your head furiously, âYou donât know that.â
Jack guided your arm over his shoulders.
You held on to him and immediately looked delighted. âIâm touching him.â
Santos nodded. âYou are.â
âLegally?â You asked, looking to Jack, bright and hopeful.Â
Jack lifted his left hand in front of your face.
You checked his ring. Then yours. âHell yeah.â
Jack slid an arm around your waist and pulled you carefully against his side.
You went very still. Then you looked down at his arm. âOh, fuck me.â
Jack sighed. âPlease walk.â
You looked up at him, eyes wide and delighted. âCan you say it again, but like bossier?â
âNo,â Jack said.Â
âAbsolutely not,â Santos said at the same time.
Robby lifted his head just enough to gasp for air. âI canât believe it. This is foreplay with witnesses.â
Jack pointed at him without loosening his hold on you. âNot foreplay.â
You leaned into his side and whispered loudly. âBut later?â
Jack closed his eyes. âYouâre drunk.â
You nodded, âBut later, when Iâm not drunk?â
âLater,â Santos said quickly, âis between you, Jack, and God.â
Javadi nodded. âAnd possibly the HOA, depending on volume.â
You looked at Jack. âDo we have an HOA?â
He shook his head, âNo.â
You leaned closer to him, âThen later?â
Jackâs jaw tightened. âWalk.â
You inhaled sharply. âOh, that was better.â
Santos threw both hands up. âDoor. Now.â
Jack started moving.
You went with him, tucked carefully into his side, one arm over his shoulders, his arm secure around your waist, your coat half-zipped and your dignity somewhere under the booth.
You made it three steps before he said, âWatch your feet.â
You looked up at him. âAttending voice.â
âSafety voice.â He corrected.Â
You shrugged, âTheyâre cousins.â
âEyes forward,â Jack replied.Â
You sighed dramatically, âOh fuck me, that one too.â
Santos followed behind you, laughing now despite herself. âThis is the worst evacuation Iâve ever seen.â
Jack kept you tucked firmly against his side. âIt is not an evacuation.â
âYouâre using evacuation posture,â you said.
He looked down at you.
You smiled up at him, drunk and delighted. âI like it.â
Jackâs mouth twitched. âI know.â
Halfway to the door, you twisted carefully to look back at the table.
âEverybody be cool,â you announced. âIâm leaving with my husband.â
Robby raised both hands. âHell yeah, Mrs. Abbot.â
You stopped.
Jack stopped with you, patient but visibly suffering.
You looked down at your rings.
Then grabbed his left hand and checked his.
The band was still there.
You smiled, delighted all over again. âHell yeah.â
Jackâs face softened.
Then you glanced behind him one more time.Â
âAnd he has a great ass!â You cheer.
Jack immediately started walking again.
âGoodnight,â he called over his shoulder.
Santos waved. âHydrate her.â
Mel added, âText when you get home.â
Whitaker pointed at Jack. âDo not let her order fries.â
You gasped. âTraitor.â
Javadi lifted her glass. âThe record will show we tried.â
Robby cupped his hands around his mouth. âAsk him to walk bossier!â
Jack pushed the door open with his shoulder and guided you into the cool night air.
The second the air hit your face, you sighed dramatically and leaned a little more heavily into his side.
Jack adjusted his hold. âYou okay?â
You looked up at him.
The bar lights spilled behind him, catching the edge of his jaw, the tired concern in his face, the little pinch between his brows that meant he was trying to figure out if you needed water, food, sleep, or all three.
Your drunk brain, unhelpfully, sorted those options into one category.
Husband.
âJack?â You asked quietly.Â
Jack looked down at you, âYeah, baby?â
âYouâre really my husband?â You whispered the question.Â
He lifted his left hand between you before you even asked.
You looked at his ring.
Then down at yours.
Then up at him.
Your smile went soft and bright and drunk-happy. âHell yeah.â
Jack shook his head, but he was smiling now. âYeah,â he said, guiding you toward the car. âHell yeah.â
You made it halfway across the parking lot before you stopped again.
Jack looked down. âWhat?â
You stared at him very seriously. âYou came when I sang.â
His mouth twitched. âSantos called.â
âBut I sang.â You persisted.Â
Jack nodded, âYou did.â
âAnd you appeared.â You added with delight.Â
âI did,â Jack replied.Â
You nodded, deeply moved. âPowerful.â
Jack opened the passenger door and kept one hand at your back. âIn.â
You looked at the seat. Then at him. âI like it when you give directions.â
Jack almost smiled, âI have noticed.â
âCan you say âinâ again?â You asked, looking up at him.Â
His answer comes quickly, âNo.â
âMeaner?â You tried.
This answer was faster: âAbsolutely not.â
You sighed and got into the car anyway, mostly because Jackâs hand was warm at your back and he looked like that, and you were only human.
He leaned across you to buckle your seatbelt.
You went very still.
Jack paused immediately. âOkay?â
You nodded, eyes wide. âYou smell good.â
He huffed a quiet laugh and clicked the seatbelt into place. âYouâre drunk.â
âYou smell good when Iâm drunk.â You amended.Â
Jack shook his head, âThatâs not how that works.â
âIt is for me.â You replied with a happy shrug.Â
Jack braced one hand on the roof of the car and looked down at you.
His expression was amused. Tired. Fond in a way he would absolutely deny if Robby had been there to witness it. âYou need water when we get home.â
You pointed at him. âBossy.â
âYou need sleep.â He added.Â
You smiled. âOh, fuck.â
âAnd no flirting with me until you can walk in a straight line.â Jack continued.Â
Your mouth fell open. âYouâre denying your wife?â
Jack held up his left hand.
You looked at his ring automatically.
Then at yours.
The distress vanished.
You nodded, âHell yeah.â
He smiled despite himself. âAnd yes. Iâm denying my drunk wife.â
You considered that, then nodded slowly. âResponsible husband.â
He smiled softly, âTrying to be.â
You looked him up and down from your seat. âHot.â
Jack shut the door before you could say anything else. You watched him walk around the front of the car. The parking lot lights were doing very good things to him. His shoulders. His hoodie. His jeans. When he opened the driverâs side door, you were still staring.
He slid in and caught your expression immediately. âNo.â
You frowned deeply, âI didnât say anything.â
âYou were about to,â Jack commented.Â
You looked out the windshield, dignified. âI was admiring privately.â
You looked at his hands on the steering wheel. âOh, fuck.â
He closed his eyes. âBaby.â
You looked down at your rings.
Then, at his hand on the wheel, wedding band visible under the passing sweep of the parking lot light.
âYou called me baby.â You sighed happily.Â
He pulled out of the parking space. âIâm your husband.â
You smiled at his ring. âHell yeah.âÂ
The drive home was mostly quiet. Mostly.Â
You hummed under your breath until Jack, without looking away from the road, said, âNo more husband song.â
You turned your head toward him. âI like it when youâre bossy.â
âI know.â He replied.Â
You sat up straighter, âSay something else.â
âNo.â
âThat was something.â You mumbled.Â
He sighed.
You smiled out the window like you had won.
By the time he pulled into the driveway, your energy had softened around the edges. The feral husband appreciation was still there, obviously, because Jack existed and you had eyes, but it had gone warm and sleepy.
Less bar announcement.
More gravity.
Jack came around to your side and opened the door.
You looked up at him.
He looked down at you. âOut.â
Your mouth parted.
Jack pointed at you. âDo not.â
You pressed your lips together, nodding seriously. Then whispered, âAttending voice.â
He helped you out anyway.
You wobbled once on the driveway, and his hand found your waist immediately.
You leaned into him. âGood catch.â
He gave you a little grin, âGood wobble.â
You gasped. âYou praised me.â
âI should not have,â Jack replied, regretting his choice immediately.Â
You smiled up at him, âI liked it.â
Jack looked down at you, âI know.âÂ
Inside, the house was dim and quiet. Jack locked the door behind you, then turned back to find you standing in the entryway, looking down at your left hand again.
He leaned one shoulder against the wall. âChecking?â
You lifted your rings toward the hall light. âStill married.â
Jack held up his left hand. His wedding band gleamed.
Your smile went loose and delighted. âHell yeah.â
He took your coat off first.
Not because you helped.
You did not help.
You got distracted halfway through by the flex of his forearm when he pulled the sleeve down your arm. âOh, fuck.â
Jack paused. âWhat?â
You didnât look up, âYour arm.â
âMy arm is removing your coat,â Jack said.Â
âYeah.â You stared at it. âThatâs the problem.â
Jack exhaled through his nose and hung your coat on the hook. âKitchen.â
You looked at him sharply. âAttending voice.â
Jack sighed, âIâm getting you water.â
âYou said kitchen like an order.â You argued.Â
Jack inhaled, âIt was a destination.â
âA hot destination.â You corrected him.Â
He pointed down the hall. âMove.â
You inhaled. âJackie.â
âNo.â He said instantly.Â
âYou donât even know what I was going to say.â You said with a whine.Â
Jack gave you a look, âI do.â
You followed him anyway, because his hand settled at the small of your back and your drunk brain apparently classified that as a life-altering event.
At the kitchen counter, he gave you more water and two crackers.
You stared at the crackers. Then up at him. âAre you feeding me?â
âI am preventing tomorrow from being worse,â Jack replied.Â
Your eyes went wide and affectionate, âYou provide.â
âI provide saltines.â Jack amended.Â
You picked one up and took a dramatic bite. âSexy.â
Jackâs mouth twitched. âChew.â
You froze. Then pointed at him with the cracker. âAttending voice.â
Jack tilted his head, âChewing is not optional.â
âOh, my god.â You fan yourself with the cracker.Â
He dragged a hand down his face. âPlease eat the cracker.â
You did, mostly because he watched you with that serious, focused Jack expression, and you had already learned at the bar that being perceived by your husband while he gave basic instructions was dangerous.
After water and crackers, he got you upstairs.
Barely.
There was a brief negotiation on the landing because you stopped to admire his butt from a lower step and whispered, âPerspective,â like you had made a scientific discovery.
Jack looked over his shoulder. âKeep walking.â
You gripped the railing. âAttending voice.â
âStairs voice.â He corrected you.
You shrugged, âSame family.â
When you finally reached the bathroom, Jack set your makeup remover, toothbrush, and face wash on the counter as if he were preparing for a procedure.
You leaned against the doorframe and watched him. âYouâre setting up supplies.â
Jack nodded, âI am.â
âLike an attending.â You add.Â
âLike a husband who knows youâll sleep in mascara if I donât help,â Jack replied.Â
You gasped and looked down at your rings.
Jack lifted his left hand immediately.
You checked. Satisfied, you nodded. âVerified.â
He handed you a makeup wipe. âFace.â
You took it, then blinked. âHuh.â
Jackâs eyebrows lifted. âWhat?â
âYou said face.â You answered.Â
Jack nodded, âI did.â
âVery direct.â You replied with a crooked smile.Â
Jack looks over your face, âYou have makeup on it.â
You touched the wipe to your cheek, still watching him. âBossy skincare husband.â
Jack leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. That was a mistake.
You stared at his chest.Â
He noticed. âFace,â he repeated.
You closed your eyes. âThat was worse.â
âMakeup off.â He tried again.Â
You threw your head back in defeat, âOh, fuck.â
He held out his hand. âGive me the wipe.â
You handed it over without thinking. Jack stepped closer and gently tipped your chin up with two fingers. The bathroom went very quiet. He wiped beneath one eye with slow, careful strokes, his other hand steady at your jaw. His face was close enough that you could see the tired fondness in his eyes.
You swallowed. âJackie.â
His thumb stilled for half a second. âYeah?â
âYouâre really good at this.â You whispered.Â
He smiled softly, âAt taking off mascara?â
âAt being mine.â You said, almost breathless.Â
His expression softened.
Then, because you were drunk and incapable of letting tenderness survive unbothered, you added, âAlso, your pecs are close.â
Jack closed his eyes. âThere she is.â
You smiled.
He finished with your makeup, then handed you your toothbrush.
âToothpaste,â he said.
You looked at the toothbrush. Then at him in the mirror. âAttending voice.â
âToothpaste voice.â
You brushed your teeth while glaring at him with exaggerated suspicion.
Jack watched you in the mirror, arms crossed, trying and failing not to smile.
When you finished, he pointed to the sink. âSpit.â
You blinked around the toothbrush. Then slowly looked at him. âJack.â
âWhat?â He asked.Â
Your eyes widened, âYou canât just say spit like that.â
His jaw tightened. Not anger. A smile he was trying to kill. âI am asking you to brush your teeth.â
âYou are issuing commands in a bathroom.â You say, mouth foamy.Â
Jack looked down at your mouth, âYou have toothpaste in your mouth.â
You pointed the toothbrush at him. âDangerous.â
âSink.â He commanded.Â
âOh, fuck.â You spat, rinsed, and accepted the towel he handed you.
âGood,â he said.
You pressed the towel to your mouth and froze.
He sighed immediately. âI forgot.â
âYou said good.â You grinned.Â
He sighed again, âI did.â
âWith the voice.â You say, eyebrows raised.Â
Jack shrugged, âIt slipped.â
You lowered the towel and pointed at him. âDangerous.â
âBed,â he said.
You stared. âJack.â
He pointed toward the bedroom. âNow.â
Your mouth dropped open. âOh, fuck me.â
Jack muttered something under his breath and guided you into the bedroom.
He found one of his old T-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts from your drawer. Then he turned back to you, clothes in hand. âCan I help?â
You looked at the shirt. Then at him. Then down at your rings.
Jack lifted his hand before you could ask. You checked his wedding band.
