❤︎ Hihihi I'm naush!! and this blog is primarily dedicated to my fanfictions and hyperfixations
❤︎ She/her | gemini | infj | writer | English, Hindi and Urdu speaker
✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ now playing- drop dead by olivia rodrigo
♡︎༻🌸༺♡︎ taken that Eurostar to France
❤︎ masterlist | taglist | flufftober '25
❤︎ posting schedule I'm (loosely) following ₊˚⊹♡.
wednesday-> The Raven (nikolai lantsov x grisha! oc)
saturday-> ~Blackbird on my shoulder ~ (Jack Abbot x senior attending! reader)
♡︎༻🌸༺♡︎ You know all the words to "Just Like Heaven"
❤︎ Characters I write for
MCU- Bob Reynolds, Bucky Barnes, Joaquin Torres, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop, Natasha Romanoff
Grishaverse- Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Genya Safin, David Kostyk, Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Nina Zenik, Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar
Stranger Things- Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Max Mayfield, Eddie Munson
Top Gun Maverick- Bob Floyd, Natasha Trace, (platonic) Bradley Bradshaw, (platonic) Jake Seresin
Misc- Lewis Pullman, Ben Mears, Rhett Abott
♡︎༻🌸༺♡︎ The most alive I've ever been
❤︎ While requesting
Please be respectful because I'm not obligated to take your request and I'm only doing so because I want to.
Specify the gender and or pronouns of the reader. ->However, I only write the reader as female and gender neutral and I don't use specific names and don't wish to.
I won't write large age gaps, poly relationships, stalking, harrasment, or rape.
I don't write smut explicitly but would write suggestive content.
Provide some details regarding the fic because it's very difficult to write something based off a few sentences only.
I take x reader requests only! But I would add specific details like hair colour, eye colour, etc if you want
And most importantly, please don't send a request which you've sent to one or more writers beforehand as it's very disrespectful to both their hardwork and mine.
❤︎ I don't use any form of gen AI nor do I consent to any of my work being fed to AI or being copied in any way
I’m technically not licensed in this but I can do it for you
Relationship… “Dr” Jack Abbot x AFAB girlfriend!reader
Warnings… boyfriend!jackabbot, established relationship, reader has chronic pain and scoliosis, Jack works the night shift, fluff, sorta a quick drabble
Summary… you suffer with chronic back pain from scoliosis that you developed in your childhood, luckily in desperate times Dr Abbot himself is willing to put his practice to work since you are so close to his heart
Jack was working his typical night shift at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, and as usual, you were home in bed by yourself after having what was supposed to be a relaxing day off..
What was originally a stay at home day, had turned into you running many errands to pick up groceries among other things as Jack caught up on some sleep before his shift.
You were a nurse, working alongside but of course below Jack since he was a doctor himself. You never minded it too much because you always had the mindset that nurses were the backbones of the ER, the ones keeping everything moving smoothly.
The bonus just so happened to be that you got to work hand in hand with Jack since doctors and nurses happen to have many connections when providing care during emergency situations. Of course the main priority was helping people, but why not spend some of the time next the one and only Jack Abbot. Right?
The two of you sometimes had seperate days off, explaining exactly why you were off Tuesday and he was working. Going in for his typical night shift was sometimes rough so you made sure to let him get his beauty sleep. The both of you were fairly used to the night shifts especially since you often did them together, but it was still sometimes a burden. So, that meant running around by yourself, doing the heavy lifting at the store and struggling to take everything from the car into the house in one trip.
Sure you could have split it up, but alike Jack, you were a stubborn person.
You weren’t surprised when you had finally sat down after the long day of standing and lifting, that your back began to ache gingerly. You had just finished cooking dinner, leaving a plate for Jack in the fridge and by the time you made it to the couch you were burnt enough to just lay down and accept defeat.
It was not an unusual event for your back to ache regularly after a long day, especially after a shift, but this was a deeper pain rooting from more of a long term strain that was obtained gradually.
You couldn’t help but deny the physical therapy you probably needed growing up, not wanting to be the one kid there who needed help with her scoliosis. It wasn’t entirely embarrassing but it wasn’t thrilling either.
-
The television was murmuring slowly in the background, the glow of the screen casting shadows across your form laid out on the couch.
Jack smiled softly at the gentleness of you lying there so casually, eyes shut and mind embraced in a sleepy haze.
Upon glancing at the digital clock on the entertainment stand, he frowned a bit, 6am in bright red letters. Jack wondered why you had fallen asleep so carefree, you’d always had a thing for routine and falling asleep on your shared bed was definitely a part of it.
He figured something had to be up. Something was intercepting with your typical routine of brushing your teeth, changing into pajamas and hopping right into bed. But instead, you were here on the couch at 6am in your day clothes, sound asleep.
Putting his things down, he walked over, scooping his arms underneath your frame and carrying you gently up the stairs, the wood creaking under the weight of your bodies.
“Jack..”
“Mmhm? I’m just bringing you to bed, you fell asleep on the couch, y’know?” He spoke back, a soft whisper as if he was frightened that you’d flinch from the grain of his voice against the quiet background of the house.
You spoke two words, firm but exhausted, “My back.”
despite the lack of description, Jack took those two words to heart, knowing that your chronic pain was probably actin’ up again. He know it got real bad sometimes and he couldn’t help but contrast it to the own pain of his prosthetic. You had always claimed that he had it worse, that losing a limb did not even compare to the curvature in your spine but you were both groaning by the end of each shift in pain.
As Jack stepped up onto the landing at the top of the stairs, he carried you the remaining distance to the bedroom and then to the bed. Placing you down gently he lightly rolled you onto your stomach, placing a kiss on your hand as he rolled up your shirt.
“Sweetheart, show me where? Where is it on your back?”
You pointed to the lower vertebrae, only a few inches above your tailbone where the pain was most pronounced and most common for you.
“Here come up like this, can you stand for me, baby?” He spoke softly; words comparing to the tone he uses in a professional setting.
After a small nod you stumbled out of the bed, standing in front of him.
“I want you to stand in front of the bed and bend over f’me, okay?”
You couldn’t help but pull a small smirk, grinning at the accidental connotation behind his words.
“Sure can do Dr Abbot..” you spoke suggestively.
“Mm we got no time for that missy, I’m tryin to help so do as I say, right?”
With a roll of your eyes and the seriousness of his expression, you changed your posture, placing your hands on the bed and bending over so your back was in a flat position.
Jacks hands felt along your lower back, feeling the slight raise on the left side and he began to work his thumb into it slowly.
As the pressure of his hand increased he spoke..
“Now I’m really not supposed to do this, since I’m not a physical therapist or masseuse by any means but for you, I’m sure there’s an exception in a rule book somewhere.”
“Probably says pretty girls who are with Jack Abbot are allowed to get anyyy treatments from him no matter how qualified he is, hm?” Jack added, his voice teasing and you could practically hear the smirk on his face.
“Oh im sure it says that Doctor Abbot- fuck” you mumbled, groaning as his thumb pushed into a sensitive part of your back.
“Sorry sweetheart, the muscles on this side of your back are all overstretched from scoliosis, I’m tryin’ to get some circulation in the area to ease the pain for you.”
You nodded, familiar with some of his techniques and terminology but you decided to leave your snarky comments and remarks to yourself, not wanting him to get distracted from his work since it truly felt so good.
“What im trying to do is work the connective tissues on the convex side to halt the spine from bowing further. I’ll do my best, hon.. Love you.”
Jack began to slow his massage with his hands, leaning over your body and placing small kisses on your shoulder.
“It feels better, thank you Jack, means a lot but I’m getting sleepy.. you must be too after your shift.”
“Yeah, getting tired, you sure you’re all set?”
“Mhm, you’ve done plenty Jack and it’s eased up some, you’ve already been working at it for a few minutes and you need some more sleep, we both have to work tonight.”
Jack smirked, flipping you back around and letting you lay back on the bed as he hovered.
“So, is that a no to lettin’ me make love to you tonight?”
“Jack.. don’t do that, it’s literally 6 in the morning, you just finished your shift and it’s getting brighter out.”
“So? I love you so much.” He grinned, leaning over you more and peppering little kisses across your forehead and the rest of your face.
“I love you too Jack, so much.”
-
I hardly proofread over this so my apologies! if anyone has any requests please do feel free to send them my way! I always appreciate requests, comments, reposts, likes, etc. thank youuu and lmk if you liked this!
Here's a nikolai lantsov x reader (enemies to lovers) fanfiction snippet for you babe😁
"Your majesty." You greet the queen and the king. “Your highness,” You turn to the Princess.
"Oh please," Princess Eodeni smiles and lowers her voice so only you could hear. "You know we've been way past those formalities for ages."
You grin brightly, "I know, but we’ve got to keep up the charade, you know?" You chuckle ever so slightly, and so does she.
You and the Zemeni Princess had first gotten acquainted as children and had immediately taken a liking to each other. She was one of the only people from the neighbouring kingdoms you really spoke to.
"We truly wish your brother could've been here," The King speaks up.
"I wish the same, Your Highness. But his duties required him to leave for the Wandering aisle only last week." You explain.
The king nods in understanding. "Well, do send him our regards Princess."
"Of course," You offer him a smile before princess Eodeni loops her arm through yours and takes you towards the crowd. "So what're we doing this evening?" she asks.
"Same as always." You briefly tilt your head.
"Sip champagne and judge other people from the farthest corner we can find?"
A corner of your mouth turns up. "Exactly".
But of course, things never really had a way of going according to your liking.
Because before you can even start to find a corner with the princess , your gaze catches to the centre of the ballroom. Your stomach immediately lurches, because standing there, is none other than Nikolai Lantsov.
