pairings: jack abbot x fem!gf!reader, the pitt x reader
summary: after pissing off your boyfriend in the late hours of night before his shift, you decide to bring him a nice big lunch during said shift. except not one of his coworkers knew you were actually real, let alone oh so gorgeous and sweet!
warnings: age gap (40/20s), teasing, physical descriptions of brown girl reader since iām brown š, flirting, oblivious!reader to her looks (pretty girl), mentions of past arguing, kisses, shorter!reader, not proof read
a/n: i have been sucked into yet another fandom! and boy am i loving these old guys š sorry itās so short
the night before jackās shift had consisted of the usual between you two. kisses in the shower, a few massages to his back as he took off his prosthetic, dinner which was an interesting affair when you tried teaching him to cook indian, catching up on eachothers days which primarily consisted of yours since you knew jack would rather not talk about the er, and then watching something to lull you both to sleep. which was usually paired with soft whispers and clinging to one another like a life line.
except this night consisted of a petty argument and silent treatment towards him on your end.
you knew it was childish of you to be ignoring jack. your heart ached every time you heard him upstairs in bed whilst you had decided to drink wine and sulk downstairs. he valued communication with you, trusting his sweet girl to come to him with whatever issues were troubling you.
but he also understood that you were younger than him by a mile. so perhaps, you still found gratification in trying to prove your point in stubborn ways. such as not joining him to watch your favourite tv show in bed.
at night you slept with your back turned to him, another new addition to your usual night routine. most nights consisted of being entangled with one another, or your head resting on his broad chest.
the pang in your chest after the argument amplified at the sight of a full breakfast awaiting you once you got downstairs and checked the fridge. a little sticky note with a simple, all the favourites, for you, rested atop the saran wrapped dish. you wished to choke on the paper. it was already late in the morning, jack had gotten up and made you breakfast before he left.
yep, you officially felt like shit.
jack abbot was nothing but sweet. of course that side didnāt shine through immediately with a glance at the older man, but in subtle gestures such as the note.
they way he cleared space around his place for you, only a few months into your relationship. he brought some plates and glasses down from the cabinets above your head to rest in the kitchen island drawers which were level with your legs. jack consistently switched his tv shows to yours when you got home later than he did. opens the door, stocks up on any hygiene products without asking, your favourite snacks.
and you couldnāt even find it in yourself to admit you may have been wrong in a silly argument. it wasnāt irregular for you to complain about not having a boyfriend or any real men existing when you were single.
but you had one now.
you closed the fridge with more force than required before bolting upstairs, an idea brewing in your mind. around 1pm you decided to get dolled up, but subtly. mascara, a little bit of deep coloured liquid blush, lipgloss and lipstick, a little bit of highlighter.
the reflection staring back at you was adorable. with an approving smile to yourself, you sprayed jacks favourite perfume of yours behind your neck and a few spritz made their way to your hair. to balance the cute makeup, you chose to don a red halter top and black jeans with a skinny belt.
on your way to jack, you made sure to grab some of his favourite takeaway to try and curry favour with your ever so handsome boyfriend.
beating out the traffic, you parked, grabbed the food, your phone, and your purse before making your way to the emergency department. youād never really visited since yourself and jack had only been together for five or so months. where was the front desk? did you have to enter through the emergency room sliding doors or the waiting room?
deciding to not be intrusive, you made your way to the waiting room only to find yourself mixed up with a big group of strangers with problems. coughing, yelling, discomfort. in the back of your mind, you felt pity for those around you. waiting in an uncomfortable, packed room just to have a second of care. then get billed like a bitch if you were unfortunate enough to have no healthcare.
an older woman sat behind bulletproof glass, her fingers tapping away at the deteriorating keyboard infront of her. your own fingers drummed against the strap of your purse, āexcuse me? whatās your name?ā the sound of your voice seemed to draw the woman away from what she was doing on her computer, āhey sweetheart, my names lupe, can i get your name and what youāre here for? then youāll be able to sit and wait for your name to be called when our team is able to receive and help you.ā
it seemed you may have blanked and forgotten to tell her that you werenāt here for help. āoh no! i- i donāt need to be checked out. i was actually hoping to visit one of the doctors here? last name abbot, first name jack?ā lupeās eyebrows squished in closer to eachother, the confusion was etched into her face.
āiām his girlfriend.ā you waved the takeout bag in your other hand.
the pitt was worse than jackās description. you could not recall the last time you had experienced so many things at one time. bright lights, beeping, walking, talking, a little bit of yelling, tvs droning on, patients groaning and crying.
heavier in your hands now, you adjusted the takeout bag for better grip before approaching an older blonde nurse. āexcuse me, dana is it? iām looking for jack abbot?ā perching her glasses on the top of her head, the older woman took in the young girl infront of her.
āand what would that be for doll?ā
ājust trying to feed my boyfriend.ā
silence.
she stared back at you with obvious shock painted on her face at your casual admittance. āgirlfriend huh? way to go abbot. iāll grab him for you, why donāt you take a seat?ā not wanting to distract her any longer, you waltzed over to a free seat where a woman in a wheelchair sat handcuffed.
the loud groan of her wheelchair alerted you to her attention focusing on you, āand whatās in the bag sweetcheeks?ā you scoffed at the odd nickname before opening the takeaway bag for her to inspect.
āmyrna what did we say about harassment?ā dana reprimanded the intrusive lady. myrna huffed and proceeded to sink back into her chair, āwhat? i canāt talk to no one anymore? i donāt bite, not with these cuffs on.ā shaking her head, dana simply wheeled myrna away from you.
ābaby?ā
your head snapped upwards to the sound of your boyfriend, bloodied and tired. noticing the concern in your eyes, jack swiftly moved to take off his gloves and protective wear. āwhat happened? are you hurt? why didnāt you call me before coming? you knowā,ā with a hand to his chest, you calmed him down with the reassurance of not having any injuries.
āi just wanted to bring you food. nothing else. i- iām sorry about last night, i donāt know why i was being stubborn. the last thing i want is to make you upset or have you going to work that way. you need a clear head here, not my pettiness. even after fighting you got up and still made me breakfast. iām way too lucky to have you and iām an idiot if i let my emotions get in the way of how amazing you are to me. so please, take my food and my apology.ā
your hands had made their way to threading themselves into his hair, a soft tug to angle his head downwards, meeting your watery eyes. ācāmere,ā jack drew you into his arms, the familiar position helping your shoulders release their prior tension.
āi know baby, thank you for apologising. just promise me, anytime youāre angry or upset we talk it out. not ignore eachother, it killed me.ā
the cooing and awwās sounding out from behind his girlfriend caused jack to glance over your shoulder now, breaking away from your eyes. there stood santos and whittaker. āare they yourā,ā
ātheyāre pains in my ass right now thatās what they are,ā jack shook his head at pair. āletās go say hi,ā you held his hand and dragged your boyfriend so that he could introduce you.
āhi! you guys must beā¦ā with a quick glance to their badges you smiled, āoh good! trinity and dennis? iāve heard so much about you guys, youāre amazing.ā trinityās lips stretched into a small smirk, ānice to know you talk about us. weāre amazing huh?ā jack shook his head, ātake the compliment and donāt ask.ā
dennis seemed a bit nervous so you took initiative to give him a little hug, having heard the stories from jack about the younger doctors made you feel close to them already, āyouāre even more cute in person.ā
his nose twitched at the compliment, āi- thank you. so are you! pretty, i mean, not that iām trying to hit on you.ā trinity elbowed him to shut up.
āwell i should get going,ā your hand seized jacks bicep with a squeeze, āplease eat when you can.ā jack turned to face you fully, his broad back blocking you from trinity and dennisās view. āwill do sweetheart.ā he hummed at the kiss you placed on the corner of his mouth. āthere! now we kissed and made up.ā
you walked back to the chairs youād been sitting at to grab the takeaway bag only to find nothing.
āwhat theā robby!ā
you crossed your arms in annoyance as the older man sat unboxing the food. āhey, itās my favourite too.ā robby held his arms out as you rolled your eyes before embracing him, āi know, itās why i got extra.ā
āokay is it just me or sheās way too cute for abbot?ā trinity whispered to dennis as the man shrugged, āi think as long as theyāre happy no?ā
āwhich i am.ā abbots hands came down to grasp trinity and dennisās shoulders, āand since you two would rather spend time gossiping, thereās a lady in the hall in desperate need of relief, in the bathroom.ā
the two young doctors groaned as he led them to the sick woman. picking up your bag, you blew a kiss to him. when he got home that day, you both fell back into your usual routine, but with a new found silent understanding. youād try your best to communicate your feelings to one another.
since you both knew there was nothing better than the other.
summary: a little girl from the PTMC daycare keeps finding her way to the ED. Jack allows the girl to stick around because he finds her mom very attractive and wants to see her again.
tags: unrealistic negligence of an early education facility, (the hospital would have been on lockdown irl this little girl wouldnt have made it off the floor)
little miracle masterlist
Ėāąæą»ā ā
After the midnight rush of DWIs, the night slows down enough for Abbot to catch up emails and on the computer. He types away in the draft and schedules each of them to come in all at 8am and every 30 minutes after. Admin likes to waste his time so he likes to give them a head ache too.
As he continues, just in front of the nurse's station, he sees a little girl wandering past. She was very small, probably preschool age. Her hair in a ponytail and was dawned in a matching pajama set. She must have come in with her mother and ended up lost. Hopefully someoneā a nurseā will help her back to the respective room. He then grabs an tablet and goes to one of the North side rooms to discharge a patient.
After he escorts the patient through the triage doors he passes the Pediatric room and notices the little girl from before. She stands by the wall and traces the mural of the woodland animals. She hums a nursery rhyme in a similar tune to "Mary Had a Little Lamb."
Abbot stands at the door and looks in either direction. He looks in either direction then Dr. Ellis quicksteps past him. "Hey Ellis, do you know if any patients are missing a kid?"
"A kid?" She backs up and looks in the room, "Definitely not. Should I get security?"
"Not yet. I'll find out more. Go ahead." He dismisses her and enters the room.
The girl hears his foot steps and looks up at him curiously. "Hi."
"Hi, I'm Dr. Abbot. What is your name, sweetie?"
"Miracle." She turns back to the fox on the wall.
"What a pretty name." He kneels down beside her on his good knee, "Are you here with your family?"
She shakes her head, "I'm here all by myself."
Abbot purses his lips in worry, "Oh yeah? How did you get here?"
"The elevator." She smiles, "I remember the fox from last time and came down all by myself."
"The elevatorā¦" He thinks for a moment. He notices on her chest as a name tag. Similar to his badge was a photo of Miracle and the words PTMC childcare center. Miracle was not a patient or a child of one but a child of an employee at the hospital. He lets out a sigh of relief, "Well, this is a long way from where you belong isn't it?"
Miracle shrinks and clasps her hands together, "I didn't mean to."
"It's okay, sweetie but we'll need to take you back. Don't want your people to worry right?"
"Uh huh." She nods, "My mommy works in the hospital. She helps really sick people."
"You know, I do that too." He smiles, "Why don't we go sit somewhere and call your mommy? Let her know you are okay."
"Okay!"
Abbot stands up and holds out his hand for the girl to hold but she instead holds up both of her arms with the expectation of him to pick her up. He smiles and obliges, carrying her back to the main nurse's station. "I think I know where some stickers are that you can have. Do you like stickers?"
"Yeah!" She squeals.
Miracle had a smile that could melt the coldest hearts. As they walk, she rests her head on Abbot's shoulder. He tries to steel his resolve but his heart swells at the feeling of her little head on his shoulder.
"Oh my, who is this little one?" Lena smiles at the girl.
"This is Miracle. She is a long way from the daycare upstairs."
"Oh Geez. I heard the bathrooms are broke down on their floor so they have to go to a different one." Lena says, "No wonder this little lamb got lost." She pinches the little girl's cheeks. An infectious giggle comes from the girl as she squirms in Abbot's arms.
He sets her down on a stool and takes a look at her tag. It had her full name on it with a phone number underneath. He recognizes it as the ICU floor. He dials it on the office phone.
A soft woman's voice answers in a quiet tone, "ICU?"
"Hi, this is Dr. Abbot here in the ED. I have a sweet little girl named Miracle down here lost from the daycare."
"Oh my god." He can hear the woman panic. Faintly, she tells her colleague, "Thank you Dr. Abbot. I will be down in just a moment."
Before he can respond the line goes dead. It must have been Miracle's mother on the phone, "Good news, Miracle. Your mommy is on the way."
"What about my stickers?" Oh rightā¦
He snaps and opens a random junk drawer and finds some stickers in the bottom. "Here you are."
She takes them from him and rips off one and places it back on his hand. He smiles down at the sticker.
Just a moment becomes a long while as Abbot and Miracle wait. Although young, Miracle was able to keep herself entertained at the desk. She ran out of stickers and Abbot's arms and face had run out of surface area. His staff laugh and take in the adorable sight of Abbot with the little girl.
"Miracle! Oh thank god, you're still here."
"Mommy!"
Abbot whips his head around and feels his heart leap out of his chest. You come flying down the stairs and jog over to the nurse's station. He can't take his eyes off of you as you come around and pick up your daughter.
"What were thinking coming down here all by yourself?"
"I wanted to play with this fox on the wall."
You shake your head and move your eyes to Abbot's sticker riddled body. "Hiā¦ you must Dr. Abbot."
"You'd be correct." He holds his hands behind his back, "Miracle was keeping me company down here."
"I can see that," You giggle, "You have discovered her obsession with stickers. Sorry."
"Not a problem. Anything to keep her entertained."
"I appreciate it. I really do. She has gotten into this adventurous stage of wandering off and I can barely keep up. I'm glad you were able to keep her occupied." Your smile was just as criminal as Miracle's.
"She's welcome back anytime." He waves it off as he tries not to stutter under your sweet gaze.
"Alright then. Say bye to Dr. Abbot, Miracle."
"Bye Drā¦. Abby." She giggles.
"Dr. Abby? You're so silly." You tickle her side then you look at him again, "Bye Dr. Abbot."
"Bye Dr. Abbot." Miracle waves as you carry her back up the stairs to the daycare center.
Abbot watches you go with a longing look. He looks down at his arms and chuckles before he starts to meticulously peel them off. It takes a few minutes to do, a few of the stickers leaving a mark.
He thought that would be the last time he would see you and Miracle. The next night, he looks in the Pedes room longingly before continuing on his way back to the hub.
He stops short just a few feet. Then backtracks and looks into the break room to find a familiar figure. Little Miracle was squatting down in front of the vending machine looking through the slot in the bottom.
"Hungry?" Abbot enters the room.
Miracle sheepishly withdraws from the machine and clasps her hands together. A tell that she did when she thought she was in trouble. She looks at the machine then back at Abbot.
"It's okay." He holds his hands out to her. She approaches him quickly and jumps into his arms. He lifts her and rest her on his hip. "It's a bit late for a sugary snack. How aboutā¦ some goldfish?"
She nods quickly. He smiles at her and opens one of the pantries where some small snacks were available. He grabs out a package of goldfish and hand them to the little girl. Then he takes her back to the nurse's station.
"Little Lamb!" Lena smiles when she see the little girl then the smile turns shit-eating, "She's taking a liking to you, Abbot."
"She was just hungry. She probably saw the vending machine from the last time she was here." He sets Miracle down on a stool. "You are real sneaky, aren't you?"
Miracle shakes her head as she smirks. She continues to eat her crackers without a word. She was very cunning for her age. Able to get away from the daycare staff and get down to the ED without arousing suspicion of being alone. You must really have your hands full with her.
You were a single mother working as an ICU nurse. You transferred from an ICU clinic out of state due to your toxic ex, Miracle's dad. You had taken the job at the PTMC due to their 24 hour daycare program. You were able to spend time with your daughter during the day and without support at home, she would need to come to the hospital to sleep for the night. It was only a few nights a week so it was hard not to pass up.
Not that Abbot knew your situation. It wasn't like, after that night he met you, he asked one of the medical assistants about you during an ICU transfer.
He picks up the phone and dials the ICU line. "ICU?" It's you again. Speaking softly. A mental image pops up in his mind of you speaking that way to him in the morning.
"Uh, this is Dr. Abbot in the ED."
"Hi, are you looking for a bed?"
"No, actually, I have Miracle down here. She seems to have gotten away again."
"You're jokingā¦" You grumble. You mutter to your coworker again. "i've gotta goā¦ the EDā¦ Miracleā¦ yeah againā¦ unbelievable i knowā¦Are you still there Abbot?"
"I am."
"I'll be down in a minute. I am so sorry. See you soon." You say defeated.
"See youā¦" The line goes dead and Abbot turns his attention back to Miracle.
She spins on the stool without a care. She finished her goldfish while he was on the phone. He grabs an office chair and sits beside her, "Miracle, your mommy is on her way."
She beams at him, "Yay."
"Do you come down here because you like when you mommy comes to pick you up?"
Miracle shakes her head, "My mommy picks me up all the time. I like when you pick me up and we play."
He leans back, "I see. But Miracle, your mommy and I are busy working. We can't play all the time you know that, right? It's night time and you need rest. So while we work, you sleep."
"But I can only see you at night time. Mommy said so."
Abbot chuckles, "What did your mom say?"
"You work night time at the hospital so that means we can only see you at night time. We can't come in the day time."
"Do you ask to see me in the day time?"
She nods. "You are fun to play with."
"You are fun too." He boops her nose, "Do you like to draw?" She nods rapidly. "How about you draw something for us to put up back here?" He grabs some printer paper and some colored pens from the cup of supplies on the desk.
"You draw too." She hands a pen to him.
"I'd love to sweetie but remember what I said? I have to do my work. It's so I don't get in trouble. Ms. Lena will keep an eye on you."
Miracle pouts like a kicked puppy. It tears Abbot's heart to shreds to look at. He bites down on his bottom lip before looking away. Be strong, be strong, he repeats the mantra as he walks away.
It doesn't take long for him to return though and at the same time that he is back at the nurse's station you come jogging down the stairs. "Hello again," He smiles at you.
"Hi," You return the smile and look at Miracle, "She is going to become a permanent resident by the end of the week down here. C'mon little mama."
Miracle jumps from her stool and hides behind Abbot's legs. "No."
You let out a huff and smile awkwardly, "Heh, Miracle, sweetie it's time to say goodbye to Dr. Abbot."
"No." She grabs onto him. She touches a part of Abbot's prosthesis, she hesitates then moves to wrap both her hands around his other leg.
"God, this is so embarrassing." You mutter then you look up at Abbot, "I'm sorry, she is cranky at this point."
"That's okay." He chuckles, "How about I walk her with you to the daycare?"
"Oh, no it's fine. I'm sure they need you down here being the shift attending and all." You tighten your lips. You didn't mean to reveal that. You may or may not have asked a medical assistant about him during an ED transfer.
"It is not a problem. It's Lena that keeps this place running." He turns to Miracle, "If I come with you will you be good for your mommy?"
She nods rapidly and holds her hands up to him. He picks her up and smiles at you, "Shall we?"
"We shall." You lead them to the elevator. As you enter, you hear Miracle whisper to Abbot.
"What happened to your leg?" She cups his ear to whisper but she wasn't too discreet as you still heard her question.
"I got hurt in an accident. My leg was no good so they gave me a new one." He whispers back.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore." He shakes his head, "I eat good and take care of myself to be big and strong." He tickles her side, making her giggle in his ear.
You can't help but smile. His patience with your daughter warmed your heart. It was something about him treating her like a small person and not a nuisance unlike someone you once knew. She was disrupting him at work but he didn't let it bother him. He seemed to enjoy it, actually.
As you walk back to the daycare, you notice Miracle has gone quiet. You look over and see she had fallen asleep on Abbot's shoulder. "That girl is something else." You shake your head.
"She gives you a run for your money." Abbot whispers.
"You have no idea." You sigh, "She has not been infatuated with anything ever until she met you. I've never heard her speak about someone so highly after meeting them once."
"So she says. She told me, she stays awake to play with me."
"All day, non-stop. 'Mommy, you should invite Dr. Abbot to our house to play.' 'Mommy, Is Dr. Abbot at the hospital yet?' 'I got a booboo, Dr. Abbot should help.'" You laugh at yourself then notice Abbot smiling at you. You avert your gaze and stop at the Pre-K door. "This is her." You scan your ID and open the door for Abbot.
He lays her on one of the cots with the other kids. You tuck her in and kiss her forehead. You apologize to the staff and they apologize too. The bathrooms should be finished by tomorrow so hopefully this is the last time Miracle elopes.
You walk with Abbot back to the elevator, "I really can't thank you enough, Dr. Abbot."
"Miracle is a sweetheart. Just as much as I left an impression on her she's left one on me." He holds his hands behind his back as he walks.
"Hopefully, this will be the last of her hijinks and my blood pressure will lower." You take a deep breath. Abbot purses his lips as his heart wilts. You stop in front of the elevator, "This is where we part ways. You've gotta go down and I've gotta go up." You hit the down button, "I'll take the stairs."
"I'll see you around?" He steps on to the elevator.
"At this rate? I'll be seeing you tomorrow." You joke.
You joke but Abbot hoped that it was a promise.
The next night, Miracle appears again. Abbot makes his rounds when he finds her curled up on the couch in the family room. He almost didn't catch her this time if it weren't for the door being propped open by the janitors. He enters the room quietly and sits beside her.
He rubs her back as he tries to rouse her from sleep. The little girl rises out of her ball like state and crawls into his lap and rests on his chest. He sighs and continues to rub her back and rocks her side to side. He pulls out his hospital phone and dials the ICU.
"ICU?" A firm voice speaks. It definitely wasn't you, "Hello?"
"Yes, hi, this is Abbot down in the ED. I've got Miracle down here and was wondering if her mother was available to pick her up."
"Uhā¦unfortunately she is unavailable at the moment. Are you able to keep an eye on her for some time? She is tending to a patient at the moment. I will pass along the message as soon as I can." There was a wobble of nervousness in the nurse's voice. It was always life or death in the ICU.
"Yeah, I can. Just let her know when you can." He hangs up the phone and continues to rock her. When he knows he has spent too much time he will carry her to the hub.
"Lena, occupy Central 6 for me." He points to the sleeping girl in his arms, "Her mom might take a minute."
"You got it." She opens a tablet and fills in some random information to occupy the room on the status board.
He lays Miracle on the gurney and tucks her under the covers. "Thank you for making me so special." He whispers to her then shuts out the lights and leaves the room closing the door. Through out the hour he keeps an eye on her.
You come down the stairs looking disheveled. Your eyes were puffy, it looked like you had been crying. Abbot approaches beside you and rests his hand on the center of your back, "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, sorry, where is Miracle?" You sniffle.
"Right in here." He leads you into Central 6. You lower the rail on one side of the gurney and pull up a chair to caress Miracle's face as she sleeps. He can see tears fall indiscriminately from your eyes. "Is everything okay?"
You let out a chuckle, "Is everything ever okay in our departments?" He sighs and pulls up another chair to be beside you. "Just before I come down here, every time, I've had to stabilize a patient, or at least try. A different person each time and afterward I'd come right down here and see the smile on my daughter's face like everything is okay. I have to act like I haven't just witnessed the scariest thing 5 minutes before coming to get her. I don't have to brave it when she's at daycare. In my mind, she seems worlds apart from the madness. Safe. I freak out thinking about her down here. What she might see. As if I didn't just watch someone die minutes ago." Abbot hears your voice waver as you speak but you laugh again, "But even still, with you, she is safe. She's so comfortable in your arms like she's known you her whole short life. You make it look so easy." You lean back in your chair and sniffle, "It makes me think I'm not cut out for this."
"Woah, that is a severe overstatement." He leans forward and takes your hand, "Had you not told me, I would have never known what you've done before coming down here. The first time you came down, you had this infectious smile on your face. And Miracle ran into your arms, you didn't falter for a second. Scooped her right in your arms. If you were scared you never showed it. You are her world. She knows you're there for her. You make it look effortless"
You look down at his hand on yours. He gives it an affirming squeeze. It's warm to the touch. "I bet you say that to all the single mothers." You bite back a smile and pull your hand away.