âOkay,â you said. âHusband verified.â
He nodded once, âGood.â
You pointed at him immediately. âYou did that on purpose.â
âI did not.â He replies innocently.Â
You pouted, âYou weaponized good.â
âI am trying to get you into pajamas,â Jack replied.Â
Your frown deepened, âDomestic warfare.â
He helped you sit on the edge of the bed. Then he crouched in front of you and touched the hem of your top. âArms up.â
You narrowed your eyes. âIs this a trick?â
He smiled, âNo.â
Your brow furrows, âBecause Iâm drunk.â
âExactly.â Jack agreed.Â
You look at him suspiciously, âYouâre not going to be weird.â
âIâm not going to be weird,â Jack promised.Â
You leaned closer, whispering with great seriousness. âI might be weird.â
His mouth twitched. âI know.â
You lifted your arms.Â
Jack changed you with the careful efficiency of a man determined not to let his drunk wife turn pajamas into a legal incident. Shirt off, sleep shirt on. No lingering. No teasing. No letting his eyes go where drunk you absolutely wanted them to go.
Which, naturally, offended you. âYouâre very respectful.â
âI try,â Jack replied.Â
You groan, âItâs annoying.â
âI know.â He said.Â
You sighed, âItâs hot.â
âI know that too.â He said with a smile.Â
He helped you step into the shorts while you held both hands on his shoulders for balance.
The second your palms settled there, you sighed. âShoulders.â
âBalance,â Jack corrected.
âShoulders.â You repeated dreamily.Â
He pulled the shorts up to your hips and patted your side once. âDone.â
You looked down at yourself. Then at him. âYou dressed me.â
Jack shrugged, âI helped.â
âYouâre like a sexy pit crew.â You say with a wink.Â
Jack stared at you.
You nodded, pleased with yourself. âFast. Focused. Good with hands.â
He stood and pointed at the bed. âLie down.â
Your eyes went wide. âAttending voice.â
He continued to point, âBed.âÂ
You looked at him desperately, âOh, Jackie.â
âDo not make bed weird.â He groaned.Â
You pouted, âYou made it weird when you pointed.â
He pulled the blanket back. âIn.â
You climbed under the covers, mostly because the single syllable nearly took you out.
Jack tucked the blanket around your waist, then set the water on the nightstand.
âYou need sleep,â he said.
You looked up at him, suddenly softer. âYouâre staying?â
His expression shifted. âYeah, baby. Iâm staying.â
You looked down at your rings one more time. Then reached for his hand.
Jack gave it to you.
You checked his wedding band, slower now, your thumb brushing over the metal.
âYou proposed?â
He sat on the edge of the bed beside you. âI proposed.â
âAnd I said yes?â You asked happily.Â
His mouth softened. âYou said yes.â
You smiled, sleepy and bright. âHell yeah.â
Jack leaned down and kissed your forehead.
âNo sex,â You murmured. âIâm drunk.â
Jack huffed a laugh against your temple, âI know, baby.âÂ
Your eyes closed. âIt sucks, though, because you have amazing pecs. And a great ass.â
He laughed quietly and brushed your hair away from your face. âGo to sleep.â
You sighed into the pillow. âAttending voice.â
âHusband voice,â he corrected, softer.
Your smile was almost gone with sleep. âJackie.â
âYeah?â He answers quietly.Â
âStill hot.â You murmur into your pillow.Â
He stayed there until your breathing evened out, his thumb moving once over your rings before he let go. Then he slipped into the bathroom, changed, came back, and climbed into bed beside you. You rolled toward him automatically, even in sleep, one hand landing against his chest like you were verifying he was still there. Jack covered your hand with his. Your rings pressed lightly against his skin.
The Next Day...
In the morning, you woke up to pain, sunlight, and consequences.
Mostly consequences.
Your head hurts. Your mouth was dry. Your body felt like it had been assembled incorrectly. For one blessed second, you remembered nothing after the second round of drinks.
Then your phone buzzed.
You opened one eye.
On the nightstand, your screen lit up with a message from Robby.
MRS. ABBOT LIVE AT THE BAR: WHERE IS MY HUSBAND TOUR
You closed your eye again. âNo.â
Beside you, Jack was already awake.
You could feel it.
You turned your head very slowly.
He was lying on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow, watching you with the calm, devastating expression of a man who knew everything.
You swallowed. âHow bad?â
Jackâs mouth twitched. âDefine bad.â
You groaned and pulled the blanket over your face.
He reached over and tugged it down just enough to see you. âYou reviewed my body in public.â
Your eyes closed. âOh, my god.â
âPecs got mentioned several times.â He added.Â
âJack.â You whined.Â
He grinned, âButt got a standing ovation.â
You covered your face with both hands. âI need to leave the country.â
âYou also called your rings' wife jewelry.â
A pause.
You peeked through your fingers. âThatâs kind of cute.â
Jack nodded, âIt was very cute.â
Your stomach softened despite the hangover.
Then he added, âYou made me show you my ring every time someone told you we were married.â
You lowered your hands. âI did?â
He lifted his left hand. His wedding band gleamed in the morning light. Your eyes flicked down to your own rings automatically.Â
Jack noticed.
A smile started at the corner of his mouth.
You pointed at him. âDo not.â
He raised both his hands, âI didnât say anything.â
âYou looked smug.â You replied, eyes narrowed.Â
Jack tilted his head, âIâm allowed.â
âYou are not.â You argued.Â
Jack smiled, âYou kept checking.â
âI was drunk.â You defend.Â
Jack looked down at his ring. âYou were thorough.â
You groaned again and rolled onto your back. âI hate myself.â
âNo, you donât,â Jack said.
You stared at the ceiling. âI hate Robby.â
âThatâs fair.â Jack agreed.Â
Your phone buzzed again.
This time, Jack picked it up before you could stop him.
âJack.â You warned.Â
He looked at the screen. Then his mouth twitched.
âNo.â You groaned.Â
He turned the phone toward you.
The video thumbnail showed you in the booth, hand dramatically raised, mouth open mid-song. At the same time, Robby performed backup vocals, and Santos looked as if she were reconsidering friendship as a concept.
You stared.
Then slowly turned to Jack. âDelete it.â
âItâs not on my phone.â He replied.Â
You groaned, âTell Robby to delete it.â
âI will,â Jack answered.Â
You narrowed your eyes.
Jackâs expression stayed too innocent. âAfter I watch it once.â
You huffed, âJack.â
He pressed play. Your own drunk voice filled the room with devastating commitment. On-screen, Robby echoed you terribly.
Then the video shifted as Santos muttered, âIâm calling Abbot.â
Your face lit up. You grabbed Melâs wrist and shouted, âTell him to wear the gray sweatpants!â
Jack paused the video. Silence. You stared at the ceiling. Jack stared at the phone.
Then he looked at you. âThe gray sweatpants?â
You pulled the blanket over your face again. âI was unwell.â
âYou were specific.â Jack corrected you.Â
âI had a medical condition.â You attempted to explain.Â
âBeing horny for your husband is not a medical condition,â Jack replied.Â
You slowly lowered the blanket.
Jackâs eyebrow lifted.
You pointed at him. âYouâre a doctor. Diagnose it.â
He laughed then. Really laughed. Warm and low and unfairly pleased.
You groaned, but you were smiling too. He set the phone aside and leaned over you, bracing one hand near your shoulder. Your eyes flicked to his arm before you could stop yourself.
Jack noticed that too. âStill?â
âShut up.â
His smile widened.
You looked down at your rings, partly because you were embarrassed and partly because the habit had apparently survived the alcohol. Then, quietly, Jack lifted his left hand beside yours.
The rings caught the same strip of morning light.
Your chest softened. âWe match,â you said, voice rough from sleep and singing and terrible decisions.
Jackâs expression went gentle. âYeah, baby,â he said. âWe match.â
You stared at the rings for a second.
Then at him.
Even hungover, even humiliated, even with video evidence waiting in the group chat, you could not help it.
Summary: You catch Jack behind the curtain with a resident after having the worst morning of your life, but he knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.
Sidney Crosby x the Pitt Reader coming tomorrow! Sorry guys, when I went to bed this fic was winning so I finished editing it firstâ¤ď¸ I hope you can forgive me XOXOX
This is the last place you wanted to be right now.
It was the fourth of July and while you were trying to wrangle your children into their outfits for their friends house, your son fell. It was more of a crash than a fall, missing almost every step on your back deck and hitting the patio. The scream he let out alone nearly gave you a heart attack.
So, thatâs how you ended up at the Pitt.
Your husband was moonlighting the SWAT team, given why he hasnât answered any of your phone calls, once you had kids you made him promise to only help once a year. You knew he couldnât give it up completely, Jack was addicted to helping others. But you couldnât handle the stress of him being out in the field. So, one day a year was agreed upon. And, unfortunately that one day had to be when you were rushing your kids to the ER.
Thatâs why he wasnât answering any of your calls. Luckily, Robby did, and you were able to surpass the people in the waiting room, being placed in a trauma room for some sort of peace with your seven year old son and five year old daughter. She sat pressed up against your chest, still hiccuping from the sobs she had just barely calmed down from.
She was terrified by the entire ordeal, seeing her brother in pain like that had her also crying the whole way to the hospital. You were trying your best to comfort the both of them, but in reality you were barely holding it together yourself.
You knew how lucky you were to be a stay at home mom, to have the privilege provided by your husbandâs career to stay home and care for them. But, some days felt impossible. Especially since itâs summer and the hottest one Pittsburgh has seen in years. As the kids got older, it was harder and harder to keep them entertained.
All you had to do was get them out the door and to their friends house, where you could have a glass of wine and gossip while they splashed around. But you couldnât even do that. So now, here you were spending the day in the emergency department.
You held your daughter against you, rocking her back and forth, your other hand firmly in your sons, who was holding onto you for dear life.
âMommy, whereâs daddy?â Your daughter asked, muffled into our shirt.
You sighed, kissing the top of her head, âheâll be here soon baby.â Which wasnât a total lie, he had a shift tonight, so he had to be here at some point.
A knock sounded at the door before Robby pushed it open, "How's the super star doing?" he asked, looking at your son.
âIt hurts Uncle Robby,â he said it so softly it broke your heart.
âMommy says heâs brave though!â Your daughter butted in, attempting to make her brother feel better.
Robby nodded in agreement, checking the IV on the other side of your sonâs bed, âwell, we are a little backed up today so weâre still waiting on XRay.â
You pursed your lips, giving him an understanding nod.
âBut, I am going to sit here with my favorite god children while mommy takes a little walk,â he said, making your son smile and your daughter perk up. She hopped off your laugh and ran over to him. He scooped her up happily.
He nodded towards the door, where he met you half way.
âTrauma 2,â he whispered.
You furrowed your brows, but decided to just listen to him, you had nothing else to lose and you were truly too exhausted to argue with him. You stepped out, closing the door behind you, taking your first deep breath of what felt like all day.
You walked around the nursing station for a moment, a bit overwhelmed by the chaos around you. You were reading the signs on each door, Robby gave you no directions and seemed to forget that you were in fact not an employee of the hospital.
You finally found your way, noticing the door was open, you let yourself in, but when you pulled the curtain back you gasped.
A very shirtless Jack whipped his head up at you, and you scoffed once your eyes landed on the resident touching his bare back.
âOh so this is why you canât answer your phone?â You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.
âWhatâre you doing here?â He asked, tone laced with confusion.
âI think I could ask you the same thing,â you snapped back.
âI got grazed in the field,â he said quietly. The pretty, young, probably very smart, resident froze behind him.
âYOU WERE SHOT?â You exclaimed.
He shook his head, âgrazed.â
Samira excused herself, disposing of her gloves and passing you to leave the room.
âUnbelievable,â you said under your breath before leaving your shirtless husband in the trauma room by himself. You could feel everything from the day coming to a head. You felt like an awful mother, you hadnât eaten, it was ninety seven degrees outside, and now your husband was shirtless with a resident behind a curtain? Is this why he wanted to do SWAT so bad? Why he worked so much? Was it all a ploy? You pushed the thoughts aside and tried to focus on your son.
Jack stared after you for half a second, completely blindsided. Then his brain caught up. What were you doing in the ER?
He shoved past the curtain immediately, pulling a shirt over his head while ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he jogged down the hallway. By the time he rounded the nurses station, you were already disappearing back into the room Robby had tucked you into.
Jack pushed through the door fast enough that your daughter jumped.
âDaddy!â She launched off the bed toward him and he caught her automatically, one arm around her while his eyes immediately locked onto your son.
The panic in him shifted so fast it nearly made him dizzy.
âWhat happened?â he asked, crossing the room in two strides.
Your sonâs face was blotchy from crying, arm wrapped carefully against his stomach while the IV sat taped to his hand. The second he saw Jack, his lip started wobbling again.
âHey, hey, buddyâŚâ Jackâs entire voice softened as he crouched beside the bed. âWhat hurts?â
âMy arm,â he whispered.
Jack carefully pushed his auburn hair back from his forehead, his cheeks red and somehow emphasizing the freckles that matched his. He checked him over with practiced eyes despite the adrenaline still pounding in his veins. He looked at the splint, then the monitor, then finally at you.
You wouldnât look at him. That almost made his stomach drop harder than seeing his son in a trauma bed.
âWhat happened?â he asked again, gentler this time.
âHe fell off the deck,â you answered flatly, still looking at your son and not him. âRobby said theyâre waiting on XRay.â
Jack inhaled sharply through his nose. He looked back at his son immediately, keeping his expression calm despite the horror creeping up his spine. âYou scared mommy pretty bad, huh?â
His son nodded miserably.
Your daughter was still clinging to Jackâs neck, sniffling quietly into his shoulder. Jack kissed the side of her head automatically before standing again, âyou okay, peanut?â
âI cried,â she admitted sadly, âI was worried about JJ,â her tiny voice wobbled.