The man you despise more than anyone in the world.
And it's as if he could sense your presence, he looks right at you and offers you a nod.
"What's King Nikolai doing here?" You ask the princess in furious whispers.
"Oh yeah he was invited too," She says it as if it's the most normal thing ever.
But your whole world is tilting at a terribly wrong angle.
Of course he was invited too, the Zemeni monarchs had great relations with him.
Your heartbeat picks up as you see him parting the crowd and approach you.
You simply straighten your back.
"Princess." He greets you with a warm smile on his face.
A smile that almost feels genuine
Almost
"King Nikolai." You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.
"I didn't expect to see you here," He states.
That makes two of us, you think, but keep the words to yourself.
"Well, I was invited by the King and Queen. Just as you were.” You briefly lift an eyebrow.
"How is your brother?" Is he not attending tonight?" He asks.
"No he isn't," You give a shake of your head. "His duties require him to be elsewhere."
A little the pitt x oc blurb for you since u started watching the show!!
Nysa is sitting by the nurses' station, catching up on her charting when Shen walks towards her. "Hey Ny, what'chu up to?" He asks, leaning one elbow against the counter.
"Just charting," Nysa hums in response.
"Ah I see," Shen nods along. "You know, it's actually very quiet to-"
"Don't" Nysa warns him.
"Wha-" He scoffs. "I'm just glad that I don't have to pull an eraser out from yet another kid's nasal passage," He shrugs.
"Oh yeah...there's surprisingly a lot of those." Nysa winces. "But seriously. Do not remark about shit until the shift's over." She points a finger at his in his direction.
Shen rolls his eyes, "Oh come on. No way you believe in jinxes." He shrugs.
"They're very real." Nysa reaffirms.
"No they aren't." Shen pouts.
Before Nysa can protest, one of the nurses calls out, "Dr Avali!"
"Right here," Nysa quickly gets up from her spot.
Just then, she sees the nurse walking in with a young boy.
"Oh no fucking way," Nysa shakes her head in disbelief.
Because in front of her is a very drunk Atlas with blood seeping out from his forehead and elbows.
"Wait is that-" Before Shen can even finish his question, Nysa walks up to the boy and grabs him by his sleeve.
"What the hell were you doing!?"
"Uhm he was specifically asking to be seen by you," The nurse cuts in. "Thank you Val, I got it from here." You offer the girl a brief smile before turning to the boy again.
"You come with me." Nysa pulls Atlas along with her to an open trauma bay.
"Auntie Nysa heyyyyy," the boy, Atlas, tilts his head sideways and immediately starts falling.
Nysa huffs and grabs him by his shoulders, holding him in place. She then pushes his hair out of his face to examine his wound.
“The fuck did you get up to?” Nysa raises an eyebrow as she begins cleaning his wound.
“Uhhhh…parkour?” He blinks very slowly.
Nysa steps back to look him dead in the eye. “Parkour!?”
“Sí…?”
She closes her eyes briefly and exhales. “Boy you better thank every god there is that your mother isn’t here tonight.”
“Yeah about that,” Atlas winces. “Can you not tell her about this…Por favor?” He slowly lifts a shoulder.
Nysa exhales once again and purses her lips, shifting her focus back to tending to his wounds first.
Here's a nikolai lantsov x reader (enemies to lovers) fanfiction snippet for you babe😁
"Your majesty." You greet the queen and the king. “Your highness,” You turn to the Princess.
"Oh please," Princess Eodeni smiles and lowers her voice so only you could hear. "You know we've been way past those formalities for ages."
You grin brightly, "I know, but we’ve got to keep up the charade, you know?" You chuckle ever so slightly, and so does she.
You and the Zemeni Princess had first gotten acquainted as children and had immediately taken a liking to each other. She was one of the only people from the neighbouring kingdoms you really spoke to.
"We truly wish your brother could've been here," The King speaks up.
"I wish the same, Your Highness. But his duties required him to leave for the Wandering aisle only last week." You explain.
The king nods in understanding. "Well, do send him our regards Princess."
"Of course," You offer him a smile before princess Eodeni loops her arm through yours and takes you towards the crowd. "So what're we doing this evening?" she asks.
"Same as always." You briefly tilt your head.
"Sip champagne and judge other people from the farthest corner we can find?"
A corner of your mouth turns up. "Exactly".
But of course, things never really had a way of going according to your liking.
Because before you can even start to find a corner with the princess , your gaze catches to the centre of the ballroom. Your stomach immediately lurches, because standing there, is none other than Nikolai Lantsov.
The man you despise more than anyone in the world.
And it's as if he could sense your presence, he looks right at you and offers you a nod.
"What's King Nikolai doing here?" You ask the princess in furious whispers.
"Oh yeah he was invited too," She says it as if it's the most normal thing ever.
But your whole world is tilting at a terribly wrong angle.
Of course he was invited too, the Zemeni monarchs had great relations with him.
Your heartbeat picks up as you see him parting the crowd and approach you.
You simply straighten your back.
"Princess." He greets you with a warm smile on his face.
A smile that almost feels genuine
Almost
"King Nikolai." You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.
"I didn't expect to see you here," He states.
That makes two of us, you think, but keep the words to yourself.
"Well, I was invited by the King and Queen. Just as you were.” You briefly lift an eyebrow.
"How is your brother?" Is he not attending tonight?" He asks.
"No he isn't," You give a shake of your head. "His duties require him to be elsewhere."
A little the pitt x oc blurb for you since u started watching the show!!
Nysa is sitting by the nurses' station, catching up on her charting when Shen walks towards her. "Hey Ny, what'chu up to?" He asks, leaning one elbow against the counter.
"Just charting," Nysa hums in response.
"Ah I see," Shen nods along. "You know, it's actually very quiet to-"
"Don't" Nysa warns him.
"Wha-" He scoffs. "I'm just glad that I don't have to pull an eraser out from yet another kid's nasal passage," He shrugs.
"Oh yeah...there's surprisingly a lot of those." Nysa winces. "But seriously. Do not remark about shit until the shift's over." She points a finger at his in his direction.
Shen rolls his eyes, "Oh come on. No way you believe in jinxes." He shrugs.
"They're very real." Nysa reaffirms.
"No they aren't." Shen pouts.
Before Nysa can protest, one of the nurses calls out, "Dr Avali!"
"Right here," Nysa quickly gets up from her spot.
Just then, she sees the nurse walking in with a young boy.
"Oh no fucking way," Nysa shakes her head in disbelief.
Because in front of her is a very drunk Atlas with blood seeping out from his forehead and elbows.
"Wait is that-" Before Shen can even finish his question, Nysa walks up to the boy and grabs him by his sleeve.
"What the hell were you doing!?"
"Uhm he was specifically asking to be seen by you," The nurse cuts in. "Thank you Val, I got it from here." You offer the girl a brief smile before turning to the boy again.
"You come with me." Nysa pulls Atlas along with her to an open trauma bay.
"Auntie Nysa heyyyyy," the boy, Atlas, tilts his head sideways and immediately starts falling.
Nysa huffs and grabs him by his shoulders, holding him in place. She then pushes his hair out of his face to examine his wound.
“The fuck did you get up to?” Nysa raises an eyebrow as she begins cleaning his wound.
“Uhhhh…parkour?” He blinks very slowly.
Nysa steps back to look him dead in the eye. “Parkour!?”
“Sí…?”
She closes her eyes briefly and exhales. “Boy you better thank every god there is that your mother isn’t here tonight.”
“Yeah about that,” Atlas winces. “Can you not tell her about this…Por favor?” He slowly lifts a shoulder.
Nysa exhales once again and purses her lips, shifting her focus back to tending to his wounds first.
synopsis you and Jack have always been two pees in a pod, working the ER together, on the field together, no wonder you started to search for those dark eyes and damning smirk. and you thought for a second, just for a second, he might be searching for you too, until you hear the man you're crushing on airing out everything he hates about you
warningstypical medical drama stuff, in-accurate medical terms. miscommunication. angst. insecure reader. language, jack says things he doesn't mean about reader. angry love confession in the rain. this is not proof-read
authornotei really really really loved this idea and tried so hard to do it justice, I hope you like anon. I tried to stay close to the SWAT idea but I'll be honest I know nothing about American army stuff (i'm british) so I sort of set it as much in the Pitt as I could. I also couldn't find ANYTHING for Jack's military background so I made up some SWAT guys
pitt masterlist. another Jack fic!
Just when you thought the rest of your day was going to be boring, Jack Abbot and his crew of SWAT pushed through the ambulance bay doors, yelling off stats, applying pressure where needed and clearing the way around them.
Which was a welcome change from trying to sell Robby your hypothetical first born child in exchange for a lunch break.
“Intubated neck wound, stats are going down. Got a room?” said Jack.
You were at the gurney in an instance, Robby joining the herd in the pushing of the bed. It took you less than a second to see through the bag in the neck and the blood and the uniform to recognise the one on the gurney. “Hiro? What happened?”
“Warehouse robbery gone wrong,” said Jack with almost absent of mind. He said the words and promptly seemed to realise who he was talking to and looked up- at you- again. “You're working today?”
“Oh no, I just hang around in hopes of seeing you in unfiorm.”
Next to you, Robby chuckled and beyond Jack you gave quick greeting to your laughing buddies, clad in SWAT uniform.
You were what could be called, a floater.
By all educational means you were a doctor and a damn good one too. You had every certificate you needed and all the flying colours you could get. You just didn't have a permanent job. You were a sub. You worked mainly at PTMC and on the field but had been known to go to the dark side, a.k.a, Presby.