"Usually when they're here they are preoccupied withā¦ you know an emergency?"
You giggle, "Really? None have made a move on you?"
"I fear that is day shift only. At this time of night, I only get the drunks playing grab ass." He sighs.
"Oh poor you," You rub his shoulder. "And here I thought you were like this dangerous and sexy combat medic that flirted with all the moms."
"Dangerous and sexy?"
"The other nurses on my floor say that, at least."
"So you talk about me to other people."
"I had to. I have to make sure the men in my daughter's life aren't dirt bags." You shrug, "They said you were a flirt too. Any defense?"
"I'm playful." He surrenders, "It's only to liven up this dreadful place."
"Right." You purse your lips into a thin smile, "Well, I should probably be taking her back to the daycare." You remove Miracle from the gurney and rest her on your hip, "You have a good rest of your night, Dr. Abbot."
He follows you out of the room, "I hope my playfulness hasn't scared you away from coming back to work."
"Only time will tell, I guess. Maybe I'll consider transferring to the ED and have some fun with you down here instead. " You shoot him a playful wink. He licks his bottom lip as he watches you walk to the elevator and back upstairs.
"She's got you whipped." Ellis shakes her head.
"Both of them do." Lena smirks, "Forget a work wife, he's got a whole work family."
"It's not like that." He waves them off, "Miracle is a troublemaker and her momā"
"Is the hottest nurse you've ever laid your eyes on?" Ellis cocks an eyebrow, "You're not the only one with eyes, Abbot."
He averts his gaze to the status board, "Do you have anything better to do right now, Ellis? How does triage for the next hour sound?"
"Sounds like I should keep my mouth shut and get back to work." She leans over and mutters to Lena, "See how defensive he got. Whipped."
It had been a week since Miracle's escape attempts. The bathroom in the daycare was up and running again so there was no way for her to escape. Abbot stares at her drawing she had left behind. He missed that little rascal. He missed you too.
When things get slow enough, he decides to try and take a trip up to the daycare to check on Miracle. It was possible that she was sleeping but just seeing her would keep his spirits high. He tells Lena he's going to be out for a few minutes and hits the elevator button.
When the doors open his eyes widen in surprise. You stand there with a smile on your face and a look of surprise yourself. "Hey, I was just coming down to look for you."
"Oh? What for? Patient transfer?"
"No actually," You beckon him onto the elevator, "Miracle is having a hard time sleeping and misses her friend Dr. Abbot. I was wondering if I can steal you for a few minutes to put her to bed." You hit the button for the daycare floor, "Is that okay?"
"Uh yeahā¦ I was actually going to head there."
"Felt a disturbance in the force, Jedi?" You chuckle.
"I just wanted to make sure she was alright."
"You've spoiled her." You say, "Now she can't live without you. It was inevitable, she's imprinted on you like a little duck. You are her mama now."
He laughs. It's a hearty laugh that warms your chest. You can't help but laugh too. The two of you walk out of the elevator side by side and enter the daycare. Miracle lays in her bed and beams when she sees the two of you from the window.
You both enter and sit beside her bed. "Okay, Miracle, this is a one time thing. Dr. Abbot can't come and go whenever you want while you're here." You explain as you tuck her in, "But he did say he missed you too."
She grins at him, "Do you still have my picture, Dr. Abbot?"
"I do. I look at it everyday." He grabs her hand and squeezes it tight.
"Maybe because you miss me we can play not in the hospital." She pouts.
You purse your lips and nod, "Maybeā¦ But Dr. Abbot is super busyā"
"If your mommy says it's okay, I would be more than happy to."
You swivel your head at him in surprise, "You would?"
"Sure," He shrugs, "We can all play together outside of the hospital."
Your face is cooking as he speaks. Was he saying what you think he was saying?
"But that is for your mommy and I to talk about. You, little one, need to sleep." She nods and shuts her eyes. Your eyes are still on him. He notices and smiles, "Did you want to talk about that now?"
"Uh no I justā¦ thoughtā¦"
"I was too sexy and dangerous? Or did you still believe I am too playful?"
You bow your head in defeat, "I guess I did."
After Miracle falls asleep the two of you leave. "I am going to be honest. I fully believed that this would be the last we saw of each other. We would go our separate ways, officially." You confess.
"I knew that wouldn't be the case after second time Miracle came to the ER." He chuckles, "I'd find a way to see you again."
"So were you the one sabotaging bathroom maintenance?" You giggle, "If you wanted to meet with me so bad you could have asked. Like you asked Edgar about me."
"You found out about thatā¦" He winces.
"My good looks get me my way up there." You tease, "I'm kidding. When I asked about you he told me you had done the same. So I asked for more information."
"That's when you got the sexy and dangerous thing from."
"Yes, you are really stuck on that." You nudge him, "Don't believe it."
"I just like the way it sounds coming from you. You believe it."
"I do not."
"For a moment you did. In your mind, there was an image of me next to those words."
You cover your mouth as you refrain from laughing out loud, "Alright, what's it going to take for you to not bring that up anymore."
"When are you free?" He asks, "We can go somewhere and have breakfast after work? Or lunch? Go to the park for Miracle."
"Breakfast sounds good." You take out your personal phone, "How about you put in your number and I'll let you know."
"Promise?" He takes your phone and puts in his number
"If I don't you can put me on blast by calling the ICU and bug me. They all need something juicy to keep them entertained." You smile as he hands back your phone, "But I like you. So I won't keep you waiting too long. How does 10am tomorrow sound?"
"Sounds like a deal."
The two of you stop short of the elevator. You bite your lip before leaning in and kissing Abbot's cheek. "This is where we part ways." You hit the down button, "I'll take the stairs. See you at breakfast."
Abbot's cheeks burn as he watches you jog up the stairs. He tries to control his smile in the elevator as to not tip off the others to his glee. He didn't need them spoiling his fun just yet.
Ėāąæą»ā ā
thank you for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated!
Summary: When Pope needs some extra cash, he takes up the opportunity of helping others with their studies. However, things take a turn when he decides to help out a known troublemaker.
Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader
CW/TW: Typical OBX warnings, teasing over virginity, (Y/N)'s kinda an asshole, mentions/implied JJPope (should've been canon), implied bisexual JJ, Pope is bisexual and possibly ooc,
Super short but felt like doing something with sweet ole Pope
~~~
(Y/N) watched with a lazy grin as Mrs. Heyward shuffled into the room with aĀ charcuterie board in hand, her smile big and warm and utterly welcoming as she carefully set the food down on an empty part of Pope's desk. Her son rolled his lips into his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut at her presence, his fingers rubbing into his forehead in pure embarrassment that only made (Y/N) snort quietly. Mrs. Heyward leaned back and clasped her hands together, her eyes crinkling when she faced them.
"There you go, sweetie. Eat as much as you want. You boys let me know if you need anything, 'kay?"
"Okay, Mom, thank you." Pope practically groaned, giving Mrs. Heyward a tight-lipped smile and watching her leave his bedroom while (Y/N) quietly snickered under his breath, his knuckles pressing into his lips to muffle the noise before it could reach the kind older woman's ears. Pope exhaled heavily and stood up to fully shut his door, ensuring to lock it before he returned to his bed and softly cleared his throat. "Sorry 'bout that." He muttered, swallowing down the mortification that'd filled him when his mother had strolled into the room.
"That was cute, Heyward." (Y/N) laughed, picking up a juicy apple slice and taking a bite from it, a bit of juice dripping off his bottom lip. Slowly chewing on the crunchy apple slice, he watched Pope retrieve some notebooks and flip through them until he reached his desired pages full of biology notes and some poorly drawn scribbles. He popped open the cap of his highlighter and took a peek through the pages of (Y/N)'s science notebook, unsurprisingly finding them mostly blank.
"Okay, so, uhm," Pope cleared his throat. "You know what monomers and polymers are, right?"
And right on cue, (Y/N) promptly zoned out and fully allowed his attention to shift onto the surprisingly semi-cluttered room of Pope 'Golden Boy' Heyward. He eyed the posters and drawings on the wall, some movies he recognized whilst others were characters from anime series with bulky muscled men and petite women.
(Y/N) shoved the rest of the slice into his mouth and squinted as he looked at the Polaroid pictures pinned to the wooden wall near him, recognizing a younger Pope with his parents in a few but JJ, Kiara, and John B were the subject of half of the pictures stuck around the walls of the room.Ā
Scooting his chair closer to the wall, he felt the corners of his lips curl up into gleeful mischief when he took note of the way Pope looked at Kiara in most pictures; softened adoring eyes, a gentle smile, the look of knowing written all over JJ's smirking face in each photo. Pope liked Kiara, (Y/N) realized, and spun the swivel chair around to look at him. He'd never seen Pope flirt properly before, only ever spewing random weird facts that had chicks furrowing their brows and walking away when they got the chance.Ā
"-dehydration synthesis is actually pretty cool if you think about it. Basically what happens is-"
"Heyward." (Y/N) purred, slowly rising from his chair and plucking another apple slice from the board. Pope's eyes darted away from his notebook to look at him questioningly, his body perking up and shoulders squaring as if awaiting (Y/N)'s question about whatever he'd spent the last few minutes blabbering about. (Y/N) popped the apple slice into his mouth and nudged the notebooks off the bed, letting them slip and fall onto the floor with soft thuds. "You're a total virgin, right?"Ā
Pope blinked at him, his mouth flying open and then slamming shut. He visibly gulped, his adams apple bobbing and eyes flickering away to bounce around different objects in his room. "N-No, I've... I've- I've-" Pope stuttered roughly, his grip on the notebook in hand tightening and crinkling the paper. "I'm- I-"
"Wow," (Y/N) snickered, snatching the notebook from his hand and dropping it onto the floor with a soft thud. Pope's hands were forced to rest over his thighs, fingers flexing and curling into fists. "Never even kissed anyone, have you, Heyward?"Ā
"Okay, what if I am? Virginty- Virginty is a construct."
"Sure, if it helps you sleep at night knowing even Routledge of all people has gotten laid before, it's totally a construct." (Y/N) laughed again, albeit more cruelly, and plopped down on the bed beside Pope's crossed legs with his head cocked to the side. "You can't leave high school a virgin with a face like that, Heyward. Besides, girls like guys who know what they're doing, trust me; I'm kind of an expert on this shit."
Pope grimaced. "Yeah, I've heard." He'd seen the pouty, sullen looks on the classmates he'd snatched up and then dropped once he bored of them. He'd even seen the occasional fight with a Kook when he slept with a taken rich girl. "It's- It's fine, I don't care. Peer pressuring someone to lose their virginity is something straight from an early 2000s movie."
"I'm not peer pressuring you, Heyward. I'm making fun of you." The shit-eating grin on (Y/N)'s face reminded him all too much of JJ. "But, because I am such a nice guy-"
"That's debatable."
"-I'm going to help you, Heyward." The grin grew at the bewildered look on Pope's face, his brows knitting tightly together and lips pulling into a line. Pope stared at him, his fingers rubbing into the fabric of his jeans, the contemplation clear in his eyes. "You think Kiara has time to teach someone how to please her?"Ā
"W-What? I-I don't like Kie! She's like- I-"
"I can teach you how to kiss someone properly. I've had plenty of practice since middle school." (Y/N) pressed the bottom of his sneaker into the heel of the other, pushing until the shoe fell onto the floor before ridding himself of the other one. He dragged himself further onto the bed and arched an expectant brow at the stammering boy until Pope shut his mouth and swallowed again.Ā
"I..." He trailed off, his eyes jumping toward the picture wall, his lips pressing together.Ā
"Come on, you wouldn't be the first of Routledge's minions I've made out with." (Y/N) revealed and Pope's considering gaze turned into surprise as his wide eyes darted back to him. "J and I make out drunk all the time. You should try it sometime when you're wasted and bored."
Pope would've been lying if he claimed he'd never thought of kissing the chaotic Maybank. Hell, sometimes he wondered what it'd be like to kiss John B; especially on lazy days when they lounged on the boat after a swim and the setting sun warmed John B's skin, making it glitter from the droplets of water while he stared off into the distance. With JJ, the thoughts emerged more often. JJ cared little for personal space, his hand or arm somehow managing to always press against one of the Pogues, and Pope often found his space invaded by the blond. He assumed it to be natural thoughts, but he wondered if his curiosity expanded past innocence.Ā
His skin simmered with heat, his hands curling into fists and his back straightening with determination. If JJ trusted him, so would Pope. He gave (Y/N) a firm nod and braced himself, his eyes squeezing shut and cheeks flaring with heat when (Y/N) giggled.
The bed shifted and creaked with movement, his eyes parting immediately when he felt hands grasping at his crossed legs and pulling them apart. (Y/N) hardly gave him time to question before pressing their lips together, his hand slipping toward Pope's hip and squeezing lightly; the scent of cigarette smoke clinging to (Y/N)'s clothes filling Pope's nose.
"Relax." He murmured into Pope's mouth, half-lidded eyes finally shutting and lips pressing harder against Pope.Ā
Slowly, Pope forced himself to relax, his body slumping back against the pillow that began pressing into his back when (Y/N) pushed him into lying back. His lips felt soft, if not a bit chapped and sticky from the apple slices, and Pope felt a surge of insecurity bubble in his stomach at his blatant inexperience. His hands awkwardly fumbled around until he pressed them against (Y/N)'s sides, finding himself fully unsure of what else to do besides pressing back into his lips.Ā
"There you go," (Y/N) cooed and the way his heart skipped a beat at the praise made Pope want to bury his face into his pillows. The top of (Y/N)'s thighs pressed into the bottom of Pope's, his knees sinking into the mattress as he began adjusting his position. He moved fully on top of him, propping his upper half up by bracing himself against his elbow. His fingers took Pope's chin and lightly squeezed. "Open."
With a face set ablaze, Pope meekly parted his lips and shut his eyes again. (Y/N) kissed him again, his lips wrapping around Pope's bottom one and teeth digging lightly into him, an action that shot heat down his spine before he mushed their lips further together. Their teeth almost clacked together as Pope weakly began mimicking (Y/N)'s movements, a muffled noise leaving him when their tongues collided and he tasted the apple juice on his tongue.Ā
(Y/N) pulled back after a minute or two, a short string of saliva connecting them and quiet panting leaving them both. Pope's fingers dipped under the hem of (Y/N)'s shirt, carefully massaging his flesh as he attempted to ground his spinning, light-headed brain. He stared up at the ceiling of his room, chest heaving with pants and lips slick with salvia.Ā
"Did- Did you know-" He paused to catch his breath again. "-that kissing releases a multitude of chemicals in your brain-"
"Oh, Jesus, Pope." (Y/N) dropped his head down onto the soft pillow beside Pope, his breath fanning against Pope's ear and making goosebumps rise along his arms. "If you want to nerd out, use it as a segway into kissing."
"I'm surprised you know what segway means."
"Fuck you." (Y/N) laughed, light and breathless. "I'm not dumb; school is just boring."
Pope traced the lines in the slanted wooden ceiling over them, his hands squeezing (Y/N)'s sides when an idea struck him. "Yeah? What if... what if it wasn't boring?" Pope tilted his head to look at him, their noses brushing against each other and a smile spreading across his lips. "I can teach you something about biology and in return, you can teach me something I can do to- to... to my future girlfriend, or something."Ā
"Mm," (Y/N) grinned, a quiet chuckle leaving him. "You've got a deal, then."
Please check the poll imma put up after reading this!
~~~
The bright sun shone down on the land, bringing about much-needed light as workers cleared out fallen branches and debris tossed around by Hurricane Agatha the day before. (Y/N) had already spent half of his morning clearing out the yard and driveway as well as making sure the water hadnāt risen too high. Once work had been finished at home, he had made his way over to the Cameron Residence. It came as no surprise to see workers already there helping the family clean up the mess outside.
In the world of the Outer Banks, Kooks were seen as untouchable.
They were the stuck-up, spoiled, privileged kids who could do, say, or buy anything they wanted as long as they had daddy or mommy's credit card in their back pocket. They puffed out their chests, turned up their nose, and spat venom just because they knew they could.
Their parents would flock and point fingers if any harm came to them, demanding Sherriff Peterkin and Deputy Shoupe do something about the 'dirty Pogues targeting their poor babies'Ā as if Peterkin and Shoupe could do anything more than let them off with a warning or a brief night in a cell.
His sister, as (Y/N) came to learn, was a lot more fun.
While they were utterly pathetic and useless, (Y/N) found them incredibly amusing. Nothing was better than watching the smugness get knocked right out of a Kook.
Tears would immediately spring in their eyes and their perfect skin would stain with purple and red coloring that'd stay no matter how many ice packs they put to it.
The Kooks that talked the biggest game were often the ones that squealed first in fights. Their scratchy, obnoxious voices would plead for mercy, shouting empty promises of staying away and never bothering them again.
Rafe Cameron was the only one who could handle a little pain, but even then, the boy was as boring as watching paint dry. One look from his daddy dearest and he went away with his tail tucked between his legs.Ā
"Remember the rules, guys. No hardcore drugs, don't get blackout drunk, and don't start anything without me." (Y/N) called out after his younger brother and his group of friends.
He was certain the nerd would keep them out of trouble, as he always did when they hung out, but a reminder never hurt anybody. The four of them scampered further down the beach, kicking up sand in their wake and disappearing amongst the other teenagers.
They weren't much younger than him, only a year or two below him in school, but they were as annoying as children and attracted trouble wherever they went.
"Maybe it's a sign you should quit." A feathery voice piped up behind him and he turned around to find the treasured princess of Figure Eight.
Fishing his cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket and sticking one between his lips, he allowed his gaze to drift over the party-goers present.
Pogues, Kooks, and a few tourists who appeared wildly out of place with their big sun hats blocking half their vision. He recognized Rafe and his posse of coked-up boys lingering near the water and Barry making use of eager Kooks and their heavy pockets.
His attention dropped down to his lighter and he grunted when it refused to light for longer than a second.
"Nobody ever taught you not to talk to strangers, princess?"Ā
Everyone knew Sarah Cameron. She was the beloved daughter of Ward Cameron, the pride and joy of Figure Eight, and the most envied and desired girl in Kildare.
Everyone tripped over themselves trying to be in her good graces, trying to get a taste of the Cameron wealth and status. Ever since she entered high school, he'd heard all about her numerous relationships. She lept from boy to boy and left a trail of broken, jealous hearts in her path.
Her most recent boy toy had been Topper Thornton, the son of the renowned Doctor Thornton and grandson of Judge Holden. JJ had left enough bruises on him for (Y/N) to know him well. (Y/N) thought they looked more like siblings than lovers.
"I would hardly call you a stranger." She said and lifted the mai tai in hand up to her pink-colored lips. Her eyes twinkled with the setting sun, lightening the deep shade of brown. "Everyone knows the Maybanks."
"I don't care about my Kook card, (Y/N). I think this whole... Pogue vs Kook thing is so stupid. We're all living on the same island. Why should we be giving each other shit for where we were born?"Ā
"And nobody likes them. You might have to forfeit your Kook card if you get caught talking to me, Miss Cameron." He cooed teasingly and she smiled despite herself, rolling her pretty eyes and brushing her hair away from her face when the wind gently tousled it.
His eyes drifted down to the dark knee-length sundress she wore decorated in orange and yellow flowers. It looked better than what most of the girls from the Cut wore to fancy events.
"Wanna talk somewhere more... private?"
"I'm sure you'll be a just and fair ruler, princess."
His words made her roll her eyes again and she laughed quietly into her can. Even her drink of choice screamed rich. Everyone else stuck to cheap beer or half-filled bottles they stole from the kitchen cabinet when their parents weren't home.
Sarah twirled a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing away from him and toward her friends. They hadn't noticed her yet and for a moment, (Y/N) expected her to call out to them and walk away. But she looked back at him with a familiar coy smile.Ā
He wondered how annoyed John B would be when he learned he'd taken Figure Eight's princess back to his place.
It'd been closer than the Maybank residence and had less chance of a drunken and drugged Luke staggering through the front door ready to ruin (Y/N)'s night. Kiara would certainly throw a tantrum about him sleeping with her ex-best friend and if Kiara got upset, Pope would quickly follow in defense of his crush.
Annoying little shits but they made JJ happy and that was enough for (Y/N) to tolerate their shenanigans.Ā
Tugging up his pants and zipping them back up, he gazed at the dozing Kook. Her long blonde hair had been sprawled out over the dark pillowcase and she'd buried half her face in the pillow, her parted lips forming a small spot of drool.
As content and comfortable as she looked, he needed her back home before she chose to overstay her welcome under false assumptions.Ā
Tiredly lifting her head, she squinted at him through the sunlight. "Are you worried about Ward or worried about what your friends will say?"Ā
"Hey, princess."
(Y/N) reached down to move some strands of hair away from her face and shook her shoulder. She whined quietly and squeezed her eyes before rolling fully onto her stomach and burying her face further in the pillow defiantly.
"You need to get going before Ward calls the cops 'cause his precious girl didn't come home."
"My friends won't give a shit about me taking the Kook princess's virginity, sweets." Her face reddened considerably and he smirked. "My brother's friends might get pissed if they see a Kook on our turf. And I don't want problems with Carrera. She makes good food."
Sarah finally sat up and raked her fingers through her hair to detangle the knots as she searched the floor for her belongings. Her eyes finally settled on her underwear and she pursed her lips, the tips of her ears turning a soft red.
"You ripped them." She murmured and her fingers began to toy with the ends of her hair.Ā
"So-"
"You didn't complain when I did it."
(Y/N) scooped the sundress up from the floor and tossed it in her direction, arms folding over his chest while he watched her get dressed and rise from the bed. She awkwardly tugged at the dress and retrieved her torn underwear from the floor before shoving it into her purse and turning to face him.Ā
"I can drop you off at Word for Word. It's the closest store to Figure Eight so one of your little friends should be able to pick you up. I'd drive you home but I've got work and Barry will kill me if I'm late again." (Y/N) explained quickly and slipped his shirt back on, snatching his keys from the nightstand and jerking his head toward the door when Sarah remained rooted in her spot.Ā
"Sarah, baby,Ā this doesn't mean anything. I'm sorry if your feelings are hurt but I asked if you were sure and offered to drive you back like five times last night. If you wanted your first time to be with your soulmate, you should've let me know and I would've taken you back to your boyfriend. Now, unless you want to get into a screaming match with Kiara, I suggest you start figuring out who's taking you the rest of the way."
"That's it? You're just going to... ditch me in the middle of nowhere?"
She stared at him in a mixture of surprise and irritation, and (Y/N) sighed, preparing the speech he often found himself telling those who couldn't catch a hint.
He was a Maybank, for Christ's sake. Nothing about the men in his family screamed commitment. His father could hardly hold down a job and JJ was as much of a playboy as the next guy.
you agree to open your relationship after your boyfriend kept begging. at first he's on the apps getting absolutely zero matches, but then he gets a date. And the first time you go out with your friends with the full intention to find someone, you meet jack abbot. and he is hell bent on making sure you do not forget him.
genre: jack abbot x tattoo artist!reader, strangers to friends to ????, best friend trinity and by proximity dennis lol, smut 18+ nsfw
word count: 5100
(a/n: all i gotta say is hell yeah. also ignore the fact that jack is able to be around during the night even though he works night shift lmao. just use your imagination.)
The thing about opening a relationship is that someone has to actually want to be in one.
You'd been turning this thought over for three weeks now, looking for the flaw. You'd found it pretty quickly. The flaw was Derek.
Derek, who had spent four months gently, persistently, lovingly lobbying for what he called āan evolved approach to modern partnership.ā Derek, who had bookmarked three articles about ethical non monogamy and left them open on the shared laptop like bread crumbs he expected you to follow. Derek, who had said, with earnest sincerity, āI just think we're evolved enough for this, babe. Don't you?ā
You had said yes because you were thirty years old and had been with this man for ten of those years and somewhere along the way you had apparently misplaced the part of yourself that said no, actually, I don't.
So: open relationship. Officially, as of three Saturdays ago, you were doing this.