âI can tell you were brave though,â he said reassuringly.
That finally got the tiniest smile out of her. Jack looked at you again but you still wouldnât meet his eyes.
âCan you stay with them for one second?â he asked quietly.
You shrugged, âbeen with them all day.â
Jack sighed and carefully handed your daughter back to you before stepping out of the room.
The second the door shut behind him, Robby looked up from the nurses station knowingly.
âWell,â Robby said, âyou look like youâre about to throw up.â
Jack scrubbed both hands down his face, âshe thinksââ he started before stopping himself with a groan. âJesus Christ.â
Robby leaned back in his chair. âYeah. Probably donât love that she walked in on you half naked with Samira.â
âIt wasnâtâ how did you even know that?â He asked
âOh, word spreads fast at the nurses station. And I know what it wasnât,â Robby interrupted. âDoes she?â
Jackâs jaw tightened, âno.â
Robby sighed. âSheâs had the kids alone all day, Jack. Your son gets hurt, she canât reach you, she ends up here exhausted out of her mind, and then she sees that.â
Jack leaned his palms against the counter, guilt washing over him in waves now that the initial panic about his son was easing.
âWhat even happened?â Robby asked.
âSamira was helping me clean up because I couldnât reach the wound,â he said in a low voice,gesturing to his shoulder.
Robby nodded once, âthen go tell your wife that.â
Jack looked back toward the room.
âShe looked embarrassed,â he admitted quietly. âNot angry. Which is arguably worse.â
That made Robby soften a little. Jack exhaled hard.
Samira was young. Pretty. Brilliant. Confident. The kind of woman who was never overwhelmed by the thought of what to make for lunch or covered in popsicle stains and sunscreen. Meanwhile youâd spent the day carrying two terrified children through an ER after your plans blew apart.
Jack suddenly felt sick thinking about the look on your face.
âYouâre supposed to start in a few hours, right?â Robby asked.
Jack nodded distractedly.
âGo home.â
Jack blinked. âWhat?â
âIâll cover your first few hours. And Santos owes me a favor anyway.â Robby pointed toward the room. âYour wife needs her husband more than the hospital needs another attending tonight.â
Jack stared at him for a second before nodding slowly, âthanks.â
âDonât thank me yet,â Robby muttered. âYou still gotta fix it.â
By the time Jack walked back into the room, XRay had already come and gone.
Your son had finally calmed down enough to watch cartoons on the small TV while your daughter had curled up asleep against your chest.
You looked exhausted.
Jackâs chest physically ached at the sight of you.
âHey,â he said softly.
You gave a small nod but kept your attention on your daughter. Jack sat carefully beside your son first, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
âThey said they think itâs just a fracture, buddy. You got lucky,â Jack said pushing his hair off his forehead.
âCan I still swim tomorrow?â He asked with bright eyes.
Jack smiled a little despite himself. âProbably not tomorrow.â
His son sighed dramatically and Jack looked over at you again, âI took the night off.â
That finally got your attention, âyou did?â You tried not to let the hopefulness you felt seep into your tone.
Before he could answer, the door pushed open revealing Whitaker.
âIâve been sent to relieve you both for a minute,â he turned to your son, âis it okay if I hang with you for a minute bud?â
JJ nodded shyly and you passed your daughter to Whitaker, he took a seat and you mumbled a thanks to him, knowing Robby assigned him this duty.
You followed Jack out into the hallway and into a small on call room right around the corner. He pulled the door shut before turning and looking at you.
âI shouldâve answered my phone.â
You looked down immediately, âyou were working.â
âI still shouldâve answered.â
Silence settled between you. Jack moved closer carefully, and sat on the small cot, patting the spot next to him. You sat down and exhaled, rolling your shoulders back.
âYou wanna tell me what that was out there?â
You swallowed hard.
âIt was nothing.â
âIt wasnât nothing.â
You laughed once under your breath, tired and humorless.
âI just felt stupid.â
Jack frowned immediately.
âWhy would you feel stupid?â
Your eyes finally lifted to his.
âBecause sheâs beautiful,â you admitted quietly. âAnd young. And smart. And you were standing there shirtless with her behind a curtain while I lookâŚâ you gestured vaguely toward yourself, ââŚlike this. I wasnât paying attention and he fell and now heâs hurt. I shouldâve been watching him, andââ your voice broke as you spoke so you stopped, taking a shaky breath.
Jack looked genuinely confused for a second before his face completely melted. âBaby.â
The nickname alone nearly cracked your composure.
âThatâs what this is about?â
You looked away again, embarrassed now that youâd actually said it out loud.
Jack reached over carefully, taking your free hand, âI got grazed.â
âThat somehow does not help your case.â
He actually laughed softly at that before shaking his head, âshe walked in looking for a patient, I was trying to clean the sound but I couldnât see or reach it, so she helped me. Thatâs it.â
You nodded once, still not looking convinced.
Jack leaned closer, âhey.â
Your eyes met his again.
âI do not see her. Sheâs nothing more than a coworker.â
Your expression softened just slightly.
âBut I see you everywhere,â he said quietly. âIn every room of my house. In my kids. In my entire life.â
Your eyes immediately glassed over, âJackâŚâ
âYou think I want twenty-five year old resident?â he asked gently. âI want my wife. The one who keeps our entire world running while I play cowboy with SWAT once a year.â
Despite yourself, you huffed out a tiny laugh and Jack squeezed your hand.
âYouâre allowed to feel insecure sometimes,â he murmured, âbut donât ever think for a second Iâm admiring anyone but you.â
Your face crumpled a little then, exhaustion finally catching up to you.
Jack leaned over immediately, pressing a kiss against your forehead carefully so he wouldnât wake your daughter.
âIâm sorry I scared you today,â he whispered.
And for the first time all day, you finally let yourself lean into him. Jack stayed there for another moment, his forehead resting against yours while your breathing finally started to slow.
His thumb rubbed softly against your knuckles.
âYou know this wasnât your fault, right?â he asked quietly.
You swallowed hard. âI shouldâve been watching him better.â
âNo.â His answer came instantly.
You pulled back slightly, eyes glossy. âJackââ
âHe tripped on the deck stairs,â he said gently. âThatâs what kids do. They fall. They get hurt. It doesnât mean you failed him. Heâs a kid. You work so hard to take care of them both. You didnât do anything wrong.â
You looked down at your lap, voice barely above a whisper. âIt felt like I did.â
Jackâs chest tightened painfully. He shifted closer on the cot until his knee pressed against yours, âlook at me.â
Reluctantly, your eyes lifted.
âYou are an incredible mother,â he said firmly. âDo you hear me?â
Your lip trembled again.
âOur kids are happy. Theyâre safe. Theyâre loved beyond belief.â His expression softened. âJJ was only calm because of you, you make him feel safe.â
âAnd our little girl,â he continued quietly, âcalmed down the second you held her.â A small smile tugged at his mouth. âYou walked into an ER alone with two terrified kids and somehow kept both of them together while you were scared out of your mind.â
A tear slipped down your cheek and he brushed it away carefully. âYou didnât fail today,â he whispered, âyou handled it like super mom.â
You let out a shaky breath and leaned into him again, your forehead falling against his shoulder. Jack wrapped an arm around you immediately, holding you close.
âAnd Iâm done with SWAT,â he said softly into your hair.
You stilled. âJackâŚâ
âI mean it,â he said it gently, but with enough firmness to know there was no room for discussion.
You pulled back enough to look at him, âbut you love it.â
âI love adrenaline,â he corrected gently. âI love helping people.â His hand slid up your back slowly. âBut not enough to keep scaring my wife every time my phone stops working.â
Your eyes welled again immediately, âI donât want you giving it up because of me.â
âItâs because of us,â he said firmly. âBecause today made me realize something.â He glanced toward the hallway where your kids were waiting. âI already have the most important people Iâm ever gonna save.â
Your face crumpled a little at that. Jack smiled softly and kissed your forehead again.
âSo no more SWAT,â he promised. âNo more one-day-a-year compromise. Iâm done.â
You searched his face carefully like you were trying to see if he meant it.
âYou swear?â You asked quietly.
âI swear,â he answered confidently.
The tension in your shoulders finally eased for the first time all day. He stood then, holding a hand out toward you.
âCâmon,â he said quietly. âLetâs go get our babies.â
The second you both walked back into the room, your daughter perked up in Whitakerâs lap, now awake.
âDaddy!â
Jack grinned immediately, opening his arms just in time for her to launch herself at him for the second time today.
âHey, peanut.â
Whitaker looked relieved to hand her over. âSheâs bossy.â
âShe gets that from her mother,â Jack replied easily.
You rolled your eyes while JJ sat up straighter in bed.
âAre you staying?â he asked hopefully.
Jack looked over at you once before smiling at his son.
âYeah, buddy. Iâm going home with you guys,â jack answered as Whitaker slid out the door, leaving just your family.
JJâs entire face lit up. âReally?!â
âReally.â
Your daughter gasped dramatically. âNo hospital work?â
Jack shook his head, ânope.â
JJ looked at Jack suspiciously, âso⌠since youâre coming homeâŚâ
Jack narrowed his eyes playfully. âWhat?â
âCan we get ice cream?â He asked sweetly, âsince itâs mommyâs favorite.â
You laughed for the first time all day, âoh very thoughtful of you baby.â
Jack looked over at you, smiling when he saw your laugh.
Then he looked back at his son dramatically, âbuddy, after the day weâve had?â He stood, still holding your daughter against his hip. âI think ice cream is medically necessary.â
Both kids erupted immediately.
âYES!â
Your daughter clapped excitedly while JJ nearly bounced despite the cast.
âYou hear that?â Jack said seriously to his son. âDoctorâs orders.â
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. Jack caught your eye from across the room. And for the first time since the phone calls went unanswered earlier that day, everything finally felt okay again.
⧠summary: days with an overactive toddler often lead to eventful and desperate nights. like this one.
⧠warnings: fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, parent sex, lil bit of choking, lil bit of baby trapping (but like, not really?) hints of a breeding kink if you squint. fluffy married sex, sickeningly sweet.
⧠word count: 5.6k
⧠title: nights like this â the kid laroi
⧠authorâs note: i got a request for this a whileeeee ago and i started writing it but gave up after like a paragraph and crashed out. long story short i scrapped it and moved on. a few days ago i got a notification that somebody liked the post where i replied to this request and i decided to revisit it. anyways now i wanna have a filthier flower bud in concrete moment for luke, but in the meantime have this cutesy lil smut full of parental and married life bliss.
anyways, send ur requests!! send me some calum ones too in celebration of OCO!! also, first blurb with the new @
oki bye.
Copyright Š 2025 undersugarnights. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.
ËË°â˘*ââˇ
Lukeâs voice carries gently through the baby monitor â a low, sleepy hum as he sings one of his sweet, nonsensical lullabies. The kind that makes no sense to anyone but Eve and somehow works every time. Your little girl is curled around a stuffed bear three times her size, one she refuses to sleep without, her tiny body finally stilled in sleep.
You lie on your bed, propped up on one elbow, head cradled in your palm, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You watch the monitor like itâs your favorite show, heart melting as Luke finishes his made-up song â even though Eve had fallen asleep minutes ago. He stays there a little longer, crouched beside the crib, gently smoothing her curls back from her forehead.
It never fails to hit you, the way he is with her. The patience. The gentleness. The quiet strength when sheâs crying. The goofiness when sheâs giggling. The complete surrender in every moment he gives her. Watching Luke be a dad is like falling in love with him all over again, every single day.
Eveâs two now. Old enough that you sometimes get a full nightâs sleep. Still young enough that âsometimesâ is generous. Sheâs clingy in the most adorable, exhausting way â a velcro baby through and through. If she had it her way, sheâd sleep pressed right between the two of you every night, one chubby hand on each of your cheeks like a hostage negotiator.
Itâs been ages since youâve felt Luke touch you in any way that wasnât a fleeting kiss on the cheek, a sleepy forehead press, or a soft hand at your waist as he passed by in the kitchen. Sweet, yes. Loving, always. But you missed the other kind of touching. The kind that made your toes curl and your thighs ache.
On the monitor, Luke leans down and kisses Eveâs head, slow and reverent. His smile â that bright, easy thing youâve always loved â is crystal clear on the tiny screen as he rises to his feet.
Sighing, you shift in bed, letting your body melt into the mattress as you roll onto your back. Your eyes trace the ceiling lazily, shoulders finally relaxing for the first time since dinner. That nighttime routine was no joke. Eve had been on one tonight â not a meltdown exactly, just her usual chaos cranked to eleven.
She was particular. Meticulously particular. Luke liked to say she got that from you â always with a teasing smirk and a kiss to your temple, like he didnât find it completely adorable in both of you.
Dinner had been its own disaster-slash-comedy special. Eden refused her pasta outright until Luke made her laugh so hard she accidentally snorted a bite. Then came the bath â where, midway through rinsing, she got the zoomies and took off through the house naked, squealing with delight as she chased a bewildered Petunia. Youâd run after them like some exhausted sitcom mom, while Luke collapsed against the hallway wall laughing too hard to help.
Then came the bedtime stalling. The âjust one more storyâ and âjust one more kissâ protests â Eveâs greatest hits. Youâd lost count after five kisses. Luke had given her six. Of course he had.
Parenthood wasnât easy. Your back hurt. Your privacy was a myth. Half your laundry was tiny socks you swear didnât exist an hour ago. But God, it was worth it. Every bone-deep ache and stolen moment was soothed by a little girl with his dimples and his blue eyes and a giggle that made your heart feel too big for your chest.
And then there was him.
Your husband. The love of your life. The man youâd somehow become wildly, inconveniently feral for in the most domestic circumstances imaginable.