“Okay, on my count,” you begin. “One, two, three-”
You helped lift him over to the bed.
“Did you intubate him?” you asked,
“Yeah, under active fire,” said Jack.
You looked at Jack. Sweat on his forehead, flecks of grey hair sticking to him and the shirt under his army vest hung lose. He was dishevelled in away romance characters presented on books covers. To lure you in. “You were shot?”
“Shot at.”
“You need to be looked at?”
“No. I'm fine.” His lips were pursed, focus on Hiro.
“Did you see the chords when you intubated?” asked Robby, floating around the two of you as Jack refused to leave Hiro's side and you stayed by Abbot. He'd seen it a dozen times before. A disaster where there was one, there was the other.
There was the occasions he'd hand over to Jack, go home, sleep and come back to find Jack had called in you. You who was always ready to go at the first buzz of your pager. Wherever it was, whatever you had to do. And Robby would look through the patients that night, check the board and understand they hadn't really needed your help all that much.
Jack had.
Now, Robby saw the way you looked at Jack and had seen the gap that existed between the two of you.
“Yeah, I did but it was hard to miss when I cleared them.”
Jack reached and you watched as he stretched, wincing at the pull in his shoulder.
“You should get that looked at,” you told him.
“I'm fine.”
“No, you're not.”
There was a small roll of the eyes as Jack's gaze rose to meet yours through his goggles. There was almost a tiny hint of a smirk- your favourite kind but it disappeared as soon as it appeared.
“Yeah, c'mon Abbot!” said Charlie, calling from the back of his room where he stood with Diaz, two of the SWAT officers you were most frequent with. “Let doc work you up.”
You chuckled low to yourself, trying to catch Jack's eyes to share the joke but he looked away, his jaw clenching.
So, he wasn't in the joking mood.
“Alright, fellas, out!” leaving the wounded's side you ushered them out in spite of their protests and their giddy, hopeful optimism that Officer Hiro would pull through. “We'll let you know any changes, out!”
You pulled on a gown and cleared a way over.
“Demanding,” said Robby.
“You should hear me in the bedroom,” you teased with a wink.
Over on the other side you caught a small click from Jack's tongue. A disapproval voiced loud enough for others to hear.
You grasped the ultrasound wand from the nurse, circling it around the wound at Hiro's neck while Jack pulled away the gauze he'd packed, carefully minding you. “Good lung sliding, no pneumo-”
The last gauze peeled away in a bloody mess and a rope of blood shot out directly at you for vengeance.
“Geez- woah!”
“Pumper!” you announced, clamping your hand over the wound.
The streak of red cut through the skin on your neck, your gown and the doctors coat you liked to wear just like they did in tv shows. You had a draw full of them at home for instances like that.
“Hey, hey,” Jack was at your side quick as you loomed over the body. “Move back, get yourself cleaned up.”
“I can handle a little blood, Abbot.”
“I know that but-”
“- this is a transected trachea now-”
There was little else time to worry about blood on your gown and coat when the intubation was pulled out, the hole in his throat open.
There was a lot people said about you, with words and looks alike but none of which passed you or bothered you. You knew some thought you abrash and loud, you were, you knew it true. On the field the teams you worked with always thought you as one of them, 'one of the guys' but damn it- you were a good doctor.
You ordered everything correctly, you took them and worked them without so much as a blink and Robby stood behind you approving of everything you did.
It was one of the reasons he always called you in.
“Well done, good breaths sounds, stats are up: in the nineties,” approved Robby.
Jack hummed, pulling off his gloves as you all backed away. “Not bad.”
Your carried your smirk with you and over to him. “Is that the great Jack Abbot stamp of approval?”
“You know I think you're good at you're job,” he said, plainly.
You did know that. You knew that Jack admired your skills. He was one of the only ones who'd seen your skills on the field when sometimes all you had left in your kit was the dregs from other procedures or in the hospital when everything was pristine. He'd worked closest to you, probably out of everyone in either one of your jobs.
But there was always something about Jack that kept him far away. He was always a man that was so calm, which in the the face of conflict wasn't a bad call. Yet, it was the quiet moments in between- the way his footfall would slow to match yours, or the glances he'd steal at you half way across the ward, or the extra snacks he'd pack that had you searching rooms for him, checking shifts to see if you'd be around him.
Then when you were, Jack pursed his lips, clenched his jaw, acted like he wanted to be anywhere else sometimes than at your side.
He was a complicated man. Annoyingly that's what added to your attraction- and everyone knew it.
Once the two of you told Officer Charlie and Diaz that Hiro was stable enough to be taken to surgery you followed after Jack.
“You sure you don't want me to look at that shoulder for you?”
“Hmm? Oh, no, it's fine,” he excused.
“Don't want the paperwork?”
“Something like that,” said Jack, still shifting around in pain as he tried to roll his shoulder out.
“Okay, okay, but get it looked at!” you called off, ready to shed your coat or at least try and rub off some of Hiro's blood.
There was a mutter from Jack before he went another way.
You looked back to him once, watching as he walked off with a small limp that probably wasn't detectable to anyone that didn't analyse him like you did. It was a brutal sort of thing, SWAT, and with Abbot's sleep schedule you knew it was only worse. Eight- maybe ten hour shifts for so little sleep to get thrown back into the fire- literally. You wondered how he did it.
And, why.
Jack flexed out his shoulder at the press of the q-tip to his back.
He meant it, the wound really wasn't that bad. It had grazed through his clothes and vest but still hit just enough to leave an angry welt and bruising. He was content to hide away and sort it himself if it weren't for the fact he couldn't reach.
Then Samira Mohan walked by and offered her help. He was already tired, annoyed that those punks had thought it a good idea to rob a warehouse in the middle of the day, already worried about Hiro and his recovery. Then- there was you, with your snarky comments while saving his life, not batting a lash at the blood that got splattered on you in the mean time and still having time to flirt with Robby.
And prancing around in this scrub pants that were surely just a bit too tight.
Jack was wound up, which was why he admitted surrender and allowed Mohan to clean out his wound.
“Why do you do this?” she'd asked.
Jack had folded his arms over his chest, suddenly very aware he was shirtless in front of her. “My therapist says I need a hobby. I suck at golf.”
She hummed. “Funny.”
“Thank you.”
He made conversation to be polite, asking about the fellowships he knew others were already applying for. Crus had been telling him about them and he knew Mohan was searching to.
They were chatting was all when Robby walked by, looking in to check.
He frowned when he saw Mohan and Abbot, pausing in his fly by with a hand in the door way.
Jack watched as Robby looked around again at the ward, undoubtedly searching for you.
“We're almost finished up here,” said Mohan.
Robby held up his hands. “I didn't say anything,” he said, leaning in the doorway. He passed Jack a nod. “You good?”
“Getting there, thanks to Doctor Mohan's capable hands.” Jack kept his eyes averted from Robby as if he'd done something wrong. He hadn't. He'd told you the wound didn't need looking at because he was going to handle it.
Robby looked at him the sort of way he looked at patients when he knew they were lying about their scale of pain. “Can you give us a second?”
Just as Jack was about to push himself up Samira moved behind him.
“Er, yeah, sure. No problem,” she said, pulling off her gloves and listing off post-care instructions from instinct. “Keep it clean and the dressing fresh.”
“Can do, Doctor Mohan. Thank you.”
Robby stepped out of the way for Mohan before walking in, staring at Jack with his hands in his pockets.
Jack found his shirt discarded on the floor and pulled it over him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Clearly,” said Jack.
“Are you avoiding her, now?”
Jack didn't need to ask who he was talking about and Robby didn't need to specify. “Course not.”
“Did she do something?”
“No.”
“So what was all that? Back in trauma?” asked Robby. His eyes were beady, waiting to pick up on any shift in Jack or anything that might betray him. But Robby wore his heart on his sleeve. He might think he doesn't or thinks he's good at hiding such emotions away but Jack and everyone else sees them anyhow.
Jack had his heart buried deep down. “I dunno, man,” he huffed, ignoring the burning sensation as he pulled his shirt back over him. “Maybe I just didn't feel like joking around when my buddy was bleeding out on the table.”
Robby shook his head, eyes creasing. “People bleed out all the time.”
Jacks lips pursed as he worked on tucking his shirt back into his pants. Anything to keep him occupied and averted from Robby’s knowing gaze.
“I haven’t seen you this worked up since you first met her,” he teased.
“Now I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abbot grumbled.
Robby chuckled low in his throat, leaning back on the wall comfortable like he was watching his favourite show. “When two consenting adults like each other very much-”
“I don’t,” said Jack, abrupt. “I don’t… like her.”
“Jack, c’mon-”
Jack turned to Robby. He considered his confusion. Sure, you were a great doctor and even better on the field. Something about the chaos seemed to focus you, bringing out your best self. You were funny, even at the worse times.
“She’s not it for me,” he said, trying to mean those words.
Your smile first thing in the morning didn’t warm him. The fact you knew his coffee order after only two days of working together didn’t make him feel special. You were incredibly intelligent. Beautiful.
Jack twisted and turned around his wedding band.
Robby watched, heaving a sigh. “Brother…”
Jack couldn’t keep you in his heart when his dead wife still held a place there. It wasn’t fair to you.
“She’s not it, Robby.”
“And why not?” He asked, pushing and prodding against his bag of lies like he knew he was carrying it.
“She’s different- we’re two different. You know with my- with my wife we worked. She wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t throw her life away on field missions. She wasn’t… she wasn’t ruthless, she was soft. Perfect for me.”
He pressed down against the metal band branding him.