Derek had downloaded Hinge, Bumble, Tinder, and some other app that you'd never heard of and didn't ask about. He'd spent an entire Sunday afternoon cycling through profile photos, soliciting your opinion on which ones showed his authentic self, while you sat six feet away inking a peony onto a client's shoulder and making noises of vague encouragement.
Three weeks later, Derek had zero matches.
Not a disappointing handful. Zero.Ā
You on the other hand, had not bothered to download any apps.
You hadn't really meant to make a statement with this. It had just been a busy three weeks. You'd finished a full sleeve on a regular, taken three new consultations, and rearranged the whole studio. There simply hadn't been time to curate a selection of photos for a profile.
This was what you told Trinity on Thursday night, sitting in the back room of your shop, eating takeout.
"You haven't downloaded any apps," Trinity said, around a mouthful of noodles, "because you don't actually want to do this."
"I've been busy."
"You know what you haven't done?" She pointed her fork at you. "Anything. You have done nothing. Derek is out there failing spectacularly at the thing he begged you for and you are pretending this is a scheduling issue."
"I just don't think apps are really my.."
"Y/N."
"..thing, I'm more of an organic.."
"Y/N."
"..meeting people naturally kind of.."
"Y/N."
You looked up.
Trinity had put down her fork, which was how you knew she was serious.Ā "You have been with Derek since you were twenty. You have never, as an adult, gone on a date with anyone who wasn't Derek. You don't know what you like because you stopped asking yourself that question before your prefrontal cortex finished developing."
You opened your mouth.
"I love you," Trinity continued. "Derek is someone you have outgrown. You know it and I know it and I think somewhere in the part of him that isn't currently refreshing Hinge, he knows it too. This open relationship thing isn't evolution."
The shop was quiet around you. The flash art on the walls looked down from their frames.
"So," Trinity picked her fork back up. "Saturday. You and me. Roomie Dennis is meeting us at Dillon's at nine. You're going to put on something that isn't a work hoodie, you're going to go to a bar like a normal adult woman, and you are going to at least look at other human men and remember that they exist."
"I know men exist."
You thought about saying something. Several things, actually, arranged in a pretty solid argument about how you were fine, how the situation was fine, how you didn't need to go to a bar to prove you were a person. "Fine," you said.
"Saturday. Nine o'clock. Wear the black top."Ā
ā¦
Dillon's was a bar that had been there forever. Dark wood, low lighting, a jukebox in the corner that still worked if you fed it right, and a bartender named Pete who remembered what you ordered after the second visit. It smelled like old leather and something hoppy and wasn't trying to be anything other than exactly what it was.
You had been here maybe a hundred times. You had never once come here with the intention of meeting someone.
"You look like you're waiting for a root canal." Dennis said, appearing with a fresh drink and an easy grin. Dennis was beautiful and knew it. But he used it as a resource for other people rather than a mirror for himself. He handed you the drink. "Relax. You're not here to find a husband. You're here to remember you are your own person."
"Trinity's been talking to you."
"Trinity texts me a lot of things." He clinked his glass against yours. "Drink. Look around. Remember that the world is full of people who aren't Derek."
You drank. The world was, in fact, full of people who weren't Derek. You weren't sure what to do with that.
The three of you had claimed a corner of the bar around nine, and for a while it was just good.Ā Trinity in her off duty clothes looking like someone had cut her loose and handed her a gin and tonic, Dennis telling a story about their neighbor's emotional support peacock that had genuinely no business being as long as it was, you laughing until something in your chest loosened a little.Ā
This was fine.Ā
Then, around eleven, Trinity met someone.
She was tall, with close cropped hair and had cheekbones that belonged in a museum, and she was looking at Trinity from three feet away like she had already made several decisions about the rest of their night. Trinity looked back. Something passed between them that was frankly none of your business.
"Go," you said.
"I'm not going to just leave you."
"Trinity." You pointed. "Go."
She did pause long enough to squeeze your arm and say "text me when you're home" and then she was gone, absorbed into the low light of the bar with the tall woman.
Dennis lasted another twenty minutes before he ran into someone he knew from his climbing gym, and then there were two of them, and then there were four, and then there was a whole situation happening at the other end of the bar that Dennis was at the center of like he always was, like a very charming sun with a small solar system of people around him.
You were alone at a bar for the first time in approximately a decade, with a drink that was three quarters gone and no particular plan for the next hour of your life.
You thought about going home. Derek would be awake, probably on his phone. You thought about what Trinity had said and the ten years that had quietly passed while you were busy building a life that was genuinely yours in every way except the one that mattered most.
You went to the bar top and ordered another drink.
"That's either a good sign or a bad one," said a voice to your left, "depending on what you're drinking."
The man settled onto the barstool next to you. He was older than you, late forties maybe, with salt and pepper hair that looked like it had started the evening neater than this.
He nodded at your glass. "Whiskey sour?"
"Whiskey sour" you confirmed.
"Good sign then." He caught the bartenders attention. "I'll have whatever she's having."
You should have looked back at your drink. That would have been the sensible thing. Instead you said, "Long night?"
He glanced at you, and there was something in it. A brief recalibration, like he'd expected to be left alone and had just revised his preference. "Long week," he said. "You?"
"Long decade, honestly."
The corner of his mouth moved. "That specific?"
"Very."
Once his drink came, he turned it once on the bar, a slow rotation. You noticed his hands. Large, careful, the hands of someone who used them precisely. You noticed other things too, cataloguing details. The slight wear at the collar of his shirt. The way he held himself, upright without being rigid, comfortable in his body.
"Jack," he said, and offered his hand.
"Y/N," you said, and shook it.
His grip was warm and brief. "So," he said, settling back. "The decade."
"I wasn't actually going to elaborate on that."
You looked at him. He looked back at you, and there it was the thing you hadn't been expecting, the thing that made you stay on your barstool instead of picking up your drink and relocating. He had the kind of eyes that were paying attention. Not performing attention. Actually, specifically, interested in you.
It had been a long time since someone had looked at you like you were something worth figuring out.
"Ten years with someone," you said, because apparently you were doing this. "We opened the relationship three weeks ago. His idea. He has zero matches thus far."
Jack considered this. "And you?ā
"Didnāt download them. Instead, I cleaned my autoclave more times than necessary. If that gives you any indication of how Iām handling it."
Then the smile arrived "You're a surgeon?"
"Tattoo artist."
Something shifted in his expression, interest sharpening. His eyes moved briefly to your arms, to the ink there, the way people's eyes always did, and then back to your face, and unlike most people he didn't immediately start asking you what they meant or whether they hurt.Ā
"What do you do?" you asked.
"ER attending." He paused. "And some other stuff."
"Some other stuff," you repeated.
"SWAT medic shifts. When I'm needed."
No shit. You looked at him for a moment. His strong muscles pulling at his shirt. "So.. long week."
You talked for three hours.
Not continuously but always back to each other, always the thread of it intact. He told you about his army medic deployment without making it a hero story, just a thing that had happened to him that had made him who he was. You told him about opening your studio at twenty four with nine thousand dollars and a business plan you'd written on graph paper. He asked you questions like he actually wanted the answers.Ā
At some point you stopped thinking about the open relationship and Derek. You stopped thinking about going home. You were just here, at this bar, on this barstool, talking to this man who laughed at your jokes and it felt like something you hadn't known you'd been hungry for.
Which was exactly why, at half past one, when the bar was thinning out and the jukebox had cycled back around to something slow, you picked up your jacket. "I should go."
He didn't argue, just nodded in agreement. "Yeah."
You slid off the barstool and he stood when you did, the reflex of someone who'd been raised a certain way and hadn't bothered to unlearn it and you were suddenly aware of how much space he occupied when he was standing. How solid he was.
How close.
"It was good to meet you, Jack," you said.
"You too, Y/N."
You waited for him to ask for your number, but he didn't. He just looked at you with those eyes, easy and steady, and said "Don't forget my name."
You thought about saying something smart. Something that matched it.
Instead you just nodded, once, and walked out into the night air with your heart doing something complicated in your chest that you absolutely were not going to examine until you were home.
..
Your favorite coffee shop was four blocks from your shop, which meant you went there approximately every day and had therefore developed a loyalty that was less about the coffee and more about the fact that the barista at the counter knew your order.
Tuesday morning. Six days after the bar and you were waiting for your order, scrolling through a client's reference photos on your phone with one hand and thinking about how to translate a very detailed Japanese woodblock print into something that would read well on a shoulder, when someone stepped up to the counter beside you.
"Medium dark roast. Black."
Every single hair on your arms stood up. You looked up slowly, hoping very much to be wrong about what you were about to see.
Jack Abbot was standing inches away from you in what appeared to be post shift clothes. Dark pants, a grey fitted shirt with the sleeves pushed up. His hair was slightly disheveled. There was a tiredness around his eyes that hadn't been there at the bar.
He looked good and that was deeply inconvenient.
He turned and his eyes landed on you and did the same thing yours had just done. A half second of processing and then something that settled into warmth.
"Tattoo artist," he said.
"ER attending," you said back.Ā
The corner of his mouth moved the way it had at the bar, that almost smile. "Small city."
"Very small, apparently."
The barista set your coffee on the counter. You picked it up and held it with both hands and tried to look like a normal person.
"How's apps going for the boyfriend?" he asked.
"Still nothing."
"And you?"
"Nope." you said. Holding your tongue back from saying and it might have something to do with you. This person standing in front of me that I canāt seem to stop thinking about.Ā
He laughed and you couldn't stop yourself from enjoying it. Didn't want to.
His order came up. He took it, and for a moment you were both just standing there in the morning light of the coffee shop with your respective drinks, and it should have been awkward, but it wasn't.Ā
"How's the composition coming?" he asked.
You blinked. "What?"
"The shoulder piece. You were looking at reference photos." He nodded at your phone.Ā
You stared at him. "You could see that from over there?"
"I have good eyes." He looked down at his cup and smiled. "And..I was looking."
There it was again. That quality of attention. He'd just been looking, so he said so. Straightforward.Ā
"The reference is very detailed. Too much for the placement. I need to pull out what matters and let the rest go."
You were embarrassed then. By how much you were talking, but with him it felt easy. Felt like he wanted to hear it.Ā
"I have to get back," you said.
"Me too. Just got off a shift and my bed is calling my name. " He lifted his cup briefly. "Good to see you, Y/N."
"You too, Jack."
You made it exactly half a block before you stopped on the sidewalk in the thin morning sun and pressed your free hand briefly over your face and stood there for a moment, just breathing.
ā¦
You didn't tell Trinity.
This was not a decision you made consciously. It was more that every time you opened your mouth to bring it up you got as far as so a weird thing happened and then something stopped you.
You couldn't name what the something was. Which was its own kind of answer, probably.
Derek had finally gotten a match on Hinge. He told you about it over Thai food from a spot he'd found near his office. He was nervous in the way he got when he wanted your permission for something and was working up to asking for it, and you gave it before he got there because it was easier and because part of you was simply, unexpectedly, relieved.
He went on the date on Friday. You worked late, finished a geometric back piece on a client who fell asleep halfway through.
You pulled out your phone. Derek had texted a photo from what appeared to be a rooftop bar, his arm around a woman with a bright smile, the caption reading she's really cool! Hope your night is good.Ā
...
You were between clients on a Thursday afternoon when the bell above your shop door announced someone.
This happened sometimes. The by appointment or by chance on the door was genuine. You believed in leaving room for the unplanned, for the person who walked past a window and felt something pull at them and followed it inside.
Some of your best work had come from chance clients. Your assistant, Bella,Ā handled walk ins on most days, did a quick consultation, got them on the books.
You were not prepared for the specific walk in that came through your door just now.Ā
Jack stepped inside and stopped. You'd designed the space with the same intention you brought to everything, It looked like a place that felt like home. People felt that when they walked in.
Jack felt it. You could see him feeling it, his eyes moving slowly around the room, taking it in.
Bella looked up from the front desk. Looked at him and then looked at you.Ā
"I've got it," you said.
She went back to her computer with the poorly concealed vibe of someone who was going to have questions. and lots of them.
You crossed the floor and stopped in front of him and waited for him to finish looking. His eyes landed on a woman's face in profile. One you'd drawn at twenty three. He looked at it for a long moment. "Yours?" he said.
"All of it's mine."
He nodded slowly. Then he looked at you "I was in the neighborhood." he said.
You looked at him and quirked a brow. "You were in the neighborhood?"
"Broadly speaking."
"The hospital is eleven blocks away."
"It's a big neighborhood." Not even a flicker of embarrassment. "I wanted to see your shop."
You stood there for a moment looking at this man who had walked eleven blocks out of his way on a Thursday afternoon and was telling you so without any apparent intention of making it smaller than it was.
Something in your chest made the decision your brain was still debating. "Let me show you around."
He asked questions that showed he'd already been thinking. About the difference between styles, about how you decided what went on the walls versus what stayed in your portfolio, about whether the design process started with the client or with you.
You answered them. All of them. More than you usually did.
He stopped at your station and studied it. "Organized," he said.
"Everything has a place."
"Same in an ER." He looked at the tray. "You have to be able to reach what you need without looking."
"Exactly." You paused. "Although my tools are slightly less.."
"High stakes?"
"I was going to say scary, but sure."
He laughed and you walked him back to the front and he stopped at the door and you were close enough that you were suddenly aware of the particular gravity of him, the way a room organized itself slightly around where he was standing.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card and then turned it over and wrote ten digits on the back and he held it out. "In case you need it." he said. "For anything."
You looked at the number and smiled. āAnything?ā
The almost smile arrived fully this time, unhurried and genuine and just slightly devastating. "Anything."
The bell above the door announced his exit and you stood at the front of your shop turning the card over and over in your hand.
Bella appeared from the back. "Who," she said, "was that."
"Just a walk in.āĀ you help the card up to your lips, tapping it against the smile that refused to go away.
ā¦
It happened on a Wednesday, which felt wrong somehow. Momentous things should happen on weekends, or at least on a Friday when the week had built to something. Wednesday was for grocery runs and laundry.
And yet.
It started with a broken pipe.
Your upstairs neighbor had a pipe situation at seven in the evening that became a ceiling situation in your apartment at seven fifteen, which became a you cannot stay here tonight situation by seven thirty when the super looked at the spreading water stain above your bedroom, calculating how much this was going to cost him personally.
Derek was in Portland.
This was the other thing that had happened, quietly, over the past two weeks. Derek had matched with the rooftop bar woman, whose name was Sienna, and Sienna lived in Portland, and Derek had mentioned a visit, informing you of a decision already made. You had said have fun and meant it, or at least a part of you had meant it, and now he was in Portland and you were standing in your hallway with a go bag and nowhere obvious to go.
Trinity was on a double shift. You knew this without checking because Trinity's schedule was a fixed star in your sky, reliable and brutal. And plus she and Dennis didnāt have that much room to start with and you felt like a burden.
You sat in your car outside your building for ten minutes, bag in the passenger seat, and considered your options. You took the card out of your wallet. You had looked at it more times than you were going to admit to anyone, including yourself.
Without thinking too hard about it you said a simple fuck it and you called him.
He picked up on the second ring. "Y/N."
Just your name. Like it fit naturally.
"Hi," you said. "I have a weird situation."
"Tell me."
When you finished there was a brief pause. "I have a guest room," he said. "It has a bed and a lamp and I think a spare toothbrush somewhere. It's not exciting but it's dry."
"Jack, I cant.."
"Iām off tonight and I was going to eat leftover soup and watch something forgettable on television," he said. "You'd be doing me a favor. I hate eating soup alone."
That got a laugh from you. You sat in your car in the dark and catalogued all the reasons this was a complicated idea. There were several. They were legitimate. You thought about the water stain and about Derek in Portland with Sienna, who seemed nice, genuinely.
"I like soup." you said finally.
"Then come over."
ā¦
His apartment was on the fourth floor of a building that was older than it looked and better than it had any right to be. High ceilings, good bones, the comfort of a space that had been lived in deliberately. Books on actual shelves, not for decoration. A kitchen that showed evidence of real use. A couch that was deep and worn in exactly the right places.
It looked like him. Everything was where it was for a reason.
You stood in his entryway with your bag and felt suddenly like you were seeing something private.
"Soup's already on the stove," he said from the kitchen. "Chicken and rice. Hope that works."
"That's..yes." You set your bag down. "You actually made soup."
"I said I had leftover soup."
"I thought that was a.." you stopped. "Never mind."
He appeared in the kitchen doorway with a dish towel over one shoulder, looking at you. "Why would that be a figure of speech?"
"People say things they don't mean."
"I don't."
He disappeared back into the kitchen, and you stood in his entryway another moment, holding that statement in the quiet.
You hung up your jacket and followed him in.
ā¦
You ate at his kitchen table with an ease that should have required more history than you had. He told you about his recent shift. Some small victories. And you told him about the back piece you'd finished the week prior, the client who'd fallen asleep halfway through, the way people sometimes came in for ink and what they actually needed was to be still for a few hours while someone took care of them.
"That's most people," he said.
"The falling asleep part?"
"The needing someone to take care of them part." He turned his spoon once in his bowl. "People don't let themselves have that enough."
You thought about ten years of being the one who smoothed things over. Who held the shape of everything together so it didn't come apart. You thought about when the last time was that you had simply let someone take care of you.
You set your spoon down. Looked at the table for a moment, then back at him. "I want to stay tonight," you said. "Not the guest room."
His expression shifted slightly, but he didn't say anything yet, just waited, because he could tell you weren't finished.
"I'm still with Derek," you continued, keeping your voice even. "The arrangement is..we're open, that's real, I'm allowed to do this. But I need you to know that's what this is. I'm not..I can't offer you more than tonight. I don't want you to think this is something it isn't."
You held his gaze while you said it because you'd made this decision and you weren't going to look away from it now.
Understanding arrived and something careful behind it. "I'm not asking you for more than tonight," he said quietly. Then, after a second, softer, "But I want you to be sure."
"I'm sure."
He looked at you for one more moment. "Okay," he said.
ā¦
He was unhurried in a way. Like a deliberate kindness, even as he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand.
He shifted his weight, his limb unbuckled and cast aside on the floor, leaving him balanced over you. He moved with practiced strength, using his leg to help brace his torso as he loomed over you. "You've been looking at me like you're afraid I'll break," he rasped, his voice dropping low that made your toes curl. "Stop thinking. Just feel how much I want you."
He asked without asking. It wasn't in words, but in the way he moved. He reached down, his fingers slicking through your folds.
"You're so fucking wet for me," he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips when he heard your breath hitch. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me inside you."
You tried to say something, a nervous joke to break the mounting intensity, but it came out as a desperate whimper. He laughed and the sound of it against your skin made the air feel safe in a way you hadn't known you needed.
"Good girl." he whispered, the praise hitting harder than the touch. "Stay right there. Don't move a muscle for me."
The sheer size of him felt like a promise kept. He positioned himself at your entrance and he paused for a heartbeat, watching your face, before he drove home in one devastating motion.
You couldnāt help your back arching off the sheets as he filled you to the absolute limit. It wasn't a sharp spike. It was a swell, an all encompassing heat that filled every hollow place youād been hiding.
His rhythm was a punishingly beautiful cadence. Because of his reach, he leaned heavily into you, his chest crushed against yours, his skin slick with sweat. He pulled nearly all the way out before sinking back in, each stroke hitting deeper, harder, grinding his hips against yours until you were sobbing his name.
"Iāve got you," his hand leaving your wrists to cup your face, forcing you to look at him while he wrecked you. "Take it. Take all of it."
Your walls clamped down around him, the friction becoming unbearable. He didn't speed up. He simply pushed harder, his movements becoming more urgent. The tension finally snapped, shattering into a thousand points of warmth. You shook beneath him and he followed you a second later, a groan escaping him as he buried himself to the hilt.
And the only thing you could think was, Oh. This is what itās supposed to feel like.
(a/n: this one goes out to my fellow chronically ill girlies. sorry to yall that i'm putting out everything that's been sitting in my drafts. dont worry! there will be another part for this :) maybe if you tell me what you think about it, it'll come sooner rather than later mwahahahahaha)
To say you were a frequent flyer at the ER is an understatement.
You come at least once a month to get your migraine prevention shot. Technically, you could do it at home, but you were alone and youād rather a nurse do it. You didnāt particularly love needles, and sometimes you were there more than once a month, when the rare migraine would break through and youād come get an emergency injection.
All of the staff knew you by now. And even though showing up outside of your monthly injection meant you were in pain, there was a strange comfort in the familiar faces.
You barely got yourself to the ER tonight. It was 7 PM, and you had writhed around in bed until the pain just got too unbearable.Ā
Now, you were sitting in the waiting room, and everyone was being so loud. You had on sunglasses to block the sterile light above you, an ice cap jammed on your head, and a paper bag in your lap just in case you might throw up.
You didn't always, but if you had to wait a while, it was inevitable.
Through the haze of pain, you heard Danaās voice. She was talking to Lupe, and as you looked up, she saw you.
āY/N! Oh, kid.ā She motioned for you to come through, buzzing you in immediately. āAnother one?ā she asked, giving you a hug you didnāt know you needed.
āBad,ā you whispered. You could barely talk.
Around the corner, Robby was talking to Jack, filling him in for shift change. He did a double take as you and Dana walked past. āY/N? Didnāt we see you a week or so ago?ā
āBreakthrough. Bad one, too.ā Dana felt you slump against her, and suddenly, you felt another pair of hands come up to hold you steady.
āIāve got her.ā The voice was as soft as the chest you were pressed against.
Jack.
You didnāt see him much when you came here, but oh, when you did, it was so good.Ā
He was so handsome, and if your brain wasnāt already trying to go to mush from the migraine, it would have from just him touching you.
When you got your monthly injections, you usually came during the day, but your breakthrough headaches usually happened at night. So Jack was there every time.
Dana came back with a wheelchair and you slumped into it. āIāll take her,ā Jack said.
Princess came up to greet you as he wheeled you into your room. Jack placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You couldnāt help yourself but lean into it.
He looked like he was about to ask you a question but thought better of it. Instead, he scooped you up out of the chair and placed you gingerly on the gurney.
āOh, sweet girl. I never like seeing you here,ā Princess said. She took your vitals and got an IV going in your arm while you squeezed her hand.
Jack scanned his ID in and started typing in orders. āLetās give her a subcutaneous injection of Imitrex.ā Princess nodded and left to get the medication. Jack shut the door and turned the lights off, and you finally felt yourself relax.
āBetter?ā he whispered.
āMuch.ā
You felt his hand squeeze yours, and you couldnāt help the flutter in your heart.Ā
āThank you, Dr. Abbot. Sorry you see me so much. Iām starting to become predictable.ā
āCall me Jack,ā he replied softly. āAnd donāt apologize. Migraines are never something to apologize for, sweetheart.ā
The next time you came in was for your scheduled monthly injection. Dana was the one to do it this time. āHey kid! Letās go in the room. Iāve already got everything ready for you.ā
You smiled, feeling human for once.
āSo, Iām having a birthday thing at the bar down the street this weekend,ā Dana said as she went to get some gloves.
āOh! Yes, that reminds me!ā You pulled out an embroidered handkerchief from your bag, it featured delicate flowers and a cursive letter D. āHappy early birthday. Thank you for being you, and caring for me, and being so sweet.ā
āKid! Iām going to cry! This is beautiful!ā Dana pulled you into a hug. āActually, I was telling you because I want you to come! Itāll be the crew from here that you know and a few from the night shift.ā
Night shift. You wondered if Jack would be there.
āI wouldnāt miss it!ā
When the weekend arrived, you pulled the door open to the bar and saw everyone from the ER congregated at the back. You stopped to get yourself an ice water before joining them. Emma saw you first and came over to hug you.
āYou came! I was wondering if Dana had gotten to ask you!ā
You couldnāt help your eyes roving over the crowd. You knew you were searching for someone in particular, but you wouldnāt admit it to yourself.
Salt-and-pepper hair, sweet eyes, and unbelievably hot.
Then, through the dim light of the bar, your eyes locked onto his. Jack was leaning against the wood of the back booths, a glass in his hand.