Like when he knelt beside the crib with that sleepy, adoring smile. Or when heâd hoisted Eve onto his hip with one arm and stirred mac and cheese with the other. Or when he stood at the sink washing baby bottles with those long, skilled fingers like he was doing the most sacred task in the world.
No man should look that good covered in banana puree and Goldfish crumbs. It should be illegal. And yet, there you were â staring at him like he was a centerfold in Hot Dads Monthly, wondering how the hell you were supposed to go another night without climbing him like a tree and thanking him for doing the dishes with his shirt half off.
Outside the room, you hear the familiar drag of tired footsteps padding down the hall â heavy, slower than usual, exhaustion stitched into every step. Lukeâs making his way toward you like heâs been moving through molasses since bedtime.
The door creaks open a moment later.
He steps in, and even through the low lighting, you catch the way his eyes find yours right away. That sleepy, boyish smile blooms across his face, soft and crooked, as he closes the door behind him and leans his full weight against it like itâs holding him up.
âHey, handsome,â you grin, pushing yourself up onto your elbows.
Luke rubs his eye with a knuckle, stifling a yawn. âHey, baby,â he murmurs â voice thick and scratchy with sleep, but tender in the way it always got just for you. It was the voice he used when Eve was napping on his chest, when you whispered secrets in the kitchen after midnight, when he told you he loved you without needing to say the words.
He sighs as he pushes off the door, dragging a hand through those mess of blond curls and shuffling toward the bed like heâs been walking for miles.
âSometimes I wish I had the stamina she does,â he says with a sleepy laugh. âImagine the shows I could put on.â
You snort, swinging your legs off the side of the bed just long enough to peel the covers back before slipping underneath them again. âYour stamina is plenty impressive, babe,â you say casually, eyes twinkling. âIf it was any more intense, weâd have, like, seven more toddlers wreaking havoc in the living room.â
Luke grins, standing at the edge of the bed as he grabs the hem of his hoodie and yanks it over his head in one motion.
Your mouth goes dry.
Because, of course, heâs not wearing a shirt underneath. He rarely does â a personal crime youâre convinced is 100% intentional. Your eyes sweep over the soft slope of his stomach, the faint lines of muscle, the sharp cut of his V, and that maddening trail of golden hair leading straight under his sweatpants like a neon âpull hereâ sign.
Your thighs clench. Reflex.
âIâd love that, yâknow,â Luke says as he tosses the hoodie onto a nearby chair. âSeven little yous. Or mes. Or some chaotic mix of both.â And then he flops into bed beside you with a groan, face half-buried in your pillow, long limbs sprawled like a starfish.
You let out a soft giggle, crawling over to him on your hands and knees â slow and playful, your sleep shirt riding up just enough to make him stare. Luke watches you with that look again. The one thatâs almost too much to bear. Like you hung the stars. Like he canât believe youâre his, even now, even after everything. Reverence, pure and radiant, etched across every sleepy line of his face.
His cheek is smushed into the pillow, hair falling messily across his forehead, lashes fluttering as he follows your movements. You lean down and press a kiss to the tip of his nose â he scrunches it a little â then trail another one to his shoulder, and another to the dip of his back, lips brushing over soft, warm skin still humming with the heat of the day.
âMm,â he hums, low and pleased, voice vibrating under your lips.
You giggle again and plop down beside him, reaching over to flick off your bedside lamp. The room melts into a soft hush, bathed in the faint blue glow from the hallway nightlight.
Luke shifts closer, immediately, instinctively, like he canât bear not to touch you. His chest meets your back as he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His nose nuzzles behind your ear, and his breath is warm against your neck â slow and steady and his.
You settle into his embrace, threading your fingers through his and tugging his arm tighter around you. His hand splays across your stomach, palm warm and grounding. You sigh into the safety of it all.
âI love you,â you whisper, turning your head just enough to brush your lips against his. The kiss is feather-light. Sacred.
You feel him smile into it, soft and sleepy. âI love you too,â he murmurs, voice thick and full and certain.
You close your eyes again, letting your body go soft in Lukeâs arms. The quiet hum of the fan and the low, steady static of the baby monitor blend into a kind of lullaby â one that dulls the ache in your thighs and slows your racing thoughts, just enough to pretend youâre actually going to fall asleep.
It lasts all of two seconds.
Lukeâs fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt â slow, deliberate â the callused pads brushing against the sensitive skin of your waist. Your breath hitches. Your heartbeat stutters.
He keeps going. Tracing your stomach, skimming your ribs, until his hand stills just beneath your breast. A pause. A warning.
Then his thumb moves â just a soft, slow stroke â and your body arches into it before you can stop yourself.
âLuke,â you whisper, sharp and breathless, as he abandons all pretense of subtlety. His hand fully cups your breast, warm and familiar, and then heâs pinching â just enough to pull a quiet whimper from your lips, your hips twitching instinctively against his.
He grins against your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the slope of it. âYou know,â he murmurs, voice low and sinful, âthis whole trend of big shirts and tiny shorts around the houseâŚâ
You shiver as his teeth graze your skin.
ââŚis really fucking with my self-control
Your back arches slightly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to catch the moan threatening to escape. Slowly, you press back into Luke, feeling the growing hardness straining against your ass.
âSays you,â you whisper, breath hitching as his hand trails down from your chest, toying with the waistband of your sleep shorts. âTaking off your hoodie like a fucking slut.â
You feel his smile against your neck, smug and shameless. âGod, I canât believe youâre real,â he murmurs, voice low and wrecked as his hand slips under your shorts with no hesitation. His fingers tease just above the fabric of your panties, while his hips grind forward, pressing into you with aching need. âMy wife. My fucking woman.â
His other hand sneaks back up beneath your shirt, finding your chest again, greedier this time. You gasp â only for it to die into a moan as his fingers rub slow, maddening circles over your clothed clit. Itâs just enough friction to make you dizzy.
âNuh-uh,â he tuts softly, amusement laced through the heat in his voice. âCanât wake Eve up, remember?â
You squeeze your eyes shut as he keeps going, every brush of his fingers a cruel kind of heaven. You bring your hand to your mouth, trying desperately to smother the breathless whimpers that spill out anyway.
But Lukeâs grinning behind you now, nose brushing the shell of your ear. âYouâre so bad at being quiet, baby.â
And god, you are.
Your thighs are trembling, eyes squeezed shut as Luke keeps working you over, patient and relentless. Every touch feels amplified â sharpened by the risk of being caught, by the thrill of finally being touched like this again.
âBeen dreaminâ about having you like this,â Luke breathes, grinding up against you, hard and desperate, like the only thing keeping him from losing it completely is the thin cotton barrier between you. âDreaminâ about those pretty little moans⌠how wet you get when you have to be quiet.â
But thenâhe stops.
You freeze.
For a second, your heart stutters. Maybe he heard something â Eve fussing, a creak of the crib, the soft rustle of sheets. But before you can spiral further, his hand slips down, confident and cruel, sliding your panties aside and dragging one long, slow finger through your slick.
Your eyes roll back. A breathy whimper escapes your throat before you can stop it.
Immediately, Luke clamps a hand over your mouth â warm and rough, wedding band cool against your cheek.
âOh my god,â he groans into your ear, low and wrecked, as his fingers return to your clit, teasing slow, devastating circles. âYouâre soaked. All this for me, baby?â
You nod frantically, muffled moans caught in his palm, the heat of his body burning into your back. Heâs pressed up against you, rock hard and trembling with restraint, and the thought of him finally sliding inside sends a full-body shiver down your spine.
Then his fingers dip lower, just barely skimming your entrance â playing, circling, torturing. Not yet. Almost.
âYouâre such a fucking tease,â you whimper, burying your face into the pillow as you try to grind back against him. Luke hisses into your neck, teeth grazing your pulse, and your breath stutters hard.
He circles your clit again â barely there â then finally dips down, gathering your wetness before slipping two fingers inside. Your mouth opens in a gasp, but you bite your lip to keep the sound in.
âNo, baby, thatâs all you,â Luke murmurs against your skin, grinning as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you with slow, deliberate pressure. âWhenâs the last time you even wore a bra? I swear Iâm turning into a full-blown pervert.â
You manage a breathless giggle. âMaybe that wasâ oh, fuckâ the plan all along.â
He hums, low and dangerous. âShhh, baby,â he laughs softly, licking the shell of your ear while keeping that maddening rhythm. âLet me have my way with you. But I canât do that if you wake Eve up.â
Your face is nearly buried in the pillow now, thighs trembling with restraint. The wet sounds of Luke working you open are obscene, slick and needy â the kind of sounds that always seem to follow him wherever he touches you.
âMm, keep doing that,â you groan into the pillow. âAnd youâll have another kid to worry about not waking up.â
At that, Lukeâs thumb begins to circle your clit again â slow and focused â and your entire body jerks in response. You fist the sheets so hard your knuckles go white, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loud.
âJust like that, baby,â Luke whispers, voice thick with praise. âYouâre doing so good for me.â
Then his hand stills.
He slowly withdraws his fingers from your body, and you let out a desperate little whimper, lifting your head to glance back at him, confused and breathless.
âCalm down,â he murmurs, grinning as he tugs at the waistband of your shorts and underwear. âJust wanna get these out of the way. You can be patient for me, yeah, love?â
You lift your hips instinctively, just enough to help him slide the fabric down and off. He tosses them aside, leaving you in nothing but one of his old band tees â worn, oversized, and hitched high around your waist.
âFuck,â he breathes, hand wrapping around your thigh to coax your legs open again. âLook at you. Such a pretty mess.â
You shift slightly, pressing your ass back against the hard outline of his cock through the soft cotton of his pajama pants. His breath catches â barely audible â and then his fingers are inside you again, slow and deliberate.
You glance down, watching as his fingers slide in and out, slick and glistening. Your breath hitches. Itâs obscene. Itâs everything.
Your hand reaches back, finding his hair, curling your fingers into the thick mess of it and tugging gently at the roots.
âI missed you so much,â you whisper, voice raw and soft as you turn your head just enough to brush your lips against his.
He doesnât kiss you â not fully â just breathes against your mouth, forehead resting against yours, his entire body wrapped around you like a secret. The spooning position makes everything feel more intimate. More tender. More desperate.
Like if he could crawl inside you and stay there, he would.
âMissed you more,â Luke murmurs, lips trailing down the curve of your shoulder in slow, open-mouthed kisses. âFuck, Iâve been so horny lately I got hard just watching you walk up the stairs.â
You let out a breathless laugh, grinding your hips back into him. He whines â an actual, desperate sound â and buries his face in the crook of your neck like itâs the only way to survive you.
âGood to know I still have it,â you whisper, smug.
âShut up,â he mumbles against your skin, and his fingers pick up speed, leaving you gasping. âYou gotta keep quiet, my love. Donât forget.â
His long fingers work you open effortlessly, the occasional swipe of his thumb over your clit sending jolts up your spine. You shiver when he moans against your neck, the sound vibrating through you, skin breaking out in goosebumps.
Heâs slow. Intentional. Like heâs savoring this. Like there isnât a ticking time bomb of a toddler down the hall.
âI can feel you squeezing me,â Luke breathes, his lips brushing your jaw. âThinking about how my cockâs gonna feel, hmm?â
Your eyes flutter shut. You nod frantically, biting down on your bottom lip to keep the noise trapped in your throat.
Luke shifts behind you just enough to press his cock more firmly against your ass â hot, hard, and barely restrained beneath his pajama pants. The pressure alone makes your mouth water.
âBaby,â you gasp, fingers digging into his bicep. It flexes as he keeps fucking you with his hand, slow and relentless. âPlease. Please, I need you.â
âNeed me to what?â Luke asks, all false innocence, voice like sin. âNeed me to fuck you stupid, baby?â
His fingers slide out of you, dragging your slick up through your folds, circling your clit with maddening precision. Heâs teasing again â slow, measured, cruel in the way only Luke can be.
You jolt at the sensation, hips moving on instinct, grinding against his hand with raw, frantic need. The kind thatâs been simmering under your skin for days.
âBaby,â you hiss, voice hoarse from the effort of keeping it down. âIf youâre not inside me in the next five minutes, Iâm divorcing you.â
Luke stills, then lets out a hushed laugh, biting your shoulder to muffle it. âYouâre so fucking needy,â he chuckles, wicked and breathless. âFine. Just because you beg pretty. And because if I tease you any longer, Edenâs definitely waking up.â
His hand slips from between your thighs, and he brings his fingers to your lips, glistening.
âClean me off first,â he murmurs. âBe a good girl.â
You donât hesitate. Your lips wrap around his fingers, tongue licking them clean, moaning around the taste of yourself. Luke groans softly behind you â that guttural, broken sound you know means heâs barely holding it together.
âFuck. Thatâs so hot.â
His fingers slip from your mouth with an obscene pop that echoes through the quiet room. Behind you, Luke shifts just enough to shove his pajama pants down, freeing himself with a soft grunt.
You feel the heat of him immediately â his cock thick and flushed, grinding slowly against your ass, teasing you both with the drag of it.
His hand slides down your thigh, guiding your leg up and over his hip to open you wider for him. That same hand wraps around his cock, and he groans through gritted teeth as he strokes himself, slow and tight.
Your breathing quickens, chest rising and falling as the anticipation builds â and then you feel him. The head of his cock, hot and slick with precum, rubbing through your folds. You whimper at the contact, and Luke groans in response.
âOh, fuck,â he breathes, burying his face in your shoulder and biting down gently to stifle himself.
He teases your entrance, circling it once, twice, before finally starting to press in â slow, unhurried, deliberate.
The stretch is divine â just enough to make you gasp, every nerve lighting up as he pushes deeper. You shift slightly, craning your neck just enough to see his face. His eyes are half-lidded, bottom lip caught between his teeth like heâs trying not to lose it completely.