“You’re not gonna give yourself a chance to be happy because she’s not like your wife?” Asked Robby.
Jack glanced back at him. “I know what works for me. I can’t be with someone as loud or… bash. She’s-she’s brutal, you know.”
Robby nodded but there was a furrow between his brows. “We all have our own ways of dealing with things.”
“Her way is drinking every weekend, out with the guys, there’s no healthy habits there,” argued Jack. Why he was arguing about you with Robby he didn’t know. Why he was defending himself with words that fell like led on his tongue he had no idea.
“Okay,” said Robby in a way that marked defeat.
But Jack didn’t believe what he was saying. He heard himself and frowned. “And I don’t even think she’s a person who could settle down. Hmm, I mean look at her job? She’s constantly in between them.”
“She’s a sub, that’s what she does-”
“- scared of commitment,” corrected Jack.
Robby scoffed out a laugh of disbelief. “Okay, you’re in a mood or something.” He pushed himself from the wall.
“No, I’m not,” he argued a little too quick and a little too harsh to be okay with what he was saying. “She’s a good person she’s just not my person. You know she-she doesn’t even like flowers, who doesn’t like flowers?”
“She’s more than a good person, Jack,” said Robby with an air of defeat about him. With one last look back to Jack he left, closing the door gently behind him.
In the seconds the door was open Jack sort a peek out. You were at the nurses desk, leaning over a tablet, the blue glow illuminating you. There was a troubled look to your face, scrunching your brows and marring your usual unflappable gaze. Jack almost wanted to see the chart himself and ask what was bothering you, but he knew you never told him, only ever let it be yourself that saw your problems.
Another thing he couldn’t stand. You’d never ask for help.
Even if, Jack couldn’t admit it out loud, he’d help without an invitation too.
You suppose you shouldn’t have been surprised, yet doctors ran on hope. Without hope trauma rooms became morgues and body’s became empty vessels. You’d built hope into your system, kept somewhere between your heart and stomach.
That’s why you felt it plummet.
She’s not it for me.
There was no intention to listen in on a conversation that clearly you weren’t supposed to know about. You'd just been passing by when you heard your name from Jacks mouth. That was enough to stop you in place. If your feet weren't frozen you would have moved, made yourself busy or call up to surgery to check on Hiro.
But as Jack went on your heart plummeted.
She's brutal.
It wasn't until you heard Robby defend you that you moved away, hiding with your back to the exam room and hunching over a tablet that held no chart.
You'd always assumed Jack was just harder to crack then some of the other SWAT guys. You could read most of them within days, know their moods from a glance. You'd never been able to read Jack and maybe it was because he didn't want to be known by you.
You thought seeing Hiro with a hole in his neck would be the worst thing of the day but you caught your reflection in the black screen of the tablet and resented the way things blurred around you.
She's not it for me.
“Hey-” Robby was behind you and you tucked your head into your chest. His hand squeezed your shoulder. “Central twelve when you have a chance.”
“You got it, boss.” Luckily your voice remained steady despite the waver in your throat.
Robby gave a nod and left you to it.
Had Jack had hatred for you since you knew him and just never said a word? Did you do something for him to harbour these feelings?
Besides from not being his wife.
The door closed again and on instinct you looked over your shoulder, catching Jack adjusting his belt. He looked up and found your gaze, offering you a pulled smile.
It was like every other smile he'd ever given you.
You'd been so blind with affection to not see it. What a fool.
You couldn't even pull your lips back up, you just walked away.
Weeks went by in flashes of sleepless nights and lonely days.
The sick and injured didn't wait for you to get over yourself, instead they helped.
You offered yourself like a lamb to the slaughter in Presby and even Westbridge. You pulled doubles, catching small naps in any empty exam room or on-call room you could find. You started to learn staff names when you'd never cared before.
A group of nurses at Westbridge even invited you out for drinks.
“Drinking every weekend, out with the guys, there's no healthy habits there” you remembered Jack's voice and declined their invitation.
When SWAT called you had an excuse. A plumber was coming around... you were re-modelling; suddenly your apartment was going through half a dozen makeovers and all your childhood friends were visiting.
“You know you're not a very good liar,” Diaz had said when he called you for a drink and you declined. That day you were taking your mom's dog to the vet (your mom was a cat person and in another state)
Your apartment became a cave and you became a shell of yourself, un-ironically listening to the high school musical soundtrack and crying.
And still you couldn't find it in yourself to be angry at Jack. Of course he wouldn't want you- he had a wife. And a memory of that wife to keep him walm. What could he do with you? If you weren't his type, you weren't his type. If it was just that maybe you could have moved on.
But he didn't like you as a person and that stung more.
You didn't know how long it had been since you were last at PTMC, only long enough that you started to scramble corridors in your mind and forget what some of the nurses sounded like.
“We have a mass casualty event,” said Robby on the phone one Sunday morning. His voice sounded different, but you supposed time played tricks on your memory. “School bus incident. You in?”
You were in pyjamas at home, some crappy tv on low. “I'll have to check, Presby might need me.”
Robby scoffed down the line. “Have they called yet?”
“Well, no-”
“Then get your ass over here.”
“Robby-”
“Please, please get your ass over here,” he said down the line, sighing heavily. “I.... I could really use another set of hands.”
Robby didn't say please. Ever. So how could you say no.
Within the hour you were dressed an,d thrown into the anarchy.
You got through the ambulance doors, was thrown a gown and got to work. You didn't even see Robby to let him know you were there, you just found Langdon and worked beside him.
“I need some help over here!” yelled out a paramedic.
At once you and Langdon were at her side, pushing along the gurney.
“Kid, fracted tib-fib, pupils mid range and sluggish- couldn't get a line we had to intubate.”
“Dana what's open?” called out Langdon.
“Room in trauma one!”
Mass casualty meant trauma rooms doubled up, pushed up against either wall. Mass casualty meant extra hands called in- like you. Still, when you pushed through the door and found Jack's eyes look up you spared half a second in apprehension.
“You're here,” was all he said.
You didn't know what to say. There was some snarky comment on the tip of your tongue as you settled the boy in the corner but you remembered you weren't supposed to be that person.
Jack didn't like that person.
“Yeah, in the flesh,” replied Frank instead.
“Chest trauma on the right!” you assessed. “We need an X-ray in here.”
“X-ray's backed up,” Jack called from where he hovered over another patient.
“Then get me an ultrasound!” you called out. “Push five migs of epi down the tube and hang a unit of O-neg on the rapid infuser.”
“BP'S eighty over fifty, pulse is at one-twelve!” called out Princess.
You felt someone bump in your shoulder and knew by inhale it was Jack. He was close at your side, pulling off and on another pair of gloves.
“What have you got?” he asked.
It wasn't instinct to move away from him. It was practised control that had you swapping sides with Frank, practically pushing him into Jack.
“Chest trauma to the right, he's tacky,” he explained quickly.
You pulled out your stethoscope, listening closely. “His breathing's stridor, I need a thoracotomy tray!”
“A thoracotomy?” asked Jack, voice oddly quiet in the trauma as if it was whispered just next to you. “You sure you can handle that?”
“I'm a good doctor, if I'm nothing else,” you bit out, swinging your stethoscope back around your neck. You weren't going to allow yourself to fall back into old habits, of questioning what Jack didn't like so much about you. You focused on the un-conscious boy under the mercy of your hands. You ordered the right tools, made the cut neat and precise, pushing more pain relief.
“Any tamponade?” asked Jack.
You checked the boys blood pressure. “No, pericardium's dry.”
“Okay, start an-”
“- start an internal massage-”
You and Jack said at the same time.
Frank seemed stuck in headlights before he reached through the incision in the boys chest and slowly started to work the heart.
“Pulse?”
“Barely.”
Jack frowned, looking over at your work. “Cross clamp the aorta, and push another mig of antropine.”
“I need suction!”
“Got anything for surgery?” asked a new voice, Doctor Walsh checking between the patients in the room.
“Oh no, we've brought the OR down to us,” said Jack.
Doctor Walsh rounded, catching the suction and the message of the heart. “Are you doing a thoracotomy right now?”
“Don't look at me,” said Jack, surrendering.
Before anyone could argue with you, question your capability you snapped out. “I know what I'm doing!”
Jack was silent, Frank smirked and Walsh rose a brow.
“Clamped,” said Princess.
“Someone push in another of antropine and get another unit of blood in,” you ordered.
There was a sudden buzzing as all eyes averted to the monitor.
“He's going into V-fib!”
You wiped your bloody and gloved hands down your gown. “Okay, I need internal panels!”
They were handed to you and Jack rushed to your side.
“You want me to-” he started but you already had the panels in hand and were ordering their charge.
“Charge to thirty! Clear!”
Like you were cupping the heart with your own hands you nudged the panels on either side and shocked. There were little miracles sometimes in the ED and with a bus full of school children you needed miracles.
“There! He's stable!” said Princess.
“We've got a girl coming in, needs stabalising and an ortho consult!” said Lena, throwing the door open. It seemed everyone had been called in.
“I'll take this guy, don't want you getting all the credit,” smirked Walsh as she and the team wheeled out the boy. She looked back at you, almost waiting for you to say more- some funny joke or flirtatious tease.
You only waved past her to get the young girl into the room.
Everyone in the room looked at you as you honed in on the next casualty, ignoring the pang in your heart at Jack's gaze.
When the girl for ortho came in you could only work on stabilising her before Park the Shark descended and took her up, assuring the bag was on ice. He gave you a less ten friendly look. Seemingly Jack wasn't the only one who couldn't stand you.
The hours ticked by in bodies of different kids, in shades of blood and traumas. By the time you got outside for some fresh air it was night and one lonely ambulance sat with you.