He must have felt your gaze, because he lifted his drink towards you in a silent toast. You mirrored the gesture, offering a small nod.
āOh my god, I knew it,ā Emma whispered, suddenly at your elbow. She gave your side a playful pinch.
āWhat!ā you squeaked, nearly dropping your water.
āYouāre into Abbot,ā she said, her expression pulling into a knowing smirk.
Before you could even attempt a denial, Trinity joined the huddle, pulling you into a warm hug. āHappy to see you outside of the ER for once. What are we talking about?ā
āNothing!ā you blurted out, just as Emma chirped, āHow Y/N wants Abbot.ā
Trinityās eyes went wide with a laugh. āOh my god, yeah. Me and Javadi were placing bets on that.ā
You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, your entire face flashing hot. āAm I that obvious?ā you stammered, feeling like a teenager again.
Emma squeezed your side reassuringly. āNo, not at all. But Abbot sure is.ā
Wait, what?
That gave you pause. You turned toward Emma, then looked back at Trinity. Both women were wearing identical, mischievous smiles.
āWhat are you talking about?ā you asked, your heart doing a strange little skip. But Trinity just sauntered away to find Yolanda, and Emma made a theatrical lock motion over her lips, refusing to say another word.
After the music had gotten louder and the room more crowded, you found Dana to say your goodbyes. You gave her one last hug, thanking her again for the invite.
āLeaving already sweet girl?ā she asked, looking concerned. āHow are you getting home?ā
āOh, Iām taking the bus,ā you said, adjusting your bag. āItās not too many stops from here.ā
Danaās brow furrowed. She immediately scanned the room and spotted Jack, who was already shrugging on his coat near the door.
āJack!ā Dana called out, waving him over. āYou got time to give sweet Y/N a ride here? I donāt want her walking to the bus stop and then riding it late.ā
Jack stopped, his jacket half on, and locked eyes with you briefly. A gentle smile spread across his face. āOf course. Ready?ā
You swallowed hard. āReady.ā
The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped out of the bar. Jackās truck was an old thing that suited him perfectly.
The drive began in a comfortable silence. You leaned your head back against the headrest, watching the streetlights flicker across the dashboard while your mind replayed Emmaās words on a loop. āAbbot sure is.āĀ
You stole a glance at his profile. The sharp line of his jaw and the focused way he watched the road. Was he actually interested, or was he just being the same kind, attentive doctor you always saw in the ER?
The silence stretched on until Jack glanced over, his brow furrowed slightly.
āYou okay?ā he asked softly. āYou're being very quiet. Not getting a migraine hopefully.ā
āNo, not at all,ā you said quickly, offering a reassuring smile. āJust a little tired from work.ā
āWhat is it you do, exactly? When you aren't being poked and prodded by us?ā
āIām an editor for a publishing house,ā you explained. āI love it, but Iāve had to get pretty creative with the ways I work so I donāt trigger migraines. Blue light filters, specific fonts, breaking up the reading sessions.. itās a whole system.ā
The conversation flowed easily from there. You talked about a lot. The ride wasnāt even that far from the bar.Ā
He mentioned heād been thinking about a change at home. āIām actually trying to decide whether or not to adopt a cat,ā he admitted, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. āThe house feels a bit too quiet.ā
You perked up instantly. āOh! You definitely should. I have a cat named Piper, and I honestly don't know what I'd do without her. Sheās the best.ā You spent the next few blocks telling him about her quirks and how much you loved her. Without thinking, the words tumbled out: āYou should come by and see her sometime.ā
āIād like that,ā he said, his voice dropping. You immediately fought the flush that started creeping up your neck, suddenly very interested in the view out the side window.
When he finally pulled up to the curb outside your apartment, you found yourself fumbling with your bag, trying to find any reason to linger. You hated that you couldn't find a single excuse to stay in the warmth of the truck just a minute longer.
You reached for the handle to open the door, but before you could pull it, you saw Jack move. He stepped out, walked around the front of the truck, and opened your door before you could even touch it.
āYou okay to walk up?ā he asked, standing close as he shut the door behind you.
āYeah. Thank you again for the ride, Jack,ā you said, looking up at him.
āSweet dreams, kid,ā he said with that soft, half smile as you opened the door to your building.
You watched him walk back to his truck, feeling a weight settle in your chest.Ā
Summary: the start of your shifts begins horribly, leading you bloodied and second guessing yourself. Dr. Abbot knows where you've gone to over-think and finally gets closer a little closer after small moments of connection in the ED.
Words: 7k
Warnings: assault (code hula hoop), descriptions of various medical treatments and presenting problems, dr. robby being an ass, smoking.
a/n: who would have thought in the 2026 I'd be posting a fic. I know I had teased smth earlier in the year with bucky but I just couldn't finish it, the fic was so self-indulgent to help process personal issues going on. I absolutely LOVE the Pitt and may have a teeny-weeny crush on Shawn Hatosy...yes, I bought a Quinn subscription. Maybe they'll be a part two, maybe there won't...who knows with this blog. Anyways, enjoy. Rambo <3
You remembered the announcement as if it were yesterday; it sparked a lot of new gossip and polar-opposite opinions. When Gloria announced the āMid-day Shift,ā people were not impressed, mainly because it was not about hiring new people but about shifting current physicians around. Instead of starting at the normal Day or Night shift times, the Mid-Day shift would start halfway through either shift. The goal was to help with continuity of care and to get, for example, the Day shift out sooner, because someone was there to continue with patients instead of passing off information to someone new. Upon announcement, it was met with many questions.
Is this person going to be responsible for all the patients, and the other shift takes the new ones?
How many people will be on the mid-day shift?
Will there be a mid-night shift?
Why is this the focus when there are so many existing problems that need to be addressed?
Gloria had scheduled each resident to be on the mid-day or mid-night shift for a month. Today was your first mid-day shift; youād start at noon and go until midnight. Typically, you were a Night shift resident and preferred to work at night. You had little social life and were content to spend your nights in the hospital working with everyone.
There werenāt friends you met up with to get coffee, there werenāt parents to call to check in, there wasnāt anything like that. Though it helped you graduate and get lots of opportunities, you had realized that spending so much time studying and keeping to yourself had very real consequences. Many of the friends you once had didnāt speak to you anymore, they put in the same effort you did, which was next to none. It wasnāt all bad; you had your friends on the Night shift, sometimes grabbing an ice cream at nine in the morning because it was a treat after a very long day. Orā¦night.
The blizzard of fluffy snow outside turned into a blizzard of bodies in chairs. People were taking up so much more space with their puffy jackets, and some had snowpants on. Piles of snow gear appeared on chairs, and mothers who looked half-dead, though they werenāt patients, held many toques and mittens. Pushing past, you made it to security and found your way back into the Pitt.
It was in full swing; no one had the time to greet you. This wasnāt the very first time the shift was occurring; other residences had their month of doom. However, it was still hard to get used to.
You settled in and looked around for a moment, wondering where to begin since everyone was already with their patients. Dana made her way back to the desk, smiling at you once she saw you.
āNow look who is so late, Robby is already ticked off, yāknow?ā She shook her head, immediately grabbed the phone, and began dialling a number.
āItās my-ā
āHey, where the fuck have you been?ā Robby suddenly appeared from behind you, āYou think you can just waltz in here?ā Obviously, something had happened this morning.
Honestly, you were surprised by the level of hostility; he should have known, since it was the first day of the month. āI'm on the id-day shift this month.ā You said plainly, already losing the energy to hash it out with Robby.
His eyebrows shot up. āOhā¦ā was all he could manage for a moment, āNever mind then, come with me, I have a case for you.ā He blew past you, not looking over his shoulder once.
Your relationship with Robby was complicated. You used to work during the day; it worked out that way; you didnāt have any preference. However, after a while, you had begun to notice the small ways in which Robby would treat you differently. Heād always pull you away from current patients to work on hard cases, ones that could have benefited from someone elseās perspective. Anytime you were having a hard day, stuck on a case, or not feeling your best, you could tell he judged you.
It was hard to talk to people about it, for many, Robby was their favourite, or at least someone they were scared to talk shit about. You found yourself second-guessing everything you knew and everything about you. He had eroded your confidence so slowly you didnāt realize until it was almost gone.
That all came to a head when you overheard him speaking to Dana. You were about to turn into the break room, but for some reason, you stopped in your tracks, wanting to listen to the conversation before entering.
ā-Isnāt tough enough, she doesnāt have it,ā Robby said.
āYouāre too hard on her, you donāt give her a moment to breathe,ā Dana replied.
āMy job is to be hard on her. Itās my job to put pressure on her because she needs to know what sheās getting into,ā you could hear what sounded like the coffee pot being placed down more aggressively than normal, āI canāt have a weak link, and I think itās y/n.ā
At that moment, your blood went cold. Not only did he speak so lowly of you, but he didnāt even use your title. Your first name sounded foreign, and for a moment, you genuinely believed he was talking about someone else. That shock lingered for a moment too long because before you could move, Robby came flying out of the staff room, running into you and spilling his coffee down your scrubs.
āy/n- I-ā he stood for a moment, knowing what you had just heard.
You started him down, not even looking at Dana when she left the room, ācall me Doctor l/n, Dr. Robinivich,ā you spat before walking to the machine to get new scrubs.
Shortly after you moved to the night shift.
Walking in behind Robby, you were greeted by an extremely incapacitated middle-aged man wearing golf attire. His eyes were barely open, and he was constantly muttering about something you could not pick up. Robby moved to the other side of the bed and pulled up his digital chart. It seemed as though this man had just been moved into the back rooms.
āThey had to sedate him on the ride over here, I guess he was an angry drunk.ā Robby said as he slipped on a new pair of gloves, āFriends came by andā¦wellā¦ā he sighed, āI actually donāt know if theyāre his friends; they wanted to see if they could go back to the course or something.ā
āHuh,ā you took off the stethoscope from around your neck and quickly listened to the manās heartbeat.
āYou ever golf?ā Robby asked; he was never one for sitting through tension.
āHeartbeat and lungs sound good, and no.ā You answered plainly, then moved on to a general scan of his body to see if anything else was wrong. As much as you could stomach the awkward silence, there was a limit to how much you could take. āThereās no adrenaline, soā¦no signs of discomfort in the four quadrantsā¦ā You trailed off, hoping that was a good enough answer for him to consider it small talk.
āYeah,ā Robby nodded, āmakes sense,ā he peeled off his gloves, moving one hand to rub the back of his neck, āwhat are you thinking?ā he nodded toward the patient.
āWell,ā you sighed and crossed your arms, taking one last good look at the man who was slowly coming to. āI think we need to first figure out how much alcohol was taken and see if any other drugs were taken. I feel like there is something else here.ā
Robby nodded, making his way to the door. With his gloveless hand, he opened the door for you. Before the two of you could depart, he pivoted to face you, āLet me know when the labs come back, alright?ā He stuck his hand under the automatic sanitizer dispenser.
āWill do,ā you give him a tight lip smile before turning away to find another patient. As you reached the front desk, you heard the doors open, and you could hardly hide your shocked face at the tall man being wheeled in.
āA twenty-five-year-old man collapsed in pain, complaining of a searing pain in his chest as well as his back. ECG is normal on the way here, with decent blood pressure.ā They pushed in quickly, swerving after hearing which trauma room was open. Robby trailed in behind you, still letting you lead. āGave him aspirin-ā
āThis seems more than a heart attack,ā you moved Ā to one side of the patient while Robby moved to the other, taking off his stethoscope and checking his heart and lungs.
The paramedic rolled his eyes, āgave him aspirin and heparin when the aspirin had little to no effect.ā Robby stressed that door-to-balloon time was the only important stat for the Pitt; patient satisfaction and the rest of the stats were not their concern in the slightest.
āDid you check the BP in both arms or one?ā you asked, āWe need to stabilize the blood pressure right away.ā As you moved around the room, calling for different medications, you kept looking back to the two parademics, āDid you check both arms, yes or fucking no?ā
āI didnāt check the other,ā one said, looking at the other, who also shook his head.
Robby, ever the teacher, asked, āWhy is that needed?ā
āāBecause these fucking idiots were too focused on treating a heart attack to help the stats instead of realizing this is an aortic dissection, you gave blood thinners to someone who is already internally bleeding!ā Right as you finished, all the machines began to scream, āAsystole!ā
You jumped up, beginning chest compressions right away, āI needed an OR yesterday, we need to stabilize and get him into surgery now.ā The pads were on his chest, someone yelled clearly. Your hands flew off his chest as his entire body pulsed with the electric current. āResuming compressions- did he have any medical conditions, hypertension?ā You spared a quick glance at the paramedics.
āHe-he just collapsed, was in too much pain to really talk-ā
āGet the fuck out, Iāll curse you two out later- I need an amp of epi and-ā you let out a groan from the compressions, already feeling your brow begin to sweat, āI need to-ā
Perlah reached for the phone, āOR is ready-ā
āLetās move!ā You threw your leg over the man and continued compression. Everyone in the room began to push you out and past the medical desk. Everyone in the ED paused for a moment, watching you continue compression as your hair fell into your face from the force. Those pushing the gurney managed to get those in the elevator out.
Before the doors closed, the last thing you heard was Robby, āGet back to work!ā
You probably should have stayed to scrub in; you werenāt yet married to the ED, but to you, you were engaged, waiting to be wed. The ED was your favourite: it was fast and unpredictable, its own world. The adrenaline high you got was closest to hard drugs as youāll ever be; well, illegally distributed hard drugs that is. It felt euphoric to make decisions in the moment that could impact a personās life, for better or for worse. Whittaker once said he liked being there for people, and on what is most likely their worst day, he couldnāt have said it better.
There was pressure to get a more well-rounded residency before picking a fellowship, but there were things that were too slow for you. There needed to be a reason to push, something had to be chasing you. Abbot had noticed early on your pull to the ED, taking every chance to be stationed there. It seemed he understood the need for, it was chasing you to be the thing that pushed you forward. He didnāt know about your past, even though you spent a lot of time with him at night, but he knew there was a specific type of person who went through specific things for them to be interested in working at night in the ED, and he liked you for it.
While you didnāt know about his past either, you knew the basics. You knew he served but liked to talk very little about it, you knew about his late wife, you didnāt know what he was like before he saw a therapist, but you knew he was a better person because of it. He was kind yet firm when he needed to be. He took the time to get to know each person in the ED beyond their first name and one fun fact to remember them by. For most people, conversations typically stick to one topic. You always spoke about the weather with Dana and your shared favourite artist with Dr. Ellis. Maybe Abbot had those relationships with other people, but not you.
The one moment that stuck with you the most was one winter night. A blizzard had struck Pittsburgh, and people were ordered to stay indoors. Roads and shops were closed; the blizzard was not letting up at three in the morning. A few patients were rolled in, thinking they were the hero, going for a run, and slipping on the ice. Teenagers who guessed correctly that it would be a snow day so they got in bikinis and jumped into the snowbanks at the ends of their driveways.
You were sitting in the break room, sipping a hot chocolate you made from the powder that someone had brought, knowing you would all be here for a while. Abbot walked in, nodding your direction. He seemed to stop dead in his tracks, āis thatā¦ā he trailed off and looked over to the tin, āyouāre drinking hot chocolate?ā he laughed, āwhat are you, twelve years old?ā he took another look at your mug, before you could even get in a comeback he placed his hands on his knees as he doubled over in laughter, āwith fucking marshmellows, now that is amazing?ā
āSomeone brought the stuff!ā you sounded like you were twelve, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid being made fun of even further, āyou can judge me all you want, but whose here enjoying a little moment of peace?ā you asked, adding a āhmm?ā to the end of it.
Abbot nodded with that stupid smile on his face. He didnāt say a word, but he reached over and flicked the kettle back on. āIf you canāt beat āem, I guess,ā he sighed and leaned against the counter, facing you. āYou drive here?ā
You took the mug away from your lips, shaking your head, āsubway,ā you took a sip before placing the cup down, āyou?ā
Abbot pulled back one side of his mouth, ādrove.ā
You both waited in silence for a moment, neither saying anything because there was nothing to say. In that moment of silence, you both dropped into your own little worlds, not feeling the need to keep up with the small talk.
āHow are our swimmers in the snow doing?ā he asked once the kettle had clicked off, referring to the teenagers who had most likely come in an hour ago; time was relative.
You nodded, āGood, yeah, I think theyāre just waiting for discharge papers.ā
Abbot muttered a quick nice before making his cup, āwhere are the-ā
āThe cupboard right in front of you,ā you laughed.
āPerfect,ā he whispered and opened the cabinet to grab the marshmallows. āWanna do something?ā he asked.
That something could mean anything, it could be let's ditch this place and go make-out in my car, let's go to the roof and catch snowflakes on our tongues, let's pull a prank on-
āDid you hear me?ā he waved a hand in front of your face, giving you a smile.
āWhat?ā You physically shook your head to shake those thoughts away.
āWanna go give them some hot chocolate? I donāt know when theyāll be able to actually leave this place.ā Abbot filled the kettle up and flicked it back on, āIt was three of them, right?ā
You couldnāt contain your smile, standing with your mug in your hands. You walked over to the paper cups and grabbed three. āRight,ā you muttered, grabbing the tin and preemptively portioning out three drinks.
āYouāve never seen crazy, my friend,ā you giggled, turning to face him while the sound of boiling water began to grow louder. In that moment, your eyes drifted behind Abbot, āActually, maybe you have seen crazy.ā
He laughed, āI have, and I like it,ā was all he added for a moment. āI can tell you like crazy as well, and I respect you for it. It takes a certain breed of person to do this, and I donāt think youāre told enough that youāre doing a really great job.ā
All you could do was stand there with your mouth hung open, āWhat?ā you breathed.
He shrugged, āI see you, the way you command the traumas, the way you keep cool in all the chaos. Not everybody can do that, not everybody wants to do that.ā The kettle clicked off, but neither of you moved. He could see the way you grew uncomfortable from the praise, āNo one ever told you that before? That youāre good at what you do?ā
āNo,ā you wanted to say more, but the words died on your tongue.
āThen Iāll have to do it more often,ā he then turned and poured the water in.
While the snow hammered down, you and Abbot stood in the small patient room with the three teenagers, engaging them in small talk as the five of you sipped your hot chocolate. It was hard to really pay attention to the teens talking; your mind continuously wandered back to the conversation in the break room. Your eyes slipped over to Abbot; he was listening attentively, yet he could feel your eyes on him and would quickly glance your way. Ā
After that kind moment in the break room the two of you grew closer. Heād come in with larger dark circles under his eyes, a little more snappy than usual, but never to you. Youād saddle up beside him as he walked, asking quietly if everything was okay. If it were anyone else, theyād say they're fine, keeping it robotic. But Abbot, who had now asked you to call him Jack, admitted he hadnāt been sleeping well.
āTry a weighted blanket, it works wonders for me,ā you mentioned. A few days later, Jack asked how heavy your blanket was, and a few days after that, he gave a sincere thank-you for the recommendation. Another day, you stood at the desk rubbing your temple. Bright lights and loud sounds triggered powerful pulses throughout your body. Working a double was never easy, and coffee walked a thin line between being an angel and the devil. You had off-handedly mentioned you were extremely dehydrated, just never getting a moment to fill your water bottle. It didnāt help that you were chugging coffee to try and stay alert for the first push of the double.
āHere,ā Jack had placed your water bottle in front of you as you charted, āand here,ā he also pushed a sandwich in a little baggy toward you.
All you could do was look up at him. āThanks,ā you said, a little breathlessly. When you picked up your water bottle, it was slightly heavier than usual.
āI know you like ice-cold water,ā he smiled before walking off, leaving you completely speechless.
In the small moments you had of peace, much like the elevator down from the OR floor to the ED floor, you found yourself replaying all the small moments with Jack. A silly little crush could get you through the day and give you moments of bliss amid the chaos. It was fun to yearn, fun to think back to small moments of eye contact, little brushes of your shoulders when you walked past each other, it was fun to let your mind wander.
But those thoughts vanished instantly when the elevator doors opened. You were back in the Pitt, immediately being approached by Perlah. She gave you a sympathetic look before turning to walk with you, āHereās the labs back on that angry drunk, looks like he had a little more fun than his golfing buddies.
You took the chart and did a quick read-over, nodding as you walked toward his room. āPlaying something as boring as golf might make a person do drugs to find a sliver of fun in it,ā you laughed.
Perlah shook her head, āOf course youād say something like that, Iām actually heading this way.ā She pointed in the opposite direction.
You stopped before entering the room, ālet Robby know Iāve got this covered, he brought me over to the patient earlier.ā Perlah gave you a nod before walking down the hall. You took a deep breath, attempting to let that aortic dissection go as it was no longer in your hands.
When you walked in the room, he was still sedated; you could hear a few groans, and he was twitching slightly. As you took the stethoscope off your neck, you looked up at his vitals, checking his heart and lungs as you contemplated what his numbers were saying. He was stirring more, his groaning growing a bit louder.
You felt his hand grab your wrist, the one on his chest connected to the hand holding the stethoscope. āHello, sir,ā you spoke softly, āyouāre at-ā
In an instant, you felt yourself being pushed back. The adrenaline from him had overpowered the last bit of the sedative; he managed to get to his feet but wasnāt able to stand on his own. His hands quickly grabbed hold of you for support. This, coupled with the fact that he was in a strange room with a stranger, led him to lean on your neck.
He was not steady yet; his momentum pushed you back into the wall. For a moment, right after your head smacked against the drywall, you blacked out. When you came to, most likely seconds later, those hands were still around your throat, but you were flat on your back, seeing the manās blurry figure above you.
With all you might have tried to yell hula hoop, but there was little to no air coming out of your throat. You struggled for a moment, trying to roll him off of you. Between coming back from blacking out and losing your oxygen, there was not a moment you had clear vision. Your hands worked desperately, clawing at his forearms.
The only thing you could think of at that moment was something cruel.
With your middle and index finger, you jabbed him in the eyes, hard.
Oxygen rushed into your lungs like water crashing open a dam. You rolled on your stomach, bracing yourself on your forearms, gasping for air. For a moment, you thought you were crying, a hot drip fell down your face, but when it hit the floor, it was not a tear; it was blood. As you tried to stand up, you saw the blackness clouding your vision again. Your throat was burning, and your hand shakily reached up to the back of your head, only to reveal a large amount of blood rushing from the crack.
āHola Hoop!ā you screamed, before slowly melting into the floor.
The first thing that seeped into your consciousness was the pain. You felt it behind your eyes and around your throat. In your throat, it was a hot burn; you could feel the tenderness every time you tried to swallow your saliva. At the back of your head and in the centre of your forehead was a throbbing pain, getting more intense when you cracked your eye open. With your eyes still shut, you reached around the bed, trying to find the pager for the nurses.
Before anyone had come in, you were already performing self-status checks. You named the date, what hospital you were in, who the president is (sadly), and more. The scene before you was knocked out, replayed as well, and the last image you saw was burned into your eyelids. The man above you with a blank face, as if he were being controlled by someone else to attack you. There was no furrow in his brow, though you remember the large vein protruding from his forehead. His face is red, along with his dead eyes. Finally, your finger found the page button.
Dana pushed the door open, immediately dimming the lights. āHey, kid,ā she whispered, coming to your bedside. You could barely open your eyes, but you managed to squint and give her a smile. āHow are you feeling?ā
āLike shit-ā you broke into coughs, your throat tight and dry. Dana muttered something about water, squeezed your arm and left the room. You focused on sitting up a bit, trying to scoot your body back. You could open your eyes more now, as the dimmed light helped avoid any increase in pain. Dana came back with your water bottle, āthank you,ā you said.
Dana pulled up a chair. āWhat do you remember?ā
āNot much.ā
She took a deep breath, taking your hand into hers. āYou were attacked. The man was transferred to a different hospital, Iād say about a little over an hour ago.ā You nodded along. āHe had taken a large dose of cocaine and then drank a lot of alcohol; he had high levels of Cocaethylene.ā
āHow long have I been out?ā You sipped the water carefully, as much as you wanted to take greedy sips, your throat burned with each swallow.