A soft moan slips from him. âShit, baby⌠youâre so fucking tight,â he pants. âCan feel you sucking me in. Such a greedy girl for me.â
Luke sinks into you slowly, inch by inch, every push setting off a new wave of pleasure that shivers down your spine. His arm tightens around your waist, holding you close, grounding you. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin as he groans softly â almost like itâs too much. Almost like youâre too much.
When he finally bottoms out, it feels like coming home.
He stills, fully sheathed inside you, twitching each time your walls flutter around him. Youâre soaked, throbbing, completely wrapped around him â and Luke can barely breathe.
âFuck, baby,â he groans, voice low and wrecked. âI missed being inside you. Youâre so fucking wet and tightâI can feel everything.â
âI missed you,â you whisper back, cheek pressed to his. âMissed being stretched out like this. Missed us.â
He doesnât move at first. Just stays there, buried deep, holding you like heâs afraid heâll disappear if he lets go. The stillness hums between you, thick with want â not rushed, not frantic, but aching. A moment suspended in the kind of intimacy that makes your chest burn and your thighs tremble.
You both just breathe for a second.
Wrapped around each other, finally giving in to the slow, simmering need that had been building for days.
Luke presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, barely more than a brush, before gently tugging your shirt up until it bunches just above your chest. His hand slips beneath, finding your breast again â warm and reverent, his palm cradling you like he needs the contact just to breathe.
Then he starts to move.
Slow, deep strokes that make your whole body shudder. You bite down on your wrist to muffle the moan that threatens to escape, the sound caught in your throat like a secret. Luke isnât faring much better â soft, breathless whimpers spilling into your skin as he rocks into you, his hips pressing close with every push.
His teeth graze your pulse point, dragging gently. A moment later, his tongue follows, soothing the sting, leaving you trembling.
âYou take me so well, love,â he whispers, voice thick and ruined, hips picking up their rhythm. The pleasure builds with each thrust, slow but devastating, until your eyes roll back and youâre forced to bite into the pillow just to stay quiet.
He groans into your neck, almost desperate. âSo fucking good for me.â
Luke rolls his hips, settling into a pace thatâs just slow enough to draw it out â to keep you aching â but steady enough that you can feel the tremble in his hands from how tightly heâs holding himself back.
âYou have no idea what it does to me,â he whispers, voice low and cracked, each word punctuated by a deep, deliberate thrust. âSeeing you with that ring. Wearing my name. Raising our kid.â
âFullâfull of you,â you whimper, gasping as he hits that perfect spot. His rhythm never falters, but you feel the way his grip tightens at your waist, like he might lose it at any second. âGod, I missed being fucked like this.â
Luke lets go of your breast, shifting just enough to fuck into you harder, the bed starting to creak beneath the motion â soft, rhythmic, dangerous. You both freeze instantly, breath caught in your throat, bodies locked together as you listen with baited breath.
Silence.
No tiny footsteps. No sleepy cries. Just the quiet hum of the baby monitor on the nightstand.
âLuke,â you hiss, desperate, wiggling your hips back against him. âPleaseâfuck, please donât stop. You canât keep doing this to me.â
That does something to him.
Luke brings his fingers to your lips, pushing two into your mouth without warning. Your lips part automatically, sucking them in with a moan. Your back arches as he pulls them out just as quickly, trailing down your stomach before slipping between your legs.
He finds your clit easily, rubbing slow, steady circles in time with the deep roll of his hips.
âJust like that, baby,â he coos, voice gone sweet and filthy. âLet me make you feel good, yeah?â
You nod frantically, lip caught between your teeth as your thighs twitch, the pleasure winding tighter with every passing second. His fingers stay lazy on your clit, teasing you through it, never giving too much â just enough to drive you insane.
âI love you so much,â Luke murmurs against your neck. âYou look so fucking pretty stuffed full of my cock.â
Your hand reaches back blindly, tangling in Lukeâs hair and yanking at the roots. He groans into your neck, hips stuttering before he picks up the pace again â faster now, more desperate â and so do his fingers.
That familiar coil in your belly starts to tighten, fast and sharp. You can feel him everywhere, every inch of him buried deep, every snap of his hips jolting through your spine. Your stomach flutters, your thighs twitch, your whole body buzzing like live wire.
âBet no one would believe what a pretty little slut you are for me, hmm?â Luke growls, voice rough and wrecked, the edge bleeding in. âThat youâre the most gorgeous fucking cockwhore â mine. Bet if I told you I was close, youâd beg me to stay in, wouldnât you?â
âPlease, baby,â you sob, the words falling out broken. âWanna be dripping with you for days. Want you to come inside me, please, pleaseââ
Lukeâs hand flies up to cover your mouth, silencing your cries as his teeth sink into your neck, biting down just hard enough to sting. You gasp beneath his palm â the pain sharp, the kiss that follows it soft and soothing, a cruel little contradiction that makes you whimper into his skin.
âThatâs my good fucking girl,â he pants, fingers circling your clit with perfect pressure, filthy and reverent all at once. âYou gonna come for me, baby? Gonna soak my cock like the perfect little thing you are?â
You nod frantically beneath his hand, body trembling, seconds from unraveling. Stars begin to bloom at the edges of your vision, your thighs quivering as you squirm back against him, chasing every last bit of friction.
âYeah, just like that, baby,â Luke grunts, voice thick and desperate. âCome for me â Iâve got you.â
With one final, devastating thrust, your body breaks. You bite down on your wrist, muffling the cry as the dam bursts open. Your back arches into him, muscles locking tight, legs shaking with the sheer intensity of your orgasm. The world narrows to heat, motion, and Luke â still buried inside you, still moving, still whispering in your ear.
âFuck, youâre squeezing me so tight,â he moans, breath ragged. âThat feel good, baby? So good for me.â
Your body sags against him, boneless and buzzing, completely undone â and Luke doesnât waste a second.
Without warning, he pulls out, and before you can even catch your breath, heâs flipping you onto your stomach. A sharp gasp escapes you as your cheek hits the pillow, and then his hand presses firmly between your shoulder blades, holding you down just enough to make your breath hitch again.
A wave of heat pulses through you at the shift â that sudden, dizzying change from softness to raw possession. Your heart skips as the realization sinks in. Youâre not done. Heâs not done.
And God, that only makes you wetter. You bite down on your lip in anticipation.
âYou gonna let me use you now?â Luke pants, hovering over you, his hand fisted in the sheets beside your head for balance. His voice is wrecked, low and hungry. You nod â small, breathless, already trembling â and thatâs all he needs.
You feel the thick head of his cock drag through your soaked entrance before he sinks in with one hard, brutal thrust.
You arch beneath him, a gasp ripping from your throat before you can stop it. Luke slaps his hand over your mouth again, groaning into your ear.
âBe quiet,â he tuts, voice tight with restraint. âDonât need a fussy baby interrupting while Iâm busy fucking my wife into the mattress.â
His hand drops from your mouth and curls around your throat again, warm and grounding â claiming. Then his hips pull back and slam into you, fast and unforgiving.
Each thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, sending shockwaves through your body as he finds that perfect spot over and over. You bury your face into the pillow, biting down hard to stifle the sounds clawing up your throat.
Luke is panting, gasping, barely keeping it together. âIâm not gonna last,â he grits out, voice breaking. âThis pussyâs too fucking perfect. Perfect â and mine.â
His words dissolve into growls, each one filthier than the last. His hand tightens around your throat just enough to make you dizzy â never enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who you belong to. His thrusts get rougher, messier, his control slipping with every desperate snap of his hips.
âFuck,â he chokes out, his forehead falling to your shoulder. âFuck, Iâm gonna come. Please â let me fill you up, baby. Please.â
You donât answer.
Instead, you flex your leg back just enough to push him deeper, lock him in place.
Luke lets out a broken moan â almost a sob â as he comes, spilling into you with a sharp, shaking groan. A string of curses and your name fall from his lips like a prayer, wrecked and reverent. He exhales hard, thrusting once, twice more before collapsing onto his back beside you, totally spent.
Youâre both breathless, the room quiet except for the sound of your hearts pounding. You turn your head just enough to look at him â and, of course, heâs already looking at you. That lazy, fucked-out grin is spread across his face, curls messy, lips kiss-swollen.
âI love you so fucking much,â he murmurs, still panting.
You roll your eyes, resting your cheek on your palm. âYeah, yeah,â you tease, reaching over to brush a damp curl from his forehead. âYou talk a lot for someone who has a mess to clean up.â
Lukeâs eyebrows lift, amused, but he doesnât argue. Instead, he nudges your thigh and gently rolls you onto your back. He hovers above you for a moment, then starts kissing his way down â slow, deliberate, worshipful. Every inch of exposed skin is met with his lips, his stubble, the heat of his breath.
When he reaches your thighs, he spreads them apart with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.
âYou always look so fucking pretty when Iâm dripping out of you,â he says, almost dreamily. His finger drags through the mess between your legs â a light, filthy stroke that makes you shiver â before he leans in and licks into you without another word.
His tongue is warm, slow, unhurried as he laps up every drop he left inside you. You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut, sinking into the bed as his mouth works â greedy but soft, careful with your overstimulated body.
He places one last kiss to your clit and your legs twitch instinctively. Luke chuckles, smug, and crawls back up your body, kissing along the way until his mouth finds yours.
The taste is unmistakable â both of you, hot and sweet and earthy on his tongue.
You sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hands roaming across his broad back. You never want him to move.
âI really fucking love you,â you murmur when he finally pulls away, settling beside you again.
Luke grins, flushed and glowing. âYeah?â
Instead of answering, you crawl onto your knees, shooting him a sly grin. His cock rests against his stomach, still half-hard, glistening. You lean down and drag your tongue in one slow, deliberate stripe from base to tip.
Luke lets out a filthy little moan, head falling back onto the pillow as you take the head into your mouth. Your tongue swirls along the underside â that sweet spot just beneath the crown â and his legs twitch in response. You can taste yourself on him, and the mix makes your head spin.
âChrist,â he exhales, voice already wrecked. âYouâre fucking insatiableââ
Heâs cut off by the rustle of sheets and the unmistakable sound of a sniffle, soft and pitiful.
You both freeze.
A glance toward the monitor confirms it: Eveâs sitting up in bed, clutching her stuffed bear to her chest, face crumpled into the worldâs saddest pout.
Luke groans. Not the sexy kind. The parental kind.
âRain check?â you whisper, flashing him a sheepish smile as you reach for your discarded underwear and shorts.
Heâs already sitting up, dragging his pants back on with the sort of defeated slouch that only comes from being cockblocked by the literal love of your lives.
âIf we can squeeze it in before Eve turns eighteen,â he mutters, deadpan. âYeah, Iâd love that.â
ËË°â˘*ââˇ
if u made it here ur awesome!! thank u to anon for this amazing request. i love dad luke.
Find My Pitt Masterlist here
Jack could be relentless when it came to stirring up trouble.
Especially when it came to poking a little fun at PTMC's Shark.
What no one could quite understand was why? Or how Jack managed to get away with it.
Not until you, Jack's fearless firefighter of a wife, comes rushing into the ER.
Turns out your presence worries more than just Jack.
Notes: strong language. established relationship. medical inaccuracies. injuries. Jack being relentless when it comes to teasing his brother-in-law. overprotective Shark.
Word Count: ~4.5k
Jack was known to poke a little fun here and there.Â
Known to keep a steady head, a calm resolve.
Keeping things light hearted despite the weight of the work. Whatever troubles he had he buried them deep inside, something very few people knew..Â
It was a trait most carried whilst working the night shift.Â
An air of indifference, so polarising from the dayshiftâs tightly wound energy, it could give someone whiplash.Â
But one thing remained the same between the day and night shift.Â
Was its need to feed on gossip. Â
Gossip was what made the ER spur on. Or at least, simply helped maintain a little sanity for those who worked there.Â
He loved stirring up a little humour.Â
His therapist had told him more than once that it was a coping mechanism â but he countered that comment by asking what harm could a little laugh here and there really do?
Whenever someone new came aboard.Â
One of the inevitable questions that came to their mind was â How did you lose your leg?Â
Now it wasnât like everyone outright asked him, most skirting around the topic, too afraid to ask, too timid to broach such a personal topic.Â
But there were times where some intern or student let their curiosity get the better of them.Â
Had let the question pass by their filter.Â
And that such time was now.Â
As Ogilvie raised a brow, pointed at Jackâs leg and straight up asked, âHowâd you lose it?âÂ
A hush falling over those nearby, a huff of annoyance at his blunt question. The insensitivity of it all.Â
But in Jackâs eyes, the timing couldnât have been more perfect.Â
As Jack catches sight of PTMCâs Shark. The chilling orthopedic surgeon that made everyoneâs blood freeze at the sight of him.Â
That made people part and duck their heads, averting their gaze.Â
Only a select few found the ability to stand toe-to-toe with him. To not waver in his presence.Â
And one of those few, was Jack Abbot. Â
A grin slipping onto Jackâs face as he answers dryly in response to Ogilvie's question, âBitten off by a shark"Â
Jutting a finger over towards Park, "That one, that one took my leg,â the words were so blatant, and dry.Â
An expression of complete seriousness taking over Jackâs features as he spoke.Â
One that Ogilvie honestly couldnât decipher from being real or false. His mind knew it was a joke, and yet Jackâs delivery couldnât have sounded more honest.Â
Catching word of the joke, Park merely scoffed with the slightest shake of his head, concealing the faintest chuckle beneath his breath.Â
It wasnât the first time Jack had made that joke.Â
And both knew it certainly wouldnât be the last. The joke never once got old, for either of them.Â
Jack often brushed off questions about his leg with a simple, before you askâŚit was a shark. It was one of Jackâs favourite jokes when avoiding the topic.Â
Jack shot a look back at Ogilvie, âNow shouldnât you be helping with hand-offs?â
âUhâyeah, course,â His eyes widened, stammering slightly with a nod of his head, ducking away.Â
Jack clicks his tongue, turning to face Park, âI swear that kid is going to make a fight break out in here if he doesnât learn to bite his tongueâÂ
An air of mutual respect hangs between them. A silent understanding between the two.Â
âAnd this is why I chose to go into surgery and not emergency medâ
âHm, and whyâs that?â
âThe patients tend to be less chatty,â Brendonâs eyes glance up at the clock, eyes furrowing as he simply nods towards Jack. âMakes it easier to talk shitâÂ
Jack merely chuckles from his response, patting his back before Park disappears back upstairs.Â
It was rare.Â
But not an uncommon sight to see Jack and Brendon get along. Â
Whenever they passed each other, every one could tell that there was a friendliness between their interactions.Â
No one could quite pinpoint why.Â
Or how.Â
But it was clear that Brendon tolerated Jack.Â
But this mutual respect didnât mean Jack didnât divulge himself in a little gossip here and then about the Shark.Â
Whether heâd be passing by as his colleagues spoke, catching wind that the topic was about Park.