You were catching your breath when you heard the doors slide open and shut again. You imagined it was someone else wanting some peace and air, or a paramedic heading back out on the road.
“You were impressive in there,” said Jack, coming to stand next to you. There was a large enough gap that another body could have fit there.
“Thank you.”
He gave one short nod. “Robby call you in?”
“Yeah.”
“Same here,” he said, not that you'd asked. “You know, Hiro's doing well.”
You paled in the night. Lost in your own self-loathing you hadn't even asked about Hiro, or gone to see him. You'd heard he was okay when he dropped a message from the ICU but that was as far as it got. “Oh yeah, I know, I heard.”
“What, from the guys?”
You nodded, lips pursing as you crossed your arms over your chest in the light chill.
“You know they told me you haven't been around much,” said Abbot. “I've noticed it too. We all went to Larry's the other night, your invitation get lost?”
Was it a test? Was it a joke to him?
“No, I just didn't want to drink. Trying to cut down, it's not so healthy,” you said, kicking one foot in front of the other.
“One or two's not bad,” he said. “Couple of us are gonna grab a beer once this is all over. You joining us? Usual spot.”
She's brutal, you know.
You looked to him first. He was already looking at you, eyes creased like he was trying to see through you. It was real and earnest and making his words from weeks ago hurt even more.
“No thanks, Jack.” You almost reached to his shoulder but thought better of it.
Heading back in seemed the safer option.
Jack turned when you did. “Noody's seen you for weeks-”
“- I've been busy-”
“- except those nurses in Presby, they see you all the time apparently-”
“- they've been busy, they've called me in-”
“- I called you three times last week, you didn't answer-”
“- I didn't think you'd want me.” It was about the only honest thing you'd said in weeks. Your trainers squeaked on the ground just before the hospital, the automatic doors ready to welcome you back.
Jack was at your side, close enough you could see the lines of confusion in his face. “Why would you think that?”
You tried to think of a quick excuse but every word died prematurely in your throat. You chocked on them.
“Hey-hey-” Jacks hand fell to your back, soothing it in calming rubs.
You allowed yourself to bask in one circular motion of his hand and your back before you stepped away, backing up from the doors that slid shut again on instant.
“What’s going on?” Asked Jack, following in your steps.
“Nothing, nothing.”
Jack made a disgruntled noise. “C’mon, talk to me.”
He let you think about what to say, stewing in silence where your mind became alive with everything he’d said, with every terrible thing you’d already thought about yourself. You imagined every time you’d cracked a joke that was maybe too perverse. You tried to picture Jacks face but came out blank. Was it loathing? Contempt?
Your voice betrayed you with a shake as you spoke again. “I do like flowers.”
“Huh?”
You wiped at your eyes and turned to him. “I like flowers,” you said, stronger. “Nobody’s ever brought me flowers but I- I like them.”
For anyone else it would’ve took time to click. They’d have stood there, looking at you like you’d gone mad, spewing out words that out of context meant nothing.
But Jack was not just any other clueless guy. He was the guy who always packed left overs and left them in the fridge, he always cooked enough to make sure he’d have left overs. He was the sort that always checked in on pedes patients and made sure they had enough colourful bandages for them.
Jack knew what you were saying immediately. His jaw tensed. “I- I shouldn't have said that.”
“You said a lot of things,” you said, holding yourself tighter. “Sounded like you meant them.”
He gulped. “I didn't mean-”
“-what, for me to hear it?”
“No, I didn't mean for what I said to come out as- as bad,” he said.
“Well it didn't come out as shining praise either.” You turned from him, looking out to the building and lights. Somewhere n the distance a siren wailed.
“Robby- Robby was saying things, teasing, I just waned to shut him up.”
You chuckled with loathing. “No you didn't. It's okay, Jack, you don't have to like me, I just wish you didn't make it seem like you did.”
“Hey!” he said, coming to stand in front of you. He was without a scrub top and his t-shirt clad to his biceps, his muscles flexing as his jaw worked. “I do like you.”
You rolled your eyes. “No you don't.”
“I do-I do-” Jack grabbed the top of your arms, stopping you from walking away. His grip was tight, not enough to bruise but enough to beg you not to leave. “I do like you.”
“It doesn't matter.”
“It does, it does.” Jack crouched enough in his knees to get a look at your face that you kept trying to turn away from him.
“You know the worst thing is? It's that I know,” you uttered, voice quiet. You didn't trust yourself to shout- even if you really wanted to- in fear your voice cracked, humiliatingly.
Jack's eyes softened, his thumb drawing up and down in comfort. “Know what?”
“I know that I can be a lot. I go out with the guys, I drink, I make jokes when things get bad because what else am I supposed to do? Cry? Let the grief of the job swallow me up?”
“No. No, of course not,” he said, lips pulled down.
You hated that you still wanted to make him smile. “I could keep a job if I wanted to but I like meeting the people-”
“- I know, I know you do-”
“- and now I'm here defending myself to a guy who probably doesn't even want to hear it!” Trying to turn in Jack's hold was feeble, his grip was strong and he moved with you.
“You don't have to defend yourself, you have nothing to defend!”
“You know what the worst part is?”
Jack shook his head, waiting.
“It's the guy you liked and admired the most seeing everything you hate about yourself and hating you for it too.”
Jack flinched as of you'd slapped him. The chill in the air grew colder around you and all the light from the dim glow of the lamps shrunk away, leaving you and Jack in a self-made darkness. You felt his grip weaken and savoured the feel of him a moment longer.
It was only when you couldn't stomach it anymore that you retreated back into work.
Jack had fucked up.
There was no easy way of putting it. There was no clinical way of looking at it, no diagnosis to give other than he had fucked up.
He'd never heard himself speak and hated the sound of his own voice. Never caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror with tired eyes and a pale expression and loath to see the sight. When he looked at himself, all he saw was your own face heart-broken. When he heard himself talking he remembered everything he'd said.
He could have blamed it on the pain in his shoulder, the worry over Hiro, the lack of sleep he'd been struggling with for days but he had a therapist for all that. You didn't deserve that burden.
He was un-focused the following week in work. Patient satisfaction was at an all time low with him. He'd opened up to his SWAT buddies over a self-pitying pint and had been shunned.
“What's your problem?” Charlie had said, two beers deep and a haze over his eyes. “She's a fucking saint. She'd lay down her life for any one of us- what the fuck man?”
“She won't return my calls,” Jack told them. “Can you just... just call her?”
They'd refused, with good reason.
He'd tried texting his apology. He'd tried calling you in but he found from a contact at Westbridge you'd been covering nights while their attending was on holiday.
It was a brash decision to call in to PTMC and tell them he'd be late, he was running an errand. Nobody questioned him.
Westbridge was darker than the hospital he was used t, built up on top of each other but they were no less busy than himself. Patients were lined up in corridors and there was hardly a seat left in chairs when he walked through.
“Can I help you?” asked the nurse at reception, eyeing Jack and the bouquet of flowers he held.
He said he was looking for you.
“She's in a trauma right now, can I take a message?”
“Can you tell her Ja-Jack's here.” For a moment he debated lying, saying it was Robby wanting to see you, or maybe you didn't want to see Robby either. Deceit wasn't going to be his friend.
Jack waited and tried not to look around, tried not to let himself get caught in the heavy bustle of another hospital as he waited for you. He ignored the coughing from the waiting room that definitely sounded like it would require a chest CT.
There was a crash of doors and he caught sight of you rushing out, protective goggles over your eyes and bloodied gown clad to you.
“Jack, what is it? Are you okay?” your eyes were frantic, searching him.
Ah. Of course you'd think something had happened. When you hear someone's in the hospital it's very rarely to just say hi. “I realise I should've specified,” said Jack, rubbing the back of his knuckle against his brow. “I just- I wanted to see you. And give you these.”
Sensing this was a conversation she definitely wanted to be around for yet probably wouldn't be allowed to, the nurse at reception left the two of you to it and Jack sat the flowers down on the counter in-between you.
You eyed the shades of red roses, of yellow tulips, the violet of the iris and the pink of the peony.
“I didn't know what you liked so, I kind of got one of everything,” he said, sighing to himself. He should have got two of every flower the florist had on hand. “I didn't get Lilies, the lady at the shop said it's a show of death and sunflowers aren't in season, apparently.”
“They're very nice, thank you,” you said.
“They come with an I'm sorry:” said Jack. “I'm sorry.”
You wet your lips and pursed them, nodding slowly. “Okay.”
Jack looked down to his boots. “It's not, I know it's not, nothing I said is okay and I didn't mean it.”
You didn't say anything at that, only taking in a quivering breath.
He ignored the irritation in his prosthetic as he crouched to catch your gaze. Jack wasn't used to having to search for your gaze, usually he always found it already on him. He only realised how much he valued finding you in the middle of the storm when you wouldn't look at him.
“I didn't mean it,” he enunciated every word, begging you to hear them.
Your gaze studied around Westbridge, hoping for a distraction.
“I messed up, it's on me. It's not you.”
“The classic it's not you, it's me?” you dismissed.
Jack winced. It was cliché, damn him. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He watched as your fingers brushed over a flower petal, picking it off like plucking a string on a guitar. He felt his heart pound in his chest.
“Can I get back to work now?” you asked, gently.
What was he thinking? Turning up to where you were tying to do some good. Where you were doing good- it was what you did. Did he expect the flowers to fix everything? No. Only he could. But he'd grovel, he'd beg, he'd crawl after you for the rest of his miserable life and do it all while building you a rose garden.
He'd do all of that for one minute of your eyes on his.