Dana sighed, āAbout two and a half hours, we also gave a light sedative to do your stitches on the back of your head. We did ten stitches back there.ā
āIām not surprised, first mid-day shift and my sleep schedule has been fucked because of it.ā You could finally open your eyes now, seeing the concern on Danaās face. āIām okay now,ā but your voice betrayed you, sounding like sandpaper rubbing together.
āIām sure you are,ā Dana chuckled, āI think you should go home and think about pressing charges, no need to rush anything right now because itās all fresh butā¦ā she glanced down at the floor, shaking her head, āI really think you should, and this is me giving advice as a friend.ā
A friend.
You had never thought of Dana as a friend; you saw her for only a few hours at a time, since you mostly worked nights. Back when you were on the day shift, you didnāt talk much; she almost never had time for small talk, and if she did, she had other people to talk to. It was a big deal when Dana was assaulted; she took some time off but, like anyone else who worked in the ED, the addictive relationship lured her back in. When she came back, she didnāt talk about it, pretended it didnāt happen. You could tell she had gotten stricter on her boundaries for herself and her nurses, but it was never because she was scared it would happen to her again; she was scared it wouldnāt be her next time.
āThank you,ā you whispered, ābut Iām going to stay.ā She looked almost disappointed at that, ātrust me, Iām okay.ā You both knew you were far from it.
Dana squeezed your hand once more, knowing that trying to get you to go home was a losing battle. She left you in the room, the light still dimmed. For a moment, it was close to silent; there was a steady hum of the machines working in the room; the other time you could hear it was when a patient died, and everyone sat in the moment of shock.
Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you reached your hand back and gently touched where the pounding resonated. Your finger carefully hovered over the stitches as you counted them, nodding to yourself when you hit ten. Then, your hand moved down to the other source of pain. There were no mirrors, so you were unsure if bruises had begun to bloom, but the moment you touched the sides of your neck, your hand retracted in pain. If there wasnāt a bruise already, there would be soon.
Slowly, you stood, gently moving your head from side to side. You tried to slowly touch your ear to your shoulder, feeling the stretch and burn that came with it. Behind your eyes, the pounding was still there, steadily increasing with your heart rate from standing.
Right as you were about to shove everything down, saving it for the end of your shift, the door opened once more.
Robby.
The absolute last person you wanted to see.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. āSoā¦ā he nodded towards you. āHow are you doing?ā
You swallowed hard, looking for your water bottle, āIām fine, give me two minutes and Iāll be back out there.ā You were shocked to hear a laugh come from him, āWhat?ā you spat.
āYou need to go home, you have no reason to be here right now.ā
āI am fine, I can get through the shift and then maybe- maybe -take some time off.ā You rolled your shoulders back, taking a deep breath.
Robby wiped his hand down his face, āYou are not invincible, why do you act like it?ā
āI know Iām not invincible, but I know when it is too much, and itās not too much.ā You tried to walk to the door, but he didnāt move. āMove out of my way.ā
Robby scoffed, āThat is not how you speak to an attending. When I give you orders, you follow them.ā
You looked up at him, āAre you an attending or a fucking general?ā You crossed your arms, feeling the ache in your back but not letting it show on your face, āWe both know that if this happened to you, you would be right back in there.ā
āYeah, well, it wouldnāt have happened to me, letās be honest.ā He stepped to the side, pulling the curtain to cover the window into the room. āIf I were there, it would not have happened.ā
You shook your head, āWhat are you trying to say to me right now? That this was my fault?ā
āIām not saying that,ā Robby spoke quietly, but he didnāt elaborate.
āJust fucking say it.ā
The words were caught right on the top of his tongue; his jaw flexed as he tried his hardest to keep it all in. You repeated yourself, egging him on. āYou went in there because you were high off your save with the aortic dissection that you thought you could handle on your own.ā
It was a slap in the fucking face. āYou have to be joking. It hurt to laugh, but you did it anyway: āNot everyone has a death wish like you, not everyone needs to stroke their ego every chance they get!ā Yelling was worse, but you needed to do that too, āI was going in to get a status update to then get you, if I had gotten you first, you would have yelled at me for wasting your time- I canāt fucking win with you!ā
Robby shook his head, āThere is nothing wrong with me; youāre the one who bites off more than they can chew.ā In all honesty, you could have fought him right then and there.
āBut if I stay conservative, checking in with you at every moment, then you say Iām not independent and not confident enough.ā You threw your arms up, āYou think youāre this all-knowing, omnipotent being that has graced the ED with your presence, but no, youāre a fucking tyrant that sees everything as an attack on you- itās not fucking about you!ā
Robby stepped forward again, āYou better watch it,ā he snapped, āI have full control to report you.ā
Your lip was caught between your teeth; you had so much more to say to him. āExactly my point,ā you whispered before leaving the room, waiting to hear if heād follow you, but he didnāt.
Abbot walked into the ED and immediately approached Dana at the desk. A black phone was tucked at her neck, her shoulder pressing it to her ear. She looked sad, maybe exhausted was a better word; it was the end of her shift after all.
āHey,ā he muttered when she put the phone down with a heavy sigh. He decided to let her come to him. āHowās the night been?ā He circled the desk, placing his bag and coffee by his computer. When she didnāt answer right away, he froze, looking at her hunched shoulders and bowed head. āHey,ā he whispered and walked up beside her, placing a light hand on her back, āwhatās wrong?ā
Dana placed her hand over her mouth when all she could do was mutter your name, and his heart sank. āSheā¦she was assaulted,ā Jack felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped on top of him.
āWhat?ā he breathed, āwhat happened?ā He looked up, and around the ED, you werenāt anywhere to be found. āWhere is she? I need to go see her-ā
āI just left the examination room, gave her a couple of minutes, she basically just woke up, was asleep for a couple of hours.ā Dana looked up at him, nodding as he took in the information, āshe wants to stay, and I donāt think I can convince her otherwise, take it easy on her for the rest of the shift, alright? Especially-ā she points to the phone that was just hung up, ā-especially after this.ā
āAfter what?ā Jack turned his body to face her; he was caught between staring holes in her head and scanning the ED.
āHer patient died in surgery, Robby mentioned the paramedics did a shit job, I donāt think I have the heart to tell her.ā
āIāll-ā his voice got caught in his throat, for a moment, he saw you. You looked like you were in a rush, shoving open the door to your room, your head down, and your footsteps never faltering. āIāll tell her,ā he saw the way you pushed past everyone, heading to the stairwell, he knew where you were going. Right before he left to follow you, he saw Robby leaving the same room.
In that moment, he chose to stay, seeing the way his brow was furrowed and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Something had happened, he trusted you not to do anything stupid on the roof. He didnāt trust Robby not to blow up and make a scene. He watched as Robby walked over, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
Jack didnāt start the conversation, Robby barely waited to get close enough to him and Dana to start shit-talking one of his residences. Robby wiped a hand down his face, āSome people, manā¦ā he sighed.
āWhatās up?ā Jack pretended not to care, pretended he didnāt just see you flee. All Robby could do was sign your name, annoyed out of his mind. āWhat about her?ā
āShe just tries to be the hero time and time again; she never learns that there are other people in the ED.ā At that, Jack scoffed. āWhat?ā Robby looked over at Jack, no longer flipping through charts.
āāYou could say the same about you,ā Jack said plainly. Dana walked away. āNot everyone is attacking you; you donāt always need to be the victim.ā
āāThe victim?" Robby laughed, āIām just sick of other people not seeing how she is just constantly trying to prove something.ā
āSheās not proving anything,ā Jack snapped, taking the iPad out of Robbyās hands so there was nowhere for Robby to escape. āShe was attacked, and she still wants to work, thatās what I call resilient- maybe a little dumb -but resilient.ā Robby didnāt seem to be really listening, āMaybe if you took a second to get to know her, to build a relationship with her, youād understand who she is and how selfless she is.ā Jack waved his hand, deciding he was now going to find you, āYou just canāt comprehend someone who doesnāt kiss your ass twenty-four-seven!ā
A few other nurses and doctors turned their heads. Jack was worried about the wrong person making a scene. He knew exactly where you were; he had mentioned the roof being his spot a while ago. He left out key details, such as which side of the railing he stood on; he was more focused on the view from up there, especially during sunset. He had time to find you since he was early, as always, but he knew you were technically still on the clock, though you were considered extra.
The elevator ride up was painfully slow; he rocked back and forth as the anticipation grew. Once he hit the top floor, he made his way to the stairwell, the only way to get to the roof. The stairs never got easier; no staircase was easy. Over the years,, he learned to adapt, but there was always discomfort with certain things.
The industrial door scared you when it opened. You jumped as you turned back, almost dropping the lit cigarette in your hand. You swore you heard a subtle āthank godā from Jack as he approached you.
He nodded to your hand, āWhat the fuck are you doing with those?ā he shook his head, trying his best to be upset with your decision.
āLeave me alone,ā you turned back to the last bits of the sunset, āI just needed something.ā
Jack nodded, standing beside you, āI get itā¦I mean, I donāt like it but I get it,ā he reached his pointer finger and thumb out, pinching once.
āHypocrite,ā you laughed, passing it over to him.
For a moment, you stood in silence, letting the sound of the cigarette fill your ears with every drag. He gave it back to you, muttering that you could finish it. Your hands brushed when he passed it to you, his dry fingertips scraping over yours.
āI heard about-ā he could barely say, āhow are you doing?ā
You shrugged. From the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you. The exhaustion was catching up; you moved to the ground and sat cross-legged. Looking up at Jackās shocked face, you pat the ground beside you. He sat with a groan, sticking his legs out and bracing his hands behind him.
āIāve got a heavily bruised throat, ten stitches, and yet the thing that hurts the most is Robby.ā You felt like a child admitting it, blaming someone else for how you felt about something that had nothing to do with him. His reaction bypassed all the other issues during the day. āIāve got this patient in surgery, he will probably die because the paramedics were so worried about treating a heart attack to help our ratings, heart-to-ballon time is all Robby cares about, and now this, basically, kid might die because-ā
āHe did.ā Jack couldnāt hold it in any longer, your head whipped to look at him, and he could see the grimace in the fast movement. āWhen I walked in, I-...ā he looked back out to the city, āDana just hung up the call, had just come from seeing you, and I offered.ā He looked back at you, āIām sorry, it wasnāt your fault.ā
You nodded, biting your lip hard. Jackās face contorted with worry as he saw your eyes well up with tears, āI canāt believe that,ā you whispered, āI just-...ā your hand moved to cover your mouth, āI mean I get it, people make mistakes and I donāt blame those paramedics, not fully butā¦ā you looked over at Jack, āRobby basically said it was my fault, getting attacked,ā you could see the rage forming in Jack, āhe said that because ripped a new one in both paramedics I was high on-ā you waved your hand, āI forget what he said but he basically said I should have gotten him before checking on this patient, that I got one win and ran with it.ā
Jack shook his head, āThatās ridiculous.ā
You looked down, and the cigarette had burned to the filter. You flicked it away and placed your head in your palms. āBut what if heās right?ā You couldnāt even look at Jack when you said, āWhat if I bite more off than I can chew?ā
āHey,ā Jack placed a hand on your shoulder, āRobby is-...ā he sighed, āwell, Robby is a lot of things, but most importantly, heās oblivious.ā Jack followed your eyes to make sure you were looking at him when he spoke, āYou truly are a once-in-a-lifetime doctor, youāre talented and smart, youāre a go-getter, youāre funny,ā he laughed, āyouāre someone I look forward to seeing every shift.ā
You could help but smile; the tears fell down your face from the soft squint of your eyes. āMe too,ā you whispered, āI think youāre an incredible person,ā for a moment, you wanted to say attending, and maybe you should have. But it felt right, āI still think back to making those hot chocolates with you.ā
Jack smiled, āMe too.ā For a moment, you just stared at one another, the first time you could do so unabashedly. āIt would be such a loss to lose you to Robby, especially to him. I know itās hard, but you canāt let him get to you. I mean, I love the guy, weāre each other's emergency contacts, butā¦heās a good doctor but not a good teacher, and I hate when that becomes a detriment to the students.ā
āYeah,ā you managed to get out, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. You could tell from the way he froze that he wasnāt expecting the touch. But quickly moving his arm to wrap around your shoulder told you he welcomed the touch.
āYouāre one of a kind,ā he rested his head against yours, āIāll remind you every day if I have to.ā
ā summary: john shen's first day as an attending goes a little something like this. or, 5 times you believe in him and the 1 time he believes in you.
ā pairing: john shen x surgeon!f!reader
ā wc: 6.0k
ā notes: I AM FOR THE PEOPLE!! THE JOHN SHEN NATION!!! john n reader r the bestest duo ever and idc about anyone else ermmmm also can be read as stand-alone! but makes more sense given in universe context which u can find more of in the series masterlist! anyway this one is mainly for @rayveneyed my john shen girl....
ā tags: literally just fluff, some angsty touches, set pre-s1 of the pitt! medical inaccuraces sorry babes
read on ao3 || series masterlist
1.
John's barely two minutes into his shift. His first shift as an attending, mind you, when he hears the fall of footsteps and someone leaning in next to him, but his shoulders still rest easy, his heart steady.
He already smells eucalyptus and catches the flash of your scrubcap before he turns, which is the only reason he doesn't incite a panic out of sheer boredom. A stretch of pale green, sprigs of leaves and flowers, pulls across your temple. Daisies, with white petals and golden centres, blooming all over your head.
Very spring-like, which is an antithesis of who you are. John classifies you as very much a winter person, though maybe it's because he met you during a blizzard after you'd been called in for an emergency craniotomy. The snow-chill was still melting from your fingers, and your toes were still thawing as you had walked in like a breath of fresh air.
Shen had been an intern then, and you were an R7, in between your attempts at publications and trying to figure out your footing after graduating. It felt like Godzilla stepping into the Pitt.
Now, he's technically your equal. Attending to attending.
He stifles a laugh as you forgo a greeting and start with, "Dr. Shen, I hear congratulations are in order." Your hands are clasped tight as you lean in beside him on the counter, but your expression is as it always is: neutral, a settled brow line and clear eyes catching the Pitt lights. "Attending Physician Dr. Shen, I should clarify."
"Attending Physician Spider, I thank you," he replies, "if we're going by our official titles."
"That's Attending Physician Dr. Spider," you correct. "Or, I mean, I still have a real name."
As if swatting a fly away: "Yeah, but no one calls you that." Biting on his coffee straw, he looks up at the board. "Any advice for the new guy?"
"Advice?" you echo. "It took two months for it to really sink in, and a year until I really felt normal about it all, if that's the right word for it. When the paperwork started piling up, I realized that it's not that different."
"Well, next year I'd like to request a check-up and see if that's a common diagnosis." John grins around his straw. Your expression flickers before settling into amusement. "Make it a routine thing, make sure I'm doing this whole 'attending' thing right."
"If you get to your desk and there's three stacks of papers needing to be signed," you intone smoothly, "you must be."
"I don't think we get private offices."
"Oh? Robby and Abbot share one. They must have some room they can empty out for you."
"You think?"
You shrug. "Maybe." Then, you add on, "By the way, a car versus pole arrived right before you came in. Not going too fast, airbags deployed. Bruising on the chest, closed radial fracture, no acute head injury. Ordered a CT to rule out anything that might've caused dizziness or confusion. He was awake and alert, but keep an eye out for decompensation for me, will you?"
"Did you let Abbot know?"
"I did, but I wanted to let the other attending on shift know," you remind him. "Just in case."
John is quick to mask his surprise. "One less patient for me to round on. God, you're so good to me and I'll do anything you want."
"Just don't be lazy on your first day of being an attending."
"Oh, I'd never dream of it. Hey, you gonna be around for the night?"
"Yeah." You cup the back of your neck and massage it thoroughly. Under your brow, you stare up at the board. As always, the air around you warps and undulates like a heartbeatāeach pulse making something twinge as you shrug helplessly. "No one else would work July 4th weekend."
"Short end of the stick, then."
"No, I volunteered," you admit. "I'm not in a very patriotic mood." This, at his levelled gaze. "You know me."
"I'm still of the mind that you need friends," he drawls. "More friends, I mean. 'Cause that's what we are."
"Oh? I hadn't noticed."
"Yeah, between dastardly saves and water cooler talk. Oh, and by the way, you're terribly in love with me." Your eyes crease in a smile, and John feels a relief pool in the bottom of his gut. "You know, I think we're friends. Like you could talk to me, because you can. If something's bothering you."
At last, a small, placid smile finds its way onto your face. "We are friends," you tell him quietly. "I'm not friends with people who aren't exceptional at their jobs."
"Then why're you so tight with Abbot?"
"Do you want to toe that line on your first day?"
Another heave of his shoulders. "You know me," he parrots. "I like to toe the line."
You draw away, and with it comes that tone you always take on whenever you decide to drop into his world. Finely trimmed in warmth and warning is your grin as you retreat to the elevator. "Be good, Shen."
"Y'know," he ventures, "technically, you can't boss me around anymore."
You spin on him, quick as a whip, tracking backwards down the hall. "When did you start biting back?"
"I'll never bite your hands. They're too expensive, and I haven't gotten my first attending paycheck yet," he promises solemnly, hand to his heart and fingers splayed as if you'll stitch each digit to his skin if you had the chance.
You don't laugh, or frown, or show any sign that you're angry, as you are wont to do. Your countenance softens, and then you jab your thumb into the button. Immediately, the sign above you lights up and the two heavy doors part.
"Don't let the R2s defer to Abbot when you stand in the room," you advise, stepping in, "Attending Physician Dr. Shen."
The sterile, cold air shifts with a gust of air that sweeps into the trauma room. A quick glance at the clock. Only barely past midnight.
Shen is craned over the woman on the gurney when you duck in and around the staff setting up stat monitors, your eyes dark and focused. You sidle in next to him, hand digging into your pocket to withdraw your penlight.
"Oh, I know you love me if you're here so fast," he sings as you take over the neurological exam.
"My gift for our new night shift attending. Dr. Shenā" lifting the woman's eyelids, you swing the light and watch the pupil dilateā "who've we got here?"
John shoots a finger gun over at the intern. "Phillips, go time."
"Anna Badriya, twenty-seven, GCS 12 en route. She called 911 before losing consciousness. Head ache, slurred speech, nausea for three hours."
You frown. "Do we know how long she's been complaining about the headache?"
"She said a few days?"
"We're setting up fluids, zofran, haloperidol," Shen cuts in cleanly. "No barf yet, but you know I hate to see aspiration." His hip bumps against yours as they rip open her front. "Alright, woah, stop. Looks like we've got someone fresh from cardiothoracic surgery. We need to pull up her EHR and be careful when we move her around."
Your gaze darts towards her chest. A surgery wound splits the patient's skin a part, and you clench your jaw, turning back to the woman. "Is it infected?"
"Nope. Looks clean. POCUS." With a generous slather of gel, Shen places the wand to the skin. "Bilateral lung sliding."
"Is it from a valve replacement? Like, could it have failed?" Phillips asks.
"Don't know yetā¦ nope! Chest is clear. Upper quadrants are clear."
Lathered in sweat by pain, the woman lets out a soft moan as you press your hand to her forehead, using your thumb to draw back the other eyelid. "Anna? Anna, do you know where you are?" A soft moan comes out choked and out of the corner of your eye, you see gloved knuckles rub against the sternum.
"Responsive to pain," reports Phillips.
"Lower quadrants are good too. Spider?"
"Got a blown pupil. We need a head CT."
"She came in two weeks ago for an ascending aortic aneurysm. Discharged and lives at home with her mom." You whip your head over your shoulder at Olive standing by the computer. "Post-op DVT prophylaxis."
Straightening up, you step back and tuck your torch back into your breast pocket, ripping off your gloves with a rippling snap. "Alright, CT to OR."
"We'll need someone to call her mom."
"What is it?" asks Phillips.
Olive nods. "On it."
"A brain bleed caused by the blood thinners. Generally pretty rare," you explain, "but probable now." The harsh clang of the metal punctuates your words as the gurney rails lock into place. The ER staff become a procession, ushering the patient to the elevator and you cup your neck, lolling it under your palm and hearing the bones click. "We'll have her spick and span before you can say 'infundibulum.'"
"Still think mammillary bodies is weirder when we're talking about brains," Shen retorts, his fingers ghosting your elbow as you walk past him to follow. Side by side, they push their way out of the trauma room. The intern scurries ahead to help push the gurney.
Shen inclines his head towards yours. "Why do they call it that, by the way? Is it cause they look like a bunch of tiny nipples?"
"You just like boobs." You wrinkle your nose at him
With a huge, impish grin: "What guy doesn't like boobs?"
From where he leans on the counter by the arm, swiping mindlessly on the iPad to keep the screen active, Abbot interrupts whatever retort you had building up. "Hey, you need an extra set of hands?"
Shen pauses, fingers wrapping around the ends of his stethoscope. You continue onward, sending Jack a lazy wave, and as easy as breathing you say for him, "Relax, old man. Shen's got it handled."
You slip into the elevator just as the doors slide shut.
Turning on his heel, John walks a pace around the hub before pulling up Anna's chart on the computer, sitting down with a restrained groan. He stretches his arms high and back behind his head before flinging himself into the keyboard. Better to get started on his charting while he's ahead.
Yet as he settles his hands above the keyboard, he pauses for a moment. Then, he looks up at Abbot. The man doesn't even look phased as he works. John folds his arms on the desk, and says airily, "Don't know if you believe all that she's said."
"What? The part where she called me old, or where she said you had it handled?"
"Well, you're only, whatāpushing seventy?"
"Alright."
"No, I mean, the other part."
Abbot doesn't bother even looking up from the iPad. Vaguely, he answers, "She's an excellent judge of character for everyone except herself."
"Which means to say she's good at holding people at a distance," John surmises under his breath, but he averts his gaze when Abbot sends him a well-meaning but hard warning glance. He tries to think of what little he can glean from youāyour hobbies, what you like or dislike, even how old you areāand doesn't like at what he comes up with.
Which is to say, nothing.
"So, when's her birthday?" Abbot tells him, and he frowns. "How do you know that?"
"Ladies are attracted to a little experience." Shen pulls a face. Abbot snorts. "I mean, maybe she digs guys pushing seventy."
His boss pushes off the counter and walks over to the South wing. John's jaw drops, and Lena reaches over to manually hinge it shut.
John Shen isn't superstitious. He doesn't believe in saying the Q-word or the S-word or any word bringing bad luck, no matter how hard Ellis slugs him in the shoulder for it. Full moon madness isn't real. And he definitely doesn't think deaths come in threes. Good things, maybe, but not death.
Mostly, he believes good things should happen to good people.
"Dr. Shen?"
"That's me." He looks up, chin lifting from the cup of his hand to see a woman standing there. A surgical nurse, by the scrubs, stands there with shoulders pulled back as she stretches her arms. Her ID tag glints when her chest arches up towards the lights. CONNIE JOAN HUNTER. Crazy, he thinks idly, to have a name comprised entirely of first names. "Can I help you?"
"Spider sent me down. Said you would want to know that Ms. Badriya is well and in recovery."
"Oh." He stands, suddenly feeling very impolite sitting when someone is talking to him. In the back of his mind, he hears his mother chiding him. "Well, thank you. You didn't have to come all this way."
"She insisted," the nurse says with a shrug. She doesn't look at all bothered. "She told us that it was your first day as an attending, so you get to hear about all the wins you don't normally hear. Congratulations."
"Wow, is it a party up in neurosurg or something?"
"Always is." The nurse taps the counter with her fingers rhythmically before moving to glide off towards the stairs. She barely drags her hands away before coming back to stand in front of Shen. "Hey, are you close with Spider?"
"Decent friends," he says, pausing awkwardly between sitting and standing. "Have been for a while."
"Like outside of work," she clarifies.
"Those questions are directed to Dr. Abbot," he says. "Why?"