Heâd add certain little things, âI heard he only ever listens to the soundtrack of Jaws whilst he operatesâ True or not, he liked to poke fun at the man.Â
âAnd how do you know that?â Santos would raise a brow in question.Â
Jack would simply shrug, âHeard it from someone I knowâ
Itâd be simple things, small things that amused Jack.Â
Slipping in little truths here and there.Â
The information always chalked up to having heard it from someone he knew.Â
Now this someone as far as anyone knew couldâve been anyone, from admin, to a scrub nurse to a fellow doctor in the hospital that Jack was friends with.Â
No one any wiser to the fact that he was, in fact, referring to his wife.
Brendon Parkâs sister.Â
You.Â
It was no secret to the staff of PTMCâs emergency department that Jack was happily married.Â
He proudly wore his wedding ring for all to see.Â
Speaking highly of you, a clear pride and deep devotion in his tone as he spoke of you.Â
He kept a photo of you in his wallet, and his camera roll was filled with photos of you and him, simply happy. Just waiting to be pulled out and scrolled through.Â
The sight of you never failed to bring a smile to Jackâs face. Â
Slipping you into the conversation with ease. Without even realising it, he could easily spend minutes talking about you to anyone that would listen.
On occasion even doting about you to his patients whilst he worked.Â
Going on and on about how strong and courageous you were. Fearless. Compassionate.
âŚ
From the moment Jack had laid eyes on you.Â
His first thought was that you were smoking hot.Â
Literally smoking as you brushed away at the ashes from your suit, smoke curling from behind you.Â
Whilst you walked out of the building you and your team had just wrangled with, containing the burning embers until they were out.Â
He was on the scene assisting the SWAT team as a medic.Â
And he simply couldnât take his eyes off of you as you carried yourself with confidence. Words firm as you made the next orders for your team. You were captivating. As you took control of the chaos around you.Â
How you had taken the time to crouch down and console one of a young boy who had gotten caught up in this mess.Â
It was that little boy that had brought you over to him.Â
Having tugged off your glove, your hand was wrapped with his, as you stopped before Jack. The slight dusting of embers on your cheek.Â
âDo you mind checking up on him? Just want to make sure he didnât inhale too much of the smoke,â you had asked. âIâd go to the EMTs, but theyâre all a bit preoccupied at the momentâÂ
Jack nodded, âOf course,â his eyes moving down to the boy, whilst he crouched before him, to appear a little more friendly.Â
âWhatâs your name, kid?âÂ
âGeorgeâÂ
âWell George, Iâm Dr Abbot, but you can call me Jack. Do you mind if I take a look at you, make sure everythingâs ok?âÂ
George nods, âOk,â his hand never lets go of yours. Clutching it tightly.Â
âYou were pretty brave in there,â Jack said whilst glancing up at you.Â
You shrugged slightly, âAll part of the job, isnât it?âÂ
Eyes drifting down to the little boy by your side, âThough I think you were braver than me George, maybe youâll be a firefighter one day huh?â
âOr you could be a doctor?â Jack added.Â
While Georgeâs nose scrunched up laughing at the two of you. His mind drifted away from the stressful events, as he focused on you both.Â
âSaving lives, and helping people,â Jack continues to say.Â
While you twist your mouth, debating his words, âFirefighters do all that too, and we get to ride in a pretty cool truck, what do you say George?âÂ
Whilst George tilts his head in thought.Â
Jack chuckles, feigning defeat, âWhen you say it like that, being a firefighter does sound pretty coolâÂ
âThen Iâll count on seeing you at the sign ups,â you remark jokingly.Â
Jackâs hands moved swiftly, announcing anytime he did something, and what he was checking for. From checking his pupils, to listening to his heartbeat, Jack was thorough.
âCan you take a deep breath in for me George?â Jack asks, while George agrees, âOne, two, three, and out, thatâs it.â
Your eyes watch as Jack continues to be gentle, humorous as he makes the young boy laugh.Â
There was something soothing about Jack.Â
Something that made the adrenaline coursing through you begin to rest and settle. Heart steadying.Â
âSeems like everything is in order, George, Iâd offer you a lollipop but it seems like one of the only things I donât have in my pockets,â Jack jokes.Â
âHey Park! Weâve located the kidâs mom,â one of your colleagues called over. Whilst you nodded in acknowledgement, before looking back at Jack.Â
âThanks again for the help, docâ
âThatâs what Iâm here for,â Jack nodded.Â
You both hesitate for a moment, not yet wanting to part. âI donât know what it is about you Abbot, but something tells me youâre troubleâÂ
âHopefully the good kind,â he replies, with a small quirk of his lip.Â
ââPark, câmon!â youâre urged once more.Â
âIâm coming,â You hum, with a small nod of your head as you wave at Jack. âIâll see you aroundâÂ
âSee yaâÂ
One of his colleagues comes up to his side, as Jackâs eyes follow you. âWho was that?â
âI donât know, but Iâd like to,â he replied.Â
Clapping his shoulder, Jackâs attention snapped to the side, âMaybe next time Romeo,â and with that Jack is pulled away to attend to another injury.Â
From that moment on.Â
It felt like each time Jack saw a fire truck or a cluster of firefighters, he always, without meaning to, searched for your face in the crowd. Had kept an eye out just to see you once more.Â
Until eventually it had faded.
His hope had begun to dissipate. Pittsburgh was a big city afterall. The chance of seeing you again was slim to none.Â
Days turned into weeks, which had turned into months.Â
Until you had become a distant memory, simply a nice idea.Â
Well.Â
That was until you had tapped on his shoulder. Whilst standing in line at a coffee shop one late afternoon, smiling as he met your eye.Â
You would be lying to say your mind didnât drift to the memory of the medic you had met all those months ago.Â
The image of him flitting into the forefront of your mind. How his eyes held a depth to them, unwavering, calculating. The way he held eye contact with you. Softening ever so slightly.Â
There was a story behind those steel blue eyes.Â
A story you wanted to know.Â
Eyes tracing his features, as you took in his appearance. No longer wearing the camo tactile suit of a SWAT medic, instead simply in a black t-shirt and cargo pants.Â
Upon meeting your eyes, they blinked in surprise, before a smile graced his features.Â
âWell if it isnât Pittsburghâs finest firefighter,â he tilts his head, âItâs good seeing you againâ
âI see I made quite an impression,â you grinned. With this look in your eye that had him enthralled.Â
âAs if I could forget, Park wasnât it?â he said.Â
With a smile you nodded in confirmation, âBut you can call me Y/NâÂ
âWell if youâre not busy, how about you join me for some coffee?âÂ
You pause for a moment, letting the offer stand in the air. Before you eventually nod, âIâd love toâ
âGreat,â a twinkle sparked in his eyes.Â
Intrigue developing.Â
Laughter and smiles shared over coffee. Swapping stories from your own funny moments as a firefighter to Jackâs own mishaps in the ER.Â
A friendship gained, with the feeling that something more could develop.Â
When schedules aligned. Youâd share a coffee or tea, or whatever you felt like, maybe even breakfast before your shift started and after his shift ended.Â
You had grown closer until soon, the line between friendship and something more had become blurred.Â
As Jack leaned in, hand caressing your cheek gently. Waiting, tentative, longing to cross that line. Until you tugged him down, crashing your lips against his, melting into his embrace with a sigh.Â
It was messy at first, clumsy and new.Â
Trying to find your rhythm together. But once you did. It was absolute bliss. A peace harbouring between you both.Â
Understanding one another, even in the silences when words felt too difficult to say.Â
That wasnât to say it was all perfect.Â
That there werenât times you wanted to pull your hair out in frustration as heâd shut you out. Or times where you would be reckless coming home worn out from a shift as Jack would incessantly worry over you.Â
But you both pulled through.Â
You learned to grow, to be better. For yourselves. And for each other.Â
Jack shouldâve known that a life with you would always be full of surprises.Â
Especially when you insisted he meet your brother.Â
The brother you had mentioned a handful of times, how he was scary but a real softy once you got to know him.Â
Imagine Jackâs surprise when he opened the door to your home, only to be confronted by the sight of Brendon Park.Â
The orthopedic surgeon known as the Shark of the very hospital that Jack worked at.Â
It definitely started out as a tense meeting.Â
Whilst you tried your best to melt the tension. It didnât go past you to see how Brendonâs jaw clenched, eyes narrowing at Jack. How Jack held his gaze. Cool. Unflinching.Â
Both simply, polite. But nothing more.Â
A stale mate.Â
Only once you slapped him in the arm did his cold facade begin to fracture. âCool it,â you muttered to Brendon with a pointed look. Â
Jack watched as Brendon relaxed, how it was clear he cared for you. The way you both interacted with ease. A clear bond.Â
A side to Brendon he never thought he would get to see.Â
Jack followed your lead as you teased Brendon, whilst Jack would add his own quips, growing bolder with each passing meeting.Â
And though Brendon was never one to reveal the cards closest to his chest.Â
He was glad to see you so happy with Jack.Â
And even happier when he watched as you and Jack had exchanged your, I Dos, words of cherished promises and love. Brendon couldnât believe it, the little girl he once grew up with was now grown and married.Â
Hell, Brendon still couldnât believe the risks you put yourself through day in and day out as a firefighter.Â
Even if at times all Brendon wanted to do was wrap you up in bubble wrap and ensure you were ok. He knew that wasnât a solution.Â
But no matter what, no matter how much time would pass he would always worry over you. It was part of his job as your brother.
Even if you were confident and able.Â
Fearless. Bold.Â
When you walked into a room it was as though you would gain control of it. Eyes would look to you. Your shoulders pushed back, a keen look in your eye.Â
You and Jack made quite the pair.Â
That was the you that those in the ER had grown to know. In the fleeting moments when youâd drop by, Youâd always take a moment to say hello to everyone whenever time allowed.Â
Even sometimes bringing in a little something for everyone to eat â knowing all too well the negative impact an empty stomach can have on morale.Â
You were always a welcomed sight. Â
Unfortunately.Â
Tonight was one of those nights they wished they didnât see you. On the cusp of changeover, just as the night shifters had begun to filter in as those from the day began to file out.Â
A trauma had been called through.Â
Another trauma.Â
Nothing out of the ordinary, especially for those in the Pitt. Barely batted an eye at the information, simply going through the motions as they prepared for it.Â
Female, a firefighter that had simply got caught in a bad accident.Â
What no one had expected however.Â
Was you.Â
The moment the gurney rolled through the doors it felt like everyone had their breaths caught in their throat.Â
Snapping back into motion as they hear your muffled groans.Â
Jack felt like he couldnât move.Â
It felt like his heart had stopped.Â
You were lying there.Â
Covered in soot. Your gear, partially cut away. A cervical collar wrapped around your neck. One of your legs securely stabalised in an inflated splint.Â
Bruises already blooming across your jaw.Â
Yet somehow.Â
Somehow.Â
You still managed a grin, running high on adrenaline or on the medications, that was something you couldnât decipher.Â
âHeyââ you managed to choke out, voice strained.Â
âJesus Christ," Jack had muttered, feet moving fast as he moved beside you. Eyes flickering to everything and everyone as they work around you.Â
You pull his attention back to you, as you grasp his hand. âLook at me,â you said firmly.Â
His brows knitted. Worry plastered all over his face.Â
âDonât do thatâ
âDo what?âÂ
âThat face, that terrified look doesnât suit you,â you mumble out, breathing short between your words. âEspecially on your handsome faceâ
A few of the others in the room stifle a laugh.Â
Jack bites his lip, before sucking in a harsh breath, âIâm sorry love,â his hand clasps yours tighter. Unable to shake the worry from his features.Â
âIâm going to be fineâÂ
No matter how many times you might say that to him. Jackâs shoulders remained tense. On edge. His attention flickers between you and your vitals. Doing his best to keep you alert.Â
To keep you talking.
To keep you breathing.Â
To keep you smiling.Â
Because smiling meant that you were okay. At least, okay by your standards. Â
Robby moved fluidly, quick and efficient, doing his very best to ensure you were going to make it through this. He was not going to be the reason Jack lost another wifeâŚ
âPage ortho,â he had directed, eyes assessing your leg. No signs of broken skin tissue, which was good, less risk of infection. But there was clearly something wrong with your leg.Â
Ordering scans as they assess the damage.Â
Shit.
That was the thought that had crossed Jackâs mind once the word ortho filled the air. Eyes glancing down to his watch. Â
There was no way Park would still be here.