“Just promise you'll come back. To the Pitt. Whole place is going to crap without you.” He tried to joke but it was a pathetic thing.
“Okay. Yeah.” Your shoulders lifted in in-difference.
“And don't ignore the guys. They're going out for drinks tomorrow night. I won't be there. They all pretty much think I'm a dick anyway.”
There was a glimpse of a smile.
Jack played on. “I'm a total, total dick, a jerk!”
An elderly lady being escorted by with a nurse and an IV trailing her paused and glanced his way.
“Sorry,” he uttered.
You hid your chuckled behind your mouth but he caught a second of it.
It was enough for now.
Your name was called down the corridor.
“He's in V-tach!” a nurse announced before disappearing again.
“Go,” said Jack, taking himself out of the equation. “Just, please. Don't be a stranger.”
Jack wasn't lying when he said the place was going to crap without you. How they managed on shifts without your charm to work fretting family and friends down, or your terrible singing in between exams he didn't know.
Walking through the ambulance doors for his shift there was already paramedics pushing an empty and slightly blood stained gurney back into their rig. There was a crowd of elderly patients in beds and gowns left at the side and phones were ringing, drilling into his eardrums.
“Where the hell is she?” barked Robby, spotting Jack and no you.
Jack dumped his bag at the counter. “What happened here?”
“Nursing home caught fire, now where is she? We're swamped her, I thought you were going to get her and bring her back?”
Jack grumbled, frowning at the counter. “She's busy at West.”
“West? God-” Robby groaned, looking around the place and cursing. “Listen, I don't care what you have to do to make it up to her, buy her a florist, give her a ring, get down on your knees, I don't fucking care- I need her here.”
“You think I don't?” Jack snapped.
Robby eyed him, hand clenched on the counter. “Tell her the truth-”
“-Robby-”
“-no, you tell her you didn't mean a damn thing you said. That you were scared loving someone that isn't your wife.”
Glass. Jack was made of glass. If Robby could see through him so clearly why couldn't you? Why couldn't you see the truth? That Jack liked you, liked you more than he'd liked anyone. That loving you meant leaving the life he lived with his wife behind, yet carrying a part of her with him always. He didn't want to do that to you. He didn't want to make you live with a ghost or carry his grief. There were days where it was too hard for him to handle.
Robby sighed. “You think she'd want you to be happy?”
A muscle in Jack's neck tensed as he went to nod but was held back by himself.
“Talk to her,” said Robby clamping him on the shoulder quickly before disappearing.
Hiding away wasn't going to solve anything. That's what Robby said to you in a desperate plea to get you back to helping him out with shifts.
Truth was you weren't hiding away... as much.
Drinks with the guys had been hours of them telling you Jack was wrong, after Jack had exposed himself to them, laying the situation on the table. As promised, he wasn't there but every conversation revolved around him so much so it felt like he was at your side. You defended Jack when they argued against him. You told them you knew you were loud at times, maybe you shouldn't joke around as much as you did.
They'd laughed, thinking it was a joke itself.
They told you not to change.
It was hard not to. Every time you heard yourself get loud or get a look from people at the other table your instinct was to shrink. When Diaz tripped on the curb out the bar you laughed instead of helping him and was left with your own guilt when you got home.
Un-learning habits was hard. Learning to live with them was harder.
You started with baby steps. A day shift here, a day shift there, by hand-offs you were always gone. Yet, in the staff lounge there sat a fresh bouquet of flowers every morning. As soon as they started to wilt another fresh bunch was placed over night.
Nothing was said. Nothing ever had to be.
“Shen's out, food poisoning,” said Robby over the phone another day. “You know I wouldn't ask if there was no otherway.”
Which was how you ended up working a night shift. The first in months.
Jack's eyes lit up as you walked in, it was impossible not to notice. The only eyes to rival his sparkle was Lena's when she saw you.
It was the sort of night that held your attention. That roped you in and demanded you listened. Not overly busy but not quiet enough to cause you and Jack to be held captive in the same room. Only seconds passed in hallways when he looked like he was going to say something before being called away, taunt in the neck and gripping his stethoscope for the life of him.
“Am I going to need surgery?” asked the young boy in five who you were examining. A nasty accident in his dad's garage ended up with a laceration to the foot.
“Not surgery but a couple stitches to bring the skin back together, and you're gonna have to stay off your feet for a while,” you said.
The boys eyes grew wide in joy. “So, no school?”
You chuckled as his mom pinched his shoulder playfully. “Well, I can't be the deciding factor on that, I'm afraid.”
You put in the orders for stitches.
“Is it gonna hurt?” asked the boy, shrinking back in his bed.
“We're gonna numb you up so you don't feel anything,” you assured. “Tell you what, I have a secret stash of candy that I only share with my favourite patients, how's that sound, you want something?”
The boy tried not to be too eager in his nodding but it took less than two second for him to grin.
You didn't expect anyone in the lounge when you went in search for candy usually lying around.
Jack was hunched over the table, pulling out the dying flowers and arranging fresh ones. He stopped when you walked in, the door closing gently behind you. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“I was just... maintenance,” he mumbled.
You nodded along, a thick awkwardness engulfing the two of you. “Maintenance... yeah... sure...”
You moved around him, keeping a good distance around the space of him like he was a poisonous snake. The cabinet was high up, the tin an old sewing one where you hid your most precious protein bars and sugar packed candy.
“Here, I can-”
His body was sturdy against the back of you as he reached up for the tin. Few select people were allowed to know about its contents and Jack was on of the first ones you trusted. He raised his arm and you watched the freckles along his arm move and ripple. Upon inhale you took a deep breath of lingering cologne, mixed with the hearty sterile hand wash of the ED.
Jack's own head tilted down and your heard him inhale, deeply.
The tin fell into your hand.
Jack stared down. “Oh- er, there.”
“Thanks.”
It was about all the conversation you got with Jack your shift was over. The morning was just breaking through the clouds at six, bringing with it a down pour. You'd already punched out, handed off your patients to McKay and was left standing under the small awning of the ambulance bay, trying to out wait the rain.
It took ten minutes for Jack to follow you out.
“You heading out?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Yeah. I'm just waiting for my uber.”
Jack frowned. “What happened to your car?”
“It's in the garage.”
“Well... I can give you a lift,” he suggested.
The rain hammered down harder above you, steady streams falling from the awning to at your feet. As discreet as possible you checked the location on you uber. Just around the corner. In the rain it had taken longer.
“No, it's okay, you don't have to.”
“I'd like to,” said Jack, stepping closer. “I'd like a chance to talk to you. To tell you everything that I meant by my words.”
You'd almost hoped you could carry on as you were: extremely avoidant.
“You don't have to, Jack.”
“I do- I do!” he insisted, hands out in front of him as if desperate to grasp you. He held himself back. “Please let me.”
Stomaching more of his words, whether it be excuses as to what he meant to say or just doubling down and insisting what he said was true. You didn't think you were strong enough for either.
Your phone buzzed in hand as a slick back black car pulled up, window rolling down and calling your name.
“No, wait-wait!” said Jack, holding a hand up to you with all the authority of an attending still on duty.
“Jack, what are you-” You were struck in place, watching him lean through the window, rain dampening his shirt as he un-folded a few bills and handed them to the driver.
“We don't need you know, sorry man,” Jack mumbled.
Your jaw hung open as you stepped out into the rain, bottom of your scrub pants dampening at once. “What?”
The driver tutted. “I still want me five star review!” He drove off quickly, splashing the two of you as he went.
“Oh- serious?” Jack gritted. “Now I wish I hadn't given him such a tip.”
The puddles of rain were seeping into your trainers as you walked off, out of the way of ambulances and cars, pulling your jacket tighter around you.
“Wait! Wait!” Jack called after you, boots slapping in the water. He all but jumped in front of you, stumbling lightly at the shift in his bad leg. “Wait.”
“I don't know what else you want to say to me, Jack?”
“Nothing I say can excuse what I said-”
“-so why try?”
“Because it's killing me being like this!” he snapped. The rain was pouring down, falling down his cheeks and nose. “It's killing me to look for your smile and not see it. It's killing me to hear a joke and you not laugh. Everything I said, it-it re-plays in my head and I'm sorry.”
“I know you are, Jack, I just need time!”
“I'll give you time,” he said. “I'll give you anything you need. But just let me say one thing. You owe me nothing, I'm begging you.”
To prove a point Jack crouched, starting to get down on his knees, hands already clenched together. To spare you the embarrassment and him the ache in his leg you tugged him back up.
He stared at you, breathless. He was as drenched as you, the both of your scrubs stuck to you.
“I haven't loved anyone since my wife,” said Jack. “I haven't tried, I didn't want to try. I was... not happy, but content to just carry on with her here-” he curled a fist at his chest. “And then you... and I couldn't not feel anything for you. I tried- I really tried.”
“Okay. You tried. I get it,” you mumbled.
“But I started to love you and I hated myself for it. It felt like I was betraying her by wanting someone else. By wanting you. And I did- I do want you. Every terrible joke you made, Jesus, I couldn't laugh in front of patients and their families. When you go out drinking with us and the guys in our team and you sing karaoke badly-”
“Excuse me?”
Jack winced. “I mean great, great karaoke.”
You chuckled.
“I can't take back the fact you're different from my wife, you are, but I don't think that's a bad thing- it's not. Because I still love you. I love that you're loud, I love that you draw attention to yourself as soon as you walk into a room, my attention is always on you anyway,” he smiled, sadly. It was the kind of smile a lover would give as they watched the love of their life leave them. “I shouldn't have made my grief your problem. I shouldn't have hated myself for feeling love again and I shouldn't have tried to convince myself hating you. I mean, that was just- just impossible.”