"We already asked him. We want to celebrate." She adds it as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and his confused look is stupid. He straightens up again. "But we don't know what she'd like to do or get. If you have an idea, let any one of us know. We have, like, a group chat and everything, and we asked Abbot but he told us to ask Dr. Robby, and no one really wants to talk to Dr. Robby, so we're still in the middle of trying to convince Abbot to be a liaison." He frowns. Connie Joan Hunter slumps. "It's a whole thing."
John's still trying to wrap his head around the first half as he asks, "Celebrate? Did I miss a memo in the company emails or something?"
"You didn't hear?" At this, Conne Joan grows a little concerned. "Spider got her pick of fellowships next year. Neurotrauma at U-Dub, or UPMC, or Toronto. It's where she went for med school," she adds, although Shen somehow knows that. Fellow Canadian, and all that. "They're holding a spot."
"Can they do that?"
"Well," Connie Joan says, "I think they make exceptions for her."
She continues to prattle on about adding John to the group chat so that they can come up with some sort of celebration together. He opines that you wouldn't like a big partyāeven a simple gift would doāand ignores the strange, sinking sensation that floods him. An overwhelming wave of sadness, almost, if he gives it too much credence.
He clenches his jaw tight and tries to temper his thoughts on why you wouldn't tell him with other things, like genuinely, what gifts you'd like. How you'd react to a surprise party.
How much you hate it, how much you'd try to shimmy your way free from the room. Sure, you'll thank them all with a smile, but you'd try not to shrink in on yourself, attempt to sweep the entire thing under the rug with enough white lies to drown yourself in. Let's not make a big deal out of it. It's not like I'm dying. I'm really not worth all this. It's just U-dub. It's just U of T. It's just UPMC, and it's just neurosurgery. Anyone could do itā
A pager beeps. Connie Joan curses under her breath. She scurries out of the Pitt with a, "I'll text you!" and it's loud enough that Abbot frowns as he rounds the corner back from South.
"Were you hitting on her?" Appalled.
As petulant as a child who's lying but Shen really isn't lying: "No."
Somewhere between the lapse of hellish exhaustion and the second wind at 5 AM, Shen treks up to crit care with a half a sandwich, a banana, and goal in mind. That is to say, to find you and figure out what this whole fellowship business is about. He prides himself on knowing the general comings and goings. He also wants to know if he's about to lose one of his friends to U-Dub of all places.
He'd rather you go back to your alma mater of Temerty, across the border if you didn't want to stay in Pittsburgh. At least he'd stop by the Falls to visit. He himself graduated just up the St. Lawrence from McGill, so it's not like it would be too far if he ever decided to swing up there. Support a friend. Toronto winters aren't so different.
He'd rather you just tell him straight that you're leaving instead of playing along with routine yearly check-ups and all that bullshit.
A young man sits at the nurse's station when John gets there. Hair limp and oily under the pale light, he leans back into the most unergonomic, cheap, shit black office chair the hospital could scrounge up, and stares up at the screens mounted on the pillar. One for scheduling, another for stats.
Spooning yogurt robotically into his mouth, he just watches. John would think he's a statue, if not for the steady lifting and sinking of his chest. The few others are writing or typing away, and it's quiet. All around him are other staff, sweeping in and out of rooms for their hourly neuro checks, the shout of a particularly cantankerous patient complaining loudly about his sleep being disturbed, and John's shoulders rise, tense just a bit, eyes darting.
"Sorry." The nurse swivels, spoon pulled over his bottom lip. The ID has been tossed onto the desk as John leans over on his knuckles. Carter. "Is Spider around?"
"Could try her office. It's on the neurology floor, though. Not here."
"She got pulled into surgery," another one intones, not even bothering to turn around from where she leans onto the desk by her elbows. The nurse pushes her face into her hands, dragging the skin up and down as if wiping away a memory. "Jordan wanted the lesions out and the tumour biopsied as soon as possible and she said she could squeeze it in tonight byā¦ I don't know, magic?"
"What the fuck?" the male nurse mumbles, then remembers Shen. "Sorry, man. Guess she's in surgery. Might be a while."
"Everything okay?"
"She's poking around in our friend's head. Like, nursing school and shit." With a daggered look over his shoulder: "He told me he was doing it tomorrow."
The woman holds her hands out in the air, shrugging. "Don't shoot the messenger."
The nurse, back to John: "You see how it is."
"Yeah. It gonna take another two or three hours, I'm guessing?"
Carter nods apologetically. "Do you need a consult? She's got some R1s tonight. They'll page her directly."
Everyone here is so nice, he thinks distantly. He sweeps his gaze around him. Then he realizes that there must be endless compassion or endless apathy to work in a place that dealt so cleanly with life and death and the meaning between the two.
John doesn't want to say it's any harder than the Pitt, but he remembers when he did a neurology rotation during his intern year. He shadowed a stroke team for weeks, watching as they brought back pieces of a person's identityātheir speech, or the capacity to understand it, parts of the body that would jolt and twitch, and then go still.
"Maybe there's a small mercy here," Dr. Mehta once said to him, lacking his usual sense of joy and joke that he had gotten used to. He must've caught John's expression when a patient arrived too late for treatment, and died right in front of them. He remembers feeling sick. It wasn't the first person who died in front of him, but probably the first one where the doctors stepped back, and let the patient pass peacefully. "Not just to our patient, but to his doctors who don't have to weigh at what point the quality of life justifies living."
"No," he remembers to say presently. "Just tell her if she's free to page me. I wanted to talk to her aboutā¦ Lance Burns. Car accident guy from earlier." He forks over his extension and the banana as thanks, and a little recognition flickers over the nurse's face.
"We'll have a room for him ready eventually," the nurse says apologetically, taking the food offering. He pauses. "Wait, you're the new EM attending."
"That's the story."
"Sweet. Congrats."
"Yeah, thank me when I keep sending up the guys that won't shut up," John teases, clutching onto his sandwich tighter. "Say, do you have a bathroom I could use?"
By the time he comes out and walks back to the nurse's station to retrieve his sandwich that he left for safekeeping and sanitary reasons, a few new figures roam the hub. One in particular is peering over Carter's shoulder. Your arms are planted on your hips, scrub cap still on your head as you dictate orders to the residents behind you.
"And make sure she doesn't try to roll out of bed again. Check the output every hour. I don't want to explain to her son why her EVD got dislodged or some other nonsensical thing," you mutter, fingers pulling down your cheek. The two residents nod and scatter, and you redirect your attention to Carter. "Next scan, please. See, right there. I knew it. He needs new scans. The lesions are way more invasive than these showed." You slide your hand to cup your neck, and roll it out. "I'll have to consult with Dr. Cheung and Dr. Conley. The good news is the biopsy results will be in by the end of the week, the bad news is I can't give you definitive answers." Your face twitches. "I'm sorry I can't do more right now."
"It's not your fault," Carter says, eyes empty as he clicks repeatedly. His voice is tight, and the other nurse from earlier has a hand tight on his shoulder, knuckles blanch, fingers rigid and digging. It looks painful. Carter doesn't even flinch.
"You can be there for him," you suggest quietly, pulling off your scrub cap. "Tired advice, but it's hard to be a patient." At his approach, you look up, exhausted, but still forcing yourself to blink and peer at him with as much energy as you can. "Shen?"
"Hey."
"Is something wrong? Lance; did he decompensate?"
"I just wanted to ask you about something." A meaningful look. You nod sharply down the hall, excusing yourself with your exhaustion. He follows after you and hands over the sandwich. "Just in case," he adds as you lead him through the twist and turns of the floor. You gesture to an on-call room after a quick peek inside to assure no one was already in there before slipping in.
John locks the door behind him, turning around just as you sink onto the bed, rest your elbows on your knees, and pry open the plastic encasing the sandwich. He pulls the chair from the desk and seats himself, arms lined along the worn armrests.
"What is it?" Your eyes warm in the gentle glow of the lamplight, and you look up from beneath your brow as you eat, cheeks full. You wipe at your lip, lowering your face at his expression, and your eyes widen, ducking your head even more into your hand when you realize he's still staring. Shen can't help the slight smile, the way his face heats as he turns his head away, pressing his jaw into the heel of his hand. "Sorry. I'm eating like a pig. I haven't eaten sinceā¦ Sorry, what time is it?"
"Half past four."
"Probably since eight or nine," you confess. "Sorry."
"You just apologized three times in the last two sentences."
"Ah. Yeah. Habit." You eat slower. John watches out of the corner of his eye and wonders what that could mean. "Right. What happened to Lance?"
"Nothing."
"You're being weird." Your eyes are shadowed, a slight frown weighing down on your lips in concern. "Did something happen?"
John winces. "No. No, it's not that." He leans forward too, steepling his fingers. Their heads are inches apart. You cock aside, your brow wrinkling delicately. "We'reā¦ we're friends, right?"
"I think I recall saying that earlier tonight. Is the late night getting to you?" You clear your throat. "Shit, this sandwich is good."
"I think the late night's getting to you," he comments, and the tone holds more of an edge than he wants. He tempers it with a quick, "It's from the cart in the Pitt. Marginally better than the cafeteria."
You stare at him, gaze searching. Although you keep your tone light, it doesn't refract an inch in your face. "The cafeteria could kill people." Tone measured, every movement calculated. "I think it's what keeps us in business."
"Tell Gloria that."
"Hm." You chew the rest of the sandwich, dust your hands into the plastic container before setting it on the table, snapped shut. It's such a carelessly tidy sort of action that has John's throat going dry. He rubs his palms together. "So?"
"So what?"
"You clearly have something to say to me."
"No."
"Shen."
"I'm sure it was some baseless rumour, but you should know that your staff have loud mouths. Like... it could be a security breach, and if you were the presidentā" he whistlesā "game over."
"Do you want me to have a talk with them?" The corner of your lips twist, displeased and a bolt of guilt strikes through John. He shakes his head violently, hands shooting out in front of him. Pitching forward at the hips, his feet shuffle and make his legs wider apart. You flinch.
"No! No, no, no, it's not like... bad or anything." He draws back, scratching at his brow. "It sounds bad in hindsight. No, what I mean to say is that I heard you were returning back to humble roots but instead of an R7 it's to fellowship. Should I be hurt that I wasn't in on the newsletter?"
Your shoulders fall, and your lips part, a soft breath coming out in the quietest of sighs before you utter, "I don't know. The only reason people know is because they keep eavesdropping."
He smiles wryly. "Do you think that maybe they eavesdrop because you don't tell anyone anything?"
"People need to mind their business. They spread all these rumours about fellowships, and I don't even know if I'm accepted into some of them. I don't want to get my hopes up in case they retract their offers and decide with a better candidate. Either way," you continue brusquely before John can cut you off, "don't be like me. Just enjoy the attending life. Maybe that's the advice I've got for you."
"Then why?"
"Competition. Interest. I was lucky to get a job without doing a fellowship. I need to be better to keep it. And it's either this or being a neuroscientist."
"So you're going to move to Canada."
"I don't know yet," you tell him smoothly.
"You're leaning to one over the other."
"I'm letting myself weigh the options. Measure twice. Cut once." Your eyes knife to him, under your brow, a butterfly's touch. Hair has slipped from your tight hairdo, ending like a swaying rope by your mouth. Over the past four years, he's seen your faceāa passing ghost between doors and curtains, hidden behind a computer screen, translucent through a printed scan. Underneath Abbot's arm when you're too still and half the room thinks you're a cadaver and he's trying to shake some life into you. Over Olive's shoulder. In the break room, the line of your shoulders sloping downward as you press your forehead to the wall, and there it is again: that distinct puncture wound Shen gets between the ribs urging him to reach out, to tell you that he's sorry and that he's hereā
It vanishes like smoke.
"The whole point of the brain is to adapt and survive," you tell him as you reach up and pull the elastic out of your hair. It tumbles all around your face, a wave of eucalyptus fragrancing the air as you rub at your scalp. Your words are a hand on his arm, squeezing him assuredly. "And to remember. In neuro, we gauge the humanity of a surgery by what will remain after."
He doesn't know why that sticks with him. You press a hand on his shoulder before you go, tell him you'll see him later.
John turns to watch you go, a lone shadow flooded by a pillar of light.
He doesn't see you again until his shift's over. Well, technically it ended fifty-seven minutes ago, but who was keeping count when he had charts to dictate and final discharges to go through?
You're talking to Langdon, which is a strange sight in itself, but the claws have been sheathed since March. Not gone completely, but the scratches glance off the skin rather than draw blood. You pass off an iPad, gesturing with your pinkie about levels and brain bleeds and shit he can't think of when he's tired off his ass from running everywhere.
But Langdon gets it. With every nod along to whatever medicine you're spewing, Shen wonders if the guy realizes he's staring more at the side of your face than at whatever you're talking about. He wouldn't be able to notice himself if he wasn't sitting at the hub right in front of the pair, double-checking to make sure his charts are fully uploaded.
"So, we hitting the diner?" he cut in cleanly when you pause in the midst of your conversation. You snap your jaw shut, pinning him with a look before muttering a dismissal to Langdon who hands back the iPad and disappears into the swirl of the Pitt without another word.
You turn to fully lean against the counter, setting down the iPad. "The diner?"
"Yeah."
"Don't really recall an invite."
"Well, consider this your invitation to the best congratulation dinnerfast in all of Pittsburgh. Who knows how much time I have left with you?"
"You mean how much you have to stick out before I'm out of your hair," you reply ruefully. "Besides, I have plans."
"What? A date?"
"No, of course not. Hey, give me your hand." Your fingers delicately steady his wrist as you slap something into his palm. "Come to the roof when you're done with your shift. Oh, and tell the DoorDash driver 2091 when he asks for the code."
He crumples up the twenty dollar bill in his hand, staring at it as if it were a baggie of paraphernalia. "What?"
"The DoorDash driver. That," you say, pointing at the money, "is his tip on top of the tip. Bring up the bags when he gets here."
"Why?"
The withering look you give him could've rotted a flower in the height of spring.
He's sure he's on the brink of asking another question you'd never call him stupid for when a nurse scrambles up to them, wide-eyed, flush-faced.
"Sorry!" she squeaks out, head swiveling from one doctor to the other. She seems to decide on you, fists clenched tight in front of her. "Ma'am, we need an attending in South 16 to oversee an intubation."
Without missing a beat: "Don't look at me. Talk to Shen."
The nurse firmly faces him with a determined nod. "Dr. Shen, we need you in South 16."
Shoving the money into his pocket, he shoots you a look. You smile innocently, and shrug your shoulders, head tilting towards the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way."
"Lemme know how much this was and I'll send back the money," John says around a mouthful of fries. You wave the notion away. They watch the sunrise as Piitsburgh begins to come to life under the growing sunlight reaching between the skyscrapers to brush along the filling roads and empty paved walkways.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. My treat, remember?" Whilst rifling through the bag: "Hey, don't forget your double-bacon."
"You got burgers too?" You withdraw your hand as he takes it from you, peering into the bag. Within indeed is a waxy bag of onion rings, and a neatly folded and huge lump that no doubt promised a greasy burger with crispy bacon and melted cheese. His stomach yawns and shudders at the idea of it and he pats himself through his shirt. "I knew I was your favourite."
"Rightā¦"
The summer heat does not yet bog down their clothes, and you sit aside John, legs sprawled against the concrete as you saw a piece of waffle apart in the takeout container in your lap. The man himself stands, chin tilted to the wind the way a dog sticks his head out to feel the breeze. The night's exhaustion wears on him, but he knows if he sinks to the floor, it'll take you and a handful of nurses to haul him to his feet again.
He looks down at his packet of friesānear empty nowāand his fingers crunch the paper. Just another thing you wouldn't be around to do in a year's time.
"How was your first day as an attending?"
Truthfully, he answers with a glance to where you sit by his feet, "Better with you in it."
You open your mouth to retort, but John doesn't hear it. A strange grief has wrapped around his heart in the hours since he's left the on-call room. It's a hard wire, tighter than it might've been if you had just left without warning. Like he's expecting to one day turn around and you won't be there.
"Sorry, I'm about to be real fuckin' annoying."
"Look, Shenā"
"Did UPMC say yes?" he interrupts. "Or are you just expecting a no?" Your lips press together, a small knot between your eyebrows and he jerks his stare away, a hard lump congealing in his throat. "Kill a guy for wondering if his friend's leaving the state."
Your eyes settle somewhere along the curve of his jaw. "Yes. I mean, no, they didn't say yes, and yes, I am expecting a no. I also don't know if staying here is the right choice. I've been here since my internship. Maybe a change of pace would be good. Maybe Pittsburgh saying no would be a sign."
"A sign for what?"
"A sign to move on." You throw a hand listless in the air in some vague expression. "If I don't have the medicine, I don't have much. I need to be somewhere where I at least have that."
John's heart drops. "They'd be ridiculous to reject you," he murmurs to the wind. You must hear him anyway, because the feeling of your arm disturbing the fabric of his scrub pants as you cut your food ceases. Forcing himself to speak louder, he looks over at the Pittsburgh skyline. "Especially since they know about your publications, case records, your work ethic. The fact that you already live here."
"My weaknesses."
"Your strength," he counters with an incredulous look down. "Your achievements. You. Spider, don't you know? Anyone would be lucky to have you." Your eyebrows rise at the heat in his tone and he turns back to his fries, fighting the tingling heat in his ears. "Besides, we'd miss you."
"We'd?" you echo, quirking an eyebrow at him. He nudges you with his foot, a grin flickering onto his face like a neon light, buzzing and bright. "You flatter me."
"Yeah, yeah, eat it up." You huff a laugh. After a moment of consideration, he remedies it. "I would miss you."
"ā¦thanks, John."
He watches the sun your face into a bust of burnished copper when it tilts up to smile at him.
summary ā that john shen has a major sweet tooth, everybody knows. but not everyone knows that thatās his love language.
warnings ā fluff š
afab!reader. no specific descriptions of body type, race or ethnicity. all lowercase for styling purposes.
a/n ā hey, babes! sorry i missed it yesterday. my mental health has been a little shitty these past few days and the drabbles iāve queued up ran out, and i had not one ounce of strength in me to write more, so you are getting a 2x1 today! hope you guys enjoy it! š¤
dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/angeliicide
john shen is known for his sweet tooth. it is obvious by him always asking if there is cake and the amount of iced hazelnut lattes, with two extra pumps of hazelnut and an extra one of vanilla syrups, he consumes every shift. jack tried counting it once, but gave up after the fifth time the grubhub guy showed up during one shift.
there is even an on-going betting board on how many stupidly large iced coffees the man drinks during a month, and, until now, no one has come close the actual number.
his sweet tooth also transcends into his love language.
more often than not, you are met with at least one tiny chocolate bar, either in your work bag, your pillow, as if you were in a hotel, or, in the most obvious way, when john pokes your waist, tells you to open your hand so he can place the tiny twix bar in your palm like he is handing you a forbidden secret.
you donāt know where they come from, have no idea where he stores them or where he buys those outside halloween period.
actually, scratch that.
you were looking for his favourite shirt for him so the two of you could go out for dinner and the movies when you opened the one drawer of his closet that you never really had the mind to open before. there laid bags and bags of fun sized candies, more than you have ever seen during your years of giving out candy during halloween.
ādid you find it, babe?ā you hear his footsteps before his voice. turning your head around, you find him shirtless, chest still wet and a towel around his hips.
āi feel like i found something i wasnāt supposed to.ā you scrunch your nose. āsorry.ā
āitās okay, honey.ā he kisses the top of your head and opens the drawer on top of the one you opened and finds his vintage fleetwood mac ringer tee. ācāmon, weāre gonna be late to the movies.ā
domesticblisss 2026. comments and reblogs are appreciated.
summary: When a new resident joins the night shift, her coworkers watch her relationship evolve from seemingly perfect to quietly concerning over the years. As tensions in her marriage begin bleeding into her work life, the people around her start paying closer attention ā especially John Shen, who canāt ignore the growing feelings he has for her and a few women that like to poke their noises into others business.
a/n: ahh I love and hate this one. Idea was good, but writing it was awful (apologies in advance for a poor writing skills in this one)
The first time you walked into the ER, you looked completely overwhelmed. Your fresh third year resident badge was clipped crooked onto your scrubs, your drink was shaking in your hand, and your wide eyes kept darting around the department like you were trying to memorize everything all at once before someone realized you had no idea what you were doing.
Which, honestly, every person on your first day at new work felt.
That was obviously a lie cause by stress. You know what you were doing. You spend some time before at the ER, already used to the chaos and loud noises.
But you looked especially nervous. Sweet nervous.
The kind of person who apologized when someone else bumped into you.
āMove, move, trauma incoming!ā a EMT shouted as a gurney flew through the ambulance bay doors.
You immediately stepped out of the way too fast and crashed straight into someone solid.
Gentle hands steadied your shoulders before you could spill your drink all over yourself.
āWhoa, honey,ā you heard a soft, womanās voice. āYou okay there?ā
You nodded quickly, turning around to face a blonde woman in navy scrubs.
āOh my God, Iām sorryāā
The woman laughed immediately. āAnd she apologizes for everything. Great. Weāre keeping this one.ā
Your face warmed in embarrassment. āSorry.ā
That only made her laugh harder.
āIām Dana,ā she said, fixing your crooked badge without asking. āDay shift charge nurse. You must be our transfer resident.ā
āY/N.ā
āWell, Y/N,ā Dana said, already steering you toward the nursesā station, ārule number one: stop looking like youāre about to throw up. Nobody knows what theyāre doing half the time anyway!ā
You let out a shaky laugh, feeling your nerves loosen a little.
āThis is Lena,ā Dana told you. āNight shift charge nurse and the only reason this ER still functions after midnight.ā
Lena rolled her eyes. āThatās dramatic.ā Then she looked at you and immediately softened. āYouāre ready to start?ā
āIf Iām not gonna faint,ā you admitted quietly, embarrassed.
āAww.ā Dana clutched her chest dramatically. āSheās adorable.ā
You looked horrified by the attention. āPlease donāt call me adorable.ā
āToo late,ā Lena said with a grin.
That shouldāve embarrassed you more than it did, but something about them immediately made the knot in your chest loosen. Or maybe it was the fact that you already got to know someone and a bit of hope that youāre not gonna feel alone hear bloomed in your chest.
The first shift was brutal.
Two traumas in the first hour. A scared mother screaming at doctors, overcrowded hallways and a quick pace that made you wonder if youāre really cut for it.
Still, you kept up.
By the middle of the night, you were charting at the nursesā station while trying not to look overwhelmed when someone slid into the seat beside you.
āYouāre the new resident?ā You glanced up.
The doctor standing there looked exhausted, but not like the others did with a coffee in hand that still held a few ice cubes.
āUh, yeah.ā
āJohn Shen.ā
You nodded quickly. āY/N.ā
His eyes flicked over the chart in your hands. āYou handled Trauma Two well earlier.ā
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. āYou saw that?ā
āHard not to when you nearly argued with mother about whatās good for her child.ā
Your face immediately heated. āI wasnāt arguingāā
āYou were right,ā John interrupted calmly. āYou got through to her. She trust you now.ā
āOh.ā
A tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth when you looked genuinely shocked by the compliment.
āYou donāt have to look so scared all the time, you know.ā
āIām not scared.ā
John raised an eyebrow.
You sighed quietly. āOkay, maybe a little.ā
āThatās normal.ā He stood again, grabbing his chart. āYouāll survive if you keep it up.ā
āThanks,ā you said, a bit more certain now.
āGo check on them.ā
You nodded, quickly logging off and getting up from your seat, paddling towards the room.
āSo, you met Sweets,ā Lena noticed, pushing her glasses up on her head.
āYou already gave her a nickname?ā
Lena shrugged. āShe apologized to a crash cart earlier because she bumped into it.ā
John huffed quietly at that despite himself.
āAnd,ā Lena continued smugly, āshe looks like sheād cry if someone raised their voice at her.ā
āSheās nervous.ā
āAnd sweet.ā
āYou say that about every women here. Sheās competent.ā
Lena slowly looked over at him with the most knowing expression imaginable. āOh, you noticed that already?ā
āI notice things.ā
āMhm.ā
āShe handed trauma well.ā
āYou watched her in Trauma Two?ā
Johnās jaw tightened slightly when he realized he walked directly into that one.