No way that he would be the surgeon called down.Â
A wave of relief had washed over him as the orthopede that had appeared, was instead one of the residents.Â
Watching intently as they worked upon you, feeling the weight of Jackâs eyes.Â
It seems.Â
That Jackâs slight relief was short lived.Â
âWhatâs the verdict?â Parkâs deep voice echoed in the room.Â
The universe has a strange sense of humour.Â
The room stilled.Â
As Brendon appeared at the door. Eyes stern, cold, calculating as he glances at those around the room.Â
But once his eyes land on you.Â
He freezes.Â
Eyes widening, a lump forming in his throat. Dana might have called him down here.Â
But this was not what he had expected to see.Â
Not who he had expected to see.Â
When she had said the words urgently. He imagined a lot of different scenarios. But he never once expected to see you here.Â
âIt appears to be a fractured tibia,â the resident reported.Â
You snorted, âThink itâd be okay if I borrow your crutches?â you teased Jack.Â
âDo you really think this is the time to be joking?âÂ
âYou could teach me how to use âem,â you continued.Â
Those around you laugh lightly from your jokes.
All except for Brendon and Jack.Â
âWhat happened?â Brendonâs face hardened.Â
Just as the resident was about to speak up, about to explain the details of your fractured tibia. They stopped short, noticing that his attention was directed at you.Â
âIâm fine,â you replied.
Brendon shook his head, moving to assess the imaging himself, âFine people donât get wheeled into the ERâÂ
âEveryone has a bad day,â you shrug, wincing slightly from the movement. Jackâs hand grips yours tighter.Â
âAnd what did your bad day include?â he asks, words clipped.Â
âBuilding collapsed, thatâs all,â you murmured. Your other hand waved lazily, trying to decrease the situation.Â
âY/N?â he asked once more.Â
You simply complained, âOh my god, youâre hoveringâ
His brows knit at your words, âIâm not hovering, just worried. Right Jack?â
âRight,â Jack nodded.Â
Brendon crosses his arms over his chest, lips pulled taut.Â
"I am making sure you're okay."
But there was this glint in your eye, one that Jack had seen far too many times to count. One he had recognised immediately.Â
Oh no.
Robby arching a brow at the sight.Â
Whilst the others watch in confusion, completely left in the dark as to what was happening. Never had Park shown such interest in a patient.Â
Before Jack could stop you, your arm had reached up.Â
Your finger pressing against Brendonâs nose.
As you booped him.Â
You had fucking booped Sharkâs nose.Â
Everyone held their breaths, waiting for his reaction, waiting to see what would happen.Â
The look on Brendonâs face was one of blinking shock.Â
Whilst you bore a delighted grin.Â
âWhat the fuââ he had grumbled out.Â
Until you had booped his nose again, his hand catching your wrist. Firm but not harshly.Â
âWhat are you doing?â he raises a brow as he looks to you, eyes narrowed.Â
Whilst Jack pinched the bridge of his nose.Â
âI read somewhere that sharks back down if you bump them on the nose,â you had explained, a small laugh escaping you before forming into a harsh cough. Â
Instead of a growling rage. Instead of a harsh retort.Â
The whole room watched as Shark, PTMCâs fiercest orthopedic surgeon. The very man that could make medical students and interns cry with a simple click of his tongue.Â
Any harshness had been bitten back, as he instead crouched by your side, grasping your free hand.Â
Here he was.Â
Softening.Â
âAre you ok?â he asks you, softly.Â
âI will be if you let anyone here do their job,â you squeeze both of their hands, eyes moving to glance between them both.Â
âItâs not my first broken leg, and you know it,â you looked at Brendon. Â
He remarks, âDonât blame me for worrying over youâ
Your hand slipped from his, as you pinched his cheek, âI know youâre just being a good brotherâÂ
Brother.
The word travelled through to the ears of those nearby. Eyes widening in shock. As if today couldnât have brought any more surprises.Â
âAs the break is clean and transverse, surgery isn't necessary,â someone had announced. âItâll likely be a cast for several months to allow it to healâ Â
You sigh.Â
Whilst you had been putting on a brave face you had a genuine feeling of relief rush through you. No surgery was a good sign. Â
Even if you were feeling good now. Anything could happen.Â
âI love you both, a lotââ you had begun to say.Â
Jack clenched his jaw, shaking his head, âDonât speak like thatâÂ
You send him a look, âIâm just saying I love youâ
âThat tone says something else,â his words hang between you.Â
âI love you too,â he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.Â
Robby lets out a chuckle as he catches a glimpse of outside the trauma room. Knowing that this incident had added fuel to the flames, gossip spread like wildfire.Â
Just outside of the trauma room, where you laid, Brendon on one side, as Jack stood on the opposite.Â
The second it became clear that you werenât dying.Â
That you were in the clear.Â
The second everyone realized your injuries amounted to a cast, a handful of bruises, and a mandatory period of sitting still that would undoubtedly drive you insaneâ
The gossip began.
Dana bit back a grin as she overheard the murmurs that passed through. This was something that was definitely going to stick around.Â
âWell this explains it.â Santos said arms folded over her chest.Â
Whitaker raised a brow, âExplains what?âÂ
She elbows him as though it were obvious, âExplains why Abbot and Shark get alongâ
âTheyâre obviously playing civil for her sake,â Princess comments, nodding in agreement. âSeems like Mrs Abbot was once Miss ParkâÂ
âTheyâre always acting like thisâ Ellis stated as she came up to check up on charts.Â
âDid you know?âÂ
Ellis stared at them confused. âYou didnât?â her eyes scanning those before her. The dayshifters who had gotten caught up once more with overtime.Â
And those who simply didnât want to leave until they knew you were ok.Â
âNo,â Santos exclaimed.Â
Javadi shook her head, âHad no ideaâÂ
âWhy would we know that?âÂ
Their shock had only worsened once Mel joined the conversation. âWhatâs everyone talking about?âÂ
âY/N, Abbotâs wife, the firefighterâ Mohan began to explain.
âYeah?âÂ
âSheâs Parkâs sisterâ
âOh,â Mel said.Â
âOh?â Santos raised her brow.Â
She tilted her head, brows furrowing, âI thought everyone knew that?â her eyes glanced around at those standing there. Meeting Ellisâ eye who nods, believing the same thing.Â
âHow did you know this?âÂ
âDr Abbot mentioned it,â Mel explained. It was in passing and so small, to the point that Mel didnât think anything more of it.Â
âOf course he did,â Javadi sighed.Â
Questions brewing in their mind. Their thoughts run wild.Â
Questions about what it was like having Park as a brother?Â
What was it like having Park as a brother in law?Â
How did Abbot not cower when he realised?Â
Did Park give an overprotective brother talk?Â
Everything and anything that came to mind.Â
They would simply have to wait for their questions to be answered just until you were feeling better.Â
Your hand not once leaving Jackâs as he stood by your side. Soothing you and consoling you.Â
The worry that had pent up within him now finally was able to settle.Â
You were safe.Â
That was all that mattered to him, and to Brendon.Â
At least now everyone could say that one thing was for sure.Â
While a shark might not have taken Jackâs leg.Â
It was true.Â
That a sharkâs sister had taken his heart.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I just loved the idea of Jack using the excuse of a shark biting his leg off, only to tease his brother in law Brendon. Both finding a middle ground when it came to joking about the other. and I totally picture most of the night are already in the know about your relation to Shark as well as Mel!! catching everyone else off guard about it. Just know that no one can look at Abbot or Park the same after this interaction haha
Let me know what you thought â¨
There will be more to come for the Shiver Collection!! Let me know if youâd like to be added to the taglist âĽď¸
Next up will feature Mateo Diaz x Reader: Tricky Fish
Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated đ
For more Jack Abbot Works check out my series below!
Such as my Dr Jack Abbot x Reader Who Would've Thought series heređ
Or my fic Based on Waitress the Musical, Dr Jack Abbot x Waitress!Reader Sugar, Butter, Flour series đĽ§
Or for a lil bit of hurt with eventual comfort check out Jack and the reader create a bond through being widowers, I Know You're Hurting series
Or check out my overall Masterlist here
â The three times you sleep talk in front of Frank Langdon, and the one time he talks back.
Pairing: Frank Langdon x RT!reader
Tag(s): shared spaces, cozy reader, domestic FL, no use of y/n, no gendered pronouns used for reader
Triggers/warning(s): None. Ask to tag!
đŚš× âËâšâ don't forget â a reblog is a writer's best friend! | 4k word count
i.Â
There had been a time when Frank was young and naive. When he believed that, if he got through enough shitty weeks, he would eventually be granted some kind of reprieve.Â
That the powers that be would shine down upon him as a thank you for dedicating his life to first doing no harm.Â
He doesnât remember when he stopped having that kind of hope. Maybe after his fifth year of working at PMTC, when the day passed without comment and he realized he really was just another piece of the failing system.Â
Maybe right before his stint in rehab, when his world crashed around him so easily.Â
Maybe in the divorce that followed, when he couldnât overlook the fact that he could still love Abby and that heâd never be able to return to being the man that she deserved.Â
After enough piling up, it all kind of blurred together. Shit was still shit.Â
And even though Frank had worked to pull himself into a better headspace, there were still days when he wondered if sobriety was worth it in the end.Â
Itâs not even ten oâclock in the morning, and Frank knows that today is going to be one of those daysâ the kind of day that should be required to come with a warning as soon as his eyes open, in red flashing letters: hey, today is going to suck. You are going to be late to work. Some asshole is going to take your parking space. Someone is going to die and yours will be the last hands to touch them.Â
Something, anything, to let him know that maybe he should pre-appoint a therapy session, or at the very least call out from his shift.Â
Life is not that kind though, and he ruminates on the fact as he barely contains the urge to slam the door to the breakroom behind him. Frank restrains himself though, opting to shut it firmly instead.Â
He turns, his back pressed against the door for a momentâs worth of rest, before Frank Langdon startles.Â
Honest-to-god, hand to his chest, startles.Â
He hadnât expected anyone else on the floor to be in the breakroom at this time, an unfortunate oversight on his part. Heâs proved wrong by the sight of a form curled into the couch.Â
You.Â
Frank racks his mind for your name - once his heart settles back to rhythm - but the only thing he can come up with is something that sounds like it might be the correct string of syllables.
The new nurse? A travel contract? He isnât sure.Â
His fingers run through his hair, and he feels like an ass because he doesnât know why he remembers who you are.Â
Then he thinks about the fact heâs currently in the middle of having his own shitty day, and itâs still only Tuesday, and youâre not even consciousâso why should he feel bad?
Frankâs moment of rambling thoughts is fleeting, interrupted by the way you shift, as if the couch would accept you as its own if you folded yourself enough.Â
Heâs just about to turn around, to head back into the ED where things make more sense, and leave you to your lights-on nap, when he hears you speakâ
âThatâs not sterile anymore.â Your voice is soft but indignant.Â
Frank squints, trying to determine if youâre asleep, faking it, or in the middle of a nervous breakdown.Â
Your forehead tilts against the couchâs back cushion, and Frank knows that no one can fake finding comfort in the scratchy material.Â
He waits, wondering if thereâs more to the argument brewing in your dreaming subconscious. He could stick around, find some entertainment in another person who seems to be just as stressed out as he is.
The silence stretches over several, long seconds. Frank decides that he canât stay to throw his pity party or find out if youâll wake up to explain who you were chastising. The page shoved into the front pocket of his scrub pants chooses that exact moment to remind him of his responsibilities, choosing that exact moment to vibrate. Frank grabs the device, glancing at the screen.Â
A room number. A code number.Â
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, recalibrating himself from man-with-emotion back to Doctor Langdon.Â
His hand reaches for the door knob, half a second from bolting out of the break roomâthen he pauses.Â
Before he can think about it too much, Frank flicks the lightswitch off.
ii.Â
Frank wonders sometimes what age is too old to work in the Emergency Department.Â
Thatâs not to say that he doesnât love his job, or that he regrets putting himself back into the pitt after clawing himself up from rock bottom.Â
Sure, Jack and Robby are still going at it. But as Frank slides his backpack off of his shoulder, onto the hook at the doorway of his apartment, he scoffs at himself for having Abbot or Robinavitch as his role models.Â
Perhaps good men, but not without their lack of problems.Â
And Frank has kids that he likes to see more than once a quarter.Â
Combining that with the pain that still shoots from his vertebrae to leg, he thinks there are days where maybe peds wouldnât suck.Â
No, scratch thatâpeds would suck. And cardio.Â
Frank is seven steps into his apartment when heâs run through every option, resigning himself to the career that he knows best.Â
On the brighter side of things, Frank has served his weekly sentence at Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center. Three days, a little over thirty-six hours, and nowâthe blissfully hot spray of the shower as he tries to scrub away every moment from his last shift.
Even better is when he changes into the pajama bottoms and worn t-shirt that he pulled from the dryer. Laundry would be tomorrowâs problem.Â
Tonight was for his shower, inhaling leftover noodles, and finding you.
The Respiratory Technician. The answer to PMTCâs staffing prayers eight months ago. Agreed to get coffee with him six months ago.Â
And now, present-day, Frank does the calculation to remember that you still had two days left in your shift rotation. Even if you hadnât texted him earlier, he would still recognize the soft hum of the sleep machine coming from his bedroom.Â
Frank lived closer to the hospital than you did. It didnât take a lot of time in your relationship with him for you to trust him when he offered you to crash in his space after a tough day at work.
Or whenever.Â
He rinses out the taste of noodle broth, the mouthwash leaving a minty flavor in Frankâs mouth, and heâs finally got a reason to be glad that his bathroom isnât an immediate part of his bedroom.Â
It doesnât take a genius to guess that you were already asleep for the night. And Frank knows that, generally, youâre a heavy sleeper, but he still didnât want to tempt fate by making more noise than necessary around you.