You looked down to your trainers, seeing the darkening colour where the water soaked in. “I've loved you for so long now, Jack.”
He waited, catching his breath, for more.
You looked up at him. “I'm sorry. About your wife. I can't imagine how hard it is for you. But I don't want to fall in love with a man who constantly advertises me next to his wife.”
Jack nodded, looking down.
The rain was probably helpful, hiding any tears you'd give away.
“I love you, separate to how I love my wife. And I loved her, I did. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life dead inside. Be on my death bed when I'm eighty looking back at all the times I should've kissed you.”
His words pulled at your heart, your feelings that you'd been burying deep inside clashing together inside of you.
“By the time you're eighty, I'll be like, in my sixties?” you said.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“And looking to settle down.”
Jack laughed, and you laughed and for a second that was almost enough. The rain had made the grey in his hair darker, almost making him look younger. “I'm not saying I won't fuck up, I probably will, I have a therapist for a reason.”
“Therapy is good,” you said.
Jack's eyes were lighting up slowly with every teasing comment you made. Something akin to hope flickered between the two of you. “But I will never draw comparison to you and my wife. I'll never make you feel like second choice. I'll never dump my grief onto you. If you just give me one chance, just one chance at making this right.”
As sorry's went... as love confessions went.
“I'm scared what it means to love you, Jack,” you said, slowly, feeling the words around your mouth.
“I know, I know,” Jack reached over, clumsily brushing back your damp hair from your cheeks. In spite of the rain, his skin was still soft and hot on you. “I am too.”
You searched his eyes before whispering. “Can I kiss you?”
He smirked a little. “No.”
Your heart dropped.
Jack's hands tilted your head back before you could tuck yourself away. “Can I kiss you?”
His lips were slick and wet from rain but no less sort after from you. He didn't push or prod for more, he just laid his lips against yours with enough pressure for you to know he was there. For you to always remember he was there.
You could have stayed like that for hours, practically standing on each others toes as your own hands came up to clutch his biceps, fingertips digging into his freckles.
You pulled away only when you needed to catch your breath.
Jack's lips chased yours, body tumbling into you slightly as his eyes took seconds to open like coming out from a dream.
You ran your hands up his shoulders. “I love you.”
He closed his eyes and soaked in the words.
“Will you let me?” you asked.
“Always,” he promised.
thank you to anon for requesting, and thank you to @oldbaddies and @mafercita101 who wanted to be tagged :)
as in you'll never achieve the perfect daily routine, sleep schedule, coping mechanisms, mannerisms, fashion sense etc. even after years and years of healing and improvement and self-discovery. you will never be so good at life that you manage to utilize every waking moment. its great to be productive and all but sometimes you'll suck ass. sometimes you'll take eight hours to be done with a twenty minute job. you'll prioritize the wrong thing. you'll sleep for 12 hrs just to avoid being awake. you'll relapse. and you'll relapse again. you'll forget to turn in the assignment. you'll order too little food. life is far too large and complex for you to even experience it completely, much less try to make sense of and control it. you can't. please give up on that and be at peace with the hours you lose. they are not separate from your life.
summary: You survive surgery but are placed under an induced sedation to recover from the trauma of the hemorrhage. Jack refuses to hold his daughter, insisting you should be the first to do so, and instead sits at your bedside completely undone. At the same time, your friends keep a quiet vigil outside the room.
content/warnings: angst, complications after pregnancy, implied age gap, married Jack and reader, inaccurate medical procedures, worried Jack.
word count: 2k
a/n: this is the last angsty chapter I promise!!! Thanks for reading guys. Ilysm. We only have two more left <3
previous - next
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Chapter Seven
The surgery took 41 minutes.
Jack knew because he counted. He stood in the hallway outside the OR with Robby beside him and counted every single one of those minutes, which was the only thing he could think to do with his hands and his mind and the unbearable, structureless terror of being helpless in this situation.
Robby didn’t try to fill the silence. That was the thing about his brother… he understood that some silences weren’t meant to be filled, that sometimes the most useful thing another person could do was simply remain present without demanding anything in return. He stood with his shoulder almost touching Jack’s and said nothing, and Jack was more grateful for it than he would ever find the words to say.
At some point someone brought coffee. Jack didn’t drink it. At another time his phone buzzed with both sets of parents waiting for news he didn’t have yet. He turned it face down. Couldn’t bring himself to tell them your life was in jeopardy.
41 minutes.
And then the door opened.
Garcia’s surgeon’s face told him what he needed to know before she said anything. Not good news, not bad news… the particular careful expression of someone delivering a result that was complicated and required precise handling.
“The bleeding is under control,” she said. “She came through the surgery.”
A shuddering breath left Jack all at once.
“However.” She held his gaze. “The hemorrhage was significant. She lost a considerable amount of blood and her body has been through an enormous amount of trauma in a short period of time. We’ve made the decision to keep her sedated for now. Induced sedation, to give her body the best possible environment to begin recovering. It’s not a permanent state. It’s a protective one, as you know.”
“How long,” Jack said.
“We’ll reassess in 24 hours. Possibly longer, depending on how she responds or if she wakes up on her own.” She paused. “She’s stable, Abbot. She fought hard in there.”
He pressed his fist briefly to his mouth and nodded.
“You can see her soon. We’re getting her settled in the ICU.” She touched his arm briefly in a rare, human gesture. At the end of the day, these are both of your colleagues, who on some level, care about their own. “Al-Hashimi told me your daughter is doing beautifully. The pediatric team has checked her over and she’s healthy. She’s waiting for you.”
Jack said nothing.
Garcia held his gaze a moment longer, then excused herself quietly and left him standing in the hallway with Robby and the particular silence of someone who had just been handed an impossible thing to carry.
Robby silently brought his best friend to the nursery first.
He saw her first through the window. She was in a bassinet under warm lights, swaddled in the standard-issue hospital blanket with the pink and blue stripes, her face calm and falling asleep. He found it somewhat overwhelming. A nurse stood nearby, charting, and looked up when Jack appeared in the doorway.
“Dr. Abbot. Would you like to hold her?”
He looked at his daughter for a long moment. Her chest rising and falling. Her fingers curled into small, perfect fists. The dark hair visible above the edge of the swaddle. He loved her. He really did. His heart somehow had expanded to welcome her. But he couldn’t.
“Not yet,” he said quietly.
The nurse looked at him carefully. “Okay. She’ll be right here whenever you’re ready.”
Robby put his hand on his shoulder. “Jack.”
“She should hold her first.” His voice came out rougher than he intended. “She’s been waiting… we’ve both been waiting, and she should be the one to—” he stopped. Pressed his lips together. “She should hold her first.”
Robby was quiet for a moment. “Okay,” he said. Just that. No argument, no gentle redirection. Okay.
Jack looked at his daughter for another long moment—memorizing her, or trying to—and then turned away from the nursery door. His heart breaking.
The ICU room was quiet, the lighting adjusted to something less aggressive than the rest of the hospital, the machines doing its work with steady, rhythmic patience.
You were in the bed at the center of it.
Jack stopped in the doorway and looked at you and did not move for several seconds.
He had seen patients in ICU beds more times than he could count. He understood every line and every monitor and every number displayed on the screen beside your bed, and he wished with a ferocity that surprised even him that he understood none of it.
He wished that he could look at you the way someone without his training would, without the clinical translation running automatically in the background, without knowing precisely what each reading meant and what it would mean if it changed. You needed to be okay.
Robby had walked him here and stopped outside.
Jack crossed the room, pulled the chair as close to the bed as it would go, and sat down. He reached through the bedrail and took your hand in both of his, carefully, around the IV line, and held it.
Your hand was warm. Your heart was still beating. He focused on that.
He didn’t know how long he sat there before it started —the specific, physical sensation of everything he’d been holding together for the past several hours beginning, finally, to give way.
It started in his chest. A tightness that had nothing to do with his heart and everything to do with it. And then his eyes, which had been dry through the surgery and the hallway and the 41 minutes because he had needed them to be, stopped cooperating. He pressed your hand against his forehead and let it happen.
He cried. He’d been suppressing it for too long and cried hard. Not gracefully, not quietly, with the particular helplessness of a person who had run completely out of composure and had nothing left to replace it with. His shoulders shook. His breath came in the uneven increments of someone who kept trying to get ahead of it and kept failing.
Outside the room, through the glass, he was dimly aware of the ER staff giving the room a careful distance alongside Robby. Someone had probably told them. Someone always told them.
When the worst of it had passed (not gone, not even close to gone, just receded enough to allow speech) he lifted his head and looked at your face. Still. Peaceful in the artificial way of sedation, which looked like sleep and wasn’t.
“You have to come back,” he said. His voice was wrecked, barely functional. “Do you hear me, baby? You have to come back.”
The monitors continued their quiet work.
“She’s here.” He swallowed. “She’s here and she’s perfect and she looks—she has your—” he stopped, jaw working. “You have to see her. You have to be the one to hold her first, I told them, I said you should be the one, so you have to wake up and do that.”
He pressed his lips to your knuckles.
“I don’t know how to do this without you. I know that’s not fair to say and I know you’d tell me that’s not true, but I’m telling you anyway because you’re not awake to argue with me about it, sweetheart.” A sound escaped him that was almost a laugh and almost wasn’t. “I need you to argue with me about it. I need you to wake up and tell me I’m being dramatic. Please.”
The room stayed silent.