Lena grinned into her coffee cup. āInteresting.ā
The first two weeks were hard, but you managed to keep up the peace. You got used to working at night at this point. You always find it good for you, ever since your her night shift at the gas station back when you were getting extra jobs in school.
Right now, you were helping a woman that came with awful burn in her hand.
John glanced unconsciously toward the room you you were in. He started noticing things about you after a few days. The way you were always better with female patients, the way you kept stickers in your pocket for kids, the way you did your drink ā not coffee, the green tea had more caffeine in it and how you loved a pump on dragonfruit syrup in it.
āSheās a good fit here,ā Lena said eventually, after seeing how Shen looked at you. āPeople already like her.ā
That was true.
The nurses loved you almost immediately. Mostly because you thanked everybody for helping you. You listened when nurses corrected you. You introduced yourself to housekeeping staff instead of ignoring them like some doctors did.
āShe just wants everyone around her okay.ā
The second the words left his mouth, Lena went completely silent.
Slowly, she turned her head toward him.
John realized too late how soft his voice had sounded saying it.
āOh my God,ā Lena whispered dramatically. āYou already like her.ā
āNo, I donāt.ā
āYou literally said that like you were describing a wounded baby bird.ā
John looked exhausted suddenly. āLena.ā
āWhat? You canāt fool me!ā
āSheās nice! You canāt not like her.ā
āSheās also very pretty.ā
John said absolutely nothing to that.
Which honestly was answer enough.
Your coworkers met your boyfriend about three months later.
He showed up at the end of one particularly awful shift carrying coffee and takeout because youād forgotten to eat again. He kissed your forehead while you finished charting, moving to grab your things from your locker. Rubbed your shoulders gently while you complained about a long night, promising you a good breakfast when you get home.
Everybody loved him.
āYou work too hard,ā he murmured softly while you leaned tiredly against him, short after the handover.
You smiled immediately. āI know.ā
John watched the interaction from across the nursesā station with an expression so bored and blank, that it was unusual for him.
Lena noticed instantly.
āOh, thatās painful,ā she muttered under her breath.
āHe brought her flowers too.ā
āJesus.ā
Your relationship looked good. Really good.
You talked about him constantly without even realizing it.
āMy boyfriend made dinner.ā
āMy boyfriend stayed awake to pick me up after shift.ā
āMy boyfriend says I need more sleep.ā
You sounded happy.
And honestly? It was all that mattered to John, while he tried not to care about any of that more than he should have. Unfortunately Lena cared enough for everyone.
āOh, Shenās in love with her,ā she announced casually one night while stealing fries from somebodyās takeout bag.
Peach, another good friend of yours, looked delighted immediately. āNo.ā
āYes.ā
āOh, this is excellent.ā
John looked exhausted already. āIām sitting right here.ā
āAnd suffering,ā Lena added smugly. āQuietly.ā
āOkay, so these are my choices,ā you say, showing off the first picture of the dress.
You swiped to the first picture nervously. The dress was soft satin. Elegant but simple. Long sleeves with a low back and tiny pearl details along the wrists.
Lena immediately gasped dramatically. āOh, you look gorgeous in that.ā
āI look pale.ā
āYou always look pale,ā Ellis informed you. āYou work nights.ā
You laughed quietly under your breath before swiping to the next dress.
This one was different. Bigger. Lace sleeves. More traditional.
Lena tilted her head. āMmm. No.ā
āNo?ā you repeated, looking surprised.
āItās pretty,ā she clarified quickly. āBut it doesnāt look like you.ā
You frowned thoughtfully at the picture. āWhat does that even mean?ā
Ellis pointed lazily toward the screen. āYou look uncomfortable.ā
You swiped again quickly. āOkay, this one Ethan liked.ā
Both of them leaned closer immediately.
The dress was huge.
Not ugly. Justā¦ too much. Heavy beading, dramatic sleeves, layers and layers of fabric swallowing you whole.
There was a small silence.
Then Ellis said carefully, āHoney.ā
āWhat?ā
āThat dress is wearing you.ā
Your face scrunched slightly. āThatās what I said!ā
Lena pointed accusingly. āSee? Trust your instincts.ā
ou looked relieved immediately that somebody agreed with you. āRight? I said it felt kindaā¦ overwhelming.ā
John glanced up from his chart despite himself.
Your face lit up while talking about wedding planning despite how exhausted you looked after shift. There was something warm about seeing you excited over tiny details. Flowers. Dresses. Cake flavors.
You deserved soft things like that.
Years passed strangely in the ER. Fast and slow at the same time.
One second you were the nervous resident everybody helped with procedures and next thing you were confidently leading traumas while teaching interns yourself. You stopped apologizing constantly. You got sharper. More confident. More sure of yourself.
But some things stayed the same.
You still kept stickers in your pockets for pediatric patients.
Still remembered everybodyās coffee orders and got too emotionally attached to difficult cases.
And John still looked for you first every time he walked into a room.
Nobody missed that anymore.
Especially not Lena.
āYou know,ā she said one night while watching John unconsciously scan the hallway for you, āat some point this becomes embarrassing.ā
John didnāt even look up from his chart. āWhat does?ā
āThe fact youāve been in love with the same woman for like six years.ā
āIām not in love with her.ā
Lena stared at him blankly. āJohn.ā
He sighed tiredly. āSheās married now.ā
That part hurt more than he liked admitting.
Your wedding invitation had sat on his kitchen counter for almost two weeks before he finally forced himself to RSVP yes. He remembered watching you dance with your husband under soft reception lights while smiling brightly enough it physically hurt to look at you.
Back then, everybody thought you were happy.
The first signs were small enough that nobody fully understood what they were seeing.
You started checking your phone constantly during shifts.
Then came the tense phone calls outside and the way youād return from those calls quieter than before, shoulders tight, eyes exhausted.
Sometimes your husband still came by the hospital. But the sweetness people first noticed slowly started feelingā¦ off.
One night he showed up angry because you picked up an extra shift.
āYou said weād have dinner tonight.ā
āI know, Iām sorry, but we were short staffedāā
āYouāre always here.ā
You glanced nervously toward the nursesā station because people were definitely listening now. āCan we not do this here?ā
āI barely see my wife anymore.ā
John looked up sharply from his chart the second he heard the edge in your husbandās voice.
You immediately lowered yours further. āIām trying.ā
And somehow that sentence felt wrong to hear.
Because you sounded guilty.
Like youād done something bad by being needed at work.
Later that same week, the ER staff tried organizing karaoke and drinks after shift. Everybody was exhausted, adrenaline high from surviving a brutal overnight trauma run.
āCome with us,ā Peach begged while pulling off her badge. āYou deserve one night out.ā
You hesitated immediately.
āOh,ā Lena said slowly, already noticing the look on your face. āHoney.ā
āWhat?ā you asked quietly.
āYouāre literally asking yourself for permission.ā
You forced a laugh. āNo, Iām not.ā
āYes, you are.ā Peach frowned. āDo you even want to go home right now?ā
You looked down at your phone automatically.
And that silence answered everything.
āI justā¦ā You swallowed slightly. āI donāt know if my husband would like it.ā
Lena stared at you for a long moment.
āWould he stop you?ā she asked carefully.
You laughed quickly. Too quickly. āNo, obviously not.ā
But then softer:
āHe just gets upset sometimes.ā
John felt something cold settle heavily in his chest listening to that conversation.
Because suddenly all the tiny things over the years started fitting together in ugly ways.
The constant apologizing.
The anxiety.
The way you checked in constantly like you were afraid of disappointing somebody.
āYouāre allowed to have a life outside your marriage,ā Dana said gently.
You smiled weakly. āI know.ā
But you didnāt sound convinced.
In the end, you still went home instead of karaoke.
John watched you leave through the ambulance bay doors while something painful twisted inside him.
Because the worst part was that you genuinely thought this was normal.
The first real fight happened in the middle of January.
It started because you forgot to answer your phone during a trauma.
A sixteen-year-old came in after a car accident and the entire department turned into chaos for nearly an hour. Blood everywhere. Nurses shouting vitals across the room. The smell of antiseptic and adrenaline thick in the air while you helped hold pressure against the kidās abdomen with trembling gloved hands.
By the time the patient stabilized enough to move upstairs, your scrub top was streaked with blood and sweat clung uncomfortably to the back of your neck.
You were exhausted.
And the second you finally checked your phone, your stomach dropped.
Eight missed calls, three texts.
Ethan: Where are you?
Ethan: Why are you ignoring me?
Ethan: Unbelievable.
John noticed the change in your face instantly from across the nursesā station.
āYou okay?ā he asked quietly.
You blinked quickly, locking your phone. āYeah.ā
Too fast.
Then your phone rang again.
You stared at the screen for a second before answering softly, āHey.ā
Even from several feet away, John could hear the anger in your husbandās voice through the phone speaker.
āYou seriously couldnāt answer once?ā
āI was in trauma.ā
āYou always say that.ā
You closed your eyes briefly. Tired already. āBecause itās true.ā
āDo you even care that I was worried?ā
āI do care.ā
āNo, you care about that hospital.ā
Your shoulders slowly tightened.
People around the nursesā station pretended not to listen while very obviously listening.
āI canāt do this right now,ā you whispered. āIām still working.ā
āOf course you are.ā
The line went dead.
You stood there frozen for a second staring at your phone.
John watched you rub tiredly at your forehead before forcing yourself to move again.
āYou should sit down for a minute,ā he said carefully.
You looked up quickly. āIām okay.ā
āYou look exhausted.ā
A weak laugh escaped you. āThatās because I am.ā
John hesitated for half a second before gently taking the chart from your hands.
āBreak,ā he said simply.
You blinked at him. āJohnāā
āFive minutes wonāt kill anybody.ā
Something about the calmness in his voice made your chest ache unexpectedly, because he was making space for you without making you feel guilty for needing it.
And you realized, suddenly and painfully, how long it had been since somebody treated you gently without expecting something in return.
It was freezing outside. Nearly six in the morning. Snow sticking to sidewalks while exhausted night shift staff slowly filtered toward the parking garage looking half-dead after twelve hours under fluorescent lights.
You stood beside your car looking stressed while trying your key again.
Nothing.
āSeriously?ā you muttered tiredly.
āYou need a jump?ā John asked behind you.
You turned quickly, startled. āOh my God.ā
āYou say that every time somebody talks to you.ā
A tiny smile finally appeared on your face. āSorry.ā
āThere it is.ā
You laughed quietly under your breath while cold air fogged around you both.
John stepped closer toward the car. āTry again.ā
You did. Still dead, unfortunately for you.
āOkay,ā he sighed. āPop the hood.ā
āYou donāt have to stay.ā
āMhm.ā
Snowflakes caught lightly in his dark hair while he worked beneath the hood without complaining once. His hands were already freezing red from the cold but he still calmly explained what probably happened while you stood nearby hugging your coat tighter around yourself.
Then headlights pulled sharply into the parking lot.
Your husbandās car.
The second he stepped out, the atmosphere changed immediately.
John noticed your shoulders tense before Ethan even reached you.
āWhatās going on?ā Ethan asked sharply.
āMy battery died.ā
āAnd heās helping you?ā
You frowned slightly. āYeah?ā
Ethan looked over toward John standing near the open hood.
āYou couldnāt wait for me?ā
Confusion crossed your face immediately. āWhat?ā
āI told you I was coming.ā
āYou said twenty minutes.ā You looked exhausted already. āJohn was just helping me.ā
The silence afterward felt uncomfortable.
Ethan smiled suddenly, but it didnāt fully reach his eyes. āRight.ā
John slowly straightened beside the car.
āI got it working,ā he said calmly. āBattery connection was loose.ā
āThanks,ā Ethan replied shortly.
You looked mortified suddenly, catching the tension. āJohn, Iām sorryāā
āYou should get home. Roads are getting bad.ā
Then he walked away before either of you could answer.
You watched him disappear across the snowy parking lot feeling something painful twist unexpectedly in your chest.
Because somehow, in less than ten minutes, John had made you feel more cared for than youād felt in months.
And you didnāt know what to do with that realization.
The night you finally admitted it out loud, you were sitting in the ambulance bay beside Lena at four in the morning sharing vending machine coffee after losing a difficult patient.
You stared down at the paper coffee cup between your hands.
āI donāt even think heās a bad person,ā you admitted quietly. āI justā¦ā
You swallowed hard.
āI canāt breathe around him anymore.ā
That sentence nearly broke Lenaās heart.
Because nobody should describe marriage like suffocating.
āYou deserve peace too,ā she said gently.
Tears burned instantly behind your eyes hearing that.
Like you genuinely forgot that was an option.
A month later, you signed divorce papers.
And somehow the world didnāt end afterward.
You cried for some time, more about breaking your rutine than losing your husband. But underneath all the grief, there was relief too. Quiet relief settling into spaces inside you that had been tense for years.
You started to laughed easier again, staying after shifts for drinks sometimes and stopped checking your phone every thirty seconds.
And one night after work, you found John sitting alone outside the hospital near the ambulance bay drinking terrible vending machine coffee while early morning sunlight slowly turned the sky pale gold.
āYouāre still here?ā you asked softly.
John glanced up immediately. āSo are you.ā
You smiled tiredly before sitting beside him on the concrete step.
Cool morning air drifted softly around you both while ambulances hummed faintly nearby.
Then quietly, you said:
āI signed the papers today.ā
John went still beside you.
You looked down at your hands. āThe divorce papers.ā
Finally John asked softly, āHow do you feel?ā
You thought about it honestly.
āSad.ā
A pause.
āBut lighter too.ā
John nodded once slowly.
Like he understood exactly what you meant.
You looked over at him then. Really looked at him.
The exhaustion beneath his eyes. The quiet steadiness in him youād leaned on for years without fully realizing it. The man who never once made you feel difficult for existing.
And suddenly you smiled slightly.
āWhat?ā he asked cautiously.
āLena told me something.ā
John immediately looked suspicious. āThatās never good.ā
A soft laugh escaped you.
āShe told me youāve been in love with me for years.ā
John froze completely.
You watched genuine panic flash across his face for maybe the first time ever.
āIām gonna kill her.ā
āNo, youāre not.ā
āShe talks too much.ā
āYou didnāt deny it.ā
John looked away toward the parking lot for a second before quietly admitting:
āNo.ā
Your chest tightened painfully hearing it out loud.
Some time ago it would scare you. But now, a part of you found it safe.
You stared at him for another long moment while sunlight slowly spilled across the hospital walls around you.
Then softly, almost shyly, you asked:
āIf you waited this long alreadyā¦ā
John looked back at you immediately.
āā¦do you think maybe we could try?ā
For a second he genuinely looked stunned.
Then something warm and disbelieving softened across his face so gently it almost hurt to look at.
āYou sure?ā he asked quietly.
And for the first time in years, the answer came easily.
frank langdon x f!nurse!reader. you overhear two new nurses talking about how attractive langdon is, oblivious to the fact that youāre his wife. reader is only (slightly) petty, she finds it funny. reader is also kind of obsessed with pizza? idk go with it. they love to bicker as flirting - peak married couple. no warnings, but sexual implications. no use of y/n. [1.5k words]
There were two new nurses starting that day, not that you really minded. You knew Princess and Perlah would be the ones responsible for the training. You still had Emma to worry about, Dana had handed her off to you after her first day, too preoccupied to mentor. You didnāt mind that, either. Emma was a sweetheart and followed directions perfectly.
You sat at one of the workstations, typing at a computer as you updated information on your latest patient. Youād only taken his temperature and blood pressure before assigning him to one of the doctors. A young man with a three day headache.
āEveryone,ā Dana easily caught your attention, as well as the surrounding nurses who were behind the counter. She could instantly call to the entire room. Emma, who was sitting next to you, jerked so fast at her voice you had to bite back a smile. As you glanced up, you noticed the two new faces who would be joining the team that day. āMeet Carmen and Cher. You two,ā Dana waved her finger at Perlah and Princess, as you suspected. āTake good care of these girls, will ya?ā
āWe gotcha,ā Princess nodded, shooting Dana a wink. āNice to meet you both.ā
You flashed the two a smile, introducing yourself and allowing Emma to join in on it as well. You switched the screen off, then gestured for her to follow. āWant to help me grab some more IV bags?ā
Emma rose to her feet, quickly. āYeah. I think we need some more butterfly needles too.ā
āGood memory,ā you told her. āForgot about that. Here, supply closet is just this way.ā
The ER was bustling as always, the two of you narrowly avoided being trampled by a gurney and a jogging Whitaker. Just as you nearly reached the closet down the hall, the bathroom door next to it opened. Out stepped Frank, who was rubbing his hands on his scrubs. Immediately upon spotting you, you watched his eyes brighten, his face softening as you neared. It was remarkable the effect he still had on you, instantly your stomach fluttered at the sight of him. It had been such a busy morning that itād probably been hours since youād seen him last.
āDr. Langdon,ā you greeted. Youād gotten much better at sounding less coy when you said it, calling him doctor surely felt like flirting somehow when you shared a bed.
He said your name in return, casual as always. Emma took the opportunity to squeeze by the two of you, stepping into the closet. You could see her glancing around helplessly, and you had every intent of going to aid her, but Frank cleared his throat. āHow is your shift going?ā
āFine,ā you shrugged. āBusy. But I canāt stop thinking about the pizza in the fridge.ā He rolled his eyes, lips quirking. āHowās yours?ā
āGood,ā he mimicked your shrug, hands tucked into his pockets. You allowed yourself a quick glance at his flexing bicep, the line of muscle that traveled down to his forearm. āHavenāt killed anyone today.ā
You gave him a look, nudging him with your elbow. āYou got a sec? We need IV bags and you know I canāt reach the shelf.ā
āYeah, sure.ā
āHey, Emma,ā you poked your head into the closet. āLangdon is going to grab the bags, theyāre on the top rack. Did you find the needles?ā
Gleefully, she held up the bag like it was a trophy. āYep.ā
Langdon grabbed the box from the shelf with ease, grabbing the entire thing and nodding toward the exit. āCāmon, Iāll carry it for you.ā
āSuch a gentleman. Keep up the act, Dr. Langdon, you might start a rumor.ā
āSorry, Emma, Iāve filed HR on her countless times and she still wonāt leave me alone,ā he said over his shoulder, prompting a giggle from the younger nurse and making you to roll your eyes.
The three of you passed Dana and Samira, who both shot you knowing looks, but as you arrived to the nursing station, you immediately watched Cher and Carmen perk up. You let the observation come and go, shooting Frank a grateful smile, and he returned the grin that was reserved for you and only you. Just as fast as youād found him, he was gone the next moment.
You and Emma worked on stocking the supplies under the counter, the storage that was reserved for patients who didnāt always get the luxury of having their own room. Then, you participated in a few rounds while Emma did some charting, taking a quick break in the lounge and leaving you momentarily alone at the workstation.
Your mind was so preoccupied with the blurring words on the screen that you hadnāt even heard Langdonās voice as he said something to a passerby.
āHe is so hot,ā someone said from behind you, and you turned to see Carmen approaching with Cher. They both had clipboards in their hands and a mischievous glint in their eyes. You knew they werenāt talking to you, so you returned to your desk. Crushes in the workplace were no longer juicy gossip to you.
āI know,ā it was Cher who spoke this time, tapping her pen against the clipboard. āI saw a wedding ring, though.ā
Carmen scoffed. āSo what? Itās not like the wife will find out about some harmless flirting, anyway. Maybe Iāll accidentally slip my number in his pocket or something.ā
āOnly if you give him mine, too.ā
āOh, fine.ā
āWhat should I put on the paper? Just ācall me, Langdon?āā
At his name, you felt yourself straighten.
āGets the point across.ā
āHeās definitely into me. He was so nervous when I complimented him that he couldnāt make eye contact.ā
You wouldāve been jealous a year ago, maybe two. When youād first started dating Frank, youād been insecure and cautious. Now you knew better, that he only had eyes for you, that even when the entire ER was in shambles, he was the one who kept you upright. He had met your mom, made an impression on your dad, adored your siblings. You were a year into marriage, and instead of seething with jealousy, you found it kind of amusing. Because yeah, he was damn fine, but he was yours. They could ogle and flirt all they wanted, because Frank would go to your shared home with you that nightāand every night after. He cooked you dinner, made you special weekend breakfasts, surprised you with flowers for no special occasion.
As your fingers typed at the computer, you felt yourself smile. Youād kept your own last name after marrying for reasons like this specifically, well not this exactly, but for the workplace. You didnāt need people thinking youād gotten the job because your husband was a doctor, or anything that tied your success to him.
So when they called your name to ask you a question, they had not a clue in the world that the ring on Langdonās finger mirrored the one you kept on a chain around your neck while you worked. It was tucked under your scrubs currently, which really only seemed like a benefit, because you were curious to see how this played out.
You were surprised the question wasnāt Frank related, that Princess had gone to the bathroom and Perlah was busy with something and they had no one else to ask. The solution was easy, you aided them and added a few pointers, just as Frank came to stand to stare at the patient screen.
He glanced to you, then to the nurses surrounding you. āHey, donāt listen to whatever sheās telling you.ā
āHilarious,ā you shot back. āStop harassing me and go save some lives.ā
āYeah, yeah.ā
He drummed his fingers on the counter, you caught the reserved smile on his face before he took off in the direction of a room. Cher and Carmen nudged one another.
āHey, what do you know about Dr. Langdon?ā
āNot much,ā you said, shrugging. āHe hates peanut butter. And being wrong. And tiled floors.ā You two had argued over tiled floors for two months when you were renovating your kitchen. You forced the grin back at the memory. āHe is such an open book. You should ask him whatever you want to know.ā
Was it evil for you to set them up for failure? Yeah, maybe a little, but it was mostly harmless.
āI just think heās so cute.ā
āMeh. I donāt see it,ā you replied.
āYour loss, girl,ā Carmen said. āIāll have him in the supply closet before you can say emergency.ā
Emergency, you thought, bitterly, then returned to your work. You had no reason to be upset or jealous, but you did feel a slight pang of it in your lower belly.
As the hours passed, your shift was nearly over, just a few minutes to go. Cher and Carmen whispered about Langdon and every other nurse they thought was hot. You werenāt sure how young they were, but they were certainly more interested in that than doing any actual work.
The time came to clock out, you punched the numbers in and swiped your badge. Frank was already changed into his usual jeans and shirt as he approached the station.
āHi, Dr. Langdon,ā Cher greeted. āCan we help you with anything else?ā
āNope. Just waiting for my wife.ā
You watched the girls glance at each other, confused, and you tried not to laugh as you grabbed your purse.
āYourā¦ā
āOh, shit,ā Carmenās face had paled drastically. āShit.ā
āHey, donāt worry about it,ā you assured them, allowing Langdon to wrap his arm around you, though you saw his confusion as you spoke. āI know heās hot. Thatās why I married him. Night, ladies.ā
As the two of you left, he glanced back to them, then to you. āWhat the hell was that about?ā
You patted his arm. āIāll tell you over the pizza.ā
hey if you ever get round to writing for jack abbot could I request a fic where maybe he and reader have been dating secretly for a little while and finally decided to tell everyone? thank you!
A/N: thank you for the request!! This is my first time writing anything for Jack so I can only hope I wrote his character okay!!
WARNINGS: includes mentions of erectile dysfunction and sex.
BLURB REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
āāā āā āā ā
āOh, one more thing, although cleared for discharge, Room 4 might be occupied for a while. 23 year old male just found out heās got erectile disfunctionā¦ heās pretty upset.ā You grimaced at the day shift as you swung your backpack over your shoulder, fingers returning to tap on the nurses desk.
Langdon blew out a breath. āYeah, thatās pretty devastating news at that age.ā
You hummed. āUnfortunately, thatās what happens when you take six tabs of Sildenafil from a random street dealer in the space of thirty minutes.ā
Whittaker frowned, his hands involuntarily crossing over his crotch. āWhatās uhā whatās the average age for that to start naturally?ā
You pursed your lips to conceal your amusement and looked down at your booted feet. Santos waved a hand. āYouāre safe for now, Huckleberry. Itās most commonly associated with men over forty.ā
Your head didnāt move but your eyes slid up to watch everyone elseās gaze turn to Robby and Jack. You had to bite the inside of your cheek harder, swallow down a laugh that was threatening to bubble up your throat.