Carefully pushing the door open, the smallest bit of ambient lighting shows Frank that yes, you are curled underneath sheets and duvet, happily unaware of the world around you.Â
He steps further into the room, closing the door behind him. The room was neat enough, and small enough, that full light isnât required in order to maneuver to the bed.
The muted roar of rain noise disguises Frankâs movements as he slides between the coversânot that he was trying to be sneaky, but he knew all too well the frustration of being woken up in the middle of a work week.Â
Even though the sound machine went a long way to settle his mind, his body still felt as if it had another three hours to go, like heâd missed something and heâs going to have to jump out of bed at any moment.Â
He tries to stay very still. Laying on his back, he tries to count how many times the ceiling fan circles around. When that proves impossible, Frankâs attention turns to looking for any spiderwebs that might have appeared. Itâs too dark though, and he tried to keep the walls clean.Â
Halfway through hefting a sigh, he feels the mattress move.Â
Youâre shifting, turning so that your body settles into the space against his side. A hand curls against his bicep, your forehead mushes against his shoulder. Even though Frank isnât sure how youâre comfortable, heâs learned to stop questioning and to let you be.Â
His breathing eventually falls into sync with yours. Heâs still not fully committed to falling asleep yet, but his eyelids start to feel heavier and heâs thinking about resting them whenâÂ
Your hand squeezes against Frankâs arm. You mutter something he canât hear. Then, more clearly: âFrankâs got it.âÂ
Heâs very aware of the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. He can feel his brow furrowing and thinks that you both probably look like youâre thinking hard.Â
Frank handles a plethora of things throughout the dayâpatients, and their symptoms, and their charts, and even their insurance companies if the need arises. He handles the department floor, and the dance that he still has going on with Robby, and the med students that make him wonder if he ever looked that young.Â
Sometimes the things he handles involve youâlike glancing over the lab values of your patients when you bring a folder to him to confirm your thoughts, then bristling when another resident talks down on you in front of him.Â
And the softer timesâyour keys in his pocket during after-shift beers; a hand between your shoulderblades on the walk back.Â
Frank handles many things, juggling them in a way that his counselor suggests is not sustainable long-term. And yet.
When your brow smooths over and a small snore slips from between your lips, Frank knows that he would hold whatever you would give himâtomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. Â
iii.Â
Once upon a time, a flyer hung in the PMTC breakroom, announcing a movie marathon to be held as a joint effort between the newest round of med students.Â
One of them had the bravery to approach Doctor Langdon about it directly, saying that Sofia had the biggest selection of DVDs theyâd ever seen before, and complete sagas with director cuts that was really cool, and a couple of the other students had agreed that it would be a great bonding experience.
At the time, Frankâs mind flooded him with a ridiculous amount of thoughts, all at onceâdid med students really have that much extra free time now? Do they not have anything better to do? Did they draw the short end of the stick and get sent to extend personal invitations to the doctors? Did their little group really think the idea would work?Â
His mouth closed almost as soon as it opened. Ever since Trinity, heâd worked to keep his knee-jerk reactions to himselfâso instead of saying thatâs the stupidest thing heâs heard all day, and heâs already been in an operational meeting that was mandatory, so instead of wasting his time why donât they find a life to save?, he simply says no, turning away before they can attempt a follow-up.Â
Frank thought he handled it nicely, then he didnât think about it at all.Â
At lunchtime that same day, McKay caught him as Frank swapped tablets from the charging station, one of her eyebrows raised as she leaned against the counter, as if she were waiting for him.Â
âHeard you got a real stick up your butt today.â
Frank took a second before he glanced up at herâbecause surely she hadnât been speaking to him? He was having a great day. âWhat?â
She hummed, halfway shrugging. âHollie asked me if you had any movie related trauma because you, and I quote, shat all over his invite for Moviepalooza.âÂ
For the second time that day, Frank opened his mouth to respond then promptly closed it. âI donât have movie trauma,â he settled on saying, giving Cassie - who he had thought was on his side - a pointed look.Â
Cassie laughed, pushing off the counter. âIâll let her know,â she called out, walking away.
Fast forward several months to your living room on date night. Pizza had been ordered for dinner, and eaten, and now your feet lay across Frankâs lap as you both sprawl across the couch.Â
A movie is on, mostly as background noise at this point. It was a title that both you and Frank had seen before, and the story was more than halfway finished.Â
Frankâs hands sit against your shins, palms warm, as he idly remembers the Moviepalooza disaster, and how it is that his life is a collage created from strange moments in the hospital.
His gaze drifts to you, leaning against the couch and seeming to fight the urge to close your eyes. He thinks, fondly, that you are one of the strange things that came from the hospital.Â
Not that he would admit that aloud.Â
You stifle a yawn, and Frank shifts, lifting his arm in invitation. âCome here,â he says. Simple.Â
You rearrange yourself, pulling your feet from his lap and shuffling until your head finds the spot between his chest and shoulder. âStill watching the movie,â you mutter.
âOf course,â he replies, gathering you in his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head when you settle.Â
Frank feels your hand move, sliding across his abdomen until it rests against his chest. It doesnât take long after that until he feels your breathing slow, and he can practically count down to the moment until you go completely silent.Â
Maybe it should bother him - the way youâve taken to his life like ivy to a wall. Maybe he shouldâve kept to himself more, said no the first time instead of come over.Â
But when Frank glances down, sees the soft curl of your eyelashes against your cheek and the way it seems like youâve finally nodded off, he knows instantly and completely that any other choice wouldâve been a selfish act of cowardice by him.
He watches the rest of the movie in silence, lines that he could recite by heart if he wanted to. The ending scene starts to build, one of his favorites, when Frank hears you mumble. His attention drops down to your face again, focusing on you to hearâ
âLove you.âÂ
Itâs sleepy, barely there, but Frank knows that he couldnât mistake those two words that youâve said. He makes an effort to keep his grip on you relaxed, nonchalant, like you hadnât tilted his world on its axis without even knowing it.Â
Love you.Â
He had suspected it for a while now - that the nagging feeling behind his ribs had a name. He knew, even if he hadnât spoken about it, even if he hadnât fully admitted it yetâand you had beaten him to the punch, all while dreaming.Â
iv.Â
Itâs Saturday morning. Early, judging by the lack of light in the room. Your phone chimes, a short series of text messages, finally rousing you from your nestled spot.Â
Frank: good morning
Frank: looping back now
Frank: breakfast??Â
You squint at the phone, the information processing in your brain. You remember Frank waking up before you, untangling limbs and mentioning that he was going for a run. You remember muttering a bye, and the way he kissed you before walking out.Â
With clumsy, still-sleepy fingers, you swipe to unlock your phone to text him back.Â
Yes please
Bagel?Â
There was a bagel shop not too far away from Frankâs apartment, and you were pretty sure that it wouldnât be out of his way to stop at.Â
Frank: got it :)
Frank: send your order?Â
Frank: see you in 30-ish.Â
You give the messages from Frank a heart reaction. Opening the bagel shopâs website, you scroll through the menu to find your selection to screenshot and text back.Â
After another few minutes of lazing in bed, you decide to haul yourself up. A trip to the bathroom to freshen up and change into day clothes.Â
You start a pot of coffee, enjoying the peace of the morning by idly scrolling social media and waiting for Frank to come back.Â
Almost exactly thirty minutes later, you hear the sound of keys in the front door. As silly as it was, there was something nice about knowing that Frank was the kind of person to take care that his front door was locked.Â
His footsteps are predictable as he moves from door to kitchen. Not rushed, steady. Your head tilts up when youâre certain heâs in the same room as you. Your eyes go first to the bag held in his hands, the large logo of the shop proudly displayed, and you smile. And thenâah.Â
Frank Langdon in all of his morning glory.
A goofy sweatband that he insisted on wearing on his head. Bright running shorts to match his shoes, and a thin grey t-shirt that showed the efforts of his run. Calm breathing, but still with a soft flush at the edge of his cheeks.Â
He looks so alive. He looks healthy.Â
You donât want to say it aloud, donât want to ruin a perfectly normal moment by vocalizing the thoughts in your headâthat youâre glad he runs now, chases the pavement instead of other indulgencesâso instead you just say, âhey there.âÂ
He doesnât take his eyes off of you as he steps closer to the kitchen table, a suave move thatâs interrupted by Frank stubbing his toe against a chair. He hisses a curse, dropping the bag onto the table as he takes a seat into the offending chair.Â
The first reaction you have is shock, manifesting in a laugh that you quickly slap your hand over. You quickly stand, your chair scraping behind you, and go to Frank. Heâs got his forehead pressed against the table, arms shielding his face from being seen.Â
âHey,â he mutters into the wood. One of your hands comes up, rubbing between his shoulder blades in a motion that you hope soothes.Â
âHi.â Another greeting, softer, solely to diffuse any awkwardness. When Frank lifts his head to look over his shoulder, your hand goes still against his back. âGood run?âÂ
He lets out a huff, a spark of humor returning to his eyes. âGood run,â he echoes. âNo dogs. And,â he nudges the paper bag in front of him, âGot the bagels.âÂ
You let yourself grin at him. Finally stepping away from him, you grab mugs from the cupboard.Â
Soon, the table is set - two plates to mix and match bagels. Full cups of coffee and a container of this weekâs choice for creamer.Â
Sitting across from Frank, you grab the bagel marked with your order, intent to dig into breakfast and chat about nothing in particularâa comfortable routine built from months of quiet weekends.Â
Food raised to mouth, youâre just about to take your first bite when Frank opens his mouth to speak.Â
âDid you know you sometimes talk in your sleep?â He asks. He looks the opposite of malicious, with pretty blue eyes and a bit of cream cheese from his breakfast over his upper lip.Â
âWhat?âÂ
Frank shrugs, then wipes the debris from his face. âJustâsomething you do sometimes.â
âOh my God.â You sit your bagel down on a plate to cover your face. âWhat do I say? Did I do it last night?â
âNo, not last night,â he replies. You separate your fingers in order to peek at himâsee his smile, a dimple popping to suggest that heâs amused by your mortification.Â
You sink lower into your seat. You sometimes had suspicions that you talked in your sleep, but each time you tried to catch yourself proved to be unsuccessful. No recording app had caught you, and anytime someone else had mentioned it⌠you assumed they were lying.Â
âFrank,â you groan. âYou cannot be serious. I donât talk in my sleep.âÂ
He lowers his bagel to his plate, brushing off his hands to rest his chin into his palm. Then he looks at you, with the kind of patience that makes you feel like itâs okay heâs considering your face. âYou do,â he reiterates. âNever anything bad - at least that Iâve heard.âÂ
âI hope I disappear. Right here and now.âÂ
Frank snorts, reaching over to grab your fingers from your face. âNo, you donât.âÂ
âI really do.â You let him take your hand anyway, still sulking at the newfound knowledge.Â
âItâs almost always about work,â Frank says. You raise an eyebrow at the slip of information.Â
âAlmost?âÂ
He hums his confirming answer, then takes a sip of coffee as if he isnât stalling. âAlmost,â he echoes. âUsually when itâs been a stressful week. You talk about the lab a lot.âÂ
You can feel your face heat at the thought. All the possible scenarios; some you werenât proud of. You never looked to start beef with the lab. It just happened. And you always apologized after. âIâm disappearing now.âÂ
âYou donât have to do that. Itâs⌠cute?âÂ
âYou canât say that like a question!âÂ
âSorry. It is cute. Statement.âÂ
You sink your head against the table, mirroring the posture Frank had taken earlier. âIs there anything else I should know about?âÂ
Thereâs a pause. You wonder how your life could have derailed so quickly.Â
Frank tugs on your fingers. Itâs not impatient, but clear that he wants your attention. âHey, look at me.âÂ
You peek up, eyebrows barely clearing over your forearm as you reluctantly comply with Frankâs request.Â
âNothing bad,â he says. âNever anything bad.â
âDo you promise?â
âI promise.âÂ
You straighten, just enough to feel like maybe you could face the rest of the morning with what little dignity you had left.Â
âI love you, too.â Frank says it so abruptly that youâre positive youâre in a dream. Or that youâve misheard him. Or youâve maybe had a stroke, and missed part of the conversation.Â
A beat. Then another. And you remember that he was telling you about all the times youâve talked without remembering what youâve said.Â
âOh my God, Frank, you cannot be serious.â You sound more like a whining child than someone who was having their feelings confirmed. âI did not say that.âÂ
âCross my heart,â he replies. Heâs serious, butâyou can just see the pink rising at his ears, a different flush from his earlier exercise.Â
His hand hasnât let go of yours. And when you glance at his eyes, he still looks so sincere. He looks like heâs waiting.Â
âYou werenât supposed to find out like this,â you mutter.Â
âBaby, Iâve known for a while,â he says slowly, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. âAbout myself. You just beat me to saying it.âÂ
âIt doesnât count in my sleep.â
âIt definitely counts.â His grin has returned. The one that makes you wish that he didnât know when he was right, or that he was handsome. You want to punch him, just a little. âYou can always say it again. If you want to.âÂ
Heâs quick to add the last sentence, and you think that even if Frank Langdon is an idiot - an overeducated, incredibly competent doctor idiot - heâs not the worst one.Â
You swallow, telling yourself that thereâs no reason why you shouldnât say it again. Believing that you werenât nervous, you straighten, looking at the clear eyes that stare back at you and the strands of dark hair falling across his face.
âI love you first, Frank.âÂ
Frank brightens. You watch as it happens, how his face relaxes and he looks like youâve handed him the world next to the spread of breakfast between the two of you.Â
He leans forward, apparently not caring about knocking over mugs or smushing bread, and presses his lips against yours in a way that you can feel his smile. He kisses you, and you kiss him backâsoft and sweet, between the lingering taste of jam and coffee.Â
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