“We have a daughter,” he said softly. “We have a daughter and she needs her mother and I need my wife and we had—we have—so many things we’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to hold her first. You’re supposed to come home and complain that I’ve made the bottle wrong and be right about it. We’re supposed to have more kids and grow old and insufferable together.” His voice broke cleanly on the last word. “You promised me that. I’m holding you to it. Please.”
He rested his forehead against your hand and stayed there.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Hours passed.
Maybe 7, maybe more. He didn’t know anymore.
A knock at the glass… gentle, hesitant. He looked up to find Robby in the doorway, and beside him, Trinity, her eyes bloodshot red and her expression doing the difficult work of being both devastated and steady at the same time.
Behind her, Javadi, Mel, McKay, Langdon, Mateo, and lastly, Dana, holding a cup of something warm and looking at him with the particular grief of someone who loved you and didn’t know where to put it. He didn’t want to eat or drink or do anything that would make him leave your side.
Jack shook his head once.
They nodded and didn’t come in. But they didn’t leave either… just arranged themselves in the hallway outside the glass, quiet and present, keeping their own kind of vigil.
He turned back to you.
“You have an audience,” he told you. “The whole ER is probably out there by now, knowing this hospital. You’d hate it. You’d pretend you didn’t love it and then you’d love it.” He smoothed his thumb across your knuckles. “One more reason to wake up. You can tell them all to go home. We could go home…”
The monitor beeped its steady rhythm.
He settled back into the chair and kept your hand in his and watched your face and waited, the way he had learned, over the course of this long impossible year, to wait for things that mattered… without certainty, without guarantees, with nothing but the stubborn, structural refusal to be anywhere else.
It was the change in your breathing that he noticed first.
Subtle and barely perceptible, a slight deepening, a shift in rhythm. His eyes went immediately to the monitor and then back to your face and he leaned forward without deciding to, both hands tightening around yours.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey. I’m here.”
Your brow moved. The smallest possible movement and he caught it.
“Take your time,” he said. His voice was very low. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
Your fingers moved against his palm. Barely… just a slight flex, almost reflexive, but he felt it like a current through his entire body.
“That’s it,” he said. “Come on.”
Your eyes opened slowly, fought the light, closed again. Opened once more, finding focus by degrees, until they found his face above yours and stayed there.
For a moment neither of you said anything.
You looked at him and took him in with the slow, careful attention of someone reassembling the world piece by piece. And he looked at you, and the expression on his face was something you had no word for, something that lived in the space between relief and grief and love so acute it had no way to be contained.
Your lips moved. No sound yet, just the shape of something.
He leaned closer. “I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
You tried again. This time sound came with it… thin, frayed at the edges, barely there.
“The baby,” you said.
His face broke open entirely. You didn’t care about yourself, you cared about your daughter.
“She’s perfect,” he managed. “She’s right here. She’s been waiting for you.”
Your eyes filled slowly, the tears spilling sideways into your hair, and you turned your hand over in his and held on. Jack nuzzled his head on the crook of your neck and cried as well, grateful you had woken up.
Could you do Jack Abbot x wife reader? She is clumsy, bumping into thing, tripping over thin air and just make him feel like wrapping her in bubble wrap🤣 Imagine him carrying her everywhere because he can’t even trust her her to walk straight 😭😭😭 Idk how it goes, it’s up to you. Thanksss :)))
💞Tags/Warnings💞: slight age gap marriage, fluff, AttentiveHusband!Jack Abbot, hurt/comfort, AccidentProneWife!Reader so talks of injuries
💞Plot💞: Jack Abbot absolutely adores his wife. But sometimes he wonders how the hell she made it this far..
💞Characters💞: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: Oops
💞A/N💞: This is such a funny idea. I really hope you like it 🤭
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
Jack Abbot loves his wife.
Any moment spent with her is another moment where he knows true happiness. Any moment spent away from her is another moment where he knows true longing..
The two had met one early morning in spring. Jack was walking back to his building after a long night shift and stumbled upon the most beautiful woman he’d ever met..-
Now here’s where Y/N would interrupt his retelling of events with the truth.
Because in reality, she was a sweaty mess.
Hair tied sloppily to keep it away from her face, no makeup on, and in the most low effort outfit she could manage. It was moving day after all. There was no need to look put together. But to Jack, she looked effortlessly gorgeous..
She sat at the steps of his apartment building, cradling her ankle with a pout playing on her lips. Jack stopped to check in on her and she explained that her friends were supposed to help her move, yet they were running late. She had begun moving things on her own but had stepped wrong on the steps while exiting the building.
Now, one thing about Jack Abbot should be made clear here. This man… Loved playing hero.
It’s what pushed him into medicine. It’s what got him through the military. It’s what made him perfect for SWAT. And it was his favorite thing to do for pretty women. Maybe it was his age showing, but Jack truly believed the best compliment a guy could receive from his woman was a cheesy ‘you’re my hero!’ line.
So without much hesitation, Jack offered up his services. Even while exhausted, even while sore. And when receiving permission, he scooped Y/N up and carried her to her apartment. Setting her carefully on her couch, Jack worked first as her doctor. Then, he worked as her personal mover.
To thank him officially, Y/N would surprise him a few days later with a bottle of white wine, he’d let it be known that that was his favorite drink, and some playing cards since he’d joked with her that, as a veteran, he knew all the best card games.
The two were meant to be from that night on..
But for as much as Y/N was his dream girl, there were just a few times where he’d look at her, shake his head, and wonder how the hell she had survived so long without being in a giant bubble of protection..
These are those times..
{ Number One: The Kitchen Incident.. }
Y/N had been trying to help Jack make dinner one night, when she somehow managed to knock over his spice rack instead.
Trying to help clean it up only resulted in her cutting herself on the broken glass.
Jack, with a sigh and a fond smile, just scooped her up and placed her on his kitchen counter top.
He tended to her injury and then, with a quick kiss to her temple, handed her a bowl to stir.
“Wha… I can still help!” She tries bashfully as he softly chuckles.
“Baby. Just.. Supervise from up there." He says with a slight tease to his voice before pressing another kiss to her forehead.
“It’s safer for everyone." He continues jokingly, making her playfully pout.
{ Number Two: The Morning Mishap }
Y/N was still half-asleep when she rolled out of bed.
Trying to get ready for the day, she ended up blindly bumping into the bathroom doorframe, stubbing her toe.
“Ah! Fuck!”
Jack was up fast, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He had just gotten home about an hour ago. Looking over, he’s met with his gorgeous wife on the bedroom floor, holding her foot as she tries to stay quiet with her angry grunts of pain. It’s as if she truly was trying not to wake him up right now..
He eyes her with slight amusement before getting out of bed with no words exchanged. She didn’t need to ask for his help, he’d always provide it.
Turning on the bedside lamp in order to fill the room with some soft lighting, Jack walks over, scoops Y/N up, and carries her into the bathroom. Just to make sure she doesn’t encounter anymore obstacles.
Setting her on the bathroom sink, Y/N sheepishly mumbles a thank you while he moves to turn on the shower. He then goes back to her, resting his forehead against hers with a soft sigh of content.
“Don’t mention it, beautiful..” He whispers softly with a small smile.
{ Number Three: The Romantic Picnic Situation }
Jack had planned a beautiful picnic in the local park after a very long week of just work and responsibilities.
It was supposed to be a day to just relax and take in the sun.
As Y/N is walking to their spot by the lake, basket in hand, she stumbles on a perfectly flat patch of grass.
Luckily, Jack had been holding her other hand, and quickly yanked her towards him before she could fall flat on her face.
He can’t help but laugh in slight disbelief as he softly pulls her closer to his body. “How does that even happen?” He asks, smiling down at her when she begins fussing sheepishly that there must be a rock there that she’d tripped over.
There wasn’t..
{ Number Four: The Garden Emergency }
Jack Abbot was a man of many hobbies.
One of which happened to be gardening.
In order to spend more time together, Y/N decided one morning to help him, despite his reservations.
“Jackie, please. I can be real helpful..” She gives her best puppy dog look. He grumbles softly.
Those damn eyes would always work on him.
Within five minutes though, Y/N had managed to somehow prick her finger on the rose bush she’d been tasked with caring for.
She tried hiding it, but Jack had already heard her soft yelp when it happened. He gives her a knowing glance, holding out his hand for hers. With a dramatic sigh, Y/N sets her hand in his and he hums, leaning down to kiss it better..
{ Number Five: The Christmas Debacle }
It was Christmas time.
More specifically, it was Y/N and Jack’s first Christmas living together, and Y/N wanted to make sure the house was perfect.
Jack had taken the day off in order to help fully decorate the house, and also because he had a hunch he’d need to watch over Y/N..
She was trying to hang some tinsel on their tree, but the step stool had begun to feel wobbly. Maybe it was her determination, or her faith that Jack would be watching out for her, but either way, she wasn’t fazed by the constant teetering.
Sure enough, she starts to sway a bit as she gets on her tip-toes, so close to the perfect spot on the tree for the pink tinsel. Jack, who had been watching her with a fondness, immediately rushes over, catching her by her hips and gently tugging her off the stool.
“I’m not even gonna risk that..” He jokes as he carries her to the sofa.
“I could do it!” She complains lightheartedly, knowing with her luck she would’ve just ended up in the tree or on the floor..
“I got a better job for you, my love. Hm? Chief Decorator..” He jokingly presents the title like it’s massive. “How’s that sound, hm?” He gently tucks her hair away from her face as she playfully glares up at him.
“Sounds like a made up title..” She plays along as he smirks.
“Nah. It’s the most important job, baby. I'll handle the physical work. You just point where.." He assures softly as she bites back a smile, acting as if she’s begrudgingly taking the ‘job’..