Robby nodded onceāa bit self-deprecatinglyāat his residents and students and lulled his head to look at Jack. āYeah, weāre not far off.ā He muttered.
āSpeak for yourself,ā Jack replied in a low tone, eyes still on the monitor as he finished up his last report.
The sound did something to your lower belly, much like his low tone usually did. You couldnāt wait to get back home with him, to be able to feel his touch and presence and not have to keep a professional amount of distance between you for at least twelve hours.
You both declared your relationship to HR almost seven months ago, when you knew things were getting serious. And despite their acceptance of the situation, you still hadnāt told the team.
It was by no fault of theirs. But youā¦enjoyed having it to yourself, having Jack to yourself. And heād made it very clear that he felt the same. You didnāt want them in your business, in your intimate life.
More than that, you were afraid of what people would think. Scared for special treatment allegations, inappropriate behaviour reports, and the rumours that you were nothing more than a young piece of ass that Jack would eventually get bored of.
And Jack.. he had been nothing but attentive and reassuring when he suggested telling the board and you voiced your concerns. Heād showed you in more ways than one how deeply he felt for you. That this was not temporary, that he wanted a future with you.
So you reported your relationship to HR, admitted youād been together six months already and no one had any suspicions. You kept it professional, kept it normal.
You knew tonight would be the start of the change. It was only this morning when you awoke to his head between your thighs that you finally relented, agreeing to tell the others in ED about you.
Dana raised a brow, lips curling into a grin as she read the underlying message that he was seeing someone. "Good for you, Abbot," she drawled, nodding her head once in a form of approval.
Langdon crossed his arms over his chest, brows furrowed with a taunting twinkle to his eyes. "Even more reason to stock up, man. Can't be leaving your woman unsatisfied."
Your eyes clocked Jack as he leaned back and shrugged his arms into his jacket, hurling his backpack over a shoulder as he approached you. Casually enough that no one seemed to bat an eye.
Until he slung an arm around your shoulder as you snaked yours around his waist.
āOh, you donāt have any complaints, do you, sweetheart?ā He asked, craning his neck to look down at you, brows slightly raised.
He shared a look with you, every ounce of love and adoration he felt glistening in his eyes.
Your heart hammered against your ribcage, heat creeping up your neck to sit on the tops of your cheeks. There was a crooked grin tugging on the corner of Jackās mouth, an expression you couldnāt help but mirror.
A year of keeping your relationship a secret, six months of HR knowing, and now day one of your colleagues.
āOh no, Iām more than satisfied.ā You averted your gaze from Jack and to your colleagues, trying to catalogue their wide eyes and shocked expressions to memory.
The apples of your cheeks swelled as you smiled, big and wide and happy. Jack pressed his lips to the top of your head before turning you both toward the exit, his hand waving above his head as he walked you both out.
"Have a good shift, our phones are turned off." He called over his shoulder.
Baelor's head barely tilts up as you come crashing into his solar.Ā
You, the ever joyful wildfire that you were, practically skipped towards your husband with the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "My husband. There you are."
His eyes follow you, the only notion that he was paying attention. "As I always seem to be," came his smooth answer. When you neared, his closer hand naturally came up to your hip.Ā
"I have had the most wonderful day," you exclaim, tearing apart the calm essence he'd been basking in for the last few hours. "And now I get to visit you, which makes it all the better!"
You bend at the waist, pressing your lips to his. You notice the way his brows quirk mid-kiss and you pull away with a falling smile. "What is it?"
"You taste so strongly of wine," he says. "Just how many cups have you had?"
He was never one to ruin your fun, for he was glad someone in the Keep could enjoy themselves. And he often lived vicariously through you. He was stuck to letter writing, petitions, and small council matters; the least he could do was let his girl enjoy herself in all matters of the word.
You hum, practically clambering into his lap as you begin to rattle. "I had one with breakfast even though you told me not to." You fiddle with the lapel of his vest as you speak. "And two cups when I met with my ladies for tea." A giggle shoots through you when Baelor sighs. "And then," your giggle turns to a hiccup. "And then two more when my lady-in-waiting and I were deciding fabrics for our dresses for your nameday."
He rubs a soothing pattern against your hip with his thumb. "You have many beautiful dresses, my sweet loveā"
"And I shall have a new one!" You giggle again. "One fitting for Prince Baelor's wife, I would say. It is the prettiest materialā" you force the words to die on your lips. "No. No, I won't tell you. It will be a surprise."
"Alrightā"
You push a finger against his lips with another giggle. "No! You cannot make me tell you!"
He sighs again, attentive to the way you keep biting your lip as you stare at him. He kisses your finger before gently pulling your hand away at the wrist. "It sounds like a wonderful day then," he settles on.Ā
"And it is only noon," you sigh blissfully, leaning back to the point he had to brace. "There is so much more time to make the day perfect."
"Starting with limiting your wine intake, I believe."
You blink, leaning forward again to face him. "Why would I do that?"
"You'll drink our stores dry," he lightly teases, bringing a hand up to brush stray hairs from your face. When he'd seen you off this morning, your hair was so meticulously braided; it's a mess now. Not that he truly minded. He's just glad you're a joyful drunk.Ā
But then you lean against him so prettily with your eyes set on his lips, and he begins to think that you're nothing but trouble. "Then give me something to occupy the time."
His grip on your hip tightens; not to control you, but rather for his own self-control. He utterly loved you like this, but he couldn't let his own lack of control dishonor you.Ā
He brings a hand up your spine, feeling the way you shiver until his fingers find the hair at the back of your neck. "Shall I kiss you, princess?"
You preen in his hold, not letting him make a move. Your lips are hungry against his, sharing the aftertaste of the sweetest wine in the Realm.Ā
He's no better, tightening his hold in your hair just enough to make you groan against him. Your hips naturally start to move, searching for that familiar friction.Ā
The hardening in his pants is finally what makes him remember himself and he pulls away. "My loveā" You lean in again, but he keeps the distance.Ā
"Why won't you kiss me?" You begin to whine.Ā
"I have much work still to be done today," he reminds you, much to your chagrin.Ā
"Fine," your tone quiets to a whisper. "I'll stay here and keep you company."
And by 'keep him company,' he knew that meant 'keep him distracted.'
But he still let you rest against his chest with your nose tucked into his neck. It was a bit hard to read over your shoulder and even harder to write with you in the way. But you were beginning to settle after such an adventurous morning and he could let you have this one thing.Ā
Well, until you began to trace your lips across his neck. It was fleeting and light. And for a moment, he wasn't sure you knew you were doing it. But deep down, he knew better.Ā
"My love," he warned.Ā
That's when you laid the first kiss to the hollow of his throat. "What? You can still work, can you not?"
"I suppose so, butā" His words break off as you suck a particularly sensitive spot.Ā
"Let me entertain myself while you work, my prince."
He's never one to say no to you.Ā
Thus, he utterly suffers through as many letters, ledgers, and readings as he can before you grow bolder.Ā
He grunts when you work in one spot alone, no doubt leaving a bruise under your wine-sticky tongue.Ā
He'll have to change into a high-collared coat for supper tonight, it seems.Ā
"Finish early," you try to persuade him. "So you can have me."
"You know I cannot."
You huff, leaning back enough to look him in the eye. "You cannot or you will not?"
"I'm afraid both."
"For once, I just wish you'd enjoy wine as much as I so you could forget your sense of propriety. It is charming but I'd rather you ravish me in this particular moment."
"Well, I will not ravish you while you are five cups deep, my love."
You slump against him. "And here I believed your nameday celebration was going to be the best in the Realm. But here you are, forbidding me from getting to drink at the party."
He gawked for a moment. "I said no such thing."
"You just said you would not have me if I am drunk. So how will I enjoy your nameday feast without my wine or without your ravishing?"
"Hm. It seems it is one or the other. A terribly difficult decision you'll have to make."
You scowl. "Do not tease me so. You'll never understand the hardships I go through for you."
He lets out a scoffing breath. "You sacrifice much, I know."
It strikes a nerve within you, causing you to sober for a moment. You push yourself up onto your feet. His hand reaches out, eyes softening when he sees the effect his words have. But you're alright pulling away. "You'll see, husband. In fact, I will look so stunning for your nameday, you will be begging me not to drink."
His shoulders fall a bit. "I had no doubt of that," he tries to ease. "You always look beautiful, my love."
"I won't falter," you swear to him. "Then you'll be the one begging me to touch you."
His head tilts, trying to hide his amusement. "We shall see."
The quirk of his lips angers you further. You scoff at him, throwing a small tantrum as you leave his solar.Ā
Only when the door is closed does he lean back in his chair.Ā
He loves you to no end, but you may just be the most difficult thing in his life.Ā
ā¦
The two days between then and leading up to Baelor's nameday was leaving him in frustration.Ā
Every time he'd lean in for a kiss, you'd turn your head away, claiming you'd had a cup of wineā even if hours and hours beforeā and say that he should not touch you.Ā
He was patient. He'd let you play your games for a while longer.Ā
Maekar arrived the day before the others were supposed to. You'd always gotten along quite well with your good brother. Your happy energy always reminded him of his Dyanna, though you were more crass than she was.Ā
He thought you were good for his elder brother. The gods brought you to Baelor because even they knew he was far too swept up in duty to enjoy his life. Thus, you brought it to him with every kiss, every giggle, every wild storm that was you just entering a room.
Baelor was still stuck in meetings and he cursed under his breath knowing that you would be spending your time with Maekar. You always picked up the grump's cursing habits.Ā
You told your good brother about your latest argument with your husband, and he peered over his cup at you like you'd grown extra heads.Ā
"You two fight and don't touch one another. Dyanna and Iā¦."
"Six children tells me exactly what you two were doing," you quip.
For once, he was almost amused enough to smile. He loved remembering his Dyanna so.
"Still, can I implore you to help me sabotage my husband so I might win this argument?"
The silver headed man considers it for a while. He'd fight for Baelor, kill for Baelor. But he could agree that the man needed knocked down a few self righteous pegs. "What must I do?"
You grin wickedly as your plan starts to come to fruition.
ā¦
The hours leading up to the feast, you had scampered to your private chambers. You were hardly in here nowadays, for you spent your days in Baelor's. But here, you were free from his wandering eyes. His beautiful, mismatched, wandering eyes.Ā
You turned in the mirror this way and that, admiring the fabric you had so carefully chosen. It was striking how well the dressmaker had done.Ā
It was a deep red, almost black when away from the candlelight. It laid over your shoulders like a second skin. And the low neckline would surely have your husband grow weak for you.Ā
You'd taken much time to have every hair placed to your liking. Everything had to be meticulously planned, for this was going to be the moment you won.Ā
Now, not only looking beautiful but feeling it as well, you were ready to step out of your chambers.Ā
With so many unfamiliar lords within the Keep, you had to have your guard escort you about. You didn't mind, for you had become friends with the man. Even he knew of your argument with your husband, evident by the tight lipped smile he gave you when you left your room. He knew you were going to torture the poor prince all night.Ā
And torture you did.
You made a spectacle of your entrance, walking through the crowd until you reached the high table. Maekar was hiding a knowing grin behind his hand as he watched his brother become utterly speechless at the sight of you.
You sat by his side just long enough to seem polite before leaving to go dance.Ā
But not before uttering low in his ear. "I've yet to have a glass tonight. Perhaps if you are lucky, I shan't."
Even sober, you were a fun spirit. You pulled your nephew, Aegon, from his chair to dance. Still growing, he was quite awful at it but you did not care in the slightest.Ā
Those brown and blue irises did not leave you all night.Ā
Once Aegon tired, you managed to get Daeron aware enough to join. He danced surprisingly well considering his faults. Though he rolled his eyes the entire time as if it was humiliating.
You danced with a lord here or there, and Baelor would crane his neck to ensure their hands remained in appropriate places.Ā
In came Maekar's ploy.Ā
He sat next to his brother, placing a cup in front of him as you had asked him to. "This is the best wine I've tasted. I believe the Baratheon brought it? You must try it."
Baelor completely ignored him at first.Ā
"Brother?" He huffed, shoving the cup closer. "Are you listening?"
Baelor waves his hand as if his brother was a nuisance. "I'm not interested in drinking tonight."
That made Maekar laugh. "It is but a single cup. A single sip, even."
He scoffs, finally breaking his gaze from you to give an annoyed glare to his brother. "If I do this, will you leave me be?"
"You're sitting here, pouting like you used to when we were younger."
"I did not poutā"
"But you admit you're pouting now?"
Baelor's glare only worsens. He picks up the cup and takes a long sip before slamming it back on the table. His brows raise in a 'happy?' gesture.
Maekar gives him a nod and takes the cup off. He's almost giddy that your plan worked.
You catch Maekar's eye across the room later, to which he gives you a single nodā a conformation.Ā
You're currently dancing with your eldest, Valarr, who notices something is wrong. "What is irking Father so?"
"Me."
"He hasn't looked away all night."
"Someday, you will understand, Valarr. Your Kiera, she is quite docile, but one day she will be able to get under your skin."
He smiles, eyes moving to where his wife is talking amongst the other women. "You say that as if it is a bad thing."
You utterly love the glow in your son's eyes. How he managed to find love in such an arranged marriage makes your heart grow all the more fonder of Kiera.Ā
You are both interrupted by a hand on your waist and a familiar tone of voice. "Kiera has been glancing this way. Perhaps you should ask her to dance, son."
Even though Baelor's voice is always soft-spoken, the family has come to learn the microtones within it, for his face often revealed nothing.Ā
And judging by the way Valarr gave you a look before retreating, you knew you were done for.Ā
Baelor takes his place, resting a hand on your waist and the other taking your own hand in his. He tilts his head down at you. "You look beautiful."
You scoff. "That is not the apology I was expecting."
His eyes darken. "I did not come to apologize."
"The Hand of the King came to gloat then?"
You know you're testing his patience. "I came to dance with you and tell you how beautiful you are."
"You are so close to an apology, I can feel it."
He says nothing for a moment as he spins you. Always the diplomat, he thinks of his words carefully. "If I apologize, will you put an end to this foolish charade and finally kiss me again?"
"Hm. Let me consider it."
He's far from amused as the two of you finish the dance in silence.Ā
But before you can pull away and continue your night, he has an iron hold around your hip that forces you to be dragged alongside him.Ā
He pulls you up to the high table once more, ignoring the lords that wanted his attention on the way. Maekar is still lounging in his own seat further down, watching your interactions like a most entertaining play.Ā
You sit at your husband's side for a while, playing the perfect princess. You give small smiles and pick at the food in front of you. And you wait for the perfect moment to strike.Ā
Right when you believe Baelor is starting to have a good time, you make a show of filling yourself a cup of wine. His attention is immediately on your hands.Ā
You give him a look before raising it to your mouth.Ā
He intercepts, pulling it away just before the liquid reaches your lips.Ā
When you give him a questioning look, his expression goes to one of remorse. "Please," he begs. "Please do not. You look ravishing tonight and I do not want it to go to waste."
He's right where you want him.Ā
You coo at him, pinching his chin between your fingers. "That is quite sweet. But I heard you already had some wine tonight. Seems neither of us will get what we want."
Understanding immediately dawns over his face. His mouth opens, then closes. He spins around to look at Maekar, who tries to pretend he wasn't interested in your affairs, though all at the table now knows he was directly involved in it.
"It was but a sip," your husband defends when his attention finds you again. "A mere sip to appease him." His head tilts. "But you already knew that, did you not?"
You give a noncommittal shrug.
"Cunning of you. Perhaps I underestimated how sneaky my princess can be when she wants something."
"Hm. And to think, this is me being merciful."
"So determined that you'd have my brother involve himself in our affairs? And I dare say he enjoyed it. You are an evil woman."
"Still not an apology."
He sighs, placing a hand on your knee under the table. "My beautiful wife, forgive me for my actions. I was foolish to try to dampen your spark and I am the one to suffer for it. How might I remedy what I have done?"
You hum in thought, looking over the feast. "I suppose I get to even the scales. Only seems fair."
He gives you a confused quirk of his brow, but you're already reaching for the cup you'd poured. And you take a sipā a very, very long sip.
"You test me everyday," he sighs when you set the cup down.Ā
"Enjoy your feast, my love. It is your nameday after all." You stand, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "I shall retire early. But when you find yourself finished here, you mayā¦ find me."
"Might I?"
"Mhm. Tell me though, since it is your day, I shall let you have this. On or off?"
He cranes his neck to peer up at you. "On or off? Whatever do you mean?"
"Tis a simple question, husband. On or off?"
He doesn't quite know what you're asking, but he knows you've sewn mischief throughout it. "Off?"
You grin. "Very well." You kiss his cheek. "Happy nameday, my love."
You leave out of the side exit, and Baelor almost misses the way you are already fumbling to untie your dress before you're even out of the door.Ā
You'll be his utter undoing.Ā
It's not much longer before he is retiring as well with a claim that his head hurt. "I suppose you think you are amusing," he murmurs to his brother as he passes him. Maekar definitely does.Ā
He'll find a way to get back at his brother. But for now, he's walking through the Keep to his chambers where he knows his wife is waiting for him in next to nothing.
He was a fool to try to dull his sweet wife's wildfire.Ā
Youāre sat in the conference room, in front of the camera, just as youāre used too for the documentary.
āToday is what we can call a quiet dayā¦ that means we have nothing to doā¦ except work, and itās boring so I decided to do nothing instead. Jim joined me, and thatās how we end up making believe to Dwight that KGB agents wanted him dead.ā
You pause in your saying, looking right up at the camera, before losing it completely and start laughing.
āHonestly, I donāt know why we didnāt do it earlier, because man, that is so funny. He doesnāt know it yet, but in 15 minutes, Jimās going to offer him a cup of coffee, which he will declined, because he doesn't trust him, but he kind of trusts me, and my baked goods.āĀ
Cut to you offering Dwight a homemade cookie.
āHere Dwight, do you want a cookie ? I tried a new recipe and I need your opinion on it.ā
āWhat about me ?ā asks Kevin from his chair, every food words ringing like a bell to his ears.
āYouāll have some donāt worryā¦ I made those specially for Dwight since I used beatās sugarā¦ you know ā¦ sugar from vegetables Kevin.ā
āOh my god ? Why do people always put vegetables in cake ? First carrot cake, then pumpkin pie, and now beat cookies ? What is wrong with you people !ā
You all watch him storm off to the break room before turning back to Dwight, a plastic tub full of cookies in hands. āSo, want some ?ā
āHummm, I donāt see a catchā¦ soā¦ yes.ā He takes one and before eating it, start smelling it.
āDwight, I didnāt poison it, you can eat it.ā
āYouāre never so sureā¦ always verify.ā
You sigh then side eye Jim, winking to signal the start of your prank before going back to normal.
āYou like them ? I didnāt know how much beat sugar I had to put since itās different from normal sugar.ā
āNo, theyāre goodā¦ which beats did you use ?ā
āYours, I had a few left from last time you gave some to me. I didnāt want them to go to waste.ā
āTheyāre even better now that I know theyāre from the Schrute Farm !ā
āGlad you enjoy them.ā
āAnd this people, is how you start chaos in Dwightās head.ā
About two hours later, Dwight received a strange e-mail. He read it carefully, before gasping. Jim and you look at him.
āSomething wrong Dwight ?ā Jim asks, trying to sound normal.
āUhm, yeahā¦ just someā¦ clients problems donāt worry.ā
āAlright.ā
You both turn back to your computers, making it believe you were working. But you donāt have time to do anything before Dwight starts coughing and go to the bathroom.
You turn to Jim, smiling.
āSo, either he is really sick because of my cookies, orā¦ itās just psychosomatic.ā
āManā¦ he must be stressedā¦ he never had problems with a client.ā Jim responds to sound normal, fighting a smile of his own. āHe left his computer onā¦ā
You both go and read the e-mail he received, as if you didnāt write it yourself. Just as Dwight comes back and find you two with worry in your eyes.
āYouāre alright Dwight ? We read the mailā¦ donāt you wanna go to the police ? I mean itās the KBG.ā
āI canāt ! Itāll prove that I'm guilty of something !ā he whispers, trying to look normal to the others.
āYouāre the one persecuted Dwight !ā
āYeah, why would they even want you dead ?ā Jim asks.
āI know too much about somethingā¦ they must have poisoned meā¦ theyāre after me !ā
āLetās stay calm okay ? How would they have poisoned you ? You make everything yourself !ā
āDonāt worry about it, I already took an antidote, Iāll be fine.ā
At that, you and Jim lose your smile for real.
āWhat did you take Dwight ?ā
āNothing, just some pills.ā
āI had some prepared in my desk for all kind of poisonā¦ anthrax, arsenic, cyanure, x-raysā¦ but what I didnāt know was which one did they use on meā¦ so I took them all.ā
āOkay, how about he go the hospital right now ?ā Jim says, already taking his coat and helping Dwight on his feet.
āNo, I'm fine Jim !ā
āNo, we should go in case the poisons start to act dangerously on you. Itās better this way.ā you add, taking your stuff with you. āGo in the car with Dwight I'll join you.ā
And thatās how you found yourself in the PTMC ER, waiting for some doctors to take care of Dwight, who was on a bed, already hooked up on some machines. A nurse had made taken some blood to make some tests, and you were waiting for the results.
Then, a man came in, grey hair, a sharp jaw, his biceps creating tensions on his scrubs. He was serious.
āHello, my name is Dr. Abbot and Iām here for you today. What brings you in ?ā
Both you and Jim didnāt know how to answer that question, but Dwight was here.
āThe KGB is trying to kill me with poison.ā
Dr. Abbot stopped working for a few seconds, trying to understand the situation.
āIām sorryā¦ what ?ā
āI said, some KGB agents are trying to kill me, is it so hard to understand ? Are you a real doctor at least ?ā
āDwight !ā you shush him, glaring at him. āIām sorry about him, heās a littleā¦ how sayā¦ out of his mind ?ā
āSoā¦ not drugged ?ā
āOh, he might be thoughā¦ He took some antidotesā¦ but we donāt know which onesā¦ and how many.ā you say to the doctor, who looks more and more like your type of man.
Dr. Abbot looks down on his chart and nods.
āYeah, youāre blood test indicates a lots of different things that arenāt so good for your body. So weāre going to do a gastric lavage, to eliminate all the toxins. You should be better in an hour or two.ā He starts typing his orders on the computer, talking at the same time to a nurse for equipment.
āDoctor Whitaker is your doctor now, so heāll do the procedure. I need to talk to someone though.ā he says, pointing between Jim and you. You stand up and follow the man.
He takes of his gloves and washes his hands with some hydroalcoholic gel, before turning back to you.
āDo you know what happened ? Your friend here has lots of different drugs and acids in his system.ā
āYeahā¦ hum that might be our fault.ā At that, he takes a grave face. āNot that we drugged him, we did nothing, he caused that to himself.ā
āMeaning ?ā
āWe made him believe that KGB was after him and that he had been poisoned, which he didn't. Then he took the matter in his own hands and swallowed at least a dozen of different homemade antidotes.ā
āAnd why did you made him believe that ?ā
ā Do you know how boring it is to work in a paper company ? Those pranks are the only things keeping me sane. It wasnāt supposed to go that way, believe me.ā
At that he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.
āI believe you, donāt worry. I read his chart. That man is something.ā
āThanks doctor. Iām sorry for all of thatā¦ I'm sure there are more critical patients there waiting for you.ā
āDonāt mind itā¦ itās always fun to have some weird cases. Iām sure weāll meet again soon with this man.ā
āOh believe meā¦ you havenāt seen the rest of my colleagues.ā
And you both were rightā¦ because only 2 weeks later, you meet again after Dwight set the office on fire to āmake a pointā. Yepā¦ you always tried to stay away from the office, but in those times, where Dr. Abbot was auscultating you, you were glad you had them.
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